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miss-vanta-likes-to-write · 2 months ago

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*deep sigh* I was, as always, inspired by @ilostthewar , aka Baby Moth. This is that post right here.

This got pretty long and I sorta like it. And I will be writing this in multiple parts because I am a sucker for porn with plot.

Title: Soap found her

18+ poly omegaverse 141 x reader

You had known Soap, or Johnny, as he insisted you call him for all of three months. He is one of the few omegas on base, and it's nice to have the comraderie. You work in the civilian and contractor sector, doing intelligence and all of the alphas and betas annoy you. They normally do their best to either coddle you or assert their dominance. So when you meet Johnny, it's like a breath of fresh air.

It starts off slowly at first. Lunch together, you bring him things that you make to share. He's particularly fond of your cooking but is head over heels for the sugary treats you give him. You don't notice how there are two other alphas and a beta watching you two, as you whisper and laugh about things only omegas would get. Next comes deliberate plans to hang out away from base. You invite him to your flat, it's cozy, and you show him the rows of shelves and baskets and trunks full of nesting things. Blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and fabric softeners and scent sprays. You explain that you change your nest and the theme of the nest monthly, just one life's little pleasures.

Johnny likes that your place is cute and kitschy and that you don't use the big lights in any room and opt for various soft fairy lights. Back on base in his pack's home, the guys notice that Johnny is redoing his own nest. He's added led strip lights, fairy lights, and softer more delicate blankets and pillows. He comes back home one day and gives each of his pack mates a squishmallow to cuddle and sleep with, really drench it in their scents before it goes into his nest. Price and Simon don't think much of the change, and they only notice when Kyle says, "Johnny doesn't normally feed into these types of behaviors."

This causes the three of them to watch their omega a bit closer. The only thing they notice is that Johnny has made a new omega friend, and any unease they had is quelled.

The fourth month comes of you and Johnny knowing each other, and now you're both very close. He has a key to your place and swings by often. So much so that your home carries his scent and the trace scent of the alphas and beta from his pack. You and him do everything that pack omegas would do, together! Things such as shopping for nesting materials, visiting omega only cafés (and you're shocked truly that he hasn't done something like that), he's even gone shopping with you for heat toys to prepare for your upcoming heat (the look he gives you during that trip was one you couldn't really decipher. But his cheeks were pink often).

So much time being spent together means that things...tend to sync up.

Johnny is the first to notice it when his heat is a week late. He confirms that he's not been accidentally pupped by his pack (they are all very careful with not getting him pregnant). The doctor laughs at him and says with a smile on his face, "Your body is probably trying to sync up with a new pack mate."

Johnny is shocked with news, and it's even more true when you start complaining about your own heat not showing up.

"Johnny, I went and saw my primary. She said my hormones are okay, but my body is preparing for a heat soon... Do you think we synced up?" You whisper on the phone with him. It's a bit later in the evening and you've been worried all day since your own appointment. Your heat was due two weeks ago. "I won't be able to make it back to my family in time to be looked after."

"Well, bonnie Bunny." He says quietly, he's laying in his own nest. Simon's shirt fits loosely on him, and the sweats he stole from Gaz fit for the most part. He's got his face in the stuffed animal that smells like cigar smoke and teakwood and notes of the expensive cologne that Price likes to sometimes wear. "My own doctor thinks we're synced up, haven't told my pack yet, but the doctor is suggesting that my team and I be benched until the new break through heat comes."

"Oh Johnny, I'm so sorry." You whimper. "I didn't think this would happen -"

"Nothing to say sorry for bonnie." His voice is low, "I think it's a good thing. I've finally got the push to ask you if you want to, uh...formally meet my pack. They know your scent, and they like it." He chuckles at the memory of Simon inhaling the lingering scent of you from a pillow case he took for his own nest. Another thing that close omegas did was share nesting items and comfort each other.

You're silent for a moment, and it worries him. There's a sigh, it's dreamy in a way, "I'll admit, seeing you with those three on base was nice. I may be respectful, but I'm not blind."

He's grinning like the Cheshire cat. Johnny has always wanted another omega in the pack, but most omegas were either afraid of Simon or put off by Price (he's a bit of a control freak). They also didn't want to be brought into a military ran pack with the chance of one of them randomly getting killed in action. It's fate really that both of your bodies decided to sync up like airpods.

The next morning at the breakfast table, before they all get pulled in different directions for the day, Johnny sets down his lab reports in front of Price. He's not daft. He knows that they know his heat is late. Kyle had made a mention of it in passing that he had stocked up on everyone's favorite snacks and whatnot and that they have not used them yet. At the time Johnny just shrugged, feeling sluggish but nowhere near ready or wanting to be knotted and fucked stupid.

Price raises an eyebrow as he sips his coffee, "You had an appointment and didn't tell us?" He seems a bit hurt. Like if something was wrong with any of his boys, his loves, he would have noticed it. Sure, Johnny's heat was late, but that's happened before when he was stressed over a mission or the outcome of a mission. He chalked it up to the last op they were on, nasty work, but they all made it back in one piece.

"Yeah." Johnny makes himself a plate of food and grabs the orange juice from the fridge. "Been feeling off lately, and it's a new break through heat cycle forming."

This time, it's Simon who snorts. He's not one for random changes. He remembers when his father would have random changes to his rut, and it always meant that he had been cheating on his mom. He really doesn't want to assume the worst right away. "What are you trying to say, Johnny?"

"I want you guys to meet my friend." He says with a small smile, "The friend that smells like toasted marshmallows and sugar cane."

The guys all perk up about that bit of information. The air in the room seemed to be charged with anticipation. Common knowledge that omegas tended to keep their omega friends separate from their packs to avoid issues. Their darling Johnny had found a friend, a new pack mate, and was trying to gauge if they would all accept her. Kyle is the first to break the silence.

"Well." The chair creaks as he leans back in it. In thought, "Is she the reason your cycle has been thrown off, and is that stack of papers from your doctor about to bench us until your break through heat is over?"

He feels a bit sheepish at being called out. "I really like her, and I've been to her house and seen her nest and I'd like to show her mine" he rattles off hastily, "nothing has happened besides us hanging out, and you guys like her scent and well..." Johnny thinks over his next words carefully. He doesn't want to offend his mates, and he doesn't want to put them on the spot. The deep sigh he lets out is long and he listens as John shifts through the doctor orders and suggestions about being benched while waiting for a new heat cycle to happen.

"Tell us Johnny." Kyle reaches over and grabs his hand lovingly. "We won't be mad."

"I get lonely sometimes and normally I can keep a good balance but sometimes you just need that extra bit to make it whole and I think she's that extra bit that could make, me- us whole." He quickly corrects, but everyone already heard.

The reality that Johnny wanted another omega in the pack settled on everyone. It was sudden but understandable. Two alphas and a beta (who leaned more towards being an alpha sometimes) could be a bit much on one omega. They didn't need to think it over, just feeling the dull scent of honey apples coming from him says it all.

John looks up from the papers and smiles gently, "Sure, we'll meet her and go from there." Getting up, he downs the rest of his coffee and moves to put his dishes away. "I'll get the paperwork put in for stand-by medical leave for us. Pick someplace comfortable for you and her, you little muppet."

Johnny can only grin about this change of events.

He's also very excited to experience a synced heat with another omega in his pack. But he's not the only one if the dreamy look on Kyle's face and how Simon looks to be excited is anything to go by.

#black!reader #call of duty fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty fic #john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #poly 141 x reader #omegaverse!cod #abo!call of duty #abo!cod #alpha!john price #alpha!Simon Riley #beta!Kyle Garrick #omega!Johnny MacTavish #omega reader #abo!141

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ferrstappen · 2 months ago

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dad of three l dad! max verstappen imagine

a/n: sooo max is officially a dad 😭😭 so I picked up the draft of my dad!Max series with the twins which you can find here! I hope you like it and let me m ow if you have some ideas!

summary: baby verstappen nº3 is here, and the twins are now happy with the idea.

It had been a quiet morning, at least by the new Verstappen household standards.

The Monaco penthouse, usually alive with the squabbling of six-year-old twins and the occasional feline disaster, was unusually peaceful. The cause of this rare tranquility? The arrival of Baby Lia had everyone mesmerized, literally and metaforically having everyone wrapped around her little finger.

Youcradled the newborn in your arms, gently rocking her in the nursery Max had insisted on painting himself. Pale pink walls, soft grey furniture, and a mobile of tiny stars that the twins helped assemble.

“You’re not even crying today,” you murmured, brushing a soft kiss on Lia’s forehead. “It’s like you know I needed a break, what a smart baby, yes you are.”

Footsteps padded down the hallway, fast and energetic. Then came the crash of something toppling over. The twins ready to disrupt the quiet.

“Mila!” Luca’s voice rang out, shrill and dramatic. “You almost dropped her bunny!”

“It’s not my fault Jimmy knocked it down!” Mila huffed back.

You sighed, smiling despite the quiet moment gone. The calm had lasted exactly twelve minutes.

You stepped into the hallway with Lia, just in time to see Jimmy dart out from under the baby’s toy box with a fluff of pink clutched between his teeth.

“Mama!” Mila wailed, dramatic tears already forming. “Jimmy stole Lia’s bunny!”

“Yes, because you dropped it, Mila!” Luca reprimanded his twin.

Before you could intervene, Max’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Jimmy! No stealing from the baby!”

Max appeared, wearing sweatpants, a Red Bull hoodie, and holding two sippy cups. He looked equally amused and tired. parenthood in a nutshell.

“Crisis averted?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I think Jimmy wants attention,” you replied, bouncing Lia gently. “He’s jealous, he probably thought it was only going to be the twins forever.”

Max chuckled, scooping up the cat and plopping him into Luca’s arms. “That’s what happens when you’ve ruled the house for years. Then babies come and steal your spotlight. Tough life.”

“And what about Sassy?” You asked Max.

Max glanced toward the back of the couch where Sassy lounged with the disinterest of a feline queen, which of course she was. “She’s plotting our demise, probably.”

You snorted, the vibrations of your body earning a smile from Lia.

The twins came running, now united in their mission: cooing at their baby sister.

“Can I hold her again?” Mila asked, reaching for Lia’s tiny hand.

“No, me first!” Luca insisted, already positioning the couch pillows for support just like Max had shown them.

You sighed again, this time with a full heart. You remembered the day you told the twins about the pregnancy, Luca had declared he didn’t want “a baby stealing his toys,” and Mila had spent the afternoon sulking because “babies are boring.” And both of them had tried really hard to stop the baby’s arrival.

Now? They were obsessed.

It was later that weekend in Miami when Max found himself being cornered in the paddock for an interview with Sky Sports Netherlands.

“So Max,” the interview began in Dutch, “congratulations again on the new addition to the family! How are things going at home with three kids now?”

Max grinned, hands in his pockets. “Chaotic. Loud. Exhausting… Perfect.”

The interviewer laughed. “And the twins? How are Mila and Luca adjusting? I remember they weren’t too pumped when we crossed paths a few months ago.”

Max didn’t hesitate. “Honestly? I thought they’d hate it. When we told them (Y/N) was pregnant, Luca wanted to move out.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Mila made us sign a paper saying we’d still play Barbie games with her even after the baby came. They were so in denial that we got a call from their teacher.”

The small group of journalists laughed.

“But now?” Max continued. “They’re obsessed. They follow Lia around like bodyguards. Luca brings her toys she can’t even use, Mila sings to her. They fight about who gets to hold her. I think I’ve held her less than both of them.”

“And the cats?” The interviewer teased. “I hear Jimmy and Sassy have opinions.

“Oh, Jimmy’s a menace. He tries to sleep in the crib,” Max said, his tone fond. “Sassy’s smarter, she gives Lia a five-foot radius. She watches from a distance like she’s evaluating her for royal court or something which is very entertaining.”

There was more laughter.

“Sounds like a full house.”

Max nodded. “It is. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Back home, the house was quieter than usual.

With Max in Miami, you were managing the trio on your own. Your mother had offered to stay, but you politely declined, liking the rhythm and evolving routine; early mornings with Lia after the twins left to school, midday chaos with the twins, and long, quiet evenings watching Max on the TV while feeding the baby.

You curled onto the couch, baby Lia nestled in a wrap on your chest, Mila curled up beside you, and Luca was completely knocked out from building a Lego fortress with a secret baby princess chamber, which he assured was for both Lia and Mila.

Max’s interview played in the background. “Luca wanted to move out,” Max said on the screen, laughing.

You giggled, watching Luca’s face twitch in sleep as if he’d heard his name.

The moment made your heart ache with pride and love.

Two days later, Max came home.

The door opened quietly, he’d learned not to make noise just in case Lia was sleeping, but before he could take a step in, Mila barreled into him.

“Papa!” she squealed.

Max laughed, lifting her with one arm and dropping his bag with the other. Luca followed, hugging Max’s waist.

You appeared at the end of the hall, holding Lia with one hand and balancing a bottle in the other. “Hello babe, the house didn’t burn down.”

He met you halfway, kissing you deeply, letting his hand rest over Lia’s tiny head. “Missed you,” he whispered on your lips.

“She missed you too. She kept staring at the TV every time you talked.”

“She’s a Verstappen, she knows good racing.” Max bragged, a habit he picked since the twins were born was now at its peak after the birth of Lia. “Plus, she was conceived the night I won the fourth so she knows what’s good.” Max whispered the last part so the twins wouldn’t hear.

Later that night, the five of you, cats included, were on the bed.

Mila had brought her blanket, Luca had brought snacks which were promptly confiscated by Max. Jimmy snuggled into Max’s feet while Sassy stared at the baby with mild disapproval.

Lia gurgled softly between you, wearing a pale pink Red Bull onesie Max had been gifted by the team.

“I can’t believe we made her,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered back, brushing his thumb along Lia’s little hand. “She’s perfect.”

“I was so scared,” you admitted. “I thought adding another baby would ruin the balance and let’s be honest, we never really thought about having another baby, we were just desperate to celebrate your championship.” You giggled, remembering the night.

Max turned to you, cupping your cheek. “You were right to be scared. But we didn’t ruin anything. We just… added more love.”

Luca yawned. “Papa, can Lia come to the next race?”

Max smiled. “Not yet, buddy. But soon.”

Mila curled next to her mother. “She needs earmuffs with her name printed, like the ones we use when we go see daddy race.”

“She’ll have them,” Max promised. “We’ll get her baby-sized ones.”

You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading like sunlight.

“I know we have enough but… I think we need a new cat.” Max proposed.

You snorted. “Excuse me?”

Max shrugged. “It’s only fair! The twins have Jimmy and Sassy, Lia deserves her own.” Your husband worked his beautiful blue eyes on you.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” You said, knowing this fight was already lost.

“Mila was also talking about a puppy after meeting Leo.”

“Max!”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #dad!max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen au #max verstappen fluff #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #max verstappen

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norcigs · 16 days ago

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SAME TIME? (CAM BUNNY .ᐟ ᢉ𐭩 pt 3)

previous part series masterlist

synop: you and lando explore your connection a bit furthur

warnings: smuuut, with plot, dom!lando, sub!reader, m and f masterbating, praise, vry light degrading, some pet play, use of bunny whore slut doll and others, ownership

🍸: 5.1k words (spoiling you guys)

his big hands sat steady and tight on your waist. you were straddling him, but he was keeping you still and up right while he pistoned his cock into you. he held you in position, leaning over top of him so he could bend his knees to fuck you better. he would pull down on your hips every so often to give you a harder thrust and hit that spot that drove you crazy. he didnt even need to look up, didnt need to see you– he knew he would finish far too quickly if he did. he stared straight ahead at his hands on his girls hips. fucking her like she needed him to. really, he didnt think about his own pleasure at all, once you started gripping at his shoulders and whining into his neck for more. he was concentrated. completely focused. his brows furrowed as he grunted under you, his muscles burned and he needed a rest. but he didnt care, even as a layer of sweat coated his whole body. he just kept fucking you. he just kept making you feel like only he could, you were his after all.

suddenly you were collapsing onto him, and you felt light as a feather. almost like you weren't there. with your face tucked into his neck he was able to see the room again. the lights were fuzzy… or was he that exhausted? he didn't feel your waist in his hands anymore. he saw that they were there, still in place, but he didnt feel them. he was a bit dazed but this felt different, like being lost in a house you've lived in your whole life.

he kissed your shoulder and allowed his hands to trail to your lower back before he let his eyes close. just a slow blink, but when his eyes opened again, you were gone. he wasn't naked anymore, and the harsh slap of reality came when he finally heard the blaring noise coming from his alarm clock.

this was the third night in a row lando had dreamed of you. he didn't mind it, the downside of waking up with a solid cock was outweighed by any time he got to spend with you. it was stupid, he knew that, having a crush on some random girl he knew nothing about. he just, he didn't care. for whatever reason, you were the thing his dick, mind, and heart, kept finding its way back too. and those three had never agreed on someone before.

he drove faster, he worked quicker, kept himself busy with things to do so the days he couldn't see you would pass. the frustration that bloomed from his dick made him brake later and hit more apexes. you made him better. people started asking “what’s happened to you” or “what changed” and his excuses were lame and not believable. especially when his engineers constantly had to snap him back into a conversation from his daydreaming.

this week started the european triple header. Emilia-Romagna first, with Monaco hot on its heels. preparation had been crazy, and while lando had been driving his best, his head wasn't exactly in it the whole time. his thoughts had shifted from eating you out to eating team dinners with you. he thought about bringing you with him to work, having you sit pretty and wait for him just incase he needed a kiss. he thought about having you in his arms any time he was talking to someone. your back pressed to his front, with his arms draped over your shoulders so no one ever doubted who you belonged to.

as he shut the door of his apartment behind him, his chest hummed with excitement. wednesday night. he gets to see his girl. today’s training was particularly sweaty so he got in the shower and got himself ready for you. washing his hair and cleaning under his nails like some school boy with a crush. choosing his pajamas with what he thought you might like in mind. his constant refreshing of your page throughout the week had, unsurprisingly, not magically caused you to appear. but tonight it would. you had a date. “same time wednesday” was the promise that echoed in his head as he laid his computer to the side waiting for that time to roll around.

his dick was already getting hard with want. desire filling him so far up he had to take deep breaths to slow his heart rate. he had to actively try and clear his mind as flashes of your tits, or hands, or wet cunt flickered through his thoughts like you were haunting him. or blessing him, or somewhere beautiful between the two. he opened his eyes with a sigh as he gave up on trying to will his cock to soften.

CAMBUNNY HAS JUST WENT LIVE!

the notification popped up in the top right corner of your profile and he clicked in with no hesitation. he was in too deep to play the nonchalant game. he was waiting for you, and he didnt care if you knew. hell, he was sitting in his apartment, alone, wearing the cologne he thought you would favor. your cam came up full screen, in the same position as last time, close to the bed. he had grown really fond of your fairy lights and barely pink painted walls. he felt a quick pang to his heart when he didn't see you on screen.

where are you baby? he asked himself in his head, almost pathetic. he heard a moment of static, like something being plugged in or turned on, and then your voice, sugary sweet and dripping with beauty.

“four?” you questioned from outside of the frame. you knew it was him, or at least assumed it was. broadcasting yourself live to anyone, and your first thought was of him. his cock standing up higher as he tried to not convince himself he owned you. but your obedience was making it really difficult.

HI BABY

he typed quickly, not wanting you huffy about slow responses. and you were fucking giggling. soft, and genuine, you giggled into the mic, at the pet name, or at whatever was causing you both to be so drawn to the other.

“you joined before i finished getting set up, gimmie one minute” every inflection you put into speaking sent a chill up his spine. you were so real, so individual, so exquisitely you.

TAKE YOUR TIME DOLL

“remember the surprise i told you about ?”

OF COURSE I DO

“okay well i have it on, but its nothing big, so, i just dont want you to be disappointed” your voice trailed off with that innocence that made lando want to kiss you gently or fuck you stupid.

