#number masking solution | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollfacefantasy · 3 months ago

Text

LOCK AND KEY ♡

pairing: yakuza!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader x yakuza!satoru gojo

summary: you finally have a chance at a big break in your career, a story that would take you from a measly crime reporter to a real journalist. the only catch is it's about the two most dangerous men in the city. when they find out about it, surely nothing will go wrong...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, non/dubcon, kidnapping (sort of), threesome, p in v, blowjobs, facefucking, biting, spitting, praise/degradation, mentions of violence + blood + murder + typical crime stuff

a/n: this is a belated birthday gift for my bestie @kaitkatme who i love so very much. i hope you like it <3 also thank you to @explorevenus @nexysworld and @fearcvlt for beta reading!! as always reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Your eyes fluttered open to stare at the ground below you. They found carpet you didn’t recognize. The spot directly beneath your face was soaked a darker shade by a pool of your blood. You could feel the source — a steady stream of crimson leaking from your nose. A dull ache throbbed through your skull as you tried to recall what led you to this point. Where were you? And why were you waking up here?

Lifting your head, you scanned the rest of your surroundings. Whoever was keeping you put you in a dark room doused in red lighting. Windows speckled the walls parallel to you while a large grand door took up the one opposite. Every surface appeared ominous, drenched in shadows. Obsidian carpet dusted the floor. You were thankful for that aspect since you’d been positioned on your knees. That foamy layer was the only thing sparing your joints from soreness right now.

Furniture was sparse throughout this place. A large sectional couch with thick seats sat in one corner while what looked to be a small kitchenette took up another. It seemed like a guest house; though, you didn’t see any makings of a bedroom. Perhaps it was located in the alcove you couldn’t see to your left.

Near the entrance stood a mirror. Through its reflective pane you were able to see your situation and the position of your limbs despite the stiffness in your neck.

You were bound at the wrists with restraints that tied to your ankles. They connected back to the wall behind you as well. That was how you managed to stay upright even while unconscious. Thankfully, all of your clothes had been kept on. Despite the bruising and blood on your face, you couldn’t see or feel any signs of other injuries.

Still, these factors didn’t answer any questions.

Your memories were returning to you, slowly and one at a time, but building a bigger picture nonetheless. This morning you’d woken up at the same time you always did. You went through the usual steps of your routine before walking to work. A man had catcalled you on your way. When you’d told him to fuck off, he called you a ‘stupid stuck-up bitch’ in return. You remembered fishing your phone out, jotting down a sentence in your notes app about doing a story on street harassment at some point in the future.

Earlier in the day, gray clouds had masked the sky as water drizzled down like half-hearted tears. When you arrived at the dreary office complex that constituted your workplace, you strolled right into the elevator and stood silently. Two men entered after you, crowding your smaller frame towards the back. They spoke as if you weren’t even there and carried on their conversation about potential solutions to the problem that was their wives not putting out enough since having babies number two and three.

Another note. A potential investigative report into marital rape.

When the doors in front of you had finally parted, you squeezed between the two sets of broad shoulders to freedom. You made your way through the array of desks ahead and found your own towards the back corner of the room. Right away, you slipped your phone into the drawer before booting up the computer. Those other stories could wait. The one you were working on today blew both out of the water.

You had clicked on the little folder in the top right corner of the screen. The one with no label. A slew of documents popped up across your screen. Faked financial forms, criminal records, suppressed victim statements, old news clippings. And your itinerary with one last interview lined up for tonight at 8 pm.

The final nail in the coffins that you built for Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna.

It would be the last piece of evidence you needed on the two leaders of the worst crime families in this city. An exclusive account with a former member of the Gojo Clan who worked closely with Sukuna’s circle on their shared endeavors and was now turning on them both as he fled for his life? This would make your career.

No longer would this paper have you reporting on the lower rungs of the crime beat. With all the work you’d done for this, your editor would be forced to acknowledge your talent and dedication. You’d be given good stories that would help innocent people and make actual change. You wouldn’t have to interview burnt out cops or clueless onlookers about a car accident. With Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna’s collective downfall as a mark on your resume, you would do so much more.

Finally, you would be a real journalist.

The rest of the day had been pretty mundane if you remembered correctly. You’d spent most of your hours writing the beginning of your article and then prepping for the interview later.

The interview…

You’d been on your way to that when the memories stopped. The sky was already dark when you left the building. Golden streetlights glowed every twenty feet or so along your path. You remembered running your questions through your head as you walked, preparing for the possibility that you’d have to talk this guy back into sharing if he started getting cold feet.

Someone had called out to you though. It startled you. That you remembered. You didn’t see anyone else on the street, but that deep tone hailed you all the same. He hadn’t said your name. It’d just been something vague like lady or miss. Clearly not anyone who knew you.

But you looked in that direction all the same. Your eyes met a shadowy figure before pain radiated through your entire face.

Then everything went dark.

The most obvious conclusion to you now was that this had something to do with your scheduled interview. But you figured if that were the case, your body would already be floating through some river by now. Such was the fate of those who came too close to toppling the house of cards.

Something similar happened to the last guy who tried to expose the Yakuza syndicates. It was a few years ago, but you didn’t forget. How could you? He’d sat at the desk closest to your left. You could still remember his pudgy face and thick glasses.

Even worse, you could still remember the photos of him strung up in that slaughter house.

Well… at least you weren’t strung up yet. Bound and bruised maybe, but that didn’t mean certain death. After all, this was a pretty nice room to keep someone in for the sole purpose of execution.

The thoughts swirling through your head soon came to an end as you heard muffled voices outside the room. They started out barely noticeable but grew louder as seconds ticked on. You had just enough time to mentally brace yourself before that large door opened.

Two men entered the room. Your eyelids were still a bit heavy, but you didn’t need 20/20 vision to recognize them.

Standing next to each other, the pair looked like polar opposites. Both were muscular, but one was lean and the other bulky. Both wore designer t-shirts, but the lean one sported black while the bulky one chose white. Both of them looked at you like an apex predator, but the one in black with piercing blue eyes and the other in white with smoldering red.

Satoru Gojo & Ryomen Sukuna.

Your heart stopped beating in your chest. As if lifted by mere survival instinct, your eyes no longer gave you trouble. You could see in clear view as the two men approached you. An unnerving smile claimed Satoru’s face. The arrogance was there on Sukuna as well, just a much more muted version of it.

“Good. She’s awake now,” you heard Sukuna’s deep voice rumble. “She’s been passed out for a few hours.”

“I bet. Poor thing’s probably tired. Looks like your guys roughed her up a bit,” Satoru said, his lips turning into an exaggerated frown.

Your eyes flitted between the two of them. They didn’t have any weapons that you could see. Maybe you’d be spared for a little while longer.

“What… what’s going on?” you asked, struck by how raspy your own voice sounded.

The two of them looked at you, taking in your haggard appearance along with the will to survive you still possessed.

Satoru grinned impossibly wider.

“Awww, that’s how you know she’s a good little reporter. Already asking questions,” he teased.

His hand stretched out towards you as if he wanted to pat you on the head like you were a prized pup. Instead, you wrenched away like a wounded animal. You tried to escape his touch with such force that you nearly toppled over. He simply laughed at your close call, but another strong grip on your shoulder spared you from faceplanting.

Nausea rolled through you at the sudden touch. Never in your life had you wanted to crawl out of your own skin so badly. Sukuna’s palm was warm but rough. Something someone might mistake for human if they didn’t know the kind of man it belonged to. You looked up at him through your lashes. Unlike Satoru, he didn’t wear a teasing smirk or hold any amusement in his eyes.

“Let go of me,” you whimpered. You hated how weak your voice sounded. It came out scared and desperate, which to be fair, you were both. You just didn’t want it to be so obvious. But something about Sukuna stripped you bare, shattered your usual methods of concealment.

“Quiet,” he said.

To your surprise, his fingers released your bicep, giving you a second of peace. But that was only so they could grab your jaw instead. The calloused tips dug into your cheeks. There was no pulling away now.

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you wanna be nice to me, sweetheart. I’m much more friendly than him.”

While held still, Satoru fished a white cloth from his pocket. He brought it to your face, wiping the tacky blood off your nose and lips before tossing it onto a nearby table.

Despite his minor kindness, you chose to ignore all that his statement implied. In your mind, both of them were equally horrible, and you didn’t want to get to know them well enough to discern which of the two was slightly less evil.

At work, you were forced to look at pictures of them constantly. Their cocky grins and intense stares filled the paper. You had to flip through page after page of stories about their scandalous escapades or legal dramas to get to your pieces at the back.

You loathed it.

Everyone in this city knew they were dirty. All of you knew that they made their money from the blood of others, that they stayed in power by shooting down any competition. But somehow everyone came to an agreement that you would all pretend they were just typical elite socialites. That their money came from their established bloodlines and that they kept it up through skillful investments.

You’d been so close to unraveling the lies. But it didn’t matter anymore. Not right now anyways. All you could do in this moment was survive. And to do that, you decided to focus on the more serious member of the duo. You figured he would give a better chance at getting out of here. Or at least a way of reaching a destination without so much drawn out anticipation.

“Where am I?” you asked.

Another brief moment of silence went by. Your question remained unanswered.

“Why are you keeping me here?” you tried.

“You really don’t know?” Sukuna said. The words sounded rough and scratchy, but his cadence was so smooth it sickened you. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you have some idea.”

You shook your head.

With your face held in place by Sukuna’s strong hand, Satoru reached out and actually managed to sweep his palm over your head. And not just once. He took advantage of your predicament and pet you several times, smiling at the grimace that overtook your features.

“Come on. Don’t insult us. We know you’re smarter than that,” he teased. “You’d have to be to find out all that you did.”

“How did you-” you started to ask. You’d been so careful. You secured every connection, terminated every unnecessary history of contact, kept all your information as private as possible. They couldn’t have traced you, so how did they know?

“It doesn’t matter how,” Satoru said.

“I was careful! I-”

“You were so careful, you didn’t think that it was possible we might have a few of your coworkers on our payrolls?” Sukuna interjected.

Fury, anguish, and humiliation rushed through you all at once because, no, you hadn’t considered that. You’d never entertained the idea that any of the people you worked with would sell you out. No part of you regarded any of them as paragons of journalism, but some optimistic shred of your psyche had refused to even contemplate that idea.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Satoru said, taking clear enjoyment from your faith in the world being shattered.”Your boss couldn’t have been more willing to give you up. He let us know all about your little story a few weeks ago.”

That reveal stung even worse. The past few weeks, all the nights you stayed late, all the hours you spent poring over documents and trying to find people willing to talk, all for nothing. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that interview you’d been heading to had been set up under the supervision of one of them.

You tried to stifle any further dismay, not wanting to give them any more satisfaction. You should’ve known asking how was futile. You had to change your angle, focus on the relevant information. They had discovered your intentions to go after them. Now you just had to look for a way to survive.

Internally, you tried to contemplate your current options. Really only two came to mind. Comply or deny. Neither sounded appealing, but you decided on the one you believed would speed things along.

“So what? Why am I even here? You killed my story already. There’s nothing else I can do,” you said. You fought with your vocal chords to keep your words even, to appear some kind of tough.

“Do you think we really believe you’ll just let this go?” Sukuna asked in return.

“We know you won’t accept a pay off. You’re way too honest for that. And a few vague threats won’t do the trick either,” Satoru said, squatting down to be eye level with you. “But-”

“Why haven’t you just killed me then?” you asked, cutting Satoru off. Your eyes stayed angled at Sukuna.

For the first time, your defiance seemingly got under his skin. It cracked the cocky exterior he’d so carefully crafted with each word he spoke. That sparkle in his eyes dulled a little bit.

Before you could really register it, his hand darted for your face again. He wormed his long fingers underneath the thickness of Sukuna’s palm, flexing off the other hand. With a small jerk, you were looking at him again.

“What’d I say about being nice?” he asked. The words weren’t overtly angry. Impatient, low and tense sounding, but not angry. Not yet.

You didn’t dignify the question with a verbal response. Without even breaking your harsh glare towards him, you spit. Your saliva flew across the small gap between your faces and struck his cheek. The clear glob landed right below his eye. You almost flinched at the contact, so certain a volatile reaction from him would follow. But it didn’t. Instead, that sparkle flickered again. Amusement glowed at the center of his irises once more.

With a quiet chuckle, he wiped your spit from his cheek. He then brought those same saliva-coated fingers to his mouth and popped them inside, cleaning them of your fluids.

Your face twisted into a grimace. You couldn’t recall seeing something more repulsive in your entire life. That made him laugh.

“You’re disgusting,” you said.

“And you’re so cute,” he teased, pulling you back in his direction.

On his other side, Sukuna tilted your chin upwards. He didn’t interject to help you, didn’t bother pulling Satoru back. He just watched as the other man leaned forward, brushing his nose along the shell of your ear before nipping at the lobe.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you tried to pull away. Satoru’s tongue slid from between his lips to trace a path down your neck. He kissed along the thumping artery in your neck, his lips pressing against your skin in time with the strong pulse.

“We have other uses for you,” Sukuna answered your original question, his grip on your neck still firm. “You’re much more valuable to us alive than dead.”

Uses. The word sent a chill down your spine.

“I’d never do anything to help the two of you,” you said.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, not at all concerned with your protest. “That’s not your decision, little one.”

A rush of involuntary heat flooded your body following the term of endearment. You refused to acknowledge it. Your body was just confused by the objectively pleasant touches.

His hand slipped around to the back of your neck as he crouched to be level with you too. He gave the sensitive flesh there a squeeze. You had limited mobility with your limbs bound, but you still tried squirming away from Satoru’s wandering mouth.

Upon feeling you recoil, Sukuna’s hold tightened further, like an owner’s grasp on the scruff of their puppy’s neck.

“Just tell me what you want. You don’t have to torture me first,” you whimpered.

“Oh c’mon, princess. Does this really feel like torture?” Satoru cooed with a final kiss to your cheek. He pulled back to look into your eyes. Despite the softness in his voice, he still looked so fucking smug. You hated it.

“What do you want from me?” you tried again.

While you could put up a good fight, you found your resistance breaking down pretty quickly under the constant touching. Half of you trembled with visceral hatred, pure revulsion at the feeling of their skin on your body. But the other half, the one you wouldn’t admit to if you could help it, felt something closer to frustration welling up because they were teasing. They weren’t giving you any real satisfaction.

Everything was too much, and you just wanted away from them. The contradictory mix of emotions was making your head pound and your chest ache. You closed your eyes tight again, hoping that maybe if you believed it enough, this would turn out to be some sick nightmare, and you’d wake up alone in your own bed.

“All we need from you is your cooperation. Be a good girl and listen,” Sukuna said. He gave the nape of your neck another squeeze, his nails digging into the delicate skin.

Your eyes opened again, connecting with his red ones. They gleamed so bright it looked as though actual rubies had been embedded into his sockets.

At the same time, Satoru ducked in again to lay some more kisses upon your throat. His hands settled on your waist, smoothing up and down your soft curves. Every time they lowered, you could feel them pushing the line, testing how far they could delve beneath the hem of your shirt before you gave a severe reaction.

“You know this feels good,” Satoru murmured between kisses.

“No it doesn’t,” you said.

He chuckled at that, not letting up in the slightest. With a soft, disapproving click of his tongue, he tutted at you. “You’re lying. You can say you don’t like it all you want, but your body betrays you. Your skin is getting all warm, you’re squirming, and I bet… if I were to feel right here, you’d be all nice and wet for me,” he whispered as his right set of fingers slid between your legs, pressing on the seam of your slacks.

You jolted in surprise. A small squeal bursted from your lips at the sudden pressure there. You tried clenching your legs shut without losing balance, but it didn’t matter. His lithe digits continued sliding back and forth unobstructed.

Against your will, you whimpered. You couldn’t help it. He was stroking you just right, and as much as you hated it, it felt fucking good. His fingertips coasted over your pulsing clit and massaged your entrance where you already knew, true to his inference, you were starting to drip.

Drawing your attention back to him, Sukuna’s other hand came up to cup your jaw. His thumb landed on the seam of your lips before nudging its way in.

“Try to bite, and we’ll both lose a finger,” he warned.

You didn’t even entertain the possibility that he could be bluffing. If you caused the slightest bit of pain to his thumb, you were certain he’d inflict ten times as much onto you. So you did nothing. You felt the warm thickness of it on your tongue, felt the calloused pad against your soft muscle.

He pulled it back and forth a bit, in and out, testing you. In all honesty, you didn’t find yourself wanting to bite. Rather, your lips closed around his thumb with more purpose, actively accepting the digit instead of loosely allowing it.

“There you go,” he praised. “You already know what to do.”

Nausea bubbled up in the back of your throat again, but it was short lived, overpowered by the muted bliss Satoru was stroking into you down below. You let your eyes droop closed and even laved your tongue on his digit.

It was slowly setting in that you weren’t going to get out of this. You figured the next best thing would probably be playing nice until another opportunity for escape arose.

Seconds later, you felt warm breath puffing against the side of your throat unoccupied by Satoru’s mouth. Little chills broke out over your skin. His other hand fell from the back of your neck, down your spine to the small of your back. He pulled you a little closer to the both of them. As close as he could while you were still restrained.

“You don’t have to admit you like it, little one. Just stop fighting. Let it happen.”

With that, he moved in on your neck too. He was rougher than Satoru. His teeth scraped over your sensitive flesh before his mouth latched onto a specific patch of skin. He bit it. Not just a little tantalizing nip. An actual bite. You gasped, tilting your head back and inadvertently giving them more access.

The bite on your neck wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it was sure to leave a mark. He started with just that one before continuing with a series of more down towards your shoulder.

Despite this, Satoru remained relatively gentle. He worked in the opposite direction, heading up towards your lips. His eyes rose to be level with yours. That same cocky attitude glimmered within.

“Still think I’m disgusting?” he asked.

“Repulsive even,” you replied.

“Let’s see if I can get you to think of some other big words to describe me,” he said, ducking in to connect his mouth with yours.

At first, your body tensed. You stiffened up under his touch. But in a matter of moments, you slowly began to kiss back. Your lips tentatively mimicked his movements before you found yourself settling into a rhythm. He was still vile, but his kisses maybe weren’t so bad…

With Satoru occupying most of your attention, you didn’t notice Sukuna’s hands falling away or his mouth receding from your marked-up neck. Your eyes were shut while making out, so you also didn’t see him stand up. You didn’t catch him undoing his fly and dropping his pants either.

