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#it's so I can fix whatever the hell endings he had
n-after-me · 3 days
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Following this drawing:
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By @applepartysins and on @hazelfoureyes demand , here ! I hope youll both like it. ;)
As always, french speaker here so excuse me for any mistake. You can correct me tho and i will make the correction in the text. Thank you!
The taming of Alastor
18+ explicite smut , hard sex, cursing, blood.
Octobre was coming fast. Wich meant Alastor will soon go into rut. It happenned one time a year and he hated it. He felt insecure, needy, not in control of his own body and mind...and since he didnt had anyone to help with that, (not that he wanted anyone to see him like that) it was even harder.
His antlers had grown and were covered with velvet. He packet lots of food and water and planned to be left alone for a week or so in is room. He knew that it would be a hard time, but he survived this many times before.
He thought about finding someone to help him before but all he could see around hell were low life scums and he didnt want to ask people close to him.
The others noticed Al antlers and that he was eating more and being more irritated but they learned to leave it alone.if they knew what was good for them.
Then came Lucifer.
" whats wrong with the tall creep Charlie ?"
"Dad, sshhhush! Alastor is preparing for his rut. You know how it is for animal demons in hell. Its really not a good time to bother him"
" mmh hmm"
Lucifer was barely listening, following Alastor with his eyes across the room. Alastor sensed his gaze and turned his head sharply, fixing Lucifer with mad eyes. He wimpered and made a low growl and disappeared.
Lucifer kept staring at were Al was a moment before, with an arched brow and a side grin.
" Daaad. I know that look. Whatever you have in mind ...dont. you''ll just make him furious."
"MM? Oh , who says i want to infuriate him?:
He began walking away from charlie, wistling and twirling his cane.
//
Luci sat in is room thinking about his next move. Even if he kinda hated him, Alastor had a" je ne sais quoi" that always made him flirt with him and Wondering if he could ever succeed to ...bed him.
His chance had finally Come.
///
Alastor was pacing. He could feel the need that kinda Hurt sometimes in his groin. He had a low fever and was scratching his antlers to get rid of the velvet. He would soon rub himself everywhere to mark his territory even if that was pointless.
A knock at the door.
"Who...whosit?? Go away.
"Is there any way to treat a visitor who comes to lend a hand?
"Lucifer???"
The fuck was he talking about. Maybe Charlie didnt informed his father to let him the fuck alone during this time.
"Helloooo !! Aaaalasstoooor ! Open uuup. I just want to check if you need anything!"
Alastor oppenned his door violently . He had a manic smile and was breathing heavely.
Lucifer froze at the sight and thought to himself, " why is that turning me on?"he could feel a hard on growing. He swallowed and made a smug face.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT!? NOW IS NOT TH...."
Alastor stopped speaking ,smelling something ...good. so good, Deep and inviting. His cock seemed to jump in his pants.
"Wordless ? Thats a first " Lucifer said.
" why do you smell like that? " snaped Alastor.
"Like what?"
"Like you are...a deer in heat!???"
He passed Alastor with a shrug and entered the room.
"Quite à Nice place you got here"
Alastor said : did i invite you in? I dont think i did. So get out.
At the end of his sentence he noticed something wrong (or right?) on Lucifer. He had doe ears , a white doe tail and antlers.
He closed the door.
" your majesty. What the hell are you playing at. Also, your antlers should not be that big if you are....a doe"
The last word was a whisper
"Ah ha dont forget who is the pride prince here. Of course my antlers are bigger than yours. And like i said, im here to offer my help."
" you have no idea what you are saying.what you are asking for"
" yes i do. I wanted fuck you for a while now but you really didnt seemed interested with the Devil's tango. Well, until now maybe ? So i thought id try my luck"
While talking Lucifer had discarded his coat and bend so Alastor could have a better look at the tail now wagging. He took a look behind him , grabbing the back of a chair to arch his back more.
Alastor growled and every part of him seemed to become sharper and growing in size. He shaked his head roughly and his antlers fell .
"What the..?" Began to say Lucifer.
In an instant, Alastor was grabbing Lucifer by his hips, his body flush on him. He rubbed his face on Lucifer's.
"Oh no no no sire. Im the one doing the fucking"
Luci blushed and let out a moan of desire.
Alator began ripping Lucifer's clothes rapidly
"Hey! Those are handmade with .."
But his voice was lost when Alastor grabbed his chin roughly and kissed him. It was a hungry Kiss and luci didnt waste any time returning it. Alastor smelled musky and woody.
Lucifer was soon completely naked. Al's shirt was open and he unzipped his pants , letting them fall and kicked them away.
"I hope you are ready sire, Cause there wont be any foreplay"
Lucifer could feel Alastor's penis glidding between his cheeks. It was a lot bigger than he anticipated. He was in trouble now
Alastor pushed himself inside luci's with one long movement without stopping .
AAAOOOOFUUUUCKKKK!!!
Screamed lucifer
He never felt so full in his life. Alastor bottomed with a snap of his hips .
"Good boy" he cooed.
Lucifer was already panting. He thought Alastor would be harder on him but to his surprise, he seemed to let him adjust a little. Before too long, he was slipping out and in slowly ,a few time at first, admiring his dick moving inside and out of Lucifer and the trembling body in his grip. The ultimate dominance. Maybe he would enjoyed this .
"I see you are shaking your majesté. Am i too much for you humm?"
"I...shut up and move cerf" (french word for stag .the 'f' is silent)
"With pleasuuure"
He said those words with such an evil tone that Lucifer shivered from head to toe .
Alastor began pouding him hard and fast.
Lucifer was babbling and moaning , thanking his body for being abble to take on such a monster in is slick hole.
"Aah ahhha hhha oohh fuck yesss harder ahh Alll"
Alastor grabbed lucifer's hair so his head was on his chest .
"You like this hummm? You like being à little bitch in heat, being wrecked by me? So humiliating for you."
"Yes.yes..dont stop. Fuck it feels so good '
Alastor growled and grabbed Lucifer by his waist and put him on all four on the rug in front of the fire (so romantic)
" such a slutty waist. So easy to grab"
Alastor planted his nails in the the soft white skin , watching drops of golden blood dripping around lucifer's waist and belly.
"Lovely '
Alastor said before begenning to pound again in hearnest .
Lucifer was in a haze of pleasure. He grabbed his cock to stroke it but Alastor's hand took the base of it and squeezed gently.
"Let me. I want to see you squirm like the needy whore you are and be the one driving you insane"
"Damn Al, ...ah...where did you learn that kind of language"
Alastor didnt answer and began stroking Luci's dick at the same harsh pace of his hips slamming into lucifer's ass.
Lucifer was a mess. He was trying to hold on on something but there was nothing to grab. So he just oppenned and closed his fingers on the flat carpet, moaning and screaming , shaking his head . Tears were falling on the ground.
"Im close, sooo cloooose ' luci said and he fell on his forearms.
Alastor's eyes became wider as he felt his orgasm grow. He felt his body vibrate and fucked into Lucifer even faster and harder. He was now panting intensly and moaning loud.
Lucifer lithe body was taking every thrust like it was made for this. At this point he didnt even know how he could still think straight.
Alastor threw his head back and let out a rough scream has is orgasm hit him and then he lunged himself forward to plunge his teeth into lucifer's neck.
At first, Lucifer barely registred the pain as his own orgasm exploded . He screamed has Alastor continued to stroke him harder. He then stopped moving his hand and as Lucifer was trying to catch his breath, he heard a gulp sound.
"Erm..Al? Are you drinking my fucking blood !?*
After a few sip. Alastor lifted his head and made a sigh
"Yess... it tastes...divine."
"yeah i bet" said Lucifer kinda annoyed.
Alastor let him go and they both rolled on their back .
"Well, that was ..something. (something amazing luci thought. But he didnt want alastor to know that)
He sat ,looking around for his clothes.
" mmmmm....Al? Do you have a dressing gown i can borrow? I would prefer not to walk in the halway naked. My clothes are unusable '
' Oh but no no votre majesté. You are not going anywhere"
" errr ...what do you mean?"
" i told you ,you had no idea what you were in for. My rut will last a few days and i need to...releive myself multiple time a day. And night. You are staying right here until im done with you. Do you understand ?" He said squeezing lucifer's leg.
" Oh lord have mercy," Lucifer thought looking at Alastor with a bit of fear and nodding yes.
"
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inkskinned · 2 months
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you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.
(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)
but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.
(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)
there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.
(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)
you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.
(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)
you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.
in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.
but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.
they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.
it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.
#spilled ink#warm up#can you tell what i'm mad about today specifically#i will say that there are a LOT of things that go into this. like a lot. this is ungendered and unspecific for a reason#it isn't just sexism. it's also racism. and ableism. and honestly classism.#and before a healthcare professional reads this as a personal attack: i understand ur burnt out#we are ALSO burnt out. your situation is also dire. this is not an attack on you.#this is a commentary on the incredible amounts of bigotry that lie at the heart of capitalism#where people have to pay money out of pocket to be told to fuck off.#your job is important. so is our humanity. and if you cannot accept that people are fucking mad as hell#at the industry - you are probably not listening .#anyway at some point im gonna write a piece about sexism specifically in medical shit#but i don't want terfs clowning in it bc they can't understand nuance#> it is true that ppl w/a uterus are more likely to experience medical malpractice & dismissal globally#> it is also true that trans people experience an equally fucked up and bad time in the medical field#> great news! the medical industrial complex is an equal opportunity life ruiner :)#(if you find it necessary to go into a debate about biology while discussing medical malpractice#i want to warn you that you're misunderstanding the issue. because guess what.#cis MEN might experience this. particularly black men. particularly disabled men.#so YES having a uterus can lead to more trouble for you. but this happens a LOT.#instead of fighting those ALSO experiencing your pain.... try working WITH them.#which btw. is like. actual feminism.)
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silencesscreams · 3 months
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"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii
sad beautiful tragic
james potter x fem reader (angst)
a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them
warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending
“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”
you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.
he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.
sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.
during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.
until he kissed you.
it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.
“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.
one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.
“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.
“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.
“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.
when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.
sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.
it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.
he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.
the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.
but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.
your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.
life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.
christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?
when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.
a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.
once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:
“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.
on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.
when you sad at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.
after taking a bite from your desert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.
as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.
“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.
“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.
he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.
“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.
“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.
“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.
“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.
“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.
“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.
“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?
“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.
“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.
“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.
“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.
“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming
“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.
“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”
“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.
“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.
“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?
you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.
“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.
“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.
“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.
it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.
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ourautumn86 · 5 months
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loosen up
abby anderson x fem! reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary; abby was pent up, and angry, and she was taking it out on your team. and you were not gonna have it. you’ll have to loosen her up.
cw; +18 content! minors dni!, fighting, cursing, blood, abby being a bitch, teasing, tension, chocking (kinda??), hair pulling, punching, making out, begging, cheating (abby on owen), fingering (a! receiving), tit and nipple play, oral sex (a! receiving), dirty talking…
your blood was boiling. you were winning the game, it was no big deal. but fuck. did she really have to act like that? she was just like a fucking child.
you saw as abby barely defended the other team player as she shot to the hoop, listless, annoyed. you felt your skin crawl in goosebumps when she took the bounce and with a scowl tossed it to one of your teammates hard enough for it to end up getting out of the court.
“what the fuck anderson?!” you yelled at her, scowling. why was she acting like such a bitch. sure. you can be mad. but this is a match. get over it and play.
she ignored you, letting the player she was supposed to defend score.
you couldn’t handle it anymore getting closer to her and pushing at her chest, making her stumble backwards.
she had come today already with a scowl on her face, and after she had gotten mad about something your team had done wrong at the start of the match, she had started taking it out all on your team and sabotaging you. you didn’t care that she was the captain, if there was something everyone knew is that you wouldn’t stay quiet if something was bothering you. and she was infuriating you. “if you’re gonna play like this don’t fucking play!! you’re fucking it up for us!” she pushed you back.
“at least they need me to play. i’m not some bench warmer like you!” she said, and you gritted your teeth, your ego being hurt. “aw, what’s wrong? did i hit a weak spot?” she falsely cooed, and before you knew it you were punching her, making her lip burst and blood tint her skin.
you could hear the stairs filled with people roar, screaming when abby jumped on you, a hand tugging on your hair as her other hand closed into a fist, coming down onto your cheek and making you hiss.
before things could escalate, your coach was running into the court along with the referee to stop the two of you.
“anderson!” he screamed, trapping her arms to push her off of you. she fought against him and the referee who went to help him since abby was quite strong.
you spat blood, your teammates coming up to check on you.
“you two. out.” your coach ordered, forcing the two of you out of the court and into the changing rooms. “anderson. i don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you better be changing your attitude or i swear to got you won’t be making it to the next game. and you.” he pointed at you. “starting a fight in the middle of a fucking match?” he inquired. “are we in kindergarten?” you huffed, crossing your arms. “i don’t want you coming out of here until you fix whatever you two have going on. i don’t want bullshit on my court.” he said, closing the door to the changing rooms behind him to go back to his game.
the air inside of the room was so dense in tension it could be cut with a knife.
“this is all your fucking fault.” you spat, adrenaline cursing through your veins. sweat was pearling your skin.
“my fault?” she scoffed and you turned to face her. “you’re the one who fucking punched me.”
“yeah well you needed it.” you muttered. “just as much as you need a good fuck. bad thing your little boyfriend doesn’t know how to use his dick, huh?” next thing you knew you were against the wall, a hand tightly around your neck.
“you need to keep your mouth shut.” she growled, and you smirked. you were inches apart, your lips brushing, her breath hitting your face.
“aw… have i hit a weak spot?” you mocked her, throwing back her words at her. “i’m sure owen can’t hit your g spot though. how many times has he make you cum, huh? i’m sure not even once, since you’re acting like such a bitc-” she punched you again, making you shut up and your mouth fill up with blood all over again. you smirked.
you looked into her blue eyes, at her reddening cheeks. “well aren’t you cute, hm? blushing ‘cause i’m on the right?”
“fucking shut up.” she spat, and you leaned closer, pushing against the tightening grip on your neck.
“why don’t you make me, huh?” you whispered against her lips, and your smirk only grew when your saw her angry eyes drift down at your lips.
“you wish.” she muttered and your tongue wetted your lips, watching as she stared.
“by the way you’re looking at me i’m not sure i’m the one wishing for it, anderson.”
“you’re so annoying.” she growled, and you hummed when she quickly and harshly pushed them against your, so hard your head met the wall behind you in a thud. it was a mess. all tongue and teeth. your hands pulled at her blonde braid as her strong body caged you against the cold tile wall. she moaned when you bit down on her broken lip, tasting her blood as she could taste yours on your tongue.
“that’s it abby, take it all out on me, hm?” you muttered, and she cursed when your lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, sucking and biting. “this is what you needed, isn’t it?” you inquired as your hands dived in her shirt, hands cupping her tits over her sports bra and tweaking her nipples. “needed to get the attitude fucked out of you?” she moaned, and you smiled. “but we’re gonna get you all fixed for coach, isn’t that right?” she nodded, biting down on her lip as she felt one of your hands trail down her stomach, your fingertips caressing her abs. “speak up for me cap, why so quiet all of a sudden?” you teased her and she gritted her teeth.
“shut -“ she tried and say, but before she could finish her sentence she was letting out a loud moan as your hand pushed inside her pants and panties, fingers diving in between her slick folds.
“jesus christ. you’re soaked.” you breathed out, your fingertips easily sliding against her clit, making her thighs shake. “is it always like this, hm? can owen make your pussy drool like this?” she shook her head.
“no.” she shook her head in a whimper, one that made your own pussy throb. “fuck. he never… he doesn’t know how to touch me.”
you hummed. “you poor thing. so eager to be fucked and yet can’t get what you need, huh?” you mocked her, and you saw her breath hitch. “do you want it? do you want me to make you cum, abby?” she nodded. “nuh-huh. use your words. such a loud fucking mouth and now you’re getting shy on me? speak.”
