#before being shoved back under. i keep thinking ‘‘things are so much better’’ until i have to realize nothings really improved after all

[entirelytoooobsessed]

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling. 

What a human desire. 

“Touch me.” 

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 

“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?” 

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle. 

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”

[softbeej]

Hii! Can I request an Alastor smut fic that reader has a praise kink please?

Thank you😭💖

hehe of course!!!! reqs open!!

Good Little Girl (Alastor x Reader)

You didn’t expect things to go this way when you woke up this morning. Alastor woke you up too early, perching himself beside you on your bed, a mug of steaming hot sweetened tea in hand. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled at him, albeit confused. 

“Morning, Alastor.” You said groggily, yawning and sitting up. “Everything okay?”

He handed you the tea, and although you did not appreciate being woken up so early, the tea kind of made up for it.

“Right as rain! I just have one small little favor to ask, but it’s nothing really...”

You nodded, urging him to continue as you sipped the lemon honey tea. Though, you already had an idea what it’d be.

“It’s this paperwork, you see...”

Bingo. 

Alastor had a habit of letting paperwork build up until it became unmanageable piles of non discernible pages scattered around the office. He didn’t like doing it, so he never did. Simple as that. Lucky for him, you had a knack of keeping things like this organised and even found monotonous tasks such as this rather therapeutic. 

“No problem, Alastor. I’ll do it all today.”

“Oh, thank you my dear! I’m eternally grateful, I’m sure you already know.” He tousled your already messy hair and stood up, whistling on his way out.

You rubbed your eyes before getting comfy again and going back to sleep.

Oh, are there any better feelings than stamping and stapling that last bit of paperwork? You didn’t think so, not after you’d spent the last three hours in the cramped hotel office. All the paperwork (even the pile he’d shoved under the cupboard) had been completed and filed away alphabetically in heavy ring binder folders. You let out a sigh of relief as you tucked it away neatly on the shelf. This was when Alastor sauntered in.

“Oh my! How tidy! My, I can see the carpet again!”

You smiled, “It’s nothing, Al!”

“Thank you, dear! You really are a good little girl after all, hm?”

Oh. What? Oh?!

Your brain couldn’t even comprehend what to say to that, so you didn’t say anything. You just blushed and stuttered as you continued pointing out how the files were organized. This was definitely new. Sure, you’d done favors for Alastor before. He always thanked you, usually by buying you fancy pastries and tea, but never had he called you a good little girl. Your mouth was moving quicker than your brain, finding yourself babbling at the man. 

He raised his eyebrows at you.

“What?” You said.

“Oh, nothing...” He replied in an irringtatingly teasing way, “I just felt your heart rate increase, that’s all. I have an inkling you liked something I said a little bit too much...”

You shook your head, “Pfft, no!”

“Interesting... Because I’m not usually wrong. I think you rather liked being called a good girl, don’t you?”

You shook your head again.

He tutted, “Lying isn’t good girl behavior now, is it?”

You gave in, finally.

“No, Alastor. It’s not.”

“And I think you do want to be a good girl, don’t you?” Alastor asked  condescendingly, now sat on the desk chair.

“I do...”

“Come on then.” He said very matter-of-factly, and patted his thighs.

You did as told, sitting on his lap with your back pressing up against his chest. He wasted no time in snaking his hands up your skirt and thighs, daringly close to the hem of your panties. 

“May I?”

“Yes, please...” You almost whined.

He rubbed you over the panties, “Okay, darling...”

You shivered against him, feeling his claws pushing your panties aside and slowly tease his way inside.

“You’re doing a good job, aren’t you?”

Another weak nod. You craned your neck to nuzzle up into Alastor’s neck, closing your eyes and breathing in his smell; musky and expensive but comforting all the same. You focused on steadying these breaths as he continued to play and toy with you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Yeah...” You mewled out breathlessly.

“Then cum, sweetheart, you’ve been so well behaved, I think you deserve it...”

You twitched around his fingers as you came with angelic squeals. All throughout it he mumbled sweet praises, nipping your ear.

As you caught your breath he held you tightly, almost as if he thought you were about to collapse over him. Maybe you were.

When you found your breathing steadying and heart rate returning back to non-heart attack territory, you turned to see Alastor, that everlasting shit eating grin looking a little more proud than usual, he muttered out, “Seems we’ve both learned something new today, hm?”

[scribblesandsherlock]

Once Upon a Time

Mike Schmidt x babysitter!f!reader

Word Count: 1864

Summary: Like all other imagines go, ever since Mike hired you as Abby’s babysitter, you’ve made their life so much more fun. Today’s fun? Playing fairy tales with Abby. Mike thinks it’s hilarious until he’s suddenly brought into production…

• • •

There was a satisfying ‘click’ when Mike turned the key. With one little shove, the door was open and he could breathe again. Another rough shift at work, but he was so grateful to be home. Where he could relax and just unwind…

And then he heard giggling. And he had the sinking feeling this was not going to be an “unwind” kind of day. What kind of mischief was Abby getting into now? Although, he much preferred hearing her laughter over the silence he used to get. Ever since he hired that new babysitter, Abby’s brightened up a lot. So, despite the drowsy drooping over his shoulders, he smiled as he shut the door behind him.

“Hey, I’m home!” He called out.

“We’re in here!” Your voice replied, making his smile twitch just a bit wider without him meaning to. You were such a saint. After what happened with the last babysitter, he thought he wouldn’t find another half as good, but you surpassed any and all expectation. Once he got the ball rolling better with work, he’d pay you. Soon.

“What on earth…” Mike’s voice trailed off when he saw what was going on in Abby’s room.

Lights were strung about, a great big fort connected to the ceiling and strung down like a canopy. With the use of cardboard, paper, and markers, the fort was surrounded by fake towers and what he assumed was a moat. And under the strung-up blankets were two familiar faces with paper crowns.

“We’re playing fairy tales,” You quickly explained, feeling the urge to take off the crown. You hadn’t felt self-conscious when it was just you and Abby, but when a cute guy looks at you? That’s a whole different thing. The embarrassment only worsened when you saw him stifle a laugh. Crap, what could he be thinking right now?

If only you knew that he thought you both made the cutest sight he'd ever seen.

"If we're going to do Snow White, we need an apple." Abby turned to you, refusing to let Mike ruin your fun together. She was not done playing. In fact, seeing the two of you looking at each other gave her a little idea...

"I'll go get the apple." You stepped over the cardboard towers and paper moat to head to the kitchen, "I'll be in the kitchen."

"Right behind ya," Mike added as he shrugged off his jacket.

You quickly took the crown off and set it down before going to the counter. You rummaged through the bowl of fruit, going past bananas and pears to find what you wanted.

Mike pulled out a Gatorade from the fridge, "Heh, thanks again for this. You have no idea what a difference you've made to Abby."

"Oh it's nothing. She's a lot of fun." You reassured him.

"I promise I'll pay you as soon as my check comes in, this isn't going to be the usual. You know, if, uh, you still want to continue this. I get it if you don't. You're not obligated to keep coming..." He was rambling now. He hadn't gotten like this since high school. Sheesh, what was going on with him? He reached up and adjusted his shirt's collar. It was getting warm in here all of a sudden.

"Mike, stop. You're completely fine. I'm happy to be here. After all, what are neighbors for?"

He shrugged. He'd just gotten so used to you being here, so quick. You fit right in. Looking back on it, the house used to feel so empty. Abby used to go to her room and just draw by herself. Mike would go to bed early or watch a couple shows on TV. Now, there was so much light and laughter brought in. He barely recognized his life anymore. He really hoped this was a sign for better days.

"Ah! Here we are, a classic red apple. I better not keep the princess waiting." You teased and started heading back to Abby's room, with a little skip in your step. But to your surprise, upon entering in, you saw Abby wearing her darkest purple blanket over her head like a cloak.

"I don't remember Snow wearing anything that dark."

"I'm not going to be Snow, you are." Abby told you and hurried to take the apple from you, "I got to be the princess the last two times. It's your turn."

You hadn't realized you were taking turns but okay.

"Where is your crown?" Abby squinted at you and made a face, "Mikeee! (Y/n) needs her crownnn!"

"Where is it?" He hollered from the other room.

"I left it on the counter!" You rose your voice, trying not to laugh. What has your life become? You felt like a Mom or something. And hey, you kind of liked it. Even though this wasn't your blood family or anything, you'd gotten real close with Mike and Abby. You just felt so comfortable with them.

Mike came back and briefly held up the crown, "Alright, where's the princess?"

Your face reddened and you sheepishly held up your hand, "Here."

He nodded and strolled over, briefly standing on his tip-toes to set it dramatically over your head, earning giggles from his sister. But just before he went to leave, Abby grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"Don't go yet, I want you to watch!"

"Watch?" You echoed and your heart dropped to your stomach. Yeah, you were doing this for the kid, but you felt so shy playing pretend in front of Mike.

"Oh, alright, I'd be happy to watch." To your horror, Mike plopped down into the chair by Abby's desk and folded his arms. A big smile on his face.

Your eye twitched at the cocky little gesture. Oh, he was loving this, wasn't he? You didn't know if that was better or worse. But you tried to put it out of your mind when Abby got into character. She came up in her makeshift cloak,

"The evil witch approaches and knocks on Snow White's door..." Abby narrated before knocking on one of the blankets, pretending there was a thudding sound.

You stepped inside the fort then immediately poked your head out, forcing your gaze on Abby instead of Mike's amused face in the corner, "Hello?"

"Hello, young lady..." Abby ironically croaked, despite being many years younger than you, "I am giving out free apples. Would you like one?"

You heard muffled laughter again. Well, you weren't going to let him get to you. If he was going to pay you someday, you were going to earn every penny. He wanted a performance? Alright, here we go.

"Oh, how lovely! Of course!" You reached for it and held it to your mouth before taking a big bite.

"Muahaha! My plan is all coming together!" Abby rubbed her hands together and burst into a fit of mischievous giggles—that sounded a little too convincing for half a second.

"Oh no! I feel strange!" You held a hand to your head then spun around before making a dramatic 'fall' back onto the floor, bending your knees at the right second so the impact wouldn't be so bad. Besides, there were so many scattered pillows around, it wasn't harsh at all.

"Oh, bravo! Great job." Mike chuckled and clapped before starting to get up from his seat.

"Hey! The story isn't over!" Abby pointed a finger at him, "This part is important! I need your help!"

"Wait, what?"

"Snow White needs a handsome prince to wake her up." Abby explained and took off the cloak. She reached to the side for the crown she had made for herself, and handed it to Mike, "Your turn."

You had been pretending to be asleep but now your eyes were wide open. You started to sit up, "Oh, Abby, that's not necessary--"

Ohh it suddenly wasn’t so funny anymore. Was it, Mike? “Yeah, I'm really not an actor. You guys have fun, I'll just prepare dinner..."

But Abby wasn’t having it. She pointed to you first, “No! You! Lay back down! And you! Prince!”

Mike blinked down at his sister, but…apparently he didn’t have the strength to turn her down. He sighed and put the crown on his head. You honestly couldn’t believe it.

You slowly lowered back to the ground and closed your eyes. Not like you weren’t kind of hoping for a kiss from Mike one of these days, but you couldn’t say this is the way you expected to have your first one.

It certainly wasn’t the way Mike planned it, either. He had expected he’d finally get up the courage to ask you on a date. After he’d gotten around to paying you and proved he was in a better situation. But as soon as Abby found out of his crush on you, she had to push this to go a little quicker. He just had to hope he didn’t die of embarrassment in the process.

Abby took off her cloak and let out a gasp, “Oh no! My friend, Snow White is hurt! Help! Help! Prince Charming, come help!”

Mike sighed and walked over, “What’s wrong?”

“The princess has been poisoned! She needs true love’s kiss to wake her up!” Abby held her hands together and looked up at him with expectation.

“Abby, you really don’t expect me to—“ But the look she gave him told him she was serious. Was this really happening? Why didn’t he have the courage to tell her no?

He got down on his knees and looked over your features. He couldn’t tell but you were just as panicked about this. Your heart was pounding like crazy. What was he going to do? Maybe he’d kiss your forehead or your cheek. Something light just to say he did it. But no. When Mike lowered himself near to you, you were surprised by the touch of his lips. The soft scratch of his stubble. His breath was warm on your skin and made your heart flutter. This wasn’t the way you both had planned it, but it was a beautiful first kiss together.

