#place: choir room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanderestarangel · 5 months

Text

𖤐 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 - 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄!𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐊𝐔𝐄𝐈 + 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

𖤐 TW: afab anatomy, dark!bi han, dark!tomas, sub!reader, headcanons, hard smut, bloodkink, master x sub, dark themes, v!sex, blowjob, praise, degradation, sex with blood, objectification, fuck aggressive, porn plot, anal sex, size kink, hard!dom bi han, hard!dom tomas vrbada, dumbification, bdsm, hunter!play.

𖤐 𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 | 𝐒𝐔𝐁 𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎

He was already a hard!dom before becoming a vampire, after that, things unfortunately escalated to levels never seen before. Bi Han felt like a god, something above everyone and especially a fragile creature like you - He will bite you, growl in sex, break you completely, until you are a mess full of his bites, bruises made by his hands even more flowers that he placed on your hips, like purple and red petals, a sign of who would always be in charge there.

The grand master will use his sharp fangs to draw your blood, while he fucks you senseless, his cock pulses even more in your spongy walls, his balls were cold and extremely heavy, with each thrust you could feel him leaving the flesh of your ass raw - and he loved every damn second of it -

Bi Han will keep you locked in his big castle now, with no freedom to leave, you are just his pretty slut now. He will stick his dick in you so many times during the day that he will make you cry and beg for more, every time he interrupts another orgasm of yours, degrading you as he puts his dick back in your overstimulated and aching pussy, the vampire loves it like your voice gets teary and loud with each point of pleasure he continues to hit.

"-Stop crying slut, just spread your legs and let me in again." Bi Han growled angrily, as he spread your thighs again, your wet hole was reddened from the hours he fucked you repeatedly and tirelessly, and he wasn't going to satisfy himself until he filled you completely, until you couldn't even remember your own name but only let his name come out between your moans, like a damned prayer or a lustful choir.

He's bigger than you, stronger, he could break you at any moment if you're not careful... And that's fucking exciting for him, the mere thought of being able to lift you through every corner of the dark stone rooms just with one of his arms, holding you like a rag doll and forcing you to look deep into his red eyes, while he tirelessly pounds your pussy, seeing the bulge that his shaft makes with each brutal entry, it's too much for him to handle, he can cum just by imagining the scene.

As a vampire, he is even more arrogant, a complete idiot, especially if it is in the context of: you are his and no one else's.

You are not allowed to even look at a lin kuei ninja or be the least bit friendly, if you do something that displeases Bi Han, he will fuck you right after a hunt, he reeked of blood, his pale skin was sweaty and dirty while his hair reflected in the light of the full moon. You would be on your knees in front of him - if he wants - for hours, he will force your throat to the limit, choking you, cruelly and deliciously impaling his cock down your throat while growling and laughing at seeing you in such a submissive and pathetic situation, worshiping his cock as if it were the only thing you knew how to do - and well, it was true - he will be there, throwing dirty words at you, mocking how you are only good for that, to satisfy him. "-I'm going to fuck you hard, make my dick slide into that pretty little pussy."

Bi Han will fuck you to the point of wanting to breed your little pussy, every day you will have at least a little of his thick seed painting your core, leaving you breathless as he watches you roll your eyes in pleasure, he will be rude, taking the his dick in a loud, erotic pop and fucking your breasts hard. "-You fucking slut, looking at this is making my dick harder" He laughed as he let out hoarse sounds, fucking your soft skin even more, the friction of your breasts was making him see the wet and slippery shaft disappear between your soft flesh. "-When I'm done here, I'm going to breed you again, until you're completely filled with my cum... like the pathetic, beautiful slut you are."

𖤐 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 | 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄

When you saw Tomas arrive that night he wasn't the same man you were dating, but a darker version. Some kind of black liquid fell from his eyes, like dense tears. The blood symbol now marked your boyfriend's pale forehead, his lips were now a darker shade - lifeless - and sharp fangs made up his teeth. However, even with the dark change, there was still some remnant of what once was your beloved.

He won't be so submissive in bed anymore, he'll hold you down and pin you to the mattress, using one of his hands to hold onto your wrists while he thrusts your holes towards his hungry gauze - his dick will be willing, taking turns between hitting your pussy and your ass, both holes - now - are being used by the vampire, you can feel the weight of his cold skin, the blood of some victim he had to make on the way home, mixing with your fluids, dripping onto the sheets that were once white."-F-Fuuck Y-Yess- you have such tight holes my love, fuck I'm going to fuck you so hard-" Vrbada moaned hoarse and loud against your back. He will cum in both of your holes, while biting deeply into your skin, the pain, pleasure and blur of the world because of the orgasms and the overstimulation he does in your pussy, his fingers rub quickly and rigidly, making you scream into the night cold.

Tomas finds you so attractive, marked by him, with deep and painful marks on your body, red and pulsing from the brutality of his bites - on your ass, thighs, back, neck and belly - He will love biting your neck, while you ride him with force, as if your life depended on it, as Vrbada cums inside you again and again, you can't even count the jets of cum that come out of his shaft, as he lifts you with his strong arms, watching your cunt drip with cum from him. "-Holy shit look at this... You are really my little pearl, my dear." Tomas will fuck you in front of all the mirrors, loving seeing the scene of his hands covered in blood staining your clean skin, your body is perfect for him, he still loves you, but he will want to destroy you, leave you a stupid mess and trembles and he knows exactly how to do it.

Tomas will hunt you through the forests, he can smell your wet pussy for him from miles away, while he quickly managed to get to where you were, tearing your clothes and fucking you on the rough and hard ground, he will fuck your pussy several times and several times, the head of his dick will hit your uterus again and again, while he held your head against the ground, subduing your mortal and fragile body, you would curl your toes so hard with each of his thrusts, taking you to the limit, that I could swear I could break them. "-That's it! Keep it up, keep sucking my dick back into that slutty pussy Mmm- You're really my breed slut, aren't you? "

©𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 2023

1K notes · View notes

multi-fandom-imagine · 2 months

Note

Past self meeting future self is actually one of my favourite trope, Could I please request Overlord!Husk meeting Husk and s/o's triplets, I feel like after the confusion he would refuse to put any of them down, and of course the kittens love him because it's their dad just fancier.

A/n: and after he got back to his own time he went to his s/o {you} and states he wants kids

Being in another time where he wasn't an Overlord! Fine ya whatever. He could handle that, I mean it's not like everything he worked hard for was gone but it wasn't all bad....he did have you.

He couldn't help but scowl as he watched his other self bend down behind the counter to grab something. "How did I get so pathetic?"

"Me? Pathetic?" Husk tensed. "I have a wife and kids, I ain't pathetic." Sure he may not have his soul but he was happy, he had people that loved and cared him.

Rolling his neck, Husk glared at him then wrinkled his nose. "Try not go touch anything, I have something I need to grab."

Watching himself walk away, Overlord!Husk slumped into the seat though he did his best to ignore the sudden sounds of yips coming his way though it did not take long to feel three tiny bodies slam into him. "Shit, what?" Grabbing the scruff of what slammed into him, he pulled it back seeing a white ball of fluff with tiny wings.

A choir of papa's echoing throughout the room as the other two snuggled deep within his own wings, tiny little body's. "Listen I ain't." Gritting his teeth he looked at the tiny little kit the struggled to free it's self from his grasp. She was so small, a lot smaller than the other two. "Pa."

Sighing,Overlord!Husk brought the little one to his chest. His claw scratching the top of her head, a soft purr escaping her little body as she nuzzled more into his chest.

"You've got to be shitting me." Husk gripped the bottle of alcohol in his grasp. Seeing his kits, in the smug assholes arms was enough to send him over the edge.

"Husk please...they're finally sleeping and I am very tired." You placed your hand on Husk's shoulder to calm him down. "He won't be here long."

Grumbling, Husk wanted nothing more than to smash this bottle over his head but he would do anything for you and his kits. "Fine."

Overlord!Husk let out his own smirk as he looked you over. He couldn't help but feel something stir within him. The three kits were snuggled deep within his expensive suit. "Not my fault they like class."

Growling, Husk slammed his hand down on the table startling the kits awake. "LISTEN HERE YOU FAT FUCK."

Your own groan leaving your lips as the three kits let out a choir of cries. "Of course."