“yes. please, make me cum.” she muttered, and you smirked.
“atta girl.” she moaned when you pushed your middle finger inside. “jesus christ. he doesn’t fucking deserve you. pussy so tight…” you groaned, starting to thrust in and out. “she’s so eager. she’s sucking me right in.” she moaned, hiding her flushing face on your neck, although you didn’t let her, tugging on her braid to make her face you. “don’t fucking hide from me. wanna see you fall apart.” her breath hitched, her thighs opening for you to reach deeper into her. you pulled from her so she could be the one now caged against the wall, giving you strength to dive two of your fingers inside her harder. “that’s it. open up for me.”
“fuck, fuck, fuck…” she cried out as you curled them against her g spot, eyes squeezed shut, cunt molding around your fingers.
“who would’ve thought… abby anderson, such a tough girl falling apart so easily on my fingers…” you smirked. “you like it baby? like how i’m fucking you behind your little boyfriends back? what would he say, hm? what would he think if he saw you like this, huh?” your thumb met her throbbing clit. “gonna be good for me once i make you cum? gonna stop being such a fucking bitch?” she nodded. “i bet you are. gonna make you cum so good you’d do anything for me.” you smirked. “look at you. you sweet girl, you just needed your pussy stretched out, hm? get loose, yeah? i bet you taste so fucking sweet, you’re dripping on my fingers.” she moaned, your words were so fucking lewd they were making her head spin. but she loved it. she couldn’t be more turned on. she’d never been this needy, this weak. “tell me, does he eat your pussy, hm?” she didn’t answer, yet her cheeks turned pink and you chuckled. “of course he doesn’t. want me to show you what you deserve? want me to fuck you with my tongue, abby?” she nodded, whining.
“yes please, fuck. please need your tongue.” your smirk grew.
“whatever you say, cap.” you teased her, pulling down her pants and panties with your hands, hearing her moan when your fingers left her hole, feeling empty. “so needy… don’t worry baby.” you said as you kneeled in front of her, pushing one of her strong thighs on top of your shoulder. “i’m gonna fill you up real nice.”
abby could swear she lost all breath when she felt your tongue lick a long strip up her clit from her hole, lapping at her slick with a hum that made her moan so loud you had to pull back to hush her. “you need to stay quiet, baby. don’t want your little boyfriend to hear us, hm?” you inquired, suckling at her clit. the thought of owen just bursting into the changing rooms to find the two of you like this only turned her on more. she shook her head. “then be a good girl and stay quiet for me.”
you dived back in, your tongue sliding in between her folds as you closed your eyes, relishing on how fucking good she tasted. “you taste so good… that dick doesn’t know what he’s missing. could eat this pussy up for hours.” abby whimpered, one of her hands finding your hair to tug you closer. and as much as you wanted to tease her about it, you gave her what she wanted, burying your tongue inside her hole, your nose bumping against her clit.
“oh, fuck.” she cried out, head rolling backwards and bumping against the wall as you curled it, fucking it in and out of her, moaning at the taste of the white creamy pre cum that stained your lips, chin and tongue. you hummed, devouring her like a starved woman before moving on to her clit and plunging two of your fingers back inside of her. you harshly sucked on that little bundle on nerves, feeling her shake as you hit your g spot with every curve of your fingers. “i’m gonna cum.”
“so pent up…” you chuckled by how easily it had been to make her fall apart. “poor baby. go ahead, be a good girl and cum on my face.” you said before going back to her clit, curling your fingers faster and sucking harder. it didn’t take long before her moans got louder —to which she had to muffle herself with her free hand— and creamed all over your mouth. you moaned, lapping at everything she was giving you as you fucked her through it. “atta girl…” you praised, smirking at the shaking of her thighs. she was panting by the time she was done, slightly whimpering at your licks as you cleaned her up. she watched as you pulled your fingers out of her and pushed them inside your mouth, your eyes never leaving hers as you sucked them clean. she bit down on her lip, the hand on your hair slightly tightening. “it’s best we go out there.” you said as you got up from your aching knees. “we’ve got a match to win.” she nodded, getting dressed with flushing cheeks.
after that, abby was back to her normal self, playing to win. in fact, it was the best she had ever played in a long time, and your coach noticed. it was before you went to enter the court on a change that he stopped you.
“i don’t know what the hell you did… but well done.” he said, and you smiled, taking a look at abby, who looked away with a flushed expression.
you shrugged.
“she just needed to loosen up.”
-
a/n; i need her
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avtrbee · 5 months
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✢ summary: just like everyone else, sometimes megumi just wants his mom.
✢ tags: mentions of the death of a pet, implied satoru x reader
✢ a/n: my friend has psychoanalyzed me with a diagnosis of mommy issues and i have always denied them. then i caught myself reflecting on what type of fanfics i write. especially this one.
Ever since Megumi had started school in Tokyo, he was barely home. Of course, he comes home every now and then, and living within the school's dormitories is part of the high school experience- hell, even you stayed in the school when you were a student- but the house is quiet without him, too quiet, which is probably why he does not go home as often as you'd like- that, among other things.
Everyone in your household knew that Tsumiki was what made your house into a home. Your girl always greeted you with a smile and volunteered to make hot meals for the family when you and Satoru didn't feel like cooking. She was warmth, she was energy, she was life. Until she wasn't.
The house became cold without its fire. You couldn't blame Megumi for wanting an escape from the halls that still echo her memory. Which was why you were surprised to see him sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his thighs, hands buried in his face.
"Megumi?" You call. "I didn't hear you come in."
His head lifts up and looks at you. "Liar," he accuses. "You can sense my cursed energy miles away. You knew I was coming home as soon as you felt it ."
His words were harsh but his tone was not off of his usual deadpan manner of speaking. You can't help but smile. He is still the same child who refused to sleep unless he clung to his divine dogs, Tsumiki, you, or Satoru (reluctantly, of course) in some way. He claimed it was for "warmth."
But he knows you as much as you know him. As he made his way to the house, you noticed something- his cursed energy was off. It was more powerful than usual. Of course, it could be a good thing- perhaps he was doing really well in school, but his downcast eyes and even broodier vibe are telling you otherwise. "What's wrong?"
Megumi leans back on the couch, sighs, and contemplates. He stares at your wall that is decorated with framed pictures and pictures you memories from his childhood. You've even framed pictures of his drawings- usually doodles of his shikigami.
He stands abruptly. "Never mind," he dismisses. "I don't wanna- I don't want to talk about it. It's childish and stupid-"
"Stupid enough to make you retreat back home?" You ask. You watch as your question sinks in through Megumi. Slowly, he sits back down. You sit on the other end of the couch.
"What's wrong, 'Gumi?" You ask again. "Tell me." I can fix it. Whatever it is, if I can fix it, I will shouts your inner thoughts.
"I lost one of them," Megumi whispers.
“Oh, Megumi, I-” you say, racking your brain for something to say. Deaths in the jujutsu world is so common that when you’re within the industry for too long you get used to it. “Losing a colleague- this won’t be the first time, baby. Nor will it be the last.”
“No,” Megumi groans out frustrated. There are tears streaming down his cheeks that he angrily wipes away. “My dogs. I lost one. I- Yuki died.”
Your heart breaks at Megumi’s childhood name for his white demon dog. “‘Gumi, I’m so sorry-”
You move to his side of the couch, wide arms open. Megumi falls in, just like he did when he was small. Megumi feels himself melt in your hold, his walls and defenses crumbling away like ash.
Megumi refuses to cry at all times but when you have his arms wrapped around him he finds himself not caring at all. It was like his heart recognized you too.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you pretend not to feel his tears.
You hold him until he lets you. Megumi is the one to pull away, and you never do. This boy js fickle with touch, and you always leave the duration of your hugs to his discretion.
You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping away the tear tracks. You’ve never seen Megumi this heartbroken before.
“I told him to scout the area and I just left him for a second- and he-” Megumi hiccups. “His head was on the wall. The curse threw his head so hard it made the pavement crack.”
You do not pretend to know his pain for you will never feel it. Megumi’s divine dogs were his first achievement. He smiled the first time he summoned them, even as Satoru threw him in the air in joy. Those dogs would trail after him in the house, obeying his command. You would turn a blind eye to the spare pieces of meat Megumi throws under the table just so they could taste cooked beef.
Megumi would refuse to let them go even when he slept, and was upset that they would disappear when he rested or lowered his guard. As a present, Satoru gifted him customized stuffed animals of the dogs that he never slept without. You were sure he packed those toys with him in the dorm.
When Tsumiki volunteers to run errands, Megumi would summon a dog and follow her. Just in case. They both always came back safe.
“He just did what I commanded, he was good, he was a good boy.” Megumi said, in a quieter voice.
“The best,” you agreed. “But didn’t Yuki merge with the other one? Isn’t that how your technique works when one of them dies?”
“It’s stupid-” A glare from you was all it took. “It’s not the same,” he admits. “I just want my dogs back.”
You give him a sad smile. You pull him close for another hug, and he melts in your arms once again but this time, he does not pull away. You hold him until his tears have dried, until his breaths slowed down, and until his eyes closed for a well deserved rest.
extra note: yuki apparently means snow in japanese. get it? snow=white demon dog (im not creative at all yall)
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dimicul · 1 month
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wine red
simon riley x chubby!female reader
just something quick i wrote after i saw this ghost headcanon on tt :,)
“Nothin’, just don’t like how my stomach sticks out.”
Simon pauses, his expression neutral. He glances towards you, drinking in the sight of your features drawing into a small frown as you studied your reflection, hands supporting the small pudge around your belly. He notes how bloody beautiful you look in red, but looks back to his own shoes, urging back a grunt of frustration.
You never complained about your belly.
He’s been around you long enough to be aware of your insecurities, watching you pad towards the bathroom mirror and prod at your pimples, grumbling at the bump on your nose bridge, sometimes sat beside him in bed with a sparkly face mask on - it was second nature to know you, and although it pissed him off to no end, he also understood insecurities were normal.
But this - this was different. You embraced your body, curves, blemishes and all, the crooks and crevices denting your flesh - you didn’t care for the sly looks or judgemental comments, you wore whatever the hell you wanted. And if anyone had a problem, Simon would have fixed it in a heartbeat. This wasn’t your insecurity, this wasn’t a flaw, it was a part of you you loved.
Simon couldn’t handle your expression.
A sigh, a clacking of heels - you had torn your gaze away from the mirror, face scrunched up into one of those mopey frowns Simon adored, and grabbed the leather coat from the rack. It’s almost suffocating, the silence, and he does realise he needs to say something, but talking wasn’t always his strong suit. So his jaw clicks into place, shoulders broad and unmoving, gloved hands resting on his thighs.
Suddenly Simon is sixteen again and sat in front of his headteacher.
He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, whiskey irises boring into the back of your head before you turn with a half assed smile. Ha. He’s glad he can understand your little moods now, or else this night would’ve turned for the worse.
“Come.” The baritone of his voice draws you out of your darting thoughts. You sigh, stepping forward.
You’re not prepared for when his large hands latch onto your hips gently, pushing you forward so his head could rest on your stomach.
“Si-”
And again. You’re doing things you’ve never done before - you always let him rest on your stomach, it was never something you panicked about. A beat passes and your boyfriend lifts his head, penetrating eyes contrasting starkly against the red of your dress.
“What’s up with you?”
You purse your lips, mulling over his tone. “Nothing, just - this dress wasn’t always so… fitting.”
Simon hums roughly, and you inhale sharply at his hands stroking against your hip tenderly.
“Look’s fine to me.”
Neither of you say anything. Not a lot of words needed to be said around him, but then again, not a lot of men were like Simon. Your eyes soften, and you let your palm rest on the back of his neck, your touch making him hum again, the vibrations against your belly causing you to shudder.
“Ev’ry big boy needs his big girl.”
You laugh sweetly, and finally, he exhales quietly, welcoming the feel of your nails against his neck. He supposed it didn’t matter what the hell you thought about yourself.
Because he’d always want you.
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hypewinter · 7 months
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Jason had been sitting in his living room, maintenancing his weapons when a circle appeared before him. It was big and swirling. It's hue very much akin to the sickening green of the Lazarus pits. He quickly realized the circle was in fact a portal as a teen stepped out of it. The teen wore surgical gloves and a mask over what appeared to be a hazmat suit. His hair was silver and seemed unaffected by gravity. Worse of all though, were his eyes that were that same damn color that Jason had long since grown to hate.
Jason grabbed two guns that were not currently taken apart and aimed them at the boy, taking a menacing step forward as he did so. "Who are you?" he growled. "What do you want?"
To his surprise, the boy didn't threaten him or gloat about some massive plan already under way. He didn't even offer some sort of vague, cryptic advice. Instead, the teen actually took a step back, covering his nose with one arm while putting the other up in surrender.
"Don't come any close!" he yelped. "The stench is already bad enough from here."
Jason blinked. What? "Excuse me?" was all he could utter.
The boy turned away slightly and dry heaved. "Ugh, so nasty."
Jason was having trouble figuring out what was going on. Even with his detective training. "Did you- did you just call me nasty?" he finally managed to splutter out.
The boy turned back to him, his eyes crinkling in utter disgust. "Uh, yeah. What else would you call a flea infested rat?"
"Flea infested-" Jason squawked.
"Listen could you just come with me so that we can get all of that taken care of asap," the boy said, gesturing towards Jason.
Regaining his composure a little, Jason tightened his grip on his weapons. "Hell no! I'm not going anywhere with you until you start explaining."
Despite having two guns pointed at his head, the teen only let out a deep sigh.
"Fine, have it your way." He replied, stepping towards Jason. The vigilante heard the kid mumbling, "You can do this. Think of it as handling a stinky baby. A very disease infested stinky baby," as he got closer and closer.
Jason fired off a warning shot next to the kid but the boy didn't even flinch. Fine, Jason thought. We can do this the hard way. He aimed at the boy's knee cap and fired. Only for the bullet to pass right through him. The boy neared him before picking him up like an unruly kitten. Jason went limp as he officially stopped processing what was happening. How the hell had this kid managed to lift him so effortlessly?
He didn't put up a fight as the boy turned around and led them both back through the portal, his arms outstretched as far away from his torso as possible. Jason's mind had just barely started to process information again when this weird furry, horned creature appeared in front of him.
"Ah Great One! You've returned," it said.
"Yeah yeah just hurry up and take this from me before I throw up!" the teen replied, setting Jason down and distancing himself.
The creature fixed the boy with a stern look. "That is not how we treat patients, Great One. Need I remind you? It was you who wanted to be my apprentice and all that entails. That includes treating our patients with the utmost professionalism. Regardless of your personal feelings."
The teen actually had the nerve to look sheepish, maybe even a little guilty. As if he hadn't just spent the last 5 minutes mercilessly insulting Jason.
The two continued talking for a time and Jason was more than happy to let them. It gave him time to process what the hell he was looking at and with any luck, they would let slip some crucial information. Instead however, they ended up discussing more about whatever this apprenticeship was before the weird looking creature turned back towards Jason.
"Apologies for the rudeness my apprentice has shown you," he said.
Jason muttered out an 'uh huh' in response.
The creature clapped his hands. "Now then, shall we get you examined?"
Examined? Jason staring blankly at the creature. Then he stared at the teen, hoping to gleam any info from their facial expressions. Nothing. And of course he did have his comms or his sos signal on him. Great, just great. What an absolutely craptastic situation he found himself in. He'd be sure to come back and haunt Bruce this time. Maybe even Dick. He swore that much.
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title: you’re not you when you’re hungry
author: sciencebecameouraddiction
fandom: hazbin hotel
rating: G
genre: Fluff, could be read as romantic or platonic
pairing: Alastor x Reader
summary: Alastor looks about ready to end Vaggie, and you piece together it’s because he hasn’t eaten. So, you make him some food!
inspired by: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFqDAUk/
You watched closely as Alastor’s eye twitched while Vaggie went through her list of to-do’s. You knew that angels didn’t have to eat, which made so much more sense after finding out that Vaggie was an angel. That was the difference for demons though. Demons, sinners, and any hell born had to eat.