The first indication of his changed position you got was the fat leaky tip of his cock nudging your cheek.

Reluctantly, you disconnected from Satoru’s mouth, turning your head to eye the interruption. As it came into your view, you had to make a conscious effort not to let your brows raise to the ceiling. In all your life, you’d never seen a guy so big. Not only was his shaft long, but it was so fucking thick. Your mind wasn’t even concerned with who it belonged to right now. You could only watch in awe as his fist slid up and down, stroking it with a tight grip.

Satoru didn’t seem as phased as you. He grabbed the other man’s cock without hesitation, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

You watched as he gave it a couple strokes of his own while rising to his feet. It was only a few before Sukuna pried his hand away with a strong grip on his wrist.

“Watch it,” he warned, similar to the tone he used with you.

“Cool it, big guy. You’re just as bad as her. Acting like you don’t like something that obviously feels good,” he teased.

You were sure if anyone else had said that, they wouldn’t get the chance to speak like that again. But Sukuna only scowled at him before reaching for your head. He pulled you in closer, looking down at your wide eyes as his dick slid across the side of your face.

He rubbed it across one of your cheeks, then the other. His eyes took in every little reaction you had. The small crinkles of discomfort, the shuddery breaths of desire. He took his time, toying and teasing before he actually brought it before your lips, so close that a few beads of precum smeared on your bottom lip.

“Wha- what do you want me to do?” you said.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was that you didn’t think you could.

For the first time, he laughed. And it wasn’t like Satoru’s. Nothing about the sound was lighthearted or fun. It was a deep, sadistic rumble. A sound that was the final many heard before they met their end.

“What does it look like I want you to do? Open that pretty mouth and suck it,” he said. The hand on the back of your head moved you in closer, slipping the tip just past your lips. “Same rules as before: you try biting, and I’ll make the slaughterhouse seem like a fantasy.”

You hadn’t planned on resisting anyways, but after hearing that, all the fight seeped out of your body. At first, you didn’t put much effort in either. You just kind of sat there on your haunches, letting him do as he pleased.

He pushed his hips forward. His cock slid into your mouth inch by inch. It was only a second or two before you felt his head starting to nudge the back of your throat. The urge to gag pricked at you, but you tried your hardest to suppress it.

You squeezed your eyes shut while keeping your jaw loose and your fists clenched. He rocked in and out of the warm embrace your throat provided.

Even with your eyes closed, you still sensed Satoru’s presence. His spindly fingers caressed the top of your head and trailed along your temple. A touch probably intended to be soothing, but one that came across to you as teasing.

Following a few more shallow thrusts, you felt a tug at the back of your head. It was too jerky to be Satoru. Your eyes opened to find those same red eyes staring down at you again, a lecherous grin spread across Sukuna’s mouth.

“Trying to make me do all the work?” he said. “You’re still as a corpse down there. If I wanted to fuck one of those, I would’ve killed you.”

You tried mumbling out a sorry, but around the dick in your mouth, the word was incoherent. He didn’t need to give further direction. You began lightly bobbing your head. The movements started off tentative, as if you were still figuring out how to move at all, but slowly, you found your rhythm.

Your eyes closed again, but this time not as tight. Like his thumb before, his cock served as a distraction. You didn’t have to think right now. Didn’t have to worry about how you would get out of this. Didn’t have to ruminate over how you would day get revenge. All you had to do was work on taking his dick farther and farther down your throat with each push of your head.

“Atta girl…” he mumbled from above.

A slow exhale blew from your nostrils. His relaxed tone eased your nerves as well. The pace at which you sucked became more languid. Your head swooped closer to his pelvis more fluidly. Saliva oozed from your mouth, thoroughly coating his length and your chin.

In the midst of losing yourself to the task at hand, a whisper broke through your bubble.

“Gonna untie you now, princess, so we can both play with you.” Satoru’s breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. “You better behave. I won’t mind chasing you down, but I don’t think it’ll be as fun for you,” he said as his fingers came around back to free your arms from their bindings.

The ties fell loose and dropped to the floor. Instantly, you brought your wrists to your chests, massaging the skin that felt raw from the rough material of the restraints. You swiveled them to get the blood flowing normal again all while still flicking your tongue against the ridge of Sukuna’s tip.

You heard him choke out a groan before pulling you off, a ragged breath spilling from his lungs. At the same time, you sucked air in. You took in all that you could while your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“Fuck… that’s a good girl,” he praised. You again ignored the heat that flashed through your lower abdomen.

Your eyes opened again, your lids feeling a little weighted this time around. They both came into your view. Sukuna’s cock hung between you and him, shining with your saliva and dripping pearly precum from the head. On the other side, Satoru also had his dick out now. He stroked it in your direction. It was also impressive in size, long and thick enough to make your mouth water, but after seeing the monster between Sukuna’s thighs, you didn’t feel apprehensive.

“Cute… she already looks a little cockdrunk, and she’s only had you,” he said.

Less patient than his counterpart, Satoru yanked your head closer and sheathed himself entirely inside your mouth in one go. You actually gagged this time around, globs of your spit leaking from your mouth as your eyes watered. Your hands flew up to his thighs in an attempt to brace yourself, but he kept you as close as possible, your nose nestled against the swath of coarse white hair.

You could hear them both laugh a bit and say something back and forth to one another, though specifics evaded your ears. Sweet humiliation floods your veins at the sounds. Satoru keeps you in place, not moving while throbbing in your mouth.

Although Sukuna had explicitly said no biting, he never said anything about your nails. You dug them into the meat of Satoru’s thighs as hard as you could, until the pale skin turned pink with little crescent markings.

Instead of hissing in pain and ripping you off of him, Satoru moaned. His hips bucked forward, lodging his shaft so deep in your throat you actually thought you were at risk of choking and dying. Your vision faded and noises grew distant.

Just as you thought you were about to lose consciousness, he tugged you backwards. Not all the way off his dick, far enough that you were still drooling on the tip as oxygen came back to you. The clear fluid oozed from between your lips like a leaky faucet.

“There we go. That’s better,” he hummed before easing your mouth on him again.

You took some initiative, hoping that might spare you from another close call with blacking out. Your tongue slithered over his veins as you’d done for Sukuna. The other man in question who was reaching out to stroke your head.

“Don’t forget about me,” he teased, nudging his hips at you a bit.

Your hand came up without thinking. You wrapped your fingers around his thicker shaft and began stroking it at a rhythm a bit slower than the one your mouth moved at. It seemed to satisfy him. He didn’t say anything else, nor did he make a move to handle you.

Satoru did however.

Your mouth’s smooth pace only staved off his enthusiasm for so long. Before you knew it, each of those large hands came to rest on either side of your head. They held you in place, held you still so he could take over the motions.

He wasn’t too rough at first, gentle as someone could be while fucking your face. His thrusts remained shallow and even. You kept your focus on twisting your hand around Sukuna’s length. You couldn’t see what you were actually doing, but as large as he was, there wasn’t really a chance of losing him.

As the pleasure started to build for Satoru, he got a little faster, a tad overeager. He wasn’t ramming his dick down your throat, but he was starting to move faster. You could barely keep up with it. It was intoxicating in a way; left you feeling lightheaded and spun out of order.

We have other uses for you. Sukuna’s earlier statement echoed through your mind again. They definitely were using you. Satoru rutted against your mouth as though it was a toy crafted just for him, and Sukuna watched the skilled swivel of your fingers like it would be eternal.

You lost track of time down on your knees.

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been down there by the time Satoru was stepping back and letting his cock drop from between your lips. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like you were so eager to see what else they had in store for you.

Your eyes cracked open again. You hadn’t realized they’d even shut. The first thing in your line of sight was Satoru’s shaft, still hard and flushed and soaked with your saliva. From there, your pupils rose, gazing upon the two grins above.

Satoru reached out to pet your head, and this time you didn’t pull away in the slightest. Instead, your head leaned into the tender touch, nuzzled at the palm providing you a sliver of comfort.

“That’s it. You’re coming around,” he cooed. “We just have to break you in a little.”

His voice actually sounded kind of nice when it wasn’t polluted by that arrogant lilt. It hit your ears all smooth and soft, like a steady stream of champagne poured into a glass.

Almost a polar opposite, Sukuna spoke from beside him.

“Get her up. Move over there,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the couches.

“You got it,” Satoru said in a sing-song tone.

He gave your head one more caress before ducking around back to untie your ankles. The restraints came apart quickly under his nimble fingers. After they slipped off, you felt the same relief flood your feet that you’d felt earlier in your hands.

He scooped you up off the ground, cradling you in his arms like a bride. Despite being leaner than Sukuna, he didn’t lack any strength. He moved with the same fluidity that he’d entered the room with.

Under normal circumstances, you would have fought him every step of the way. Each step would have seen you kicking and squirming, trying to get him to drop you just so you could scramble to freedom. But in all honesty, you were in no condition to scramble. Being on your knees so long had left them feeling like jello. You doubted you could successfully make the short trip to the couch let alone bolt through an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar area.

Upon reaching the luxurious seats, Satoru sat down and put you in his lap, another move you would have protested if you didn’t feel so off balance right now. He held you to his chest, stroking down your neck and onto your shoulders. Sukuna sat one cushion over from the two of you.

Without saying anything, he took your legs into his lap. You just watched, unsure of his intentions. But all that came of the move was the soothing feeling of his thick fingers massaging your calves one at a time.

All you could do was blink. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. His digits dug into your muscle with obvious strength, but it wasn’t at all painful. If anything it felt nice, like an aid to your circulation after being bound for hours on end. You just couldn’t comprehend why he would want to do it.

Breaking you from your confusion, Satoru whispered in your ear, “Let’s get you out of this dirty thing.”

At first, you didn’t know what he meant. However, upon looking down, you realized the front of your shirt had become stained with both blood and saliva. It was in rough shape, much worse condition than when you’d put it on this morning for work.

You didn’t really try to stop him from pulling it off your body. It would be pointless. Instead, you remained motionless as he slid each of your arms from the sleeves and guided it off your torso. The fabric’s absence sent a small shiver through you.

He brought the shirt up, using it as a makeshift cloth to cleanse your face of any remaining spit from your jaw.

“So pretty even when you’re all messy,” he praised quietly, dropping the garment to the floor beside the couch.

You assumed your bra would be the next thing to go, but Satoru’s fingers targeted the button on your slacks instead. He popped the silver out of place and slid the zipper down before shimmying you out of them. Again, with your current lack of strength in your legs, the process went easy, like removing clothes from a doll.

“You’re being so good right now. Keep it up, and you’re really gonna like it here,” Sukuna said while continuing his slow massage on your legs.

For a split second, that sentence triggered your journalistic instincts that you thought Satoru’s cock had knocked out of your head. You’re gonna like it here. So they were planning to keep you around. This wouldn’t be a one thing. They weren’t sending you out with a bang. It was as Satoru had said. They were breaking you in.

You didn’t really understand why. The trouble of keeping you prisoner didn’t seem worth the spoils they gained from it. At least in your mind.

Reading the confusion written all over your face, Sukuna’s palms slid up to your thighs. He tugged you down a little bit. You shifted from Satoru’s lap to the cool material of the couch, leaving only your head on his thigh.

The large hands spread your legs apart. Another shudder coursed through your body. You felt completely vulnerable in this position, like a small puppy caught between two wolves, your soft belly left exposed for their sharp claws and teeth.

Though nothing so ghastly happened. Sukuna’s fingertips continued to ghost over your inner thighs and hips, the touch feather-light.

“You have something to say?” he said.

But you shook your head.

“You do,” he continued. “Come on. I won’t bite. Not again anyway.”

“I just… so you’re really not gonna kill me?” you said, your voice wary.

“We already told you we weren’t,” Satoru chided from above, his hand stroking your cheek.

“But why? What’s the point? Why would you keep a loose end?” you asked. You knew you should probably shut up. Why argue against your own survival? But the innate curiosity inside of you craved an answer.

“You won’t be a loose end,” Sukuna said. “You’ll be under lock and key here. There won’t be any risk of you getting loose.”

His hands began to push your thighs up against your sides. Heat flooded your cheeks. The position left you totally exposed in the most compromising way. You wanted to ask why; although, you had a hunch, but you figured they may begin to grow annoyed with your questions.

He could tell you weren’t satisfied.

“You may not understand why, but killing you would be such a waste. You’re smart, calculating, and you’re not bad to look at,” he said.

One of his thumbs began to graze the center of your panties, eliciting a gasp from you. Up and down, the pad of his digit traced from your slit up to your clit.

“You’ll be nice to have around, a good little stress reliever. And when you’ve proven yourself enough, you’ll be useful to the business as well,” he went on, completely matter-of-fact.

“I don’t want to-” you started to whimper. But he cut you off with a swat between your legs.

“What did I tell you? It’s not up to you. Would you rather end up like the last guy?”

You shook your head again.

“Good. So don’t worry about that for now. Keep being a good girl, and we’ll talk about it more later,” he said.

His fingers hooked around your panties, beginning to tug them down your legs. You squirmed in response; both the cool air hitting your most sensitive spot and the idea of him seeing all of you like this making you anxious. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but he blocked that and kept you open to his eyes.

“Ah-ah. Behave,” he tutted.

He pulled your panties the rest of the way off without incident. His eyes trained on your now revealed pussy like it was prey.

“You really are pretty,” he said. “I’ll have to get a taste later.”

Later. A part of you was almost disappointed. But before you had time to register that disappointment, his fingers swiped through your folds.

You gasped softly. His digits caressed over the slick skin with an exploratory touch, gauging how wet you were.

At the same time, Satoru’s fingers slid beneath your bra straps. The smooth pads of his finger tips also ventured South as they coasted towards your breasts. He squeezed them under the material of the cups. His thumb and index finger toyed with your nipple for a second before undoing the clasp in front so it could end up pooled with your shirt on the floor.

“You’re gonna take both of us,” Sukuna said as his fingers glided across your entrance.

“At the same time?” you squeaked.

“Not today,” Satoru teased. He leaned forward, smiling upside down at you.

“We don’t wanna ruin you right away,” Sukuna added.

You wondered what exactly not ruining you would entail, but you didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later those thick fingers receded from your cunt and tapped your hip.

“On all fours. Facing me.”

You followed the order as though you were being timed, flipping over and swiveling around. Satoru rewarded your new position with a firm smack to your ass. You bit your lip in shame. Neither of them needed to hear the embarrassing sound that wanted out of your mouth.

The sound of ruffling clothes came from behind you. Probably Satoru removing his shirt. You didn’t make an effort to find out for certain. It was only background noise to the man in front of you.

He held your jaw in the palm of his hand. With a bit more pressure, you were sure he could crush the bones there. But he didn’t. He just kept you still, watching every little reaction on your face.

You felt Satoru line up behind you. It was obvious when he started to push in. Your brows furrowed. Your lips rounded out into a little ‘o.’ Even though his girth hadn’t made you gawk, it still stretched you a little as he worked himself all the way inside.

A small squeak forced itself from between your lips as he bottomed out and his silky tip bumped your cervix.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred from in front of you. “Just keep holding still.”

The deep timbre of his voice had your insides fluttering. Your walls massaged Satoru’s shaft with every little contraction.

He groaned from behind you. “Fuck… she’s tight,” he sighed as he began to rock his hips.

You moaned, the motion of him unsheathing himself from you almost as nice as when he filled you up completely. He started off at a slow pace, back and forth in a nice steady rhythm, striking deep with every thrust. Your breaths grew shaky, and your fingers clutched the cushion beneath you.

It was only a matter of moments before he started to speed up. He wasn’t jackhammering yet, but he was on the road there. His pelvis slapped against your ass in quick succession, the sound beginning to echo in the dark room. You bit your lip while letting yourself adjust. If not for Sukuna’s palm below your chin, you had no doubt your head would be hanging by now.

He just continued looking down at you, scarlet eyes baring into your very soul, making absolutely sure you got no break.

“You’re taking it so well, letting him get you all warmed up for me,” he praised.

Your body shuddered. You could only imagine what Sukuna would feel like. Thicker than Satoru but just as long. Would he handle you like this? Would he go harder or slower? Would he cum quick or last until you were begging for mercy. You supposed it wasn’t really worth thinking about. You’d find out once Satoru finished, and given how often he was moaning back there, you had a hunch that would be sooner rather than later.

You kind of wished you could see his face — how that pretty pale skin flushed with desire, how those dark pupils dilated within the eerie blue irises. After how he’d humiliated you, you wanted to see the proof of his desperation as well. But the sounds would have to suffice. Them and his increasingly tight grasp on your hips.

His arms vibrated with the strength it took to hold on, to not cum too soon. He clearly wanted to savor you a bit more before relinquishing you to the other man’s hands. Your back arched like a cat’s as his strokes brought you more and more pleasure with every blow.

The change in your posture prompted him to swivel his hips, to find a new angle that could brush against something else. He found what he sought in no time at all. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled back as he slammed against that sweet spot within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

An annoying, breathy chuckle came from behind. “Right there, huh? That’s where you like it?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. To your surprise, he didn’t say anything else to mock you. He just kept drilling into you like his life depended on it.

The both of you started to pant. Your arms wobbled underneath you, barely able to support yourself upright. You knew you were fast approaching your own release alongside Satoru.

Sukuna released your jaw, and that was when you let yourself collapse. Your arms buckled, and your cheek squished against the couch. Satoru held you in place there, pounding into you even harder than he had been before.

You came first. It crashed over you in a sudden wave. You choked out a whine, your body tensing up under him as the bliss rolled through you. And he just kept going.

He had better stamina than you’d expected. You whimpered and squirmed beneath him, hoping he’d hit his high soon and let you get some relief. But he continued to hammer into you without hesitation.

Only when he’d battered you firmly into the depths of overstimulation did he finally let himself go. He slammed all the way in and shot rope after rope of sticky, hot release into you. It was a good thing you were on the pill. Not that they had bothered to ask. But really, why would they? You doubted they would be concerned about any potential problem that arose from this. They were in the business of making things — people — go away.

With a sigh, Satoru eased himself out of you. He gave you a pat on the hip before sinking back into the couch and pushing his now damp white hair out of his face.

You didn’t get the same chance at relaxation.

