#but then said creep puts their hand on your lower back. dangerously close to your ass. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 2 months

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hey love can i request brothers bff cho and how he's just down bad for you 🤍🤍🤍

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg wait, i fucks with this baddd

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m!) - oral (m! receiving) - tit/breast fucking (m! receiving) - cowgirl position - pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie) - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - implied that reader is big chested - Choso crushing on you hard, lmao - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Choso knew better than to be attracted to you, the sibling of his best friend ever.

Your brother and Choso have been buddies for a while, meeting during his part-time job at a burger joint as servers and finding out they have so much in common. Being older siblings, lovers of rock music, and relating to so much together, the two often hung out after work and became pretty good friends. Just two people vibing out in each others’ company, and there was nothing to make this relationship complicated!

“Hey, Choso, I’ve told you about my sister before, right?”

You greeted him with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Choso!”

Well, that is until you came and absolutely rocked Choso’s world.

You were the younger sibling of two; a college senior comes home biweekly to take care of laundry and then drives back up for your education. By your gorgeous face and alluring figure, Choso was struck by your image from the first time his eyes ever laid on you. You were such a kind spirit, always so sweet to him and others surrounding you — you’d want to hang with the boys whenever you had the chance while you were visiting, which was hellish for the brown-haired man.

You’d laugh along with the jokes, making Choso’s heart skip uncontrollably, and the way you’d lean to him when you’re sleepy watching a movie with them pushed the guy on the verge of shutting down. He could never get tired of how you’d say his name; it came out so dear from your lips as if he could be under your spell at any second. And it didn’t help that you’d walk around the house with shorts on, the lower fringes constantly threatening Choso on whether they’d creep up to see the mere crevice of your ass.

As said before, he knew better than siblings of best friends were off limits. However, you were becoming too much for him. It’s been half a year of seeing you, and there has never been a day or night where you haven’t popped up in his head one way or another, particularly when his mind would think of you in the most…lustful ways.

He throws his head back, reminiscing about you and your outfit from the pub. The way your breasts were tucked in nicely by the window of your bodycon dress, yet the cleavage was too tempting for his eyes not to notice. The dress sculpted your curves dangerously, Choso fighting the urge to put his hand on your hip to feel your clothed skin. And your lipgloss made your lips shine; every time you spoke to him was a test for him not to kiss you right there in front of your brother. It was so cruel how you looked so good for him!

He was spending the night at yours after a night out drinking with you and your brother, using the basement bedroom to sleep. Sleep evades him; however, he uses this space to deal with the erection he’s been dying to indulge in this entire night instead. His teeth pull the bottom of his shirt, dark jeans discarded to the floor, and his hand pumps his shaft that’s freed from his boxer briefs.

He grunts at the memory, teeth grinding while he strokes his long cock. Precum exuding from the urethra slides down to the base and wets his fingers. “Fuuck, Y/n,” your name is said in choked moans, the horny man fisting himself in a faster motion. Brown eyebrows are trenched, and his abdomen begins to flex. Shit, I’m so close, so cl—

“Choso?”

He never in his life froze still in an instant, and his heart goes to a complete stop, too. No way.

“Ca–…May I come in?”

No words are said from either side, so Choso’s heat immediately shifts to icy cold when he hears the door open, and your frame is all he sees. You’re still wearing the beautiful dress, yet your face is molded into an expression of utter anxiousness. Sweat goes down Choso’s forehead, oh fucking shit!

“I came down to see if you were okay and needed anything,” your eyes were downcast to the floor, chewing on your lips during this awkward situation. “But…I heard you say my name and…”

Oh, it was so over for him. All Choso could do was stare at you in dread, entirely shocked that you saw him masturbate at the thought of you! You were fidgeting with your dress, perplexed about how to handle this predicament, too. He was so done for; not only was he thinking of you, the sibling of his best friend, and using said thoughts of you, but now you are aware of how he pictures you in his fucked up head! Yup, he can never walk into this house again. “S–Sorry, Y/n! I’ll just go and—“

“Can I help?”

Again, his body goes rigid mid-stride of getting off the bed after pulling his underwear up. ….What?

“I mean, can I…help you with that?” You meekly walk into the room and close the door behind you. “I am the one who made you like this, so…I’m okay with it if you are…..”

Choso blinks, too alarmed to make any movements. “But, your brother…” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you spook him by taking steps in his direction. He gulps thickly when your figure crawls on the bed, too close for his brain to comprehend. You take his hand with your soft ones and bring his fingers to your lips to kiss, and his breath hitches when you suck and lick his digits. The boner stuffed in his briefs twitches at the sensation of your tongue running against the underside of his middle finger and sucking on it.

You peer at him, “What about him?” That is what you say before lifting your dress to remove your panties. And just when Choso thought his life was about to be thrown in the gutter, you flipped the script on him again.

In his head, Choso knew he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Mmm…Mmahh! Oh, Choso, you taste so good…”

But in his heart, he couldn’t help but give in to this situation.

You were situated between his legs, ripped him off his briefs for you to suck on his glans freely. Your tinge dances around his cockhead to prompt more come to ooze out of his urethra, and your hand slides up and down to stroke his member. Choso whimpers under your touch, and shivers crawl up his spine as you lick from the base to the tip before sucking hard.

“Fuuck, Y/n,” he grips the sheets, barely containing his hips to buck to your lips. “Your mouth, it’s—Hssshh…!”

“Mmm?” You blink before releasing the tip with a sound. “What about my mouth, Choso baby?” Fuck, the nickname made the pink of his ears creep down to his nape. “You feel good?” He nods at your question, and you giggle before sucking one of his balls, resulting in a sharp gasp from the brown-haired man. “I’m so happy you are…”

Hallow cheeks take in his cock, busying your throat with his length that has you humming blissfully. You massage his waist as you bob your face up and down, and shaky breaths leave his lips while his legs jolt with every swish of your tongue.

“—Shhiiit, oh shit, hnnn,” he can’t do it, you were driving him crazy. “Y/n, you’re gonna make me…Mmmm”

You pick up on his cue, withdrawing your lips from him to maneuver and pull down the top of your dress. Caramel eyes widen at the sight of your breast spilling out, forgetting how to breathe when you bring them to wrap around his long dick. You move them around to please him, taking the tip back into your mouth to slurp his leaking essence that trickles down to your chest.

“Mmaahh, go ahead, darling,” you place kisses on the tip, Choso looking at nothing but your mounds swallow him with every stroke. It takes mere seconds for his orgasm to sneak up on him, his jizz coming out to fall and trickle down in between the rifts of your tits. “There you go, let it out for me…” the way you looked at him with half-lidded eyes took his breath away, especially with the spit that connects your gloss-shining lips to his spit-and-come coated shaft.

And when he’s finally inside you? He’s too far gone to even think of being away from you.

“Ohhh, hoooh!! Chosooo, y’u feel soo good!”

Your dress was cast-off entirely, your nude body bouching up and down on Choso, his cock bullying the inside of your cunt. It’s been a solid fifteen minutes shared between the two of you exploring each other’s bodies, and sweaty skin exchanges heat from the constant motions. And come from rounds prior spill from your chasm as you ride on Choso’s dick with a rhythm.

He has his hands on your hips now, using you to keep him steady before he gets too lost in the feeling. Not that it hasn’t happened already; the man moans with every clamp of your walls around him, tightening around him with every graze of your g-spot. You wail for him up top, and your aroused sounds have to be the cutest things he’s ever heard. And the way your tits jump every time you plummet down to the base of him, it’s an image that will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Tahhh, ughh, Jesus Christ…” He’s too sensitive right now; he just came not too long ago and is now being chased down for another one. “Y/n, sweetie, too fast, slow d—Ahh…!”

You hear him and titter, “Yeah? Want me to slow down, huh…” You bring your hips up excruciatingly slow, listening intently to the shaky sobs from the brunette as you get to the very top. And then you smack yourself down with haste, sharing a yelp at the rushed sensation. You do it again, “Think you’re about to cum again, huh, honey?”

His hands now come to your ass to grope with the flesh, and you twitch around his girth at the hunger. “Yeahhh…”

“You gonna be good and cum for me again, right?” Another snap of your ass crashing down on him.

“Yess, baby,” he throws his head back to the pillows, his head pounding so hard it could kill him. You can feel him pulsating within your slit. “Almost there…Ohh–ooo..!”

You bite your lip, relishing at the sight of him being desperate for release. You lean forward to him, your breasts meshing with his chest as you snake a hand around the back of his head. You place your lips on his, and he doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

The kiss gets hotter when you dial up the speed, tongues swirling and exchanging spit as the friction becomes a lot more pleasurable than before. Choso’s ears ring the deeper you bring him in to kiss, humming on his tongue as you suck on it with harsh rocks on his length from scraping places you couldn’t reach. He’s so fucking addicted to you; his composure long deteriorated the moment he first put his cock inside you.

Choso bucks himself to you in sync, his climax coming in just a few ruts. He howls into you, and you wail along as your hips don’t rest until you’re hit with a crescendo of your own. Contracting your vaginal walls milks him, exerting his load into you again to spill and flow down your sticky frames.

You two heave and pant in each other’s mouth before the kiss is broken, and the string of saliva is evidence of you being one with the other. Although the both of you are dazed, you smile at him before kissing his nose. “Glad I helped you out, huh?” He chuckles weakly as you lay kisses on his chin.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

And just like that, the two of you are frozen yet again. Wait…

Too late, the bedroom door busts open with a bang, and in comes your brother!

“Yooo, Choso, my guy—hic,” your brother stumbles inside the room, still a bit loopy and drunk. “Wanna go up and hit a quick blunt with— ah…”

The heat shared between you and the man below you switched to silent torture, awkwardness suffocating the three figures staring at each other. And this is the exact reason why Choso should’ve known better than to mingle around with you…

2K notes · View notes

gutsby · 6 months

Text

Playing Dangerous

Pairing: Detective Dixon x Reader

Summary: Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Warnings: NSFW. Thigh riding. Brat taming. Daddy kink. Dubcon elements vis-à-vis power imbalance and forceful facefucking, plus some dark-ish dirty talk, face slapping, overstimulation where Daryl keeps making you cum after you say that you’re finished (all meant to be consensual).

Notes: Big big thank you to @dilfsandmartinis for this filthy lil idea!! 🫣🩷 Requests are always welcome :-)

Shitty was an understatement.

This was a full-blown, top-notch terror of an evening, rivaled only in its sheer lethality by the time you once broke your nose and got arrested twice in the same day.

Tonight was likely to be a close second, though.

You’d spent all of ten minutes in the center of that hot and sweaty club, fighting madly not to drop your drinks or lose your purse, when suddenly, simultaneously, it seemed every guy around you had lost the power of self-control. You were prodded and groped like a shiny slab of meat ripe for any man’s hands—and no matter how hard you elbowed each offender, you couldn’t find reprieve. You were constantly being grabbed.

You’d grumbled as much to your friends, and they’d told you to ‘lighten up’ and ‘not be so surprised when you were wearing something like that.’

Something like what? A super mini skirt and a bustier?

You promptly informed each member of your party they could kiss your ass, and left.

That had been almost half an hour ago, and you were still currently stuck outside the club waiting for a lift. In the snow. With no jacket, or adequate covering.

Every time a taxi passed, you’d wobble over to the street corner and wave your hand, but on each endeavor, without fail, its driver would shoot you a dirty look and speed right off. Like you had, ‘I’M GONNA ROB YOU’ written on your forehead or else smelled of rotting flesh.

You were mystified, distraught, and supremely pissed off. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong.

The second you saw a semi-reputable looking Dodge Charger pull up to the curb, you decided you’d had enough. Uber or not, you needed a fucking ride.

You stalked over to the vehicle, already seeing its passenger side window creeping down on your approach. Your arms were quick to fold over your chest as you bent down and scowled,

“Could you please take me home?”

The man you saw inside looked polished. Well-groomed.

You hardly had more than a second or two to inspect his appearance, though, because in an instant, he was leaning over the center console to shoot you a smile.

“How much, hon?”

You heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, someone was taking you seriously.

You reached for the door handle and tumbled right in.

“Any price, just name it,” you groaned. You rubbed your face with both hands and leaned back in the seat. Almost unable to believe your stroke of good fortune after so many failed attempts, you let out a shaky, but grateful, breath and spread your legs just a little to get comfy.

“Good,” the man to your left said, calmly, evenly...then, “Now put your hands where I can see them.”

You lowered your hands from your face and gave the stranger a puzzled look.

“What?”

“Hands, show me hands,” he said, voice raising ever slightly in volume.

What the fuck was he on? Staring you down with that stupid, self-righteous face, lip curled in a melodramatic snarl like he could’ve been one of those lousy fuckin’—

“Police,” he barked. Louder, this time. Flashing a badge before your panic-stricken eyes and clenching his jaw.

Your hands flew up instinctively.

Was it illegal to hail a cab now?!

You didn’t have time to think, or blink, or do much else besides breathe when the well-dressed man got out of the car and instructed you to do the same. Your hands and feet seemed to move of their own accord as you gingerly slipped out from the front seat of the car to the cold wintry night outside. You were pushed to your knees on the concrete sidewalk and made to kneel.

To your right, you saw a gaggle of college kids strolling by—some pointing, others laughing, but all watching in muted awe as the undercover cop circled to your back.

“You have the right to remain silent—” he started, reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.

“Excuse me?!” you hissed.

“—anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law—” he continued. A couple gentle clinks and suddenly your wrists were in chains.

“What’d I do? What the fuck did I do?”

“You have a right to an attorney,” he droned on, heedless of your cries as he read your Miranda rights, “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

You felt tears spring to your eyes as both cuffs locked into place and you were being hauled back onto your feet, sniveling and sobbing before throngs of amused onlookers. Your face burned with embarrassment.