You briefly wondered if Alastor had eaten today. You’d never say anything but you saw he forgot to eat as often as you did. It could have been something else than forgetting, but you chalked it up to forgetting.
‘That would be why he was cranky,’ you mused to yourself. You hopped off your stool and made your way to the kitchen. Quickly you pulled together your own famous Spiced Alfredo and used some of the venison you knew Alastor kept in the refrigerator. He was always stocked up… even though he constantly forgot to eat, which was humorous. You finished off the sauce and pasta, hearing loud yelling and the static that accompanied an upset Alastor.
You quickly finished the plate, placed it at the bar on the island in the kitchen and dashed out, the dashing helping your cause as you looked so disheveled as you just about crashed into the lobby. You panted and leaned against your arm, anchoring it on the wall.
“Al-Alastor.” You called, still out of breath. Whatever Alastor was about to respond to Vaggie, who looked enraged, was stopped as he turned to you. He glared at you, his eyes narrowing.
“What is it?” His voice tight with annoyance.
“I need your help. Seriously. I think only you can fix this.” He sighs, his teeth grinding in his smile.
“We’ll finish this when I come back.” He remarked to Vaggie and she glared at him as he left the lobby. You stood staring at him when he stood in front of you. His head tilted.
“Where to?” He asked, gesturing to the hall behind you.
“Oh! Yes!” You walked to the kitchen and heard a stomach growl as you got closer and the scent of the pasta got stronger. You hid your smile as you turned the corner and pointed to the seat. “Sit.” Alastor looked at you and did so.
“I’m not sure how this is helping anything-“ He cut off his sentence as you placed the large plate of food in front of him.
“Eat. You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You chuckle at the joke Alastor would not get, as you turn and toast some bread, finishing up the meal you were making. You heard him set his staff down and the clink of him picking up his fork. You look behind and see him moving the pasta around and sniffing the food suspiciously. “I didn’t poison it.” You say in disgust, rolling your eyes as you walk toward him spreading butter on the toast and placing three slices on his plate.
“Can’t ever be too sure.” He deadpans. “Is this?” He trails off looking at you.
“Venison, yes.” You say chuckling as you finish up a cup of coffee as well. “My famous Spiced Alfredo? Also, yes.” You set the coffee down in front of him, black, but brewed with a bit of salt to take out the bitterness. “Black coffee? Of course it is. You only drink coffee.” You roll your eyes and take off your apron, seeing Alastor take his first bite, his eyes widening. You turn to him and raise your eye brows, sipping your own coffee, but with sugar and cream.
“You like it?” You ask as Alastor takes another bite, just nodding. “Good. Eat and then you can do whatever you were doing. Otherwise you were going to kill someone because you were hangry.” You laugh and go to leave, to give Alastor some peace, when his hand lands on your arm, stopping you so gently. You look at him questioningly, and then he pulls out the seat next to you, a wordless invitation. “I’m not eating anything though.” You warn.
“That’s fine.” He says, taking another bite. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Well, in my time, we had TV and there was a channel called Food Network. All these great chefs would have different TV shows and you could learn how to cook. I never had formal training but I learned how to cook by watching them.” You laugh.
“Fascinating. Tell me more.” Alastor prompted as he continued to eat, listening to you talk about your favorite show and even some of the gossip that was supposedly fact. Alastor never expected kindness like this and the last time someone did something like this for him, his mother was still alive. He was going to cherish this as long as he could.
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princessbrunette · 1 month
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imagine rafe trying to teach you a little bit of self defense but you just get turned on by him manhandling you and he’s just tsking at you underneath him with your hands pinned above your head lowly whispering “you gotta pay attention kid, there’s bad men out there… gotta know how’t stop em from from thinking they can do whatever they want” and she’d get all blushy and squirming just looking at him all doe eyed like “You can do what ever you want 🥺🥺🩷” He loves how submissive you are !!!!
i love this idea sm but when i started writing it kinda turned into something else ??? kinda dubcon but that’s just how he plays sometimes. reader is clearly wanting it !
ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡
rafe was in one of his moods. the odd moods he gets in where he’s suddenly motivated to fix things, handle business, be ‘proactive’ as he puts it. there was no business to handle that day, so he turned his attention to you — deciding now of all times was the time to teach you how to defend yourself.
the idea had sprung to him when he walked into the room and stared you down, coming to the harrowing realisation that you hadn’t even noticed his presence, too engrossed in the book in your grasp. he creeps closer, and you don’t even blink. he edges behind you, and notes the way he could grab you into a headlock if he wanted, or cover your mouth, hell — he could snap your neck. you’d never see it coming.
of course, he didn’t want to ever hurt you — which is why he decided to stage an impromptu lesson. that gets you to where you end up, pinned to the ground beneath him.
“ow, rafe.” you frown wiggling your wrist from his grip until he lets it free with a shake of his head. you weren’t too happy about him stealing you away from your time of relaxation with your book — but you would never give up the opportunity to have your boyfriends hands on you. you thought things would have played out a little more… fun.
“see, you — you did it again. if i put my hand here, what are you gonna do, huh? what’d i tell you?” he raises his eyebrows, prompting a response.
“uhh, bite it?” you giggle, making him sit up on his knees, jaw ticking in frustration.
“you know i’m tryna save your life here, kid. someone comes up to you and grabs you, you’re screwed, ‘cos you don’t know how to protect yourself. i’m not always gonna be around to fight people off okay?”
“why not?” you whine, pressing a socked foot against his chest from where you lay. he wraps a hand gently around your ankle and brings it down, expression displaying his frustration.
“because i am not with you 24 hours a day, alright? m’not playing around here. you gonna listen?” he nudges your thigh with his own and you huff, head moving with a noncommittal nod. “okay.” he brings his body down onto yours, pinning you down with it. he had to be doing this on purpose. “alright, flip me on my back. go.”
you can’t help yourself, you wrap your legs around his waist and bring his crotch flush against yours with a little giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. he presses his lips together, staring at you blankly from his incredibly close proximity and stays silent until your childish laughs die down. you think he’s going to remove himself, lecture you and walk off for a little while— but he continues to stare, even when you wriggle beneath him, legs split around his body — mound of your cunt pressing up against his bulge.
“you think this is some kinda joke huh?” he asks quietly, and the smile starts to melt off your face. “like — like i’m just doin’ this shit for fun.” he glares, and now your hearts pounding because you only wanted to be close to him!
“no…” you mewl, brows knitted but it’s too late. he pushes himself up on his knees again, looking down on you.
“you know i’m real nice to you. there’s bad men out there that’ll really rough you up. maybe… maybe i should give you a taste of that, huh? show you what i’m protecting you from.”
you go to argue, tell him you’ll listen — but he slides a leg under yours and in one movement flips you so you’re suddenly laying on your front, ass a little raised. he leans over you, collecting your wrists with one hand and pins them down. “nah, go ahead. try and fight me off baby. see if you can.” he speaks eerily calmly and you wriggle, realising you’re totally pinned beneath his weight with no escape. “yeah, that shits scary huh? can’t get out.” he nods and you let out a little cry.
“okay, rafe c’mon!”
“nah, you think this is a game so i’m gonna show you just how fuckin’ real this is a’ight?” he tucks his free hand into your pyjama shorts and begins to yank them down. you hate how your heart feels like it’s in your throat and yet your cunt throbs and your back arches from muscle memory. “better wise up, sweetheart— ‘cos i don’t think you’re getting out of this.” he gives your ass cheek a firm smack, watching the fat of it recoil beneath the touch and you whine.
“teach me! rafe you can teach me, please!” you pout, craning round to look at him. his lip is curled into a malicious smirk, head shaking in disapproval.
“yeah, you know you’re just too late. gonna have to learn your lesson now, alright? remember this shit.”
ೀ 🍨 ‧ ˚ 🎀 ⊹˚. ♡
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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months
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I Never Missed You 2/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)
Word count: 7.3 k
Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)
Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.
A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Smutty smut ahead in this chapter. Brace yourselves for impact.
Part 1
You have to admit that you look dashing tonight. 
And not because you want to turn people's heads at the party… But because you want him to look at you like you're the most forbidden snack he will never have.
It's selfish and petty, and you're just seeking attention. But at least you have the balls to admit it: you want Simon Riley to drool after you. You want this man on his knees. And nothing else has worked except that bra.
So you turn to the world's oldest weapon. A woman's weapon. Seduction.
"I'd suggest you keep a low profile until we're done."
He looks at you through the mirror while you finish your hair. Uses the word we instead of I. It makes your heart ache… And you take even that lecturing comment as a compliment. So he does think you look nice, or at least nice enough to stand out. You read into every look, every little tone of voice he gives you.
"I thought we were supposed to lure him in," you say while you neaten your necklace. Of course you look nice. You have done everything you can to look ravishing tonight: a deep-cut, thigh-revealing dress, cat eye makeup, red lipstick...
"Yeah but not like this."
"I'm not locking myself inside the house because of this," you announce pointedly. "I'm not afraid to live my life." 
You turn and look him up and down, give him a little tilt of the head. "Don't you have anything else to wear?"
He doesn't shrink, doesn't bat an eyelash. Just looks down on you from that ivory tower of masculine prowess and makes you feel like a fool for being so dolled up.
"There's a difference between courage and foolhardiness," he states, not falling for your attempts to make him feel small in your world. You suspect there is so much more to this man, but you don't care to know about the circumstances he grew up in, the situations that gave him that broken nose and lip. You don't want to know about his broken soul.
Or perhaps you do...
"I suppose you know everything about that," you say while looking straight at the uneven scar on his jugular.
"I do."
"Tragic past?"
"You could say that."
You feel even more silly, standing before him in all your glory, pearls in your ears and silver around your neck. You pay this man for his services; he's supposed to protect you. But something in his eyes told you from the start that there lies an abyss inside this man. And you didn't pay for that: a peek inside his heart. But a door is open a creak now, and what's inside is pure darkness.
"Well, whatever it is, I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
Your cultured attempt to dance around his chasm makes those brown pools melt. Finally, he melts. But not to compassion, or mercy, or anything that would make you believe that you two understand each other. 
He looks at you like you're a stranger from another planet. He's intrigued but doesn't quite understand how a creature like yourself has come to be. You're not only a child in his eyes but a coward as well for not daring to open that door to hell.
"What do you think," you hurry to change the subject. "Will I do tonight?"
He’s always so hyper-vigilant, his stare fixed on everything else but you. It feels childish, to be jealous of his attention when all he’s trying to do is protect you. 
But now… Now that alert darkness bores straight into you.
"You look good in everything, ma'am."
A breeze of arctic wind goes through your scalp, and a fainting warmth settles in your belly.
You tiptoed your way to the fridge yesterday morning, before official breakfast, in your knickers and an old band merch from your youth - the one you still slept in sometimes because it was far more comfier than your silk pajamas. He walked in fully dressed and mighty while you were sneaking back upstairs with a glass of apple juice. The humiliation was overwhelming, especially when he dared to look you up and down in your state of underdress.
"Goodness… Sorry."
It should’ve been he who was supposed to say those words. But you felt like an intruder in your own house. It was a dangerous slip: to look so homely, with no brush stroke gone through your hair, with no toner on your skin. With no makeup and standing there before him in all your…you.
"No harm done."
He had never looked at you like that, and you swore right then and there that you would only descend those stairs with your full battledress from now on.
"Even in an old t-shirt…?" You ask with a tight voice. Desperate. Longing…
"Especially then."
Simon Riley strips you from your weapons and charades in a second. Your tight, seductive smile slowly falls off your face, and from behind it, a fragile, naked hope arises to gape at him. He clears his throat as if he just offered you an entire bowl full of ice cream when he was supposed to give you only a little scoop.
"I'm gonna go take a shower," he says, calm and adamant, like a statue you would go to see at a gallery.
"I'm afraid we should be going already."
"Takes 5 minutes."
You purse your lips, and he's on his way to the bathroom before you can even give him your nod. The guy is used to military showers, then, and perhaps it's for the better that he puts on at least some effort.
When he comes out, you're sitting in the hallway, and he's only wearing a towel. It's the one you gave him when he arrived, the softest you could find from your closets. You remember how the first odd thought you had upon seeing this man is that he probably isn't used to softness.
And now you see why.
You can see the prominent veins and the sketchy forearm ink, his muscles are magnificent to the point of unholy, he has a delicious, thin layer of fat on top of his belly, and the eyelashes aren't the only breath of hair that's pale on this man… But he looks like he has gone through an inferno.
His back is full of scars, and half of his shoulder looks like it has been dipped into a deep fryer. You catch a hollow dent between his ribs, and there's more, but he walks to his room before you see the rest of it.
The taxi drive to the party is filled with silence as you try to digest what you just saw. You want to call your lawyer and demand him to tell you where the hell did he find this man and who Simon Riley truly is. Who exactly does he work for when he's not taking bodyguard jobs? 
But the first thing you do when you arrive at the large party held in a small palace is to go to the punch bowl and down a glassful in one go.
He's on your heels the whole night, eyes everyone with a hawk stare, and does his job perfectly. He grabs your arm occasionally and whispers in your ear if someone seems suspicious. After one and a half hours, he comes to you and practically demands that you two leave. Normally, you would start an argument, but not tonight.
You kind of want to go back home, too. The people at the party seem tedious, and his scars have reminded you that even if you live in a world where violence is not the norm, it doesn't mean that other worlds don't exist. Otherworlds - where people get shot, stabbed, and blown apart. Whipped and cut and deep-fried. You're in danger, and it took his suffering to see that.
You have been so stupid that you just about wish someone would slap you.
Simon has been so patient with you that you nearly apologize on the ride back home. You want to beg his forgiveness and confess you have been a spoiled little idiot.
But again, that's not an easy thing to do. You turn to look at your forbearing bodyguard, ever silent in the taxi, and turn your voice to silk.
"You really should smile more," you suggest. He doesn't answer, just looks out your window as if there were perils there too. You suddenly realize anyone could shoot through the glass or the door at any given time. With a proper caliber, a bullet could pierce that window and coat his black shirt with the insides of your skull.
No. No. I'm not ducking my head.
There's no one there.
"Have you ever tried?"
You turn to humor and flirt to drive those intrusive thoughts from your head. He doesn't yet know that you're afraid, that you have been afraid this whole time. You should have bought that armored car.
"Am I your most annoying client ever…?" There's a smile on your lips, a little pardon for being so infuriating. His eyes drop there, then lift back up to your eyes with surprising seriousness.
"You're my first client ever."
Well… This was news.
"Oh. Why did you accept this job?"
His stare sails away from you and back to the London night. You stifle the urge to grab his hand, a fistful of his shirt, to draw his attention back to you. Every time he's around, you feel safe; every time he looks at you, everything else ceases to exist. 
You want him so badly you could cry.
"They don't teach you manners at the SAS…?"
"No. They teach us how to kill."
You scoff and turn to look through the window, too. 
"Brute."
"You're entitled to your opinion, ma'am."
When you reach your house, he uses that term again. You're 110 % sure he's only trying to annoy you. 
"Good night, ma'am."
"Stop it," you nearly slam your purse on the table in the hallway.
"What?"
"The ma'am thing…!"
You sound like a wife who's looking for an argument after putting on a charade all evening. When the door to your home closes, volcanoes erupt, and bombs drop, your husband-like bodyguard gets the blunt of your fear and frustration.
But how do you argue with someone who never argues back? He's calm like the Pacific during a stormless season, always, always gets calmer when you're going berserk. He walks to the armchair in your living room like he owns the whole goddamn place and sits down with a sigh. 
And there is a smile playing on his lips.
"What should I call you then?"
You look at him, dumbstruck, on that chair, spreading his legs like there's no tomorrow, arms comfortably on the armrests, and mouth drawn into a genuine, peaceful, thoroughly naughty smile.