Before you could even roll onto your side, Sukuna had his fingers around your wrist. With a tug, he guided you into his lap. He’d sat down since letting you go. He’d also taken his shirt off, allowing you a clear look at his sculpted figure. Your hazy eyes raked along the muscles covered in scars and tattoos.

He laughed quietly at your obvious interest. His large hands took each of your thighs and spread them over his lap so that you were straddling him. It was nice in a way, to be maneuvered so gently. To be positioned like a doll, not having to exert any effort yourself. In the past, you would’ve thought it’d be something you hate. But in this situation, it didn’t feel so bad.

His hand splayed across your chest next. It kept you upright and looking at him.

“You look so pretty. Like you can barely remember your own name,” he mocked, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

The hand that wasn’t propped on your chest slipped down between your legs to grab his cock. He angled it upwards, dragging the head over your folds a few times, nudging it against your skin without actually entering. You squirmed a little at the feeling, slightly in discomfort but mostly in wanting what was being offered.

“Calm down. You’re gonna get used to this in no time,” he said. Threat or promise, you couldn’t really tell.

You were completely soaked between your thighs. The combination of your own arousal mixed with Satoru’s cum leaking out of you left a mess, but it had you slick enough that he slipped inside without issue.

Your eyes widened. It wasn’t just his size or the stretch but also the overstimulation that had your nails digging into his bicep. Strangled whines erupted from you as a weird, sweet sting settled in your center. He hushed you, the hand from your waist running up and down your back while he pushed his hips up.

“Shhh shh shhh, you’re a good girl, remember? You’ll get used to it,” he said, a sinister smirk across his face.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nearly doubling over from that tone alone. The physical sensation truly wasn’t that bad. Not as bad as you expected anyways. With a few deep breaths, you found yourself more comfortable. He was doing all of the work. It was just that fact that this was happening at all that knocked the wind out of you.

He continued to slide you all the way down on his dick. Once you were settled against his lap, ass flush against his thighs, he let you sit there for a minute. You stayed motionless on top of him, just taking in the raw feeling of him tucked inside you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked. You looked up at him, at that fucking smile. “Think you can ride it for me?” he said.

You knew he was mocking, and you wanted to say yes, just out of spite. You wanted to push yourself up and bounce on his dick till he was moaning for you just like Satoru had been. But the fact that you could barely find the energy to get any response out told you that wasn’t a realistic possibility. So you shook your head no.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. He tugged you close to him. Your upper body landed against his chest with a small thud. “But that’s ok. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of it.”

He grabbed your hips and began lifting them up and down on himself with ease. His hips also rocked up into you from below. And you just let it happen like he told you to.

Your eyes drooped close and your grip on his arm became weaker. He was much quieter than Satoru, barely making any noise at all compared to the other man’s near-constant moaning and groaning. But you were quieter this time around too. Maybe it was the lingering effect of Satoru. Maybe your adrenaline was wearing off. But despite the pleasure swirling in your lower half, you felt almost floaty. Your brain felt like it had melted down into a small puddle that was slowly leaking from your ears.

“You’re gonna be a perfect fit around here,” he rasped. The words almost sounded divine, whispered into your ear from the heavens. “You might act up a little at first, but I know how to handle a brat. And you’re already showing how good you can be.”

It got no response out of you. You were in no shape to argue or disagree.

That didn’t matter to him though. He slammed up into you harder, getting a sharp gasp from you.

“I’m gonna have fun getting you to crack,” he said.

At that, you whimpered. If this was how it felt, there was a good chance you’d have fun too.

He kept thrusting up into you, pumping his own cock into your slick hole where Satoru had already spilled himself. You couldn’t keep track of how long it took for him to reach the peak too. Everything was in a fog right now. You heard yourself moaning, felt him fucking into you, but everything was distant. It was possible you came again, but overstimulation gave you a constant high so you couldn’t really tell.

But before you knew it, his breaths became heavier. His chest puffed against you at a quicker rate. His balls smacked against your ass with more force. You turned your face against his chest. You knew the end was near but every sense you had was so overwhelmed you could barely stand it.

He came with a quiet groan. The most noise he’d made the entire time. He fucked the warm fluid into you in the same way Satoru had. Maybe they’d shared someone before.

For a few minutes after finishing, he just sat there basking in the afterglow with you melted on top of him.

But then you felt a cool hand on your back. One that didn’t belong to Sukuna. Your eyes opened to find Satoru next to the both of you.

“Hey, princess. You ready for a nap?” he teased.

You whined and went to shove his face away even though, in truth, the answer was undoubtedly yes.

He just laughed, catching your hand and pulling your arm around his shoulder. Sukuna squeezed your hip before lifting you off of him completely and allowing Satoru to scoop you up like he had before.

“You did good for the first time. Let Satoru help you, and get some rest,” he said. He stood up, reaching for his clothes scattered around the floor.

You didn’t get the chance to say anything before Satoru was walking away with you in his arms. Lazily looking around, you saw he brought you into a small bedroom, just off the alcove next to where you’d been tied up.

He placed you on the bed gently and walked away to grab something. You watched as he grabbed a small towel before returning to you. With gentle hands, he cleaned up the mess between your legs.

He confused you. Well really, they both did. While he was seemingly the more mean of the two, the one who’d tease and mock, the one who’d pound you into the couch without care for how it affected you, he was also the one coddling you, caring for you as though you were made of glass.

And Sukuna. Apparently he was the rough one, the least tolerant of bullshit, the one who’d threaten you about biting but mark up your neck like he was a wild animal, he’d been relatively gentle while you were on top of him.

It left you with a lot of questions, but you had the mental capacity for none of them right now.

“See, it’s not so bad here,” Satoru said while tending to you. “I’m sure you won’t love it right away, but you really will be a good fit soon enough.”

You stayed quiet at that. Whatever job they had planned for you after having their fun, you didn’t want to know. You couldn’t imagine doing something so polar opposite of everything you stood for. But would you give up your survival if that was the cost of refusing? You weren’t sure.

Soon enough, Satoru had wiped you thoroughly enough. He discarded the towel and smiled down at you for a second. His fingers came out and ran just along the bruise on your eye.

“I’ll bring you some ice for that. Just try to get some sleep for now. When you wake up, I’ll have them bring you some dinner. And we’ll be back to check on you later,” he said with a grin.

You didn’t bother asking who “they” were or where he and Sukuna were going or what they would do next. All would be pointless questions, and all you wanted to do now was sleep. You could think of a different angle for this when you woke up. But for now, you let your eyes close as the main door to the place shut. Vaguely, you heard the lock click into place.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #ch: satoru gojo 💌#ch: ryomen sukuna 💌

372 notes · View notes

dannyriccsystem · 2 months ago

Text

THE THRILL OF A TRIPLE LIFE!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: Some cute moments between you and your boyfriend: Spiderman!

WORD COUNT: 2K

WARNINGS: Light angst, mentions of blood/injury, mostly fluff :), Y/N usage

FEATURING: Spiderman!Oscar Piastri x Reader

NOTE: New layout maybe? How do we feel about the colors? idk… I love you Spiderman Oscar

RAIN POURED AGAINST YOUR WINDOW, the streets of Monaco twinkling from below your high-rise apartment. You huffed a sigh, cradling a cup of hot cocoa in your hands whilst you settled down into the sofa. Your favorite movie was on but you weren’t watching. Instead, your focus was pinned to the doorway. Oscar Piastri, your crime-fighting boyfriend, was roughly thirty minutes late now. As expected.

You were starting to worry. He sounded so serious this morning when he promised dinner at 7:00 PM sharp. It was late, sure, but he was taking his night watches into consideration. He couldn’t promise earlier—that was unrealistic. But it seemed he couldn’t promise this either.

You picked up your phone, ready to dial his number when suddenly you heard the sound of a window squeaking open. You flinched until you saw your boyfriend stumble in, clutching his stomach. He struggled to shut the window behind him, using only one hand. You perked up, setting your mug aside.

“You know there’s a front door, right?”

“That’s too suspicious,” He groaned. “Doors aren’t for Spiderman. Windows are.”

You could tell he was in pain, so you scurried off to the bathroom to locate the first aid kit. When you returned, you pointed to the couch with a stern expression. “Sit.” Oscar obeyed, yanking his mask off as he flopped down onto the couch, his body slumped against the cushions. His hair was slightly messy from the mask. “Move your hand, spidey.”

He shakily lifted his arm aside, revealing a shallow gash that cut through his suit. You sighed, dropping to your knees to carefully dab at the wound. It would heal just fine, but that didn’t mean you weren’t worried about him. He could tell, too. How could he not?

“You promised dinner at seven.” Maybe it was a bad time to bring it up while you were wiping his wound with saline solution.

“I know, I’m sorry, but there was a bus with broken breaks and—”

“And a collapsing building with a bunch of orphans who needed your help trapped inside, yeah?” You finished, and he let out a weak laugh.

“Not this time, no.” You both fell back into silence—uncomfortable silence. He watched you carefully, his eyebrows knitted together. You were clearly upset and he wanted to fix that, but he didn’t know how. “Y/N…” Oscar reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You looked up at him with expectation. “I’m sorry I keep disappointing you.”

You sighed, letting your head drop with your chin tucked in. After a moment, you started to help him shimmy out of the top of his suit, letting it sit at his waist. You began to wrap his wound in bandages. “You don’t disappoint me, Osc. You worry me.” He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you cut him off, “I just want you to stop scaring me so much. Every time you’re late I start to wonder if you’re gonna show up at all. I start to wonder if I’m gonna hear about your death in the news paper before I even get the chance to say goodbye-”

He grabbed your wrist, because while you were rambling, you had unintentionally wrapped him up too tight. You muttered a sheepish apology, unwinding the wrappings to redo your work. “I wish I could give you a normal life, Y/N.” He muttered as he finally let go of your wrist.

“I don’t want normal, Oscar. I want you. I just don’t want you to shut me out, okay? If you’re gonna be late, just call me and let me know. I can’t stand worrying over you nonstop.” You tore the bandage with your teeth and tucked it in securely. He helped you sit up on the couch next to him, and you brought his bruised knuckles to your lips to gently kiss them.

“I can’t promise you a lot…” He murmured, his eyes soft. “But I can promise you that.”

“Good…”

You leaned your face into his neck, and he held you close. It wasn’t often he got to enjoy your presence like this, free from his duties of being a hero for just a few more hours.

YOU FOUND THE FIRST STICKY NOTE IN THE MORNING. And by sticky note I don’t mean the yellow ones that had adhesive tops, but rather a note card webbed to a surface by your boyfriend. Oscar had stuck it to the toaster, almost as if he knew you were going to make yourself some toast that morning.

‘Are you a toaster? Because a bath with you would send me straight to heaven! - 🕷️’ You laughed at his stupid pick up line, finding the cute little spider drawing to be adorable as well.

The next one was after you finished enjoying your breakfast. You stepped into the bathroom to brush your teeth, finding another note stuck to the mirror. ‘You look beautiful today! Even with toothpaste on your shirt ;) - 🕷️’ After reading the note, you looked down… And then cursed under your breath. Indeed, you had dribbled some of the minty substance onto your top, leaving a white stain. Damn you, Oscar.

He knew you too well.

The last one was in the fridge, on top of the box of leftover pizza from a few nights ago. ‘Don’t even think about it…’ You grumbled, because he also webbed the box stuck, that little jerk.

You found yourself sitting on the fire escape, a small sketch pad in hand. You listened to the sound of vehicles whizzing by and the occasional car alarm going off. Every now and then you could see Oscar swing through the tall buildings, and you tried to push away the heavy feeling in your heart, because you missed him so bad.

“Delivery!” A voice called out from above you. Oscar dropped down right in front of you, hanging upside down by one of his webs. He was in his full Spiderman suit to conceal his identity, but you knew him well enough. You grinned when he held out a brown paper sack, the bottom slightly greasy. “One sandwich from your favorite restaurant.”

He lowered himself onto the platform, upright this time. You both sat on the edge, your feet dangling over the edge as you split the sandwich in half. Oscar raised his mask high enough to eat, but before that he dinked his half against yours, like a glass of fine wine.

“I didn’t know you swung across cities for sandwiches now.”

“Only for my favorite girl.” He scooted just a tad bit closer to you, your shoulders brushing. He smiled, his mouth the only visible feature. “Did you like my notes?”

“I thought they were a bit dorky.”

“But in a cute way, right?” He took a large bite of his sandwich, staring at you while he chewed.

Your gaze softened, your grin somewhat lovesick. “Yes. In a cute way. You’re my cute, super-powered, wall climbing dork.”

He seemed happy with that answer. After a moment, he swallowed, and added on, “You’re still not eating my pizza.”

“Dangit.”

BOYFRIEND BY MORNING, RACER BY AFTERNOON, SUPERHERO BY NIGHT. That’s essentially the life Oscar lived, and you were both fine with that. He dedicated all the free time he could to you, which maybe wasn’t a lot some days, but you were fine with it. You loved him and everything that he came with. The whole triple life thing was just part of the package. If you couldn’t handle him when he came home beat up, then you didn’t deserve him when he was the sweetest boyfriend alive.

However, it was a Sunday, which meant it was time to put the life-saving aside for long enough to win a damn race. It was always dangerous, but he had you constantly checking the news. If anything happened, you’d call a red flag and send your boyfriend out to save the day. He always made it back just in time to finish the race and sweep you off your feet again.

“Good luck out there, Osc.” You spoke as he kissed you on the lips, grinning in response. “Don’t be too dangerous. Monaco needs their hero, still.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

The race seemed to be going well, until you heard some murmurs from the engineers. You poked your head out of the garage, examining your surroundings. With your headset on, you could hear Oscar over the radio asking if everything was okay. His senses were definitely tingling.

You looked out to the stands, watching as a figure in a trench coat shoved through the crowds, making his way closer to the track. You rushed to Oscar’s engineer, begging for him to be called in and for a red flag, because there was clearly something suspicious going on.

They listened, because for some reason your instincts were always correct. You rushed Oscar into his drivers room where he slipped into his hero suit, and made a grand escape out the window. It didn’t take long for him to return, just as everyone cheered over Spiderman, once again, saving the day.

Thankfully you had Lando standing outside, stalling for more time while Oscar got back into his suit. You gave him one last kiss for good luck and he rushed off.

“You better win!” You called after him.

And he did.

The night was filled with orange confetti and champagne showers for the team with yet another 1-2. When he found you and pulled you into his arms, he was grinning. “Yet another win for Spiderman,” He whispered between the two of you. The cameras were pointed, but you had raised your palm to cover your mouths.

“I don’t get how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Stop mid race to kick ass, and then get back in the car like it’s nothing.”

“Just wanna make my girl proud.” You rolled your eyes as he sealed the deal with a dramatic kiss on the lips.

OSCAR WAS DEDICATED TO BEING YOUR BOYFRIEND TONIGHT. He was determined to make this a crime-free, Spiderman-free, date. He had his phone off to where only Lando, his partner in crime, could get through to him, so his attention was entirely on you.

It was a breakfast date too, which meant the rates of crime at that time were generally low. You guys both sat down at the quaint parlor, enjoying the ambience. Nobody recognized him, either. Life was great.

“Alright, place your bets. How many pancakes can you finish until you’re called out?” You asked as you speared a cut off piece of one of your own pancakes with a fork, scooping the syrupy bite into your mouth.

“Hey, what makes you think I’ll be called out at all?”

“Oscar, be serious. Our dates are cursed! You’re always called out.”

“I think I’ll make it to the bottom this time. I’ll bet you a whole stack of ‘em.” You held out your hand, happy to take up that bet.

And then immediately after his phone started buzzing.

“No way.” You giggled into your palm.

“No.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. If I ignore it, it’s not there.”

“Oscar.”

“Y/N…” He frowned, almost like a pout.

“Go. It’s alright, I promise.” He huffed, pushing his chair back and standing up.

“Are you sure?”

“The city needs you, dork. Hurry up!” He rushed off to the bathroom to change, giving you one last look over the shoulder before he disappeared.

You grabbed his plate. “Jokes on him. I’m eating his pancakes…” He did owe you a whole stack, after all.

You didn’t mind. Downside of dating Spiderman was only getting halfway through your dates, but he made up for it in other ways!

286 notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 9 months ago

Text

The Price of Pride (21/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the death of one of the characters, trauma, description of the battle and wounds, kissing, the angst, many things from Lady Royce's childhood presented in a different light ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

If your trust in me is dependent on your mood, it means that our marriage is a mere fiction without foundation, and I remain your slave.

Her words, despite trying to drown out his inner thoughts with wine, came back to him like a fly buzzing around his head. He was furious with her – no one had ever spoken to him like that before, not even his father or mother, let alone someone who was a stranger to him.

His inner envy and resentful, masculine pride assured him that he was doing the right thing by punishing her with the lack of his presence – he felt that his fears and words were completely justified, and she had become hysterical, as had often happened to women over the centuries.

He pressed his lips together, creating small, burning wounds around his nails with his thumb, picking at the cuticles around them as if he wanted to rip his skin down to the very flesh.

He preferred to think of how much she had enraged him rather than how he dreaded what was to come.

The Prince Regent could not be afraid – he was now the head of the entire Kingdom and could not hesitate, he repeated to himself, but his knee bounced in a nervous gesture anyway as he sat by the hearth, staring into the fire, unable to calm himself.

He hid his face in his hand, a quiet sigh on the verge of a groan left his throat at the thought that despite everything he would rather have her with him now.

She was able to reassure him: she knew exactly how to embrace him, stroke him, kiss him, what to say and when to say it.

An uncomfortable sting in his heart accompanied his conviction that her scent, her calm voice, her soft, gentle hands and her body in which he could hide was just what he needed.

He knew that after what she had said she had no intention of visiting him. He would have been willing to wait until dawn and let them both cool off, trying to reason with her again the next day, had it not been for the fact that he had no more time.

He was supposed to leave later that night, and she didn't know it.

Some part of him wanted to give in, to let go of his pride, his prejudices and go to her, to feel her once more, melting with her into one. He knew that although she certainly resented him, she would have allowed him to take her if he had been gentle: a condition of their momentary truce would have to be that he did not humiliate her, and their closeness would be an attempt at reconciliation, a proof of mutual tenderness and devotion.