“I didn’t know it was a crime, officer— I didn’t know, I swear— I-I-I’m so fucking drunk!” you blubbered as he guided you swiftly to the rear of his car. You practically bawled when he opened the back door.

“I just really needed a taxi!” you wailed, legs shaking as he started to lower you into the vehicle.

At that, he stopped.

He tugged you back on your feet and spun you around.

“A what?” he asked.

“A taxi,” you cried, “All the other drivers kept— kept driving away, I thought, I-I don’t know, I thought you might be another Uber driver or something.”

The man’s expression betrayed a change, though you couldn’t decipher just what that was through your tears. You sniffled and tried to wipe your cheek with your shoulder but ended up smearing more makeup in your line of sight. You whimpered at a pathetic pitch.

“Taxi,” the police officer repeated, seeming to mull over the word in his mind like it was the latest addition to the English language. He frowned.

Through your tear-streaked vision, you could just then detect the faintest trace of affliction…even remorse? His eyes wavered between your face, your ensemble, and the ground below, making a couple quick circuits before finally settling on your wet, bleary gaze.

His voice sounded strained to you now.

“You weren’t…trying to have sex with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You coughed, blinked, looked the man up and down and hardly knew to even shake your head with how blind-sided you felt.

“W-What? What?”

“You’re not…a prostitute?” the man said, almost pained.

That query threw you for a loop just the same. You pressed your weight on the car and sensed a strange unsteadinesses seize your limbs. This undercover cop thought you were a hooker—and a cheap one at that, game for any price the man was offering—and presently, you felt queasy. You looked down at your outfit.

It surely wasn’t that revealing, was it? He couldn’t have been so easily convinced of your profession by a...pair of glossy go-go boots, latex skirt, and lacy top, right?

Okay, you looked a little bit like a hooker.

Worse yet, you noticed a wad of cash stuffed between your left tit and armpit, from the time you tried to bribe the bouncer for a ride while leaving the bar. A loose cigarette stuck behind your ear, two hickeys suckled into the skin of your neck, and a teensy bag of blow to boot, tucked haphazardly between an assortment of Trojans and Magnums strewn lazily throughout your purse.

Alright, you could’ve been cast in the next Pretty Woman remake, but who cares? Half the girls in the club were dressed just as scantily, if not more so.

You somehow mustered the strength to squeeze your hands into frozen little fists behind your back and gave the officer a brazen look.

“Think I don’t have anyone better to fuck?” you scoffed.

The detective’s expression went from inscrutable to uncomfortable in fewer than two seconds. He seemed hardly able to look you in the eye any longer, casting sidelong stares at the crowd growing larger on the sidewalk. Collective curiosity piqued at the sight of a cop and a would-be streetwalker making small talk outside of the club, he knew he had to get out of this. Quick.

“I’ll, uh, take ya home, ma’am,” he said under his breath.

Before you could either accept or reject his offer, he had your cuffs undone—discreetly—and your body shuffled hastily inside his car. You heard the door slam shut and saw the officer make quick strides toward the driver’s side. You raised both brows as soon as he re-entered.

“That’s it?” you quipped.

“What?” he returned as he started the engine.

“You make that hot-shot unlawful arrest in front of all those people, and you’re not even gonna say sorry?”

The man made every effort not to shoot you a look in the rearview mirror. Slowly, he pulled into the street.

“Well...y’know, you do look the part. But I’m sorry.” Proffering one of the most pitiful apologies you’d heard in your life, the detective fixed his gaze on the road.

You knew he was bluffing. The man was humiliated as shit, too coy to come clean with the fact that he’d just made an egregious error, and now offering you a ride all to make himself out to be the good guy—and quite possibly avoid a wrongful arrest lawsuit.

Maybe it was the residual amounts of alcohol still coursing through your veins or else the cocaine, but you couldn’t let the dipshit get off that easy. You scrambled your way up to the front of the car.

It was at that moment Detective Dixon sincerely wished he’d driven the squad car—complete with a cage, of sorts, to keep inmates locked away in the back seat—rather than his unmarked vehicle, to be making arrests that night. He stifled a groan when you plopped down in the passenger seat next to him.

“What do you mean, ‘looked the part,’ hm?” you quizzed, burning a hole through the side of his head with how intently you were watching him.

“Put yer seatbelt on,” the man rolled his eyes, attention never straying from the long line of cars ahead of him, “And where do you live?”

“Over on ‘Fuck 12’ Avenue, Officer...Dixon?” you answered sarcastically, scanning his chest for a nametag.

“Detective,” he corrected, “Friends call me Daryl.”

“Detective Dixon, I am not your friend.” You smirked, and for the first time, you thought your discomfited front-seat companion might be tempted to crack one too. You watched him fight his base instincts, however, and force a frown instead. Still not tearing his gaze from the road, he reached over, blindly, for your seatbelt.

“C’mon now, buckle up,” he urged, echoing the words of a concerned father but somehow making it sound far more sexy when he said it. You swallowed a giggle and swatted his hand away.

“Detective!” you feigned an offended gasp.

“Ah, hush up, will ya?” Daryl muttered as his broad, veiny hand continued fumbling for the seatbelt, “You know it’s against the law to— shit!”

The two of you simultaneously leapt in your seats with near-identical sounds of...shock. You, feeling his fingers accidentally graze that tender spot between your legs and him, in turn, finding it unclothed. And soaked.

Detective Dixon retracted his hand just as fast as he’d sunk it in place, only holding it up in the air for an instant—but that was all either of you needed to see that his digits were glistening. You clamped your legs tight together and sucked in a breath.

Under any normal set of circumstances, you would’ve been much more in tune with the way your body was reacting to external stimuli. With all the commotion of your almost-arrest and the subsequent desire to exact revenge on the undercover detective, you hadn’t even realized how physically aroused you were.

Still reeling from his touch, you sank back in your seat. Suddenly more conscious of your bodily fluids than ever before, and embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” Daryl blurted out in a hurry. Gripping the steering wheel and pretending not to notice the slight wet slip of his right hand.

You couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t dare to venture a look to see if you might.

Now this would make for one hell of a career-ending lawsuit, Detective Dixon thought with a grimace. Wrongful arrest, soliciting sex on the clock, making unwanted advances on a woman who was technically, in a sense, being detained in his car while he—

Jumped, again, the second he felt your hand on his own.

You were pulling his arm over to your side of the car.

When Daryl turned his head, he paled the instant he saw you bring his hand to your mouth. Watched you pucker your lips and move them over his still-damp fingertips. Then suck them inside your mouth, three at a time.

He nearly swerved off the road and took out six civilians.

“Eyes...on the road, detective,” you murmured quietly, words garbled by the obstruction of his fingers.

Daryl swallowed thickly, and then, reluctantly, turned his attention to the street. He didn’t see much of what was in front of him.

“13 Peachtree Place.” You plucked his fingers out of your mouth just long enough to tell him your address. Then you went right back to suckling down the skin, letting your tongue glide gently over the tender, slick digits.

Daryl stifled a groan. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Guided by the faintest idea of where your neighborhood was located, he pulled off onto a side road and tried hard not to let out a sound when you sucked his three fingers to the back of your mouth—and felt your throat seize just a little at the sudden intrusion.

You pulled him out of your mouth with a wet pop and started over his lap.

You, yourself, were hardly more aware of what you were doing than why you were doing it, a slave to your sensory impulses and a sucker for a man in brown slacks. You crawled across the lap of the plainclothes officer who’d accused you of ‘selling yourself’ just minutes ago, only to show him what you were happy to do, free of charge.

It wasn’t your most gloriously feminist moment, to be sure, but then again, when were you going to get another chance to fuck the police and get off scot-free like this?

You palmed Detective Dixon through his pants and smiled when he whined just a little.

“Bet you wish I was selling, huh? Wish I was some pretty little thing for you to use at your convenience?” you purred, stroking over him gently.

Daryl gritted his teeth but said nothing in return. He brought the car to a stop under a red light.

You didn’t like the quiet types. You squeezed him harder in your hand, felt his erection grow even larger between your fingers, and moved up to press a kiss on his neck, tasting tiny beads of sweat there.

“How badly did you wish I was a whore, detective?”

When you leaned in for another couple light kisses, you were startled to feel a hand at your own throat, jerking your face up to his.

“Already knew you were the second I saw you.” he returned, deadpan, before your wide and unsuspecting eyes.

When the light turned green, he released your neck and reached for the back of your head. You let out a muffled whimper as he shoved you down against his crotch, stiff as a rock underneath your cheek.

“Why? Does a whore wanna suck it?” he asked, pressing his foot on the gas.

At a moment’s notice, you were robbed of your slight dominant edge and made to grovel under his touch like a bitch in heat. Daryl rubbed your plush lips over the mound in his pants like he was proud to make you feel it. And you, yielding as ever, made no attempt to keep from being manhandled because, if you were honest with yourself, you knew that you wanted it that way. You smiled against the cotton blend of his trousers and made a soft moan along the fabric, letting him drag you by the hair any way that he pleased.

When he yanked your head up and the car came to another stop, you weren’t surprised in the least by the trail of saliva that followed your lips. You locked eyes with his steel blue set and grinned again, quite stupidly.

“Well?” Daryl pressed, giving your hair a sharp tug.

You thought the sight of your watering mouth and blissed-out expression would have sufficed for an answer, but clearly, he wanted more. You worked gracelessly over the belt buckle and zip beneath your chin, and had his cock freed in seconds.

The car sped up again. Detective Dixon’s grip tightened on your scalp.

The second your lips latched onto the head of his dick, you knew you’d be in for a bumpy ride. He hissed as soon as the warmth of your mouth enveloped him, gripped the wheel like a vice, and made sure to spare your throat no expense the second he came to a sloppy halt.

Either your car was in bumper-to-bumper traffic, or the man couldn’t drive for shit while getting road head. You’d put a large sum of cash on the latter if you had it.

Regardless, you bobbed your head up and down and tried your best to suppress the urge to gag when you could. It was tough work, flattening your tongue down his length, gripping his cock at the base, sucking hard until your cheeks hollowed out, and then bump went the whole fucking car, and suddenly your throat was forced to take four more inches in the span of a second.

You lifted your head to protest but were swiftly met with a firm hand holding it down. Keeping it down.

“You’re done sucking this cock when I say you’re done,” Daryl informed you sternly, sucking a breath through his teeth when you gagged around him once more.

He pulled you off just long enough to breathe—and answer a question.

“You live over by McGinty’s? Or MacManus’?”

“McVeigh’s,” you supplied in a shaky voice. No one ever got the Irish pubs around you right.

Daryl hummed and shoved you right back onto his dick, pretending to take no notice of the way you gripped his thigh or tried to groan, ‘Fucker’ against his shaft. Your oral cavity was presently flooded with cock, pre-cum, and saliva, and the longer you sucked, the harsher he got to pushing your head up and down. Your eyes stung with tears.

“In through yer nose, darlin’, almost there,” he hummed, smug as ever. Whether he meant you were close to your house or he was about to cum down your throat, you couldn’t be sure. Your mouth slipped and squelched gently over the man’s throbbing member and made tiny whimpers when you felt you might climax any minute.

In a clandestine act, you moved one hand down your body while you continued blowing Daryl’s brains out. You were half-cockdrunk and hardly more sentient than a sex doll, it seemed, but you could’ve sworn you were quite discreet about the endeavor between your legs. You had just grazed the slick wet seam of your slit, about to press two fingers to your clit, when a hand jerked at a clump of your hair. Hard.

As soon as your mouth was disconnected from his shaft, Daryl landed a tart slap on your cheek.

“My baby need something?” he said, almost tauntingly.

You blinked up at him, failing to understand, until he reached down and pried your hand away from your heat.

“If tha’ wet, greedy cunt needs sum’n, ya better tell me.”

You were amazed how deftly he appeared to maneuver the car now, just pinching your face between forefinger and thumb as he veered down winding streets. When you paused a second or two to answer, you were punished with another slap.

“Just wanted a touch,” you whined, trying to rub the cheek that was stinging and finding yourself outmatched by Daryl’s grip. He squeezed you even tighter.

“Then you say that next time. With your big girl words,” Detective Dixon grunted, bringing the car to a sudden halt and hauling you into his arms.

You looked small splayed across his lap. Perhaps even tinier just straddling one leg, as you were, body writhing beneath his touch and moans and whimpers bubbling up your throat one at a time.

When you looked around, you realized you were home.

Part of you wanted to bolt, for a second. Go sprinting up the lawn toward the safety of your home and jump straight under the covers, a place where you would be free to touch yourself as you pleased—no smug homicide detective breathing down your throat.

But, as you straddled his wide, beefy thigh and felt one gentle pulse of the muscle underneath, you knew you were done for. He saw just as clearly as you that your body was in need of release. Not from your fingers, not from his tongue, perhaps not even from the fat, throbbing cock that had been fucking your mouth the whole way home.

In this moment, all you needed was for him to bounce you on his thigh, let you ride, and make you cum.

Your expression must have looked exceptionally pathetic when you tried stirring your hips and felt two hands stop you cold in your tracks.

“What did daddy just say about big girl words, hm?” Daryl’s voice took on a tender lilt so unlike anything he’d said or done before that you almost didn’t hear the word ‘daddy,’ or think it strange at all. It seemed so natural playing off of his tongue.

“I need you, daddy,” you whimpered.

To say you were putty in his hands was still something short of the truth. You were damn near liquified underneath his touch, half-limp and wholly yearning as the man steadied you in place and began his delicate ministrations like you’d never experienced before.

