#nothing more humiliating than tagging posts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blkgirl-writing · 8 months

Note

Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!

PS Can I be 🧀 anon?

What happened at the moon lit pond

Gale X Fem!Reader

Baldurs gate 3

It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.

Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩

Word count: 1.9k

(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)

(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)

Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.

He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.

Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.

Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.

Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.

Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.

Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.

“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.

“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.

“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”

“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.

“I’d love to see them someday, then.”

“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct

"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.

"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."

"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.

He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.

Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"

"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."

"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.

"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,

"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."

Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.

"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.

"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"

"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.

Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"

"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.

"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."

All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.

"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.

"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.

"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.

"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."

"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.

"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."

Part two, here

(Requests Open)

#x reader #smut #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x reader smut #gale smut #gale of waterdeep smut #gale dekarios smut #gale dekarios x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 smut #baldurs gate 3 x reader #tav #requests open #astarion x reader

2K notes · View notes

deanstead · 9 months

Text

Home

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: no

Summary: Jay notices something is wrong with Y/N's mood over the phone

Word Count: 1.5K+

Tags/Warnings: mentions of (workplace) harassment

A/N: I know I haven't written in months so starting off slow/small to see if maybe I haven't lost my touch... also @halsteadlover may have threatened me to post this.

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST

You glanced at the last message Jay had sent you a few hours earlier and smiled.

You got this.

Three simple words that somehow warmed your heart even though you were miles away in another city.

You rarely had to travel for work even though you’d worked as a translator at this company for some time. You mostly dealt with inbound foreign clients who came to Chicago but this time, they’d needed a translator for a conference outside Chicago and you were the only available one. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far so you didn’t even have to take a flight and the company had arranged for a car for you to get there.

Which was all too well, since Jay had also had his hands full and had to go undercover for a few days.

So it was even more heartwarming to see the message from Jay when you hadn’t really been expecting a reply.

Even though you had only seen the message after the conference, it still felt comforting to feel the last dredges of work nerves and anxiety leave your system.

“Y/N, come on.” One of your colleagues from another team called out to you and you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, before following her toward the private room of the restaurant where you were all supposed to be having dinner with a huge client.

You didn’t even like having social dinners with people you weren’t close with, not to mention dinners like this.

Dinner had barely started when you were proven right.

“Thanks to your team, the conference went very well.” The client smiled, looking around. “Of course, we have to thank Y/N for ensuring all communication went smoothly.”

You’d just smiled when you felt his hand slide onto yours from under the table and the smile froze on your face.

Instinctively, you pulled your hand away, bringing your hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and grabbing your jacket from behind you and draping it around you, smiling.

“Just doing my job, Mr. Saunders.”

You saw the look on his face and knew he’d taken offense, ridiculous as it was.

You chose to ignore it, pretending like nothing had happened. After all, he’d probably have gotten the hint.

He hadn’t.

The client made a few more passes at you - a hand on your knee, trying to take your hand again, and the most outrageous one was holding up food to feed you in front of everyone.

The action wasn’t lost on everyone who was there but no one spoke up.

You swallowed. “I’ll help myself.”

It was like something snapped in him and he glanced at you coldly and said, “Guess if you’re not hungry, you should go out and wait for everyone to finish.”

You glanced helplessly at your team manager who gave you a look to ask you not to make things worse than they already were.

You gritted your teeth but bit back any sort of response, getting up and leaving the room, a mix of anxiety, humiliation, self-doubt, and every other negative emotion swirling in the pit of your stomach.

Jay sighed, stretching as he sat up from the couch.

The apartment was uncharacteristically quiet since you were away for work.

Jay looked up at the clock. It was slightly past 10 which was weird because he hadn’t heard back from you.

Getting up to get himself a glass of water, Jay glanced at his messages before he decided he’d try and call. Even if you were still with your colleagues, you could probably still answer the phone since the conference was over.

There were two rings before you answered.

“Hey, still having fun with your colleagues?”

There was a slight pause before you answered.

“Jay.”

Jay frowned, immediately picking up on the fact that something was wrong.

“Y/N? What’s going on? You okay?”

Jay’s voice was gentle and so comforting, you felt the prick of tears again.

You cleared your throat. Honestly, crying on the street in the middle of the night was the last thing you wanted to do. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Have you eaten?” Jay’s worried voice sounded through the phone.

You smiled to yourself even as a tear escaped and slid down your cheek.

“Yeah, told you there was good food waiting for me after the conference.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Jay pressed.

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m fine. I just… miss you.” You managed to keep your voice steady.

“I’ll come and get you,” Jay answered.

“Jay, it’s late and you probably haven’t had enough sleep for the past few days. I’ll take the earliest bus out to Chicago tomorrow.”

You heard the reluctance in his voice even though he agreed and after reassuring him not to worry, you hung up.

The wind felt even colder now as you sat by the side of the road, your carrier bag sitting next to you.

Technically you had another night at the hotel but you hadn’t felt like staying there for even a second longer. Other than the fact that the client knew exactly which room you were in, your team manager had left a message for you berating you for how you’d handled the situation which made you even more disgusted than you already were.

You didn’t know how long you sat there but as you felt it turn colder you thought you should get up and maybe find somewhere else to sit for the night. You didn’t care if you had to sit up all night at a 24-hour cafe but you weren’t going back to the hotel.

You’d barely gotten to your feet, reaching for your carrier when a familiar truck pulled up right before you.

You froze, as Jay appeared right before you like magic.

“Jay… you…”

Jay’s green eyes appeared even brighter than usual as he looked at you with a mix of exasperation and worry. “I came to take you home.”

You’d clearly been sitting out here for longer than you thought, but it didn't matter because when Jay finished speaking you felt the tears well up in your eyes as the security that Jay always made you feel flooded through your entire body and finally gave you enough courage to cry.

Jay stepped forward, wordlessly enveloping you into his arms.

You dissolved into sobs as you felt his arms around you and he pressed you gently into his embrace, his hand over the back of your head protectively. Jay didn’t say anything, just standing there quietly with you in his arms until your sobs gently died down.

"I…”

Jay pressed his lips against your temple and whispered, “Let’s go home.”

Jay didn’t ask you anything on the way home, and you must have fallen asleep because the next thing you knew Jay was pulling into the parking lot in front of your building and your stomach gave a tiny rumble as Jay killed the engine.

You glanced at him and Jay just let out a chuckle.

“Come on, I’ll order us a pizza and you can get comfortable.”

By the time you got out of the shower, the pizza was here and you got comfortable on the sofa as Jay handed you a slice and curled in next to you.

You didn’t say anything and Jay didn’t push you as you finished your first slice before you glanced up at him.

“I’m sorry.” You said in a low voice.

Jay raised an eyebrow.

“You must be exhausted.” You added.

There was a silence which made you look up and you felt the rare surge of insecurity from not being able to read the look on Jay’s face.

“Did you think I’d be able to go to sleep when I could hear how upset you were?” Jay said quietly. “Y/N, listen. You don’t have to worry about asking me to go out of my way for you. In fact, if it was possible, I hope you’d always do it. I’d go to the moon and back for you if you needed me to.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes again, this time from an overwhelming feeling of being loved by someone.

Jay just quietly pressed his lips against your temple.

You leaned into him, the rest of the pizza slices forgotten on the table.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

You bit your lip, sitting up a little before you recounted what had happened that night as vaguely as possible, with bare details.

Even so, you could literally hear Jay grinding his teeth beside you.

You glanced at him. “Jay.”

“I’ll kill him. I will literally break his hands.”

You snuggled back into his side. “No, you won’t.” You mumbled. “But I needed to hear that.”

Jay sighed and pulled you tighter against him. “You did the right thing, you know that right? No matter what anyone says.”

You nodded without looking up and Jay patted the back of your head gently, ruffling your hair gently in the process.

You leaned deeper into Jay’s embrace before turning your head up gently to glance at him.

Jay smiled and leaned down to press his lips gently against yours. The negative feelings of the entire night were long gone because you were right where you belonged - home with Jay.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee!

#resa.fics #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead fanfic #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n

1K notes · View notes

ilydottie · 2 months

Text

| That Boy is a Monster |

Pairing: Childe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dark Content, Hate Sex, Slapping, Heavy Swearing, Insults, Enemies to Lovers, Foreplay, Smut, Reader has a vagina and clitoris, Size Difference, Blood, Blood as Lube, Dubcon, Childe has a big dick, Public Sex, Voyeurism, Humiliation, Crying, Reader is implied to be a part of the Fatui, Mindbreak (?), Reader passes out during sex, Vaginal Fingering, Aftercare, Brief Fluff, 2.2k words.

A/n: I have not written for this freak in such a long time, but I had sm fun writing this. So, yeah enjoy <3 (p.s the title are lyrics to the song Monster by Lady Gaga)

Summary: You and Childe have hate sex after battling each other. That's it, that’s the post.

Tagging: @suyacho @auphelia @tighnarly @themovingcastlez

“Mmnh, fuck you taste good.” He moaned, pinning you down and shoving his tongue down your throat, again.

His body was large and covered in blood, towering over you like a bad omen. His eyes were dark and empty. You had nowhere to run, and there was no escape in sight.

You bit his lip and tried pushing him away, but he was much heavier and stronger than you. “Fuck you!” You yelled.

You slapped him in an effort to distract him long enough to get away, but it was futile. It was only fair that the victor of the match got to celebrate in their own way. You just didn’t realize that this was how Childe would celebrate his win. Still, as much as you hated him you couldn’t ignore the longing in between your legs. As he towered over you, you couldn’t help but feel a shiver crawl down your spine. The Fatui Harbinger had quite a way of convincing you to say yes to anything he asked, especially that. Regardless of how much you’d fight him, he would get his way no matter what. That was a cruel promise he intended on keeping.

He slid a hand in between your legs, bloodied and bruised, as he thrusted against his hand, adding a pleasurable amount of pressure for the both of you. You opened your mouth to let out a loud moan, feeling a rush of euphoria from his fingers playing with your bud. Now, staining even your most sensitive parts with blood. If you refused to give up the fight before, you would now. Continuously he played with your bundle of nerves as you tried to weakly push away his advances.

“Fuck, baby you feel so wet.” He groaned in your ear. Not knowing whether it was blood or cum he was rubbing back onto you.

He wasn’t wrong, you were soaking, but goddamn it felt amazing when he touched you down there. Hell, if he touched you anywhere you’d have been a wreck as well, but when he rubbed your sensitive spots all rationale went out the window. He slid two fingers along your folds, gathering up any precum so he could slip both fingers inside of you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, trying once more to fight him off, but at some point you had given up willingly right as the tip of his fingers pushed against your sweet spot.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He whispered against your mouth, his lips rough from cuts and dried blood.

You bite his lip as an act of rebellion, but that only causes him to fuck you harder, pulling moans out of your mouth one after another. Throwing your head back you let out a long and broken moan as you dug your nails into his back, leaving behind a trail of blood. Childe wasn’t wrong, it did feel good, but like hell you would ever admit that to him. Suddenly he slipped his tongue into your mouth, moaning against you like an animal starved of its bountiful feast. Again, you bit his lip, but this time with much more rage and forcefulness.

“Fuck you!” You spat back.

His eyes went dark as he let out a twisted laugh. “Oh, I plan to!”

He pulled back only to take his remaining hand and pin both of your wrists above your head. You had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and nothing but pure thrilling fun ahead of you. He continued to finger you, faster and faster, until he could feel your walls tightening around him. That’s when he increased the speed and harshness of how he fucked you, until the very moment in which you came all over his fingers. He watched you with glee as you thrashed against the hold of his hands, moaning and arching your back like it was the best you’d ever had. He pulled out slowly, grinning as he watched you come to reality, thinking that all was said and done.

“What are you doing?” You asked nervously. As you tried to back out his grip you ended up putting yourself in a corner that you couldn’t wiggle your way out of.

He unzipped his pants and then moved to remove your bottoms, pulling them completely off of you as he climbed back on top of you. “Oh, I’m not done yet.”

A horrific expression washed over your face as you realized what his words meant. You try to reason with him, say how he’s long since proven that he’s the winner and that you were sorry for rejecting his advances beforehand, but it was too late. He was already starting to line himself up with your hole when you had begun crying and begging for him to reconsider. Sadly for you he wouldn’t. Before you knew it he was entering inside of you and you had no choice but to brace yourself. You thought you could handle his size, the thickness of it, but Childe had very quickly proved you wrong.

Your limits were tested as he used his hips to push himself deeper inside of you. Grabbing onto his biceps and digging your nails into his toned skin you grit your teeth, fighting back the urge to pull away. It hurt like hell at first, feeling as if he was stretching you wider than was humanly possible, but soon you started to adjust his length and girth. Your body had begun to relax and your mind started to lose focus as you became all too aware of just how big he was. Just as you were starting to get used to the pleasurable burn at your core, Childe flipped you onto your stomach and positioned you onto your knees.

He licked his lips and groaned as he gave your ass a quick, hard slap. Chuckling at the way you whined in response as he pushed himself back inside of you. He grabbed your hips as he pounded inside of you at an unforgiving pace, biting his lip to suppress the excitement hiding underneath his tongue. Your body was on fire, electricity traveled up your spine in the most euphoric way possible. Childe was hitting that sweet spot of yours relentlessly and eventually it broke you in the best of ways. Your tongue fell out of your mouth and eyes rolled back as he hit that spot hard again and again. Fuck, you hated Childe so much, but even you couldn’t deny how good his cock felt shoved inside of your cunt.

You clawed at the dirt ground while Childe managed to fuck into you harder and faster with every thrust, something you didn’t know was even possible. With the combination of his bloody hands, the wetness of the dirt ground, and the freeing air which enveloped both of you; you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle this. If it wasn’t for the way his tainted hands touched you then it was the vulnerability of anyone being able to walk by and see him deep inside of you. God, something about that made your body quiver. Everytime you heard a noise you held a small amount of hope that it was someone watching you with a satisfied grin on their face. Some part of you wanted the world to know how you belonged to Childe, someone you supposedly hated so much.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and groaned loudly. “Fuck, baby keep doin’ that shit and I’m gonna– ahhh!”

Pulling your head up by the fist full of of hair, he started to fuck you sloppily, his thrusts becoming frantic and uneven. You let out a pained whimper as you felt something rush in your chest, your heart beating fast as your number one enemy fucked the life out of you. You were being violated for the whole world to see and yet you couldn’t give a shit less, the pleasure far outweighing the consequences. Tears started to fall from your eyes as you felt the coil finally snap. Childe continued to fuck you through both yours and his highs, overstimulating you as you squirted all over his cock.

