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s3thwrit3sstuff · 4 months

Note

NO BUT I NEED SATORU AND SUKUNA INSIDE OF ME RIGHT NEEOOOWWWWW I CAN TAKE THEM.BOTH!!!!!

❝ Darling, won't you just plead, or should I begin to bleed? ❞

Heian Era!Sukuna Ryomen x ftm!reader x Heian Era!Gojo Satoru | alternate universe, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5.4

warnings: mentions of murder, dub. con (Gojo Satoru), power imbalance, size difference, threesome, fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex, spit roasting, triple penetration, tummy bulging, improper use of RCT , marking, possessive sex, degradation, one of Sukuna's cock gets bigger out of spite, unrealistic amounts of cum, AFAB terminology (reader's genitals are referred to with cock, dick, hole, boycunt, boypussy, clit)

“Call off your dog, Sukuna,” he snarls. Sukuna’s grin stretches obscenely and he throws his head back to laugh. Satoru hopes to have hurt your ego — from the tall tales he’s heard of (Y/N), you were known to have a haughty air about you. Satoru is sorely disappointed as he hears you chuckling along with Sukuna. In any other situation, the sweet sounds of your laughter would’ve made his heart flutter. But it’s mixed with Sukuna’s cackling so intricately he shudders at the very thought.

“Come, dog.”

authors note: heed the warnings!!! * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned)!

When the sun sets over the horizon and tucks itself past the peaks of those great mountains, it isn’t unusual for the sounds of burning to follow. Little slivers of suns swaying on top of wax or dancing across oil. Naturally, the burning comes with smoke. Casual tantalizing curls emitting from the evershifting flame; make you wonder if the sun steams and smokes.

Does it stay in the darkness, its company being the dancers of its creation swirling with it to the crackling of its flames? Afterall, if the sun is the king of flames, it would make sense that he has his own concubines.

Your eyes pull away from the sprouts of candles at the edge of the throne. Leaning your head back, you now gaze up at the king of curses as he breathes in the flavourful, addictive, smoke from the burning tobacco and exhales it into the air. He swallows the ghostly concubines. Stealing another king’s treasure. It was like him; he was the true king, after all.

Sukuna pays you no mind. He had called you to lounge with him, had Uruame prepare you for a night of passion despite not yet touching you. He had simply tapped his lap and you filled out the space by cushioning your head on his big thigh.

He’s dressed in auspiciously white garments, the expensive material has you wondering what’s in store for the both of you. The King of Curses does not need primping. Even so, he is dressed loosely. The mouth on his stomach is visible and one of his sleeves threatens to fall from his shoulder. The hand holding the smoke pipe allows itself to be pushed while the lower pair holds onto your hips. He stares down at you, his four eyes glinting silently in question. You’re practically kneeling on his lap and you barely reach the bottom half of his lips.

“Do you recall how many people I’ve killed for their insolence?” his tone is drawled out, a tinge of amusement hidden behind the baritones. “Yes, my King. I’ve always enjoyed watching you destroy them,” your hands curl around the bulging muscles of his chest and you trace up the tattoos he has to reach his shoulders.

Sukuna takes you in. Uruame had outdone themselves. You’re dressed in his favourite colours. Nothing too restrictive, the layers were enough to entice but not to invoke annoyance. Japanese politeness and grace are interwoven into every stitch despite your less-than-innocent gaze. You’ve always had the prettiest eyes; he remembers jesting that he’d pluck them out to put into a jar just so he could see them every day. They trial the shape of your lips, painted with the shades of flower petals that bloom in the light of the heavens; he thinks the irony is all the more poetic.

Your mouth and heaven do not go hand-in-hand. It’s pure sin. From that wicked, silver, tongue to your saccharine-sweet smile to that spine-shivering laugh.

You were hell-born. Just like he was.

Gently, you slip your digits under the fabric of his shoulder and he watches you and your actions impassively. Four eyes give him more room to admire you with, whatever part of you. He imagines you mean to smooth out the — imaginary — wrinkles as your palm slips up and down his broad shoulders. Your touching earns a firm squeeze to your hips, his hands are so large they cover the entirety of your back. And when they squeeze it makes your eyes flutter. He could snap you in half with just one hand. Barely use any of his strength — Sukuna could kill you as an afterthought, toss your beautiful body aside, and never think of you again.

But he doesn’t.

“You are getting impatient, boy.” The hand on his chest could feel that rumbling. Your throne — his lap — moves and you let yourself be placed according to his will. Sukuna sets you back on his lap and splays you out with a look. You stretch out on him — if you were a cat your tail would’ve curled coyly into the air just under his chin.

“It is late, Your Grace.”

The only lights left were from the candles and pools of oil ignited.

“You are passion and flame and I’ve been prepared for you to alight.”

He thinks your flowery words are adorable but unneeded. Sukuna props his face on his knuckles as he gazes down at your exposed legs. They’re practically glowing and the scent of oil entices his cocks. The mouth on his stomach splits and his tongue curls over the teeth there - you giggle at the sight.

“You want me to fuck you,” he smirks sharply, “and I am telling you to wait, brat.”

“For what?” You prop yourself on your elbows, brows pinched. “The servant that prepared me has his head tossed into a hole and yet I can still feel his little prick inside of me.”

Taking Ryomen Sukuna’s cocks was not an easy feat. For the common man, a few fingers and oil would do. For a beast that is your king, a generous pour of oil and a man pumped with herb aphrodisiacs was needed. None of the men would ever reach completion and neither did you — Sukuna would not allow it.

They would fuck you but once Uruame felt that you were stretched enough to gape, they’d pull the man away and bring him to the courtyard. A hole would be dug and the naked man would be beheaded. His penis was tossed in there to be buried and forgotten. No one should live to tell the tale of preparing Sukuna’s precious concubine. They should be honoured they were chosen but they’ll never be seen again. Those poor bastards. At least they were useful before they died.

Mirth sparks in his eyes.

“I spoil you,” and at that, you bashfully turn away. “I deserve to be spoiled.”

A greeting comes from across the long hall. The servants next to the doors rise from their bowed positions and it slides open to reveal Uruame and a man touched by frost behind them. Uruame is kneeling, and the man is not.

“Your Grace,” Uruame bows deeper.

“The head of the Gojo clan, Gojo Satoru. As you requested.”

His skin was pale and his hair paler. You’re certain if the sun rose he’d turn all but translucent. The flicker from the candles attempts to cast shadows across his small face but they cannot darken those sky-blue eyes. Uruame had announced he was from the Gojo clan but, you’ve only ever seen such blue eyes from white men — he doesn’t appear to have been sired by one. You doubt they’d even let the head of their clan be of a mixed race.

Gojo Satoru is a freak of nature. He is a curse in the shape of a man.

“Does he not know how to bow?” Your purring tone is gone. It’s cold as Uruame’s technique. Sukuna eases it back with a deliberate squint of his eye.

“Bring him in. Then leave, Uruame.” They bow deeper (if that was even possible) and after Satoru steps through, Uruame is hidden by the sliding doors once again.

“Have you reconsidered my offer, sorcerer?” Satoru’s brows are furrowed, and his long sleeves hide his hands but from the flex of his shoulders you know they are clenched.

Rising from your throne you make your down the platform. Every step exposes your delicious thighs and legs and it is so indecent it makes Satoru’s ire falter. The sleeves of your outfit drag onto the floor and it weighs down the fabric around your shoulder; your neck and your clavicle down to the whisper of your chest has Satoru’s ears blush.

You walk in a half-circle to his right, your eyes set into a glare that disappears as slips from his eyesight. Satoru knows he should not let you get behind him but turning his head away from Sukuna seems more damning. Sukuna says nothing of your less-than-inviting nature, his silence prompting Satoru to speak. “To serve you or die?” he scowls. “The Gojo clan will not serve you, Ryomen Sukuna.” Sukuna sighs, placing his smoke pipe down as he frowns. “So you have come all the way here to waste my time and to die. So typical of you sorcerers.”

“If you wish for my clan to serve you, we require more than empty promises.” Satoru’s tone was akin to the sound of the first arrow whistling through the wind, the growl he let out being the twang of the released drawstring. Regret beads down the back of his neck as he feels the sharp edge of a curved dagger pressed against the hill of his throat.

“You ask my king to fulfill wishes? Do you think him a genie?” the shape of his teeth familiarizes themselves as his jaw clenches. The blade is a cursed object, it mewls and groans faintly; the opal colour breathing as it soaks in his blood.

“Come, dog.”

With a curl of a finger, Satoru is able to breathe. You make your way to Sukuna, kneeling as you reach the top of the platform and crawl right onto his lap. The dagger slipped under the fabric around your waist.

“You are certainly an arrogant man, sorcerer. Your haughty clans fail to have taught you any diplomatic manners.”

“Diplomatic?” Satoru barks out a laugh. You narrow your eyes, bemused. “You’re a tyrant, King of Curses! The villages you’ve burned to the ground, the clans you’ve wiped out! Diplomacy? You’re taking the piss!”

Sukuna spots the curls of your lips and when glance up at him, he concurs that you do deserve to be spoiled because the two of you share the same thoughts.

This Satoru, this stubborn man; he would make a fine collection for both of you if he could survive a night.

“You require more than my word to serve me? Very well.” The nudging from your side earns him a purr and with your back turned to Satoru, you shed the fabrics. Blue eyes watch in confusion as they watch you kneel and push away the clothes from Sukuna’s shoulder.

“My darling dog has been hungry. He’s insatiable, every part of him.” One of his hands holds your chin and turns it so Satoru has a clear view of your side profile with your lips pushed forward.

“From his painted lips.”

Another hand slips down the waist of your outfit and it gives way to show the small of your back. Nearly the entirety of your back is marked from Sukuna’s lips, teeth, nails, and hands like a canvas of artwork.

“To his tight holes. You cannot see it, sorcerer, but he is clenching around the tip of my finger. Hungry.”

The hilt of your dagger is askew but neither paid it any mind. There’s more rustling and you’re almost completely naked as you obediently let yourself be displayed.

“Ah!” The wet squelch of a tongue makes your back straighten and your fingers spasm as they tighten their hold on Sukuna’s robes.

“His useless cock is already leaking.”

“What are you asking of me, Sukuna?” Satoru speaks through gritted teeth. But his skin is so pale it betrays his weak resolve. Those reddened cheeks and ears, the racing heartbeat; Sukuna doesn’t need four eyes to know that Satoru’s dick was interested in whatever is being offered.

“Fuck my darling boy and your family will not be cursed by me while they serve me, Satoru.”

“W — What?” he sputters. Meanwhile, you’re all but melting as the sounds continue. He sees your ass trembling as your expression melts in pleasure.

Sukuna arches a pointed brow as his hand tugs the clothes of your body and it flutters onto the ground in a fancy display. There you are. Naked as the day you were born. Satoru should look away; but how does one pull their sights away from a body carved by the devil? Angelic in all the wrong ways, temptation sticks to your skin like perfume and Satoru is not a saint but he feels as though a single touch would damn him. In fact, just looking at you is dangerous.

“Are you a virgin? Or is my concubine not to your taste?”

Your nail digs through Sukuna’s shoulder. So his large tongue sweeps below your drenched cunt to soothe your irritation.

“I warn you to answer that question with caution, Gojo Satoru,” you hiss out.

“Perhaps he’s not a fan of men,” Sukuna reasons. “Common men perhaps. Are you calling me common, My King?” the squelching sound of your nails digging in makes streams of crimson slip down Sukuna’s skin and the sight of it has Satoru gasping (again).

“Put your claws away, boy. As if I would sink my cock into a common man. No, I take you like a proper bitch. This body may be different, but this tight hole?”

Satoru watches a tongue appear from Sukuna’s palm. The pink muscle pushes in and the rim of your asshole easily gives in, back arching further to assist. "And this?" Satoru sees the dexterous muscle from his stomach curl. A tongue larger than any he's ever seen, squirming its way inside of you from the front, and it makes you gasp airily in pleasure as it eagerly wriggles deeper.

“A body made to be fucked, to be left leaking with cum for days. And it is rare, Satoru, for it to leak with cum that isn’t mine.”

Satoru takes a tentative step back, shame coursing through him as he tears his eyes down.

“This is — This is dishonorable — “

“If you walk through that door, Satoru, you’ve sealed the fate of your clan to be erased forever.”

You moan as his tongue grows longer and those bloody fingers wrap around Sukuna’s thick neck. The mask on Sukuna’s face, the eyes on it, narrow the tiniest bit.

“And you’d offend my concubine greatly. He’ll enjoy murdering each and every one of your clan members for the disrespect.”

The candles shudder as the wind blows through the slits of the wood. It causes the flames to dance and the shame Satoru is experiencing to be swallowed down. He is frozen there for a moment, your sighs of pleasure like a siren call to hell. Sukuna’s great tongue hides behind a row of teeth, the grin most likely identical to the one he wears on his face, as Satoru approaches the steps of the platform.

“Come, Gojo Satoru.”

Climbing up the stairs was akin to walking to the gates of hell. Satoru can see the sheen of sweat on the back of your neck. He wonders if every part of tastes like heaven. Your tears, your slick, your sweat, your cum, your blood. Without even laying your hand on him once and you've already destroyed him, (Y/N).

"Kneel." Sukuna's words are a vow. An agreement. If Satoru's knees had settled onto the wooden floor, he'd have sealed the fate of his entire clan to serve under Ryomen Sukuna. His pupils quake, taking a sharp intake of breath as he tries to steady his heart.

Your hands invade his vision. The palms of Sukuna's concubine are soaked in crimson — was that why they were so soft? Your nails still have Sukuna's blood and the feeling makes spiders crawl up his spine.

"Gooseflesh rippling?" You whisper as your naked body finally earns his focus. You're in a puddle of your clothes, kneeling before him. Tilting your head, you surge upwards and press your forehead with his. His eyes may be haunting but yours are unforgettable.

It reminds him of the first time he'd ever peered into the darkness of the woods behind his clan's estate. How the light never reaches past the woodline. The silence. The way his brain made up shapes and faces and beings and curses and you.

In that memory, there you are. Between the mighty trees, what little light did reach you making your eyes reflect it back; as if you didn't have a soul yourself and all you can do is pretend.

"Kneel, boy." You say and Satoru's knees buckle.

The thud that resounds was final. Your grin is terrifying. Sukuna looms over your shoulder and his eyes are glowing with excitement.

Gojo Satoru had made a deal with two devils.

"Good sorcerer," your face comes closer and your lips acquaintances themselves with his. They're pillowy and soft. Blood rushes south despite Satoru's conflicted feelings. If he pretends you're not who you are, perhaps he can delude himself into thinking you're someone he loved; a man he wishes to devour; Violet eyes, black hair, upturned eyes with a voice that'd make angels sigh.

That image disappears as he feels your fingers wrap around his throat. You say nothing. But the second Satoru's eyes shoot open, he sees the unamused expression on your face.

"Now, don't get yourself killed so early on in the night, Satoru," Sukuna muses out. His lower hand reaches to grasp the nape of your neck and it squeezes hard enough for Satoru to hear your bones wheeze under pressure.

"Come here, darling." You turn away with a huff.

Satoru doesn't know what to do with himself so he is content to watch as you undress Sukuna. The King of Curses watches, enraptured by your movement as his torso is now bare of anything. The mouth on his stomach, that monstrous tongue, wets your chest and you simply shudder but continue your task.

"My concubine can be rather pouty when he isn't paid attention to. Best to not let your mind wander, Satoru."

You scowl, bending over to mouth at Sukuna's crotch as he holds the back of your head. The sight of your dripping cunt and ass has Satoru's cock rising to attention.

"How dare he even do so. I'll slice his cock off," Sukuna thinks the sight would be amusing but he simply guides your head lower.

There were rumours of Ryomen Sukuna's endowment.

If he had another pair of everything, did that mean his cock was the same?

Satoru wonders how you aren't split in half as he sees Sukuna's cocks twitching in your grasp. They're thick and heavy, bumping into each other as they perk up from your attention. The tip of it is nearly bright red, angry, and demanding a hole to sink into. The veins on it must make you keen often because you tongue at them with a pleased grin.

"Satoru." He tears his eyes away from the sight. Sukuna smiles at him, ignoring your pleased groans as you take the tip of his cock in your mouth while your hand strokes over the other.

"Feast, Satoru."

The command is so simple yet so vague. Satoru can't quite comprehend it. So he stares at Sukuna then at you, kneeling before your King with the most obscene noises coming from your mouth. There was no way the phallus could even comfortably rest on your tongue, each the length of your face and as thick as your wrist.

It must be uncomfortable. He must have other concubines for this exact reason. There was simply no way you alone could please him.

Your head rises from between your shoulders, and a long stroke from the base to the tip of his cock has Sukuna exhaling through his nose; he sees you bob up and then down. A minute gagging noise slips through but then you widen your knees and somehow you dip your head low.

"That's it, darling. Take your fill."

He wasn't lying when he said you were greedy. Satoru pushes himself to stand and Sukuna would usually kill men for not bowing their heads to the floor but he wants to see what the white-haired man intends to do.

Cheeks sucked in, eyebrows sloped delicately as your jaw strains to keep itself intact. Sukuna is well-endowed, big, humongous, huge — whatever other synonym you'd use to describe big cock(s). You feel someone move your bangs out of the way.

"He's halfway down..." Satoru had seen a lot in his life. From the fantastical curse techniques of other sorcerers to the nightmare-inducing curses, the wealth from his clan members also assists the opulence he's known since birth. The whores his uncles had given to him as a gift for his birthday — the array of positions they knew, of how willing they were to do whatever he asked with a grin even if it involved humiliating themselves or him.

But he'd never seen a man as handsome as you take such a monstrous dick in his mouth with no effort. The stretch of your lips, the smear of the red pigment around it, and on Sukuna's cock.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Sukuna boasts. "Usually, the other concubines look like fishes speared on a pike when they take me into their mouths." Your eyes open in a glare and Satoru placates it by stroking your temple with his thumb.

"Not even a mention?" Satoru's inquiry earns a chuckle from Sukuna. "No. He will not allow it, if I wasn't so far down his mouth I'm sure he would've pulled away to complain." The hand on your head is not Sukuna's but it holds you firmly in place.

"How do you even fuck the other concubines?" Satoru wonders.

"(Y/N) usually slaughters them a week after I've brought them in." Satoru's shock weakens his hold, so you pull away with a cough and frown deeply up at the two men.

"I do not slaughter them! They just so happened to have ill-fated ends." You squeeze his cock one more time before turning your attention to his lower half, kissing it sweetly on its head before smearing his precum all over your lips, the smell of it making your cheeks warmer than it already was.

Truly, (Y/N). You didn't need to play this part of a proper highborn so astutely. Even if you beheaded the last concubine he had in front of him instead of summoning a curse to slam into it, resulting in the palanquin and the concubine within it along with her attending ladies being thrown off a cliff and mangled beyond words; he wouldn't have punished you.

It was your right to exorcise whoever you needed to so long as it didn't interfere with Sukuna's will. It pleased him to make you bridled with rage to result in murder, why wouldn't it? The blood that painted you from your head to your toes. It cannot all be his doing.

His dearest concubine, you mustn't get queasy so quickly. Show him the lines you'll cross to ensure he remains yours. Kill whoever you please, maim the sorcerers who take him away from you, burn down villages, and bask in their cries and their pain with him.