But he knew that if he went to her, if he felt her, if he came inside her, his mask would crack: he would not be able to hide from her how terrified he was, or worse, he would burst out sobbing like a little boy.

He couldn't afford that, because then she would try to find out what had happened, and he would have to tell her.

So he could not go to her, which put him in a helpless position: he was not such a fool as to disregard the possibility that, after what was about to happen, she might never see him again.

Did she deserve for him to abandon her like this, without a word of explanation?

He thought for a long time, feeling the panic slowly rising within him, only to come up with an idea that seemed perfect after a while.

A letter.

He got up from his seat and took a piece of parchment, a quill and an inkwell from one of the wooden drawers, sitting down behind the wide oak table. He leaned over, dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and began to write, for the first time addressing words to someone in this way, without using official language or phrases.

Ñuha hāedar (my little sister), we part in anger and I sincerely regret it. Know that my intention was not to humiliate you or to undermine your loyalty to me, of which I have been certain for a long time. Perhaps I was unable, as is my custom, to find appropriate, more thoughtful words to describe my concerns, for which I ask your forgiveness. I set out to meet your father full of trepidation, hoping that you will also forgive me for not taking you with me, despite my promises. I cannot and do not want to risk your life. I have taken enough from you by force. Many things I have done to you in the past I now think of with shame. If I fall, bend the knee before your father and confess that I forced you to do everything. You have my blessing to do so. All I ask is that you keep in your heart the memory of me as your brother who truly loved you. I promise that wherever I find myself after death, I will be waiting for you there. Aōha lēkia (your big brother)

He swallowed hard, putting the quill down on the table top, feeling for some reason that his hands were shaking, his throat clenched, his heart pounding like mad, a burning sensation under his eyelids.

It was a farewell.

She said she could only see me and the child, but you were not with us.

She said she could only hear the sound of the water.

He closed his eye and leaned forward, feeling his whole body screaming for him to stay, for him not to do this.

What could Daemon do if he just didn't show up?

If he had mocked him and let him wait for something that would not come?

The whole of King's Landing would have found out that he hadn't attended the duel.

That their prince was a craven, a scared little boy, not a man.

He got up from his seat and rolled up the letter, tying it with a ribbon, then summoned his servant. The boy came in a moment later and bowed, clearly tired and half-conscious, surprised that he had expected his presence at such a late hour.

"Your Grace?"

"Prepare my armour. I'm setting off for patrol." He lied, extending a rolled-up piece of parchment towards him. "You will carry this to my wife in the morrow if I do not return."

The boy nodded, surprised, and left, leaving him alone with his thoughts. A moment later, he and the other man, whom he had apparently woken, walked into his chamber with all the parts of his armour.

He thought grimly, putting the chainmail on over his thick woollen tunic, that he had never worn it before – he had never taken part in knight's tournaments, considering it a childish matter that he did not care for.

However, when he felt its weight on his shoulders he regretted that he had never fought in it before.

Even moving his arm, not yet holding a sword in his hand, he felt that its weight would slow him down, that he would not be as skilful as he had been when sparring with Criston Cole.

The thought made him feel a cold sweat on his back.

He decided that all his hair should be tied back – his servants couldn't braid because they weren't women, so he didn't even try to ask them to do it, ordering them instead to simply tie it up with a black ribbon at the back of his head.

My wife would know how to do this, he thought regretfully, recalling in his memories her delicate fingers weaving strands of his hair together.

His armour was heavy, but it was the thought of him abandoning her in such a manner that weighed down on his heart.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought he looked like a prince from the legends, a great knight who was going to bravely face another powerful man. Though he believed it would be just the opposite, he recognised that there was no pride in it, no glory – just that he was flying to meet death in the form of his uncle, ready to commit kinslaying again.

But he couldn't take a step back, even though some part of him wanted so badly to be a coward.

To his displeasure, the commotion he caused in the middle of the night aroused the interest of Criston Cole, who was on watch at the time.

"My Prince. Can it really not wait until morn? What will you see in the darkness of the night?" He asked him, and he pressed his lips together, furious that he expected him to make an explanation.

"I won't sleep until I'm sure there's no danger lurking in the sky. I'll be back soon. Prepare me a rested horse." He ordered, turning again to the young stable boy, who merely nodded and ran out of his quarters.

Cole looked at him with a look of worry on his face that annoyed him.

"I know what you think of me, how much you despise me because of what I have done. I deserve this punishment, your rejection. I promise that, as I have done so far, I will bear it with dignity. But let me stand by you now that war is at our doorstep."

He felt an unpleasant constriction in his throat, a sting in his heart testifying to the fact that his betrayal was in fact the cause of his immense pain and unhappiness, the grief of losing someone he had considered his comrade and companion.

You cannot help me with what is to come, he thought inside his head.

"If you wish to regain my favour, watch at my wife's chamber until my return. I leave her in your care." He said coldly and sidestepped him, not wanting him to see in the gaze of his healthy eye the thing that made his whole body quiver.

Fear.

Following his order, his mount was already waiting for him when he stepped out into the courtyard of Harrenhal – he strapped his sword and helmet to its saddle, then jumped onto its back and slammed his feet into its sides, making the horse move ahead in a gallop.

The night was chilly, teasing his cheeks unpleasantly – Vhagar's liege was not far away, but some part of him longed for this journey to last for hours.

To postpone as much as possible what he was about to face.

His dragoness sensed his trepidation immediately – she awoke and lifted her head high, leaning towards him as he jumped off his horse, hitting his body with a hot breath of steam. He pressed his forehead against her hard, scratchy scales, feeling that it was just him and her now.

No one else.

"Emi naejot gaomagon ziry, ñuha jorrāelagon raqiros. Dohaeragon nyke. (We have to do it, my dear friend. Help me.)" He whispered, but he knew that some part of her understood him – she squawked loudly, as if to let him know that she was ready.

The blood and fire of Old Valyria flowed through her veins again, just as it had in the days of her greatest battles.

He sighed heavily and moved towards the long ropes hanging down the sides of her great body, wondering how he was supposed to climb with such a weight on her back. He grabbed one and pulled, figuring he may have had enough strength in his arms to do so, when he heard the clatter of hooves in the distance.

He turned around, startled, sure that it was Cole who had moved after him, but froze, seeing her silhouette clearly in the moonlight.

She was breathing loudly through her mouth, her hair tied up in a braid, unruly strands stuck to her cheeks moist with sweat from exertion.

She only jumped off the back of her mare when she was right in front of him, and then she rushed at him, swinging her hand as if she wanted to slap him in the face – involuntarily he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, her body slamming into his with a loud clang of steel.

"You fucking bastard! How dare you leave me behind!" She shouted in his face in a breaking, childish voice, her doe eyes red from tears, her dark eyebrows arched in pain and grief.

He, however, simply stared at her, unable to believe that she was standing in front of him.

She followed him.

His wife.

He kissed her – fear and uncertainty had robbed him of the ability to speak, so he showed what he felt with this caress, aggressive and sticky, full of their tongues, saliva and teeth.

She moaned furiously into his mouth, but did not push him away – quite the opposite, they embraced each other tightly, devouring each other in this violent, loud act of union, her closeness, her scent, her fingers clenched in his hair tender and familiar.

His body's reaction was immediate, as if he had fallen into some kind of euphoria.

His erection was so hard that it caused him pain.

"My armour got unpleasantly tight. Right here." He breathed out into her throat, rubbing his hips against her stomach, feeling the discomfort between his thighs, trying to find any outlet for the tension that was building in his manhood.

He thought with his cock, as he didn't want to remind himself of what he was about to do.

She, however, pulled him down to the ground.

"Take me with you." She mumbled, stroking his jaw with her fingers.

For some reason, her words caused him pain.

He needed to hear it, needed her by his side, but he couldn't be that selfish.

He had forced her to do enough things.

He strangled her, pressed her face to the ground, forced her to tame the dragon even though she could have died, himself considering when and how he should get rid of her, using her for his pleasure in the end, giving her no security, no guarantee that he had in any way even considered marrying her.

Only now, in that moment, did he understand why all this time his mother had been looking at him this way.

He had made her his whore, even though he could, after all, have treated her with dignity from the very beginning.

Was this how a man of honour behaved?

"I want you to live, even if I'm gone. Daemon, if he succeeds in defeating me, will not kill you. You will tell him that I forced you to marry me." He whispered, wanting to behave as he should this time.

Like a good man, a good brother, a good husband.

He closed his eye as her thumb ran over his jawline, her warm hand cupping his cold cheek soothingly, making him feel safe.

"You promised me something then, under a starry sky, like the one spreading over our heads now. You said: tame a dragon, and your place will always be by my side. It was not to be my punishment, but my reward. So reward me, for my devotion, courage and faithfulness. Let me spend the night with you." She said softly.

He opened his eye, feeling his heart beat harder, as if his body was giving him a sign that it still wanted to live, and the blood still flowed through his veins.

Although he had felt dead a moment before, he now took a breath again, as if he had risen from the sea depths to the surface.

He kissed her as he had always dreamed of being kissed: the caresses he placed on her plump lips were sweet and moist, sticky with his desire and the feeling that burned in his heart like a living fire, giving him hope.

In that moment, although he was not aware of it, he gave vent to his grief and frustration, a thought that had been circling in his head for many months, but which he had not allowed to reach his consciousness because of his pride.

He could not bear the fact that he had not met her sooner – that Daemon had never taken her with him to the Red Keep.

He saw her through the eyes of his imagination as a little girl, as lost and bewildered as he was – alone in a strange place, among strange people and a strange culture, where fire and blood ruled. His nature, which made him love to show off his knowledge and rhetoric would have made him, though no doubt reluctantly, acquaint her with all the secrets their lineage, their history, their heritage held.

She would not have a dragon, and neither would he.

He would no longer be alone.

Perhaps she would have helped him then, that night, and climbed onto Vhagar's back with him.

Perhaps they would have set off towards the skies together, laughing and shouting with joy.

Perhaps she would have stood up for him and he would never have lost his left eye.

Perhaps he would have smiled more often, teasing her all the time.

Perhaps his first experience with a woman would not have been in a brothel with a whore in his mother's age, but her, just as inexperienced, beautiful in her innocence.

Perhaps she would have borne him a son or a daughter long ago, being his wife and closest companion.

He felt that he had been robbed of their years together, of the possibility of being a different person, of retaining something in himself that was pure, true, honest.

He was a shadow of himself, a sullen, tall figure in black, a stone lying at the foot of the Iron Throne.

"– hāedar (little sister) –" He breathed out into her mouth, this young girl whom he would kiss fervently in the dark corridors of the Red Keep, slowly discovering with her the secrets and nooks of her soft, warm body, her throbbing womanhood leaking under his fingers.

He craved what had been taken from them – he wanted to be a boy with two eyes again, to regain what he had lost.

He wanted Luke to be still alive.

He felt a heavy, burning, lonely tear gather under his eyelid at that thought, but she wiped it away with her thumb before it could run down, pressing her forehead against his.

"– lēkia (big brother) –" She hummed softly, causing a pleasant, warm feeling to ripple through his heart.

"– promise not to leave my side –" He muttered in a breaking voice.

She smiled at his words.

"– I promise –"

They embraced and cuddled into each other in a way that was delightfully innocent – although he passionately desired her, there was no lust in the gesture itself, but a need for simple closeness and comfort.

"– don't make Aegon's mistake – stay away until I give you the sign – do you understand? –" He whispered in her ear and she nodded.

"– yes –"

Her presence gave him strength and, although with difficulty, he managed to climb onto Vhagar's back. He turned behind himself, spotting her seated figure, Sheepstealer rose from the ground at her command.

"Sōvēs! (Fly!)" He called out, and a moment later, Vhagar's body shook as she lazily began to rise on her paws. She moved forward, making the ground around them tremble, and then took to the skies with difficulty.

He breathed loudly as he saw the silhouettes of Sheepstealer at his side and his wife sitting on his back – although he was still terrified, their presence was a comfort to him.

On the one hand, he felt remorse that he had been so weak as to expose her; on the other, he thought that perhaps, in fact, her presence would bring Daemon out of balance and give them a chance.

Or at least that was how he tried to console himself.

The journey from Harrenhal to Gods Eye was not a long one – he swallowed hard, noticing that his uncle had not yet appeared.

What if it was an ambush?

They both landed on a hill near the lake in the open space, so that he could see exactly what was going on around them. He looked to the side and noticed that his wife was staring at the sheet of water spreading out beside them.

He swallowed hard, looking at her uncertainly – some part of him that was still afraid he was going to die wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he only managed to open his mouth when he heard a screech in the skies.

They both lifted their heads up, terrified and anxious, as the powerful figure of Caraxes flew over their heads – he grabbed the ropes, ready to command Vhagar to breathe fire, Daemon, however, landed in front of them, his dragon's paws slamming into the ground, its head stopped just in front of Vhagar's muzzle.

Both dragons squawked loudly, but he wasn't sure if it was an expression of threat or greeting.

After all, they had flown together in the skies for many years.

"I thought you were a man, nephew, yet you hide behind my daughter's skirt like a coward." He exclaimed mockingly, pulling his helmet off his head.

He was exactly as he remembered him – his ironic grin, his narrow, shrewd gaze, the lightness and pride with which he spoke made him feel an unpleasant wave of humiliation flow along his spine.

"I named my hound after you, Father." He heard his wife's voice at his side and lifted his chin higher, feeling a sudden, pleasant shiver of satisfaction.

Daemon pressed his lips into a thin line, but did not look at her, as if afraid of what he might see.

"My wife longed to greet her father. Who am I to take that right away from her?" He hummed, feeling a sudden surge of confidence, realising they had the advantage over him.

Two dragons against one.

His uncle snorted and shook his head, looking up at the stars above their heads as if bored.

"You tell me. You took away her right to decide for herself when you abducted her to the Red Keep. Did you ask her opinion on the matter then too?" He sneered.

"That is no longer your concern." His wife said coldly, looking at Daemon in a way he had never seen before – her face was stony and cold, her forehead smooth, her eyebrows raised in disapproval and some kind of disgust, her hands clenched into fists.

Her father finally looked at her and it made him uneasy – he had the feeling that they had both forgotten his presence for a moment.

He swallowed hard and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, noticing what he had feared.

Her mask was slowly cracking, showing the pain, regret and disappointment that filled her whole heart.

"Where were you when this happened? How did you protect me that you have the audacity to mention it now?" She asked sternly, making him feel an unpleasant sting in his heart.

Where were you when this happened?

His hand clamped around her neck as if he wanted to strangle her, his fingers gripping her hair, pressing her face to the ground.

"I sent my men to deal with the matter. However, they did not find your husband, for he was with his whore at the time. These fools killed the boy." Daemon said dispassionately making his heart stop beating for a moment.

I sent my men to deal with the matter.

Daemon didn't send them in revenge for Luke.

He sent them in revenge for her.

His wife seemed as shocked as he was, as she simply looked at her father in disbelief, as if she could not find the right words to answer him.

"Then the matter was determined. I would have tried to intervene again by force, but Lysa kept me informed of what was happening. That you were succumbing to your tormentor and his manipulations. Therefore, you have put me in an impossible situation." He concluded.

Lysa.

Her servant had been spying for him.

He felt himself begin to boil with rage, feeling like a little boy who had been fooled again.

From the very beginning he thought he had gained the upper hand over him, and it was the complete opposite.

While Daemon knew everything about them, he had no information about what was happening in Dragonstone.

"My mother. Did you kill her?" Her voice full of anger and grief snapped him out of his reverie.

"I did." Her father replied without hesitation.

"Why? Haven't you taken enough of her?" She asked in pain.

"For months she had the woman who cared for you add poison to your milk. Measter, when he realised, informed your cousin and he informed me. When I arrived, you were already in a fever." He said annoyed, speaking louder and louder with every word.

When I was a child I often had trouble falling asleep.

My nanny would then bring me warm milk mixed with honey and ground grains brought from distant Essos.

He looked at her, feeling that the situation was beginning to get out of hand – he hadn't expected any discussion to occur or what their would hear – his wife's face twisted into a grimace, as if her father had slapped her across the face.

"I don't believe you." She muttered.

"She wanted to get rid of you. When I offered to take you to King's Landing, she refused. I had no choice but to kill the whore."

"You left me behind!" She whined, as if someone was forcing a blade into her body, Sheepstealers squawked loudly, feeling her pain.

"I will take you with me this time. But you must let me resolve the matter between me and my nephew. Do not interfere. Caraxes!" He called out, and his dragon squealed loudly, raising its head, ready to attack.

"NO!" He heard her shout, but neither of them listened to her anymore.

"Angōs, Vhagar! (Attack, Vhagar!)" He shouted in response, and the two great beasts collided with each other, sinking their fangs into each other's bodies. Vhagar jerked, biting a chunk of flesh from Caraxes stomach, but he was not indebted to her and drove his claws into her gut.

Both dragons squawked in pain and flapped their wings, trying to separate and lift themselves into the air. When Caraxes let her go, he pulled on the ropes and forced his dragoness to soar up and then down, opening her maw wide.

"DRAKARYS!" He and Daemon shouted at the same moment, and two long columns of fire struck each other in the air, lighting up the night sky around them. He turned on his saddle, trying to escape the hot flames, panting with exertion, seeing only the endlessly black sheet of water below him.

Was this what she had seen in her dream?

Caraxes shot upwards like a serpentine, folding his wings along his body, flying on them at tremendous speed – his voice stuck in his throat, and no command left his lips when he caught sight of Daemon's silhouette leaping off the back of his dragon, falling on top of him with the sword in his hand, gripped so as to thrust it into his head.

He knew he wouldn't be able to dodge, and even if he succeeded, Daemon would finish the job when Caraxes hit Vhagar.

His body froze, fear paralysed his limbs, disbelief and terror surged like lightning along his spine.

Then he heard a swish – his uncle seemed surprised, his mouth opened wide as the arrowhead slammed into his neck, the only place that was exposed. The impact changed the trajectory of his flight – he heard him draw in air loudly before he began to fall downwards.

He clenched his hands tightly on the ropes tied to his saddle as Caraxes slammed into Vhagar – his dragoness acted without his commands, immediately thrusting her fangs and claws into his flesh, tearing him apart.

He sighed as Sheepstealer and she flashed beneath him – his heart thumped hard in his chest as he saw Daemon's body fall into the water, and she jumped after him.