“That’s it, baby. Take it all.” He moaned, hunched over you as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

As he drained the last of his release inside of you fell limp against the ground, your eyes were barely open and yet you managed to see a group of lesser Fatui members pointing at you and smiling. Something about that felt so good, filling your core with desire all over again. Even as your cunt glistened from all the fluids you couldn’t help but grind against Childe for more stimulation. You knew it would probably hurt, still very overstimulated, but you needed to be by him now more than ever. Something about right now demanded to be filled with as much of him as he could offer, maybe even more.

In the process of everything he had flipped you back onto your stomach, wanting to look into your glazed over eyes just one last time before he removed himself. As he was about to slide out of you he noticed how you ground your wet pussy against his cock for more, and saw how you eyed the other Fatui members, too. He smiled fondly at you and kissed you gently on the lips.

He stroked the side of your face and shoved himself back into what little space was left between the two of you. “Don’t look at them, focus on me.” He reassured you as he started to roll his hips to press his cock deeper inside of you until he reached that sweet spot again.

The feeling you felt was one of instant relief, moaning immediately as your eyes locked on Childe’s. Although dark and empty it soothed you as he treated you with an entirely different etiquette. It didn’t take long for you to forget about the strays and focus entirely on Childe, wrapping your arms around his neck as he took advantage of the space, lifting your legs so that you could wrap them around his waist and giving him easier access to your cunt. Rougher and rougher he fucked into you until the both of you were a whimpering mess, already on the fast track to cumming all over again, but you didn’t mind.

As the both of you moaned and climaxed in symphony, something even you were surprised by, you felt yourself eventually lose yourself to the pure euphoria you felt. Suddenly, you slipped into a dark nothingness that was like a dreamlike state. It took some time before you had finally came to and when you did you were in a furnished room. You awoke laying in bed, fully clothed and warm, a strange contrast to before. Feeling eyes on you, you glanced to the side of you to see Childe propped upright watching you with a smile on his face.

“Good, you’re finally awake. You had me scared for a moment there.” He admitted, a tint of blush painting his cheeks.

You rubbed the back of your head in embarrassment. “Sorry ‘bout that, I didn’t realize that would happen.”

Childe continued looking at you like an obedient pet. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve seen worse.”

You sighed. “Yeah, I guess– I guess you have a point there.”

There was a moment of comfortable silence, the sound of the fireplace flickered in the background as your eyelids began to feel heavy once again. You tried fighting it, feeling a little awful about fainting mid fuck with your rival. If you could even call him that anymore.

“Tired?” He asked, pulling the blankets over your body gingerly.

You nodded. Letting him put out the fire before crawling back into bed with you, making sure to keep a safe distance from you as to make you feel more comfortable.

“Hey, Childe?” You asked.

“Hmm?” He hummed in reply.

“I still fucking hate you.” You replied in what you hoped was a cold tone, but Childe was not so easily fooled.

“Haha! Sure you do.” He replied with a laugh.

Something about his words and the laughter that followed caused you to feel something bubble in your stomach, something warm and exciting. It filled you with both fear and excitement, eager to find out what all this meant, but for now you’d rest your eyes and heal your battle wounds, hoping for answers in the coming days.

#childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #tartaglia x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #childe smut #tartaglia smut #genshin smut

304 notes · View notes

roseykat · 5 months

Text

TITLE: SKZ members as submissives

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: An OT8 blurb of how each of the members are as subs.

TAGS: sub!skz members, implied dom!reader not necessarily gender specific, mentions of sex, orgasms, humiliation, edging, collars, leashes, spitting, nipple play, implied brat behaviour, praise, choking, gagging.

MASTERLIST

A/N: my next work that will be uploaded after this is Venom Eater! Also trying out a new layout for when I do OT8 blurbs…

This man is 50/50. He can be so good for you by letting you use him in the ways that you want and then be a devious, disobedient little upstart if you look away for one second. If he’s in that type of state, expect him to whine to you about what it is that he wants; ‘make me cum~’, ‘but I need you to use me,’ ‘need to get off on you, please.’

Denying him is always so fun because he gets so teary eyed and agitated. At that point, he’ll cave. He is strong, but when his needs are being compromised, Chan will see your instructions through to the end. Whether it’s to use his mouth for your own pleasure, his cock, fingers, whatever part of his body you see fit to seek an orgasm out of, he will make it happen as reparation.

A sub that can be a full on stubborn brat who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Trying to get him to listen is like pulling teeth and it can take a lot to strip Minho back into a conforming, incoherent mess. Overstimulation usually does the trick, bc he gets what he wants at first then realises he’s bitten off too much that he can chew and finds himself running into multiple orgasms bc you keep getting him hard enough to make him cum.

You like showing him how much cum he’s dribbled out of his stiff yet sore cock just by lifting up your hand, forcing him to see your palm glisten in white. Seeing it is like a slap of humiliation to him which paints a nice deep red blush across his cheeks.

A very sensitive sub that can only handle being touched so much. Edging works so well that it’s almost always part of the bedroom routine. You try to utilise it in order to see his strong, taut body writhing, and to hear him moan out ‘please, wanna cum so bad. Can’t take it anymore.’ Just hearing him say that invites you to cuff his hands to the bedpost so that he doesn’t try touching himself when you refuse him from orgasming.

The one thing that he absolutely cannot take is watching you get yourself off. Therefore, in the instance where you do attach him to the headboard, you peel yourself right off of his body and get into a position where he can see you make yourself cum. Whether it’s by your fingers, a vibrator, a dildo, whatever it takes to make him see what he’s missing out on, is a form of torture to him.

Obedient when he wants to be, but for the most part, he will let you use him whenever you want because Hyunjin is too in love with you not to. He likes having a collar fixed around his throat with a leash attached while you get him to fuck you in positions where he may appear ‘on top’ but you still have every degree of control over him.

He’s a relatively messy sub as well but adorns it with pride. Sometimes he cries from overstimulation, drools when you gag him with your fingers, chin and nose wet from you using his face, and will leak a decent amount of precum when you edge him. All in all, he’s versatile to use especially when he wants you to.

Is a sub that requires a lot more attention than most. He is very needy and reactive to the things he allows you to do to him. However, Jisung does explore when it comes to new kinks but to him, nothing beats just getting absolutely fucked. That being said, this man is a pillow prince. You have to put in all the effort - which you don’t mind, but there comes a time where you make Jisung work for it.

If that’s the case, he gets all whiny, mopey, and annoyed because he doesn’t want to ride you - he wants you to fuck him. He gets so stubborn that sometimes he’ll prep himself, fingering his hole even though it’s not nearly as satisfying as when you’re involved. In the end, he will end up riding you, but either very lazily or angrily.

Is everyone’s darling, innocent, and placid submissive that they just want to ruin. Whatever it is that you want to try, Felix is for it. He wants to please you and make you happy. He’s a sub who needs a lot of praise and boy does he deserve it because he’ll let you fuck him, let you clamp his nipples, spit in his mouth, edge him, a combination of all if not more of these activities - you name it.

Sometimes you have to remind Felix that he doesn’t have to do the things you suggest to him, that there are alternatives also or that he just doesn’t have to do it at all. But he always, always assures you that he does. He likes to experiment with you in bed but also wants to test his own limits while achieving pleasure.

Seungmin can be a very hard sub to work with at times. He has the ability to use his words as a weapon, yet sadly, it’s a double edged sword because it does come back and bite him in the ass when you clock him for his behaviour. So if he tries to trip you up with his words when you’re in full dom mode, saying things such as, ‘are you sure about that?’ ‘What makes you think I can’t take it?’ etc, you know how to handle him - with a ball gag.

It limits his supply of verbal daggers and plea bargains that you never bother considering bc he stepped on your last nerve. Another way to get him to shut up is if you use his face. But, his reset button - something that forces him to switch up is by telling him that he’s a ‘good boy’. He gets all flustered and embarrassed but he loves hearing that type of praise from you.

Jeongin starts off as a seemingly disobedient sub, almost leaning towards being a brat, then will slot right into his place of being submissive when you ramp things up in bed. Therefore, it’s easy to snap him out of that phase by threatening that he’s not going to get what he wants - no head, you won’t fuck him or you won’t let him fuck you. When those stakes are on the line, he straightens his act out and behaves.

As a sub, Jeongin is into many things but has a particular interest for shibari. He likes the intricacy of the many different ways in which you can bind his body, the tight feeling of the rope around his muscles, and how it shapes his body well. That’s only if he’s behaved himself well.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut

446 notes · View notes

minarisplaything · 8 months

Text

Daughter's of Ms. Kim (ft. Aespa Winter)

pairing: Winter x Male Reader rating: Explicit word count: 2.8k summary: After a pool boy's rendevous with Karina, he's confronted by her sister, Winter who is eager to prove herself. tags: pool sex A/N: this is part of a series, if you'd like to read chapter one on AO3 you can find it here. there isn't really any smut in it so i didn't post it here but it sets up the series. or just feel free to read on and wing it. either way enjoy!

“Ah…! Ah…!”

High pitched moans were making their way into the hallway as a result of your actions. More specifically, of you railing into one of Ms. Kim’s daughters. The same daughter you had lusted over prior to this moment. The same daughter who apparently, had lusted over you as well. At least judging by how wet she had been when she first spread her legs for you.

At first you had been worried about one of her sisters, or even Ms. Kim herself, walking in on the pair of you but the more vocal Jimin got, the more you found that you didn’t care. If she was giving it her all, then you would too. Besides, while losing your job for leering had been an embarrassing and humiliating thought; losing your job for this was worth it.

“Jimin…fuck…”

You groaned, feeling her pussy tighten around your rod. You had thought the initial stretch had been heavenly but then you found a lack of description for the feeling of her clenching around you as you pumped inside her with a steady ready. What went beyond heavenly? And then there was that look she gave you when she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes pleading with you for more.

It was a plea you were more than willing to fulfill.

You didn’t know if this was a one off exchange or not. If you’d ever get to experience the feeling of Jimin’s pussy trying to milk you for every drop again. With that in mind you had to make sure to give her your all this time. If nothing else, it’d leave a lasting impression on her memory.

“Jimin…”

You slowly came back to the present day, the replay of that day still going vividly in your mind. You were grateful for the pool that Ms. Kim had allowed you to use today after you had finished. It meant you could have a raging hard-on under the water without worrying about anyone seeing it. Not that there had been anyone in the yard when you had jumped in to begin with. Your solitude was the reason you had allowed yourself to close your eyes and recall those memories.

“...”

With a sigh you let your shoulders sag. You still didn’t know if you’d ever get that chance again. The next day, Jimin had acted as she always did and you hadn’t had the nerve to bring the topic up on your own. You simply followed her lead and pretended like nothing had happened. Now you felt like you were at a crossroads. Maybe if you just got a chance to talk to her privately…

The sound of water moving caused your eyes to peak up. When you saw someone floating in the water five feet from you, you immediately stood straighter. Then, remembering your erection, immediately sunk back into the water.

“Minjeong…How long have you been there?”

Another one of Ms. Kim’s daughters, she was known for being aloof and quiet. Often times it seemed like she was in her on world whenever you saw her around the house. On more than a few occasions you had caught her simply…staring at you like she was now. It was a little unsettling but, well, she was gorgeous. Her pointed cat-like facial features gave her a striking visual appearance that in a lot of ways only added to the mystery of her. The only time you had talked with her was when you started the conversation. And even then she only gave you short responses.

“...Minjeong?”

Maybe she didn’t know you were given permission to be in the pool and was giving you a silent judgement. Or maybe she had caught wind of what you were hiding beneath the water. In all your speculation, you hadn’t considered what she actually said next.

“Did you fuck Jimin?”

If you had water in your mouth you would have spit it out then and there. Instead you choked on your saliva for a moment, hand going to your throat as you tried to regain your composure. Where the hell did that come from?! More importantly if she was asking you that meant Jimin hadn’t told her one way or another. Not yet at least.

“W-what? Why do you ask that?”

She was silent in response, her chin tilting downward for a moment as her eyes avoided yours. Was she being shy? After such a bold declaration?! Honestly, you hadn’t spent enough time around Minjeong to know her personality. It never crossed your mind that she was shy or had a crush on you. You had always just thought she was, well, strange. Your attention had been so focused on Jimin this summer that you likely would have never noticed even if she was overt about it. Now here she was bluntly asking you if you slept with her sister. Truth, be told, you didn’t know what to make of it but the thought of lying made you feel guilty.

Of course, it didn’t help that you were still sporting an erection from your prior thoughts.

“I, uh,” you paused trying to word it. “Yes. We slept together. It was just a one-time thing though.”

You tried and failed to hide the disappointment in your tone at that admission. No point in dwelling on idle fantasies.

Minjeong gave you a side glance at your confession, a hint of crimson coloring her pale cheeks. It wasn’t clear whether it was arousal or embarassment but suddenly you found yourself paying more attention to her, wondering what exactly was going on in her head. Admittedly, she was a little cuter when she seemed to be coy rather than staring at you from across any given room without saying a word.

“What was it like?”

”E-excuse me?”

Rather than repeat herself or explain what she meant, Minjeong glided through the water towards you. As she drew closer you suddenly remembered that you were still sporting a rather sizeable erection and drifted backwards, only for your back to bump into the edge of the pool. Despite the look of dread that was surely on your face, she continued her advance unbothered right until she was face to face with you. Her head craning up to look at you. You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do next.

“Minjeong…?”

Wordlessly she looked down, barely making out what was standing at attention beneath the ripples of the pool. You had never known Minjeong to be described as bold in your time working for Ms. Kim but that was the only way to label her actions when she reached beneath the water and took ahold of your cock. Your body jolted suddenly, even with the contact being through your swimming trunks. For her part, Minjeong seemed to be lost in her own world. She was staring down, mouth slightly agape as if utterly fascinated by what was currently in her hand. Despite it being a confusing and bizarre experience, that didn’t stop your cock from throbbing any less in her grasp.

“It’s bigger than I thought it’d be…” she muttered, more to herself than you.

“Thanks…? I think?”

Was that a compliment? Wait – she’s thought about how big your cock was before?! This was quickly spiraling into something you had no idea how to react to. You had never looked at Minjeong in this kind of light before but it was increasingly hard not to when her hand was wrapped around your cock. It was also increasingly hard to think with a clear head. Especially, when she started to move her hand experimentally along your shaft.

“M-minjeong, someone could walk out,” you started weakly.

You gave a glance over to the patio. Currently, the only other person outside was Yizhuo, who was currently sunbathing topless – another thing that caused your cock to twitch in Minjeong’s grasp. From what you could see it looked like she had headphones on and was completely oblivious as to what her sister was currently doing to you. If Minjeong had heard any word of your concern she didn’t show it. In fact, when you turned back to look at her she was even closer to you, her nose practically brushing against yours.

“If Jimin could handle it then I can handle it,” Minjeong stated.

