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devildom-moss · 6 months

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idk how to verbalise this idea properly so bear with me but: mc whose entire logic in life is 'fuck it we ball' including when it comes to romance, so they just completely go along with any attempts at flirting in a sort of "yes, and-" fashion

which probably only encourages said suitor and then mc has the Audacity to be surprised when it gets intense enough for them to realise they're actually being seduced lol

gn mc with just the brothers for now pls!! thank u for your services

Hopefully this request is what you were looking for. Honestly, I had a bit of confusion while writing, but I tried. I went with headcanons because that seemed like the best fit. Thanks for the request.

gn!MC who casually flirts back with the demon brothers headcanons

(and then has the audacity to be surprised that they're being genuinely pursued)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +2700

Lucifer

Lucifer is an awful flirt, trying so hard to fluster MC and convince them of his dominance. (Where’s it at though? I don’t see it.) His flirting is so suggestive that it’s actually pretty easy to just assume it’s a bit of playful teasing between friends.

For MC, it plays out like those posts that say something and then escalate immediately – something like “Kiss your homies goodnight. Kiss them with tongue. Eat their ass.”

Having an MC who flirts back with him can be a bit embarrassing, and it gets Lucifer’s hopes up so much. (“Could you pour me another cup of coffee, MC?” “Third one this morning, Luci. Not sleeping well?” “I’m afraid not. Perhaps you should come over and help – but then again, we might not get much sleep if you do.” “Aw, Luci, do you want me to fuck you senseless to help you fall asleep?” “If you’re offering, who am I to refuse.”)

He’ll be frustrated that MC keeps flirting with him, but they never follow through.

Lucifer is so horny that it’s absurd. MC could be completely normal, and this man would be thirsting. (“I really don’t want to do this lesson. This chapter is so boring.” “Normally, I wouldn’t use positive reinforcement, but if you complete your work, I’ll reward you.” “What kind of reward?” “Come to my room tonight and find out.”)

Poor MC doesn’t realize they’re being seduced until Lucifer has dragged them into his bed.

“Sleep with me.” “I’m not really tired, Lucifer.” “Good. Then you’ll have plenty of energy to make out and maybe even fuck me – if you want.” His touch would be so intimate – rubbing their inner thigh or groping their ass. “IF I WHAT?!?”

Lucifer would turn pink up to his ears. Part of him thinks MC is just teasing him again, but he would quickly realize that they’re being genuine. He’d feel absolutely humiliated. Did they not want him at all? Did all of that flirting mean nothing?

Before he could die from the shame, Lucifer would manage to blurt out, “Do you want me or not?” He wants some honest commitment in return for his affection, and if MC won’t bring that, that’s unacceptable. Of course, there is some thrill in a chase, but in that moment, Lucifer won’t have it in him. It would be a battle to fight some other day.

If MC tells him no or gives a half-hearted response, he will ask them to leave his room with one hand covering his blushing face. He wouldn’t even be able to look at them as he closed the door – and he’d probably avoid them for a day or two. (Also, he might cry a little after the door is locked).

If MC insists that they do want him, he’ll be especially needy while also acting all sadistic – attempting to tease them to distract from his own embarrassment. This poor loser will require so many kisses to reinflate his ego.

Mammon

To be fair, Mammon would bring this upon himself. He loves to act like he’s uninterested – constantly interrupting his fawning and puppy-like following of MC to save himself from the absolute humiliation of being *gasp* honest about his feelings.

I can see Mammon regularly initiating flirting, but this man can’t follow through to save his own life (maybe to save the life of someone else, though). An MC who reciprocates his flirting would leave him a blushing, flustered mess. Most of the time, his embarrassment cuts the interaction short.

“Ya just can’t get enough of the Great Mammon, can ya?” “Of course not, you handsome devil~” “I- uh! Hmph! Damn right!” he’d say it, crossing his arms and avoiding eye contact while the blush rises in his cheeks. How is MC supposed to respond?

If they tease him further and flirt more, he’ll just yell and tell them to knock it off. If they just shrug it off and move on, Mammon will be too flustered to make another move on them that day. The flirtatious spark just kind of fizzles out like a defective firecracker.

It takes a lot of boldness on Mammon’s end to get MC to realize he’s being serious. And honestly, Mammon is so adorable, MC may have the opportunity to take the initiative and push things a little further first. (You want to tell me most MCs could just flirt with Mammon, reducing him to a blushing, aggressive mess, and go back to watching that movie or playing that video game upon Mammon’s belligerent demand, and not want to kiss his face? Okay, sure.)

But let’s ignore that thought and say MC follows Mammon’s flirting in the “yes, and” fashion. After Mammon continuously sabotages his own chances, eventually, he’s going to get so frustrated that he will smother his own shyness long enough to get what he wants.

He’ll get MC alone and string together some make-shift confession – a plea for more. “Ya know, if ya wanna kiss the Great Mammon or somethin’, I’m not gonna stop ya – like, I mean, I want a little more outta ya. So, don’t hold back just cause ya think I don’t want to or nothin’.” (translation: Please kiss me. I know I act like I don’t want you, but I really, really want you to kiss me. Please, please, please.)

His face will burn, and a blush will work its way up to his ears. It’ll be hard to deny the intensity of his feelings, and it will weigh down on MC – a truth previously held in a bag on their back, tethered to dozens of helium balloons that disguised its weight, and then suddenly found every string cut loose by Mammon’s admission. He really loved them. For his confession, all Mammon would get was a stunned but heartfelt “oh.”

He gets so upset and embarrassed that MC didn’t realize he was being serious before. He went on a rollercoaster of emotions; meanwhile, this whole time, they hadn’t even taken his advances in earnest. It’s practically offensive.

The only remedy for Mammon’s bruised dignity is for MC to immediately hold and kiss him until he’s temporarily satisfied. (“Ya owe me big time for not takin’ me seriously.”)

Leviathan

I mean, he kind of has to flirt before MC can flirt back – unless we’re going to count accidentally blurting out his innermost perverted desires as flirting. Sure, I suppose it’s basically flirting to tell someone “It’s sexy when you tell me what to do. I can’t stop imagining you doing that in other settings.”

He’s so bad at flirting that nothing will happen for a long time after he realizes he’s head over heels. Levi is fine spending the rest of his (or at least MC’s) life pining for them – or at least he believes that. But the longing and desire will start to creep in, and he’ll wonder how much he can ask from MC. Friends can hold hands and maybe even cuddle, right? Maybe even kiss? Could they even –?

The thoughts eat away at him until he can’t wait for MC to make the move anymore. It slips out of him like some mating request written by Dr. Suess: “Would you –? Could you –? With an otaku? A gross, disgusting one, too?”

Levi is so visibly flustered that he doesn’t leave much room for ignorance. Even the most extreme masochist wouldn’t subject themselves to the furiously blushing, trembling state that Leviathan had worked himself into. He’d be on the brink of tears. All his hope in the world would be precariously perched on a ledge, awaiting your response.

I can’t see MC not knowing that Levi was attempting to seduce them, but perhaps the timing of it came as a surprise. Or perhaps they had never taken his affection seriously. He has so many favorites that he can’t pursue; just because he has a massive crush on MC doesn’t mean he had plans to act on it.

He will get even more embarrassed and down on himself to know that MC didn’t take him seriously at first. He understands, but that doesn’t make it any less hurtful.

He will require physical reassurance – as much of it as MC is willing to give him. And honestly, if MC doesn’t end up kissing him until he forgets how to think after his confession, he’ll probably hide in his room for a few weeks purely out of shame.

Satan

With an MC like this, the back-and-forth flirting goes on for an inordinate amount of time. Satan is not a flirt by any definition, but when there’s someone he likes, he knows how to turn on the charm. He’s smart, passionate, and mentally quick on his feet; he’s a natural charmer for the right audience.

Satan moves pretty slow when romance is concerned. If Levi wasn’t such a hopeless cause (affectionately), Satan would probably be the slowest to escalate a romantic relationship. He and MC will have a dozen dates under their belts before the desire for more had become an unbearable burden for Satan to silently ignore.

Eventually, Satan would find himself reading in his room with MC, unable to hold back anymore. He would ask, “Would you mind if I kissed you?” “No, I don’t mind if you want to.” “Could I kiss you now?” “Eh, sure.”

Everything up to that point could have been misread as platonic or some casual interest – maybe even curiosity on his end.

But he was serious, and it was evident in the way he approached MC to collect that kiss. He would straddle their hips, set their book aside (face down to mark the page like a real gentleman), and lean down for the kiss. Then, his lips would move against theirs, and the smallest sigh would escape him like a quiet release of sexual tension that had pressurized his entire body. Then, it would all click for MC.

Surprisingly, he wouldn’t be upset or humiliated if MC hadn’t taken him seriously before. In fact, he sees it as more of a personal failing, and in a low, seductive voice, he would tell them, “Allow me to prove how genuine and deep my feelings are for you.”

Asmodeus

He flirts with everyone, so how was MC supposed to know??

He asks them on dates so often. He’s probably the only one who could make out with MC and they’d still think, “yeah, we’re besties” because when Asmo pulls away with a giggle and a grin, telling them how much fun that was, it doesn’t feel serious.

It would take a moment of angst – either Asmo feeling like MC doesn’t take his advances seriously enough (and they don’t) or MC getting down on themselves – for them to realize.

Asmo would pull them into his room and leave small kisses all over them, peppering in compliments. “You’re so gorgeous, and I adore looking at your face.” Then, he would kiss their cheek. “You’re such a sweetheart.” Then, the other cheek. “I always have so much fun when I’m with you. I don’t ever want you to leave my side.” He would kiss their forehead. “I want you to feel confident; you’re such a wonderful soul.” (He would probably add more compliments if MC was feeling self-conscious.)

His words would get sweeter and more honest. “I feel seen in your eyes – like every part of me is accepted. I don’t have to play it up or try.” He would work his way down their neck with soft pecks to their skin. “I want to share everything beautiful in this world with you.” In part to avoid meeting their gaze. “I want to make you smile with everything I have.” And in part so he could whisper the words into their ear. “I want to help you whenever you need me. I’ll sit right next to you through any pain and hardships you encounter.” No one else had earned the right to hear his praise and affection. “I want to be a comfort for you – someone you can return to like a home.”

Finally, he would face them with a striking affection. “You know I’m in love with you, right? It’s not just lust and fun. You’re everything. You matter the most – after me, of course. It’s me and you and everything else.”

Asmo seduces everyone. That isn’t shocking. But this was more than seduction. It was genuine courtship. He won’t fault MC for being surprised. It caught him off guard too.

Beelzebub

Beel is not super flirty, but he makes it known that he cares through his actions. So, there aren’t many opportunities for MC to “yes, and” flirt back with him.

He asks them out to get food often and brings them snacks, but that doesn’t signal any romantic intentions. Sometimes he might stare at MC affectionately or admit how happy he is to spend time with them, but it’s nowhere near intense.

Sometimes, he asks for something more selfish. It starts small: petting his head, holding his hand, hugging him. None of those register as seduction from Beel for MC, especially compared to the affectionate nature of his twin. In fact, no one would fault MC for thinking these were platonic wants. After all, Beel has been through a lot. Sometimes this sweet, big baby boy just needs physical affection.

Then, he would get a bit bolder with his requests: “Could you feed me?” “Can I feed you?” “Would you hold me?”

As innocent and platonic as Beel may seem, he makes a lot of off-hand remarks that sound a bit perverted. “I bet MC’s lips would taste good.” “I wonder what you taste like.” “MC has nice hands. I bet they would feel good…” These comments could open the door for some flirting from MC, though. “Wanna taste me, Beel?” “Should I give you a massage? Or maybe something more?”

MC flirting with him would make his heart race. Even if MC didn’t follow through with their flirtatious offer, it would encourage Beel to keep pushing his luck.

Finally, he would ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Beel would look so shy and embarrassed, holding his hands awkwardly to his chest, that it would be hard not to take him seriously. The question – and his desire – would be a slight shock. Beel wouldn’t mind that MC was surprised, although he would be disappointed if he was turned down.

If MC takes him up on that offer, they will come to realize that his ravenous hunger showed itself through a kiss, too – as if he had been starving for MC’s touch and affection.

Belphegor

He’s so affectionate and cuddly. In that way, he’s similar to Asmo; it’s pretty hard to tell how serious and intense Belphie’s feelings are. He’s just kind of like that.

It’s common for Belphie to ask to be spoiled with affection – head pats, feeding him, hugging him, sleeping together, going out with him, praising him, holding his hand, being his pillow, etc.

His need for attention doesn’t cover up for how flushed his face gets when MC is the one to give him affection. His neediness doesn’t explain how much he clings to MC or how he blushes and tells them not to stop touching him.

So, actually, he’s less flirty than he is demanding of attention. Going along with his demands only encourages him to vocalize and act on more of his desires. He’d even ask permission to kiss them and to be kissed.

MC probably wouldn’t figure it out until Belphie starts sleepily trying to make out with them.

“Belphie, are you half-asleep?” “What? No. I’m awake. Why?” “That was a really heated kiss.” “Of course it was. Can we keep going?” “I’m sorry, what?”

“Don’t you like me back? We sleep together, go on dates, cuddle, and you even let me kiss your face and neck whenever I please. Don’t you want to go further?”

It hits them. Belphie can read the look of surprise on MC’s face, and it makes him pout. MC really should have known how he felt by then, but he’s confident that his affection is reciprocated before MC even responds.

“Sheesh. You’re really difficult, you know? I’ve had to do a lot of the work here because you’re so dense.” Belphie would straddle MC’s lap and take off his shirt. “I’ll let it go this time, but you better start putting in more effort from now on.”

A/N: Only about 1 hour left to vote in the poll. And we just got to 100 so y'all are getting 2 posts this month. Genuinely, I typed this a/n up, talking about only needing one more vote, checked it again, and the one vote is no longer needed. Good job, y'all. I swear if there are ties...

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stuckinthesun · 6 months

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“Wish you were here with me.” Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Kinktober — Week Three: Nudes, sexting, phone sex, mutual masterbation

You looked at yourself in the mirror with a satisfied smile, happy with the way your costume turned out. At first when your friends invited you to a Halloween party, you turned them down, but after your boyfriend Leon got called away for a last minute secret mission, you decided what the hell.

The hastily put together costume fit you nicely, hugging your body well and accentuating all of your features.

You looked good.

An idea popped in your head and you grabbed your phone, quickly posing in front of the mirror to show off both the costume and your body before taking a photo. You look to make it it looks good and nod to yourself, and send it to your boyfriend with a smirk.

You put your phone down figuring he was busy and not going to answer right away, and turn to collect your stuff to leave, but your phone vibrates.

Frowning you check it,

Leon💕: Fuck

Leon💕: Send another one

Your eyes widened at your boyfriend’s response, almost being able to hear the demand in the words on your screen.

Quickly you go back to your mirror and take another picture, this time posing while bunching the bottom of your dress in your fist, showing off more of your thighs. You send it after checking it’s not blurry and very impatiently wait for his reply.

Leon💕: More

You giggle at how much Leon seems to like your costume and type back a reply,

You: I’m supposed to be leaving for a party🤨

Leon💕: Do you want to go to a party or do you want to send me pictures of you touching yourself till I can call you?

You stare at your phone with a hand over your mouth, your panties growing wet at the idea of Leon talking you through touching yourself while over the phone.

Your phone buzzed,

Leon💕: That’s what I thought

Leon💕: Cancel your plans and send me another picture

God you hated how well he knew you.

Quickly you texted your friend saying you wouldn’t be able to make it after all and open up your camera again. This time you take a front facing down angle picture, showing off your cleavage.

Sending that you head to your bed, feeling a type of thrill you’ve never felt before as you get get ready to take another photo.

Leon💕: Fuck baby keep them coming

And you did. You took pictures in any position and angle you could think of, till you were in front of your mirror with a hand between your legs rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your costume was pulled down to show off your tits and you were still snapping pictures.

Leon💕: Look how fucking wet you are

You: When can you call me?? Atp I’m gonna cum without u

Leon💕: Trust me baby I’m trying

You huff in frustration and decide it’s your turn to push your luck.

You: Then no more pictures

The response was instant.

Leon💕: Y/n

You: No it’s been almost an hour all I had wanted to do was show you my cute costume not start something that you apparently can’t even finish

With a pit in your stomach you waited for his Leon’s text, but it never came. The only thing you got in return for your message was the “read” receipt, not even the little bubble indicating he was typing.

After about five minutes when you started to get genuinely worried, thinking you actually pissed him off, your phone started ringing.

Incoming call from: Leon💕

You gulped, answering it, “Hello?”

“I better be able to hear your hand between your thighs since you’re so desperate for me I can’t even finish my meeting with the president.” Leon growled over the other end, sounding both frustrated and turned on.

“Leon-“ You started but he cut you off.

“Unless you’re moaning it I don’t want to hear it, got it?” Leon huffed, the sound of his belt buckle coming through the speaker.

You whined and instantly started rubbing your clit again, getting turned on by his words, and you moan, “Yes.”

