#that fucking phrase appears in my mind and I’m like

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

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Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pero tovar fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #the great wall fanfic #pedro pascal #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine #pero tovar x fem!reader

[trafltr]

ooh baby, ooh baby, i’m in love | eren jaeger.

the note 𐦍 i’ve recently been thinking about a successful, older (early to mid thirties), soft spoken eren who lives to spoil the woman of his dreams—so i’m gonna share this with y’all too. i’m actually just projecting our relationship. not proud of the ending but wtv. part two here. inspired by west coast, lana del rey.

contains 𐦍 nsfw, fem!reader, stupidly rich!eren, established relationship, vaginal sex, mating press, cervix kisses, use of pet names (princess, baby, my wife, the usual yk), unprotected sex, breeding, squirting, softie eren, mild body worship, size kink, hand on stomach while fucking mhm, i love you’s exchanged, praise kink, eren talks to your pussy while he’s in it, i’m thinking black reader but it’s all subjective babes: if you like it, read it!!

truth be told, eren jaeger doesn’t believe he has much to live for.

he’s kept his circle small for all of these ongoing years; with the occasional extension of acquaintances from work dinners, or christmas parties—though, he preferred to slip away from such events when eyes weren’t so…watchful. he likes to think his social battery has drained over the course of his life. looking back at his angstful teenage years, fourteen year old most likely wouldn’t recognize the person he is today.

his once intense nature that resembled an overbearing presence of loud determination turned calm—steadfast and slow to visible anger (with the exception of a passive aggressive comment here and there from simple annoyance). the short hair that once barely covered his nape now fell to his broad shoulders, however, he preferred to keep it up—maintaining appearances while keeping it convenient. the smaller five foot six body grew to an intimidating lean six foot four instead.

however, those things were quite trivial; he knew such changes happened with growth and eventual maturity.

but for a significant chunk of his life, eren was never the greatest with women. he was oblivious—blind to the wandering eyes full of admiration from girls in his classes and workplace—and nose deep in his books. he wouldn’t rest until he was on top of his grades; which he had no problem with. His emphasis on success failed him when it came to the dating scene; to say the least he was shy—and married to his work as well.

but on top of all this, eren was a patient man, and good things always comes to those who wait.

and when a dangerously beautiful woman comes wandering into his life on the street outside of an office dinner he gracefully slipped away from, asking him for an extra five dollars to help pay for her cab home from a no-show date—a woman that has him battling the slew of warning alarms sounding away in his usually zen mind and redefining what he thought was himself—he knows that he’s waited long enough.

simply put, he’s a man of his craft; dedicated to two things. his work, and his wife.

His wife—the phrase has his brain melting into pure grey matter that spills out his body in the form of love. To even think he has the opportunity to refer to you as such is priceless in itself. eren didn’t believe he could love—let alone love this hard. you ask him to run, he’ll say how far; jump—how high?

you’ve changed him—ever since he offered to drop you off in his sleek black mercedes benz parked somewhere by the valet and you giggled in response, saying ‘i’m not usually so trusting of strangers’ will the slightest glint of curiosity in your bright eyes.

and somewhere in between the months, his ten hour workdays turned to six, important software development meetings got pushed back for convenience, the accumulating days of paid time off started being used, for once, his assistant could do their job, and his new focus was you.

diamonds and pearls, nails and hair, dinners on boats and vacations on beaches, shopping sprees on his black card and all of his devotion towards you—only you.

eren…he’s a worshipper—it doesn’t take much for him to get on his knees for you. he’s not ashamed, if anything, he’s proud. he likes to say that anything that’s his, is yours; so who are you to deny what he gives you?

that’s another thing he oh so loves about you—you readily take everything he can offer. you let him take care of you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way; you’re his wife after all.

his wife, his wife.

“my wife…” eren mumbles to himself as he buries his face into the crook of your perfumed neck. the pronounced scent makes his head spin, you can’t fathom how in love with you this man is. as his large hands engulf your own, he’s met with the texture of your wedding ring that cost him over twenty grand, the one you cried over when you saw it in his hands offering it to you—but eren doesn’t think it does his adoration for you enough justice.

he prefers to show you.

while there’s no doubt that material items and dream homes are things you like to receive—there’s nothing better than the way he has you now, one leg resting atop his shoulder and the other barely slung around his waist as he steadily ruts his hips into your own.

oh, how could you be so beautiful? splayed out on the bed like a wicked man’s deepest desires and dreams; the one he secretly lusts for from across the room with no hopes to introduce himself because you’re just so out of his league. your hair is messily draped over the silk pillows, all remnants of your lipgloss/lipstick gone from your parted lips and instead smudged on his own, the gold necklace with his diamond initial was falling into the dip in your neck, and you were gazing at him with need. pure, heartfelt need.

your body arches towards him, manicured hands trailing towards your own chest to play with your nipples that hardened from the low temperature of the room. “i need you eren, make me feel you—i want it.” your voice is smooth, accompanied with a small whine that reminds him just how spoiled you are, and how it’s all his fault.

but he couldn’t care less—you deserve it for wandering into his life to make you his own.

“i know princess, i know.” he knows damn well you need him, he knows, he knows—he’s repeating it as he peppers a kiss to your jewelled ankle before pressing down on the back of your thigh to steady himself.

eren fucks like he loves—endlessly and hard.

maybe that’s why the way he bullies your pussy while bottoming out has you grasping at the threads of the sheets and chanting his name like a hymn followed by prayer. he lets your cunt feel every bit of him, the ridges—veins, down to the last inch. he’s terrifyingly big, another thing you love about him.

his dick feels like it’s mushing your insides, curving up against your spongy walls that oh so desperately tighten around him. every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head rolling to the side. your uncontrolled moans turn to sobs when you feel his tip tickle your cervix—and boy does it make him a rejuvenated man.

“look at me.” his words barely register as syllables in your clouded mind—you keep your head turned, eyes focused shut as your body shakes upwards from the fervour of his unrelenting tempo. there’s a lot of things eren can have, and you not watching the way his slick covered dick slips in and out of your weeping pussy isn’t one of them. “you have to look at me pretty girl.” his tone is soft but firm, thick fingers taking your chin in his hands and turning you towards him once again.

“see how well you’re taking me? all of it.” he gives you a million dollar smile, hinting for you to watch where the two of you connect. “your pretty cunt just wants it so bad, right?”

“oh, eren…” it’s always a sudden surprise how soiled his mouth can get at times like this. heeding his request, you watch his cock disappear in your folds—and you sight of it has you fluttering around him like a whore.

“you were made for me, weren’t you? prettiest sight i’ve ever seen.” you’ve heard his praises a multitude of times, having him ramble on about fucking you so much your walls moulded to fit him like a tight glove, only that now, he’s saying it to your pussy instead.

“only you ‘ren, was made just for you.” you babble out, feverishly bucking your hips up to meet his ruts.

when your eyes finally rip away from below and back up to his face, the look he wears has your cunt melting like putty. with furrowed brows, a dip in his forehead and a bitten lip, he watches your body move with each fuck. even in such a sinful position, you were just so divine.

almost subconsciously, his ringed hand moves from your hip and over to your torso, gliding over your pierced belly and stopped at your lower stomach, “I’m right here baby.” gently, he applies pressure to the spot, making your eyes blow open as you moan in response. the feeling gives you butterflies—ones that go straight to your clit and stimulate the nerves in your shaky legs.

“cummin—eren i’m cumming!” you’re rambling, scrambling to push his hand away from your belly, but it’s all too late, and eren knows that well. how could he not? your body is a temple, he’s explored every inch of it, and the sudden vice grip your walls have you him and periodic throb of your cunt is all too telling. your orgasm is drawn out, legs spazzing around your entranced husband, “mm, oh-fuck! yesyesyes eren, don’t stop!”

oh, aren’t you just perfect. his eyes soften when he watches how your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, only to capture it in a languid and sloppy kiss, teeth grazing your plump lips and sucking on them like a sweet. you whine he pulls himself away from your body completely, instead he takes the time to tack his thumb to your puffy clit, rubbing feint circles and the occasional attempted heart on the bud. he always does this, coaxing out the last of your orgasm with nimble fingers that you dream about

“you gonna let me take good care of you?” he asks softly between hushed breaths while grabbing hold of both your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders. helplessly, all you can do is nod; you’re in a trance at the very sight of him. his defined torso is illuminated by the back light of one of the many lamps in your bedroom, his hair is slipping from its captive elastic band, the grip of his hands on your ankles sends searing hot pulses straight to your sensitive clit.

he gives himself a few good pumps, sliding his length between your folds. your wetness aids him in bottoming out once again, but your sensitivity has you squirming in his hold. “gotta stay put baby.” he marvels, talking you into submission, “that’s my girl.”

his praises are followed by the shift of his hands down to the back of your thighs, they gently rub the plush skin before pushing them down to meet your chest. while there are some circumstances where looking down at you sparks something within him, eren likes to be eye to eye with you when he’s balls deep—turns him on even more being in such close proximity with such a captivating woman.

you squeal from the uncomfortable burn in your hamstring from being folded in half with the additional feeling of eren’s body weight on your own. you swear that you can feel your heart palpitating in your ears as you feverishly clench around him. “it’s too much! can’t take it, can’t take it!”

“of course you can, you know you can, your pussy takes everything i give it.” eren speaks between juts, pressing your knees to your shoulder blades as he pistons into you without any regard for decency. his thrust feel like a hammer, knocking your body into the memory foam mattress you begged him to buy.

stars cloud your eyes as he wraps himself tighter around you, head in the side of your neck as he peppers kisses across your skin. your pants and gasps are loud, amplifying the sounds of slapping skin and balls hitting the fat of your ass. his favourite part is when you dig your nails into his back, leaving cresent shaped imprints and jagged lines across it like a painter with a canvas; scars of your love.

deep groans fill your ear, soft and sweet; all eren can ramble about is you—how good you feel, how quick you can make him unravel like a ball of string, how lucky he is to have you in his life—the list goes on.

“i love you—fuck, i love you so much baby, you treat me so well.” with his declaration of love, his pace seems to increase, fucking you dumb and leaving you to heave for whatever air is left to breathe.

“i love you too, so much.” your eyes scramble around in your haywire brain, overloaded by the repeated feeling of the jackhammering going on in your walls and the non-stop cervix kisses he gives you. “it’s all yours, eren; you deserve it, you deserve this pussy. you married this, have it.”

eren jaeger doesn’t believe he’s deserving of much; has he earned things? yes. but you…laying beneath him, telling him he deserves you? it makes him never want to leave—not that he would dream of doing so in the first place.

he does deserve it—your words make his brain malfunction. he deserves it. fuck, you might just be the death of him.

you’re crying for him, grasping at any part of his body possible to get him closer to you than physically possible. your tighten around his base once more, and your hand flies down to messily prod at your clit in an attempt to play with it.

meanwhile, eren’s unrelenting pace falters; that man knows he’s going to cum soon, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it with you. so he pleads with you to give him one more—telling you that you’ve got another one bundled up in there for him. to say it’s true is unknown, but your body listens to eren, and miraculously whatever he believes will happen comes to fruition.

but your body is delicate—everyone knows delicate things break under pressure. with the unrelenting strain and stretch his dick gives your walls, the tight feeling in your core, and aching numbness in your legs, your buildup feels much more violent—ready to release all built up tension given to you by your husband.

“eren—keep on going like this and i’m gonna make a mess!” you fuss around, hand reaching to gently push his torso away in fear you may soil the freshly made sheets.

“that’s the goal.” he states as a matter of factly, brows furrowing as a suppressed groan bubbles up from his chest at the thought: pretty little face going stupid and clawing at anything within reach as you writhe and cum all over his torso and lower body. you can’t make him budge now that he’s a determined man.

his strokes grow sloppy but powerful, curved cock repeatedly ramming into your spongy spot that force your plush walls to grip around him, “you’re eating me up here, love.” he mumbles, moaning into your mouth in the disguise of a messy kiss.

the last roll that tips you over the rocky edge is a shaky one, the last one he could give before emptying himself into you. it’s thick and hot and you feel it fill you as you twitch underneath him and cover his abdomen with your juices. wordlessly, his hands reach for yours as he stills; soft lips peppering the lining of skin on your cheek.

eren jaeger knows that change is inevitable—it comes with time. but eren jaeger also knows one thing will stay the same; his love and adoration for the pretty girl laying below him.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger smut #aot smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk smut #eren yeager x reader

[stars4chratt]

Confections

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: pure smut / established relationship / softdom!matt / breeding kink / nipple play / mutual orgasms / cunnilingus / p in v / unprotected sex (do NOT) / creampie / FILTHY kitchen sex / LOTS of praise / pet names (baby, my love, sweetheart, good girl) / aftercare

Summary: The reader walks into her home after a prolonged and stressful day to Matt - her boyfriend - making baked goods in her kitchen. He welcomes her and gives her a taste of the delicious desserts. However, in return for the favour, Matt gets to taste her.

Author’s note: hiii guysss, i love you all for liking and enjoying Pins n’ Needles (there is a part 2 btw) After seeing the most recent Wednesday video, this made my fantasy grow even worse LMAOO. Also, leave a comment if you want to be added onto my taglist! Anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! From Maxine, with love ♡.

“Cause I’m all that you want, boy. All that you can have, boy. Got me spread like a buffet. Bon a– Bon appetit, baby.” - BON APPETIT, KATY PERRY

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Your shoulders ache and the migraine you have encapsulated in the back of your head feels like it’s going to split your skull in half.

People gave you a lot of shit at work today. Both coworkers and customers. Nagging and berating you and reiterating the same jaw clenching phrase that ‘the customer is always right.’

You close your eyes and let your chest fall as you sigh longly with relief after you arrive home.

The strong and pleasant scent of stiff caster sugar alongside a tangible hint of lemon citrus whiffs through your sinuses.

Ah, Matt’s baking again. You comprehend yourself.

You plop your keys on the marble countertop and set your bag down. The feeling of a thousand weights being lifted off of you as you remove accessory after accessory attached to you.

Peeking around the corner, you see Matt whisking dairy products mashed with madagascan vanilla extract whisked into butter cream. You peer down and see something resting in the oven at exactly 195 degrees celsius.

The peacefulness Matt baking brings you is heavenly. Just him concocting a sugary delight for the simple enjoyment of doing so can’t help but make your cheeks flush bright red and your core ache desperately.

The paternity your boyfriend holds within him orchestrating treats of chocolate frosting and yeasty dough makes you fall for him even more. Not only do his sweet delicacies taste amazing, but he also does it for pure comfort and vindication for you both.

Sometimes you wonder if he would enjoy baking for a family of three, maybe even four.

You sneak up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. He looks over his shoulder, he has a large piping bag in his grasp. A large grin appears on his face as he sneers. “Hi my love, how was work?”

You let out a fatigued sigh and your clasp around him tightens. “Not great, it was super stressful.”

He turns around to face you and pulls you in by your hips in an act of reassurance.

“Aww, my poor baby. What can I do to make you feel better? Hm?”

Matt’s words make the caterpillars in your stomach hatch into butterflies. You two have been dating for quite a while now and yet you still giggle and squeal like a small child whenever he asserts words of refreshment.

“There may be one thing I have in mind…” You whisper softly into his ear. After the distress of work and the mind blowingly stupid and egotistical customers you dealt with all day, you only wanted one thing that could ease your displeasure. For Matt to fuck your brains out.

As you were about to inform him about your dilemma, a soul-jumping alarm sitting on the table top starts dinging. Blaring across the entire kitchen. 

The migraine you’re suffering from induces even more, spreading through every crevice of your skull.

Matt notices the discomfort of the ear-splitting noise written all over your face and quickly shuts the alarm off.

“One second, sweetheart.” Abruptly, Matt grabs his teal blue oven mitts and crouches down to the oven to release the now strong scent of citric lemon flow through the room.

He takes out the tray and reveals to you that he had baked lemon drizzle cupcakes. Very tasty looking lemon drizzle cupcakes at that.

The glint in Matt’s eye along with his pearly whites framed with his smile presents his joy to you.

“Oh my god… They look delicious”

“Exactly, I’m a fantastic chef.”

“Damn right.” You both giggle together whilst Matt sets down the tray on a heatproof mat.

“What were you saying again, baby?” He twists back around to face you, letting you continue where you left off.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll leave it for after you finish off your cupcakes.” Matt’s eyes now glow with anticipation and curiosity.

“What you want won’t be an inconvenience for me at all, I can finish the cupcakes afterwards baby. I don’t wanna make you wait.” Matt crosses his arms patiently waiting for you to respond.

You gently stride over to him and lift your arms up to tug behind his neck over his shoulders.

“Matt..” You whisper softly into his ear. Trying to contain the burning sensation in between your legs. You really wanted to fuck. The intensity of today made you grow greedy with lust, and your boyfriend was the only person who could assist with that.

“Yes, baby?” He returns, completely oblivious to the pent-up arousal you’re experiencing.

You move one of your hands up the back of his head whilst the other tangles in the silver chain of his jewellery. 

You don’t say anything before you rapidly intertwine your lips with Matt’s. Your cravings of thirst for Matt’s touch starts to fester passionately.

He almost immediately reciprocates and swings his arms around your figure, your whole upper body in his grasp. You whine loudly at the sudden action as it makes your entrance leak and his touch makes you tingle like electricity shooting up your spine.

You advance your hands onto his chest and push him up against the wall beside the table top island stranded in the middle of the room.

The bulge throbbing slightly in his grey sweatpants presses against your core. Which makes you both gasp and sob into eachothers mouths.

“I’m so impatient, Matt. I need your dick now. Today has been so shitty and I really want it. Please, baby.” You choke up the words through the desperate whines thickening the air around you.

“Get on the counter then, sweetheart. Let me relieve all that stress for you.” Matt states delicately as he peppers kisses all over you up until he stops at your collarbone. He grips onto your shoulders as he forces you down on the counter until you're fully laying down with your legs spread wide.

“I don’t think we have any more condoms left.” Matt speaks softly whilst he towers over you. There’s a small worry in his pupils before you reassure him.

“Fuck it, we can go without. I need you so badly right now Matt, you don’t understand. Condom or not, I don’t care anymore. Just please fuck me.”

Your constant begging in impatience makes Matt’s prick pulse harshly. He rushes over on top of you to connect his lips with yours again.