515 notes · View notes

gleek4life · 15 days

Text

Artie Abrams 1×19 — Dream On ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄

#glee #gleeedit #artie abrams #kevin mchale #gleesource #glee club #place: ohio #glee icons #glee gifs #gleedit #glee season 1 #place: mckinley high #place: choir room

17 notes · View notes

jauntilyplacedcaps · 3 months

Text

#glee #gleeedit #rachel berry #kurt hummel #hummelberry #season 2 #2x04 #episode: duets #song: happy days are here again/get happy #place: choir room #place: mckinley high #place: ohio #duo #grey #white

29 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 3 months

Text

My Favorite

(Image Source: Artist: Inpolariis)

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,114

Summary: Sir Crocodile has founded a league of highly trained assassins named "The Choirs" - all coded after the nine choirs of angelic influences. You are his favorite: his prized "Seraphim" who's ferocious brutality is only outmatched by your incredible beauty. Not truly knowing if your affection is all an act to continue being paid a wage in berry, he has not made a move of his own aside from calling upon you to sit on his knee of an evening, and have you utter praises into his ear. It is only when the two other members of the Cross-Guild begin flirting does he find his limit being tested. Will he bend, or will he break?

Themes: Boss!Crocodile x Assassin!Reader, lap princess, Croc is in love with you, begrudgingly in love, mutual pining, “I don’t want to fix him, I want to make him worse”, wealth, Cross-Guild dynamics, partial Buggy x Reader, partial Mihawk x Reader, sign language, afab!reader.

Notes: This fic is dedicated to the wonderful @discordantwritings who wrote a beautiful Benn Beckman fic recently. I had to return the favor with some Cross-Guild content, although it became quickly a Sir Crocodile fic. Based on this prompt, because it has a hold over my very soul.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @writingmysanity @gingernut1314

The broad right hand of the brutish Sir Crocodile massaged his temples beneath his thumb and index finger. He began rotating them in an attempt to rid the swelling migraine caused by the crackled whines pouring from the lips of his clown companion. Barely paying attention to the whinging words strung into messy sentences, his ears pricked and spine tingled at the knowledge there was another presence within the hollow chambers of the Cross-Guild meeting space.

Bringing his hand away from his temple, his smirk broke the displeased position of his lips, as his eyes rose to meet with the yellow hue of the gaze of the swordsman. Mihawk narrowed his eyes, no longer processing Buggy’s words as he attempted to locate the source responsible for the expression change of the larger gentleman in front of him.

“-And I wasn’t the one responsible for that screw up, so I shouldn’t be the one paying for it. Really it should go to the one with the most berry. Who was it again? Between the reptile and the hawk, who has the most-.” Buggy’s voice halted as the shadows split to reveal your presence, stalking closer to the largest man in the room with an aura of silent danger.

Mihawk reached for the hilt of Yoru, ready to strike your approaching silhouette: armored and cloaked in the darkest black to blend within smoke and shadow. Your hood concealed your face, your facial mask shieling all but the intensity of your eyes smeared in darkened war paint. You made no sound; no tap, no whisper as you wordlessly approached Sir Crocodile.

“Returned so soon, my Seraphim,” his voice purred, leaning back in his chair while placing a thick cigar between his teeth, “Did all go according to plan?” You wordlessly bent your knee, bowing your head to the large gentleman to whom you entrusted your implicit loyalty. His smile drew further up his scarred face, the purple hue of his eyes dancing with a dangerous twinkle at your wordless confirmation.

“Good,” his voice praised you, reaching for his lighter lying atop the table. You rose to your feet, quickly reaching for the golden object, flicking open the lid and igniting the flint to spark its flame. Sir Crocodile leant forward, holding his eyes firmly on yours as your concentration was fixed on the task of lighting the tip of his cigar.

He narrowed his eyes, noticing a small smear of red atop the darkened warpaint and streaking down your face mask and onto your leather breastplate. He sighed, reaching into his left hand breast pocket and fishing out a silver handkerchief and passed it to you within his index and middle fingers.

“Is it yours?” he asked, gesturing to the blood congealed and spattered against your uniform.

“No, sir,” you whispered with no vocal tone depicted within your silence. He hummed in response, narrowing his eyes as he scanned your body further.

“Are you unharmed and unmarked?” he asked, his left brow raising in question. You stiffened your shoulders, arching your chin within the air and confirmed with a simple utterance of: “Yes, sir.”

“Very good, my Seraphim,” he complimented further, inhaling a deep lungful of the nicotine laden cigar smoke, exhaling through his nose. Buggy did not know what to make of this interaction, feeling completely and utterly ignored as Mihawk and Sir Crocodile’s eyes and attention remained fixed on your statuesque figure clad in cloak, leather and dark plated armor.

Leaning forward, Sir Crocodile ushered you to stoop forward to receive the next whisper of a command parting from his lips for your ears alone.

“I have laid out a new uniform for you to wear,” he uttered intimately, reaching up his left hand with his golden hook threatening to touch your shoulder. “See to it you are bathed, perfumed and clad in the ensemble within the hour,” the tip of his hook brushed with the rivets of your shoulder plate, dragging down your bicep to the inner crevice of your elbow, “And I will have you sat as my trophy upon my knee for the evening, my Seraphim.”

At that final utterance, he withdrew his hook from your arm and focussed once more on your eyes now depicting a darkness within usually withheld for victims beneath your concealed daggers.

Bowing to your boss, eyes now closed, you rose from your deep and respectful stoop and paid no mind to glance at the other two members of the meeting space. If Sir Crocodile found no reason to introduce you to these men, you did not deem them important enough to care who they were. Silence followed you as you trailed outside of the room, resubmerging yourself within the shadows and hastily making your way to the suite gifted to you by your boss.

“Baroque Works employee, Crocodile?” Mihawk uttered, his eyes fixed on the exit you withdrew from.

“A thing of the past, Hawk,” His smirk not leaving his face for each deep inhale of his cigar, “I no longer put my faith in an amassment of bounty hunters to get their hands dirty for my berry.” He took the butt of his cigar from his teeth and pushed the ignited end against the glass tray with his thumb. “No, my faith is no longer spread to the many, but to the few.”

“How many o’ them you got?” Buggy’s nasally voice chimed in, his brow furrowing and lips curling back in an uneasy smile, “Like twenty or thirty?”

“I have nine,” he confessed, eyes now bored with the conversation and lip curling down into an arrogant snarl, “And that one,” he gestured to the door with his chin, “Is my favorite.”

“Why?” Buggy asked, his voice cracking in a small apprehensive whine at the end of his question, “What does that one do that the others don’t?” Sir Crocodile’s lips curled into a darkened grin, his teeth revealed in the light.

“You will see.”

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

After bathing and cleaning yourself of the debris and carnage of the last assignment, you glanced at yourself in your large, ornate mirror. Looking over the new uniform set aside by your boss as it clung to your body, you couldn’t help the pull of a shy smile at the corner of your lips.

Of all of “The Choirs” founded and financed by Sir Crocodile, it was no illusion that you were absolutely and without a doubt his favorite. Your titles held your specialist skills as covert assassins within your roles; each skilled with a unique ability to complete your tasks to the utmost quality.

Principalitie, Archangel, and Angel were charged with gathering information and relaying it from a great distance. They were to look like civilians; innocent and coy with the ability to blend into a crowd seamlessly.

The Devil-Fruit users; Dominion, Virtue, and Power, were charged with carrying out tyrannical punishment and wrath without care for the casualties they caused under the utterance of a single command from your hook-handed leader.

Cherubim and Ophanim, the two of the higher in the chain of command, followed your explicit instruction in covert operations taken either together or separately. They were your trusted confidants, you could even call them your friends if it were not too bold to say so.

You, his ‘Seraphim’, were silent and embraced by shadows with such flawless success that it was rumored you were born in them. You were lethal with your daggers, your skill with a blade a sight to behold before life was drained from your intended target. The last thing they saw as their breath was claimed by your hand, was the ferocity in your blown pupils and lengthy eyelashes beneath the dark warpaint smeared atop your eyelids.

Glancing over your features once more, the pale white of the dress held stark contrast to the dark armor you adorned almost an hour prior. While your armor kept all of your features hidden to the world around you, the anonymity shielding you from emphasis on your features; this dress left little to the imagination.

The deep hook of the backless dress clung low to your hips in an ovular shape, bodice dipping down to above your navel with a thin band of fabric dancing above your cleavage to suture the bust shut with barely any support. The length of the dress halted little below your hip bone on the left-hand side, the right hand side down to the ball of your ankle to allow for the straps of your gold heels to be revealed with each step you took against the floor.

Your mind begins to wander the longer you stare at yourself in the mirror. This was the most provocative and scandalous item your boss had ever asked you to don. You almost allowed yourself to rush to the conclusion that your boss harbored more than simple favoritism for you, you assumed you were wearing this ensemble to impress a guest with your presence on his lap.