“That’s better,” He grunts and you hear some shuffling on the speaker before Leon groans loudly, “Fuck I’ve been so hard since you sent that first picture, feels so good to finally get some relief.”

“Mmmm,” You cry out as you rub faster, sliding your fingers down to slip two of them inside of yourself.

“Fuck I really can hear you fingering yourself, baby,” Leon groans into the phone, his voice in your ear sends a shiver down your spine, “Love how wet I can make you while not even being there.”

You can hear him too, the wet sounds of him fucking his fist as he huffs into your ear. It brings you closer and closer to the edge until you just teetering over it, “L-Leon please I’m gonna-“

“You better cum screaming so I can hear you,” Leon groans and that’s all it took to push you over the finish line.

You came with a shout, just like he wanted, body shaking and your walls clenching around your fingers. You heard Leon say something along the lines of “that’s it baby, fuck,” before he moaned loudly and went quiet.

The only sounds between the both of you for a couple seconds were heavy breathing.

You were the first to break the silence, “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Leon said, voice sounding strained.

“Why haven’t we done that every other time you’ve been called away?” You asked, hearing the sound of Leon’s belt on the other end of the line again.

“I honestly don’t know.” Leon answered and you sat up when you heard the sound of a toilet flushing, “But I got to go baby, I actually was in the middle of something before you threw a tantrum.”

“Did you just jerk off in a public bathroom?” You asked, your eyes widening at the sound of a sink turning on.

“Yes and I’m blaming you.” Was the last thing Leon said before he hung up on you.

You sat there completely stunned for a minute until your phone buzzed with a new text,

Leon💕: Oh and save that costume I want to fuck you in it properly when I get home

Leon💕: Love you

Omg I’m actually on time this week

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon re4 #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil leon #leon resident evil #leon re6 #re4 leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon re2 #stuckinthesun kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil smut

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

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Hideout (1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Puppy, (see premise post or series)

Summary: An ultra-shy man named Grant arrives with various friends to your family-owned motel. He opens up slowly over the months...and grows a fantastic beard. 🤭

While this part has no mature situations, this series will be 18+ only. MINORS DNI. This is mostly pure setup for the smut in every future chapter. Your media consumption is your responsibility; please choose for yourself if these matters trigger you. If so, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not it! WC ~2k

He first arrives with only his friend—two fit fellas, one white, one black. They pay in cash, share a double room. The most information you get is Tom Smith, the more open of the two, joking that you’ll have to excuse Grant’s shyness.

Grant doesn’t seem to respond to his own name.

He’s a beefy blond, and your impression is the man doesn’t need to have a lot going on up top to get by in life. You do try not to judge, though. Your job is more about keen observation and recognizing the needs of your guests.

These two guests need privacy. They aren’t unfriendly, but they are not chatty. They go as quickly as they came. One night. The room is slept in, but they were clean enough.

The next time they show up they need three rooms, but you only have two available. Tom and Grant bunk up again, and a couple are with them who do not come into the office. The woman has beautiful auburn hair that she covers with a ball cap, and her very tall beau—whose hand she holds—shields himself in far more clothing than necessary this time of year.

They all sleep (you assume) during the day and only socialize at night when the other guests aren’t around.

Not that the party is loud; they simply seem more at ease when it’s harder to see. They stay three or four days, leaving rather suddenly early one night after paying for the time already.

Sporadically, this continues.

Once it’s only the couple. She is very reserved and he is very awkward, but again nice enough. They stay for nearly two weeks, enjoying hikes in the area, always holding hands. The woman relaxes significantly. It’s quite lovely to see.

Mister and Misses Durham, you know them as. They don’t always respond by name either.

Another visit makes five guests with the addition of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is cropped and bleach blond, and she is by far the most at ease.

It’s this visit that you realize they are just staying in their rooms during the day not sleeping, and you find the karaoke machine to take to Tom’s room.

He’s thrilled, thank goodness, because you don’t normally offer up activities to those who don’t ask about them, but Tom bangs on the doors of the other two (you think) couples so they can join him.

You’re about to leave when he asks you to do a duet with him.

Grant throws out that Tom enjoys Marvin Gaye. It’s the most you’ve heard him say, ever.

“I do,” Tom agrees, “but I don’t mess with the master.”

So you have the idea to sing Marvin Gaye—the song—with Tom as Charlie Puth and you as Meghan Trainor.

It’s quite a lot of fun, belting as best you can, finding Grant’s intense gaze on you for the lyrics: I’m like a stray without a home… I’m like a dog without a bone…

Just as quickly, however, you have to go back to the front desk. Duty calls and all.

You make sure they know the machine is all theirs for as long as they want. Their rooms are too far down the line of the building to hear if they do enjoy it for long, but you get no complaints about noise. You hope for the best.

Later that night, Grant comes by the office, carrying the machine with a smirk on his face and the most genuine appreciation on his lips. He has a lovely deep voice you never knew about.

He just talks to you.

It’s all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you like on your days off, but even that seems a struggle for him.

Tom was not kidding. His friend is extremely shy. He has trouble thinking up casual questions. He can’t look you in the eye until responding, and he doesn’t give more than a few words in answer to anything.

You laugh--you have to—when Grant asks if he can walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because you live in the house a whopping fifty meters past the main motel. Your family has owned and run this place for three generations. You’ve walked that path your whole life.

“I like walking,” he shrugs, though from the sheer muscles on him, he does way more than just walk. “I was gonna do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Grant is so sweet but so stiff. He holds himself with purpose when actively thinking, but you catch him having these distant moments. He withers like a violet, a shell that’s too small for his big body. He seems lost and lonely.

You’re glad to do whatever keeps him company. Your goal for the night is to make Grant smile as much as humanly possible, but that’s difficult when he won’t let you know anything about him.

Twenty minutes later, Clark, a local stoner kid who hardly looks up from his phone, waltzes in, stepping around Grant like a wall that’s always been there and throwing a “hey, man” out with zero regard for a response. Classic Clark. That’s why he’s on night shifts.

So you grab your bag and let Grant hold the door open for you.

Maybe you’ve been watching the Durhams too much when they come around, but you feel a compulsion to hold his hand. You don’t, obviously, because you only just heard this guy speak for the first time today. It would also be incredibly awkward to hold Grant’s hand in the dead silence that follows on your way up the gravel path.

You’re so consumed by figuring out what to say next that you don’t notice till the beast is right there.

An elk walks right in front of you, taller than Grant. From this angle the animal blocks the entire view of your house it’s so big, and you jump back, slamming into your startled escort’s chest.

You both freeze as it moves slowly at a diagonal to the other side of woods, bringing it and its gigantic horns closer still.

It squawks like some sort of awful banshee and stamps huge hoofs. You throw your weight backward and spin to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you’re so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife, but no creature has ever done this before.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly Grant tries to hold you immobile.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hisses through his teeth for you to stop should be your hint, but instead you cling to him harder, asking quietly if the animal is gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, buries his hands in his pockets, and leans forward, gathering himself.

It was scary. That could have turned nasty very quickly. You were lucky Grant was there and calm…except he was sorta the reason you were distracted in the first place.

Finally composed, he sighs and motions forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Two months later, Grant’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely.

You’ve learned the routine of their check-in. There’s only one room available, unfortunately, but if they stay more than two days, there should be another open.

Tom shrugs and offers a playful, “we’ll see. We go where the wind takes us.” He smooths his palm over a fresh fade at his nape and the sharp angles of his goatee.

“And you, I see, have stopped in for a cut with Terrence in town. He loves the three slices like that.” That's how the barber marks his work. Terrence's shop is very popular.

“It’s a good signature. Wish I could'a convinced this big lug to get a trim.” Tom elbows his friend who stares at his feet.

Grant runs his fingers through his golden locks and swallows. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

Without realizing what you’re doing, you stand on the rungs of your stool behind the counter and reach for his lusciously full beard.

“Don’t you dare get rid of this,” you chide, fingertips grazing the skin of his cheek beneath the course yet soft hairs.

You should apologize. You should let go and sit back down. You should professionally hand them their key and be done with it, but instead, you linger, watching his blue eyes darken with a primal devastation.

He’s prey caught in a cage.

You release Grant’s face with an awkward laugh and a shake of your head.

Tom makes his own, very knowing face, and winks.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Grant clears his throat harshly and blushes, mumbling something about which room number you said they had and that he’ll bring the other bags from the car. He leaves. Tom takes the keys with another wink and a sassy tap on the hardwood.

“Thank ya, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

It’s about twenty minutes later when your pen rolls off the edge of the counter, you find a small duffle left where Grant stood.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Grant blurts when he finds you standing there to give it back.

You just smile and say Tom isn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you mutter, taking a chance to scratch at his bearded chin again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me.”

He looks back inside, as if seeking permission or checking to make sure his friend is still in the bathroom, singing in the shower.

Grant can’t seem to meet you halfway, but he does inch forward, struggling to word a simple ‘yes.’

The tentative embrace starts with only the top of his chest touching you, bent so his butt is out, no pressure on his hands at your shoulders, so you push a little more and a little more. You get close enough he needs to wrap his arms around you instead. He has to stand straight so his chin doesn’t poke your forehead. He whimpers slightly when your own arms encircle his tiny waist.

A few breaths later, he relaxes into a lovely full-body hug, his rough fingertips on your bare skin where your shirt bunched up. You’re both being human, no more, no less, tangled in simple comfort.

Grant tucks his face into your collarbone suddenly and squeezes, not so hard that it hurts but not gently either. The move tickles you with his beard, your hands pawing up his back as you giggle, and he whines like wounded prey.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I can be here, if you want, to hold. It’s okay.”

That has the opposite effect you intended, knocking him out of some soft reverie and launching him back a foot, a necessary but unwelcome distance.

Grant looks guilty, needy, and resigned as he thanks you for returning the bag and sees you out the door.

dividers by cafekitsune and firefly-graphics

A/N: This will be the shortest (probably) of all the parts, and yeah, we get into some smuttier moments pretty quickly... Stay tuned!

[Next Part: Sweet Baby]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #touchstarved #touch-starved!steve #hideout series

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thegainingdesk · 18 days

Text

Two Night Stand

Just as Howard had guessed, the young man was loitering in the changing rooms when he entered. He'd seen the slim man watching him his entire set, changing from treadmill to elliptical to standing bike to keep a clear eyeline to Howard at all times.

Howard wasn't surprised, exactly. He'd found that he attracted more than a fair few men as he'd put on weight these past few years, and the gym was the perfect place to show off his developing figure. He couldn't exactly boast a powerlifter build, per se, but he had enough muscle underneath all the fat that he could show off how much weight he could lift, and enough to keep most of his fat in a firm, round gut at his center with comparatively less flab elsewhere on his body. Coupled with a thick dark beard and a thick pelt of coarse body hair, he often had twinks lining up for the opportunity to call him ‘daddy’; not something he was thrilled about at the grand age of thirty-four, but also not something he was in a rush to correct anyone wanting to fuck him over.

Howard made a show of getting changed and faced out into the changing rooms towards the young man, giving him a clear view of the spectacle. He lifted his shirt up slowly, allowing the hem to drag itself up over the curve of his gut, revealing the dark swirls of hair covering the mound of fat and his deep belly button. Once the shirt slid off his gut and Howard pulled it over his head, he looked over to see the man looking directly at him. He winked and the man hurriedly looked away; Howard made sure to maintain eye-contact, making sure to catch him each time he gave another quick glance. Howard reached down and hefted his gut a few times before reaching down further and giving his package a squeeze; that caught the man's attention alright, and this time he held his gaze, staring intently at Howard's gut.

“Not getting changed yourself then?” Howard called across the changing room.

The young man swallowed hard, before lifting up his shirt to reveal a tight, thin torso, with the faint outline of a six pack and a fine dusting of hair. He was about Howard's height, just slightly shorter than average, but more wiry than Howard had ever been, with prominent ribs and collar bones, and a prominent Adam's apple. Despite his short height, he was so thin he almost looked lanky. He was handsome, Howard thought; dark blond hair, a crooked smile and a nose that looked like it had been broken and not set properly at some point. “Just catching my breath,” the man replied.

Howard smirked and bent to pull down his shorts. He tried to make it sexy, but honestly, these days it was a struggle just to bend down around his gut and his shorts caught on his thick thighs, making him shimmy them down unceremoniously. By the time he stood back up, panting softly, the young man’s long erection was tenting his own shorts obviously.

Howard reached down and adjusted his balls in his boxers, partly for show, partly genuinely for comfort. “Fancy joining me in the showers?” he said casually. “I’m finding I've been getting really sweaty recently.” He felt himself growing hard. He knew he'd lost a few inches to his expanding fat pad, and he'd not been able to see his own cock under his gut for years, but he knew he still boasted an impressive manhood.

“I uhh… okay.” The man's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He coughed and tried again, deeper this time. “Yes, I mean. I'd like that.”

“I'm Howard,” Howard introduced himself as he walked past the man and around the corner to the showers.

“Guy,” the man answered. Howard could hear him follow behind him obediently.

“Nice to meet you Guy,” Howard said, turning on one of the shower heads and pulling his pants off. He handed them to Guy, who held them, dumbstruck for a moment, before lifting them up to his face and sniffing deeply. “You like this gut, Guy?”

Guy nodded, not taking Howard's boxers away from his face. His eyes were trained downwards; Howard knew that from this angle, his gut covered his crotch almost entirely, so he must be staring at his fat.

Howard stepped back into the stream of water, and rivulets began to flow over his tits, round his gut, down his rounded thighs and calves. “Would you like to touch this gut, Guy?”

Guy hurried to throw down Howard's boxers and pull his own shorts and underwear down; he was so hard and the motion so fast that his dick slapped up and hit his abs with a soft thwack. He stepped forward and ran his hands across Howard's love handles, squeezing them and using his fingers to dapple the soft skin and the fat underneath. He slipped his fingers beneath, into the crease above Howard's hips, and leant down to place one of Howard's nipples in his mouth, sucking for a few moments.

He pulled away. “You're so…” he began. He leant back in, kissing Howard's neck, his shoulders, his chin. Each kiss was paired with a small poke from Guy's fingers; Howard realised he was searching for pockets of fat around his body.

“Big?” Howard whispered. “Heavy? Wide? Manly?”

“Fat,” Guy finished. “You're so fat.”

Howard chuckled. “And you like that, do you? You like how fat I am?” Guy nodded. “Why don't you show me how much you like it then?” Howard nodded past his gut, down towards his crotch. Guy looked around nervously. “Now you're nervous?” Howard asked. “Don’t worry, most people rush straight off after the gym at this time. Besides, everyone knows this is the gay hookup gym, no-one would bat an eyelash.”

Guy swallowed hard and Howard licked his lips at the sight of his large Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his wiry neck. He looked around once more, nodded nervously, and sunk to his knees. Howard grew even harder as he felt Guy push his fat pad back to reveal more of his length, something he’d only realised men had started doing since he’d hit twenty stone or so. He shuddered slightly as he felt Guy’s warm mouth envelop his hardness for a few seconds, before pulling back and pushing Howard’s soft underbelly away and readjusting his position, trying to find a way to suck Howard off around all of the fat in the way.

Howard leant his head back and moaned. While Guy seemed to be taken by surprise with the practicalities of sucking off a fat man, he clearly had a few tricks up his sleeve, and enough enthusiasm to make up for it. Within a few minutes he was near climax and began to thrust himself into Guy’s mouth, who made some satisfying grunts of discomfort in response.

Just as Howard began to cum, pumping his load down Guy’s pretty throat, someone walked into the shower and the younger man jumped back so that the rest of Howard's cum sprayed across his chest and dribbled down his chin. Guy flushed red and turned away towards the wall, frantically wiping away the splatters of semen.

“Don't mind me,” Charlton, one of the gym's regulars, said as he stepped under the shower head on the other side of Howard. “I'd join you, but my husband says I've got to stop fucking people at the gym.” He leant around Howard's mass to peer at Guy’s arse. “How do you get all the cute ones Howie?”

Howard moved over to Guy and cupped his arse, bending down to his knees himself. “How about it?” he asked. “Fancy an audience?”

Guy gave a small shake of his head and continued to scrub at himself. Howard stood back up, bracing against his knees and straining as he did so. He stepped away from Guy and began to wash himself, taking the signal that the younger man had lost interest, for now.

“Maybe we could go somewhere?” Guy said quietly after a while. Howard looked over and grinned as Charlton laughed.

“Just like me to ruin the fun!” Charlton said. He waved his dick over at the two of them. “Howie, you've got my number, let me know if you'd like a third later.”

Howard grabbed Guy’s wrist and led him out the shower. He nudged the small pile of their wet shorts and underwear with his toe. “Grab those,” he told Guy. “We can go to my flat, it's not far.”

Guy struggled to keep his hands off Howard on the short drive and in the lift up to Howard's floor. As he unlocked the door, Guy was already pulling Howard’s t-shirt up and undoing his belt for him, kissing his neck as he did so. Howard pulled him through to the bedroom and pushed him towards the bed, and Guy dutifully began stripping.