The once callous, largely cruel law enforcement figure took on something of a gentle affect as he ran his hands up and down your body and let you ease yourself into his touch. There were kisses, caresses, and all sorts of soft little touches on your skin that made you feel pampered and prized, even precious in his eyes. Was this really the same man whose cock had been choking you to the point of tears just minutes ago?

Daryl hiked your skirt up your hips until the sight of your bare, needy cunt was all he could see. Still, he stayed cool and trained his eyes up to yours.

“How’s that feel, honey?”

Even as still as a stone, you felt sparks of hot energy fly up from your center. Remembering your big girl words, you replied, ‘So good, daddy, I just need some more.’

Daryl seemed happy to oblige his good little girl and made sure to shift his knee a little to the right. At the slightest bit of friction, you moaned.

“Oh, daddy,” you whined, leaning in to that praise-heavy dynamic Daryl seemed keen to play out. When he bounced his foot once or twice, shaking your whole body as he did, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and grabbed hold of his thigh. Even rolled your hips right back to his movements.

As light, tender sounds tumbled past your lips with increasing frequency, so too did Daryl’s mouth impart more gentle kisses and dirtier words for your ears to hear:

“Such a pretty little thing, ridin’ daddy’s thigh like tha’.”

“Grindin’ tha’ needy wet pussy all over my leg.”

“Gonna make a mess fer daddy? Show me how much my sweet girl’s been needin’ a good fuck?”

You loved every last filthy syllable. You braced hard against his leg and rutted up and down, in circles all around until you thought you could’ve soaked his whole pant leg. Meanwhile, he was bouncing his thigh, stroking your sides, and making sure you were never wanting for affection or praise as a soft swell of pleasure came dimly into view.

When he flattened one palm across your tummy and told you to lean back, you knew the end wasn’t far from sight.

Daryl took hold of your hips and made an even quicker cadence with his leg, bouncing you fast and hard and hopelessly tight against his thigh as he drank in every one of your moans coming out.

You pressed one hand to the window—long since fogged up and opaque with the hot breaths you were panting—and placed the other on Daryl’s shoulder.

You could tell by the glint in his eye and the grin on his face that he loved you like this. Spread out and desperate for release as you rocked your hips a vicious course over him, using his body for leverage as you fucked his leg for all it was worth.

“Tha’s my girl,” Daryl beamed, practically scintillating with joy.

He watched you rut your hips again and again in the most obscene sort of fashion, riding his thigh with a moan never far from your lips. You squeezed his shoulder.

“Daddy, I—” you started, only to swallow your words with a whimper the second Daryl started bouncing his foot even faster.

“Daddy what?” he teased, pretending not to notice the elevated pitch to your whines.

“Fuck— you know what!” you cried.

“Nah, pretty baby, I ain’t got the slightest clue,” Detective Dixon was exuberant now, grinning from ear to ear as the pleasure visibly mounted inside of you, “Fuck my leg a little harder and tell me how it feels.”

You did. He helped. Even gripped your hips and moved them for you, keeping that breakneck pace as you moaned and writhed and sank your nails into his shoulder as the feelings just got to be too much.

With one last strangled cry, you came all over his thigh.

And, whether that climax lasted two seconds or two hours, the man beneath you didn’t really care—he kept bouncing his leg as you finished, and long after you had, as well.

You seized both of his shoulders this time as you tried to slow his movements. He made no such effort to oblige, only flashing a smile and nodding his big, dumb head as he said:

“I want one more.”

What? No fucking way, you thought, communicating as much through your frantic eyes and the shake of your head. Daryl kept right on moving his leg and holding you firm to that mile-wide wet spot on his thigh, which only grew larger and larger the longer you rode him.

As a bizarre, unfamiliar feeling sank to the pit of your stomach and twisted, you weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or cum all over again—luckily, your body decided for you and graced you with yet another orgasm. You gritted your teeth and tried not to scream as a wild wave of a new sensation washed over your senses…

And Daryl kept bouncing that fucking knee.

Mind-numbing waves of ecstasy came crashing closer and closer than ever before, and frankly, you couldn’t quite tell how, or when, you’d ever cum again until you did it, you felt it: walls clenching back and forth while your vision blurred with pleasure. A sound wavering somewhere between a scream and a plea—Daryl, keep that goddamn knee to yourself, for fuck’s sake!—tore out of your chest and prompted you to sink all ten nails into flesh that told your sly detective it was time to stop.

Your whole frame was shaking by the time his foot came to rest. If you hadn’t been so fucked-out and sensitive, you just might’ve jumped out of the car the second it did.

But you didn’t. You stayed frozen in place, let your vision return apace, and didn’t let your eyes stray an inch from Daryl’s smug face while your third orgasm subsided.

Fighting every urge to giggle when he squeezed your ass and begged for another.

“Fourth one’s gonna cost ya, asshole.”

“Oh yeah?” Daryl said, grinning, “What’s your price?”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #smut

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love-toxin · 2 months

Note

billy brainrot🤭 xxxi. "You're mine. Get that through your dense little brain." with him after a breakup!! pretty please

took me 1001 years to finish this but here i am babey

(cws: violent behavior, jealousy, toxic relationship, gn pronouns + fem nickname, possessiveness, post-breakup sex, needy billy, vaguely dubcon, shower sex, pet names, gaslighting)

Billy broke it off with you, not the other way around. He should not be the one banging on your front door, waiting by your car to catch you on the way to work, bothering you at your job to try and talk to you--and he especially should not be sabotaging your dates with other guys by showing up and causing a scene.

Punching your car window and dragging your date out to get into a fistfight with him? It's about as mature as a twelve year old's attitude. It was a first date too, not even that serious.

But that's just Billy. Just like it's quintessential for him to act all offended afterwards, like he's the one that's been put out cause you got mad at him. Then he starts up with the sweet talking, the "c'mon, mama", the kissing on your neck and telling you he missed you when you know he was messing with at least three other girls just this week. There's no reasoning with him, nor any point in entertaining his immature frame of mind. He's messed up and violent--a dangerous and unlikely-to-last cocktail for a partner.

Yet it's no surprise that you ended up in the showers with him, the pool empty and the parking lot dark since it's well close to midnight. You shouldn't have forced him to sit down with the first aid kit when he refused to go to the hospital for his cuts and that sprained shoulder--"'m not a pussy"--he said. It's different once the hot water hits his body, when he's got his hands bracing the wall behind you and his eyes burning a hole through your skull.

"You're mine." He growls over the hail of thudding water on linoleum. His skin burns as it slides over yours. "Get that through your dense little brain."

His muscles pin you like a brick wall against the shower, too broad and too strong for you to possibly resist. He slides your thigh up his hip to hook your leg around it, using the leverage to bump the tip of his rock-solid cock against you. That kiss he gives you is searing.

"Billy," You moan between kisses, your sentence finishing in a gasp as he slides in with a smirk. "You're an ass."

"You love me."

Thump. "No I don't." Thump. Each thrust knocks your head back against the tile, but Billy's hand creeps up to cushion it on the third time onward.

"You'd bite my dick off right now if you didn't."

"Nnh. I might still do it," Your warning comes with absolutely no venom, not nearly enough to wipe that grin from Billy's face as he gets exactly what he wants. Your answer makes him chuckle while he repositions you, hikes your other leg up with a grunt to hold you up against the shower wall. With both hands free you can cup his face as he makes out with you, adding to his perception that this is really what you wanted all along as your touches reminisce on a time not so long ago. When fucking in the pool room showers was a daily occurrence, tending his wounds was a kindness, and hearing him say 'I love you' felt like it actually had some meaning. Now it just feels like it's meant to placate you.

"Put on a condom, at least, you animal." You mutter amongst the sounds of skin slapping, tongues meeting teeth, and your back hitting the wet tile.

"I love you." He murmurs back. His voice rumbles against your throat, preceeding a soft but stinging bite that leaves a mark behind. You've got no idea what that answer means, but maybe it, too, means nothing. He could just be ignoring you for all you know.

"I'll pull out, baby. Y'know I will." Billy nips at your lower lip when he finally raises his head from your neck, having not had enough of using his teeth, evidently. "C'mon, mama. Love you."

"Quit it." That nickname hits you in the chest like a hammer on cloth, more than even those promises of love. He liked to tease you with that, then it became a term of endearment. You've always cared for him; reassuring his difficult emotions, cooling his anger, tending his wounds, even cooking for him and giving him affection in the simplest ways. Maybe that's why he's not letting you go. He can't do any better, but he can't let go of the only comfort he can find.

"That's it, baby..." He's losing himself now. His thrusts are aggravated, growing more aggressive as he reaches the finish line. His eyes squeeze shut and his grip tightens on your hair as his hips buck faster. "Squeeze down on it. That's it--that's, there--oh, fuck!"

The end comes as a surprise, a sudden moment of pleasure that overwhelms his ability to hold out. Billy's weight presses into you and you know--you just know by that distinct pulse inside you--that he's not pulling out like he said. Your nails dig deep scratches up his back as he closes in on it, harshly pressing your hips completely still as he forces himself past that one, last boundary that could've still allowed him an out. Now there's no choice but to drain himself inside you; cum splattering in thick drops down the drain as your legs tremble with pleasure. He always manages to get it on the last try--triggering your orgasm like it's a switch at the last possible moment. But he never misses, not even once.

Now it's sinking in. You're floating off your feet, barely able to stand when he finally lowers you down, and you have to let him hold you just so you don't fall. As much as you want to push him away, he made it so you need him to rely on. Again. And you don't feel as bad about it as you should.

"Break up with that dickhead." Billy growls into your ear, suddenly riled up again--probably over his own thoughts more than anything else. The way he has to tilt his head down just to reach your ear is a new level of intimidating...and regrettably, incredibly hot. "We need to get back together."

"You'll change your mind once your brain evicts itself from your dick." You mumble dismissively, nudging his arm down so you can grab a towel. But he stops you--he blocks you back under the water, his mouth barely a hair's width from yours as he whispers.

"I want you back, baby."

"This was a mistake. It was a first date anyways, weren't even 'together' in the first place...and I still don't want you back."

"Doesn't change the fact that I love you. We fit together." He murmurs into another kiss that you less than reluctantly accept. A lock of your hair curls around his bronzed skin as he twirls it round his finger. "Think about it, at least. I know you want it."

"Why the hell would I?"

"Cause you can't last a week without fucking me." That, at least, is true. But that doesn't...mean anything. Plenty of people backslide, it doesn't mean you're still in love with him. You turn your head in a pout and he smirks at the idea that he's right.

"I like your dick. Not you."

"Then take it every day." He grabs your hand and moves it over his crotch, just to laugh when you yank it away and slap him. It's not hard. Much less hard enough to make him feel anything but affection at how feisty you still are. "You're still mine. My pretty little slut-"

As he whispers low in your ear you finally break away from him, just barely stepping out of the shower when he grabs your ass on the way out. You have to wrench his wrist off to get him to let go and that's fortunately enough for him, but it doesn't change the downright predatory stare he gives you as he watches you dry off and get your clothes back on in a hurry.

"Come by the quarry later. Tomorrow. Let's have some fun in our old spot."

"Don't count on it."

You're done up and out the door before he knows it. Your car revs up in the parking lot outside before peeling out like a madwoman--and he can only imagine the way you're yelling and hitting your steering wheel as you drive, trying and failing to force your thoughts of him out of your head and the way that orgasm felt rippling through you, just as good as he always makes it feel.

He'll definitely be seeing you at the quarry tomorrow night.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #spicy writing #writing prompt #ellie writes #anons

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joelsgreys · 11 months

Text

Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

#to hell and back #to hell and back fic #joel miller #joel miller comfort #soft joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller series #Joel miller story #joel miller fic #Joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #Spotify

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anxi-aashi · 4 months

Text

ok i dont have the energy to put this into a fic rn but i CANT stop thinking about college au! childe almost walking in on you while you're getting yourself off.

like he'd still knock of course, but it would scare the absolute shit out of you. instead of hanging out with your roommates that he's friends with (who are most certainly NOT gathered in your room) he'd be all "hey pookie can i come bother you I'm bored," while you're fully sat on a dildo.

and bc you wouldnt want to seem suspicious, you'd say sure, just a sec! and immediately run to throw the sopping wet toy into your bathroom sink before letting him in.

and he's just too observant for his own good. "hey you ok? you seem out of breath" yeah because you were.... working out! "really? you're not sweating though?" CHILDE DROP IT OMFG but he wouldn't. he just asks so many goddamn questions and you honestly can't tell if he's just fuckign with you or if he's just genuinely concerned for you. what were you doing? pilates? so thats why you're walking a bit weird? how tf were you not sweating after pilates? oh you just started? well sorry to interrupt!

yeah.... you're sorry too -_-

but hes here now so you offer to watch a movie and hang out, nevermind the cum threatening to run down your leg. "sure! you pick smth out and ill go to the bathroom real quick!" he says and curse your post-orgasm clouded mind for not being quick enough to warn him bc now he's standing in front of you, dildo in his hand, looking at you knowingly.

youre mortified obviously. the two of you are cordial but not THAT close and god you can almost picture the slick and cum that's smearing all over his hand now. why is he holding it for fucks sake???

childe wouldnt be merciful either -- this is a fucking gold mine for him. "well, i guess this is a workout" and you would like the earth to swallow you up so that you don't have to look at him with that shit-eating grin that's creeping up his face.

hed switch the dildo to his other hand and start opening and closing his fingers together, making webs of cum string in between. "you said you just started?" no, you'd have to refute, that part was a lie.

"and you were getting off with this?" and now WHAT was that supposed to mean bc there was truly nothing wrong with the dildo size!!! it was perfectly fine, it did its job. sure it could be a tad bit longer, but you had bills to pay. he lets it go (with a judgemental eyebrow raise), but when he opens his mouth again to ask "what were you doing?" you almost wish he had kept making fun of your tiny ass toy. "were you using your hands or the suction cup?"

god he'd have a dangerous look on his face by now, lidded eyes looking at you like you were gonna be his next meal; pitching his voice just a tad bit lower just to see you squirm.