Hide your giggles behind your silk sleeves if you must but don't you dare hide your amusement of carnage from him; command curses to tear men apart and slice women to shreds. Everything is yours, (Y/N). Everything you wish for, everything you ask for, everything you need, and everything you didn't even think you required.

The world is yours.

"Of course," he grins and the tongue from his stomach reaches out to lick your cheek.

"Astonishing," Satoru mutters. Concubines killing each other aren't anything new though he sincerely doubts the others truly understood what they were getting into when they became Sukuna's. "Thank you," you reply after combing your hair back to take his other cock in your mouth.

Satoru feels overdressed and Sukuna was not in the business of doing that task for him. So he sheds his layers, the symbols of crane wings embroidered in the sleeves shimmer gloriously up at him. Satoru folds them over to hide it.

He will need to forget about everything else tonight. If he wishes to remain sane or tolerate the both of you — he will use his other head to guide him.

"Milky skin." You purr from Sukuna's lap. "Pale as the moon. Eyes as blue as the sky. I would kill you if you lived in this palace."

Satoru scoffs, standing with his cock twitching in the cool breeze.

"How fortunate for the both of us that I don't live here then." He hisses as your grasp onto his semi-hard dick.

"Even the hairs here are white. What a pretty cock." The feeling of your velvet tongue on his tip makes his breath shudder. It's nowhere close to Sukuna's length —or girth —but that doesn't cause him disappointment. He's longer than average, his cockhead poking the back of your throat, and veiny, mainly on his sides.

"Good weight," he moans as your lips trace the prominent veins, painting his blushing cock with your marks. Satoru doesn't understand what you want to him to say to the comment, a thank you seemed unbecoming and anything else would be odd. So he says nothing and just caresses your jaw to guide your mouth forward.

"Take your fill, (Y/N)."

The position you're in is not entirely new. You've taken Uraume and Sukuna together before. Witt their sex is in your mouth while your King takes you from behind. Ah, what fond memories. You really should invite the ever-so-loyal servant into your bed once again.

What a talented mouth they had. Such vigor to please you, adoration pouring from them with every flick of their tongue.

Sukuna is still a possessive lover. That did not change. But he does find amusement in the way you ache for Uraume's body and something about the way Uraume strokes themselves to completion as they watch the two of you fuels him with pride.

But enough about your lovely Uraume.

Satoru had placed his robes beneath your knees and so you suck in your cheeks as thanks as you suck on his length. Your hands were on his knee and his fingers held a fistful of your hair. The silken cloth beneath you makes you inch forward with each thrust from Sukuna.

"The way he's stretched around me. Satoru, I'll save his other hole for you to fuck, this one is all mine," his hips are flushed against your ass. He can feel your cunt attempting to push him out, resisting the stretch that would've killed others, as cursed energy flows through your body. It would ebb away, the need to heal yourself, as your body gets used to his size but fuck does it make Sukuna grin absolutely monstrous at the very fact you even need to do so.

You can't blame him. It's not like he'd never hurt you in any way you didn't like.

Your thighs are clenched tightly around his other cock. Luscious thighs slicked with oil that had been conveniently placed nearby and making sounds almost as obscenely as your filled cunt.

Satoru's jaw is loose. Throaty groans and appreciative moans rewarding your efforts as your nose presses against the patch of pubic hair he has. Diamonds line your waterline as you breathe through your nose, the back of your throat squeezing around Satoru's cock.

"Fuck!" He pulls you away, stroking himself furiously with one hand and holding your head in the other. The expression on your face should be preserved forever, Satoru thinks. So that future men will wish to be born in the same era as you.

His brows furrow in annoyance at how ethereal you look.

You should look whorish — which you do! But there's something unreal about it. Picture perfect, an embodiment of lust, depravity that beckons with that wet tongue and wetter eyes.

"S'kuna! Oh, yes, yes — Darling, you fill me so well!" Your voice is hoarse as you're jostled back and forth, nails leaving claw marks on the wooden floors. Satoru lets go of your head and you stretch out like a cat, the top half melting as your back arches into a perfect position.

Sukuna kneads at the mounds of your ass, splitting it apart to watch your asshole winking back at him while he holds your waist. It's brutal how he fucks you. Satoru stands and backs away to watch, his breath coming out in barely there white puffs and his heartbeat drumming through his ears.

"Fuh - fuck! Mpfh! Ngh — Your cocks are beautiful, they fill me so well," He tightens his hold on you and the moan you let out as he moves your body makes Satoru's cum bead on his tip.

Sukuna chuckles as he sees Satoru cursing and wiping away his shame. "You've never been in a room where people aren't salivating over you have you, sorcerer?" Satoru frowns pointedly at his condescending tone.

"Hah! I feel you in my stomach — You're — !"

"Must you belittle me any chance you get? Are you trying to compensate for something?" Satoru retorts. It makes Sukuna bark out a laugh. Strong biceps curl and flex as he rights your upper half so that it's pressed to his front.

On display for Satoru with Sukuna's greediest mouth curling around your chest to tease your chest.

"Compensate, is that the word you used?"

Between your slicked thighs, his cock spears through them in tandem with the one inside you. Satoru's eyes widen at the sight of the prominent bump poking from your stomach. The fact that you aren't dead is a clear testament to your skills — both in bed and in battle.

"I've heard no one has ever cut his skin," Satoru kneels again in front of you, nose curling at the dexterous muscle that flicks at his chin. "I know Reverse Curse Technique is a useful skill to have...but I never thought you'd be so perverse to use it so shamelessly."

"Get off your high horse, S — Mfh! That feel s'good — Satoru!"

"Wrong name," Sukuna growls near your ear. It manages to split Satoru's lips into a smirk as he cups your chest in each hand. It's slicked with saliva and he ignores the disgust he feels as he locks his lips with yours. Sweet as ever, despite the saltiness that lingers on your tongue.

"If his cunt is yours," Satoru pants out between kissing you. His thumb tweaking your nipples between his index, his cock hanging heavily as it fills up once again.

"Then he'll have to face away. I'll take his ass," he bites down on your lower lip. The sensation of his teeth and Sukuna's rough palms tightening their grip on you have you squealing in pleasure. His hips pause, it gives you enough time to form words while the men stare each other down for a second.

Sukuna was beginning to miss Uraume's presence. They never glared at him with open animosity, unadulterated wanting and greedily claiming your chest with a grip that'd leave bruises.

The shadows of a scowl crossed his face. Insolent little brat. But so fucking gorgeous. Strong too, from what he's heard.

He wasn't anywhere near as beautiful or strong as you but Sukuna has always had a penchant for these types. No one walks all over him. But he does find it amusing when pretty faces are so defiant — or when their heads are staked on a pike with crows plucking their eyes out.

You're breath shudders as Sukuna pulls you off his cock, leaning onto Satoru. He wraps his arms around you, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your wet lips tracing his jaw while your body is all but boneless.

He inhales sharply as you grab his cock. "Thankfully, you're not — hah — completely incompetent in the sack. Impressive stamina, sorcerer." That, he could say thank you too. So he does.

Satoru is kind as he maneuvers you to face your beloved. Was that irritation in his chest at how excitedly you allowed Sukuna to claim your lips? Gods, no.

"Get closer," you said as you glanced at him over your shoulder. "If the both of you are going to fuck me, get closer."

What was it that Sukuna told him to do again?

Feast?

You can't tell where your pleasure begins or ends. Every nerve was set aflame and you weren't even sure if your body could've survived this if it weren't for your cursed energy.

Because from behind you, Satoru's thick member is spearing you again and again with Sukuna's. The idea of Satoru's cock inside of you seemed to have upset him enough to want to...accompany it in its endeavors. The sorcerer is hypnotized by the way your rim furls and unfurls on his blushing dick, how it greedily squeezes down every time he hits home and bumps his cockhead with Sukuna's. Even though their cum was creating a frothy ring of white at his base — he seems intent on pumping you with more and more and more. Marking your insides as white as his hair. He spreads your cheeks apart, groaning each time he does, and fuck, he's filthy as he whispers into your ear.

"You take us so fucking well. Like a proper whore, huh?"

"I'm not — I'm not a whore, you —"

Then, at the front, Sukuna's displeasure at Satoru's brazen attitude was taken out on your cunt. Still, you take all of him in because what concubine would you be if you couldn't? Your pride was on the line and you'd rather claw your own eyes out than let it be broken down.

His cock was inside of your cunt. You were more than pleased.

Sukuna's face floats above yours, his hands gripping everywhere while Satoru was chased off to just handle your ass. Though even then, he'd grab a handful of each cheek just to leave bitemarks on it — and annoy Satoru.

"Look at you," he groans out. His vermillion eyes are hooded with lust as he cradles your face.

You were perfection. A filthy little demon made to accompany him until the end of time. Your brows sloped so prettily, eyes hazy and lashes clumped together with tear streaks down your face. Lips red and bruised, neck littered with angry and dark marks.

"My King, my beloved, I — Oh, fuck, I'm close, I'm close," you whimper for what felt like the 5th time that night alone.

Why you were cumming? You weren't even sure.

The aching stretch of both holes as your brain is wrecked with too much pleasure is causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. Your hands spasm from within one of Sukuna's hands and your whole body shakes as you feel yourself cum again.

"Ah, shit!" Satoru groans as he pulls out, frowning as cum follows his departure and drops onto the floor. "You're just as awful as he is," he hisses out to Sukuna as he glares at the way the cock he'd been sharing your ass with stopped growing. Snug as a bug as it plugged you up. Satoru had already been close, with a few more thrusts he'd be filling you up once again. Then, what he thought was you tightening up turned out to be Sukuna making his cock so big it made the fit painful.

Fucking asshole.

"If I was as awful as he was, I would've cleaved the top of your head off, Gojo." Sukuna grabs your ass and your wanton mewl makes both men twitch.

His thrusting picks up its speed and you fight back his hold to wrap your arms around his neck. Sukuna allows it. He's close. You can tell. He's close and like a child, he decides he's the only one allowed to flood your insides with his cum, overflow your body until it forgets the taste of Gojo Satoru's.

"Sukuna, Sukuna — My lover, my beloved," you manage a dopey grin as you messily mould your lips together.

"Cum with me, Sukuna."

He's wonderfully loud when he does. Violent too. His nails digging into your waist and ass while he thrusts himself balls deep inside of you. Satoru's amazed your body hadn't given out — amazed at your endurance and how your cursed energy levels hadn't once seemed to deflate once in the time the three of you had been naked.

He shouldn't hope for it — but Satoru wonders how you would fare in a fight with himself. In fact, he cums into his own fist and onto the floor at the very thought.

Sukuna groans as you squeeze around him, another orgasm washing over you in pathetic spurts of wetness from your cunt.

Soft panting fills the air. The two servants by the door rise from their knees to slide the door open and Uraume walks in with three women behind them.

"Fuck," Satoru should scramble to get off his kneeled position but his body is too pumped with pleasure to even process the command. "Oh, don't feel shame, sorcerer," Sukuna muses out.

The King of Curses leans back, settling on his throne with you in his lap and still snuggly inside of your holes. Uraume comes to your back, and two girls tend to Sukuna, gracefully wiping him down while Uraume does the same to you.

The other girl does the same to Satoru and he simply tosses his head back as he falls back onto his calves, groaning at the cool water.

"They've heard everything already. Your sacrifice for your clan. How noble."

A weak giggle comes from the mess of limbs on Sukuna's torso. It's still one of the most heart-fluttering sounds Satoru had ever listened to and he hates how his cheeks reddens once again as you lift your head to smile at him.

"So very noble, Gojo Satoru."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #transmale reader #gay reader #male!reader #jjk x male reader #ryomen sukuna x male reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader

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sleepyboywrites · 1 year

Text

Creepypasta Fluff Headcanons for Trans!Male Reader Pt. 1 (Being a boy on his Period)

Because it's nearing that time again and being a boy on his period sucks ass. I'm making this to provide some comfort! For myself as a trans man and hopefully you too. This takes place with established and healthy relationships. Or as healthy as relationships with these characters come.

Tw: Possessive behavior, not necessarily wanted affection, rough contact, references to slight verbal abuse.

Eyeless Jack

• Run. Run right in the opposite direction if he hasn't eaten in a bit/is agitated. You will make him hungry due to his blood lusting demonic nature and he's not very friendly when he's hungry.

• You already aren't feeling great so if you go to him in that state anyways expect to be more uncomfortable albeit supported as a half-apology.

• If he has been satiated and is calm you may proceed to tell your demonic boyfriend that your cycle has begun and you are distressed and dysphoric about it.

• Cuddle bug. Like sits you directly into his lap and burries his face in your neck. Telling you words of encouragement. Think "I'm so sorry Baby boy." and "You're so strong y/n. One of the strongest men I know, I mean other men can't live through bleeding for 4-7 days on average."

• He's a med student so he knows the best ways to help with cramps and the physical pains that come with a menstrual cycle.

• He also gives you high testosterone foods and encourages you to wear one of his shirts and your boxers over your underwear to help with the dysphoria aspect. But he won't let you bind if your chest area gets sensitive.

• Tries to distract you and keep you as comfortable as possible

• Extremely protective during this time. He has a lot of self control but his instincts are still spiking under the surface screaming at him to lock you up/protect you. His emotional attachment to you paired with his constant hunger leave him clinging to your side and glaring at anyone else who approaches/gives you a weird look. Attacking anyone who hurts you emotionally or otherwise.

• Honestly a bit feral in a way akin to nesting.

• Insists on taking walks together once a day.

Laughing Jack

• A bit confused at first in his eyes he has erased any of your perceived biological imperfections.

• Hits you with the "But you are a boy" when you tell him you're feeling dysphoric and crying. "One who's very very important to me as well so please don't cry."

• Gives you your favorite candies and sweets

• Rubs your back when you're curled over in pain and sings you songs to help you calm down.

• Takes you to his amusement park and takes you on all your favorite rides and shows you all your favorite shows

•Always introducing the act as "Dedicated to the best boy in the world/my Favorite boy."

• Essentially his mentality is "I'm going to make sure this boy has so much fun he forgets the torment of having his brain stuck in the wrong body."

• And it fucking works. He has you laughing so hard that you can't tell where the stomach ache ends and the cramps begin.

• He likes to play "dress-up" in the sense where he has an array of gender affirming costumes and each day he insists you choose from the extensive array because even if you don't feel well at the moment doesn't mean you have to be reduced to a puddle of stained oversized clothes. He was always one for theatrics.

• If you say you really aren't up to dressing up he'll bring out an array of hoodies, baggy tees, shorts, sweats, or jeans instead.

• Genuinely just trying to distract and cheer you up

Ben Drowned

• Pretends to not know what you're talking about or why you're so upset. "Bro I assure you no one cares?" Followed by a long silence as he stares at you followed with "We all still view you the same, man."

• Then promptly refuses to leave your side

• Think anything from lurking in nearby electronics to straight up following you around everywhere.

• If a mission comes up he'll take you with him and make up some sort of excuse like he needs your help and your avatar is better abled than you physically. Alternatively if you have a mission he'll grab you and say he's coming with, before dragging you with him.

• Makes sure everyone is careful around you. No roughhousing or insults. Not at this time even if you protest.

• You had to break up a fight with the intent to maim once because Jeff had called you a "Pussy" in an attempt to agrivate you to change your mind about not being up for training today. Ben who had been lurking nearby lunged at him and you had to break the two apart.

• So much Gatorade. This boy makes you drink so much Gatorade.

• He also has a collection of snacks you normally crave and hoodies specifically for you in his closet.

• Let's you bind during your period until you don't take it off on time or act like you're in pain then he will take and hide it until it's passed.

• if you complain about dysphoria he'll roll his eyes as he drags you to his realm where your avatar already matches your gender and have you hang out there.

• Naptimes are mandatory once a day during this week because he knows it takes a lot out of you.

• Reminds you to take showers despite how much you hate having that reminder because you'll feel better afterwards and it helps with the cramps.

Jeff the Killer

• I promise he's trying. He's trying to keep things as normal as possible by being a jokey asshole dick like usual.

• Mans has your cycle engraved in his memory so on the first and worst day when you're at your grumpiest without fail he'll go "Can't you just give me a bloody smile god damn it?"

• You know he's joking and he knows he's joking but without fail you'll mock laugh at him, sock him in the nose, and walk away.

• One time you ran out of products and Jeff went to get them for you he called from the store and went, "Hey man, what size cunt do you have?" You shook your head, called him an asshole, and hung up.

• He tried to apologize by calling and texting and when you wouldn't answer he made you a care basket with hot wheels and various manly items such as boxers and button-ups/baggy tees. He also covered the pads wrapping in dinosaurs. And replacing "girl" with "boss" on the labels

• He's made a habit of getting you one of these everytime your supplies run out.

• Insists on more training and fighting because what better way to blow off steam and frustrations than a good ol fashioned fight.

• One time it went too far and the two of you ended up being patched up by EJ who scolded the two of you and said "If I catch you boys doing this again I will make sure Slender needs two new proxies."

• Always carrying ibuprofen and water. Always.

• Rubs your back if it hurts too much and treats you more gently.

•Will attack and maim anyone who misgenders you.

Homicidal Liu

• Liu is already constantly holding your hand as if he's scared you'll disappear, like the rest of good in his life, so you two are fairly well synced and sometimes you swear he can read your mind.

• You keep him calm, in a way that reminds him of before the incident because of this he knows all of you, obsessed over it and memorized it, including when your cycle is, it's linked in his internal clock.

• You'll often wake up to a warm bath and clean comfortable clothes if your cycle started during the night. While you bathe he'd change and wash the sheets then bring you breakfast to eat together after you finish.

• Tells you he's sorry that your body doesn't match your mind as he nuzzles into your neck. Snaking his arms around your waist and engulfing you in his weight. Sometimes uncomfortable but you know by now if you try to pry him off he'll only tighten his grip and agressively albeit incoherently mumble

•calm and supportive/protective and possessive are how his alters have always treated you. Both affectionate sometimes overly so. Heightened during your cycle due to you being in a more easily hurt and in a distressed mood.

• Think overlap of Liu and Sully's voices, "What did you just say to my boyfriend?" Followed by "You'll pay for that." should anyone so much as look at you funny in a way that'll make you feel worse about your current state of being.

• Said anyone would be carried away in a body bag. <333

• Gets you trinkets as well as anything you may be craving.

• Owns heating pads as well as cold pads at his disposal to help with cramps.

• Water/Gatorade and a variety of pain meds on hand. Always.

• Doesn't want to leave your side out of fear of you running into a less than kind individual without him there to support you and maim your instigator.

Ticci Toby

• You'd have to go to him about it because his ass doesn't know. His brain is on fifteen different topics at any given time. You occupy at least five but he doesn't have much memorized.

• He'll know that something is bothering you but won't know what unless you blatantly tell him.

• Once you do he'll probably try his best to limit his roughness/aggression and increase softer touches/tones.

• Much more pet names a lot less insults. IE: Instead of calling you a dumbass he'll call you pretty boy.

• If he gets frustrated expect said pet name to be said with aggression.

• He owns several weighted blankets he'd offer you to use on top of his own body weight when he flops onto you, should you want that affection. Though he still will with a piss-poor excuse of an apology if you don't and he does. Which he does frequently because you're one of the only people whose touch is gentle with him.

• Bad about carrying liquid. Good about carrying meds. So if you need an ibuprofen he will give you one but you'll need to either dry swallow or find liquid elsewhere.