"Oh, now you're smiling," you huff. The unbelievable audacity of this man… "Some ideas on what to call me popped into your head?"
"Verily."
"Go on then."
"Nah. You should go to sleep."
"I'm not going until you tell me."
You cross your arms over your chest to underline that ruling. His smile only widens. He looks wickedly delicious in that seat with his legs spread, and the chair doesn't swallow him like it swallows you. Actually, his shoulders are wider than the back panel of this enormous chair.
"Well," he begins, "’princess' came up first."
You try to catch what he just said through the stupor of wanting to climb on that wide lap.
"Truly? How original."
"Or spoiled brat."
You stop breathing for a second, then reel straight toward a spiral of–
"How dare you?"
You notice his eyes dropping to your heaving breasts again. This man is so different from a dinner-offering, cunning man in a suit. He has no pretenses whatsoever. He looks at you with that little smile, eyes burning, legs drifting apart even more, probably his cock stirring from how you are trying to chastise him. If you had pearls around your neck, you would clutch them. Or throw them at him.
"You son of a–"
"Pretty."
His next choice renders you speechless; it cuts through your insult before it even flees your mouth. You gape at him, jaw open, breathing and cheeks burning, pussy throbbing - soaked so thoroughly now that you feel a tiny droplet cascade down your thigh.
"Yeah. That's better," the man says as if he's also blessed with a Superman stare, knowing you're seconds away from drenched. "Better than brat or princess, anyway."
The darkness conceals most of him as he settles inside that massive chair he dwarfs. You are falling, or at least that's what it feels like. A tumble, a slip inside his Styx. But there's no bottom, and the water is warm ink, despite the fact that he's so blanched.
"Pretty…?" You whisper into that water, breathe onto the surface of his depths. The darkness answers immediately.
"Very."
Your swallow is a wet, nervous roll inside your throat when you sink into that river of lust and smoke. 
You take your jewels off first, because you know he doesn't care for them. Money's not his chief interest, even if he's being paid. And fat, at that. But he's not here for riches, he’s not here for the jewels – or that's what you desperately wish.
The necklace and pearls are gone soon, tucked away on the table with your trembling digits, and he's sitting there like a statue.
You have no trouble with this dress: the zipper seems to cascade down on its own as you reach behind your back. He's motionless as you slip out of the straps that keep the dark velvet up. You feel like you're the Styx: but the darkness of the river pools at your feet as you let go of the gown, let go of everything and continue your freefall.
He doesn't move, doesn't give evidence that he's even breathing; he just sits there like a long-forgotten king.
The panic snares you with a drool-wet throat: you salivate not because of him but because of your nerves. 
Are you… harassing him?
Does he want this…?
At least he thinks you're pretty – and you could laugh out loud; your thoughts are vain and petty, even when you're baring yourself before him in more ways than just one. Your breaths are audible distress inside that darkness, and he's still: everything's still.
But he moves when you reach for your bra.
It's just a hand that soars through the darkness, an involuntary reach for support and gathering of composure as his fingers find his jaw. They swipe across imagined stubble before he leans his head on that hand, just an ounce's worth of weight placed on his thumb and pointer as if he's simply in his thoughts. But the hawk stare is fixed on the lace covering your breasts as it falls on the floor too.
You hear his breaths now. Quicker on the inhale, heavy on the exhale. Your thumbs slide under the hem of the last piece of your veil, something you got from the store when you were feeling down. Now the underwear makes you feel better than ever - who would’ve guessed it's the moment you slither it off? Slowly, too: you’re being a tease, hip bones giving a two-second dance for him as he continues to watch you strip before him like the queen of the night.
You breathe in sync now, and your nipples perk up – he hasn't even touched you yet and you're more aroused than ever with a man.
Not a word spoken, and you fear you’re being delusional – if you've just imagined the heat between you two, but then those legs flare a hair's breadth more. His voice is the softest whip as it crackles through the void.
"Yeah... You're pretty. Now what?"
You breathe in gusts now. It's exhilaration, damnation.
"Jesus Christ, Simon."
The chair gives a creak as he rises, like an ancient shadow. Intimidating – intense, always, always, and you've been trying to coat him with soft towels and feed him toast. You wonder if he prefers black tea simply because it tastes more bitter than coffee rounded with milk.
Does he want this? Silly softness and toast and–
You get all your answers as he bends just enough to match your height, just enough to sweep you off your feet. Your hands go around his neck on instinct as he lifts you up from your rich, opulent Styx and into his sea.
You're quiet all the way upstairs – he can't fuck you downstairs, then, has to intrude on your luxury and privacy. You don't mind, especially when the steps give a desperate wail under your combined weight. He lets it sing its music to the night: your ruining already makes so much noise.
He reaches for his gun right after he’s placed you on the mattress. The sound of it is heavy when he sets it on the nightstand that has only seen glasses of water and apple juice and perhaps a few books. 
He undresses with soldierly sharpness, no seduction there. But he doesn't have to seduce you: his stare and heavy-cold demeanor have already done that.
He's so, so different from the others… Looks at you on the bed like you're both a piece of tender sirloin and something akin to garbage. That's an accurate depiction of a princess, perhaps. You know wasps gather around both honey and bloodied meat. 
He looks at you like that because you know nothing. And he's not here to ruin you… he's here to insert himself inside you like you're a foe that needs to be infiltrated, plundered and burned until you understand. 
He's big. Daunting. A brute while you’re the princess, could be the sleeping beauty, the way you stay immobile and try to take in this man's sheer power. You saw him half naked already when he came from the shower, but it's nothing compared to seeing all that taut, scarred flesh up close, soon about to fall upon you like a broken mountain. 
And what's between his legs is wholly proportional to the rest of him. That thing is a menace, and it's not even fully erect - hanging thick between thick thighs, foreskin revealing a fat, sloping tip, and he's veined all over… 
Finally, your mouth goes dry.
His gaze sweeps your beauty, and that cock gives a throb – a good, hard pull that stretches out into the open air, and your eyes go wide. Then he prowls, like the king of the jungle, moving with a fluidity that must be scary to those who meet their end by this big brute’s violence.
You are able to take in air only when his hand falls next to your head. The other claims you by the middle as if to soothe you - but the truth is you're caged in like a tiny, quivering animal.
The hand is heavy as it slopes across your stomach and scales your mound. It doesn't cup or probe, only rests there over your most sacred place, like an enemy surrounding a city. Your thighs part slowly, hoping he would just sweep right in.
"This wasn't in the deal," he rasps as he looks down at you: heavy iron judging a diamond.
"Oh shut up," you breathe, thoroughly thrilled and shy. If you weren't lying down, his intensity would buckle your knees.
"Nor do I take orders from you, ma'am."
"I'm not- Don't call me a-"
His eyes spark as the hand dips down like a deep diver into the blue. You gasp a stunned whiff when he's met with a mortifying amount of slickness. Your arousal sings a pretty song as he draws a finger over your slit, the moist sounds followed by another stuttering sigh. 
"Look at you all wet," he remarks, and you grit your teeth.
“Shut…up…”
"You know why I accepted this job?"
He wrecks you with one thick finger, rough skin lathering you with your own juice like he's trying to make a point here. And he is making a point: it comes across perfectly. The princess is a filthy mess for brutes…
And of course he was given a file on you too. With more than just one photo.
"Yeah," he rasps when you only look back at him with your felled deer helplessness. You could swear that he just heard your thoughts. "I think you know."
"You're–ah– a brute," you whisper, eyes shining. Your thighs part even more, feel yourself leaking over his fingers that stroke you agonizingly slow. You swallow with hunger, the need pangs on your cheeks. Your whole body is throbbing for him.
“Sticks and stones, love.”
He's so infuriating that you could slap him. Claw him, rip him apart. But you nearly laugh instead… It's far better an option to let him claw and rip you apart. He's tearing you apart right now, with those eyes and his hand, exploring you like you're the first course and he's here for the whole dinner. How can he be so calm?
"Could you…" You start, then realize you've never begged for this man.
"Hm? Talk to me," he commands. "Whatever ya want."
You whimper – from bliss or relief, you can't tell. The frantic need to serve is fully fleshed out in his tone. It surprises you. You thought he was here for his own pleasure. 
You try to think through the bliss of his fingers. You've had all kinds of things... All you could ever want, most would say. But that's not entirely true. No man has ever promised to please you however you want.
"Could you go…"
"Go down on you?" He places a thumb, broad and hard, on your clit. Teases it with the slightest pressure and a circle.  "Lick your cunt?"
Fuck…
He has no trouble saying it as it is, and you nod, still helpless.
"Sure. 'N after that I'll fuck you nice and good."
He's never, ever sounded like that before. Dark, and rich, the baritone reaching a level that speaks of hunger – no, need.
A brute, a pussy-drunk brute, the blood in your veins sing as he goes down. Nothing can prepare you for the way with which he manhandles his way between your thighs like they're only a petty distraction in the way. They're forced wide apart with a tight grip that speaks of urgency, but he takes his time to admire the sight bared before him. He’s drinking you in like ambrosia, towering above you while you’re being held open for him to just observe you like you’re a center-spread girl in a filthy magazine. 
"You're fucking pretty down here, did ya know that?"
You don't even know what to say - his tone, his observation is base, and still, they're the most beautiful words anyone has ever said to you.
"No…?"
"Well now ya know."
He steals a final glance at you, and the fire in his eyes already makes your legs feel weak. He dives between your parted legs, right into your leaking, glistening folds, and you're suddenly glad that you've done all that yoga… Those shoulders are so broad they force your thighs even further apart as he makes himself home there between your legs. 
A hot mouth presses against you like this man has been starving, even if you've fed him the best delicacies for days. An even, fat stroke is the first thing you feel before your toes curl and your head falls back.
"Goodness, Simon..." You try to keep yourself from stuttering as his mouth opens you like a flower. You should be quiet, for once, and let him do the job. He seems like an expert, even and especially there between your legs. "Do you-ah, always shag your clients?" 
"Told you you're my first," he rasps a husky sigh on your folds. He could ruin you with that voice alone.... He gives you another sweep of his tongue, full and ample, and your fingers curl around the sheets, your hips buck; your ass drives up on instinct, trying to both escape his mouth and rub your pussy against those thin but eager lips. 
"Don't worry," he tells your pussy with a warm chuckle. "This is free of charge."
You sigh, the first laugh of many up into the air. You're supposed to get angry, but you can't. You can't. 
"Have… no words for you."
"Good. It's about time you stopped talking, love."
He grabs your hips to punctuate it that you should indeed shut up. Fingers sink into your flesh like you're a whole goddamn feast - no more fucking toast and teasing. His hands look so huge as they dig into your skin - so different from the hands of men who work in offices or wait for people to serve them. You upvoted those hands to be the best part of this man long ago.
And that bulk of muscle… Some of those men in suits might go to the gym, but they couldn't forge a body like his in a million years: that breathtaking mass built to work and endure harsh conditions. It's not a flex or a sculptured piece of art: it's simply survival - ancient and primal.
He's got darkness, and you got diamonds, but something tells you his depths are infinitely more valuable. You couldn't buy his intensity even if they sold it in the streets. The skull mask was self-made, everything in this man is self-made, and he's sampling what diamonds taste like, and you wonder… Does he think you're cheap, some fake piece of worthless junk? Does he laugh at how easy you are? That under your manners, you're only a spoiled brat and a promiscuous maneater…? Or that he couldn't care less, as long as he can push his cock inside you?
He gives you his best, that's for sure. A working man, with you as his assigned mission, and the feeling of being a spoiled little princess only increases. And how are you supposed to stay still if he's slow and attentive like that? You might be his first client, but you're not his first shag…
His lips seal tightly around your nub, suck it, lap it, sigh on it - he's already breathless from the need to make you moan and cum. A purpose-driven, ravenous man, and when he dips his tongue inside your cunt, your mind finally goes blessedly blank. Your legs shake and stretch, and you can’t prevent your hand from skimming down to grab his hair when he gives you deep, unhurried plunges with his tongue, huffing against you from the mad want to make you feel good. 
You would never have guessed that Simon Riley would get such pleasure from licking a woman.
One hand disappears from around your thigh, and you guess it's one of his fingers that arrives, wide and thick, to tease your entrance. You can feel the smile on your folds as he slips it in, making you nearly jolt on the sheets. Your fingers instantly curl to tug that pale hair, to grab hold of something, and it makes him rumble inside you. 
He doesn’t even wait for you to catch your breath as he adds another finger. Goes shallow at first, then pushes those fingers in to the knuckle. The feeling of being filled - and not being filled enough - is going to drive you crazy any second now.
"Simon…"  
"Yeah?"
“I want you to… want you to…" you hear yourself choking on your beg as he works those fingers in and out of you while his lips are tight around your clit. He knows exactly what you're trying to ask.
And suddenly, it's he who breaks… 
"Right. 'M gonna fuck you now, yeah?"
The spread is gone, and you're being moved - on your belly, and you briefly think whether it's because he can't bear to look into your eyes when he takes you. You don’t even have time to whimper from the loss of his fingers and mouth before heavy thighs force your legs aside. You’re being spread again, crudely, obscenely, like it’s just a procedure that has to be done. He’s both methodical and impatient, and you wonder - has he wanted to rail you like this ever since he saw you? Force you to lie down on your belly while he takes you from behind like a helpless damsel?
His hands come to your hips as if to make sure that you won’t run away from under him. As if you ever wanted to… 
Something far fatter forces its way between your folds and straight onto your opening. He glides over your folds a few times, spreads your wetness all over his tip. Methodical still, but it makes you moan and swallow.
"Jesus…"
The lathering stops, the jutting cock settles right where your depths lie, and he chuckles. "Not quite, love."
Fuck… 
Fuck this man's cheek and audacity. Fuck his size and pride, the way he knows what he's doing all the fucking time. 
“Desperate for it?” 
That stupidly fat cock just resides there, teasing your aching, leaking hole without going in. But it’s like he answers his own question because you feel the thick of him give a notch against your folds. So impatient. Thoroughly needy. It sends you further down the whirpool of desire, a searing white, fathomless deep..
“Yes..”
When he goes in with a leaden grunt, your muscles go into a spasm - he's too big, he hasn't prepared you right, and still, you force yourself to relax.
"Not what you expected?" 
"It's… too much," you admit. He stops, realizing that for once in his life, he might've been an impatient man. Then he crawls forward, and you feel like you're about to be buried under a boulder as his weight bears down on you. Hands sink into the mattress on both sides of you, forcing you further up against him - you're floating, almost, to where you belong.
"Yeah? C'mon… You can take it."
You shudder. It's not even fully in yet?
He speaks too softly for it to be a demand, even when he's hovering on the brink of wanting to simply ram himself into your cunt. It's an encouragement. He’s cheering you on, like a coach. Or a leader... It’s leadership. 
When you don't object, he starts to feed more of himself in. You try to remember how to breathe because you were wrong, you were so, so wrong - it was barely just the tip, and now you're stretched wide and tight. He's endless, and sinking in deeper, deeper….
And you want it so much - all of him- you want to grip him and never let go. One hand comes to sweep over your hip again, it caresses the swell of your ass, and you know he's looking down at how well you can take him after all.
"How are we doin'?"
Your lips are swollen, and your brows are creased tight. It's still not in…? 
You’re fucked. Literally. But you can take him... You must.
You whimper when he slows down almost to a halt.
"Love. Tell me to stop 'n I'll stop."
"Just–gently," you whisper, brittle and shivering from joy.
"Don't worry. I got you."
Slowly, he arrives to the end of him and you. Hips flesh against yours, he’s out of breath before he even starts the thrusts. His length caresses places unfathomable in this position, and his weight is crushing you, even when he's supporting himself. It only feels like the safest place to be. Trapped there between your safe, soft bed and his safe, hard body. 
The first thrust punches the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t hurt, and it’s not uncomfortable; it’s just too much to take. You’ve never been so filled. 