TRUST ME, YOU COULD NEVER DISAPPOINT ME

a quick sigh escaped you, and he tried not to think about your heart racing, wanting to make him proud. it felt like time moved in slow motion as you finally breached the edge of the camera frame. first your hand and arms, bare. then as you slowly crawled to the center of your bed, revealing yourself, your surprise, his mouth dried up and dick pulsed like it might have a heart of its own.

a black leather body suit adorned your figure. the thick leather looked tight and pushed your breasts up where they might spill out if he had his way with you. it was strapless, collar bones on full display– a part of your body he was growing oddly fond of. his eyes trailed down at a snail's pace, like he could drink you in, or like, if he moved too quickly he might finish in his own shorts untouched. black tights under the garment came out and covered your legs, sheer enough to see skin, but modest enough to keep him guessing. crawling across the bed on all fours, back arching, you shook your butt just briefly to show off your tail. a white cotton puff sat right where your perky ass was hardly confined by the skimpy bodysuit. you moved to bend your knees and sit back on your ankles. the last detail finally in frame, a matching black leather collar with silver charms spelling BUNNY. stars pricked the outside of lando’s vision as he really tried to remain composed.

“well what do you think” your voice pulled his floating thoughts back to reality. he wanted to fucking eat you. or worship you. he wanted you bent over, pulling your hair, and giving him what he wanted. or he wanted to sit at your feet and beg you to let him taste your cunt. this tug of war his head played with only made his dick warmer and hips more eager.

YOU ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN

and he meant it. as his eyes traced over every inch of you begging to find a flaw. something that could stop his heart from only beating when it thought about you. he couldnt. you sat there, looking like a holy relic, asking him if he liked it? hands folded in your lap like the sweetest little thing. reaching up to move your hair over your shoulders to behind your back. gentle and graceful, showing more of your chest and shoulders. his lips tingled as he thought about leaving scattered kisses along the soft skin. he thought about taking his time with you, really savoring you, appreciating all that was his.

and you giggled at his message, air leaving your lungs like what he said was impossible. like you really didnt know how divine you were to him. like everytime he saw you, he didnt have to question whether or not you were a dream. like something painted by stars and carved by the moon.

“play with me” your soft voice threaded through your mic and straight to his soul. pouting with wet pathetic eyes he didnt even need to see. you were getting fidgety, as his admiring made time move a lot slower on his end.

GETTING NEEDY BUNNY?

“dont tease me, i got all dressed up for you” you whined. and his hand was wrapped around his dick before he could even blink. for him? you did this for him. he thought about his hand replacing your collar and teaching you what it really meant to be owned.

WANNA SHOW ME WHAT A GOOD GIRL YOU CAN BE?

your head was nodding quickly, shame leaving you as it shifted to heat in your face and clit.

GET YOUR TOY AND TURN AROUND

you reached under your pillow, visions flickered in his head as he thought about you desperately rutting against your vibrator late at night, shoving your own face in your pillow to keep quiet. you quickly shifted to have your butt facing the camera, leaning down and arching your back for him. the body suit had little latches where it could be undone right where he might need easy access to you. you laid down onto your elbows, letting you arch further. he could see you now. all of you. you faced away from him, so he couldnt see your face, but he could see your whole figure. all of you at once, the full picture finally completed. had he not been squeezing his tip like it might escape he would have finished like a virgin at nothing but your back arching.

your hands moved between your legs, and you separated the two clasps that held your body suit together over your cunt. pulling it up, he could see your glistening pussy. the tights were just sheer enough for him to see your clit, sweet slit, and the wet spot you left against the fabric. this was the first time he had seen your cunt, really seen it. next to the simmering desire in his belly, was a twist of possession. thats my girl, thats my fucking pussy.

HEAVEN

he told you simply. which is exactly what it felt like. the pool of warmth churning in his crotch was nothing compared to the euphoria he felt in his head at the sight of you. you breathed deeply, shaky and uncontrolled. he saw your hand reaching back to your his pussy with the vibrator now turned on. just as you rested it against the soft bud, burning with want, you saw his message.

DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO DO THAT BUNNY?

you shut it off and snapped the vibrator away from yourself as quickly as you could– not even hesitating. “n-no sir, m sorry” you whimpered, muffled slightly by your head hanging closer to the bed now. your ass pressed more towards the camera, hips straining like it hurt for him to not be there fucking you. obedient. it made his head spin. in your room, with your vibrator, and your cunt. listening to him. behaving.

“please four… please it– it hurts i need you” you clawed at the sheets in front of you. voice exasperated and he knew what you meant. he felt it too. like an itch so deep it could never be scratched. as good as this felt, as good as you looked, he wouldnt be completely satisfied until he felt his cock sink into your velvet pussy. until he placed his hands where your thighs met your hips and jerked your cunt back against him. your whining raked through him as he didnt have it in him to be mean to you anymore.

GO ON, PUT ON A GOOD SHOW FOR DADDY

he regretted calling himself that for a split second, until your moan roared back at him through his laptop. nodding your head and replacing the buzzing toy to your most intimate area. relaxing instantly your voice was a purr as you choked out soft moans from the pleasure. his dick found a steady rhythm, one he liked, until he noticed how your hips moved back and forth ever so slightly. rocking so gently, you could miss it, if you didn't watch with the care that lando did. you fucked yourself against your vibrator. even in this position, you couldnt help but think about being fucked like a whore. spread open around his cock, desperate to be controlled. now his hand matched your pace– though, if he ever got his hands on you, his pace would be a hell of a lot more ruthless than yours.

he spit on his own hand. something he hadn't done before alone, but his hand didn't feel nearly as good as your leaking cunt looked. he thought about how you might drool on his cock while you sucked him, before he pulled you off and used your pussy to finish. the unease he felt about his own spit on his dick left almost instantly as his pumps felt just a fraction more like what he thought your cunt would feel like. you were messy, tights ruined with wetness, as you let noises fall from your mouth and worked your clit like you were

MADE FOR ME

he told you. like most of his messages, he felt as if it went straight to your clit. between the blurry wetness of your tights he could see you clench around nothing. yearning for him.

“mhm made jus fo’you daddy” you slurred with none of the innocence he had become accustomed to. no, this was you at your most vulnerable. completely in the palms of his hands. yanking his dick at the thought of it, you telling him your pussy was made for him. like spreading your legs was all you ever wanted, turning your brain off and just letting him lay claim to you.

his dick was fucking twitching. what was it about you that drove him so fucking crazy. he couldnt hold himself together. the only solace being how your thighs clenched, and he knew your body well enough now to know you were just as close as he was.

CAN YOU DO ONE SETTING HIGHER FOR ME BABY?

your high pitched mmphm was completely lost to the pillow covering your mouth but your other hand clicking the smaller button on your toy was a good answer for him. he wanted, needed, you to feel good. to watch pleasure shriek through your body. he wanted you to feel the best you ever had– with him there. he wanted you to know only he could make you feel like this. wanted your body to lose itself and your mind to trust him enough to choose the stopping point.

you sounded pathetic. delicious, and entirely pathetic. you made noises that sounded more like scripture to lando. you looked like something he would kneel before and pray to. he pumped his cock to you. to the pace of your moans now, they were faster, more like how he would fuck your cunt. his eyes wanted to lull him under, sink into the vision of you really being ruined by his dick, so he could finish. but the idea of missing even a moment of the show you were giving him made his eyelids strain to stay open.

I KNOW BABY, ITS TOO MUCH FOR YOUR SWEET CUNT, I KNOW, JUST TAKE IT FOR ME BUNNY

he was talking you through it. the way your voice sounded ragged and losing the poise of your usual pretty little moans. you were gone. body completely at the mercy of your clit, at his mercy. he couldn't imagine anything being in your little head but his instructions. you sobbed at the almost overstimulation from your vibrator. his innocent little girl. like you hadn't ever experienced this much before… like you had never tried to allow yourself this level of euphoria. but with him, you listened, let him decide, you did as you were told. your slit was clenching more now, reading his messages, knowing you were in good hands, he had you.

“m so– cn i cum please four, can i cum for you” you begged as your body shook. asking him permission for when you were allowed to finish. like a pet. that same blush of pride swelled in his chest as you asked him to tell you what you could or couldn't do with your his body.

HOLD IT SLUT

he couldn't help himself. not when you were so willing to be broken. he hated being mean to you, really he did, but the way your body clenched and loosened like a whore; he couldn't help it. tsk tsk sweet thing, if you weren't such a nasty slut, daddy wouldn't have to be so mean to you. you did as he told you. bunched fists of your sheets as your body was nearly spasming trying to keep from finishing. sobs wrecked through you, as the pillow covering your mouth did little to muffle them now. completely fucking dazed you were mumbling “please” and “wan cum for you” like a manifestation. like the only thing that could make you finish was his fucking permission.

his dick burned, hot and angry against the inside of his fist. clenching tighter around his length like he thought your pussy would. he thought about bucking himself into you as you sobbed like this, completely out of control and in his hands. he thought about making you watch him destroy you. making you watch yourself beg him to destroy you. his hand pumped his cock with every bit of strength he had. watching you fall apart for him.

“four plea–”

LET IT GO BUNNY

your orgasm blared through your body like an earthquake. you shook and convulsed as you tried to keep yourself up right and your cunt open. the scream you let out was almost inhuman. you couldnt think anymore, fucked completely stupid, there was nothing in you except selfish pleasure. brain mushy as you had never pushed yourself this far before. your vision went hot and white. sensations spread from your cunt to the top of your head and bottom of your feet. you couldn't tell where one part of your body ended and the other began. vibrations waved throughout your stomach and left a buzzing feeling on your skin. dizzy as you clenched around your emptiness and moaned his number like a plea to your god.

watching you gently tip off the mountain he had carried you to, sent him diving off straight after you. hips straining up as he yanked thick spurts out of his cock. cumming with a grunt down his own pajamas. hand dragging to force more white from his tip. teeth gritted together as he watched you shake while you finished together. leaving this world, for one of more bliss, at the same moment, hand in hand. it was then, his balls pulsing with a primal hunger, he realized, you owned him. as much as he thought of your sweet cunt as his. his cock belonged to you. red with a heat only you commanded, weak with an ache only you could satiate. as his head slipped back into the bliss of his high he thought, fucking slut. but even he wasn't sure which of you two he was referring to.

your sobbed moans had softened now. still dreamy and collapsed onto your bed, lando came down quicker than you did. at least, he willed himself to. if he was the one getting you so lost, he wanted to make sure he was always there to carry you back home. it didn't seem fair to make you stupid and then tell you to think by yourself right after. no, he would take care of you until you were ready. still fluttering with his own high, he told you

DID SO GOOD FOR ME, MY SWEET THING

still whining and clenching up every now and then, you hummed with an air of ease.

LISTENED SO WELL AND MADE ME SO PROUD

“you drive me crazy” slurred out of you with a sleepy and perfectly drained voice. he lingered at the thought of how much of a mess you would be after he finished with you. after he gave you more than you ever thought you could take. how you might curl up onto his chest, just wanting to be as close as possible. he shook off the image of your hearts beating in sync with one another. he blinked away the thought of you perfectly fitting in all the places he didn't even know were empty. “did you. . .” you tried to finish, trailing off with that same innocence that curled around his ribs like smoke, sweet and suffocating.

DID I WHAT? NEED BIG GIRL WORDS.

this give and take, the pull to his push, your melody to his harmony, different beats but mixing to a beautiful song. the dynamic was unspoken and yet, natural. like lightning and thunder of the same storm. he lead, you followed, you performed, he watched, you spoke, he listened, he pushed, you obeyed. completing one another like a tale as old as time.

the pitiful hmph you responded with was maddening. “did you, y’know, like did you finish too” you asked, quick and shy. falling apart for him like a whore and then being embarrassed to ask if he finished. sweet fucking girl, what am i gonna do with you.

YOU THINK I COULD CONTAIN MYSELF WITH HOW YOU LOOK FOR ME RIGHT NOW?

your giggle was softer now, more gentle, with that tired, loopy look that drenched your whole form. “sometimes…” you adjusted to be sitting back on your ankles again “you talk about me…” you turned around to face him, breasts hardly kept in by the crooked bodysuit “like you own me” you finished.

lando dropped his head back to the top of the couch, eyes nearly rolling. because, he did, he did talk about you like that, and you knew it. his shoulders tensed for a second as your mouth parted to continue “...and” he stared as you cocked your head to the side “...it gets me really fucking worked up” you purred, sounding better than sex itself.

YOU'RE MINE, FEEL LIKE YOU WERE MADE JUST FOR ME.

he thought to stop there but the heat in his cheeks and post nut clarity took over and he added

I MISS YOU WHEN YOU'RE GONE

a glimpse at his heart. a moment too intimate to fall behind the “watcher, player” mask. the dynamic leaking deeper into both of your muscles than you tried to let it.

“i miss you when i'm gone” your tone a whisper of something, like a secret. both of you dancing on the edge of a blade. knowing this is wrong, dangerous even. but being too dissolved in the electricity to care about the current pulling you out too far.

lando thought he could cry. if all the lights were out, and this moment was frozen, maybe he would. a sizzling in his chest as you sat more relaxed, thinking that's his girl, she belonged to him. his eyes finally blinked after not realizing how long he had gone without one. his eyes darted around the screen, shy now, avoiding eye contact with your breasts. he saw a new button at the bottom of your layout.

WANT TO TIP CAMBUNNY?..<3

it read and he clicked it without hesitation. deciding how much was trickier than he thought it would be. it being too little wasn't really a fear, it was the other end of the spectrum that worried him. how much would scare you away? or make you ask questions? he wanted to give you his credit card and follow you around while you bought anything you wished for.

FOUR HAS TIPPED CAMBUNNY €500!

popped up in chat the second he hit send, almost embarrassingly fast.

MAYBE BUY SOMETHING PRETTY FOR ME?

he thought adding the prompt would make you feel more validated in accepting the money. he didn't want you to feel like you had to do anything extra in your streams since he paid you. he liked what you were comfortable with. and clearly you liked getting dolled up.

“wh- wait whoa thats way too much, how can i refund that?” you asked as you frantically moved towards the camera off your bed.

DONT. LET ME SPOIL YOU

“does that make this hotter for you, four” a smirk laced your tone as you teased him. he smiled at you like a dumb kid. each time you two did this together, the walls came down just that little bit further. the connection lighting a spark in a forest, waiting to catch on fire. “ok, but i don't want to end up on BBC with ‘man loses everything due to cam girl addiction’ as the headline” you finished with air quotes, teasing still.

I PROMISE NOT TO GIVE ANYTHING I CANT AFFORD

it was corny. flexing his wallet like he had something to make up for. he didn't. but maybe, this did make it hotter for him. treating you good, spoiling his girl, taking care of you. this was a part he liked just as much as what happened between your legs. this is what made laying awake missing your weight atop him a little easier. made thinking about kissing your tears away and telling you how much he loved you less heart breaking.

GOT TO TAKE CARE OF MY GIRL

my girl. his girl. my girl. his girl. my girl. his girl. separated by everything, yet repeating identical mantras in your heads as you thought about the other.

“do you– if you– are you free tomorrow?” you tried to choke back the stutter but he heard it. lapping it up. liking how he affected you, no matter the context. thursday before a race weekend… he wasn’t really free tomorrow. but part of them both knew he was never going to tell her no.

FOR YOU, ALWAYS

“i was just thinking i could maybe go live again tomorrow, even though it's off schedule” you said, sitting at what he assumed was the desk where your camera or laptop sat. chest fully in front of the camera, and he could see a little sliver of your chin at the top of the frame. the wall dropping. “like around the same time? 9 pm CET?” you questioned as your head stayed trained towards your chat box… waiting for him. going out on a limb and being scared he might snap it off.

I'LL BE HERE DARLING

soft pink crawled over your exposed skin as you huffed happily through your nose. your hand reached towards where you usually ended the stream. snapping it back like you realized something cosmically important.

“wait last thing–” you spoke quickly, hoping he hadn't already clicked off. the possibility of that had never even crossed his mind. “what's your favorite color?” you asked.

a more loaded question for lando than you likely intended. his fingers moved before his instincts. before he had the chance to catch himself, to reconsider. if his wall was dropping low enough you might be able to peek over it, he didn't seem to mind.

ORANGE

no hesitation either. really, his favorite color probably wasn't orange. but it was his color. as much as four was his number and you were his girl. if there was any chance of seeing you covered in orange, covered in him, he was taking it.

“got it” you whispered like you heard something he had never told anyone. like you would memorize anything he told you as if it was sacred. your hand raised steady to just outside of the camera’s view, right where he pictured your lips would sit. then, he heard a kissing noise followed by a ‘pop’ sounding like punctuation. extending your hand and blowing it towards the camera, towards him. he felt his cheek warm on the right side like it landed there. completely stupid, yet content at the idea, he raised his fingers to softly ghost over the spot and savor something invisible. your cam went dark and the screen flashed white

CAMBUNNY HAS ENDED HER LIVE!

slowly, he found the strength to walk back to his bathroom, wanting to clean himself off. despite this being the third time he was washing one pair of pants after just seeing you, lando was elated. buzzing and churning in a way he had never experienced. thinking about carrying you to the shower and washing your hair. thinking about leaving kisses in the shape of his 4 on your tummy. heart skipping at him remembering he can see you tomorrow. hands sweating so little he convinced himself they weren't, but you had told him 9PM CET, Central European Timezone. his timezone. you shared a timezone, somehow, despite that still meaning you could be thousands of miles away, it made you feel a little bit closer. like he could feel your warmth peaking over the skyline, like the sun might during sunrise.

#hope you guys arent bored of esex bc they arent!#day late so its twice as long #tell me you like it praise me !!!!!#kidding #kinda #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando smut #lando norris #lando x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1

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starshideurfics · 2 months ago

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plot bunny: omegaverse, steddie, escaping the jilted lover trope

Omega Steve who thinks he finally has it all figured out. He’s still a trust fund baby, a little flighty and used to getting what he wants, which includes successful, passionate, journalist alpha Nancy.

At least until Nancy is sent out of town, she’s covering a career-making story. While she’s away, she hires her own photographer, needs someone with a vision to match her own.

When she calls to tell Steve it’s over, that she’s moving out of their shared apartment and only wishes him the best, Steve spirals. Nancy had called while he was on his morning run, and he has a complete breakdown in Millennium Park, right in front of the bean.

They were together for three years! He thought she was planning to propose soon!

Alpha Eddie is busking nearby, witnesses the whole thing and asks if there’s anything he can do to help. Completely embarrassed, Steve tries to wave him away.

But Eddie is more than a little worried this pretty omega will do something rash. “Can I at least get you a consolation ice cream? Biggest size, as many toppings as you want. Sounds like you deserve it.”

“I really fucking do,” Steve responds, still crying angry tears.

Steve orders a hot-fudge-cherry-cheesecake monstrosity and insists that Eddie share it with him when he notices how the alpha is staring, biting his lower lip. “You really know how to beg with your eyes, you know that?”

“I was broke growing up,” Eddie answers with a shrug.

“You look pretty broke now. I can pay for my own breakup ice cream.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles and scoops out a huge cheesecake chunk. “So, do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, mouth full.

Steve takes that as permission to tell the whole story, full of embellishment, ranting at the end before breaking down in more tears. “Why doesn’t anyone stick around? I give and I give and it’s never enough!”

“I think you’re enough, Steve,” Eddie whispers. “You just haven’t been with someone who has enough to give to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, you let me eat *a lot* of your breakup ice cream. I think you need someone whose heart is a big and open as yours.”

Steve leans his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s hand finds its way onto Steve’s knee. They talk for a long time. So long that it gets dark. Steve asks Eddie if he’d like to eat something more substantial. It ends up being the best first date Steve ever has.

The last first date, too.

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #ficlet #meet cute #and meet ugly

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kxsagi · 1 month ago

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Hiii, how are you? 💘 Can I request Blue Lock boys (Nagi, Reo, Rin and idk more 😭) with a girlfriend who collects Calico Critters?

“𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬”

a/n: CALICO CRITTERS WAS MY CHILDHOOD I HAD THE ADVENTURE TREEHOUSE ONE

also hiii i'm good! i hope you are, too! thank you for being so patient with me love ❤️

ft. nagi seishiro, mikage reo, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, karasu tabito, ness alexis, niko ikki

nagi seishiro

at first, he’s confused. "why do they all have tiny furniture? do they fight with it?"

you once caught him making two of the bunnies “duel” with forks. it was… oddly cinematic.

secretly obsessed. he pretends he doesn’t care but you’ll find your calico bear moved slightly, like someone posed it to sit on a couch and watch TV.

"can i touch this one?" he points at a squirrel with a pink dress. if you say yes, he cradles it like a newborn baby and doesn’t give it back for three days.

he tries to nap in your room but always ends up staring at the tiny dollhouse setups. "this is so detailed… what the heck. you built a bakery? why's it better than mine in animal crossing..."

mikage reo

he buys you limited edition calico critter sets the second they drop. like he’s faster than collectors with bots.

"this one's from a store in france. overnight shipping. look, the hedgehogs have a piano."

thinks it's so hot that you're good at decorating miniature rooms. like. he brags about it. “my girlfriend has better interior taste than yours and her clients are all two inches tall.”

helps you reorganize your collection on lazy sundays. he’s good at holding tiny chairs between his fingers like it’s normal.

absolutely tries to use calico critters to flirt. sets up a little proposal scene and goes, “look. it’s us. except i’m three inches tall and cuter.”

itoshi rin

doesn't get it. doesn’t want to get it. but respects it because it makes you happy.

"... how do you keep track of their names?" and when you answer with 20 generations of backstory he blinks twice and decides not to ask again.

that being said… the miniatures start growing on him. he lowkey thinks the fox family is cool and once helped you repaint a table.

"this is a hobby that requires patience. i like that." tries to say it casually but you catch the way he watches you glue down a tiny carpet.

his love language is building the IKEA-sized critter furniture you order off etsy. he acts grumpy the whole time but hands you the final result like it’s a love letter.

isagi yoichi

SO supportive. he smiles like a golden retriever every time you show him a new family set.

“you gave them a garden?! babe that’s so sick!” he crouches down to inspect the tiny vegetables like a proud dad.

helps you organize your display shelf and keeps suggesting ideas like “what if there was a soccer stadium?”

actually starts getting into it and names a mouse after himself. “this is lil yoichi. he owns a ramen shop and gives advice to travelers.”

100% takes photos of your setups and shows them to his teammates like they're his own children. “look what she made. look at the bakery. no, really, zoom in.”

bachira meguru

FERAL. he thinks the calico critters are alive. like he’s convinced they move at night.

"this one’s the evil one," he whispers, pointing at the cat with a crooked ear. “she’s plotting something. i can feel it.”

customizes them with you. paints tattoos on the bears. gives the raccoons glow-in-the-dark eyes. adds googly eyes to the furniture when you’re not looking.

creates wild stories for them. like you’ll walk in and he’s mid-monologue: “and then gregory, the frog with a criminal past, was like ‘not on my watch.’”

despite the chaos, he’s extremely gentle with your collection. tucks them in at night. kisses the tiny blanket. calls them your "fuzzy little citizens."

itoshi sae

he walks in. pauses. "... what are these little dudes?"

squats down and just stares at your display shelf for a good two minutes like he’s trying to process a different dimension.

“so you collect them? like… all of them? is there… a calico stock market or something?”

despite the teasing, he finds it oddly charming. asks a million questions while pretending not to care. "do they have a vet? what’s his name. no reason. just curious."

secretly buys you a rare calico critter set during a trip abroad and plays it off like it was no big deal. “here. it was on sale or something.” (it was not.)

kaiser michael

calls them "fluff goblins" the first time he sees them. holds one like it’s going to bite him.

"this one’s judging me. look at its beady little eyes. it knows too much."

but he instantly gets competitive. “what do you mean there's a limited edition royal set? why don’t we own it? what kind of empire are we running?”

makes a whole mafia storyline with them. the bunnies run an underground casino. the dogs are corrupt cops. he’s spiraling.

pretends to hate them but sets up elaborate scenes when you’re not around. “that’s the critter CEO. he just embezzled $3 million from the bank of rabbit.”

karasu tabito

you show him your collection and he leans in like: "yo. why is this kind of sick?"

calls them your “little tax-paying civilians.” watches you build a cafe setup like it’s a netflix episode.

“this the mouse family? they look rich. can i give them a scandal?” proceeds to create drama that rivals actual soap operas.

absolutely buys tiny props from the dollar store and says “for the homies” while handing you a plastic teapot.

draws fake little mugshots for your squirrel triplets. “they got caught shoplifting. trial’s on friday.”

alexis ness

gasps out loud the first time she sees them. hand over mouth. sparkles in her eyes.

“oh my goodness… they’re dressed so well. is this a gala theme? is this the mayor’s daughter? you have to introduce me.”

helps you color-coordinate their outfits like she’s styling a met gala red carpet. "no no, the bunny in lavender sits at the head of the table."

smiles sweetly while hiding the fact she reorganized your ENTIRE shelf. she even gave them a seating chart.

makes personalized backstories for each critter like it’s the sims. full names, hobbies, zodiac signs, and love interests included.

niko ikki

tries to act normal about it. fails immediately.

“uhhh wow… that’s so many of them. do they live here full-time or…?”

ends up picking a fox family and getting way too attached. carries the baby fox around in his hoodie pocket for emotional support.

helps you set up shelves and is super careful not to bump anything. treats your collection like a sacred museum exhibit.

starts talking to them like they're real. “hey guys. hope you slept well. i brought your owner a snack. please don't bite me.”

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vexedcoast · 4 months ago

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I can be a better boyfriend than him

ft. fdom vi. and afab sub reader

a/n: pillow princess femme reader taking hexstrap like a champ . not much plot bc I'm lazy as fuck. if a man tried to flirt like this I'd call the c0ps but,, if vi did this 🤭 hehe .

cw : heavy cheating ( readers boyfriend is an asshole , and cheats on reader . . so ,,, justified ). pet names ( princess, bunny, pretty girl — for reader , daddy, sir — for vi ). hexstrap is referred to as cock a few times .

this party was going to be the death of you — it was supposed to be an escape from the hell you were in . your boyfriend of two years cheated — took someone else into your bed . not just once, but three times ( that he admitted ). you hadn't officially broken it off yet — seeking out piltover's shadiest party that you could find on such short notice .

the music, the bodies — everything was too much . what you needed was a god damn distraction . anything, anyone, to take away the pain . a drink in your hand — the bitter taste of alcohol burned your throat before the barkeep could even ask for your name to build you a tab for the night . you slid over a few crumbled bills, mumbling a soft thank you.

the night bustled on — but you kept feeling eyes on you . but no matter where you looked, you couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from . that was until your gaze finally found her, scarlet haired — bruised knuckles and muscles where you had no ideas muscles could be so defined . your expression must have been pitiful, she approached within half a second . your mouth agape , scarlet staining your cheeks .

"what's a sweet thing like you doing all alone in such a scary place ?"

her voice rasped — rough palm cupping your cheek . your expression and lips moved like a fish out of water . stunned, floored at not just her prescene but her confidence . the way she ever so slowly backed you against a wall near the bar — hand resting on the chipped paint , not exactly caging you in but encroaching you . her other hand shifted to your waist with a bit more hesitation, giving you enough time to push her away .

" looking for a distraction. "

you answered breathlessly — lower lip quivering ever so slightly . leaning into her touch as though it recharged your own body .

"I can give you a good distraction, just not here."

her lips skimmed your ear, whispering into it with a wolf like grin — teeth barring. before you could think twice, you mewled out a soft please . oh, she was going to devour you.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚

"c'mon puppy, suck."

battered hand dug into your hair — pushing you forward , you opened your mouth without having to be told twice. lips wrapped around the strap, eyes rolling back as vi slid it down your throat . slow at first, giving you a few seconds to adjust yourself . her hand brushed soothingly against your scalp, trimmed nails scratching ever so slightly .

you began to move - bobbing your head up and down, taking her deeper and deeper. your eyes set back to vi's gaze, keeping hold of it as you started to gag on the cock . your hands were invisibly tied behind you — not having to any room to argue when vi told you exactly what to do and how to do it .

" such a good puppy — i can't believe someone would let you go. you're so loyal and obedient."

vi graveled, palm shifting to your chin — tipping it up to maintain eye contact . her thumb brushed your cute little tears away, rocking her hips forward and cooing as you gagged even more . so pretty, she whispered.

as fast as her cock parted your lips, it was gone . she pulled away , unable to hide laughter as you looked pathetically up at her like you were just deprived of air . poor puppy . her fingers remained on your chin, cooing at you .

"on the bed, hands and knees."

she stated as a fact rather than a question. you obeyed instantly, nearly jumping onto the shoddy mattress. squirming, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

vi moved like a lioness going for the kill . gruff hand gripping your hip while another slapped the strap against your clit.

"beg."

once again, an easy command to follow — lips parting almost like you'd been given an electric shock from the demand.

"please, please fuck me. please daddy — i need you so badly. I'm throbbing for you. "

the pet name slipped without even thinking about it . you could feel her entire body stiffen at the two syllables .

"oh, fuck I'm sorry it just slipped out – I didn't mean to—."

the apology spat out quickly, your eyes widening .

violet flipped you over like you were a little feather. trapping you between her and the mattress. it took several beats before you realized exactly what happened. a thumb slid past your lips and held your tongue down .

"you need daddy to fuck you? need daddy's cock, puppy? you beg so sweetly — i bet that pussy is dripping, and i haven't even touched you yet."

she kneed open your legs — which you complied , spreading your thighs open like the red sea . her thumb remained on your tongue, now allowing a response.

"its big, but you can take it, right? be good for daddy. fuck, how could someone see you like this and not keep you as their own personal fuck toy? so good. take daddy's cock."

her words stung, just a bit . but she was right, how could he cheat on you when you lowered such a gorgeous, drooling mess? all you could do was nod, bucking your hips up . vi shifted her hands to hold down your waist, teasing your entrance with just the tip.

" don't even think about trying to set the pace. don't fucking move those hips without permission, understood?"

you yelped as the head of her strap pushed inside, whimpering out yes sir's over and over again. you needed more.

"good girl. oh you're already taking my cock so well."

she didn't go any further, which you were rather thankful for. the strap was nearly nine inches and thick — breaking you apart bit by bit. your jaw slacked whimpering out nothing more than begs. her hand and thumb released you, only to wrap around behind your knee - hiking it over her shoulder.

"don't stop, please daddy."

your whines got louder, trying once more to buck your hips up. which was met with a slam into you — strap kissing deep inside you without warning.

"i told you not to do any work, princess."

she warned — pulling herself back out all the way , unable to hide laughter as you squirmed under her. your legs shook with anticipation, trying your best not to move. her nails dug into the plushness of your tights, imprinting crescent shapes into your skin.

"take my strap c'mon puppy."

you did as you were told, arching your back up as she slid herself back into you till the hilt kissed your clit once more, the leather harness straps digging in just a bit. your core dripped, ached as she stretched you out with no mercy. with every thrust, her muscles tensed and fuck— she had so many. your eyes had a hard time focusing on just one part of her.

your hands dug into her biceps, gripping tight while she slid in and out at a merciless pace — giving you no time to even think, let alone try to move your hips. but now, — her thumb pushed down on your clit, finding it with her eyes closed – like a well trained marksman. it rubbed slow, deep, methodical circles — pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

"can I cum sir, please please please. I've been so good."

you cried, trying to hold on — wanting to be a good, sweet girl for her.

"cum for daddy, cum on my cock."

she urged you, but really — you hadn't really needed a blessing. already tipping over the edge before she called herself daddy. tears pricked in the outer corners of your eyes, cat like nails scratching against her battered and bruised skin - whining.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

"stay."

her voice was firm, pulling you back to her chest — tucking your head into her neck.

"but I —, he. ."

you tried, but failed — mumbling against her skin .

"is nothing to you anymore. I can be a better boyfriend than he ever could be."

#arcane #arcane smut #vi smut #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #arcane vi x reader #smut #vi x fem reader #idk what else to tag #sorry this is lowkey bad

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shutupsaint · 2 months ago

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All I wanna spend is one more night // between your sheets, behind your eyes

Karasu Tabito x AFAB!Reader • Word Count: 4.5k

content warnings: established relationship, porn with little plot, lover boy karasu, reader has an aversion to sex kinda sorta, first times, loss of virginity, mutual masturbation, handjob, multiple positions, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare

You met Karasu Tabito in year three. He had chubby cheeks and a missing tooth, knees dirty from falling into the muddy ground many times over as he rhythmically kicked the school’s worn soccer ball at the wall.

He was sweeter then, face flushed red when you handed the ball gone astray back to him, lisp on his tongue from where his adult tooth hadn’t quite grown in.

It’s hard to forget the twinkle in his eye when he shyly whispered “Thank you,” before scampering back to his spot. It’s natural, the way you fall into each other’s lives. Transferring to a new school during the middle of the year had done little to help your social life. Cliques already made; friends grown up side by side. While your classmates weren’t mean, they did little to include you. Recess consisted of you building little homes out of sticks you’d find scattered throughout the play yard, gritty nails digging into dirty as you play. After your first interaction, you gravitate towards another. You move to be closer to watch his kicks, and he makes his way down the wall to tease you. Calls you weird and then cries when you throw the ball in his face. Sniffles a weak, “Sorry,” before asking if you can be friends. You agree despite your previous disdain, keeping track of his hits in the dirt with the sticks he collects for your work.

Red strings drawn close, tangled in mud and sticks and leaves.

The first time Karasu kisses you, you’re in year ten. He’d walked you home like he always did despite it being out of the way for him. His ears turned crimson when he shyly asked if you wanted to go to the arcade together, scarlet when you looked at him confused because you always do. He wins you a bunny plushy and makes you swear to keep it forever, holding out a pinky to you. You link the appendages before pressing your thumbs together, and as you move to press a kiss to your own nail to seal it, he moves your hand down abruptly.

Chapped lips meet yours in an awkward attempt at a kiss, and you pull back violently at the action.

“Why would you do that,” you’d asked haughtily, hands on your hips as you scowl up at him.

“Cuz you’re my girlfriend.” Karasu had replied matter of factly.

“Since when? You never asked me to be,” you grump, finger poking accusingly at his chest, “you can’t just go kissing girls and claiming them to be your girlfriend without even asking.”

You’d expected a snarky come back from him as he usually generously bestows upon you, but instead he scratches his neck shyly and asks quietly if you’d want to be.

“Speak up.” You demanded.

“Would you?” He finally asked, uncharacteristically nervous, “Be my girlfriend?”

You stave off the embarrassment coursing through you, a faux air of confidence burning through your veins.

“Well,” you finally say, “if you insist.”

You fight and you squabble and you cry and lick old wounds once more, but you stay together throughout it all. Tabito dabs at your tears and kisses fresh wounds with a soothing tongue, always making sure you know with full confidence he’s at your side.

Truth be told there wasn’t much of a difference as friends than lovers; albeit your touches grow more intimate.

Tabito insists you’d been his girlfriend since you’d chucked the soccer ball in his face back when you were both snot nosed children, and well, you can’t find it in you to argue. A part of you had always been his, and you’re sure if you were ever to split, it would always stay with him. A seed buried deep in your ribs, watered by the brashness of his love.

It would be dramatic to say that when he left for Blue Lock, a small part of you died. Autumn leaves dry and fall; yet we celebrate their beauty. You still see your friends and make sure to stay steady in classes, but you can’t deny you miss Tabito.

Ironically, it’s around spring time when he returns. He takes you to see the cherry blossoms bloom and tells you he’ll love you until his legs give out.

(To which you tell him that it’s likely enough to happen sooner than later with a sport like soccer; cackling loudly when he grabs fallen blooms and tosses them promptly in your face.)

You both turn twenty-one together; celebrating just the two of you in the small run down apartment you now share. You kiss and you eat sweets until your stomach aches, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

(The day of moving in Tabito finds the old plushy wrapped delicately in a blanket.

“You still have this ratty thing?” He’d asked with a smirk, holding it out to you.

“Don’t talk about our son like that,” you scold, snatching the plush from his hands before smiling down at it lovingly, fingers brushing the worn fabric of its ears.

“And of course I kept him, I promised you, didn’t I?”

Tabito smiles widely at this, scooping you in his arms and kissing you obnoxiously as you squeal and shout for him to let you go.)

It’s not until you’re out eating lunch with friends that you truly think about it; sex with Tabito. It’s not that you don’t want to have sex with him. You’re well aware your boyfriend is handsome, you’d just never got around to it.

(Your friend’s jaw drops when you say this, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You haven’t done anything.”

“I gave him a handjob once,” you’d replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

Your friend scoffs in disbelief, but thankfully drops the topic, but you can’t help but let the seeds of doubt whittle their way into the sanctuary you’d built with Tabito.)

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

It’s an ordinary Saturday morning when you spring the question. You’d been thinking of roundabout ways to ask, but you’d never been good at subtly and you know Tabito prefers when you’re blunt with him.

He splutters on the drink he’d been taking, cleaning his throat before looking at you incredulously.

“Do I… what?”

“Do you want to have sex? Make love, copulate, fuck, the hanky—”

He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, moving to stand in front of you with red ears.

“No, I know what you said. This was just… unprompted. Do you want to have sex with me?”

You cross your arms and huff, ignoring the cheeky smirk on his face as he steps closer to you. There’s a buzzing energy you’ve never quite felt stirring in the room, and you sway from one foot to another with nerves.

“I asked you first,” you respond lamely, looking at him straight in the eyes in a poor attempt to keep up your confident facade.

“Yes, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?” Tabito answers honestly, large hands prying your fingers away from where they’d been digging into the fat of your arm in anxiousness. He kisses the heel of your palm softly before wrapping your arms around his neck and bumping his forehead lightly against yours. When you still don’t respond he gives you a boyish smile before attempting to soothe you.

“If we’re being honest, it’s not something I thought you were interested in,” he explains, “you’ve always shied away when I’ve tried to touch you in the past, and that stuff doesn’t matter to me. I love you as you are now, sex won’t change that.”

You frown in thought at his words, fingers threading through his freshly washed hair as you contemplate.

“Have you ever had sex before?”

Tabito laughs at that, presses obnoxious slobbery kisses to your cheek before answering.

“You know I haven’t.”

“Well then how do you know you’re not missing out?”

“I mean I still masturbate, can’t be that much different.”

Your body heats with embarrassment (and perhaps a bit of something else at his vulgar words).

“Well it’s surely better. Tighter probably… and wetter. Or whatever.”

Heat blooms on Tabito’s face as he hugs you close to him, shoving his face in your neck to hide his blush (it doesn’t work, you can feel the heat on his face and see the crimson flushing his ears).

You press closer to him and kiss at the junction of his neck and shoulder lightly before furrowing your brows and pulling back.

“Are you… hard right now?”

A smug smile creeps on his face, and you have an overwhelming urge to kiss it off.

“Can you blame me? My beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend just propositioned me with sex and told me how she’d feel tighter and wetter than my own hand.”

You scoff at his words before picking at the lint on the neck of his shirt.

“So… you want to then?”

He smiles sickeningly sweet down at you, walking you backwards and guiding you to your shared bedroom.

“I do, but I want you to want it too. Don’t think you have to do this because of me.”

“I do— want to, I mean. But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He laughs softly at this, turning to sit on the bed and pull you into his lap, familiar hands rubbing up your sides soothingly.

“Neither do I,” he replies easily, pressing a kiss to your cheek and then your pouted lips.

“But you just said you masturbate.” You frown, settling deeper into his lap as he maneuvers you into a more comfortable position, his back pressed against the head of your bed.