Howard kicked his trousers off and pulled a condom out of the drawer by his bedside table. “You're going to have to put it on me,” he told Guy. “Awkward with this thing in the way.” He thumped his gut a few times to illustrate his point. “Unless you want to top?”

Guys tongue practically fell out of his mouth at this, and he hurriedly pulled the condom out of the packet. “No, I'm happy to, you know, or whatever.” He sunk down to his knees and stared up at Howard over the crest of his gut. “It's so hot that you can't put this on yourself.”

“I mean I can,” Howard grumbled. “It's just easier to get someone else to do it.” He felt Guy roll the condom over his shaft and smooth out some air bubbles.

“How do you want me?” Guy asked. He turned towards Howard and stood waiting, his hard-on pulsing slightly.

Howard nodded towards the bed. “On the edge. However’s most comfortable for you.”

Guy climbed onto the bed, stretching his thighs wide to present his hole to Howard. Howard squirted some lube onto his fingers and ran them over Guy’s crack, before slipping a couple of fingers in and massaging for a moment or two. Guy arched his back and sighed.

Howard lined himself up with Guy as best he could, and pushed himself forward. His cock missed the mark and instead bounced painfully off of one of his cheeks. Howard winced. “Sorry,” he said. “Difficult to aim with this thing in the way.” He patted his gut.

“God that's hot,” Guy sighed.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Howard grumbled to himself. Maybe he did need to lose a little weight.

“We could try a different position?” Guy suggested. “Cowboy style, maybe, or it might help if we both lie on our sides?”

“No!” Howard snapped. “No, I can, I can do it,” he said, more calmly. He'd be damned if he’d gotten too fat to top someone properly. He fished under his gut and grabbed his equipment, using his hands to guide himself in. He found his mark and slid in slowly, as Guy moaned softly and pushed back against Howard's crotch.

The two men began to rock in sync, building up a rhythm. Howard's gut slapped into Guy's back, the claps ringing like a metronome. The two began to pick up pace, as Guy arched his back and Howard tried to reach around to grab the smaller man's cock; with his gut in the way, he just couldn't reach. Instead, he gripped Guy’s slender shoulders and put his effort into pumping. He could feel the fat on his arse, his tits, his gut shaking and vibrating and his heart fluttered in his chest as he breathed heavily. He pumped harder and gripped his own fat with one hand, inserting one finger deep into his own bellybutton. He thought about how fat he'd gotten, how much fatter he was sure to get, he thought about the man below him and how much smaller he was than him. His breath caught as he came, and he felt the condom fill up around his pole. Shaking, he rolled off of Guy and onto the bed.

“Did you..?” Howard asked.

Guy shook his head. “It's fine,” he said, panting and smiling. He placed a hand on Howard's gut and shook it. “Plenty of time for that later.”

“What does it feel like?” Guy asked afterwards, with his angular torso pressed into Howard’s broad, soft back and one arm draped across him, a hand slowly caressing his gut.

Howard laughed. “Topping? You never done it before?”

Howard felt Guy shake his head from behind. “No, I've- I mean not very often, but I have, you know- No, I mean, you know,” his hand gripped Howard's gut and shook it a little. “What does this feel like? Being fat?”

Howard laughed again. “You like that, do you?” He slapped his gut a few times, enjoying the feeling of his body rippling. “It's a bloody nuisance, I'll tell you that much.”

“Yeah?” Guy prompted. “How?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, you saw earlier, it's getting difficult to fuck guys in some positions without it getting in the way, difficult to put on condoms easily. You even struggled a bit when you were giving me a blowjob, right?” Guy nodded enthusiastically. “It's even getting difficult to piss standing up.” Howard could feel Guy’s cock hardening against his back.

“Really? Because you can't reach it you mean?” Excitement mounted in Guy’s voice.

“Reaching it's easy enough, it's being able to see that's an issue. Can't aim,” Howard explained.

“What else?” Guy urged Howard on.

“Fuck me, loads. Having to fight against my own body to tie my shoes, getting winded climbing the stairs, clothes not fitting right, not being able to join my mates when they play footy, getting the piss taken out of me by everyone who thinks they're a bloody comedian,” Howard said. By this point, Guy was grinding his hard dick against Howard's leg.

“But you love it?” Guy asked, his voice catching.

“Fuck yes,” Howard replied. “There's something about being big, you know?” Guy gave a small whimper in reply. “In basically any situation, at work, with mates, at the gym, I'm always the biggest one there. Sure, a lot of it's fat, but men always respect the big guy, you know? Like it's primal.”

“How much do you weigh?” Guy asked. He moved to straddle Howard, his hand stroking his cock.

“A little over three hundred pounds,” Howard lied. He was close, but had never actually broken the big three-oh-oh. He'd met enough of these chaser types to know that 300 was the magical number though, and was happy to fudge the numbers to make a twink’s fantasy come true.

“Christ,” Guy gasped. “You're over double my weight.” Within thirty seconds, he tensed up and yelled out as thick hot cum sprayed over Howard's gut, pooling in his belly button and dribbling down its curve onto the sheets.

Guy fell down onto Howard and kissed him, hard jawline bumping into soft. “You're incredible,” he panted. “I could order some pizzas maybe?”

A couple of hours later, three boxes sat on Howard's coffee table, while Howard stretched out on his sofa with one hand down his boxers and one hand cradling his stretched gut. He'd done his best to show off for Guy, and had eaten almost two whole pizzas in quick succession. “Go on,” he told Guy. “Eat up.”

Guy groaned, clutching his flat stomach. He'd just finished a whole pizza by himself - clearly not a feat he was used to. “They're your slices,” he said feebly, nudging the two final slices of Howard's second pizza back to the larger man.

“I want you to have them,” Howard said, pushing them back. “And I think you want to have them too.” Guy shook his head. “You're telling me,” Howard grabbed Guy’s hand and placed it on his gut. “That you don't want one of these of your own?” Guy moaned a little. “That you just want to fuck fat guys? No. You want this for yourself. Eat.”

Guy closed his eyes, inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply, and sat forward, grabbing both slices and stacking them together before taking a large bite out of both. “That's it,” Howard whispered. “Good boy. Eat them quick, before your body has a chance to register. Good boy, there we go.”

It took fifteen minutes, and by the end Guy was clearly uncomfortable, rubbing his stomach and suppressing sickly hiccups, but eventually the slices disappeared. He sat quietly, moaning and cradling the invisible curve of his stomach. Once it became clear that he wasn't in a position for conversation, Howard put the TV on and left him to it.

“I should go,” Guy said quietly after two episodes of Doctor Who. He stood and began to pull his t-shirt back on.

“You don't have to,” Howard said, making no move to stop him. “You could stay the night, if you wanted.”

“No, it's late,” Guy said. “I was supposed to meet up with some friends.” He winced as he buttoned his jeans. “Maybe we could do this again sometime though?”

Howard sighed. He never really did ‘again’. “Maybe,” he said. “I uh, I'm only in Portsmouth for a few months for a work thing, I probably won't be uhh…”

“No, it's fine, I get it,” Guy said with a thin smile. “It's fine if this is just a one-time thing. Thanks for umm,” he looked over Howard's body, still laid out across the sofa, his gut overlapping his too-tight pants. “You've helped me figure some stuff out. Thank you.”

Howard heaved himself to his feet and stuck his hand out. “Always happy to figure some stuff out with someone,” he said. Guy took Howard's offered hand and shook it. “All the best Guy.”

“You too.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the sofa.

Howard groaned as he lowered himself into the seat, grateful for the easing of the pressure on his feet. He closed his eyes and just sat for a moment, breathing just a little too heavily for his liking. Ever since he'd crossed the 300 pound mark almost a decade ago, he'd been eagerly eyeing up 350, but he was starting to worry that it might have been just a little too much weight for him. He was just so big these days, and at more than a little ways past forty, he was starting to think that the big leagues, weight-wise, were a young man's game.

He opened his eyes slowly and reached towards the menu. No need to go hungry, anyway, whether or not he wanted to get much bigger, especially with his company footing the bill. A couple of starters, he thought, a big main, maybe one of those steaks, and then some big heavy dessert. That should just about hit the spot. He squeezed his overhang just a touch and sighed. Sitting down, with the dull ache in his feet fading away and his breathing going back to its usual light wheeze, rather than a heavy pant, he started to forget his earlier apprehension, just a few moments before. Being big felt fucking great, didn't it? What difference would another ten or fifteen pounds make, really?

His thoughts were interrupted by a shadow falling across his menu, and he looked up, expecting to see the waiter. What he saw instead was a wall of flesh - a man stood in front of him, outweighing Howard by, god, who knew how much? At least a hundred pounds, maybe even one-fifty. The man's soft gut hung down, almost touching the table, and his arms sat awkwardly at his sides, visibly pushed away from the man's huge, soft torso by gut and tit and roll. He looked like something out of one of Howard's fantasies, a scale he'd fervently imagined himself at, but never really aspired to.

"Howard?" the man asked. "It is Howard isn't it?"

Howard was stumped. He'd remember this man if they'd met, surely? Fantasised about him for weeks afterwards presumably, wistfully thinking back to that human barge he'd met in some business meeting or other?

"I'm so sorry," he said after a while. "I'm really trying to remember…"

"It's Guy," the man - Guy - said. "We met about eleven or twelve years ago." When Howard's face didn't lose its confused stupor he added - "In Portsmouth? I, uhh, look a little different I suppose." He punctuated this last bit by laying his hand on top of his gut.

Howard thought back, he'd not spent long in Portsmouth after all, six months maybe. Had he met a Guy? He looked up at the round face in front of him, subtracted ten years, a couple of chins, tried to imagine cheek bones beneath those jowls, noticed the bent nose that looked like it had been set badly, years before…

"Jesus fuck, Guy, " Howard said softly, his eyes widening. "Twink Guy?" he asked, his voice high. This whale in front of him couldn't have ever been that small fry, could he?

Guy laughed. "Twink Guy, I like that!" he said. "Can't say there's been much call for a nickname like that for a while now though." He smiled at Howard. "Are you waiting for someone? Maybe I could join you?"

Howard made a blustering noise that could be interpreted as a positive, and gestured at the seat opposite him. Guy pulled the chair back, far away from the table edge, and slowly, carefully, deliberately lowered himself down into it. Howard marveled at the practiced routine of it all - how far back the chair needed to go, the care with which the sturdy oak chair needed handling, the way that every movement was slow and deliberate and carefully considered to avoid bumping into anything, everything, around him. Most of all he marveled at how Guy barely seemed to register that any of this was out of the ordinary.

"God, it's good to get off your feet, isn't it," Guy sighed.

Howard studied Guy, trying to remember the rail thin twenty-something year old underneath the blubber. His face was huge, round cheeks bulging over sagging jowls around squinting eyes. His body was enormously broad - tits sloped down a mountainous gut down into his elbows. Even his fingers were fat - stubby little sausages attached to pillow palms.

Guy reached over his belly and picked up the menu, resting it on the shelf of his gut. “Shall we just get one of each of the starters and sides and share?” he asked after a while.

Howard’s eyebrows rose. He looked back at the menu - there was at least ten starters and the same amount of sides. How much was this man planning on eating?

“I'll foot the bill, don't worry” Guy said, misinterpreting Howard's reaction. “The least I can do.” He slapped the top of his gut, setting it swaying. “After all, I've got you to thank for this.”

Howard’s mouth closed and opened a few times. “Sorry, I'm not sure I… You've got me to thank?”

“Oh absolutely!” Guy said, nodding. His double chin shook with the motion.

At that point the waiter arrived, interrupting Guy. They both ordered a pint of ale, Guy ordered all the starters and sides, as he'd said, and Howard ordered the steak.

“God, that sounds good actually. Two of those. Medium-rare, yeah. And we’ll want the dessert menu after. Perfect, yeah, thanks.” Guy turned back to Howard. “Where were we? Yes! Thanking you, that was it.” He leant back, and Howard could see his shirt pulling out of his waistband to reveal a slab of pale flesh hanging out even while sitting. “After we, you know, after that night anyway, I just sort of knew I guess.”

“Knew what?” Howard asked.

“That I wanted to be fat!” Guy said loudly. Howard sank down in his seat as people at other tables looked over. “I mean, I knew before then, I guess, but it was all, I don't know, wanking over YouTube videos and those stupid stories about people getting paid to fatten themselves up or something. I never, god, I never imagined I could really do something like that.”

Their drinks arrived and the two were quiet for a while as they took their first large gulps. “And then you met me,” Howard offered.

“And then I met you!” Guy repeated. “God, the number of fat guys I must have stared at before you.” He laughed. “I thought I was being so subtle, but clearly you noticed pretty quick.”

Howard laughed as well. “Yeah, subtle didn't really come to mind,” he said. “I thought you were cruising, honestly. You were actually doing that to any fat guy you saw? Just, down the street?”

“Christ yes,” Guy laughed. “They must have all thought I was a creep.”

At that point, the first of the starters arrived. Guy fell quiet as he focussed on eating. Howard could see how he's gotten so large - eating was clearly serious business to this man. Each bite was relished, with time taken to enjoy the flavours, but no time was wasted - as soon as one bite was swallowed, more food would immediately be brought to his lips.

After the starters and while they waited for their mains, Guy spoke. “You know, I always imagined how much weight you were putting on,” he told Howard. “And I always sort of, I don't know, compared myself to the image of you I had in my head. Especially once I reached three hundred pounds, and I was so much softer than I remember you being, and then when I hit three-hundred and fifty, four hundred, and I thought, god, when did he hit these weights? How much bigger did he get? And I started to imagine, you know, we'd meet at some point and I'd have managed to get, I don't know, ten, twenty pounds bigger. And it'd be, god this is so stupid saying it out loud, like you'd passed the torch on or something. Honestly, it's a big reason I've been pushing myself to still get bigger and bigger.”

“Sorry to be a disappointment,” Howard said, rubbing his gut. He'd done his best to eat half of the food on the table, and while not full, he could feel himself slowing down; in comparison, Guy seemed to be impatiently waiting for more food. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so small.

“God, no!” Guy said. “I don’t mean, no, I'm not disappointed or anything. I do know, you know, that I've kind of taken this whole gaining thing further than most people are into. I never really, honestly I mean, thought I'd meet you again or whatever. It was always just something knocking around in the back of my head. I didn't even really know that you were a gainer, you might have lost it all for all I- fuck, sorry, I don't even- are you even a gainer? I just assumed.”

Howard waved his hand. “Don't worry, yeah, I… well. I mean, fifty pounds in ten years, it's hardly the kind of weight you've been putting on. But yeah, I'm on all the sites and stuff.”

“Hey, anyone else would be pulling their hair out over fifty pounds,” Guy said. “Us guys just have a skewed perspective about this stuff.”

Howard shrugged. “I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm not making progress and sometimes I really look at myself and see just how big I am.”

“How big are you, if you don't mind me asking?” Guy asked.

“Three-sixty-something these days,” Howard said. “Probably a little more - lots of business trips. And you?”

“Just hit five hundred a couple of weeks ago,” Guy replied proudly. “Hit a bit of a plateau since, but it's great finally getting there, you know?”

Howard gave a low whistle. “That's a big boy number right there.” Guy laughed. “You're going for those kinds of weights then? Five-hundred plus?”

Guy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically. “It's all I think about,” he said. “The more weight I put on, the more I want to put on. It's like, okay, when we first met that time, right? I got all excited and I decided I could put on, I don't know, twenty pounds, see how that felt. And it was nothing. So I thought, okay, fifty pounds, and then I'd put on fifty pounds and I was starting to feel chubby but…”

“It wasn't as big as you'd thought it would be?” Howard asked.

“God, not nearly anything like it,” Guy agreed. “Like, fifty pounds you know? That's a lot of weight! And it just didn't look like it. So I went up to two-hundred and fifty, and that wasn't enough, then three hundred, and I thought, surely, surely three hundred’s where you start to feel big. And that's how big you were! I fucked other big guys, don't get me wrong, but you were the first - I built you up into a bit of myth in my head I think.”

“I'm flattered,” Howard said.

“Well, I got to three-hundred pounds, as big as Howard, and it still wasn't big enough,” Guy continued. “So I added another fifty, and that wasn't enough, and another, and four-hundred still didn't feel big enough.” He sighed. “You never feel like that?”

Howard spread his hands on the table and studied them for a while. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not often. I do feel big, most of the time. Big enough. But every so often I catch a glimpse of myself and I just think… is this really twenty-five stone? Surely I should be huge by now? When I was younger I couldn't imagine how big that must be and now…”

“Now it's just the size you are,” Guy finished. “It's normal.”

Howard nodded as their mains got brought over. Howard tried to hide his nervousness at the size of the portion; chips were piled high next to a steak as big as his face and over an inch thick. Guy licked his lips and started eating immediately, stopping only when the sides got brought over.

It took nearly two hours for Howard to get through his steak, sides and the selection of desserts Guy had ordered. Guy watched him, having finished long before, occasionally offering words of encouragement, but generally just filling Howard in on his life; the company he'd started, the relationships with increasingly larger men who were just never big enough, the years and years of gluttony and sloth that had built him into the man Howard saw before him.