"Fuck…" He swears, somewhere between the third or fourth thrust. "You're…"
"Good…?" You offer him when he doesn't continue. You know he was possibly going to say tight or something crude like that and corrected himself before it spilled. He merely grunts as an answer - a barbarian through and through, you decree. And then the brute speaks…
"The best."
God. You feel like a diamond after all, but you've never been under so much pressure, fearing you might break.
"You-too…" It's a sad little mewl. You sound like a child trying to make friends. Latching a hook on him, no matter how tiny it is. One shake, one ripple from the behemoth, and it will fall loose.
"Don't go lying with that pretty little mouth," he warns.
"I'm not lying."
"Yeah…? Keep squeezing me like that and perhaps I'll believe you."
It's a strange feeling, to meet your mistrust and jealousy on him. He has no pretenses, but he has secrets, camouflage, and flash grenades that blind you from the truth. But even he can't hide it all when he's moving inside you, so close, so terribly close.
You melt into a pool of heat and want, trying to meet him midway by offering your cunt, arching your spine, driving yourself up to give him better access. What was possibly meant as a desperate fuck turns into a sweet, weightless rocking, a rhythm of him and you. The hands on your hip start to gain weight as he holds you still for him, at times even pulls you against his cock.
"C'mon… wanna hear you," he huffs, then slides one hand to your butt and gives it a fond squeeze when you won't instantly make noise. "You're always givin' me that cheek and now you're silent?"
It's a warm question, a thick baritone that settles into your stomach, then shoots downwards and makes you clench. 
"Wh-what do you want me to say?"
"Want you to sing."
Of course the man who never talks won't shut up in bed. But he's not bullying you into submission, nor is he being mean. If anything, he sounds like he's finally on his knees. 
And you don't want to be mean either. Not anymore. But you just can't help yourself from having a little fun now that he's finally desperate and inside you. 
"Make me," you whisper, delivering your cheek with a wicked little smile.
The response is immediate: he dares to land a flat palm on your ass. Like you're a broodmare, a sirloin steak for him to feast on. And it does the job: you almost shriek, or at least that's how it sounds like when a parched little whine pushes through your vocal chords with violence.
"That's better," he barks, pleased with his work.
"You're horrible," you gasp. You're glad he put you face down on a pillow: you can only hope he doesn't see how happy you are in the darkness of his night.
"Yeah? And you're sweet." 
It's said with gravel wrapped in silk. It hits you and ignites, starts a flame inside you without permission.
You want him in ways you shouldn't. You want… more breakfasts, him carrying you up the stairs, taking in the way you tip-toe around the house in an old t-shirt. You want to serve him back rubs and tea and see who he is when he's not being paid. You don't want a lap dog or a guard dog, you simply want... 
Simon.
"I'm– I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch," you whisper. He sinks back on top of you until his nose nuzzles the back of your ear. He leans on his elbows, trying not to break you into too many little pieces, but the feeling of being confined couldn't be more blissful.
"Cock's that good?" He drags the following thrust, sparking your nerves aflame as he hits your core. But it's not brutal; if it is, it's the sweetest wrecking you could ever have imagined. 
"Don't make me take my words back," your lips pull to a smile and a silent, inner laugh. 
"Wouldn't dream of it." 
He's smiling too. Inwardly, perhaps, but you can hear the mirth. His weight on top of you while you're lying under him on your belly, unable to move, unable to do anything other than take the full brunt of his cock as it spreads you open, is pure heaven.
"Want you to cum when I'm inside you," he rasps in your ear, lips brushing the underside of your jaw. "Think you can do that, princess?"
Being told to cum on command is a bit ridiculous, you think. But not when it comes from that Cockney mouth. Not when he asks so nicely. Your cunt pulls, claws at him. 
"... I'll show you princess," you sigh, but it's only a second away from laughter. His fingers dig into your skin, the flush flesh of your ass. It feels possessive… Fond.
"Yeah. Show me. C'mon."
The camouflage gets slightly torn off by a wind of a smile. You can hear it on his lips. Sex should be fun, one of your friends always says. You had never thought about it like that. Bed is not the place for laughter and humor, you had thought. But now you are both on the brink of bursting with it.
"You're a fucking pretty one…" He grunts: a breathless, silent joy. "Know you want this as much as I do. Ain't that right?"
"Yes." 
"That's what I thought. So cum for me. Wanna hear the sounds you make."
You dance on the precipice already, and his voice causes your hand to shoot out to his. You drag that heated palm across your hips and your ribs, curl it next to you as if you were drawing a blanket over youself. It's a lover's caress, and his fingers slip between yours as he wraps around you like the protector that he is. 
Your walls flutter, the thickness inside you makes you swell with every thrust. His hips are relentless as he buries himself into you with blunt force, his flesh clapping against yours and making your cunt clamp down on him. Sweet, sweet, sweet, your blood sings as your lids drift closed. The wave is coming, the final tsunami that will sweep you with it, and you will only succumb with joy.
"Don't-stop," you hear yourself beg through the heavy pants he's grunting on your neck.
"'M not gonna stop," he grunts into your ear, serious now.
"Fuh–Fuck me good and… hard," you're hiccuping through dry tears. It feels like there's a hammer and an anvil placed between your ribs. "I need you hard-"
"Shit…"
You barely grasp that he's about to lose his precious control before the midnight sea takes you under. The world fades into a tight know of blue and white and black, electric, ambient, something soft and hot at the same time. You're choking on your tears, moaning into the pillow like a poor, broken, tortured cat. 
"That's fucking pretty," he swears on your neck as you cum. All humor is gone now, but he's not mocking you. He's just… emotional. The bulk of him rides you through the wave, but the rhythm of his hips becomes erratic. 
"That's it, pretty… I'm gonna…Fuck," he huffs on your skin, a mist of want, and the cockhead rubs something profound inside you and makes you jolt in the middle of your molten euphoria. He grunts, swears, and does it again - bludgeons so deep it forces out a sob, just before he breaks too with a choked, wet swallow and a groan. A trembling colossus, you think, as he thickens and bursts inside you.
You're an aching mess when he comes, his thighs pressing over yours and forcing them far and wide as he buries himself into you to the hilt. He's a behemoth, spasming and crumbling right above you. The broad abs bunch against your back while his hips pin you down and spread you open. The cock pulses inside you, and you are barely able to think how it's a miracle that both his thick flesh and the pool of cum, all of it, just somehow fits there inside you…
A gentle brute until the end, he swallows again, thick and breathless, before giving a few tight rolls of his hips, emptying himself to the last drop. Slowly, you both still inside your bubble of warm, dark blue, something akin to a sea between a tropical storm and a calm sunrise, a drowsy reef shifting with the waves. 
He's broken into a light sweat from the toil when he finally untangles your fingers. Your hips are kept in place with one hand as he slowly pulls out. You feel like you're left emptier than before, even if you feel the cum welling up inside, about to spill over.
Your bodyguard - your late-night fuck - collapses beside you, then reaches to pull you close again. Still back against his chest, still unable to look into your eyes when you're both vulnerable. 
"I'm gonna get you a towel," his fingers tremble as he caresses your arm with the most delicate touch. 
"No–don't, don't go," you whisper, then grab his hand and bring it back over you. You almost squeeze yourself with it. "Please?"
The tension behind your back decreases as he slowly falls back into bed.
"Alright love. I'll stay right here."
It's so peculiar how he reminds you of large water masses. A night sea under a pale moonlight. Not a stormy, roiling one, just a vast depth in an ever-swelling motion.
"I want… I need you to keep me safe," you whisper inside that swelling sea. You never want to come to the surface. You want to learn to breathe underwater. The heavy arm is draped over you; it covers nearly half of your chest as he sighs.
"Then let me do that."
His plea is not humble - nothing in this man is. He's not on one knee, swearing his allegiance and vowing to always protect you. He's not your Lancelot.
But in a way, his plea comes far too close to a beg. You feel a sting near your heart. It's electric, pure pain - the sweet kind, though, as you realize he doesn't only want to do his job… He wants to protect you. He has already tried his best to protect you while you run around like nothing is wrong. 
"Simon… I'm sorry."
"I already forgave you," he hums on your skin, evidently glad that you two finally understand each other. It should send you laughing, the thought that you needed his scars and his…treatment to find common ground. And free of charge, no less.
"Do you still wish you were somewhere warmer…?"
He bows his head against the nape of your neck, and the gush of air from his nose is warm and jovial. "No."
It's hours till dawn, but you wish it would never come. The beauty of the night is only now unfolding before you. It feels far more safe than the violent dawn. You wonder how he would react if you moaned his name as you cum. If he would shudder. You wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you didn't already do it...
"Simon…?"
"Mm..?"
"What happens now?"
There's a pause, but he doesn't shift for more comfort. Still, the bullet vests and battle gears are back on; you just sense it.
"We're gonna get some sleep."
"No, I meant… What does this mean for us?"
"What do you think it means?"
Now he shifts, but only to draw you closer. You feel like jello as he pulls your scent deep into his lungs, then exhales the grace on your skin like you're the only tobacco he needs after a good round of sex.
"Don't worry about it, princess," he murmurs on your skin. So delicately that you could claim this man has never even seen the army, never barked and shouted and smoked his throat dry. "We'll talk in the morning."
You settle into his sea, an embrace full of gentle, heavy safety. It's the sweetest oblivion to slip in as you begin a dreamless sleep, soft and snug. But it's not merciful enough to make you forget that you two… 
You never even kissed.
............................................
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yunymphs · 2 months
Text
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔… puts his car in park, large hand resting on the sleek leather gear shift.
the clock reads 9pm. 
surely your boyfriend has left by now, he thinks. 
after a beat, he finally steps out of the car. he’s dressed quite nicely, an expensive white button up and black ironed pants. his hair is done down, white tufts of hair hanging low, and in his left hand he has a bouquet of red roses. 
gojo looks nothing short of expensive.
he steps up to the door and knocks twice with bony knuckles. 
the door creaks, revealing your teary eyed expression and snotty nose. you texted him that your boyfriend made you cry again, but he wasn’t expecting to find you like this. he should’ve though, he hates your boyfriend anyways. he doesn’t know why you haven’t left the asshole yet. 
“baby, what happened?” gojo asks when you let him step into the door, immediately taking you into his arms. he holds you like he loves you, hell, he is in love with you. 
“he’s just so mean, satoru.” you sniffle. your sobs are met with a soft floral scent, and satoru gently places the blossoming flowers into your arms before fixing the collar of his shirt. 
“i still don’t know why you don’t leave him, pretty.” gojo cups the skin where your neck and shoulder meet.
the two of you always did this. 
your shitty excuse of a boyfriend made you cry or called you names, and gojo would come over and make you forget all about the bastard. gojo was the medicine for the pain your lover brought, the one that numbed the emotional pain with physical pleasure. 
nobody had ever taken him the way you did. 
“lets sit down, ‘kay? tell me all about it, baby.” gojo hums, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “‘n then we can do whatever you want. he’s gone for the night anyways.”
you nod, and gojo’s eyes trail around your apartment. the white haired man knows the place like the back of his hand, waiting for the day he ends up being the one waking to you cooking breakfast for the two of them.
gojo will come through and replace him. 
“mm,” gojo hums, sitting on the sofa and beckoning you to take a seat on his thigh. 
you place the roses down on the glass table before straddling his lap, nimble fingers already working the plastic buttons of his top. his mind has become so accustomed to the routine anyways.
make love, leave, and do it all over again your boyfriend pulls the same shit. 
gojo groans, the crotch in his pants beginning to strain just from something as simple as you working the material of his button up. 
“tell me everything that happened, princess. let me make it better again, ‘kay?”
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© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited.
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cottonconnielvr · 9 months
Note
Okay so, we’re obviously Connie’s very spoiled girlfriend
Reader had eyes on this really expensive bag that she’s been dying to have. She asked Plug!Connie and he has the audacity to tell us no, just to see how we’d react. Reader starts having a really nasty bratty attitude for a week and now daddy gotta set us straight 🫣
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WARNINGS ✩ — squirting, smoking, sloppy messy blowjob, reader calls con daddy, reader is sensitive emotionally,rough sex, crying, handjob,overstimulation + just nasty stuff (may b a couple mistakes bc i didnt feel like re-reading imma do it later tho😭)
JEAN passed the blunt over to Connie, slightly shaking from coughing. Connie, who was sitting on Eren’s couch, shook his head as he scrolled through your ig story. “Swear this lil girl want me to fuck her shit up,” Connie mumbled as he hit the blunt.
Eren laughed from the floor, sitting in a bean bag. “What she do now?”
“She got a lil attitude with me because I told her not to let her fucking demon dog in the room anymore. So now she posting shit she know will make me mad” Connie passed his phone to Eren, letting him look at your story.
“You spoil that girl wayyy too much anyway,” Jean added.
“What you mean?” Connie asked with an attitude.
“She never listen to your ass because you say yes to everything she says. She literally gets whatever she wants from you.” Connie fights the urge to defend his spoiled princess but, Jean was making a point.
“I mean he did kinda do it to himself, not her” Eren passed the blunt to Jean.
“Bro you’re her bitch” Jean says in disbelief. “Shut yo long headed ass up. I am not her bitch” Connie defends himself, although a part of him agreed with Jean. Connie never really did put you in check unless it ended with angry sex. He was never super stern with, just letting you get by with everything.
But that was the way it was supposed to be. You were his spoiled little princess who always got what she wanted because she deserves it more than anyone.
“Just tell her no to see how she reacts”
Connie doesn’t give an answer, just contemplating on it.
“Ight”
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“Isn’t she gorgeous baby just look” You practically shove your phone in Connie’s face. Connie looks at the pink purse. “I’ve been obsessing so bad and I neeedd it, please” Your glossy lips pout as you beg.
Connie furrowed his eyebrows, “Mhmm no I think you’re good.” You jerk your head back, trying to process that word, No.
You don’t have a great history with the word no.
“No y/n you can’t have this”
“No y/n you can’t have that”
Why would anyone deny you anything?
“What? Why! What did I do? Why not!?” You whined feeling the need to cry.
“You don’t exactly deserve it. You haven’t been good”Connie fought the urge to smile at you, such a crybaby. “What!? Baby I have what are you talking about?” You sat up, sitting on Connie’s lap.
“Your instagram stories, you keep going to parties I tell you not to go to. You needa get your act together” You gasped, offended that he was acting so nonchalant. He was basically telling you that he didn’t love you anymore.
“So until you fix your attitude then maybe, you can get it” Connie practically brushed you off and reached for his blunt. You sat there frozen for a minute, feeling betrayed and heartbroken.
“Okay Connie.” You said in a monotone voice before getting off of Connie and walking out of the room.
The rest of the week has been hell for Connie.
You had one of the worst attitudes ever, giving Connie silent treatment, short answers, and no sex.Were you trying to kill him?
In your point of view, you weren’t gonna stop until he apologized ( with an apology gift to go with ).
Connie walked in the house, hearing you blast “Me, Myself, and I” by Beyonce. Connie shook his head, obviously understanding the message.
“Baby!” Connie yelled from downstairs.
Meanwhile you sat at your vanity, fixing your hair. Connie opened the door to your beauty room, “You ain hear me calling you?” He asked while squinting his eyes at you. “I guess not.” Connie watched as you rolled your eyes.
Connie leaned on the door, poking his tongue against his cheek. “What’s yo problem?” He finally asked.
You stayed silent.
“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” Connie said sternly.
“Nothing Connie” You stood up, fully showcasing your tight outfit.
“ where you goin” Connie looked you up and down, ignoring his boner and licking his lips.
You were wearing a tight denim mini skirt with baby tee, showing your boobs practically poking out the top. “Just going out” You grabbed your purse which Connie recognized it as a new one.
You had to buy it yourself since no charges came from Connie’s card and you’ve been avoiding him like crazy. Connie knew you were really mad if you start paying for your own stuff. You walked passed him, purposely hitting him with your purse and a small oops leaving your mouth.