"– hāedar! –" He shouted in a breaking voice, not knowing what to do, how to help her, how to react to what she had just done.

Did she know how to swim?

He had never done that, and if he jumped in after her in full armour, they would both drown.

"Dohaerās, Vhagar! (Serve me, Vhagar!)" He howled, with all the strength he had in his arms pulling at the ropes, trying to direct Vhagar to the place over which the Sheepstealer was circling, squealing and wailing, the numb body of Caraxes fell down with his cry.

He thought he could try to drop her rope, but Vhagar's wings hovering over the surface of the water caused waves to form.

She won't be able to swim out, he thought in despair.

"FUCK!" He groaned and burst out crying as he soared higher, circling above the place, quickly unbuckling all the pieces of armour he was able to remove on his own, wanting to jump in after her.

Then Sheepstealer suddenly changed the course of his flight, folded his wings so that his silhouette formed a straight line, and hit the water with all his might, disappearing beneath its surface.

He was panting heavily, looking at the place where they both disappeared, hearing the sound of the wind all around him, panting all over with fear and terror, whooping with his tears.

"– gods, please – please, please, please, not her –"

He shuddered as Sheepstealer's silhouette suddenly emerged from the water with a mighty splash, her drenched silhouette lying helplessly between his fangs.

"– hāedar! –" He shouted, flying after them towards the shore where her dragon had finally landed.

He saw Sheepstealer gently open his maw, letting her body slide to the ground – he jumped off his saddle, sliding down the ropes, falling heavily to his knees. He thought he had probably just broken something, but he didn't care, immediately throwing himself towards her.

He turned her onto her back – she was all wet and pale, her eyes closed, her mouth wide open as if she wanted to take a breath, but was unable to.

"– hāedar – gods, what have you done –" He exhaled, grabbing her into his embrace, lifting her to sit so that he threw her head over his shoulder, slapping her back hard with his palm.

"– come on – come on, breathe, come back to me –" He mumbled, hitting harder – he let out a sigh of relief as she coughed and spat out the water that flowed into her lungs, catching a loud, raspy breath.

"– that's it – that's it – that's my girl –" He whispered, feeling her whole body tremble in his embrace – he snuggled her into him, but the steel of his armour was cold and she was drenched.

He grabbed her under the hips and lifted her with an effort, limping on one leg, feeling more and more clearly that he had probably twisted his ankle when he jumped off Vhagar.

He sat down with her next to Sheepstealer's stomach, the warmest part of any dragon's body – Sheepstealer settled in such a way that he enveloped their bodies on each side, clearly understanding what he wanted to do.

He heard her burst into sobs, and while part of him was furious that she had thrown herself after him, the other part of him was just happy that she was alive.

"– I didn't – I didn't want to hurt him – I-I just wanted him not to reach you – he – he grabbed my hand, and then he let me go – I wanted to save him, but he let me go – why, why did he do that? –" She mumbled in a breaking voice, breathing louder and louder, as if the mere memory of what had happened made her panic.

Because it wouldn't have changed anything anyway, he thought in the back of his head.

His body trembling all over after Luke disappeared inside Vhagar's maw with his loud, childish cry, his face pressed against the front of his saddle, his heart pounding like mad in terror, his throat and lungs compressed as if he were suffocating, tears of fear running down his face.

All I wanted was his eye, as atonement for mine.

I killed a man.

"– easy –" He whispered, pressing his nose into her wet hair, feeling the moisture from her clothes and skin slowly begin to evaporate under the heat.

He felt like he would literally boil in his armour under the temperature, but he knew he couldn't let her go now.

He was alone then, but he wasn't going to let the same thing happen to her.

Because of the fact that he understood how she felt, he knew what she needed.

"– if it wasn't for you, he would have killed me – you saw for yourself – it was a battle – I owe you my life, zaldrītsos –" He whispered, stroking her back, placing warm, gentle kisses on her face.

She covered her eyes with her hands, wailing and moaning, the pain that tore at her heart unbearable.

"– no – no, no, no, no –" She mumbled, and he pressed his lips together, knowing that this was exactly what it would be like for the next few weeks, maybe even months.

Denial, remorse, rage, grief, despair, pain, nightmares and panic.

Everything he was experiencing deep inside himself, she would be experiencing now and there was nothing he could do to ease her suffering.

He could only be.

"– tell me it's not true – that I didn't do it – that it's just a bad dream – please, lēkia, I need to hear it –" She pleaded like a small child in hysterics, her trembling hand gripping his cheek, asking him to look at her in this way.

He swallowed hard, finally pressing his forehead against hers, running the tip of his nose over the soft skin of her face.

"– I'll be by your side all the time – I won't leave you for a moment – I promise –"

"– GET OUT –" She shouted, pushing him away suddenly, enraged that he didn't comply with her request, wanting to get up.

"– hāedar –" He sighed, holding her tightly.

"– GET OUT – GET OUT – GET OUT –" She sobbed, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her hands, panting heavily, trying to move away from him, acting more like a wild animal than a human being.

"– I can't – you're all soaked – we need to keep you warm –" He explained calmly, feeling strangely in control, not experiencing any irritation or anger looking at her behaviour.

She was horrified by what she had done and was in shock, and he had to help her get through it now.

It's going to be worse once she calms down and locks herself deep inside her, he thought, struggling with her, holding her close.

"– I want to get back in the water – he's still there – maybe he's still alive –" She mumbled, completely absorbed in the chaos of her thoughts and despair, extending her hand towards the surface of the lake.

"– I can't let you do it, zaldrītsos – he's no longer suffering – he's with our ancestors in the heavens – my father is surely just now welcoming him with open arms –" He whispered, and she whined loudly at his words, leaning low, pressing her face against his thigh.

He held her close and stroked her body, her hair, her shoulders, her back, wanting her to feel that he was there for her even if she couldn't understand it now.

When he was going through it himself, all he wanted was for someone to embrace him, to stroke his head, to tell him that he was forgiven, that he wasn't a bad man, that it was an accident.

That's why he knew how important it was for her to understand that she had saved his life.

"– if it wasn't for you, his blade would have pierced my skull – I would have fallen into the water with him – we would have both be dead –" He said softly, hearing her breathing loudly, slowly calming down.

At one point there was complete silence and he knew that this was the moment – he grabbed her in his arms and instructed her to hold on to him tightly as he began to climb up onto Vhagar's back.

He knew that in such a state she would not be able to fly on Sheepstealer.

When they returned to Harrenhal, it was beginning to dawn – the sun was lazily rising over the horizon. His wife was breathing and that was the only sign that she was alive – her body sitting in front of him in the saddle was devoid of strength, her face turned to the side, her empty gaze staring into the distance.

Her thoughts were far away, with her father when she was still a small child.

When they landed, instead of riding a horse, he made his way from Vhagar's liege to the fortress on foot, despite the pain in his ankle. He was in no hurry – he held her in his arms, her hands thrown around his neck, her legs entwined at his back. She clung to him like a baby and he didn't want her to have to change position, to pull away from him, from his body, his closeness and warmth.

She was like a little child that had left her mother's womb anew, terrified of how cold and cruel the world around her was.

Criston Cole ran out to meet them, spotting them from the walls of the stronghold.

"Good gods, what has happened? Where have you been?" He asked.

He stopped, looking at him indifferently, feeling a painful throbbing in his leg, his hand stroking her back reassuringly.

"Daemon is dead."

273 notes · View notes

on-a-lucky-tide · 6 months ago

Note

can i request some price/ghost fluff if you have the time? (and if simon is capable of relaxing enough for that) tr53for532tr sorry my kitty stepped on the keyboard. he says hi

Your wish is my command, sir.

Price and Ghost do a late night Asda run.

cw: humour, kisses.

Price slumped back in his office chair and blinked slowly at the ceiling. A dull ache had settled in his shoulders and behind his eyes from too many hours spent slumped at this bloody desk. He slapped a hand onto his phone and flipped it over enough to glance at the time. 10.30pm.

He should hit the sack, but his brain was still chugging like a runaway diesel engine, too overcooked to do anymore work but too active to sleep. That left sex or exercise to burn it out.

Price opened WhatsApp and tapped Simon's picture, thumb drifting between y for 'you up?' and g for 'gym?' His stomach offered a solution when it gave a mutinous growl, and instead he typed, 'The Asda?'

The message had barely whooped before Simon's typing... flicked up at the bottom. '5 mins' was the response. Price grabbed his jacket and car keys before heading out to the car park. By the time Simon flopped into the passenger seat, baseball cap pulled low, hood up and cloth mask in place, the Landie had managed to choke out some heat.

"Finished?" Simon asked.

"Not even close," Price responded morosely.

"Me either. S'gonna be an all nighter."

They were both up late finishing reports. Garrick was on leave in London and MacTavish had hit the town with some of the other squaddies. There was a time in his life when Price might have joined them, but the thought of getting rat-arsed with a bunch of lads in their mid-twenties filled him with an kind of exhausted dread. He'd drink them under the table, but his hangover would last three days while they would hop out of bed like spring chickens the next morning.

Simon fiddled with the radio until he found a channel belting out some generic classic rock and slumped back in the seat, eyes closed. Price let him doze as he picked up the A road that would carry them out to the twenty-four hour supermarket on the outskirts of town. He only jerked awake again when they parked up, handbrake ratcheting up with an audible grind.

They skipped the trolley and grabbed a basket each as they walked through the foyer. The security guard eyed them from behind his podium, offering a Price a nod when he made eye contact. They'd done this little night time trip so often that they let Simon's masked, hooded face slide. Price touched the inside of Simon's elbow, a brief reassurance that he was nearby, and they both stood on the inside of the gates, staring at the leftover meal deal sandwiches.

Price wasn't sure when the supermarket run had become a staple of their odd arrangement. He reckoned it came from the shared experience of hiding out in the local Morrie's as a teenager. When it was cold outside but going home wasn't an option, a young man in trackies could waste many an hour mooching around the aisles of a supermarket, inspecting shit he never intended to buy, just... browsing to while away the time and put off facing the clusterfuck that awaited back at his gaff.

They were putting off their reports and finding that old comfort now, drifting in between the refrigerators and stacked shelves to prod at packets and inspect price tags. Simon made a beeline for the rotisserie chickens, grabbing himself one of the last from the shelf before wandering off towards the bakery. Price pondered for a bit, plucking a bag of Doritos from the end of an aisle, and paused near the drinks to inspect the expensive cordials.

After about fifteen minutes of aimless wandering, Price headed for the books. There was a new Lee Child he'd had his eye on, and the blurbs on the back of romance novels amused him. It was just as he had picked up a saucy looking number to chuckle at that a looming figure appeared at his shoulder.

"Filfy slag," the shadow said.

Price felt his ears redden despite his huff. "Jus' checkin' out what the girls are inta these days."

"Bullshit," Simon grunted. "Gonna tell Johnny."

"No you fockin' ain't, or Johnny finds out about Minsk."

Simon's eyes narrowed suddenly and Price's eyebrows perked up in challenge. The stand off lasted only about ten seconds before Simon drifted away, leaving Price to place the book back on the shelf in favour of the novel he'd actually been looking for. Barely twenty seconds later, a nerf gun bullet clocked him in the side of the head.

"Oi, ya muppet." Price glowered to his left hand slapping against his stinging ear, and saw Simon smirking back... well, his bloody eyes were smirking anyway, the remains of the nerf gun's box on the shelf. "Ya gotta buy it now."

"S'fine, I'll find a use for it." Simon dumped the nerf gun in his basket and they headed into the "home' aisle. Price stopped by the candles, overlooking the cheaper options that smelled of the kind of chemicals Kortac used to poison them in favour of a brand called Chesapeake Bay. The last one he'd bought had worked wonders. Simon grunted at his side. "Wossis for?"

"You stink up my room when you kip in it, sweaty bollocks."

"Charmin'."

"You asked," Price murmured, picking one off the shelf called 'Peace and Tranquility'. Truth was they helped Simon sleep without him even realising, and they were one of the few brands that didn't trigger one of Price's migraines.

"What about this one? 'Love and passion'." Simon uncapped the orange candle to give it a whiff through his mask, and then thrust it under Price's nose.

Price sniffed and then shook his head. "'m I not passionate enough for you?"

"Hm, for twenty quid, yeah, fink you are."

Price thumped him on the shoulder and chucked 'Peace and Tranquility' into his basket. They weaved through a few more aisles, bypassing the laundry detergent and toilet roll, and ended up near the drinks again. Simon stopped by the protein powder and Price glanced at the shot of coke-flavoured pre-workout he plucked from the shelf. "That shit'll rot your guts," Price said as he grabbed a handful of gel sachets.

"Save it, old man. S'fer Johnny." Simon dropped a handful in the basket on top of his white chocolate chip cookies, rotisserie chicken, raspberry Relentless, nerf gun and king-sized bar of Dairy Milk. There were some new cotton pants in there as well, Price noted. Simon saw him looking. "You keep stealin' my shit."

"I ain't stole your bloody pants, Simon."

Simon lifted an eyebrow and before Price could stop him, he grabbed Price's belt and yanked the waistband of his jeans far enough away from his lower belly to reveal that he was, in fact, wearing a pair of Simon's boxers. "You were sayin'..."

"Shouldn't leave them on my floor then," Price grumbled, smacking Simon's hand away just as a bright lime green fleeced employee rolled down the aisle with a stacked cage of coca cola boxes. "C'mon, you done? We need to be headin' back."

"Yeah. I'm done."

Simon still grabbed a bag of blue Doritos from the end of the aisle as they walked past, and Price grabbed some pre-packed Deli ham for when he had a hankering for some protein. He had a snowball's chance in hell of getting a single bite of the rotisserie chicken in Simon's basket.

They rang up on the same till and Price tapped his card, ignoring the way that Simon twitched from foot to foot until he saw him digging at the cuticle on his thumb with his forefinger. "Stop," Price said softly, touch lingering just long enough on Simon's wrist to still his hand. "S'nothin. Bit of choccy and bloody chicken."

Simon grunted and Price watched those dark eyes waver over the basket. "Thanks," he said, finally.

"Welcome. Not quite a Michelin star meal, but maybe next time."

"Dunno. The cookies are pretty decent."

Price grinned, only to blink rapidly when Simon's fingers smoothed through his beard to squeeze his cheeks. Feeling his smile. Price let himself have a moment of tenderness, tilting his face into Simon's palm for the lightest of kisses before he grabbed their bags and headed for the door.

He left Simon to slump into the passenger seat while he went to pay off the parking. They'd overstayed their half an hour courtesy parking by fannying around for too long, avoiding work. When he climbed into the front seat, Simon had cracked open the cookies and had pulled down his mask to eat one, content that his face was disguised by the dark. He tilted the pack towards Price without looking away from the windscreen, and Price slid one out. "Fuck me, Simon Riley sharing food..."

"When the reports are done," Simon said dryly, wiping the crumbs from his lips. They both stared into the dark car park, the only noise was the rustle of plastic and the crunch of biscuit. Price finished his and opened his mouth to say something only to have it covered by Simon's. The kiss took him by surprise, the taste of sweet chocolate carried on Simon's tongue, tinging the crowns of his teeth, one big hand curling behind Price's head to keep him there as Simon took what he wanted; a deep, possessive kiss that made Price feel hot and tight under his clothes. When Simon drew away, he peppered a few more light kisses against Price's damp lips.

"What was that for?" Price asked, voice croaking and breathless.

"I don't need a reason," Simon replied. "Yer mine, ain't ya? So I get to kiss ya. And you get to buy me chicken."

Price was glad the dark hid the flush in his face. "Yeah, guess so."

Simon grunted. "L'ess go 'ome. Sooner we get those fockin' reports written, sooner I can shag ya brains out."

Price chuckled as he coaxed the Landie to life. Suddenly, he had all the motivation in the world to get those damn things finished.

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #ghostprice #two lads dossin around in the Asda

129 notes · View notes

diabolicalevil · 20 days ago

Note

Ngndnrrndnsnwnw may I request Mortarion relationship headcanons,,,,, it's okay if they're nsfw or not I just love this man

Mortarion relationship headcanons

OF COURSE YOU MAY!!! THE BOY!!!! I'm gonna spell barbarus right this time and I'll do it the whole post. promise

Warnings: NSFW at end, isolation

Simultaneously his favourite and least favourite place to interact with you is in his laboratory and study areas. Favourite? Because it's intimate and personal and most importantly, isolated. Least? because oh no don't touch that. not that either. no. stop put that down. that book so Old human oils Disintegrate it. You Know What, Go Sit In The High Chair.

One of the top three most bookish primarchs, in my opinion. But only in his particular niches. You once asked him to buddy read a romance novel and he set it on fire. Quickly. Why? He said it was filthy and debauched but it's safe to assume he was just flustered.

Considers himself doomed and hopeless but takes genuine pleasure in uplifting you. Not necessarily putting you on a pedestal but he's aware of what you're capable of and treats it as the expectation. Of course this can backfire easily but often his pushing you to strive for better works.

You're an open secret but not really a dirty one. The legion know of you but speaking of you, especially poorly, would be punished. You're not allowed to wander and very few Astartes (the ones he let's gaurd you) know you personally. It would be a lonely life but this strict monitoring doesn't apply to baselines, especially people from Barbarus.

That being said, he does his best to keep you at his side. Barbarus is a dangerous place, even to its natives, he can't truly trust even his battleships. He would never forgive himself if you got sick or injured because of an environment or situation he put you in.

Not a romantic but he is hopeless! He's so pessimistic it grates on you at times. But it's the quiet moments where he asks you to stay that make up for it. In the moment, he is not necessarily asking you not to leave the relationship, he's just asking that you don't leave the room, but the desperation sounds all the same.

Mortation is like a crystal girlie to me. He uses herbs every day in general but I do think he'd give you pouches of dried flowers and rose quartz. Not for health, he's not daft, and he doesn't believe in luck or fate so it's not that either. The only thing he believes in are the actions he and others take and this is the easiest way for him to express love.

Absolutely freezing to the touch, as if he has an iron deficiency. He doesn't realise it though, and for the longest time thinks you flinching when he touches you is an inherent disgust towards him. He figures it out eventually lol.

Rarely takes off his mask and when you're on Barbarus he demands that you wear yours most of the time as well, this makes kissing quite difficult. Solution? Head and gas mask taps as kisses

number 1 parallel play fan (NOT SEXUAL) when you're in his study he likes to work quietly and glance over at what you're, also silently, doing.