Silence was nearly impossible with the gold-dipped base of your heeled shoes. Each step you took after exiting your suite echoed in a foreign clack that you were unaccustomed to creating with your foot-falls.

Immediately upon entering the large celebratory area of Sir Crocodiles casino, you scanned the perimeter of the room for your boss to begin your new role for the night: the princess sitting upon his knee and doting on him with small caresses and whispers of praise within his ear. This was not a role you were exposed to often, but one you did well enough for him to continue asking for you after the first night you played it.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you did not harbor affection for your boss. Nothing ever transpired between you after you had finished this role for the nights he asked you to fulfill. No brush of lips meeting yours, no writhing while sprawled out beneath him against the green fuzz of the gamblers table. He would bow his head in gratitude to you, his eyes blinking shut out of respect, and dismissing you without a further word.

Adoration, respect, loyalty, and your wage is what bound you to that man. At each moment he spent with you on his lap, or performing a deadly task for him, your desire grew. You knew, without a semblance of a doubt, that you would cast aside your wage with an instant for the luxury of remaining by his side. You loved him, and it was the only thing that truly frightened you.

After concluding your brief scan of the room, you noticed Sir Crocodile was yet to make an appearance to darken the tables with his brutish figure. However, you smiled upon meeting the eyes of ‘Ophanim’ dressed in a simple waiter's uniform, with her sleeves rolled to her elbows and shaking a steel container filled with ice, syrups and hard liquor. She shot you a wink, gesturing with her chin to wait with her at the bar.

An honest smile sprung to your lips as you grasped the barstool within your hands, taking a seat atop it and hooking your left knee over your right; the slit of your dress revealing the entirety of your left leg to your thigh.

Immediately as you began to open your mouth to converse with your fellow “Choir” about her latest mission, your eyes were thrust into an amassment of lengthy cerulean hair. The person seemed to ignore you as their voice informed your friend of his order of a fruit-forward and harsh liquor cocktail with an insane amount of complex ingredients. The products he asked for sounded as if it would split and separate, with the immediate souring of creamy liquid with the acidic elements.

Grimacing with your lips curled in disgust, the individual turned to meet your disapproving gaze: his eyes widening and breath hitching in his throat. A large, rotund red nose lay central to his features, his dark vest cinching his waist beneath a white shirt and dark trousers. He looked as if he was not comfortable wearing the assortment, as if it was a mask he was given to wear akin to your arrangement set aside by your boss.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he stumbled over his words, the syllables falling from his lips quicker than he could silence them within. Immediately your grimace upturned into a smile, forcing a laugh to flee from you at his unbridled compliment. You arched your left brow up, leaning in close to the individual in front of you and tightening his dark tie with your right hand.

“You are very easy to look at, yourself,” you purred in return, assuming your flirtatious role with ease. You darted your gaze between his two teal eyes, a coy smile now pursing your lips together innocently, “And who might you be, bright eyes?” Your question had his heart swelling, his cheeks filling with a boyish fluster.

“B-Buggy,” he wheezed, gulping back his words and grunting out a small cough to mask his uneasiness. “Captain Buggy D Clown,” he attempted to meet his elbow atop the bar, missing the polished wood entirely and instead stumbling under the uneven distribution of his weight. As air met his elbow with the heel of his palm capturing his chin, he flew his head down and met it against the wood with a harsh thump.

Wincing in empathy, you immediately reached forward and claimed his cheeks within your palms and raised him back up to his former stature. You brushed his shoulders, readjusted his collar and checked over the rising swell atop his left temple.

“Honey, can we get some ice please?” you asked your colleague who attempted to halt her laugh behind her palm, nodding as she retrieved the frosty cubes and placed them within a checkered tea towel. She passed it to you and shook her head, you nodding your thanks at her for the object and immediately reaching for the blunt-force trauma the blue-haired clown brought upon himself.

“Are you alright Captain Buggy?” You asked him, holding your hand against the towel and pressing it firmly against the rising bruise. He clasped his left hand around your right, leaning into the touch you were providing him and closing his eyes.

“I like the way your tongue makes my name sound,” he confessed in a breathy gasp. You again found yourself laughing at his words, the melodic ring of your voice stirring something dangerous within the purple hues of Sir Crocodile’s eyes. He continued watching your interaction with Buggy from his place darkening the threshold of the entrance to his casino.

“What happened, Clown?” A voice called behind him, the curve of a pale shirt clinging to the back of a dark-haired individual you could barely see. Buggy apprehensively turned away from you and lulled his head towards the man with a snarling expression.

“It’s her fault,” he gestured to you with his thumb, “She was sittin’ on that chair all innocent-like, as if she doesn’t look like walking sex.”

“Hardly walking if she’s sitting,” the man called over in a bored and disinterested tone, without sparing so much as a glance in your direction. You found him intriguing, but you decided to match his energy and remain aloof to his comments yourself.

Turning away from the two men beside you, you began moving your hands in a flurry of wordless gestures to your coworker as discreetly as you could.

‘Where is he?” you asked her, watching her hands flicker in response as she continued to attempt to uphold her own persona as bartender.

“Approaching slowly,” she managed to signal to you, before she placed a glass of wine in front of the broody aloof gentleman beside the clown. The corner of his lips ticked at the corner, a whisper of gratitude depicted on his face as he turned to face you with the crystal glass rising upwards.

The small widening of his honey-coloured eyes told you all you needed to know within his gaze. Your head cocked to the side, your eyes wide and feigning innocence to the best of your abilities.

“My, my,” he commented, shamelessly raking his eyes over your body from your decorated toes to the follicles of your styled hair, “I do see why you would be the cause for such a stumble.” He expertly brushed the blue-haired man away from you, extending his right hand forward to seek out your own and collecting your four fingers within his grip.

He raised your hand to his lips, his mustache tickling the knobbed joints of your knuckles before his lips brushed against your flesh. Your eyes turned sultry, not once either of you breaking your eye contact against one another.

Unable to control the rapidity of the thump within his chest and the dry lump forming in his throat, Sir Crocodile began a stalking approach towards you. How dare they fawn over you. You: his favorite of his Choirs. His angelic muse and harbinger of brutality.

He knew you would make heads turn with the uniform he laid out for you, but he did not anticipate the primal urge swelling beneath him to pull you into himself and shield you away from their eyes. He wanted you all for himself, in any capacity you were willing to give it to him. He didn’t care that you were paid berry to serve him, it felt real enough for him.

“Dracule Mihawk,” he uttered against your flesh, withdrawing from his stoop and arching his back to puff his barely shielded chest to you, “And you are, my darling?” Before you could answer with your name, you felt a warm graze dancing up your spine. His breath tickled against your skin, tingling your spine beneath his lips as they pressed intent and longing to your flesh.

On any other occasion, you may have been alarmed by such attention from an individual without seeing their face. The cologne dancing with the whisper of his last cigar floated with each kiss against your skin, informing you exactly who was giving you such a touch.

He had never offered you this unbridled affection in the past, not allowing himself to give into his craving for you, and you not willing to test your place serving under him. This touch felt natural, his lips continuing to press into you, as you continued to hold your gaze on the eyes of the dark-haired man in front of you.

Sir Crocodile’s lips found your left shoulder, his purple eyes pulling the swordsman’s attention away from you to meet with your boss as he continued to map his lips up your neck to your jaw. His left forearm circled around your front, the golden hook firmly secured against his wrist collecting your chin beneath the smooth surface. He turned your attention away from Mihawk to look into his eyes through lowered eyelashes.

He leant forward, drawing your lips against his by the gentle tilt of his hook against your chin. Darting his tongue out to stroke yours, his nose brushed against your own as he circled his jaw to deepen the embrace. Your hands clutched the base of the stool you were sat atop to anchor yourself down for fear of floating to the roof. The hum of his lips in joy had a small moan pull from your lips the longer he was joined against you.

You felt his right hand brush against your bicep, curling his firm grip around it as he pushed his chest flush with your own with a gentle turn of your body. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes immediately falling to your rapidly swelling and kiss-bruised lips, slightly smudged paint falling below the perimeter of your bottom lip. Tapping your chin with his hook, your eyes darted from your own gaze against his lips to meet with his purple eyes.

“My Seraphim,” the rumble of his voice and the small smirk of his lips had your attention hyper fixed and hanging on his every word. You held your gaze firmly affixed to his, watching as he turned away from you and greeted the men in front of you with the nod of his head and the small utterance of their names.