“I do.” Tabito’s smile is shy, fingers tracing the familiar lines on your palms as you speak.

“So you’ve watched porn, so you know some things.”

He pauses in his movements, looks at you incredulously before laughing.

“I’ve never watched porn. I just think about what I would do to you. What you’d do to me.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he mocks, teeth nipping at your nose as you scrunch it.

“Can you show me?”

Tabito’s movements halt, hips shifting nervously under you as you stare wide eyed at him, a face far too innocent for someone who just asked him to stroke his cock in front of them.

“Only if I can watch you, too.” He finally says after clearing his throat.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You’re almost offended at the shock on his face, but have little time to register before he’s flipping the two of you over, switching your positions.

“Have you touched yourself before?” He asks, hands helping you wiggle out of the sweats.

“Yes,” you answer honestly, pulling your shirt over your head.

A shiver runs down his spine at your words, cock straining in his sweats as you leave each other in only your undergarments.

“Shouldn’t we like… kiss or something?” You ask shyly, fingers picking at your nail beds.

Tabito laughs softly before spreading your legs, and pressing as close to you as he can so he can sit between them, eyes flickering from your chest to your eyes.

“How about you tell me,” he says, “tell me what you think about when you touch yourself.”

You shy away at this, whining when his large body stops you from being able to close your legs; the exposure too much.

“Why are you so shy, baby? I’ve seen you naked before, you know?”

“I know but this is… different.”

Tabito presses a reassuring kiss to your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. There’s a smirk on his face when you lean to chase him for more, hands making their way down your thighs as he soothes the tense muscles.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he whispers breathlessly, the heat of his words caresses your face, sends a shiver down your spine as he pulls away to palm his cock.

“I- I think about that night,” you finally squeak out, “when you let me touch your cock.”

(Moonlight shone brightly through the room that night, the lewd sound of Tabito’s mouth licking at the fat of your neck filling the liminal space. Big hands dug crescents into your skin, breaths heaving as you part for air. There’s a pause when you shift forward and feel the length of his cock beneath his sweats. Tabito eyes you warily, opening his mouth to assure you that you don’t have to do anything.

He’s cut off by his own moan, hips bucking up into you as you palm his cock.

“Baby,” he whines, head falling back against the headboard with a thunk.

“Can I touch you?” You ask sweetly, eyes entranced at the sight of pleasure watching over Tabito’s features at your featherlight touch.

He nods frantically, aiding you in pulling the sweats down to rest on his thighs. You press your mouth to his, licking against his teeth before sucking his tongue into your mouth. Tabito whimpers at this, neglected cock twitching. You pull back with hooded eyes, spitting down onto the leaking tip before using the palm of your hand to spread it over his tip, wrapping around his cock before giving an experimental tug.

“Like that?” You ask, eyes darting up to look at him.

“God— yeah, just like that, baby,” he whines, hands fisting his hair as your movements speed up.

You keep your eyes trained on his face despite his eyes being scrunched shut, watching the way his jaw clenches when you grip him harsher, the way it falls open shortly after when your thumb traces along the tip of his cock.

“Don’t stop,” he says through gritted teeth, hip bucking wildly into your hand as his high approaches.)

“Don’t stop,” Tabito groans loudly, heel of his palm pressing harshly against his boxer shorts, dark spot seeping through with precum.

His obvious arousal has you wishing for more, more noises, more skin, more, more, more.

“I think about the way you sounded, how you moaned my name when I rubbed my palm on the head of your cock.”

Your hand makes its way down to your cunt subconsciously, fingers ghosting over the band of your panties before Tabito’s stops you.

“Not yet,” he instructs, “just— touch yourself through them, please.”

You do as he says, fingers pressing against your clit. You moan at the contact, rough fabric catching just right. You feel the way your arousal seeps through your panties, high on power as you watch the way Tabito’s eyes dilate when he takes in the sight.

“Keep going,” he encourages, “tell me more.”

“I think about how big your cock felt in my hand, think about it stretching me open,” you whine, fingers moving faster, Tabito’s own matching the rhythm you’ve set, “I— I think about what you’d taste like, if you’d let me put it in my mouth, how you’d sound when I choke on it.”

Tabito moans out loud at this, hand sliding down the front of his boxers before pulling his weeping cock out. You take this as your sign to follow, eyes narrowing in on the way his fingers flex as he strokes himself.

“I wanna hear, too,” you whimper, fingers pulling your panties to the side so he can see how wet you are for him, the tips dipping into your heat to gather your slick before moving back to circle your clit.

“You’re killing me, baby,” Tabito groans, hips bucking up into his own hand as your chest heaves with pleasure.

He remains quiet for a while, the only sounds in the room is the wetness between the two of you, bodies inching closer and closer until you can feel his hand against your own.

“I think about the way you’ll taste on my tongue,” he says, voice husky with arousal, “the way your pussy will feel when she’s stretched open for the first time.”

You press a finger into yourself at this, hips canting up at the intrusion. Tabito groans at the sight, timing his thrusts into his hand with the way you fuck yourself on your fingers.

“T-think about the way you sounded that night, when you let me fuck your hand,” he groans through gritted teeth, “the way you talked to me… the way you licked my cum off your hand afterwards, how it tasted when you kissed me.”

“Please, Tabito,” you finally break, hands moving to pull his face towards your own, lips crashing messily against each other as you claw at the exposed skin.

He pulls you into his lap, cock jumping as your pussy presses against him. You can’t help but moan at the friction, humping his cock as you gasp and cry out for more.

“I don’t want to wait anymore, need you inside me,” you whine, but make no movements to stop the current pace your hips have set, your wetness pooling down onto the base of his cock as you use him for your own pleasure.

“Cum like this first,” he pleads, hands pressing you down harder, “cum like this and I’ll give you my cock. Stretch this pretty pussy open, make it mine.”

You cry out as you fall over the precipice of pleasure, hands clawing at his chest while your hips buck desperately into him.

“One more,” he says, pushing you until your back hits the mattress.

His lips press harshly into yours, tongue licking at your teeth as you whine into his mouth. He pulls away to kiss at your neck, teeth nipping at the familiar skin while his hands smooth up your sides. Your bra is quickly taken off, tossed somewhere in the room before his hands are back on you. Teeth bite harshly at the fat of your chest, tongue soothing the ache before you can whisper a complaint.

“You’re so sensitive here,” he says, eyes transfixed on the way your breathing increases as he blows on your nipple. Tabito flicks his tongue over it, testing the waters and you moan loudly at the sensation.

“So good for me,” he murmurs, his hands pulling your legs to wrap around his waist. Instead of the heat of his cock pressing against you, his abdomen is pressed to the flesh, “I bet I can make you cum from just this. Just this.”

His mouth wraps around your nipple sucking harshly before moving to the next, your hips buck at the sensation, and he presses closer so the rigid muscle of his stomach presses against your aching clit. Calloused hands encourage the movements, hips bucking wildly as you hump his abdomen in abandon.

“Tabito,” you whimper, “please, please, please.”

Your hands fist his hair harshly, pressing his mouth firmly against your chest as his tongue rolls your sensitive chest between kiss swollen lips. Tabito doesn’t bother stopping, if anything he moves you faster, bites harder, kisses soothing the ache until another high crashes down on you.

“You’re so sexy,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “can’t believe I finally have you like this.”

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” you finally whisper as your breathing evens out.

“Don’t apologize.”

His tone leaves little room for argument, and you nod obediently at his words, smile spreading across his face as he takes in the flush of your face.

Harsh kisses turn soft, and Tabito moves you once again to rest in his lap.

“This way you can go at your own pace,” he says, settling back into the sheets, eyes blown with lust staring up at you, “don’t take more than you can handle. If it hurts, we’ll stop.”

You nod in agreement, leaning to press a kiss to his lips before lining him up to your entrance. You’re wetter than you’ve ever been, hands shaking before his own moves to aide you.

“Look at me, please,” he asks softly, “I want to see your face when my cock stretches you out for the first time.”

You do as he instructs, eyes nearly rolling back when his tip presses past the tight ring of your cunt. Gasps of pleasure are shared between the two of you as you slowly work your way down, pulling up to ease the ache before you finally rest against him.

“What the fuck,” Tabito groans, teeth clenching harshly as your cunt clenches on him.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whines, fingertips digging harshly into the fat of your hips.

Your cunt clenches again at the filthy words, nails scraping down his chest as he bucks up into you.

“If you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to cum before I even get to fuck you,” Tabito says, chest heaving as he tries to maintain his level head.

You smirk down at him before intentionally shifting your hips, grinding down onto his cock. Tabito’s eyes dart open, eyeing you warningly.

Tabito senses your hesitation, propping an elbow beneath him. His hand cradles your face, thumb brushing against your cheek lovingly before he pulls your lips to his. His free hand moves to your hip, guiding you gently. It’s not long until you find your own rhythm, gasping into his mouth as his cock presses against a spot that makes you see stars.

“Right there,” you whine, “Tabito, please, don’t stop.”

Arm still propped up, Tabito pulls you back, fisting the hair at the nape of your neck. His lips wrap around your neglected chest, hips bucking up into you hitting that spot deep within you over and over until—

“Cumming!” You cry out, eyes rolling back as your pleasure consumes you. Tabito hips fuck into you faster, moving at a bruising pace to elongate your high. You slump against him as your orgasm fades, his fingers tracing absentminded shapes into your back as you heave against him.

“We can stop here,” he coos, lips pressing against your neck.

“No,” you say, shooting your head up to look at him, “I want you to cum.”

He smiles at this, pressing forward until you’re on your back. You whine at how deep his cock presses into you in this position, nails clawing harsh lines into his back as he wraps your legs around his waist.

Tabito pulls back out slowly, eyes darting over your face for any sign of discomfort before he’s snapping his hips harshly into yours. He fucks you hard— deep, carving his cock into your walls as you whine and cry out for him.

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you use the leverage of your legs on his back to meet his thrusts with your own in desperation, “you feel so fucking good, baby. You hear that? Hear how wet this pussy is for me? She’s cryin’ for me, baby. Needed my cock to fill her up, stuff her full.”

Tabito pulls out suddenly, hand falling to his cock to squeeze at the base in an attempt to stave off his own orgasm. Before you can protest, you’re flipped over, limp body pulled onto your knees before you know what’s happening.

Fingers did crescents into your hips as he fucks you for his pleasure, grumbling moans falling from his lips.

“Just like that,” he whines, “just like that. Fuck yourself on my cock. Fuck it like it’s yours.”

He stops his own movements, hands fisting his hair as you press back against him again, and again, and again. You whine his name and his chest presses against your back instantly, large frame engulfing your own before you’re flat against the bed.

Tabito’s arms circle your front, cradling you to his chest as he humps into you, barely pulling out before he’s pressing back in again. Gasping moans are pulled from your lips at the angle his cock slides into you, drool slipping from your lip when he bites harshly at the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Tabito,” you whine, “want you to cum. Please, please cum for me. Want you to cum inside me. I need it! I need it, I—

You’re cut off by a cry of your name, his hips pressing against yours as you feel the warmth of him filling you up.

You slump weakly against the bed, struggling to breathe as Tabito relaxes against you. He notices your squirming quickly, pulling you to rest on your side. You whine when his cock slips out of you, and heat burns a fire through your veins when you feel the way your combined essence drips down the side of your leg.

Soft words are murmured into your hair, hands massaging at your aches as you both come down from the intense pleasure.

“Still think your hand is better?” You ask, finally breaking the silence.

Tabito laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck before loosening his hold so you can turn to face him.

“Not by a long shot.” He laughs at this, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek just to hear you squeal out in protest.

“Tabito…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asks softly, propping himself up on his arm to look down at you properly, “Are you okay?”

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips reassuringly, nodding, “I’m okay, but… I can feel your cum dripping out of me right now.”

Tabito chokes out a laugh, blush rising on his face.

“You can’t just— just say things like that!” He whines, heat licking at his core.

“Like what? It’s true!”

He shakes his head at this, sliding his arm out from under you before standing and stretching. Dark red lines fill up the space of his back, and you smile shyly at the sight.

“Nice back, Karasu,” you tease, laughing when he uses the mirror hung on the back of the bedroom door to take in the sight.

“Baby,” he whines, “don’t make me get hard again.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Tabito shakes his head at this before walking into the bathroom. He returns with a warm washcloth, pressing a kiss to your forehead before maneuvering you onto your back. There’s a smug smile on his face as he cleans you up, a soft kiss to your knee when you playfully knock it into his shoulder. He looks up at you from between your thighs smiling brightly at you.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey yourself,” he says, moving his face to hover over your own.

“Come here often?” You ask, fingers tracing around his eyes before you lean to press a kiss to the mole resting just below the left.

“First time actually,” he laughs, flopping down onto your chest, nuzzling your neck to press soft kisses there.

“You’re so stupid,” you say with a roll of your eyes, fingers threading through his soft hair.

“I love you,” Tabito whispers, arms wrapping under the small of your back to hold you closer.

“I love you, too.”

#writing.bllk #karasu x reader #karasu tabito x reader #tabito karasu x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #karasu smut #bllk smut #saint.writes

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octaneink · 2 months ago

Text

Easy Love

Will Lenney x Reader

Summary: The Reader tries a new scent, Will definitely notices. Warnings: None! Notes: Not an ask, just a random idea I thought would be cute ☺️☺️☺️

You'd been meaning to reorganise the junk drawer all week.

It was a task that nags at you every time you fish for a pen and come up with nothing but dried-out pens and a handful of foreign coins. Today, the mess had reached critical mass when you'd been searching for the spare key to your place and instead unearthed three dead AA batteries and what might have been a receipt from 2019.

So at 2 PM on Sunday, with golden afternoon light pooling across the kitchen tiles, you'd upended the entire drawer onto the counter. The contents formed a sad little monument to domestic chaos: twisted phone chargers, a single cufflink, half a dozen IKEA Allen wrenches, and at least three pens that definitely didn't work.

Will had watched this from his throne in the living room armchair, one eyebrow arched over the top of his novel. "Spring cleaning?" he'd asked, already knowing the answer.

"It's making me itchy just looking at it," you'd grumbled, aggressively untangling a knot of cables. "How do we even accumulate this much crap?”

That was an hour ago.

Now you're kneeling on the kitchen floor, elbow-deep under the sink, fingers brushing against the cold pipe as you search for the trash bags you could have sworn you bought last week. The cabinet smells faintly of lemon cleaner and something metallic, and you're fairly certain your jumper is collecting dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds.

"Will," you call, voice slightly muffled by the cabinet, "did you move the—"

The only response is the soft whisper of a page turning. You twist to see him through the doorway, still curled in the armchair with his book propped against his knees. Afternoon light gilds the curve of his shoulders, catching in his hair where it's fallen across his forehead. His thumb moves absently along the edge of the page, but his eyes never leave the text.

"Will?" You try again, louder this time, knocking your knuckles against the cabinet door for emphasis.

"Hm?" It's the kind of distracted noise people make when they're only physically present, their mind still wrapped around a plot twist or character's fate.

You give up with a huff, the cabinet door swinging shut with a hollow thud as you rock back on your heels. The floor had left angry red impressions on your knees, and your shoulders ached from being hunched in that cramped space for so long. When you finally straighten up, your spine cracks in three distinct places—the kind of satisfying pops that make you feel both ancient and temporarily relieved. The clock above the stove reads 3:07—if you leave now, you can make it before everything closes at 4.

"I'm running to the shop before it closes," you announce, brushing dust from your clothes. "Need to grab milk anyway. I'll pick you up a snack for work tomorrow—want anything specific? Those protein bars you like, or should I see if they have more of those weird spicy nuts?"

Will makes a noncommittal noise, but you’re already heading for the hallway, stripping off your dust-streaked jumper as you go.

In the bedroom, you tug on a fresh top and pause, eyeing the little glass bottle on your dresser. The perfume was a gift from a friend last month—“It’s so you,” they’d insisted—but you’d barely used it. Today feels as good a time to use it for the first time. You spritz it on, the scent blooming: vanilla, bright and sweet at first, then something deeper, spicier, like amber melting into skin.

You give your wrist an absentminded sniff. Nice. Maybe your friend was right, it does suit you. Leaving your bedroom, you walk to the door and grab your tote from the hook, digging through its depths for your keys. They jangle somewhere near the bottom, buried under crumpled receipts and a pack of gum.

That’s when you notice it.

The silence.

No rustling pages. No absent tap of Will’s fingers against the armrest. Just the weight of someone’s gaze, like a touch between your shoulder blades.

You turn.

Will hasn’t moved from his chair, but his book lies forgotten in his lap, spine bent at an unnatural angle. His eyes lock onto yours, then drop—slow, deliberate—to the curve of your neck. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“Going out?” Will asks again, his voice gravel-dipped. It’s not really a question. There’s an edge to it, a tension that makes your pulse skip. You finally fish out your keys with a triumphant jingle. "Yes, Sherlock," you say, shooting him an amused look over your shoulder. "Like I said five minutes ago when you were too busy with your book to listen."

His abandoned novel lies splayed on the armrest like a wounded bird, pages crumpled under his restless fingers. The sight gives you pause, Will never treats books this way. “Want anything else?”

His answer comes in movement rather than words. He rises with sudden purpose, the book tumbling to the rug as he crosses the space between you in three long strides. Before you can react, he's shrugging into his coat with uncharacteristic haste, the wool collar sitting askew, his hair mussed from where he'd raked an impatient hand through it.

"I'm coming with you," he says, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You blink. "Since when do you volunteer for grocery runs?" The tease in your voice falters as he steps closer, shrinking the hallway with his presence. The heat of him radiates through the scant space between you, his hand brushing the small of your back as he reaches past you for the door. His touch lingers just a beat too long, sending an unexpected shiver up your spine.

The intensity in his storm-grey eyes betrays his usual calm—something restless simmers beneath the surface. You notice the faint tremor in his fingers as he holds the door open, the taut line of his forearm muscles as he gestures you through.

Outside, the evening is crisp, the streetlamps casting honeyed pools of light on the pavement. Will walks closer than usual, his shoulder bumping yours whenever you round a corner. You catch him staring again, his gaze snagging on your throat, your wrists, and the pulse point behind your ear. When the wind tosses your hair, he inhales sharply, as if stealing a secret.

“You’re quiet today,” you say, half-turning to face him.

He stops short, his eyes darkening. For a heartbeat, you think he might say something—do something—his breath warm against your cheek. But then he steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just thinking,” he says, the words rough, like they’ve been dragged through gravel.

What’s got into him?

The shop's sign buzzes louder as you approach, flickering in the gathering dusk. Will lingers by the door just long enough to hold it open for you, his arm brushing yours as you pass through. The warmth of his body lingers where he touched you, even as he falls into step beside you.

You grab a plastic basket from the stack near the entrance, its handle creaking in your grip. Will reaches for the same one too, his fingers briefly overlapping yours before you both pull away. There's a charged moment where neither of you move—just stand there in the harsh light, baskets in hand, breathing the same air.

You tug one free, its grip creaking under your fingers. Behind you, Will shifts closer than necessary—his chest nearly grazing your shoulder—as if drawn by some magnetic pull. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his hand twitch forward, fingertips skimming the air just above yours before curling into a fist.

For a heartbeat, neither of you move. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, bleaching the linoleum into a sterile white. You can feel the heat of him against your back, smell the faint cedar of his shampoo mixed with something sharper, almost feral.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat, pivoting toward the dairy aisle, "Milk first."

The aisles are narrow enough that Will has to walk behind you, his presence a constant warmth at your back. When you stop to examine expiration dates on the milk cartons, he crowds closer than necessary, reaching past you to grab one. His chest brushes against your shoulder, solid and warm.

"Got it," he murmurs, his breath stirring the hair at your temple. The milk carton drops into your basket with a dull thud, but neither of you move away immediately.