The sloppy wetness of the kiss alongside his rock hard cock restricted in his sweats rubbed against your clothed heat has him writhing in a needy haze. His eyes go cloudy and his skin is painted ruby.

Matt viscously tugs at the hem of your work shirt pulling it upwards to reveal your laced bra. Your chest rising and falling heavily underneath Matt’s aggression.

He pulls down your underclothes instantaneously. Your tits spilling out and your nipples are swollen red.

“Oh, fuck yeah… Wait just one second sweetheart.” Matt leaves the enclosure of the space in between your legs but you can still see him in your peripheral. 

You look over to see him grab the piping bag. He races back over to the original position he was just in. His horse pendant jangling about and grazing over his defined collarbones.

“What’re you gonna do with the piping bag..?” You question him hesitantly, feeding your bottom lip into your mouth.

“You taste so good on my tongue baby. I bet you’d taste even better with cream on top of your tits. Hm?”

Matt’s filthy idea makes you tremble and your folds become velvety slick. Who would’ve thought that Matt, your boyfriend, a professional baker would want to fuck you as messily as this.

Matt leans over you and squeezes the piping bag slowly. The cream grazes your skin and the coldness of the substance makes you squirm and your back arches.

He moves the piping bag down and leaves a trail of sugary white down to just above your belly button.

His bottom lip fully concealed under his teeth in concentration before he sets the bag down and reels your hips in so the lower half of your body is hanging off the edge of the counter.

Matt then drops down to your height and starts to suck on your rock hard bud. Fully licking the cream off and nibbling at the centre, his mouth on your fully perched out nipples makes your entrance twitch and soak in your juices.

“You taste so fucking good, I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long. You don’t understand.” Matt gasps between licks on your tit.

He moves his head up slightly to suckle and nibble on the flesh of your neck. Leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your skin. Making you whimper into the air of the kitchen.

He advances down the thick, sugary trail that stops at your belly button. Licking and consuming the cream off of your now hot and plush flesh.

After all of the cream is gone, Matt brushes against his lip with his tongue and grabs the bag again. 

He hastily undoes the button on your work jeans and rips them off your legs in keenness. He uses his thumb and index finger to push your matching lace panties to the side. Now fully unveiling your bare, bright pink pussy.

Matt repositions his hands and puts the nub of the piping bag on the very peak of your clit.

“Matt, what are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your breath is still heavy and uneven.

“I’m eating you my love, wasn’t it obvious?” Suddenly, you feel a thick and freezing cold liquid resting on your swollen heat. This kind of filth during intimate times like this really makes you think about what other kind of things Matt is into, and you fucking love it

He throws the bag back onto the counter and crouches down until his face is barely touching your pussy. He blows on your clit gently, making your entire body shiver.

His lips are just slightly touching your soaking wet entrance. Just as you thought he was going to eat you out right then and there, he turns his head to pay his full attention to your thighs. Kissing and sucking on them gently. Whilst his hands have their full grip on them, squeezing them in temptation at relishing at your throbbing core.

“Matt..” You whine in impatience. You were so desperate for him to just consume all of you. His tongue felt amazing on your skin. He knew all of your weak spots and he knew exactly how to take advantage of that.

“Shhh, I’m here. I promise.” He drawls out faintly, his breath brushing over you again.

Matt focuses on your dripping centre again, and gradually sticks his tongue inside your entrance.

His saliva mixing with your silky juices and the cream still laying on your clit makes your head tilt back and your eyes roll back into your skull.

Matt pulls out his tongue straight away after he notices you broke eye contact.

“No, sweetheart. Look at me. Look at me whilst I eat you out like a good girl.”

You whimper at Matt’s mixture of a command and a praise. You turn your head back down to see him staring up at you through his eyelashes with his tongue deep inside you.

He licks a stripe up your folds and fully swallows up the sugary goodness of both the cream and your juices. 

You could not stop trembling under his tongue circling around your throbbing clit. His nose resting slightly above with his irises still dilated onto yours. 

You can feel your body tensing as Matt’s mouth is latched onto your slippery heat.

“Matt.. I-I’m gonna…” You mumble faintly.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my mouth. Let me taste more of you.”

An overwhelming flush or euphoria strikes all through your body in waves. Your breath hitches and you grab onto Matt’s hair, making him hum into your heat.

Your chest rises and falls smoothly whilst coming down from your high and Matt slows the rhythm of his tongue down on your clit.

Suddenly he detaches his mouth from your skin and pulls his sweatpants down.

Matt’s dick comes sprawling out of his garments. The vein that runs down the middle of his length spikes outwards. The very sight of his cock is an aphrodisiac to your senses within itself.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you raw. I’ve never asked you because I didn’t think you’d like it.” His necklace glints under the artificial light beaming down on the both of you that hangs just above the counter.

“Matt, you really should’ve asked. Fuck a baby into me, fill me up with your cum. Forget about the fucking cream. I want yours.” You sigh out. Your core twitching at the sight of his taffy pink prick fully exposed practically grazing against you.

The gaze in Matt’s eyes is full to the brim with hot pink lust. He’s practically drooling in admiration at how fuckable you look right now.

He grips onto your thighs again and presses his tip against your slippery entrance. He hisses at the overwhelming thrill of the feeling of your drenched folds.

Matt pushes his length inside of you at a sluggish pace, almost like he’s teasing you by going slow in the beginning.

Your spongy, slick walls squeeze down on his cock and it makes it pulse inside you. He whimpers on top of you while he sits inside of you in and out stagantly.

“Fuck…you’re so tight sweetheart.” Matt stutters, the utmost feeling of your pussy clenched around his dick is like heaven to him. Your breathless whines and moans are like harmonic symphonies ringing and humming in his ears. His visual stimuli are more than satisfactory from your tender and curvaceous figure that he has held in his hands at this very moment.

Matt’s pace starts to quicken and becomes more rapid inside you. Every single time he rams into you, he slightly grazes that sweet spot that drives you absolutely fucking insane. It’s like his cock was made for you. “I want to fuck you so good your pussy turns into the shape of my dick baby. It’s so perfect. I can’t wait to fuck my cum into you.”

“Please do it Matt… cum inside me.” His dick is slightly bulging out of your stomach. He sees this as an opportunity to use his two fingers and press on your abdomen slightly. “This is where my babies are gonna be, sweetheart. All for you. Taking it all like such a good girl.” He huffs out smugly.

The sound of your skin clapping and beating against each other every single time he pounds his dick into you and his waist clashes into your thighs and ass cheeks almost hypnotises you. “M-Matt… I’m gonna cum again…”

“Fuck… me too baby. I’m s-so close..” The rhythm of Matt fucking his cock into you starts to slow down and you can feel his lower body start to stutter and his member pulses thickly inside of you.

“Oh f-fuck… take all of my cum sweetheart…I’m gonna cum…c-cumming…” His arms give in and he loses all balance as he feeds his cum into your hole. His and your juices swirl and mix together inside you.

Suddenly, your stomach starts to feel warm. The feeling of Matt’s hot and thick load spilling inside all the way through your cervix pulls and twists at your neurons, especially alongside your soul-shattering orgasm Matt just gave you.

He drops his whole weight on you completely and hides his head in the crook of your neck. His heavy breath brushes on your skin while his prick still rests inside you, you can’t tell if he’s too tired to take it out or he wants all of his cum to stay inside.

Either way you both savour the moment while you lay still on top of each other. Catching your breath and coming down from your second high.

Matt raises his head up and reaches out for the cloth laying next to the piping bag. He balls it up and wipes at the skin with small spots of butter cream from earlier.

“I wasn’t too rough on you this time, was I?” He enquires. He looks down on you, still swiping away the white mess all over you.

“No, of course not baby. I loved it.” You respond, giggling exhaustedly. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“I’d love to, sweetheart.” Matt smiles before pecking your cheek and rests his head on your collarbone once more.

“A-are you still inside me?” 

“Pfft, yeah.” 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Author’s Note No.2: MY GOD THIS WAS ANNOYING TO WRITE. Sorry for the slight delay, I was incredibly tired and fell asleep and I got preoccupied with school. Anyways. Again, thank you so much for enjoying Pins n’ Needles. I WILL be making a part 2 very soon! :)

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

Taglist: @gamermattsgf @luverboychris @worldlxvlys @chrissystur @chaosisalwayscrying @bellasfavbisexual

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #smut #matt sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

[bunnypeew]

One drink too much - Lucifer x fem!reader x Alastor NSFW

sorry I am writing this supeeeer late but I have been busy with school and also i broke up with my bf recently so its been kinda shit lol

yet another party for a new guest had begun and everyone was having fun in their own groups:

Charlie and Vaggie were the party managers so they were the most sobered up of the bunch

Angel, Husk and Cheeri were doing shots by the bar

Sir Pentious was trying to keep Nifty out of trouble

while Alastor and Lucifer were trying to keep Y/n from drinking too much and it wasn't working very well since she could do the sweetest doe eyes ever and both couldn't resist saying no to that face so she had a lot to drink already, wobbling around on the dance floor pulling both of them with her. All three of them started dancing to a swing song. Y/n was stumbling a lot on her heels so she took them off getting a reaction from both Al and Luci seeing her being a little bit shorter, was kinda cute to them.

''okay honey I think that's enough for you tonight,,

Lucifer says grabbing her by her wrist and waist and trying to pull her towards him, Alastor was making sure she didn’t trip on her feet

“he’s quite right dearest, we let you have your fun,,

with that they both tried to get her off the dance floor and into a couch or something but she kept refusing to it wasn’t until she started shouting random things that they got really concerned

“mon cheri, what are you doing,,

says Alastor, strained smile on his face now but still keeping his composure from her nonsense shouting until she said one phrase that left both men in a state of mind

“MAN I JUST WANT BOTH OF YOU TO FUCK ME,,

silence from everyone in the room. Suddenly there is a mix of gold and black in the air surrounding the three of them making them appear in y/n’s room

“what the fuck just happened,,

Lucifer whispers with Y/n waist still in one of his hands while the other is now in his hair, Alastor in the meantime picked her up and slammed her on the bed as to make her go bed

“mon ange, you know we love you but, you are very much intoxicated and we wouldn’t want to-,,

he gets interrupted by one of her hands wondering up his pants

“i’m pretty sober you know,,

she said stroking him now, making him whine out loud. Lucifer in the meantime was just watching sat down on a chair, hand still in his hair while the other one was unbuttoning his jacket

“she’s right, a little fun wouldn’t be bad,,

luci says looking up and spreading his legs, getting comfortable in the chair. Alastor’s deer ear were flat on his head, snarling a little bit at this sudden contact with Y/n hand

He didn’t argue tho, instead he slammed himself on the bed on top of her, claws digging in one of her thighs while the other was keeping himself up

“alright then as you wish, but do keep in mind i’m not gonna be gentle, love,,

and with that, he tears off her dress leaving her only in her soaked panties

with that Lucifer perked up, now unzipping his pants and coming closer to them on the bed. Alastor was playing with the brim of her panties now with his free hand making her quiver under his touch, finally, he slipped in two fingers pumping at a normal speed at first, then picking up the pace. Y/n puts a hand around the one he's using to please her to make it go in deeper and feel things better, in the meantime, Lucifer started jerking himself off, caressing her beautiful hair while she was getting pleased, moans and whines coming out her mouth

At some point, after pleasing her enough to reach her climax Alastor flips her over and puts her in doggy style giving Lucifer the chance to put himself in front of her face on his knees, his cock near her mouth pressing on her lips to enter. Alastor on the other side was already inside and thrusting at a very fast pace, claws digging into her thighs

Lucifer was finally inside too, hands in her hair pulling slightly and thrusting forward for more and like that they both went until they reached their climax, thrusting forward faster and roughly finally finishing in her, Alastor's claws drawing blood from her thighs, dripping down her leg

Alastor immediately stops what he is doing making sure he didn't badly hurt her, kissing where he drew blood, putting her panties back on and tucking him, luci and her under the covers for a cuddle sesh

I know this is short and plain but this is all I can get out at the moment!! I hope you enjoy it tho &lt;;3 @maenoakasuna thank you for the request lovely :3c

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbinhotel #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel alastor #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne #radioapple #alastor smut #alastor #lucifer smut #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer imagine

[kaleldobrev]

Would You Like To…

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Dean have been dating for a few months, and now he’s trying to figure out how to ask you to move into his room

Word Count: 978

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Fluff, Dean just being awkward and adorable

Authors Note: This gif does things to me | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You and Dean have been dating officially for the past couple of months but had been sleeping together for almost a year now. Him or you always finding yourselves in each other's bed into the next morning following the night. Although your bedroom was just a few feet away, it was more common for the two of you to spend time in his bedroom. He didn’t mind of course, he loved having you in his room (especially in his bed). He loved when you would accidentally spend the night, and he would wake up to you still sound asleep usually your head on his chest or with his arms tightly wrapped around you. It was his favorite part of waking up in the mornings, something he looked forward to. But yet, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Although you would spend a majority of your time in his room, there were times when you would just simply kiss him goodbye, followed by an “I love you” before you went your separate ways of going into your bedroom. So many times he thought about asking you to simply just move in, but he was having trouble asking. He knew you would say yes, but he had no idea how to phrase it. It should be simple right? Do you want to move into my room? But yet, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words.

It was one of those mornings where Dean had wished that he had woken up to you lying next to him in bed. He looked at the empty spot next to him and sighed, wishing that you were there occupying the space. Just fucking ask her, he thought to himself. She’s not going to say no you idiot.

Rubbing his eyes trying to get rid of the sleep, he heard a knock at his door. “Who is it?” He called out.

“It’s me!” You replied back. “Can I come in?” You asked. He had no idea how your voice could be so sing-song like in the morning, but it was one of the things that he loved about you.

“Yeah, come on in,” he said, removing the blankets from himself as he started to get up from the bed.

When you opened the door, your hair and skin were still slightly wet from the shower you must have taken as it appeared you were just wearing a robe and slippers and nothing else underneath. He smirked. “Didn’t want me to join you this morning?”

You smirked back. “It’s 8 in the morning, you already have sex on the brain?” You teased.

“Always,” he grinned. “Especially when you come in looking the way you do.”

“I’m wearing a robe and my hair is a mess,” you said.

“Still sexy,” he said, and you felt yourself slightly blush. “You’ll always be sexy to me, no matter what you wear or what you look like.”

“And if I was a worm?” You joked, and all humor from Dean’s face left him, giving you ‘the look.’ “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you said, taking a spot on the edge of the bed next to Dean before leaning in and kissing him. “I know you’d still love me as a worm.”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. You are so lucky I love you, he thought. “So Sweetheart, what can I help you with this morning?” He asked, no longer wanting to continue that weird worm conversation you liked to bring up every once in a while.

“Yes, I wanted to ask you something,” you smiled. “I’ve been thinking. We've been together for a couple of months now and I spend basically like 99% of the time in your room anyway. So, I guess what I'm asking is, can I move in here?"

Dean looked at you blankly, before a smile formed on his face, a relieved one. "I've actually been meaning to ask you the same thing," he confessed. "I've just been having such a hard time trying to figure out how to actually ask you."

"Dean, all you had to say was, 'Y/N, would you like to move into my room?'" You said.

"You always make things sound so fucking simple," he chuckled.

"So, if that's a yes...when would you like me to move in?" You asked.

"It's most definitely a yes Sweetheart," he smiled, cupping your face and giving you a quick peck. "Want to move in today?"

"I'd love that," you smiled, leaning in and kissing him again. "Let me go change and I can start moving my things in here."

“So, when would you like me to move in?” You asked.

“Would it be too much for you to do it today?” He asked a little hesitation in his voice.

“Not too much at all. Let me get changed and start bringing my stuff over,” you said, starting to get up from the bed. But Dean stopped you, catching your hand. You turned to him, a puzzled look on your face.

“Come here,” he said, and you walked back over to him, standing in front of him. He looked at you, holding both your hands in his as he stared into your eyes. “Can we celebrate real quick?” He asked, slightly smirking.

“Wouldn’t you much rather do it after we moved in all my stuff?” You asked.

“We do it now before we can all sweaty. And then we can do it in the shower after we get all sweaty. So that’s twice instead of once.” He said, winking.

“You know, there’s no way I can argue with that logic,” you stated, as you started to untie your robe. But Dean’s hands stopped you again.

“Let me,” he said, and you dropped your hands to the side, watching him as he slowly untied your robe before it suddenly became a puddle of fabric at your feet.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @octoberclidan @globetrotter28 If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#Dean Winchester x you #Dean Winchester x reader #SPN #supernatural #SPN imagine #supernatural imagine #SPN one shot #supernatural one shot #dean x you #dean x reader #reader insert #female reader

[littlerosetrove]

I think the show is going to start doing better by Eddie in upcoming episodes, and I desperately hope I’m right. Some critical thoughts incoming because I just want better for Eddie.

My focus of this post is about Eddie being in a romantic relationship, although there are absolutely so many potential storylines to delve deeper into with Eddie. Trust me, I know. 

I do get why Eddie was with Ana, I do. That man was still repressing so much trauma for starters, and (even now) Eddie was also feeling pressured by society and his upbringing to “give Chris another mom.” It was something Eddie felt like he should do. And hooboy does Eddie still need to work on issues surrounding things he often feels like he “should” do. We all know that Eddie stuck it out with Ana far longer than he should have (Ana is guilty of this two, cause it takes two to tango). An apt description for Eddie is that he’s “the architect of his own misery.” ← Idk who originally said this phrase, but I got it from @yramesoruniverse, and it’s true. 

Speaking of misery. No matter how the show tried to paint it as something cute and good, there is nothing actually good about Marisol and Eddie. Let me explain and bear with me. 

Let’s be real. The show during 6B treated Eddie’s loneliness and his subsequent desire to date as a joke. Maybe not 100%, but even 1% is too much. That montage of Eddie going hiking, playing golf (??), and hanging out at a fucking country club (?????) to find a date? That was played for laughs. 

Now at one point, Eddie had a genuinely great heart to heart with Bobby. I can’t recall their conversation exactly right now since I haven’t rewatched season 6 since it aired, but I know Bobby basically said Eddie should find someone who will sit with him during the hard times (please correct me if I’m wrong).  