“Mihawk,” the rumble of his voice rubbing within his throat had your spine tingle with anticipation, “Buggy.” He turned back to meet your orbs that had not yet broken from his face, but raked your gaze over his face with half-lidded lashes. Your eyes continued to float in a daze against his lips and flittering back up to meet his gaze.

He extended his right hand in a gesture for you to take it, you reacting immediately by placing your hand within his larger palm to encircle his digits around it. You allowed him to pull you away from your former position atop the barstool, your heels clicking against the floor as he escorted you to the desired table for the night. Now in the shroud of seclusion, he leaned down and uttered a small apology in your ear.

“Forgive me,” he began, taking his seat within the plush armchair and patting his left knee with his right. Without hesitation, you gracefully placed yourself atop his thigh with the small flick of your hair, crossing your left knee over your right and arching your back.

“What sins am I forgiving, sir?” you asked him, feeling the dangerous caress of his hook brushing against your spine and collecting a small portion of your hair within its curvature. Your boss took in a deep breath through his nose, expanding his broad chest beneath his suit jacket. His exhale had a small quake to it, his eyes closing as he basked under your attention.

You reached your hands and began to dance your fingertips against the hem of his collar. Although this was a routine you had practiced with him over man a night on his lap, this touch felt almost forbidden as his brows furrowed.

“I should not have kissed you like that,” he uttered in a voice below a hushed whisper, “You deserve better than something so public. I desire you-... -for you to be treated as a seraphim I know you to be.” His vocal catch had your attention completely focussed on every word, your body leaning itself further as your hands halted their movement.

“I am not a seraphim, sir,” your lips were now almost brushing with the shell of his ear, your hypnotic perfume, intoxicating and mesmerizing the larger gentleman the longer your presence remained atop his lap. He angled his head away from you, exposing the side of his neck to reveal the rapidity of his heartbeat displayed against his pulse.

“And what are you, if not a seraphim,” he whispered darkly, allowing to be disarmed by your presence as he leant into your touch, yet away from the descent of your lips upon his ear.

“I am your seraphim,” you confessed as your lips grazed against the sensitive flesh of his cheek, his dark hair tickling against your eyes.

Sir Crocodile was glad he had withdrawn you to a secluded portion of his casino at this moment. He truly did not desire for the other two members of the Cross-Guild to notice how much of a grip you truly had around his heart, but refused to break away from your display of unrestrained physical affection. He knit his brows together, furthering their descent down his face as he processed your words.

“Because I pay you to be,” he uttered, leaning away from your touch and forcing the mask of his arrogance back onto his features. He dropped the hook from your hair, reaching his right hand into his left breast pocket to locate a thick cigar and his golden lighter. Placing the bitten end between his teeth and clamping down on it, he drew the flame up to his lips and attempted to ignite the end.

“I will return my wage to you,” you uttered quietly after swiping the golden lighter from his hand and reigniting the flame, “I have no need for it when you take care of me so well.” His eyes held an aloof boredom to his expression, refusing to meet with your face as you lit his cigar for him.

“And if my wealth was taken from me?” He questioned before inhaling the smoke from his cigar, exhaling it away from your face, “If I was to go to prison once more, what then?” Your eyes narrowed, your lip curling up to reveal your displeasure at the question.

“I would claw tooth and nail to free you from your confinement, sir,” you confessed, reaching your left hand forward and collecting his chin beneath your thumb and index finger, turning his jaw for his eyes to meet with yours once more, “And although living in luxury is a welcome experience, I would stand by you regardless.” His eyes depicted his craving for your words to be true, although not believing it yourself.

He began to open his mouth to speak, silenced by your words cutting through the air like your daggers meeting with the jugular of your foe.

“You have my loyalty, my blades, and my body at your disposal,” you leant forward further, darting your eyes between focusing on each of his. “Should you order me to jump, I will ask how high. Should you ask me to kneel, I will fall to my knees,” you continued, your grip holding more firmly against his chin, “Should you wordlessly aim your finger at an enemy, I would be a channel of your wrath as I claim their lives for you.”

Allowing a few moments of thick silence to swell between you, you felt the scrape of his hook trailing itself against your spine, hovering over the soft point of your rib and pressing his point firmly into your flesh.

“While your words are as beautiful as you are,” he whispered, looking down at the plunging neck of your dress and back up into your eyes, “They are as decorated by the impact of my wealth as your body is in that dress.” You narrowed your eyes at his comment, taking the expression as a challenge.

Shrugging away from the point of his hook, you rose to your feet between his legs and slowly drew your hands up to the thin straps on your shoulders. You hooked your thumbs beneath the material and began to slowly slip the material over your shoulders and down your biceps. Sir Crocodile’s eyes widened, immediately reaching his right hand and left forearm to halt your hands from revealing more of your flesh to him.

“What are you doing?” His growl should’ve had your actions stuttering in any other setting, but his rasp had your heart beating in desire in place of fear.

“I have already informed you that I will be returning my wage to you,” you cocked your head to the side, arching your back towards him and looking down at him under your lustful expression, “Why not start with the dress you claim to despise so much.” The rise of his fluster depicted in his eyes at your words had a smirk drawing up to decorate your lips.

“What has someone like me done to deserve such devotion from you, my seraphim?” he whispered, his right hand elevating the strap of your left shoulder and securing it firmly in its prior place. You followed suit with your right strap, securing it firmly against your shoulder and leaning further into his welcome embrace.

He leant his torso closer to you, his broad forearms circling over your own with his fingertips brushing against your skin. You began to open your mouth, confessing your adoration for your boss further upon the tip of your tongue before crudely interrupted by the presence of the blue-haired clown followed behind by the broody gentleman from earlier.

“Are we playin’ cards yet, Croco?” Buggy’s voice hitched as he met with an intimate moment shared between you and Sir Crocodile. Your boss’ hands caressed your skin, pulling you against his torso as he aimed his disapproving gaze over your right shoulder.

He growled at the interruption, his voice holding more feral animosity than he felt he should. You drew your hand up to claim his cheek in the palm of your right hand, looking down at him with your eyes holding your unspoken answer of lustful adoration at him. His breath hitched as his gaze met with yours, prompting his right hand to grasp the flesh of your back firmer within his spread fingertips.

“I recall you having barely enough berry to survive the last time we played, Clown,” Mihawk’s aloof tone called from beside him. Neither you nor Sir Crocodile paid either man any mind, too wrapped up in the intimate moment you were sharing holding one another.

You removed the cigar from Crocodile’s teeth in your left hand, stooping forward and claiming his lips beneath your own. Your nose brushed against his, the kiss as hastily departing in severance of the connection as it did in its descent. He arched his chin up, chasing your retreat with his eyes closed.

“Shall I get the table ready, sir?” You asked him in a subtle whisper, relishing in the small hum of pleasure falling from the lips of your boss. His eyes split slowly open, remaining half-lidded as he lulled his head on his neck to glance at you. The silver mark splitting his face danced in the illuminance of the soft bar light, his striking features appearing more chiseled under its glow.

“Please,” he spoke slowly, his tongue darting out and danced as the ‘L’ passed his lips. You raked his hair back over his scalp, replacing the fallen strands in their rightful place, while leaning down once more with a smirk.

“Right away, sir,” you purred at him while returning his cigar to his teeth, watching as he bit the tip with a small snarl. Turning and walking away to collect several items to place atop the green felt for your boss to engage in a game of cards with his two unlikely colleagues, eyes fixed on your back as you exited the secluded area.

“Who is she?” Buggy’s shocked voice cracked out the stuttered question also plaguing Mihawk’s mind. Sir Crocodile relaxed in his chair, inhaling the cigar smoke deeply into his lungs and holding it. Upon it exiting from his lungs, he confessed the place you held within his heart with the utterance of two words.

“My favorite.”

#one piece #x reader #opla fic #opla #one piece live action #buggy #mihawk #captain buggy #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile #op sir crocodile x reader #op sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #cross guild #cross guild x reader #sir crocodile wins #boss x employee

495 notes · View notes

myouicieloz · 24 days

Text

Under the Moonlight

Ning Yizhuo x Reader

Synopsis: you and ning have been best friends ever since you could remember. but she’s been distant lately, and you can’t help but wonder where does she go to every single night.

Warnings: cnc (? maybe?). smut. nsfw.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I’m trying to get into darker themes for 2024. writing different prompts, challenging myself. I apologize if I it’s off putting. pls say something if it is!

Ning Yizhuo was a good girl.

She never skipped classes, never talked back or raised her voice at elders, never missed a day of bible school, and never forgot to flicker the lights in her room to whenever you were going to sleep.

Yet, she earned for more.