Howard leant back and drummed his fingers on his gut. It has been a while since he'd felt it so taut, and the sensation left him rock hard. He opened one eye and watched Guy for a while.

“I've got a room upstairs,” Howard said after a while. “If you wanted to…?”

Guy smiled. “I thought you said you were married now.”

“We’re open,” Howard reassured him. “I spend a lot of time away with work and we both know that we’ll be better off if we get to relieve some tension every so often.”

“Well then,” Guy said with raised eyebrows. “Shall we?”

They both stood, Howard feeling particularly spritely for the first time in a while; he found himself waiting for Guy to haul himself to his feet. The two made their way slowly to the elevator, which sunk noticeably as the two men entered.

As the doors closed, Guy reached over and put a hand on Howard's love handle and squeezed. “Just like I remember,” he said with a smile.

“Hopefully a little bigger?” Howard said.

“Don't worry,” Guy said. “I can see all the progress you've made. But it's that same solid ball gut I've been having wet dreams about for the past decade.” He slapped it a few times, resulting in a dull thump. He slid a finger through a gap between the buttons in Howard’s shirt and stroked the furry skin around his belly button.

The elevator door opened, and the two made their way to Howard's hotel room. Howard let them in and Guy made his slow way over to the bed and gingerly sat down. Howard stood in front of him and let his gut bump into Guy's face, who reached up and began to unbutton Howard's shirt for him.

“Oh yes,” Guy said. “I've missed this a lot.” He ran his fingers through the hair on Howard's gut and up onto his soft chest as Howard pulled off his jacket and shirt and threw them to the side. Guy leant forward and nuzzled his nose into Howard's belly button, before replacing it with his tongue as he worked his fingers under Howard's overhang to undo his belt and pull his trousers down.

Guy lifted Howard's gut slightly, and deftly pushed the fat back slightly to reveal more of his hardening cock. “This is bigger than I remember,” he said.

“My cock?” Howard asked. “Really?”

Guy laughed. “Sorry, no. I meant your fat pad.”

“Ah,” Howard said. “Suppose that would be a bit too much to ask for.”

“I personally have come to enjoy the effects of fat on a man's cock,” Guy said.

“Not one I'm particularly thrilled with myself,” Howard grumbled.

“Well maybe I can make it up to you,” Guy said, before slipping his mouth over Howard's dick.

Howard's breath caught. The key to giving a good blowjob, Howard had learnt over the years, is to really, truly, genuinely want that dick in your mouth, and Guy was clearly hungry for it. No opportunity was missed to taste or lick or suck on any and all exposed skin. His balls, his shaft, his head, his taint, all of it was lovingly cared for in turn. It wasn't long before Howard was shooting down Guy's throat.

Guy sat back and smiled as he swallowed. Howard thought back to how prominent his Adam’s apple used to be - it was now barely visible in his lardy neck.

Howard sank down to his knees, and lifted Guy’s gut to gain access to his belt buckle. As he undid his trousers, Guy pulled his shirt up and over his head, revealing soft, undulating flesh. Together, the two slowly managed to peel Guy’s clothes off of his body until he was sat in only his socks.

Howard once more lifted Guy’s gut and pushed back at the soft fat filling his crotch, unveiling the nub of his cock. He leant forward to lick the exposed head, but quickly had to pull back as his face became enveloped with fat from above.

“You don't have to,” Guy said. “I know that it's not easy to-”

“Lean back,” Howard said, pushing back on Guy’s torso. “And hold your belly.”

Guy obeyed, laying down on the bed so that his flab cascaded back towards his face. Howard pushed down on his fat pad, revealing another inch or so of cock. As Howard took it into his mouth, licking its meager length and the small scrotum, he thought back to the long cock Guy had the last time they'd met, now swallowed on thick fat.

Howard inhaled deeply, taking in the sour musk of Guy’s crotch and continued to lap at the small length available to him. He began to pump the fat surrounding his cock, using it to jerk the length he couldn't see. The wall of fat above him began to shake and quiver, until sticky cum spurted out. Howard noted how sweet it tasted, and wondered if his own cum had gotten sweeter as he'd gotten fatter.

“That was great,” Guy said.

“Glad to be of service,” Howard replied.

Guy shuffled his weight back up the bed, setting the frame creaking and groaning. He patted the bed next to him. “I think I was big spoon last time.”

“I think you might have been,” Howard said. From this angle, Guy looked almost impossibly wide. His gut spilled out, pulled down and to the sides by gravity, so that he resembled a large pillow. Howard settled down next to him, teetering on the edge of the bed, and curled up to the large mass. “I don't think these beds are really built for men our size.”

“Not two of us, anyway,” Guy said. “I can go, if that's easier?”

Howard shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “We can stay a while.”

The two lay quietly for a while. Their heavy breathing filled the room.

“It's been a while,” Guy said after a while.

“What has?” Howard asked.

“Since I've been with anyone,” Guy clarified. “Once you reach a certain size, the mechanics all get a bit awkward.”

“How so?” Howard asked.

Guy sighed. “I can barely even reach my cock these days,” he admitted. “Bit of a faff for someone else to reach it, too. Generally guys just feed me these days, then deal with themselves.”

“You okay with that?” Howard asked.

“Oh yeah,” Guy insisted. “Don't worry about me. Not much difference these days between eating and sex for me. But this was… this was nice.”

“You still like it then?” Howard asked. “Being big? Getting bigger?”

“God yes,” Guy beamed. “There's nothing like it. I can't imagine stopping. How about you? Happy to stop where you are?”

“You know, I might well be open to packing a little more on,” Howard said.

“You let me know if you're ever up to getting fed then, eh?” Guy said. “I saw you struggling with those kiddy portions. You’re going to need pushing if you want to get really big.”

“Is that so?” Howard asked, laughing.

Guy struggled to sit up. “Absolutely,” he said. “I distinctly remember you pushing me to eat two extra slices of pizza beyond what I thought I could. That lesson stuck with me. It's time you learnt it too.” He hauled himself to the side of the bed and panted for a moment or two. “I'll leave you be. Can't have you hanging off the bed all night.”

“Leave your number?” Howard said.

Guy smiled. “Definitely,” he said. He looked down at the clothes strewn about on the floor. “I uh… don't suppose you'd pick up my clothes for me? Bending down’s a bit of an ordeal these days.”

Howard chuckled and helped Guy collect his clothes and put them on. “Let's make sure it's not another decade, eh?”

Guy smiled. “Of course,” he said and patted Howard's gut. “We've got to make sure to put some meat on these bones.”

The door closed and Howard collapsed back down onto the bed.

#weight gain #gaining fiction #gainer fiction #gainer story #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #weight gain fiction #two night stand #was going to call this 'before and after'#which is probably a better title #but i also thought it would probably be a good title for a future story #i've accepted by now that my titles are generally awful

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blackleatherjacketz · 1 year

Text

Good With All Three

Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, I horny-watched this movie, so I horny-wrote this story, I make no apologies!, Never Have I Ever, Alcohol, Kissing, Ari’s Magnetizing Gaze, Hands, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink (for him), Multiple Orgasms

Summary: You and Ari play a late night game of Never Have I Ever and things get very hands-on very quickly.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @letsby

Read more of my stories HERE

“Never have I ever had sex in public.” Ari’s prompt leaves his lips as they curl into a smirk, their rosy color masked by the green beer bottle he nearly empties as he leans back in his seat, patiently awaiting your answer.

His questions continue to grow bolder with each sip he takes, ranging from ‘never have I eaten an insect’ to ‘never have I kissed a man’, and now to this. His eyes linger on yours a little bit longer as he draws the last few drops from his bottle, almost as if he can read your thoughts as soon as they darken. He holds your gaze until it finally breaks, venturing down to the patch of chest hair peeking out through his loosely buttoned collar.

You try your best not to envision him shirtless as you finally relent and take a defeated sip of your beer, giving yourself away.

“No shit?” He grins from ear to ear, setting his bottle down before quickly running his hands through his auburn locks. “I’m surprised.”

“Oh, really? Like you haven’t?” Surely someone as confident and attractive as Ari has ended up in a similar situation with someone in the past.

He shakes his head, sitting back up in his seat. “Too risky.” He grasps onto his bottle, examining its empty contents with a regretful sigh. “Gotta keep a low profile.”

“That makes sense.” You pause and think back on your experience in a JC Penny fitting room with your college boyfriend, remembering it with less fondness than you care to admit. “Mine was a long time ago, anyways.” You spin the base of your bottle between your fingers as one last drink swishes around inside it. “Back before all this.”

“Was it fun, at least?” He leans forward with an elbow on the table, a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as his bottle nearly touches yours. “The thrill of it?”

You shrug your shoulders. “A little. It wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though.” You pretend not to notice as his knuckles brush against yours.

“Really? Why not?” His eyes have you again, the dim lighting of your fake resort matching them with the light blue denim of his shirt.

“It was a confined space, and even when he didn’t have that as an excuse… like most guys with big dicks, he didn’t really know how to use it.”

Ari gawks at you with genuine surprise, his eyebrows jumping up into his hairline as they wrinkle his forehead. “Has that been your general experience, or just with him?”

“Mostly everyone. They tend to rely on it too much, you know? And they aren’t very good with their hands or mouths, either.” You consider going into more detail about your past lovers but decide against it, the way he’s looking at you right now suggests a desire for more than historical knowledge.

“That’s a real shame.” He leans in close to you, barely whispering as the top two buttons of his shirt openly reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. “Because I’m big, and I’m pretty good with all three.”

Jesus Christ. He just came out and said it, didn’t he?

You blink a few times to properly register his words, a newfound heat brewing in your belly as you try your best to form a coherent thought. “A little cocky, aren’t we?” You manage to tease, your body picking up on his signals before your brain has the time to talk yourself out of it.

“More than a little.” He bites his lip and touches your knee with his fingertips, his thumb sliding swiftly beneath it. He grins as you try to stifle a gasp, the sudden act of intimacy shocking your touch-starved skin to the core as he gently encases your knee with his palm. He watches intently as you allow him to touch you, silently granting him permission to continue onward as you spread your legs even further apart.

“You don’t think women have lied to spare your feelings just because you’re hot?” You swallow hard and try to focus on the conversation as his hand ventures even further up your thigh, taking his time to close the gap between you.

“You think I’m hot?” He pushes the pads of his fingers toward your center, pressing them into your muscles as his thumb tickles the fine hair on the underside of your thigh.

“Maybe,” you whisper, just now noticing the rings of olive green that surround his pupils.

“Maybe?” He smiles, squeezing the bulk of your thigh as his thumb reaches the hem of your swimsuit. “I’m gonna need you to tell me the truth.” His tone shifts from playful to stern in a matter of seconds, tightening the muscles in your abdomen as he smooths his hand up your pelvis. “You think you can do that for me?” He brushes his thumb underneath the polyester just long enough to skim over your sensitive area.

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“I don’t want you to lie to me like all the other guys you’ve fucked.” He finds the tie on the side of your bikini bottom, pulling on the string that holds it together.

“Okay,” you start, trying your best not to hold your breath as his fingers warm your skin. “I definitely think you’re hot.”

“That’s good.” He unfastens the bow on your hip, his other hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as the back of your swimsuit falls onto the seat of your chair. “I think you’re hot, too.” He moves his hand across your hips to the opposite bow, unfastening it in nearly half the time. “Now if only there was a way we could solve both of our problems.”

“If only,” you whisper. You look down and watch him pull the unfastened swimwear off your body, instinctively scooting to the edge of your seat as his skilled fingers find themselves between your folds before you even have a chance to ask.

“Can you be honest?” He curls a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him, spreading your other lips apart before teasing your clit with his index finger.

“Yes,” you nod your head as he deepens his touch, rubbing it up and down as your moisture begins to collect beneath it.

“Promise me you won’t fake it?” He looks down at his hand for a split second as he sends tiny little pulses of pleasure into your skin, smirking as your breath stills in your chest.

“I promise.” You can barely speak, his intense eye contact and skilled fingers quickly proving your theory wrong as each upward motion intensifies the bliss shooting up into your core.

“I don’t want you to worry about hurting my feelings.” He moves his fingers down the length of your folds, gliding them easily inside your walls as he cradles the back of your head, his lips merely inches from yours. “I can take it.”

“Okay,” you moan into the space between you, grasping onto the loose denim of his shirt as he pushes his digits in even deeper, his knuckles now flush against your skin.

“Tell me what you want.” He reiterates, curling his fingers up and toward him, pressing against that bundle of nerves in order to pull you in closer like a fish on a hook. The legs of your chair screech across the tile floor, almost deafening the both of you as he draws you near, your entire body taking the bait as he repeats the motion over again. “Tell me.”

“I need you to touch me here.” You reach your hand down and grab his thumb, lifting it up and placing it on your clit.

He smiles at your instruction, doing as he’s told before finally leaning in to close the gap between your lips. That stale, faint flavor of beer mixes in with the sea salt still on his skin as you breathe him in, savoring his lips and tongue as they explore your mouth with more fervor than any other lover you could bother to remember. That moan of yours turns into a needy whine as he presses on that special spot from both ends, massaging you from the inside out as his thumb sends signals of immeasurable ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain.

He kisses his way down your lips and chin, his beard scratching your jawline as he moans in return against you, reacting to your silky walls clenching down around his fingers. His mouth leaves a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders, his tongue and lips marking nearly every inch of your chest and stomach with his saliva until he pushes his own chair backward while getting onto his knees.

Instead of pulling his fingers out of you, he keeps his steady rhythm going inside your slick. He looks up at you with intermittent glances of salacious pride as he presses his lips against your inner thighs, sucking scattered bruises into both of them as you softly moan his name. “I don’t want you to say my name again until you come, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, running your hands through his hair as he lifts your leg over his shoulder before diving in completely.

Every bold claim he's made up until now proves to be more than true as he licks a tantalizing stripe up each side of your dripping wet length. He slows his fingers’ pace inside of you, removing his thumb from that special spot only to quickly replace it with his hungry mouth. You try not to sigh too loudly as he laps you up, those eyes of his glancing up from time to time through strands of hair that fall in front of his face as his tongue flicks up and down in a delicately delicious pattern. A mixture of short and long strokes sends signals of euphoria throughout your body, like dots and dashes on the telegraph sending a complete and layered message into your brain until it reaches every inch of your fingers and toes, curling them in on themselves in sheer delight.

You grab a fistful of his hair as you feel yourself shudder, locking onto his eyes as he doubles down, tasting every bit of your flesh as your inner walls clamp down around his knuckles like a vice. You tug on his scalp, holding his head in place as you ride out your orgasm with his name on your lips, gyrating your hips against the tip of his nose as he continues to devour you like a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days.

“Ari!” You finally cry out as the pleasure nearly encompasses you entirely, wreaking so much havoc on your nerves and skin that you’re unsure if you can physically tolerate any more of it. Without thinking, you lift your leg up even further as he refuses to relent, planting it on his shoulder before kicking him off of you and onto the floor.

“How am I doing so far?” He laughs, smirking as he lands backward onto his elbows, the light reflecting off of the clear coat of your arousal on his lips and beard.

“Jesus,” you start, unable to stop your body from shivering in the aftershock as he looks at you like that. “I mean… good, you’re doing good.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” He stands up from his spot on the floor and runs a hand through his hair, his erection more than prominent in his jeans as he approaches you.

Good god, you almost forgot about that part.

“No,” you admit, catching your breath as your muscles continue to shake. “Not after that.”

“I believe you.” He takes your hand and helps you up onto your wobbly feet, walking with you almost as if the two of you are dancing before picking you up and setting you down onto the dinner table in one fluid motion. Your weight pulls against the tablecloth, clinking the dishes together before Ari pushes them out of the way to make room for what he’s about to do.

You can’t help but keep your legs spread apart as he steps in between them, your palm finding its way down his chest and over his clothed cock before unfastening his jeans to finally reveal what’s underneath. “Holy shit.” Your mouth falls open as his dick springs up from the denim you pull down around his thighs, its length and girth more than matching the level of confidence he always seems to have.

“I told you.” He raises his eyebrows before leaning down to kiss your lips again, the tangy flavor of your cunt spreading to each and every one of your taste buds as he brushes his tongue against yours. You savor your own personal zest until you feel him smile and pull away, looking down and spitting on his palm to stroke himself. He grins as you watch him work on himself, cupping his head a few times before noticing your jaw dropping on the floor. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make it fit.”

You laugh in utter disbelief as he lines himself up with your opening, gliding the head of his cock over your clit a few more times just to watch you squirm as a deep, guttural moan brews in his chest. He finally decides to push himself in, that moan leaving his lips in little more than a whisper as he begins to fill you up, stretching your velvety walls to capacity. His breath hitches as he disappears between your folds, guiding himself in deeper with more ease than you thought was humanly possible before he eventually bottoms out.