"you don't have to answer, but i would really, really like to know." aaaaaand there it goes. there's goes the last bit of your sanity bc huhh?? huuuuhh??? dear lord i would fully melt into a puddle we love a man that can make consent sexy.

fuck it, right? yeah, you were using the suction cup. "yeah? you like riding dick?" SHFBAN;DNSJF;F GODDDD

"you got any other toys?" yes sirrr yes I do, got a vibrator right over there in the nightstand. and duh now he's gotta follow up with "ever use both?"

which you have. who hasn't? but you usually only use it for quickies, you say. don't want it to be over too fast, ya know?

but then. thennnnnn he'd hit you with this: "you still horny?"

lorddddd you have NO idea, but you don't say that lest it get to his head (but lets be honest, he knows what he's doing; he knows how desperate he's making you). so he walks up to you, finally, and hands you your dildo, all sticky and starting to dry by now.

"well don't stop on my account."

and he plops down on your bed, manspreading just the tiiiiiniest bit to where you can see the tent in his pants.

which is how you find yourself back in your desk chair, thighs burning from fucking yourself on a dildo you now know is much smaller than whatever childe is packing while he just watches, palming his cock over his pants.

anyways gonna go work on my wips now lolololololololoolo

#snail.writes #snai.rambles #childe x reader #childe #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe smut #tartaglia smut #genshin impact smut

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toxicanonymity · 11 months

Text

Close (can read alone)

2.7k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master, joel

mood board by @milla-frenchy , stitches edit by @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you. Both arms are around you and one hand cradles your head. “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length. His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive. The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair.

SUMMARY: Two men come to the trailer before Joel gets home, and for a second, Joel thinks you're shot. He fucks you hard from the adrenaline. You give Joel stitches and tell him how you feel. Then you do it missionary (for the first time?)

WARNINGS: I8+; unsafe P in V (x2); light manhandling; canon-typical violence; angst; dark fluff; reader can sit on joel and her hair can be pulled; pet names and praise; no use of y/n.

One morning, Joel is making coffee and you're sitting in the nook by the window, behind the little kitchen table. He brings his coffee to the table and tells you he's going on a dangerous trip. It's all hands on deck, so he's gonna have to leave you by yourself. He hands you a gun. The same one you used on the girl.

He takes you outside. "Remember how to fire it?" He taught you how within days of when he first plucked you out of your life and set you in his. You stand up and show him how you aim it. He gets behind you and helps adjust your form, but it doesn’t need much adjusting.

After you lower the gun, he rests a hand on your head and says, "If somebody threatens you, tries to take you, tries to touch you, you shoot'em." You nod.

"Good girl."

You're scared about his plans. If Joel considers it dangerous, you can't even imagine. He's never said anything like this before, like something might happen to him, despite all the stuff you know he gets up to. He can tell you’re worried and asks what's wrong.

"What if you don't come back?"

"I'm gonna come back."

He doesn't come back that day, even well after you hear the vans return. You’re worried and don’t know what you’d do without him. If he’s hurt or in trouble, you want to help him. You want to find him even if it means you get hurt. You have this terrible thought, and you know it's irrational, but you can't push it away - you’d rather be with him and hurt than away from him unharmed.

You know it's risky to go down to the house with all the men there. You’re waiting for the vans to leave and thinking of walking down the hill alone when you hear unfamiliar footsteps outside the trailer. You get the gun ready and make sure the safety is off. When the footsteps are at the back of the trailer you peer out the front window and, thank God, in the flickering flood light, you see Joel crest the hill with a bloody face.

He sees you in the window and raises his rifle. His eyes sweep the area. You signal with your hands that there are guys around back. He holds out his hand as a stop sign then puts his finger over his lips. He raises his rifle and crouches down as he goes around the side of the trailer out of view.

You hear a gunshot and splatter, then a scuffle. Joel and another man are grunting. Joel interrogates him about whether there are any more of them around, landing a blow after each time he asks him. Then finally, another gunshot, but Joel doesn't come inside. You hear the sound of a body being dragged. It drowns out any footsteps. Your heart tells you Joel is alive, he's the one dragging the body, but you won't feel okay until you see him.

After at least ten minutes of silence, you can’t stand it anymore. He should’ve at least come to the window so you’d know he was okay. You creep out of the trailer, gun in hand, closing the door softly behind you. You go around to the side where you heard the struggle. There's still a body on the ground. You start looking for a trail - drag marks in the dirt, flattened grass. Something you could follow to get to Joel.

Then you hear a gasp and a groan behind you. You jump and shriek at the top of your lungs. You turn around and the "body" isn't dead, it's on its knees behind you, lunging for you. "JOEL!!!" you scream. Then you walk backwards, aim the gun, and fire a shot between the man's eyes. You run back to the trailer and crouch down hiding, suddenly afraid you might have attracted someone else's attention. The front of the trailer doesn’t provide any cover with that light on, so you hesitate to go in the front door just yet.

—-----

“SWEET PEA!” When Joel comes into view, he's running, holding his rifle, ready to shoot. There's a look on his face you've never seen on him before – fear. He looks panicked. "Oh, god," he says to himself before he sees you, then booms, "WHERE ARE YOU BABY?"

"Here," you croak and only then realize you're crying and shaking.

He rushes over to you and crouches down at your level. "You're okay, you're okay." You can see his pulse pounding in his neck. He puts his rifle behind his back and hugs you so tight it hurts, then grabs you, forcing you to your feet roughly. He drags you inside.

—---------

He sits you down on a chair at the kitchen table.

"What happened," he asks urgently as he takes off his gun. He pries the pistol from your hands.

"He wasn't dead." You take in the extent of Joel's facial injury, and he's bleeding badly from the forehead. You reach out to touch it and he dodges you.

"Why'd you go out there," he demands gruffly.

"Are you mad," you sob.

He takes in your face, then his expression softens and he shakes his head. " No," he says, still catching his breath. "Fuck, it don't matter sweet pea." He holds you by the back of the head and puts his forehead against yours for a few seconds. Your tears are dropping onto the hem of your dress, diluting a spot of bloodsplatter.

Joel pulls back, chest still heaving, and palms himself over his jeans. "C'mere," he says and urgently grabs you off your chair and pulls you into straddling him. He quickly wipes his own blood off your forehead with his thumb. You wrap your arms around his neck and he unbuttons and unzips his jeans. He takes his hard cock out, gathers saliva in his mouth, then looks down to his lap and spits on it. Then he wraps an arm around you, holding you into his chest, and lifts you up to get clearance. He pulls your panties to the side and you gasp as he impales you.

“You’re okay, baby” he whispers, more to himself than to you. He holds you with both arms around you with one hand cradling your head. “You’re safe,” he says as he brings you up and down his length, stretched by his cock. His grip around you tightens and his movements become more aggressive. The hand that cradles your head begins to fist your hair. He breathes vocally, then he groans as he forces you all the way down. He keeps you down, with all of him inside you, filling you all the way up. His hips rock up into you and he comes in record time, pulsing enormously against your walls, so many times you lose count. It's like he just needed to plant himself in you, feel that you're real, you’re truly still there, and claim you all over again.

He puts his head against yours as he catches his breath. Then he brushes your forehead with his thumb again and looks back and forth between your eyes. You don't let yourself try to kiss him. He clears his throat and says, "Go clean yourself up. I've gotta dump that guy. Won't take me too long."

"Ok."

"Lock the door." He helps you off his lap and when his cock slides out, a mess of cum comes with it.

—----

There’s blood and grime on your face from contact with Joel’s. You take a shower and lay down on the bed in your nightie. Joel staggers in wordlessly, locks the door, puts his gun down on the table, and goes straight to the bathroom. “Shit,” he mutters to the mirror. The sink turns on. While he's in the bathroom, you go to the kitchen table where he left the light on and you wait for him.

He emerges with a washcloth, bottle of liquor, sewing needles and thread, scissors and tape. The scissors are bloodstained. He haphazardly sets it all on the table, then sits down in a chair next to you. Now that the dirt is gone you can see he has quite a gash across his eyebrow and it's still bleeding. He's sweatier than you've ever smelt him.

"Can ya sew me up or got a weak stomach?" He pours some of the liquor onto the cloth and dabs his eyebrow. Then he takes a swig of it.

You don't want to sound too eager but you want nothing more than to help him. “I'll do my best.” You sterilize and thread the needle and he dabs the wound again, then lays his head on the table for you. He barely flinches as you stitch him up.

“You’ve done this before,” he says.

“Yeah.” You cut the string then dab the stitched wound with alcohol. “We shouldn’t tape it yet.”

He sits up and looks at you. “Do I look scary now?” he smiles.

You shake your head. It actually looks sexy.

"I was afraid you weren't gonna come home," you say. "I'm glad you did."

He scans your face and his eyes seem to glisten. “Me too, baby. C’mere.” He lets you into his lap facing him and he gives you a tight squeeze.

"I was scared," you whimper.

He strokes your back and says, "Shhhhh.”

You keep thinking, what if he didn't come home. You know he won’t say it back, but you still need him to hear it. You can't resist whispering, “I love you."

His body tenses. He pulls back and studies your eyes for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath. His voice is more gentle than his words. “Damnit, sweet pea.”

He gently nudges you out of his lap and you sit back down in the chair next to him. He takes your hand in his and looks down at it as he brushes his thumb lightly across your knuckles. When he looks at you again, he’s squinting. His mouth is moving like he's fighting with his tongue. He opens his lips, but doesn’t speak. You wait patiently for his rejection. His face hardens, then he looks you over.

His eyes and voice are soft, but his tone is cautionary and his words are careful. "You belong to me, baby. It’s not how you think."

That wasn't too bad. Somehow it wasn’t as bad as the time you kissed him. You could leave it at that, maybe offer a "yes sir" to show you understand the power dynamic, and move on with no harm done, but that's not what you do. You can’t resist protesting, "can't I belong to you and also love you?"

He's silent for a few more seconds as he reads your face then swallows. "Ain't gonna tell' ya what to feel," he grumbles and looks away again.

Against your better judgment, you continue, "but you don't love me, right? I get it."

He breathes in deeply through his nose and you worry for a second that you’ve pushed him too far again until his gaze meets your sad eyes. He's silent, but his eyes are reaching out for you. You can feel it: his heart won't let him say he doesn't love you.

He breaks the silence. "I think you're confused, baby. That's all." He brings your hand to his mouth, kisses it, tells you to go to bed.

By the time Joel finishes showering and getting ready for bed, you're half asleep. He doesn't put any clothes on before he comes to bed.

He throws the covers off, uncurls you from your fetal position, and puts you face-up on your back. You observe the silhouette of his naked body looming over you like you’ve never seen him before. He pulls your nightie off like he's undressing a doll. He’s hungry in a different way now. You can feel it in the way he’s moving. He gets between your legs and buries his face in your chest, nosing at your nipples then sucking them hungrily. His beard scratches you painfully, and it feels good, like anything from him.

He spits on his hand and reaches down between you to add it to your growing wetness and guide his tip inside you. He shudders as he shoves himself into you and bottoms out in one go, enrobed in what remains of his own cum and the tight hug of your walls. He retreats and your legs wrap around him. He plunges even deeper and grunts. He looks down at your face, but after a moment of eye contact he abruptly yanks his eyes up to the wall behind the bed. He braces a hand on the wall and curls his other hand over your shoulder, holding you down toward him to stop you from riding up the mattress and hitting your head with his powerful thrusts.

You gasp and moan and watch the outline of his naked body flexing each time he moves his hips forward. He’s spent from the day and night, you can tell. But he’s still releasing some kind of tension. and meanwhile, you feel it gradually building deep in your belly. After a few minutes of railing you, he pauses to rotate so you’re diagonal across the bed. He brings his forearms down on the mattress and fucks you missionary with his naked body on yours.

With his pelvis grinding into yours, the rub on your clit is nearly too much. He begins to bury his length in you slowly, except for the moment he bottoms out each time with an animalistic punch from his hip flexors.

“Joel,” you gasp. “I–Joel,” you whimper and your hips lift into him, seeking even more contact. The tension releases all at once. As your body writhes under his, you whimper his name again.

His face is hovering over yours as he continues to slowly fuck you through your orgasm. You restrain yourself from trying to kiss him. He gets up on his hands, triceps bulging. He hangs his head and watches your body take him, your breasts jiggling with each punch of his cock. Then he lowers himself again. He bites and sucks your neck, marking you up as his length fills you to the brim.

He whispers, “god damn, you feel good like this” then slides his hands palm-up under your upper back to hold onto your shoulders from underneath, resting his weight on his forearms. “Fuck,” he breathes and slams into you hard a few more times. Then he groans as he plunges to the hilt and begins to pulse. He lowers his bare chest against yours and slowly thrusts twice more as his balls empty. He rests some weight on you for a second and all your skin against all of his feels like something really special before he pulls out and rolls over onto his back.

He lies there apart from you for a minute, then whispers, “c’mere,” and slides his hand under your neck. You move closer and he pulls you right up against him. You’re facing away and your back is flush with his side. Your neck rests on his bicep and your head on his pillow. He falls asleep quickly.

You wake up in the middle of the night and he's holding you tighter than ever. "Joel, I can't – I can't breathe." You cough and pry his arm loose. He relaxes and you take in a deep breath as he presses a kiss into the back of your neck. A kiss he'll forget while the feeling lingers on your skin for days. You wish you could understand why, but you’ll take the kiss. You're still savoring it when he kisses your neck again. Then he gently cups your breast and sighs, "sweet pea," in his sleep.