Of course you both didn’t go crazy, Abby was right there, but it was a lingering kiss. Soft and sweet. Mike was surprisingly gentle. But just before you both could get used to it…

“Yay! The princess is saved!” Abby threw up her hands and giggled.

You both broke apart and nervously chuckled at the same time. You decided to speak first before it got awkward.

“Thank you so much for saving me!”

“Of course.” Mike dutifully bowed his head like a prince would, briefly licking his lips.

“Now the prince carries Snow White off into happily ever after!” Abby beamed.

“Heh, alright. Right this way, princess.” Mike gently scooped you up into his arms and rose to his feet with no issue. Wow, he was strong…

“Off to happily ever after?” You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Off to the spaghetti and meatballs I’m making for dinner.” He replied.

You held a hand to your chest and laughed heartily, “Oh, my hero!”

The end.

[angelanderson]

DOM!ABBY ANDERSON HEADCANNONS

cw: dom!abby (soft & mean), both receiving, fluffy too :) u mostly decide if au or not. minors dni. 18+ under cut

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

♡ dom!abby who loves causal dominance.

she’ll gently redirect you when you’re not paying attention to something important. “pretty girl, i’m talking to you.” a kiss on the forehead ensues if you whine out of embarrassment.

night out with drinking? she’s keeping her eyes on you. she definitely grips your chin as she pours water into your mouth. ”don’t need you hungover tomorrow.

refuses to let you grab anything off high shelves after an incident involving glass. “just need someone bigger, don’t you?”

♡ dom!abby who doesn’t care if you call her mommy, daddy, or just abby. she just loves to hear you call out and moan for her. she swears your voice sounds like honey to her ears.

♡ mean dom!abby who definitely loves it when you cry. she’ll coo and wipe your tears away as each thrust of her strap feels bruising. she doesn’t think she’s fucked you good enough without tears when she’s in that mood.

♡ soft dom!abby who loves to have you in her lap while she overstimulates you, shushing your whines with gentle kisses. “oh, baby, you’re doing so good. gonna cum again for me?”

♡ dom!abby who rarely puts up with any bratty behavior. three strikes and you’re out. she knows you can be sweet again once she’s done with you— even if it takes all night. she’s always proven she’s not afraid to punish you.

soft!dom abby will edge you until you’re in tears, begging her to let you cum. she’ll tell you to apologize and then maybe she’ll let you cum. “gonna apologize now, yeah? gonna be good for me?”

mean dom!abby will smack your ass red before she’s fucks you from behind with your least favorite strap— it’s not thick or long enough to really get you there. “you wanna cum? then this strap is all you get. bad girls don’t get what they want, so get to it baby.”

♡ dom!abby shoves her fingers in your mouth when you won’t shut up. “baby, i’m busy. suck on my fingers and shut up.” she’ll shove her fingers in further if you try to respond to her.

♡ dom!abby’s strength kink goes hard. being a gym rat pays off in more ways than one. she likes to fuck you against walls, holding all of your weight up with just her arms. she’s the kind of woman to bounce you up and down with her hands on your hips when you whine about being tired while riding her.

♡ dom!abby pulls your hair when you’re eating her out before shoving your face in more. she loves to watch you get all messy as you become more and more pussy drunk. “my messy girl. doing so good for me.”

♡ dom!abby likes to have you on your knees while you eat her out. she loves the way watching your on your knees makes her feel. abby swears the orgasm is ten times better when she has you like that. you also get ten times the praise.

♡ dom!abby loves to tie you up and stick a vibrator in you. especially when you’re pleasing her; she likes to see if you can cum at the same time.

♡ dom!abby loves teasing you. lazily teasing your bud with her fingers, making you beg her to do more. she knows you like it based on how much more wet you get when she does it. “good girls are patient. patient girls get good things,” is all she’ll tell you before she starts up again.

♡ dom!abby knows how to make you feel good like she knows the back of her hand. she’s sure she could have you cumming in under five minutes if she didn’t enjoy the long game as much as she does. she usually has you cumming at least twice every time. “not a good girlfriend if i don’t have my girl completely blissed out after every. single. time.”

♡ dom!abby who whispers how much she loves you into your ear as she slowly takes you apart with her fingers, tongue, and toys. she always tells you how much she adores you no matter what mood you’re both in. she can never hold in a coo when you tell her the same things back.

♡ dom!abby who drops the role the second it’s time for aftercare. she always kisses you on your forehead before she gets you water, a washcloth, and your favorite fuzzy robe. she holds you in her arms, one arm arm rubbing your back on the days you need to be lulled to sleep afterwards.

[ddejavvu]

What if one Monday after a weekend of crying over her bully!Eddie, he tells her she looks like shit and like she hasn't slept in days and she can't help but tear up so he silently vows to take care of her, and he'd force her to sit on his lap and sleep during lunch and little things like that. He'd leer at anyone who so much as looked her way, he needed her to have a peaceful day. He'd call her his little crybaby and make her give him little kisses as thankyous for taking care of her but she doesn't care, it's better than him pushing her around and smacking her ass in front of anyone who happens to be around.

What Eddie didn't realise is in this constant change of behaviour, he'd conditioned her to need him whenever she's overtired or sad. She'd start calling him in the middle of the night asking for him to come over and help her sleep. He never wanted to- he wanted to tell her no, call her mean names and put her back in her place but he couldn't bring himself to let her down. Every time he would rush to her house, climb through her window and fuss/kiss her until she was so relaxed and cosy she drifted off. He was never there when she woke up but there'd always be a thanku nudey polaroid or magazine in his locker or car as a thankyou for taking care of her

-🐱, sorry if this one is a lil weird- my meds have sent my lil horny goblin brain into mushy gushy subspace, I wanna be babied by a meanie lmao

today is multiverse monday! send me an au you can think of :)

i'll write the second part as a part 2!! it's very cute but i couldn't fit it all in one blurb </3

cw // bully!eddie. nothing terrible, he doesn't ever hurt her or anything, he's just annoying as fuck - don't like don't read

Eddie's grip on your wrist hasn't loosened since you'd walked out of class. Typically, he pushes you around, catching you before you trip and teasing you for being so off-balance. Today, though, he drags you through the doors of the cafeteria, and your stomach drops. Is he going to humiliate you in front of the entire room? Is he going to dump milk over your head, soak your shirt so that it's stuck to your figure? Is he going to shove your face in a plate of mashed potatoes and show you off to the crowd? Is he going to force you to eat something he steps on? Is he going to-

You're sitting in his lap. He's plopped down on a bench, yanking you down by one arm so that you land on his thighs. He has you facing him, your chest pushed up against his as you stare bewilderedly at him.

"Lay down," He demands, pushing his hand against the back of your head so that your face is forced over his shoulder, "You're tired. You look like shit, honey."

Your eyes fill with tears from where you're struggling to fight his grip, and he scoffs.

"Not a bad thing, crybaby. I'm not being mean, I'm being honest. Y'look like you haven't slept for days," He lets the back of your head go, thumbing roughly at the bags under your eyes, "I won't kick you while you're down. That's not really my thing. Just take a nap, get your sleep, so I can go back to messing with you."

Without another word he's pushing again at the back of your head, and you let his words sink in while you rest on his shoulder. You shouldn't let him keep you here like this. You should insist on studying in the library, or some other place he wouldn't dare enter. But he's warm, his shirt is soft, and though the smell of weed makes your nose wrinkle, there's musk beneath it that makes your tummy twist. His hand settles on your thighs, just below the hemline of your skirt, and rubs up underneath it, brushing the globes of your ass where they meet your thighs. You shiver, tucking your face into his neck so that you can drown out the noise of the lunchroom.

He gets strange looks when you finally doze off. Jeff sends him a glance that's far from friendly, nose wrinkled in judgement, disgust, and probably a little jealousy. He makes the decision to chuck an apple slice at him instead of an entire apple, which he's sure the man appreciates. Mike takes note of this, and schools his expression to be neutral, as he avoids asking about you like the rest of them.

When the school bell rings you don't wake, instead still lightly snoring against his neck. He thinks he can feel drool there too, and he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't stiffen his cock.

"Hey," He taps at your side, one hand still flush to your ass, "Come on, honey. Time to wake up, nap's over."

Your eyes flutter open, he can feel the lashes against his skin.

"You feeling any better?" He asks as you straighten from his lap, your hands braced against his chest for stability as everyone vacates the room, on their way to their next class.

"You're looking a bit better," He muses, not waiting for an answer. He once again rubs a thumb over the bags under your eyes, but then his fingers slip down to grip your chin. He pulls your face down, ignoring the way your hands tighten in his shirt in alarm.

"Eddie, what-"

"You owe me a thank you," He speaks only centimeters away from your lips, "I didn't have to be this nice to you, y'know. I could have flipped your skirt up like I always do."

You sniffle once, nodding as much as you can while he holds your face to his.

"Well?" His eyebrows raise, "I'm waiting."

"Thank you, Eddie." You mumble, the tip of your nose brushing his own, "I appreciate it."

He scoffs, "Not what I meant," And kisses you firmly. There's no pulling back, not when his fingers are hooked around your chin and tugging you impossibly closer. He backs away after only a moment, leaning back expectantly.

"Your turn," He explains, "Say thank you, crybaby."

Your hands inch up his chest as you lean in, lips parted to capture his lower one in between them. You feel him squeeze at the fleshy curve of your ass when you do, and there's a devilish glint in his eyes when you pull away.

"That's not gonna cut it, honey." He laughs, and then he's moving back for more. You're not sure how many times he does it, relentlessly jamming his lips to yours, but you're not sure you can stand up straight when he finally gets his fill.

"It's less than I want, but it'll do." He decides, patting the bare skin of your ass, now aching from where he'd kneaded it, "You'd better get to class now, honey. Don't be late, or I won't be this nice to you again."

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑-𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — counselor!JACK HUGHES x counselor!reader word count — 1.4k

note — i was (and still am) super proud of how i executed this concept, and i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy re-reading it!

recommended viewing — friday the 13th (1980), fear street: 1978 (2021)

bingo squares and additional content warnings below the cut.

bingo squares — sex in water, risky location/exhibitionism, and fear play additional content warnings — a few jokes about death/dying and murder, rather short n tame ("vanilla") barely-there spice from me???, jack being a little shithead (and a little switchy omg), a smidge of angst, and spoopy ending... (kevin heimbach hive rise!)

“Y’know, for someone who is so paranoid about being caught, you sure scream like you aren’t.”

The lake smacks Jack Hughes’ chest just moments before the true expulsion of annoyance. The succinct burst of emotion is pre-packaged into a lame wave. One that only stokes his predisposition for button-pushing—hers being a personal favorite target of his.

“Y'know, for someone so desperate to get laid, you sure do everything to guarantee the only thing you'll be fucking is your hand."

Jack's jaw unhinges as if making ample room for whatever semi-clever perverted retort is bound to manifest, but it slams shut prematurely. His only response is a strained whimper accompanying an audible gulp.

Wide eyes bulging, his gaze never leaves the woody shore at your back.

"J-Jack, I'm serious. Cut it out. Right now."

Your blunt, conduct code-mandated nails slice their way through the sunburnt skin of his shoulders—the much-deserved consequence of brushing off the sunscreen you offered him prior to his afternoon shift at the canoes.

He hisses, mostly out of irritation, but keeps otherwise mum.

Unwittingly, further panic stirs in your gut at that, sending your tense face into his waiting chest.

"I-It's not funny—it never was. And it's absolutely not now, e-either. Please, Jack. Just, just knock it off, o-okay?"

"Or what, babe?"

His husky voice carries across the water and the trees rustle in response.

You loathe the way that innocuous noise shoves you deeper into his embrace, clutching onto his lithe, toned form like he isn't the instigator of your palpable distress.

"Stop pretending you see him, or I'll... I'll... —"

Any threat you could've come up with would've been hollow at best, you both know it. Even if you weren't strung out from a full day of covert teasing and stolen glances, your fear of what might lurk in the shadowy depths between you and the dock would be more than enough to keep you firmly planted.

Jack set himself up with yet another perfectly easy jump-scare, but as you helplessly cling to him like a soggy kitten at the mere implication of danger, he's presented with a better, more delicious opportunity to burrow under your thin skin.