But then the show tried to frame Eddie running into Marisol - someone he met on a call - as this spark, this magical moment. Let’s remember that in season 6 Eddie was wistfully reminiscing on his and Shannon’s beginning and called it magic. And so again, the show tried to say, “Hey look! Eddie bumping into Marisol (no last name) is meant to be. This is magic!” Then we jump into season 7 where we’ve gotten no development on Marisol still, and zero development on their relationship, unless you want to call Eddie admitting to using Marisol as a babysitter as some development. Hell, we don’t even know how Chris feels about her. With all of this in mind, to me this just looks like Eddie had grabbed onto the first person he could so he wouldn’t be lonely. If the show wanted us to care an iota about Marisol or their relationship in any capacity, they would have. But they haven’t. And that’s just heartbreaking for Eddie. All they’ve given Eddie is a surface level, nothing of a relationship. 

It’s clear Eddie and Marisol are going to break up in 7x7 at the latest, and… for what? 7x5 will definitely have to do some backfilling on where and why their relationship isn’t going to work (it doesn't appear Marisol will be in 7x6). Even still, what was the point of it all?? Before anyone says it, yes Eddie is allowed to date, even casually, but GD there’s been nothing to grasp onto, you know? No reason to feel even remotely excited or happy that Eddie’s dating, specifically not with Marisol (and the actress is a shitty person) who ffs doesn’t even have a last name. Just having two attractive people in the same room does nothing for me, sorry. 

To try and conclude this, this *gestures at everything I just said* is why I want better for Eddie and Ryan. I really really hope we’re going to get something of substance for Eddie as a character. Yes it’s been great to see Eddie so much happier in season 7 (thanks to therapy, though he needs more, and Buck and Tommy lbr), but, and to stick with the relationship aspect of it all, I want better for Eddie. Idk if Eddie will have or needs someone like Tommy for himself, or if Eddie is just going to work on himself before the next relationship he’s in will be Buck. We’ll have to wait and see, but yeah…. Eddie just. deserves better. 

(this post was inspired by a recent conversation I had with @elvensorceress)

#911 spoilers #9-1-1 #911 meta #Eddie Diaz #my thoughts #gosh I hope this all made sense #I read over it a few times but yeah...

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober - Day 2

Prompt: Titfucking Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader WC: 1,980 Summary: After the gym Changbin is worked up and needs help to relieve himself.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Changbin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: Changbin is a bit of a pervert, one use of “babe” directed towards reader, assumed larger chest, lots of talk about breasts, titfucking, no penetration, sweat as lube, spit as lube, finishing on chest.

 Gym pump. Changbin had heard of it. Guys getting their “pump” on he thought was just the code for the naturally hulkier appearance of a well worked muscle. He’d not considered that pump could mean other things. It didn’t cross his mind that when his blood “pumped” through at an increased rate, spreading all those endorphins far and wide, that it would spread literally to every extremity, including his cock. It was kind of cool actually, looking down after a particularly grueling session and seeing his slightly swollen member just a little more prominently bulging in his gym shorts.

 It wasn’t a huge hassle until you joined the gym. A small family owned gym like the one he frequented didn’t often get new members. It wasn’t flashy like the higher end gyms, nor cheap like the chains. It was niche and he loved that. You also loved that. Chain gyms were intimidating, harsh fluorescent lights with rows and rows of cardio equipment peppered with some weight training. High end gyms were no better, mostly used as a social club for the wealthy to network and find dates. While the atmosphere was nicer, the people were not. So you gritted your teeth and spent the money at the small independent gym near work.

 9PM, your usual start time, give or take a few minutes. Your tits slightly spilling over you just barely too small sports bra caught his eye every time. It was like you walked tits first through the door, bright pink and bouncing as you marched yourself to the bay of lockers to store your gym bag. It drove him insane. Imagining how soft and pliable you would be in his arms pushed him harder on his last reps, grunting and gasping damn near erotically. However instead of heading immediately to your usual treadmill you stretch in a small alcove before waving at Changbin. He damn near slams the plates of the overhead rower against each other.   “Sorry,” you smile, hands folded neatly behind your back. “I normally wouldn’t ask but, no one else is here and I need someone to spot me.”   “Spot you?” Changbin’s brows raise. “You don’t lift weights.” He blurts. Now it’s your turn for a questioning look. Changbin wants to wither and die, what a fucking stupid thing to say. Either now you know he’s been watching you and knows your routine or think he’s a sexist prick.   “Yeah err, I heard adding weight lifting and growing muscle can help with weight loss so I thought…well. I don’t know. Should I not lift?”   Shaking his head and closing his eyes, Changbin looks you up and down. “I’m sorry. I phrased it wrong. You can lift weights if you want to!”   “No, I know, I need someone to spot me. Can you?” You stare at him from under your eyebrows.   For fear of saying something even more stupid Changbin nods enthusiastically and stands to follow you to the bench. How he thought he would be able to handle this angle of you is beyond him. But it was true, he was the only one in the gym who could help you and he wasn’t going to let you down.

 Staring down at you, watching the bar come closer to your chest, back arched slightly from the bench. If he just racked the fucking bar and yanked you to him he could easily fuck your throat with abandon. But he really shouldn’t think like that. He should focus on the speed and frequency of your lifts. They’re calculated and measured, a beginner watching their forum, analyzing each movement, hesitant.   “You’ve got it, two more for the set.” Changbin says firmly and quietly. “Just two more.”   His quiet confidence in you makes you proud, emotions high from the tension in your arms. You grit your teeth and smile as you push your last two reps.   “I was planning on doing two more sets. Just need to complete my circuit in the meantime, do you mind if I find you again? For spotting?” Voice sweetly lilting to appeal to him, he agrees with a silent smirk and nod.

 You don’t ask him every time. Changbin doesn’t want to admit he feels a certain way about it. He was your first spotter, should’ve been your only spotter. No one else should be watching you as intently as him. It’s not that he’s possessive, it’s that he’s concerned. Or at least he tells himself this is the reason for his continued light surveillance. It’s almost a month before he talks to you again. Working himself to almost complete failure he can’t take it anymore. Eyes locked on you as you rerack your weights he needs to say something to you. Anything to you to make it clear that he’s friendly and approachable and wants to help.   “Your chest…presses are coming along…” he tries to casually glance and nod. A quick observation to let you know he cares about your progress. Glace flitting down to your hot pink sports bra, casually of course.   He makes you nervous, muttering a quick “oh…thanks. Can’t have the girls get saggy,” as you avoid eye contact. Knowledgeable and handsome, you want to impress him.   “Must be heavy.” The words slip out of his mouth before he can stop them, eyes still marveling at your chest.   “What?”   “Oh sorry,” he shifts awkwardly. His knuckles press into his hardening cock, trying to make it look like he was simply massaging his quad.  “My brain doesn’t think so clearly after a workout. Just blurts stuff out. Don’t mind me I’m normally…”   “No, I mean they are heavy. If you want to, you could lift them! Like, for exercise….” You try to joke, cunt pulsing with faint hope. “Might help with your problem.”   Changbin pretends to consider your offer, counting to five as he inhales, trying to keep himself from screaming enthusiastically. “Problem? I don’t have a problem.” Both of your eyes flit down to the outline in his shorts and back to each other.   “Sorry I just…” you mutter, heat of embarrassment pricking the tips of your ears. “I’m going to-” you start gesturing towards your usual treadmill in the corner window to escape from the entire incident. Even your lower half starts to turn, separate from your head, still bowed in apology, eyes to the floor.

 “Stop her, stop her now,” the thought clouds Changbin’s vision, “stop her this is it, you have to.” His hand catches your shoulder, halting your step, he thinks his heart may stop as well.   A tiny yip of shock bubbles from your lips. His grip is strong, stance solid, he plants you with him, unable to shake free even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to shake free.   “No, you’re right,” his eyes dart around the large space. The two of you basically the only people there. “If you want to help, I’d appreciate it. A lot. Before I have to leave.”   You blink. Stuttering incoherent vowels you follow him as he wordlessly turns and heads to an unmarked door in the far corner of the gym. Upon opening it, it’s clearly a staff bathroom, a single stall with harsh fluorescent lights and gray cement floors. The door clicks heavily and locks behind you. You don’t get much time to survey the surroundings before your back travels forcefully into the wall, Changbin caging you between his shoulders. Body pressed to you a small needy whine catches in his throat.   “You’re okay? You want to help me out?” He gulps, eyes wide. You nod as his hands clasp and drag all over your body, revealing in the indentations his fingers make. “Gonna let me fuck your tits? God I need to fuck your tits. They’re all I think about. Please let me fuck your tits please, god,” his mouth carries on and on a mile a minute as he feels as much of you as he can. Twitching and trembling he finally lets his hands cup your breasts through your bra. Heavy and plush in his grasp, it’s somehow exactly as he imagined and even better. “So soft, you’ll let me fuck them, yeah?”   “Ye-yeah-they’re sweaty but-” you apologetically murmur. His hands feel so good on your aching muscles, you wonder where else his hands would feel good. A flash of heat floods your sex.   “Sweaty fine. It’s good. Great.” He shuffles his shorts down around his ankles, “please, hurry, please.” His cock is red and angry, precum coating and shining the tip. Getting down to eye level with it, he’s thick, mouthwateringly so. Hesitating you consider wrapping your lips around the head, just to see how much of him you could fit, a personal challenge to surmount. He whines, a leg bending and twitching, “leave the bra on.”

  Your eyebrow shoots up but you oblige, sliding him under the band, nestled snugly between your mounds as you squeeze on either side. He eyelids flutter as the slip of sweat and precum coats his shaft. Sucking air in through his teeth he slowly thrusts along the tight crevice. The sight itself is enough to have him lightheaded, his cockhead just barely poking out of the top of your cleavage with each thrust upward, shiny and covered in body fluid.   He doesn’t even realize the sounds he’s making. Small grunts under his breath mixed with reedy whines. Most of your partners had been relatively quiet about their enjoyment save for a few dirty phrases whispered closely to your ear. Changbin was the opposite, virtually impossible to shut up.   “Feels good?” You encourage him further. “Tight around your thick cock?”  “So tight. So soft. Fuck.” His eyes close, brows furrowed in concentration. Your voice is so quiet and sweet and he just wants to ruin you, or be ruined by you. His legs tremble and clench. “Spit on it. Just a little. Slowly.”   Staring up at him you hold your tits in place, flush with his hips, and make a show of gathering spit in your mouth and slowly letting it drip from your tongue to the valley of your chest, gathering and sliding over the barely exposed slit of his cock. “Like this?”   Changbin swallows hard. “Yeah like that baby.” He shudders, hands cupping over yours, squeezing harder. Hips snapping forcefully his thumbs ghost over your nipples, pebbled and pressed to the fabric of the cups.   You thirst suddenly, mouth filling with spit. God damn it you want him so badly. You need to hear him cum, see his muscles tense and relax, watch as his face scrunches moments before everything becomes bliss. Your entire body thrums with need, tongue lolling out and down as if he fucked your breasts hard enough he could reach it. A worthy goal for him that he attempts, jostling you harder, grunting and groaning as he wills himself to breach the gap. Your bra is pink, your tongue is pink, your lips are pink, you’re all pink for him. His pink gym bunny.   Suddenly he does it, the hot salty slit of his cock hits the very tip of your tongue. You moan, unable to form words. He does it again as you push your jaw just a little bit lower, aching at the joint. He can’t believe it, the heat of your mouth even briefly has his brain foggy and vision blurring. His stance falters. Thighs tensing and cock resting on your sternum he cums, spilling the warm pearly substance across your collarbone. “Shit,” he mutters between moans. He can’t stop his hips slow rutting, spreading his release further down the chasm of your tits. “Sorry, I can clean- I can take care of this for you. Fuck.”  “You just want to touch my tits more, pervert.” You smile.   He smiles and laughs, “yeah maybe.”

Changbin is LITERALLY the hardest for me to write so I’m trying to get his done earlier in the month so i don’t burn out and give up. He’s my bias so like...nothing ever feels quite “right” when I write him. If that makes sense. 

However i love when others write him so please this is an open call for sending me your favorite Changbin centric fics in literally any pairing configuration.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut

[xxshujiswhorexx]

Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 4)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

“Hey, Val, can we talk real quick?”

“Hm? Voxy, baby, what’s the problem~?” Vox jogged up to Val, trying to catch him on the way to his studios, a long day of work ahead the two of them. He hands Valentino a coffee he got for him, from that nice place on brimstone avenue, and Valentino takes a long sip from it, releasing a pleased groan at the scalding fluid.

“It’s about my assistant, Y/N.”

“Your cute little conejita? Whatever is the matter, hm?”

Vox wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his question. “Well, it’s just that- Y’know, it’s almost spring and-“

“Voxy, baby, I love you, but get to the fucking point.” Valentino’s patience was thin, on a good day.

“Yeah, well, I need you to stop winding her up. The poor bunny can barely function with her, uhm, season, approaching, let alone with you feelin her up all the goddamn time.”

Valentino let a low chuckle at this, taking a long drag of his scarlet smoke, throwing his now empty coffee cup into the nearest bin, before gracefully draping his long arms onto his hips.

“But she’s so fucking fun to wind up, baby. Besides, it only January, i still got at least a month before it starts just being mean. I swear, one of these days, Voxy, if you’re not careful, I’m gonna snatch up that bebé bonita and make her mine~”

Vox let out a low growl at this, his screen glitching as his eye twitched with annoyance. If he knew Valentino well enough (which he probably did), it was unlikely he’d make such an obvious move. Key word - unlikely. Valentino was unpredictable; if he had a genuine interest, Satan knows the lengths he will go to.

“Fine. Just at least promise me, next time you make a mess of the poor girl, you’ll at least finish the fucking job so I don’t have to clean up your mess.”

“Oh, I think we both know I will~” Valentino’s grin sharpened, almost salivating at the thought of of having you sprawled out under him, face red and puffy, ears teary, your swollen lips covered in drool-

Well, that’s a thought for when he has the time to scheme.

~meanwhile~

It was 7:30 am when your alarm went off. You woke uo with a jolt, your body still exhausted despite your mind being wide awake, legs heavy like lead, thighs and pussy sore. With a groan, you dragged yoirself out of Vox’s comfy bed, the mattress almost willing you to stay in bed all day, despite the no doubt mountains of work you had to do.

Throwing on a blouse and a navy pencil skirt with matching heels, you gave your hair a quick brush, quickly looking yourself over in the mirror.

‘Looking good, bunny!’ You gave yourself a cheeky grin, being your own hype man in light if the empty apartment around you. Checking the time once again, you sighed lightly, grabbing your laptop and blazer, you set off towards work, thinking of treating yourself to a nice hot cocoa from the cute cafe on brimstone avenue on the way to work.

You really did like your job. Sure, it was exhausting, but the work was rewarding; you got help coordinate schedules, review scripts, fill out paperwork, and of course, you got to hang out with Vox! Your boss really was the best, he always made sure you were busy; he knew how much you loved feeling useful.

Entering the building, humming a merry tune you had heard on the radio earlier, you greeted the receptionist.

“Good morning, Annie! Have you had a good morning so far?”

“Why, good morning to you to, Y/N! You seem in an awful good mood today, my dear!”

You grinned at the woman, leaning against her desk with glittering eyes.

“I’m just happy to be at work today, Annie.”

“I truly don’t think i’ve ever met a young person who quite likes their job like you do, love.”

The two of you shared a giggle, as she showed you some pictures of her new grandchildren. Annie was such a sweet lady; one of your favourite coworkers, in fact. She always had somethjng nice to say, and a warm smile and anecdote to welcome you with.

A sharp, british accent cut through the usual bustle of the floor.

“God, where is that girl? I’m down a model and i need someone with some fucking class for lucifer’s sake!” The confident voice of Velvette rang through the floor, employees cowering at her commanding presence, hiding as she scoured the floor.

“Ah! There you are, my darlin’!”

Your back straightened significantly, tugging at your skirt as Velvette’s eyes lit up as she spotted and approached at a brisk pace.

“H-hello, Ms Velvette! C-can i help you in a-any way?”

She brushed off your now nervous demeanour, hastily looking you up and down before grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you towards the elevator.

“Yes, yes my darlin’, Vox told me you’d be here. Listen, babe, I’m down a model for a loungewear photoshoot i’ve planned to do today, and i need you in my department, okay love? You just gotta stand there and look pretty, which you are already doin’ a fantastic job at.”

Her flattery causes your cheeks to darken, as you limply allow her to drag you into the elevator, up a floor, and into one of her studios. Well, there goes all the work you had planned for the day.

Truth be told, you did quite like Velvette; she made easy conversation and could be quite the smooth talker despite her inclination towards bluntness. She also designed the cutest clothes, which was a bonus. Overall, she was fun to work for. Unless she deemed you incompetent. Then, life fucking sucked.

The first outfit she forced you into was a silky pajama set, relatively baggy on you, revealing your collar bones as she directed you into posing for, the photos capturing your timid aura. The second outfit were Vees branded tracksuits; each designed to mimic tbe style and colour scheme if each Vee. A black and read one with skulls and hearts; Velvette. A blue and red one with wiring details; Vox. Pink and lilac with feathers and hearts; Valentino. She once again had you pose for each one, captiring the details of the fashion whilst simultaneously capturing your contrasting delicate beauty. Finally, she gave you a second pajama set, this time shorts and a button up, completely complimenting your leporine appearence, producing absolutely adorable promotional material. Well, if Velvette was pleased, it was all worth it.

“Wonderful my darlin’, thank you so much for your cooperation, love.” She kissed both your cheeks affectionately, sending you off the change back into your work clothing.

However, on the way to the changing rooms, you were stopped by the familiar sound of a staticky voice.

“Velvette? Are you done with my assistant yet? I got a shit ton of work and all my other employees are apparently fuckin useless-”

Vox froze when he saw you; all vulnerable in a silky pajama set covered in strawberries. A smirk grew across his face, and you grimaced in embarassment.

“Velvette, my dear, great taste as always. Now, if you don’t mind, me and my assistant have some work to get back to.” Vox spoke, commanding the room, as his gaze never for a second left your own.

A/N: Sorry the update took so long I am very busy lol.

Btw the reason Y/N is so nervous around authority figures and strangers is to do w her backstory :) her sudden personality changes are intentional

Tags: @enby-rising @whocaresimnothere @christineblood @sirenetheblogger @vash-yuu

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #alastor x reader #vox x reader #valentino x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #smut #baby bunny #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part twenty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Oh fuck, I-” Minho sputtered, frozen to the spot with wide eyes. His reflexes kicked in a second later and he spun around, squeezing his eyes shut and covering them with his free hand as you attempted to cover yourself with your hands. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“It’s fine! You’re fine!” you cried as you yanked your towel down from the hook it was resting on. You wrapped it around yourself and secured it like a sleeveless dress.