At the coffee display, the rich, roasted scent wraps around you both as you survey the options. You reach for your usual blend at the same moment Will does, his hand covering yours completely. His skin is warm, his fingers slightly rough against yours. Instead of pulling away, his thumb strokes once—slow, deliberate—across your inner wrist where your pulse jumps.

"Sorry," he says, though his voice is anything but apologetic. His eyes drop to your mouth for a heartbeat too long before he finally steps back, leaving your skin tingling where he touched you.

You swallow hard, focusing on the coffee labels with sudden intensity. "S'alright," you manage, dropping a bag into your basket with slightly unsteady hands. When you glance up, Will's watching you with that same dark intensity, his fingers flexing at his sides like he's resisting the urge to reach for you again.

The moment stretches, thick with something unspoken, until Will clears his throat and reaches past you for the sugar. His arm brushes against yours, his chest nearly pressing into your shoulder as he leans in. His breath ghosts warm over the shell of your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Forgot we were out of this," he says, voice pitched low just for you. The words vibrate through you, and you're suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between you.

At the checkout, the cashier—an old woman with a knowing smirk—watches with undisguised interest as Will crowds into your space while you unload the basket. His fingers keep brushing yours as you both reach for items, each accidental (or not-so-accidental) touch sending little electric jolts up your arms.

When your hand trembles slightly while handing over cash, Will's fingers cover yours again, ostensibly to help but really just another excuse to touch. "I've got it." he says, his deep voice resonating in your chest as he stands close enough that you can smell the faint remnants of his cologne mixed with something uniquely Will.

The cashier arches an eyebrow as she hands back your change, her eyes flicking between you two with amusement. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your pulse hammering in your throat, as Will's hand finds the small of your back to guide you toward the exit.

Outside, the cool evening air does little to calm your racing heart, especially when Will's fingers slide down to tangle briefly with yours before he seems to think better of it and shoves his hands in his pockets instead. The charged silence between you is louder than any words could be.

The walk home stretches taut between you, the grocery bag’s handles digging into Will’s palm as he walks just a half-step too close. His sleeve brushes your arm with every other stride—cotton whispering against cotton—and each incidental contact lingers like a brand. The city sounds fade into background static: a distant ambulance siren, the click-clack of a dog’s nails on pavement, the hum of a faulty neon sign above a shuttered laundromat. All of it feels muffled, drowned out by the rhythm of Will’s restless energy.

When you pass beneath a flickering streetlamp, its sickly yellow light catches the sheen of sweat at his temples. His gaze flicks to your neck again, lingering on the damp tendril of hair clinging to your skin. You watch his throat work as he swallows, the sharp line of his jaw flexing like he’s biting back words.

“You’re being weirdly intense today,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. The gesture aims for lightness, but your voice betrays you—it comes out breathier than intended, almost a challenge.

Will’s laugh is a rough scrape of sound. “Am I?” He shifts the grocery bag to his other hand, plastic crinkling like cellophane fire. His free arm swings briefly toward yours, fingers grazing your knuckles before he shoves both hands into his coat pockets. The fleeting touch leaves your skin buzzing.

You slow your pace, studying him. Moonlight bleeds through the clouds, silvering the tension in his shoulders, the way his collar sits crooked against his throat. There’s something feral in his profile—the dilated pupils, the slight flare of his nostrils as the wind shifts—that makes your stomach swoop. For a heartbeat, you think he might press you against the graffiti-tagged brick wall to your left, his body caging yours in the shadows.

But he keeps walking.

Three more steps, then he stops dead. You nearly collide with him, catching yourself on his forearm. The muscle beneath his sleeve jumps at your touch.

“Will—?”

He doesn’t turn. Just stands there, head bowed, breathing audibly through his nose. The grocery bag hangs forgotten at his side, a litre of milk threatening to slip free. When he finally speaks, his voice is ground glass. “You should’ve worn a jacket.”

You blink. “It’s not that cold.”

A beat. Then his coat hits your shoulders before you can protest, his hands linger at your collarbones, adjusting the lapels with unnecessary focus. His thumbs brush the hollow of your throat, once, twice, before he steps back.

“Better,” he mutters, already striding ahead like he can outpace whatever’s clawing at his ribs.

You hurry to catch up, the coat sleeves swallowing your hands whole. Up close, you notice what you missed before—the tremor in his left hand, the way his pulse thunders visibly at his neck. When he catches you staring, he angles his body away, jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.

The remaining blocks pass in a fever dream. Every rustle of fabric, every shared glance, every time his shoulder bumps yours feels amplified. By the time your building comes into view, you’re both breathing like you’ve run a marathon, though neither of you will admit it.

At the front door, Will fumbles the keys twice before managing the lock. His hand covers yours on the doorknob, pressing down hard enough to feel the ridges bite into your palm.

“After you,” he says, but doesn’t move aside—just crowds you through the doorway, his chest grazing your back, his breath hot on your nape.

You tell yourself it’s relief that makes your knees weak when he finally retreats to the kitchen, the grocery bag abandoned on the counter. But as you hang up his coat, you press your shoulder to hide the wide grin on your face.

Dinner unfolds in a series of fractured moments. Will stands at the counter, chopping carrots, each thwack echoing off the tiled walls. You sit at the kitchen table, sorting through the junk drawer’s survivors: paperclips glinting like insect legs and rubber bands coiled tight as nerves.

The air smells of ginger and soy sauce. Every time you glance up, his eyes snap back to the cutting board, shoulders rigid. He’s wearing that grey Henley with the stretched collar, the one that exposes the hollow of his throat when he leans forward. You notice sweat dampening the fabric between his shoulder blades.

“You’re hovering,” you say, louder than intended.

He doesn’t answer. Just sets down the knife with exaggerated care and reaches for the kettle. You track his movements—the flex of his forearms as he fills it, the way his thumb rubs compulsively over the handle’s curve. Steam rises as he pours boiling water into two mugs.

The tea appears at your elbow without warning, Earl Grey swirling amber in your favourite mug he’d bought for you last winter. His pinky grazes yours as he withdraws, a spark of contact that lingers.

“Movie tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the sink. His arms cross over his chest, biceps straining the sleeves. Will leans back against the sink, the edge of the counter biting into his hip, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The sleeves of his Henley strain against his biceps, fabric pulling taut where his muscles flex unconsciously. A droplet of water slides down his wrist, tracing the ropy veins of his forearm before disappearing under his rolled cuff. You track its path, hypnotised by the way it catches the flickering kitchen light, until his throat bobs with a hard swallow.

He clears his throat. The sound is sandpaper-rough, startlingly loud in the cramped kitchen. You drag your gaze upward, past the smudge of flour on his collarbone and the damp hair curling at his nape, to find him watching you through his lashes. The fluorescent light overhead buzzes, casting sickly shadows under his eyes. For a heartbeat, he looks almost feral—jaw clenched, nostrils flared, the pulse at his temple throbbing visibly. Then he blinks, and the illusion shatters.

“Sure. Your pick.”

He nods but makes no move to leave the kitchen. His gaze burns a hole through the back of your head as you resume sorting. Rubber bands snap into a jar. Paperclips clink like loose change. The silence stretches, taut and humming, until—

“Casablanca”, he says abruptly.

You blink. “Since when do you like old movies?”

“Since never.” He pushes off the counter, mug abandoned. “But you do.”

The admission hangs between you, fragile as the steam still curling from your tea.

The couch has never felt this small.

Will’s usual sprawl—all loose limbs and careless angles—has been replaced by a coiled tension that makes the cushions dip dangerously toward him. His left arm rests along the back of the sofa, not quite touching your shoulders, but the heat of him bleeds through your thin jumper anyway. On screen, a spaceship disintegrates in silence. Neither of you registered the title when he queued it up, too busy pretending not to track each other’s movements.

His fingers find your hair first.

It starts as a graze—the rough pad of his thumb brushing the nape of your neck as he tucks a stray strand behind your ear. You stiffen, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he twirls the lock around his index finger, the motion hypnotically slow. His breathing hitches, audible even over the movie’s sudden explosion of gunfire.

“Will?” you whisper, turning your head just enough to see his profile.

He freezes. Moonlight from the half-open blinds stripes his face, sharpening the hunger in his expression before he can school it into something neutral. His thumb presses harder against your neck, a silent plea for you to stay still.

Then he sniffs.

A slow, deliberate inhale, his nose dragging along your temple. His breath fans hot over your skin, uneven and shallow, as if he’s been running. You feel the flutter of his eyelashes against your cheekbone when he blinks.

“You smell different,” he rasps, lips grazing the shell of your ear. The words vibrate through you, low and frayed at the edges.

Your heart stutters. “I—what?”

He doesn’t answer. Just buries his face in your hair, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind your ear with a low groan that makes your thighs clench. His free hand grips the couch cushion, fabric tearing under his fingernails.

“Your perfume,” he mutters, voice thick. “It’s… new.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out as a gasp. “Since when do you notice my perfume?”

His teeth graze your earlobe—a split-second scrape that might’ve been accidental. “Since it’s this one.” The hand in your hair tightens, tugging just enough to tilt your head back. His other palm lands heavy on your knee, fingers digging into the denim. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t—vanilla? Amber?” You’re babbling, hyperaware of his thumb tracing circles on your inner thigh. “Why?”

Will huffs a laugh against your skin, his arms tightening around you. “Been driving me fucking mental all day.” His voice rumbles through your chest where you’re pressed together, warm and honey-thick with confession.

Heat floods your cheeks. “You—” You twist to face him, but he catches your chin, calloused fingers tilting your head up. His eyes are heavy-lidded and gleaming, the blue-grey irises gone stormy at the edges.

“Yeah,” he admits, unashamed. “Full stalker mode. Followed you around the shop like a starving dog.” His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, daring you to scold him. “Pathetic, really. Nearly growled at that old lady for smirking at us.”

You laugh, swatting his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Guilty.” He nuzzles your jaw, scruff catching on delicate skin as his earlier intensity melts into something softer, sweeter. “Should’ve warned me. That perfume’s a biological weapon.” His nose trails down your neck, inhaling deeply with an exaggerated sniff that sends you into giggles.

“Oh, please,” you snort, tangling your fingers in his hair. “You’re just dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Will nips your earlobe, gentle this time. “You leaned over the milk cartons. Practically waved your neck under my nose.” His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs. “Sabotage.”

“I was checking expiration dates!”

“Cruel.” He kisses the offended pout off your lips, slow and lingering. He groans, flopping back against the cushions and dragging you with him in a tangle of limbs. “Going to have words with your friend,” he grumbles, even as his hands settle possessively at your waist. “Gifting chemical warfare disguised as perfume. Criminal negligence.”

“Hey!” You pinch his side, laughing as he jerks away with a yelp. “She has excellent taste!”

“Taste?” Will rolls his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “That stuff’s lethal. Bet she’s cackling in her evil lair right now.” He tugs your wrist to his nose, breathing deep with a mock-agonised sigh. “Probably spiked it with pheromones.”

You prop yourself up on his chest, smirking down at his ridiculous pout. “Jealous she found my signature scent first?”

“Devastated.” His hands slide up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. For once, there’s no humour in his stormy gaze—just raw, disarming honesty. “Should’ve been me.”

The kiss starts soft, a barely-there press of lips that quickly deepens when your fingers find his hair. Somewhere in the apartment, the forgotten movie’s credits music swells dramatically. Will breaks away first, forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“For the record,” he murmurs, nose bumping yours, “you’re banned from wearing that to Ikea. Or libraries. Or—”

The protest dies in his throat as you kiss him—really kiss him—your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His lips part instinctively, a low hum of satisfaction vibrating between you as he tilts his head to deepen the angle. There’s nothing tentative about it now: his hands slide up your back, anchoring you against him with a possessiveness that steals your breath.

He tastes like Earl Grey and the dark chocolate bar he’d pocketed at the shop—bitter-sweet, addictive. His stubble scrapes your cheek as he breathes you in, but neither of you care enough to pull away. When your teeth graze his bottom lip, he lets out a ragged groan, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Christ,” he mutters against your mouth, the word more prayer than curse. His thumb brushes the hinge of your jaw, coaxing you to open for him again, and you do—gladly—melding together in a rhythm that feels older than either of you. The couch creaks as he shifts, pressing you into the cushions until there’s no space left between hips, between heartbeats.

Before you can protest, his arms lock around your waist like steel bands, dragging you sideways into his lap. His legs loop over yours, pinning you to the couch in a tangle of limbs. A shudder runs through him as he buries his face in the junction of your neck, nose pressed to your pulse point.

“Will—?”

He doesn’t answer. Just holds you tighter, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin. Slowly, you relax into the vice of his embrace. Your fingers card through his hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp. He lets out a sound, half groan, half sigh, and nuzzles deeper into your neck. The tension bleeds from his shoulders incrementally, his death grip on your waist softening to something almost reverent.

“You’re clingy tonight,” you murmur, smoothing the rumpled hair at his temple.

“M’not,” he mumbles into your collarbone, though his legs immediately tangle with yours, pinning you to the couch. His nose nudges the hollow of your throat, inhaling deeply, as if memorising the scent. “S’your fault. Drugged me.”

You snort, fingertips tracing idle patterns down his spine. “Dramatic to the end.”

He hums, noncommittal, his lips brushing your pulse point. The credits still roll, bathing the room in shifting blue light, but Will’s breathing already slows—deep, even pulls of air that stir the neckline of your shirt. His grip loosens incrementally, heavy limbs going lax as sleep claims him.

You don’t dare move. Not when his lashes flutter against your skin, not when his fingers twitch against your hip in some dream. The weight of him is solid and warm, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath your palm.

“Will?” you whisper.

A soft snore answers, his exhale warming the hollow of your throat. You stretch carefully, fingertips grazing the crumpled throw blanket at the foot of the couch. The fabric whispers as you drag it upward, dust motes swirling gold in the TV’s dying light.

He stirs when the blanket settles—a grumpy murmur vibrating against your collarbone. His arms tighten reflexively, legs cinching around yours like living rope. “Nuh,” he slurs, half-asleep, protest muffled in your skin.

“Octopus”, you accuse under your breath, laughter softening the word.

His only reply is to nuzzle deeper, lips brushing your pulse in unconscious affection. You let your hand drift back to his hair, carding through the messy strands. His sigh is a quiet surrender, breath evening out as he sinks deeper into dreams.

The credits fade to black. In the sudden dark, his heartbeat becomes your compass—steady thuds beneath your palm, syncing with yours until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin. His legs stay stubbornly tangled with yours, a human anchor keeping you grounded.

Sleep comes slowly, tethered to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. His breaths paint the silence—a soft whistle in his nose, the faint tick of a swallowed snore. You press a kiss to the damp hair at his temple, lingering just long enough to memorise the warmth of his skin. Your eyelids grow heavy, the last thing you feel is the weight of his arm across your waist, anchoring you to this moment—to him—as the world dissolves into the slow, heavy pull of sleep.

#willne x fem!reader #will lenney x fem!reader #will lenney x reader #willne oneshot

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hermitadaymay · 3 months ago

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Introducing the Raffle Artists of HADM '25!

Hello one more time, Hermitcraft fans! March is almost over... which means Hermit-a-Day May is fast approaching! As we lead up to the April 1st release of this year's schedule, I'd like to take some time to introduce the nine amazing featured artists helping us out with our fundraiser incentives this year!

Today: our Raffle Artists, belmarzi, sand-stinger, FantasyKiri, and ethosiab! The raffle is new to Hermit-a-Day May this year, and we hope you find the prizes we have on offer as cool as we do!

Last year, Hermitcraft fanart and animation legend belmarzi blessed us with an amazing milestone reward animatic - and this year, she's back to kick off our first raffle with a bang! Bel's raffle offering is a commission slot for a digital full-body portrait painting, like this one she did of Cleo:

Next up, from the coolest segment of the streamathon:

Sand is crocheting an amigurumi Jellie plushie for their raffle offering! While we don't have photos of the final product yet, you can check out this post to see Sand's awesome crochet skills in action. Jellie will be a little over a foot long (including the tail) and made of super soft yarn for maximum cuddliness! We will cover up to US$25 shipping to get the plushie to wherever the winner is.

Hermit-a-Day veteran Kiri is offering a commission slot for a full scene of up to eight characters, in a similar style to the example below but a bit smaller-scope (and, presumably, less Moomin-y, but far be it for me to tell you what to do with your commission slot! Maybe Moominhermits is the crossover the world needs.).

Finally, our ninth featured artist this year...

Nic's raffle offering is a commission slot for a three-page comic! He will work closely with you to put to page your favorite canon moment, fanfiction scene, or just whatever plot bunny you have in mind! Here's a shorter comic exhibiting Nic's style:

All raffle entries will be $1 - so, for example, if you donate $10 and select the raffle for Sand's plushie Jellie as your reward, you will get 10 entries toward Jellie! You can donate multiple times and select a different raffle option each time, if you'd like. Note that raffle entries do not stack with Individual Reward commissions - you will have to choose one or the other for any given donation. Remember, all donations go to a good cause: the Hermits' favorite charity, Gamers Outreach!

Next time: THE CALENDAR!

#hermitcraft #hermitaday #reference post

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hungermakesmonsters · 6 months ago

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The Red Ribbon

Chapter Three

Plot Summary : By day you’re Billy Russo’s clumsy PA, but by night you’re a host at New York City’s most exclusive gentlemen's club. At The Red Ribbon everyone is anonymous and masks conceal the identities of patrons and hosts alike. But your two lives are about to collide and Billy Russo is about to see a whole new side of you without even realising it..

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour. All chapters will deal with smutty themes and include mentions/suggestions of sex work/work at a gentlemen's club (don't like, don't read). Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : I lied, this is definitely going to need 4 chapters. Also... sorry not sorry...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

You felt like something had been taken from you, cruelly snatched away, and you felt its loss so acutely that the pain manifested itself as a physical ache in your chest. You felt bereft, like he’d reached into your chest, scooped out your heart with his bare hands and left a gaping hole in its place.

And that empty feeling had only grown with every step you took away from the ice rink. From him.

How and why you’d allowed yourself to care so much about a masked man, a fiction you’d only met twice, you didn’t know, but the loss of that idealised fantasy had an uncharacteristic rage simmering inside you.

How dare he.

How dare he do that to you.

How dare he make you feel something for him.

He’d almost made you -

- what?

As quick as the rage had started to burn inside you, it fizzled out and you deflated. You were blowing things out of proportion, assigning blame to things that were no one's fault. You’d told him yourself that it wasn’t real, so why were you now allowing yourself to grieve its loss as if it was?

You’d demanded that your mask stayed in place while he’d been the one to want to end the charade and turn it into something terrifyingly real.

It wasn’t some deliberate action of a spiteful man, he hadn’t done it to hurt you. He’d done it to know you.

Ultimately, you’d pretended and played make-belief just as much as he had, and you only had yourself to blame for the results.

Cold wind stung your eyes as you blinked back tears all the way back to your apartment. You hated that you knew and wished that you could turn back time and unsee it all. Ignorance had been bliss and, now, every memory of him felt tainted and wrong. Part of you even started to wonder if you could ignore it, pretend that you didn’t know, so you could have just one more night in his arms, seeing him smile and hearing his laugh.

But that was impossible. There was no pretending, no getting over the awkward knotting in your stomach when you remembered every sharp word and irritated look that he’d shot you while working at Anvil.

Still, you couldn’t help but grieve the loss of connection as you curled up in bed, hating that it was him or all people who’d managed to make you feel so happy, so wanted.

For the longest time you avoided the obvious question, not wanting to even think about it.

Why had he been at the ice rink in the first place?

It was simple; he’d been looking for you.

No, he’d been looking for Bunny.

He’d tried to find Bunny, despite everything you’d told him about your connection having an expiry date and everything you’d said to maintain a professional distance from him. He’d gone looking for you in the real world - why? Because he wanted something real.

You replayed it all, over and over, wondering how you’d been so blind and hating yourself for not being more careful. You weren’t supposed to feel any of it, you weren’t supposed to feel anything at all for him. He was a customer - a customer you’d only dealt with twice at that.