Oh, how he lives to make you squirm.

Soft lips lower to your ear, "Is that really what you want? Because I don't think the lake's the only reason my dick is soaked."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Hughes."

You try and avoid his X-ray vision, but it doesn't matter. It hardly ever does.

"Really? Well, allow me to enlighten you, hm?"

His tone has you rolling your eyes even though he can't see them.

Jack holds you tighter, sharply bucking his hips until you whine, before he whispers, "I think you like when I scare you—or, at least, your pussy does. The poor thing, gushin' and squeezin' whenever you jump for me. Every damn time, babe. I damn near thought you'd squirted last time I got ya that good."

You grumble because he's right. Only about your physical reaction, of course. Definitely not the other things.

You definitely did not enjoy being scared shitless, and you definitely did not squirt when he pretended something—or someone—was pulling him under. You'd be damned if your first time doing that came at the hand of such juvenile flippancy.

"Quit talking and fuck me, Hughes. We don't have all night; Alice still isn't over the nightmares."

Every year, there was always one of those campers, and, this year, Alice was that one. A kid so freaked out by local legend that you have to wonder how their parent or guardian managed to get them up here in the first place. Or, why anyone thought sending them up into the mountains for the summer was a good idea to begin with.

It never takes long for the nightmares to start. Especially once the inaugural midnight bonfire passes and the sightings start making the rounds. Wind-carried screams, a flash of metal, the too-thick drip off of the leaves, torn flesh...

Everything in graphic detail, and every detail insomnia fodder at its peak.

If a camper lucked out, they had a counselor they could attach themselves to in the wee hours of the morning as they shook through waves of fear. Alice weaseled her way into your bunk every night this past week, bottom lip trembling as tears streamed down her face, always rambling about the same thing: a silent killer in a cheap mask wielding long, menacing blade.

Nightly, while you've donned a brave face, it's been as genuine as the plastic allegedly worn by the personified cautionary tale. Because, once upon a time, you had been that camper, too—and Jack had a front-row seat to your adolescent terror.

To this day, he finds your ardent belief in the legend a point of amusement.

He won't be laughing, though, when Alice finds your bunk empty and runs crying to the supervisor cabin, thinking you'd been the latest victim—the first in thirty years.

If you're going down, you're dragging jack hughes down with you. He can explain to your parents why you're home two months early—and unemployed.

His forehead falls to your shoulder, wafts of damp hair tickling the bare skin as he groans. Jack never bothers masking his ire. "That snot-nosed third grader is the last thing I want to think about when I'm balls-deep. Total boner-killer, babe."

"Jason Vorhees is the last thing I want to think about right now, but you never seem to care about that, do you?" you growl.

Your ankles tighten around his waist at just the thought of the camp's very own boogeyman.

If you were smart, you'd stop hooking up with the one person dead-set on sending you to an early grave all for a laugh.

The apparent inevitability of your trysts wasn't for a lack of options. No, every year there was plenty. But every year, Jack Hughes was the only peer you snuck out for.

After that many midnights, you would think his recycled material would lose its edge. Unfortunately for you, that's yet to happen.

You tug on a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck. He nips at your throat in retaliation; you don't have the confidence to tell him you like that, too.

"Fine, fine," he laments, eyes pinched shut and wincing. "Truce?"

"Truce," you nod and relinquish your tight grip. "Now, make me cum."

"Yes, ma'am."

"See? I told you it was fine. No wandering campers, no prying Visors," Jack hums, an arm looped around your shoulders. "And no hockey masks or machetes, either."

Your soft, grudging giggle harmonizes with the cicadas.

When you reach your cabin, he pecks your damp temple. "You should trust me more often."

You knew once you caved to the lake idea, he'd never let it go, but you'd be remiss if you said it didn't turn you on just as much as it did him. That, however, doesn't mean you're eager for an encore any time soon.

Next summer, perhaps. If he played his cards right.

"Yeah, right," you snort while eclipsing the two meager steps with him on your heels.

His ego is beginning to rub you the wrong way as your post-orgasm bliss fades. Still, you can't resist pulling him closer now that no one else is around.

Kiss-swollen lips ghosting over his, you whisper, "Over my dead body."

His eyes go dark; a rare flicker of concern. "Don't say shit like that, babe, you'll jinx it... And i've still got so much planned for your body."

"Well, it's a good thing you've got an entire summer, isn't it?"

"Only because you won't let me touch you outside of Camp Nightwing," jack huffs, mostly under his breath. His jaw is too tight, but his voice is louder, "Just think of what i could do with the other nine months."

He doesn't bother disguising the bitterness weighing on his voice or his conscience, and that alone is enough to make you skittish. It hurts to swallow, and the mounting nausea certainly isn't helping, but it's a necessary evil to rid yourself of the lump clawing up your throat.

Jack Hughes talks a big game, but that's all it'll ever be. A game.

You won't make the same mistake twice.

"Get lost before you wake my campers, Hughes." You wave your hand dismissively as you take a step back—and out of his magnetic field. "We've got a big day tomorrow."

He drops the complaint as easily as he championed it.

"I'm going, I'm going." Jack raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he backs away from the porch. "Wouldn't want to rob the little boogers of their last moments of peace before my reigning Color War champs kick their asses—for the fifth consecutive year."

Your reluctant affection glimmers in the moonlight as you shake your head. "I hate you so much."

"No, you don't!" Jack calls over his towel-clad shoulder.

You're still smiling when the screen door smacks the dilapidated wooden frame.

As his jubilant footsteps fade down the path and you settle in your bunk, a large shadow slips between the moon and the cabin's front window.

patrons gained access to this work on OCT 13, 2023 as one of their benefits. learn how you can acquire early bird privileges and access to another 200+ posts HERE! 

⤑ to my inbox 💌

⬸ to the catalog  

⬸ to the event masterlist 🕷️

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

[sweetbutpsychobutsweet]

I Wasn't Completely Nude

Chapter 2

Thorin Oakenshield x AFAB!Reader

Summary: You and the company are off to reclaim Erebor. But how long will you and Thorin be able to last until you're back at each other's throats?

Warnings: angst, implied sex work, no use of y/n

author's note: I already wrote the first 8-9 chapters of this series so there will be a lot of frequent updates while I'm editing those!

Word count: 1506

The sun has barely started to rise over the hills of the shire when you are awoken by a gentle shake to your shoulder.

 “Rise and shine, lass,” Dwalin’s voice pulls you further from sleep.

You groan and pull the blanket over your head. Your head is pounding from the ale and you’d love nothing better to slip into a death-like sleep for at least another week. 

Unfortunately, the leader of your company has other plans for you.

“If you aren’t ready in the next five minutes we’re leaving without you,” Thorin calls.

You peek your head out from under the blanket to see him packing his things back into his bag. “Everyone else is already up,” he glares at you.

You shove the blanket onto the floor and reach your arms up overhead in a good morning stretch. “Yeah well, not everyone else drank their entire body weight in alcohol last night.” 

“No one asked you to do that,” he reminds you with a grunt.

“Well if you’re going to spend the entire journey to Erebor talking down to me like that, I think I’m going to need a lot more alcohol in my system.”

“If you’re going to have a problem with being under my command, you are more than welcome to stay behind with Master Baggins.” He reminds you. 

You push yourself to your feet ready to tell him exactly what he can do with his command, when Balin appears between the two of you before you can continue. 

“Honestly you two, we haven’t even stepped foot on the road yet and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Balin redirects Thorin’s attention to going over the map again in the dining room before you can continue bickering.

You let out a huff of annoyance as you stomp off to the spare room to change clothes. 

You are determined to not let Thorin’s presence distract you from the excitement of being able to wear pants again. Of course, your mother never let you wear anything other than dresses growing up, and although your dwarven blood has always drawn you to all things sparkly and beautiful, you have always been a warrior at heart.

Fighting in a dress, while not impossible, is both impractical and extremely frustrating. When you aren’t working or traveling you try and wear them as often as you can. Traveling as a woman wearing anything other than a dress and corset attracts too much unwanted attention to make the freedom of movement worth it. 

But you figured traveling with a company of 13 dwarves and a wizard was already going to make you stick out, so you might as well be dressed for the fights that will inevitably be waiting for you.

You sigh in relief as you finish unlacing the corset, slipping it and your dress into your pack for now. You replace it with a form-fitting pair of trousers, a flowy blouse, and some comfortable riding boots. You decide to let your hair hang down around your shoulders for now, the braided strands by your face keeping it out of the way enough for now. 

There are still a few hunks of bread and fruit left in the pantry for you to munch on while gathering up the last of your things from the hobbit’s home. You regret that you aren’t able to thank your host before stepping out the front door but after last night's excitement and the early hour, he must be dead asleep.

Your pony, Onyx, is waiting for you outside, whimpering happily when she sees you approaching. You whisper sweetly to her as you stroke her mane, letting her nibble on some of the fruit you set aside for her.

She is a beautiful creature, with a strong frame and hair as dark as the night. If it weren’t for her small stature and sweet disposition you’d think she had galloped right out of hell’s gate. You pat her side affectionately as you start securing your things to her saddle. 

You feel a pair of eyes on you and you turn slightly to look over your shoulder at Thorin, who is openly staring at the curve of your rear in the pants.

He abruptly turns away when he sees that you’ve caught him staring. And it suddenly occurs to you how long it’s been since he’s seen you in pants, since the battle at Moria, where his grandfather, your King, Thror, was lost. But even then you had been wearing heavy layers of Dwarvan armor. Unlike now, where only a few layers of fabric cling to your form, revealing the silhouette of your curves.

You slowly bend over at the waist, pretending to fix the laces on your boot with a wicked smile on your face. You could swear you hear his jaw clenching behind you. It would seem you’ve found a way to pass the time on the road. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite the nip in the air, you decide to forego wearing a cloak. Preferring instead to feel the air whispering against your skin and running through your hair. Even as the rain starts pouring down above you, you ride on. Despite the fact, that your white blouse is now completely soaked through, revealing your chemise underneath.

The other dwarves are very polite about it, if they notice they don’t stare or draw any attention to the amount of skin you now have on display. The same can’t be said of your leader.

You feel a heavy cloak gently come to rest on your shoulders and you turn to see Thorin has moved ahead to ride beside you.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you say, pulling the warm furs off of you and handing them back to him.

“That wasn’t a request,” he replies curtly. Tossing the cloak back to you, more assertively this time. “I won’t have you catching cold and slowing down the entire company.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance and toss it back to him. “I appreciate your concern,” you reply, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I’ll be fine, I don’t mind the rain.”

He grunts and picks up the cloak again. “If you try and hand that to me one more time I’m going to let it fall in the mud,” you warn him. 

He believes you, of course, but isn’t ready to let it go. He growls your name in a low warning. You keep your eyes directly on the road ahead, pretending to be completely oblivious to his frustration.

“I can see your underclothes,” he whispers as if you didn’t already know. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. Giving Onyx a gentle kick to pick up the pace, but Thorin stays right alongside you.

“I can see your breasts,” he elaborates. Again you shrug, and that only seems to irritate him more. 

“Just be glad I’m not making you pay for it, how do you think I made a living all these years?” you tell him with a wink. He looks at you in confusion for a moment, before it all clicks. 

“Did you? Are you a?” you laugh at the panic in his eyes.

“Oh relax, it’s not what you think. I was just a dancer. I kept my clothes on. Most of them anyways…” The legendary Thorin Oakenshield is left speechless as he stares at you with eyes wide, before narrowing them at you in annoyance.

“I went to great lengths to ensure you wouldn’t ever have to do anything like that. And you’re telling me you just threw it all away to dance naked in front of countless men for money?” you scoff at his accusation. It’s true that he secured you a respectable job in a quiet town and a long term room at an inn, but only so he could leave you behind to continue on with the rest of your kin. With a few halfhearted excuses and harsh words he turned his back on you when you needed him the most. He had been your closet friend, the one person you trusted most in all of middle earth and he let his pride get the better of him. All you had left after you watched him ride off towards the blue mountains that day, was a heavy grief and a burning anger that has never fully extinguished. 

“Were you even listening? I said I wasn’t completely nude. And don’t pretend like you made some big sacrifice for my benefit. You went to those great lengths just so you wouldn’t have to put up with me anymore.” you snap.