“Where did you want your, uh, clothes?” he asked, holding them out to you, eyes still closed.

“Here, I’ll just take them. You can open your eyes now, by the way.”

Minho opened them hesitantly, like he couldn’t tell if you were being serious. He relaxed a little when he realized you were wearing a towel, but still appeared on edge. He handed you the folded stack of clothes, gaze lingering on your bare shoulders. You weren’t sure if it was because he couldn’t meet your eyes, or if-

“I’ll just wait out here,” he said quietly and backed out of the bathroom.

You rushed to get dressed, pulling the T-shirt and shorts on in record time. You didn’t have time to think about how Minho had seen and touched your bra and underwear because you were too busy thinking about how he had just seen you naked, which was arguably far worse.

Back in the main room, Minho was sitting on the bed with his hands in his lap. He scrambled to his feet when he saw you, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.” You were out of breath. It was like you had just run up several flights of stairs.

“No, it’s not!”

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah, but…” he trailed off. “I don’t know, I feel like after what happened yesterday, this is the exact opposite of what we talked about.”

Right, the distance thing.

“But this doesn’t count,” you said automatically. “Unless-”

“Unless what?”

Unless you liked what you saw.

“Nothing, never mind.”

Minho looked like he wanted to press further, but didn’t. Probably because he knew he wouldn’t like what you’d say. “Jisung sent me to bring you the clothes because he still wasn’t feeling great, and he didn’t want you getting anxious over… you know,” he explained.

“That was nice of you.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like I could tell him that I was trying to stay away from you.”

Ouch.

You frowned. If Minho noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it. He rocked back on his heels nervously, hands still in his pockets.

“Jisung also told me to tell you I love you.”

“What?” you gasped.

“He said, ‘tell y/n: I love you’.”

“Oh.” Why the fuck had he phrased it like that? “Got it. I, uh, won’t make you say it back to him. I’ll just text him.”

“Thank god.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I should get going… the twins are probably wondering what’s taking me so long.”

“Probably,” you agreed.

“I just stuck around because I wanted to apologize again.”

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“I felt like I needed to.”

You walked him to the door in silence, lagging behind as Minho reached the threshold.

“See you downstairs?” he asked, turning to face you one last time.

“Yep.”

“It’s going to be just the two of us again,” he added. “Since Jisung and Felix are still feeling a little under the weather.”

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach. You could tell Minho was feeling the same.

“It’ll be fine,” he said unconvincingly. “Just one more day.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Guess I’ll… see you down there.”

Minho seemed to remember that he was supposed to be leaving and grabbed for the doorknob behind him, missing a couple of times before finally getting hold of it.

“Yeah, see you.”

As soon as he was gone, you snatched your phone off the dresser to give Jisung an earful only to see a bunch of messages that you had missed.

J: i’m still not feeling great so i’m gonna send minho to bring you your clothes

J: hope that’s ok

J: did you fall back asleep??

J: doesn’t really matter anyway bc i’ll just give him my key

You wanted to bang your head against the wall. If you had just taken your phone with you to the bathroom this would have never happened. You sighed to yourself and texted him back. You figured that you might as well tell him what happened. It’d be one less secret you had to keep from him.

Y: your brother saw me naked

J: WHAT

Y: i didn’t see your messages!!! it was an accident he felt really bad

S: he should

Y: jisung!!!

J: what! i’m justified in being upset

Y: it’s not like that and you know it

It was a half-truth, but you were trying to do some damage control. You didn’t think he’d have such a strong reaction.

J: still!! you’re my fake gf not his

Y: he was doing you a favor

Y: don’t yell at him

J: i wasn’t going to yell at him

Y: …

J: fine i won’t say anything

Y: good, because it’s literally not a big deal

You ended the conversation by telling him to get some rest and that you’d see him later and then went to meet his parents downstairs. He texted you back saying to have fun and that he hoped to join you in your room later that night.

The day was spent exploring a botanical garden in the heart of Tokyo. You and Minho created a scavenger hunt game where you would give each other different plants to find and then time how long it took you to actually find it in the greenhouse. His parents bought lunch and brought it to the outdoor part of the garden to have a picnic.

They’d gotten a pitcher of American-style lemonade for you. You hadn’t even realized how much you missed home until you took your first sip from the clear plastic cup.

And in the evening you wandered the grounds of the Imperial Palace as the sun set behind the castle walls. The Hans booked an official tour, but the tour guide let you all do your own thing after the walkthrough since you were his last group of the day.

You and Minho walked around the courtyard in silence together while his parents chatted with the guide about the history of the grand doors. Neither of you had anything to say to the other. Casual niceties and small talk were exhausting and you’d already spent all day exchanging them. But you had to keep it surface level with each other. You’d agreed.

Night was encroaching on the city, casting shadows off of the palace roof onto the pavement below. They cut through the golden light that lingered from the sinking sun, cloaking half the courtyard in darkness. The line that divided the halves ran right between you and Minho, leaving you standing in the dark while Minho’s figure was illuminated with the light. If you were in a novel, some college lit student would write an entire dissertation on the ironic metaphor of it all with an argument about the tension written in between the lines.

-

The next day was a free day. Jisung ended up spending the night with you and you both slept in late. You woke up with your head resting on his shoulder and he smiled fondly over at you, setting his phone down on the nightstand. You were confused until he rolled over onto you, resting the weight of his entire body onto yours.

“I missed you!” he cried dramatically.

“I was just asleep!” you choked back.

“I meant the past two days,” he clarified.

You tried pushing him off of you, but he was too heavy. “Missed you too, idiot.”

“It sure doesn’t seem like it!” he scoffed. “You’re trying to push me away!”

“You’re heavy!”

“Excuses, excuses,” he tsked, but ended up rolling off of you back onto his side anyway. You gasped for air and he just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “What do you want to do today?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that question. You’re the one who missed out on all the activities we did.”

“You know I don’t really care about all that stuff. I have more fun when it’s just the two of us anyway.”

“I’m flattered.”

“You already knew that, and the bar isn’t very high.”

Your jaw dropped. “I’m offended on behalf of your family and myself!”

“What happened to being flattered?”

“You literally insulted me in the next breath!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“You think you’re so fun to be around?” you demanded.

“Oh, we’re going there?” Jisung raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on one of his elbows.

“You already did!” you shot back. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to continue. With a big sigh, you rolled over away from him stubbornly, muttering, “you are fun to be around.”

“I know I am.”

“You’re such a dick!”

“I know I am,” he repeated. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You surrendered and flopped onto your back, a declaration of peace.

“I wouldn’t have gotten myself into this mess if you weren’t fun,” you added.

Jisung chuckled. “Yeah, but it hasn’t been so bad, has it? The trip, I mean.”

You don’t know the half of it, you thought to yourself.

“No, it hasn’t been.”

“We can make anything fun,” he decided.

“We’re the life of the party,” you agreed sarcastically.

“We are!” your best friend insisted. “How do you think we got nicknames?”

“By making fools of ourselves,” you snorted.

“And that’s fun.”

“I’m banned from four frats because of our reputation.”

“That’s because they can’t handle Drunk and Drunker.”

“No, it’s because I stole shit from them and got caught.”

Jisung shrugged, brushing your explanation off. “Okay, but think about all the times you got away with it! I still have that old Delta Chi composite hanging in the living room of my apartment.”

“I wonder if they’ve realized it’s missing by now.”

“They’ve had to, right?”

“I dunno, academics aren’t really their forte.” You pushed Jisung’s chest, changing the subject. “C’mon, what should we do today? It’s our last day in Japan.”

“Why don’t we walk around the city? See what we find.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time you finally made your way out of the hotel. You wanted to take it easy since Jisung was still recovering from his bout of food poisoning, but he assured you that he was perfectly fine. You walked together aimlessly for blocks, stopping in gift shops and bodegas to look at the trinkets and souvenirs on display. You bought a miniature snow globe with tiny little torii in front of Mt. Fuji, and a cheap silver ring with engravings of cherry blossoms all around it. You convinced Jisung to buy a case of sake to send back to his apartment in the states, and he also got a keychain with the Tokyo Tower dangling from it.

You ended up at a quirky techno-themed diner for a late lunch slash early dinner. The servers were actually robots that zoomed around taking orders and delivering meals. Apparently, restaurants like this were really popular in Japan, and you could see why. The colorful atmosphere was warm, and it was bustling with activity. You finally convinced Jisung to let you pick up the tab this time. You grabbed the check as soon as the pink robot spat out the ticket, inserting your card in the slot where their “mouth” was before Jisung could change his mind.

Both of you agreed to call it an early night after wandering for another couple of hours. The shops were beginning to close for the evening, and you had a flight to catch in the morning. It didn’t make sense to stay out and chase the sun since you’d be rising with it soon enough.

Dusk settled on the city like a fine layer of dust. Stars began to shine weakly through the fading sunset as night turned the sky purple.

Jisung took the lead back to the hotel, revoking your GPS privileges after you got lost twice. He put on a movie while the two of you got ready for bed together. It was one they played on cable all the time back home, dubbed in Japanese with English subtitles. But neither of you really paid much attention to it. Jisung was too busy brushing his teeth and washing his face, and you were already half-asleep, fighting to keep your eyes open. If anything, the movie playing in the background was making it harder to stay up.

You had almost drifted off when a buzz from your phone underneath your pillow startled you awake. You groaned, cursing yourself for forgetting to put it on Do Not Disturb. You checked the notification anyway, just in case it was important.

You squinted at the screen and tapped on the message. It was a text from Minho.

M: i need a favor

You groaned and rolled over onto your side. Jisung was still brushing his teeth, but you didn’t want to risk him reading over your shoulder just in case Minho were to say something damning. It was odd for him to be texting you in the first place so you imagined it couldn’t be anything good.

Y: it’s 11pm what do you want

M: do you have a condom

Y: do i have a what now

M: a condom

M: it’s kind of urgent

You rolled your eyes. Was he serious? He could easily pop down to a convenience store and buy an entire box of them and fuck whoever he wanted to his heart’s content. And why was he texting you of all people to ask for one? Maybe you were overreacting. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Friends ask friends for condoms all of the time, right? It was just like asking for a pad… kind of.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it did. Minho could have sex with whoever he wanted. The prospect of him in a stranger’s bed made your stomach churn, but it wasn’t your place to judge, not when you’d spent countless nights in the very same position. Not when you weren’t even available to him in the first place.

Y: are you fucking kidding

M: no…

Y: can’t you ask one of your brothers for one

M: ji isn’t answering my texts

You glanced over at the bedside table on Jisung’s side of the bed where his phone had been buzzing for a couple of minutes. Of course.

M: pls- i’ll owe you one

Y: we can’t keep going back and forth with these ious

M: why not

Y: …

M: do you have one or not- this is kind of time-sensitive

Y: sorry didn’t realize your dick softens so quickly

M: OH

M: it’s not for… that. sorry, should’ve specified

Y: then what the fuck is it for

M: listen just bring it downstairs to the hotel bar you’ll see what i need it for

Y: fine. i’ll be down in two.

“Jisung!” you called across the room. He popped his head out of the bathroom. “Do you have a condom?”

Even from afar, you could see his eyes widen.

“What, why?”

“It’s not for me, it’s for your brother.”

“Felix?”

“Other one.”

“Minho?”

“Yeah, he said he texted you, but you didn’t answer.”

“So he asks my girlfriend?”

“Listen, I don’t pretend to know what goes on in your brother’s head. He knows we’re having sex so he probably figured we have some. And he says it’s not for sex, so I don’t even know what he needs it for.”

Jisung shook his head but chuckled weakly.

“There should be some in my backpack.”

“Wow, you brought condoms on our ‘no sex’ trip?” you scoffed.

“It’s the same backpack I used for uni. I just never took them out.”

“So you’d just carry them around to your classes? Thinking you could squeeze in a quickie between labs?” You flinched as he threw a washcloth at you.

“You’re so annoying,” he groaned. “Don’t you have an errand to run?”

You smirked, pushing yourself out of bed. “Don’t you have a classmate to fuck?”

You didn’t bother changing before heading downstairs to the bar. You wouldn’t be down there for more than a minute, so you figured there was no point. You were wearing the same t-shirt and boxers combo that you usually wore to sleep, but the shirt was so long that it practically covered the shorts. You couldn’t remember where you had gotten it, it was a graphic tee for an anime you’d never seen. Some girl had probably left it at your place after hooking up.

You saw Felix first, which answered the question of why Minho couldn’t have just asked him for a condom. Minho was sitting beside him, talking to the bartender. The place looked relatively empty, aside from Jisung’s brothers and a couple of other patrons sitting around them, all participating in the same conversation.

“Here,” you said, clearing your throat to get Minho’s attention.

His face lit up as he turned to greet you, the movement drawing everyone else’s attention as well. You fought the urge to cross your arms over your chest, wanting to make yourself feel smaller in front of all of the strangers. It was stupid to get self-conscious all of a sudden, even if you were the only one in your pajamas. And it looked like you weren’t wearing pants.

“Oh, thank you so much,” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, no problem,” you mumbled.

You turned to leave, only to be stopped as Minho grabbed your wrist.

“Wait, don’t you want to see what I needed it for?”

You sighed, shrugging noncommittally. “Something tells me I’m going to be disappointed.”

“Probably, but I’m sure you’re used to it,” he said with a wink, holding up the condom for emphasis.

His comment caught you off guard. He was right, you were used to disappointment when it came to sleeping with men, but you couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a dig at his own brother. Minho was drunk, tipsy at the very least, evidenced by his flushed cheeks and thick accent. Not like you couldn’t tell from what he’d just said to you.

You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t deny it. If he needed a refresher of what your “sex life” was like, you could give him an encore to your Easy A performance when you were sharing a wall again.

Felix nudged Minho’s shoulder, reminding him that he had an audience that was waiting.

Minho turned back towards the bar on his stool and grabbed something from behind the counter that you couldn’t see before pivoting back in the direction of you and the rest of the patrons. In one hand was a jar of maraschino cherries. In the other was the condom.

He ripped the foil packet open with his teeth and gingerly pulled the contraceptive out. He stretched the latex over the lid of the jar, grimacing as he struggled to make it fit. Once the condom was on the jar he held it up for everyone to see, and then used his free hand to tug at the loose rubber at the end. The lid resisted the pull for a brief second, but then twisted and popped off the glass with a loud suction sound.

The bartender and the other observers applauded enthusiastically as Minho handed the open jar back. You bit the inside of your cheek as you took a deep breath, trying to suppress your anger. It didn’t work.

“That’s it?” you asked, voice brimming with annoyance. “That’s what you dragged me all the way down here for?”

“None of us could get it open,” Minho explained defensively. “We all tried, and then I remembered this trick I saw in a YouTube video and-”

“I was about to go to sleep!”

“Look, Angela wanted a Shirley Temple,” he argued, nodding at the clear glass of fizzy red liquid the bartender was sliding across the counter to a blonde woman. “Daiki went to make her one and couldn’t open the new jar of cherries so he asked Lix and I to try-”

“You already gave me the abbreviated version of the story,” you huffed. “I don’t need the full one.”

“I just thought you should know that the cherries were actually going to use. We weren’t just playing a game of ‘who can open this jar’. Although if we were, I would’ve won.”

Felix snorted and shook his head at his older brother, sipping his own drink wordlessly.

“You’re drunk,” you scoffed. “Both of you are.”

Minho ignored the statement, eyes softening a bit as he gazed at your face. “Thank you again, by the way. Sorry for making you come all the way down here. I owe you one.”

You sighed, your frustration dissipating as you stared into his warm brown eyes. “Whatever, I’m fucking exhausted, okay? I’m going to bed.”

“Wait-” Minho stopped you for the second time that night by grabbing your wrist again. “Did you… want it back?”

“Want what back? The condom? Ew, no!”

“Well it’s not technically used,” he pointed out.

“I don’t think anyone wants to put something that’s ‘not technically used’ in their vagina, but maybe that’s just me. I don’t know how many people have touched that jar- you can do whatever you want with it. I don’t care. We have plenty more.”

Minho pursed his lips and nodded abruptly at the last sentence, like that was the uncomfortable point in the conversation.

“Yeah, okay uh, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Minho. Goodnight, Felix.”

-

“What was it for?” Jisung asked as soon as you fell into bed next to him. He had been reading the book you finished a couple of days ago, but dogeared it and let it rest on his chest to give you his full attention.

“He used it to open a jar of cherries,” you mumbled into your pillow.

“What?”

“Angela wanted a Shirley Temple.”

��Who’s Angela?”

“Like I said, I don’t know what goes on in your brother’s head.”

“Fair enough,” he sighed and placed the book on the bedside table. “Come on, let’s get some sleep before our flight tomorrow.”

-

The next destination on the trip was your choice, and to say you were nervous was an understatement. For one, you had never been to Shanghai so you didn’t know what to expect. Even the excursions you’d chosen had relatively vague descriptions so everything was up in the air. For two, you wanted the Hans to have a good time. You were terrified that they would hate the experience and think you’d made the worst choice of the group.

The flight to Shanghai from Tokyo was only around three hours long, but it felt a thousand times longer than the sixteen-hour one from Italy you’d been on just a little over a week ago.

Jisung knew you were anxious about the days ahead so he let you have the window seat while he sat in the middle and helped Minho draft choreography ideas for a project he’d be working on when he got back. You didn’t know what it was for, you didn’t want to ask after what happened last time.

It was sweet of Jisung to offer to help his older brother. You knew he wasn’t too fond of Minho’s career and the attention that came with it, but to see him still willing to put that aside to lend a hand.

Usually, Felix would be the one to help Minho with this sort of thing, but he had opted to sit with his parents to get some work done so Jisung was filling in.

“Maybe you should change career paths,” you whispered in the middle of one of their little breaks, seizing the opportunity to sneak a word in as Minho finished making notes on the section they’d just gone over.

“You think so?”

You nodded. “You’re pretty good at this. Maybe it runs in the family.”

“Felix did force me to enter the school talent show with him a few years ago,” he mumbled.

“What? Why have you never told me this? Is there a recording of it? I need to watch it immediately.”