You felt like a stupid teenager mourning a crush but, no matter how you tried to rationalise it, there was no stopping the ache in your chest.

Even now, knowing who he really was beneath the mask, you felt something.

What, exactly, you weren’t sure, but if felt it could have become something more, something special.

And now it was gone.

As you choked back awkward sobs, you found yourself stuck on another infuriating question; which version of Billy was the real one? Was he the man who didn’t seem to care if he hurt your feelings, or was the man who’d been concerned for your wellbeing when he found out that you’d changed your limits at The Red Ribbon?

Eventually, you finally managed to fall into a fitful and restless sleep, that left you feeling exhausted when your alarm woke you a few hours later.

You had to force yourself to get out of bed and face the day, not knowing how you were going to deal with seeing him again.

But Mr Russo was nowhere to be seen when you reached your desk on the top floor of the Anvil building. The light in his office was on but, even after you’d been sitting at your desk for over an hour, you still hadn’t seen him.

The longer you sat, the worse you felt. Your mind started to race, imagining all kinds of terrible scenarios where he’d figured out that you were Bunny, and how he was just waiting for the perfect moment to humiliate and fire you.

More than once you started to draft a resignation email, wanting to beat him to the punch and be out of there until whatever cruel revenge he had planned started to unfold. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hit send, feeling sick at knowing just how much you needed the money.

Eventually, the waiting became too much to bear and you decided to take the initiative, leaving your desk and going to get him his morning coffee, not wanting to risk being yelled at for not following his usual schedule. When you got back from Starbucks, he was still holed up in his office and it didn’t seem like he’d left.

You knocked on his door, lightly at first and, when that didn’t get a response, again a little louder.

You expect to hear some barked and exasperated order, instead you got something else entirely.

“What?”

It was soft, barely audible, so much so that when you started to open the door, you half-expected to be screamed at for just barging in.

At the sight of him, you faltered, almost tripping over your own feet but managing to save yourself at the last second; he was sitting with his elbows braced on the desk and his head in his hands. Something swelled inside you, some feeling that you knew that you shouldn’t be having, something wrong given the circumstance. Something of Bunny bleeding into your real life and making you ache for the man in front of you.

“Mr Russo?” You asked softly, your voice trembling, scared you might give yourself away with just those two little words and the concern they carried.

And when he looked up - fuck, you wondered how you’d never noticed how tired he always looked, like he was carring the weight of the world on his shoulders. Seeing him made you think of every other time you’d seen him looking exhausted and drained, but had chosen to ignore it because he was being an asshole to you. But you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Not when you knew there was a softer side to him lurking just beneath the surface.

“Yes?” He asked, his tone betraying him even more than his appearance.

For a few seconds all you could do was stare at him, looking into those dark and tired eyes, searching for a flicker of recognition. And there was nothing.

He still had no idea that you were Bunny.

It took a few moments to remember the coffee cup that was gripped tightly in your hand (the same hand that, less than forty-eight hours ago, had been wrapped around his cock, pulling the sweetest moans from his lips).

“I - I have your morning coffee,” you said, managing to swallow the lump in your throat as you stepped forwards.

The tired look of confusion on his face had your gaze dropping to his desk, feeling like you were seeing too much, seeing things he didn’t want to share. His desk was in the same state as he was; messy. As you placed the cup down, you scanned the papers strewn across the desk; financial documents and mission reports, some highlighted, others plastered with post-its and scrawled handwriting.

And, when you stepped back, you noticed the thin blanket draped over the sofa in the corner of the office.

He’d slept there.

Or, not slept there, as the dark circles under his eyes seemed to suggest.

“Thank you,” he muttered, dispondantly, barely raising his eyes to look at you.

You took another step back, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you. You knew that you weren’t supposed to see him like this, obviously struggling with something, while you held some secret knowledge over him. It felt like an invasion of his privacy, an even greater breach of his trust.

“Is -” you started, then hesitated, “- is everything okay, Mr Russo?”

As he finally looked up, you found yourself flinching, bracing for some cutting remark about minding your own damn business or I don’t pay you to ask questions, but it never came.

“Everything’s fine.”

And that was that.

Billy Russo might have been a lot of things - very confusing things - but a world-class liar, he was not.

His attention dropped back to his desk, not even bothering to reach for the fresh, hot coffee in front of him, and you found yourself lingering, not wanting to leave. Actually, you wanted to move closer, wanting to wrap your arms around him and hold him.

At that moment, you didn’t see Billy Russo, your boss, you saw Tall, Dark and Handsome, the man who’d made you feel seen, the man who’d made you laugh. You saw a man who needed comfort, and it made your heart ache that you couldn’t give him it.

“You can take the rest of the day,” he said when he realised you were still standing there, assuming that you were waiting for him to give you some work to do. “I won’t be needing you today.”

“But it’s only 10:30 -” you started to protest, not wanting to be sent away.

“I said I won’t be needing you.”

Even that sounded hollow, like he couldn’t muster his usual sharpness. He didn’t even look at you as you, finally, started to move back towards the door.

“Yes, Mr Russo,” you answered, making sure to softly close his office door behind you.

You grabbed your things quickly, your mind racing as you left the building. He’d never sent you home early before - hell, most days you were lucky if he even let you finish on time. If you hadn't gone for his coffee, would he have left you at your desk all day with nothing to do?

And why had he been sleeping in his office?

As much as you found yourself flitting between hating him for being an asshole and longing for the man you knew he could be, you would have welcomed his cold and cutting tone over whatever that had been in his office.

More than once on your way home, you found yourself slowing, glancing back over your shoulder and considering returning to the office to confront him, to comfort him, to tell him everything just so you didn’t have to contend with all of the unsettling what-ifs in your head anymore. Seeing another, unknown version of him was just too much for you to handle, and you wanted desperately to find a way to make sense of it all.

For the rest of the day, you were an anxious mess. You felt like you were waiting for something to happen but you didn’t know what. Not once did your phone ring or buzz with a demanding message from him, nor did any email notifications appear.

He really didn’t need you.

The man who wouldn’t even walk across the street for his own Starbucks order most days, didn’t need you.

And, of course, that led you to darker thoughts; without you there, what was he going to do for lunch? Was he even going to eat? Should you order something for him and have it delivered should you -

Fuck.

You were left worrying about a grown man who, you assumed, could take care of himself. (But, just because he could take care of himself, didn’t mean that he was taking care of himself.)

All the conflicting feelings inside you made you feel like you couldn’t even be certain what you were feeling anymore. It made you feel sick to your stomach knowing that there was really no way out of it.

You could tell him the truth and destroy your own life, or you could continue to lie to him and struggle to deal with the tsunami of emotions he inspired inside of you, and neither option was particularly appealing.

And if you continued the lie? He’d keep coming to see you at The Red Ribbon, until you found a way of stopping him and - well, that just presented more challenges.

Lost in thought, you also lost track of time, spending the whole day fretting until it was time to have dinner and race across town to get to The Red Ribbon in time for your shift to start. You changed quickly, storing your things in your locker, stopping by the mirror to make sure you were presentable and didn’t look as awful as you felt. Then you headed to the board, hoping that you’d have something good to distract you for a few hours, a bachelor party, a large group, something.

But it was all just wishful thinking.

There, beside your name in brackets, were those two little words again; by request.

He wanted to see you again. Already.

You wanted to refuse, to come up with some excuse why you couldn’t see that customer again so Val would send someone else in your place. But you couldn’t. You knew that you had to see him again, had to finally figure out just what the fuck was going on and what you were going to do about it, even if it meant coming clean and putting an end to everything.

He deserved that much, didn’t he?

But, once he knew, you were certain he’d give up on you, he’d give up on the fiction that you’d both had a hand in creating. Then you’d lose your job at Anvil and, as much as the thought stung, the more resigned you became to it. No matter what happened tonight, you were already starting to realise that you couldn’t continue working for him.

Your fingers trembled as you pulled on your mask and tied the red ribbon around your neck, the soft fabric feeling more like a noose just waiting to tighten.

You tried to force your anxiety away, to become Bunny and exude her confidence, but the spring in your step was gone and, for the first time since starting to work at The Red Ribbon, you felt an uncomfortable and roiling nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You shrugged it off when Rocky questioned you unusually reserved demeanour, telling him that you were just feeling a little tired.

And you hated that you were having to lie to someone you considered a friend just to get through it all.

Once you were in the private room, you started to pace, doing none of your usual checks, not caring that the cushions on the sofa were askew or even making sure that the bar was stocked. You just paced, trying to ignore your racing heart and the weight on your chest, all the while rehearsing what you might say to him if you could bring yourself to come clean.

I didn’t realise it was you until after I gave you the handjob. I wouldn’t’ve flirted if I knew it was you. I didn’t do it on purpose. I know you’re disappointed that it’s me. You’re the last person I wanted to know that I work here. Of course none of it was real and, even if it was, it doesn’t mean anything now.

If you weren’t such an asshole, maybe we -

The door opened, cutting off that line of thought before it spiralled too far out of control.

You turned to face him, the first syllable of your confession dying on your lips the moment you saw the state he was in.

Even with the mask, you could see the way that exhaustion clung to his features, the dark circles beneath his eyes looking even more pronounced than they had that morning. His shirt was creased beneath his tailored suit jacket, the top button open and his tie pulled loose, causing his collar to sit awkwardly. If there was one thing you knew - one thing anyone who knew him knew - it was that Billy Russo was a man who cared about appearances, so seeing him so dishevelled had your stomach knotting with concern.

Before you could think to say anything or even step forwards, he’d cleared the distance between you and had taken your face in his hands, urging your head up so he could kiss you.

And - oh, how easy it was to lose yourself in his kiss, to lose yourself in the way that he made you feel wanted.

Your arm wrapped around his waist of its own accord, holding him against you - not that he had any intention of pulling away from you. His tongue eagerly, desperately, ran along the seam of your lips and you parted for him, giving him what he needed. A soft whimper slipped from you at the taste of his lips and tongue, helping you forget all about being anything but his Bunny for the moment.

When the kiss finally broke, he didn’t pull back or pull away, instead he buried his face against your neck and held you tighter, hiding from the world.

The seconds started to tick by and... nothing.

He just held you. Saying nothing, doing nothing.

After a couple of minutes had passed, you cautiously lifted your head and ran your fingers through the back of his hair. He shuddered against you, holding you tighter, but not moving, not speaking.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

And it wasn’t the kind of wrong that you’d expected, the kind of wrong that came from him knowing the truth about you.

He was upset.

You weren’t sure why it bothered you, why it caused the knots in your stomach to pull tighter. Given the number of times he’d upset you over the last few months, you should have found some sick satisfaction in it, but there was nothing but worry and heartache to be found.

Another minute passed, tenderly stroking his hair, hoping he’d snap out of whatever was bothering him but he didn't and you were forced to take action.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, forcing yourself to speak in Bunny’s calm, reassuring voice.

He shook his head but continued to hide from you, and you quickly got the impression that he’d remain like that for the rest of the night if you let him. And, some part of you wanted to let him. If holding him was bringing him some much needed comfort, then you didn’t want to pull away.

But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing between the pair of you was that simple.

“Hey,” you tried again, “what’s going on?”

His chest shuddered as he took an awkward breath. “Everything's fucked up.”

“Everything? What's everything?” You asked, desperate to understand what was happening in front of you.

You felt him huff another breath, his arm continuing to tighten around you to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“My life... everything I’ve worked for...” he muttered despondently, “I could lose it all...”

There was a weight to his words that made your stomach coil tighter still. His life, what he’d worked for, surely that meant Anvil. And if he was faced with losing Anvil... well, that would certainly explain his behaviour around the office lately.

Again, it felt wrong, like you were learning things that you had no right to know, things he wouldn’t tell you if he knew the truth of who you were. But the way he was holding you left you feeling conflicted; he trusted Bunny with this information and wasn’t Bunny just a part of you?

“Come on,” you finally muttered, managing to pull back from him a little, “let’s sit down and have a drink, yeah?”

He looked at you, his dark eyes catching on yours and, for a split-second, you were sure you caught a spark of recognition in his eyes. Dread filled you but amounted to nothing. You pulled away finally, ushering him towards the sofa while you headed to grab him a generously sized glass of scotch from the bar, hoping that a drink might settle him a little.

All the while, you could feel his gaze on you, like he was scared you’d vanish if he dared to look away even for a second. At any other time you might have basked in the feeling but, right then, it just made you feel worse.

Forcing a gentle smile, you headed back to him, taking a seat beside him, letting your leg rest against his as you handed him the glass. But he didn’t drink, he just stared at it for a few seconds before letting another sigh slip out.

“When was the last time you slept?” You asked, remembering that you’d asked him the same thing only a couple of nights ago.

And you remembered his answer.

It had been a rough couple of months.

Months. Perhaps even longer than you’d been working for Anvil.

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally taking a small sip of scotch. “I can’t sleep. Can’t rest. It’s like... like there’s a weight on my chest, something pushing down...”

“That sounds like anxiety.”

And you should know. Out in the real world you’d always been anxious - though for the longest time you’d been told you were just shy, that you’d grow out of worrying and assuming that the very worst was about to happen, and that you’d learn to put yourself out there more. But then something bad had happened and, for the longest time, it seemed to confirm all of your worst fears about yourself.

But this moment wasn’t about you.

“Anxiety?” He repeated, huffing as he shook his head. “No, that’s - that’s not me. I used to be a Marine. A sniper for fucks sakes. We don’t get anxious.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” you said softly, knowing that at least that was true, but Billy shook his head again. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe it’d help to get it off your chest?”

With every moment that passed, you were digging yourself a deeper hole, putting yourself in a position you’d never be able to escape from, saying and doing things that would only make your deception seem worse when it was finally discovered.

Regardless, in an attempt to soothe him, you placed a hand on the back of his neck and started to play with the strands of hair at his nape. Billy leaned into your touch and let his eyes fall shut for a few seconds, allowing himself to almost relax.

“I never had anything,” he said quietly. “Had to fight for everything I ever got. Joined the Marines the moment I graduated high school, fought my way up to lieutenant, left with an honourable discharge. Everything I’ve ever done, I did it on my own.”

You listened intently, not sure how his past tied into his current problems, but you wanted to know because it was him, because you wanted to know him.

“I got the idea to start my company not long after I got back to New York, but everything I’d done, it - it didn’t count for anything to the banks. No one wanted to give me a loan, and I had no family to ask for help.”

He paused to take a drink, obviously putting off the next part of the story.

“There was this... guy. I met him while I was serving in Afghanistan, and he offered to front the cash I needed. Told me he’d just be a silent partner, that I’d do all the hard work and he’d get a cut of the profit.”

As he spoke, you continued to brush your fingers over the nape of his neck, trying to get him to relax a little.

“He lied to me, he -” he gave an angry huff, “- he’s been using my company to move drugs from the Middle East to the States, and he’s been laundering the money through the company accounts. I’ve suspected it for months now, but I finally put it all together last night...”

Fuck. That explained the documents you’d seen on his desk that morning and the fact that he’d slept in his office.

“The one time in my life I let someone help and...”

You felt tension fill his body and you felt so useless, so helpless. If what he was saying was true - and, honestly, you had no reason to doubt him - then everything finally made sense. It didn’t make up for the way he’d treated you, but the stress of going through all of that had to be taking its toll on him.

“I have over a hundred people working for me,” he continued, his voice an awkward mixture of anger and something else that you couldn’t quite pin down. Pain, you supposed. “I don’t know how many of them I can even trust. And if it comes out that this has happened, they could all lose their jobs, just because I was too fucking stupid to realise what was going on right under my nose.”

You didn’t expect the worry in his voice, the genuine care he seemed to have for the people who worked for him, because it was something you’d never seen or experienced before. But you were starting to realise that maybe it was because, in the few months you’d worked for him, he’d been struggling with all of this.

“You’re not stupid,” you told him firmly.

All you got was a grunt in response before he lifted his glass to his lips and drained it in one.

“You’re not,” you told him again.

When he still didn’t respond, you took his empty glass and deposited it on the table. Then, in an act of absolute insanity, you straddled his lap and took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

Your thumbs caressed his cheeks over the stubble that lined his jaw, and you allowed yourself to slowly drown in his dark eyes. Your expression softened and your heart stuttered, finally realising the one thing you’d been desperate to ignore; you didn’t want this to end.

“You. Are. Not. Stupid.” You repeated slowly, emphatically, still holding his gaze.

While there were lots of things you could say about him - several of which you had said about him beneath your breath over the last few months - you’d sat through enough meetings with him to know that Billy Russo was anything but stupid.

“Then how did this happen?” He asked. “How did I let this happen?”

Of course, you didn’t have an answer for him, but you didn’t let him look away. Your chest ached for him, hating that this was how you were learning about what he’d been struggling with. If you’d known sooner, if he’d trusted you with it at Anvil, maybe you could have helped him shoulder the burden, maybe you would have been more understanding when he’d been an asshole to you.

“I don’t know,” you said softly, “but I can tell that this isn’t what you wanted to happen and that you would have stopped it if you’d known.”

If only because he cared about his company, about the thing he’d built from scratch.

He didn’t answer, seeming to want to slip back into silence, but you weren’t going to let him.

“Why are you here?” You asked softly. “Shouldn’t you be trying to... I dunno, fix things?”

“I’ve been trying, I’ve got a friend - a lawyer - looking into it. I just -” he sighed, “- I wanted to see you. I know it sounds crazy and I barely know you, but when I’m with you, I don’t feel like my whole life is falling apart.”

You didn’t even notice his hand move, you were too caught up in the dark depths of his eyes to realise until it was pressed between your breasts, over your racing heart. For a moment he seemed to consider the way your heart was pounding and, then, realised that he was the cause.

“I don’t know why or how, but I feel like I can trust you, Bunny. You make everything feel better...” he said, a soft almost shy confession. “Even with the mask I - I feel like you see me better than anyone...”

Your chest shuddered, lungs refusing to draw breath in case he moved his hand away.

It was so fucked up but again - and again, and again, and again - you wanted so desperately to believe him. You ached for him to want you, to trust you, even though you knew that you didn’t deserve it and that it would all fall apart the moment he found out who you were.

You needed to tell him, but everything was already too far out of control. You wanted him to know, wanting him to choose you, but you knew that it was impossible. He wanted Bunny and Bunny was only a part of you, a tiny insignificant little part.

There was no telling who closed the distance, all you knew for certain was that his lips found yours again and forced aside any thought that wasn’t wanton, selfish or carnal in nature. He’d let you see so much of himself tonight, let you see that he was even more than you ever thought he was and, greedily, you only wanted more.

“Bunny,” he groaned against your lips.

It was almost enough to undo you just hearing the desperation and need in his voice.

A soft moan spilled from your mouth and into his as his hand slipped down your body, reaching between your thighs. You tensed as you felt the fabric of your body suit and panties pulled aside, but you didn’t break from the kiss, didn’t try to stop him.

He wanted you.

In some fucked up way you managed to lie to yourself, managed to convince yourself that he didn’t think you were worthless and useless.

You were Bunny.

You could be Bunny, for him.

Fingers, still cold from holding his glass, trailed through your arousal, and you moaned again. Even if you’d wanted to, even if you’d somehow managed to come to your senses, there was no stopping it. You needed his touch more than you needed the air in your lungs.

“Fuck, Bunny,” he muttered, barely pulling back from the kiss, “you’re so wet for me already.”

Heat licked across your cheeks and down your neck and chest, knowing that he was right. And your arousal only became more obvious as he continued to touch you, using his fingers to spread your folds, fingertips teasing at your entrance before moving up to your clit. It wasn’t long before you were trembling and desperate for more.

“Please,” you murmured against his lips, needing more, needing everything.

Your back arched, needily grinding yourself against his hand as a finger breached your walls and sank into you. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck, keeping you in his kiss.

You felt his lips pull into a smile against yours and it was - fuck, it was incredible to know that you’d been able to make him smile again.