“I…”

As much as your mind screamed at you that this was a bad idea, that if you got caught you’d lose your job, you found your resolve already weakened. Not only because of what her hand was currently doing to your cock, but because of what had already happened between yourself and Jimin. If you were going to get fired you might as well go two-for-two on reasons to get terminated, right?

Rather than answer her verbally, you leaned forward and closed the distance between your lips and hers. As your lips moved against hers you wondered if Winter was simply stunned that you had actually kissed her. Briefly you wondered if she had ever kissed anyone best. Wait, am I taking her first kiss? The thought should have made you feel guilty, or at the very least reconsider your chosen course of action. Instead it only caused your cock to throb in her grasp.

Finally, Minjeong began to respond to the kiss. It was slow at first, tentative even. Like she was exploring and analyzing it in her mind before she finally delved in. Her lips parted, her tongue pushing into your mouth experimentally. It was a completely different experience than what you had with Jimin, which you supposed was a good thing. Her lips were suprirsingly sweet and you wondered if she had placed lip balm on them before coming to you.

Your tongue danced with hers and you deepened the kiss, the water making ripples around you. You didn’t know if Yizhuo was still unaware of what was unfolding but at that point you didn’t care. You had started this ( well, she had technically ) now you were going to see it through.

Her lithe body pressed flush against hers, one arm wrapping around her neck while the other continued to stroke your cock under the water. When she finally pulled back, she looked up at you with large eyes.

“I want it…”

“What do you want, Minjeong,” you prodded.

She briefly looked away, her cheeks tinging with a hue of red. Her stoic confidence seemed to have faltered. When she spoke it was in a low voice that you could barely hear. “...fuck….me…”

“What was that?” you couldn’t help yourself from teasing her a bit. “I couldn’t hear you.”

Finally, she looked back at you. Her eyes staring intensely at yours, “I want you to fuck me.”

Well, that didn’t leave any doubt did it?

“You want me to fuck you like I did Jimin?” you questioned, your voice lowering as you began to lift her up. You had never actually fooled around in a pool before and were relieved at how easy it was to pull her closer so her legs could wrap around you. You pulled her bikini bottoms to the side, positioning your cockhead at her entrance.

“Yes,” Minjeong said, sounding determined now. “That’s what I want.”

Fuck, there was just something alluring about the way she said that. You may have never pictured her this way before but hearing the usually reserved daughter of Ms. Kim speak such vulgar desires was the last straw you needed. You pushed forward and pulled her towards you, beginning to sheath your cock inside of her pussy.

Fuck she was tight.

Despite her arousal you struggled at first to fit your length inside her in it’s entirety. Minjeong said nothing but her body tightened around you as she bit her bottom lip.

“If you want to take it all you have to relax,” you whispered into her ear, “It’ll feel so much better, I promise.”

“So full…” she mumbled.

“There’s still more to go but you have to relax,” then another idea popped into your head, “Jimin was able to take it all.“

Your words worked as expected. Minjeong took a shaky breath before you felt her body begin to relax in your arms. Her walls still gripped your cock tightly but you didn’t feel like her body was fighting against you anymore. Instead she was slowly accepting more and more of your length as you pushed deeper inside of her warm tunnel. The resistance you felt at first was now giving way to a pleasure that was sending your mind reeling.

“You feel so fucking tight, Minjeong…” you moaned softly.

She mewled softly in your ear in response. When you finally bottomed out inside of her, your bodies pressed flush against one another, you stayed like that for a moment. You still didn’t know if this was her first time or not but you felt the need to give her a moment to adjust to your size regardless. Even if Minjeong herself would never ask for it.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Her request caught you off guard. You looked at her for a long moment, realizing there was more to the quiet sister than met the eye. Rather than give her a yes or a no you leaned forward, capturing Minjeong’s lips in a tentative embrace. This time she didn’t take as long to respond to your kiss but still kept things slow and explorative. As your lips locked, she began to move on your cock.

Fucking in the pool was a first. Or any body of water for that matter. It was different then you expected, but the weightlessness of it meant that as she grew more accustom to your size, she could begin to move easier, her slow, rhythmic pace picking up slightly. At times you were worried about making too much noise, that Yizhuo might hear the splashing of your bodies as you speared her pussy over and over again, but she never seemed phased at all. Not that you were paying her much mind, your attention was focused solely on the woman currently riding you.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined?” you questioned.

“Mhm,” Minjeong nodded her head.

“You like stealing your sister’s fuck toy, huh?” your words grew more vulgar.

She nodded her head again, biting her bottom lip as she gripped your shoulders tightly. It was almost adorable the way she was so focused on the way your length was stretching her pussy that she couldn’t even manage a proper response. That wasn’t good enough. You had given in which meant you wanted to go all the way. You needed to see the usually quiet and reserved Minjeong come undone. Gripping her waist, you smoothly swapped places, pushing her back against the wall. You gripped the edge of the pool, using it as leverage to meet her movements with hard thrusts.

“I can’t hear you,” you teased.

Immediately you were greeted with moans of pleasure as her head fell to your shoulder. That was much better. Your hips snapped roughly, shoving your cock inside of her as her sex quivered around you; squeezing around your length each time you filled her hole. The usually quiet Minjeong had become a mess of sounds as you fucked her against the edge of the pool

“Aaah~ ah~ mmh~” her fingers dug into your back, any sense of forming a sentence completely gone from her.

You didn’t care if Yizhuo noticed the excessive splashing created from your union at this point. Hell, Ms. Kim herself could walk out and you wouldn’t care. If Jimin walked out on the other hand…Your cock swelled inside of Minjeong at the thought. The image of Jimin watching you ravish her shamelessly as she cried out your name. Another image flashed through your mind, one of Jimin massaging your balls while Minjeong serviced your cock with her lips.

As fantasies in your mind mixed with the pleasures of reality, you felt the body clinging to you begin to shudder. Minjeong let out a cry of pleasure as her orgasm tore through her body. Her walls tightened around you, seemingly intent on dragging you over the edge with her; impluring you to spill your seed inside of her.

“Fuck!” she swore.

It might’ve been the first time you had actually heard her swear, let alone that loudly. That fact triggered something inside of you. It had you gripping the ceramic edges of the pool for dear life with one hand while the other wrapped around her slender waist, burying your length to the hilt as your pleasure finally erupted with a roar. It was incredible, scintillating even. Honestly, your mind simply went blank for a long moment with no thoughts or concerns. Judging by the way Minjeong was currently slumped against yours, she was in a similar state of exhausted euphoria.

The only sound that reached your ears was the slow settling of water and the heavy pants of your mingled breaths until finally she spoke up.

“How did that compare to my sister?”

You could only let out a sound of disbelief as you floated in the water. There was something wrong with Minjeong and her competitive streak – or was it jealousy? Whatever the case a part of you was starting to like it. There was certainly no way you’d look at her the same after today.

#kpop smut #male reader #aespa smut #aespa imagines #winter smut #minjeong smut #minjeong x reader

682 notes · View notes

guywrestlingaddiction · 3 months

Text

What Turned me Gay: How to Introduce Someone to Gay Wrestling

It's no secret that wrestling turned me gay. High school wrestling turned into a passion for pro wrestling, which evolved into an obsession with gay wrestling. Now, while my journey is unique to me, I wondered, how do you turn someone on to gay wrestling?

What turned me gay (not really) ...

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)

This post, inspired by the sidelineland.com blog, takes a tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)" and in thinking about the topic of introducing someone to gay wrestling, it's helpful to go back to the beginning - at least my beginning.

My first exposure to gay wrestling was on bgeast.com and boy do I still have vivid memories of that experience. Those wrestler profiles, the exciting match descriptions, all of it worked to overly stimulate my young imagination. Reading about those grunting and groaning men made me feel like I was there, in the ring with them and feeling every strained bicep or the pain of a perfectly timed ball claw. One particular image forever sealed in my memory from that day was an aggressive Brigham Bell flex-straddling a helpless Dino Serra in a schoolboy pin. Brigham's cocky look, that vain bicep flex all worked to supercharge my interest.

Brigham Bell v Dino Serra (bgeast.com)

Later, after months, maybe even years of research, when I was finally able to buy my first Bgeast DVD, I picked up Tag Team Torture 3 - specifically because of Mr.Troy Baker. Now it wasn't intentional but what's key here is that I picked a gay wrestling match without the sex. As it happened, Troy Baker simply didn't do nudity and after all my 'research' there was no stopping me from wanting to see him.

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)A gay wrestling match without the gay sex

I mean can you blame me?

All that to say that my first introduction to gay wrestling was less about guys doing it and more about the wrestling. Of course I visited other gay sites devoted purely to sex, but somehow keeping them separate - gay wrestling and gay porn helped. In fact, it intensified my gay wrestling passion since there was just nothing hotter than being taken to the edge of excitement, only to be denied it. Gay wrestling wasn't just a cheesy prelude to the sex, it was an epic story of powerful emotions, humiliation, and masculinity. Needless to say I was hooked.

Flyboy v Jose (bgeast.com) Another gay wrestling classic without the sex.

I won't go as far to say that I didn't need the release that typical porn had to offer, but what I will say is that the images of hot guys straining their muscles or the guttural moans each fighter made was simply hotter than anything else I had seen before. Whether it was the intense cries of defeat or the shakiness in their voice when the adrenaline was flowing; all of that was heaven to me.

Mars v Bjorn (wrestler4hire.com)

But the thing that did it for me was the intense realness that gay wrestling brought. The sweat that proved each man was a fighter, the trash talk boasting how they would dominate each other, and the humiliation showing there were real consequences to all this, all worked in concert to fuel what was rapidly becoming my obsession.

Grant Phelps v Mark Molina (movimuswrestling) Movimus: The most wrestling focused studio.

At stake in each wrestling match was a piece of a man's masculinity and pride, with the winner stripping the loser of everything they had. Gay wrestling to me was everything but the sex, everything but the climax, all of which made it a thousand times hotter.

So how do you welcome someone to all that gay wrestling has to offer? Following my path I'd recommend jumping into a classic high quality match minus the sex from a studio like Bgeast then alternating between a studio that offers more sex to one that offers more wrestling.

After awhile you'll figure out where you land on this spectrum (wrestling and sex) and really begin to see where the stars align for you. Now for me, if I had to guess what the perfect mix would be, it would be something like 75% wrestling and 25% sex, but to each their own.

Ron Masters v Cody Brooks (can-am.com) Can-Am: The most sex focused studio.

Jonathan Bennett v J Durango (bgenterprises) Bgenterprises: Sometimes all wrestling, sometimes all sex.

Logan v Drake (nrwrestling.com) Nrwrestling: The most non-gay gay wrestling studio.

Luke Truong v Mack Mahoney (muscleboywrestling.com) Muscleboywrestling: More sex focused than wrestling.

Cali Boy v Christian Thorn (wrestler4hire.com) Wrestler4hire: More wrestling than sex.

Cody v Tanner Ripley (undergroundwrestler.com) Undergroundwrestler: Gay wrestling with everything but the nudity.

Kid Leopard v Sean Cannon (bgeast.com) Bgeast: This studio has everything on the wrestling-sex continuum.

When I first started watching gay wrestling there were really just a few options but now there are countless variations to entertain yourself with. Some of you may prefer more sex, others more wrestling, but whatever the type of gay wrestling you ultimately become interested in, it really is up to you. You see this story, this journey of how I came to obsess over gay wrestling is unique to me as it is to every other person's passion and without a doubt something that turned me gay (not really).

#gay wrestling #bgeast.com #thundersarena #wrestler4hire #muscleboywrestling #undergroundwrestler #nrwrestling.com

265 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 3 months

Text

Cozened Indigo - Part One

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes. Word count: ~4k

Summary: Unhappy with the assignment she has been given to work on for the Duskendale Gazette, she opts to pursue her own story, not quite realising what she's getting herself into. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @humanpurposes. I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Chewing the end of her pen, she leans closer to the computer monitor as her eyes scan the Reuters website almost frantically.

Aemond Targaryen, son of late billionaire, Viserys Targaryen, charged for the murder of his nephew, Lucerys Velaryon. Case pending trial.

Nervous excitement swirls in her gut, as she leans back in her uncomfortable, creaky office chair. This is the first mention she has seen of such a scandal, unsurprising considering how high profile the Targaryen family are in Westeros. They’ll have worked hard to cover this up, however, with a court case imminent, the news is now public knowledge.

She knows that every media outlet from Dorne to Eastwatch will be all over this, but it will be nothing beyond surface level detail, the most basic of coverage. None of them will be able to get the family to talk, but she can, that is her specialty – was her specialty.

Essos Fraudster Glorified by White Cloak Magazine.

The headline passes through her mind like a stormcloud, a dirty mark upon her career that she can never scrub out. She had been duped, it was an honest mistake, but it had cost her dearly.

When whisperings began regarding an oligarch from Essos having shady business dealings in King’s Landing, she had set out to investigate, feeling it was a story worth telling. To her surprise, he had agreed to an interview, and she had been spun a tale of a man born into tremendous wealth, who was now looking to give back by setting up charitable foundations across Westeros.

She had done her due diligence, followed up on all of the sources at her disposal. Every phone call she made checked out, verifying his claims, and so the glossy double page spread had run in White Cloak Magazine, painting a picture of a misunderstood, altruistic individual who just wanted to share his wealth.

It had been the crowning achievement of her journalistic career, until two days later when the Blackwater Post had run their own story, utterly destroying hers. The oligarch was in fact guilty of tax evasion and money laundering, the charities he had founded mere fronts, empty shell corporations and hedge funds used to hide large sums of money that were never intended to be donated. The sources he had provided to back his claims had all been disreputable business associates of his, posing as bankers, accountants and employees.

He was jailed for his crimes and White Cloak was made a laughing stock for the piece they had run. As the person who had written it, it was her head that was placed upon the chopping block, a blunder of such enormity could not be overlooked.

Her humiliation had felt as though it would swallow her whole. She ought to have been more thorough in her research, but hindsight always possesses more clarity than what is right in front of you. She had considered just giving up and pursuing a different career path entirely, yet despite the shame that shrouded her, she had known that the urge to write would never leave her, an insatiable itch that must be scratched.

For a year she had looked for another job, had applied to just about every magazine and newspaper that existed in Westeros. If she had to relocate to Dorne, The Reach, or even The North then she’d do it for the sake of her career. Unfortunately, the blemish on her record was well known, and nowhere reputable would touch her.

That was until the Duskendale Gazette had taken a chance on her. The pet project of Royce Baratheon, it is a small, localised publication, a far cry from the nationwide reach of the high end White Cloak, but they were willing to hire her, the salary covers her rent, and it means not having to move away from King’s Landing.