You wait for him to counter with a jab of his own but it never comes. 

When you look over at him he’s looking back at you with a sad look on his face.

“Is that what you think?” he asks in a low whisper, “ that I was trying to get rid of you?”

You force yourself to look away from him. And this time when you urge Onyx further ahead of him, he lets you go.

Next Chapter

[ilyluffy]

𝑅𝒪𝒪𝑀𝐼𝐸𝒮

𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 {𝟏𝟖+}

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬: suguru geto {feat.satoru gojo} + kento nanami + ryomen sukuna + aoi todo

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, roommate au, unestablished relationship, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, threesome, rough sex, partying, hate sex, blowjob, slut shaming {more warnings under the cut}

{sfw edition} — attack on titan edition {pt.1} {pt.2}

{demon slayer edition}

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 {𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎}

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, the reader is “shared”, implied threesome

gojo and geto are so inseparable that desire yours and geto’s names being on the lease to your apartment, gojo had happily made himself at home. you couldn’t convince gojo to go back to his own condo so you’re not sure why you expected him to leave when he caught you and suguru in a compromising position. things had been getting serious between you and roommate as of lately. it was clear that it was getting hard to see each other in a platonic light. eventually the tension in the atmosphere became too much and next thing you knew geto was fucking you into your mattress. as per usual, gojo hadn’t asked to come over. he just showed up and invited himself inside your room. he wasn’t necessarily surprised to find you being stuffed by his best friends cock. if anything he’s been waiting for this very moment. “well, well, well, suguru. thought you could have sweets all to yourself? weren’t we supposed to share everything?” gojo tsks, wearing a smug grin on his face. “shut up and get over here satoru” geto rolls his eyes but somehow doesn’t slow down his thrusts. “i’m about to tap out. you better be ready to jump in and take over”.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

nanami is overall a pretty understanding roommate. he doesn’t mind taking on most of the chores and cooking for you. all he does is ask for one thing, that you be quiet after a certain hour. he has to get up early for work and in order for him to be able to stay sane at the office nanami needs a good amount of sleep. typically you respect this request but tonight you were accidentally being too loud. you hadn’t realized you were keeping nanami awake until he burst into your room, eyebrows furrowed with irritation. before you can apologize for the mistake kento’s pinning you down on your bed. “i told you i have to work tomorrow” he growls, the dark circles under his eyes ever so prominent as he glared down at you. “if you can’t go to sleep on your own then i’ll fuck you to sleep”. you’re shocked by his offer but you don’t resist as nanami pulls down your pyjama bottoms and takes his cock out of his sweat pants. nanami keeps his promise, shoving his cock into your little hole and pounding into you until you pass out. maybe you should interrupt your roommates sleep more often.

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, partying, hate sex, blowjob, slut shaming

all you wanted was to come home after a long day and relax. you should have known that would have been impossible when you lived with the itadori twins. the moment you step through the front door you realized that your apartment was being used for a very loud and chaotic house party. to say that your eyebrow started twitching immediately wouldn’t be an understatement. looking for the brothers through the crowd of drunk people, you run into yuji first. he apologizes but when you find sukuna and tell him to shut the whole thing down he refuses. “don’t be such a nagging bitch” sukuna blows you off, down the contents of the red cup in his hand. “you think you could have fun for once?”. “i have fun!”. sukuna scoffs immediately “that right? prove it then”. how does sukuna make you prove that you can loosen up? by following him to his bedroom and sucking on his cock of course. “well, well, well. turns out you can make use of that mouth of yours” sukuna throws his head back as he moans. “make sure to swallow all i give you, slut”.

𝐀𝐎𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: gn!reader, penetrative sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, petnames “princess”

of all the roommates you could have been stuck with you had to be stuck with the one with an eight pack. it was like someone was teasingly holding candy right in front of your face. it didn’t help that the guy liked to work out at home and walk around with his chest exposed. tonight was no different. you were trying to watch a movie when todo sat down on the sofa next to you. sweat was still glistening off his skin from the weight lifting he had been doing earlier. “what are ya watching?” todo questioned. at first he didn’t notice that you were drooling over him but when you don’t answer he turns to you and sees your gaze fixated on his body. a smirk gradually spreads across todo’s face. “or are you not interested in the movie anymore? you wanna do something else, princess?”. at this point you can’t even deny what you want so you give in to him. next thing you know your clothes are ripped off and todo’s roughly fucking you into the couch. there’s no way you could hear the movies dialogue over your moans.

2022-2023 © saecore — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome

[lovesickonmybed]

ok hi!! hello first person i’ve seen on tumblr to actually embrace their wedgie kink. seeing you back had me ECSTATIC. so obsessed with your bully!perv!eddie rn… it has me LIGHTHEADED, the way you write degradation is unbelievable.

that said, i have this thought that i can’t get out of my head that im inclined to share w/ you. if you’re not into it, no pressure! still, picture this:

bully!perv!eddie putting you in a shoulder wedgie under your clothes and making you go through your school day like that. every wince of pain belongs to him, is because of him, and in a way he gets off on knowing that you won’t take it off when he’s not around. you’re too scared of the punishment, too scared of disappointing him. just thinking about him pulling you into corners and untucking your shirt or yanking up your skirt to make sure you’re EXACTLY how he left you. . . then rewarding you for being so good once the days over. . . worse if he makes you get out of them by making you tear them off of yourself before he rewards you.

sorry eddie and wedgies make me horny.

so glad to see u back!! 🐛

I’m hoping that posting my wedgie Eddie brain rot will get others to feel more comfortable posting it too because I know I’m not the only one on here into it. I love writing degradation and humiliation so much, it comes so easy to me. (Which says so much about me lmao.) You can send me anything wedgie related and I will more than likely be willing to write for it! I’m gonna be posting a thing for requests soon that’ll have some boundaries laid out but this is perfect and definitely going to be what I think about when I’m bored at work lmao. I thought this would be short but it’s almost 2k words lol.

Nsfw under the cut!! Warnings for humiliation, degradation, dub-con, wedgies (duh), and slight voyeurism and exhibitionism.

Eddie would find you in the morning before school, he knows you get to school early to read in the library so he’d have no problem finding you. He’d drag you with him to the janitor’s closet with a big smirk on his face. He instructs you to remove your shirt and then laughs, “You better hope you’re wearing a stretchy pair sweetheart, because this is going to hurt.” He grabs the sides of your waistband, pulling it up slowly so that you can adjust to the pain. You wince and whimper as he stretches the fabric until your leg holes are pulled up onto your shoulders like suspenders. 

“You’re gonna keep this on all day for me sweetheart, if you don’t then I’ll know. I’ll check. If you take it off then you’ll be punished, got it?”

You nod but that’s not good enough for him, he pulls one of the leg holes back and then lets it go so it snaps back against your skin, causing you to yelp. “Answer me verbally, sweetheart.”

“G-Got it,” you mutter.

Eddie smiles and kisses your forehead, “Good girl, now get dressed and go back to the library like nothing happened. I’ll see you again later today to make sure you’re being good.” He walks out of the janitor's closet to let you redress. You wince in pain as you lift your arms to put your shirt back on and when you bend down to pick up your backpack. Every move you make forces the fabric deeper between your cheeks and lips and you wince every time it happens.

After second period Eddie delivers on his promise to check up on you. He pulls you aside as you’re walking to your next class and pulls you into an empty classroom with him. “You been a good girl for me, nerd?” He asks, shoving you up against the wall playfully, grabbing your backpack off your arms, setting it down for you. 

“I-I’ve been good, haven’t taken it off, Eddie,” you answer.

“Oh, have you? You been a good girl and kept your little wedgie in? I’ll see for myself, nerd.” Eddie sinks to his knees in front of you and lifts your skirt up, smiling when he sees that you’re still wearing your shoulder wedgie. He flicks your wedgied cunt and smiles when you jump. “Knew I could trust my little loser, got her trained just right, huh?”

“Yes Eddie,” you nod meekly. 

Eddie grabs your face and pulls you in for a quick kiss, pecking your lips softly. “Good little loser, I’ll see you again at lunch. Meet me here again, okay sweet girl?”

“Okay,” you smile. 

Eddie hands you your backpack and gives you a slap on the ass before leaving the room. 

You rush to class, wincing in pain with every move, biting your lip when the fabric shifts just right against your clit. Eddie catches you doing it during 4th period, he loves how you look trying to hide your pain and pleasure in front of everybody. After 4th period he grabs you by your arm leading you into the same empty classroom from earlier. He takes your backpack once again, setting it on a desk. He leans against a desk and smiles, “Turn around and bend over for me, nerd.”

You sigh and do as he says, as you bend over you gasp in pain as the wedgie in the back worsens. Eddie smirks and comes over to slap your ass, “Stand up for me.” You stand back up and he pulls you tight against him.

He snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you up against him, “You’re such a little goody two shoes, fuck I love it. You’re so good, you wanna follow every rule you’re given, even the ones given to you by your bully. That’s pathetic, baby.” He slips a hand into your shirt and twists your nipple harshly, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Does that hurt, loser?”

“Yes! Fuck hurts so bad…” You respond.

Eddie grabs the front of your panties and pulls up hard, causing the fabric to sink deeper into you. You let out a moan and he holds you tighter so you don’t fall over. “Good girl, you think you can get through the rest of your day like this for me?” He asks.

“I’ll try for you…”

“What a good little loser you are…now get to lunch nerd, I don’t want my little toy to be wedgied on an empty stomach,” Eddie puts his hand on your lower back and leads you out the door. 

You sit with your regular friend group at lunch, trying your best to not squirm in front of them. Eddie watches you closely to see if you make any attempt at all to take out your shoulder wedgie but you don’t. He checks on you again after 6th period, pulling you into a mostly empty hallway and backing you into a corner. He lifts your skirt and you squeal and pull it back down. He laughs and pins you against the wall, leaning in close to your ear. “You shouldn’t be so loud, people are gonna start looking sweetheart,” He teases, pulling up your skirt again to look at your wedgied cunt.

“Stop pulling up my skirt!” You whisper-yell, pulling your skirt back down and trying to hold it down.

“Let me get a good look then, nerd. Be grateful I’m letting anything into your little cunt, yeah?”

“Okay…” You mumble in an annoyed tone. Eddie grabs your face with one hand and makes you look at him. 

“You don’t talk to me with that tone, you’re lucky I’m not making you walk around with your panties pulled up over your head for everyone to see,” Eddie whispers angrily, “Thank me for letting you have something you can hide.”

You're silent at first but Eddie cocks an eyebrow at you and you talk, “Thank you for giving me a wedgie I can hide…” You mumble. He nudges your ankle with his foot.

“What else do you wanna thank me for, loser?” He asks.

“Thank you for…for letting anything into my…” Your face heats up with embarrassment, “into my cunt…” You’re squirming with embarrassment and Eddie is eating it up.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it, nerd? Get to class, I’d hate to see you get detention.”

You go off to 7th period and you spend the rest of the school day waiting for it to be over. You’re horny and annoyed and embarrassed and you just want Eddie to take care of it. Finally, the bell rings releasing you and you go off to find Eddie, it doesn’t take you long. He’s out by his van, smoking a cigarette while talking with Gareth and Jeff. He looks up and notices you, signaling for you to come over. You walk over nervously, Gareth and Jeff’s eyes are on you. Eddie wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. “We’re gonna head out boys, I’ll see you tomorrow for Hellfire,” Eddie says to them. He leads you over to the passenger side and opens the door for you. When you climb into the van, he pulls your skirt down before shutting the door. Your face heats up with embarrassment as you yelp and pull your skirt back down.

“Eddie what the hell?!” You exclaim as he gets into the driver’s side, laughing his ass off.

“I was being too nice today, I had to make up for it somehow,” He laughs.

“I’ve had a wedgie since 8am, that isn’t exactly nice,” You retort.

“Well, you’ve also been wet since 8am so you’re welcome,” Eddie says as he starts up the van.

When you get back to his trailer, he runs over to your side to get the door for you, he helps you out of the van, grabbing you by the back waistband as you jump out, worsening your wedgie. You’re whining and whimpering in pain, hands flying back instinctively to fix the wedgie but Eddie grabs your wrists, holding them behind your back. “Don’t give in now sweetheart, you’ve made it so far I’d hate to punish you now…” He frog marches you inside the trailer and brings you into his bedroom.