Connie just smiled to himself, shaking his head. You were gonna sleep really good tonight.
“What I tell you about walking away from me mama?” Connie followed you to the living room. You didn’t answer, walking to the front door.
You stood a little shocked as Connie sat on the couch. He got pretty comfortable, reaching for his phone out of his pocket.
Just as you reached for the lock, “Y/N come sit down with me”
Your legs practically went numb as you heard the tone in Connie’s voice. He sounded very very stern which meant he was not in the mood to be fucked with.
Your boldness melted away. Your head immediately went down, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
You sat in the loveseat across from Connie, messing with your fishnets. “I said come sit with me Y/N” You didn’t hesitate to move the second he said your name.
Yeah he was pissed.
You walked over to Connie, his hand grabbing yours as he pulls you on his lap. You land on Connie’s muscular thigh, his hand immediately going to your inner thigh.
His touch felt good, your attention now focused on the feeling. His tatted fingers massaging your inner thigh.
“What’s yo problem? Didn’t even care to ask me how my day was,” Connie looked up at you as you stayed silent. A pinch was sent to your inner thigh, making you jump.
“I don’t have a problem Connie. I was just trying to have fun”
“Why you lying to me Y/N” Connie grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“You just made me upset and I-I just really wanted the bag” Connie’s thumb wiped against your bottom lip, smearing your lip gloss.
“Instead of acting like a brat you should’ve told me that you were upset. I thought we agreed to talk like adults whenever we feel upset with eachother, not do this petty ass silent treatment shit.”
“I’m sorry Con” Your voice small and quiet out of guiltiness.
“I don’t believe you ma” Connie leaned back on the couch, removing his hands from your body.
You whined, missing his touch after you ignored him for days. “I really am daddy”
Connie almost folded at the pet name, fighting the urge to pound you into the couch until your makeup comes off but that could wait. He wanted to make you beg a little longer.
“I don’t believe you. Gonna show me how sorry you are hm?” You quickly nodded, taking place between his spread legs. Your hands immediately went for the band of his sweatpants, tugging them down with eagerness. Connie lifted up his hips, letting you pull down his boxers as well. His cock springing up against his stomach ( his name ain’t connie springer for no reasonnnn)
Your tongue ran up his balls, going all the way up to the tip. “Fuck” Connie mumbled to himself, it’s felt like forever since you’ve gave him a blowjob.
You hollowed your cheeks as you took him down to the base. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling him stuff your throat.
Your hands rested on the floor besides your knees, stabling yourself as you tried to breathe through your nose.
You gagged once you felt Connie buck his hips upwards. Connie’s hands went to your head, keeping you in place.
Your nose was flush against his lower stomach. Connie thrusted up into your mouth, groaning to himself. The more he looked down at you, the angrier he got.
How dare you ignore him and keep this pretty little mouth away from him. You could feel your scalp become sore from the deadly grip Connie had on it.
The sloppy sound of your gags and the wetness of your mouth filled the living room. The scene was so nasty and filthy, your saliva leaking all around Connie’s cock and your mouth.
Your hands tapped at Connie’s thighs. Connie lifted your head up, letting you breathe. Strings of spit connected from your mouth to Connie’s cock, making him groan.
You panted, feeling your sticky lip gloss all over your mouth.
“Stick your tongue out” Connie slowly stroked himself. You stuck your tongue out. Connie slapped his dick around your tongue, making your saliva drip down to your boobs. Connie rubbed his dick all over your lips before bringing it down to your chest.
“F-fuck” Connie moaned deeply. Your eyes watered, feeling so humiliated and used.
“You sorry baby?” Connie asked, slapping your wet cheek. A tear ran down your cheek, running black with your mascara. “Y-yes” You whimpered. Your hands twisted up and down his cock.
“ Gonna b-be g..good for me hm?” You stuck your tongue out, looking up at Connie. You watched as Connie pushed out a glob of spit, it landing on your tongue. You swallowed, Connie slapping your cheek once again. “Look at me ma” Your eyes locked with Connie’s before he pushed your head down on his dick again, moving your head up and down. You moaned lightly, causing a vibration to run through connie’s cock. “Make me c-c..ah..cum” Connie hissed, feeling your take him so deep. Connie could feel his stomach tightening , toes curling, and thighs clenching. “F-fuck baby” Connie pulled out of your mouth, ribbons of white cum squirting in your face. Connie winced as he rubbed his cum into your face with his tip, smearing it all over your lips (since you like lip gloss so much)
Your mascara ran down your face, making you look an absolute mess. a beautiful mess
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“f-fuckfuckfuck m’sorry! i-im sorry daddy, i’m s-s..i’m so sorry” Your muffled cries fell on deaf ears, Connie continuing his brutal thrusts. He was fucking you so so so hard.
It hurt so bad but felt so good. Your legs went numb rounds ago and your body was a mess, covered in your own fluids mixed with Connie’s.
Your mouth was open, sending your screams into the silk white pillow. Connie hovered above you, holding onto the headboard as he slammed his hips into you. “F-fuck cum again” Connie ordered you, reaching between your legs to rub your swollen clit.
“I-i can’t-” You gasped out, on the verge of passing out. You gripped onto the cold pillows, trying to pull yourself up and away from his torture. Connie took notice of this and wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling you back.
“You are.” You heard Connie sternly mutter.
You whined, your hand reaching behind you to push Connie away only for Connie to grab both of your hands. He pinned them down on the deep arch in your back, absolutely churning your insides.
“I-i..i promise pa- m’not go..gonna act up anymore” You cried out, loosing all of your body strength.
You body physically went numb altogether, a rush of pleasure washes over you. Your legs shook violently. You let out a scream that you were not aware of, clenching hard on Connie’s cock.
“S-shit” Connie looked down, seeing you wet up his lower body
(“they told me to stay out that water park😔” - future baby daddy connie with his five kids tackling him)
The pressure pushed Connie’s cock out of you, causing him to paint your ass with white ribbons.
Connie took a moment to breathe before he moved from above you, your breathing was now steady and you laid flush into the bed.
Connie squinted his eyes, slowly turning your face. No way this girl is sleep right now I ain done
“Baby...Baby…..Baby” Connie shook your body, waking you up. You whined, going right back to that bratty attitude that Connie loved oh so much.
“Whattt” You were so exhausted, moving was not an option right now.
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After a much needed bath, you fell right asleep with just a bra and panties on. You were knocked out, sleeping all the way until 12 pm.
You woke up to just you in the bed, your house ringing silence. (Marshmallow is at a doggy hotel getting groomed #materialgworl💅) Instead of waking up to Connie’s presence you woke up to a box with a note on top of it.
‘Had to leave early and handle some business with Ony, I’ll be back before you know it. Thank me later sexy’
You sat the note aside before taking the top off of the pink box, only to see the very purse the got you in this situation to begin with.
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90ekz · 3 months
Note
do you think you could write hcs of jean with a softspoken gf? nobody writes for him fr it’s so sad
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an! i love jean and this concept anon ! im a soft spoken girl myself so this really hits home 🥹 i hope you enjoy!!
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jean as your boyfriend <3
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SFW
when you two first started dated, jean was convinced that he hit the lottery. you were everything he ever wanted and he loved a girl that kept to herself.
jean sometimes takes you to wing houses & burger joints and watches with a huge smile as you try to order your food against the chaos of the other people conversing around you. you weren’t the biggest fan of having to yell in public, but you tried your best, and his heart melts everytime.
when you first met him at connie’s house warming party, you bumped into him, spilling the contents of your cup onto his white button up. jean had turned beet red as you stood on your tippy toes to whisper a hurried apology into his ear over the sound of the blaring music, while rushing to go get paper towels.
his favorite thing about you is how attentively you listen. it doesn’t matter what he’s talking about, you’ll be making eye contact and nodding along to whatever he has to say.
gets irritated with you during arguments, because you well… don’t engage. he could be giving a verbal, ten page, double spaced paper about how irritated he is with you, and you’ll just look at him like you’re bored.
“all i’m saying is that you don’t have to get aggressive with me over this. yes, i was at armin’s late and didn’t say anything, but i’ll tell you next time, okay? i’m sorry.” “okay.” “i said sorry, damn! stop yelling!”
you aren’t the biggest fan of confrontation, but he is. connect the dots yourself.
“SHE SAID NO GODDAMN TOMATO!” “it’s fine, i can just take them off—“ “not now, baby. gimme a sec, okay? anyway, FIX HER FUCKING BURGER!”
the two of you communicate so silently that it freaks your friends the hell out. when you want to go home, when you’re tired, when he’s needy, when he’s irritated? easy, simple eye contact will send you or him springing into action to fix the problem.
you may be quiet, but you love to laugh. jean doesn’t think he can think of anything more angelic-sounding than the sound of your genuine laughter, only for him.
jean had to learn how to be more tender when doing daily tasks. he was so used to slamming doors and stomping up stairs that he didn’t remember to adjust that behavior when you moved in.
(the first week you moved in, he’d thrown open the door to your bedroom and felt his chest squeeze as you almost tumbled out of your desk chair. now he puts three gentle taps on every door when he needs to come in.)
physical touch fanatic. end of discussion.
NSFW
lemme tell you, this man takes it to heart when you try to hold in your moans. you’re a little embarrassed with how loud you get, but nothing turns jean on more.
“nuh uh, lemme hear you—need to hear how good i’m making you feel, princess..”
during your first time together, he’d almost cum in his pants at the mere sound of your loud groans bouncing off the walls.
loves when you pull his hair more than anything. he takes it as a sign to go harder, fuck you deeper, and he obliges everytime. his cock throbs harder each time you run your fingers through his loose curls.
about 5.7 inches roughly, but thick. his cock flares as it goes downward; the head being the slimmest part. giving him head is fun, you think.
jean has this weird little fixation with your neck. it doesn’t matter what position he has you in, he’ll have a hand—or his mouth—running across the skin of your throat. backshots? he’s got a hand pressing against your nape to keep you in place. missionary? he’s massaging his thumb over your throat so tenderly that it should be illegal. cowgirl? he’s squeezing the sides of your neck while whispering about how good of a girl you’re being for him. he’s pretty damn weird.
his favorite thing to do is eat you out. you deny it, but your voice shoots up a whole octave when he massages your gspot with his two fingers of choice as he suckles on your swollen clit.
utterly surprised at how much you talk during sex. it almost embarrasses him how much you beg, scream, and whine for him. a mixture of ‘please’s’ and ‘fuck’s being infused in his head for eternity.
“oouu—shit, you’re so fucking loud…”
presses down on your stomach to feel where he is so he can try and go deeper… yeah.
tries to fuck your throat hoarse just to hear your raspy voice for a few hours. you’re such a trooper, just sitting there and taking it for him, even if he laughs at you after.
“babe, i’m so sorry—hahaha!” “this isn’t funny, i sound like t-pain!” “I LIKE THE BARRRTENDERRR—ouch, im sorry, i said i’m sorry!”
aftercare god. he’ll spend hours taking care of you, washing your back in the tub, greasing your scalp, making you tea and cookies, the whole nine. this man loves you deep.
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melminli · 3 months
Text
my boy - by billie eilish
pairing: young coriolanus x fem. reader
summery - he ain't a man and sure as hell ain't honest
word count: 2.5k
contains: angst, slightly dark themes, possessiv but soft coryo, politician coryo, talk about pregnancy and marriage, alcohol consumption
a/n: i have many songs that i think r just so coryo coded, so i thought i would choose one and write something about it. this one is just so him like, every lyric fits him perfectly
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You sometimes wondered if there really had been a time when you had truly loved Coriolanus Snow. You didn't want to doubt that you didn't anymore, but the fact that you had any doubts at all said more than you wanted to admit to yourself.
"Don't you want to get dressed?" The voice of the person you were thinking about asked you. As his Fiancée, you should definitely not think about such things. You turned your attention to him and saw him standing in front of the mirror, buttoning the buttons of his expensive waistcoat.
You noticed he was about to tie his black tie next as he reached for it, and you stood up to stop him so you could do it for him. It always looked a little messy when he tied it himself. "I thought maybe I'd stay home this time. I'm a bit tired." You said, concentrating on doing a neat job, even though you probably could do it with your eyes closed by now. Perhaps the reason was more that you were trying to avoid his gaze and also his silence.
He said something back to you as you were pulling the tie tighter around his neck. "I think you should get dressed." Was all he said and ended the discussion with a few words like he always did. It would look bad if I turned up without my fiancée. Though, at the same time - I really need something pretty to look at if I want to get through the evening.
You just sighed softly as Coriolanus walked past you to fix his hair. I think I'd better wear a matching dress then. You went to your closet to look for a black dress and it should be very easy for you to find something suitable since you had a dress for every occasion. Especially since you and Coriolanus had had started to be invited regularly to galas and events.
But you just weren't in the mood. Whatever, this should be fine. You finally decided on one and put it on. However, you had a little trouble zipping up the back, though luckily, your fiancé returned the favor and helped you out. After he finished, he watched your figure in front of the mirror and gave you a gentle kiss on the back of your neck while holding you in his arms. "There you go, my dear, you look beautiful. You should also wear the pearl jewelry I bought you, they would look good on you."
You leaned back into his arms. "Good on me, or good on the wealthy impression you want to give others." You said, already knowing the answer. Coriolanu's gaze sharpened slightly at your words. He didn't like it when you got sassy with him - no matter to what extent. It seemed to be one of your traits that were hard to get rid of, but he hoped that perhaps with time, you would learn to watch your tongue more. I don't think so, but a man can still hope. At least it's not as bad as it used to be.
"Pollux will be there." He announced and sat down on the armchair next to your dressing table while he watched you make yourself pretty for him. One of the reasons why it was there. "But I would argue that one doesn't exclude the other." He came back to your earlier statement.
So, that's what this is about. The name Pollux was not necessarily associated with positive things in your household. Ever since Coriolanus had started getting involved in politics around Panem, the two of them were considered arch enemies, one could say. Both very charming men with sweet words who also each hid a poisonous dagger behind their fake smiles so they could take the other out at the slightest mistake.
"I can't stand that fucking bastard." Coriolanus complained, grimacing as he thought about his face. "If I have to listen to him make one more pun with his name, I'll shoot myself and everyone in the room. Just because your name means crown doesn't mean you're going to get it stupid asshole. I really fucking hate that guy."
Your fiancé rarely swore, at least that's how it used to be. He thought it was bad manners and therefore never did it in public, but well, maybe you secretly just wished that he would show his best side in your presence too and not just to stupid important people.
It didn't suit him. Well, at least from your point of view, it always sounded a bit strange and kind off forced to hear him swear when he hadn't done it for so long. Like he was trying to imitate someone. "You're sounding more and more like your father." You said quietly to yourself, averting your gaze from his hate-filled eyes.
That seemed to cheer him up. "Well, thank you, my dear. Didn't realize you knew so much about him." He said and became curious. He couldn't remember telling you about him. He certainly mentioned him a couple times, but not that much that you could draw that comparison.
It wasn't a compliment. You opened the bottom drawer to pull out the box of pearl earrings and necklace after you finished doing your hair. "I don't know that much. Tigris has only told me a few things from time to time, and that's it."
He hummed as he just shook off his right sleeve a little to look at his watch. "Did she." he replied with his head somewhere else as he abruptly changed the subject to be able to talk about his own interests. "Don't take too long. The Avox should have the car ready by now, and I want to leave soon." He announced and stood up from his seat. He took the necklace from your hand and placed it on your free neck before gracefully pulling the clasp. "What did I tell you, hm? Like a pretty princess." He said in good humor and gently held you by the chin to place a kiss on your lips. My pretty princess. All that's missing is her lonely tower. "I'll go down and see if everything is all right. Just come down when you're ready."
You tried to stay in a good mood too. "Okay, Coriolanus. I'll be right there." you told him, leaving his casual mention of your staff unmentioned. You got tired of talking about how your heart got heavy when you saw the silent workers.