NSFW

number 1 parallel play fan (SEXUAL) mutual masterbation in his lap or you watching him get off is his favourite sex act.

Not a fan of oral, giving or receiving. Considers himself far too dirty to be doing an act like that with you. You circumvented this by cornering him after his monthly bath so he'd have no excuse. He enjoyed both sides a lot but stands by his point still.

Penetration in general is extremely rare for him. Infact he likes finishing in his pants and semi or fully clothed sex.

Regardless of your parts he most enjoys anal if he is penetrating you... sorry I can't explain this one

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST mortarion is one of my favess I'm so sorry it took me so long 2 get around 2 it

#diabolical headcanons #diabolical x reader #warhammer 40k #warhammer x reader #primarch x reader #primarchs x reader #mortarion x reader #warhammer fanfic

80 notes · View notes

miguelhugger2099 · 1 year ago

Note

OMG imagine the one bed trope w miguel. like idk why itd happen, maybe like they’re scoping out an anomaly in another universe and somehow the portal back gets blocked and they gotta stay the night at a hotel, but miguel and reader are stuck in the same bed (she SWEARS she booked two beds but oops! all the rooms are filled up!) and like oh no they need this hotel!! so at first they’re really rigid and like miguel’s all tense, he’s like “i’ll sleep on the floor” but reader is like “no it’s okay we can share! i don’t move a lot in my sleep anyway” (that’s a lie btw.) so then like miguel’s wide awake in the middle of the night, and reader keeps shifting in her sleep, and they end up in a pretty compromising position if ykwim… and then maybe she wakes up and finds miguel like so flustered and starts teasing him a bit and then things heat up ofc… idk just a thought! it’s been so long since i’ve seen the one bed trope tbh. (fem reader btw plssss)

Forced Proximity

i tried with my best with this 🫠 i wanted to try something new instead of regular p in v i hope that's okay 😭 thank u for requesting! if anything, i'd be happy to redo this when my requests open again

Miguel x Reader, Suggestive/Smut, Word Count: 2,271

Just as you and Miguel were about to shoot your webs at the new anomaly, a black bubbly portal opened up and sucked them up into another dimension. “Dammit!” You cursed, groaning at the convenience of an anomaly escaping. Miguel is already beside you, mask eyes squinted in focus as he clicks buttons on his watch. “Where’d he run off to?” You ask him. “No clue. Trying to track him now but the touchpad isn’t responding.” He grunts and furiously taps his screen but it seems to be glitching. He tries to open a portal back to HQ but it only warbles a little bit before shutting close again. “Let me try.” You lift up your watch to try and press the same coordinates when it responds the same way: a little warping but it shuts close. “Lyla,” Miguel calls out and she pops up between you two. “Run an analysis on our watches.” Her small heart glasses fog up with various numbers and letters, codes that only she knows. “Looks like the watches are bugged, Mig. Probably an effect the anomaly had.” “So we’re stranded?” You rip off your mask and place a hand on your hip. “Yup!” She nods. “For how long?” Miguel pinches his nose bridge with his finger and thumb.

“Well, most part-time spiders are off doing other missions in other dimensions and the other half of them have the day off. No one will be available until morning.” “So, we’re staying the night.” You lift your arms up and slap them down. “I’m finding a hotel.” You turn and look around for any around you two. Miguel sighs and faces Lyla. “Is there another way home? Are we safe from the glitching?” Lyla nods, pulling up frames and data for him to look at. “Safe from glitching. Probably just a program issue. Maybe an update issue. Unfortunately, not even Margo is at HQ so your next bet is waiting for a spider to portal you two back.” She explains and glitches out of the air. He tries to find a new solution but comes up short, deciding to just accept it before he grows angry. Miguel hears you calling his name as you run back to where Lyla and him were standing. “Okay, I found a hotel! I talked to this lady up front–luckily the currency is the same as yours–and we got extra lucky,” You huffed with a wide smile on your face. “They’re pretty busy but she managed to get us a room with two beds and two bathrooms. Left her a tip, hope you don’t mind.” You placed your hands on your hips and continued to grin at the frown on his lips.

Miguel rolled his eyes and called for Lyla, her little form glitching back and perching on his shoulder. “Lyla, get back to base. Let the others know we’ve been stranded and call for backup whenever someone’s available.” Her vibrant yellow glare shifts as she moves, her hand coming up in a salute and a police hat glitching on her head. “You got it, boss! Have fun you two!” She giggles and phases out. Miguel passes by you coldly, heading for the hotel where you booked for the night. You yawn behind him, just wanting to rest after a wasted day of failing to catch an anomaly. You walked through the hallways of the hotel, checking down at your key for the number of your room. Once you found it, you slipped the keycard on the lock and opened the door. “Home sweet–” You cut yourself off after peeking into the room and what greeted you was a singular bed. “Wha–?!” You glanced back at the roomkey number and the plate outside, finding the two matching that this was indeed your room for the night. “I swear I asked for two–” “I’ll take the floor.” Miguel grumbles behind you, his entire frame stiff and rigid. You take a look up at him and his face is unamused and staring straight ahead to avoid your eye. “No, it’s–it’s fine,” You chuckle nervously and walk over to the bed. You pat the edge of it and try to convince yourself and Miguel that everything was fine. “There’s so much space. It’s like–what– a king size? We have plenty of room to share!” Miguel doesn’t seem convinced in the slightest, already making a move to grab a pillow. “I don’t even move that much in my sleep! Promise! Pinky promise.” You hold up your pinky to Miguel and he stops to stare at your hand with a deadpan expression. “Fine.” He grunts, placing the pillow back down and not wanting to deal with you any further since he was exhausted.

You, in fact, actually do move a lot in your sleep–Miguel figured out. He really was exhausted and expected himself to pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow but with you next to him, it was like the energy hadn’t left his body. He laid there straight as a pole with the blanket at his chest and staring at the ceiling. You were in dreamland, snoozing and sprawled on the mattress– blissfully unaware of Miguel’s misery by the situation at hand. You shifted around in your sleep, your hand hitting his shoulder or your leg bumping against his ankle. Miguel could handle it. He’s spent many uncomfortable all-nighters so he thought to himself that one more wouldn’t be too damaging for him. It wasn’t until you moved further to his side of the bed that had Miguel’s heart racing. You turned to his side, throwing your leg over his and your arm draped around his neck to bring him closer to you. His arm instinctively went under your body and held your waist while you pressed yourself against him, so as to not make the position uncomfortable for either of you. Miguel’s cheeks burned while you nuzzled to his chest, acting like he was some sort of teddy bear. He hoped his heartbeat wouldn’t wake you from your slumber. Your thighs were close together and any closer you’d start accidentally grinding on him. Miguel looked back up at the ceiling and prayed that you’d move soon.

His prayers were not answered. You woke up after feeling a bit too much heat and it became unbearable to sleep through. You blinked away the sleep groggily, wondering why the pillow you had been on had gotten a little more firm. You lifted your head to see you weren’t on your pillow but basically cuddling up against your boss. You looked down to see your legs intertwined together and turned your head to apologize when you stopped seeing Miguel’s cheeks flush red. His eyes did not meet yours but you felt the pounding of his heart. A smile curled up on your lips, apology wiped off your mind and instead leaning into wanting to taunt him for how shy he’s acting. “Miguel,” You tease with a bit of laughter. “Aw, c’mon. A little accidental cuddle gets you nervous?” Miguel glares at you from the corner of his eye. As you laugh, you continue moving against him. You don’t notice how he takes a sharp inhale when your knee brushes against his crotch as you lift yourself up. Your hands rest on either side of his head. “Did you even sleep? Or did you just stay up all night like some perv?” You snort, having the time of your life seeing your usually sulking boss look so cute with red scattered across his cheeks. Miguel squeezes your waist then uses both his hands to grab you and force you down on his thigh. You gasp in shock, all playfulness leaving your body as your core hits his firm muscle. The action ignites a spark in your chest that sends it straight between your legs, making you whimper, all in a split second.

You snap your head towards him, cheeks already burning and mouth dropped open in shock. Miguel meets it with a cheshire like grin, his own blush on his cheeks but less now that you’re more flustered than him. “Careful,” He says. “Wouldn’t want to be some sort of perv, huh?” You could’ve sworn his voice dropped down an octave. You stutter, unable to respond back as he rendered you speechless. His thigh flexed and it sent a jolt up your spine with your cunt throbbing which he felt. Maybe it was him being tired, drained from the day that he was acting out of character. Too tired to care about the consequences while his mind clouded and numbed his usual feelings. For now, he enjoyed the way your hands gripped onto his shoulders, cute eyes wide open and feeling the delicious beat of your pussy on his thigh. He rubs your hips on his thigh, his muscle flexing to put some stimulation to your pussy. You squeak and lean forward as the pleasure runs through your body and makes you grow hot. “Miguel…!” You gasp and moan. You automatically grind yourself on him and his grin widens, leaning back to see the show. Miguel feels your wetness seep through the thin fabric of your suit and panties onto his own suit. He phases just a small part of his thigh out his suit to feel just how wet you’ve gotten with a little teasing. “Already?” He murmurs and your cheeks burn brightly. “You like this, huh?” “Fuck…” You huff out, hanging your head to not meet his gaze. Your nails dig into his shoulder as he moves your hips. “C’mon. Show me how much you like this.” You know he was only doing this to get back at you for teasing him, for booking a one bed instead of two and with how his patience had run out from being stranded here, you decided not to test that anger anymore.

So you slowly moved up and down his thigh with a soft whimper, shutting your eyes close while you did so. Your breathing grew heavy, and you shook with every slight movement on his end. Slowly, you picked up speed, the lust flooding your mind and the pace you were going at hadn’t been enough. You humped his thigh faster, still opting out of looking down at him. “Shit…Not enough…” You murmured under your breath, not thinking he’d heard you over the accumulating wet sounds on his skin and shuffling of bed sheets. “Let me help.” You hear him say and feel his hand by the zipper of your suit at the nape of your neck. Weak from your pleasure, you let him tug your suit off your torso. Miguel tapped your thighs as a signal to lift yourself up while he slipped the rest of it off you. You were now bare in front of him, his hands placed back at your hips. You still felt embarrassed, trying to cover up your chest with your arms and hands. Miguel wasn’t having it, growing annoyed at you covering yourself. He cupped the back of your neck and pulled you flushed down on his chest. “Keep going.” He growled. The rumble of his voice went straight to your cunt once more, succumbing to him as you began grinding yourself on him, skin to skin. Your folds smeared your juices on his thighs coating him in your wetness. The swollen nub of your clit rolled deliciously between you and his thigh and you panted softly as you tried chasing you high.

“There you go. That’s it.” Miguel murmured, bucking his thigh to your pussy to the same pace of your humping. He held your hip with one hand to help you and his other hand raked up and down your back, his talons scratching your flesh. “You’re doing so good. Good girl riding my thigh, yeah?” He purred which made you groan and buck your hips faster. “Miguel…” You breathed out. “More, more.” You pleaded. His talons pricked your skin. “Cum on my thigh first and maybe I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Peter B. met you two once the portal fully opened up in your stranded dimension. He greeted you with a smile, Mayday babbling in her carrier. “Hey! Glad you guys survived the night. Took a minute to get you guys. Sorry about that.” He playfully punched Miguel’s and your shoulder. You beamed at him and held Mayday’s little hand, wiggling it around softly enough to make her giggle. “Hope it wasn’t agonizing.” Peter chuckles to you. You chuckle back and step away from Mayday, giving the two a smile. “Not at all. He’s surprisingly good company.” Miguel doesn’t react behind you. “Oh, yeah? Must be going soft. Big guy isn’t just pleasant for anybody.” Peter says. “Funny how things work out.” You grin and turn around to peck Miguel’s cheek and walk towards the portal. “I’ll see you guys later?” You give a wink and slip into the portal, your body phasing out and leaving the two men behind. Peter gapes at the warping space where you had just left and slowly turns to Miguel to see his friend, very much stiff but his face has a slight tint to it. “Did something happen–” Miguel shoves his face aside and phases his mask over his head to hide his cheeks. “Cállate.” He mutters and enters into the portal towards his dimension.

Peter gets snapped out of his stupor by Mayday babbling and waving her arms around as if cheering Miguel and you on. Peter looks down at her and grabs her little hand in his. “He’s growin’ up, huh?” Mayday squeals.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

673 notes · View notes

babextoken · 4 months ago

Note

I need the Vessels reacting to reader wearing their merch but not like tshirts or hoodies, like that ridiculous hot topic merch, the vessel mask hair claw, the band’s logo navel piercing, the booty shorts with “sleep token” in the butt, things like that omg

Sleep Token Vessel Claw Hair Clip

"Put your Sleep Token fandom into all the details of your fit! This figural claw hair clip features a detailed design of Vessel's mask.

If the mysterious Vessel happens to be your boyfriend, he will become laughably jealous of the claw holding your hair in place while you’re kneeling in front of him backstage giving him post show head. Unfortunately this product cannot withstand the force of him (carefully) yanking it out of hair and throwing it to the floor. No flimsy clip is fit to hold back his good girl’s hair while she takes him in her throat just a few feet away from everyone else backstage."

Sleep Token Logo Girls Lounge Shorts

"In between Sleep Token shows, get comfy with these lounge shorts. They're black with maroon piping, the band's rune symbol on the left thigh and the band's text logo across the back. These shorts are perfect for bed rotting, binge watching, and getting bent over II’s lap*! * Some peeling may occur on the logo across the back after repeated spankings contact with other surfaces. Behold! The shorts are even pliable enough to be pulled to the side for activities such as reverse cowgirl. Drive your drummer boyfriend crazy by reminding both of you who your sweet ass belongs to!"

Discontinued: Sleep Token This Place Will Become Your Tomb Tracklist Cami Dress

"Ditch your usual Sleep Token band tee for a cami dress! This style shows a large graphic of a diving whale, echoing the underwater theme of the This Place Will Become Your Tomb (2021) album cover. The band's text logo appears above, and there's a tracklist below. There is black lace trim at the neckline and bottom hem, and the dress has adjustable straps.*

*You asked and we answered: Hot Topic is unable to reinforce the trim and straps of the TPWBYT cami dress after an astounding number of reviews stating that iii becomes particularly feral in the presence of this dress. Multiple reports of the hem’s integrity being fuckin obliterated when iii tugs to hard and causes the dress to split vertically (we’re talking hotdog style, everyone!) We also apologize to any customers who suffered bruises on their shoulders from the strap adjusters when iii pops the straps and asks 'bit nippy, love? Should wear more clothes.'"

Steel Sleep Token Logo Navel Barbell

"Silver-tone navel barbell with a Sleep Token logo charm, plus clear and black gem detailing.

Jewelry care: Wash with antibacterial soap and warm water.

Piercing care: Wash hands thoroughly, then clean piercing with H2Ocean (sold separately) or saline solution.

316L surgical steel; glass; plastic

Nickel-free

1 1/2'' design

Use in healed piercings only. Remove immediately if irritation occurs. Do not use harsh or alcohol-based chemicals to clean jewelry. This may cause tarnishing.

Intended as a decorative piece and should not be worn to sleep.

Imported

While we highly recommend pairing the Sleep Token Logo Navel Barbell with the Sleep Token Girls Lounge Shorts and your favorite crop top, Hot Topic cannot be held responsible for any looks or comments regarding the lovebites and occasional teeth marks on your pretty tummy around your Hot (hehe hot topic humor) new jewelry. We understand the risks involved in this outfit especially in the presence of boyfriend’s such as IV who growl, “I’M GONNA BITE” after throwing you on the bed caveman style and covering your tummy in wet, feral kisses."

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚ Situation Enjoyers (taglist): @lifemod17 @glitterghost @inv3ga @adenobabe @jeriiicho @milk--bones @myaudiocommentary @horsebiologist @intake-of-breath @fruitsandcheese @killed-by-thegods @goosepond69 @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @lynzeequitlollygagging @thatxxjiyong-ssi @cloudy-soul @daddysaidbringthethunder @evisnotok @cheomain @chaosandchaos @object-of-my-desire @dreamer-lost-in-wonderland @blvckmvgicwoman @canopies-of-gold-and-evergreen

#ask wolfie #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token smut #sleep token x reader #worshitposting #sleep token fan fiction #a mysterious anon appears!

125 notes · View notes

oleander-cup · 1 month ago

Text

why him? - atsumu picks someone to flirt with and it's safe to say her brother doesn't approve // wc: 1.6k // pairing: atsumu x sakusa reader // content: reader is sakusa's sister, atsumu is a flirt as per usual, sakusa does not approve of this at first, no angst, fluff

Kiyoomi had finally worked your walls down. After asking multiple times you were finally coming to an MSBY match. He wants everyone to think he doesn’t care but he does. So here you are, sitting in the stands wearing black and gold and quietly cheering for your brother. You’re not going to lie to yourself though, you weren’t looking at him much. Your eyes were trailing a boy with outlandishly yellow hair. He was cute, sure his serve routine was a little annoying and made you roll your eyes but boy did he look good. Anyone with eyes would be able to tell you that.

You thought he was cute until you saw the name on the back of his jersey…Miya. Of course. The boy you thought was cute just so happened to be the one your brother complained about the most. Sure he complained about his other teammates but none quite like how he complained about Atsumu. Why didn’t your brother ever warn you about how pretty he was though? Really this was his fault if you thought about it for long enough.

It seems you weren’t the only one who had their eyes set on someone. Atsumu had seen you about halfway through the second set of the game. You looked so pretty in your black sweater, he wondered if you were taken. I mean surely you must be, you were far prettier than any other girl he had seen. The fact that you had a mask blocking the rest of your face be damned. You reminded him of Sakusa but surely that was all in his head. He needed to make sure he caught up with you once this match was over. He needed to get your number.

Once you were done staring at the blonde, soon after realizing who he was, you pulled out your phone and started going through your emails. Sure enough work couldn’t leave you alone even on your day off. Sometimes you thought about quitting but then finding another job was just too much of a hassle. Soon enough the match ended, you walked down the stairs and to the entrance of the locker rooms. One flash of your ID to prove that you were Sakusa’s sister was enough for security to let you stand and wait for your brother. You leaned against the wall and replied to the messages from work. Mask still planted on your face, you scoffed at some of the questions they asked you. It’s almost like they weren’t adults that could come up with solutions to simple problems.