--------

thank you so much for reading and engaging! your reblogs and comments and discussion mean a lot, ESPECIALLY SINCE IT GOT A LABEL RIGHT AWAY lol <3

#9 is planned / has a scene written.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @am-3-thyst @may-machin @pedromania91 @sloanexx @paleidiot

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal fic #dark!Joel Miller #possessive!joel miller #raider!Joel Miller #joel miller/you #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel #raider!joel miller #pedro pascal characters #tw flashing #pedrostories #the last of us #the last of us smut #content label

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kirislovelygf · 1 year

Text

love language (tsireya x omaticayan fem! reader)

contents: flirting, touching, wlw, kissing, crushing, lo’ak and y/n being twins and hating each other, mini Jake and neytiri, y/n’s a daddy’s girl, date nightt <3

wrd count: 1.7k

｡･:*:˚✰

it’s been just over two months since the sullys arrived. they’ve gotten used to the ways of the reef and the teenagers have all become great friends.

tsireya and y/n have been growing especially close, seeing as they have huge crushes on each other but are too oblivious to notice.

today was another teaching day. the metkayina friends were teach them sully siblings how to fish with crossbows.

aim was different under the water than it was to control on the surface, so the friends showed them how to use the tools above the water first.

y/n held her crossbow like it was a toy, touching it and not paying attention to how dangerous it could be.

tsireya noticed this and walked over. she put her hand on y/n’s arm and lowered it.

y/n looks at tsireya. “you’re going to poke your eye out.”

y/n chuckled. “sorry. okay, how do i use this?”

“do you see that fruit hanging from that tree up there?” tsireya points to a tree similar to a palm trees. she points to a hanging fruit a couple feet up in the air.

y/n nods and points the crowds now at it with one arm and terrible position.

tsireya couldn’t help but laugh softly. y/n looked at her. “what?”

“your posture is very bad. here, let me help you.” she said softly. she comes up closer to her side and straightens her back up.

tsireya gently placed her hand on the small of the girl’s back and the other went to lift up y/n’s arm arm.

the hand on y/n’s back slowly glided up to the upper back, causing y/n’s breath to hitch and her heartbeat quicken.

their cheeks were just barely touching and the tension was driving y/n insane. her eyes shift to look at tsireya.

“okay.. i think you got it.” tsireya said softly. she looks up at y/n and only then, she realizes how close they were.

she takes a step back as her breath hitched.

“uh.. go ahead. shoot.” she muttered. y/n stared at her for a moment before looking back at her target.

she watches it before shooting, hitting the fruit right square in the center. she smiled at her success and tsireya smiled back.

“great. now let’s see how you do with a moving target.” she said.

after helping the others, they moved to the water and spent the whole day over there.

 eclipse was creeping over the island and the kids were hungry and slugging their way to their maruis.

“i had fun with you today.” y/n said to tsireya as they walked side-by-side.

“me too, you are a very skilled hunter. better than lo’ak.” she chuckled.

“i know, right?” y/n laughed.

“back home, we would always get into competitions on who had the better aim. and we would bring baskets of food home, more than we knew what to do with.” y/n said, reminiscing about her life in the forest.

“it drove my dad nuts.” she chuckled.

“i’m sure you miss your forest.” tsireya said.

“yeah, i do. but today was like i was hunting in the forest. with my bow and arrow and competing against lo’ak again.” y/n smiled.

“that’s nice. i wish i could do more to help you feel at home.” she muttered.

y/n then looked up at the sound of the screech of a tsurak out on the reef. some hunters had come back and their tsurak’s screeches were familiar to y/n.

they were like the cry of an ikran.

“actually, there is.” y/n muttered.

“absolutely not.” tsireya said quickly. y/n looks down at tsireya.

“you don’t even know what i was about to say.”

“were you not going to ask if i could teach you how to ride a tsurak?”

“uh..” y/n stays quiet.

tsireya smiles. “okay fine, maybe not tsurak. but i know how to ride my ikran.”

“okay, so do that.” tsireya shrugged. they arrived to y/n’s marui and stood outside.

“how about you come with me? we can fly around the island.” y/n suggested.

tsireay stands before her with a curious glint in her eyes.

“is it safe?” she asked.

“of course it is. don’t you trust me?” y/n chuckled.

tsireay smiled softly. “okay, then.”

“meet me by the coral reefs tonight.” she added.

y/n nodded. “it’s a date.” tsireya smiled and looks down before walking away with her brother.

y/n watched as she waltzed away she sighs and lo’ak shoved her slightly as he walked into marui behind her.

“oh, sorry! didn’t see you there.” he said sarcastically.

“oh, i hope you wake up deaf and blind.” she grumbled.

“y/n.” jake barked.

“aw come on, you know i’m just joking, dad.” she smiled, sitting down beside him. he chuckled softly and rubbed her head affectionately.

y/n’s eyes shift to lo’ak. she has a smug look on her face and lo’ak plops down on his mat in the corner, defeated.

she’s a daddy’s girl and gets away with almost anything. and lo’ak hates it with everything he’s got.

｡･:*:˚✰

the night time arrives and y/n gets ready to leave.

“hey, dad?” she spoke up. him and neytiri were sitting at a fire in the middle of the marui, talking.

“you okay?”

“yeah, i was going to ask if i could see a friend. tsireya. the chief’s daughter?” she started.

jake laughed softly. “is she a friend.. or is she a friend?”

“uhh.. i don’t know yet. i kind of wanted to go and find out.” she winced.

he looks at neytiri and she just shrugs. “i am okay if you are okay.”

he looks back at y/n. “go ahead. have fun, be back in two hours.”

“thanks, you’re the best!” she hugs him and her mom before leaving the marui.

she called out for her ikran once she reached the beach and the pink and orange creature came flying down.

“seze! hi, girl.” y/n muttered. her ikran landed on the sand and screeched. y/n pet her head so she would calm down.

“hi, y/n.” tsireya spoke. y/n looked behind her and saw tsireya was standing behind a rock. she stared up at the animal.

“tsireya! come on, meet seze. she won’t bite.” she said.

tsireya nervously inched closer to y/n before she was standing right behind her.

“she was named after my mothers ikran. one she had when she was younger.” y/n said gently.

tsireya watches the animal in awe. she stared at it’s bold pink and orange patterned wings

“can i touch her?” she asks. y/n looks at her and nods.

“yes. here, let her smell you.” y/n takes tsireya’s in her palm and raises it up to seze’s nose.

she begins to sniff and tsireya smiled brightly.

“ikran are usually hostile but seze is calm. gentle.” y/n said.

tsireya started to pet her on her own and seze let her.

y/n walked around to her saddle and hops on.

“wait, where are you-“

“come on, you will not get hurt.” y/n holds out her hand to tsireya.

she eyed the animal.

“yes but.. i don’t know. i haven’t even begun to ride a tsurak.” she muttered.

“you can trust me. i promise, nothing will happen to you.” y/n smiled.

tsireya feels her heart begin to race. she agrees on an impulse. she takes y/n’s hand and she helps her up.

tsireya sat behind y/n and froze. she hasn’t prepared herself to be this close again.

y/n takes her queue and connects it to seze, making her screech.

“shh, it’s okay, seze.” y/n muttered sweetly.

y/n glanced back down at tsireya.

“hang on tight.”

“to what-“

y/n whistled and seze started shooting into the sky, over the reef.

tsireya wrapped her arms around y/n as tight as she could out of fear, her eyes screwed shut as the wind blew rapidly past her hair.

y/n whooped in excitement as seze flew over the glowing water.

“open your eyes!” y/n shouted.

“uh- okay.” tsireya opened up her eyes slightly to see the ocean from an angle she never had before.

seze swings up and upside down, making tsireya yel out.

“you’re safe, it’s okay!”

“uh.. okay!” tsireya responded.

y/n laughed out and flew higher. they glided over the island until y/n reached one of the smaller islands surrounding the mainland.

y/n jumped off and turned to help tsireya.

she took her hands and tsireya struggled to climb off for a moment and almost fell over. y/n wrapped her arm around tsireya to catch her.

tsireya gasped slightly at the sudden action and they locked eyes.

“sorry! sorry, you were about to fall.” y/n helped her down gently.

seze screeched and flew into the air again to rest on the mountains of the jungle.

“that was fun! i was terrified but i had fun!” tsireya laughed.

“see? i told you.” y/n chuckled.

tsireya laughs and sits down on the sand, sighing out happily. y/n takes a seat next to her and they gaze at each other.

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt that way with anyone.” tsireya admitted quietly.

“what way?” y/n asked.

tsireya sighs again and looks at the moonlit ocean. “free.”

y/n hummed. “you know how it is. you’re a chief’s daughter, too”

y/n laughed softly. “yeah, i know how you feel. my dad’s always on me about neteyam and i being the oldest.”

tsireya smiled and they look at the ocean again.

“flying is so much more fun in the forest though.” y/n muttered.

“i bet it would be. with all those trees and vines and.. bugs.” tsireya added.

“bugs?” y/n chuckled.

“yes!”

they look into the ocean before tsireya looked at y/n.

“maybe one day you could take me. and show me around. climb the trees, sit in the moonlight with the animals..” tsireya shrugged.

the girls were seated closer to each other, thigh-to-thigh, holding their legs up to their chests while still slightly out of breath from the trip.

y/n looks down at tsireya and smiled at the glistening her eyes.

“that’d be amazing.” she muttered.

they grew lost in each other and leaned in close enough to kiss.

y/n’s hand went up to hold tsireya’s face as she kissed her again passionately.

after that night, flying around the island and then relaxing to talk on the mini island became mandatory for date night.

a/n: they’re mini jake and neytiri except they’re gay 🫶🏽

#writing blog #atwow fluff #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water #tsireya x you #tsireya x reader #tsireya #tsireya x y/n #atwow tsireya #atwow #writers #wlw blog #wlw post #wlw love #sapphic #avatar #tsireya avatar

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secret-sturniolo · 7 months

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my hero - chris sturniolo

summary - when a guy at a party makes y/n uncomfortable, chris comes to her rescue

warnings - creepy men, implied crimes, mentions of alcohol, one kiss

a/n - sorry for not posting for a few days, i have been busy with school and work. im hoping i can write some more this weekend for you guys. i also hit over 50 followers. crazy!!

When my best friends Nick, Matt, and Chris invited me to come to this Halloween party with them in LA, of course I said yes. I went as the Queen of Hearts. My costume was more revealing than the clothes that I normally wear, but since it was Halloween, I decided why not have some fun? The triplets all went as Scream characters because I told them it would be cute if they matched, and of course they listened to me. I was already at the triplets house, so once I was done getting ready in Nick's room, I walked back downstairs to where everyone else was. I was met with wide eyes and surprised looks, as I hadn't told any of them what I was dressing up as.

"Girl, you look amazing!" Nick excitedly told me.

Matt just smiled, and I tried not to blush as I felt Chris's gaze on me, taking in every inch of my body. When he noticed I had caught him looking, he just gave me a small smirk. Once we were all ready, Matt started the car and drove us all to the party. I decided to sit in the back seat, but I was surprised when Chris gave up his normal seat in the front to Nick so he could sit by me in the back. We quietly talked and giggled with each other the whole way there. At one point, Chris leaned over closer to me and whispered in my ear.

"You look really good tonight."

I smiled, my cheeks turning red. "Thanks Chris, you don't look to bad yourself." I replied.

When we got to the party, it was busier and louder than I was expecting for a house that was on the smaller side, but I put my worries to the side and decided I was going to have some fun. Of course there was alcohol being served, but since neither me nor the triplets drink, we all grabbed sodas instead. At some point, we got split up, and because of the loud music and people dancing everywhere, it was hard for us to find each other. I had to use the bathroom, so I started to make my way upstairs. I discovered that there was a short line, so I leaned up against the wall and pulled out my phone to pass the time. I jumped when I felt a hand against my lower back, dangerously close to my ass.

"Hey pretty lady. What are you doing here all alone?"

I looked up to see an older man I had never met before, alcohol on his breath. I moved away to try and get his hand off of me. Instead of taking the hint, he roughly grabbed my arm and pulled me back, closer to him.

"Where do you think you're going? You're coming with me, I can't leave a pretty girl like you all alone."

"Get your hands off me you freak! And I'm not here alone, I'm here with my friends, so I'm good!" I yelled at him. I guess he didn't like that, because he pulled me even rougher towards the nearby bedroom that must have been unlocked.

"Shut up now, if you know what's good for you!" he whisper-yelled in my ear.

I was not about to let this man get what he wanted. That's when I saw Chris out of the corner of my eye. I screamed for him as loud as I could.

"Chris! Help!"

Even through all of the noise, he turned immediately, pushing through the crowd to get to me. When he reaches us, he shoves the man away from me.

"Hey, what are you touching my girl for you fucking creep!" he says.

My girl? I thought, briefly confused but I went with it.

"You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend. What a shame!" The creepy guy replied. This got Chris even more mad.

"If I see you touch another woman like that, we are going to have some real problems." He turned to me. "Y/n, let's get out of here."

He grabbed my hand and led me away before the other man even had a chance to respond.

"Chris, thank you so much." I told him sincerely.

"Of course, he had no right to do that to you. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"I mean, I might have a bruise on my arm from how hard he grabbed me, but otherwise I'm fine. Just shaken up, that's all."

He didn't reply, but squeezed my hand tighter, letting me know he heard me. When we got to the car, Matt and Nick were already waiting for us. Chris must have texted them already.

"Y/n, are you okay? I'm so sorry that guy was such a creep." Nick said to me, pulling me into a hug.

"It's okay, but I think I'd just rather go home now." I told them. Matt nodded, getting into the drivers seat and starting the car. The whole way home, Chris's grip on my hand didn't loosen.