For the last eighteen months she has occupied a desk in a darkened corner of the Duskendale Gazette’s offices, lovingly nicknamed “The Wall” by those that sit there - a place where writers at the end of their careers or close to retirement are sent to die.

It has been a slow, painful death, covering everything from disputes over fishing permits in Blackwater Bay to the implementation of a one way traffic system in Rosby. Discovering the news regarding Aemond Targaryen feels like the shot of adrenaline that her career needs to bring it back to life, provided he’s willing to speak to her – provided she can get sign off to write the story in the first place.

She sets down the biro she has been gnawing on and looks at the time on her computer. 9.02am. Glancing over her shoulder towards the big, glass walled meeting room that sits at the centre of the newsroom, she can see that Royce, along with the other editors and department heads are settling around the table, preparing to plan the next round of commissions.

Anxiously biting her lip, she considers her options. It would look bad to just walk in uninvited, however, if she doesn’t ask now then she’ll never get to do it. This is a story worth writing, surely they’d see that? Abruptly, she stands up, drawing in a steadying breath.

Fuck it, I’m going in.

She knocks at the door, not awaiting an answer before pushing it open. The men around the table furrow their brows, falling silent as they turn to look at her.

Royce shuffles the papers in front of him, sighing in irritation. “We’re in the middle of a meeting.”

Undeterred, in spite of the way her heart thunders in her chest, she steps further into the room towards the head of the table where he sits. “I know and that’s why I’m here. I saw on Reuters this morning that Aemond Targaryen has been charged with the murder of his nephew. I–”

“You won’t be covering that,” Royce interrupts, standing from his seat and lifting a sheet of paper from the pile. “I’m putting you on the upcoming curfew that’s to be implemented in Flea Bottom.”

“Royce, please, there’s something here, I know there is,” she presses, attempting to push down the anger that simmers hotly under her skin at his dismissal. “This could be huge for us.”

“You’ll write the story you’re assigned,” he insists, thrusting the paper towards her, “the last thing we need is a profile of some spoiled aristocrat, especially from someone with your track record.”

There it is. Someone with your track record.

“Just give me a chance–”

“You will write what I’ve commissioned, and be grateful you’re getting anything at all.”

“So you’re just going to ignore this?”

“We’ll place a court reporter on it once it goes to trial, but that is not your concern. Focus on your own assignment.”

She turns on her heel, storming back to her desk. Her skin burns with humiliation, tears blurring her vision as she sits down, slapping the commission sheet down next to her keyboard. Drawing in a steadying breath, she scrubs her hands over her face in an attempt to calm herself.

Scanning the assignment she’s been given, she scoffs. A curfew enforced by King’s Landing Constabulary as a means to curb the violent and drunken behaviour that’s rife in Flea Bottom. It's a soulless story, she knows she’ll be expected to simply present the facts, alongside a media ready quote from the police force, instead of addressing the rampant poverty in the area that is the catalyst for such problems. The final product will be better used as ad space.

It’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, and wanting to prove Royce wrong, she decides to press ahead with the story that she wants to write anyway. Opening her internet browser, she searches the Targaryen name, presented with hundreds of links and articles regarding the family.

There is nothing she doesn’t already know; they’re from old money, own most of the banking and legal services from here to Oldtown and there is a rift that divides Viserys’ second wife, Alicent, and her children from his first daughter, Rhaenyra, and her family.

The remaining patriarch of the family, Otto Hightower, owns a law firm called Red Keep Solicitors which is based in the centre of King’s Landing. A good enough place to start for her background research. Scanning the office to ensure no one’s looking, she stuffs her assignment sheet into her bag and slips out unnoticed.

As she steps out of the taxi that has pulled up outside of the high rise office block, she is surprised by the lack of media presence. She had assumed that with the information that leaked this morning, there would be a line of news station vans parked along the pavement, with journalists all clamouring to get a vox pop from someone from either the Hightower or Targaryen family. Besides a steady flow of traffic down the street, it’s dead. Whoever is working to keep the media away is doing an exceptional job. For once, she is thankful she works for a small, local newspaper; no notoriety means being able to fly under the radar.

The polished black marble of the foyer floor causes each of her footsteps to echo around the lofty reception. The space is modern and minimalist; the reception desk placed at the far wall, the motif of a castle with the company name emblazoned across the wall behind it. A forest green, crushed velvet sofa sits off to the side, serving as the waiting area.

“Good morning,” the young woman seated behind the desk greets her. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Otto Hightower,” she says, smiling politely. The less she gives away, the less likely she is to be turned away.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m afraid not. I was hoping he might be able to squeeze me in for a quick consultation?” She asks hopefully.

“Hmm,” the receptionist’s eyes narrow, regarding her with suspicion, before she taps delicately at the keyboard of her computer. “I’m afraid Mr. Hightower is fully booked for today. Can I take a message?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait,” she replies, keeping her tone light, attempting to appear casual. She moves to the sofa, taking a seat and crossing one leg over the other. She ignores the receptionist, who is now eyeing her intently.

Plucking her mobile out of her bag, she pretends to look busy as the woman behind the desk picks up the phone and speaks in a hushed tone into the receiver, clearly alerting whoever is on the other end to her presence.

Thirty minutes tick by in uncomfortable silence, during which she has checked just about every app on her smartphone and read through most of her emails. Her head snaps up upon hearing the elevator ding. As the doors slide open she sees a tall, much older, bearded man step out. There is no mistaking that this is Otto Hightower.

Jumping to her feet, she follows him as he walks quickly past her, out of the building.

“Mr. Hightower, might I have a moment of your time?”

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t even turn to look back at her, his tone clipped as he tells her “I have no interest in speaking to the press.”

Undeterred, she lengthens her strides to keep up with him. “I understand your concern, but I’m not here to drag anyone’s name through the mud. I’d just like to understand more about what happened with your grandson.”

“No comment,” he says flatly, pulling open the rear door of a sleek, black Mercedes that pulls up to the curb and climbing in.

Before she has the opportunity to say anything else, he’s slamming the door closed and the car is pulling away.

She groans in frustration, walking back towards the entrance of Red Keep solicitors and leaning against the wall. She isn’t ready to give up, not when she’s had a small taste of what it’s like to work on something she actually cares about again. This is just a minor setback, she’ll find someone willing to speak to her. For now, she just needs to get back to the office and plan what the next step of her strategy will be. Pulling out her phone, she opens the taxi app, preparing to head back.

“You’re as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

The quiet voice pulls her attention away from her screen and she glances over her shoulder to be met by a dark, curly haired man, leaning heavily on a cane, an orthopedic shoe on his left foot.

“Excuse me?”

“You couldn’t really have believed that showing up here unannounced would get you an interview, surely?”

She scowls. “And who might you be?”

“Larys Strong,” he replies, eyes never leaving hers.

She turns fully to face him. “And how do you know what will or won’t get me an interview?”

His lips quirk into the faintest of smiles, eyes moving slowly from her head to her feet and back up again. It unnerves her and she can feel herself involuntarily shrinking away from him.

“It’s my job to know. The Hightowers are keen to prevent any unwanted…whispers from occurring, as I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“So, no one from the family would be willing to speak with me?”

“Absolutely not. But I might be.”

“You? How would you be able to help me?”

His eyes seem to glitter, almost malevolently, as he stares at her. It sends a shiver up her spine.

“Oh, I provide all kinds of help to all kinds of people.”

He produces a business card from his inside pocket, handing it to her.

Larys Strong, Harrenhal Associates.

She gives a quiet thanks, fishing around in her bag and handing him one of her own. He glances at it quickly, before slipping it into the pocket from which he’d taken his own.

“Come by my office around seven this evening,” he tells her. “I’m sure we have much to talk about.”

Watching in stunned silence as he turns and shuffles back inside the entrance of Red Keep Solicitors, she knows she should feel excited – she finally has her in, dubious as it may be – however, she cannot shake the feeling that she has just unwittingly stepped into the midst of something sinister.

She whiles away the remainder of the day back at the Duskendale Gazette, ensuring she knows everything there is to know about the Targaryen and Hightower families – at least everything that’s publicly available anyway. She also looks into Larys Strong; there’s little to be found about him, but what she is able to dig up is impressive. He’s a solicitor, and has seemingly never lost a case for any of the clients he’s defended. She has an eerie feeling that the means through which he achieves this are far from ethical.

By the time seven o’ clock rolls around, she’s stood outside of a dingy brick building, located off of the Street of Silk. It does not even come close to the grandiosity of Red Keep Solicitors, without even so much as a sign to indicate it’s a place of business.

Ignoring the voice at the back of her mind that screams at her to turn and run, she presses the buzzer, pulling the door open as it’s released and making her way up the rickety wooden staircase to the top floor.

The room is dimly lit, small and stuffy, worn out carpet lines the floor, complete with furnishings that are likely older than she is. What strikes her as most odd is the abundance of flowers, there’s a vase on every flat surface and they look strangely out of place, a lurid splash of brightness against their darkened surroundings. She wrinkles her nose, the cloying scent of patchouli is overpowering. It’s either being used to cover up the odour of something else or is a misguided attempt to suggest opulence, but instead comes across as tacky.

Larys hovers in the doorway to his own personal office, watching her as she takes in her surroundings.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he eventually says. “I appreciate that an out of hours visit is less than ideal, but I’m sure you understand the need for discretion.”

She nods, nerves swirling in her gut at the sudden realisation that no one knows that she’s here.

“My secretary has left for the day, so please leave your phone and any recording devices on her desk. I trust you realise that anything discussed this evening is strictly off of the record?”

“Understood,” she replies, deciding to just leave her entire bag on the desk as she follows Larys into his office.

It’s even smaller and more cramped than the tiny space that serves as the reception area. Overstuffed shelves of books line the walls, and the room’s only illumination is a lamp which sits upon the desk.

Larys settles into a leather armchair behind it, gesturing for her to take the seat on the other side.

“Can I ask what your involvement with the Targaryen family is?” She finally asks, once settled across from him.

He sits back, fingers moving absentmindedly over the grip of his cane. “I provide counsel to them. I will be acting as Aemond’s legal defense in the upcoming trial.”

She raises her eyebrows in shock. It’s surprising to know a family as wealthy as the Targaryens would be willing to trust such a delicate matter with someone who operates their business out of a seedy back alley. “You? Why?”

He huffs a humourless laugh, upturning the palm of his free hand. “Who else would? No one from Red Keep Solicitors could represent him, it would be a conflict of interest. And besides, I get results, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes, I do, as I’m sure you know all about me. Which leads me to my next question, if the Targaryens don’t want the media involved in this then why have you agreed to speak with me?”

Larys is silent for a moment, fingers stroking delicately over the petals of a red flower that sits within a vase upon his desk. “My reasons are twofold,” he says, finally looking up at her. “First, both sides of the family have come to a mutual agreement that neither one will talk to the press. I feel that is a mistake. Aemond needs all the help he can get. I don’t necessarily mean starting a media circus to report upon his every move and dig into his past, just one reputable source to give him a leg up while he’s at a disadvantage. Second, I have chosen you because I’m aware of your past…indiscretions. The future of your career rests upon this, so I know you will treat it with the due diligence it deserves.”

She scoffs in disbelief, running a hand through her hair. “The guy’s been charged with murder, how much care could he possibly need?”

“The prosecution will be pushing for a sentence for murder, yes. I’ll be arguing for a lesser sentence of manslaughter.”

“So, he didn’t mean to do it?”

“I think it’s better said in his own words.”

“You can arrange an interview with him?”

“I can arrange a visit for you to speak with him where he’s currently being remanded in custody, at Dragonstone Prison, yes.”

She attempts to remain neutral as her excitement bubbles unrestrained internally. “When is the trial?”

“In three weeks, so we have to act swiftly. I believe this concludes our discussion. I shall be in touch regarding your visitation.”

She is taken aback by the abrupt ending to their conversation, rising slowly from her seat as she leaves his office and collects her bag. It’s unnerving that even as she descends the staircase she can still feel his presence, the sweet, heady aroma clinging to her clothes like an invisible fog.

True to his word, Larys gets her her visit, and two days later she sits in the ferry terminal for Dragonstone Prison. Having had her identification checked, and her details input onto the system, she is issued a number and has to wait for it to be called before she can board.

The wait is agonising, and a full hour passes before she is called forward, scrambling to her feet towards the boarding area. The grey waters are choppy, causing the ferry to rock slightly on its short journey across the Gullet, until the craggy isle that houses the criminals of Westeros comes into view. The high, cement walls of Dragonston Prison are imposing and bleak against the skyline.

Disembarking the ferry, she is guided through the visitors’ entrance and searched, her personal effects rifled through as she walks through a metal detector, and her electronic devices taken away, to be returned to her upon her departure. Her identification is checked once more, and her details input onto the system again. She is told to take a seat, her name will be called when it’s time for her visitation to begin.

The hard seat is uncomfortable, and without the distraction of her phone she is left to stare at the clock on the wall. Its relentless ticking is maddening, the minutes feeling as though they crawl past. So absorbed in watching it, she jumps when her name is finally called, struggling to compose herself as she’s ushered through into the visitation area.

A series of tables and plastic chairs make up the startling white windowless room, and she is led to one in the far corner. Unsure of what to do, she simply stands beside her seat, awaiting the man she is to meet.

From the photos she has seen, Aemond cuts an imposing figure, dressed all in black. She hopes that the softness of the grey prison uniform will render him less intimidating. However, those thoughts are dashed the moment she sees him walk slowly through the door on the opposite side of the room.

He is in no rush, his steps are methodical, unhurried, a predator stalking its prey as he moves towards her. The photographs do not do justice to his height, long and lithe, he towers over her, and she feels herself holding her breath as she takes in the sharpness of his features. His long, platinum hair is pulled back into an immaculately styled ponytail, giving her an unhindered view of his chiseled jaw, aquiline nose and prominent cheekbones, though spoiled slightly by the ragged, angry looking scar that runs the length of the left side of his face. The eye within the socket sits milky and lifeless, but it does little to lessen the intensity of the brilliant blue of his right.

She notices the slightest dilation of his pupil as he stares unblinkingly at her, making her heart race as the cold sweat of fear prickles the back of her neck. So preoccupied with simply getting her story, it has not occurred to her until now that she would be face to face with a killer.

Certain he senses her fright, she sees his lips twitch with the faintest of smirks. The fact that it does not reach his eye makes her blood run cold.

303 notes · View notes

mattluvsmarni · 5 days

Text

Fanfiction Truth

Summary: You knew Matt for as long as you can remember, but what you didn't know is how he'd react after catching you reading fanfiction about him.

Warnings: smut with a plot, p in v, making out, slight humiliation, swearing, unprotected sex.