Your peace was disrupted by a certain blonde coming out of the locker room. He was confused to see the pretty girl waiting outside. He was in fact hopeful enough to think it was him you were waiting for. He wasn’t even going to question how you had gotten back there. He was much more interested in getting your number. He puts on his best smile and leans up next to you on the wall. “Well aren’t you a pretty thing,” he sends you a charming smile.

You’re so thankful for the mask because it hides the small blush on your cheeks. As you said, he was pretty. “Is there something you need?” You ask with a roll of your eyes, he might’ve been pretty but no way were you going to get with someone your brother would definitely not approve of. His approval was very important to you because you trusted his opinion.

“I would love to have your-” he’s cut off by someone looming over him. He turns his head and sees none other than Sakusa. “Why hello Omi Omi, was there something you needed?” He still asks not to move from where he’s crowding you against the wall.

“Yes. I need you to get away from my sister.” He glares daggers at Atsumu who is only just now putting two and two together. He looks between you two and notices the moles on your forehead that match your brother’s and how your current expression really reminds him of the ace. He grins sheepishly at you as he stands up.

“You didn’t tell me you had such a cute sister Omi Omi!” Atsumu exclaims and tries to lay on the boy who just moves out of the way to watch him stumble over his feet to stand back up. Both you and Sakusa scoff at the comment. “Aww, Omi Omi! You don’t trust me to treat your sister nice? I’m hurt!” He grasps at his chest like he’s hurt and lets a pout settle on his lips. You can’t deny you find it quite cute. You let out a small laugh at his antics trying to cover it with a cough, unfortunately Atsumu and Sakusa heard it and both whip their heads to you. Atsumu seems to be spurred on by the action and gives you a smirk as he leans back over to you. Sakusa sends you a glare.

“No. I don’t trust you with my sister. I would trust Bokuto with my sister before you. Now leave before I say you’re harassing her.” He crosses his arms and scowls.

You lace your hands together in front of you, playing with your fingers with a sigh. “Are you sure Omi Omi? Why don’t I ask her?” Your head whips up with surprise. “Can I have your number cutie?” He practically purrs out. Part of you wants to say yes but the look your brother is giving you tells you to get rid of that part of you.

“I’m fine Miya.” You turn to leave him standing there dumbfounded while Sakusa smiles and walks away with you. You know the two of you will be talking about this during the car ride back home. And sure enough once you’re buckled Sakusa gives you a knowing look.

“Miya? Really?” He knows you well and definitely saw your blush under your mask. You shake your head and put your face in your hands. “Out of anyone on the team, you chose Miya?” He doesn’t sound mad which is a relief, just shocked. He lets out a groan and sighs. “If you really like him then I guess I’m okay with it. But, I want you to tell me if he does anything.” He starts to drive away while you sit with your thoughts.

“He’s pretty but…” you trail off quietly. “I think he may only chase me to get a rise out of you.” You admit solemnly and look out the window with a small frown playing on your face. Sakusa rolls his eyes with a scoff.

“You think Miya is stupid enough to pull that? He may be stupid but he’s not that dumb.” He lets out a small gag at the fact that he complimented Miya of all people. Let alone that he was basically talking the boy up to his sister.

“So you would be fine if I got his number and went on a date with him?” You give him a hopeful look, a smile playing on your lips. Sakusa doesn’t miss the way that your eyes seem to light up at the prospect. He lets out a sigh and nods his head.

“If you’re sure he’s what you want.”

“It’s just one date!” Sakusa refrains from rolling his eyes again as he pulls into the driveway.

“Yeah, yeah. You have to ask him yourself, I’m staying out of it.”

By the time of the next match you make sure to dress in an even nicer outfit. A simple black button up and sweater thrown over it. The sweater is special though, a custom made sweater with Atsumu’s number on it. You were a bit embarrassed to come home and find Sakusa holding the sweater in his hands after he had accidentally opened your mail. He shook his head and handed it to you, if you were different you wouldn’t have noticed his small smile but you had. And maybe you teased him about it a little bit, of course he denied every minute of it.

After the game you’re once again waiting by the locker rooms, this time your mask is hanging off one ear as you scold one of your employees. Atsumu walks out as you finish the call, you give him a small smile and wave him over. He is more than surprised. He’s shell shocked at how much prettier you are now that he can see all of your face, let alone the fact that you’re calling him over after the display last time. He looks around not seeing Sakusa anywhere and approaches you with a smirk. “Long time no see pretty!” He hums out and takes in your outfit.

His gaze falters when he notices your sweater, you give him a smirk of your own and cross your arms as you lean against the wall. “Question for you Miya.” He meets your eyes again and raises an eyebrow. “How would you like to go on a date with me?” You outwardly appear nonchalant but the blush on your face gives away your nerves. Atsumu gives you a gentle smile.

“You sure Omi Omi will be okay with it?”

“He was the one who encouraged me to ask.” Now that really shocked him. Did Sakusa really talk him up to you? He falters and the shock is evident on his face. You let out a quiet laugh which has his cheeks heating up. Why did your laugh have to be so cute?

“Really? Omi Omi? Are you sure you didn’t hallucinate?”

“I’m sure, now are we going to go on a date or are you going to chicken out?” He stands up and offers you his arm.

“Well, when you put it like that. Where would you like to go pretty?”

“I don’t know, how about dinner, pretty boy?” Oh yeah, you both could get used to this. And maybe, just maybe Sakusa had a small smile on his face as he watched the two of you walk out of the arena and towards Atsumu’s car. But that’s not something he’s ever going to admit to.

gen taglist (fill out this form) @tansypansydandy @phoenix-eclipses @h-llsp-wn @megapteraurelia @nomyimi @ottocre @xiaoquanquans @yatoatyourservice @avis-writeshq @fweakygyatt

masterlist

#haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x female reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #atsumu miya x y/n #atsumu miya x female reader

142 notes · View notes

storiesabouteli · 9 months ago

Text

Sugar Hits. // Elijah Hewson X Reader! (Fluff)

request: maybe you could write something like reader supporting Eli at a concert or something. Like, he's nervous about playing the new songs (your house, eddie in the Darkness) because he doesn’t know if the fans will like them and reader just comforts him before and after the show.

words: 2K.

That wasn’t your first gig of theirs. By the end of their last tour, you were already close with Eli and had really started to enjoy that "rockstar girlfriend" side of things. You managed to enjoy them more, and it felt good to have them back. As you walked down the hallway, Bobby spotted you, greeting you in his usual down-to-earth manner. He pulled you into a quick hug that made you feel a little guilty—it had been a while since you’d seen him, even though you didn’t live that far from each other. You exchanged a few words, catching up on your lives briefly, but then he noticed your eyes wandering around the room and shared something that had been on your mind.

"Eli's with Josh, sorting out something about the soundcheck," he said with a smile. You returned it, but it was a shy, almost embarrassed grin, worried that Bobby might think you weren’t paying attention.

"It's all good; I bet he's missing you too," he teased, bumping his shoulder against yours before letting you know he had to go meet up with the others. Your cheeks flushed, and it was funny how, even though almost a year had passed since the last gig you’d attended, you still felt like an outsider. Not because they treated you that way—in fact, it was quite the opposite. They always made you feel welcome, part of it all. But you understood this was their moment, their time together.

You waved at a few familiar faces as you made your way to a quieter balcony, finding solace in the semi-isolation. Eli always knew how overwhelming those spaces could be for you, especially after a long time. He always made sure his hotel room was organized with thoughtful touches—handpicked playlists, your favorite snacks—so you could have a retreat when the chaos got too much. This time was no different. He’d texted you the room number and even let the front desk know you'd be stopping by. If you didn’t already know that Eli needed you more this time than you needed a quiet place to recharge, you would’ve gone straight there. Usually, you’d take a short nap, listen to some good music, and breathe in his scent that lingered on the pillows, comforting you before heading back to watch him perform.

“I thought you'd take longer.” His tone was sharper than usual, the words fading into the atmosphere, his voice growing weaker. His eyes, tired yet still shining with a soft light, were fixed on you as you sat with a cigarette in hand. The night before, you’d stayed on the phone with him until he finally fell asleep—though it took a while. Eli masked it well, the calm tone in his voice, the gentle look on his face, and eyebrows that showed no sign of concern. But you knew his chest was heavy with worry.

That phone call had mostly been filled with quiet, just the comfort of having each other there. But he had briefly confessed his anxiety about singing the new songs, how his mind kept spiraling into everything that could go wrong. You knew him well, knew you could remind him how amazing he was and offer rational solutions, but he’d already tortured himself enough over the past week. So, instead, you listened, letting him pour it all out, hoping it would make him feel lighter, even though it was painful to hear someone you loved, someone so capable, talk that way about themselves and their work.

"You're doing great, El," you had whispered, your own throat tight, fighting the urge to cry, praying he'd understood you, even though your voice had come out so softly. And here you were again, saying the same thing, in the same quiet tone, after a six-hour flight because of your work, as he rested his forehead against your shoulder and melted into your arms.

His body was cold, muscles tense, and you wished this would all pass soon so he could see how well everything was going to turn out.

"I need you."

"Well, here I am, huh?" His back was resting against the balcony railing, legs spread slightly with you standing in front of him so that you were at eye level, close. Your fingers combed through his hair, which still held defined curls, and you peppered soft kisses on his cheek. He wasn’t one to easily show his emotions, but just having you there, all your gentle touches, made him feel better. He nodded as your delicate hands cupped his face, helping you see him more clearly. His tired eyes met yours, and you gave him a light smile, trying to lift his spirits.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" you teased him gently. His hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer. He tilted his head, wearing a stern expression, clearly weighing the situation in his mind. "I know, I'm being an id—" you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. Surprised, he gripped you tighter, but gradually relaxed as you felt the tension ease from his muscles, bit by bit. He kissed you back, a soft, relieved sigh escaping into the kiss.

You squeezed his shoulder through his black leather jacket—a piece he’d only wear for show since he always took it off mid-gig. He made more room for you to deepen the kiss. You could taste your lip gloss, and he had the familiar hint of mint candy on his lips, but nothing compared to the warmth that filled you as his scent wrapped around you, making you feel at home. You pulled back slightly to look at him. His eyes were still closed, and he gave you a few more soft kisses. Before he could speak, you murmured, “Only I can talk like that about my boyfriend. Anyone else? Not a chance.” He laughed, more relaxed now, his cheeks and lips red.

"Everything’s gonna be okay, El. You’ve done this before, and it went fine. You’re not going to disappoint anyone. Your fans are here because they love your work. I’m not dismissing how you feel, just saying you’re worrying over nothing, love." He nodded, and while it didn’t completely lift the weight from his shoulders, it felt like having that so-called voice of reason gently soothe his mind.

"Can you stay visible today?" The tip of his nose was pink, and his curls nearly covered his caramel eyes in supplication, but you didn’t mind. You usually stayed to the side of the stage, not wanting to be in the way, but this time it was different. "Of course, I’ll be there." He smiled, grateful, pulling you into his chest and holding you even tighter. You nestled into him, knowing you’d stay like that for a good while, arms wrapped around his waist. It felt even better than being in his hotel room—it was perfect.

…

Your back ached slightly, the exhaustion of just standing was starting to catch up. It had been a long flight, and you hadn't slept, but it was worth it. The lights dimmed, the crowd roared, and the thrill of seeing them live again was unmistakable. It was busier than last time, and it felt so good to see them getting the recognition they deserved. As the first chords played, the atmosphere was electric. Eli glanced at you every now and then, a warm smile on his face. You found yourself jumping and cheering for him, just like you did when you were beside the stage, though you always felt a bit embarrassed doing it in front of him. But it was impossible not to.

The first new song started, the silence filling with Eli’s steady voice, and he kept looking at you more frequently. You reassured him with your gaze. It was your first time hearing the new tracks in their entirety—the lyrics, the instrumentation—and you were so proud of him. As the next few songs, also new, played, you could see him loosening up, interacting with the crowd even though they weren’t singing along. Everything went smoothly.

As the show ended, a few fans stopped you on your way out. You felt a bit bad for standing in front of people who had paid to be there, so you made an effort to talk to them. It was awkward because their excitement was meant for Eli, and you weren’t as natural in these moments as he was. But you didn’t want to seem rude. They were enthusiastic, and you ended up asking what they thought so you could pass it along to him. They shared their love for the performance, and you told them it was your first time hearing the new songs too. It was a brief exchange, though your nerves made it feel longer.

As the fans thinned, Eli eventually stepped in, taking their attention off you. He placed a hand on your back, sharing in their excitement as he spoke to them. He knew you’d disappear from the conversation if given the chance, and it always amused him—he understood. You loved how attentive he and the band were in moments like this, always so considerate. You hated the thought of interrupting his time with fans, so you stood back, watching him chat and take photos, all smiles and joy.

He had been so nervous he hadn’t slept, but seeing him like this, radiant and confident, you knew he was being ridiculous. He was perfect.

…

You found yourself distracted, chatting with Lewis while waiting for the boys to come back so you could head to the hotel. The room filled with laughter as Eli's arms suddenly wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground and giving you a playful scare. You turned to face him, and there he was, beaming as if he had never been worried at all, and you threw your arms around him as he picked you up again.

"I'm so proud of you. It was amazing," you whispered just for him. His eyes sparkled, hair now a mess. He was drenched in sweat, his white tank top almost transparent. "I love you so much, you know that?" he said, his voice softer than usual. You nodded, feeling the warmth rush to your cheeks. Then, he rubbed his damp hair against your face, making you laugh out loud, which made him laugh too. There was never any doubt he loved you—it wasn’t something he said all the time, but when he did, it filled you with buzzing bubbles.

"Do I know this one?" he teased, running his fingers over the buttons of your brown vest that matched your boots. He’d noticed your outfit during the gig, appreciating that you always made an effort for their shows. It was something casual and routine for him, and now for you too. You could’ve easily shown up in something more comfortable, and he wouldn’t mind—he’d understand, especially since you’d come straight from the airport. But the fact that you took the time to choose something, thinking about what to wear and anticipating the gig, meant a lot to him. Even after seeing them live so many times, you still made it special.

"I got it a few weeks ago," you replied, happy he noticed. "Saved it for tonight. Figured it deserved something special." He chuckled, resting his hand on your waist as he gave you a little twirl. "Your eyes too," he said, cupping your cheeks for a closer look. "You’re stunning." He stared at your black eyeliner.

You smiled, closing your eyes as his thumb traced gentle circles on your jaw. "I told you," you whispered, bringing the conversation back to earlier. He kissed your nose, then your lips, finally accepting your words of wisdom. You let out a yawn, and he followed suit, making you laugh again. "You did, but it’s a good reason to have you here with me," he said, pulling you closer as you both made your way to the car.

He couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel either, to shower with you, to crawl into bed, and fall asleep wrapped up in your arms. "I’ll always be here, El."

#elijah hewson #elijah hewson x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler #elijah hewson fanfic #josh jenkinson #robert keating #ryan mcmahon

155 notes · View notes

blufblucake · 10 days ago

Text

⋆ 𐙚 ̊.𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘

ᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ: Wheeljack x GN!Human!Reader

᥉ᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Amid the metallic silence of the Ark, two minds collide: brilliant, relentless, and lonely. You were welcomed by the Autobots as an ally, but the real shock came when you fell for Wheeljack, the eccentric genius with a shy smile and incredibly skilled hands. Between codes, algorithms, and a bold shared creation, a connection is born, one as intricate as any alien technology. But when work turns into connection, and connection turns into desire... things might just start heating up in the lab.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Smut with plot, AFAB Reader (no gender specified), size difference, oral sex, penetrative sex, mutual pining.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4,7k

❝ Maybe we, can be, be each other's company Let's end each other's lonely nights Be each other's paradise Need a picture for my frame Someone to share my reign Tell me what you wanna drink I'll tell you what I got in mind ❞

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Surrounded by the thick metal walls of the Ark, with no windows or accessible doors to the outside world, it was easy to lose track of time. Hours had already gone by, maybe it was even past midnight, but you were too focused on the numbers and codes flashing on the screen of your small, modified datapad to care. By some twist of fate, your path had crossed with the Autobots’. Of course, running into a conveniently hidden alien species on your planet, who also happened to be caught in the middle of a war, wasn’t exactly what one expected to happen on a random Thursday. But against all logic and common sense, that encounter had completely transformed your life. And in the best way possible.

Being an independent scientist wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. Not that you weren’t intelligent, on the contrary, you were brilliant, but there were always far too many incredible minds and not enough scholarships to go around. Not to mention those who had the right connections in all sorts of universities and managed to secure their spots among the best by pulling a few strings. The lack of support and funding was always discouraging, it felt like a cold bucket of water every time. That’s why you considered yourself lucky to have found the Autobots. You sympathized with their cause and wanted to help. They, in turn, saw in you a worthy ally. It was the perfect deal: access to Cybertronian technology in exchange for your knowledge and skills. Naturally, there were objections about your usefulness and discretion, but you were used to that; the scientific community on Earth had thrown the same doubts your way. What truly mattered was that Optimus Prime trusted you. A vote of confidence you would never forget and would cherish for the rest of your life. Now, not only did you have the means to work, but also a purpose and a lab partner.

“Stuck on those codes?” Wheeljack’s voice sounded a bit tired, pulling your gaze away from the glowing screen in front of you. The mech held a cube of energon in one servo and a ridiculously small blue can in the other. He extended his arm and offered you the can, which you gladly accepted, cracking it open with a click. Lifting it to your lips, you took a generous sip of the hot energy drink, grimaced, then replied, “Not anymore. I think I found the problem.” The wide smile you gave Wheeljack made him smile behind the mask covering part of his faceplate. “We were too focused on the obvious issue and forgot to look around it.” The mech pulled over a chair and sat across from you, leaning over the desk to get a better look at the tiny screen in your lap. You adjusted yourself on the beanbags where you were seated and started pointing animatedly at a stream of ever-scrolling code. Carefully, you explained your discovery in detail, growing more excited by the second.