• Also not the best at comforting you through your pain seeing as he doesn't experience that kind of thing himself. At least not in the same way, so he doesn't know what to do nor what you expect from him.

• He'll pick you up something he thinks you'll like when he goes out during this time but that ranges from "really sweet" to "the thought is what counts." Because sometimes his thoughts cross paths one too many times and he accidentally got you cleaning supplies instead of menstrual or edible treats.

• Think: "This rock made me think of you. Do you like [insert candy], because I grabbed some on my last mission. I meant to grab you strawberry mentos, because of a song I heard that made me think of you but accidentally grabbed menthol instead, I don't know how you'd use it but here."

• Essentially when you tell him he'll say "Okay, don't push yourself too hard." And then continue fairly normally while attempting to be nice.

Brian/Hoodie

• Initial reaction depends entirely on where/how you tell him. If you tell him in public in front of others he will simply look at you and say, "...okay".

• If you tell him in private he'll stare at you for a moment and then he'll give you a few well-thought-out sentences on how he'll be there to help and how you aren't any less of a man.

• If you give him a note or written thing however he will build you a cathedral out of paragraphs telling you that he'll do what he can to make you feel as good as you can, how this aspect doesn't change who you are not how you're received, and everything masculine and in general he adores about you.

• Always has water, meds, and a spare hoodie for you in close proximity.

• Doesn't treat you any differently in public or private.

• Very sweet most of the time, including this, minus his aggressive outbursts.

• It's very much the same old same old. He'll still melt into you and expect the same he'll still yell and throw things when he's having a n outburst.

• He'll still treat you as softly and as roughly as he does the rest of the time.

• Will get you your cravings if you ask but he won't really if he's unprompted.

• He may ask for your hand more often if he notices your distress/squeeze your hand more often.

• Though most of the time he won't he's too busy in his head or in what he's doing.

• Or alternatively trying to figure out what is in your head and what you're doing but not necessarily how you're feeling.

• He cares about you he's just not the possessive type in the way that leads to outwardly or intense displays of affection. Though if you even hinted to not wanting to be around people on your cycle you wouldn't be. He would hole up.with you until its over and be reluctant to let you go.

Tim/Masky

• Throws his reeking bomber jacket at you with a raised eyebrow. "Things like this provide some comfort right?"

• Cocky Bastard knows it's in his god-damn calendar and he likes to inadvertently let you know he knows.

• IE: throwing one of your favorite snacks at your head while you train or work.

• Bringing you water, Gatorade, and medicine to you when all you did is hold your head in your hands for five seconds.

• It's become almost a game of whether or not you can get away without him knowing.

• Mocking you lightly if you ask for help with anything. If you need supplies, or would like one of your cravings, or would like a heating pad anything. And you say, "Hey could you get me [blank] if you don't mind?" Or anything along those lines you will be met with an, "Ah ah ah pretty boy, say pretty please." When he returns with what you asked for dangling it out of reach.

• Also always asks for a kiss as payment for being your knight in shiny armor. When he gets you anything. One time he bought you a bag of chocolate kisses you were craving and when he asked you threw a chocolate at him and he chased and tackled you until you gave him an actual one.

• Deliberately and as a rule of thumb, Masky shows you a playful and cocky side he's created because you respond to it best.

• He rarely gets angry at you but when he does that anger translates to avoiding you and not speaking to you should he be in this state he will give you nothing, not even a hug during this.

• If you tend to be touch-starved during he'll be less likely to fall into that angry rut but if you're touch-adverse he's more likely to get into angry ruts because he'll take it as the front he crafted for you not being enough or attractive to you.

• Despite the fact it has nothing to do him and has everything to do with you being in physical and psychological pain.

#creepypasta x male reader #creepypasta x transmale!reader #eyeless jack #laughing jack #ben drowned #jeff the killer #homicidal liu #ticci toby #tim masky #brian hoodie #creepypasta fluff #or at least most of it #creepypasta headcanon #requests open #multiple/all

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mariondeux · 1 year

Note

My brain is meltin rn homeboy so I might msisepll some thigns bc my autodcorrect ain't workdin

Anygays

Can I reuqest some ABO w 2wink (Aged up obviously!!) helping out a Transmasc reader??? To sum it up, Readers' been actin strange lately, not really actin like theiar usaul happy n energetic slef- So, the Aoi twins try n comfront their (bestie or s/o, either is cool) and they come across reader tryna get off bc he was in heat- (If the reader could be a catboy that would be amazing! )

Kinks? (Slight) Breeding, Overstim, Biting n Scratching (caused by reader), LOTS O PRAISE‼️

Im goig to ed now

Nighty night

-🐈‍⬛

— SYNOPSIS ; You weren’t being your usual self, going as far as distancing yourself from the twins. Out of worry, they surprise you by showing up unannounced only to find you writhing in bed trying to relieve your heat.

CW ; NSFW, A/B/O Dynamics, Omegaverse, biting and scratching (caused by reader), hints of breeding kink, overstimulation, praise, double penetration, YUTA AND HINATA ARE AGED UP (18)

WORD COUNT ; 1148

PAIRING ; Beta!Yuta Aoi x Omega!Catboy!Transmasc!Reader x Beta!Hinata Aoi

A/N ; The A/B/O roles weren’t specified so I just made Yuta and Hinata betas if thats okay !! Also eugh.. this isn’t my best work, but it’s whatever.

FEMALE ALIGNED DNI.

Hinata crept up to your door, exchanging a careful look with Yuta, who was following from close behind. The two of them had noticed how strange you’d been acting lately. You were more quiet, distancing yourself from the two when they knew you enjoyed their presence as much as they enjoyed yours. Normally, you were much more energetic and happy, always so excited to hang out with both of them. They couldn’t help but worry about their dear best friend.

“Are you sure we should do this? I feel like we should’ve let him know we were coming over beforehand…” Yuta spoke up, giving his brother an unsure look.

“It’s fine! We know him. I’m sure he won’t mind it if we drop by to check on him. And anyway, what if he turned us down? We can’t back down now.” Hinata reassured his brother as he approached your door. Before Yuta could speak up to respond to him, he clamped his mouth shut as noises came out from behind the door. An intoxicatingly sweet scent wafted out from past the cracks of your bedroom door, reaching their noses.

Yuta immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, trying to keep himself under control as he connected the dots immediately. You were in heat. That explains why you were acting so weirdly. He looked over at Hinata, and before he could pull him back, Hinata threw your door open.

“Aniki!”

You didn’t try to scramble out of your bed, already so lost in the dizzying craze of your heat as you desperately a dildo in and out of your loose hole. Slick dripped onto your bed, fully coating the dildo as your hand pressed against your mouth. You couldn’t stop now. And you won’t.

Yuta’s body trembled at the sight before him. He quickly snapped out of it, noticing his brother already approaching your quivering figure.

Hinata crawled into your bed, pulling the dildo away from you, earning him a whine as he tossed the toy somewhere else. He got on top of you, gently pressing your wrists down into the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were going into heat? You had Yuta, and I worried!”

“I-I… I couldn’t burden you with… my problems…” You panted heavily, eyes glistening as you instinctively bucked your hips into Hinata’s. You clearly weren’t in your right mind. But Hinata didn’t stop you or push you away.

Yuta closed the door behind himself, locking the door before joining the two of you. “You know we can help you, right? We can’t just leave you here to deal with your heat alone…”

Yuta crawled onto your bed as well, moving over to sit on your right side. His hand placed itself onto your torso, caressing your body as you mewled from his touch.

Normally you would’ve double checked with them, but by this point, you were so unbelievably lost.

“Please! Please, I need you two inside of me!” You cried out, leaning in for more of Yuta’s touch.

The twins exchange looks, a silent agreement coming between them as Hinata climbs off of you. You looked up at him with a confused look, until he picked you up, sliding his body underneath yours to have you lie on top of him. Yuta got on top of you, now having you sandwiched between the twins.

“Are you ready, kitty?” Hinata grinned, wrapping his left arm around your torso as he used his right hand to unzip his pants, pushing them down to his thighs. Yuta pulled his own pants off, leaving him bare with his slowly hardening cock out on display. His hands ran up your thighs, slinging your legs over his shoulders.

You nodded eagerly, wiggling your hips with desperation. Hinata used his right hand, guiding the tip of his cock against your hole. Yuta pressed his length against your cunt, the two sliding inside of you simultaneously. You threw your head back against Hinata’s shoulder, a satisfied moan emitting from you.

“You’re taking us so well~” Hinata giggled into your ear, thrusting his upwards into yours, quick to drive his length into you as fast as he could. Both of his arms wrapped around your torso, keeping your body in place so he could fuck you without worrying about your body going anywhere. Your hands clawed at Hinata’s, your tail flicking at the air as you attempted to spread your legs wider.

Yuta kept your legs in place over his shoulders, thrusting into you at a more languid pace compared to his brothers. While maybe going crazy inside of you may be more efficient to relieve your heat, he wanted to get you to melt and relax around him. His hands massaged your thighs, burying his cock deep into you each time your hips made contact. One of his hands rode up your stomach, watching as their cocks entered in and out of you, causing your belly to bulge a little. “You look so pretty getting fucked by us, all teary-eyed and begging for more of us.”

You were blabbering any word you could mutter at this point. You don’t think you could think straight with both of the twins fucking you open like this. Your thighs trembled as you felt Yuta speed up his pace a little, the head of his cock massaging against just the right spot inside of you. Your head was going haywire. If this kept up for just a couple more seconds, you think you’d come the earliest you ever had in your life.

“A-Ah… I can feel you tighten around me… are you close? You can come…” Yuta panted, leaning over your body as his orange locks tickled your nose. You tried to close your mouth, trying to prevent any drool from making it path your lips, and yet, you failed, only making more of a mess of yourself.

“Come on, come on~ come for us!” Hinata urged on, feeling his cock twitch inside of you as your tail coiled around his leg.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your walls spasmed and contracted around them, legs shaking uncontrollably as you came around Yuta’s cock. You felt like you were tossed onto a rollercoaster when Yuta and Hinata didn’t stop thrusting inside of you. Your arms outstretched and wrapped around Yuta, your nails wildly scratching at his back as you struggled to keep yourself composed. You were so overstimulated; the pleasure became too much to bear.

You pulled Yuta down, clamping your teeth down on his neck as your nails dug further into the flesh on his back. Yuta didn’t shove you off of him, letting you go crazy in between their bodies as they continued to fuck you.

“We’re gonna stuff you up so well~ Bury our cum deeep inside of you and have you bare our pups. Wouldn’t you like that, kitty?”

TAGLIST ; @resluv @berrycolaa @noahrandom @1694 @raiiinydayz @rennie-1 @leoyayzies @harumagi @nazunis

#ensemble stars x reader #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #ensemble stars x y/n #ensemble stars x you #ensemble stars smut #enstars smut #smut #ensemble stars x reader smut #male reader #bottom male reader #transmasc reader #transmale reader #yuta aoi #yuta aoi x reader #yuta aoi x reader smut #hinata aoi #hinata aoi x reader #hinata aoi x reader smut

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fatgumsurpremacy-remastered · 5 months

Text

Annnyyywayyyy 👀

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x transmale reader #Alastor x reader #Alastor x male reader #Alastor x transmale reader #Yall this ones gonna be fun I PROMISE

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 29 days

Note

Hey, could I request a trans (ftm) and Gabriel fic perferrably with a wing kink/preening?

Thank you so much for the request. I think I went through like four iterations until I felt it was what the wonderful user wanted. I feel very honored for the request. I hope it is what you wanted. ❤️💛

Request: Gabriel x ftm Reader, Wing Preening

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1,073

Summary: Gabriel flirts his way into getting his husband to assist preening his wings.

A/N: I suck at titles. Hush.

I want to thank @mochatheangelkiller for their help.

Gabriel walked into the bedroom shirtless, in boxer briefs, and with his golden wings folded behind him. “Hey,” he said to Y/N, flirtatiously.

Y/N looked up from his book with a small smile upon seeing Gabe as he was. “Do you need something?” He asks, teasingly.

Gabriel saunters in, raising his wings up and about, a mating display, he knows that Y/N likes to see, especially once the archangel explained them. He finds Gabriel’s wings beautiful and loves to touch the soft feathers when Gabe has them out.

Y/N grins, wondering if Gabe is trying to seduce him or wanting him to help preen him. He knows his archangel boyfriend likes to seduce and tease, sometimes at the same time.

Gabriel crawled onto their four-poster bed towards Y/N. He put his book down on the nightstand waiting to see what the lovely golden-eyed angel does.

Y/N quirks a brow at Gabriel, their smile relaxes watching the angel’s movements.

The messenger of god straddles Y/N's comforter-covered thighs and wraps his hands around his neck.

“Gabriel,” warns Y/N. He crosses his arms, not reciprocating Gabriel’s advances.

The archangel rolls his eyes and crosses his arm. “Ok. Ok. I need help with my wings,” he mumbles sheepishly.

Y/N’s face softens, leans forward, and places a chaste kiss on Gabriel’s lips. “The word is ‘preen’.”

“I’m not calling it that,” the Angel pouted.

Y/N grins, amused. It’s an argument the Y/N uses to tease the Angel since it’s hard to tease The Trickster who claimed to be Loki, Norse God.

“Go on, sit down,” Y/N pats next to them and slides off their side of the bed so Gabriel can spread out one of his wings to allow Y/N to work. He goes over to their laptop on the desk and puts on their usual playlist for preening.

Returning, Y/N begins first with the left wing by straightening and ‘zipping’ feathers before gently removing loose ones. Gabriel shivers at the initial contact and relaxes into his touch. The messenger sighs in contentment. Y/N smiles at the sound and then focuses on the task at hand. The gentle movements and massaging stimulation the oil glands throughout the wing and on Gabriel’s back. Knowing where they are across his boyfriend’s wing, Y/N begins to slowly spread the oil and then skims their hands down Gabriel’s back. He can feel goosebumps rise at their touch along the Angel’s back as they collect more oil. He coats the oil on each feather as the youngest archangel showed them.

It’s so easy to do the task and just relax especially with the instrumental music playlist. The scent of the oil permeates the air: a sweet, clover-like scent, honeysuckle with a hint of tobacco. Y/N takes a deep breath and just loves the scent that embodies the one who has their heart. Their nipples tighten under their T-shirt and feel themselves becoming aroused.

“I love you, Gabriel.” He smiles as he works on the front of the left wing.

“I love you too, hot stuff.”

Y/N chuckles at the angel’s endearment for them.

“You doing okay?” He asks, worried that holding the wing up may be tiresome for the angel.

“I’m good,” Gabriel responds, confidently.

There is a pile of broken and loose feathers next to the man. He takes them and puts them on Gabriel’s nightstand.

“Okay, swap sides.”

Gabriel folds his wing back and moves to sit on the left side to allow Y/N to work on the right wing. Gabriel spreads the wing out, and Y/N gets on the bed and starts again. Straightening and ‘zipping’ the feathers back followed by removing loose feathers, making another pile.

Y/N has always been affected by Gabriel’s scent. His arousal simmering as they work on the other side of the wing. He can see that Gabriel is just as affected as he is if the bulge in his underwear is anything to go by.

“Enjoying yourself?” Y/N teases.

Gabriel looks at them as his eyes remain on the wing. “What do you think?”

Y/N grins, wide, at the returned tease. He slows down about halfway done with the inside of the right wing. He relaxes his face, trying to seem focused on the task and not trying to ignore their arousal. Breathing deep and slowly doesn’t exactly help, it does help them focus. They have a goal in mind with Gabriel’s progressive bulge.

Gabriel presses on his hardness over his boxer briefs.

Y/N reaches over and smacks his hand. “No,” he commands.

Gabriel whines, pursing his lips into a frown.

“Patience, Angel.”

“You know I can't do that.”

Y/N chuckles. “Liar. You waited for me.”

Gabriel smiles and rolls his golden eyes. “True,” he quietly agrees. “You were worth it.”

Y/N smiles, feeling heat rise to their cheeks, as they continue along the ‘arm’ oiling the feathers.

Gabriel shivers through his wings.

Y/N grins, wickedly. He knee-walks and straddles Gabriel.

“He-llo,” Gabriel greets and wraps his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Hey,” Y/N greets back. He wraps his arms around the angel’s shoulders and grounds down on the angel.

He throws his head back and groans. Y/N leans forward and sucks marks along the angel’s tendon, his neck nipping, laying kitten licks, and soothing them. He slides his hands down Gabriel’s back to the main oil glands and presses on them drawing a gasp from him as he arches his back.

Y/N leans forward, lips against his ear. “You like that, Angel?”

Gabriel is panting and pushes his hips upward, two pieces of cloth separating their bodies. Y/N hums in pleasure, leans back, and takes off his shirt, revealing two silver scars across their chest from their top surgery. The Angel’s hand comes up and traces them like he does every time. He revels in Y/N’s bravery, determination, and resilience. The scars speak so much of Y/N’s past struggles and knows how lucky he is to call him his.

Y/N bites his lower lip, his eyes watching the awe on Gabriel’s face the angel has every single time. He smiles at his angel.

“Gabriel,” he whispers.

The angel looks at him, pupil large with a sliver of golden at the edges. Y/N smiles, ready for so much more.

Want me to write more? Let me know. I would love to hear from you. 📝❤️

#supernatural #Gabriel #archangel #ftm reader #transgender reader #ask request #Gabriel x Reader #golden wings preening #spn #richard speight jr #crypticbydesign #I hope you enjoy reading it #lgbtqia #happy pride 🌈#the messenger of god Gabriel married to a transmale human #elle em bee

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lostamongthestarz · 3 months

Note

Hai!! I loved your Vaas x trans male reader, it was seriously refreshing after seeing JUST fem readers 😭😭

Anyways I was wondering, can you do a Vaas x trans male reader with the reader getting kidnapped by Citra and Jason and Vaas just goes absolutely feral

I love your brain anon, And yeah, I got tired of seeing just Xfemale readers for Vaas. Sometimes you have to write it yourself.

hope this is good enough !

Vaas x Trans! male reader who was taken by Citra and Jason

Fandom: Far Cry/Far cry 3

Character: Vaas montenegro

Warnings: Vaas himself counts as someone who needs a warning.

Gore/blood/everything you'd expect from Vaas

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❗❗FEM READERS DO NOT INTERACT, DO NOT FETISHIZE MY WRITING, I WRITE THESE HEADCANONS FOR MY FELLOW TRANS MEN❗❗

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You were never supposed to be caught in the crossfire.

Vaas had done everything he could in his power to keep you as his secret. But now he was kicking himself in the ass for not worrying about something like this sooner -

Somehow Citra had caught wind of someone who had managed to capture Vaas's seemingly cold - sadistic heart, and like the lap dog he was, Jason under the orders of Citra went and fetched you. stealing you away one night while Vaas was gone.

At first - his men tried to hide it from Vaas, they were the ones who found your home almost in ruins. But Vaas? Vaas found out for himself and when he found out? he stormed back to camp. He shot the first person he saw.

he began hunting Jason down - he wasn't only hunting Jason down no, He was hunting for his boy.

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as for you? Citra couldn't risk having you around the temple or anywhere near her and the others - so she had Jason set up camp with a few others around. However, this didn't last long.

you didn't know how long it had been, you had lost track of time. the ropes around your wrists burned, and you didn't care for Jason's poor attempts at getting you to talk. you just sat there - waiting until you either passed out or until Citra figured out what to do with you.