A/N: This is my first fic on here. Idk how i came up with this i just thought imagine if his s/o in the future were to see the things that are written about him and ofc my mind went to filthy places. anyways i hope this fulfils ur expectations, enjoy lovlies!!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You lay on your stomach aimlessly scrolling through Pinterest for the last 3 hours, you adjust yourself, sitting upright , and shaking your arms to let the blood flow again. you and Matt were supposed to hangout but he's running late. you pick up your phone to check if matt has texted– nothing. You find yourself thumbing through posts trying to stay busy.

You come across a post reminding you of a comment section about matts fanfictions. You drop your phone to pick your laptop up again, search his name in tags, and scroll judging by titles until you find one.

as you read, you can feel your eyes slightly watering and the light coming from the screen suddenly being a bother,

Her and Matt are in a club.

The lights are low, they’re intoxicated, his hands on her hips, not an inch of space between they’re bodies, they’re moulded into one.

her head thrown back, he's breathing in her ear.

his hands running up and down her body.

you sit back, your thighs pressed together. this is matt, your matt, the matt on his way to innocently hang out with you right now. and this is what you’re doing? You stare at the screen for another minute contemplating your choices , but you're already wondering what's going to happen next.

he snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

she can feel him growing in his pants.

she can feel her arousal soaking her panties, as she tries to squeeze her thighs together while continuing to grind and sway,

He's teasing, toying with the hem of her skirt. She tightens her grip on the material around his biceps, as her nails dig into the skin of his around her waist.“Matt, please” she breathes.

“Please what” he teases

“I need you, please.”

‘“In any situation your manners are still in use, such a good girl aren't you?” he coos.

“For you? Always.” she admits, spinning around to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Yeah?”, He chuckles, “you’re going to have to hold out for me until we’re home though.” he mockingly pouts, smoothing his hand down your back to lightly squeeze your ass.

This was getting you all hot and bothered. you’d be lying if you said you weren't imagining present day you and Matt.

Matt and you unintentionally ended up at the same college, after he made your early school years more horrible than it already was. Now being ‘older and wiser’ which he claims to be he finally grew a pair leaving him with a want to rectify his history with you . This includes hanging out from time to time, trying to form a healthy friendship, and seeing where it goes from there.

but reading that and always having nothing other than your fingers to help you get off. Makes everything you just read sound so perfect. You’ve had your fair share of fantasies when it comes to Matt. Seeing it all spelt out and in front of you made you in need of something real. You just wanted to drop to your knees in front of him, and beg to please him. Have him laugh in your face, call you pathetic, and shove his dick down your throat.

"Fuck" you whisper shout, running a hand through your hair, your thoughts were out of control. You slam your laptop shut. pacing around your room, up till your movements are interrupted by a notification on your phone.

Matt:

I just pulled in

You:

omw!

After taking a minute to exercise your breathing. You slip on your slippers running down the stairs, the buzzer goes off right before you can hit the button.

Letting him in, you notice the bag of snacks in his hands before looking up at him to see that small, but genuine smile. He pulls you in for a quick hug. "Sorry Chris needed me to take him to eat before I came over."

You can't even look him in the eye and he's apologising for running late. "no, no you’re good, come on up." you exclaim, shaking your head of all unwanted thoughts.

lying on your backs facing each other. you guys fell into a chain of laughs and good conversations with your playlist playing in the background. "I'm glad to finally have you sitting here listening to my music."

"Stop acting like I hog." he gasps, "I let you play music."

With a quirk of your eyebrow, he quickly adds, "sometimes."

"name one time." you insisted.

Turning his head in the other direction. He tries to pretend he's in thought when really, he's trying to hold back a smile.

"Mhm exactly" you strongly emphasise, "I'll never understand why though my taste is significantly better than yours."

"yeah?" He argued

and that one word took you back 2hrs, reminding you of what you read earlier.

You sat up clearing your throat, "yeah."

"Let's not lie to ourselves."

"Denial is the sickest disease" rolling his eyes at your comment. He goes to gather all the trash into a single bag, Brushing you off with a distasteful grumble.

"Can we start looking for a movie to watch?" He asks

"Of course! start looking." you call out on your way out to grab a soda for the two of you.

You walk back into the room to Matt and inch away from the computer screen, his eyes quickly moving from one side to another.

"Here" you chuckle, handing him his drink

"Who needs movies when we could just read these" he suggests.

Every bone in your body goes rigid. You completely forgot to clear the tab. "Wait, hold on, give me a second." you frantically try to reason, lunging forward in an attempt to take it out of his hands.

But he’s quick to drive it out of your reach.

"No, you wait, and give me a second, I'm almost done." he says, bringing a finger up before your face to punctuate his words.

A wave of embarrassment washes over your entire body, you sit back trying not to look anymore suspicious. Your pursuit at trying to stay unbothered fails the minute you start to think about what part he's reading.

Matt seems so invested and you’d give a million bucks to know what was going on in his head right now. The only sound between the two of you was the music now lightly playing. He continues his scrolling, smirking for a split second, now you’d also kill to know what drove that reaction out of him.

You can hear the pounding of your heart, as he finishes up closing the object of your demise to look up at you. You avert your eyes, taking sudden interest in your feet.

“I've always heard of these but never got around to actually reading one though.” he says finally breaking the silence

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth not knowing how to respond.

"Why were you reading them anyway?" he questions, inching closer to your place at the edge of the bed.

"I saw a comment section on it the other day" you're 100% sure it's visible how hard you’re breathing.

"There's no need to be embarrassed. I'm just surprised. It's not something I expected from you." he assures.

"What’d you think of it?" he asks, placing a hand on your unclothed thigh, and smiling triumphantly when he hears your breath hitch.

"I didn't get to really read it" you say lying through your teeth.

"Come on we both know that's a lie he says with a look of disbelief. ‘It's written all over your face, you’re telling me you didn't imagine me and you in that club." He asks, trailing his hands up your thigh .

"Because I did. It was you who I imagined wearing a flimsy little black dress. Under colourful lights. It was your body that was backed up against mine." he says, and you can feel his breath on year neck.

Your eyes flutter closed as you angle just right for him to mark.

He brings his lips to your neck leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses.

You couldn't bring yourself to care how evident your need for him was anymore. Not with that confession of his. Not when he was touching you the way you’d only dreamed of in the company of yourself.

"I want you to let me have my way with you, have you under me. For you to be begging me to let you finish." he says, his hand now almost right where my body needs him the most.

"Or I could just back off completely. And continue to be your plain old buddy Matt."

"Your pick sweetheart." He threatens, removing himself from you.

"Matt!" you instantly whine at the loss of warmth. Quickly reaching for his hand to place it back on your thigh,

"the first option" you huff out.

He chuckles, slowly bringing his hand up to your clothed clit pressing his finger to it tracing along the wet patch that's gathered and I forgot how to breathe.

His touch is light and barely there but i still can't will myself to breathe. I wish he'd give more and as careless as it makes me, I want it.

"tell me. What exactly was the first choice again?’"He begins moving in a slow and tangible circular motion.

you open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a jumbled cross of a gasp and a hum.

He slows down his movements even more. coming up to pinch your nipple through your shirt. "I asked a question."

"Have your way with me until I'm begging you to let me finish." you rush out, throwing your head back, and bucking up your hips looking for more friction. It was embarrassing that you were already losing it and he’s done nothing.

“You don't have to tell me twice” picking back up his speed. A barely there whimper escapes my lips.

He's leaving more kisses all down to where his teeth skim the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. Marking all along your skin.

he finally dips a finger inside your underwear. Seeing for himself how much of an effect he’s actually had on you.

“So fucking wet like I knew you’d be.” His cock twitched against the constricting material of his pants as you audibly moan at his words

Inserting a finger. You throw your head back from the sudden relief as he works you perfectly. Your body had a mind of its own in this moment, moving with his fingers.

“Yeah go ahead and ride my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel.” He growled into your ear

Pressing his thumb to your clit as he curled his fingers in you, and that was all you needed to come undone all over his fingers.

Watching you try to catch you breath and the way your lips were still parted had him bringing his fingers dragging them across your lips to spread your wetness along them

You made direct eye contact as you darted your tongue out to taste yourself, that small action alone did so many things for him

Tempted, he licked his own lips reflectively mirroring your actions.

Overtaken by his temptation he smashes his lips against yours, your hands fly to his hair taking advantage of your surprise he’s quick to slip his tongue into your mouth tasting you like he was a starved man you moan into the kiss as he brings you up to straddle his lap.

The kiss was hungry and fast eager to satiate the want you both were obviously feeling he was gripping your hips to help you move in circular motions as you grinded down on him you’ve never felt so in need of something more than you were right now he felt the same it was written into his lips and the way it aggressively moved against your own.

Your patience was wearing thin. And his dick was begging to be freed. Your fingers reached down to press on the button of his jeans then to look into his eyes for any signs of disagreement. There wasn’t any. “I don’t want to finish on anything other than your dick right now.” you admit as you go to unbutton his pants.

“Fuck” he curses, halting your movements by quickly flipping you both over so that his chain was now dangling over your face. He wasted no time reconnecting your lips, only pausing to pull your top off and making quick work of your bra.

His lips moved down swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple “Matt” you breathed, as your body melted completely into his touch. “Please” moving over to give the other one the same attention “I know baby, I know” he assured

Leaving a path of kisses all the way down to the waistband of your shorts. “Up” he spoke. Lifting your hips so he could get rid of your shorts and panties. Next came his shirt and finally those cockblocking jeans.

His pants and boxers now a pile of nothing on the floor. He started slowly stroking his member, aligning it with your wet and ready entrance, amused at the moan you let out when he had barely pushed it in yet. “Quit the teasing.” you whined

He pushes himself in “holy shit you're tight”, he grits out and you immediately clench around him causing a groan to escape his lips.

You felt light-headed by the amount of pleasure you were feeling at the moment.

Matt. Right here, was everything to you right now. It was something that was gonna be inked into your brain forever.

With a roll of his hips and the arching of your back he was buried deep in you, and it had you seeing stars.

Matt loved the position he had you in where he could see every single reaction he pulled out of you. "exactly where i wanted you" he says with each thrust. "and you're taking me so, so well."

The tip of his dick continuously meets the sweet spot inside you, sending you closer to the edge

"oH OH" you quietly moan

"Come on don't hold back, i wanna hear you" he grunts, "is this what you imagined when you were reading those filthy things about your friend?"

you moan in response. he continues his merciless pace, as he brings a thumb to your clit.

"Fuck, fuck matt i'm close." you warn just as you feel the nearing of your second orgasm.

"go ahead baby, cum for me" his thrusts and thumb both gaining speed

as if your body was waiting on his permission, your vision fades to black while you feel your body arch off the bed as you let yourself go

"fuck yeah" he moans, his movements getting sloppy as he paints your insides white

you both lay there after he collapses next to you and pulls you in after you've both caught your breaths

"so am i staying here tonight" he questions breaking the silence

you can feel his chin moving on top of your head as he speaks, "no we can't remember that was established."

"I think it's a little too late to be talking about not crossing lines, considering you just let me fuck you." you could just imagine that smug look of his right now feeling all proud knowing he's got you

"fine just this once" you sigh in defeat

"yup just this once" he mocks as he gets up to your bathroom looking for a towel to clean you both up.

"i'm serious" you demand loud enough for him to hear only smiling to yourself now that you're out of his sight.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A/N 2: That pic of Matt on the tour bus will always have me in a chokehold.

#sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

152 notes · View notes

pablitogavii · 1 year

Text

Anger Issues

Summary: People keep coming at Pablo for being 'too aggressive' on and off the pitch and that makes him frustrated. He tried to shield you from it all but when they start assuming he must be just as aggressive with you, he completely looses it!

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Reader

Warnings: light angst/ fluff/ smutty ending ;)

pablogavi

Get up when you fall! Vamos Culers!! @fcbarcelona

comments:

halamadrid: So much aggression from this overrated tiktok star #nogame!! vini>>>>> liked by 1200 others

madrileñoslovemadrid: siempre agresivo!!

realmadridislove: because he doesn't know how to play!!

gavirafanclub: jealousy!!!

madrileñoslovemadrid: nahh pretty boy just a kid!

viniciusthegoat: little kid wants to act like a big star but all he does is push players! #weak!!

brasileños: go back to La Masia kid!! liked by 1500 others

y.n.bebe: te amo bebé <3

pablogavi: <3

You saw all the horrible comments on Pablo's newest post so you hoped that yours will at least make him smile weakly. People were so harsh with him, always calling him aggressive kid who doesn't belong in the first Barça squad.

They had no idea how wrong they are...Pablo worked hard every single day, training tirelessly without complaining, and the only time he does act 'aggressive' is when he is being provoked into it.

When he came home, you tried talking to him but he just says he is 'fine' before going to take a shower he really needed after all morning of running around the pitch.

"I don't know Becca. He won't talk to me...but I can tell this is getting to him. Does Pedri know anything??" you said into the phone after a few days when Pablo definitely started feeling worse still not letting you in avoiding the conversation whenever you would bring it up.

"Bebé do you want to talk to me about it now?" you said when you laid down in bed and he just pulled you back so that your back was glued to his chest and he rested his chin on your shoulder shaking his head.

"What are you reading cariño?" you sat in between his legs on the couch seeing that he was once again reading some stupid post he was tagged in that did nothing but humiliate him. You took his phone away and nuzzled your face into his neck once more trying to talk but he said he just wants to sit there with you in silence and that he will be alright.

"Pablo...I think you should talk to me" you said when you saw him clenching his jaw suppressing his anger from boiling over and cause him to break everything in his proximity. Apparently, Vinicius Jr said in his interview that Gavi is nothing more than an 'angry kid' that got destroyed in the last El Clásico. "There is nothing to say amor! He is stupid hijo de puta! I need to go for a run!" was all he said before rushing out of our apartment faster than I could say anything.

"Pepi said Pablo has been on edge recently even during training..hitting grass when he would miss a goal and avoiding to joke around with other players" Becca said and you knew it was just a matter of time until he bursts not knowing what to do to get him to open up to you.

During the next game, you went to support him hoping that would give him some push and reassurance that he is still campeon in your eyes and that he shouldn't let those mouth breathers ruin his confidence.

First half went great with Barça scoring one goal, and keeping many more but the moment the second half started you could tell they were provoking Pablo again.

You knew him well to notice the way his shoulders shift and his jaw keeps clenching as he played knowing this will end in a disaster. He was running towards the goal scoring it and making the whole camp jump to its feet when the referee said it was off-side without even sending it to the VAR room.

Pablo was angry with this hitting the ground (gif) and once he got up some opposing players purposefully bumped into him as he walked back to his position. They were really pushing their luck.