“Strip for me, but keep your wedgie in,” he commands. You feel his eyes on you as you set down your backpack and strip. You start with removing your shirt, then your bra, then your socks and shoes, and lastly your pretty little skirt. Eddie steps forward, smiling, “You want me to take this off for you now, nerd?” He pulls one of the leg holes back and lets it snap back against your skin, making you gasp.

“Please, please take it off me,” you plead. 

“This might hurt a bit,” Eddie says before grabbing the back waistband and pulling as hard as he can. It’s beyond painful, it’s the most painful wedgie he’s given you yet, but as the fabric presses rough against your clit, it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. You squirm in his grasp, whimpering pathetically. When the fabric isn’t ripping, only a few thread popping, he takes things to the next level. He grabs you by the leg holes, lifting you into the air and beginning to bounce you, this causes your panties to rip quickly. You feel an intense pain in your lower region as the panties rip, but you can’t help but moan. It feels so good every single time you’ve felt a pair of panties ripping inside of you, it’s unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. You’re addicted to the pain of it. Eddie wraps his arm around your waist when they rip, catching you and laying you down on the bed.

“You did so well, I can’t believe you kept it in all day, you were so good sweetheart,” Eddie praises you. He runs to the bathroom and runs a cloth under cool water, ringing it out and then coming back into the room, he presses the cool cloth against your puffy red cunt. You shiver from the cold but smile as it soothes the ache. 

“Feel good, honey?” He asks sweetly, grabbing your hand and rubbing circles into your skin.

“Mhm, thank you, Eddie,” you reply.

“You think you could handle a reward, sweetheart? I wanna eat you out for being such a good girl today.”

“I could definitely handle a reward,” you chuckle.

“That’s my girl.” 

[ace-of-zaun]

You (And I):

Silco x f!reader - 2.6k words - SFW

cw: best friend!silco, fluff, banter, mutual pining, idiots in love, mentions of cat-calling and harassment (not silco), mentions of poverty, soft silco my beloved, a little bit of angst in the form of reader being anxious about not knowing who is climbing through the window, but it's just the boy

summary: Your best friend misses you, so the only logical solution is for him to climb through your bedroom window at three in the morning, without telling you beforehand… It’s a good thing that you love him (and it’s an even better thing that he loves you too).

It’s taking you a little bit longer than usual to drop off to sleep as you lie in bed, curled up under the covers, trying to keep as much warmth in as possible. Your room is right at the very top of your parents’ bar, The Last Drop, which is also where you’ve just started to work full-time instead of just the odd job you’d helped out with growing up.

But now, with money for food tight and the threat of closure even tighter, you’ve found yourself doing pretty much anything to help keep the bar afloat, from running errands and setting up during the day to serving customers all evening and cleaning up after a long night. 

Your first proper job; you’d think with how exhausted you were you’d drop to sleep the very second your head hit the pillow. 

Not tonight, it would seem. Tonight your mind appears to be far too preoccupied to let your body relax. 

Your train of thought easily wanders to what you’d usually be doing on a Friday evening. More often than not you’d be holed up in the corner of a tiny café, trying to read your book while Silco asked your opinion on every little detail of whatever scheme he was working on at the time. 

Or you’d be forcing Silco to give you a piggyback through the streets after raiding the market for the cheapest items you can find, Vander in tow carrying all the loot. 

You can’t help but smile at the memories, a fuzzy, warm feeling spreading through you at the recollection of your best friend. Just the thought of him calms you; your lighthouse even in absentia. 

And it seems to do the trick, eyelids just starting to feel too heavy to keep open, a sure indicator of incoming sleep, when a scrabbling noise outside your window causes you to frown.

…you really hope you don’t have rats again.

Of course, the sensible thing to do would be to get up and investigate. But you’ve only just gotten warm and sleepy, and not only is the window on the other side of the room, but you’re laying on your side with your back to the glass, and honestly who in their right mind would want to get up in the freezing cold just to have a staring contest with some rats?

Scrunching your eyelids even tighter closed, as if it would block out the sound, you attempt to lull yourself back into that bliss you were so close to achieving, vowing to deal with the little rodents in the morning.

Almost like magic, the scrabbling stops and you sigh in relief.

Until you hear the unmistakable sound of the window creaking open.

Your eyes shoot open and your blood begins to pump urgently around your body. 

Fuck, why didn’t you lock the window before getting into bed? You must’ve forgotten in your sleep deprived state. 

One hand slowly inches towards the knife you keep under your pillow as two, almost-silent thuds resonate across the floorboards. 

Your heart practically leaps in your chest when you hear a series of soft footsteps approaching your bed, but you manage to keep yourself as still as possible, your only movement hidden beneath your pillow as you grip the knife handle tight.

A beat. Then another, as you wait for the exact right moment with bated breath. 

The intruder pauses by your bed and you inhale sharply, preparing yourself to strike.

Without warning, you abruptly swing your body around, throwing off the covers as you blindly leap towards them.

But they’re faster, shoving you back down against the bed with their lithe body and clapping a hand over your mouth before you can even think to scream out.

The knife slips from your hand, leaving it to clatter to the floor while you thrash about in your assailant’s grasp. 

“Stop it, it’s just me!” a familiar voice hisses down at you, halting your movements instantly.

You gaze up at the figure in bewilderment, slowly but surely recognising those jet black waves and hooked nose with every rapid heartbeat. 

It’s just Silco. 

He must spot the very moment that recognition sparks in your eyes because he’s soon grinning down at you, boyish, slightly crooked, and entirely too cheeky for his own good.

“Hey,” he says smoothly.

You push him off you with an unamused scoff, aiming to send him tumbling off the bed as you sit up and try to calm your erratic breathing. 

No such luck though, he just stumbles to his feet and quickly drops down next to you on the bed while you plant your feet on the cold wooden boards, running your hands through your bedraggled hair. 

Silco’s hand rests gently against your lower back and you glance up at him from your hunched up position of elbows on knees, palms against your forehead. 

You’re filled with the sudden urge to yell at him. Loudly. 

But your parents are asleep and they’ll be positively furious if they discover Silco in your bedroom in the middle of the night, so you settle for hissing at the ridiculous boy like an angry cat. 

“What the fuck are you doing climbing through my bedroom window at half three in the morning?”

Silco appears completely unfazed. 

“I left my lockpick at home, so I couldn't get in through the front door,” he replies, swiftly dodging the smack you try to deliver to his arm and instead catching your hand to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “And I missed you.”

You roll your eyes and snatch your hand back, but you’re unable to prevent your heart from swelling in your chest at his sweet words. Damn that natural charm of his. 

Luckily, a glance down at the knife by your feet distracts your wandering heart. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve stabbed you.”

“Nah, you couldn’t,” he says dismissively until you shoot him a murderous glare. He returns it with a nonchalant shrug. “Thought you were asleep.”

“So why even bother climbing in?” you ask with a frown. 

And then, from the corner of your eye, he begins to look the tiniest bit bashful, gaze dropping to the floor as he starts to draw random shapes on the material of his trousers with his nails. 

“I, uh… I was gonna wake you up and ask if you wanted to go skip stones in the river.”

Your expression drops as you slowly turn to stare at him, which he meets with a dorky little grin. You groan and flop back down onto your bed, swinging your feet up so you can lay your head against the pillow, completely and utterly exasperated. 

Your best friend has been possessed by a five-year-old boy, you’re sure of it. 

Silco watches your dramatic display with clear amusement. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no, then?” he asks. 

“How do you have so much energy?” you whine, throwing your arm up to hide your face in the crook of your elbow. “Didn’t you have work today?”

“I had some work today,” he says, eyes quickly darting away from you. “Just not at the mines.”

Now this causes you to frown, peering over your arm at his trying-too-hard-to-look-relaxed body language. 

“What kind of work?” you question, which he promptly ignores, so nudge him with your foot, concern growing by the second. “Sil… what kind of work?”

He lays down next to you, propped up on his side with one elbow, and starts absentmindedly playing with your hair. 

“So, how was your day? You didn’t get any creeps trying to feel you up again, did you?”

You sigh heavily, knowing you’re not going to get an answer to your question. To be honest, you wish you didn’t have to give one to his. 

It had only happened once or twice since you’d started working late shifts in the bar, and it hadn’t been as bad since your parents had begun to shut it down everytime a patron got a bit too touchy. 

But it still didn’t make it right. 

“No, just the odd comment,” you reply, suddenly overly-interested in your nails. 

Silco wraps his arm around you and pulls you onto your side so he can hold you against his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head. 

“I’ll hang around during your next shift and kill anyone who even looks your way,” he declares, with a ridiculous amount of conviction. 

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. Dramatic boy. 

“Don’t be stupid,” you say, lightly tapping your palm once against his back as a half-hearted scold. 

“You’re right,” he agrees with a resolute nod. “I’ll let you kill them yourself, you deserve it.”

Your sigh is laced with exasperation but you still shift to cuddle him properly, arms wrapped around his midsection. You just want to enjoy his presence while you have it, even if he is a pain in your ass. 

“I missed you too,” you say quietly after a peaceful silence, recalling his words from earlier. “It sucks working so much, I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“I know,” he hums soothingly, hand now rubbing tiny circles into the small of your back. “Just means we gotta make the most of the times we do.”

Snuggling him even tighter feels like the only appropriate response, so that’s what you do. 

You could honestly stay here forever. No responsibilities, no stress, just Silco. 

“You free tomorrow lunch? We could grab something to eat and then climb up to the roof of that factory by the river, if you want?” Silco asks. 

A warm smile tugs at your lips.

“Yeah, I’m free.” 

Your parents had been kind enough to give you the afternoon off tomorrow, but you were still expected to help out in the morning and evening as usual.

“Is Vander coming too?” you ask.

Silco shakes his head above you. 

“Nah.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised the third member of your ragtag trio won’t be joining you. “Why not?”

“I thought it could just be a you and me thing, you know?” Silco reasons confidently, although you do spot just a hint of insecurity in his voice, like he’s nervous you’ll interrogate him further. 

Butterflies twirl through your stomach at the phrasing. You and him. You and Silco. A duet in this city of lonely hearts. 

“Okay. That sounds nice,” you say, trying to keep the smile out of your voice. 

He squeezes you once before he sits up a little, twisting around to pick the duvet up from off the floor. The covers are soon pulled over you both, where he tries to wrap his arms around you once more only to be met with you aiming little kicks at his legs. 

“Oi, shoes off, you heathen,” you demand, ripping the duvet away from him. “I just washed these.”

Seriously, you didn’t spend all morning washing, drying, and ironing all your clothes and bedding just for him to muddy them with his filthy shoes. Janna knows where he’s been in them or what he might’ve stepped in (especially considering you’ve never seen him clean them in all the years you’ve known him).

“Alright, alright,” he grumbles, muttering a sardonic little,“Bossy boots,” under his breath. 

Surprisingly, he does actually take the time to unlace them and even places them carefully under the bed, instead of just lobbing them across the room like you expect him to. 

Only then do you allow him back under the covers, shifting about until you’re both comfortable in each other’s arms, legs tangled together to ensure you’re as close as possible. 

“You know, you should really lock your bedroom window,” Silco comments after a few moments. “You never know who could be lurking about this time of night.”

You huff an amused breath through your nose.

“What, like you?”

“No, like some weirdo with nefarious ideas,” he insists, annoyed that you’re not taking him seriously.

You pull back in his arms to look him square in the face.

“...so, you?”

Silco pouts so adorably, you have to hold yourself back from just kissing him right there and then. 

“You’re mean,” he says, looking like a little boy who has just had one of his toys stolen in the playground.

In lieu of kissing him, you boop him on the nose with your finger and give him a cheeky, affectionate grin.

“You love it.”

But your heart sinks in your chest when Silco’s face drops, gazing at you intently as if he’s searching for something. Then his gaze darts away, the tips of his ears turning red, and you start to panic that you’ve said or done the wrong thing.

Instinctively, your hands hold him a little bit tighter, scared that he’ll just get up and go. 

“You know, my parents are going to kill me if they see us in bed like this,” you whisper over his shoulder, desperately trying to lighten the mood before he scarpers. 

“Well, as long as they don’t kill me, then that’s fine,” he whispers back, and you can tell by his timbre that he’s smiling through the words. 