“That’s exactly why I never told you.”

“You can’t just drop this information on me and expect me not to want to watch it.”

“Okay, well, fat chance.”

“I’ll do that thing you like,” you blurted.

Minho’s eyebrow quirked up slightly at that, showing you that he was listening to you and Jisung’s conversation. You knew how it sounded, which was partly intentional, but you were really just talking about a drinking game your best friend loved. The “game” involved matching Jisung shot for shot at whatever restaurant you happened to be at. It wasn’t so much of a game as it was your best friend thinking it was hilarious to see you sloppy drunk. It was a well-known fact that Jisung could out-drink you without even trying. In fact, every time you’d played this “game” you could barely remember anything about the night, other than your devastating loss.

He knew what you were talking about immediately, eyes lighting up. “Really?” he asked, squeezing your thigh in excitement. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you agreed. “But it has to be on a night where we’re not doing anything the next day.”

Minho cleared his throat suddenly, clearly having heard enough of what he likely thought was a very different conversation.

“One second,” Jisung told his brother. “Fine, you can see the recording. But you can’t tell any of our friends back home about it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you assured him. He grinned at you in satisfaction and took your hand in his, resting them together on his lap. “Can’t believe my boyfriend is a dancer,” you teased.

“Listen, if I’m going to change careers now, I won’t be able to cook for you anymore. You know that, right?”

You sighed dramatically. “Never mind. God knows I can’t cook. We’d starve.”

“Guess you’re stuck with a chef boyfriend,” he said with a shrug.

“I think I can live with that.”

“I sure hope so. Because I don’t know that I’m cut out for the spotlight.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you argued playfully.

“Yeah, well that’d be one more thing I have to share with my brother,” he muttered lowly. Your pulse quickened and you snuck a panicked glance at Minho. You couldn’t tell if he was still listening, but something told you that Jisung didn’t care. He was trying to come off as sarcastic, but you could hear the genuine bitterness hidden underneath. “Or should I say compete with him for,” he added, smirking to himself. “And we both know I’d never win against him.”

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[nastyavolk-cp]

The Angel of Hades I

Tagging: @aphroditelovesu @the-broken-truth General warnings: Yandere themes (next part), platonic love, kidnapping, themes about autism and ADHD, mental health discussion, etc. Notes: Bianca and her mother are my OCs, do not use them without consulting me. Everyone else belongs to Rick Riordan and belongs to the Percy Jackson universe. Good reading, welcome to the part one!

“You are a demigod, Bianca.”

The young girl swore she had heard something similar in the past, more specifically the phrase 'You're a wizard, Harry.' When she had a phase of liking Harry Potter and witchcraft, in her defense she was a child who had just found herself. in a fandom she liked. But now she was over 17 years old, one step away from reaching the age of majority, she finished high school and was already listing all the public universities in Curitiba, her hometown where she currently lives with her mother and relatives, to take the entrance exam to college.

This news, however, was one of the most unexpected things she had ever heard, but it did not appear, at least in her mind, as something impossible. Since she was a child, she has seen some very unlikely things and has experienced situations in which she thought impossible to happen, but which unfortunately were very real, she believed it was because of her diagnosis of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder that she received. aged seven, in addition to his confirmed Autism Spectrum Disorder, which was diagnosed months after ADHD.

But at that moment, she was facing a fucking satyr, or faun? This didn't matter to her at the time, because the moment he had said what she really was, with her mother present, Bianca had her doubts.

“A demigoddess? Like, daughter of some god?” She asked just to make sure that was what he was talking about, as obvious as it was, and the creature nodded, confirming her suspicions. “Whose then?” The young woman continued, her pale hands trembling slightly, her right leg swayed in a discreet way but which made the satyr and her own mother a little nervous, who looked at her with a look of compassion.

“I’m not sure, you’ll only find out once you’re at Camp Half Blood.” The creature explained before taking a sip of the fresh cup of coffee that her mother, Isabel, had prepared for this visit.

“Camp Half-Blood? What is this place?” Bianca asked, leaning a little towards the coffee table, her hazel eyes showed curiosity but also slight fear, did she really have to go to this place?

“It's a camp, obviously, dedicated to training demigods, just like you, from all over the world. This specific Camp is dedicated to the direct descendants of Greek gods, I don’t know if you’re already familiar with━”

“Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter, Artemis, Apollo, Eros, Aphrodite, Had━”

“Yes, yes, those same ones. I can already see that you are already familiar with this matter.” The satyr comically interrupted the young woman listing all the Greek gods that came into her head, extending his hand and making a stop sign right in the young woman's face.

Bianca quickly returned to her original posture, she seemed more tense than before, she didn't know exactly what to do with these feelings, she felt like her chest was about to explode, or maybe she was close to having a heart attack, either way, she didn't seem to be taking this news very well.

“Do I... have to go to this place, where is it?” She asked nervously, seeing her mother looking worried, who immediately went to sit next to her daughter to try to calm her down and prevent a possible panic attack.

“It is in the state of New York, in the United States of America.” The satyr replied, drinking the last sip of the cup of coffee and placing it carefully on the coffee table. “It is rare that we find demigods who are already reaching adulthood, we usually get demigods who are entering adolescence. Maybe because you live here in Brazil it made our search for you a little more difficult. A few years ago we found a demigod just like you, but younger, who was from Rio de Janeiro. Maybe you two can get along.”

"No! I do not want to go!" Bianca said sounding a little too desperate, surprising the satyr and Isabel with her tone of voice, the latter immediately tried to comfort her.

“I don’t think that’s an option, young lady. When a demigod is discovered, heit needs immediately go there. It’s protocol and this serves to increase your chances of survival.” The satyr explained but the young woman shook her head.

“What part don’t you understand that I don’t want to go to?!”

“But sweetheart, you will be safe there, you will meet people like you, you will make friends there━”

“I don’t want to go!” The girl interrupted her mother, with tears already forming in her eyes, she couldn't stop acting like a child who refuses to go to school, but in her defense she was being forced to go to a place she didn't know, mixing with people she didn't know and the worst part of it all was that she wouldn't have any relatives or family there. How the hell is she going to stay in a camp in a different country and how is she going to get back to Brazil? Furthermore, she had everything prepared so that she could enter a public university in her city, wanting to study Arts or History, her plans could not be snatched away from her like that.

“Bianca please-” Her mother was startled when the young woman got up from the sofa and walked away, with Isabel desperately going after her worried daughter, at the same time apologizing to the satyr and asking him to wait in the living room, but the girl as soon as she arrived in her bedroom, she closed the door and locked it before her mother could reach the handle and try to open the door, the latter had no success.

As her mother insistently called her, Bianca threw herself on her bed and began to cry into the pillows, when everything seemed to be stabilizing and her life was getting back on track, a fucking satyr came and ruined everything and told her the whole truth, in addition to wanting to force her to go on this camp without respecting the decisions she wanted to make for the life that was hers.

The young woman didn't know how long she cried, ignoring her mother calling her, who eventually gave up when she saw that she wouldn't have any response and that the whole situation had upset her, but at the end of it all, after feeling her eyes pulsing and swollen , her face burning and a throbbing headache, Bianca fell asleep out of the blue, she would undoubtedly wake up feeling bad afterwards but that didn't bother her as she could finally have an escape in her dreams.

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Not long after she woke up, she felt really bad, the headache was worse and her eyes hurt a lot, she rubbed her face against the pillow that had previously been used to dry her tears, which were not few. She moved her arms a little until in her hands she felt the softness and fur of a stuffed animal, she turned to the side and saw that it was her plush of Tigger, a character from Winnie the Pooh, one of her favorite childhood cartoons and since she was little she was attached to him, taking him anywhere, no matter where.

Then Bianca took her old stuffed animal and pulled it towards her, hugging it tightly and rubbing her freckled face against it. This immediately improved her mood. She felt calmer, lighter, but when she remembered what had happened previously, She felt shame invade her and her first thought was…

“Ah… my mother must be upset with me…” She said, vocalizing her thoughts. Bianca was very disappointed with herself, he must have embarrassed her mother in front of that satyr, or faun…?

At the same moment, she heard someone knocking on her bedroom door, she already knew who it was because of the rhythm and tone of the knocks, it was her mother. She got up from the bed, still holding the Tigger plushie, and went to her bedroom door, she turned the key and immediately opened the door.

Isabel stood before her, with a guilty look, and in her hands she held a gourd with the already prepared chimarrão. Upon seeing her daughter's swollen eyes, the older woman sighed, feeling even more guilty about what happened.

“Mama… I’m sorry…” Bianca began, her voice was a little hoarse, her mother looked surprised but it was nothing unpredictable, her daughter apologized for many things even if she wasn’t at fault.or causing any problem.

“Honey, this isn’t your fault. I know you were upset because you… well… had other plans and no one expected that…” Isabel began and entered her daughter's room, the two then sat on the bed, the older woman handed the chimarrão to her daughter, and she took it. and drank some of it through a straw, it was bitter but at the same time it relieved the tension in her body, now allowing her to relax again.

“He told me that you really need to go to this camp, that it would be for your own safety and that you will be prepared to defend yourself from monsters. I swear, my dear, that whatever these monsters are, I know you will be more than capable of protecting yourself. I believe in you, my love. Everything will be fine."

Everything will be fine…

“How long… how long do I need to stay there…?” Bianca asked before taking a few more sips of mate.

“3 months, it would be like spending the whole summer there.” Her mother explained, this worried the girl a little because in the northern hemisphere summer would be June, July and August, and if she entered a university, she would only have a single month of full vacation which in this case would only be July. Hmm..

“And would it be that if I went to college I would only need to stay there for a month?” It was a valid question, after all she didn't want to give up going to college, and it was already the beginning of July, she spent half the semester studying so she could take the entrance exams for public universities in her state.

“You can try to negotiate.” Isabel said, encouraging her. Bianca felt more relieved, of course she was still very insecure, as this was something that came up suddenly, but with her mother's unconditional support, she could begin this journey as a demigod daughter of whoever.

"I love you my love. Mama is here, always.” Isabel said, kissing her daughter's forehead, she was one of the only people who could do that to Bianca, since she didn't really like physical touch and affection in that way, but her mother was the exception, as she was her daughter. greatest comfort person, your companion and even partner in crime.

Bianca felt scared, as it was normal for everyone to feel scared, but if she was to actually go there, she could finally answer the questions she had been asking her entire life.

Starting with the fact that she saw ghosts, but it was probably something that anyone could see, right?

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️ 

She had a few hours to prepare for that day, her mother had said the same day the satyr was at her house that he would show up the next day to take her to Camp Half Blood via teleportation. Yes, Bianca really thought she was living in a fiction book just like Harry Potter, but obviously all of this was different for several, many reasons.

Her mother helped her separate her clothes into a large gym bag as well as some personal hygiene items, makeup (at her own insistence), her medicines and even some drawing materials if they had free time and she didn't die of boredom. In the end, she was ready, at least physically, emotionally she couldn't unfortunately say the same.

Now it was her time to go, after having breakfast, taking a shower and getting ready, she knew that the satyr would be there waiting for her, her mother, in a way of bringing comfort to her daughter, had prepared soup for her to eat in a thermos cup, it was one of her comfort foods and safe for her to eat, since she preferred creamy foods with a soft texture as they were what pleases her sensitive palate. Before going to the satyr who waited before them, Isabel hugged her daughter, feeling that this would be the last time she would see her and who knows, after three months she would return to her arms again.

“Are you ready for us to go, miss Bianca?” The satyr asked, as much as the young woman wanted to say no, she lightly bit her lip and nodded yes. In one of the creature's hands there were two small shiny spheres, the size and shape of a marble. Bianca took this marble while the satyr explained that these pearls were used to teleport them wherever they wanted to go.

“Close your eyes, miss. Allow me to guide us to Camp Half-Blood.” Bianca sighed and closed her eyes, he instructed that on three, they would throw the pearls on the floor while holding their hands free. When the count was over, the two threw the pearls on the floor and the young girl felt a sensation like butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but she didn't dare open her eyes.

“Miss, we are here.” The satyr said in a gentle voice, still holding the hand of the teenager who slowly opened her eyes, which little by little became accustomed to the natural luminosity of the Sun and hearing birds singing in the distance, sounds that looked like laughter, screams and moans. “Welcome to Camp Half Blood, miss━”

“Bianca… please. Call me Bianca.” The girl responded by letting go of the satyr's hand and letting out a deep sigh, relieved to be able to breathe fresh air and release all the tension that existed in her body and soul. She looked at the entrance to the camp, there was a text in ancient Greek but she couldn't understand what it was, then suddenly she heard the sounds of horse footsteps and in front of her was a large centaur, but it wasn't just any centaur.

“Good morning, Miss. Santos or Miss. Alves?” Chiron he said, probably lost because she had two last names and wasn't sure which one she would feel comfortable being called.

“Alves, you may call me Bianca Alves.” The girl replied in English, it wasn't the best and had her paranaense accent, and without looking the centaur in the eye, who dismissed this flawed presentation and extended his hand to her. Still without making eye contact, she shook his hand but quickly let go, not wanting to prolong this physical contact.

“Understood, Miss. Bianca Alves. Welcome to Camp Half Blood, I believe you have already received a brief explanation about our camp and the purpose for which it was created.” After a brief pause,Chiron continued. “We are happy to have you here, how did you manage to stay out of our sights? And monsters too, I suppose?”

“I don’t know… until yesterday I didn’t know I was a demigod in the first place.” Bianca responded by scratching her neck, which was true, the information that she was a demigoddess came very quickly and she still didn't know how to handle this news well.

“Usually we welcome and find demigods a little younger than you, you must be around 17 years old, we find demigods who are 10 to 12 years old, younger than those ages, it’s not difficult, but older demigods? They are a rarity here, as many… do not survive to adulthood.” The centaur explained and the last part scared the young woman, Chiron immediately realizes that his words may have frightened her and changes his approach so as not to prolong her despair any longer. “However, miss. I believe it must be because you probably haven't manifested your powers yet. Tell me, have you never noticed anything ‘abnormal’ in your life?”

“Well, I believe that something that is out of the ordinary is the fact that I see ghosts, but I think it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.” She replied, she didn't want to go into details about her autism and ADHD, if no one asked, she wouldn't need to talk, for now.

Then the centaur invites the girl to go with him, she follows him while he gives a brief explanation about how the camp worked, the daily activities, about the cabins, basically saying what was necessary and of course clearing up any doubts the girl had along the way. He also responded how she could contact her mother whenever she wanted, preferably during her spare time, and that if she joined a public college in her country of origin, he could make an exception for her to attend the camp in a single month, despite showing his concern about how little time she will stay compared to the other campers, but education comes first so it wasn't difficult to convince him.

He also explained that, as she has not yet been acclaimed by her divine relative, she will stay in the Hermes Cabin, along with the children of the god Hermes and some other campers who were not acclaimed yet. But there was a moment when as she looked at the cabins, she felt the centaur's gaze on her, narrowing his eyes at something.

"Is there any problem…?" She asked, a little embarrassed and the centaur quickly realized that he made her uncomfortable.

“Ah, my apologies, Ms. Alves, now having a good look I swore I had seen you before, but I don't think so, you must just look like someone I must have known a long time ago.” Chiron explained but the subject died once and for all, as Bianca didn't want to ask anything about it. They immediately walked around the camp again, with some campers looking at them and the Brazilian girl becoming even more uncomfortable with all this unwanted attention, she used her black hair to hide her face more from anyone who saw her from afar.

She started playing with her rings, it was one of the ways she used to calm herself, to relax her body and release any unpleasant emotions from her, while she listened to what Chiron was saying, she continued to look at every corner of the camp, not believing that this was her life now. There were many sensations and feelings at the same time and she continued to play even more with the rings on her fingers, trying to remain calm.

“Miss Alves, are you okay?” The centaur asked, noticing that the young woman was tense, he had already noticed something the moment he met her, the two stopped in front of the cafeteria, and Bianca didn't know how to answer that question. “Do you have something you would like to tell me? No need to be afraid, I’d like to help you fit in and get involved here.” He said reassuringly, his voice gentle and concerned.

“It's just… I don't know if there will be others like me… I'm autistic, sir. And… I don't know if I'll get along like everyone else here…” She explained, without still looking at him, the centaur contemplated the girl's words. He was thoughtful about her concerns, but in the end he was satisfied that she had told him the truth and opened the game so he could help her.

"Ms. Alves, I'm very relieved that you told me this, besides autism, do you have any comorbidities?”

“ADHD.”

“Hm, I figured. Do you take any medication or psychological treatment?”

“I do both, I take medication for ADHD.”

“Interestingly, no demigod here is taking or has had treatment with medication or even psychological support, you are a rarity, but of course that doesn't mean it's something bad and that it excludes you from others, in reality I believe it will be the opposite, I would like to know how it will handle your training and on missions if you are called upon. I want you to know that I am willing to do my best to help and support you on your journey at this camp, you can come to me and I will give you my support when you need it. But everything in its time, in no way do I want to pressure you or speed you up.”

"… Thank you very much. I mean it." She said, feeling embarrassed, but Chiron's words managed to reassure her enough, now she was less tense and they were able to continue walking around the camp. In the meantime, she met some campers and finally, when Chiron needed to take care of some matters about the camp, he left Bianca with Ares' children, where Clarisse La Rue took her in and was willing to be her trainer to teach her, for now, simple combat skills.

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Hours had passed, Bianca had already settled in the Hermes Cabin and met some of his children, although she was still not comfortable, she had started well with Clarisse, the daughter of Ares, even though she seemed brutal and bloodthirsty, she was patient and welcomed her quickly at the speed of light. Bianca felt grateful for having achieved a new friendship, even quickly for her standards, as this rarely happened to her.

It was then that one of Ares's children ended up getting injured and someone ran to call one of Apollo's children who worked as healers. A few minutes later a blond boy a little younger than her appeared with a first aid kit. He didn't take long to tend to the son of Ares' injuries and at the same time scolded him to be more cautious in the next fight.

“I don’t want to see you hurt again today, capiche?” The blonde said and when he got up he immediately looked at Bianca, a little surprised to see someone he had never seen in his life, but he opened a huge warm smile when he realized that she was a new camper. “Oh, hello! You must be the new camper that arrived today, right? What’s your name and where are you from?”