You whine as he holds himself there for a minute, glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay before taking his time to pull out and thrust back into you, giving your muscles room to adjust before he starts chasing his own pleasure. He lets go of himself as he rocks into you, cradling the back of your head as the wooden table beneath you creaks louder with each consecutive movement of his hips. He keeps his other hand on your hip, holding you in place as he drills himself into you, breathing heavily into your kiss as trails of sweat drip down his chest, soaking little droplets onto the fabric of his shirt.

He growls against your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as possible as he feeds your body with a visceral pleasure you weren’t entirely sure existed until now. Keening against him as he continues to fill you up, your overstimulated flesh tightens around him in a rapturous wave that seems to flood your senses even more than it had before. You can feel it rush its way through you, seizing every muscle in your entire body as it squeezes the release right out of him, forcing him to twitch and spasm into your blissful heat. He grunts with his last push inside of you, grabbing onto your ass to get as deep as he can, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix as he coats your inner walls with his orgasm.

He kisses your lips and forehead as he sputters inside of you, keeping himself between your legs as he memorizes how good the sensation of your muscles feels around him before slowly pulling out. “Did I…,” he runs a hand through your hair as he catches his breath, all the blood rushing up to his lips and cheeks. “Did I change your mind?”

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper, continuing to hold him close. “Yeah, you did.”

#Chris Evans #Ari Levinson #Ari levinson x reader #Ari Levinson Imagine #Ari Levinson x You #The Red Dea Diving Resort #chris evans fan fiction #ari levinson fanfiction

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theoddcatlady · 5 months

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The Worst Wedding I've Ever Photographed

I’ve been a wedding photographer for nearly ten years and I thought I’d seen it all. Trashy, beautiful, tragic, hilarious, or just bizarre. I have stories. I have the typical groom getting caught getting it on with the maid of honor, family getting into brawls, brides OD-ing in the bathroom, gay couples having no one attend their wedding (or worse, the one uninivited homophobic relative crashing to just be a dick) stories. But we aren’t here for the typical stories. If we were, we’d be here all day. We’re here for the wedding from last October.

Fall weddings are probably my favorite, if I ever get married I’ll probably get hitched in the fall. It was the parents of the bride who came to me, asking for my services for a wedding in two weeks. Their original photographer apparently up and quit on them and they were desperate to have their darling daughter’s wedding immortalized in picture format.

Luckily for them, I had a clear schedule. I did charge them quite a bit extra for the suddenness of it all, but judging by the father’s Rolex it wasn’t that big a deal. One thing I’m good at guessing is a family’s wealth status. And once again I was on point- the Seawrights were rolling in dough.

Not that I really liked them though. I’m not required to like all my clients, although it does make things a bit more relaxing. Harold Seawright absolutely leered at my chest whenever he thought I wasn’t looking and Carol was clearly the trophy wife that was over the hill. I’ve never seen a human being that genuinely looked more like plastic than her. Nothing wrong with plastic surgery or Botox, but there’s gotta be a cut off at some point.

I think I should’ve been more off put by the parents coming to me rather than the bride, but I just figured said bride was busy with other wedding planning shit and didn’t think too hard on it.

Day came and uh… oh boy I realized I was getting into something I didn’t want to be a part of right away.

First time I saw the bride, Tanya, I had a brief moment of ‘I don’t know how old this girl is’. She could’ve been sixteen, she could’ve been just eighteen. Definitely not over twenty though. I’ve seen young marriages when it’s a shotgun affair, but then I met the groom. Marcel Wingate. Who was definitely no younger than thirty. And Marcel was just… something felt off. The man was a giant for one, he towered over me let alone Tanya. With his long, pale face and sunken eyes he could’ve been fuckin’ Lurch from the Addams Family.

When he shook my hand and introduced himself, I barely repressed a shiver. But years of practice helped me to smile and act like there wasn’t something slimy about all of this.

Tanya never said a word when she was made over for her big day. Only Carol did, chirping and twittering about ‘how about you make her hair a little bigger’ or ‘make her eyes pop, she has such pretty eyelashes’. Luckily Carol had to go have a smoke every fifteen minutes so the make up and hair people could have a moment to actually work. By the time it was all over, Tanya looked perfect. Her dress was basically a white ballgown, a tiara was placed in her strawberry blonde hair, cheeks blushing a perfect pink. But unlike most brides, she still hadn’t said a word and those weren’t sure as hell tears of joy she was holding back.

I’m sure you’ve heard about the ‘first look’ photo fad. I find it great to get that perfect expression a groom makes when he sees the bride in her dress for the first time. It’s usually quite cute. This was the first time I’ve shot a first look photo where I truly believe it was the first time the bride and groom have actually looked at each other.

Marcel did seem to have his breath taken away by his lovely bride, but her expression was less than thrilled as he took her hand and give it a tight squeeze. My stomached turned when he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and she quite obviously flinched.

It’s time I put a pin on the myth that arranged marriages only happen in foreign countries, and only people from certain cultures take part in it. They happen all the time in the US, and more often than not it’s an old man who wants a ‘virgin’ bride, and by virgin I mean ‘still in fucking highschool’. This wouldn’t even be the first one I was hired to photograph.

I managed to catch Tanya alone in the room she got ready in, sitting next to the open window and twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers. “Need a light?” I offered as I came in.

“No thanks. I don’t smoke, but they say it makes you feel better, right?” She said, looking up at me with those doll like blue eyes.

“It also gives you lung and throat cancer.” I took the cigarette from her and lit it up for myself. “But I’m a bad example, so do as I say, not as I do.”

Now that got a smile out of her, even if it only lasted a second. “How often do you smoke?” She asked.

“Depends on the day. Usually I have two or three. Bad day I can have a few more.” I lowered the cigarette and looked down at her. “How old are you, Tanya?”

“Nineteen. Twenty in a few weeks. I have a bit of a baby face.” She poked one of her cheeks. “Why do you care?”

I glanced at the door to make sure Carol wasn’t going to barge in. “Tanya, are you not okay with this? The wedding?” I asked quietly.

Tanya’s eyes widened. “Damn, you’re good,” She also glanced at the door, “… Harold, my stepdad, arranged all of this. If he had it his way it would’ve happened when I was fifteen, but Marcel kept delaying. Business, apparently. He tried to delay another year but my dad implied he had other offers.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “If I said no, Harold would kick me out and cut me off, frozen my bank account. I’d have nothing and no one, and… I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out one of my business cards. “Flip the card over, it has a number for a woman’s shelter- they specialize in helping women escape from dangerous home situations. Hides them, helps them get started in a new city if need be. Below that is my personal home number, if you just need to talk, okay?”

Tanya took the card and clung onto it tightly before tucking it into her bra. “You might be the nicest person I’ve ever met,” She murmured.

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I try,” I said before extinguishing the cigarette on the windowsill. “If you need to escape any time tonight, just ask me to help you go to the bathroom. We can pull a whole runaway bride,” I joked.

That got another laugh out of her, just in time for her mom to pop into the room. “Well, what’s taking so long? Hurry up, the wedding’s going to be starting in fifteen minutes, and I don’t want you to cry and make your face all blotchy and ugly!” She whined.

Tanya’s brief joy faded and she gave me one more sad look before following her mother out.

The ceremony would’ve been so much more beautiful if I didn’t know the dirty little secret behind it all. Tanya didn’t smile once. I don’t think even one of those bridesmaids was an actual friend of hers, or at least not a sincere one. When the priest said ‘you may kiss the bride’, Tanya let one tear slip down her cheek when Marcel leaned down to kiss her.

I was seriously considering calling the cops, but what could they do? Tanya would likely cave and say nothing was wrong, and since she wasn’t a minor they couldn’t label Marcel a pedo and her stepfather a child seller. It still didn’t make the situation any less shitty. All I could do was snap pictures of the worst day of Tanya’s life.

At the reception I was constantly being nagged by Carol about what pictures to take to the point where I wanted to rip her hair out, but I did notice something different about the first dance between the couple.

Tanya at first was stiff as a board, reluctant to even touch Marcel, but he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Her entire demeanor changed in a blink of an eye to one of surprise and I managed to read her lips- ‘really?’ Marcel nodded and I managed to catch a picture of the first smile Tanya had since she said ‘I do’. By the end of the dance, she was actually starting to get into it, resting her head on his chest as they swayed to ‘A Thousand Years’.

It was a complete 180 change, Tanya was now one of the happiest, and dare I say it flirtiest brides I’ve ever seen. She even leaned up to kiss him on the cheek as they sat down, something that took even Marcel by surprise judging by how he blushed.

I genuinely started to wonder if Marcel slipped something in her drink to get her acting so happy when Carol started to nag me again about where her husband was. She was the kind of mother who forgot this was her child’s wedding instead of her own and she wanted pictures of her and ‘Haaarold’. In order to get the fuck away from her I told her I’d go find him. He’d been hitting the open bar a little hard that night, I assumed he was in the bathroom either throwing up or cheating on his wife. It could’ve gone either way at that point.

When I approached the men’s room, I heard something that sounded like gargling or swallowing. Ew, I know, but I kinda hoped to ruin this nasty bitch’s day if her husband really was cheating so I opened the bathroom door with my camera at the ready.

I made eye contact with Harold.

Or rather, I made eye contact with Harold’s head.

It was sitting in the sink, expression twisted in abject horror. The room was soaked in blood, body parts strewn around the floor. Meanwhile, Marcel had stripped out of his tuxedo and was currently swallowing Harold’s arm. Whole.

Now I was wondering if I’d had something slipped into my champagne. Humans can’t just unhinge their jaw like that, each gulp taking Marcel’s arm deeper down his throat. I saw the tips of Harold’s fingers disappear with a small wave of goodbye… and then I dropped my camera.

Yes, I heard something break, no I didn’t care. I just saw the groom eat the goddamn father of the bride. Marcel’s head shot up and his eyes, before now they were a dull, watery gray but now they were mottled brown and red with slitted pupils. I felt frozen when those eyes looked at me.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, one moment.”

Marcel turned to the sink that was free of a man’s head and vomited, I heard several things clatter on the porcelain before he fetched them out and washed them off. With an embarrassed clearing of his throat, he walked up to me and pulled me into the bathroom.

I thought I was dead, but instead Marcel placed several diamonds in my palm. “For the camera, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He said.

“Uh huh,” I managed to get out as I stared at the literal handful of diamonds. This would pay for more than the camera. “… Why did you-”

“Devour Harold? Oh, I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Marcel chuckled as he grabbed some paper towels to wipe off his chin, like that would take away from the fact he was still naked and bloody in front of me. “A terrible person actually tastes quite divine. You would taste absolutely terrible. It’d be like swallowing nails. Meanwhile, a man who offers his own daughter as a sacrificial lamb to something he knows eats humans, he tastes like the richest cut of steak, cooked medium rare and seasoned to perfection.”

Jesus Christ, this twisted situation had taken on a whole new level of fucked up. “Wait, he seriously-”

“Oh, absolutely,” Marcel snorted, “And he’d do it again. All for what happens when my stomach processes human bone.”

I clutched the diamonds. “… You’re not going to hurt Tanya?” I asked.

Marcel shook his head vigorously. “God, no! I kept delaying the wedding in hopes that she’d manage to find a way out, but I think Harold was getting bored with my cold feet. There would be plenty of other people willing to pay for her, even if my payment would be easily thrice what others would offer.”

God, I was starting to feel a little dizzy. Here I was, talking to a human eating groom. I glanced out the door and a horrible idea entered my brain. One that would surely earn Marcel’s good favor and help out Tanya. “… So if I told Carol she could find her husband in the men’s room?” I asked.

Marcel seemed puzzled for a second but caught on quickly. With a nod, he picked up the head and tossed it into one of the stalls. I heard it splash in one of the toilets and I almost started giggling, I was nearing hysteria. “Go right ahead. I’ll be waiting,” He said as he kicked more limbs out of sight.

I almost left when I had to ask one more question.

“What the hell are you?”

Marcel cocked his head to the side before he changed, just for a second. One moment he was a blood soaked man, absolutely horrifying but normal, the next he was a snake… sort of. His body was gone, replaced by the body of an anaconda, but his head was still the same, minus the flick of a slim, forked tongue from his mouth. Then he was back to ‘normal’. He responded with a shrug.

“Funnily enough, I was hoping you’d tell me. I don’t have a clue.”

I left the bathroom and bumped into Carol almost immediately in the hallway. “Well, where is he?” She snapped.

I just pointed a thumb towards the bathroom. “Think he’s not feeling so well,” I said before I was nearly bowled over by the grumpy bitch.

I watched long enough for her to open the door and for a scaled tail to shoot out, snag her around the arm, and drag her into the bathroom before I headed back to the wedding.

The problem seemed to solve itself that night. Marcel came back, the men’s room locked after apparently someone got quite sick in there. Tanya no longer had to behave a certain way to please her mom and I think she had a good night. I used my back up camera to make sure to get all the pictures of her smiling. Carol and Harold vanished into thin air, never to be seen or heard from again. And those diamonds paid for quite the nice new camera.

Like I said, it’s been a year. I sure as hell haven’t forgotten that wedding, but what prompted me to share it was that I got a friend request from Tanya on Facebook. I normally don’t accept friend requests from previous clients, but this one time I chose to make an exception. She does look so much better, she’s going to college, she now sculpts and paints, she regularly volunteers at the woman’s shelter I directed her to when we first me, and every Friday night is group date night at the local arcade with some of Marcel’s friends that now appear to be her friends as well. Apparently Marcel is quite the Dance Dance Revolution master, but is terrible at shooting games.

Her most recent picture was her and Marcel, smiling. And she was holding up an ultrasound picture.

#my stories

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freak-accident419 · 2 months

Text

The Little Things

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: Upset that Josh has been overly stressed and traumatized recently, you decide to surprise him with a short getaway, a temporary escape—you were going to take him to see a dinosaur.

WC: 1.8k

Content: fluff, mentions of death, gender neutral reader, short but sweet, kissing, listening to music, quiet yet comfortable company, few curse words

(A/n: this oneshot is heavily inspired by the movie Palm Springs which was brought to my attention from something @rynsfandomsfun reblogged—it was a sweet movie. Also, don’t play the preview of the song attached, but listen from the beginning when it plays in the fic :) )

“Hey. Wake up…”

Your gentle voice and light shaking seemed to do the trick as you sat patiently on the edge of his bed. “Y/n?” Josh grumbles drowsily, gradually waking up as he rubs his eyes with his fingers. “Shit… what time is it…?”

You chuckle amusedly at his demeanor. “Approximately two a.m. But that’s not so important,” you answer, watching him use his arms to lift himself up against his bed frame, now in a sitting position.

He faced you with groggy bewilderment until his eyes suddenly widened once they inevitably trailed over to your lap. “Shit—Y/n, is that the TTD?” Josh gasped. The revelation seemed to have woken him up completely, his shock clashing with your nonchalant smirk. “But that would mean—”

“Yes, I stole it from Tiger and Wolf while they were sleeping. And yeah, I’m aware they’d kill me if they ever found out, but they’ll never know we even left, ’cause lucky for us, now we have a damn time machine,” you grin softly.

“‘Left’? Wait, what—what are we doing?”

You chuckle, admiring the adorably confounded look on his face. You were so thrilled to break the news to him, anticipating his reaction. “I’m gonna take you to see a dinosaur.”

You didn’t mean to get tied into all of this. Well, technically, none of you were meant to. However, Josh was your best friend, and one day, you two hung out in his room as you watched him play and attempt to beat his favorite game Biotic Wars. And you never would’ve guessed the shit you both would go through after that.

As his best friend, you knew him very well and were able to read him even if he was across the room from you. Therefore, you could always sense when he was upset and miserably exhausted. So when those two airheaded dipshits from the future constantly mistreated and belittled him, you couldn’t help but feel resentment towards them and pity towards your best friend. And the moment you saw him covered in his co-workers’ blood after him witnessing his colleagues brutally chop them up to shove inside a possum incinerator, you were just about done with all of this bullshit.

So when the day became night, you snuck into Tiger and Wolf’s weird sewer hideout, stealing their TTD. And then you snuck into Josh’s house, planning to steal him too.

Josh’s face beams as he heard your proposal, and it was probably the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile ever since he got involved in that savior crap.

“I’m gonna see a dinosaur?” You answered him with a smug nod. “You’re not fucking with me? I’m gonna see a dinosaur? H-holy—holy shit!”

You knew he wanted this before, hell, you were right there when he begged Tiger and Wolf for it back in 1969. And so, because of all the bullshit he undeservingly had to deal with, you wanted to give him a break or reward. You just wanted to see your friend happy again, like how he was before this entire mess.

In life, you had to enjoy the little things—which says a lot about your lives right now, considering that traveling back in time to see a dinosaur could be considered as such. The two of you needed a break, even just for less than a day where you didn’t have to worry about saving the world or killing people.

You take out an index card and found a pen on his desk. “What time is it?” You ask him, taking the cap off of the pen with your teeth.

“Uh, two—uh, two thirty-four,” he answered after glancing at the clock. “Am I—Am I seriously going to see a dinosaur? Are—are we actually going to the jurassic period?”