You smack his shoulder, relief flooding through you in abundance. 

“Idiot.”

There’s a pause. 

Then, he says tenderly, (almost too tenderly for your poor heart).

“...Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

Patterns are happily traced against his back until you finally notice just how tired you are, leaning back to twist your head away from him so you can yawn into your hand. 

Silco watches you quietly, stroking your cheek with his thumb like a slow, soothing metronome. 

“You should get some sleep,” he says softly, his expression etched in quiet adoration. 

Your eyebrows lift at the sheer audacity. 

“Bitch, you’re the one who woke me up,” you protest sleepily.

He makes a show of turning to look over his shoulder and then back at you, pointing at his sternum with a quizzical frown. 

“Who? Me?”

So, you sneak your cold hands up against the back of his warm neck until he yelps. Silco wrestles your hands off his neck, clasping them in between his palms until he lets you tiredly wrestle them back and smoosh your face into his chest, giggling into the front of his shirt. 

He gently runs his hands through your hair as you both settle down once more, his own quiet laughter feeling like a blessing.

You almost don’t want to sleep now. You don’t want to miss any more time with him. 

“Sil?” you murmur. 

“Yeah, Squidge?” he replies.

Your nickname, from the time he threw a leftover tentacle at you from Jericho’s, named after the absolutely ridiculous noise it made when it slapped against your face. You love to hate it, which of course only makes Silco love it more. 

“We’re always gonna be best friends, right? No matter what?” you say, deep down hoping you don’t sound too clingy. 

You just can’t bear the thought of drifting apart from him. You honestly don’t know what you’d do without him. 

Luckily, he soothes your worries without even a hint of the usual teasing.

“Absolutely,” he affirms, carefully running his nails along your scalp in a calming, repetitive motion. “You’re stuck with me now, come rain or smog.”

“Good,” you nod happily. “Just checking.”

Basked in Silco’s warmth, you’re far too exhausted and cosy to fight against closing your eyes, drifting off to sleep while the boy presses a delicate kiss to your head. 

And right before you fall, he mumbles, oh so gently, into your hair.

“As if I’d want to be anywhere in this world except right here next to you, my perfect girl.” What a coincidence. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than right here, next to him.

[iwaasfairy]

15K MILESTONE??? WOWOWOOOWWW THATS INCREDIBLE ohmy super congrats to youuuuuu 🤧🤧🤧 /// now for the event, you think you can make something about Michael Kaiser + noncon? thank you sooooo muuuuuuch in advance ilyily 🥹🥹🥹

thankyOUUU So much my loveee it really is incredible im sOOO thankful MWUAH It was fUn writing this pos!!! hehehe

tw noncon, yandere, gaslighting

The locker room stinks of sweat and gym clothes and testosterone, and you wish you could just sink into the floor. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape the panting in your ear, the confessions of… love? Is that what he called it? You’re not sure anymore. No matter how hard you stare that that dented corner of the locker door, the way it sort of resembles a star— it doesn’t drown out the feeling of being invaded, fondled.

Ruined.

You never believed in that sort of thing but feeling the sweat that builds on your back where his body is pressed to yours, the spit and the tears dried on your cheeks, the mere heat that’s coming from your body as you’re shaked and rocked with each thrust just feels so invasive. It taints.

Micheal hasn’t stopped murmuring into your hair, like you’ve been listening at all- but even that constant noise feels like a fly zooming around the room and cherishing the stench. When you try to turn over your shoulder, you come face to face with the curve of his smile, feel the way he hums at the acknowledgment, and you regret it. His snake-like eyes bore down on you like he’s eating you up.

“Easy tiger,” he chuckles, “you might shoot me with that look. What’s- agh- a guy to do?”

“Go fuck yourself,” you barely manage to whisper back, and flinch when he pressed his face closer to your ear, panting in it and licking at the shell. Though you might be keeping on a brave face now, you can feel the panic sitting in your throat. Waiting, pleading to get out. He doesn’t even bother to hide his amusement when you groan in discomfort as he fucks his hips into you so hard it echoes. “Are- you almost- done?” You grit out through a clenched jaw, and he giggles lowly.

Before pulling out to push you back against the cold metal by both shoulders, and almost flattening you when he yanks one leg up to put it over his arm before he lines back up. The reddish, fat head of his cock is shamefully wet and glossy, and he leans down until your head is trapped between the locker and his. “You’re just so cute, I can’t help myself.” He pushes into you with too much precision, shoving himself into your pussy again and filling you up too far- your foot trembles where it hangs over his elbow.

“You’re a little super fan, ain’t ya?” He whispers against your skin again, before laughing when you lean away from a kiss. It’s like he takes it as a challenge, sadly for you, and starts aiming his cock better to make your eyes roll. His cock is big and he fucks in a deep, greedy rhythm that makes your entire body feel weak. “I knew you’d feel good from the second I saw you. Besides,” strands of his hair are stuck to his forehead as he leans his body back over yours, like he’s trying to melt you into him, “you knew not to be alone with me, right?”

His lips brush over your forehead when he gets the chance, and though you try to lean away, he uses his supporting arm to trap you until they land- until you’re shaking against him in anger and regret. “You tried to flee earlier, didn’t you? But you forgot your ‘boyfriend’s’ jersey.” His slow, devilish expression comes into view when you dare to look up and his blue eyes trap you under him, pussy squelching around the thrusting of his cock sliding in, out, in, out perfectly into you.

“So really, aren’t you at fault here? ‘S almost like you wanted it.” His smile widens when your frown grows twice as deep. A droplet of sweat rolls down his neck along the dark ink, and your body jerks when he fucks back into that spot that makes you squirm. You don’t want to. You don’t want to. No matter how good- “Don’t you feel a little bad for your poor boyfriend who’s waiting for you? Should we call him?”

[spinningwebsandtales]

The DMC Guys Taking Care of You While You’re Sick Headcanons

Being sick sucks but it helps when you have the Sparda guys around to help take care of you!

Requested by @mello-jello29​

Dante X FemReader

You aren’t sick often in life but when it happens it doesn’t matter what Dante is doing or where he is at. He’s going to be there.

He knows all about being shot, stabbed, ect ect. He just lets his regenerative healing take care of what ails him.

So that being said, he is a stranger when it comes to anything virus or cold related. So when you call telling him how bad you feel, he panics.

You try telling him to stay at home that you will be fine, but he is not having it. 

On his way he stops at the store and grabs a basket. And no medicine is safe in his relentless pursuit of things to make you feel better.

Tylenol? He grabbed every type there is. Nyquil? Daytime and nighttime packs a plenty.

He’s raiding the shelves relieving them of their tissues and cough drops. Before going to the grocery side. 

RIP soup shelves, Dante killed you.

You will no longer need soup, jello, juice, or pudding of any kind until the apocalypse.

When Dante finally gets there and you see how much he bought, you really didn’t know what you were going to do with everything he bought.

You decided that once you were better you’d donate the majority to the homeless shelters around town.

Dante is quick to shoo you back to bed as he can tell you’re running a fever just by the flush of your cheeks and bleary eyes.

You shiver relentlessly under the blankets and he just piles on more and more until you can feel yourself smothering. Except you’re still freezing.

When you tell him he’s launching himself and adding himself to the already heavy blankets.

“Dante,” you huffed under the weight of the blankets and full grown man. “You’re smothering me!”

“I’m trying to keep you warm babe,” he cooed. You rolled your eyes before kicking him off along with majority of the blankets. Once you could move again you held one end of the comforter up.

“Get in here you doofus.” While your fever had you both burning up and freezing, you couldn’t deny the comfort that Dante radiated as his arms wrapped around your shivering body.  He was your own personal heater to use as you needed it. He was more comfortable than the mountain of blankets he had piled on top of you. You nuzzled in closer playing with the chest hair that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt.

“It’s not fair that you don’t get sick,” you mumbled. “I wish I didn’t get sick.”

“Careful what you wish for babe,” Dante replied kissing the top of your head. “I’m part devil remember.”

“It’s hard to forget when you’re basically a living furnace,” you rolled your eyes while melting from the touch of his lips. 

Dante chuckled, “Just don’t forget I’m one hundred percent handsome devil.”

“That’s it get out of my bed and my house,” you shoved him weakly.

Vergil X FemReader

Like Dante, Vergil lacks any experience when it comes to dealing with colds, flus, ect ect.

But that being said he has a little more knowledge than his brother on how to take care of someone when they’re battling any kind of sickness.

He does like taking care of you in his own way, at times. But he also likes to give you space and let you take care of yourself.

You’re a grown woman and he doesn’t want to impede on your independence.

So he’s not going to take care of you unless you ask him.

He cares about you, but most of the time, thinks that his quest for power is more important than something that you can take care of on your own.

He’ll only make an effort when you ask him and he’s feeling generous.

Though when he sees you lethargic and sweating profusely it breaks his heart. Sure you had to ask for his help, but he didn’t understand how serious some sicknesses are despite having more knowledge than his brother.

Now that he knows and realizes how bad you are he’s there by your side taking care of all your needs. 

He makes homemade soup from a cookbook that he had noticed on one of your shelves.

While the soup simmers. He’s refilling your water cup by your bed, rewetting the wash cloth on your forehead, and finding more medicine to give you.

He leaves you to nap for a little bit before bringing you some soup. He’s adamant about feeding you.

“Vergil you don’t have to do this,” you said after swallowing a bite of soup. Despite your cold keeping you from tasting food like you would normally, it isn’t lost upon you on how good his soup his.

“You have let yourself get this way by not taking care of your body,” Vergil answered matter-of-factly before giving you a glaring look. He scooped more soup onto the spoon and it held it out towards you. “So it stands to reason that I need to help you and make sure you get the required nutrients to get better.”

You begrudgingly took the offered bite while glaring in return.

“Maybe if somebody didn’t make me worry so much I wouldn’t stress myself out enough to get sick.”

“Worry about me perhaps,” he asks and your cheeks flush, this time not from the fever.

“Maybe.”

He chuckles softly kissing your feverish forehead before holding out your water cup.

Nero X FemReader

Nero is a way better caretaker than his dad and uncle combined. 

Despite growing up not knowing his father and his mother absent in his life. Nero’s adopted family took good care of him.

He knows all the ins and outs of getting someone better.

Being one quarter devil he’s a little more susceptible to human colds and viruses though he is not sick for long at all. He once had a cold for like a day.

So he’s 100% ready to take care of you while you’re sick. Paging Doctor Nero.

Whatever medicines you need, he gets them, in moderation (looking at you Dante). Want a certain kind of soup? He’ll make it for you. Juice? Your fridge is stocked with your favorites, though he wants you to drink more water than anything.

He makes sure that you stay hydrated, that you’re taking medicine at the correct intervals, and he even changes your sheets when you’re taking a much needed shower or bath.

Nero even stays, unwilling to let you to be alone while you’re feeling so bad.

 He’s not worried about getting sick as he lays beside you holding you closely for comfort.

He wants you to know that he’ll always be there even if you aren’t at your best.

If you have to go to work he calls in sick for you and when you’re feeling well enough to go back he makes you a healthy lunch to take.

He’ll stick around to make sure that your house is kept clean so when you get home you can get the rest you need to fight whatever part of the cold that keeps clinging to you.

“I’m home,” you mumbled in exhaustion. While you were still sick, you weren’t running a fever and you couldn’t afford to take any more time off. Though your body was feeling a little worse from the exertion you put it through, just taking your shoes off was becoming a chore. Nero stepped out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a towel. His gaze softened seeing your tired state before he’s placing a kiss on your flushed cheek.

“Rough day,” he asks helping you out of your jacket.

“Not really,” you reply accepting his help graciously. “It wasn’t too bad. It’s this stupid cold it makes everything harder.”

“You’ll get better. You’re at the cusp of healing,” Nero hung up your jacket before going back to the kitchen. “Take a shower and get comfortable dinner is almost ready.”

“Mmmm,” you moan at the thought. “It smells amazing. I could smell dinner from the outside. I gotta say though Nero, I didn’t know I’m dating a doctor and a nanny.”

“We’ll see if you call me nanny later on,” he smirked before disappearing.

“I’m too tired to playyyy,” you whine heading towards the bathroom to start the water.

“I’ll do all the work,” he yells and just by the tone of his voice you can hear his mischievous side at play.