“A-Are talking with me?" The Brazilian girl asked, surprised and embarrassed, pointing to herself and when Apolo's son approached, she was embarrassed and couldn't look him in the eye.

"Yes, I am!" The blonde stated, waiting for an answer and left his hand extended to shake her.

“I'm Bianca Alves, actually Bianca Heloísa Alves dos Santos, but you can just call me Bianca Alves. And I’m from Curitiba, Brazil.” She said, feeling ashamed at having made this shabby introduction, but still reluctant to shake his hand. Upon realizing this, Apollo's son lowered his hand seeing that she wasn't going to do it but didn't seem offended by her apathetic gesture.

“I'm William Andrew Solace, but everyone here knows me as Will Solace, son of Apollo! I hope we get along well, Bia!” Will said happily, Bianca expressed surprise at having already gained a nickname in a matter of seconds of interacting with Apollo's son.

“Ehh.. me too, I guess…” She replied, putting her hands in the pocket of her coat, she felt very embarrassed. It was getting close to dark and someone had mentioned Capture the Flag, a common activity in this camp. She was hesitant because she didn't know if she would be successful in this game or if she would end up experiencing some kind of humiliation or embarrassment, either by others or by herself. fault.

The Brazilian girl felt Will was still watching her, she had the feeling that he was analyzing her and that made her even more awkward, but Will quickly decided to leave saying that his obligations called him and that he had to prepare for the Capture the Flag.

“I hope I don’t fuck anything up.” Bianca thought, sighing deeply and deciding to follow Clarisse so as not to miss one of the only familiar faces. But little did she know that someone, from far, far away, was closely watching her and her movements.

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Bianca can definitely say that she hates the Capture the Flag, she obviously stayed on the Ares children's team and Clarisse put her in a hunting position, the part of facing rivals was up to her, as leader, and the others. However, at a certain point when Bianca was distracted by some noises, she lost her team.

She felt panic but tried as much as she could to calm down, not wanting to destabilize herself in this way, but that proved impossible, the desire she had to sit on the dirt floor and remain silent, dealing with her panic attack alone as he often dealt with when he was younger. However, she needed courage and to move forward, of course the feeling of guilt also bothered her, as she only had one job and she was already capable of failing miserably.

But patience, that was all she needed, one time or another she would meet other people, whether they were on her team or not, but the darkness of the forest didn't really help her get around or get to where she was, she tried to guide herself through of the sounds but seeing that she was basically lost, she reconsidered actually sitting down and crying, waiting for someone to find her and later being seen as cowardly and scared.

So after walking so, so much, and not finding herself anywhere, just in front of a stream but still without finding anyone, she sat down near a tree and started crying, how was she really able to get lost like that? Bianca knew that this was not a grown-up attitude, that she should be more resilient and courageous, but it was impossible to contain herself like that.

One sound, however, caught her attention, she heard it as if it were several people celebrating from afar, is the game over? For how long was she lost? Did her team win? When she got up to finally go find her colleagues, something appeared from the shadows and appeared before her. It was a huge dog and had black fur with scarlet red eyes, thirsty for blood.

A hellhound.

Bianca stood frozen, watching in terror at the creature before her, ready to make mincemeat of her, growling loudly at her, then the creature waited for her to make a sudden movement to attack it and at the height of her panic, Bianca walked back, stepping on a branch and breaking it, opening the gap for the creature to attack ferociously.

She let out a cold and dark scream, but she was quick enough to avoid the hellhound, being narrowly caught by him, but Bianca fell to the ground and she wouldn't have time to get up and run away, it would be useless, she continued to scream. desperate, an attempt to get someone's attention but she had no hope.

This was definitely the end, it was almost pathetic, die on your first day.

But when the creature got dangerously close to her, ready to attack her, with Bianca still screaming and hearing sounds of people getting close, something hit the great hellhound and the earth beneath her shook, she couldn't see what was really happening, but the hellhound moaned and made sounds of pain, as if something was hitting him from behind and finally, the creature couldn't resist and fell to the ground, revealing its back pierced by sword blows and a bunch of skeletons holding swords.

Bianca was paralyzed once again.

The skeletons looked at her with their non-existent eyes, they were wearing gladiators' uniform and had shiny bronze swords in their hands, there were three of them and one of the group walked over the dead hellhound and walked towards her, she managed to recover her movements but was left with her back pressed against the tree, thinking that perhaps her destiny was to die.

To her surprise, the skeleton raised his bony hand and gently patted her head, as if she were a scared puppy, and she felt as if he was trying to comfort her from her fright, she thought he had even said 'It's okay. It's okay, my lady.' The footsteps became more audible and the voices called her name, suddenly a light took over the ambience, the glow came from the top of her head.

When the light dimmed and many of her campmates arrived, she saw that a figure was forming in the middle of that glow, it was a bident, Bianca could see the shock on the faces of everyone who was with her, the skeletons took off their helmets and knelt down before her, which left her even more confused but it didn't take long for Chiron, who was in front of her, to take action.

“Everyone hail to Bianca Heloísa Alves dos Santos, daughter of Lord Hades, the Unseen, God of the Underworld, Riches and the Dead.” With that, everyone without exception hailed before Bianca, who couldn't handle all the pressure towards her and lost consciousness quickly.

She is Daughter of Hades...

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

For Nico di Angelo, it was just another normal day, he could easily sum up his day as staying at his cabin, spending time with Will and some friends, as well as sending Iris Messages to Hazel, Reyna, Jason and Frank at Camp Jupiter. However, he knew, through some campers, that there was a new girl wandering around, but he didn't pay any attention to it, after all, it was just another one.

How wrong he was.

A whole day had passed, after having spent hours talking with his Roman friends, he left his cabin and went to meet Will, who he had heard was in the arena area to take care of a neglected son of Ares. However, when he entered, but still hidden through the shadows, he saw his blonde boyfriend talking to a girl, but he couldn't see her face well.

“... I hope we get along well, Bia!” The son of Hades only managed to capture this phrase coming from his boyfriend and he froze when he heard the nickname, Bia was the way he affectionately called his older sister Bianca, who had died so long ago and who he missed every day. Curious, but slightly afraid, Nico came out of the shadows a little while still remaining hidden so he could closely observe the girl with whom Will was trying to have a decently animated dialogue.

Now a little closer, Nico could see some more features of this girl, although he couldn't see her face, it was scary how similar she was to his sister, she had straight black hair that went past her shoulders, she wore a wide brown flannel coat, a long ankle-length skirt with several cutouts of distinct dark prints and black sneakers. Nico wanted to tell himself that this was just in his head, there was no way the girl could be his sister, as she was obviously dead.

But when her boyfriend walked away from her he could see a part of her face, even though she couldn't see him, he froze. Identical. Almost an accurate reflection of her sister, except that she looked much older, perhaps around 17 years old, the same age Bianca would be if she were alive, had paler complaxion, quite similar to his, her freckles were subtle and she had a languid, delicate form.

"My love!" Will said, appearing next to his boyfriend, Nico almost jumped and looked at the blonde with his black eyes looking at him seriously, he didn't really like being surprised but as he was his partner, he ignored it most of the time. They greet each other with a quick peck but even with that, Nico couldn't stop seeing the girl in his mind and how frighteningly similar she was to Bianca.

“Will, who was the girl you were talking to just now?” Nico asked, wanting to quell his curiosity, maybe it was all in his head, maybe just a freak out he was having.

“Ah, it’s Bianca, she’s the new camper who came from Brazil.”

Nico froze once again, he hadn't heard it wrong, the girl's name was Bianca, it wasn't possible that fate was playing a sick joke on him, as if the fact that he had lost his older sister several years ago, suddenly, wasn't enough. Just because he got over it, a girl came along who looked extremely similar to her and had the SAME NAME AS HER.

He was just a few steps away from having a mental breakdown and Will quickly realized that his boyfriend was acting strange, but decided not to ask at the moment, considering it might make the son of Hades more uncomfortable than he already was. The blonde took his boyfriend's hand and decided to take him to the infirmary to spend time together, but he wouldn't forget the strange way his boyfriend had reacted when he found out about the new camper.

Hours later, everyone was playing Capture the Flag, after some time, the game had ended, resulting in the victory of the team led by Athena's children, but Ares' children showed concern not because they had lost the competition but because they noticed the absence of a person and just when they began to question themselves, screams were heard from not far away, many ran to help the missing camper who was in obvious danger.

Nico went with the crowd with his boyfriend Will and some friends, following the sound of the camper's screams, but as soon as they arrived at the scene, they came across an unusual scene. A dead hellhound was on the floor, with a bunch of skeletons wearing gladiator clothes with swords in their hands and one was patting the new girl, Bianca, on the head.

Then, with a touch of magic, a bright source of light appeared on her head, which gradually revealed itself to be the sign that she had been acclaimed, and she was the daughter of none other than Hades himself.

“Everyone hail to Bianca Heloísa Alves dos Santos, daughter of Lord Hades, the Unseen, God of the Underworld, Riches and the Dead.” Chiron spoke and everyone with no exception hailed to her, but due to the shock and fright Bianca fainted. Clarisse was in charge of taking her to the infirmary where she would be taken care of and they would carry out general examinations to locate possible serious injuries.

When Clarisse passed by his side, Nico couldn't help but look once again at the passed out girl, her unconscious face was really and inevitably identical with his long deceased sister.

Who was she? What did Fates have in store for them? Why is she identical to his sister and why the same name? Was it really all coincidence or was it the work of the Fates, ready to fuck with Nico di Angelo's life again?

☠☠️☠️☠️☠️

Oh my God, guys. Finally I did it, it took me whole weeks to write it, I know my writing skills aren't refined and English obviously isn't my first language, but I want to thank everyone for reading the first part of Angel of Hades, I'm so excited to write the next part, I promise it will be way more interesting than this part, since it's only an introduction!

And yeah, Isabelle Fuhrman is Bianca's face claim, keep that in mind, hehehe ❤️

Edit: Oh God, how embarrassing. I corrected some writing mistakes I just noticed now 😡😡

#platonic yandere #yandere percy jackson #yandere nico di angelo #yandere hades #nastya's stories #nastya's oc #percy jackson #the Angel of Hades #part one #bianca heloisa alves dos santos

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It Takes a Mob pt.8

First

Previous

Ao3

It took all of Bill’s nerves to keep his eyes strait ahead. Lesser men would be following the boss as he paced around them. The sound of his steel toed boots clanking against the metal floor of the office.

But Bill refused to be one of those men. He has been earning his keep in Gotham’s underbelly since he made it through high school. He has went toe to toe with the bats in too many situations to let himself be scared shitless by a man he remembers meeting in pixie boots.

Red may have changed a lot since then, but he was still the same kid under all that body armor; dramatic sure, but still a good kid.

“Let me tell you guys a story. The big boss of a group of merry men decides to take a couple days off from his job.”

Marv was not keeping his cool as good. Out of the corner of his Bill could see him twitch with each turn Hood took.

“And everything is good! He gets to hang out with his family, catch up on the media read a couple books.”

It felt like a weird time to want to laugh, but Bill was finding it harm not to.

Between a dramatic monologue, a twitchy cohort and the small hands that were shoving themselves repeatedly into his armpit; Bill wasn’t surprised that he was loosing the battle.

‘This is my fucking life’

He tuned himself back in at a growl from the boss as he loomed over him.

‘Christ, what had daddy B been feeding him? he used to come up to my waist…’

“So what’s so funny Overbeck?”

“Oh nothing Boss, just the fact dat if we had really fucked up then you wouldn’t’ve pulled us to the side.”

Bill snarked as he tried to subtly discourage some nosy hands,

“I think we both know that you would’ve just gut us as a spectacle.”

“Is that so?”

“Like a bunch of pigs.”

The brief silence was thickening before the boss let out an ugly snort and let the tension release in his pose.

“Fuck all…”

“If you wanted information you could’ve skimped on the one act.”

With a graceless flop Red hood draped himself into one of the chairs and gestured for the two to do the same.

“Got to keep up the appearances, you know that Bill.”

And leaned forward as the two henchmen got comfortable.

Bill had to resist the impulse to smooth his hands down the kids back. Danny wouldn’t’ve minded if he did but it was best to keep minimal contact with the hidden protrusion less he wanted to bring them to the spotlight.

“So,”

Red asked his jaw on his knuckle,

“who found the kid?”

Bill time began to crawl as he felt the color try to leave his face.

Marv stood up with a jolt,

“What kid? Why are we bringing up kids?! Boss, you know we would never-“

“Jesus, will you sit down? I’m not accusing you of C.P. or some shit. There’s only so many things we use insulated boxes around here and I’m pretty sure Me-Mah would only be disappointed and mildly pissed if it was something food related.”

Marv caught Bill’s eyes with a panicked little glint,

‘Sometimes I forget that the big man was a detective.’

Bill tried to give a look that hopefully told the big oaf next to him to keep quiet.

‘Alright Red, we’re dancing now.’

“Yeah okay you caught us. There was a kid, we found them the other day while bar hopping.”

Red casually sat up and rolled his shoulders,

“Race, and description.”

“Young, couldn’t be any more than one. Caucasian, looks like one of the birds you know?”

“So why the fuck was I not informed about this?”

Ooh, that’s a dangerous tone. Not loose a kneecap tone but definitely toeing his patience.

The little old man in his head was taking a drag of a cigarette.

“Play it smart Bill or don’t play at all.”

He advised with a puff.

Bill remembered hearing those words a lot when he was younger.

The first time he heard them was after he got the snot beaten out of him in his first fight.

The last time was when he slung a bag over his shoulder and slammed the door on his old man’s face.

“Been thinking about the old guy a lot more than usual. Have no clue what that’s about.”

Bill huffed as he tried to mentally phrase his next words,

“Well quite simply it’s not an “you” problem boss. Listen, what happened to the kid was horrible, fuck whoever did it with the barrel of my gun, but you were taking a couple days off with family. What did you want us to do? Call you in the the middle of the night like “Eyy boss how’s the kids? Yeah well we found one of our own while you’ve been away! Yeah in the trash with no identification or contact information at all! See you next Tuesday!” What good would that have done other than pissing you off?”

Bill crossed his arms to try to hide some of the kid’s squirming. Looks like he got a little worked up as well during his lecture.

Hood let out a mechanical sigh,

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t’ve been informed.”

“And you would’ve,”

Bill drawled,

“Do you honestly believe we could hide something from you forever? Might has well tell me the Joker has given up a life of crime to be a hooker.”

Both of the other men choked and Bill mentally patted himself on the back.

It was hard enough as is to get any emotion out of the boss’ when he wears his crimson dome.

‘Alright Bill, distraction successful, bring it all the way home.’

“I’m just saying, it wasn’t like this was an organized crime of dumping babies. There isn’t greasy fucktard hitting in a warehouse goin’ “you know what this city needs? Traumatized garbage collectors.” This was someone making a shitty choice an’ getting away with it. The kid is safe, an’ is goin’ to be well taken care of and isn’t that what matters in the end?”

There was pause in the air after Bill finished.

For a moment it almost felt like he had gotten away with it.

“Bill?”

“Boss?”

“What’s with the jacket?”

“Fuck.” Bill did not like where this was going.

“I let myself go boss.”

A pause of disbelief filled the air as Bill tried to keep his panic off his face. Red was meeting his eyes behind his helmet, its dead stare giving a sense of deadpan as the seconds ticked by. Marv had the chair armrest in a white knuckled grip as he frantically shifted his eyes between the two.

“A little too much takeout an’ a little less cardio than the doc ordered…”

“Bill…”

“You know how it is boss-“

“Bill.”

“Yes?”

“Take off the coat.”

“Hey now-“ Bill flung himself from his seat “you’re a great guy boss but I’m not that type of worker!”

The boss was sadly was not going to let him get away with a joke.

Marv got up from his seat as Hood began to approach,

“Cut the shit Bill. I’m not mad, just need to know-.”

Whamp!

“Marv!!”

“What?!?”

The hoodlums tags part 1

@boredomfarie , @aconitewolfsbane , @withoutcontxt @onyxlightdragon , @satanicrutialspecialist , @phoenixdemonqueen , @vixen-uchiha , @skulld3mort-1fan , @bytheoldwillowtree , @illusionwolfwriter24r8 , @thewondersoflebanon , @vipower001 , @autumnwulf , @alice-hazelwood , @fisticuffsatapplebees , @f4nd0m-fun , @markus209 , @latheevening226, @dolfay, @basilf1res , @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair , @skirter01 , @bun-fish , @ascetic-orange , @thegatorsgoose , @sunflowershine03 , @ladythugs , @firegirl108 , @glitchedchaos , @rangerhorsetug , @mimilikey , @booberrylizard , @lehana37 , @dragongoblet , @flamey-comet , @mandyne-1001 , @starscreamlover , @moonfirearc, @bae-graphomaniac , @mewzaque , @wolfeyedwitch , @idfk-man10, @demon-cat-goes-woof , @undead-essence , @jaguarthecat

#dp x dc #writing prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #it takes a mob

[cathedral-of-sinners]

Insatiable

Kinktober Day 13 - Dry Humping + Pierro

Genre: Smut (MDNI)

CW: Obligatory OOC warning, sub!reader, gn!reader (no pronouns or genitalia mentioned), swearing, petnames (darling, my star), orgasm denial (but like it’s once?), i write 'prepped yourself' but I'm referring to lube

“I’m busy.” It’s a phrase you’ve come to hate yet hear far too often. You understand the responsibility and workload that comes with being the first harbinger, but would it truly be the end of the world if Pierro just looked at you for a second?

“Darling, can’t you see I’m occupied at the moment?” Apparently, it would. Even as you take the familiar seat on his lap, lips littering kiss after kiss against his skin you yield no results. It takes you beginning to shift your hips to finally earn his attention, albeit only a fraction of it.

His large palm rests on your hip as he addresses you, but the words are lost on you, far too captivated by all that is him. Broad shoulders, piercing eyes, not to mention what's concealed beneath layers of clothing. Sat so close, can you really be blamed for venturing far off into your thoughts? Realizing this very thing, his lecture on leaving him dies on his tongue. Taking his silence you use it to say your own piece.

“Pierro, please. I’ve been lonely without you and…” you lean forward, voice hushed as you say your next words, “I’ve been thinking of you and your touch. How you fit nice and snug inside me while you ravish the rest of me.”

Pierro prides himself on his ability to keep himself in check, but that’s as a harbinger. As a man, he could hide his facial emotions all he wants, but there was no he could prevent the little twitch of his cock.