All of the sudden there was crowd in the middle of the pitch and you immediately knew who was in the middle of it- your Pablo. When players started moving as referee rushed to the commotion you saw Pablo yelling with his hands in the air repeating he didn't start anything. But it didn't matter, since he received red card being sent off the field and your stomach dropped.

As he walked off, he looked up to meet your eyes and you gave him a weak smile he returned before being quickly distracted by one of the opposing players form the bench yelling 'bye bye Pablito' and as he was about to rush towards him, Xavi grabbed his shoulders pushing him towards the changing rooms.

You rushed back with your 'family pass' knowing that you might be only person he would want to see right now. You saw Xavi leaving him inside the dressing room telling you that he is in pretty bad shape and that he asked for you.

"Bebé?" you opened the door looking up with tearful eyes and you quickly rushed to him sitting on his lap and hugging him tightly not caring that he was sweaty in that moment.

"I'm sorry you had to see that..I'm so sorry princesa" he was crying into your neck and you kissed his head pulling back a little before moving hair off his sweaty forehead pecking his lips a few times sweetly.

"Don't apologize, Pablo..I am still proud of you..It's not easy when everyone is provoking and pushing you around..and you still menage to score the goal and keep playing..you are my campeon bebé" you say seeing his eyes sparkle at the praise he haven't heard in a long time.

"I know I've been pushing you away too.." he said and you shook your head telling him you understand and aren't going anywhere.

After a few minutes, when Pablo finally calmed down just by being in your presence, you walked out of the changing rooms holding hands not expecting to come face to face with the same player who got Pablo kicked out. He must be substituted and you felt Pablo's hold on your hand tighten as his anger returned.

"What a win for us huh?" he said smirking and Pablo's eyes opened wide knowing that when he left, Barça was still leading. You saw that he tried not to let his anger out again but the player was really provoking him badly right now.

"It's okay, Pablito..this is a big boy game..maybe La Masia should take you back??" he said and you placed your hand on Pablo chest saying you should both go watch till the end together and to your surprise he agreed walking off without doing something 'angry bird' like.

y.n.bebe

mi campeon! @pablogavi @fcbarcelona

pablogavi: te amo princesa! <3 liked by y.n.bebe

fcbarcelona: Golden Boy! liked by y.n.bebe

its.becca.girl: Vamos Barça!!

y.n.bebe: siempre hermanita!! <3

siramartinez: supporting our man!

y.n.bebe: always!!

gavifangirling: she is such a supporting gf!! Love it!! <333. liked by y.n.bebe

madrileñosforevaa: girl he is like so aggressive!

halamadrid: nahhh vini>>>>>

gavihateclub: he is probably just as aggressive with her!! @pablogavi

"Now they are saying I am being aggressive to my girl dad!" Pablo couldn't believe the things people were saying online after the last game.

It was one thing to call him a kid, or say that he didn't know how to play but to pull you into it and say he would ever do something to hurt you is past the limit. He can't stay silent anymore! This was taking it too far now!

"Amor?" you said when he just rushed in your shared apartment not even saying a 'hello' before walking into your shared bedroom and tossed himself onto the bed.

You sighed knowing that he must have seen the awful comment someone left on your post which hurt you heart as well. Pablo was the most caring and gentle boyfriend in the whole world to you!

"Bebé can you look at me please?" you said after sitting down on the bed next to him and rubbing his back while hearing his softly sob into the pillow. It broke your heart to see him like this.

He just shook his head knowing that the moment he looks at you he won't be able to stop crying again..he could deal with all the shit they throw on him but when it comes to you, he wants everyone to know that he treats you like an absolute queen because that's what you deserve!

You laid down besides him kissing the back of his neck before nuzzling your face further kissing his cheeks and making him slowly turn around so you can straddle his hips and peck his lips finally.

"Am I too aggressive with you?" he said and you dried his tears your heart breaking that he could ever question you about this. Those people really got into his head.

"Amor, you are the most caring and loving boyfriend in the world..you always make sure to see me every day even when you are away you always face time me before bed...you buy me roses out of nowhere and write me cute notes when you have early morning trainings..you mi cariño are not aggressive person they are portraying you to be..not in football and especially not to me" you say as he listened carefully before pulling you down and kissing your lips feverishly.

"I love you so much princesa..please don't ever leave me" he said and you smiled into the kiss before kissing down his neck and messing up his hair playfully.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily, Gavira!" you said while laying down on top of him and his arms engulfed you tightly while he kissed your head.

"Good. Because I couldn't imagine doing this without you nena.." he said feeling exhausted and you smiled cuddling up and slowly dozing off together.

The next day you wanted to surprise him with a little trip to the beach with all of his friends knowing that it was a day off for everyone and that he could use being with people who love him.

Even Aurora and Javi joined and the whole day Pablo was smiling and joking with everyone, stealing kisses from you and enjoying being 'normal'.

You were glad everyone showed up and showed how much they care for him especially when you saw his happy little face. You never wanted that smile to disappear again!

"Can you take a picture of us Becca?" you said giving you your phone and pulling Pablo towards the ocean before jumping into his arms and he held you up easily leaning in to kiss your lips while everyone cheered. He was so happy when you finally kissed before he put you down and held your face for a few moments.

"Thank you princesa.." he said and you smiled when he kissed your forehead.

"Always, cariño..I love you" you smile getting another kiss before you returned to hang out with the rest of your friends.

"Today was amazing, hermosa..I really enjoyed" Pablo said when you returned to the apartment and you felt really glad to hear that.

"There is something I need to do still.." you said opening Instagram up on your phone.

y.n.bebe

Para el novio mas amoroso del mundo! Te amo amorcito! <33 Gracias gracias por tratarme como una princesa siempre. @pablogavi

liked by 100K others

comments:

pablogavi: porque tu eres mi princesa <33

y.n.bebe: amor!! <3

barcafanclub: he is the sweetest boy! to his fans and to his girlfriend! those saying he is aggressive with her are rude and stupid! Siempre Amor!!! @pablogavi @y.n.bebe

its.becca.girl: sweetest couple en toda la Barcelona!!

pedri: them and us amor lol <3

y.n.bebe: double trouble pepi!! lol liked by pedri

pablogavi: estamos suerte hermano! liked by pedri

gaviiifan: people should stop hating on him for being a good player and clearly the best boyfriend bruh!!

viscabarcasiempre: Gavi! Gavi! Campeon!!!!

gairagirl: people saying he is not a player but a tiktok star are just jealous of his success! they hate him cause they ain't him! @y.n.bebe a lucky girl <33. liked [email protected]

siramartinez: girl being treated right! shutting up the haters!

y.n.bebe: siempre! <3

ansufati: amor para mi hermano! we all know you the best! @pablogavi

pablogavi: hermano <3

@_rl9 I have known @pablogavi for such a long time now, and the boy is truly the kindest down to earth kid you will ever meet. He shows up to all training ready to go and he never complains! His talent and heart shouldn't be questions! Tue eres chico orgulloso! liked by y.n.bebe pablogavi and others

pablogavi: gracias lewy! te amo siempre ídolo!

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif

740 notes · View notes

thedevilspearl · 9 months

Text

author’s note ʚɞ i’m testing the waters with this one so please be kind about it. please also excuse the pet name sugar tits, i think it’s hot don’t judge me >_<

tags ʚɞ 5.6k words, dark content, mammon x female reader, bully!mammon, dubcon (forced consent), non–consensual photo taking, semi–public sex, (public) groping, blowjob, degradation, name calling, praise, pet names, humiliation kink, breeding kink, dacryphillia. minors do not interact!

ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀᴍᴍᴏɴ and his antics. it’s beyond ridiculous at this point. never did you imagine becoming his target but when you think about it long enough, you realise your whole existence in the devildom was set up to be a laughing stock from the beginning.

back when you had just arrived, he acted as your tour guide but then forced you to cover his dinner duties at home. he helped you with your homework since you were new to the subjects but demanded you pay him back with all of your saved grimm. he even lent you some of his friends to help curb your homesickness only to have them report back every little detail so he could blackmail you later on.

and those kind of things happen when he’s being nice; unfortunately for you, mammon is very rarely nice. not a day goes by where he doesn’t find a way to make your life hell.

mammon, the avatar of greed, the second eldest of the powerful demon brothers, and as he likes to call himself, your first man, rarely shows kindness towards you unless he can gain something from it.

even if he gets nothing in return, he will go out of his way. from tripping you up in hallways to stealing your possessions, and forcing you to complete his homework to treating you like his lackey. anything and everything he does is in some way or another intended to bring you misery.

you’ve grown accustomed to being pushed around and laughed at for the sake of some demon’s entertainment, but there’s something else you’ve also grown used to.

the fact is, mammon gives you more attention than he gives anyone, even himself. and it’s a delusional way to think but it helps you cope with your sorrowful life in the devildom.

you’ve considered confiding in someone; surely the bullying would cease if diavolo found out mammon was harming the student exchange programme like this. but at the end of the day, mammon held more power over you than diavolo himself.

each and every decision you make, reluctantly or otherwise, gives him more power as the days go by. because you have no other choice but to go along with it; and if you don’t want to, he’ll simply blackmail you.

a while ago, you became incredibly close to knocking on lucifer’s door and confessing everything after mammon snapped pictures of you showering and threatened to post them if you didn’t do what he said. lamentably, you gave up on the effort.

if lucifer found out, he would have punished mammon. and after that, you have no doubt mammon would come after you with those big threats again. and you’ve never been in a position strong enough to fight back against him.

the pathetic little human, the bane of his life. yet, he can’t seem to stay away from you. demons are inherently evil creatures, that is a known fact. but after coming to the devildom, you learned demons are, in fact, not all monster.

they have bodies that look human and thoughts and feelings which may be questionable at time but still similar enough to the people in your own world to make you think wait a minute, they’re not all bad.

but that was before mammon revealed his irrational hatred for you. it has nothing to do with him hating humans or those weaker than him and everything to do with his dark, twisted infatuation with you. he’s the definition of cruel and demonic and you feel his animosity deep in your bones, now more than ever.

you don’t know how he did it, but staring at an empty locker where your rad uniform should be sitting boils your blood.

filled with fury, you storm out of the changing rooms in search of the demon.

mammon had already shrunk your sports kit by turning up the temperature when they were getting washed so your usually loose–fitting shorts cling to your thighs and butt. and after getting caught in the rain five minutes ago, you rushed inside to change your sodden white shirt.

but you were foolish to think things would go your way and now you’re storming through rad’s hallways with shorts riding up your ass and your bra fully visible under the wet shirt clinging to you. you’re overflowing with so much rage that you don’t care about the demons eyeing you in the tight clothes or licking their lips as you rush past them.

you spot your nemesis at the end of the hallway and for a moment, your heart stops beating. inhaling deeply, you build the courage to storm up to the white–haired demon.

he’s surrounded by his cronies, laughing at some sleazy joke that came out of his mouth and he refuses to look at you despite you standing in front of him. you know he knows you’re there. but in mammon fashion, he publicly humiliates you once again by completely ignoring you.

meanwhile, a small crowd of hungry demons gathers around you and your heart patters, shying under their interested eyes. but now is not a time to show weakness. now is the time to finally put mammon in his place, which is rather ironic since his place is among the strongest beings in all three realms and you are but a measly human.

“hey!” you shout and he rolls his eyes before finally turning to look at you.

just the sight of him infuriates you, but you’re not sure if the heat growing in your core is rooted from fury or from the way his eyes rake up and down your body. he blue orbs fall to your feet and slowly rise, taking in every detail of your frame.

little do you know, the shape of your body has him salivating. his eyes linger at your thighs, so thick and plush; your hips, so curvaceous and delicious; your tits, so tempting with your perky nipples poking through and your lacey bra visible under the wet shirt.

the tip of his tongue runs under his fangs before wetting his lips as they inch up one side of his face. as attractive as his smirk is, you want to slap it right off his face.

“what’s up, sugar tits?” he quirks his brows, nodding his head to notion the attention he has for the state of your chest, hence the nickname.

you follow his gaze downwards, fully grasping how much of your breasts were on display. you gasp, covering them but it does nothing to hide your entire ass also being showcased.

damn, mammon thinks. you might as well not be wearing any underwear with how tightly your shorts are pressed against your pussy. he can see everything.

“i knew ya were a desperate little thing,” mammon taunts. “but i didn’t think you’d be so dumb to come beg for me in front of everyone.”

“i didn’t come to beg!” you yell, cowering as the crowd fills with laughs and jeers.

“then what did ya come for?” mammon rolls his eyes.

“i came here to…”

“….to what?” mammon steps closer. his scent is intoxicating as it surrounds you. “ya came here to yell at me, the great mammon?”

“n-no….” you mutter, suddenly afraid of his close proximity. with ever step forward he makes, you take one back which ends with your back against the wall and his big frame caging you against it.

he creates a little cave between your bodies that holds barely enough air for you to breathe. just like always, he controls you in any situation. if he doesn’t want you to breathe, he will simply steal all the air you could possibly breathe. and that means locking you tightly between his body and the wall will suffocate you as much as he wants it to, regardless of your pleas for forgiveness.

“i’m sorry....i–i shouldn’t have yelled at you....i didn’t mean to.”

whatever flattery you have in your tone fails to do the job as he closes in, the space between you negligent while you try to figure out a way to escape.

but as your body heats up from mammon forcing proximity, his hands begin to roam your body and you lose the ability to think straight.

“aww, the little human’s blushing. ya like me being this close?” you whimper against him, but he leans in to your ear and whispers, “want me to touch you?”

a quiet but still audible gasp drifts to his ears and he reigns in the delicacy of the sound. such a sweet, pretty sound. he simply needs to hear it again.

“you do, don’t you?” he chuckles lowly. “just say the words and i’ll do it.”

despite every cell in your brain rooting against you, you quietly whisper back to him, “please.... please touch me.”

a rumble sounds in his chest, growling from the pleasure of you inviting him to touch you. the heat radiates from your body, your desperation oozing from your pores. and there’s something else coming from your body, something you’re so ashamed to admit.

mammon’s teasing alone is enough to create wetness between your legs and succumbing to his dominance has your pussy producing more arousal with each throb of your lips.

“ah!” you gasp as a large hand cups your breast. you push his arm away but it only tightens his grip on it. “mammon....”

“these are some sweet tits, mc. shame ya hid ’m from me for so long.”

you have no chance to protest as he moves onto the next, grabbing both your breasts and squeazing hard. you cry out, hoping it would signal for help but it comes out as a moan instead, arousing the audience further.

every demon wants a piece of you, but mammon lays his claim on your body by roaming every inch of it, grabbing every bit of flesh as if it’s the only thing keeping him sane, which might well be true.

with the way he kneads your ass between his rough fingers, you’re just about ready to submit to him completely, to sacrifice your entire body to him so he can have his way and be satisfied.