You were just about to give up when you heard the sound of gunfire, Jason knew who it was - so without any hesitation, Jason was gone, and the sound of his rapid footsteps getting farther and farther away could be heard. With what strength you had left you lifted your head and saw Vaas.

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Vaas was covered head to toe in blood, it stained his clothes and skin. the second he laid eyes on you - your tired form? he wanted Jason and Citra's heads on pikes.

"Maldito infierno, chico bonito, pareces una mierda"

Vaas said he bent down to untie your wrists before he picked you up. you could walk sure, but you were far too tired, and it felt nice to be carried. As the two of you made your way back to camp there were piles of bodies - it was straight out of a horror movie.

Vaas wanted to send a message

no one takes his boy and lives

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Maldito infierno, chico bonito, pareces una mierda = "Fucking hell - pretty boy you look like shit"

My inbox is open 💌

Requests open <3

#x male reader #x trans male reader #x reader #far cry x reader #far cry 3 #vaas montenegro #vaas Montenegro x transmale reader #vaas montenegro x reader

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dantesunbreaker · 9 months

Text

Message Sent

Papa Emeritus IV X Transmale Reader

Copia must leave for a few days after you both finally confess your feelings for each other. But Copia is a bit of an idiot when it comes to these sorts of things and finds a way to mess things up the moment he returns.

Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort TW: mentions of depression. 3.5K words

GIF by ask-papa-iv

“It will only be for a few days, tesoro,” Copia tries to make light of the situation, arms circling tight around you. “Then I will once more be home...and I can perhaps take you to that new place down by the waterfront?”

You’ve been the assistant to Papa Emeritus IV since you joined the ministry, since back to his days as a Cardinal. All those years harboring a silent crush for the older man. Unaware of the returned feelings Copia also shared. But of course, the day you both finally admit to the feelings is the night before he leaves for a special one off show.

“I know, I know,” you sigh, sagging back into Copia’s embrace. “Should have thought about it, I knew you had this show coming up.” There is a lighter tone to your voice as you chuckle to yourself. Of course you knew he would be leaving, you made his schedule. Still, the timing felt right to express your feelings. “Neither one of us has been very good at timing this kind of stuff.”

Nodding in agreement, Copia nuzzles against your neck, wanting to commit your scent to memory before he leaves. Your night ends with a lingering yet shy, soft kiss on the lips before you both depart to your own separate chambers. Come morning, Copia and his ghouls are gone, leaving you to keep yourself busy with your shared workload in his absence.

Throughout the day you share texts as you usually would, recounting the random mundane details of each other's day. But when it becomes late in the night, just before you know Copia is getting ready to get on stage, you send a text with a bit more passion. I miss you already, C... I can’t wait to be back in your arms. Maybe even your bed? You set your phone down beside the bed, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of wanting to check for a response every fifteen seconds. But it never comes.

When the sun comes up the next morning you awake to zero notifications. Confused, you open up your texts and stare at your last text to Copia. Did you say something wrong? Were you going too fast? Maybe you made him too flustered. Maybe you caused too much of a distraction before the show. You bite back the anxiety and you push those thoughts to the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

But the next couple of days pass with complete silence from Copia’s end. You tell yourself that he is a busy man, that he just forgot or didn’t have time to get back to you due to how much he has on his plate. And you convince yourself of this up until the morning after his late night return.

As you approach Copia’s office, as you do every morning, with two steaming cups of coffee in hand and file folder tucked under your arm, you swear you hear sounds coming from just beyond the door. Did Copia have a meeting you were unaware of? Without losing grip on either coffee, you manage to pull the heavy double doors of the office open and step into the room...only to pause midstep the moment you are through the threshold.

Breath catching in your throat, you nearly drop both coffees and the folder. Papa sits behind his desk, a Sister of Sin all but leaning into his lap as their lips are locked in what appears to be a heated kiss. It hits like a knife to the heart, leaving you to gasp at the sudden pain. One of them must hear your gasp, for a moment later they are pulling from each other. The sister turns with a sheepish look on her face, cheeks flushed red as she lets out a barely audible apology before skittering out of the room.

“Ah, good morning fratello,” Copia greets a bit breathless, seeming ready to act as if you did not just walk in on him with another sibling. “Do you have some papers for me?”

Numb, all you can do is nod as you take the few steps necessary to place the coffees to the side of his desk, tossing the folder in front of him. When Copia doesn’t even look up, you can feel pieces of your heart shatter. Was it all just a dream? Some cruel joke? You stand there unmoving, unsure what to think of things.

“Do you plan to stand there all day, or are you going to get some work done today?” There is a teasing hint to Copia’s voice as he finally looks up at you. And it’s enough to make your stomach churn.

Tears sting your eyes, but you fight them back. Of course, this is just some sick little game to him isn’t it? The shatter is complete, your heart crumbling to pieces across the hardwood floor of his office.

“Excuse me, I have to go,” your voice is tight as you turn back towards the door, needing to escape before the waterworks come.

“Wait!”

You don’t know why you pause, holding onto some feeble sense of hope. But you hear Copia rise from his chair and cross around to the opposite side of his desk just behind you. Unable to face him without the tears falling, you keep your back to him.

“Are you sick? You just got here,” the sudden concern to Copia’s voice makes you feel ill. Could he really not see?

“No, Papa, I am not sick,” you feel small, counting the lines on the floor as your vision begins to blur as the tears begin as a small dribble. “I just... I can’t stay right now.”

The quick laugh behind you causes you to flinch.

“Caro, are you jealous?”

Suddenly, the dam breaks. And forth flows not only pain and anguish, but the undeniable anger you feel at both Copia and yourself. How dare he?

"Yes, I am jealous!" Your voice breaks with each word, the tears you tried so hard to hold back running forth quick as a river current. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy? Yes Papa, you really had me going there.” The tone of your voice is near hysteric as your body begins to tremble. “For a moment, a soft fleeting moment, I actually believed that there was something special between us. That someone like me could actually matter to someone like you.”

Barely able to see through the tears in your eyes, you take a blind step forward towards your escape.

“I can see now that I’ve been a fool.”

“Fratell- ” a hand closes around your wrist in a bruising grip. Just inches shy of the door.

“Don’t touch me!” The words are spit out like venom as you give a firm tug of your arm. It burns. The painful drag of skin on skin.

The hold on your wrist gently loosens, allowing you to pull your arm free without ever having to take a look back at the man who still held the pieces of your broken heart. Footsteps follow you as you sprint down the halls. Copia calls your name over and over, but you run until the sound is barely but a soft whisper in your ear.

When your back finally hits the inside of the door to your bedroom, the tears stop but the heartbreaking pain begins. It feels as though you are suddenly full of cement as you take the heavy steps necessary to reach your bed. Each small movement takes every ounce of energy in your body until you reach a distance at which you can simply let yourself fall forward. Sinking into the inviting warmth of the pile of blankets and plushies that is your bed for once does little to ease your woes away.

Burying your face into the nearest pillow, you scream until your voice is hoarse and there is a deep burning ache in your throat. It is as though a deep hole now lies where your heart should be. A cold black pit that spreads out like a spider’s web throughout your chest. Have you truly been so blind this entire time?

How could you go on living? How could you go on as if nothing ever happened? As if the head of the church hadn’t snuffed out what glimmer of joy was left in your heart. Tears once more sting your eyes at the thought of having to face your Siblings of Sin. The questions they will have. And... of course how will you be able to attend Black Mass without falling apart? Simple. You wouldn’t.

For a week you are unable to bring yourself to leave your room, wallowing in your bed and seeking the comfort of solitude. Not that you remain entirely alone. Some of the ghouls find themselves in your quarters at odd hours of the day, offering what solace they can. Cirrus and Cumulus come most evenings to ensure you have eaten at least once each day and to wrap you in the comfort of their cuddles. On a few occasions Mountain joins the pile, bringing offerings of his own special blend of tea in hopes to ease your sorrow. There is never any mention of Papa. Rumors spread fast around the Abbey. Your feelings for Papa are certainly not a well kept secret. Whispers of His Unholiness having been seen with a Sister of Sin however have circulated throughout the congregation. It would be more a surprise to the other siblings if you had not taken reprieve in your own chambers.

But the ghouls do their best to distract you from the hurt. They also do their part in keeping prying eyes and questions away. Each ghoul, even Dewdrop, has some excuse for your whereabouts ready at the tip of their tongue if ever Papa approaches with questions of your absence. Anything to keep him away. Though you suspect you are far from his concerns of late. Probably too busy wrapped up in a certain new sister.

But as each day goes on, you find it easier and easier to ignore the darkness at the center of your heart. Sure, it is still there. You aren’t sure if it ever truly will fade away. With time though, the pain fades to a dull ache that doesn't always hammer to the front of your attention. You start with small simple tasks just around your room, testing your limits, before you decide to take that first step out of your room. When the world doesn’t immediately come crashing down, you take that as your sign to work back up to resuming some of your sibling duties. You are sure Sister Imperator has not been pleased at your absence, or more importantly your lack of contribution.

While you still refuse to go back to your duties as Copia’s assistant just yet, you do find other ways to remain helpful. Enough that Sister won’t come chasing you down for a lecture about doing your part for the ministry. You start by helping in the kitchen, knowing the staff there were always eager for a helping hand when there were so many mouths to feed. And well, you know it is a place a certain Papa did not frequent often. It was a miracle the man remembered to eat most days with how consumed he would become in his work. It’s why you are always punctual with delivering a warm meal to his office each day... Or at least, you were. You aren’t sure if things will ever return to that state of normal.

It’s nearly three weeks after the incident before things finally come to an unfortunate head, when you finally have to face reality. You’re walking down the hall, eyes adrift unfocused as your mind floats away. But out of the corner of your eye you catch a flash of familiar black and white. By the time it registers in your brain, it’s too late. Still.. you consider making a break for it.

“Fratello, wait!”

A heavy sigh passes through your lips, eyes closing tight as you focus on keeping yourself calm. You can do this. It’s time to face your problems head on.

“What do you want, Papa?” You spin on your heels so fast it makes your head spin, Copia’s official title emphasized with clear disdain.

“Please, caro, just hear me out,” Copia sounds so broken as he keeps a hand outstretched towards you. Sorrow clouding dual colored eyes. He is giving you the choice and space to refuse him, unlike your last encounter.

There is a slight tremble to your bottom lip, too afraid that your words were going to fail you. With eyes trained on the scuffs along Copia’s shoes, you silently place your hand into his. You aren’t sure you are actually ready to face whatever is to come, but you are tired of the unresolved turmoil looming over you. This is a necessary step. Sensing your apprehension, Copia lets out one of his signature soft cooing sounds that he knows you have always loved. He hopes that perhaps you still do. Another gloved hand joins the other, both of Copia’s hands now clasped around your one as he takes a tentative step forward in hopes that you will follow suit.

Without a sound, you allow Copia to slowly lead you down the corridor into his office. Once the door shuts behind you, he releases your hand and steps away to give you space. It gives you a sense of security. You aren’t a caged animal in this situation. You suppose that is his intention.

Sad, tired eyes gaze up at you as Copia sags heavily into his chair. He looks as though he has aged considerably within the few short weeks since you had last seen him. The wrinkles along his forehead are more pronounced, the bags under his eyes plump and heavy, and it seems a frown has nearly been etched into the corners of his lips. For lack of better terms, he looked like shit. But you reign in the sympathy that wants to wash over you. You steel your eyes and wait for Copia to explain himself.

Copia seems to crumble beneath the intensity of your glare, dropping his eyes to his lap where he nervously wrings his hands.

“I am truly sorry for how I hurt you, caro,” Copia begins, wincing at the bark of a laugh you give at his words. But he remains undeterred. “There is no excuse for my actions. But please know that I deeply regret them.”

“Then why do it in the first place?” You take a daring step closer, this time it is almost as if you are the one cornering him. “If you didn’t want to hurt me, why did you lead me on? Why did you.. Why did you flaunt some sister in front of my eyes when my feelings were clear towards you?”

But all Copia can do is gape at you like a fish out of water, struggling to string together a coherent train of thought under your scrutiny. You are keenly aware of the tears forming in his eyes. Through soft sniffles, Copia tries in vain to keep them from falling. But soon enough thin rivers of black bleed into the white of his paints.

“Because your Papa is but a fool,” he is reaching into his pockets, fumbling to pull out his phone and set it on the desk towards you, screen face up at full brightness. He drops his head into his hands with a pitiful whine. “You see, I thought it was you who had been ignoring me during my absence.”

Wait... What?

In your haste you nearly stumble over your own feet as you step closer to the desk, leaning over the vintage oak to gaze at the small screen. The phone was open to the text stream between you and Copia. Your last message, exactly as you remember it, glares back up at you as if to mock you. But you notice something as you look closer. A picture of Copia in full robes and mitre behind a stage is attached, a text message accompanying it. I miss you too amore mio! I would love nothing more than to have you in my bed... so we may come together, eh? Tell me..will you be thinking of your Papa tonight while alone in your bed tonight? But... Copia hasn’t left the Abbey since his return weeks ago? It must be from...

“You didn’t press send,” you reach down, touching the screen and feel the soft vibration of your phone in your pocket in response. A semi soft gentleness has wormed its way back into your voice.

“Si..”

Things begin to come together, your mind tying the crimson strings of your mental conspiracy board to connect the dots. You spent all that time waiting for a response... but Copia thought he was doing the same?

“So,” you take a step closer, taking note of the way eyes ever so slightly flick up to watch you between gloved fingers. "You thought I was giving you the cold shoulder the whole time you were gone. And you, what? Thought that seeing you with someone else was going to have me crawling to you?"

Copia lets out a pained noise, head sinking lower.

"No, maybe, I'm not sure what I thought," his voice is thick, his shoulders visibly trembling. When he brings himself to look back up at you, his paint is a marbled mess of gray. "I thought if I pretended to be interested in a sister th...that you would realize what you were missing. That you would fight to win me over... But I'm a fool, and instead I hurt you and pushed you away."

"Yes," you step even closer, hand reaching out towards Copia as wet eyes watch your every move. "You are a fool," a whimper leaves Copia, eyes closing as your hand drops to run through his fluffy locks. "But... I would still like for you to be my fool."

Hands are reaching out for the one still at your side, clutching at it as if it were a lifeline. Eyes still closed, Copia pulls until the back of your hand rests against his moist cheek. You don’t mind the way paint already begins to rub off onto your skin.

“Per favore. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace,” Copia slips from his chair, dropping to his knees as he drags his eyes up the length of your body until your gazes meet. “Per favore, I want to be your fool. Let me be your fool, caro. I’ll do anything. Per favore.”

Tears still stream down Copia’s cheeks, snot dribbling from his nose and making a sticky wet mess of his upper lip. He looks like a mess. Nothing will ever take back the hurt seeing Copia with someone else caused, the weeks of anguish and isolation it caused you to suffer. But it doesn’t mean you can’t stitch the wounds closed, letting them scar over and heal into something new. A single tear rolls down your cheek, landing on the tip of Copia’s nose.

Pulling your hand from Copia, shushing him in a soothing tone when he whimpers, you move to cup both his cheeks. Tilting his head up, you search his eyes for the answers you need. Sadness and regret oozes out just as heavy as the tears still dripping down his face. That is all you need to see to decide if you can try and work past this.

“What you did, it hurt me C. Hey, I need you to look at me,” you grab ahold of Copia’s chin when he tries to turn away in shame. “You can’t go back and fix that. But, you can learn from it and fight to keep from making the same mistakes. I am giving you a second chance, putting my heart back on the line. Please, don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t! I won’t, prometto!” Copia surges forward, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. “Let me prove myself. I’m only for you, amore. Only for you.”

You lower yourself to your own knees, pulling Copia into your chest as he continues to give soft wheezing sniffles. Together you rest there until his breathing has calmed and a comfortable silence settles over the room.

“C..can I kiss you, caro?” Copia asks in a semi shaky voice after much time has passed.

With a chuckle, you pull a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the snot and slobber from his upper lip. Only then do you smile, giving a nod as you lean in. The press of your lips together is soft and delicate. It in itself is almost like an apology as Copia eases into pulling you to him. You melt into his touch. And you think that with time, you can repair this blossoming relationship.

#papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv x transmale reader #papa emeritus x transmale reader #papa emeritus x ftm reader #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus 4 #my writing

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arcade-writing · 2 years

Text

Little lamb

NSFW 🍋

Pairing: Bob Velseb x trans male! Reader

Warning: penetrative sex, pet names, some objectification (calling you a Fleshlight), feederism themes, size kink, cream pie, light bondage, brief semi public, sex in a meat locker, before Bob went to jail, probably ooc, minor cum inflation, belly bulge, fem and masc terms of readers bits, degradation, hints to cannibalism, minor knife play, Marking kink, oral, fingering, minor spanking, spit/drool kink

...... don't look at me......I don't need to explain myself .....

You were finding yourself visiting Boys and Grill's more often; it wasn't anyplace too special. Just a simple dinner with lights that always fuzzed and flickered and the same classic 19's hits playing over and over again. But there was something that did give this place it's charm - Bob Velseb. The grill and cook of this simple dinner.

To be fair if I wasn't for him you doubt you'd come here so often. After all everything always tasted vaguely like pork even the burgers and the fries weren't even that good. Bob made it worth while - always finding time to make pleasant conversation even if it was often brief. You'd try to come in near the end of his shift to see him more; he always worked the latest out of everyone. It worked with your own schedule so it was great!

But lately he's been starting a habit with your orders-

"Here you go, one Big boy burger and your grilltastic fries." The waiter forced enthusiasm as he played your order down. A large milkshake soon placed after.

"I didn't order this-"

"Bob says it's on the house."

That made your lips seal shut, a soft blush painting your cheeks. This is what you meant. Giving you free food or drinks - always coming over when the place started to die down to make sure your plates were empty. You've gotten in the habit of not eating lunch just to make sure you could; everything was stupidly sized and their milkshakes more so. Thick and full of flavour but filling all by themselves.

You remembered the countless times he sat with you whilst you ate, encouraging you to take another bite when you felt full. He said it was just to make sure, after all it's a shame to waste his efforts. It made you squirm the more you thought about it; happy tbe poor waiter was already gone when you finally escaped your thoughts.

Mindlessly chewing your food as you glanced over to the kitchen window. Able to spot the very man you were being plagued by walking past. Carrying a large bag over his shoulder as he hummed a tune to himself. Just able to see he was wearing a tank top under his apron. It hugged his figure tight showing off the handsome curves of his body. Your heart rate spiked at the sight and you immediately refocused on your food. Suddenly, your phone was the most interesting thing on earth and you distracted yourself by scrolling through the web.

"Enjoyed ya meal, sugar?" A familiar deep voice snapped you away from your phone. Looking up to see Bob wiping his hands with stained rag.

Your eyes flickered around you to see the place was empty. The lights weren't all on and the music was now a soft melody in the background.

"Just the two of us, told the boys I'd lock up for 'em, you don't mind that, do ya?"

"Oh-! No-! I don't mind, should I wait by the door?" You began to stand up. Even now he was towering over you. You pocketed your phone as you gestured to the door.

"You'd do me a real favor if ya helped, speed things along."

"Sure! But I can't say I'll be much help, I'll do my best though!"