You scribbled down the time so you’d know when exactly you should get back, just to avoid any complications. “Yes,” your answer was muffled as you laugh softly, taking the cap out of your mouth to place it back over the pen. You shoved the note in your pocket then took Josh’s hand, helping him get up from his bed to stand up in his room. You open the TTD and began to play around with the controls.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” He asked, looking over all the cryptic symbols and confusing interface, then back at you.

“Uhh, general idea,” you reply, clicking around the device some more until you finally placed your arm around his shoulder. “You ready, Josh?”

He blinked, then nodded eagerly. “Are you serious? Hell, yeah! Holy shit! No way! I’m gonna see an actual, fucking dinosaur!”

You weren’t quite used to the feeling of traveling through time, but at least it got easier every time you did. Bright blue lights and volts surrounded the two of you, feeling a gust of wind blow into your face and whole being, and even heat from the electrical currents. And then, in less than five seconds, you two appeared in a jungle, late at night, in the late jurassic period.

***

You two sat down on a thick branch of a tallish tree, the soft light of the moon kissing your faces. It was dangerous to be in such a wild and unpredictable time, surrounded by deadly, barbaric creatures, so the tree would be a pretty safe place to watch the dinosaurs from. Except the surrounding area was practically empty, so you just waited for them to emerge.

Your shoulders brushed as you enjoyed the silence between the two of you—which was actually ceased fairly quickly once Josh communicated a thought that had practically gnawed at him for days.

“Hey, I just wanna say I’m, uh… I’m sorry that I dragged you into this, Y/n,” he finally says, looking at you pitifully. He looked really nice in the moonlight, you thought. “Wolf and Tiger, they’re insane, and I—shit, if I never invited you over then none of this would fucking—”

“Hey, hey, shut up, will you?” You snickered, offering a forgiving grin. “You didn’t drag me into this. The both of us never would’ve expected any of this bullshit, okay? Like, genuinely.” Josh nodded, but you still sensed some remaining guilt in him. “Hey. If I was gonna be wrapped into this crazy fucking mess with somebody, I’m glad it was with you. You’re my best friend. My ride or die.”

The corner of his lips curled into a sweet, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he replied coyly. “And, uh, thanks for this. I know there’s no dinosaurs right now, but… I really appreciate the gesture. Like, Tiger and Wolf, they would’ve—”

“They definitely would’ve killed me, yes,” you laughed softly. “But… you’re worth all the crazy fucking discipline.”

With this lighting, you could never see how his cheeks flushed pink. But you knew he was blushing, from how the corner of his eyes crease and the way his wide smile accentuated his cheeks, revealing his pearly white, perfect teeth. He lets out a quiet giggle, and the two of you continued to watch the horizon of the dark, yet mesmerizing prehistoric view.

You two held each other’s hands, interlocking one another’s fingers warmly, placing the clasped fists between each other. There was some kind of unspoken thing between you two that you never had time to figure out, mainly because of the recent things you’ve been dealing with. But it was still there, that strange, lingering feeling.

And then…

“Holy shit!” Josh gasped abruptly, sitting up, patting onto your shoulder repeatedly, then pointing his finger far out into the distance. “Y/n, look, shit, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n—”

“Wh—” Your breath hitched as you saw it in front of you. “Shit…”

The several long necks and small heads of brontosauruses were in the distance, peeking out of the whole jungle and its trees, walking slowly towards the left in front of the iridescent moon.

It was beautiful. You never expected it to be. Actually, you really didn’t expect anything, you thought it’d be too surreal to even process. But they were exactly like the history books. They were like the CGI graphics in film and games, the images displayed near their exhibits at museums, the small long, plastic figures that come in clear tubes, and hell, a scene from Spielberg’s Jurassic fucking Park.

“They’re beautiful…” Josh sighs in complete awe.

“They really are…” you mutter, still fascinated by it all, watching the family of dinosaurs walk slowly together, letting out low moans and stomps with each heavy step.

Abruptly, you take out your phone from your pocket, as well as some earbuds. You plug it in, help Josh with the left earpiece and put the right one in yours. And then, you clicked onto a song that you had downloaded prior.

The gentle song began to play softly in your ears. The two of you were mesmerized by the beauty and magnificence of these creatures that you never thought you’d ever see. Your head moves down to rest on Josh’s shoulder as you two admired the dinosaurs from afar. The light pressure of you against his shoulder tickled him slightly, which he gulped at, heat rising to his cheeks. Your contact against him felt warm and you felt safe. Even though this was a place where you would most likely get mauled brutally by ‘clever girl’s, you felt nearly invincible with your best friend by your side.

“This is amazing…” he whispered, astonished.

“Yeah,” you sigh, mocking his quiet speech.

A pause.

“You’re amazing…”

You slowly pull away from his shoulder curiously, your eyes leaving the direction of the large, majestic animals. Your eyes look deeply into his, again, the moonlight shining exquisitely on the side of his face, bright enough to reveal some of the hazel tint in his irises. You felt your eyelashes flutter each time you looked from his eyes to his lips. He, too, looked at you intimately and fondly. And then your eyes closed gently once you feel his lips press against yours, hearing the song continue in your ears. The entire moment felt so magical, that you weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that you were in a place where dinosaurs existed or that you were kissing the person you’ve always admired.

You pull away slowly, a silent exchange of eye contact, before kissing him again, with more passion and less hesitance, letting your hands rest behind his neck.

There were no more words between the two of you after. In a good, serene way. Parting from his lips, you rested your head back onto his shoulder, feeling his arm around you from the back and his hand holding your waist. And you two continued to watch the dinosaurs under the stars, holding each other’s hands once more. Enjoying the little things, for now.

You could let this moment go on forever. After all, with the TTD, you had all the time in the world.

#future man #future man 2017 #future man x reader #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman x you #josh futturman x gn!reader #josh futterman #josh futterman x reader #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader #peeta mellark x reader #josh futturman x f!reader #josh futturman x m!reader #gender neutral reader #male reader

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cozage · 11 months

Note

Could I request a female s/o who's a witch that's missing a special ingredient for a potion and Sanji brings it to her without realizing and she's so excited she gives him a big ol smooch?

Eeeek this is so cute I hope you enjoy!

Characters: female reader x Sanji Word Count: 780

Missing Ingredient

Mint.

Of course you were missing the easiest and most attainable ingredient the world had to offer. But some village brats had burned down your garden last week, and you hadn’t gotten back around to replanting and enchanting the herbs.

And now you were halfway through this recipe for a very important potion, and you just couldn’t stop stirring to go grab some from the village. The last time you stopped mid recipe, the sky held a pink hue for two weeks straight. Most of the townspeople had not been thrilled about that mishap, and you certainly couldn't let it happen again so soon after you had fixed the last one.

There was a knock at the door, which slightly startled you. You weren’t expecting company, but it wasn’t uncommon for random people to approach your door. You were a witch after all, people came to you for all kinds of help. Perhaps you could convince whoever was outside to run an errand for you. You flicked your hand at the door, and it swung open to reveal an unfamiliar tall, blonde man.

“Can I help you?” you asked, still stirring your mini cauldron with perfect precision.

“So the rumors were true!” the man cried.

He looked lovestricken, and you got a bad feeling about his intentions.

“Look, I don’t do any kind of love potion or-”

“I’m not here for a potion,” the man said as he stepped through the door. “I’m here for the beautiful young lady who lives here.”

“And what do you want with me?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“My name is Sanji,” he said. “All I want is to cook dinner for you.”

You stopped stirring for a moment in shock of his response. People only did things for you to get something back in return, but you sensed no ill-intention or desire for exchange within his soul. He genuinely did only want to cook dinner for you, and had no plan to ask you for anything in return. In all your years of living, nobody had ever asked to do something for you without getting something back. This Sanji was quite remarkable.

The smell of burning flower petals snapped your attention back to your task at hand, and you began stirring your cauldron again.

“Fine,” you agreed.

“Thank you! You won’t regret it!” He rushed over to the free counter and began unloading the ingredients he brought with him.

“But only if you-”

You saw the flash of dark green leaves with small, serrated edges. “Mint!” you shouted.

Sanji looked at you, confused. His eyes darted down to the bundle of mint he had collected earlier.

“Sanji!” you squealed, absolutely ecstatic at the way the universe played in your favor. You rushed over to him and squeezed his face between your hands, staring straight into his crystal blue eyes.

Before you even knew what you were doing, your lips crashed into his. He smelled and tasted like cigarette smoke, which was foreign and familiar all at once. You wanted to stay longer, but you knew you couldn’t afford to.

You quickly pulled away, plucking three mint leaves from his bundle, and rushed back to your potion. You prayed that being away from the mixture for such a short time hadn’t caused any major catastrophes, but everything in the room still appeared normal.

You said a quick enchantment over the leaves and tossed them into the brew, finally able to turn the potion down to a simmer and rest for a few minutes.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, turning around to speak to the man who had gotten you out of your predicament.

He was sprawled out on the ground, seemingly unconscious. Your heart stopped for a moment as you tried to recall if you had put on your poisonous lipstick today, or if there had been a poison gas as a side effect of the potion. It would be an issue if you happened to kill the one person who had been able to help you today.

You bent down and checked his pulse, which was quickened. At least you hadn’t killed him. You gently shook his shoulder, trying to bring him back to reality.

“Sanji,” You crooned softly. “Wake up.”

His eyes flicked open and scanned the room. When his gaze landed on your face, he gasped.

He bolted into an upright position and grabbed your shoulders. “You kissed me!” he screamed, shaking your shoulders. “Do it again! Please!”

You giggled, gently prying his hands off you. “How about you cook me dinner first, lover boy? And then we’ll see if you’re deserving of another one.”

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #cozage #✧˚sanji✧˚

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pigeonpeach · 3 months

Text

How they would react to you being tied up

Suggestive but silly

Cw: nothing explicit but heavily mentioned. Fmab reader

Characters: Jean, Beidou, Shenhe, Diluc

Jean

“A-are you sure that’s comfortable for you?” She said a bit concerned. While she loved your body she was worried the ropes dug too deeply. “Well.. lisa recommended I try it for you. And I may or may not have done it wrong.” You say, trying not to let in that you’re genuinely tangled in this failed attempt of seduction. She gives up trying to untie it and simply procures a small knife to gently release you. You sigh in relief once the tension and tightness is gone.

“Next time have someone else do this for you. Please my love, I don’t want you get yourself hurt.” She kissed your back as she untangled the now limp ropes off your body. “I still like my present though. I just prefer if its not damaged.” She says teasingly.

“Hey! I didn’t mean ro.” You say defensively.

“I know I know. Are you still in the mood to…”

“Of course! I prepared all this! We’re not letting it go to waste!”

“Of course dear. Lets retry that then shall we? I’ll tie you myself more simply.” Jean smiled a bit more mischievously, all while your back was turned.

Beidou

She shakes her head, a amused smile on her face. “These ropes are NOT for skin dear. It could easily damage you. If you want to do that kind of play we cannot use this rope.” You sulk in embarrassment.

“I had to make do.” You said. She clicked her tongue in disagreement.

“If you really want more suitable binds i could just take that shirt of yours instead. Roll it up and tie your hands together. When we’re back on shore we can get proper handcuffs but for now that can do.” She suggests. That idea is really hot. “Or i could just take your hands pin them above your head?” She offers again. Your mind short circuiting at the though.

“Yes. All of them.” You said. She chuckled,

“You truly are insatiable my love. I love it.” She grinned as she took your hands, firmly grasping them. “Lets not waste any time then.”

Shenhe

“You mean to say you tied yourself up… on purpose?” She said confused. You nod embrassed. “For what reason? There isn’t any enemies nearby… is there.” The mere thought of such led you to know her polearm was ready just in case.

“No no no… you see its a form of role play… powerplay you know. Some people find it thrilling to have their partner at their mercy in this context.” You explain.

“I don’t think its a good idea to play with such impulses with me. My red ropes don’t retain all my impulses.” She says. “I fear that if I indulge them too much I’ll become to used to it..” you sigh as you put the ropes away.

“I understand. I should’ve asked you first I’m sorry love.” You apologize.

“I never said i didn’t like it…” she said. You blushed processing her words. “Let me clarify, I don’t like the idea of you being bound by rope because I’d rather it be me doing it myself. If I saw you bound by rope it makes me feel too… monstrous. I don’t want it to feel like you’re a sacrifice to me.” She explains. You nod.

“So you would be down to restrain me.. just with yourself instead of any ropes?”

“Indeed.”

“Well then should we get started?” You say nervously pulling on your bra strap, letting it snap against your skin. You barely blinked before she was ontop of you, your hands above your hand, pinned roughly.

Diluc

The second he saw you in bed, posed like a damsel, arms and legs tied with that look in your eyes he stopped as he taken aback. You squirm teasingly as he takes in the sight.

“Oh my you’re full of surprises tonight.” He says as a smile forms on his face. You smiled as he turned you over onto your back. “I’d rather hold you down myself though- oh.” He noticed your hands seemed too tightly wound, a slight purple tint to them. He quickly tore the ropes off to your surprise.

“He-oh… OWWW.” You shouted as the feeling in your hands returned leaving you feeling excruciating pain all the sudden as your hands had fallen asleep.

“Sorry to ruin our fun. I don’t want you to lose your hands.” He said a bit worried. He held your hands out to inspect them, his arousal forgotten as he felt his protectiveness take over.

“No no I understand. I really shouldn’t have tied it myself. I should’ve settled on handcuffs.” You sighed.

“Once you’ve recovered I could retie it myself. Or maybe its better if I just pin you down myself.” He said.

“It was supposed to be for you so I guess you should just go with what you want.” You said, shaking your hands trying to rid the needle like sensations stinging in your hands.

“Well.. I still appreciate the get up..” he said eyeing your body.

“This is my normal night gown, you’re just far too easily aroused. I could probably wear a potato sack and you would find it attractive.” You teased. He smiled brushing hair out of your face.

“It’s because you’re the one wearing it. Do you feel better now?” He asked. You felt a little bit better.

“Yes now lets get to it! I didn’t prepare all this for nothing.” You practically jumped ontop of him. He smiled.

“I love when you smile like that.” He said with a dumb smile on his face.

“Stop being sappy I’m trying to turn you on!” You exclaim playful.

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #jean gunnhildr x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #shenhe x reader #beidou x you #beidou x y/n

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chaosbae · 2 months

Text

how the characters react to you wanting a chance at redemption:

parings: charlie, vaggie, angel, husk, alastor, the vees and lucifer.

✧ charlie:

✧ she’d be absolutely thrilled for you!

✧ she’d run to tell everyone that yet another person in hell has chose to stay at the hotel in a path of redemption - “welcome to the hazbin hotel! i’m charlie, charlie morningstar, the princess of hell? oh oh come i have to show you your room!”

✧ would welcome you right in no question and with open arms, eagerly introducing you to everyone around here.

✧ would almost instantly make sure that you’re shown to your room, telling you that you’re safe staying in her hotel and that you can make yourself at home!!

✧ vaggie:

✧ skeptical as fuck - she’d inspect you the second you come through that door with charlie.

✧ she’d quite quickly warm upto you, as a friend of charlie’s is soon a friend of hers.

✧ would warn you about the shenangins that occur in the hotel, and making sure that you’re keeping yourself out of trouble.

✧ secretly really cares about you, and makes sure to check in time to time to make sure you’re settled lovely.

✧ angel dust:

✧ would instantly try to flirt with you the second you walk through that door - “ooh, look at you~”

✧ lowkey a hype man, loves to make you feel welcome and would shower you with compliments as you get to know everyone.

✧ would make time to get to know you one - to - one.

✧ would offer you to drinks at the bar with husk, opening up about his backstory and his job, learning about valentino and his way of life without owning his soul.

✧ husk:

✧ would keep himself to himself for the most part if i’m honest.

✧ would observe from afar, mostly just waving at you or giving you a small nod of the head until he warms up to you.

✧ would get to know you better through angel - and drinks - where you find out he’s actually just a sweetheart.

✧ alastor:

✧ observant, very observant.

✧ would be quick to introduce himself - “hello my dear.”

✧ would keep an eye about you for the first couple of days, making sure you’re not here to ruin charlie’s plans of her hotel (just so he can do it himself.)

✧ would send his shadow counterpart to watch you when you’re suppose to be asleep, to make sure you’re secretly okay.

✧ lucifer:

✧ would be thrilled for his daughter, practically beaming at the idea that people support her idea of redemption through her hotel.

✧ lowkey be pissed if alastor introduced himself before he did.

✧ would take time out of his schedule to get to know you personally, taking a genuine interest in your goals.

✧ would actually love to spend quality time with you once he got to know you more, and would share his stories with charlie with you.

✧ valentino:

✧ would be pissed - “i’m gonna fuck everyone in that rancid shithole i swear to god!”

✧ he already lost angel to this dumb hotel, and doesn’t want to loose you too it too.

✧ would ‘dump you off’ as soon as you mention it, going on a rampage in velvettes studio despite what vox tells him to not do.

✧ would just rather you give up your dumb dreams and run back to him, letting him take control of your life again.

✧ vox:

✧ would be fucked off to the max that you’re in alastors presence.