“fuck,” mammon grumbles as his hands slide lower; you moan and whimper, embarrassed by your helpless position. there’s no way you can come back from this, not when mammon’s hand cups your pussy, rubbing up and down to bring you the relief you so desperately needed. and to his surprise, he finds more than what he expected. “look at that! she soaked through her panties and her shorts.”

“it’s your fault they’re so tight on me....”

“but it’s your fault that you’re this fucking wet,” he reminds you, and you back down with a heavy blush. “you’re the one getting turned on by this, sicko.”

he continues groping you, fondling your tits and squeezing your ass before his hand moves to your front and cups your tight pussy over and over again. you find what energy you have in you to hide your moans but it’s a failed attempt. as quiet as they are, he still hears them.

“fuck,” he groans into your ear, and whispers so no one else can hear his filthy voice. “wanna fuck this pussy so bad.”

“d-don’t….” you whimper, but your resistance earns a harsh grip on your ass. his fingers dig deep into your flesh, sure to leave behind bruises. “stop....”

“hah? you’re telling me, the great mammon, no? darlin’, ya already know how that’s gonna turn out.”

your gaze is blurred by tears — from embarrassment, from shame, from arousal. you can barely understand the plethora of sensations in your body but you do know that mammon touching you is so wrong even if it feels so right.

it confuses you so much that you can’t stop your hand from rising and colliding with his face. at least your gut instincts are still working. you push him away in the moment he is stunned and your palm stings from the slap.

the entire right side of his face burns red as he holds it.

“the fuck?!” he growls, bearing his fangs at you. “you fucking hit me?”

the crowd gasps and mutters as he dives towards you with his fists raised. you brace for impact, ready to be slammed into the wall. he’s never hurt you so badly before, but today just happens to be the day where all lines are crossed.

you gasp, holding up your hands to protect your face but as if time has frozen, you don’t feel the impact coming. when you finally breathe and look up, mammon looks down at you with raging eyes and a contorted face — as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was about to do.

before you can even think to question why he stopped himself, the two demons you least expect to see appear, parting the crowd as they arrive: lucifer, with diavolo trailing behind him.

“what is the meaning of this?” diavolo bellows, his eyes draping down your form.

lucifer’s cheeks burn, not from blushing but rather, anger, embarrassment, humiliation. “what on earth are you wearing?”

regret floods you as you remember your position in their household. and you’ve brought shame onto the brothers for flaunting yourself around rad dressed in what might as well be underwear.

diavolo’s voice is a bit more kind towards you, but he’s definitely pissed. “i’m going to assume you aren’t aware of the dress code within these walls, mc. might i remind you that dressing inappropriately will result in punishment. as will attacking another student. you will both receive detention effective immediately.”

“it was mammon—”

“stop your sputtering,” lucifer snaps. “go change this instant.”

“but….my uniform was stolen.”

“by who?”

you glance slyly to the white–haired demon beside you and your heart hammers. you could tell lucifer now, tell him everything that mammon has ever done to you. but mammon’s death glare scares you. not because of what he might do to you if you snitch, but how you’ll feel if he is ordered to never interact with you again.

you’re sure diavolo would put a stop to the bullying straight away, maybe even move you out of the house of lamentation. but that means you’ll see less of mammon and despite how much you hate him, you’ll feel lonely without his constant unwarranted attention.

“never mind,” you mutter. “i’ll find it.”

you arrived to detention on time, not wanting to anger lucifer any further. thankfully, the eldest had figured out it was mammon who stole your uniform and had him return it. the classroom is empty save for your sorrowful soul.

you hope mammon doesn’t come. he skips detentions just like he skips classes so you’re happy to have some time alone to calm down before heading home.

but as your luck would have it, the demon struts in, spotting you in your seat before striding over to sit beside you.

“you can sit anywhere in the room but you choose to sit next to me?” you scoff. “i thought you were supposed to hate me.”

“i do.”

“then why are you sitting next to me?”

mammon won’t allow that, though. he’s in control. whatever fantasies you have of him being soft and affectionate with you are over the seconds he decides them to be and right now, he puts an end to them by slipping his hand under your blazer and cupping your breast.

“so i can do this.” mammon raises his hand, slowly but it’s still concerning. his fingers brush your hair away from your face and your mind spins from the action. his thumb creeps closer, brushing the soft, sensitive skin of your lips.

you’re afraid to look at him, to see the gentleness hidden beneath his mean facade knowing that you’d fall for it in an instant.

you were beginning to feel the phantom of his touches from earlier, which is nothing if not the biggest red flag. but having his hand places on them again, fondling them eagerly is infinitely better than the memories of his corroding touch.

every second which passes with his hands on you, another part of you is corrupted by him and those few sacred, untouched parts rebel against all odds and finally give you some self–restraint and control.

“don’t touch me!” you whack his arm away and scoot over to the next chair, embarrassed that you almost fell for him again. every single time he teases you with niceties and gentle gestures that border flirtation, you find yourself hoping that it might be real.

but he’s just playing with you like he always has. he wants nothing more than to make you feel like a fool under his charms. your humiliation is food to him.

“come on, you said it was fine earlier. let me do it again.”

“no,” you say firmly. “i don’t want you to touch me anymore.”

mammon huffs. “suit yourself.”

hopefully with a seat between you, he’ll put an end to his interest in you and ignore you just like you’re ignoring him.

but choosing to ignore him would be your biggest mistake because when you glance over, in the corner of your eye you see on his ddd a photo of you naked in the shower. your body jolts at the sight of it.

“what the hell, mammon?!” you scream. “what are you doing?”

“gonna post it on devilgram, duh.”

“wait, mammon! don’t!” you try grabbing for his phone but he yanks your arm away from it and pushes you away.

“come on,” he whistles. “show me your tits.”

“what....”

he threatens you by holding his thumb over the post button. “didn’t want me to touch you, well now you gotta do what i say or i’ll post ’em”

“please, mammon. don’t do this.”

“nuh-uh. you should be on your knees begging me if you want me to stop.”

an inhumane noise releases from your throat. you’re not quite sure what it was — a growl of frustration, a beg for help? you’ll bever know because you’re too busy sinking to your knees pleading for mercy.

“not yet,” mammon stops you before your knees graze the ground. “get your tits out first.”

“what?”

“fuck, how many times do i need to say it?” he stares at you, demanding your obedience and you slowly rise, shamefully removing your blazer. “that’s better.”

his demonic blue–gold eyes cut through your skin and you unbutton your shirt one button at a time, shrugging it off so it falls down your shoulders but still hooked on your elbows. mammon salivates at the sight of your pretty chest.

he’s been waiting to see them since he saw you earlier, but fuck. this is the real deal. your breasts sit nicely in their lacey cups and just like a few hours ago, your slutty nipples poke through.

his hand immediately goes to his crotch and palms himself. you feel sick, disgusted but the way his hand moves against himself and his reddening cheeks turns you on. you try to look away from him, but you simply cannot do so.

“c’mere,” mammon mutters and with the phone in his hand ready to post your nude pictures, you do as he says. “get on your knees.”

when they touch the ground, your body shudders and you settle in front of him. there are no words to describe the way he looks down at you. you almost feel like it’s a blessing to be looked at by him at all.

“take my dick outta my pants.”

“what?”

“are ya dumb or something? take my fucking dick out of my pants.”

you can tell his patience is running thin and you don’t dare to test him further when he waves his ddd in front of your face. you reach up with shaky hands to unzip his pants but he stops you again.

“do it with your mouth.”

what kind of fantasies must he be having to order you to do such a thing? well, they’re the fantasies you play a part in and you’ll play them out exactly as he desires for your own wellbeing, lest the entire devildom see pictures of you naked.

taking the metal zip between your teeth, you pull it down. the button is more difficult to undo but you get there in the end despite mammon cackling at your struggle. next, you bite the fabric before dragging it down his thighs.

the sheer size of his cock amazes you and the ghost of it fills you up just by looking at it. your body is begging for him to be inside you, and you pray he’ll never find out. he ushers you to keep going and in the same way, you pull down his boxers, looking him dead in the eyes as you drag them down with your teeth.

he hisses as his cock is freed, letting it bounce as it twitches to life. cum oozes from his tip and you mindlessly lick your lips.

“suck it.” he says and reluctantly, you inch forward, taking his tip between your lips. your tongue swipes over it, tasting his cum that you can only describe as the only substance you’ll need to survive on from now on.

“fuck,” he groans. “your slutty mouth feels so fucking good.”

your pussy throbs each and every time he calls you a slut no matter how much you hate it and he inspires you to take him deeper in your mouth in hopes of him calling you it again. his fat cock fills your cheeks and you move back and forth, tongue running along his shaft.

he’s thick and hard, too big to fit in your mouth and you can only imagine the size of it tearing your pussy walls apart when he finally finds his home in there.

“ya looked so fucking hot in those shorts,” he grunts. “bet ya loved every minute of it, strutting around like a slut.”

“i’m not,” you mumble around his cock. “i’m not a slut.”

mammon scoffs, somehow able to understand your muffled words while his cock sits heavy in your mouth. he tuts as you pull back, drenching his cock in your saliva. “don’t lie to me, sweetheart. i know what a dirty little slut ya.”

“no…”

“every demon in that hallway was looking at ya and all i could smell was your sweet pussy leaking for me. bet they could all smell it too. bet they wanted ya as bad as i do.”

mammon….wants you?

now, that’s not something you ever thought of being a possibility. but as the words slip from his lips, your lower body heats up even more. there is so much desperation growing between your legs and you can’t hold back.

your nimble fingers find their way between your legs and mammon uses his foot to lift up your skirt and peek at the dirty things you do to yourself underneath it. god, your eyes are just so needy for him as he watches your fingers push in and out of your pussy.

the only thing blocking his view are the panties you pulled to the side and he orders you to take them off. it pains you to obey him again but the ache in your belly hurts so much more. if you listen to him well enough, maybe he’ll fill you up and finally put your body at ease.

after all that’s happened, the only thing you want right now is his fat cock stuffing you to the hilt instead of your amateur fingers which do not dare to match the level of pleasure mammon’s cock can give you.

swallowing bitterly, you gently place your soaked panties in the hand he holds out, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs already.

“you’re such a naughty girl, getting wet like this,” he teases, rubbing his thumb over the soggy patch on your panties. “so fucking bad.”

“i’m not!” you move away from him completely and plead on your knees. “i’m good, i’ve been nothing but good to you and you treat me so horribly!”

mammon supposes he should feel bad seeing you cry, but your cute little sniffles and the way your teary eyes look up at him through sodden lashes, well, it does make him feel bad….for what he’s about to do to you.

“aww, baby,” his hand snakes his hand under your chin. your skin burns from the way his fingers feel so right around your neck. his touch is gentle, guiding you up onto your feet and your knees are so weak that you begrudgingly lean on him for support. “i didn’t mean to make ya cry.”

his voice is soft as he feigns a pout while spouting such a lie. making you cry is a reward for mammon. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was getting off on this.

“what did i do to deserve this?” you whimper.

“oh darlin’” he kisses your cheek, nuzzling into your neck. the softness in his voice is foreign, and the gentle graze of his lips teasing your skin is addicting. “do you want me to stop?”

“huh?”

“want me to stop being mean to ya?”

freeing himself from the intoxicating scent of your pulse, he holds his face close to you with a hand on either side of yours, thumbs stroking your hot cheeks and wiping away tears. a sick feeling builds in your stomach, but a desperate, needy ache grows faster and stronger.

and as loud as they both are, you can only listen to one bodily instinct at a time.

nodding slowly, you don’t tear your eyes away from his hoping he will see how pathetic and miserable and desperate you are. you’d do anything if it means he’ll stop harassing you.

mammon’s wide smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he leans in, surprising you when his lips touch yours. your eyes grow to an abstractly large size and you don’t dare to move as he glides his lips against yours.

one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him and his cock presses into your tummy while the other snakes around your shoulders, grabbing your scalp and holding your head in place. despite your best efforts to push him away, you remain with your lips locked onto his.

they’re both hot and cold at the same time, both gentle and destructive. all of your walls break down as he pries your sorry lips apart, swiping his tongue along them before devouring your mouth whole.

you moan and gasp against him, beating his chest with your fists but he refuses to let you go and to your dismay — or delight, you can’t quite tell — his hips begin moving. he grinds into your body, rubbing his bare cock along your tummy and leaving cum stains on your clothes.

every alarm in your body rings loudly and you lose the ability to breathe. your mind fogs up from the lack of air but you’re sure he’s doing this on purpose, not allowing you a single ounce of it and if one manages to slip past your lips, he steals it right away.

you know how he works. what mammon wants, mammon gets and while he deprives you of oxygen, he’s waiting for you to give in.

he forces his tongue deep in your mouth but the feel of it is new and draws out a deeper beast within you, greed and excitement growing in your core. while his cock ruts against you, your hands find it and you slowly stroke him, spreading his pre–cum along his length.

“that’s it. keep doing that,” he groans, lips only inches apart. “good girl.”

a whimper escapes you as the words roll of his tongue and your pussy erupts in sparks.

“what’s that, huh? you like it when i call you good girl?” biting your lip, you nod eagerly, earning another proud smile from him. “hm, maybe i should keep calling ya it. but then again, you’re nothing but a worthless slut.”

mammon grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes you to the cold, hard ground. before you can wiggle away, he has you locked in place with your arms pinned down at the sides and your legs stretched on either side of his hips.

“mammon!” you yelp. “please, no….”

“dontcha ya want me to stop being mean to ya?” he questions, eyes filled with madness as he yanks down your bra and gropes your breasts. holding you in place as you writhe against him, mammon leans down and takes your nipple between his lips. “i’ll stop if you let me fuck your sweet little pussy. it’s a good deal, ain’t it?”

it’s the most horrific deal you’ve ever heard but you’re beyond reasoning at this point. the two things you desire most — for him to fuck you dumb on his cock and for him to stop bullying you — he can give to you right now. there’s no harm in killing two birds with one stone, right? if he’s going to be mean about it, you’ve no choice but to take it given it’s the only chance you’ll ever have to free yourself from him.

“fuck, your tits are so sweet.” he can’t stop playing with them, squeezing them, slapping them and marvelling at the way they jiggle, then pinching your nipples and pulling them taught before releasing them and taking them in his mouth again.

“ah!” you moan. “mammon, don’t…” but the warmth of his lips is welcomed by your body and you arch into him.

burying his face into your breasts, he sucks and bites for what feels like hours, covering your mounds with bruises and when he rises with a gasp, his lips are covered in his saliva. his mini–makeout session with your breasts makes every hair on your body stand tall, all the while, your pussy leaks onto the ground beneath you.

mammon grabs both of your breasts, blessing each of his hands with their softness and rubs his cock head over your puffy lips.