At least you can treat them well while they are working us. Trust me, others would not grant them such luxury. With us, they are better off than most. After all, there is a reason why they are in the position they are now. What kind of luxury? Treating them like ordinary people should not be treated as such, and yet he was right once again. They would be worse off somewhere else, so you should be able to suck it up and do your best to at least give them the dignity of looking them in the eye and enduring their silent nature. After all, they had to do the same.
That's probably what he likes the most about them. You thought to yourself and were pretty sure that your fiancé would approve if you said just as little - to just open your mouth to say what he liked to hear, like a bird that he only let sing when it was his favorite song. Wouldn't he like that? Of course he would. Well, if he wants a quiet good girl then he can fuck off.
"You know, I noticed how you don't really call me Coryo anymore." He briefly stated and left open how he interpreted this.
You continued with your make-up. "Hm? Well, I think it just suits you better now, dear. You're not the same boy you used to be."
He begs to differ. "Don't be like that. I haven't changed that much. I'm still the same Coryo you fell in love with all those years ago." He laughed as he said goodbye to you with one last kiss on your head before leaving the room.
You just sat there with a heavy heart in your lonely room while staring at your silhouette in the mirror. That's what I've been trying to convince myself lately, too.
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Thank goodness there's alcohol at these events. As someone who was born and raised in the Capitol and also came from a wealthy family, you were no stranger to popular events.
However, you definitely liked them more when they were considered parties and not some lame adult gathering. You'd give anything to hear the booming music from big speakers now while a few crazy, very drunk people hit the dance floor. It was chaotic, but at least it was real - people weren't hiding behind their pretty dresses and fake smiles like they are now. Whatever, you can't stop getting older, I guess. Maybe it would take a few more years for the Capitol to figure out a way around that, too, but by the time they did, it would have already lost its value.
You started listening again when your name was mentioned. "Now that you're engaged, I suppose the wedding isn't far off, huh?" Mrs. Valentius laughed merrily. If you remembered correctly, she was the wife of the man who had won some important literary prize or something last year. "And we all know that when marriage is near, children are not far away."
You laughed with her, albeit very uncomfortably. I'm not going to elaborate on that. You took another sip of your drink and saw how you just had a little bit left, same goes with your patience, too. I need more of both.
Your eyes looked up again when Coriolanus put an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his side. "Of course. The preparations are a little stressful even if they are going well, but who knows, maybe the first one will be there on our big day. What do you say, my dear?" He replied in your place with his disgustingly charming smile. I think I would like it if she was pregnant with my child on the day of the wedding. Would just have to make a few alterations to her dress, but that can easily be arranged.
Yes, you definitely needed a new drink. "Let's see, Coriolanus. Like you said, things are stressful enough right now, and I'm sure you don't want me to be any harder to handle than I already am, huh?" You joked around and laughed with the couple in front of you. I can't believe what kind of shit I'm saying about myself, but those are the only jokes these two douchebags are laughing at, and I really don't want to talk about this subject anymore. "I'm going to go and freshen up, if that's all right with you." You excuse yourself and make your way to the toilets, but not without grabbing a glass from a tray of a walking waiter.
You shut the door behind you and finally felt like you could breathe properly again since you were no longer surrounded by all these people. Could be worse. We didn't meet Pollux and his wife yet, but it's still pretty bad. "Oh, this is a nightmare." You said, leaning your arms on the sink. "Why don't you tell them when we're fucking so they know that the baby is in the making, huh? Ugh, since when did it become normal to get so personal?" You complained and swallowed the contents of your glass in one gulp, feeling it burn in your throat. It felt good.
You wanted to give yourself a few minutes alone to clear your head and come out re-energized, but the more time you spent in the room, the less you wanted to leave. You preferred to hear the voices muffled through the door, but this thought was interrupted when it opened, and you tried to act unruffled for a moment until you realized who was coming in. "Coriolanus? What are you doing here?" You asked nervously as you watched him enter. "This is a ladies' room, you can't be here!" You whispered aggressively as you stepped closer to him and saw him turn the lock behind his back. I should have fucking done that. My head is all fuzzy.
His eyebrows drew together in slight irritation. "Your breath reeks of alcohol. You've had too much to drink." He stated, making a mental note to pay more attention to your consumption next time so it wouldn't happen again. He ignored your earlier statement and continued. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick, or why have you been in here so long?" He asked you, slightly concerned, rubbing your arms as you seemed quite drunk
"No, I'm fine." You replied stubbornly, a little annoyed and couldn't quite find the right words, so you just said the first thing that came into your mind. "I just didn't like all this baby talk."
He hummed and continued to speak to you in a calm tone since you seemed upset. "Well, you know I want kids." He said, trying to be a little more understanding. "But I get why you would find it a bit intrusive. Don't let them get to you. That's just the way these people are." He finished, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Maybe, but that's not the way you have to be. You didn't expect him to apologize for his behavior, but it still didn't hurt any less. "I suppose you're right." You just whispered, trying not to get too emotional under the intoxication.
But you didn't manage to hide it from him. "Oh, my dear. Are you really that upset about it?" Your fiancé cooed as he saw you holding back from bursting into tears. He put his index finger to your chin and lifted your face so you couldn't hide from him. His lips moved to the spot where the first tear fell and left a soft kiss there. "You're too cute. It's really too bad that we still have to wait. A baby would certainly stop the questions, wouldn't it?" He asked you sweetly as he stroked your cheek thoughtfully and lied through his pearly white teeth. "A real shame it is. You should freshen up, I think we can leave a little early tonight since you're not feeling so well."
You just hated that he looked so pretty doing it.
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periprose · 5 months
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Heyyy I’m literally playing through ps4 Spider-Man again 🤣!
I was wondering if I could request a ps4 fic, maybe Peter and reader have been dating for a while, and she gets hurt during the explosion and he can’t find her but she’s with may at feast with like a broken arm or something?? (She knows he’s Spider-Man) 👀🫶🏼
hey lol thanks for requesting! I'm on the first playthrough of the game myself. Basically this is set during the explosion at the election event in the game, and Peter and you are there to proudly watch Officer Davis accept his award.
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/
"Hey." Peter comes up from behind you on the sidewalk, fixing wrinkles in his civilian clothes. He must've just changed.
"Hey, Parker." You nudge him. "Ready to go watch Osborn smooch up to the well-meaning audience of Manhattan?"
"Well, ready as I'll ever be." Peter takes your hand. "I'm really just there to watch Davis get his well-deserving award, y'know. Hey, didn't I tell you to stop calling me Parker?"
"Meh, you love it." You joke. "You'll always be Parker to me, even if you are my boyfriend now. It's our thing."
Peter shakes his head, but you know based on his little smile- he loves that you have a little thing just for him.
Together, you walk to the intersection in front of City Hall, where many people crowd around, waiting for Mayor Osborn and whatever speech he's about to give today. They're all dressed in Osborn themed merchandise, cheering and clapping.
You can't believe this many people care about Osborn's so-called promises to the city- you and Peter are really hoping he won't be re-elected this term after all- but people are clapping for him, and you sigh knowing that your cost of living is about to go up.
"Hey. Wipe that frown off your face. We're here to be supportive." Peter whispers from next to you in the crowd, and you nod.
"Where's Davis? Is that him?" You whisper back, pointing to an older black man up on the stage.
"Yup. You wouldn't believe it, he was so helpful in Hell's Kitchen. Dude whipped out his gun and had my back like we've been best buds for years." Peter smiles. "There's not many out there doing it like him."
"He sounds like a real treasure. I'm glad you have someone on your side." You squeeze Peter's hand, and continue to look up towards the stage in mild excitement.
You don't really care for Osborn's speech- Peter laughs about his promise to open up technology for NYC when you both know that's reserved for the elite- but you both grin when Davis, looking nervous as ever, walks up the stage to receive his award.
"It is my privilege to present Officer Jefferson Davis with the Department Medal of Honour." Osborn hangs a medal around Davis' neck, and you and Peter clap.
"I'm so glad this is all over. The gang war, I think." Peter whispers to you, and you raise your eyebrows.
"Really? Does this mean you'll finally be a little safer?" You ask, but Peter frowns a little.
"Well, there's some loose ends still to be tied up, but-"
"Loose ends?" You give him a wary glance. "Like what?"
"Like whatever 'Consolidated Shipping' is. It doesn't make sense." Peter sighs, watching concern grow on your face. "It's not right, but I'll figure it out."
Davis says a few words- he thanks his wife and his son, Miles, who you can see is sitting up at the front of the stage.
"Aw, cute kid." You remark to Peter, and he nods, gaining a slightly sheepish smile.
"Officer Davis did say I remind him of his son. I'll take it as a compliment." Peter jokes, and you snicker, calling him even more of a baby.
Behind you, Sable guards are talking on their walkie talkies about "keeping eyes on Osborn," which to you sounds as if they perceive a threat. You turn back to tell Peter, when he suddenly flinches.
"Peter-?"
He grabs his head, panicking- you watch as his pupils dilate, and he's clearly in some kind of shock.
"Everything feels off-" Peter flinches again, and you know he's having a Spider-Sense meltdown. There must be multiple things happening at once- even worse, you're not sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He's not suited up, and he risks revealing his identity if he does anything.
Either way, Peter runs behind you. He shoves people out of the way, trying to get to the back of the event, behind the audience, but he's not fast enough. There are men arriving out of cars- corrupted men, turning that strange grey-blue-transparent hue that confirms their connection with Martin Li.
Peter runs- he dashes- but you see him flinch again, cowering under such threatening energy. He turns to the stage in horror, and you gasp in shock.
There's another corrupted on stage, covered in explosive devices.
An explosion goes off behind you, to the right of you, than another massive one on stage- the ground shakes beneath you, and you're too in shock to move.
"Get down!" Peter shoves you back, attempting to push you out of the way, just as another two explosions cause the earth under you to rattle, and you lose your footing and fall back on the pavement. You twist your arm unnaturally and hit your head.
You black out, the last thing you see being massive blue-black explosions in the sky.
/
Peter wakes to floating ash in the sky.
He coughs- there's a sharp pain in his right side, and a slight ache at the top of his hairline- he touches his forehead and pulls his fingers away to see brown-red, dry blood.
It doesn't matter. He'll heal faster than most, anyways- he needs to locate you.
He gets up, seizes a little due to the pain- and to his alarm, you're nowhere in his near sight. He walks around seeing Sable guards help people off the streets- although Peter really thinks they're poking and prodding and shoving them away, so they can clean up the mess around here.
He hopes you haven't been taken away by Sable guards.
Peter rushes to the nearest clinic- but there's too many people crowding around there with their injuries, and the receptionist at the emergency room tells him there's no one by your name here.
He begins to panic. You're not responding to his calls, either. Peter doesn't want to believe the worst could've happened to you, but he does hear people talking on the streets about the casualties. Apparently at least 10 people have been found dead so far- Peter starts swearing under his breath.
He decides to head to FEAST- he's not sure if you'll be there, but it's better to ask Aunt May or some of the volunteers if you've been seen. FEAST also operates as an emergency medical clinic, too, even with limited supplies, and it's with this small amount of hope that Peter travels there.
Pushing through the doors, the front desk woman- Amanda- she's startled by how intensely Peter asks about you.
"I don't know, Peter." She points to the main auditorium, where many homeless and injured people are currently being attended to. "It's kind of an open house back here- you're going to have to look through the crowds."
Peter sighs. "Thanks, Amanda."
It takes him about fifteen minutes to do a full, quick walkthrough. The entire time, his heartbeat thumps faster as he realizes- he's not seeing you anywhere. There's nobody wearing your trademark scarf, your usual dark blue jeans- nobody with your fastidious expression, where you always seem to take in the entire world before speaking- nobody to relieve the steady ache in his heart.
Peter walks into the room full of medical supplies, expecting to see Aunt May- and while May is there, busy with another volunteer, the first thing he sees is you, with your hair all disheveled and messy, bruises on your cheek and a cut under your lip, and your arm wrapped in a cast and a sling.
But you have a soft, comforting smile. You're kneeling down to help a little girl- she can't be older than five- and you're placing a bandage on her knee. And the little girl squeals, hugging you after you say "It's all better now."
Peter would agree with that.
You look up, arms still embraced around the little girl- Rina is her name- to see Peter, looking wistful, sad, a clear lump in his throat. His eyes are watery.
"Peter?" You watch as he comes forward.
"I thought you were- I thought..." He wipes his eyes. "Are you okay? What happened?"
"Well, Little Rina over here needed a little bit of medical attention." You kindly tap her shoulder and she nods up at Peter, smiling. "She tripped and fell and no one was paying attention to her knee, so I decided to help her."
"That's..." Peter trails off, wondering how you could be so selfless when your own face was looking a bit worse for wear. "That's sweet of you to do. How do you feel, kiddo?"
He kneels towards her, and she grins really big. "Better!"
"Alright, high five then." Peter high fives her, and she dashes off afterwards, most likely looking for the parent she came with.
"Why didn't you respond to my calls?" Peter asks you as soon as you turn back to him. "I thought... I thought the worst had happened-"
"Peter, please. Stop with the wounded ego." May calls him out, listening from the sidelines. "What's important is that she's safe and in one piece- that's more than enough to feel grateful about."
Peter looks down, ashamed. He knows May is right, and he has to swallow his pride for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Peter." You grasp his hand, and he looks back at you, jaw tight as he listens. "I didn't mean to not answer your calls- my phone got shattered. And I didn't know where to find you after I woke up- I was already being taken away by Sable guards to 'safety' and then I decided my best chance to find you was over here."
"Oh." Peter feels kind of dumb, but he also feels glad you think of FEAST as a spot to find him. "I should've kept you safe."
"Don't. Don't make yourself crazy with what you could've done." You plead with him, and he sighs but shakes his head. "My arm will heal with time. I guess I landed on it weirdly and broke it."
Peter winces. "Well, you can always ask me for help if it bothers you. I'm there for you."
He traces your lip, where the cut under is still a red-brown, harsh hue in comparison to the pink of your bottom lip, and May takes this as her cue to leave.
Peter snorts. "I wish you had my-"
"Super healing? Yeah, I wish that too." You laugh. "Were you lucky enough to not get hit, or did you just heal on the way here?"
Peter's reaching for a facial bandage and some rubbing alcohol. "The latter."
"Ugh, lucky bastard." You smile up at him, cringing only slightly as Peter rubs away the blood from your wound. "I'm just glad that means I don't have to worry too much about you."
"You still do." Peter remarks, placing the bandage on your face. "But that just means you love me."
And, being ever so thankful that you're safely back in his arms, Peter places a soft kiss on your forehead, and then a slightly-less-soft one on your mouth, hoping it doesn't hurt you, but happy that you kiss him back anyways.
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secretgamergirl · 4 months
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How a Computer Works - Part 1 (Components)
I am about to teach you on a real fundamental, connecting up electronic components level, how a computer actually works. Before I get into the meat of this though (you can just skip down below the fold if you don't care), here's the reasons I'm sitting doing so in this format:
Like a decade or two ago, companies Facebook pushed this whole "pivot to video" idea on the whole internet with some completely faked data, convincing everyone that everything had to be a video, and we need to start pushing back against that. Especially for stuff like complex explanations of things or instructions, it's much more efficient to just explain things clearly in text, maybe with some visual aids, so people can easily search, scan, and skip around between sections. It's also a hell of a lot easier to host things long term, and you can even print out a text based explainer and not need a computer to read it, keep it on a desk, highlight it, etc.
People are so clueless about how computers actually work that they start really thinking like it's all magical. Even programmers. Aside from how proper knowledge lets you get more out of them, this leads to people spouting off total nonsense about "teaching sand to think" or "everything is just 1s and 0s" or "this 'AI' a con artist who was trying to sell me NFTs a month ago probably really is an amazing creative thinking machine that can do everything he says!"
We used to have this cultural value going where it was expected that if you owned something and used it day to day, you'd have enough basic knowledge of how it worked that if it stopped working you could open it up, see what was wrong, and maybe fix it on your own, or maybe even put one together again from scratch, and that's obviously worth bringing back.