He set a slow pace to begin with, despite the needy shift of your hips, taking his time with you, letting you know that he was in control. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as he continued to kiss you, and continued to steal the last of your sanity.

This shouldn’t be happening, but you didn’t want it to stop.

A second finger easily slipped into the heat of your body, causing your breath to catch and another eager moan to escape you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

You weren’t sure if you imagined the words, if you were hearing what you wanted to hear in order to convince yourself that this was, somehow, real, but you kissed him more fiercely because of it.

He paid attention to every little gasp and the way your back arched every time his fingers grazed that sensitive spot inside of you, like he was learning what brought you the most pleasure. You’d never had a man take such an interest in what you needed, and it just pushed you deeper and deeper into denial, telling yourself that you could have your cake and eat it, that Billy never had to know who you really were.

You were Bunny.

You could be anything that he wanted you to be.

“Oh - fuck - god...” you whine as his fingers bent again, your lips tearing from his so you could gasp for breath.

Your head dropped back and you barely noticed his other hand pulling down the front of your body suit until he started to trail kisses down your neck and over the tops of your breasts. When you didn’t complain or make any sign you wanted him to stop, he pulled the fabric down further, revealing your lace strapless bra and popping one of your breasts from its cup.

You gripped his shoulders tighter, your knuckles aching as you held on for dear life, getting closer and closer to the edge. But you didn’t want to go over, you didn’t want the moment to end, so you fought against it, your body clamping tight around his fingers, and biting your lip as his tongue circled your nipple.

It took your last shred of sanity to keep yourself from screaming his name as you lost your battle. You came hard on his fingers, pleasure shooting up your spine, causing you to arch and press your breasts into his face - something that he seemed to appreciate.

His fingers kept moving, kept drawing out your pleasure until you were little more than a writhing mess on his lap.

Finally, you collapsed against him, pressing your face against his neck as you struggled to catch your breath, acutely aware that his fingers were still inside you and he seemed in no rush to change that fact.

“I want you,” he muttered into your ear.

Without thinking, your hand slipped between your bodies and came to rest on the prominent bulge in his pants, but you didn’t give him an answer.

It was the point of no return - if you fucked him, there would be no getting over it, no moving past what you’d done.

“Please,” he groaned, his free hand covering yours, pressing your hand against his erection, “I need you, Bunny. I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you.”

To make his point, he flexed the fingers that were still buried inside the heat of your body, causing you to gasp, still sensitive from your orgasm. His lips pressed against your shoulder, his teeth lightly scraping the skin, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“I want to make you moan for me, Bunny.”

And, try as you might, you couldn’t fight it. You couldn’t be the decent and honest person that he deserved right then. You wanted him too much, and this would be your only chance to have him.

His hand moved a little, dragging your hand over his pants, guiding your touch so you were stroking him.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly, finally lifting your head.

Before you could second guess yourself, your lips crashed against his, kissing him hungrily, telling him without words how much you wanted this, wanted him. His fingers started to move again, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“Tell me you want me,” he muttered against your lips.

“I want you - fuck, I want you.”

Quickly, you found yourself moved, laid out on your back beneath him, his fingers still thrusting in and out of your eager body, sending your arousal through the roof. Your own hands were awkwardly fumbling, undoing his belt and pants so you could get to his cock and finally feel him again.

His lips roamed your face and neck, seeming to worship you with every press of his lips.

He groaned as your fingers wrapped around his cock and started to stroke him, wanting to give him some small taste of the pleasure he was giving you.

It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

It was everything and nothing all rolled into one.

His thumb pressed against your throbbing clit as he drove his fingers into you, and it was all over.

“Mr Russo!” you cried out as you came again, your body arching and shaking beneath him, only for your pleasure to crash and burn around you when you realised what you’d done, what you’d said.

“What the fuck?”

You couldn’t tell if he was shocked, angry, or some other third thing, but you were too frozen by panic to even think about stopping him as he reached for your mask, revealing not only your face but your lies as well.

A/N : Look... I know at this point no one is going to believe me, but it genuinely wasn't my intention to end this on an even worse cliffhanger than last time 😅 because I got carried away with the angst it got so long that I couldn't finish the plot in this chapter, so the final part will be out next week (or sometime between friday and monday, depending on how my week goes). Anyway, I'm loving how much everyone seems to be enjoying this and all your comments and reblogs have been an absolute joy to read, so thank you so much. And thanks for all the get well soon messages, I'm finally feeling back to normal now (the flu is awful i s2g).

Either later tonight or sometime tomorrow I'll be putting up a poll so you can all vote on my next Billy fic, I'll also probably mention a little something about the Bucky thing I'm planning next and throw around a few other random ideas because new year, new head full of ideas I desperately need to empty out 😂

Edit : the poll is here!!!

Hope you all have a great week!

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Tag List : @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @dreadfulxives18 @shwnirwin

@ladyblacky @spitecrow @oliviaewl @snowkestrel @theendofthematerialgworl

@super-clearlysaltybouquet @danzer8705 @benbarnesprettygurl

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #trr ff

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kaisturni · 1 year ago

Text

rope bunny (pillow princess pt 2) | c. sturniolo

→ chris x fem!reader

→ plot; after your first night with chris, you do your best to stay out of the radar of his brothers. when you two return back to your room after filming, chris has a kink he wants to work out with you.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, restraining, f! oral, getting caught (kinda), creampie, angst if you squint, light fluff

→ a/n; i was going to post tomorrow but i could not WAIT hope i did it justice for everyone since this is my most loved fic (out of three lol but still crazy) and this one’s for the horny freaky FUCKS, ur just like me and i’m just like u, enjoy 🙈

NOT PROOFREAD

——————————————————————————

i opened my eyes and squint, adjusting to the bright sun entering the room. i’m still naked, still hugging chris, and still buzzed from the events of last night.

he’s already on his phone, and when he notices that i’m awake and looking at him, he smiles and peppers kisses all over my face,

“mornin’ baby,” placing the last kiss on my lips, making sure this one was longer than the others.

“good morning, how did you sleep?” i ask while stretching, the blanket slipping down, exposing my bare chest.

chris bites his lip lightly, “slept good, feeling even better now,” he whispers into my ear, taking a hand and squeezing.

i do my best to not groan at his action, since the day has just started, “chris! seriously? not right now!” i laugh, slightly pushing him away and crawling out of bed to get myself into the shower.

he frowns at the loss of contact, “sorry i just cant help mysel- are you showering? can i come with???” he pleads after watching me grab a towel and shuffle to the bathroom,

as much as i want to get in to the shower with him right now, i know were in a rush and we have places to be with nick and matt, and i don’t think we need them on our trail with both of us coming out of the room with wet hair.

“didn’t you shower last night? plus we have to get going in 20, that’s not enough time for-“

“for what?” he smirks,

“nothing, it’s just not enough time!” i half yell, slamming the bathroom door. honestly, the fact that he’s so needy already is cute.

it makes me wonder how he’s going to act when we’re with nick and matt. is it going to be awkward? obvious? are they going to clock us right away and never speak to me again? i shudder at my own imagination. i guess we’ll find out today.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

they haven’t picked up on anything.

which is good, because chris and i aren’t exactly doing a very good job at keeping a low profile.

he’s been stealing kisses from me all day; whenever the camera is not on, we’ll find ourselves trailing behind the group just to give each other a few quick pecks,

even sitting next to me and squeezing my thighs under the table when we go out to eat, laughing when he sees me trying to control myself under his touch.

“we’ve got to get going to the driskill now, is everyone ready?” nick asks, and we all nod following him out of the restaurant and to the hotel.

of course, chris and i “unintentionally” trail to the back again, holding hands and kissing behind his oblivious brothers.

that is, until matt turns his head around just as chris is about to kiss me again, and we have to almost rip apart at his eye contact.

“jesus, what’s wrong with you two??” matt questions with a chuckle, with good reason because i’m obviously extremely startled by almost getting caught.

“nothing, i was just saying something to scare her before we got to the hotel,” chris says nonchalantly, the lie slipping off his tongue easily.

“well i don’t want to know, i’m already fucking terrified,” nick chimes in, thankfully not turning around and continuing to keep his eyes ahead of him.

matt agrees, and they carry their own conversation, forgetting about us. chris gives me a little wink and a quick peck on the side of the head, both of us in a silent agreement not to try anything to close to them, it not being worthy the risk.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

we’ve been filming for about an hour or two at this point, we end up in a room where sam and colby decide this is where we’re doing the estes method.

“okay so y/n and nick can go first, just sit over on that couch put these blindfolds and headphone on and you’ll start hearing words playing back to you,” sam tells us while handing nick and i our gear.

chris watches me without even blinking while i put my blindfold on, and i stare back at him until i see nothing.

nick and i do it for about 10 minutes and we were able to get some good stuff for their video,

“matt and chris, how about y’all try it next” colby says as nick and i unblind ourselves.

i hand chris my blindfold and he bends down to my level, “you look so fucking sexy with a blindfold on, remind me to steal those from them later,” he whispers and smiles devilishly, taking the blindfold from my hands and claiming my spot.

i can feel my heart rate pick up at both his comment and our proximity to the others, it seems like he really does not care about getting caught; or he just lives for the thrill of it.

now that him and matt have the blindfolds on, chris starts man spreading, bucking his hips upwards and throwing his head back.

this man knows exactly what he’s fucking doing.

every word he says is in a low, slow voice, and i’m sure he’s laughing in his head at the vision of me squirming at what he’s doing.

him and matt finish, chris taking matt’s blindfold from him, “i can put these away for you guys,” he says to colby, and he thanks him and the group starts walking towards the bathroom.

i look back at chris and he’s shoving the blindfolds into his pocket, bringing his index finger to his lips, giving me a silent hush. my breath hitches and i don’t want to even let myself get hot and bothered by what he could be having in store for me later.

the fantasy that almost begins to brew in my head is flushed by nick and matt's whispers ahead of me.

“i don’t know, it’s weird!”

“i don’t believe you for a second.”

“i swear, i don’t know what happened last night, but something is going on between them,”

i feel my heart sink to my stomach the second i hear those words come out of matt’s mouth. he must have suspected something when we were walking to the hotel. were we being that obvious the whole day? i can’t even remember at this point.

i can feel my heart race and breath pick up, anxiety seeping through my body before i feel a hand on my shoulder,

“you good?” chris looks at me, a worried expression on his face.

the last thing i want to do is make him worry about his brother’s speculations, so i give him a half hearted smile,

“yes, just tired that’s all,” his eyes search my face,

“me too, it’s okay we’ll be done filming soon,” he pats my shoulder lightly and turns to talk to his brothers. i’m jealous of how calm he’s able to be with the way he’s asking. it’s not like i’m the one who’s being risky, but it sure as hell feels like it does.

✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ : *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

it’s around one in the morning when we say goodbye to sam and colby and start heading back to our own hotel.

i decided to walk with nick instead of chris, and even then i can feel matt’s eyes burning into the back of my head.

i do my best to actually keep eye contact with him whenever he looks at me just so i can show i don’t have the “we both know i’m with your brother” expression on my face.

“goodnight, we’ll see you guys tomorrow to check out thrifts and shit,” chris starts, before beginning to walk in the direction of our room.

“what? i thought we were all going to hang in our room for a little,” nick asks, looking at me confused,

“nah, y/n told me she’s super tired and i don’t want to keep her up if i come in late, right, y/n?”

god he’s so fucking good on the spot it drives me nuts.

“yeah i’m exhausted, all that ghost hunting has me beat, but don’t worry nick i promise shopping tomorrow will make up for it,” i say,

“keep your promise missy!”

i salute him before giving nick an arm hug and walking away as we blow each other a kiss.

chris keys us in to our room, while looking back at me with a sweet smile and kisses me on the cheek,

“m’lady,” he says while ushering me to go in, causing me to roll my eyes and giggle.

i don’t even have time to think before chris slams me into the door of the room and pushes his lips into mine.

we moan into each others mouths, his arms snaking around my waist and mine wrapping around his neck on cue.

“fuck, i’ve been needing you all day, i don’t know how i waited this long,” chris says breaking the contact between our mouths and moving his lips down to my neck with a trail of sloppy kisses,

“jump,” he demands, and i do and he holds my legs in place around his legs,

“chris,” i breathe out, unable to come up with complete sentences to say.

he moves his lips back up to mine, and without breaking our kiss lays me down on the bed, himself still standing over me.

chris breaks away fast and harsh, i look at him slightly confused,

“what’s wrong? what are you do-oh my god,”

chris pulls out both blindfolds he stole while we were filming, which i had entirely forgotten about. honestly i thought he just put them in his pocket for the theatrics, but i was dead wrong.

“thought i forgot about these, huh? i couldn’t get the sight of you with it on out of my head,” he says while removing my top then kissing the part of my breasts that are exposed through my bra.

“i couldn’t decide if i wanted to blindfold you or tie you up with it, so i decided on both. now strip,” he stands up tall and holds the silky fabric between his hands, wrapping it around his left knuckles.

i do as i’m told and i get completely naked, sinking to the ground in front him.

he takes his top layers off until he’s standing there in just pants, eyes dark and peering down at me.

i can feel myself quickly getting soaked, and chris grabs my throat and pulls me up closer to his level,

“you’re gonna do as i say, got that baby?” i nod vigorously, and he motions for me to lay on the bed.

“put your arms pretty girl,” he husks, kissing up my naked body before tying my wrists together in a bow above my head.

“i didn’t think you would be into this kind of thing, christopher,” i purr at him, watching chris bite his lip at my comment,

“i’m mainly just in to you, and since you’re mine i get to try anything i want with you, right?” he says, dipping down to suck on my nipple.

the feeling causes me to moan and squeeze my legs together, aching for him to absolutely fuck me senseless.

“r-right,” i say in a breathless agreement, and he gives me that devilish smile once again.

“good. now just lay back and enjoy it all baby,” he brings the blindfold up to my face and i lift my head so he can tie it around my head.

immediately i feel his hand go between my soaking core, causing me to arch my back even his gentle touch,

“you’re already so wet, you make it so hard to not fuck you so quick,” his voice rings into my ears like a melody as his two fingers enter me with ease.

“oh fuck, mmm…chris-“ i wriggle in my makeshift handcuffs when he curls his fingers with each pump, hitting the perfect spot every single time.

he removes his fingers from inside me, and i groan at the void of the pleasure that was building up inside me.

suddenly he pushes my legs further apart, and i gasp when i feel his mouth sucking on my clit.

pornographic moans echo in the room, and he buries his face deeper into my pussy, vibrations of his moans sending me further into a frenzy.

i’d give fucking anything to grip on to his hair right now, but since that option was taken away from me i’m left squirming under his touch, feeling the knots in my stomach grow tighter by the minute.

“shit right there, don’t fucking stop please,” i feel like i’m going to explode as he goes between sucking on my clit and giving fast licks to it on the tip of his tongue.

“how could i? you taste so sweet, y/n, god i love your pussy in my face,” he says before immediately going back to his attack on my core.

“b-baby i’m so close,” i practically scream out,

“let it all out f’me pretty girl,” he mumbled against me, and i release all over, feelings my legs trembling over my high.

i feel chris’ soaking wet mouth on my lips again, tasting myself as he explores my mouth with his.

he breaks away and i inhale deeply, picking up the sounds of his belt and the undoing of a zipper.

i feel his dick rub between me a few times before he immediately starts thrusting, holding my hips in place for his movement.

“ah chris! too much, too much!” i groan, my body still aching and the overstimulation well washed on me.

“no, take it—take it like the good girl i know you are,” he says, not breaking a rhythm of the pace of him slamming into me.

our moans meet once again, and his roughness only takes me further on the path to another orgasm.

he only moves his body to kiss me, rough and hard like his own movements.

“fuck y/n, i’m not lasting long with you,” he whimpers out, and i cant even focus on the words he’s saying because of the fire ready to burst inside of me.

“chris i-i’m gonna c-cum again,” i manage to say barely above a whisper, i’m so fucked out that even breathing is a challenge at this point.

“cum with me,” he says, his thrusts becoming sloppier, and we both reach out highs, feelings myself becoming warm with my own and his juices mixing inside of me.

chris removed the blindfold around my wrists and face, his tired eyes meeting mine.

he kisses all over my face with slow, gentle presses, “how was that?” he asks, then kissing the tip of my nose once more.

it’s insane how much of a different person chris turns into when we fuck.

“it was so good chris, thank you,” i say before reaching for my phone and crawling back on top of the bed.

chris joins me, and i lay on his body with my leg thrown over him; gently scratching my leg.

i notice i’m at low battery, thinking to get a charger, but immediately groaning in annoyance.

“what, what’s wrong?”

“i left my charger in their room. can you go get it? they must think i’m asleep by now,” i ask with doe eyes.

i know he’s going to do it anyway, but what’s the fun without teasing?

he laughs, “well since you asked so nicely,” he says before pecking my cheek,

“i can, i’ll be right back,”

i hum in response and he gets up, throwing just his boxers and a robe on.

i don’t bother putting on any clothes yet, but i do make myself comfortable in the blanket of the bed.

i close my eyes and hear the door open,

“okay WHAT the fuck.”

my eyes shoot open as i see matt and nick looking straight at me, horror filling both of their eyes.

chris is in a robe, i’m still very obviously naked, and there’s the stolen blindfolds on the bed; it’s not a good look.

i don’t even know what to say, the ringing in my ears beginning, feeling like i’m going to pass out.

why are they even here? were they listening? waiting?

i’m so full of embarrassment and anger, that i can’t even control myself.

“GET OUT, ALL OF YOU GET OUT!” i scream, and all of them look at me in shocked silence while i take the heap of blanket out of the bed with me and shove chris out of the room into the hallway with nick and matt.

it isn’t his fault, but it kind of is. for some reason i’m not really angry with him, more so at the situation. all of this could’ve been avoided if we just said something sooner and that’s what makes me feel the worst.

i quickly change into a pair of chris’ sweats and my own tshirt, rubbing my face into my palms as i brace myself to open the door again.

“y/n-“ matt starts,

“so you think it’s okay to fucking listen in on us through the door like a creep? what is wrong with you!” i yell, feeling the tears begin to pool into my eyes,

“no, no! that’s not what happened, we came because-“

“i heard what you said at the driskill!”

“what?” chris looks at the two confused, and they just ignore his expression and relay their focus back to me,

“y/n, we were just joking around. we came to bring you your charger that you left in my bag. anyway, we didn’t think actually anything was going on between you two.” nick starts calmly, allowing my own temper to mellow out with his soft speaking.

“yeah, we were just messing around. but obviously there was some… truth to it,” matt finishes.

chris sits silently next to me on the bed rubbing my back while i bury my face in my hands in shame.

“i’m so sorry guys, i don’t want you to fucking hate me for this, especially you nick; we were friends first,” i lightly sob into my hands and nick sits down on the other side of me,

“hey no, i, we, could never hate you for dating our brother— you guys are like, dating now right?” he says, looking at chris with raised eyebrows,

and i look at him, knowing we’re more that just fuck buddies; he said so himself. but just out of the curiosity of what he will say to his own brothers.

“of course we are,” we smile at each other and i turn back to nick,

“then i’m happy for you both. just remind me to fucking rip my ears and eyes out after hearing, and SEEING what i just witnessed,” he exclaims, throwing his hands up and closing his eyes, trying to shake the memories from his head.

“oh GOD, please tell me you didn’t hear much?” i look at him and matt with pleading eyes,

“don’t worry, just the OHHH CHRIS, IM GONNA CUM!” matt mocks him; nick groaning in disgust and chris and i turning red at his words.

“okay okay, thank you guys now get out, and don’t stick around uninvited,” chris says, getting up and opening the door for them.

“hope you guys will actually be fuckin asleep when we see you next!” nick says, the door following soon behind him.

chris takes a deep sign, “well, that was out sooner than later. are you okay?”