She was ambitious. Has always been, ever since she was a little girl. She’s had this feeling in her chest for ages, a clear warning that she was born in the wrong place: she didn’t belong in this small town, surrounded by rich fuckers that did nothing but label people and gossip all day. She was more than a close-knit community that lived off balls and charity events to make up for the fact that everyone who lived there were scrumptious, vile people. Those people did not represent herself at all.

Someday, she’d be truly free of the chains that tied her to this place.

For now, she was content enough with adjusting the helmet in her head, hopping on her bike to seek things that would make her forget about the life she lived, even if just for one night.

—

“And where is Mrs. Yizhuo once again, Y/n?” Your teacher’s voice echoed harshly from behind you, as you positioned your hands on the piano to start your lesson for the day.

“She’s sick, Mrs. Lee.” You straighten your posture, hoping to get more credibility. “She took many meds this morning. I think she’ll be sleeping all day to recover. I’m sorry.”

The teacher gives you a knowing look, but says nothing once you begin to practice the same songs over and over, until your fingers hurt from the repetitive movements.

You send Ningning several messages as soon as the woman looks away. She’s your best friend, of course you’d cover for her even without her asking for it. Although you don’t think she cares, anyway.

She’s been acting so different lately. Like somebody else; a different girl, different person. It was as if you didn’t know her at all.

You’ve been next-door neighbors ever since you could remember, always there for each other. That, along with the fact that your parents are part of a close-knit friend group that has been friends ever since high-school, made it easy for her to be your other half, your soulmate. Her house was right next to yours, and you’ve developed a habit of checking if her room had the lights on whenever you were anxious. Ning was your best friend, and you did everything together: from hanging out at each other’s houses to attending choir and piano lessons every single day.

That was until she changed. Suddenly, she was distant: disappearing out of nowhere, not answering any of your calls and texts all day and coming back dirty, sweaty and breathless — her hair stinking with smoke. The only thing you could rely on was the flickering of her lights, every single day when the clock hit your bedtime. You were rigid with your routine, and Ning knew that. She’s never missed it, and it comforted your heart, somehow. To know that deep inside, she was still your Ningning.

You often had to make up lies wherever you went, making up endless excuses for her absences, but at some point, it got unsustainable— she stopped showing up, without saying anything to anyone. Ning wore all black, with tight skirts and black stockings, and often had a bored look on her face, silently challenging anyone to come at her and say something.

No one ever did, obviously. People merely stared as she passed by, disdain etched on their faces. You lived in a small town, filled with filthy rich people, and your parents had been the popular group that never really outgrew their high-school years: they still talked about it vividly, gossiped and acted like they were teenagers, sometimes.

However, you didn’t mind living in such a tight-knit community. There was something comforting in knowing everyone, and oddly enough, you felt safe to feel there was always a pair of eyes watching out for you — not watching you, no. Well, people could do that, too: be excessively mean and controlling at times, but you know how to set your boundaries well. You played your part, being a former straight A student who was now attending the local university, with plans to join your father at the architecture company he owned, once you were done with your studies. You had been the perfect little debutant, and could always be found next to your friends or your parents at the charity events and lavish galas hosted by the community. You couldn’t say it wasn’t suffocating at times, but it wasn’t like you completely hated it.

Clearly, you were unable to say the same for Ningning. What had stirred this change inside of her? Your chest burned every time you thought about it, eager to know. You yearned to be a part of her life again, yet a small part of your brain was too afraid to ask her about it, knowing she’d answer you wholeheartedly.

You hated the change. You missed your best friend too much. You missed the old her.

The Ning who would flick her lights to let you know she was there, whenever it was time for you to go to sleep. The Ning who let you cry on her shoulder for hours at your grandfather’s funeral. The Ning who would attend the school games to see you cheer, who stood by your side when your dad left, and who washed all of your fears away when your mother remarried.

That was your soulmate; the Ningning who was always there for you. Not the reckless girl with a blank face who didn’t seem to care about a single thing.

Although, you were beginning to think you did not know her at all.

—

“Can I come?” You ask, trying to suppress a shiver as the wind blows cold against your body. It had certainly not been the best idea to wear a white, short dress with even tinier undershorts and boots in autumn, but you couldn’t think about anything else to put on.

With only a leather jacket to warm off your body, your eyeliner, smudged, dark makeup and heavy jewelry mirrored the girl standing in front of you, and you can’t help but smile.

You’d fit in well.

“Excuse me?” Ningning exclaims, frowning in disbelief.

“I want to come with you.” You repeat yourself, holding your own hands nervously. “You’ve changed, Ning. I’m not stupid… I just want to understand. Would you show it to me, please?”

You hate the way she’s looking at you, like she’s still deciding whether to allow yourself into her new world. You also hate the way your voice cracks, always vulnerable when it comes to her.

After minutes of staring, Ning decides to give you a chance. Shrugging, she leaves you alone on the sidewalk as she returns to her garage, shoving a helmet into your chest.

“Fine. But say anything funny, and I’ll leave you there alone. Got it?” You nod, trying not to feel hurt by her indifference towards you.

After a few clumsy attempts, you manage to hop in on her fancy bicycle, hands trapped tightly on her thin waist. You often spied on Ning going out with a dark motorbike, you were sure her parents hadn’t bought her. However, as the two of you go at full speed through the night, you feel like you understand her a little better: it’s so freeing, to just ride on the freeway as the wind messes up your hair. You laugh, hugging her tighter, the only thought crippling your mind being over how beautiful the moon looked in the cloudless night, alone in all its glory.

Before you register, Ningning parks her bike carefully. If not for the fact that the place was absolutely crowded, you wouldn’t be able to tell this was the place she’s been sneaking out too frequently. It’s simple: just many cars parked in a circle, occupying the large freeway as people stand against them like ants. You guess someone must’ve blocked the way, so no unwanted cars would drive by, but that was a lucky guess.

Nevertheless, you’re struck by a sudden heat wave — being surrounded by a fairly large, energetic crowd was enough for you to feel your face getting warmer, much to your liking. The atmosphere was lively, electricity hanging in the air almost palpably. It was as if everyone were anticipating, _waiting_ for something, and you were nearly sure Ning was involved in that.

“There.” She motions to the right area of the crowd, waving to someone unknown to you. “Let’s go.”

You try to act cool as she grabs your hand to guide you through the crowd, failing terribly. The truth is, it’s been months since she’s talked to you, touched you properly. Perhaps you missed Ningning much more than you could admit, judging by the serotonin boost you’d gotten by a mere touch from her.

Ning stops in front of a black Dodge, where three girls stand with bored looks. They’re all wearing black and red, in some sort of subtle color coordination. You notice Ning’s outfit follows the theme, too, her crimson crop top standing out from her black pants and leather jacket.

“You’re late, Ningning.” Giselle says, not bothering to look at you as she chews on her gum, hands brushing her hair ever so flawlessly. She’s beautiful — they all are, and there’s something in the way they pose; as if they’re royalty around the place.

“Hello to you too, Gigi.” Ning answers her, not affected by her dismissal in the slightest. Your best friend gestures to the other girls, then, giving your hand a squeeze. Even though it wasn’t needed anymore, she was still holding on to you. “Those are Karina and Winter.” They bow slightly, acknowledging your presence. “Girls, this is Y/n”.

The trio share a knowing look at the mention of your name. As if a spell had been cast upon them, the girls are all over you, swirling, giggling and speaking all at once.

“It was about time we met you, Y/n”. Winter giggles, resting her head on Karina’s shoulder.

“Right?” Giselle shakes her head, suddenly interested in the conversation, with her condescending tone. “Took Ningning long enough to bring you to the Underworld.”

The Underworld. The name alone is enough for you to shiver, shrinking under your oversized jacket. Like a reflex, you turn to your best friend, brows furrowed and mind seeking for answers. “The Underworld?”

As soon as she opens her mouth to explain, she’s dragged away by Karina, who sighs. “Tell her all about it later, Ningning. Giselle was right, you really are late, and we have to enroll you in today’s race right now.”

Ning stares at Winter with a serious look, waiting until the bob-haired girl nods to leave. “Take care of her while I’m gone.” Shooting you an apologetic look, Ning follows Karina to the heart of the crowd, not at all uncomfortable as you lose her amidst the sea of unknown faces.

You’ve been warned about such places before, ones where people go to lose themselves and do things they shouldn’t. Even though it’s dark, you’re able to see what every group is occupying themselves with, always good to notice details in a crowd. Some drinking, smoking, others doing drugs that were too explicit for such an open space. Many people acted borderline pornographic, too, engaged in heavy make out sessions and touching places that had you looking away, too embarrassed to lurk.