✧ don’t even bother trying to go back to him for anything because he already knows what you’ve been upto, he’s got eyes everywhere.

✧ complains about your dumb endeavour to valentino and already plotting against you away from the public eye.

✧ don’t be surprised if your tech fucks up, he’s most likely bugged it to piss you off.

✧ velvette:

✧ she thinks your idea is dumb, but doesn’t really question it as much as the boys do.

✧ she’s quite clingy, so she’d possibly be more confused as why you’re leaving her then your actual reason to be staying at the hotel.

✧ would take her confusion/anger out on her models, if val hasn’t got there before she has.

✧ would lowkey make you feel bad for choosing charlie’s cheesy hotel over her and her brand, calling you ungrateful and a bitch.

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vampykween · 5 months

Text

Second Chances (part 2)

summary: little poppy is simon riley’s entire world and you’ve just had yours turned completely upside down. despite everything, it seems like everything falls into place when you’re with each other. cw: mentions of character death a/n: i wanted to dive into Simon and Poppy's backstory with this part so reader isn't really present in this but, i felt like it was important to establish some backstory ☻ this slightly proofread, but forgive me if there are any mistakes wc: 1789 part 1

Although his face doesn't show it, Simon is thrilled listening to Poppy talk his ear off on the walk home from school. He wouldn't dare admit he spent the whole day busying himself with household tasks to keep his mind from wandering to his little girl. As soon as they cross the threshold of their home Poppy is off like a shot, shrugging off her backpack and kicking off her black mary janes. Simon sighs fondly, hangs her backpack up on its hook, and deposits her shoes in their rightful spot on the shoe rack. One day he’ll get her to do it herself, but for now, he’s content with trailing after her and picking up every little thing she drops if it means she’ll always stay this young and innocent.

When he rounds the corner he’s met with the sight of Poppy scribbling on a large sheet of paper - her brand new box of crayons strewn across the living room table - and the sound of her favorite cartoon; which Simon finds mind-numbing but he grins and watches with her when she asks because he’ll be damned if he doesn't make her feel like the things she likes aren’t important to him.

“Whatcha working on there, lovie?” Simon asks with genuine curiosity, he hadn't expected her to come home with any work to do already. The young girl gestures to her crafts, “We’re making family trees at school, I’m a little bit stuck though daddy, I don't know who to put on the tree.” She pouts at him from her spot on the floor and Simon is hit with a wave of grief for the life his daughter could’ve had.

Six years ago

“Oh my god, Simon, are you even listening to me?!” Amelia snapped in Simon’s face as he zoned out on the couch. His body was firmly planted in their living room, but his mind wasn't. Pregnant. The word bounced around his brain like a pinball machine, he’s suddenly brought back to the present at the sound of his girlfriend's sobbing.

“God, I'm right in front of you and it’s like we're not even in the same room. I beg you time and time again to just be present with me, and you act like it’s so fucking hard.” Amelia hiccups and frustratedly wipes at her eyes, “if you don't want this tell me now, cause it’s hard enough feeling like you don't even love me, I can't imagine handling you not loving our child either.”

Simon turns sharply in her direction at her admission, he knows it’s rocky between them he’s no idiot, but to hear her say that he doesn’t love her, or wouldn't love their child fucking tears him up. He takes her hands in his, and tugs gently until she meets his eyes.

“Em, you have to know that I do love you, and hell I’m scared out of my mind right now, but god please don’t think for a second that I wouldn't love our child.” He pulls her into his arms and strokes her hair gently until her cries subside.

“I'm so scared Simon, you and I are not okay. What if that never changes?” Amelia asks somberly. She couldn't remember the last time she wasn't griping at Simon for something, or Simon giving her the silent treatment and storming off for hours at a time. She knew a baby wouldn't change that, hell it had been five years already and they still weren’t married. The wishful part of her hoped that Simon would say that he was going to change for good and that they would fix their relationship and become a happy family.

“We’ll figure it out, I promise yeah?” Simon had a way of looking at her like she was his world and for just a moment Amelia believed that everything would be okay.

Unsurprisingly things were not okay, Amelia woke in the middle of the night grasping her large bump in pain. She regrets her decision to make Simon sleep in the guest bedroom because now her options are to attempt to waddle and wake up her boyfriend? Baby daddy? Things were tense and she wasn't sure what they were anymore. The months she’s spent growing their little bundle of joy have been hellish; being pregnant exacerbated Amelia’s growing disdain for Simon and made every transgression seem far worse than ever before.

“God, Em, just let me do it. I don't need you hurting yourself.”

“Piss off Simon, I'm not a baby. I can handle building a crib by myself.”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn't move from his spot in the doorway. Pretty much any conversation with his girlfriend was an argument waiting to happen. They both swore they would make it work, but it seemed like the longer time went on the more they were at each other’s throats.

Amelia braves the idea of trying to make it to Simon’s room when a contraction subsides. She trudged down the hallway to his room and pushed on his shoulder roughly to rouse him.

“Simon. Simon, wake up.”

“What do ya want,” he questions groggily, still half asleep.

“The baby’s fucking coming, get up. I'm dying in pain over here.”

He shoots up at her words, panic settling into his bones as he realizes that this is it. They were about to come home with a baby, they were seriously going to be parents. He smiles brightly at her in the dark room, only slightly lit by the moonlight because Simon still hadn't put up the curtains she asked him to. Amelia wanted to tell him to wipe the stupid grin off his face because she was pissy and in excruciating pain, but a part of her couldn't help but smile too. Maybe they would come home with their little bundle of joy and everything would be different.

The sound of small cries fills the hospital room and Simon is sure he’s never cried so hard in his life.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” the nurse says as she lays the tiny baby on Amelia's chest. She smiles down at their little girl, but it’s wobbly and the color is rapidly draining from her face. Before he could have a second to even bask in, what he’s sure is the best moment of his life, the sound of machines beeping erratically and the flurry of nurses surrounding Amelia has him paralyzed with fear.

The sterile smell of the hospital was burning his nostrils with every shaky breath he inhaled. They kept saying something about Amelia losing too much blood and that they needed to act fast and a million other things, but it felt as if his ears were filled with cotton and his head was trapped underwater. Simon’s heart was beating like a hummingbird trapped in a cage; he couldn't handle losing another person he loved. Why was it that everyone around him seemed to be viciously ripped from him?

Poppy, the name they had decided on just a few short days ago, was on the verge of having no mother and a grief-addled skeleton for a father. His lungs couldn’t hold enough air and suddenly he felt dizzy, he thought for a moment about what it would be like to let this day be his end too. But he then thought of his little girl growing up, traumatized from being abandoned as soon as she entered the world. Simon was not a man made of tears, but he found himself shedding them freely in the cold, hard hospital chairs as he waited to see if his entire world was about to come crashing down. He chides himself for all the arguments they had had recently, he can't even remember the last time he told Em that he loved her. He did love her, even if he wasn't able to love her the way she so desperately wanted him to.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor comes out where he’s sat, and he feels his throat constrict at the look on her face.

“Mr. Riley, we did everything we could…”

Whatever she says after doesn't even register because he feels like the room is spinning and he can't breathe and he's going to die he’s sure of it. What did he do to deserve the cards he had been dealt? How was he supposed to go home and take care of his daughter and act like he didn't have to plan on how he was going to bury her mother?

Simon is hit with flashes of the future of all these he knows nothing about like periods, relationships, and all the things a little girl wants her mother for.

At that very moment, Simon had nothing but Poppy. He wanted to lock himself in his home and never face the light of day again, but he knew that for her, he needed to be her everything. And that meant, trudging through every painful, sinister day so she never feels anything short of loved irrevocably.

The shrill sound of Poppy crying has been Simon’s soundtrack for the better part of the day now. As if the small infant knows he’s inadequate, and most definitely not her mother, she wails loudly no matter what he does to soothe her.

Amelia would know what to do, she was always the type to have her nose buried in parenting books, and if Simon even had a moment's peace maybe he’d pick one up. That unfortunately meant going into her bedroom, not even their bed because they had been fighting and sleeping in separate rooms right before their daughter was born. The door at the end of the hall has been closed since he got home from the hospital a week ago. Every time he thinks he’s ready to brave the room, his stomach twists in knots so tight he has to remind himself he’s okay and that he’s alive.

Simon rocks his newborn gently in his arms as he sinks into the couch, sighing at the way he can still smell a hint of her mother’s perfume. He’d give anything to have Amelia ripping into him right now, just to hear the sound of her voice.

He looks down at Poppy, who magically has granted him a reprieve from her sobs, and smiles softly at her. “You look just like your mother, ya know that? You’ve got a bit of my ugly mug in there too, but your eyes? That’s all her.” The baby blinks up at him and Simon leans down and kisses the crown of her head gently. “It’s just gonna be you and I kid, but I promise I'll do my very best with ya.”

taglist: @darkravenqueen98 @jupiternighties @lunamoonbby @happy-mushrooms @yyiikes @liliumbosniacum @fluffymaxsworld

banners from @reveriesources and @cafekitsune pic creds: @ave661

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!ghost #dad!simon #oc: poppy #cw: character death #second chances au #mic writes

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dearestspirit · 5 months

Text

a note heard in heaven - 02

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 3,270 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health.

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You’re taking off out of the library faster than Mizu can keep up with. Struggling to steady the parasol over your head, she dreads the moment you’ll be inside; more aptly, she’s dreading the scolding she’s bound to receive due to you getting wet. She grunts, hurrying her walking to stay next to you. Nearly leaving her behind, you finally make it to your room, doors clattering open.

“I hate those books,” you grumble, perched over the sink in your personal bathroom. “They’re so… boring, they make me sick.”

Mizu watches as you retch, color drained from your face. In a panic, she strokes your back. However, you’re quick to wave her hand away, agitated. When the heaves of your chest finally slow to a halt, you press your heated forehead against the coolness of your sink. There’s a dry irritation in your throat and your eyes are scorched with pinpricks of tears. At the back of your mind you’re acutely aware of how unsightly you must look right now; the thought only serves to embarrass you further. Knuckles white from the grip you hold on the sink, you push to straighten yourself. When you do, you’re met with Mizu’s inquisitive gaze.

“Miss…?” She questions, but it’s not interrogative.

“I’m fine. Please go.” You tear yourself away from her eyes, finding you shrink under her authority despite her rank below you.

“You should-”

“Mizu, I’ve asked you to leave. Please.”

The disgruntled exhale from her nose is audible. She doesn’t speak another word to you before closing the bathroom door behind her, leaving you alone.

In the morning, when Mizu goes with all the other servant girls for breakfast, she finds one of them sniffling. Ise, she thinks, is the girl’s name. When Ise sees her, she skitters over, holding out Mizu’s missing shoe. You must have said something, either to Madame Kaji or the girl herself. Mizu scoffs and takes it back ungraciously. It’s no matter to her anymore, as she sits with her breakfast and listens to the chatter.

When whispers of The Count’s name pass through again, she almost snorts. He had been delayed yesterday, by something or other– she knew it probably had to do with the plan the two of them had. Something about making you wait, growing your anticipation. Some flirting tactic she had no interest in hearing about, especially not from Taigen. She’d never heard of any successful romances on his part, so she doubted he could know all that much about genuinely seducing a woman. Besides, your sheltered lifestyle meant you’d likely give your heart up in seconds once he threw some compliments and risque touches your way. Part of her was thrilled he’d finally be on his way here to get the plan truly in motion. With her bowls empty, she’s speeding to your room.

“Miss!” She calls for you.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since the incident last night. You hadn’t requested her presence at your bedside, choosing to derobe yourself.

But still, you smile when you hear her.

“Hello, Mizu.” You greet her, chin resting in your palm.

She stares at you like you’re mad. “Get up then, we’ve got to get you ready for the day. A bath, first.” Her hands take hold of your arms, guiding you into the bathroom.

With curtains drawn, the sunlight is dim, soaking the room in a gentle warmth. You watch as Mizu effortlessly prepares your tub, checking the temperature of the water. Satisfied, she gestures to you and your clothes.

“I’ll undress myself, thank you.” You mutter.

It’s been a few days of having Mizu as your new handmaiden, yet you insisted on taking care of clothing yourself. Despite it being a duty expected of her, she was nothing but respectful of your wishes. She tries to not stare as she hears the thudding of your elegant fabrics hitting the floor. Obviously, she’d have to bathe you, so she’d see everything. But it was just this once. You’d be swept up by The Count, then off to whatever madhouse would take you, and then…

“The Count is coming today.” She tells you, breaking herself out of whatever impending thought she had.

“That’s why you’ve set all this up.” You state, finally bare.

And then you’re dipping yourself into the water, carefully minding the table of soaps and oils Mizu had rolled over. Immersing yourself from the neck under, you bob back up to sit comfortably.

“Here,” Mizu mumbles, handing you a candy. “Back home, my aunts used to give candy to the babies they’d bathe.”

“So you’re treating me like a baby?” You chuckle, unwrapping the candy and savoring the sweetness of it.

“You’re like one, aren’t you? It’s as if you’re my baby.” She laughs– your heart stutters– scattering an assortment of floral petals into the bathwater.

Overkill, you’re sure, but it endears you. Your eyes follow her, her actions; she’s so dutiful in her work. A hush falls over the two of you. Mizu is concentrated, though when she sees your face fall, she stops. You’re pawing at the side of your jaw, letting out a broken groan of pain.

“Is something wrong?”

“I have a sharp tooth,” You whine. “When I eat… it cuts me.”

She hums in response, tilting your chin up with a hand. With her other, she drags a finger along the row of your teeth. When she comes across the pointed one, she hisses and steps back. At the table of objects next to her, she shuffles through, diligently searching for something.

“I remember,” You hear her call out. “One time, a relative used a thimble to grind down the sharp tooth of her son.”

Your teary eyes follow her as she hurries back to your side.

“Say ‘ah.’” She tells you, opening her mouth for you to mimic.

There’s a jolt in her at how comfortably you obey, how your lips part, how your mouth welcomes the intrusion.

Cradling your neck in her left hand, the thimble on her right thumb scrapes across your tooth. It’s a foreign feeling, one that brings along discomfort with it. You try your best to focus on the remnants of sugar on your tongue, the heat of your bathwater; but what helps the most is holding onto Mizu’s elbow. Her sleeve rolled up, you run your fingers back and forth as she continues her ministrations.

She suppresses a shiver at your touch– she can feel your knuckles tense when there’s a particularly uncomfortable drag of the thimble, she can feel the slight bite of pain as your nails sink into her skin. Even with the way her skin blooms red from your actions, you handle her with more nicety than she’d experienced before. Her eyes never stray far from your mouth, but…

But she follows the droplets that run down the bare flesh of your chest, meeting the water once more. It would be easy to let her left hand trail down, down your wet skin from pulse point to collarbone to the softness of your breasts that peek out just over the surface.

That fragile, delicate softness.

“All done.” She pulls her thumb from your mouth, mindful to not let the thimble hurt you on its exit.

You’re staring at her, eyes never leaving her own. You must’ve seen them lower and lower until no longer appropriate. She could sense the rush of heat to the tips of her ears. Depositing the thimble into the front pocket of her apron, she sits with her back to the tub.

“Go ahead and finish washing.” Her voice is husky, mouth dry.

She tries to not think about quenching her thirst with the water clinging to your body.

Palpable silence stays in the room until you’re clothed once more.

Mizu stands in the far corner, squinting as Taigen– playing as The Count, of course– greets you. The two of you had spent what felt like an agonizing amount of time going over your hair, makeup, and dress.

“Ah, you didn’t have to get all done up to see me.” He grins, laying the sleaze on thick.

A shy expression befalls you; the hint of a flirtatious smile.

“Your painting lessons, I promise they’ll be exhilarating for you,” Taigen winks, though he catches sight of Mizu in the mirror behind you. Turning, he opens his arms wide in a friendly gesture. “This must be your handmaiden! The one I so honorably recommended.”

Mizu wonders how the fuck he can go on and on without giving anyone else a chance to speak. Or have you been stunned into silence? Did you really think of him that highly already? “Yes, at your service.” She takes a shallow bow.

“Are you carrying out your duties well?” Taigen asks, stepping over to her. “It’ll make me look bad if you aren’t.”

“You picked perfectly for me.” You chime in behind him.

“So I did a good job,” That smarmy upturn of his lips is back again as he flicks a coin towards Mizu. “Take this, and keep taking good care of our Lady.”

She can barely contain her complaint, holding back a disgusted ‘ugh’ as he walks out of the room. You’re still over in your corner, looking demure. If Taigen were still in the room, he’d slap Mizu on the head and tell her to strike. So, she does.

“The Count sure is nice, isn’t he?” She plays up an exaggerated smile, fussing at your clothes to busy her hands.

You give a shrug in return, already heading back to your room before she can analyze your reaction and pinpoint your exact feelings for The Count.