*time skip until they get home*

When we got back to the boy's house, Chris motioned for me to follow him to his room downstairs.

"If it's okay with you, I think you should stay here tonight. I don't want you to be alone."

I nodded. "Thank you, Chris. So much. I don't even want to think about what that man wanted to do to me."

Chris slowly walked over to me.

"Y/n, I want to make sure no man ever touches you like that again." he says looking into my eyes.

"What are you implying?" I asked him, secretly hoping it was what I thought it was.

"I'm saying that if you were my girlfriend I wouldn't let anybody else treat you like that." He smiles mischievously.

"Is this you saying you want to date me?" I retort.

"Well, what would you say?"

"Maybe this will answer your question." I say, cupping his cheek and I kiss him passionately. He immediately kisses me back, wrapping his arms around me.

"Looks like I have my answer."

#chris sturniolo #fluff #matt sturniolo #angst #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets imagine #imagine #fanfic #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #y/n #chris sturniolo x y/n #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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yzeltia · 2 months

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Closer to You

Chapter 1 Characters: Natus Obinata, @driftward 's Zoisstte Vauban, Y'zel Tia Rating: T for angsT Notes: N/A

Natsu brushed at her skirt as she watched the Elezen weakly sit upright. She wasn’t sure what to make of the woman, especially after the fuss that had been made over her over the weeks the Au Ra had spent doing odd jobs for Gage Acquisitions. Mixed emotions seemed to be thrown about in regards to the woman landing somewhere between anger and relief. Still, Echo after Echo put Y’zel in proximity to her.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ser Vauban. I’m sorry to interrupt you during your recovery but I believe you are the best chance of helping me find my big brother,” Natsu said, bowing deeply before taking a seat with her legs crossed, debutante training kicking in.

The Elezen looked up, eyes narrowing as she made out Natsu’s features.

“Ser Vauban? You do not seem of Ishgard…nevertheless. I know few Au Ra, and you do not seem related to any of them. If you are making a records request, Yesuntei…” Zoissette trailed off, “...I have no idea if Yesuntei still handles that kind of thing. Well. Dark certainly should.”

Natsu shook her head, “Apologies again. Leonnioux referred to you as such. He, and many others, said you might have a better idea where Y’zel Tia might be. As for Miss Autumn and Miss Kagon, I’ve already made my inquiries there.”

Zoissette sat up, eyes widening in surprise as she said, “Wait. Y’zel?”

The woman looked to the foot of her bed, then back to the Au Ra with an odd look.

“You said you were searching for a brother.”

“Yes, it was a surprise to me too. Perhaps he’s mentioned his adopted father, Raiden Obinata? I am apparently his daughter and in my search for him, I found out he raised a Miqo’te boy: your protege.”

Zoissette lowered her head and frowned.

“Oh. Ah. Well…this is…unfortunate.”

Natsu frowned in turn, silence slowly creeping up between them as the Elezen collected her thoughts.

“But Leonnioux sent you to me? That is most unusual. Are they - are they still together?”

“As far as I know. He was rather…offput by my arrival,” Natsu explained before going quiet.

She had struck the man when she’d Echoed off of him. She had felt all of his boyhood resentment of her father, the superiority, the loathing. The act had come out of shock on her end. Even hit, the man was deeply apologetic for his actions as a young man. She shivered as she tried to shake the memory of it off.

“I mean to say, it was a bit of a shock to him. Afterward, he was more than amenable in making sure I was settled in. He says Y’zel’s work takes him from here quite often; however, it seems his usual points of contact have not heard from him directly, though others have witnessed him around. Since he does not appear to be in apparent danger, there doesn’t seem to be a need to follow up with him. Still, I wish to meet him. I have many questions, and something for him,” she explained, hand resting on her pocket before pulling out a letter with the royal Doman seal, “this needs to be placed in his hands.”

Zoissette sat back a little, thinking for a moment. A groan escaped her as she recognized the seal, eyes returning to the edge of her bed where she’d seen Y’zel resting in her bouts of lucidity during her early recovery.

“I am…unfit for the duty that would call for at this point. Y’zel has been here…up until recently, fairly often. I assumed he was finally looking after himself rather than me.”

Natsu blinked at the reaction, and as she put the letter away she followed the woman’s eyes to the edge of the bed again.

“Is something amiss?”

“Many things, I begin to suspect. I should have noticed the change in pattern,” Zoissette explained before moving to the edge of the bed, “...give me a hand, will you? I wish to stand up for a moment.”

Natsu nodded, happy for a chance to get close. “I’ll do my best. I’ve noticed that my stature gets in the way of assisting with these sorts of things.”

Standing, she moved to the woman’s side, letting her use her small frame as leverage. On contact, she closed her eyes, letting her Echo kick in.

Natsu found herself in an office she recognized as her own, feeling a strong sense of togetherness about her, but also, that it was somehow fragile. A layer of self-doubt between her solid exterior and a willful core. Across her desk a strange Miqo’te stood, bowing politely.

“Did you..um, were we scheduled for an appointment?” she sounded out, breath bitter with tea.

“No, Ser Vauban. I was instructed to make myself useful to you by Mr. Gage. Where my talents lie in curation, it does make me an excellent researcher. I believe that was what the boss intended, sending me to you. I am Y’zel Tia.”

Natsu felt her heart skip a beat for just a moment, looking over the young man but dismissing whatever notion of familiarity came over her. It felt important that Y’zel’s hair was pink and not white. Her hands folded on her lap as she watched the young man’s tail swish behind him, eyes wide upon her.

“So… you are going to be my paralegal.”

“It seems that way, Ser Vauban.”

She hesitated to accept. There was an earnestness about the Miqo’te; however, in her experience, Miqo’te were often trouble.

“Please, just Zoissette. I do not need to be addressed like an Ishgardian.”

“Ah. I’m sorry. I’m from Isghard myself, you see-”

“When did you start looking for him?”

Natsu found herself mechanically leading a wobbling Zoissette toward one of the Allagan terminals as the woman pulled her out of the vision. She furrowed her brow, having not gathered anything useful.

“A week or so. I apparently came through a day after he’d left for whatever business he went on. Lennioux has let me room behind the Final Pillar thinking my stay would be brief, but days have become sennights. Y’zel has not returned, or if he did, I have been unable to intercept him. I’ve reached out to his other partner, Claudien? I’ve not received a formal response but his assistant did write to say that I’d be notified as soon as there was news.”

“That would be Claudien. Well…it is reassuring to know his relationships yet survive. Less reassuring that they do not know where he is. Though everyone is right - it is not unusual for us to just disappear for sennights or even moons at a time. Adventurer lifestyle. But most people tell someone where they are going, and Zel does not tend towards secretive…” Zoissette said, fingers playing along the controls as she looked up her care rotation spreadsheet to see when Y’zel was last in, “Perhaps Ioh-juhn. Or- have you talked with his cousins?”

“His family did not seem to have regular visits in Sharlayan, and did not spare words on telling me how they felt about that. As for Archon Y'shtola; I did not want to bother her. She seemed rather transfixed upon her care of you and did not permit me to visit until recently.”

Zoissette smiled, just for a moment, before sobering back up.

“It is unlikely, but she may have been the only one he checked with before leaving. I will survive five minutes without a nursemaid…though, since you are already speaking with me, I will ask her. Do you have a linkpearl?”

Natsu shook her head as she led Zoissette back to her sickbed, huffing in frustration as she failed to pick up another Echo off of her. The Elezen settled back into bed, her attention upon the young Au Ra.

“I did not mean to come here and give you the third degree. I do not yet have a linkpearl. Honestly though, I just hoped to be pointed in a meaningful direction.”

“This is fine. You are concerned for a lost family member, and now I am a little concerned as well. On your way out, check in with Silent Coeurl - that is the front desk manservant you should have had to speak to to get down here. Tell him I asked for you to be placed on rotation, and for a linkpearl. It would be prudent to be able to contact you should I or anyone else find anything.”

Natsu nodded, unsure how she felt about nursemaid being added to her growing resume under the strange company. Her attention returned to Zoissette as she continued to speak.

“As for meaningful direction…I am sorry. I was only dimly aware of Zel’s presence while I was in my early recovery. I do not think we spoke meaningfully before he left. Last I saw him was there…,” she trailed, gesturing to the end of her bed, “...probably.”

“I shall speak with Mr. Coeurl when he is available then,” she answered, looking to the spot in confusion, “As for direction, well, I was just hoping you might know where he would go. Anywhere that isn't expected.”

“Well. It is not often in the nature of our work to really have any regularity. We go where we are needed, or from whither the siren song of adventure calls!...to be poetic about the matter. Hmn. I am thinking…he was most often near me, when we were still peers in the legal office. Frequent trips to Sharlayan, for business and personal reasons. I know he would frequent the Great Gubal Library…” Zoissette said before reflecting a moment, before murmuring, “...but Doma?”

The girl laughed, “How unfortunate that we’d be ships passing. As I understand it, he would not easily be awayed to my side of the world. Why would you think for me to check back there?”

Zoissette shook her head, “I apologise. I was unclear. I do not think you should check there, I was just thinking of the seal on that letter you showed me. Exceedingly unusual. I mean, he serves extraordinarily well- served, anyroad- in his role as our curator. He has a knack for identifying counterfeits and determining authenticity. But typically the artifacts come to us or we go to them in the field less frequently.”

“That is…a nicer description than what Mr. Gage gave me of his work.”

Zoissette’s face didn’t crack as she continued to reflect, “well some things do not change. Anyroad, if someone in Doma had such business, why, I think they would come here rather than ask him to go there….Ah! I am being foolish. I even asked if you had a linkpearl which means one avenue is closed to you- let us try the simple thing, shall we?”

Zoissette pressed a linkpearl into her ear, then after a moment shook her head and set it aside.

“He is not responding.”

“The same as the rest then. He did not answer for Leonnioux either.”

“Hmh. That is…that is so unlike what I remember of him. From what everyone has said, he has been one of my near constant companions since I returned. Why would he suddenly disappear, and without a word to even his paramours?”

“Yes. In passing the Lady Archon referred to him as a erm…hanger on or something of that ilk? It seems I’m back to square one again though. I suppose I should confront…Claudien, directly.”

Zoissette sighed and laughed, placing her hand in her palm, “Oh, Shto-”

Natsu raised her brow at the woman.

“Uhm. Yes. The Archon can be a bit, uh, Well! You always know where you stand with her, for she will speak nothing that is not her truth.”

“I see. I should let you rest. Though, if you think of anywhere else I should look I’d request you send word,” Natsu answered, giving a deep bow.

“I shall certainly do so. And if you find Zel, kindly ask him to check in with the people he cares about and who care about him….I think we have had enough of…,” Zoissette started before shaking her head, “ …nevermind. Just tell him. It was a pleasure to meet you- oh. What did you say your name was, again?”

“Natsu Obinata.”

“Of course. A pleasure to meet you, Natsu Obinata. And you may call me Zoissette.”

Natsu smiled, “I shall. I hope we can work together in the future once I’ve found Y’zel.”

“...ah. Yes. Perhaps we might. Good luck.”

Natsu nodded then went to take her leave before hesitating. “Oh! Should I need to break the ice with my brother. Is there something in particular I might offer him? It’s just a question I’ve come to make a habit of asking. To mildly amusing results.”

Zoisstte smiled softly, “Fish or storytales. Preferably both.”

“Thank you. I shall leave you and your little friend to rest,” she laughed, nodding to Lavender before heading out, not noticing as the letter fell from her pocket.

Zoissette glanced to where her armature was laying, then sighed before settling back down to drift off to sleep.

—

In the dark, light footsteps lightly echoed through the infirmary. Almost luminescent, a gloved hand turned on the orchestration, letting Painted Skies quietly mask their movement as they entered Zoissette’s chamber. Quietly, Y’zel sat down at the edge of the bed, sad blue eyes on Zoissette as her breathing labored in her sleep.

“I never talked about her with you did I? My sister…She was brilliant…though I imagine you figured that out for yourself. She wasn’t always that…ephemeral being with her eyes hazed with the past. I suppose I might have developed my romantic side along with hers.”

The Miqo’te closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he remained balanced at the edge of the bed, careful not to rouse the other. There was an aetheric quality about him, though perhaps it was the ambient aether radiating off him.

“Sometimes I feel like you two are a lot alike…though there isn’t a particular reason I could put my tail on. Maybe my natural inclination to follow orders… You know, it’s funny. I was a year her senior but I always looked up to her as my big sister. I think maybe that’s why I’ve come to cling to you as I do.

“When I was trying to reach you…I felt her with me…I couldn’t bear to…to think that you might be lost too. I called out with every bit of aether in me…I don’t know, for a moment I felt as if you could hear us calling out to you… that you’d come back with Cousin as an Anchor.”

The Miqo’te let out a little laugh and shook his head.

“If you were awake you’d probably stammer and tell me I was being a romantic again. You’d probably say as much if you read what I had published. No, I think you’d probably have had a similar reaction as Thancred did. No, you’d have reviewed it and have prevented all of this from happening.”

Y’zel exhaled then stood up, tail swaying as he moved to an Allagan terminal and began to access the company’s database.

“It will be okay though. I can clean up my own mess. I was the one who stubbornly refused to listen…not that it’s particularly easy for me to do so as of late. …There,” he said while entering random passwords into the system until it locked up and requested a password change from an admin.

“I’m sorry I cannot stay longer. I fear that you’d ask me too many questions if you were awake. Things that I don’t have answers to myself…,” he said softly, moving to take his leave, “I will though. Rest well…sister.”

#final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv oc #ff xiv #ffxiv miqo'te #y'zel tia #natsu obinata #zoisette vauban #closer to you

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specialinterestshows · 11 months

Text

Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic: now with more relationship drama! Featuring bi!DomDom.