For another moment he doesn’t speak, simply staring at you as he plays with your confession in his mind. Just when you believe your efforts were futile, Pierro appears to come to some form of conclusion. He gives his response with no room for negotiation.

“Very well. Get yourself off. If you can do that much without disturbing me, I’ll reward you just as you wish.” It seemed like a fair deal, something you could do no problem. That and the heat pooling has started to become unbearable the longer you ignored it. So you nod resolutely, shifting around so that every slow grind you do brushes against his growing bulge, chest brushing up against his as you pant at the newfound friction. Surprisingly though, as soon as you start you’re stopped by thick fingers hooking under your chin and a thumb pressed on your lips.

The Jester meets your confused gaze with an even one, steel cold eyes empty. “I said no distracting me, my star,” he warns, waiting a moment before removing his hand, eyes flicking back to the paper in the other. What? You... have to stay silent? Perhaps this’ll be a little more challenging than you first imagined.

Swallowing thickly, you collect yourself, opting to bury your head in the crook of his neck. Receiving no objection to the action, you begin again. Silent.

Minutes pass and you refuse to admit the amount of time you nearly slipped up. A moan, a whimper, a sigh, you bat them down every time. You were lucky to get a warning the first time, but you know that should a repeat of your blunder happen again, Pierro might just stop you altogether before commanding you to leave and wait until he’s done. The mere notion strikes you with dread.

But dammit, it’s so fucking hard to stay quiet! Even covered he feels so damn good.

It’s worth it, you remind yourself, slipping your eyes shut. Yes, it's all worth it if you get a taste of his cock after - either metaphorically or literally you're not picky.

So deep in your task you nearly jumped at the suddenness of his voice, “look at you, making a mess of yourself.” You’re surprised to see his gaze focused on you after so much neglect. Your sex throbs at the new attention and you almost fear he could feel how just a simple look has you so needy.

You're not sure how to respond to his comment, or even if you can respond. Besides, he's right. His eyes no longer look at your half-hidden face but where your sex ruts against his, the growing wet spot hard to miss. If the pleasure wasn't so enrapturing you're sure you'd be burning in embarrassment.

Felling yourself grow close, you grind against the harbinger's bulge faster, chasing the high (how pathetic, cumming without me actually touching you Pierro thinks, silently watching you. He hates to admit it though, but, there's no denying the strain in his pants or how you're riling him up).

Orgasm within your reach, Pierro easily stops your rolling hips the moment he grips them tight. For the second time, you're left confused, pulling back to gaze at him, hoping to read what's on his mind. In one swift second everything is made clear when you find yourself bent over the large desk, papers pushed to make room.

"I suppose," Pierro breathes, hot air tickling the shell of your ear, "this outcome could not be prevented."

With one hand taking hold of your wrists, pinning them above you, the other holds your waist still, his own hips beginning to rut against the curve of your ass. There was something you found insanely hot about how you could feel his hard cock poke against you yet not actually feel the skin. A needy whine escapes your lips the more you think about it. A growl is what you get, the rumble of his chest vibrating against your back.

The First was never one to make a mess, at least not in the way he's about to, but as the coil in his lower abdomen tightens and the rub of his trousers spurs him further on, Pierro is left with a choice. Stop and finally claim you or cum now.

Well, he decides, why not both?

Slowing his thrusts just enough, he pulls down your garments and his, what he sees filling him with amusement, "you prepped yourself?"

You pant, "wanted to be ready for you..."

"Well done..." he murmurs, lining himself up. You're shaking in anticipation, feeling the tip of his cock spread you open. He sheaths himself fully, giving you no time to adjust as he resumes his previous pace. Within minutes Pierro's emptying himself in you, heat flooding your insides, though he never stops, intending to keep going until you cum as well.

The squelch that echoes in the room only serves to turn you on more, as is his persistent thrusts. Feeling him lean forward, you tilt your head to try and catch a glimpse, surprised when the male tips your head more himself, lips finding yours. The kiss is searing, the man above you in utter control of it. It's an eternity before he pulls back, travelling to place a shockingly tender peak against the crook of your neck.

"Cum for me, my star," he whispers, feeling your walls grip his cock iron-tight. The tickle of his hair and the warmth of his breath cause you to moan, the sound only doubling in volume when he hits that particular spot deep within, pushing you over the edge.

As your high washes over you, you rest your head against the desk, Pierro pulling you flush against his hips, set on feeling you spasm around his entire length. Only when you start to calm does he pull out, a mix of your release and his dribbling down your thighs. You nearly let out a cry at the loss of him, hips bucking back in hopes of feeling him “M-more, please Pierro~” you beg, still fighting to catch your breath. The male hums, eyes once more trailing between your legs, watching as his cum slowly flows out of your hole. Even through your haze you can tell where he's focusing on, spreading your legs a little more. Enticing.

He makes a pleased noise, hand groping the cheek of your ass. “Again? My star, you truly are insatiable aren’t you?” With a quick snap of his hips, he slips back in with ease, right to the hilt. “Very well then, you shall have your wish.”

Tag list: @stygianoir || @rain-soaked-sun || @londonstylesxx

#pierro x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #pierro smut #pierro x you #genshin pierro #pierro genshin #—val writes

[ithinkinggenshin]

At Her Service

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Yae Miko

Pairings: Yae Miko x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Breeding, Pet play, BDSM, Public humiliation, public use, manipulation, marking, degradation, not proof read

Word count: 1.2k

Synopsis: There’s so much that Yae likes to do with to you. 

“Come here, bunny. Let’s play dress up.” You flush as Yae’s arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you into her room. She plays with the hem of your shirt before pulling it up, making sure to drag her nails along your stomach. 

“Oops,” she says innocently.

You squeak as your bra snaps against your chest. Of course, Miko plays dumb, as though she isn’t stripping you out of your clothes. You’re barely out of your shirt and she’s staring at your breasts. Eyes raking over your body and undressing you in her mind. She yanks your skirt down faster than you can process and it pools at your ankles. You lightly step out of it, hands coming up to cover your exposed body. Your face bright red and heart beating fast. Ironic that she used the phrase “dress up” when so far she’s only done the opposite. 

“Now, now. None of that. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in less, little one.” 

You don’t think you can blush any harder with the way she pushes your buttons. You watch as she digs around in her closet full of clothes no one sees her wear, including you. You’ve only ever seen her wear her shrine maiden outfit and her pajamas, and even those are just her in her underwear and a thin nightgown. 

No. Instead she likes to buy clothes to dress you up in. Skimpy little outfits that barely cover you. Slutty lingerie that she tears off of you. And dresses that show off your ass and chest whenever you bend over to pick something up. She loves to make you play as her maid and have you clean up after her. Licking her lips as she watches you lean over to pick up a paper ball she tossed near the bin. The adorable pink, lace panties with a heart shaped hole to give easy access to your ass. Oh they’re just too perfect on you. She loves to put you in panties like that, one’s where she can plug you up with a tail of your own. Your tight asshole stretching to accomodate the generous buttplug that she works into you. 

“We have to make sure it doesn’t fall out. Right, bunny?” 

God and the nicknames she uses. Making sure to tack one at the end of every other sentence, till you’re dizzy from her teasing and (what you hope) affection. 

“Be sure to lick them clean, puppy. I have to walk out in these in ten minutes. Better hurry.”

“You’re so shameless, kitten. Moaning so loudly when I pull your tail. You must really enjoy it when I’m rough with you.”

“That’s right. You’re my bitch. You’re a whore that needs to be filled with cock, and you’re lucky I decided to take you in, or else you’d be on the streets pimping yourself out to every girl and guy. I’m sure they’d all love to get a taste of your little cunny, but it belongs to me. I own you. Get ready bunny. I’m going to breed you. Make sure your womb is filled with my seed by the end of the night. You’ll be full of my pups in no time.”

She never gives up control. Not for one second. You’ll always be beneath her. Always there to cock warm her as she reads the novels she’s been submitted. Always there to let her fuck you over the bed after a long day, helping poor, lost souls. Always there to climb under her desk and suck her off, even when she has a meeting with the others. She never gives it away. Always appears so perfect and clean on the outside. And yet there you are, swallowing her third load. Mouth full of her cum. Like the good pet you are, you don’t waste what your master gives you. 

Yae is prim and perfect, while you look like you’ve just stepped out of a lion’s den. (A kitsune’s den) You have teeth marks and hickies on your neck. Crescents on your thighs. Cheeks red and a hoarse voice. Some people worry for you. Always wondering what keeps making you so disheveled. They swear it’s gotten worse over time. But you have the Lady Guuji’s protection, so they leave it alone. You’ll be okay. Yae Miko will take care of you. If only they knew. Well… actually, you’re more afraid of them finding out. Miko’s threatened plenty of times to leave you tied to the message board at the center of the busiest area and let people see how much of a slut you are. Let them fuck you and cum all over you. Use you for themselves. How many people would you satisfy? How tight would your little cunt and ass be after all of the debauchery? You moan loudly and clench around her fat cock as she rams into you. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, nasty thing.”

You shake your head best you can. 

“No? Oh? Do you still have some decency in you? Would you be ashamed, humiliated even, if people saw how much of a whore you are? How much you liked having your cunt stuffed with my cock. Ass full with a fat plug inside. Nipples clipped and clamped.”

You moan again, pressing against her stomach, latching onto her nipple and sucking. Anything to ground yourself as she drills into you. 

Yae loves to degrade you. Never using anything other than a demeaning tone of voice and pet names that remind you that you’re beneath her. You’re subservient and submit to her. And she loves it. The power trip is amazing. One of the best she’s felt in centuries. 

Despite all her taunting and threats, she’ll never let you go. She’s extremely possessive. The marks she leaves are a testament to it. The way she had her name carved on your inner thigh, despite the blood and tears it pulled out of you, it was worth it. And she makes sure to spray her perfume on you, the most obvious marking of hers. Others may look and not know who gave you the marks but you do. She invades your mind as you feel the sing on your ass as you sit down to eat. Or the way your legs wobble because of the night before. And the way her scene invades your nose as she sprayed her perfume right in your face just before you left to descend down the mountain. 

You’ll trek back up again in the evening. When almost all of the visitors are gone and the sun is getting low. The way the orange and pink hues frame your form always makes Miko smile. She loves seeing you every evening. But she doesn’t show it, instead opting to play her role, asking what you’ve come up to the shrine for. You have learned to always answer that you’ve come to see her. It strokes her ego and keeps her happy. God forbid you say anything else. She’ll make sure to tear whatever blight you have to shreds and then get her reward from you. She’s your whole world. The center of your universe. You orbit her. Leaving only to always come back. She loves it. Loves you. Be sure to thank her for all of her gifts. It’s rare for the most powerful kitsune to have such an affinity for a human. 

#yae miko x reader #yae miko smut #genshin impact #genshin smut #cw: smut #cw: pain play #fem reader #fem!reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #posted fic

[beloved-daydreams]

Folktober2023 Prompt: "Coraline AU" 🚪🍷

An attempt by

Hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels

📘 1 400+ words

😎 Characters: Cardan, AU "human" Jude, Jude

✒️ Tags: drunk Cardan, silly, sweet, hallucination (?)

📢 Summary: Cardan finds a mysterious door while drunk and decides to walk in. What he didn’t expect though, is that on the other side he’d end up in the human world, meeting a Jude that grew up there and has no knowledge of Faerie. A silly conversation ensues.

✏️✏️✏️

Cardan had made it past a mysterious door in the palace. He had never seen it before though, maybe he was just so drunk out of his mind that he had imagined it. Yet past the door, there was the human world. Okay. Well now there’s no doubt about it, not only is he drunk, he’s also high off his ass.

The door behind him had disappeared. Now, how to make it back?

As he was quietly freaking out, a girl appeared out of the not so dark shadows of the human world (because of the light pollution) and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Yo, you good?"

The girl looked exactly like Jude, well, aside from not having a missing finger. But somehow he could still feel that this was Jude, not Taryn. She was wearing jean shorts, high boots that ended just under her knees and a huge red and black sweater that had a stylized "Brooklyn" print on the back. She looks like what Jude would’ve looked like had she grown up in the human world away from Faerie, Cardan thinks.

"...Jude?"

At his question, the girl looked surprised.

"Yeah? Sorry. Do we know each other?"

Cardan blinks. The very "overly-human" looking Jude blinks.

"Uh you just seemed really lost there, and it’s late. Oh wait, I know. You must be someone from my school, right? I’m really sorry, I’m bad at memorizing faces and names… Though with how handsome you are, I’m surprised I forgot."

Cardan has no idea how to react or even what to say. Should he even say anything, actually? She looks him up and down, almost scrutinizing his clothes before something seems to click in her brain.

"Ooooh so you’re like, cosplaying, right? Nice. What character?"

Under the streetlights, despite not being his Jude, this Jude is also incredibly lovely and pretty. Oh well. If this is a dream then Cardan will at least enjoy himself, why the heck not. What is she talking about? Cosplay? Cardan digs his mind and remembers his nephew Oak desperately trying to explain to him some human words and terms. He’s pretty sure cosplaying was something like a roleplay.

"Um. I’m Cardan. Cardan Greenbriar from…" He pauses. If he were from a story what would the name of the book even be? "...I suppose The Queen of Swords would be the title." Jude blinks at his peculiar way of phrasing his answer but she shrugs it off. When Cardan had first read Alice in wonderland, Alice seemed to obviously be the Jude of the story. Now, knowing her better, she might actually be the Queen of Hearts. Though swords might fit her better.

The Jude from the human world hums.

"Never heard of it. Sounds like a fantasy type of story though, with like- love, war and betrayal. Lots of frustrating betrayals that end in more wars, then more love."

Cardan laughs awkwardly. Why is she nailing this? This Jude’s fiction literacy must be high, unlike his Jude who’s less interested in books than scheming. She then asks for his real name, in a panic, since he cannot lie on his identity, he asks her to call him by his "cosplay name" whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. Hornless Jude laughs at his dedication to the character. Then they walk, she explains how he must sober up so she can lead him home to safety.

"Why don’t you think about your safety first, Jude?"

The girl looks up to the starless sky.

"Hmm. I’ll be fine, I’m familiar with the surroundings. Also…" She punches the air in a couple of swift motions. "I’m trained in MMA! Pretty cool, right?"

Cardan’s confused at whatever those letters mean, unfortunately Jude takes his confusion as disbelief.

"Oh come on, I’m serious! I know it doesn’t look like it because my sweater is hiding my upper body but- Agh. I’ll just show you!"

She takes the sweater off, revealing her abs and firm arms. She was only wearing a sports bra underneath… Cardan is unsure if checking out this Jude would be cheating but he can’t help himself. Satisfied with how the boy looks bewildered, crownless Jude puts her sweater back on.

"See? Anyway. I don’t know what you were smoking but it’s gotten you high as fuck bud. Still can’t remember where you live?"

Cardan shakes his head since he can’t open his mouth to lie. He does remember where he lives with his awesome and hot wife but he’s not sure how to make it back.

"I’ll be fine. There’s no need for you to lead me anywhere, I’ll find my way back once I’m sober."

"Uh-huh. You say that but you were getting high. Alone. In an empty street while cosplaying some ethereal elf prince."

"King now. Not prince."

"Gee, sorry." Very human Jude rolls her eyes with a smile on her lips. She must be thinking that the guy is cringy for committing to the bit so hard. Nonetheless she’s amused by this encounter as well. Cardan looks at her relaxed smile in awe, he wishes he could also make his Jude smile like this. Unfortunately, his Jude is much more difficult and shy with her smiles.

"... And you know, that King has a very amazing wife. Thus the title."

"So the wife is the main character?"

"Mh-hm. She wields a sword and is skilled in the arts of war. And she rose to power in a land where she didn’t belong at first."

Hornless Jude whistles.

"She sounds like a badass."

Now that’s a word Cardan knows. Again, thanks to Oak but this one was way easier to grasp and remember.

"She is."

"Is the King any good then?" She asks half-mockingly, yet her tone is gentle.

Cardan ponders.

"He’s… a great pillow to sleep with."

"Wooow."

"A clever and funny boy."

"Uh-huh. And let me guess: he’s fun at parties?"

"Oh, absolutely. He’s the King of revels."

"So, with a bit of an alcohol problem? It checks out."

"It checks uh- yes?"

Cardan is not sure what checks exactly, all he knows is that the alcohol problem is in fact there and oftentimes, the only way for him to not drink at all in a day is to make a promise to Jude after she scolds him about it. His Jude. Now that he thinks about it, just before he walked through that door wasn’t he drinking again?

A voice rings out in his head. Cardan Cardan Cardan. He looks at crownless Jude and his vision blurs.

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s lying on his bed, probably looking like he’s completely out of it while Jude is calling out for him, slapping his cheeks not so gently and tugging at his clothes. Probably trying to take them off so he can sleep tight.

"Cardan." Jude utters, clearly unimpressed by his sorry state.

"My Jude!" Cardan cries out happily as if he hasn’t seen his wife in days, despite him literally dreaming of her any day she might not be home in his arms. But there she is.

"God. I was gone for only a day and one night, is it really so unbearable to be without me that you absolutely need to get drunk?"

"Ahaha, you have no idea!"

She rolls her eyes, exactly like the Jude in his dreams. My recollections of her are so accurate. Cardan tells himself, proud of his visions and vivid manifestations of her. Needily, he pulls his beautiful wife towards him.

"Come here…" His eyes are sparkling over the haziness, no matter his state, Cardan always lights up at the sight of his wife in front of him. Jude thinks he’s silly but enjoys it nonetheless. Giving up, she joins him.

"You have an alcohol problem, Cardan, please try to cut down on it."

"Yesss anything for you, Queen of swords. But oh- Whenever will you call me by a sweet nickname???"

Jude laughs under her breath at how ridiculously cute her husband is.

"Yes yes hubby. Anything for the King of getting shitfaced."

Cardan snuggles in his wife’s arms and an image of the other Jude flashes in his mind. I’m trained in MMA! Pretty cool, right? It’s a comforting thought to believe that a Jude who would grow up in the human world would also have arms as strong as his Jude. But still, this is truly home and she belongs here. Not anywhere else, not in a world where he wouldn’t have been able to meet her.

✏️✏️✏️

That moment when you realize that this fic is just Cardan bragging about his wife... to his wife from another world 😂 God this is just- well, it’s so very Cardan.