V X FemReader

V is at your side the second he knows that you aren’t feeling well. He doesn’t care how sick you are and that he has a severe chance of catching whatever ails you, he’s going to be there to lavish all the attention and healing you require.

You want canned soup? He’ll get it ready. You want homemade soup? Your wish is his command. Freshly squeezed orange juice? He’s your guy.

Nothing is too good or too difficult to do for you. Especially when you are not feeling your best.

He takes pride in knowing you as well as the book of poetry he keeps and knows whatever makes you happy.

He keeps you company reading you poetry while you eat or stay by your side being a quiet safe presence while you sleep.

He refuses to leave you alone until you are back on your feet.

He cares for you so much that he doesn’t care what it takes or he has to do, he just wants you better again.

He does get frustrated if his helping doesn’t get you better soon. He feels like he failed you.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t better now,” V groans face planting into your blankets.

You stroke his head gently, playing with the long strands of his dark hair. V is never one to get overwhelmed or show his frustration easily. So your heart breaks at his disgruntled state at your expense of being stuck sick in bed.

“I’ll get better soon,” you comfort him. “It just takes time, but I’m feeling so much better because you have taken such good care of me. I’m really thankful for you V and all that you do for me.”

“Are sure I’ve done enough,” he looked up from the blankets and you melted when those dark eyes met yours.

“Always,” you smile and kiss his forehead.

[lxstfathier]

Cachorrita

Pt.4

Here’s another random thought for the cachorrita series, based on this ask, hope you all enjoy it!! <3

Warnings: verbal abuse and mentions of trauma.

“Stupid whore” one of the new recruits scoffs at you. “You know nothing about the military, you’re fucking useless, they just keep you around here because you spread your legs to everyone.”

A few minutes ago, you had tried to be friendly with him and have nice conversation while you both helped with the manteinance of the guns, cleaning the heavy weapons and taking out any bullet that might be stuck. Never you thought that he would end up saying such hurtful things.

And you’re so sensitive that, before you know it, fat tears start rolling down your cheeks.

“I- sorry” you say, not even knowing why do you apologize.

Yes, you might not be a trained soldier, but you’ve learned a lot about the military after all these months around them. Enough to be considered one more of los vaqueros. And no one had ever treated you so poorly until now.

“Don’t cry” he speaks again, annoyed and careless. “Stop being so fucking childish.”

You don’t want to cry. You truly do not want to, but he messed up with your feelings, so you take a step back and wipe your tears with the back of your hands, ready to get out of the storage room and go cry somewhere else.

But before your legs react, all you can see is Alejandro. And he notices your tears as soon as he enters the room.

“what the fuck did you just do to her, cabrón?” Alejandro raises his voice, taking the new recruit by his tactic vest and harshly shoving him against the wall.

That just makes you cry even harder. You still can’t stand loud noises, violence, or anything that reminds you of all the time you were held hostage. It triggers your fear. So, when Rudy finally appears, you run to his arms.

“Hey, tranquila” he says, wrapping you in a tight hug and trying his best to cover your ears with his hands. “It’s fine, you’re safe”.

It’s all too much. Too overwhelming. You don’t know how long do you stay snuggled in Rudy’s chest, maybe just a few seconds or long minutes, and even though you can’t hear clearly, the discussion between Ale and the new guy is more than evident.

When things get less heated, Rudy takes his hands off your ears, as a subtle way to tell you that it’s okay to hear and look at your surroundings again.

“Here we all take care of her” Rodolfo speaks, in a serious tone that is unusual to him. “So if you don’t like that, you can pack your things and go”.

But the guy doesn’t want to take a step back, not after trying so hard to get into the best team of the mexican special forces. So he just clenches his jaw and mutters a mediocre apologize, promising to never mess with you again, and then storming out of the room.

“Pendejo” Alejandro curses under his breath. “I was thinking about kicking him out anyway”.

“Si, we can find a better sniper who isn’t a complete idiot” Rudy says as he lets go of you, with a slight push that puts you right in front of Alejandro. Not to get rid of you, but in a careful way to share you with his best friend.

The colonel looks down at you, this time more tender than usual, you can’t see lust or dominance in his brown pupils. You can see love.

“Don’t cry, mi amor” he gently reaches out to you, wiping your tears with his gloved hands. “As long as we’re here, we will protect you from anything”.

You close your eyes for a moment, melting into his touch as you grab his wrists. And the rough material of his gloves on your face doesn’t feel bad at all, actually… it feels like home.

[janksfatass]

Strange Tides

Smut 18+

Summary: Reader finds herself on a pirate ship that belongs to a surprisingly seductive man.

Word count: 2300

Warnings under the cut

Warnings: brief mention of almost SA, penetrative s3x, oral!f rec, dacryphilia, choking with a belt, bdsm-ish, blood k!nk

———————————————————————————

You wake to the sound of footsteps above you. You slowly open your eyes and scrunch your nose at the damp musky scent invading your nostrils. You look around at your surroundings. An array of embellished chests, artillery, and crates line each wooden wall.

Where the fuck am I?

Your right ankle is chained to a post 5 feet from the cot you lay on.

You begin to panic, trying to figure out a way to free yourself when you hear the door at the top of the steps creak open. Next, a pair of boots begin clambering down them. A handsome, albeit disheveled, man appears before you. He doesn’t seem to be much older than you, with a tray of food and a mug in hand.

“Good morning darling! How did we sleep last night aboard the Circe?”

“The what? Who the fuck are you? Where am I?”

“Oh, I see you’re feisty when you wake up. Well my love, I am Captain Jake Kiszka. And you are on my ship, the Circe. S’your lucky day if you ask me.”

You scoff at him acting like you’re sitting in a castle on a hill somewhere. “Lucky? I’m chained to a post on a musty old pirate ship!”

“Oh angel, you wound me. I take pride in my women and that includes my ship. I say you’re lucky because if not for me, you’d probably be swimming with the fishes about now.”

What?

You try to wrack your brain to figure out what on Earth he’s talking about, and then it hits you. The last thing you remember was being at a crowded tavern.

“What happened last night?”

“Me and my men were at the Black Cauldron and saw you trying to fight off an ugly brute that was attempting to drag you into an alleyway. So we took it upon ourselves to beat him to a bloody pulp and took you with us.”

“Why am I chained up?”

“Well, you were a bit tiddly and tried to fight us off as well. I thought it best to keep you restrained until you settled down some.”

He sets the tray and the mug down in front of you. “Try to eat some, love. You’ll need your energy.” He shoots you a wink and heads back up to the deck.

“Aren’t you going to unchain me?”

He stops about halfway up and leans his head down, “I’m a busy man. I’ve some things to take care of right now but I’ll be back later. Don’t go anywhere.” He laughs and you hear the door shut behind him.

Over the next few hours you pick at your food but finish your drink. Thoughts of the Captain flood your mind. He was devastatingly handsome. Long brown tousled tresses, mustache and goatee adorning his face. And he has a beautiful pearly white smile you don’t think you’ve ever seen on a pirate before. You try to shake the image of him from your head, thinking back to what he said about the guy at the tavern and a shiver jolts down your spine. Maybe this was better than the alternative. In a way, he saved your life. You decide to try to nap since you’ve nothing better to do while waiting on Captain Jake to free you from your confines. You lay down and doze off almost immediately.

“Such a dirty girl. Look at the mess you made in these little panties. Is that all for me?”

He slides your underwear down your legs and you step out of them as he pulls them up to his face.

“Jake…” you sigh out, desperate for his touch.

“Fucking delectable. Now open up for daddy. Be a good girl.”

You open your mouth and he shoves your panties inside.

“We don’t need the crew hearing all the sweet little noises I’m about to pull out of you.”

Your arms are chained up above your head, your heart beating a mile a minute.

He unsheathes the sword at his hip and brings it to your jawline.

You blink quickly, unsure of what he plans to do next.

“What’s a matter poppet? Cat got your tongue?”

A sly smirk spreads on his face then…

You urgently sit up, drenched in sweat and a familiar heat throbbing between your legs.

“Good dreams I’m assuming?”

You jump and see none other than the Captain leaned up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

“Fuck! You scared the life out of me!”

“I don’t think that’s fear that you’re feeling, darling. Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

You feel the crimson wash over your face and bite down hard on your lower lip. He walks over to you and kneels down beside the cot, motioning for you to put your foot on his knee. You lift it up but not without noticing him shift his eyes underneath your nightgown.

“Well? Are you going to let me go or just stare at me like I’m some piece of meat.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as his eyes meet yours and the formerly honey brown orbs have shifted into obsidian. He pulls the key from his pocket and unlocks your ankle. In a split second he scoops you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and heads across the room to the chains from your dream that were dangling from the ceiling.

“On second thought, I quite like the idea of seeing you like a piece of meat. You’re going to learn and learn quickly to respect your Captain.”

He secures your arms above your head and you drop your legs from his waist.

“What the fuck?! Let me GO!!!”

“I can read you like a book, baby. You can drop the act. I could see how wet you were for me. What were you dreaming about? My head between those delicious thighs? My cock inside you hitting spots you didn’t know existed? You like it rough, don’t you?” He smirks.

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

He slides his hand up under your gown and into your panties. “Filthy girl. You’re soaked. Nothing but a whore for me.”

You stay silent with baited breath, waiting to see what he does next.

“If you truly want me to stop, just say the word and I will. Do you understand me?”

You nod.

He steps closer to you and leans into your ear, “I said, do you understand me?”

“Yes! Yes I understand!” You pant heavily, your body craving his touch.

“Good.”

Jake licks along your jawline, then kisses down your neck and chest, biting and sucking. Marking his path. He tugs harshly at your nightgown.

“This is going to have to go. I need to see those gorgeous tits.”

Just like in your dream, he unsheathes his sword but instead of bringing it to your jawline, he makes a cut in the center of your neckline then roughly rips the fabric the rest of the way off you. Your chest now completely bare to him as he eyes your figure. His eyes blown completely with lust, he runs his tongue along his lower lip. His chest heaving in and out.

He almost frightens you in a way. Looking like a starved feral animal that finally captured its prey.

Jake loops his thumbs into your panties and yanks them off of you, tossing them to the side. Your arousal beginning to drip down your thighs.

He steps back and brings the tip of his sword to your left nipple, gently tracing around it before doing the same to the other. He trails it down your stomach and around your navel slowly and deliberately. He skips your mound and continues his path down your thigh. You jerk slightly from the feeling, causing the blade to slice your inner thigh. You hiss as blood begins to trickle down.

“You’ve got to be still darling. I don’t want to mark up this beautiful body too much.”

He drops to his knees in front of you and cradles your thigh in his hands. Using his thumb to pull the skin taut. He then licks over the wound, sucking gently, lapping up both your blood and the wetness that coated your skin. He traces his tongue upwards to your slit and spreads your lips apart with his fingers. You suck in a deep breath as swipes his warm tongue from your entrance to your clit and starts making little circles around it. Your breathing picks up and you can feel his lips curl into a smile before he wraps them around your bud, sucking it harshly into his mouth. Your knees buckle and suddenly you’re very thankful for the chains holding you up. He slides one finger inside of you, pumping it in and out at a steady pace. A moment later he adds a second, continuing the motions. When he adds a third, a loud passionate moan escapes your lips at the delicious stretch. He curls his fingers upward quickly while continuing the assault on your clit. Licking and sucking and flicking, you feel the warmth starting to envelop your body.

“Fuck! Jake! I’m going to cum!”

He delivers a harsh slap to your ass. “Who am I?”

“Fuck! Captain! Please please please let me cum!” You wail out.

He places his mouth back on you, still pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that perfect spot inside you.

“Fuckfuckfuck!” Your vision blurs as you cum on his face. He doesn’t slow his movements.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet. Give me another, Angel.”

You’re panting heavily. “I can’t, I can’t I ca-…”

He sucks your clit harder into his mouth and your hips buck against his face. He places your legs over his shoulders to try to keep you still and you squeeze his head with your thighs and scream as you’re quickly thrown into your second orgasm.

Finally, he starts licking over you slowly, babying your clit with kisses then moving up your stomach and chest until he reaches your lips. He parts them with his tongue and you graciously let him in, the taste of yourself invading your mouth. Salty and sweet. He reaches down to undo his belt and slips it from the loops. He wraps it around your neck. Then quickly sheds the rest of his clothing. When he pulls down his pants, your jaw drops at his cock slapping up against his stomach. It was much larger than you were expecting, considering his small stature.