“yeah, i am. i’m glad they know now, i don’t know how long we could’ve kept this up without them knowing,” i say,

he plays with the end of my hair, “me too, i never want to keep you a secret,” he gives me a half crooked smile,

i kiss him gently and wrap my arms around him, his presence safe and calming.

“thank you, chris. i do need to shower though, i’m still… covered,” i say, collecting a towel and some of chris’ clothes he’s been letting me borrow.

“can i come with this time?”

“chris!”

——————————————————————————

@chrizzpiecreme @viiiwwwee @mattsbrowser @anna-sturniolo @kellynlovesmatt

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months ago

Note

In the spirit of commenting more on fics/supporting authors, I’ve finally decided to stop lurking, and say, hey, hi, hello there!

How are you doing today?

I just wanted to say you’re one of my all-time favorite DPxDC writers—in fact, I’ve been following you and your work since The Bakery is a Front!…right?'s first chapter back in June 2023, and it’s been such an amazing ride getting to read all of the wonderful stories you’ve created! They’re all so very creative (and hilarious!), the pacing is always great, and I love how your way of storytelling is easygoing and mellow; it’s so casual and cozy and easy to get into (for lack of a better phrasing)!

And can I just say how much I adore the way you write each and every single character, and their reactions/inner thoughts/dialogue about whatever’s going down in the plot, be it an ongoing story, oneshot, the tags, or those adorable little “From a fic I never wrote” tidbits? 10/10 every single time! (Your dialogue’s super great!!!!!!!)

I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone and reread everything you’ve published, nor how much time passes by whenever I do so. All I know is that my worries go away whenever I read your stories; they’re quite comforting!

Your stories provide so much inspiration, it’s even gotten to the point where I made a mini analysis for Danny’s Grill, and two playlists for Danny Fenton’s Ex and The Adopted Son (though that last one hasn’t been updated, since I haven’t had a chance to officially finish the last three? parts lol; that, and both playlists share a lot of the same songs), though all of those were either unpublished or kept private.

(They’ve also given way to many plot bunnies lol)

It’s a sentiment that bears repeating: you are an amazing writer, you’re so big brained, and I love everything you’ve ever written; don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!!!

I wasn’t sure how to end this, aside from hoping you have a good day or whatever time it may be for you, so I’ll leave off with a quote from one of my favorite songs, from one of my all-time favorite musicals, that’s hopefully… er, comforting? Wasn’t sure how to describe it (and if it isn’t, then I apologize for that):

“Just keep moving on. Anything you do, let it come from you, then it will be new. Give us more to see.” — Dot (Sunday in the Park with George, “Moving On,”)

SUOGHSOHUOGFUOHUGFWUEH

THIS WAS SUCH A NICE THING TO READ!!!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can't believe you enjoyed those aus so much you made playlists and mini analysis, but it makes me so happy that you did.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #mun speaks #THIS IS THE SWEETEST #THANK YOU #I have so many emotions!!!

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spr1ngpvrinbwunnie · 2 months ago

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🐇Headcanon: You steal William’s clothes… but he’s already three steps ahead

Credit art: flizzy_4shey in Instagram (my close mutual:3)

At first, it’s innocent. Or… maybe not. Maybe it’s your revenge.

Because his clothes were just there, hanging with such casual arrogance in the corner of his room, slung across a chair like an invitation.

His white button-up, sleeves wrinkled and collar still faintly scented of cologne and ink.

One of his suspenders draped over it. One of his godforsaken undershirts still faintly warm from where he'd thrown it off an hour ago, half-distracted by a new project. Of course you tried one on. What harm could it do?

The problem is… everything looks huge on you. Not “cute oversized.” Not “just one size up.” No. It’s the kind of oversized that dwarfs you, sleeves swallowing your hands, hem falling nearly to your knees, the collar hanging slightly off your shoulder like you were a kid playing dress-up in your dad’s closet. And somehow, that made it worse. Or… better. Depending on how much danger you’re in.

Because when William rounds the corner and catches you like that—sitting on the couch, curled in the folds of his old workshirt, flipping through some manual like you weren’t trying to steal his entire identity—

He freezes. Then tilts his head.

And smirks.

“...Planning to replace me, bunny?”

You try to play it cool. “Maybe. You did say I had the brains for it.”

He walks over slowly. Leisurely. Like a predator with all the time in the world. And when he stops in front of you, looking down at the way his shirt engulfs you, he reaches out and gives the fabric a gentle tug.

“You’re drowning in it,” he muses. “It's adorable. You’re like a very smug, very tiny thief.”

But then. Plot twist.

You notice the hoodie you swore was missing earlier—your hoodie—is now loosely hanging from the hook by his desk. And you stare. And he notices you staring.

“Oh, that?” he says with a straight face, as if he hadn’t stolen it and been wearing it while soldering parts in the lab for the past two days. “Felt like something soft. Thought I’d try your wardrobe on for a change.”

Your jaw drops. “You—you stole my hoodie?!”

He raises a brow. “Darling, you started it.”

You both descend into playful chaos after that.

There's a brief argument involving laundry baskets, empty hangers, and a mysteriously missing pair of your pajama pants—which he flat-out refuses to return because "they stretch in just the right places, don't be cruel."

Eventually, you both give up. William offers a trade: one oversized button-up of his in exchange for one of your comfiest sweatshirts, worn thin with love.

Secretly, he loves seeing his things on you. It does something very possessive to him—quietly, subtly, but deeply. And the same goes for him wearing your stuff. There's a strange kind of intimacy in knowing he could afford a hundred custom-tailored suits… but he chooses your hoodie with the paint stain on the sleeve. Every time.

—

The lab hummed faintly in the background, the kind of noise that settled in the corners like a gentle hum beneath the skin — a quiet, mechanical lullaby for those used to its presence.

The overhead lights had been dimmed, leaving only a soft glow from a desk lamp that pooled across William's blueprints and a half-empty mug of tea gone cold beside a pair of goggles and scattered screws.

You were curled up on the little sofa tucked in the corner of his workspace, one knee drawn up under yourself, your body swallowed whole by one of William’s old button-up shirts. The sleeves fell past your hands in a way that made you feel like a child wrapped in too much linen, but you didn’t care.

It smelled like him.

Faint cologne and oil and something burnt but oddly comforting.

He hadn't said anything when he first saw you wear it—just raised an eyebrow like he always did when amused and dangerously observant.

But now? He was wearing your hoodie.

The oversized thing hung off him in the most undignified way possible, sleeves too short on his long arms, the hem riding a little too high when he shifted in his chair. You'd frozen the moment you spotted it, eyes narrowing with theatrical betrayal.

"That's mine," you declared, voice hushed but accusing.

William didn't even look up from the circuit board he was soldering. "Mhm."

"You stole it."

"Borrowed it."

"Without asking."

A pause. The corner of his mouth tugged upward. "Exactly."

You huffed and sank deeper into the couch, tugging his shirt closer around yourself in protest, wrapping it over your legs like a blanket. “You’re such a hypocrite. I wear one of your shirts and you act like I’ve committed treason.”

He finally turned in his chair to face you, silver eyes catching the soft lamplight. He looked devastatingly smug, even with your hoodie hanging off him like a second skin. “I didn’t say I was mad. I quite like seeing my clothes on you. It’s…” —his gaze trailed down, appreciating you with something almost tender— “endearing.”

You tried to look unbothered, but your ears felt warm.

He stood, setting down the tool with a quiet clink, and crossed the room with the kind of calm that still carried weight, like a tiger stretching before a pounce.

He sat beside you, making the couch dip just enough to knock your shoulder gently into his. The scent of burnt solder clung to him, but so did you — or at least, your scent in the hoodie he wore like armor.

He looked down at you, then tugged lightly at his shirt draped on your arm. “I see this one's your favorite.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, a little shy now. “It's soft.”

He let out a soft breath, the ghost of a laugh. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”

“You never ask.”

“I’m not as subtle,” he said with a slow grin. “You left your hoodie lying on the chair. That's practically inviting theft.”

“Thievery,” you corrected, lips twitching.

William hummed, low and pleased, then leaned his head back against the couch, letting his arm fall over the back of it — not touching you, but near.

Always near. “If we're being honest,” he said after a moment, voice quieter now, “I like this… domestic kind of nonsense. Clothes-stealing. Petty wars. I’ve had colder company.”

Your throat tightened just a little.

Outside, the rain tapped quietly against the window. Somewhere behind you, the hum of an old air vent kicked in.

Without asking, you leaned into him, resting your head against the soft bulk of his shoulder. He shifted slightly, just enough to accommodate you, then tilted his head until his temple brushed yours. And for a moment, there was nothing more to steal.

You had it all right there: the warmth of borrowed fabric, the scent of each other tangled together, the comfortable silence between two people who’d long since stopped keeping score.

#william afton #fnaf #william afton x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf headcanons #fnaf imagine #william afton x you #william afton fnaf #fnaf william afton #purple guy #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's x reader #x reader #x self insert #fnaf x y/n #╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢💜✧*̥˚ 🐇 𝓐ℱ𝑇𝓞𝓝 🎭 *̥˚✧ 🔪#dave miller x reader #‹꒰ 🇶🇺🇾🇪🇳'🇸 🇼🇷🇮🇹🇮🇳🇬.꒱𖥔 ࣪~

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yumandoull · 3 months ago

Text

Run, rabbit (A Nakakita Yuma one shot)

Warnings: dark content!! fem!reader, werewolf!yuma, other teamies mentioned, dark romance(?), teamies call reader bunny, smut with a little plot(?), mentions of sacrificing rituals, teamies are cruel and sadistic in this (yuma is supposed to be a little less), possessive and jealous behavior (yuma), mostly non-consensual, fingering, forced blowjob, yuma praises every part of reader...EVERY PART, reader has little experience, unprotected sex (don't), no cumming inside...yet, use of pet names (bunny, baby, sweetheart), lowk soft!dom yuma?? Let me know if I missed more!! (Not proofread so might have some grammatical errors and typos ahead!)

Plot: You were born into a small village near at the edge of the forest, the people believe that there is a 'creature' (or 'creatures') that resides deep in the heart of the forest. The people believed that by sacrificing a girl yearly is a sign of peace to those creatures, and they wouldn't harm the villagers.

Word count: 2,090

A message from the doll: First work one-shot here let's goo!! I might have gotten a little carried away I don't knowww but yeahh :> As always, ask box is open for requests, thoughts, feedbacks, and more! Our summer vacation is close so I have the time to write fics!! Also let me know if you guys want to see another part where other teamies are involved and it's a little more...freaky

You are born in a small village just at the edge of a village. The people all knew each other, being nice and all to each other. Although, they believed that there is a creature or rather, creatures, residing deep in the forest nearby. It all started the night after a full moon, claw markings were found in trees nearby and it caused panic. The people started believing that those creatures are starting to get mad at them for using the resources in the forest, chopping down trees and hunting animals for food. Everyone was thinking of a way to somehow ‘appease’ those creatures, they tried every method except one…sacrifices. They first started doing this a few years before you were born, they would sacrifice a girl when she reached a certain age. The method caused distance among the villagers after, families hiding their daughters and the people forcing into their homes to sacrifice said daughters to bring peace to everyone.

Your parents could only watch as their eldest daughter was practically dragged to the middle of the circle of candles, knowing that agreeing to sacrifice you was the only way for your younger brothers to secure a safe life. A cup with unknown liquid was brought to your lips and it didn't take long for you to pass out.

You were woken up by the sounds of footsteps around you, 𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦 footsteps. Your mind was hazy but you could hear some of their words, "Do those people 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 really believe that sacrificing a girl is the way to make us happy?" You heard a male voice comment, two or three footsteps grew closer and you could make out a figure of another male in front of you through your hazy vision. "Yuma, look at the one they chose." The guy in front of you spoke and called the attention of another one of them. "She's exactly your type, hurry and pick her up. We'll take her with us."

“Hey, that's a real pretty one.”

“Mind if you share, Yuma?”

“You know how Yuma is Taki, the guy doesn't share.”

You felt a pair of arms lift you up, carrying you bridal style. Despite your hazy mind, you could hear their voices and conversations as they took you deeper to the forest to their lair.

An hour or so passed, you stirred awake with a slight headache and looked around. You found yourself in an unfamiliar but cozy looking bedroom. The bedroom is decorated with wooden furnitures, plants and other overgrown greenery around the walls, the room smelled of a strong but comforting musk. It wasn't long until you heard the room door opening and entered a handsome looking guy with sharp features, fluffy hair with..fluffy pointed ears? “Pretty bunny is finally awake..” He called, his voice dripping with smoothness and affection. “How are you feeling bunny?” He asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Good..thanks..” You replied, although you still felt a little dizzy. The man smiled and nodded, “Right, that's good to hear. I'm Yuma, by the way.” Yuma scooted a little closer, his hand landing on top of your head. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry?” He asked while gently patting your head, his fingers running through your hair. You shook your head, “No, I'm alright.” Yuma hummed in acknowledgement before standing back up, “That's good to hear but I bet you're pretty hungry. I'm going to get you some food, m'kay?” He left a soft kiss on your forehead and exited the room.

Yuma returned to the bedroom a few minutes later, a tray with some meat and fruits in his hand and a glass of water. “I'm back, bunny.” He called and sat back down on the bed next to you, “Here, I'll help you eat.” Yuma took a fork and knife, cutting you a piece of meat and bringing it up to your mouth. You opened your mouth, tasting the tender meat that you assumed was some sort of red meat. “I'm surprised you're treating me nicely..” You voiced out your thoughts. For some creatures that your people believed to be dangerous, you thought that they were nice. Yuma was cutting you another piece of meat when you heard him chuckle lightly, “Nice? Oh no, bunny. We're not that nice, we are just…*preparing* you for something..” Your head tilts to the side, “Preparing? For what?”

“We'll give you a head start, bunny~” K laughed before cutting the rope that was tying your arms together and watched as you ran away. It was going well at first, until you suddenly learned that they were preparing you for a little ‘hunt’ as it was a full moon, they even dressed you in a white babydoll dress and bunny ears for ‘the vibes’. You don't know what would happen if one of them caught you but based on the howlings you were hearing around, it doesn't seem good. You ran and ran, trying to get as far from them or find the village but the forest seemed endless. You were getting tired but obviously, they weren't, how could a simple girl keep up with the energy of werewolves 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 too!

You tried to catch your breath for a moment, placing your hand on a tree as you tried to steady your breathing when someone grabbed you from behind and covered your mouth. Whoever it was, they lifted you up with one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, you could feel how larger and stronger they were from behind you. He carried you off to an abandoned cabin nearby and threw you on the floor, you lifted your head and tried to get up only for Yuma to pin you back down on the floor. “I found you, my pretty bunny~” His voice was filled with possession, affection, and something else..

Yuma's lips suddenly crashed with yours, his mouth moving in such roughness to show you how much he needed you, the man was starving. He pulled back to trail his kisses down to your jaw and to your neck, “You smell so sweet..” His voice muffled as he litters gentle kisses around your neck. Yuma's hands move up and down on your sides until one finally grips on your waist while the other lifts your dress a little. “I wonder if you smell sweet everywhere..” He chuckles to himself, trailing his kisses down in between your thighs. “Yuma- no, don't.” He quickly shuts you up by biting on your inner thigh which causes a gasp from you, “Oh come on, bunny. I found you first, this is my prize.” Yuma reasoned.

As you try to push his head away from you, Yuma grips your wrists and holds them down with one hand against your stomach. “Stop resisting, my pretty bunny. I promise it'll feel good..” He tried to convince you in a gentle tone, “No..! Let go of me..!” You protested again.

Yuma shushes you again, his other hand already rubbing your sensitive area through your panties. “Your body is telling me a different story, bunny. You're soaking through..” He pushed his head closer, sniffing you down there. “You smell really sweet here, how am I supposed to stop?” Yuma mocked before darting his tongue out, getting a little taste of you. A gasp left your lips and you tried to close your legs, only for Yuma to pin one of your thighs down. He continued licking and sucking you through your soaked panties before deciding to let go of your thigh and pushed the fabric to the side. His fingers ran through your slit, collecting your juices before he placed his fingers in his mouth. “Mmm..I'll definitely have fun with you while the others aren't here..” Your hands were still pinned by his hand against your stomach and you weren't able to stop him from devouring your wet center. “You know..you have the prettiest pussy. Are you inexperienced? He asked before pushing a finger inside you, feeling your warmth. “Fuckk..you have to be, you're tight, bunny.” A small whine left your lips when Yuma started to pump his finger in and out of you, pushing another one inside. “You're a virgin, right? I'm the first one to have you like this..” You shook your head a little, “N-no, I'm not..”

Yuma's head snapped back up to you, “What? What do you mean you're not?” He repeated, his tone a little more jealous and aggressive. You bit your lip before saying, “I was with someone from our village..” You confessed, which caused Yuma's possessive nature to fire up. He pulled his fingers out of you with a slight growl, forcing you up to your knees. “You've been with someone else, huh?” He unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, along with his boxers. He gripped your chin, forcing your mouth open before shoving his length in your mouth. He groaned at the warmth of your mouth, your protesting whines sending vibrations through him. “I'll make sure you forget him, I'll make sure you can only think about me.” Yuma promised, his hand grips your hair tightly to push you back and forward on his cock. Yuma ignores your adorable looking doe-eyes that are looking up to him tearing up, “Aww~ what's the matter, bunny? Can't take it?” He mocked, his head falling back as his grip on your hair tightened. “Too bad, you have to.” The sound of your gags and choking spur him on, driving him closer to the edge. “I'm getting close, bunny…make sure you swallow it all, yeah?” Yuma let out a groan as his hips steady and his cock spills out a load of warm liquid down your throat.

He pulled your head away from him, letting you cough and catch your breath. You thought he was done but you quickly realized you were wrong when he came up behind you and lifted your dress up to your waist, he lifts you up from the floor a little to push his cock inside you. He growled lowly as he felt you clench around him, “Relax, bunny..” Yuma's arms wrapped around your waist to pin your back against his chest while he kisses around your neck, trying to get you to relax. The moment he was fully inside you, he started a rough and punishing pace. “Your pussy feels so nice, baby…” His other hand leaves your waist to wrap around your neck, your back arching off his back and your hands flat on the floor. Your mind goes blank as Yuma hits a spot the boy back at your village couldn't, making you spill out adorable noises. “Even your moans sounds so pretty, baby~ I can't wait to hear them every night.” Yuma starts thrusting faster, the hand wrapped around your waist goes up to your hair and Yuma tilts your head to the side to rest his head on your shoulder. His low growls going directly on your ear, his lips finds your neck again and he litters bite marks this time. “Yuma~ ngh~ ‘m close, please..” Yuma started changed his angle and hits deeper, causing a loud whine from you. “Go on, baby..let me see you fall apart in my arms.”

Your eyes rolled back as you cry out his name, making a mess all over his cock and the cabin floor. Yuma groans and pulls out of you, he strokes himself and stains your dress on the back with his sticky cum. Before you could fully collapse on the floor, Yuma was quick to catch you and pull you close against his chest. “You did so well for me, bunny.” He praises in a gentle tone, peppering your face with kisses.

The werewolves were looking for you and Yuma around the forest when they heard footsteps approaching and finally found Yuma, with you passed out in his arms. “Lucky bastard..” Nicholas mutters under his breath, a proud smirk on Yuma's face. “She's all mine, that's our deal.” Yuma reminds them, causing some protests from the rest. Yuma just laughs and continued to tease them while holding you securely in his arms. K breaks off the playful bickering, reminding them that they needed to head back to their lair before sunrise. The group follows and started the walk back to the heart of the forest with Yuma looking down on your adorable and tired look as you sleep in his arms.

His precious little bunny.

A note from the doll: yuma posting on wevers as I was adding tags is insane.

#Ecli 🌸#Ecli's oneshots 📚#&team hard hours #&team hard thoughts #&team smut #andteam hard hours #andteam hard thoughts #andteam smut #andteam yuma smut #andteam yuma x reader #&team x reader #&team yuma smut #&team yuma #andteam yuma #andteam #&team

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