Mizu’s breath runs ragged as she hurries to the guest room Taigen resides in. One of the other servant girls had fetched for her, claiming he needed Mizu for an errand. She knew that meant he had something important to tell her, though part of her felt remorse at having to leave your side. A loneliness swam in your eyes, that pout of yours betraying your usually stoic, posh demeanor. Your lips haunt her mind as she travels; the docile way they had parted upon request, or was it moreso a command? Did you care to discern the difference? Though, she supposes, someone like you deserves…

Taigen’s door slides open with an urgency that knocks the wind out of her. It nearly bounces back closed, before his hand stops it. Grabbing at Mizu’s sleeve, he tugs her into the room and shuts the door eagerly. She can’t even focus in time for Taigen to start hushedly whooping, arms waving in the air.

“Easy, idiot,” Mizu puffs, flipping that coin he’d given her back in his direction. “Did you really think you could fool me with that shit fake?”

To you, she’s been your handmaiden that does her duties to whatever standard you deem suitable to hold her to. If you said jump, she’d say how high. But Taigen knows better. He knows when someone tells her to jump, she asks how much.

And he knew that very well when he recruited her.

In that last month before Mizu came to be by your side, she was approached by the son of a local farmer. Taigen. The two lived in a poor, weary village. Little luxuries were afforded to them. It only made sense that in an unseen corner, thievery would thrive here. In that small hut on the outskirts of her home, Mizu would learn everything– pick-pocketing, forgery– and would grow to excel at it.

It’s why, when Taigen shows up in a suit far outside his price range, he’s quick to pick her out of the rest. He’s boasting of how grand a plan this is. How you have millions, and that your current fiance was looking for the same thing he was: getting their hands on that fortune. Taigen’s the one to claim he can snatch you right under that old man’s nose. Mizu almost retorts with a ‘what do you know about love?’ but she holds her tongue.

“After the job is done, you can get all of the mistress’ dresses and jewelry. Everyone here will get a share of fifty thousand.” There’s gasps as he finishes speaking. To them, fifty thousand is more money than they’d all seen in their lifetime, combined.

Mizu nods with a hand on her chin, tapping her foot. “On top of the fifty, I want my own hundred thousand. That’s my price.”

Taigen agrees effortlessly. He insists that Mizu go through the next few days ‘training’ with him. She had never been a maid of any sort before, born into criminality, so she needed at least some preparation. Otherwise this plan would be doomed from the start. For starters, he spends way too long teaching her how to make herself blush. Calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ who would succumb to the inferiority complex of a poor handmaiden. He makes sure she knows to not let you think; no questions, take care of everything in a matter-of-fact way. Honestly, Mizu cares little for whatever Taigen lectures her on. He’s just like her– a poor criminal looking for a way out. She knows she’s intelligent, and she knows how to use people to her advantage. Taigen, on the other hand, is rarely ever self-aware of the drivel that comes out of his mouth.

At some point, the time passes and Mizu’s faced with her last night in the village. She sits on her knees behind the old woman who’s been taking care of her her whole life. Mizu knows it's thanks to her that she's still here. Not quite a mother, but close enough, after losing her own. Something somber settles in the room, Mizu exhaling a sigh.

“When my mother was hanged,” She starts, combing through the elder’s hair. “Did she cry?”

“Mizu,” Her voice has become frail in the past years, age beginning to get to her. “After your mother had you, she told how she was the luckiest woman. She had no reason to cry, not even when faced with her death. You take after her so much… what a thief you’ll be, one day.”

Taigen snaps a few times, taking Mizu out of her memory. “Look, when I give the signal… ‘fully ripe’, make sure that she and I are alone.”

Mizu raises an eyebrow. “She’s very sheltered, Taigen,” she strolls over to the large bed he’s been provided, flopping backwards onto it. “You could touch her intimately and she still won’t know what you want.”

“Well, do your part then. Everything is because of me.” Taigen states. “Like… her nails growing longer because I’m here. Things like that, she won’t know any better.”

Mizu’s mind drifts. Hand stuck down the front pocket of her apron, she finds herself fiddling with the thimble she left there. You and Taigen, alone… He said he wanted to devour you. She remembers now. Someone like you, she remembers, deserves the touch of someone tender. The Count has teeth, claws given to him as the birthright of being a man in this world. A dark cloud simmered in her at his signal. ‘Fully ripe,’ as if you’re something to be eaten, the only fragment left being an empty pit. No, she had seen you– had seen the flush of your skin, the supple ways your body curved. You were meant for more. You were meant to be given to, not taken from.

But she couldn’t. She had to feed you to an insatiable man. From her palm to the white blades of his teeth, she’d comply. No victimless crimes truly exist, she reasoned. If she had to take advantage of yet another person to get to her goal, what did it matter? She repeats it to herself a few times, a mantra to clear her mind: It has to be done.

“Give her these,” Taigen hands a box to Mizu. “From me, of course.”

Gracefully, you pull the golden rope away from the box, admiring the floral pattern atop it. When you open it, revealing the earrings inside, your face lights up.

Taking one of them, you hold it up to your ear and look in the mirror. “Mizu, these sapphires are so blue!”

Mizu nods, watching your reflection. ‘They suit you’ almost tumbles off her lips. It’ll do her good to remember those will be hers as soon as Taigen gets rid of you.

“They remind me of your eyes, don’t they?” You grin. “Just as pretty, too.”

“Actually, it’s blue spinel.” Mizu mutters, ignoring your previous comment.

“What?” You’re frowning.

“But that’s just as expensive as sapphires.” She’s sputtering and correcting herself, catching her slip up.

“How do you know that?” You’re questioning her, eyes squinted.

“My old mistress taught me. That’s all.” Mizu gulps, rarely ever nervous, but she can’t mess up this far into the scheme.

You nod, unrolling the piece of paper The Count had included in his gift. Mizu exhales, glad you’ve moved your mind onto something else. She lets her eyes scan you as you read, thinking back to what you said. They remind me of your eyes. Just as pretty, too. It’s not hard for her to remember all the times she’d been looked at in fear, cursed at, beaten. All the children of the village who had thrown rocks at her, chased after her. Why were you so different? What gave you the right? The boiling heat of anger starts to crawl under her skin. She has no reason to trust you; at the end of the day, once you learn you’ve been betrayed, you’d take those comments back in an instant. You’d call her ugly. A demon. She knows this. She’ll lock the sound of your voice in the far reaches of her mind and she’ll never think of you again, only ever your money. It has to be done.

So why can’t she stop looking at you? Has she ever seen anything so lovely?

There’s a dinner tonight. You, your ‘husband’, and The Count.

Mizu is sure to pull out one of your fanciest dresses for the night, telling you The Count will love it. You look shy again, putting your cheek in your palm as you coyly smile. A hint of disgust brews in her at your awe of him. But when she follows behind you, down the steps to the dining room, she can’t help but let her eyes roll over your figure. Your hair is up. Would you squirm if she pressed her lips there, on your neck? Even down to where your dress dips, exposing your shoulder blades? Between them, as she pushed your sleeves past your arms? And what if The Count did the same? He’s trashy, unable to hold something so vulnerable in his hands with any grace. It wouldn’t happen. At least, not while Mizu was in the room. If she left you alone with him… would you?

She cares so much because you’re a poor, poor girl, is what she decides. Really, she just feels bad at how badly your heart is going to break when you realize The Count doesn’t love you in return. Anything else is simple curiosity– a destitute criminal pondering on the lifestyle of someone so privileged.

A chair clashes to the floor as soon as Mizu holds the door open for you. Taigen’s standing up, mouth open like a fish out of water.

“You’re incredible!” He yells, gaping shamelessly. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

Mizu’s fist clenches, nearly drawing blood with her nails.

He’s so full of shit.

a/n: so on the last part i had some people interested in a taglist!! personally, i would feel uncomfortable doing that as there will be eventual nsfw content in this. maybe i'll change my mind, but for now i rather not to avoid minors/ageless blogs being tagged. either way i hope you're all enjoying the read!! i'll try to keep getting chapters consistently out if i can <3

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes x reader #bes x you

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auras-moonstone · 7 months

Text

high infidelity — ethan landry

word count: 1,910

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: y/n and chad are in a dying relationship and ethan brings y/n back to life.

warnings: cheating (try not to do that!). fluff (might be a bit cringey??). sexual tension.

author’s note: i’m sorry if this isn’t super great, but my inspiration left the chat this week and college has been super hard too :(

EVER SINCE LIV’S DEATH, CHAD HAD CLUNG ONTO Y/N AS IF SHE WAS THE LIFEBUOY THAT KEPT HIM FROM DROWNING. At first, she was thrilled because she had had a crush on him for way too long. But eventually, he started healing and slowly began to pull away from her, yet not quite letting go. It was a miserable place to be for Y/N, and she was left trying to hold onto the remaining pieces of the relationship that meant a lot to her.

Chad was the first person Y/N had ever loved, and she really thought it was going to last forever. Looking now, she cursed herself for being such a hopeless romantic and creating too much expectations for a teenage relationship, especially for being her first one. Hell, she had even followed Chad all the way to New York.

As soon as they stepped foot in the city, Y/N panicked. A new reason not to break up with him just entered the list—if she did, she would be alone, in an unknown city where she didn’t have anyone but him. Because that was the truth, while she really liked Mindy, Sam and Tara, they weren’t her family as much as they were Chad’s.

They included her in their plans, but that didn’t mean she felt part of the group. She would’ve felt really lonely if it weren’t for Ethan Landry, her boyfriend’s roommate, who understood her silences like no one else and made her days lit up with just the sight of his smile. Two introverted loners who found a safe place in the other.

Y/N’s name had been engraved on Ethan’s heart since the very first day he saw her. He was disappointed to find out her heart belonged to his roommate, but it didn’t take him long to realize that maybe that wasn’t quite true—yes, Chad held her heart, but it didn’t belong to him. It was obvious Chad didn’t love her enough, and it was slowly killing her.

It boiled Ethan’s blood. Chad didn’t realize he was lucky enough to have the most amazing girl in his arms and he had been taking her for granted and neglecting her. And Y/N didn’t realize Ethan was there, willing to lover her with all his heart and show her the appreciation she deserved, and instead she was dancing around the truth of her dying relationship. Why couldn’t she see him?

Yet everything changed on April 29th. As almost every Friday, Chad had dragged her girlfriend and best friend to a frat party despite their countless complaints.

“Chad, you know I don’t feel comfortable at these parties. It’s not my scenery. I can’t stand crowded places and loud music” Y/N continued to fight her case.

“Stop complaining for one day” Chad groaned. “Don’t be boring, it’s just for a couple of hours and I’ll be right there with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, she wanted to yell so many truths. It made her a bit annoyed that Chad couldn’t understand she wasn’t being “boring”, she genuinely felt anxious and suffocated. She didn’t even understand why Chad wanted her there, considering that within the first five minutes he would leave her alone to talk to some frat boys or to get wasted.

“Hey, it’s fine. If you really can’t stand it, we’ll leave” Ethan said in a low voice, squeezing her shoulder in reassurance.

“Okay” she nodded, her body relaxing a bit. Why couldn’t Chad be more understanding?

CHAD DIDN’T EVEN WAIT FOR Y/N TO ENTER THE HOUSE BEFORE HE LOST HIMSELF IN THE CROWD OF PISSED PEOPLE. Once again, Y/N was left behind by him and if it weren’t for Ethan, she would have been completely alone in an unsettling place.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, noticing her tense shoulders.

“Just want the night to be over” she sighed. “I’m going to get a drink, you want one?”

“Sure” the boy nodded.

Pushing and shoving, she managed to get to the table filled with drinks. Knowing Ethan wasn’t really a huge fan of alcohol, she chose the less strong drinks. She turned around, cups in hand, ready to go back to Ethan when she slammed into a hard chest.

“Hey, gorgeous” a tall guy she didn’t know spoke. The strong scent of vodka invaded her nose and she couldn’t help but scrunch her nose in disgust.

“Um, hi. Could you move, please?” she asked politely.

“Dance with me” it wasn’t a question, more like a command.

She scoffed “Go bother someone else”

“Playing hard to get? I like it” he smirked, grabbing her waist. She tried to step back, not being able to do anything with her occupied hands, but the guy wouldn’t let her.

“Let me go” she glared up at him.

Before the unknown guy could respond, she was pulled away from him and new hands gripped her hips. This time, she leaned into the touch, recognising the strong male cologne coming from behind her. The protective and strong grip made her feel relaxed and secured, the way she always felt when he was around.

“Are you deaf? Back away from her” Ethan’s tone was new to her ears. It was confident, threatening and harsh. This side of Ethan was hot, and Y/N’s body grew warm.

“Sorry, didn’t know she had a boyfriend” the guy stepped back.

“Doesn’t matter if she has a boyfriend or not, she said no, so you walk away and leave her alone, got it?” Ethan spoke between his teeth. Once the guy left, his soft demeanour came back, but Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the way he had acted a few seconds ago. “Did he hurt you?”

Y/N shook her head, staring at him intensely. “Thank you” she said in a low tone. The lust she was feeling clouded all her senses, and it was hard to do anything but stare at him.

Her eyes spelled desire, and while Ethan could sometimes be oblivious, he was definitely not stupid. “You can’t look at me like that” his tone was a bit shaky.

“You are looking at me the same way, Ethan. That’s kinda hypocritical” she said, not taking her eyes off him as she took a sip from her drink.

He clenched his jaw and backed her into a corner. Her back collided harshly against the wall but that’s not why she gasped. One of Ethan’s thighs sneaked between hers, applying a bit of pressure to her heat. And if she hadn’t been aroused before, she definitely was now.

“You look so fucking hot tonight” he used that tone she recently discovered and was already a fan of.

Her hands gripped his biceps and her doe eyes almost made him collapse to the ground. Her look was one of need, but they also held sweetness and adoration and Ethan swore it was his downfall.

“Ethan” she said his name unlike ever before. She wasn’t just calling him, it was the recognition of something she had known for a while and was finally ready to admit.

“Yes?” he said hopeful. Their lips were close, yet not daring to touch. The desire was so strong that the gravity was becoming too much.

They were on a treacherous slope, and the smart thing would be to walk away but it felt like they were standing on quicksand. And while the path they were about to began was reckless, they knew it was worth it.

“I like you” she finally said.

The party and the people went out of focus in that moment. Ethan had dreamed about those words coming out of her mouth for so many months that finally hearing them in real life almost made him cry. He couldn’t help it, and before he realized what he was doing his lips captured hers.

It was like her heart started again, as if that kiss brought her back to life. Feelings Y/N thought were buried after her failed relationship with Chad had been slowly starting to make their way towards the surface once she began to spend time with Ethan. And now, right there in the dimly lit room, with music so loud it caused a migraine, and his body pressed against hers, they had finally reached the surface.

IN THE MORNING, Y/N WOKE UP WITH THE WEIGHT OF ETHAN’S BODY OVER HER. It took a few seconds for the memories to sink in, but once they did, her face broke into a smile. She looked down and had to fight the urge to grab her phone and take a picture—the boy had his face hidden on the crook of her neck as he breathed peacefully, his unfairly long eyelashes tickling her skin and his strong arm around her bare stomach. How could someone be that beautiful? Ethan was mesmerising and breathtaking, a literal angel.

He woke up a few minutes later, and his confused face was probably the cutest thing Y/N had ever witnessed. And then, when he caught sight of her, his entire being lit up and constellations appeared in his eyes.

“So it wasn’t a dream” he spoke with a raspy voice.

Y/N threw her head back laughing “Hi, you look really cute in the morning. I could get used to it.”

“I would love to get up like this every morning” he said with a lovey smile, “Though maybe we should talk about what we are going to do.”

Y/N nodded “Yeah. Well, I know I’m going to break up with Chad. But should I tell him about this… us?”

“He’s going to be furious, things are going to get awkward, and he’s probably going to hate us… but lying would be worse.” Ethan said, and she hummed in agreement. “Do you think I should be there? When you tell him, I mean.”

She thought about it for a second and then shook her head “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That might be too overwhelming for him”

Ethan nodded and silence filled the room for a few minutes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course” she relied softly.

“Are you sure about me? I mean, I’m not some kind of getaway car, am I?” Ethan asked, the insecurity in his voice broke Y/N’s heart.

“Eth, no. Absolutely not” she sat up, face expression as serious as her voice. “You know, before I met you, I thought I was in love with Chad. And then you came and made me feel at home, protected, at peace and you made me realize that while I do hold love for Chad, I’m not in love with him.”

“And… are you in love with me?” he asked unsure.

Y/N smiled and peck his lips. “I’m so in love with you that every time you’re around my chest feels like exploding”

Ethan finally smiled and pulled her to his bare chest so she could feel his heartbeats. “I’m in love with you, too, as you can tell. To be honest, I’ve known it since the first time I met you.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait for so long. If I hadn’t been so scared, maybe I would’ve realized it sooner. It was kinda obvious, though. You have become my happy place.”

“You say the sweetest things, you’re going to melt my heart, love” Ethan said, looking at her completely enamoured.

“I feel like I should warn you—I’m the clingiest, most cheesy and affectionate girl in the world.”

“Warnings taken, I’m still staying.”

“Are you sure? You still have the opportunity to ran away” she said with a teasing smirk.

“Why would I ran away from my happy place?”

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