He laughs at your reaction. “Don’t worry doll, I’ll make it fit.”

He hikes one of your legs around him and slides his cock through your folds, grazing your sensitive clit with each thrust.

“Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Captain.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as he pushes all the way inside you, bottoming out against your cervix.

“Fucking hell, so fucking tight. This pussy is mine. YOU are MINE!” He growls and starts pummeling into you. You’ve never been stretched this much before. It feels unnatural but also phenomenal to be this full. He pulls on the belt, tightening it around your throat and he roughly grabs one of your tits, squeezing it hard as he thrusts in and out of you. The head of his cock hitting your g spot each time.

“Cum for me again, darling. I can feel it. Let me have it. Give it to me. Please fucking give it to me.”

Your eyes roll back in your head and you scream out as you feel a gush of liquid come out of you, soaking his stomach and cock before splashing onto the floor beneath you.

“Fuck, I’m so close.”

Tears begin streaming down your face as Jake continues his brutal pace. He licks the salty streams from your cheeks then lets go of the belt and pulls your other leg around him and firmly grips your hips. He leans in to kiss you feverishly and hips begin to stutter. He drives himself even deeper than you thought possible. His cock pulsates against your cervix as he floods you with his release.

He stays inside you for a moment as he pulls away from the kiss to look into your eyes. You’re breathing heavily, coming down from what very well may have been the best sex of your life. No, it definitely was the best.

He drops your legs and unlocks the clasp around your wrists.

“I’ll be right back. I have some fresh clothes for you in my cabin.”

A few moments later he returns with clothes in hand and a wet rag. He places a white blouse and black skirt on the cot and hands you the rag. You clean yourself up and get dressed.

“So what are your plans for me? Am I just supposed to make myself at home and prepare for a life on the sea?” You ask him as you pull up your skirt.

“That’s entirely up to you, darling. I’d love nothing more than to have you as my co captain but if you’d like us to drop you off some place, we can do that as well. You think on it and let me know what you want to do.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to stay if I have to sleep in these filthy quarters.”

“Follow me. Let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He takes your hand and leads you up the steps. Once you reach the deck, a roar of whistles and cheering assaults your eardrums.

“Settle down gentlemen!” Jake shouts boisterously to the crewmen. “Ignore them. Animals, the lot of them.”

He opens the door to his cabin and inside is a large bed with dressers on either side and a vanity in the corner with a mirror attached to it.

“Not too shabby. I could maybe get used to this.” You say as you look around.

He grins from ear to ear and pulls you close to him.

“I thought you might say that.”

[corn-fanfiction]

SAVIOUR COMPLEX (Mark Hoffman x F!Reader) (PT. 7)

(PT. 6)

Rated: M

TAGS: language/past abuse/Mark Hoffman being a c*p/reader's life is maybe becoming less normal/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/because he's a c*p/Detective Gibson is his own tw/kissy kissy

**NOTE: Hey guys. Thank you so much for interaction with this fic, and I’m seeing a lot of new followers. I love that!! But I really need to stress right now how I do not support/endorse C*stas M*ndylor as a person or his opinions. He’s racist and I enjoy and only enjoy Mark Hoffman’s character. If you are a C*stas Stan, I highly encourage you to maybe cease interacting with this fic.**

“To say that this looks bad is an understatement.”

Mark scoffs and paces the Chief’s office.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“No, let’s go over everything that’s happened tonight. You breach protocol by taking your case out on a date, you bring her to an active crime scene where her boyfriend has just died in a Jigsaw trap, and you are in the FBI’s sights! How is that dramatic?”

“Ex.”

Chief is stunned, baffled and befuddled. “Excuse me?”

“Ex boyfriend.”

“Are you-“ Chief sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You’re pulling my leg, right? This is a joke. This has to be a joke because I know you're not this stupid.”

“Watch it.”

“No, fuck it. You’re off her case and you’re suspended until I can figure out what the fuck to do with you. Turn in your badge and gun.”

Mark stares him down. He doesn’t move.

“Do it, or we’re gonna have a scene.”

Mark grinds his teeth, his jaw ticks. He’s holding air that he refuses to sigh away as he slams his sidearm and his badge down on the Chief’s desk.

“Who’s my replacement? I assume whoever it is has her next door in interrogation, right?”

“Questioning.”

“Don’t fucking split hairs with me right now.”

Before the Chief has a chance to respond, the heavy metal doors to the interrogation hall open and close. Mark throws the office door open and sees you passing. He gives you a comforting hand but then leaves when he hears a snort from Gibson. He turns on him and Gibson either isn’t expecting it or doesn’t think Mark will actually put hands on him. On both fronts, he’s wrong, because Mark grabs him by his collar and holds him with shaking arms.

“What the fuck is your problem, Gibson!?”

Gibson pushes Mark’s arms from his chest and shoves him. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to send the message.

“I’m doing my job, Hoffman. Don’t forget, you’re a suspect too, and in danger of ‘reassignment’. Right?”

Gibson huffs and adjusts his shirt. Mark points a finger at his chest.

“You better keep your nose outta things before something happens to it.”

“Is that a threat?”

Mark is about to let him know that yes, it is a threat, when he feels a hand on his arm. He whips around and there you are, staring up at him with empty, dark eyes that are pooling with tears. God, you look ragged, traumatized- you are. 

“Mark, come on, please. Please, let’s just go home. Please.”

He softens at your plea. He’ll do anything for you right now, and that includes walking away from this fight. He gives Gibson a final mean look and guides you out of the station and takes you home.

Now, he’s staring out the window of your bedroom as you’re curled against him in sleep, one arm tucked under your head and the other draped across you. He realizes that he probably shouldn’t have even brought you here, but rather have taken you back to his place. You need familiarity, sure, but whoever had been stalking you could still be after you.

That was something else you didn’t know. When you and Mark had arrived on the scene and he saw Ted’s body, it was apparent that it wasn’t…fresh. Of course, he knew that Gibson had to have shown you the photos but there’s no way you were in a state to notice that detail. And it looked like more than a couple days. The death was old…older than the day someone showed up outside your window.

He pulls you closer. Not only is someone imitating Jigsaw- him, not only had that person killed Ted, but they were likely the one stalking you. 

It isn’t far fetched to think there’s another Jigsaw copycat; after all, that’s how he got the gig. The difference is that John and Amanda are both dead, and neither of them can handle this so Mark can focus on you. Mark racks his brain to shake loose any possible suspects. Everyone with any hand near Jigsaw is dead except him…and Jill. Christ, what if this is all Jill? Jealous because he has you and she has no one?

But Jill doesn’t have the physical strength to manage this on her own, and Mark’s watched her long enough to know she lives a solitary life. So no, Jill may be possible, but highly unlikely.

It has to be someone you know, or someone who knows him and his feelings towards you. It would be too large a coincidence for it to be a random copycat.

Who? Who?

The good news is that if he's suspended, he has plenty of time to find out.

There’s a banging on the door the next morning. You immediately jump and press your back to the headboard. Mark stands, reaches for his gun and then curses when he remembers he turned it in the night before.

You look up at him in a panic and he raises a calming hand. He glances at the window- nobody there. Goes down the hall and grabs a knife from the kitchen.

A peek out the front window reveals Gibson at the door, tapping his foot, looking around, checking his watch. Mark curses and opens the door, subtly setting the knife on the kitchen counter.

Gibson stops, looks Mark up and down, then cracks a smile.

“Jesus. Wasted no time, I see.”

Mark scowls and his grip on the door tightens. “Careful, Gibson. There’s no cameras here.”

Gibson looks over Mark’s shoulder and into the apartment.

“She around?”

“Yes, she’s in bed, and very fucking traumatized from the shake-down you gave her. That make you feel big, Gibson? Harassing a woman who’s being stalked and just saw her ex-boyfriend murdered?”

“Just doing my job. You know all about that.”

Before Mark can get another word out, you come up behind him, now having donned some pants and a cardigan.

“Detective Gibson. What a…well, whatever it is. What do you need?”

Gibson smiles at you, self-satisfied.

“I’m taking over your case. And with the recent danger, we think it’s best we put you in a safe house.”

Your eyes widen and you push your way past Hoffman who puts a hand on your shoulder. You shrug him off.

“Fuck that! You and your precinct already upheaved my life with this protection bullshit, now you wanna take me away from my job, my apartment? And for what? Jigsaw very clearly has no problem with me!”

“Yeah. Wonder why that is.”

Mark watches as you turn red. 

“Besides, not like you’re leaving much behind.”

Mark barely has time to grab you when you lunge for Gibson, who leans away with a chuckle.

“Easy. I can always still take you in by force.”

“Fuck off, no you can’t,” Mark bites. “She can deny if she wants to.”

“Yeah, but that don’t look too good either, does it? Got a reason to stay away from the police?”

“Aside from the fact they’re batting 1,000 when it comes to harassment?”

Gibson looks from you to Mark. 

“You don’t seem to mind too much.”

“That’s it-” 

Mark is out the door before you can stop him and he slugs Gibson in the jaw. The younger detective stumbles back into the yard and Mark looms over him.

“Get the fuck outta here. And unless you have a warrant, you can tell the chief to shove this whole thing up his ass.”

Gibson stands and spits some blood into the grass.

“Your ass is out, Hoffman. You hear me? You’re fucked!” Gibson shouts and returns to his cruiser, stepping into the driver’s seat and retrieving his walkie-talkie. You run out to get Mark.

“Mark, what the fuck?!”

Mark sighs, shakes out his hand, turns to you. “I’m sorry. I- I can’t stand that prick. He was asking for it.”

“Yeah, no kidding! He was egging you on and you gave him exactly what he wanted. You could lose your job!”

“Nah,” Mark says, shaking his head and heading back inside. You follow him.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have a word with the Chief, pay some penance, do crossing duty or something for a few weeks. Shit like this happens all the time.”

Mark goes to your freezer and grabs a bag of peas to cradle against his knuckles. When he faces you again, you’re leaning against the counter, chewing on your lip, staring at the imitation marble.

“What?” he inquires.

“Nothing.”

“No, what are you thinking?”

He watches as you splay your hand against the countertop, moving your fingers back and forth. He moves to stand next to you, moves his head to be closer to yours. Nudges you.

“Come on. Let me in.”

You sigh. “I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I don’t think I’m in danger. Or maybe I am. I don’t really care. But…maybe it’s best if we took a break? Just until the dust settles?”

Mark’s heart plummets into his gut and his eyes search yours, his head unmoving.

“You want that?”

“No. No, I really don’t. But I’ll be fine, and you can’t lose your job.”

Because it’s all I have.

Well, that was before he had you.

“Let Gibson take over my case. Once it dies he’ll get bored, I bet. I’m willing to wait.”

You finally meet his eyes and your hand finds his on the counter.

“What if I’m not?” he mutters, his lips so close to yours.

“I mean, I never really pegged you for a patient man. But…”

It’s like you can’t help yourself. Your lips come up to meet his and his hand gently cups your jaw. 

Another kiss. One deeper and warmer. Before there can be a third that leads to something more, you pull away and Mark sighs.

“Maybe it’ll die out fast, you know?”

Mark nods at the refrigerator. 

“Maybe.”

“Hey,” you say, tilting his face towards you. “Look at me. It’ll be fine. Distance and fondness and all that.”

“I don’t think I can get any fonder, honestly.”

He watches in pain as your eyes flutter through that small confession and a smile pulls at your lips.

“Well, just hold on to it, then. And phones exist, you know?”

He dips down for a kiss on your cheek.

“So do midnight rendezvouses. And windows.”

“Come on,” you gently push against his chest. “Just think of how nice it’ll be when this all passes. Maybe my bed will see some action other than cuddling all night long, hm?”

Mark groans. “God, why would you say something like that when you’re trying to rush me out the door?”

“If I was rushing, you’d be gone already. I’m stalling, actually.”

Another kiss. Then one on the forehead. 

“Alright. Go makeup with the asshole outside. Apologize to the Chief. Help kids cross the street or something. I’ll see you soon.”

Mark grinds his teeth but submits, laying the peas on the counter.

“Sorry for defrosting those.”

You smile reassuringly, and it does help him feel like things will be okay. “Maybe we'll eat them next time.”