I'm personally working on a totally bonkers DIY project and I'd like to hype up like-minded people for when it gets farther along.
So all that said, have a standard reminder that I am completely reliant on Patreon donations to survive, keep updating this blog, and ideally start getting some PCBs and chips and a nice oscilloscope to get that mystery project off the ground.
Electricity probably doesn't work like how you were taught (and my explanation shouldn't be trusted too far either).
I remember, growing up, hearing all sorts of things about electricity having this sort of magical ability to always find the shortest possible path to where it needs to get, flowing like water, and a bunch of other things that are kind of useful for explaining how a Faraday cage or a lightning rod works, and not conflicting with how simple electronics will have a battery and then a single line of wire going through like a switch and a light bulb or whatever back to the other end of the battery.
If you had this idea drilled into your head hard enough, you might end up thinking that if we have a wire hooked to the negative end of a battery stretching off to the east, and another wire stretching off to the east from the positive end, and we bridge between the two in several places with an LED or something soldered to both ends, only the westernmost one is going to light up, because hey, the shortest path is the one that turns off as quickly as possible to connect to the other side, right? Well turns out no, all three are going to light up, because that "shortest path" thing is a total misunderstanding.
Here's how it actually works, roughly. If you took basic high school chemistry, you learned about how the periodic table is set up, right? A given atom, normally, has whatever number of protons in the core, and the same number of electrons, whipping all over around it, being attracted to those protons but repelled by each other, and there's particular counts of electrons which are super chill with that arrangement so we put those elements in the same column as each other, and then as you count up from those, you get the elements between those either have some electrons that don't fit all tight packed in the tight orbit and just kinda hang out all wide and lonely and "want to" buddy up with another atom that has more room, up to the half full column that can kinda go either way, then as we approach the next happy number they "want to" have a little more company to get right to that cozy tight packed number, and when you have "extra" electrons and "missing" electrons other atoms kinda cozy up and share so they hit those good noble gas counts.
I'm sure real experts want to scream at me for both that and this, but this is basically how electricity works. You have a big pile of something at the "positive" end that's "missing electrons" (for the above reason or maybe actually ionized so they really aren't there), and a "negative" end that's got spares. Then you make wires out of stuff from those middle of the road elements that have awkward electron counts and don't mind buddying up (and also high melting points and some other handy qualities) and you hook those in there. And the electron clouds on all the atoms in the wire get kinda pulled towards the positive side because there's more room over there, but if they full on leave their nucleus needs more electron pals, so yeah neighbors get pulled over, and the whole wire connected to the positive bit ends up with a positive charge to it, and the whole wire on the negative bit is negatively charged, and so yeah, anywhere you bridge the gap between the two, the electrons are pretty stoked about balancing out these two big awkward compromises and they'll start conga lining over to balance things out, and while they're at it they'll light up lights or shake speakers or spin motors or activate electromagnets or whatever other rad things you've worked out how to make happen with a live electric current.
Insulators, Resistors, Waves, and Capacitors
Oh and we typically surround these wires made of things that are super happy about sharing electrons around with materials that are very much "I'm good, thanks," but this isn't an all or nothing system and there's stuff you can connect between the positive and negative ends of things that still pass the current along, but only so much so fast. We use those to make resistors, and those are handy because sometimes you don't want to put all the juice you have through something because it would damage it, and having a resistor anywhere along a path you're putting current through puts a cap on that flow, and also sometimes you might want a wire connected to positive or negative with a really strong resistor so it'll have SOME sort of default charge, but if we get a free(r) flowing connection attached to that wire somewhere else that opens sometimes, screw that little trickle going one way, we're leaning everyone the other way for now.
The other thing with electricity is is that the flow here isn't a basic yes/no thing. How enthusiastically those electrons are getting pulled depends on the difference in charge at the positive and negative ends, and also if you're running super long wires then even if they conduct real good, having all that space to spread along is going to kinda slow things to a trickle, AND the whole thing is kinda going to have some inherent bounciness to it both because we're dealing with electrons whipping and spinning all over and because, since it's a property that's actually useful for a lot of things we do with electricity, the power coming out of the wall has this intentional wobbly nature because we've actually got this ridiculous spinny thing going on that's constantly flip flopping which prong of the socket is positive and which is negative and point is we get these sine waves of strength by default, and they kinda flop over if we're going really far.
Of course there's also a lot of times when you really want to not have your current flow flickering on and off all the time, but hey fortunately one of the first neat little electronic components we ever worked out are capacitors... and look, I'm going to be straight with you. I don't really get capacitors, but the basic idea is you've got two wires that go to big wide plates, and between those you have something that doesn't conduct the electricity normally, but they're so close the electromagnetic fields are like vibing, and then if you disconnect them from the flow they were almost conducting and/or they get charged to their limit, they just can't deal with being so charged up and they'll bridge their own gap and let it out. So basically you give them electricity to hold onto for a bit then pass along, and various sizes of them are super handy if you want to have a delay between throwing a switch and having things start doing their thing, or keeping stuff going after you break a connection, or you make a little branching path where one branch connects all regular and the other goes through a capacitor, and the electricity which is coming in in little pulses effectively comes out as a relatively steady stream because every time it'd cut out the capacity lets its charge go.
We don't just have switches, we have potentiometers.
OK, so... all of the above is just sort of about having a current and maybe worrying about how strong it is, but other than explaining how you can just kinda have main power rails running all over, and just hook stuff across them all willy-nilly rather than being forced to put everything in one big line, but still, all you can do with that is turn the whole thing on and off by breaking the circuit. Incidentally, switches, buttons, keys, and anything else you use to control the behavior of any electronic device really are just physically touching loose wires together or pulling them apart... well wait no, not all, this is a good bit to know.
None of this is actually pass/fail, really, there's wave amplitudes and how big a difference we have between the all. So when you have like, a volume knob, that's a potentiometer, which is a simple little thing where you've got your wire, it's going through a resistor, and then we have another wire we're scraping back and forth along the resistor, using a knob, usually, and the idea is the current only has to go through X percent of the resistor to get to the wire you're moving, which proportionately reduces the resistance. So you have like a 20 volt current, you've got a resistor that'll drop that down to 5 or so, but then you move this other wire down along and you've got this whole dynamic range and you can fine tune it to 15 or 10 or whatever coming down that wire. And what's nice about this again, what's actually coming down the wire is this wobbily wave of current, it's not really just "on" or "off, and as you add resistance, the wobble stays the same, it's just the peaks and valleys get closer to being just flat. Which is great if you're making, say, a knob to control volume, or brightness, or anything you want variable intensity in really.
Hey hey, it's a relay!
Again, a lot of the earliest stuff people did with electronics was really dependent on that analog wobbly waveform angle. Particularly for reproducing sound, and particularly the signals of a telegraph. Those had to travel down wires for absurd distances, and as previously stated, when you do that the signal is going to eventually decay to nothing. But then someone came up with this really basic idea where every so often along those super long wires, you set something up that takes the old signal and uses it to start a new one. They called them relays, because you know, it's like a relay race.
If you know how an electromagnet works (something about the field generated when you coil a bunch of copper wire around an iron core and run an electric current through it), a relay is super simple. You've got an electromagnet in the first circuit you're running, presumably right by where it's going to hit the big charged endpoint, and that magnetically pulls a tab of metal that's acting as a switch on a new circuit. As long as you've got enough juice left to activate the magnet, you slam that switch and voom you've got all the voltage you can generate on the new line.
Relays don't get used too much in other stuff, being unpopular at the time for not being all analog and wobbily (slamming that switch back and forth IS going to be a very binary on or off sorta thing), and they make this loud clacking noise that's actually just super cool to hear in devices that do use them (pinball machines are one of the main surviving use cases I believe) but could be annoying in some cases. What's also neat is that they're a logical AND gate. That is, if you have current flowing into the magnet, AND you have current flowing into the new wire up to the switch, you have it flowing out through the far side of the switch, but if either of those isn't true, nothing happens. Logic gates, to get ahead of myself a bit, are kinda the whole thing with computers, but we still need the rest of them. So for these purposes, relays re only neat if it's the most power and space efficient AND gate you have access to.
Oh and come to think of it, there's no reason we need to have that magnet closing the circuit when it's doing its thing. We could have it closed by default and yank it open by the magnet. Hey, now we're inverting whatever we're getting on the first wire! Neat!
Relay computers clack too loud! Gimme vacuum tubes!
So... let's take a look at the other main thing people used electricity for before coming up with the whole computer thing, our old friend the light bulb! Now I already touched a bit on the whole wacky alternating current thing, and I think this is actually one of the cases that eventually lead to it being adopted so widely, but the earliest light bulbs tended to just use normal direct current, where again, you've got the positive end and the negative end, and we just take a little filament of whatever we have handy that glows when you run enough of a current through it, and we put that in a big glass bulb and pump out all the air we can, because if we don't, the oxygen in there is probably going to change that from glowing a bit to straight up catching on fire and burning immediately.
But, we have a new weird little problem, because of the physics behind that glowing. Making something hot, on a molecular level, is just kinda adding energy to the system so everything jitters around more violently, and if you get something hot enough that it glows, you're getting it all twitchy enough for tinier particles to just fly the hell off it. Specifically photons, that's the light bit, but also hey, remember, electrons are just kinda free moving and whipping all over looking for their naked proton pals... and hey, inside this big glass bulb, we've got that other end of the wire with the more positive charge to it. Why bother wandering up this whole coily filament when we're in a vacuum and there's nothing to get in the way if we just leap straight over that gap? So... they do that, and they're coming in fast and on elliptical approaches and all, so a bunch of electrons overshoot and smack into the glass on the far side, and now one side of every light bulb is getting all gross and burnt from that and turning all brown and we can't have that.
So again, part of the fix is we switched to alternating current so it's at least splitting those wild jumps up to either side, but before that, someone tried to solve this by just... kinda putting a backboard in there. Stick a big metal plate on the end of another wire in the bulb connected to a positive charge, and now OK, all those maverick electrons smack into here and aren't messing up the glass, but also hey, this is a neat little thing. Those electrons are making that hop because they're all hot and bothered. If we're not heating up the plate they're jumping to, and there's no real reason we'd want to, then if we had a negative signal over on that side... nothing would happen. Electrons aren't getting all antsy and jumping back.
So now we have a diode! The name comes because we have two (di-) electrodes (-ode) we care about in the bulb (we're just kind of ignoring the negative one), and it's a one way street for our circuit. That's useful for a lot of stuff, like not having electricity flow backwards through complex systems and mess things up, converting AC to DC (when it flips, current won't flow through the diode so we lop off the bottom of the wave, and hey, we can do that thing with capacitors to release their current during those cutoffs, and if we're clever we can get a pretty steady high).
More electrodes! More electrodes!
So a bit after someone worked out this whole vacuum tube diode thing, someone went hey, what if it was a triode? So, let's stick another electrode in there, and this one just kinda curves around in the middle, just kinda making a grate or a mesh grid, between our hot always flowing filament and that catch plate we're keeping positively charged when it's doing stuff. Well this works in a neat way. If there's a negative charge on it, it's going to be pushing back on those electrons jumping over, and if there's a positive charge on it, it's going to help pull those electrons over (it's all thin, so they're going to shoot right past it, especially if there's way more of a positive charge over on the plate... and here's the super cool part- This is an analog thing. If we have a relatively big negative charge, it's going to repel everything, if it's a relatively big positive, it's going to pull a ton across, if it's right in the middle, it's like it wasn't even in there, and you can have tiny charges for all the gradients in between.
We don't need a huge charge for any of this though, because we're just helping or hindering the big jump from the high voltage stuff, and huh, weren't we doing this whole weak current controlling a strong current thing before with the relay? We were! And this is doing the same thing! Except now we're doing it all analog style, not slapping switch with a magnet, and we can make those wavy currents peak higher or lower and cool, now we can have phone lines boost over long distances too, and make volume knobs, and all that good stuff.
The relay version of this had that cool trick though where you could flip the output. Can we still flip the output? We sure can, we just need some other toys in the mix. See we keep talking about positive charges and negative charges at the ends of our circuits, but these are relative things. I mentioned way back when how you can use resistors to throttle how much of a current we've got, so you can run two wires to that grid in the triode. One connects to a negative charge and the other positive, with resistors on both those lines, and a switch that can break the connection on the positive end. If the positive is disconnected, we've got a negative charge on the grid, since it's all we've got, but if we connect it, and the resistor to the negative end really limits flow, we're positive in the section the grid's in. And over on the side with the collecting plate, we branch off with another resistor setup so the negative charge on that side is normally the only viable connection for a positive, but when we flip the grid to positive, we're jumping across the gap in the vacuum tube, and that's a big open flow so we'll just take those electrons instead of the ones that have to squeeze through a tight resistor to get there.
That explanation is probably a bit hard to follow because I'm over here trying to explain it based on how the electrons are actually getting pulled around. In the world of electronics everyone decided to just pretend the flow is going the other way because it makes stuff easier to follow. So pretend we have magical positrons that go the other way and if they have nothing better to do they go down the path where we have all the fun stuff further down the circuit lighting lights and all that even though it's a tight squeeze through a resistor, because there's a yucky double negative in the triode and that's worse, but we have the switch rigged up to make that a nice positive go signal to the resistance free promised land with a bonus booster to cut across, so we're just gonna go that way when the grid signal's connected.
Oh and you can make other sorts of logic circuits or double up on them in a single tube if you add more grids and such, which we did for a while, but not really relevant these days.
Cool history lesson but I know there's no relays or vacuum tubes in my computer.
Right, so the above things are how we used to make computers, but they were super bulky, and you'd have to deal with how relays are super loud and kinda slow, and vacuum tubes need a big power draw and get hot. What we use instead of either of those these days are transistors. See after spending a good number of years working out all this circuit flow stuff with vacuum tubes we eventually focused on how the real important thing in all of this is how with the right materials you can make a little juncture where current flows between a positive and negative charge if a third wire going in there is also positively charged, but if it's negatively charged we're pulling over. And turns out there is a WAY more efficient way of doing that if you take a chunk of good ol' middle of the electron road silicon, and just kinda lightly paint the side of it with just the tiniest amount of positive leaning and negative leaning elements on the sides.
Really transistors don't require understanding anything new past the large number of topics already covered here, they're just more compact about it. Positive leaning bit, negative leaning bit, wildcard in the middle, like a vacuum tube. Based on the concepts of pulling electrons around from chemistry, like a circuit in general. The control wire in the middle kinda works in just a pass-fail sort of way, like a relay. They're just really nice compared to the older alternatives because they don't make noise or have moving parts to wear down, you don't have to run enough current through them for metal to start glowing and the whole room to heat up, and you can make them small. Absurdly small. Like... need an electron microscope to see them small.
And of course you can also make an inverter super tiny like that, and a diode (while you're at it you can use special materials or phosphors to make them light emitting, go LEDs!) and resistors can get pretty damn small if you just use less of a more resistant material, capacitors I think have a limit to how tiny you can get, practically, but yeah, you now know enough of the basic fundamentals of how computers work to throw some logic gates together. We've covered how a relay, triode, or transistor function as an AND gate. An OR gate is super easy, you just stick diodes on two wires so you don't have messy backflow then connect them together and lead off there. If you can get your head around wiring up an inverter (AKA NOT), hey, stick one after an AND to get a NAND, or an OR to get a NOR. You can work out XOR and XNOR from there right? Just build 4 NANDs, pass input A into gates 1 and 2, B into 2 and 3, 2's output into 1 and 3, 1 and 3's output into 4 for a XOR, use NORs instead for a XNOR. That's all of them right? So now just build a ton of those and arrange them into a computer. It's all logic and math from there.
Oh right. It's... an absurd amount of logic and math, and I can only fit so many words in a blog post. So we'll have to go all...
CONTINUED IN PART 2!
Meanwhile, again, if you can spare some cash I'd really appreciate it.
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