He sent you a wide grin as he picked up your plate and cup before trudging to the back. You hesitantly followed as you fiddled with your shirt. He handed you your stuff and explained he just needs to check the back. You offered to do what's left of the cleaning since that'll be easy.

Washing plates didn't distract you from your thumping heart as much as you hoped it would. Alone with Bob? Usually he'd walk yo to the bus stop but other than that, you two have never really been alone. Not truely. Not like this.

Curse this damn summer heat! Making it so hot he's wearing that damn tank top. Damn him for looking so good-! And that voice! You just wanted to kiss him! Hear every filthy desire he had - did he need you the way you needed him?

"I think you're gonna drown the poor plate like that."

You whipped around to see him adjusting his belt. Chuckling as he nudged his head towards the sink. You looked down and instantly stopped clutching the hose that was practically power washing the none existent dirt on the plate. Quickly turning off the water.

Before you could even turn again you felt him behind you. His breathing uneven ever so slightly. Large hands finding their place on your hips. Your body instantly stiffened as you gulped. Eyes glancing down to see how easily his hands engulfed you, making you look tiny. "Really appreciate you helping me out, doll."

His breath fanned the back of your neck. His grip tightening as he leaned against you. "You're so good for me."

"B-Bob...?"

You wanted to hit yourself for stuttering. Clutching the counter as one of his hands started to drift. Now cupping your sex through your leggings, two rough fingers pressing lightly against your core.

"Always so sweet to me." He huffed out. You felt something hard press against your lower back. "Just want to eat you up."

You didn't know your face could even get this hot. The low growl now in his face made your knees buckle. Bob pushed at your back, pressing down until you were bent over. Your hands now clutching the sink as you peered over your shoulder. He was staring at you with wide eyes, drool creeping from the corner of his lips as he began to grind against your ass.

His hand still glued between your legs as he began to make circles against your dick through the fabric. Able to feel the growing wet spot form as you let out little noises.

"Bob...." You whined but there was a noise at the front. You instantly went stiff as footsteps entered the building - how? It's closed!

"Yo! Bobby! Left my jacket in the back, have you seen it?"

The large man just shrugged. Still smiling as he began to slow down his grind. All his co-worker could see was his upper half as he leaned on the window counter. Pushing his weight on you as his dick was flushed against you.

"Can't say I have but I'd be careful, I started to mop back here."

"It's real wet and slippery." He chuckled to himself, you didn't see his co-workers face but you could tell he was confused. You couldn't deny it. You were absolutely soaked.

There was luckily a wall that separated the kitchen from the other side of the back. Just a box room with a coat hanger and the small bathroom. You wouldn't be spotted unless he came in. There was some rustling as you timidly rolled your hips back, meeting his grinds as you chewed on your lip. It wasn't long before the coworker declared he found it and waved Bob goodbye.

"Hey- didn't you have someone waiting for you?"

"He's waiting outside."

Bobs hold on you grew tighter. Becoming inpatient as he wanted nothing more than to pound into you. Doing his best to keep on his usual smile as you kept teasing him.

"I won't keep you then, See ya!" Finally the door closed and you let out a breath of relief.

Suddenly, you were yanked back. Forced to stand as he grabbed at your body. You mewled at his man handling as he groped and squeezed.

"Such a fine piece of meat....." He shivered as he continued to feel you up. "Tender and soft......so warm..."

He sniffed at your neck as he licked a long strip up it. "Getting all hot and bothered - why don't we cool down?"

You couldn't even respond as he spun you around before chucking you over his shoulder. Slapping your ass as you squirmed. You looked back to see him grab a knife from the drying rack. For a moment your heart stopped; fear flashing through you but arousal overpowered it. Letting him carry you over to the metal door as he hummed.

It was freezing! The meat locker greeted you two with nothing but a chilly embrace. Bob easily stalked through the rows of hooks and meat as his hand gripped tight to the plump of your ass. As soon as he reached the very back he let you slide down. Wobbling back onto your feet as you took a few steps back, eyeing the knife he held. Your back hitting the wall as you rubbed your thighs together.

He was just staring down at you with a wild look in his eyes. His hand reached out and pushed your legs open, prompting you to widened your stance. He hummed as he grazed the knife up your thigh.

"Still want me?" He asked, taking a small step back to give you room as he grabbed your face. Forcing you to look at him but his grip wasn't tight - you could easily pull away.

"Yes- yes I want you." He didn't move. Looking at you expectantly. You licked your lips, tongue grazing his hand as you slumped. "Please! I want you!"

There was a sudden rip and you felt the cold air sting at your warm skin. Squealing as he ripped at the new hole more with his hand, making a perfect spot to access you. He didn't stop there, shredding your poor leggings so now chunks of your thighs were now exposed. Ripping the worn underwear as well. Completely exposing you. His strength made you let out a needy whimper, wanting to see what else he could ruin.

The knife he held slashed at your legs leaving small holes that caused your thighs to spill from them. Bobs breathing became heavier at the sight. But he pulled away, grabbing a nearby chair from the corner and placing it by an empty hook. You raised as he patted the chair. You wobbled over with a confused expression. He laughed through his nose. You wanted to retort but your brain was going stupid. it was easier to just go along and see what he had in store. Bob yanked at the hook, pulling it down making the chain rattle. He tugged on your shirt and sliced through the fabric. Turning it into a makeshift rope. His knife clattering to the floor soon after.

"Bob-! It's cold-!" You cried out. Now even more exposed to the freezers cold nipping.

"I'll keep ya warm sugar, don't worry."

He bound your wrists together and attached the hook to it. Watching it go back to it's original place now weight was added, you let out a yelp as you were now dangling. He was sitting down now and guided you to step on his thighs. Tugging you along until your crotch was level with his face.

"I'm starving." He gripped your thighs, licking what was exposed. You screamed as he bit down; hard enough to leave a nasty hickey as he sucked on the sore flesh.

Leaving many up your thigh until he finally got to your sex. Licking his lips before diving forward. Capturing your dick between his lips as he harshly sucked. You choked on your moan as he let his tongue poke out and lick strips against it. His fingers prodded at your hole, easing two inside as you whimpered. God it felt like there a dick already inside you - you know his hands are big but he's already completely stretching you out.

"Oh god....YES!" You cried out as he thrusted his fingers. Each wet squelch made your head grow dizzy as stars clattered your vision. He was licking and sucking on you as his fingers curled and stroked. Your orgasm speeding forward as you heard his muffle groans grow louder.

His fingers came out causing you to whine but you weren't left for long. His tongue now replacing his fingers as the thick muscle wiggled against you. Finally tasting all of you as you rocked against his face.

"I'm gonna cum- please Bob-!"

He used his thumb to roll your clit as he slurped up your juices. Finally sending you over that edge as your legs trembled. Strained gasps leaving you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Tastes so....good.....so sweet...." He was panting now. Giving your cunt little kitten licks as you rode out the high of your orgasm. Kissing up your sex as he chuckled breathlessly.

When you stumbled back you were able to see his face. The lower half coated in your slick mixed in with his drooling smeared across his chin. His eyes half lidded but trained on your sex, already wanting a second round. Loving how sweet you taste.

You looked down at the tent in his pants. Straining hard against the soft material with a wet patch already there. It was huge - just from the outline alone you couldn't help but let your knees lock. Hiding away your throbbing cunt as you gawked at the size.

"Don't tell me you're scared." He leaned back into the seat as he tugged at his belt. Pulling himself out from both layers; he was huge. Thick, girthy and slapped against his round stomach. You were no mathematician but it had to be atleast 8 inches long and at most 4 inches wide. It was fat like the rest of him.

"Don't be shy, take a seat."

You sucked in a shaky breath as he helped you twisted around. Lowering yourself down with his help until you sat on his lap, his cock rubbing against you as you got comfortable. The resistance from the hook made you want to go back up but he kept you grounded. Bob using it as leverage to angle you properly as he kept an arm around your stomach. Lowering you back down onto his cock as the fat tip pushed through your folds.

You couldn't stop the whimpers and gasps at left you. Slowly taking each inch as you grinded against it, trying to help ease yourself meanwhile he moved his hand from your stomach down to your dick. Rubbing it in tight circles.

"Good boy, you can handle it, you want to take all of me, don't ya?" He didn't wait for you to respond. You doubt you even could.

"You're just a slut who'll ride anyways dick even if it's too big for your little cunt."

You moaned as you felt yourself slip down his cock with more ease finally getting to the base. The outline of his dick nudging at your stomach. His hand pressed down on it as he continued to pleasure you. All these sensations made you tremble as began to drool.

He grabbed at your thighs, hugging your legs close to your chest as he began to thrust up. Lifting you up and down his cock with ease. You stop yourself from clenching around him.

"So tight - hugging me like that-"

"You're so big-!" Was all you could cry out. You could barely think. Your brain focusing on the sensation of being completely stuffed over and over again. Even when only the tip remained you felt full.

Up and down. That's all you could do, it was difficult to move yourself but you rolled your hips as he moved you. Each slap echoing through the freezer as your head fell back.

"Good Fleshlight - that's all you are." You immediately moaned at his words. Clenching harder as stars began to appear. "Oh, you like that? Want me to just use ya? Huh, Doll? Fuck you whenever I want~?"

"Please.....want to....." You struggled to speak through your moans. Forgetting your hands were tied above you as you attempted to reach for his face.

He raised a thick brow as his scruff scratched at your cheek. "Kiss-" you whined as you tilted your face. Hoping he'd understand what you want as you left open mouth kisses just on the corner of his mouth. He moved his arm so it was holding both your legs and grabbed your face. Keeping you still as his mouth crashed against yours, teeth and all. His tongue prodded into your mouth, testing it out before he fully delved in. You didn't even have a chance to retaliate as the wet muscle explored and tasted each corner of your mouth.

He groaned as your spit mixed together. The taste of your juices still lingering. His thrusts up grew more aggressive. Desperate. The slaps of skin becoming louder and louder as the head of his cock slammed into that sweet spot. Bob parted from you and bit down onto your shoulder. His eyes rolling back as he lapped up the bite.

"Gonna feel you up, nice and good."

His voice was raspy as If he could barely catch his breath. You sobbed as you tugged on your restraints, doing your very best to bounce on his cock as he kept his insistent pounding pace. Your second orgasm getting closer as he cooed in your ear.

"Desperate? Choking me down there, you really want it, don't ya?"

"B-Bob! I'ma cu-" you didn't get to finish as your back arched. The world going white as you let out a strangled scream. It was enough to send Bobs climax hurdling forward. Warm sticky cum filling up your soaking heat as he slammed you down. Keeping you in his lap as each thick squirt painted your walls.

Through glassy vision you could just see a peak of your stomach. A bulge only getting bigger as he stuffed you completely. It felt like hours; waiting for him to spill load after load. You could feel it dripping down to your ass from how much there was. You tell if you were shaking from the sex, the strain or the cold finally getting to you. Your body felt a heavy rag doll as he let out a husky groan.

Finally, he stood up. Keeping your back flush against him as he had one arm around your middle. Your legs limply hooked at his sides, barely able to latch on. He undid the meat hook and your arms fell to your front. They were completely numb. He carried you like that out of the meat locker and back into the warm kitchen. The sudden change In temperature made you hiss.

"Such a good boy, took me so well."

He placed you ontop of the prepping table. All you could do was lay there as he shifted your position. Moving you so you were on your back as he easily undid the makeshift binding. Cum was leaking from your oversensitive sex, getting all over the wooden top. Slowly warming up as he traced lines into your skin. Sectioning each part as he licked his lips.

"Delicious." He purred to himself.

You could barely process what he was doing as he tucked himself back into his pants and stalked off. Weakly pawing at the air as a silent plea not for him to go but it went unnoticed. Rustling was heard and thankfully he was back at your side. An oversized top and sweats were in his hands. Peeling off your clothes before helping you into new ones. They were far too big for you but you smiled regardless. His scent thick on the fabric. His stuffed your tattered clothes into his bag.

Bob carried you out, bag on his shoulder and you bridal style in his arms. Smiling as he put you into the passenger seat and buckled you up. Your eyes fluttering as you leaned on his shoulder, sleep overcoming you as he began to drive.

If only you knew what he had in store for you.

#bob velseb #spooky month #bob velseb x reader #trans reader #transmale #sr pelo #bob spooky month #spooky month devil #spooky month tender treats #Bob x reader

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

Text

Dad... - Hotch x teen!reader (ftm)

Warnings: none Word count: 690

"Dad…" You approached him carefully. This was a difficult situation and you have no fucking clue how to even begin. But getting his attention seemed like the first logical step.

“Yeah pumpkin?” He asked, letting the file he was holding drop onto the table, closing it. You looked at your hands anxiously, picking at your nails and the skin around it. Your eyes flicked up for a moment, meeting your father’s concerned gaze, “What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something…”

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows, leaning forward, “You can tell me anything,” He reassured, “No matter what it is I will always accept you.”

You nodded, stepping forward and sitting on the chair next to him. “I-” You paused, swallowing heavily and taking a deep breath. “I want you to know that this isn’t a rash decision, or a phase, I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I came to this conclusion a few months ago but wanted to see how I felt.”

Aaron gave you a small smile, he wasn’t sure what to say, he didn’t want to risk interrupting you and causing you to backtrack on what you were trying to tell him, but he equally didn’t want to say nothing and leave you feeling unheard. After all, you were nearly sixteen, he wanted you to know that you could freely express yourself. Seeing you pause, he nodded, “Go on,” He encouraged softly.

“I think- No, I am transgender,” You said quietly, you risked a small glance at your father, unsure as to how he was going to react. “A-as I said, this is something I’ve known for quite a while but wasn’t sure how to express,”

“What would you like to be called? Would you want to change your name? - Some people who are trans keep their name, either way, I support your decision.” Aaron asked, you looked up at your dad with a smile.

“I have a few in mind, I wrote them out. But I wanted your help to decide, if that’s okay?” He gave you a smile, pulling you into his side.

“Of course that’s okay,” He said, “What pronouns do you want to use?”

“He, him,”

Aaron grinned, “I have two sons,” He said, “Now, let’s see that list of yours,” You nodded, pulling out your phone and going into the notes app, selecting the right one, you presented it to him. Aaron nodded encouragingly, “I think these are great names,” He said.

“Which one’s your favourite?” You asked.

“I think I like (Y/N) the most,” He answered after a moment and you nodded immediately.

“Okay, I think that one’s my favourite too!” You said, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt. “(Y/N) Hotchner.”

“Sounds perfect,” Your dad grinned, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Now, we’ve got the name, the pronouns, is there anything else you’d like to change?”

“I think a haircut would be good…” You said softly, you didn’t want to take the pee, or come across as forceful, but you really did want to cut your hair, “And maybe some new clothes?”

Aaron nodded, “Okay, well, tomorrow is Saturday, perhaps, if you wanted, we could do those things?” He gave a small smile when you immediately nodded.

“How should I tell Jack?” You asked softly. “Do you think he’d be okay with it? And when should I tell him?”

“I think he’s always wanted a little brother and we can tell him after dinner, if you’d like,” He said, you nodded again. “And, when you’re ready and if you want to, we can tell the school about this as well, get everything formally changed there too,”

“Yes, please!” You said before groaning, “I cannot deal with Mr Donalds calling me Miss Hotchner again,” Aaron gave a laugh as he shook his head.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” When you shook his head, he continued, “Alright, then go do your homework - I get an email every time you don’t do it,”

You gave a loud groan as you stood, grabbing your backpack and made your way up to your bedroom.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #y/n #ftm reader #transmale reader #trans guy reader #trans reader #transgender #supportive dad hotch #dad hotch #aaron hotchner x transmale reader #aaron hotchner x trans reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x son reader #son reader

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gr4vesrot · 11 months

Text

artist credit

Roseville, Florida. 1992.

You have always been a Wallflower. Watching everyone's life trickle by like a character perpetually stuck on the sidelines. It was easy to come to the conclusion that you didn't actually exist, not to anyone else outside of your best friend, anyways.

Things don't happen to people like you. People easily forgotten, ignored, brushed off. So how is it that you got his attention.

How, exactly, did Ghostface pick out a wallflower like you?

Ghostface ( Dead by Daylight x Transman!Reader )

Warnings: Mild internalized transphobia, homophobic slur, light gore, 18+ (MINORS DNI)

Your beverage started to get warm in your hands, and that made it all the more painful to drink. The burn from taking one too many Vodka Pineapple shots sat uncomfortably in the back of your throat, and when you rubbed your tongue on the roof of your mouth, the pineapple’s acidity stung a little bit sharper. But, with your vision getting increasingly wobbly, and your mind a little hazy, you thought nothing of it when you threw the remainder of the shot back after sipping on it like a morning cup of tea.

You mentally chastise yourself when you leave it sitting in your mouth for a second longer than necessary, and your face tightens in a sharp cringe. Besides you, your friend laughs, and it’s amazing that you could hear her over the music and the drunken slur of the crowd. You try to laugh back, but it’s half-hearted, your cheeks quickly coloring when her amusement grabs the attention of different strangers around the both of you.

“Stop drinking them if you don’t like them!” She leans over to speak into your ear, and your stomach does an anxious flip when the taller man standing next to you looks down at the top of her pretty head. Both of your hands come up to grip the edge of the bartop nervously after setting the empty shot glass down, nails digging into the surface before promptly yanking them away as if you got burned. Men don’t close in on themselves, men don’t act skittish. You try to get your shoulders to relax, but it looks more like an awkward slump than anything. The fog wrapping tight around your brain is the only thing that numbs you from assuming the worst. Everyone here thinks you’re an idiot. Or better yet— they don’t know you’re here at all. Alcohol had a funny way of making things more bearable.

“I like them, I like them!” You manage a grin and wave her off, “there’s just… a lot of vodka in there.” You gesture to the bartender for one more, and your longtime companion groans. You both met fresh out of highschool, the first day of your very first job ( or for her, her third job within a span of three months ), and both of you bonded over being college dropouts. She had confided in you that the stress was too much for her, and with a shitty dorm-mate added on top of it, she had abandoned the idea of college life all together. You, however, tried to stick it out. Did your best to overcome and conquer, but sometimes ritualistic hazing is far stronger than your best could ever do.

Five years later and you’re still thick as thieves. You both made a point to make time for each other one day a week at the very least. This week, both your availability had lined up on a Saturday night. Which in your friend’s mind, meant club night. She was far more outgoing than you, more willing to dance with strangers, made acquaintances everywhere she went, so bright and pretty. It felt like a cruel joke to even be able to stand next to her, and an even crueler one when your self-deprecating thoughts ( and jealousy ) were proved to be factual each time you went out together.

Something dark twisted in the haze of your mind when the man on your opposite side, the one that had been looking down at Jess when she leaned into you, ignored your presence all together in order to worm himself between you and your best friend. Not the first time it’s happened, and most certainly not the last. You were a wallflower. Watching as everyone’s life flittered by them without so much as sparing you a glance in return. Or when they did, when someone finally noticed you, the only thing they could muster up was confusion, disgust; As if you were a frog to be observed and dissected. The testosterone had helped, your voice deepened, your shoulders just a little more broad, and your curves not as feminine. But it’ll never make you taller, or the softness of your features harden into what was commonly associated as male. Not with the sporadic dosages you were taking; Insurance didn’t cover the injections, and you’ve already exhausted yourself over crying about it. Now, there was only bitter acceptance.