Warnings for this section: slut-shaming/whorephobic comment in Spanish, tickling, mention of stoner paraphernalia

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 4/?): The Judgement Gay

The drive back was much like the drive to the store; Rhea chose the music, boots up on the dashboard despite your protests, windows down, and you would make fun of some of the more intense songs she insisted on raising the volume for, headbanging vigorously in her direction at red lights. There was a lot of her shoving you and yelling “fuck off.” You seemed to have tuned in very quickly to just the right level of joking around to avoid getting a firsthand look at her brutality. All the better for you, as you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to stand a chance. Even though you’d tried to stop yourself from staring this morning when she was doing stretches, push-ups, and the like, you couldn’t help but sneak a few looks. Taking in her rippling muscles, amazing curves, and confident form was distracting enough to have caused you to make a few spills when you were making breakfast. Just remembering what she looked like when her midriff peeked out from under her shirt made you bite your lip as you turned on to the street for your apartment, lowering the volume of the music to avoid complaints from your neighbors.

“Motherfucker,” Rhea groaned under her breath; then louder, “Some shit might go down. Whatever you do, stay behind me.”

Trying to appear calm, you see what she means as you pull into your parking space. Several yards away, a man dressed in black and purple is pacing in front of your building, looking at his phone, then scanning the surrounding area. How did he know to find her here?

“Let me get out first,” Rhea orders as you roll up the windows and park the car. As soon as you remove the key from the ignition, the passenger’s side door pops open. By the time you’re opening the driver’s side door, Rhea has slammed the other door shut and is striding angrily in the direction of Dominik Mysterio. Closing the door, you hesitate, thinking of your purchase in the trunk. Locking the car, you decide that a large glass object is the last thing you want near two angry wrestlers and try to catch up with Rhea.

“I left it to charge! What are you doing tracking my phone anyway?” you heard Rhea snarl, her back turned to you. Your movements become more careful and calculated the closer you get to the two, your hand firmly gripping the pepper spray that hung off your keys.

“I was WORRIED about you!” Dominik yells back, “You hung up on me without telling me where you were, or who you were with!” Then, noticing you standing timidly several feet behind Rhea, he snaps, “Nothing to see here, keep walking.”

“DON’T talk to her like that,” Rhea steps to the side, blocking Dominik’s view of you. He takes in her protective stance and looks her in the eyes, “Oooh, I see. You found some perrita and she doesn’t want you talking to me.” He puts a hand on Rhea’s shoulder - moving with the intent to walk toward you - and she immediately grabs his arm. Her knuckles turn white as her grip tightens and Dominik’s tough-guy demeanor falters, a slight wince creeping up on his face.

“Leave. Her. Out of it.” Rhea warns in a dangerous tone. She moves Dominik’s hand off her shoulder and releases his arm. He steps back, rubbing the sore spot and inhaling sharply.

“Look, Dom,” Rhea settled into a controlled, commanding tone, “we don’t have anyone to fight, intimidate, or otherwise challenge for a few more days. Give me another full day and I’ll meet you back at the hotel room. Then we can talk it out.”

Dominik seemed to relax a bit, sighing, “Mami, listen, that guy from last night-“

“Stop.” Rhea insisted, “One more day. Go.”

She watched him walk away and didn’t turn around until she seemed sure he was leaving.

“Hope you’re liking my company,” Rhea said, approaching you, “because it looks like you’re stuck with me for another 24 hours.”

“Damn,” you dramatically snap your fingers, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “taking you back to my apartment was a vital step in ditching you, and now you’ve found out.”

Rhea lunges at you playfully and you squeal the minute she grabs your sides.

“Wait,” a mischievous grin spreads across Rhea’s face, “Are you ticklish?”

Thinking quickly, you wriggle out of reach and make a beeline for the trunk of your car, giggling; she couldn’t tickle you if you were holding something fragile she just bought. It took only a few seconds for Rhea to catch up to you, relentlessly touching your sides, making you laugh loudly and squirm.

“Stop!” you manage to cry out, breathless. Moving her hands down to your hips, relenting on the tickling, Rhea laughs as you catch your breath. After a few seconds you realize her hands are still on your waist and look at her face, only a few inches away from yours. She’s already looking at you, blue eyes piercing through yours, black lips slightly parted. Heart pounding, you wonder if she’s waiting for you to make a move.

Suddenly, the air in front of you is empty; she’s taken your keys out of your pocket and is walking in the direction of the car.

“Come on,” Rhea calls behind her, “let’s try out your new piece.”

[end part four of ?]

Part 5: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/723568609784397824/absolute-smokeshow-part-5-stoner-i-hardly

Tag list (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine

@littlemiss-fanficlover

#wwe fanfiction #the judgement day #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x dominik mysterio #stoner themes #lady!reader #specialinterestshows presents #the symptoms persist #small reminder requests are open #please give me more thing to write #absolute smokeshow

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4saken4gotten · 1 month

Text

░B░e░y░o░n░d░ ░T░h░e░ ░B░a░r░s░

Pairing: Prisoner!Genshin Men x Prison Guard!Reader (Gender neutral!) ( Kaeya, Diluc, Alhaitham, Dainslef, Heizou, Itto )

CW:// Suggestive at most~ If you have any specific character scenarios in your wrinkly brains I’d be happy to write it out for you~

“You like… me?”

He looks at you through the bars of his cell. His irises tracing over your face trying to discern any hint of deceit until he takes a deep breath. He smiles nervously. A wave of warmth spreads across his face as his lips curl up.

“Damn...You really do...” he said in a drawl, you could have almost sworn he growled

"Is that so surprising?" you look to him through your lashes, having lowered your chin in embarrassment. It was dangerous enough that you had to guard one of Teyvat’s most feared criminals.... But to fall in love with them on top of that? It felt like a joke from the Celestia themselves. It was well after curfew that you’ve decided to wake him. Having dismissed the current guard on patrol you took your chance to talk to him now that no one else was around. Your heart was racing beneath your pajama shirt collar, the sweat starting to bead on your palms made them itch slightly, only adding to your discomfort with the situation. But being alone with your thoughts... Late at night? A recipe for disaster. You wanted him like crazy. You were already taking a gently step in anticipation to be closer to the set of bars. You prayed to any Archon that would listen- Don’t let him see how flushed my face is-

“A little bit, yeah…” his voice cuts through your thoughts softly as he leans forward, resting his forearms against the bars above his head and putting himself closer to you. His breath hot on your skin as you visibly swallowed. your embarrassment induced fever climbed.

“...Who would like a horrible, cold-blooded murderer like me?” His tone was airy and raspy at the same time, but devoid of any actual emotion.

You reach forward, touching his chest, meeting the rough, cheap fabric the prisoner outfits were made of, “I-I don’t care about that...” His chuckle resonates through his chest, pounding into your fingertips as his lips upturn cruelly, “That... Isn’t normal~” but his eyes shone with a peculiar interest.

He leans into your touch, and you can actually see him relax slightly as he mumbles, “ But... Thank you~” he mused close to your ear

You shiver, cursing yourself mentally. He knows why you’re here. You know why you’re here. You’ve been eyeing each other in passing for weeks.. months... maybe a year? Who knows... All you know is there was something here. Something you wanted.

"You're welcome, sir~" you smile to him, a bit of hope climbing into your heart

He chuckles, and his hand comes to rest on your shoulder. He looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that the softness in his voice wasn’t there before. You know, now, that this is his most genuine voice.

His smile grows a little wider, and he shakes his head.

“...You can drop the ‘Sir’, unless you really like it~”

You can’t stop your heart racing again, he was so close and he was so hot and-

He smiles a little cruelly and caresses your face through the bars,

“You’ve got a beautiful name.. It’s Y/N isn’t it?...” he was so smug and you couldn’t help but melt.

He leans down a little more, studying your face.

“…I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I promise~”

Your eyes flit back and forth between his as your breath hitches, “I-I know... Other wise you would have already.. Right?” A teasing smile starts to creep onto his lips, if you could dare to think it over? You could have sworn there was an air of flirtation in his eyes. “Something like that~” You look over his face, waiting for the laughter or the punchline but he seemed serious. You could barely breathe as your fingers fumbled into your pocket, pulling out your set of keys to the cell and slipping inside of the small room before locking it behind you. He spins around leaning his back against the bars, watching you like a hawk but not making any sudden movements himself other than to cross his arms, “Now why does someone like you want to be in a cell with someone like me?” he smirked slightly, knowing the answer- but was almost daring you to say it anyway. You swallow down a breath, “I-I wanted to be... To be closer to you.” He pauses a moment, before chuckling “You can... As long as you promise to be a good guard~” The words made your heart hammer and you truly begin to wonder who’s trapped here, him or you? He approached you now, his voice taking on a teasing nature, “Are you really sure you’ve made a good choice here?” You took a chance, a breath, every wish and need in your body to reach up slowly and wrap your arms around his neck, breathing out an answer, “Yes! I think I’ve made the best decision...” The man in your arms chuckled lowly as he pulled you closer, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, “Is that so?” Instinctively you leaned into the intimate action, tilting your head to give him access. You let a sigh escape your lips, as if to confirm his suspicions that he was giving you exactly what you needed. “Then I take it you’re mine for this evening?” he traced kisses against your sensitive area of skin, relishing in the way you shivered at his words You keen softly, raking your fingers into the nape of his neck and up the back of his head, “I-I’m all yours~” You could almost feel his lips curling into a smirk against your skin, “Be good and maybe I’ll let you release for good behavior~” he started humming into your skin, pressing your back into the bars of the cell as he started unbuttoning your shirt slowly, one measly button at a time. You shivered in anticipation, not really sure this was actually happening or not but id this was a dream? You didn’t want to be woken up.

#slightly suggestive #slightly not safe for work #slightly spicy #smoking sexy style #genshin x reader

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radioactivepeasant · 2 years

Text

Snippets: Tuesday

Splinter Cell au: Jak found his Seal of Mar from a previous time loop in the ruins of Samos's Hut. Sig doesn't know what to think.

Sig caught Jak halfway to the foundry. The kid was distracted, lost in his own thoughts. Even Daxter wasn't with him this time; unusual, but it made Sig’s job easier.

There still weren't many recruits filling up this new factory of theirs -- few enough that if Damas gave the word, Sig was pretty sure he could take over the whole operation in the name of Spargus. Still, there were two or three men carrying crates down the wide metal stairs, making the perfect amount of noise to cover Sig’s approach.

He tried to put on the friendliness -- heck, the fondness -- he'd had for Jak just four days ago, but the doubts were creeping in faster than he could stamp them out.

Jak is a good kid.

Jak had an amulet of the House of Mar.

Jak is a good kid.

The only people who should've had amulets like this were Damas and The Baby. Mar.

Jak wouldn't get caught up in all that. He'd never do something to hurt another kid.

Jak didn’t always know friend from foe when the battle frenzy took him.

No! Jak is just a kid! He would've been way too young to have been involved!

...but the adults around Jak seem to take it for granted that he'll obey them, no matter how dark or dangerous their demands are...

Sig dropped an arm around the boy's shoulders and tightened it when he predictably jolted. "Hey there, cherry! Where've you been all day, huh?"

Jak made an uncharacteristically sluggish effort to twist out of Sig’s grip. "Cleared out the lower levels for Titan suits," he mumbled, "Power's not rerouted yet. Need to tell Vin."

Now that Sig was close enough to get a good look at him, Jak looked worn to the bone. There was engine grease on his cheek, and the skin under his eyes was nearly as dark. Despite the dark undercurrents in his thoughts, Sig felt concern wash over him. He'd seen warriors burn out before. Jak was circling that fire a little too closely by the look of him. Sig clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"When's the last time you slept?" he asked sternly.

Jak finally managed to shrug off his arm. "I'm fine."

He snarled softly when Sig merely caught hold of the leather strap at his shoulder.

"Let go, Sig. I have work to do."

"No you don't," Sig said lightly. Then, with barely any effort, he marched Jak up the stairs and towards the control room that had become one of four temporary barracks. "You have sleeping to do."

Jak dug in his heels, halting them abruptly. "Don't make decisions for me," he snapped, "I know my limits!"

Oh. Right.

Raising his hands in a placating gesture, Sig stepped back. Fair enough, Jak had valid reasons to rebel against the idea of someone overriding his autonomy. But he didn't back down.

"I know, kid. Sorry." He sighed. "I'm just trying to...aw shoot. I'm worried about you, alright? Takin' all this on your shoulders. We got a saying back home: a good warrior takes care of their body like it's their best weapon. When's the last time you took care of yours?"

Jak opened his mouth to argue, but Sig had clearly struck a nerve. He risked putting a hand on the boy's shoulder and grimaced.

"Kid, the cell is big enough to delegate tasks now, I promise. You don't have to be the only one doing the heavy lifting anymore!"

"Well who else is gonna do it?" Jak demanded.

It was probably meant to be a challenge, but he just sounded so, so tired.

Sig frowned. "Cherry," he said solemnly, "if you keep going like this, you're gonna burn out. You know you don't have to..."

He struggled to find words to describe that look he kept catching in Jak’s eye, the way he curled a little further inward when people jumped to get out of his way even here.

"You don't have to justify your existence," he finally settled for, even if he wasn't sure it was adequate, "or, or atone for what someone else did to you. You know that, right?"

The kid looked like Sig had just punched him in the stomach.

"Are you delusional?" Jak hissed at him, pinning his ears back, "You've seen that thing, you know I'm- I'm a-"

His throat bobbed like he couldn't force the words out.

Oh hang it all. Interrogating the boy would wait. Sig couldn't stand seeing his young friend like this.

Jak’s a good kid. Even if he doesn't believe it.