“I’ll go breathe some air.” You tell Winter, who’s now sitting on the hood of the car, furiously typing on a computer as big as her head. She must’ve grabbed it from the passenger’s seat while you were busy looking around, horrified.

You expect her to protest, specially since Ning had been clear in her words, but the small girl doesn’t even look at you for more than three seconds before answering, still heavily focused on the screen that lights her face. “Okay.”

Before she’s even finished, you turn around and dodge people as best as you can, barging towards the woods located on the edge of the road without hesitation. You walk until the lively event is just a faint noise, crippling your ears like a bug on a hot, sticky day.

Now, being able to breathe the cold air of the night properly and free from the demons of the night, you try to understand your best friend. Ning has always been a free spirit, independent and strong-willed. But, while her wild nature did stir up some trouble in your community, she’s always been welcomed and loved. That’s how a family worked, right? You might fight, but you also sort things out, eventually.

The sound of dry leafs being stepped on startles you, but you’re soon at ease once you see Ningning’s silhouette coming out of the darkness. She sits by your side, both looking at the moon instead of facing each other.

She must be afraid too, you reckon. Of you judging her choices, turning your back on her like her family did, the moment she changed her attitude.

Well, you did judge, but you’d never leave her alone. You love her too much to do so, even if you couldn’t quite understand her ulterior motives.

Ning looks beautiful under the moonlight, her long hair shiny as she plays with her own fingers, hesitant to speak up. Her hair is one of the last things she’s kept true to herself after this sudden change. You let your hands run through, reminiscing the times when, not matter how impatient, she’d let you comb and style it.

Such memories must’ve been going through her mind, too, in a reassurance of the bond you shared. Gathering courage, she turned her face to you, smiling faintly.

“Illegal fights and street races. That’s what we do here in the underworld, that’s what it’s about.” Ning keeps you from interrupting her, already aware of what you’re going to ask. “I’ve seen people do some darker shit, yeah, like drugs and stuff, but the girls and I stay far away from that. It’s not something you can deal with without falling into a hole, you know. And I’m not trying to dig myself a grave or anything.”

You breathe in deeply, acknowledging everything she’s said. It’s like you’re walking on thin ice: one phrase worded wrongly, and she’d shut herself off from you for good.

So you choose the safest route. “And… the girls? You, hm, you all race?”

At your words, Ning relaxes instantly. Her shoulders fall off, glad you didn’t start screaming at her or trying to brainwash her guts. She expected a far worse reaction.

Shaking her head, her tone is a little more excited as she answers. “I’m the only driver of the group. Giselle fixes the mechanics, Winter does the stats, and Karina handles the bets and closes off the deals. They are my girls, Y/n. My family.”

You stand up, unconsciously walking around in little circles as you tried to think of the right words to not scare off your best friend. The truth is, this whole Underworld thing was not only scary — it terrified you to know Ning had found herself in such a place. She needed to think through all of this situation, and realize she was losing herself badly, walking into a path set for destruction. She needed help, and she so desperately needed to come to her true senses. You had to save Ning from herself, and you’d do just that.

“We’ll take you back.” The words come out without you really thinking through, not at all as careful as you wish to be. You turn around completely to face Ning, only to find her already staring, her big eyes as cloudy as ever. “We know you’re sorry, Ning, it’s ok. Just… let us go back, then it will all be just like before.”

She lifts her brows, and she takes a few steps towards you, not stopping until you’re trapped, back hitting the trunk of a tree.

“I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, Y/n.” She’s angry, and you hate seeing her mad. Specially at you. Ning never got mad at you. “I’m sorry that we were born in this shitty ass town with so many rich fuckers, and I’m sorry that stupid community has brainwashed you so much they can control you as they please. I apologize for being distant because I know it hurts you, but besides that, I’ve done nothing wrong.”

She’s breathless from speaking with such fervor, both of her hands placed on each of your sides so you have no way of escaping.

And even though you gulp, you force your body to not have any fear. It’s Ningning: your best friend, your soulmate. She’d never hurt you.

She’d never.

“Ning.” You look down, failing to hide the tremor in your voice. “Ning, let me go.”

Something in her eyes shift the moment she noticed the fear in your voice. Her pupils are wide blown, and her smile is just wrong, staring at you from head to toe. Suddenly, you’re hyper aware of the wind messing with your very short dress, and how hot you feel, despite the cool weather.

Somehow, you get the feeling she’s thinking the same thing, too. Time stops as her eyes fall to your lips, and she’s on top of you in a blink. Kissing, tugging, licking… Ning’s desperation is something you can taste, and it’s written all over. This kiss is not like the sweet, chaste experiences you’ve had before. Ning kisses you like a woman starved, taking until there’s no air left, and your lungs are burning, claiming for relief.

Her kiss is venomous, so sinful you fear what you’d do if you experience it again.

“W-what the fuck, Ning! Why’d you do that?” You manage to say, crossing your arms over your chest to try to get some distance between you. “This wrong, Ning. This isn’t y—“

“Did they send you here?” She ignores your words completely, hands assaulting your body as you move against her. “Is that it? Are they that fucking desperate, really?”

Perhaps you’re weak, maybe she’s been putting some work in the gym, but the truth is she doesn’t move an inch, no matter how much try to pull her away. If anything, it only brings her closer to you, that wicked smirk still on her face.

“What? They… no! Of course not. I came because I want to understand you.” Her accusations hurt, even though you know she’s not entirely wrong. The truth is, Ning’s too smart for her own good.

Surprisingly, her fingers are delicate as they brush one of your shoulders, playing with your dress sleeve before letting it slide midway, enough for it to expose yourself to the dark night. You shiver, not only due to the winds that cause your nipples to harden, but also because of the girl who stares at you like a woman starved. She’s salivating, and you watch her every breath until she lowers her head and latches her mouth onto one of your boobs, her teeth teasingly picking on your nipples.

It’s as if you’ve been electrocuted. Your back arches, and you try even harder to let go of the hand that’s keeping yours clasped together so tightly it hurts, but you can’t set yourself free. Did her touches always feel like that? So wrong, yet so… good, you look forward to more?

“Stop, p-please. Ning, my b-boyfriend…” It’s all you’re able to mutter, choosing to keep your mouth shut. You’re too afraid of the sounds that might come out of your lips if you continue speaking.

You’ve never felt like this before. This tingling sensation, erupting to all your body — specially to your core. The warmth that eloped your body like you were too close to the sun. It felt good, Ning’s touches are so good you _itch_ with need.

It’s no surprise you’ve touched yourself before. You were no saint, either. However, it has never felt anything close to that. You would never be able to mimic Ning’s hands, cupping your breasts, pinching your waist, forcefully opening your legs to keep her knee seated between them… all while still trapping you, the burning sensation in your hands serving as a lively reminder of the situation you were currently in.

“Your boyfriend, yes. That fucking idiot.” Ning’s hands go straight to the hem of your shorts, forcing them down. “He’s never touched you like that, right Y/nnie? Surely, you’d tell me. I’m your best friend, after all.”

Tears start to cloud your vision as her hands pull down your shorts, fingers going all the way under your dress to find the bare skin of your abdomen. She scratches it slightly, even though you find yourself still struggling vigorously against her touches.

“Ning, you don’t know what you’re doing. I’m sorry, please s-stop…” Ning huffs, annoyed by your attempts to get her off you.

“No, Y/n. I know exactly what I’m doing.” She laughs as her teeth scratch your shoulder, and then she bites. It’s so unexpected you scream, ashamed to admit that her harsh touches are the reason your insides are embarrassingly wet. “I bet you’ve touched yourself thinking of me, too. God, Y/n. You act like you’re this good little example to others, but I know you better than anyone. You’re such a dirty, hungry whore.”

Ning’s salivating, her wet mouth leaving a trail of saliva on your skin as you stop moving against her chest. Instead, you let your head rest on the corner of her neck, biting your mouth so hard you feel the metallic taste of blood in your tongue. Ning notices it, too — her eyes have never stopped observing you attentively, not from the moment she’s met you for the first time. Grabbing your neck possessively, she pulls you in for another hungry, aggressive kiss, her tongue forcing its way over your mouth until your taste was all hers to delight herself with, too.

Without an alibi to hide your pleasure, you moan against her lips, chest moving rapidly with the adrenaline. You feel her smile, too.

This doesn't seem right, in any way. Your best friend, forcing you to surrender against her wishes and talking to you like you were nothing… it is all wrong, deeply wrong.

But why is she making you feel so alive? Why is the burning sensation that expands over every inch of your skin so addicting?