It would have been so much easier if I stayed a g— Your next shot burned extra on the way down, and you gave the bartender a glare when his back was turned. Was he putting way too much vodka in the drink on purpose? Or did he just suck?

“I’m gonna go dance!” Jess pats your shoulder to grab your attention again, and when you turn, you’re all too aware of how the man who shoved between the two of you doesn’t even look your way. You frown, brows pulling together slightly and you bite your bottom lip out of worry. You weren’t entirely confident that you’d be able to keep an eye on her in the sea of people cluttering the dance floor, and as if reading your mind, she gives you a reassuring grin. “I’ll be back in a bit! I extra promise, okay? Join us when you’re ready!” That grabs the tall stranger's attention, and he looks down at you with a raise of his brows. Curiosity lingers there, his gaze flickering down to your chest for the briefest of seconds only to find nothing of what he was looking for, and back at your face again. The stare makes you entirely self-conscious, and as confident as you were with your binding, you still feel too vulnerable in a room packed with so many people.

“Okay,” you relent, leaning in to whisper the last part, “if anything happens just come and find me. I’ll stay in the same spot.” Appreciation laces her expression when you pull back, and she laughs when you hold up your seventh empty shot glass.

“Can’t wait till you get fucking drunk! Then maybe you’ll finally dance with me!” She doesn’t stick around to see your scoff, and the stranger is once again hypnotized as she pulls him along to the dance floor. The thought of being pressed up against that many bodies nearly makes you shudder, and you don’t have it quite in you to explain to her why the thought of dancing with that many people around would be your personal nightmare. You turn back to the bar, blinking when the rows of alcohol bottles and syrups begin swirling together. Yeah, maybe that seventh shot wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was easier to be drunk than sober in a place like this. When the bartender comes back around to pick up your empty glass, you barely register him asking if you’d want another, and you shake your head with a few mumbled “no”’s. The worst hasn’t even hit you yet, you could feel it, and you’d rather cool the flames before making a bigger fire. The earlier patrons have now dispersed and new faces surround you. Taking each of them in one by one, you chuckle to yourself when you have trouble focusing on every individual feature. It goes ignored, either because no one could hear you over the DJ, or they just couldn’t bother with some weirdo ominously laughing to himself.

The multitude of colors across from you grab your attention again, and you could barely make out the words on the bottles. It’s when you’re struggling to pronounce the name on a bright, cherry red one that two girls immediately fill the empty space at your side, flagging down the bartender to order.

“Are you sure we should even be out?” One of them says, a nervousness in her tone that you find solidarity in. “You know with… Uh, um.. The murders and all?”

Your eyes flicker away from the bottle and down at the murky brown bartop. Suddenly, trying to read the names of alcohol bottles wasn’t all that interesting anymore. From Pennsylvania and now to Roseville, Florida, a predator stalked the streets at night. With a new killing seemingly every week, the city of Roseville was in a whirlwind of panic. The murderer, this Ghostface, had been nothing but the talk of the town. Front page of every newspaper since he arrived a month ago, and after the first two weeks of seeing his name and how he murdered his victims plastered on every news story and magazine, you figured it best to not send yourself on that downwards spiral. The last thing you needed was more of a reason to fear going outside. Besides, running into some super psycho serial killer didn’t happen to people like you.

Not unless this murderer wanted an article titled Ghostface: A Passion for Hate Crimes? In the Roseville Gazette’s new piece about him. The thought of it has an amused smirk tug at the corner of your lips. Funny, in a morbid and should totally not be funny sort of way.

The nervous woman’s friend sighed, rolling her eyes and popping her gum for dramatic flare. “What’s he gonna do? Come in here and try to kill every single one of us? We’re way safer in a crowd than at home. He gets ya’ at home.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you wanted to try your hand at being like Jess. Friendly, likable, and sociable Jess. You turn your body slightly, facing the two women’s direction and remembering to make your posture as welcoming as possible. Eye contact, speak from your chest, don’t be afraid. A breath in, a breath out, and you ignore the tightening of your stomach. “I think he just likes the attention,” you voice your opinion, successfully earning the two’s scrutiny. They eye you with guarded looks, the nervous one’s gaze much softer than her friend’s. The one closest to you, the gum chewer, however, drums her nails across the bartop. Your palms become clammy, but you continue. “I mean— it just seems like all the news stories and articles are what's spurring him on. A total attention seeker, just don’t give him any and maybe he’ll leave you alone.” You force a laugh, and it burns much worse than vodka ever could.

“Fag.”

The smile is wiped clean from your lips just as quickly as your face colors with embarrassment. Shame is dumped over you like scorching hot tar, filling your throat till you can’t speak, can’t breathe, and the heat numbs your body to the point it feels cold. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. You’re going to be sick. There’s something heartwrenching forming in your chest that’s familiar. An old friend. Like a dumbbell weighing you down, your movements are slowed when you try to face away from them, fingers curling into the edge of the bartop again with how quickly you were shot down. The more you feel yourself drown, the louder the ringing in your ears gets. You knew it was a mistake coming here. You knew it. And the mean, petty side of you blames Jess for it. If she hadn’t dragged you along, if she knew what it was like..

The two women go back to their conversation; As if the word never escaped the gum chewer’s mouth, as if you had never talked to begin with. As if you were never there at all. The alcohol makes it harder to force down the humiliated tears welling in your eyes, and you’re actually thankful they no longer notice you. It’s one thing to be called slurs in public, but to cry about it right after is another brand of shame entirely. Your shoulders are slumped again, arms folding together over your chest as a means to self-soothe. You're angry with yourself for not saying anything back, for immediately losing your voice at the first sign of hostility. Not only could you not stand up for yourself, but you crumpled like a wet napkin. God, what a loser.

Like clockwork, someone comes stumbling up next to you. Too stubborn to look directly ( no way were you going to let anyone see the red rings you know are forming around your eyes ), you can tell it’s the tall guy who went off to dance with Jess by the color and style of his shirt you catch in your peripheral. The ringing was still too loud in your ears to hear what he ordered, but by the sudden shift of his posture, you could tell he was looking at you.

Please no. God no.

He says something, but it’s hard to make out over how overwhelmed you were. So instead, you don’t answer, and will yourself to become invisible. Strange how it works, the back and forth between your hopeless desire to be noticed, and to stay in the unacknowledged spot you were all too familiar with.

The silence between the two of you is almost painful, but he promptly forgets your existence the moment the bartender reappears with his drinks. One you recognize as Jess’s signature order, a Bloody Mary, and the desire to leave hits you like a truck. You need to go home, you need to go and tell Jess what happened so you can both get the fuck out of this shitty night club with a shitty bartender; And away from all these shitty people. Without thinking, you move a little unsteadily on your feet right at the same time Jess’s new dance partner does, colliding into his chest face first. There’s grunts from you both, and the collision has his drinks slip from his hands and toppling down directly on top of you. The gum chewer and her friend shriek in surprise, cursing when some of it splashes against their shoes. The combination of liquids feels like thick sludge running down your hair and to your shoulders, staining the fabric of your shirt a bright red. It drips off the ends of your locks, sliding all the way down to your fingertips and creating a small puddle where you stood.

Again, you are left speechless. Your drunken daze makes it entirely impossible to think. You slowly lift your chin up, the strong scent of what was Jess’s Bloody Mary becoming that much more powerful when it leaves red trails down the length of your face. Even without the hamster running on his little wheel to get your brain cells working, a small conscious part of you knew this was when the man was supposed to apologize. Ask you for forgiveness so he could still score with your best friend, maybe even go the extra mile and grab you a few napkins so you could wipe yourself off. But when you look up and your eyes manage to focus, he is looking completely past you, mouth babbling apologies towards the two women who were unfortunate enough to be in the splash zone.

You do not exist.

Serial killer be damned. You’d rather brave the pitchblack streets of Roseville then stay there another second. I don’t exist, the wheel in your brain started turning again, Ghostface won’t even see me out there. Turning in a very dangerous direction.

Like a robot, you stiffly maneuver yourself away from the bar and towards the exit, careful as not to inconvenience anybody. Your promise to Jess would have to be broken for a single night, but you hoped she would understand. You hoped that having two drinks dunked over your head was enough to warrant leaving and never going back. You leave through the front without sparing a single glance at the bouncers, and the humid Florida air only worsened your predicament. Everything felt sticky and cold, disgustingly so. And you hadn’t even realized you were crying until something wet and warm served as a stark contrast to the chill sludge of your now most hated beverage in existence. Your tears dribbled off your chin, and a pitiful whine escaped your throat. Another sob turned into an ugly snort when you tried to stop it halfway. Men don’t cry. Men don’t cry. Men don’t cry.

You try to exhale, but it comes out in a stutter, and inhaling only has the same result. Your legs move entirely on autopilot to get you home, and though you were stumbling just a tad, you still had the sense to try and determine just how long it would take you to get there.

Only a few miles. Thirty minutes at least.. It’s okay. It’s okay. Stop crying. Men don’t cry.

You press your lips tightly together to silence yourself, and you focus on the street sign ahead as the club’s music slowly fades out from behind you. Retting LN. it reads, or at least you think it says Retting. You stop for a moment, eyes squinting up at the sign and mouth slightly parted. Left or straight ahead? You couldn’t decide. Trying to get yourself to think was like trying to connect the right wires in a generator, and you definitely weren’t a mechanic. Straight is… longer. You eye the different dimly lit stores and bars down the street ahead, swallowing hard when a group of different figures emerge from a particularly seedy hole-in-the-wall pub.

Left is shorter. But when you turn, the pitch black that meets you feels all consuming. There’s nothing but a flickering street lamp several blocks away, and porch lights that don’t meet the sidewalk. You’ll be totally blind, minus that one street lamp. But it’s shorter. I feel sick. The chorus of laughter from the group you saw prior was getting louder now, and in a moment of drunken panic, you picked left.

The group seemed far wiser than you. Carrying on down their path without even sparing a glance towards the horror filled shadows you decided to brave. You sway to the side, catch yourself last minute, and right yourself up again with a few low murmurs. Even you had no idea what you were saying to yourself, and anyone who’d happen to pass you by would surely think you were crazy. But the streets were empty, minus the few cockroaches you were too drunk to notice skittering around your feet. The Ghostface crosses your mind again, his mask flashing in the forefront. You spook yourself when your vivid imagination turns the mask into an actual face, morphed into a perpetual scream and his jaw begins opening wider and wider. Tearing the corners of his mouth as it completely unhinges and threatens to swallow you whole.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you force yourself to think about something else. The lamp post is coming up quickly, and you’re relieved when its light seems to stretch towards you no matter how dim. Your saving grace, your angel; Its light was a God Send when even your own mind began piecing together horrors beyond what you thought you were capable of conjuring up. The gentle buzz of the lamp as you stood under it was a helpful distraction, and so were the bugs swarming beneath it in chaotic circles. Now, maybe, you can finally understand why the little creepy crawlies were so attracted to the light. Were they also scared of some mass murderer? Afraid his sadism didn’t stop at just humans, and he’d crush them under his boot a little too enthusiastically? It made sense, you concluded with a final nod to yourself, The Ghostface didn’t just strike fear into the hearts of the people of Roseville, but in every living creature that just so happened to be within the city limits. Or maybe, his influence had already reached outside the city limits.

The rumors stated he had made his way from Pennsylvania to Florida, who knows where he’d go next once he grew tired of this dingy city.

Having your head tilted back and your eyes fixated on the lamp for too long had you feeling even more dizzy than you already were, and you instantly regretted your mistake. Facing forward again had your world spinning, swaying side to side with a miserable groan. You were never drinking again, you’ve had it with the effects of alcohol. Stumbling when you don’t quite pick your foot up all the way, inches away from the line that divided illumination and the shadows from a moonless sky, there was a loud clatter from behind the picket fence that separated you and the yard it came from. Startled, you curse, the exclamation echoing off the silent streets. It’s followed by a gasp when your foot slips off the curb of the sidewalk, and you finally go tumbling down on your ass for the first time that night. The road’s gravel bites into the skin of your palm and your forearm when you try to catch yourself, and there’s a sharp sting against your thigh when it rubs against a few loose rocks as you try to right yourself too fast. Your mind can’t keep up to your body’s instincts, and your feet don’t seem to work right even when you finally manage to pick yourself up.

You run with awkward, clumsy movements across the street. Your heart beats heavy in your chest, so hard you can feel it in your throat. It feels like you’re choking again, your arm and palm hurts, your thigh is rubbing uncomfortably against your jeans. But it was all left ignored. You had to escape, you had to run. Run from what? You try to rationalize. It was just a noise. A raccoon, a stray cat. The Ghostface doesn’t care about a nobody like you.

Though, none of your rationalizing mattered. Your legs had a mind of their own, carrying you down different streets and letting fate be your guide. The dark blinded you, and like a moth to a flame, you began following the flickering lights of the back alleyways subconsciously. A stupid move on your part, wouldn’t it have made more sense to stick to the shadows? It would have made for an easier escape. That is, if you even were being chased by anything. Or anyone.

You had no idea where you were by the time you stopped, wheezing as you tried to catch your breath. The muscles of your legs ached, and your side cramped with each inhale. If you didn’t feel sick before, you really do now, and a gag bubbles up your throat that turns into a short, dry cough. All that running made you absolutely parched, and your own saliva did nothing to remedy it. Leaning against the alley wall for support, you take this moment to collect yourself. There was nothing but the sound of your own breathing, nobody reaching out from dark corners to drag you into Hell, and certainly no masked killer choosing you as his next victim. Your laugh comes out as an amused sigh, your exhaustion doesn’t allow for anything more.

The night was full of embarrassment. But at the very least, there was no one to watch you sprint around like a mad man.

You blink slowly, giving yourself all the time you need in order to process where you are. You’ve already given up on getting home in a timely manner, and instead focus on trying to get home in general. There’ll be no more scaring yourself, no more wild imaginations, and no more brainlessly staring at street lights. Step one, get yourself out of the alleyway. “Yeah.. yeah..” You mutter to yourself, rubbing both your eyes. You’ve forgotten how sticky your face was, and you pull your hands back with a soft “ew.” Most of the alcohol spilled on you had dried, but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. The top of your head still felt wet, your clothes stained far past salvation, and you smelled awful. You fucking hate Bloody Marys.

Lifting yourself off the wall, you decide to head straight. Might as well finish what you started, and there was a right turn calling your name. Further into the busier part of Roseville, the back alley’s nearly acted as a maze, but you were certain that finding the road again would be much quicker after taking that right. Where you got this confidence from, you weren’t sure. You’d never been the back alley type, not even during your edgier phase in high school. You walk with the certainty of someone who wasn’t seconds away from pissing their pants just moments before, shoulders back and posture straight. You’ve had it up to here on your metaphorical limits chart and the next fixation on your mind was a nice, hot shower. Rinse the day off next to all the red sludge dunked over your head, forget those unfortunate interactions at the bar, and carry on the next few days like nothing happened. Your hand and arm would heal, you’d apologize to Jess for leaving her at the club, and you'd rid yourself from any thoughts about Ghostface.

You refuse to live your life filled with paranoia. Not again.

Something strange sounds ahead, just around your chosen right corner. It makes you hesitate, but you swallow that fear and chalk it up to nothing. Nothing! Your self assured pep-talk wasn’t about to go to waste, and the worse it could be was some crazy drunk wandering around the back alleys at night. So someone a lot like you.

If that was the case, you’d simply turn around and go the other way.

Your hands balled into fists, determined to see it through. The sounds got louder the more you approached; odd shuffling, was that a… groan? And someone is talking. One person, or two? You couldn’t make sense of it, and now you really, really wish you hadn’t taken so many of those shots. In a desperate attempt to prove yourself, you march faster towards the corner, figuring that as long as you didn’t give yourself time to tuck your tail between your legs and scurry off in the opposite direction, you’d come out accomplished. If you could face this, you could face anything. That’s how it worked, right? The gum chewer woman comes to mind, and you vow that if you could walk past whatever lurked in the shadows of this maze with your head held high, you’d be able to do the same when confronted with people like her.

You round the corner without giving yourself a moment to think. No time to pause and really listen to what was being said. To what was being done. The heat from the alcohol leaves your body entirely, and what feels like the ice cold body of a snake coils around your limbs to make you immobile. The breath you were holding chokes you, but you can’t even manage a cough. Your hands and legs grow numb, your eyes warming with tears.

Things like this didn’t happen to people like you. You were a wallflower. A nobody. Hardly visible to anyone outside of Jess and your boss when he needed you to cover someone on your days off. The grotesque wet noises pierce your ears and threaten to draw your attention away from the dark figure standing only a few feet in front of you. A gloved hand wraps tight around the handle of his blade, the other gripping some new, poor victim by the front of their hoodie. One last groan and spurt of blood dribbling past their lips, their legs give out and they slump in the man’s hold. But you can barely register any of this. Not when the ghastly, white mask slowly turns to peek at you from under its hood, locking the hollow of its eyes on you.

It sees you.

He sees you.

Ghostface slips his knife from the fresh corpse with ease. Crimson drips from the tip of it, and he makes no sudden movements. Neither do you. A silent understanding, if you run ( run, run, run—! ) he could easily catch you as you are now. Drunk, fastened to where you stand by fear alone. He moves with such brilliance, the fluidity of a cat, a hunter. The casualness of his regard for you shows the depth of his cockiness. The black holes of his mask suck you in far deeper than the shadows of the path you’ve chosen, and this is the second time in your whole existence that you’ve experienced what true fear is. The frigid bite at your rapidly beating heart, the feeling of T.V. static crawling up your skin and to your horrified expression. You can do nothing but stand there, gaping, as a mass murderer fully turns to look at you.

He sees you.

Read the rest on AO3 !!

#graves writes #ghostface x reader #dead by daylight x reader #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen x reader #ghostface x transmale reader #ghostface mlm #ghostface x transman reader

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 2 months

Text

❝ You better lock your door and look at me a little more (we both know I'm worth waitin' for) ❞

warnings: r! is a prostitute, brothel mentioned, mentions of addiction, spanking, fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like boypussy, pussy, boycunt, cunt are used)

masterlist;

authors note: you guys have @strayjester to thank for this because of the thirst we had for this fine-ass single dad...

*song on repeat: Billie Boss Nova by Billie Eilish *YN is described as being shorter than Vander in this fic.

He’s getting that itch under his skin again. Muscles aching and throat begging for the soothing burn of addictive smoke. Vander tosses a rag on his shoulder, scratching at his beard as he fixes his posture. His skin feels stretched thin, aching for a salve to fill the crevices and drought; his ears muffle the bar, and the song playing floats into his ears.

The playful percussions, the whispering tone of the singer, and the sighs of the adlibs remind him of the fairytales of fairies, sirens, and boys in masks in nothing but a see-through robe.

Vander straightens up, briefly glancing over at the doors of the bar. The underground doesn’t get sunlight, but like a dog, he knows when people are starting to head back home. The crowd in here was mostly gone, some were passed out in the booths and some intently eating sunflower seeds in their corner. He’d have to clean it up and make sure the tables weren’t sticky, and the floor needed a good sweep too.

Impatientness grows in him. Vander sighs, pouring himself a shot of something to reinvigorate him, and slams the glass down. It startles the man at the bar enough to have him reach for his coins, the rest get the same hint.

“You look like you need a nightcap," Spider mutters. Vander thinks it’s ridiculous for people to call the seamstress such an intimidating name when she vehemently despises the arachnids, but it stuck and she has no choice but to embrace it. She has the courtesy of bringing her bowl of opened sunflower seeds and an empty glass to him instead of just stumbling off.