Wheeljack nodded in agreement and used a single digit to affectionately ruffle your hair “You’re right, sweetspark. You found the solution.” He smiled again, and his mask retracted so he could take a few long sips of energon. While he distractedly drank the glowing liquid, you discreetly admired him. Maybe it was the long hours spent together, or maybe your brain was just fried from work, but you’d been finding the bot attractive for some time now. Of course, in a completely new and alien way, but still attractive. You liked how his blue optics lit up when he talked about his projects, his shy smile whenever he was complimented, his good humor and resilience — even when the two of you literally set his lab on fire. He understood you in a way no human ever had. There was something special in the connection you shared. But you were also aware it would likely never be more than that, a one-sided crush.

You stood up and left your datapad on the beanbag before walking to the edge of the desk and signaling for Wheeljack to come over. He finished his energon cube, set it on the desk, and held out a servo for you to climb onto. You were so used to it by now that you knew exactly where to step and hold. Once you were secure in his cupped servos, he carried you toward the workbench where your newest creation awaited, almost complete. As soon as he set you down on the bench, you ran toward the drone, the object several times larger than you. Its design was modern with a vintage twist, blending your personal tastes perfectly. “Our creation, our baby,” you said in a comically affectionate tone, as if you truly considered the drone your child, which made Wheeljack laugh out loud. The mech liked your playful nature and the lighthearted way you approached things. Maybe it was because you were both scientists, but for the first time in ages, he felt truly accepted. You understood him. Understood when inventions failed and stood by him when they succeeded. You celebrated together, laughed off the failures, and at the end of the day, you were together, usually with you sitting on his chassis, chatting and making silly plans. He was afraid to admit it, but the truth was, you had long since stopped being “just a friend” to him. Still, he often wondered if you could ever see him as something more, as a mech.

The sound of you clearing your throat snapped Wheeljack out of his thoughts, and his vocal indicator fins flickered a light shade of blue as he spoke. “Sorry, what were you saying again?” you giggled and leaned your body against the drone, arms crossed over your chest. “I asked if you’d already uploaded your code into Sparkle’s algorithm.” He looked confused, his optics flicking between you and the drone a few times, barely holding back a laugh. “Since when did you name the drone Sparkle?” You only shrugged and gave him a mischievous look, like a kid caught doing something sneaky “Since earlier today. I thought it needed a name. Don’t you like it?” The mech vented softly, ruffling his hair, and leaned over you and the drone, his massive helm now only inches from your face. “I love it. I just thought, since it’s our sparkling, we should’ve picked the name together. But Sparkle fits perfectly. Look at our baby, it’s the spitting image of you.”

You burst out laughing and moved closer to Wheeljack, resting your forehead against his helm and reaching up to touch one of his vocal indicator fins, which flickered a soft pink “Hm, I think the optics are yours. But we should’ve added your fins, I think they’re very charming. Especially when you’re embarrassed,” you said teasingly. You could hear his engine roar as he abruptly pulled away, suddenly shy. Wheeljack shook his helm and stumbled over his words when answering your original question “I-I finished it earlier today while you were on break. I think yours is the only one missing now. I can help if you want.” You quickly shook your head, pouting in mock offense “No way! We agreed it would be a surprise. We’ll only find out what the other programmed when we activate Sparkle.” He nodded and gently lifted you by the torso as you raised your arms excitedly. He carried you back to the shared desk and carefully set you down on the cold metal surface. The warmth of his servo disappeared all too quickly when he pulled away. You picked up your datapad again and plopped down into the beanbag, letting your full weight sink into it.

Wheeljack sat in the chair and pulled up his own datapad, resuming his work. He knew it wasn’t healthy for you to stare at a screen for so many hours. You should’ve gone to rest long ago. But he also knew it would be pointless to try and convince you otherwise. You’d had that same argument countless times, and he always lost when you gave him your best kicked-puppy look and asked with a sweet little pretty please. All he could do was wait for your body to give in so he could carry you back to your shared quarters, like he did almost every night. And judging by the way your blinks were slowing and your head was starting to droop to the side, it wouldn’t take long.

As predicted, just a few minutes later, you finally drifted off to sleep, your body leaning entirely to the side, nearly falling out of your seat. Wheeljack smiled at the sight and used two digits to pluck your tiny datapad from your hands and set it on the desk. Then, carefully, he cradled your entire body in his servos and brought you close to his chassis. The motion stirred you slightly, but you quickly relaxed again once you felt the mech’s warmth and the familiar rhythm of his spark pulsing. He stood up and carried you out of the lab, heading straight to his habsuite. The halls were completely empty, the only sound was the faint hum of the ventilation system. Most of the bots were already in recharge by now.

When the door to his habsuite slid open, Wheeljack walked straight to his berth, too tired to even think of anything else. He adjusted your sleeping form so he could hold you with one servo and used the other to open a drawer in his nightstand. From it, he pulled out a fresh polishing cloth, the perfect size to serve as a cozy blanket for you. Then, still holding you close to his chassis, he laid down and got comfortable. You stirred a little, yawning and rubbing your cheek against his metal frame, but didn’t wake up. The sight warmed Wheeljack’s spark, and he smiled, completely enchanted by your human fragility. He covered you with the cloth and rested one servo over you like a protective barrier to keep you from rolling off during the night “Goodnight, my little brilliant scientist,” he whispered, gently stroking your spine with his thumb.

-`♡´-

The next morning started off in a whirlwind. You didn’t even bother making breakfast — apparently, you’d had ideas in your dreams about how to improve the drone and needed to put everything into practice before you forgot. The scent of metal and chemical components filled the lab, and you suspected it couldn’t be good for you, especially since your head was spinning slightly, and you coughed every now and then. Still, you refused to stop or leave, even with Wheeljack insisting repeatedly. He’d already made it clear he’d drag you out, one way or another, if he felt things had become too dangerous for you.

While working on the drone’s structure, you stole discreet glances at the mech, who was animatedly working on something on his datapad. Sometimes, you wished you could dive into that mechanical head of his and explore every bit of his processor. You’d always seen Wheeljack as an inspiration, even before you fell for him. You admired his intelligence, his skill, his insight. And most of all, his resilience. Working alongside someone like him was simply a dream come true. It was like a horror fan getting to meet Lovecraft, undeniably a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

You paused for a moment and sat down, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead to catch the sweat that was trickling down. A sigh escaped your lips as you smiled at the drone. It was a huge achievement for you, the project of your life, something you’d never imagined would be possible just a few months ago. And now, there it was. Perfect. And none of it would’ve been possible without Wheeljack. You turned and looked at his back, your eyes full of quiet affection. You felt like you could never thank him enough, not even in a million years. When the Autobots had found you, he was the first to speak on your behalf, explaining to Optimus, point by point, how useful you could be to their cause. And because of that, you made a point of giving your all every single day. Deep down, you also wanted to make him proud, to show him he had made the right call in accepting you.

The bot turned around in his chair and caught you staring, but you didn’t look away. With his mask covering half of his faceplate, it was hard to tell what he was thinking. He leaned over the workbench, resting his chin on his closed fist. “Were you able to make the modifications?” his voice sounded curious. You smiled as you replied, “I did, Jack the Hack. Take a look at Sparkle now.” The mech straightened up and walked over to the drone, analyzing it carefully. After a few moments, he turned to you and raised both thumbs in a positive gesture, the one you’d taught him. “Not bad!” Your laughter echoed through the lab, and Wheeljack nearly melted, completely fascinated by you.

You stood and motioned for him to come closer with one finger. “Alright, back to work. Will you take me to the desk again?” he nodded and extended a servo for you to climb onto. Before long, the two of you were once again immersed in your datapads, too focused on your respective tasks to talk, pausing only now and then to show each other something interesting.

And so the day dragged on like that. You barely stopped to eat, it was only when Ratchet stormed in to scold you both for skipping meals that you realized how long it had been. You checked the watch on your wrist, it was already past midnight. Stretching out on the beanbags, you finally set the datapad aside, stood up, and did a happy little dance as you walked over to Wheeljack. He stopped as well, watching you with tenderness in his optics, and reached out a digit to gently stroke your cheek as you sat down on his forearm. “I can’t believe we’re done… It’s something so magical, so special to me…” your voice cracked slightly, emotions rising at the sight of your creation. The bot retracted his mask and smiled. “It’s special to me too. We worked on this project together, and only blew up the lab three times. I think that’s a personal record.” You burst out laughing at his words, and he turned to glance at the drone resting on the workbench “We can activate it tomorrow.” You stood up and stopped in front of him, holding out a hand “This deserves a celebration, don’t you think?”

Wheeljack moved stealthily through the base, sneaking through the halls to grab a bit of engex for himself and a six-pack of beer for you. When he returned, you were distracted, fiddling with the datapad and trying to adjust the lab’s lighting and queue up some music. He stopped and leaned casually against the closed door, watching you intently. Wheeljack admired every little detail about you, your mannerisms, your smile when you talked about science, the way you gently comforted him when something went wrong. And there you were, so focused on making the atmosphere more pleasant, so perfect without even trying.

When you finally turned and spotted him, a big smile spread across your face “Much better like this, don’t you think?” The lab lights had dimmed, turning warm and cozy, and the speakers began playing Take On Me. He simply smiled and walked over, setting your beer on the desk and settling comfortably into the chair. “The environment is always perfect when you’re in it,” the words slipped from his metal lips before he could stop them. And when he saw the shy smile on your face and the faint blush in your cheeks, he felt embarrassed by the confession, his vocal indicators glowing a vivid shade of pink.

“You’re too kind,” you replied softly and set the datapad aside, moving closer to the beer. You knelt down and began opening the pack. When you pulled out a longneck bottle, you held it out to him “Can you open this for me?” Wheeljack vented dramatically, pretending to be annoyed by the request, but the faint smirk on his faceplate said otherwise. He’d had enough bad experiences crushing beer bottles to know that opening them at his full size wasn’t a good idea. So, resting both servos on the table, he mass shift. Compared to you, he was still a giant, but no longer a towering titan.

He gently stepped forward and took the bottle in one servo, it still looked ridiculously small in his hand. With the other, he reached out and helped you to your feet. The top of your head barely brushed his chassis. In one quick motion, he popped the bottle open and handed it back to you. You took it, brought the rim to your lips, and drank a generous swig, savoring the bitterness of the beer. Wheeljack watched you with affection before turning to his engex resting on the table. The container was now much larger than he was, but he wasn’t about to go through the mass shifting process again just to drink. So, he simply sat down and closed his optics, enjoying the music playing softly in the background.

You walked over and sat beside him with a loud sigh, hugging your beer bottle to your chest like something precious. Your eyes were focused on your feet swinging back and forth to the rhythm of the song, your mind drifting through past memories and hidden desires. Until his voice gently pulled you from your thoughts “What are you thinking about, scientist?” he asked in a low voice, the hum of his internal systems filling you with comfort. You lifted your gaze to meet his glowing blue optics and offered him a shy smile, raising the bottle to your lips for another sip “About you.”

Your words caught him off guard, and he watched your lips glisten with beer, his fans kicking on the moment you ran your tongue across your lower lip. His optics locked with yours, his vocal indicators flashing a soft shade of pink. “And what were you thinking about me?” You tilted your head slightly, calmly analyzing his expression. Then, setting the bottle aside, you scooted closer to him. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol — even if you’d only had one bottle — or maybe it was the music. Either way, filled with unexpected courage, you decided to finally confess the feelings you'd been keeping to yourself for so long. “I was thinking about how much I like you. About how you make me feel seen, understood. About how sweet and gentle your touch always is. About how you give me butterflies when you compliment me… or when you look at me and think I don't notice. About how you take care of me, and how I can’t sleep properly anymore unless I’m on your chassis, listening to the pulse of your spark.”

Wheeljack stood frozen, processing your words, stunned. He hadn’t expected that from you, he’d never imagined his feelings could be reciprocated. So he’d let himself dream, but never dared take a step forward. But when he saw you pulling away, your face flushed with embarrassment, he quickly reached out and gently caught your arm his servo closing around your wrist carefully, making sure not to hurt you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I made things weird…” you began, avoiding his gaze. But he gently cupped your chin, and in one swift motion, leaned in and sealed your lips with a kiss. It was a calm kiss, unhurried, filled with unmatched tenderness, conveying what words alone could never fully express. And you kissed him back, melting into the moment, surprised by how soft his metal lips were, so unlike what you’d imagined when daydreaming about this.

When the mech finally pulled back and rested his forehelm against your forehead, your breathless gasps blended with the whir of his fans. A blissful smile spread across his faceplate as he stroked your cheek with two digits “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. How much I wished my feelings could be returned,” he whispered. A quiet giggle escaped your lips, and you kissed one of his cheeks, then the other, then his chin, before placing one last peck on his lips. “If I had known, I’d have told you sooner,” you murmured, and he cupped your face with both servos, staring deep into your eyes. “My little scientist… I think you’re the only one who hadn’t noticed just how in love with you I am.”

His confession made your heart race. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down with you as you laid back. He followed eagerly, bracing himself with one servo beside your head while the other stayed gently resting on your cheek. You brushed your lips over his teasingly, and he captured your lower lip between his denta, giving a soft bite, careful not to break your delicate skin. You sighed, eyes fluttering closed as you kissed him again. This time with more intensity, more heat.

He asked for entrance with his glossa, and once you granted it, he explored your mouth slowly. The kiss was deep and unhurried, brimming with desire, a longing long suppressed by both of you. Your muffled moans made Wheeljack’s spike throb behind his modesty plate, begging to be freed. Wheeljack moved his lips to your jawline, nipping at the tender skin, then down to your neck, where he left wet, lingering kisses. One of his servos slipped under your shirt, exploring your warm skin, impatiently trying to remove the fabric. Your hands found his chassis, silently asking him to pull back just enough so you could remove your top.

He paused for only a second to admire the sight before him. Your soft skin, fully exposed, begging to be touched, reacting to every vent of heated air from his frame. His lips trailed down your belly, leaving a line of scorching kisses until he reached your waistband. His servos paused at your hips, silently asking for permission, and help. A quiet laugh escaped you as you unbuttoned your pants and began pushing them down along with your underwear. Wheeljack helped, tugging both garments off and tossing them aside. The sight of your completely nude body pulled a groan from deep within him, and without intending to, his modesty plate slid open, revealing his fully pressurized spike.

You tilted your chin down to get a better look, and the sight of him staring into your eyes as he descended to kiss your folds made you moan, your head hitting the metal tabletop beneath you. Gently, Wheeljack ran his servos along your thighs, caressing up and down before spreading your legs and resting them over his shoulders, one at a time. He kissed your groin softly, then licked from your entrance up to your clit, earning a series of gasps from your lips. Your wet pussy was like a divine feast to him. Taking his time, he closed his lips around your clit and began sucking, savoring both your taste and the sounds you made. When he looked up and saw you biting into your palm, trying to silence yourself, he carefully caught your hand and laced his digits with yours “Please, sweetspark… I’ve waited so long for this, dreamed about this moment for so long. Let me hear you. Let me know how good I’m making you feel,” his voice was full of something deeper, more than just lust.

Then he dove back in, devouring your pussy with fervor. He sucked, licked, and kissed you like a mech starved. His glossa penetrated you deeply, exploring you from the inside out, fucking you with slow, deliberate skill. Your moans and gasps mixed deliciously with the obscene sounds of his tongue working, his frame struggling to regulate its temperature. The lab, normally cold, now felt dangerously hot. Sweat trickled down your body as your back arched from the pleasure. Your hands gripped his vocal indicators tightly. His body was so hot it nearly burned, but maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you wanted.

Wheeljack rolled his hips against the metal table, grinding his spike, already leaking prefluid, in a desperate attempt for some relief. He felt like he could overload just from eating you, your addictive taste better than anything he'd ever known. “Wheeljack…” You came hard against his lips, moaning his name loudly as your climax hit. He took his time savoring you, optics half-lidded, utterly intoxicated by your pussy. And by the time you came down from the high, he was already on top of you, kissing your neck, pressing his large frame gently against yours.

His heavy spike rubbed against your inner thigh, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him, teasing him further. He held himself up with one servo, making sure not to crush you, while the other slipped between your bodies, guiding his spike. When he aligned the thick tip with your entrance, he locked eyes with you, silently asking for permission. It was adorable how much he cared for your comfort and well-being. You answered by tilting your hips toward him, searching for more contact.

Wheeljack began to slide into you slowly, savoring the tight squeeze of your walls around him, groaning softly with optics shut. It had been a while since you’d last had sex, and you were thankful for the care he showed you. The initial stretch burned in the most delicious way, and you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. He was big, there was still a full handspan left to go. He paused for a few seconds, savoring the way your warm, soft pussy clung to his spike. He had never felt anything like it before, no valve had ever come close. It was the most divine sensation he’d ever known.

He started to move slowly, grunting and moaning into your ear, each motion sending waves of pleasure through your core. The wet sounds of his spike fucking your pussy filled the room, and you couldn't hold back the filthy, pleasure-drunk noises escaping your mouth. Your nails lightly scraped across the metal of his back, and when you moaned his name loudly, he picked up the pace. He could feel his overload approaching fast, but he didn’t want to leave you behind. One of his servos traveled down your thigh, then curled under your knee. He lifted your leg gently, pressing it against his chassis to change the angle. The shift made you both moan louder, and your back arched with the new, deeper strokes. You lifted your head just enough to watch his thick spike slide in and out of your soaked pussy.

He rested his forehelm against your forehead, optics glowing with unspoken devotion as he gazed deep into your eyes. A few more hard thrusts and you came again, moaning his name like a prayer, your pussy clenching around him, milking his spike deliciously. The way you tightened around him was all it took. With a deep, shuddering groan, Wheeljack overloaded, spilling hot streams of transfluid inside you. His hips kept rocking, even as his movements became slower and less coordinated, dragging out the last waves of his climax, savoring every second of being inside you.

His optics scanned your sweat-drenched face, your hair stuck to your forehead, your eyes closed as you panted softly. You were beautiful. He wished he could burn that image into his processor forever, the way you looked, perfectly and deliciously fucked. He kissed your chin, your forehead, the tip of your nose, your closed eyelids, and finally, your lips — softly and full of love. “I dreamed of this moment for so long… I still think I might be dreaming,” he whispered. You opened your eyes and looked at him tenderly, brushing your fingers along the side of his helm “You’re not, sweetheart…” you replied, pulling him into a quick kiss “And trust me, there’s still much more to come.”

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers idw #transformers wheeljack #wheeljack x reader #valveplug

42 notes · View notes