If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?

“Does he touch you like this?” Ning asks with a sultry tone, as her fingers toy with your folds. The anticipation drives you insane, only intensifying your arousal. You gasp at the sensation of her fingers in your cunt, hovering and so close to where you need her. Your silence irritates her, clearly. “Answer me, whore.”

Her hands, God — her hands leave your cunt so quickly and reach out for your throat, squeezing on your pulse point with such precision you nearly cum on the spot. You feel lightheaded, unable to think about anything but how alive Ning makes you feel. In fact, it’s her touches that ground you again, reminding you of what is happening.

She kisses your jaw, her tone dripping with fake-sweetness as she murmurs. “Tell me what I already know, Y/n. Say it.”

With that, you’re aware of your current situation: Ning’s getting inside your head, distracting you with pleasure until you’re dumbed down enough to surrender to her wishes.

When did she become so evil?

“Stop— touching me.” You say, turning your head away from her. Still, you can’t help but obey, even though your voice is barely audible as you add. “You know the answer, already.”

Ning’s hand slides through your body, taking her time to grope, scratch and pinch as she pleases until she’s cupping your cunt again, her motion too sweet for the harsh way she’s been acting towards you. Two of her fingers go to your slit, taking all the air from your longs as she shoves them in and out slowly, savoring the sensation both for herself and for you. And you’re _wet_ — so much her fingers slide easily, despite your lack of experience. It’s as though time had stopped: the animals have stopped making noises, the wind has stopped humming and all the people at the street have quieted. All you can hear is Ning’s breathing, just as erratic as you, and the lewd sounds coming out from your cunt.

It feels so good, you wonder how you've lived all this time without Ningning touching you like that. Like you were a secret gemstone she was more than ready to unravel.

“If you want me to stop touching you, then why are you so fucking wet?” She asks, cocky as you whimper under her. Your legs feel like jelly, and suddenly you’re so glad for the tree you’re relying on, and Ning’s leg between your thighs, forcing them open. “No, Y/n. You know damn well what you want. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.” Her following words are what break you. As your thumb meets your clit, she adds, “You’re as rotten as me, filthy girl. I just choose not to run from myself anymore.”

You want to deny it. There’s nothing more you want than to pull Ning back and scream at her face, talking about how insufferable she’s become and how much of an asshole she was. But your brain has long been turned into mush, focused on only one thing: gathering the crippling sensation that was forming in your lower abdomen and let it explode, turning it into a mind-blowing wave of pleasure. It’s all you’ve ever wanted: to cum. Nothing else really matters.

You don’t even recognize yourself, clinging onto Ning as if your life depended on it. Her skilled fingers don’t stop their motion on your slit as her thumb applies more pressure to your clit, circling it harshly, so fast it makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull with pleasure. It feels unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: every inch of your body boils, and you’ve never wanted so bad to just explode.

Faint screams fill the background, with Ning’s name being called repeatedly, surely from the girls looking for her. However, you don’t pay them any mind. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are loud, sinful moans — the most beautiful melody to Ning’s ears.

“N-ning…” You whine, carving your nails onto your best friend’s skin. Sweat gathers in your forehead as you feel your orgasm close, but you’re too stubborn to say anything to her.

Ning knows you well, though. Your muscles tense, and you cum as she keeps her strokes hard and fast, just what you need to explode into waves of pleasure. It hits so good you scream, legs shaking as she holds you as if you weight nothing, keeping you from falling onto the dust. White dots dance around your vision, fireworks exploding inside you as the orgasm washes through your body, in rhythmic waves of pleasure.

It was borderline addicting.

“Ningning! There you are, fucker. We’ve been looking for ages.” Karina’s body appears from the darkness, her impeccable frame easy to distinguish from anything else. You’re so fucked out it takes you a few seconds to register her presence; by then, Ning has already covered you, adjusting your dress back on with precise movements. “Don’t be irresponsible just because of some pussy, dude! You’re up in five, come on.”

You don’t miss the way Karina’s eyes stare at your body, not an ounce of shame in her pretty face. However, you don’t feel ashamed to have her attention on you. If anything, you can feel your face blushing, your body slowly feeling hot again.

Lust is a dangerous thing, indeed.

Ning doesn’t miss Karina’s cue either, judging by the way she scoffs. Dismissing her with an annoyed tone, Ning mutters, “I said I was coming.” She gestures to the trees and the wild bushes, then. “You can lead the way.”

Karina laughs, not missing her last opportunity to address you, as she turns around and waves. “Bye, Y/n. I hope you’re around more often.”

You giggle, too, amazed by how she camouflages herself so easily, lost amidst the night and the forest.

Still, the girl in front of you captures all of your attention. Like always, she’s already staring, her brown hair messy from your making out.

“This is the real world, Y/n. I’m not going back.” She says, not leaving any space for discussion. You know that tone too well; Ning’s already made her choice, and it wasn’t the one you wanted her to pick. With big, sad eyes, she adds, “I wish you would free yourself, too.”

Her delicate tone breaks your heart. Deep down, you know she means it. Ning’s following what she believes in, and she wishes she could share her world with you, too.

She walks away without looking back, sure of who she was and what she wanted for her future.

With a heavy sigh, you follow her towards the highway once again.

You’d follow her through it all.

#sol writes #kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #aespa x fem reader #aespa smut #aespa x reader #aespa x yn #aespa x you #ningning x reader #ningning smut #ning yizhuo smut #ning yizhuo x reader #ning yizhuo x yn #ning smut

366 notes · View notes

togrowoldinv · 8 months

Text

It Is Well

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You’re the choir director at Wanda’s church. One afternoon after church, your relationship with her changes

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Reader has a penis but no pronouns are used, kissing, cursing, sex in a church oops, oral (W receiving), blowjob, Wanda being a milf

Note: I have no explanation, just love for milf Wanda. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There are a lot of reasons that you love your new job. One is that you get to live out your passion for singing and help others in the process. The second reason is that it pays well. The church was desperate for a new choir director, so they were willing to pay you pretty much whatever you wanted.

But the reason that you love your job the most is that you’ve met Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda is your favorite choir member by far. She is always punctual, she sings beautifully, and she flirts with you.

At least, you think she’s flirting with you. She is always making an excuse to touch your arm as she walks by you, or she’ll stay late to help you work on arrangements.

“Hey there!” Wanda says as she enters the choir suite today.

“Wanda, how are you?” You ask.

“I’m doing mighty fine. And you?”

“Honestly, I could use some help,” you admit.

Wanda nods seriously and sets her purse down. She sits next to you at the piano. You try not to notice how good she looks in her button up shirt.

“How can I help, darlin’?” She asks.

“I’m trying to make this transition sound right, but I just can’t.”

“Play it for me,” Wanda says.

You begin to play the song and Wanda sings along quietly. Her voice floats through the room like a sweet songbird. When you get to the transition, you stop. It still hasn’t come to you.

Wanda touches your hand and places your fingers on a few different keys than the ones you’ve been trying.

“It is well,” she begins singing. She nods for you to continue playing. “It is well with my soul.”

It’s the perfect transition.

“Wanda Maximoff you are a genius!” You say. Wanda hugs you tightly and smiles. “We’re ready for the service now.”

“I’ll get my robe on,” Wanda says.

She stands up from the piano and takes her robe out of the closet. Somehow, she looks even better in it than in her regular clothes.

“Looking very nice, ma’am,” you compliment Wanda.

“Thank you,” Wanda replies. She walks closer to you. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Yeah- of course.”

Wanda is just inches from you. You smell her perfume.

“I’ve always thought these robes were kind of silly, but then I saw you in one,” Wanda says. “And now I think they are very flattering.”

Wanda grins before she steps back and leaves the suite. You stand there stunned by her words. She was definitely flirting with you this time.

You try to shake it off and go lead the choir during service. It goes without a hitch. The only time you almost miss a cue is when Wanda smiles at you. It’s really that easy for her to make you fold.

After the service, you go back to the choir suite. No one else is in there when you walk in, but soon Wanda comes in and shuts the door behind her.

“You should leave that on,” Wanda says, gesturing to your robe.

“Are they calling for an encore out there?” You joke.

Wanda crosses the room quickly. She places a hand on your forearm and the other comes to rest on your cheek. Your breath hitches at her movements.

“I’m very attracted to you,” Wanda says. “Are you attracted to me?”

“Wanda, I- um- it’s not that simple,” you say. Of course, your answer is yes.

“I think it’s simple. You’re absolutely stunning,” Wanda says.

“You’re beautiful, Wanda. But we can’t.”