But Vander knows it isn’t exactly out of the kindness of her heart.

It flatters him that she finds him attractive. Really, it does. She was a beautiful woman and a capable one too. But Vander is tired and truly, he doesn’t want his rendezvous to be chattered on about everywhere. His kids didn’t need to hear about any of it.

“Aye’, that I do. Thankfully, I own a bar,” she chuckles and reaches forward to swat at his shoulder. Vander just smiles, taking her dishes and placing them elsewhere so his back is turned to her. “It’s not good practice to drink your own stock,” Spider places her elbows on the table and Vander doesn’t need to spare a glance to know her breasts are on display too. This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and most likely won’t be the last.

The song ends with a soothing croon from the singer and Vander’s cock twitches in his pants as he spots the business card stuck between the frame of the mirror.

“Ya’ sober enough to make your way back safe?” Spider’s brows pinch and she mutters, gluing her gaze on Vander’s face as he pulls the rag down to wipe the table. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Vander nodded, bidding her a good night she simply replied with a wave. She was the last to leave through the front door and Vander manages to not groan in relief at the click he hears.

‘ Hurry! ‘ A voice tells him. It’s early in the morning now, the window is closing but he can’t possibly leave the bar in this state. He’ll be the one regretting it when he opens tonight. Vander imagines he must’ve looked a bit dumb as he stares at the state of the bar when Vi appears at the top of the stairs.

“What?” Vi tilts her head at him but gestures loosely to the tables and chairs. “I said I can clean it, you look...tired.”

He sighs, squeezing the back of his neck. “What’re you doing up so early, Vi?” she shrugs which is a non-answer but pushes through the doorway and meanders behind the bar. Her head pops out and she places the iron bucket of cleaning supplies. Vander walks to her, handing her the rag as he reaches for a broom.

“Vander, I can clean the place just fine,” she huffs. “All by yer’self? S’gonna take ya’ forever,” he’s jesting but she finds no humor in it. The girl crosses her arms as she glares up at him. A part of him wants nothing more than to dash out of here, to find that salve he desperately is aching for, but there was no way he could leave his daughter to clean up by herself just because he wanted to get his dick wet.

“Dude, just go,” Vi grabs the bucket and rag and marches to the tables. He frowns a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplates it.

“Ya’ couldn’t sleep?” Vi shakes her head. “Nope! Milo was snoring and Claggor kept moving in his sleep. Powder must be tired because she’s sleeping through it with no problem.” Vi’s always been a light sleeper. Most of the people in the underground were. But Vander just needs to ask; “Ya’ sure it wasn’t the nightmares?” Vi pauses in her wiping and Vander watches her face as she sends him a pouty expression.

“Yes, I’m sure. I haven’t had one of those in forever anyway — just go rest, old man. I can wipe down tables and sweep floors by myself.”

“Are you sure — “

“Dude!”

The path he takes is always quiet. Hidden between tight alleyways and old wires hung too low — he rarely saw characters here other than the occasional cat or shady hooded figure but that was a normal sight anywhere.

The back of the building is less glamorous than the front but not out of neglect. It was purposefully made that way — fewer lights, fewer signs, and fewer girls spilling from the door. But he peeks up from the hood of his jacket and he sees the voyeuristicly lit windows. The shadows of bodies behind the thin curtains, the seductive glow and thrum of the others. The back door is not locked, it's just made to look that way so people feel dirtier pushing the heavy door open.

He hears a whistle and his cock honestly to god jumps at the sight of your naked shoulders. Your mask was askew, your hair messed up, and smears of lipstick on your lips, and your skin; Vander is envious of the cigarette holder you have in your grip.

When your lips wrap around it he feels the exhaustion melt away. Plumes of purple smoke pour out from your mouth; “Had a feeling you’d be comin’ over."

Vander laughs, moving to the door with his eyes still on you. “Yeah? Just knew, did ya’?”

You nod, placing your chin in your palm as he opens the door.

“Yeah. My ass has been wanting a good stretch the whole day, only gets that way when you’re comin’ over.”

' Coming over ', you make it sound like he’s a teenage boy sneaking through your window. Vander says nothing as he walks in and you grin at it. His silence was good — it meant he was going to give it to you just how you wanted. You finish the cigarette and slip the curtains close.

Vander liked his privacy after all.

The hallways are familiar, but he still thinks the wallpaper is a bit too busy and the creak in the floorboards should have been fixed. Saying it out loud feels a bit shameful. After all, how often would he have to come over to recognize these things?

He passes by a doorway guarded with beaded curtains and he ignores the moans of the woman who is being devoured by another. The doorway next to it has the sounds of leather rubbing against leather so he peeks as he passes by to see it shines under the low lights.

Reaching the stairs, Vander is greeted by Sevika lip-locked with another woman. He lowered his head, hoping she was too busy fingering her to notice. At the landing, there’s a wall of hooks, and on each of them held a mask of an animal. They differed in all sorts of sizes, and materials, each handcrafted by different artists. Customers wear them if they’d like but it was a must for employees.

The allure, the secrecy, the seductive notion of masked strangers sucking your cock, blah blah blah.

He grabs the wolf mask, slipping it on with ease, as he climbs the rest of the stairs. He misses Sevika staring at his back with squinted eyes.

“D’you know him?” she asks. The girl in the doe mask pants but eyes Vander’s frame through the wooden bars of the stairs. “Him? Oh, he’s a regular. Secretive, and never lets anyone else see his face other than the Fantastic Mr. Fox.”

That makes Sevika snort. “(Y/N)? He only comes here for him?” She can’t exactly blame the man. You were a talented little beast. Hands, mouth, feet, cunt, ass — every part of you was made with pleasure in mind. She enjoys having you in a headlock as she pounds into your asshole, enjoys your tongue inside of her and your filthy little words.

But just for you? This pleasure house had a gaggle of beasts for him to lay with. Hairy beasts with cocks just as big as their arms who enjoy plowing and being plowed. Demure little nymphs with a talent to make people beg for their cocks to be stepped on or to cry in pleasure. Tall beasts, short beasts, catering to every need and fetish a man could have.

“There’s a betting pool,” the Doe says. Sevika turns to face her as the masked man enters the hallway leading to your room. “About?” Sevika pulls her fingers out to pull away the negligee and kneads at her small breast. She shudders, arching her back into her but continues; “The Wolf and The Fox. That he’s smitten, maybe even a bit obsessed.” Sevika scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pinches Doe's perk nipple between her fingers,

"Poor bastard."

"I think it's — ah — cute," Doe retorts as she squeezes Sevika's biceps. "To you maybe, a smitten customer gets you more coin," Sevika grunts out, her tone light despite it.

"Falling in love with a whore is just stupid."

"You saying you don't love me, Daddy?" Doe pouts her lips. Sevika chuckles as she lowers her head to nibble on it. "I'll love you tonight, baby. Think that'll be enough?"

The door has the symbol of your mask, painted in gold. It's ajar, a sliver of light lighting the carpeted floors and Vander rolls his shoulders as he pushes the door open.

Your room is heavy with the smell of incense. There's thudding against the walls, moans of pleasure echoing despite it being muffled. Vander's shoes make no noise. The carpets on the floor provide more than just comfort. Discretion. This room and the others on this floor are all for high-paying customers.

He closes and locks the door behind him. He reaches for his mask but your voice stops him.

"Keep it on," you push yourself off the door frame, the beads clattering softly, and Vander tits his head at your sashay. Your mask was left on the bed, leaving your face bare, and Vander cocks a brow as he looks down at you.

"One of those nights?" His hands settle on your waist. The size of them, the roughness that's felt through the silk of your robe, it makes your grin stretch wider. "You got other ideas, Vander?" you muse. "Was hopin' to kiss ya'," he huffs.

The grip on your ass lurches you forward further into his broad chest. Vander's eyes are heavy, the shadows attempt to hide the desire but it's futile. He's kneading, hitching you up higher until you're barely on your toes.

Head tilting, he leans in. Your head floats away, hands still gripped onto his shirt as he chases and you don't give in.

"(Y/N)," his tone suggests a warning. But it's amusing. Here you are, in his arms. His strength keeps you in place and in the air; the mask is akin to a muzzle. Except he's fully capable of taking it off if he wishes.

The fact that you asked for him to keep it on is not lost to you. Your words alone held so much power over him. You place his neck between the gap of your thumb and pointer finger, barely there pressure keeping him still despite the yearning in his eyes.

"You're exhausted, big guy. Long day, yeah?" Vander nods at your words.

"Lay down on the bed. I'll make you feel good."

He hesitates for a moment. But your feet find the floor again and he begrudgingly parts. When he walks past you, you follow behind him. He pauses when you reach for the front of his pants, looking at you from over his shoulder.

"Take off your clothes for me, baby."

Your bed is shaped in a semi-circle. The curtain around it was drawn all the way back. There's a mountain of pillows and bolsters that welcome Vander's naked frame as he settles on it.

The trail of his clothes on the floor has your silk robes accompanying you as you stand at the end of the bed.

Vander tilts his head, widening his legs and stroking his hairy thighs. Leading your eyes to the thick dick that's already at full mast.

"Damn," you whistle. The bed dipped under the weight of your knee. "I know I'm good looking but you can't be that hard from just 5 seconds of laying your eyes on me."

He can't tear his gaze from you. From the marks on your face to the state of your hair; the bare skin that he loves to bruise and mark up — despite being told by you it's not exactly encouraged — Vander is convinced you're not real sometimes.

The arcane has been long gone now. Yet, here you are. Living, breathing, proof that its remnants linger in pumping hearts and honey-sweet skin. With just your voice, you make his knees buckle and his cock strain through the material of his pants.

Just the whisper of your name has his entire day derailed as he thinks and thinks and thinks of you.

Oh, (Y/N).

You're his undoing.

Gooseflesh spread at your touch and Vander groans as you settle yourself between his legs. That haunting touch makes its way to his crotch, ghosting along his aching rod, up his soft stomach, and towards his chest. It rests there and his heart threatens to escape his ribcage. The heat from your cunt has him sighing and settling his hands on the arch of your back. It makes you chuckle.

"Please, darlin'," he begs, "I been needing you so badly. All day."

There's no way you can deny him. Not when your cock jumps at the airy tone he has, that gravelly husk that comes with it. It peeks up, just as hard as his. He can feel it drag along his own and he tightens his grip on you.

"Yeah?" You nose at his neck, trailing your painted lips down. The hairs on his chest tickle your cheek when you place your face there, breathing against his perk nipples.

"Shit, yeah. Can't you feel me?" He grows a bit bolder in his next move. Urging your hips forward so he can feel your wet folds, forcing your stiff cock to rub up. The motion makes your eyes flutter close, sighing against his pebbling nub.

"For such a big man, you're such a teddy bear," you lift your hips, lining his thick head with your needy cunt. He laughs, his masked face tilting downwards as his blue-grey eyes all but glow in excitement.

"I've been told I am a bear," his words end a moan when you slip him inside. The bowl of condoms littered just about everywhere outside this room wasn’t there for decoration. They were there for the John’s and Jane’s who needed them.

But you know Vander. You’ve been the only thing he’s been hitting and you make sure the rest of your clients are always wrapped up.

Everything about him is thick so it’s no surprise you feel the twinge of discomfort as you accommodate to his size. It lingers briefly but once the mushroom tip of his dick is inside pleasure runs up your spine.

“Oh fuck yes,” you wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest together. He instantly embraces you, adjusting his grip to your ass again so he can help you straddle his legs.

“Fuck, baby. Your dick is so big,” and for once you’re not lying about it.

Vander’s a big boy. His thick arms, square jaw, the delicious shape of his nose; his wide chest and sturdy shoulders, and his soft but firm stomach. Fuck, everything about Vander makes your head fill warm.

His dick twitches inside you as you slide down. The snout of the wooden mask bumps into your forehead and you laugh as he leans in.

“S’fuckin’ needy,” he has no protests. You reach for the bottom of the mask and push it up, blinding him but rewarding him with your lips. His beard is soft. As you feel through it, you cup his jaw and he groans into the kiss.

More of him inches inside of you and halfway down, you’re pulling away to breathe. His fingers are going to leave handprints with how roughly he holds you; flesh spilling from the gaps of his greedy digits.

“Fuck, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, say my name, baby.”

Vander grunts when you fix the mask into place. When you lean back, he takes in the sight of the bump on your stomach.

“Perv.” His dick twitches again. So you laugh.

“Absolutely rotten.”

Your eyes slip close as you let gravity take over. Fuck, the way your hips buck up and twitch as he fills you up has his toes curling. You’re dripping wet, the thick and clear liquid travelling down his balls.

“You’re so fuckin’ hard,” he thumbs at your cock. When he uses his knuckles to stroke it, his mouth goes dry at the way it twitches and righteously stands tall.

“All ‘cus of you,” you purr. Vander groans, now idly touching the bump of his dick and you sigh as he presses down on it.

“Ooooh fuck, Vander.”

He rolls your hips, moving to ground his heels into the bed but you beat him to it. Your hands brace his knees and you lift up and up and up — his tip bumping into yours in the brief time it’s out of you — then slipping him all the way inside again.

Vander curses, his accent thickening as you throw his head back.

You chew on your bottom lips, savouring the explosion of pleasure behind your eyelids. As you look at his heaving chest, you cannot stop the sharp grin that crawls onto your face.

Placing one hand on his shoulder, you put your thighs to work. Vander is at your mercy. Panting and moaning behind the mask as he watches your work on his cock. Riding him, grinding down on him, using his thick dick for your pleasure.

Your other hand leads his own to a surprise.

Between your ass that he adores so much, he bucks up when he feels the base of a plug inside of your ass.

“Oh, you liked that,” you moan. All high and airy as you slow down into grinding, thighs burning. Vander is tugging onto the plug and your rim stretches as he teases it in and out.

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he growls out.

“You’ll die happy, don’t — mngh — duh-don’t...Shit, Vander. Baby. Oh fuuuck.”

The exhaustion of the day has seeped out from him it seems. He’s leaning forward, caging you between his raised knees and firm front.

In one smooth movement, your back bounces on the bed and he’s on top of you. The acoustic of the wooden mask makes him sound like an animal as he growls above you, he huffs and pants like a proper wolf.

You share a long look, even as he rocks in and out of you and you feel your heavy eyelids threaten to squeeze shut. He braces onto his elbows, his weight on you making you whine and keen.

He takes the reigns and smiles when you reach to take his mask off. It thuds onto the carpet, mere inches away from your own mask.

“Hey, handsome.” You stroke over his cheekbones, gasping into his mouth as he kisses you. A particularly deep thrust makes you arch off the bed and it distracts you from his deft hands pulling out your plug.

“Your cunts got me all nice and wet,” he growls into your ear. “Perfect for fucking your ass then,” you whisper back.

“You always know what to say, don’t you?” He slips out and you whimper at the loss. You’re not empty for long. He taps his tip onto your winking hole and you chew on the insides of your cheeks in anticipation.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

“Yes, sir,” he purrs with a devillishly handsome smile.

He rights his posture, holding your ankles in one grip and folding your legs so your knees are nearly at your chest.

The stretch makes you toss your head to the side, cunt gaping as he fixates on the sight of your greedy holes.

Vander spits onto your hole and pushes in deeper. It makes you sing like a proper whore. Clutching onto the sheets while your chest heaves.

God, when he takes over like this — it makes you fantasize about how good it’d feel to wake up in his bed for once — but fantasies like that are dangerous. Vander is smarter than that, he’d know better than to bring a whore back home. Especially a whore like you.

His heavy balls slap against your ass. It knocks the breath out of you. You cry out, tears pricking your eyes when he strokes your dick. Vander splits your thighs and he holds your face with so much care you feel your heart pound our of your chest.

“(Y/N),” when he moans your name you want nothing more than to keep him here with you forever.

When he fucks up into your ass, you inch forward with every strong thrust. So he holds you down, keeping you in place as he stretches out your ass. The friction on your dick makes you even wetter. But you still hiss in discomfort as your rim clenches around him. Vander pants above you, slowing to a stop.

“Lube, darlin’?”

You nod, gesturing to the nightstand. Vander kisses you, pulling out as he turns and grabs the strawberry-scented bottle. You lay out on the bed, breathing heavily as you recompose yourself.

Vander lubes his dick up, eyeing your cunt a little too hungrily for your liking. So you knock your knees together, staring at him pointedly when he blinks innocently at you. “No double dipping,” you warn. Vander scoffs, grinning loosely.

“I know that, boy.” “D’you?”

Your expression makes him snort. He parts your legs again, smearing some lube on your hole before he presses his heavy cock inside of you again.

“‘Course I do. Your cunt’s just so sexy, can’t help but stare.”

“Yeah? Should I call another client and make him fuck my pussy while you fuck my ass?” You’re goading him. He realizes that. But the flash of jealousy that comes across his face is not something he can control.

Vander doesn’t respond. Merely grunting as he fucks into you. You yelp at the strength he’s using, cursing as you’re dragged onto his dick. Helpless as he uses you.

“Yuh - You pissed?” he glares at you but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Yer' a shitty liar.” You moan out his name as he turns you over onto your stomach, barely having time to process his movements as he pulls you onto your knees. He’s bruising you with his grip and when he spanks your ass, you know it’ll be sore till the next day. Every spank makes you tighten up around him. He presses between your shoulder blades and you are keen as he reaches deeper than before.

“M’just joking, Vander,” you pant out. “It’s all yours, all of it — all of me.“

Vander vengeance is in his hips. An unrelenting force that turns your body into nothing but a conduit of pleasure. Your gummy walls are torn between pushing him out and keeping him in — it doesn't matter, in the end, the one with power over you was him. There's bliss in relinquishing control. It's a whisper of voices, serenading you to a high that even the strongest drugs could barely scratch.

Or maybe you were just an addict for sex — or just Vander.

No seasoned whore lets their guard down with a client. There's a degree of trust needed. It's surface level. The bond between you and Vander — there's something oddly binding about it. You've heard of the religions scattered around the world. Of monks who abstain from worldly pleasures, those who worship an entire militia of gods, and those who only believed in one Maker; they spoke with such certainty of their beliefs. The punishment and euphoria waiting for them at the end of the line.

Fucking Vander feels like religion. When he makes your body burn from the inside out with a lust only he can quench — you're doomed and there's no one to blame but yourself.

That's a lie, you bite down on the bedsheets as you feel his balls slap against your cunt and dick. There's someone to blame for putting Vander in your way, (Y/N).

"Shit, sweetheart. I'm close," Vander groans. You moan, forcing yourself to reach back so you can kiss him. Vander feels his heart hammering, reaching to pinch your cock between his fingers to distract himself from these bubbling emotions.

Loving you was a freedom he had long forgotten about. Hearing you moan out his name, digging your nails into his skin and kissing him so deeply. He aches for you — his veins burn when he even thinks he sees you in the crowd.

He loves you.

Vander murmurs something on your lips that you don't catch. But you're too far gone to acknowledge your senses. You're so close to unraveling. Teetering on that edge of bliss as Vander holds you like he wants your bodies to become moulded together like clay.

"Vander, Vander — "

He slips his fingers inside your cunt. You gasp, feeling yourself clench around him like a vice as you squirt onto his fingers and cum around his dick. Vander is close behind, growling out your name as he thrusts in balls deep and floods your ass with his thick ropes of cum.