“fucking sugar tits, alright,” he jokes. “ya like it when i call ya that?”

you shake your head violently but the truth is, you haven’t stopped thinking about it since he called you it earlier. it’s such a ridiculous name, so degrading and obscene. yet, your hole clenches over nothing when he calls you it.

“that’s right, sugar tits. i can feel your pussy throbbing against me.” mammon warns. “you’re gonna cum while i call ya sugar tits, ain’t ya?”

shaking your head again, you cry no’s and stop’s but each of them fly past his ears. but a guttural feeling deep down knows you’re glad he won’t listen. your pussy aches for his cock to fill you up, for your name to roll off his lips while he fucks his cum far into your pussy.

“you want this, don’t ya?”

“no,” you sob.

“don’t lie to me, bitch. you know you want it.”

“i don’t!”

oh, but you do.

you want this more than anything but you’d rather him not know because it would only give him more fuel to ruin you with.

“yes, you fucking do,” he forces the answer for you. his grabs his cock and prods it against your hole. it’s so wet and slippery that he almost falls deep inside but he’s using the last remainders of his control to hear you say the words he’s wanted to hear for so long. “you fucking want this. tell me you want this.”

you whine. struggling against him but he pushes you down with his ungodly strength.

“say it or i’ll post the fucking pictures.”

“i want it!” you yelp, the words blurting out against your will. “please, mammon. i want it!”

“that’s what i fucking thought.”

and with that, mammon pushes himself past your hole, his leaking tip digging its way into your pussy. your legs fly in the air as you feel him stretch your walls unbelievably wide.

“fuck! mammon!”

“your pussy’s sucking me in, baby,” he grunts with each thrust. “i knew ya wanted my cock this bad.”

with each rock of his hips, your body drags against the ground and he pins you down in place again, arms at your side and body spread wide for him. his eyes latch onto your tits bouncing with every thrust.

they mesmerise him, the way they knock up and down with each hard thrust acting as hypnosis for the demon and he grows desperate for release.

“fuck, sugar tits,” you clench at the pet name. it’s so humiliating but it feels so fucking good, as good as his cock battering your insides. “such a fucking slut enjoying my cock like this.”

he spits insult after insult, mocking you for your weakness against him. “nothin’ but a dirty little human desperate for some demon cock, huh? bet that’s why ya let me fuck around with ya for so long, because ya wanted this to happen, wanted me to fill your tiny little hole with my cum. isn’t that right?”

“no,” you shake your head, but you’re quickly met with his hands gripping your face harshly. “i mean, yes! yes i wanted this!”

“keep going….” he ruts harder, knocking your insides in the right way.

“i wanted this for so long, mammon!” you cry. “wanted your cock so bad i let you treat me like dirt all this time!”

“that’s right,” mammon groans. “i’m always fucking right about ya. nothin’ but a slutty little hole for me. gonna fucking breed ya with all of my cum, and no one’s ever gonna touch ya but me.”

“oh!” you moan, relishing in the words spilling from his lips. you know he doesn’t mean anything special by it, but you’re so blissed out from his cock that for a moment, it feels real. you’re his and his only in the empty classroom and you feel….special. “mammon, it’s so good!”

“yeah? my cock’s making ya feel good?”

“yes!”

“fucking hell, sugar tits loves my cock,” he yells for the whole school to hear, laughing at your the way your pussy tightens when he says it. “go on, you say it too.”

“huh?” you whine.

“fucking say it, scream it. need the whole fucking devildom to here ya being a slut for me.”

“but—”

“say it, angel. or ya don’t get to cum,” he grins seeing the desperation in your eyes, so obedient to him just for an orgasm. how much more pathetic can you get? “go on, be a good girl and say it.”

“i….i love mammon’s cock….”

“louder.”

“i love mammon’s cock,” you repeat but he still isn’t satisfied. he thrusts into you particularly harshly, a yelp escaping your lips and you hear his message loud and clear, screaming, “i love the great mammon’s cock!”

“that’s right, sugar tits,” he leans down. “ya gonna cum now?”

you nod fervently, desperate for release. his cock drags along your clenching walls, awakening the hidden sweet spots as your nectar leaks around him. “wanna cum! please!”

“go ahead, baby,” he ruts with a deep groan, coming close to the edge himself. “i’m gonna finish inside your filthy little pussy.”

“hhm,” you moan. “you shouldn’t!”

“but i’m gonna anyway.”

all it takes as one more thrust to feel ropes of mammon’s hot cum spurting out into your pussy. his thumb finds your clit and pinches it, pulls it, then circles it roughly while pushing his cum deeper inside you with his cock. seconds later, ecstasy washes over you and your body loses control, spasming against his cock as you arch deeper into it. your walls are painted white with his cum and his cocks remains sheathed in your pussy as you writhe through your prolonged orgasm.

“fuck!” you squeal. “it feels so fucking good!”

“holy shit,” mammon groans, hissing when he finally pulls out from your hot mess of a pussy. “that was fucking amazing, huh?”

he falls back, watching your body twitch and tremble and his cum pours out from between your legs, giving him the perfect idea. he reaches for his ddd and opens the camera, facing it towards your blissed the fuck out body.

“hey, sugar tits,” you look at him, haunted by the sick grin on his face. “smile for the camera.”

“wait, mammon—”

“shaddup,” he mumbles and seconds later, several snaps of his camera sound. you yelp, covering your chest and closing your legs in a weak attempt. but mammon’s strength is far to superior to yours and he yanks your legs back open. “i gotcha now, angel.”

“what…?”

he snaps several more pictures and even a short film of his cum gushing out of your pussy. “fuck, i could sell these for some real grimm.”

the way his eyes light up terrifies you and you want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cease to exist. if he did, your life in the devildom would truly be over. you’d have no dignity remaining from what little of it was left anyway.

“you said you’s stop!” you cry. “you promised you wouldn’t mess with me anymore if i let you fuck me!”

“ya didn’t actually believe that, did ya?”

the world comes crashing down on your heavy, aching body and you’re overcome with violent sobbing. all hope is lost; there’s nothing good left for you now. mammon has made sure of that.

“why? why are you doing this to me?”

“because you’re nothing but a worthless slut. but you’re fun to play with, i’ll give ya that.”

every nerve on your body aches with humiliation. and what’s worse is knowing mammon gets off to it every single time.

how could you ever think you would mean something to him? you know your place full and well yet you still strived to be something more to him, when in reality, all you are is a toy for him to play with, a pathetic human designed for him to ruin in every way.

“p-please….” you sob. “please don’t tell anyone.

“that’s right, angel. you better do everything i say from now on, or else the entire fucking devildom is gonna know how much of a greedy slut ya are. fuck, ya were so fucking desperate for me to breed ya.”

your heart collapses into your stomach; you were a fool to ever believe him. his words and his touches twisted their way into your core and you gave into your sickly attraction to him. but what’s done is done and the best you can do now is some damage control.

“y–you won’t show the pictures to anyone….right?”

mammon scoffs with his devilish grin refusing to leave his face. your skin tingles as he glares at you. despite his terrible attention span and low grades, mammon is smart when he wants to be and smart he is by hacking away at all of your strength, leaving you with nothing but weakness and in the position he’s been wanting you in since the beginning.

“i won’t….for a price,” he grins. “what are ya willing to do to stop me from showing ‘em?”

with one question spilling from his lips, your mind shatters upon the realisation that your existence is now in his hands. you swallow, giving up on all of your pride and courage and hoping desperation will help you. and you really hope it will because that’s all you have left.

“anything. i’ll do anything.”

“good,” his eyes are dark like deep water as he leans over you again, engulfing your pitiful body in his scent. your heart races, tears soaking your eyes as you officially sign away your life to him. “because from now on, you’re the great mammon’s personal slut.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me smut #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me x female reader #tw: dark content

525 notes · View notes

clementine-thedestroyer · 3 months

Text

Kinktober day 25/16: Cockwarming + gags - Ghost x reader

Warning/tags: Fem!reader, oral sex, ring gags, sun space, cockwarming, light bondage, a bit of drool mentioned. Pretty soft.

Genuinely embarrassing that I’m still posting Kinktober stuff.

Ghost had you on your knees, under his desk, completely naked with your arms wrenched painfully behind you, and a downright mean gag keeping your mouth held wide open.

But of course, he wasn’t even looking at you. He had his attention focused solely on whatever the hell he was working on above you- but the worst part was the lack of touch. There was no comforting hand cupping the back of your head, no fingers running through your hair, he wasn’t even holding you down on his cock- you were simply expected to stay.

You had cockwarmed him before, and you had enjoyed it. But now? Your presence wasn’t even being acknowledged, no matter how well you sat for him, no matter how long you drooled around his cock, not a single praise or hint of affection came to you. You simply were left with your chin resting on the edge of Ghost’s seat and his cock sitting heavy in your mouth.

There was nothing to do. You couldn’t even properly suck or lick at his cock because of the gag- a large metal ring with a tongue depressor that left your mouth as little more than a warm, wet hole for him to stick his cock in. Hell, your mouth was hardly even around him, it was more that his cock was laying on your tongue as you drooled around him.

Any squirming was met with warning glares, and any whines or whimpers were simply ignored. You were left with nothing to do but slip deeper into that hazy head space where nothing existed besides you, Ghost, and being good.

At some point, he pulls you off his cock, tilting your head up to look at him as he squishes your cheeks and chuckles.

“Bit drooly there, aren’t cha’, love?” He says, taking the opportunity to tilt your head down and laugh as the spit and pre-cum that had gathered in your mouth spills out onto the towel he’d placed down to protect his desk chair.

Humiliation burned through your veins. A pitiful noise filled your ears, and it took you a moment to realize that you were the one making it. Ghost only laughs at the sound, threading his fingers through your hair and scratching soothingly at the base of your scalp.

The calming gesture catches you off guard, but you’re immediately melting into the touch like butter over warm bread. You feel his fingers move from your scalp to the latch of the gag behind your head, making sure to move your hair out of the way to keep it from getting snagged as he releases the clasp. After undoing the latch, he tilts your head up and worms two thick fingers past the ring gag to ease it free.

Once the gag is out, he takes you by the jaw and gently rubs at the sides of your face, massaging gently at the soft tissue like one would scratch a dog’s cheeks as he eases your jaw back closed. You relax further into his touch, letting your eyes close and whimpering slightly at the ache of closing your mouth after having it held open for what must’ve been at least an hour.

“Ready to be done?” Ghost whispers, offering you an out before he continues. Usually, you wouldn’t get a check. Ghost would trust you to safeword if you needed, but you must seem out of it enough for him to ask for confirmation.

You give him a small nod in response- the effort slightly hindered by the hands holding your face.

Your nod doesn’t seem to fully convince Ghost, as when he lowers your head back down to rest between his legs on the edge of the seat, he doesn’t guide your mouth back to his cock. Instead, he lays it against the inside of his thigh so you’re looking towards his dick.

“You’ve done enough for tonight, love. Just let me see you for now.” Ghost murmurs. One of his hands cups the back of your head while the other wraps around his spit slicked cock, sliding easily from the base to the tip with how wet it was.

Hazily and with half lidded eyes, you watch Ghost stroke his cock to the sight of you. With how close you are, you can see every vein, ridge, and crinkle of his hand and dick, and you can hear every caught breath and wet noise emanating from his actions.

For a moment, you simply watch- spit still leaking out of your mouth and soaking into the towel below you in your dazed state- until you’re struck by the urge to continue your earlier work. You start to press sloppy, open mouthed kisses to the shaft of Ghost’s cock, sucking and licking lazily at the flushed skin.

A pleased, prideful warmth spreads through you at the cut-off grunt and increase in pace Ghost makes at your actions, and it isn’t long before the hand in your hair tightens and presses you closer to his cock. You respond eagerly, continuing your actions as you slowly drag your gaze upwards towards Ghost.

Ghost’s eyes meet yours and a long, deep groan reverberates through his chest as he juts his hips forward and spills his cum over your exposed skin.

Warm cum pools over your shoulder and the base of your neck as Ghost sits above you, breathing heavily through the fabric of his mask and slowly loosening his grip on your hair.

Once he catches his breath, he lifts you up- a hand under each of your armpits as he pulls you into his lap. Strong arms wrap around you as a deep voice rumbles against your skull, muttering soothing praises and loving reassurances at your performance.

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

228 notes · View notes

desceros · 3 months

Text

me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

#text tag #feel free to reblog this around. it started out as a thing for turtle fam but we all agreed that it would be fun for The Community #anyway yeehaw let's spend all of february thinking about what to do and then the night of feb 29 doing it RAH #tmntspringshellebration

163 notes · View notes

turtletaubwrites · 1 month

Text

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

This completed series means a lot to me, so I've made this masterlist to keep it all in one place, as well as to include asks from those who relate the story, and some resources for those who related to the reader's pain a little too much. I've also included a link to a post where I share my intentions with this story, as well as my feelings about how bad our bad doctor really is. THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Author's Note: PLEASE heed the tags below, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

*I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than the reader 🙄

Thank you so much @anemptypuddingcup for this request. You helped me write one of my favorite stories 🙏🏼🖤

If you relate to the chronic pain symptoms and joint issues that the reader has, you might want to learn about hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and hypermobility spectrum disorders. Here's a couple links to get you started: The Ehlers-Danlos Society The Ehlers-Danlos Support UK hEDS Diagnostic Criteria *Once again, I am not a doctor. Please seek advice from a medical professional. I hope that you find one that supports and listens to you. You deserve to be treated with respect and compassion. I believe your pain. 🖤

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush), Needles, Drugs, Arguing, Massage, Praise Kink, Pain, Dissociation, Humiliation, Gaslighting, Non-Consensual Drug Use, (Implied), Birth Control, Menstruation, Discussion of Pregnancy, Brief/Implied Discussion of Sterilization Surgery, Teasing, Dom Trafalgar D. Water Law, Hand & Finger Kink, Blood, Spit, Dacryphilia, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Unprotected Sex, (Be Safe Out There), Multiple Orgasms, Rough Sex, Creampie, Pet Names, Overstimulation, Cunnilingus, Biting, Bruises, Hair-Pulling, Aftercare, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

Asks from People Who Relate to the Story: | Ask 1 | Ask 2 | Ask 3 |

127 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 11 months

Text

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼｜／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come.

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness.

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst.

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh.

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film” came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you.

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick — his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you.

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe.

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s.

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you.

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined.

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

“That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner.

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime.

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible.

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close.

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least.

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life.

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington.

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.”

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you?

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there?

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do?

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park?

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway.

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again.

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／｜＼。★

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #yoyok

690 notes · View notes