And don’t forget: If you’d like to decrease the amount of my sad girl hours, please consider leaving comments/tags! 💖

#the folk of the air #tfota #jurdan #jude x cardan #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #fanfiction #join the revel 👻🎃 #jurdannetfolktober2023 #jurdannetrevels #jurdannet #beloved daydreams

[mellowsadistic]

Feeling a sudden warmth between my legs, I lifted up my skirt to peek at my nappy. “Wee-wee!” I giggled, watching as the front of my nappy discoloured and started to sag.

Something felt wrong. Was I supposed to pee my pants? For a moment I thought I remembered wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of my schoolgirl uniform, and big-girl panties instead of my fluffy nappies. But that couldn’t be right, could it?

If I don’t wear my nappy then I’ll leave yucky puddles on the floor!

That’s right! I’m not even potty trained so I gotta wear my nappy… But then why does that thought make me feel so embarrassed?

Grown-ups shouldn’t need to wear nappies like babies, but I do because I’m just a stupid girl.

Was that true? That didn’t sound right. I frowned, feeling the last trickles of pee enter my padded pants. Then disgust and horror hit me like a brick as the haze of babyhood lifted and full awareness set in all at once.

I was wearing a fucking schoolgirl outfit, with a pissy nappy hugging my ass. But what I was wearing was nothing compared to what I’d been doing for… for God knows how long. Acting like an adorable toddler and an airheaded bimbo rolled into one. My boyfriend had tricked me into visiting that institute for wayward women, and they’d turned me into some sort of sick ageplay fantasy!

They put me in my rightful place! Women need to be treated like helpless babies.

“No!” I yelled, then I spun around as someone entered the room.

Him.

Daddy!

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

For a half a second he looked taken aback, but then a patronising smile appeared on his face. “They told me you might have a little bounce back after a year.”

“A year?!”

“That’s right! You’re such a good listener, princess! You’ve been my little girl for a whole twelve months.”

I felt sick, and furious. A whole year since I’d used a toilet, or dressed like an adult, or had a single mature thought in my head.

“You’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison you fucking freak!”

“Awww, I’m sorry darling. I know you want to throw your little tantrum, but the institute knew this might happen. That’s why they gave me a special trigger-phrase to send you right back to baby land if the old you ever resurfaced.”

My insides seemed to turn to ice in an instant. I took a step backwards, feeling my soggy nappy squish wetly between my thighs.

“No! Please! I’m sorry, I swear I won’t tell anyone about this! Not the police, not anyone! Just don’t turn me back into a stupid baby!”

I looked pleadingly into his eyes, but he just smiled broadly and reached out to tickle me under the chin.

“It’s time to be Daddy’s little girl again.”

“Nooooo!” I wailed, feeling my adult thoughts fading rapidly from my mind, to be replaced by the immature idiocy of an overgrown baby.

Yay! I’m gonna be Daddy’s little girl forever!

#mellowsadistic

[star1117-archives]

𝐉 <𝟑 - 𝐋. 𝐉𝐍

↳ Pairing : Dom!Jeno x fem!reader

↳ Genre : Angst + Smut

↳ W.C : 3148

↳ Warnings : Alcohol misuse, Heartbreak, Unhealthy coping mechanisms, Drunk sex, Rebounds, Friends to ?, Couch sex, Groping, Unrequited (?) love, Insinuated wet dreams, Begging, Mentions of safewords, No prep, Insinuated squirting, Insinuated dumbification, Creampie, Slight dacryphilia, Aftercare, Naive!Jeno

↳ A/N : Under 16’s DNI !!

↳ Network : @cacaokpop-fics

© 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost or use my work in any way, shape or form.

It was that time again. 1am, alcohol was flowing into your body and tears were flowing out. You drunkenly revisited the secret photo album on your phone, hidden behind a cute kitten. Any unsuspecting friend that happened to look over your shoulder would think nothing of it, I mean who hasn’t had a comforting album or two sometimes?

But for you, this album caused more pain than comfort, yet you always found yourself going back to it. Back to him. You scrolled through each picture at a painfully slow pace, studying his features. That smile that brightened your day, the eyes that crinkled when he laughed, the nose he used to twitch as a party trick, the lips you spent hours on end worshipping with your own. He was your world, but he fucked some other bitch behind your back. Because he got bored.

Bored.

There’s no spark anymore Y/N. Our relationship.. it just… I feel bored, not in love like I’m supposed to be.

You must be a masochist or something, that phrase always repeating in your mind and stabbing you in the heart. Sighing, you took another swig of the bottle, surprised to find it empty. Had you really been drinking that much? Whatever, who cares. You’ll just die here, swimming in spiced rum and depression.

Your phone hummed to life with a message and it took almost all your energy to turn over and reach for it on the floor. When you had thrown it you don’t know, and you weren’t very bothered in finding out.

{💌} You have one new message from : J <3

Biting your lip, you unlocked your phone, tears falling harder when you saw his message.

{💌} J <3 : You okay? You left the club so quickly, everyone’s worried about you.

You debated lying to him, telling him you were sick, but you could never do that to him. Not when he’s always been there for you.

{💌} Y/N ᵀᴹ : I saw him Jeno, with the slut he was fucking

{💌} Y/N ᵀᴹ : He looked

{💌} Y/N ᵀᴹ : Happy

Jeno seemed to take a while to process your words, those three dots appearing and disappearing. You expected him to go in on you like your other friends have been recently, telling you to get a life and move on already. None of them understood the pain of being cheated on by someone you truly loved.

Just as you were about to break down, your phone dinged again, Jeno’s reply finally sent. All he’d sent however was a few short words.

{💌} J <3 : Let me in

Your eyebrows furrowed and you sat still on your bed for a second in shock, but then you heard a soft knock at your front door.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

You went and answered the door, both surprised and not at the same time. His dorm was about five minutes from yours, so he must’ve ran over. His breathing was heavy and a slight sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. He was still in his clothes from the club, fixing the sunglasses that obviously weren’t needed at this time of night.

“Jeno…?”

His large hand cupped your cheek with a comforting smile, nodding quietly as his thumb caressed you. He was here, here for you, here to help. He knew you needed him, and he’d come over. Another tear fell down as you slowly processed this, watching as Jeno became even more concerned, wiping your tear away as he cupped both your cheeks. The overbearing scent of rum burned his nostrils, and Jeno looked at you with pity.

“Fuck Y/N, how much did you drink?”

His words flew over your head however, you just wanted him to stop.

“Stop it.”

Jeno’s brow creased at this, confused by your words.

“What?”

You wrapped your arms around Jeno’s neck, not even noticing the way he looked at them with wide eyes.

“Dont look at me like that. If you feel bad, help me.”

Jeno stayed quiet for a second, trying to look for something in your eyes before finally replying.

“How?”

Moving closer, your lips were now inches from his as you whispered quietly.

“Help me forget.”

Before he could reply, you crashed your lips onto his, your movements sloppy as Jeno’s hands left your face. You could tell he was conflicted when he didn’t kiss back, but you kept kissing him when he didn’t stop you. You just needed to feel something, anything other than this.. weight crushing your heart. Eventually, the alcohol surging through his system got the better of Jeno and his hands fell to your hips, drawing you closer as he reciprocated the kiss.

Not wasting any time, you led Jeno to the sofa, pushing him onto it without breaking the kiss. Now you were on top of him, this kiss becoming messier as Jeno’s hands explored your body, groping anything he could. He groaned into your mouth when you squeezed his shoulders, and you swore it made you clench just from the sound. When your hands fell to his belt buckle however, Jeno pulled away with a sigh. You looked at him with confused eyes when he sat up a little.

“Jeno? What’s wrong?”

Jeno’s hands returned to your hips, his eyes holding all the emotion he refused to let out.

“You don’t want this Y/N, you’re just drunk.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes at this, holding Jeno’s face as you spoke with desperation.

“It’s not that Jeno, I want this.”

Holding Jeno’s hand, you watched the way he stared at your fingers clasped together.

“You’re the only one I trust to help me forget him.”

Jeno squeezed your hand before kissing it, the last of his resolve faltering.

“I love you.”

Before you could reply, Jeno pressed a kiss to your lips.

“No pressure, I just thought you should know.”

Jeno pulled you down a little by the waist, arm now wrapped securely around you as he looked up at you hopefully.

“Even if nothing comes from it, can I still help you?”

You bit your lip before nodding, gasping when Jeno moved you back slightly so he could undo his belt.

“Don’t worry, by the time I’m done, all you’ll be able to think about is me and how good I make you feel.”

His words made your stomach twist in anticipation, a little ‘woah’ leaving you when Jeno flipped the both of you over. Now he was hovering on top of you, and his expression had started to become dark with lust. He made light work of your pajama pants, not bothering to take off your top as he shrugged his jeans down.

“I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long, even when you were with that bastard.”

Jeno chuckled when he saw the dark patch forming on your panties, pulling them to the side and staring at you with a shit-eating grin.

“By the looks of it, I’m not the only one, Hm?”

Not bothering to lie, you nodded shyly and looked away, cheeks burning with embarrassment. You didn’t stay like this for long however, Jeno’s hand quickly pulling you back to face him when his hand gripped your jaw.

“Eyes on me. Lemme show you how it feels to have a real man fuck you. Not that idiot you were with before.”

Gulping, you nodded as Jeno grasped the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down in one smooth motion. You suddenly felt very exposed, especially under his hungry stare. His eyes widened as he finally caught a glimpse of you, spreading your legs softly and smoothly.

“Fuck, I wanna savour this moment and completely break you at the same time.”

You felt yourself clench at such dirty words, straining a little against Jeno’s touch. He merely chuckled at this, easily overpowering you and pushing your legs open even wider.

“We’ll have to do this again pretty lady, I don’t think I can fit all my dreams in at once.”

Nodding once again, you had now taken an air of urgency. It felt unfair, you were so exposed yet Jeno was still tucked away in his boxers. Before he could ramble any longer, you gripped one of his hands in emergency.

“Please Jeno, stop wasting time. Please just- just-..”

You trailed off when Jeno squeezed your thighs, nodding with a chuckle, leaning down and pecking your lips before speaking softly onto them.

“Safeword?”

You looked into his eyes, marvelling at the way they shone for a second before smiling at him.

“Star, your eyes are really pretty.”

Jeno scoffed with a small smile, pushing a hair out of your eyes before nodding back at you.

“Right back at you.”

He then kissed your cheek with a softness that almost made your heart warm. Almost.

“You ready?”

As soon as you nodded in confirmation, Jeno’s boxers were down, and you couldn’t help but marvel at his size. Not record-breaking, but definitely better than your ex’s. When Jeno caught you staring, he smirked proudly before enrapturing your lips again. He seemed too excited to focus on doing one thing at a time, like a puppy with a bone for the first time. Even in your lustful, impatient state, you still found Jeno’s eagerness endearing. Your hand grasped his as he cupped your face, and he drew out your bottom lip before letting it go.

He hissed quietly as he grabbed his hardened member, aligning it with you and pushing in the tip slightly without warning. With little preparation, you winced at the feeling. Even in his drunken state, Jeno knew he’d have to wait, his heart pounding as he fully took in the view of you under him. Before he became even more lost in thought however, you nodded with a whimper while his hands fell to your hips.

“More. Please Jeno… please..”

Jeno let out a groan at your words, pushing himself in a little farther once again. Your head flew back into the armrest of the chair, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. A pitiful moan fell from your lips, and neither you nor Jeno could tell whether it was from pain or pleasure.

You took less time to recover than before, nodding up at Jeno once again as he stroked your hips, quietly watching you. His smile radiated warmth and safety when he nodded back at you. Finally pushing the last few inches in, both you and Jeno sighed in ecstasy at the feeling, your back involuntarily arching off the sofa, while Jeno grasped your hips tighter to anchor himself.

“You feel fucking amazing.”

Jeno’s head was thrown back as he hissed, resisting the urge to relentlessly snap his hips into yours. Meanwhile your mouth was open in a silent cry, your body shaking as you tried to relax yourself. After a while, Jeno felt your walls flutter around him, your eyes glossy when you finally looked at him again.

“Can I?”

Nodding, you gave Jeno a small smile before bracing yourself.

“Don’t hold back.”

Jeno smirked and licked his lips before experimentally thrusting once. A quiet moan fell from your lips at this, your teeth pulling your bottom lip between them as you rushed to quieten yourself. Sadly, this only resulted with Jeno pulling halfway out. When you looked up at him in confusion, Jeno ran his thumb along your lip, watching intently as you instantly let go of it with the prospect of having Jeno’s thumb instead.

“Don’t do that.”

His hand slowly trailed from your face to your jaw, his movements teasing. It then rested on the soft skin of your neck, the threat clear yet enticing as Jeno spoke with an edge to his tone.

“I wanna hear just how good I make you feel.”

Nodding, you let out a small sigh when Jeno’s hand felt to your hip again. He quickly took your breath away however when he fully pulled out and slammed back into you. Your brain was sent into overdrive, and your loud whines now filled the room as Jeno kept going.

You could hardly catch a breath, Jeno pulling your hips onto his cock with an almost primal need. He soon became enveloped in pleasure, deep moans sending sparks across your skin as he threw his head back. You would’ve marvelled at the view if you were lucid enough to look, instead merely screwing your eyes shut and mewling his name like a mantra.

“Shit baby.. you feel s-so fucking amazing.“

You gripped the armrest with a newfound urgency as Jeno somehow fastened his pace, his hips now colliding messily with yours while filthy squelches filled the room. A plethora of curses were flowing from his lips at this point, and just the sight of your fucked out face had him reeling. A feeling of accomplishment ran over him, pride swelling in his chest at the fact he could fuck you this good.

Your head was swimming, yet wether it was from pleasure or alcohol was beyond you. All you could think about was Jeno. Jeno’s voice, Jeno’s moans, Jeno’s dick. Fuck, it was filling you up so well right now, way better than anyone before, not just your piece of shit ex. His name rolled easily off your tongue like you’d been screaming it your whole life, like it was the only word you knew. You were completely lost in just the whole.. concept of him. Everything about him was just utterly perfect. It had you already on the edge despite barely starting anything.

“Fuck, Jeno I’m c-close-!” 

Your words were cut of by another moan when Jeno’s movements became impossibly faster, the male relishing in the fact that he had you falling apart in a matter of minutes.

“Shit baby, cum for me. Cum all over my dick.”

His hips were now violently snapping into you at this point, your throat turning dry from your continuous cries. The coil in your stomach was impossibly tight, and a fever surged over your body stronger than ever before. It was too good, he was too good, everything was just so fucking-

“Jeno!”

You came with a loud cry of his name, thighs shaking and tears falling from the intensity of your orgasm. Jeno kept up his ruthless pace despite your shaking thighs, your body so overstimulated that you sobbed underneath him. Hitching one of your legs over his shoulder, Jeno was desperate for release as you writhed at the feeling created by this new angle. You were a blubbering mess, desperately clutching anything, everything you could as Jeno’s thrusts became erratic and sloppy. You knew he was close, and you could tell you were too. Your words were more of a broken mess than a sentence, a jumbled thoughtless pile of words messily pieced together.

“Jeno! C-cum! Want it! Please! Your cum! Please!”

Jeno cursed loudly at this, his hips stuttering as he gave a few quick thrusts before pouring a load into you, sparking another orgasm on your side. Jeno slowed his thrusts before carefully pulling out of you, sheepishly looking up at you with a smile while you just trembled on the sofa. When you’d finally caught your breath, you sighed and looked at him with a small grin.

“…I gotta clean the sofa now, don’t i?”

He rubbed his neck before nodding and shakily standing up, pulling on his boxers with a teasing smile.

“Let’s just say.. you really shouldn’t sit up right now.”

Jeno motioned to between your legs with a chuckle, walking off to get a towel and leaving you alone on the sofa. When you looked between your legs and saw the white flowing from between them, your eyes bulged in surprise.

“How the fuck-”

Before you could finish your sentence,Jeno returned, and you gratefully took the towel he offered you. When you halfheartedly tried to sit up however, you felt a rush between your legs. You quickly fell back down, looking over at him while he just watched you struggle.

“A little help here?”

A little ‘ah’ left Jeno at this, the male nodding while a blush tinted his cheeks. Sitting down on the sofa, Jeno slowly moved towards you, suddenly acting as if he didn’t just dick you down ten minutes earlier. When the towel finally connected with your sensitive pussy, a little hiss left you. Jeno quickly retracted his arm, looking up at you in concern.

“Did I… hurt you?”

You rolled your eyes at the worry lacing his tone, chuckling at his naivety.

“Did you not just wreck my shit Jeno? I’m just a little sensitive, calm down.”

He gulped and nodded, slowly but surely cleaning you, still sending you worried glances each time you let out a pained whine or hiss. When he eventually finished, he quickly threw the towel into the washing machine before dressing you as carefully as he could. He picked you up like a figurine made of china, carrying you to your bedroom and carefully laying you on the bed. He then stood there for a second, shuffling from side to side like he was unsure of what would happen next.

“So I think it’s uh- time I.. go?”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled Jeno onto the bed, hugging to him while his heart pounded in his chest. When you laid your head on him and heard it, it made a warm feeling swell within you.

“Stay. You’re not a prostitute, Jeno. Plus, I need someone to keep me away from the rum.”

Jeno seemed appreciative of your blatant excuse, not wanting to address the elephant in the room either. Of course he didn’t wanna rush you, but this situation was definitely a peculiar one. He just couldn’t tell where your head was at right now.

“Thank you.” 

Your mumbled words made Jeno lift up, looking at you in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Thank you Jeno, for helping me forget.”

Jeno smiled brightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his ears burned red. He was completely and utterly in love with you, with such a passion that he’d never felt before. He just hoped he wouldn’t become a rebound, a way of helping you heal. But then again, if it made you happy, he’d do it a hundred, no a thousand times. He’d let you use him until you didn’t need him anymore, and that thought frightened him. He’d sacrifice the entirety of his heart to you, even if you didn’t want it.

But that was a problem for another day. Today, he’d relish in the feeling of your body clinging to his, your heart beating with his. For today, you would be his. Forever, he would be yours. So he hugs you closer while he still can, while you still seek solace in his embrace. He’d do everything in his power to win your heart, even if you’d already taken his.

“Even if it’s just for a minute, I’m glad I helped you forget.”

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