The both of you ride off the orgasm. His hips still fucking in and out of you in shallow motions that have your breath hitching with every drag and poke. Vander slips his fingers out and brings it to your lips — you chuckle softly, letting them inside as you clean his talented digits.

"How much did you pay the madame?" You nuzzle into his neck, relying on him to hold you up. He kisses your shoulders, his beard tickling your skin as his hands roam your front.

"Long enough. You sick of me already, darling?"

Don't think that's possible, you thought with a loose grin. Vander groans into your mouth as you grab his chin and kiss him.

"Don't flatter yourself, baby."

Vander looks younger when he rests. Not like a boy again, just younger. The lines on his face were less prominent and the softness of his body was more inviting. You're tracing mindless shapes into his chest, chastising the city of Zaun for beginning its morning cycle. The noises from beyond the window are beginning to shift from the noisy nightlife of hookers calling for Johns and booming music from clubs to the food stalls opening and wagons being pulled along the worn-down roads.

You can hear the thudding of Vander's heart under your ear. It squeezes your own so you lift your head and gaze down at him, just taking him in from a new angle. The door clicks and Vander's brows pinch but he does not stir. He trusts you enough to rest. For you to keep vigil over him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" his voice drawls like a thick caramel. A seductive purr with a certain husk that tingles your senses. The tall, lanky, man enters the room and he is shameless as he takes the both of you in.

"He paid for the whole night, not the day." Silco comments. "He gets a pass on good behavior. What do you need?" Vander's hand is carefully guided to hold one of the pillows and you carefully move to stand.

Silco takes in the sight of you. Moving forward, he grasps your chin in his hand and tilts your head back; "He's always been such a possessive man."

"Yeah? He marked you up like this too?" He regards you with a tepid glance. "Sir," you add smoothly. Giving him a half-hearted grin.

It works. Silco's eyes soften, just slightly but it's a crutch you're leaning on. He likes you more than he'd like to admit and you're beginning to feel guilty for all these emotions brewing inside of you for these two brothers-in-arms.

"Did you learn anything from tonight, (Y/N)?" Silco looks past you to Vander. Turning his voice into a whispering tone that feels more romantic than he probably intended it to.

You contemplate telling him. Pursing your lips for a second before you lean in and embrace Silco, pressing your lips up his jaw and whispering in his ear.

"He's friends with the Sheriff. Grayson. But he worries." "About?" Silco's hands wrap around your waist, shadowing Vander's marks with his own. "He worries about the fresh meat she has on her team. Piltover's steady now but one incident and he doubts he'll be able to keep the peace, no matter how hard Grayson tries. The children," you pause and he turns his head to look at you. You gulp thickly, then continue: "The eldest daughter, Vi, she's getting restless. Dangle bait and she'll bite."

Silco stares for a moment. You take him in, unable to stop the grin that crawls on your face as he presses a long kiss to your lips.

"Well done, (Y/N)." His praise had once been something akin to a drug to you, a high you desperately needed to keep your doubts at bay. A soothing coolness that'll keep this rage inside of you to a lukewarm temperature; the promise that Piltover will soon fall to its knees to Zaun had been your motivation to live for years now.

Yet, your chest tightens and your stomach twists as his words wash over you.

"Of course, sir."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #male!reader #ftm re #ftm reader #transmale reader #vander x reader #vander x yn #vander x male reader #arcane x reader #arcane x yn #arcane x male reader

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that-1-gay-writer · 3 days

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Harvey x Trans!man reader (HEADCANONS)

A/N: BY CONTINUING TO READ YOU ARE ABY CONTINUING TO READ YOU ARE ALLOWING YOURSELF TO READ NSFW CONTENT AND THAT IS ONES ONLY WARNING, THANK YOU, AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN. ALSO I GUESS CALL THIS A COMING OUT POST BECAUSE FOR 3 YEARS I SUCESSFULLY HID THAT IM A TRANS MAN. NOW IM UNVEILING THAT TO YOU ALL. SO YIPPIE I GUESS. ALSO SORRY FOR JOT REALLY GETTING TO REQUESTS OR FINISHING OTHER DRAFTS. HARVEY IS LITERALLY ROTTING MY BRAIN-K🍃💚

Disclaimers: readers genitalia is called "boy cunt," or "boypussy,". Praise kink, size kink, hand kink, roleplay, uhm there might be more but idk. I did not proofread this before posting it. I just wanted to make content

EDIT ♡♡ (5/28/23):

I have proofread and edited it even adding more there you go loves

SFW: AFTERCARE HCS ARS UNDER THE NSFW STRIP

-Harvey was proud of his beautiful husband. No matter what people tried to say about him. Harvey loved his beautiful boy.

-he definetley kisses your hand in public, he will take you on cute dates too.

-if you wear binders (so before top surgery) he will definetley remind you to take it off, and he will help putting it on. He also buys you new ones when the time occurs.

-he always helps with T-shots, but if you use T-Gel then he just helps put it on your shoulders. He dosent touch it because he knows it could mess with his T levels too.

-he bakes for you, and cooks for you. If its been a long day and he was just making model planes and hasn't seen you all day, he makes sure you have dinner ready for you; along with a shower, freshly dried clothes, and bed sheets.

-on days where your dysphoria is very bad, he compliments you, and will provide you large clothing, such as his own.

- "Please my handsome boy, don't say that about yourself. You're a real boy, and I see you as such. You're my husband and nothing will change that." Definetley accompanied by many kisses inbetween his words.

-he helps you shave. Since hes experienced with it. Your first shaving experience on your face was with Harvey, and he provided comfort, support and help the entire way through.

-Harvey is the tallest man in the valley so clearly he was taller than you. He enjoyed how small you where so when you and him cuddle he coddles you in his arm and caressing your face as he kisses your cheeks, forehead, and nose.

NSFW:

-The first time he fucks you was your wedding night, and damn it was a great first time on your end.

-the foreplay was crazy, the way he teased your boy cunt made you tremble and shudder.

-"Oh pretty boy, this pretty boy pussy is taking my fingers so well. Do you think you're ready for my cock?" Oh and you know his voice was so condescending, so teasing but all for you.

-he enjoys giving rather than receiving, and when he eats you out, oh his words are dirty, he laps at you like a starving man. Always claiming about how wonderful you taste, how gorgeous you look.

-"Oh god, my love. You look so gorgeous. I just want all of this beautiful boycunt, its so pretty. It tastes as good as it looks, and my God I can't get enough." He groans out, as his hands on your hips start moving, making you grind against his tongue. He knew it made you see stars.

-he is older, so his stamina is pretty well however when he cums, it takes him a while to recover. He gets so very sensitive. And will start moaning and begging you to make him cum again if you start teasing him.

-when you ride him. God his green eyes are rolling back. You had to check in on him a few times because of how good you were doing.

-"fuck darling I'm gonna cum inside of you're pretty pussy. Oh god the way you roll your hips. I cant take anymore," he wines out and trembles. He tries to look like he's okay, but God he feels like he's in heaven.

AFTERCARE♡:

-he fucks for you. Like he never had a real sex drive, sure he experminted in college and what not. But you changed that completely

-he kisses all over your neck, shoulders, face, and chest when he fucks you. Anywhere his mouth can latch. Trust it is, he loves kissing all over your body.

-he is an absolute king of after care. Like bath ready you don't have to do anything he will do everything for you.

-if you show any sort of hence of pain he will start slowly massaging whatever it is that is in slight pain

-he cuddles you, and spoons you. He loves you with every fiber of his being and he only wants the best for you, and will give the best to you.

-constantly reassures you about how good you did for him and how wonderful he feels, and about how he lobes you for more than just your body.

-"Even as wonderful as it is, your body is not the only reason I love you. I love you for you, and for every part of you. Head to toe, inside and out, I love you, my pretty husband"

#male reader #that1gaywriter #stardew valley #transmale reader #harvey x male farmer stardew #stardew harvey

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vividc4ndy · 16 days

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Ughhhhh (Cries in stomach ache.)

You guys liked my Qin stuff, soo....

Qin with a transmale reader on his cycle. (This is all pre-t and pre-surgery, bare with me. Also modern-ish because I wasn't around for ancient China.)

Dude is SO supportive, it's insane. He's devoted to you, naturally, so he makes sure your life is as easy as possible. "My darling, shh shh, it's alright." Has you laid on top of him with a heating pad between you.

Despite the fact he's literal royalty, he likes doing everything for you, instead of servants. "Why let them do it? You're my responsibility, I get to care for you."

Qin definitely takes baths or showers with you, helps you clean up in a respectful way...even if he does stare from time to time. How couldn't he? You're just so perfect.

He will get you literally anything you want, skies the limit. Chocolate? It's yours, which kind? Oh, you want a stuffed animal? Of course, but only if you cuddle with him, too.

Qin refuses to leave your side unless it's to get/prepare you something. Seriously, with how attached to you he is, you'd think you're dying. (He'd never let you ♡)

Also don't forget the gender affirmations! "You'll get through this, you're a strong man." - "What makes you think you're a girl? What, because you're bleeding? Does that make every warrior a girl? No? Exactly. Hush, my love."

Overall 10/10, incredible lover.

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shanesboyfriend · 1 year

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Like the Sun (Sam x Reader)

been thinking about sam a lot lately. hope you enjoy!!

Sam x transmale!Reader (he/him)

Summary: You tried to figure out how to say this, if you wanted to say it at all. Everything could go wrong. He'd be the first person in the valley to know you were trans. That scared you. "If I tell you, you'll hate me." You settled on. "And I can't... I can't-"

WARNING: transphobia (not by Sam), semi-suggestive themes (16+)

"You're comfy." You mumbled sleepily, curling more against Sam's chest. The two of you had been tentatively dating for a few weeks now. You'd dated people before, sure, but Sam was different. You wanted to take things slow with him. The two of you had been friends for a few seasons now and the last thing you'd wanted was to ruin that. So, the two of you were friends first and dating second. You'd watch him attempt his kickflips when you weren't busy with work and visited him at work. He invited you to play Solarian Chronicles with him, Sebastian, and Abigail and snuck you into his room some nights.

He was warm, like the sun, and had energy and charisma you could barely keep up with. A part of you always worried if, one day, you'd be caught in his light and burned up to ash if you stared at him too long.

But right now, listening to the sound of whatever movie he'd chosen to watch, you tried not to worry about that.

Sam blinked down at you where you lay curled up like a baby in his lap. You sat on his thighs with your legs curled up and your head tucked into his neck. His arms were around your waist to keep you from falling off. You loved being held by him. Definitely one of the top experiences of your life.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice was soft, almost surprised by the sentiment. "It's cause I'm in a sweatshirt, huh?" He teased, kissing the top of your head.

You nodded sleepily. "Mmhm. You should gimme it when I go home. Bet it'll smell like you..."

Sam blushed. "Y-yeah, alright. I can do that..."

It was nearing the middle of Fall so warm clothes would definitely be appreciated. Them coming from Sam just made them all the better. He always smelled good too but maybe you were a little biased.

You sat up slowly, straddling his thighs and gazing down at him. Soft blue eyes focused on you, not a second thought spared for the movie. He looked soft with his blush-warmed cheeks littered with freckles. His eyes were like the ocean in summer, bright and beautiful. You felt overwhelmed, running your hands through his gelled blonde hair, careful of his ear piercings. "You're beautiful." You said softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Sam lit up with a bright smile. "Really?" He seemed surprised. "Yoba, I never- I've never-"

"You're beautiful," you repeated again. Sam's face softened and you kissed each of his cheeks.

He took the sides of your face in his hands, the metal of his rings chilling you a bit. "Is it okay if I kiss you?" Sam's voice was soft, almost inaudible over the sounds of the movie behind you.

The two of you hadn't kissed yet. It wasn't for lack of wanting it but simply because you were worried how it'd progress. You weren't out yet. Everyone in town addressed you as a man and no one batted an eye because they didn't know different. You were worried how the town would take it if they found out. But the idea of Sam finding out and being disgusted by you made you hesitate whenever initiating any kind of intimacy with Sam.

Like if you took things slow, it'd hurt less when he broke up with you.

"You may." You choked out anyways. When his lips met yours, you felt yourself burning up. He was bright, beautiful, and you didn't deserve him.

His hands rested on your waist, one hand traveling up to hold the back of your head as you kissed. You placed your hands on his shoulders and let yourself melt, like a pile of molten lava in his hands.

You loved him. You loved him. And the realization of this nearly made you burst into tears.

When the two of you finally separated, Sam stared up at you like you'd hung all the stars in the skies. His expression changed to one of concern. "What's wrong?" His hands were suddenly on your face, wiping your cheeks.

Guess you did burst into tears.

"You- You're-" You tried, words dying in your mouth. "You're so-"

Sam gave you a nervous look, running his hands through your hair in a soothing motion. "Look, I know I'm not that good a kisser. What's wrong?" He asked, looping his arms around your waist and clasping his hands behind your back.

You tried to figure out how to say this, if you wanted to say it at all. Everything could go wrong. He'd be the first person in the valley to know you were trans. That scared you. "If I tell you, you'll hate me." You settled on. "And I can't... I can't-"

"I could never hate you!" Sam interrupted, looking aghast. You had to avert your eyes. Looking at the sun always blinded those who stared too hard. "Babe, what's-"

"But you could hate me and that's- that's what scares me." You sniffed, more tears falling out of your control. You couldn't even register the pet name - that was definitely new, neither of you had done that until now - as your tears began falling faster, harder. "I can't- I can't lose you Sam. But I'm scared to- to tell you..."

Sam was quiet as you spoke. Then, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips and you felt your eyes flutter closed. "I mean... only reason I could hate you is if you, like, killed someone? But even then, I know you'd only be pushed to that if you had to. So my first question would probably be 'what did they do' rather than 'what have you done.'" That made you smile a bit. A sight Sam relished in.

You took a slow, deep breath. If you didn't do it now, you'd never do it. And Sam at least deserved to know the truth before he got more invested in you. "I'm trans." You said, squeezing your eyes closed. Here it came. He was going to dump you and tell the whole town and you'd have to move away again and-

"Alright. But what's got you so upset?" Sam asked, his tone filled with worry.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to stare at him. You opened and closed your mouth for a minute, stunned. "Sam, I'm trans."

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, you said."

"Doesn't that... bother you?"

Sam blinked at you, looking as stunned as you were. "No? Why should it?"

Your chest clenched and you felt like it was hard to breath. A wave of emotions hit you and you started crying again, burying your face in his neck now as you sobbed. Sam held you close though, quickly whispering soft reassurances in your ear. He could never hate you for that, he said. He loved you for you, you being trans wasn't a dealbreaker for him...

And so you told him.

You told him about your family. How you'd moved to Zuzu City from Grampleton because your parents weren't supportive of you. "You'll always be our little girl." Your moms cold voice echoed in your mind at the memory of the last fight. "Nothing you do will change that."

"She sounds like a bitch." Sam frowned, brow furrowing.

A soft giggle crawled its way from your throat, smiling at him. You clutched the soft material of the sweatshirt he wore, a thoughtful look on your face. "My friends at the time dropped me when they found out." You said softly. Sam's grip on you tightened. "They didn't waste time telling everyone in school too. I had to move in with my aunt in Zuzu City because my parents wanted nothing to do with me." You choked back a sob.

Sam held you close, a hand on the back of your head as his other hand rubbed slow circles into your back. He didn't say anything though, letting you let it all out.

"S-so then came the issue of my grandfather's will. H-he'd left the farm to me but my mom wanted to give it to my brother. S-so as soon as I turned eighteen I claimed it and- and I moved here a few years later... H-here I am." You chuckled wetly. "Twenty and living on a farm and- and crying all over the local rockstar."

The blonde snorted, kissing the side of your head. "Hey, I don't mind. You're only, like, a year younger than me." Sam nuzzled you, rubbing his cheek against your temple. "And I'm not gonna just drop you 'cuz you're trans. You're- I love you for you."

You clung to Sam helplessly. Like if you let go he'd disappear.

Sam continued rubbing circles in your back. The two of you sat in comfortable silence. A thought came to Sam and he smiled to himself. Carefully, he lifted you up into his arms and blushed at the soft squeal of surprise you let out. "Sam?" You asked as he carried you towards his room.

"Trust me." He said simply, opening the ajar door with a bump of his hip. Then, with his foot, he shut the door. Slowly, he lowered you to the bed and you stared up at him, his blonde hair illuminated by the sun leaking through the open bedroom window.

"Sam, I don't- What are we-?" You stuttered nervously. Your legs were still clamped down on either side of his hips and a rush of anxiety hit you.

Sam blinked before a blush returned to his face. "Oh! No- um, nono that's not what-" He sat on his knees with a nervous chuckle. "No, um. We're not- Not right now anyways."

You felt your heart lurch at that.

"Take your shirt off." Sam asked, blue eyes making you feel trapped under his gaze. He looked holy, the light giving him an almost-halo appearance. Your angel, bright as the sun.

You trusted him, like he'd asked you to. Your shirt came off slowly to reveal your binder underneath. Sam lowered himself on his hands over you with a warm smile. Somehow, even with the light no longer shining behind his head, he was still as bright as ever to you.

"What are you... what are you gonna do?" You asked quietly, wrapping your arms around your torso, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Sam pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "I want to show you how much you mean to me." His voice was low in your ear and made you shudder. "How handsome you are."

You went to protest but you were cut off by Sam kissing his way down from your cheek to your neck. You felt yourself heat up under his attention, his fire-hot hands running up and down your skin. He took your cold hands in his hands and tugged them gently away from your chest, pinning them on either side of your head. Instinctively, you tightened your legs around his waist. "Sam-"

"Easy," he said softly, kissing over your collarbone. Every spot he touched you felt burnt. "You deserve to be told you're perfect. Deserve to be shown..." Sam mumbled between kisses. At one point, he bit down softly on your neck and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from making a sound.

Sam giggled impishly into your neck and you felt your blush only worsen. "S-shut up..." You mumbled, no anger behind your words.

"You're my favorite, y'know that?" Sam said, voice quiet and meant just for you. You looked away from him, his gaze too much for you. But he didn't let you go far, cupping your cheek to turn your head back to face him. "I mean it. You're my favorite farmer in the whole valley. Favorite person even." Now Sam looked bashful, trying not to grin when you trembled.

Slowly, the hand not holding your face trailed down your torso, the featherlight touch making you shudder more. "Tickles," you whined softly.

Your boyfriend just snickered, pulling you more onto his lap, your legs practically wrapped around the middle of his back now. He leant down to kiss your stomach, working his way up - not even hesitating to kiss on the binder over your chest, like it was natural - to kiss your lips again. "You're perfect." Sam said plainly, like it was fact.

Covering your face with your hand made Sam whine, like a kicked puppy. "Don't hide your face, it's my favorite face." He pouted dramatically.

You scrunched your face up as you removed your hands, putting them on Sam's shoulders contemplatively. An idea struck you. "Gimme your sweatshirt."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I don't have anything on underneath, y'know."

"Good," you mumbled, leaning up to kiss his lips. "Let's trade spots."

Sam lit up, happily shedding the article of clothing to pass to you. When you kissed him again, your own hands running down his chest, you felt yourself burning to ash.

And you liked it.

#puppy writes sam #stardew valley #sdv fanfic #sdv sam #puppy writes transmale!reader #sdv sam x reader

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