Wanda pouts her perfect lips. You fight the urge to lean forward and kiss them.

“Would you really deny me this pleasure, sweetheart?” She asks.

“No,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“No ma’am.”

She grins wickedly and places her lips on yours in a long, slow kiss. Her hand on your face slips into your hair as she deepens the kiss. Her other hand takes yours and places it over one of her breasts. Even through the robe and her clothing, you can feel the breast.

You kiss until neither of you can breathe. And then you drop to your knees in front of Wanda. She lifts her robe up over her hips. Taking your time, you take off her skirt and let her panties fall to the floor.

“Make me feel good, baby,” Wanda says.

You place kisses against her creamy thighs. She shivers with every touch, and you know her husband doesn’t touch her like this. Wanda moans when you lick through her folds, gathering her wetness with your tongue.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” Wanda says. “About you on your knees worshipping me in this church.”

“Fuck,” you mumble against her.

Wanda’s hand comes to your hair to encourage you to continue. You never want to stop. You take her clit in your mouth and her hips stutter. In a few more moments, Wanda falls apart at your touch. She has to reach for the nearest chair to regain her balance.

“Holy fuck, Wanda,” you say when you emerge from between her legs.

“Mmm, come here,” she says. She lifts you up by your shoulders and you kiss her.

Wanda lets out the softest moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. She wants more. You let her take control, pushing you down to the ground again.

This time she lifts your robe up your body to reveal your hips and something she didn’t expect. Your cock is hard, and Wanda immediately takes it into her mouth. She sucks until you’re coming into her mouth.

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Wanda says. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Ride my cock, baby?” You ask her.

Wanda nods and settles herself over you. She aligns her center with your cock, slipping onto it with ease. She is so wet from getting you off. The woman rides your cock as she moves her hands over your abdomen. You can see yourself slipping in and out of her even with your choir robe bunched up at your chest.

“Fuck, Wanda, I’m going to come,” you say as you feel yourself getting close.

“Me too,” she groans out. Her eyes are closed with pleasure. She shouts as she comes, and you spill into her.

Wanda lets you stay inside her until she’s come down from her high. You kiss her when she slips off of you and lays on the ground next to you.

“We should’ve done that months ago,” you say.

“Agreed,” Wanda says. She chuckles. “Can you go again?”

You look down at yourself. It’s unlikely but you’re willing to try.

“Maybe if we kissed for a while first? Or you let me get you off first?”

“By all means, go ahead,” Wanda says.

You laugh and turn over to kiss Wanda again. Lifting her robe off this time, you pay close attention to her breasts. And you bring her pleasure again. She does the same for you.

Wanda is definitely why you love your job, especially now.

#wanda maximoff x reader #milf!wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #I just think that Wanda in a choir robe

958 notes · View notes

soulrph · 10 months

Text

chaotic unhinged lines from 2022-2023 (prompt edition).

basically in 2021 i made a list of prompts inspired by lines in tiktok videos and instagram reels that made me laugh so hard i cried! and now i have returned with another list! these may provide an alarmingly clear image of what my sense of humor is (aka broken) but i figure a little levity is always a good thing! more prompts are forthcoming, but in the mean time: bon appetit!

knowledge has always chased you, but you've always been faster.

no... no, that was mango apathy juice. from the farmer's market.

of all these people, you are the one i understand the least. i want to get to know you better, but like, not that much better.

i-i will CHEW YOUR MEAT!! WHAT are you doing?!

ooooh god, no, you wouldn't be long getting frostbit!

you are evil. like a hobbit.

WHY MUST YOU FAIL ME SO OFTEN?!?!!?

i have had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn't it.

AHEM!! fill my cup.

may god ignore you like you ignored my greetings.

i will avenge you mister van gogh.

call off work bestie, we need you to solve a murder. here's fifteen dollars.

you're not in love. you may think you are, you dumb fuck, but you're not.

go ahead and put the ranch away.

sadly, "hopefully" doth butter no parsnips.

forget school, i want to be an italian sandwich.

you shouldn't skip work, you are a lawyer and he is a hamster.

you can stop roleplaying now. you're free.

her coupon game was so fucking raw.

i'm sorry guys... he's making a salad.

you could get a straight guy here if you learned to make a good pasta. i'll teach you how to make a risotto that'll get you married and out of my basement.

hey, do you want me to get together a plate of roast beef and hide it in our room so we can have night meats?

it's not the most ethical thing in the world, but in a pinch you can hand off a cursed object to basically any baby.

no, children, you're wrong. once upon a time, there was a piece of wood.

and i'm not saying she deserved it, but i am saying that god's timing is always riiiiight.

hydrate or die-drate, ya DICK!

why did the monkey fall out of the tree? because it was DEAD.

new york city is a fictional place written up by someone with a sinister mind and a knack for comedy.

this is grindr my guy.

wait, i didn't finish teaching you the difference between human and wolf anatomy.

it's time to tell your grandmother that she was wrong. do not be afraid.

vanilla vodka... you fucking child.

without ash to rise from, a phoenix would just be a bird getting up.

you are fucking alive. do what you want.

why are you cradling me like a baby, friend? this isn't how guys of my generation hang out.

i hope a hedgehog shits in your cereal, you difficult person.

you know, i am not as mean as i would like to be. and i think people should appreciate that more.

see, i am not a kangaroo.

well, i'd like to help, but... you see... not as much as i'd like not to.

rest in peace you fucking onion fairy.

when god sings with all his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

i fight for a seat in heaven, every. single. day.

map maker? can you find me somewhere on the map where this big man thinks he's the king?

you bald-headed demon...

so... there are 24 million pigs in australia... and 24 million people... so if you ever feel lonely, there's like, a pig out there that's sort of your cosmic twin.

remember, alcohol is god's apology for making us self-aware.

i'm straight!! stop CONFUSING me!!!!!

you guys want something to eat? because... i know we'll die if we don't eat.

he is a BIBLICALLY gorgeous man. i wanna feed him grapes. i wanna fan him with the frond of a date palm from the forests of Lebanon. i wanna find the alabaster vial of perfume oil that one woman broke for jesus and comb it through his hair. like... he's stressing me OUT.

i'm not sad! i'm freaking HUNGRY!

maybe, if we wait a little bit longer, a fuck will fall into my hand, and i can give it to you.

it's not my fault you thought you lived in this IKEA.

let's leave my mother out of this.

jason may kill people but he's not bad enough to kick a dog.

i run for LUMP!

oh no, i'm all out of caring, baby!

you don't think it mcbe that way... but it mcdo.

what is this enticing bowl of white?

serious question, do his nipples sparkle?

what in the reese's peanut butter fuck is going on here?

if your parents don't buy it, stop loving them!

i just hope you know just how much you've decreased productivity today.

that was poetry at its FINEST.

and if you let that motherfucker shenan ONCE, you best believe they're gonna shenanIGAN!

may god bless the dinosaur that died to make the fossil fuel that was treated to become petrol in the car that took her mom to the hospital to give birth to her.

that's modern milk for ya. what a time to be alive.

you have attachment issues. please fix it.

remember when people had secrets? we should bring that back.

the moon landing was an elaborate marriage proposal.

i don't like the cobra chicken.

i didn't know eggs were this expensive? it's time to lay my own, i fear.

so you're saying the reason i don't have a girlfriend is because i'm not a big enough threat yet.

god gave him a top lip, that's why he's so powerful.

it's a common mistake, but frankenstein was actually the author.

i finally got a pocket-sized diary!!! also i don't get the concept of life.

if a beautiful woman disagrees with me, i will immediately change my view. i've no principles.

how did you all end up married to such boiled potatoes?

if so much as one tear drops from their eye... i will slap you back into your mum.

you are ringing a phone that does not like to be rung.

look how Dr. doofenschmirtz had a fucked up childhood but didn't project his trauma onto his teenage daughter. he projected it onto a platypus.

it is mathematically impossible for you to get a wedgie.

i'm breaking up with you. i love you, it's just... i don't think you could protect me from a mummy.

if you can't do fractions....... you will fucking die.

that's right; in the year 1791, all of our bottoms were killed in a Big Bottom Massacre.

people always assume i'm mean. like CAN you BELIEVE THAT CRAP?! like WHAT would make you think i'm MEAN?! I'M THE NICEST PERSON ON THE PLANET!

the chocolate milk is strikingly overpriced and at the same time very easy to steal; another of god's little tests.

someone's gotta tell the waiter that i ordered mashed 'taters and it sure as shit ain't gonna be me.

if i had a week i couldn't list all the reasons that wouldn't work.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #writing prompts

1K notes · View notes