Feigning nonchalance, Sig snorted. "What, you think you're my only friend with spikes on their head and adrenaline issues?"

Damas might’ve been irate at the description, but it wasn’t like there was anyone to tattle to him.

"You're...you're a force of nature, cherry. That doesn't have to be a bad thing."

He jostled Jak’s arm, and affection bled through his last attempt to keep himself emotionally removed from the situation. "I hate to break it to you, but as Wastelanders go, even your more destructive days would measure up pretty average compared to desert teenagers."

Jak squinted at him, clearly incredulous. "Really."

"Kid," Sig snorted, "I took you out hunting with me. You've seen the metalheads out there. You go ahead and take a wild guess what kind of people actually want to live in places like that."

Glassy-eyed, Jak mumbled, "No walls, no guards, no crowds..."

It sounded like freedom to him. Maybe, when this was all over, he could talk Sig into taking him there again.

Perhaps his lack of sleep had loosened his tongue. Or perhaps he had simply become desperate for a confidant who wasn't native to the city that was, more or less, just a larger prison than the one Daxter had rescued him from. Later, when he'd had the chance to rest, Jak would regret having spoken so freely with Sig. He trusted him, probably more than anyone else, but he would still come to dread the potential consequences of revealing little Mar's existence in an open room. Anyone could have overheard!

But for now, he was just an exhausted teenager, glimpsing the possibility of a life beyond the walls.

"Soon as the Baron’s finally dead," Jak admitted, fighting off a yawn, "Me and my baby brother, we're going to travel. I want to go back there. Daxter too, if he can bear to leave Tess for ten minutes."

Sig was taken aback. The kid had family?

"Huh. Didn't know you had a brother, cherry."

Jak scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, well. Neither did I. The sage didn't think I needed to know about that, apparently -- or about anything to do with where I came from, I guess."

"You weren't allowed to know you had siblings? Or your own history?" Sig asked. He sounded disturbed. "Kid, that's pretty messed up."

As if finally realizing he'd been speaking without thinking, Jak shut his mouth with a click. He resumed his sullen expression and looked away.

Sig bit the inside of his cheek. Blast it, the kid had closed up again. His mind wheeled through topics, hoping to coax him into talking again.

"So who keeps your little brother when you're out causing shenanigans?" he asked. "You bring him to the base?"

Jak clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened.

"I...hid him. With the Lurkers. Couldn't trust the others."

"Yeah," Sig admitted, "I guess they don't seem like the most kidproof gang."

Jak shook his head and bared his teeth.

"Samos and Kor wanted to send him into the Tomb of Mar. Alone! I had to strap him to my back and dive in to keep them from trying."

He curled his lip scornfully. "Like I was gonna leave him with someone who thought he could handle those traps by himself-! Aft- After we escaped the Baron, I couldn't find anywhere in the city safe enough for him so I...I gave him to Brutter's tribe. He's gonna be safe with them."

Abruptly, Sig took hold of his shoulders and turned him to be face to face.

"The Tomb of Mar?! I'm gonna need some details, cherry," he said sharply, "How old is this brother of yours? What's he look like?"

Jak floundered, opening and closing his mouth for a few seconds. Then the fight went out of him, and he looked strangely defeated. Sig supposed that asking for help must have been difficult for the boy.

"He's four," Jak croaked, and blinked fiercely. "He looks just like me, but he wears this nasty leather cap he won't let me wash. He...he doesn't talk. At least, not with his mouth. But he can understand just fine. He-"

Jak's hand rose to pluck at a chain around his neck that hung down somewhere under his jacket. Sig knew what was on the other end of that chain. The fact that Jak was playing with the Amulet of Mar out of nerves was concerning.

"Sig...can I trust you?" Jak sounded shockingly vulnerable. "If...if I show you something, will you promise not to tell the Havenites?"

Ah. He thinks I don't know about the amulet.

"What, these city slickers?" Sig feigned a scoff. "They’re on a need to know basis about everything I do, cherry. And 95% of it they just don't need to know. Only way I'd ever tell a secret that wasn't mine was if it meant life or death for somebody I care about."

Trust me, kid. Please, please, trust me enough to tell me the truth. Where did you get that?

With several nervous glances around, Jak finally tugged the chain out of his collar and revealed a battered and very old amulet.

"Look," he mumbled, "I know what the Underground thinks this means. But all I know is I had this when I was...I dunno, I was too young to remember. And the sage took it away from me. Locked it up so nobody would know. My little brother, he-"

Jak took a deep breath. "He's wearing one exactly like it. Well, it's newer, I think."

What.

Sig stared, uncomprehending.

There was no possible way this was true. Jak couldn’t be saying what it sounded like he was saying, no matter how the visual clues fit together. He would've known if Damas had had a kid before Mar!

But...would he have?

Damas kept his hurts and his secrets close to his chest, to be sure. If he'd lost a child before the Baron betrayed him, it might explain why he'd always been so overprotective of Mar. But no, that was getting ahead of himself. He needed all the facts before he jumped to any conclusions.

Sig swallowed hard. "What's...what's your brother's name, kid?"

He knew the answer in his heart even before Jak whispered, "It's Mar."

Jak made a muffled grunt of surprise as Sig suddenly yanked him into an embrace.

"You found him!" Sig whispered in wonder, "By the Precursors, you found Mar!"

He pulled back. "Lemme look at you, kid! By the dunes, how did I not see it before? The resemblance is uncanny, now that I think about it."

"W- what?!" Jak struggled out of Sig’s grip and took a few steps back. "What are you talking about?"

In response, Sig grabbed his shoulder again and resumed their walk to the barracks. "I need to make a call, cherry. You got any proof about where that necklace of yours was? It'll make it easier to round up an army if the Baron messes with you again."

"An army?" Jak sputtered, "Sig, you said you wouldn't tell!"

The barracks were mercifully empty at that time of day. Sig locked the door behind them and grinned widely at Jak.

"Sure did. I'm not talking about Havenites. I mean Wastelanders, cherry! Toughest of the tough! They don't give two craps about "royal blood" or anything like that, don't you worry. But if you can prove that kid is your brother, you're gonna have a lot of people willing to watch your back."

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter sig #jak and daxter au #splinter cell au #in which tess becomes the leader of a resistance cell and takes over Praxis's war factory #in which Damas is about to get a very confusing phone call #meanwhile baby Mar is having the absolute time of his life with the Lurkers #good luck ever getting him to wear shoes again #snippet tuesday

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theycallme-thejackal · 2 years

Note

I need to see that blue corset

Pairing: Lenny Bruce & Midge Maisel Rated T

Part 1 | Part 2

He takes her to a restaurant on the Upper West Side.

It's nice. The food is good, the conversation better, and the nerves Midge felt earlier disappear the moment he cracks a joke.

Lenny slips his jacket over her shoulders as they leave, and he lights a cigarette as they head back toward Riverside Drive. It's close enough for her to walk in heels, but a long enough walk for her nerves to creep back up on her.

Her parents are visiting Noah and Astrid, and the kids are with Joel and Mei, getting to spend some time with their new baby sister, which means her apartment is empty.

She tries to quash her anxiety, but it's too late because Lenny's looking at her in concern. "What's going on?" He asks quietly as he taps off the ash and leans against her building.

Midge considers brushing it off. Saying nothing and just inviting him in. Or saying goodnight right here, sending him home without showing him the blue corset or what's underneath.

But he's looking at her earnestly, and his stopping here instead of just walking into the building reminds her that as dangerous as people think Lenny Bruce is, he makes her feel safe. He makes her feel seen.

"You can't laugh," she tells him.

A smirk finds his lips. "Doesn't that go against the very, very funny rule? I did make a promise, after all," he reminds her.

She grins slowly in remembrance. "You did. But just...not right now," she breathes. He nods slowly, his smile fading. She takes a deep breath and admits, "I'm nervous."

He quirks a brow. "You're nervous?"

"Yes."

"Because of me?"

"Because I put on a very blue corset in the hopes that we would do very blue things tonight, but..." She inhales deeply and sighs.

"Midge." He reaches for her, running his hand down her arm before tangling their fingers together. "We don't have to. We can say goodnight now and save very blue things for another night."

"No, we're going to," she insists, and he stifles a chuckle, making her laugh in the process. "I'm just...god, this is so silly," she groans.

His thumb grazes her knuckles as he waits for her to continue. "I'm worried I won't - that I'm not..." His brow lifts in question. "I've only had sex with a handful of people, and I want this to be good for you."

He looks confused at that. "And you're worried it won't be?"

"Yes," she admits. "I'm very confident for the most part about my performance, but then the men I've had sex with weren't that sexually experienced - "

"Are you calling me a tramp?" He teases.

"Lenny..." She tilts her head, mildly exasperated.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, dropping the cigarette and squishing it beneath his shoe.

"I'm worried I won't live up to your expectations," she confesses as she looks down at their shoes.

Lenny lifts her chin with his now free hand, and she meets his gaze nervously. "You know, the problem with having a big, beautiful brain like yours is that it's really easy to overthink things."

She huffs. "That's what Imogene said."

"Midge, sex with you is good - fantastic, actually - because it's you," he explains. "Because I'm crazy about you. The only expectation I have is for you to enjoy it."

She feels her heart in her throat. "No one's ever...cared about me like that - about my needs, I mean."

Lenny scoffs, shaking his head. "I suspected your ex was a schmuck, and you just confirmed it," he drawls, taking a step closer and cupping her neck with his hand. "I like making you feel good," he says, his voice lowering as he adds, “and nothing has ever turned me on as much as the sound of you screaming my name.” The fluttering of her heart moves southward, taking up residence beneath her skirt and making her flush all over with desire.

He dips his head and kisses her softly, and that desire turns into a need. She curls her fingers around his lapel and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss with no resistance on his part. They separate only when the need for air becomes too great, and she opens her eyes to find him gazing down at her in a familiar way.

A slow smile creeps onto her lips. “You want to come upstairs?”

“Well, I do need to see that blue corset,” he replies with a smirk.

#midgelenny #midge x lenny #midgexlenny #tmmm fanfic #marvelous mrs. maisel fanfic #writing prompt #otp: more important than god #jackal fics #answers

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ares-the-strange · 2 years

Text

Teeth and Silver

Family Reunion

Travis Hackett x oc

Warnings: None

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

The light switch clicked, the sudden change in brightness bringing pain to my green eyes. The station was empty, just as silent as the tense drive here. "Shouldn't there be...other people here?" I questioned, glancing around the unusually dead station, shouldn't there be at least be an operator? The officer just ignored my curiosity, leading me into his office.

"Do you realise how serious an offense speeding is?" The cop questioned, gesturing towards a chair as he took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. "Do you realise how suspicious you seem?" I half mocked, the cop somewhat tensing at my accusation. "And what does that mean?" He inquired, leaning forwards in his seat, his elbows resting on the oak desk. "You were fine with me before I mentioned my sister, then you went all psycho killing creep. Like aren't you supposed to do a breath test on me or something before handcuffing me?" "I don't have to do anythin'" "Uhh yes you do, you're supposed to obey they law? But then again you are a cop" The man only scoffed, amused by my accusations and attitude. "You have no idea 'bout anythin'," "Well I know that my sister is in danger, and may possibly be dead. While on her way to your brother's summer camp, Officer Hackett." His eyebrows furrowed at the mention of his last name, questions forming in his mind before he remembered. His badge, his damn stupid badge. "Alright" was all muttered before rising from his seat and grabbing me by the shoulder. I decided not to rile him up any further as he led me towards the holding cells.

The lock clicked as Officer Hackett turned the key, the sound of the door opening bouncing off of the concrete walls. "Hey! Let us out Officer Dick Whippet!" My head snapped towards the voice "Laura!" I yelled back, causing the constable to tense "Carrion! Holy fuck you have to get us out of here! This total fucking weirdo locked us up!" I turned towards said total fucking weirdo, the desire to protect my sister fueling many stupid plans in my head. "Now Mx I wouldn't do anythin' stu-" I cut him off, smacking my forehead against his face. Officer Hackett stumbled back, hands covering his nose, red creeping out under his palms. "Ah fuck" I groaned, realising the movies had lied to me. I pushed the throbbing pain to the back of my mind, swiping the keys from the bleeding man, running over to the cells. "Laura! Laura are you okay?!" Concern laced my words as I fumbled over the ring of keys, pushing each one into the key hole as swiftly as possible. "Yeah, yeah, just a little shaken up" she responded, shifting her feet in anticipation of her freedom . "Carrion? Oh my god thank fuck you're okay here" Max exclaimed, face pressed against the bars, wanting nothing more than to get out of this shithole.

A loud click made me freeze, my frantic attempt at unlocking the cell coming to a halt. "Put down the keys" Officer Hackett demanded his voice dangerously cold, the steel stare and bloody face putting genuine fear in me. Metal crashed to the ground, my jaw clenched at the seriousness of the situation. He kept the gun trained on my head as he opened another cell, the metal whining at the movement. "Get in the cell" there was a hazardous edge to his demand, he was no longer messing around, if he ever was. I looked towards Laura "Go, I'll be okay" she reassured, clear concern for my well being in her tone. "Promise?" Sighing I rested my head against her cell bars, Laura mirroring my actions on the opposite side of the bitter metal "I promise" I nodded, stepping away from her I found it hard to break eye contact with her. The thought that it may be the last time I ever see her alive was in the forefront of my mind.

Regaining eye contact with Officer Hackett as I lifted my hands, slowly backing into my cell. He clicked the door closed behind me, lowering his gun as well as his eyes. If I wasn't on high alert I may of thought there was guilt in his expression. Without saying another word he left the room, the door snapping softly behind him.

#travis hackett #the quarry #laura kearney #max brinly #x reader #fanfic #nonbinary

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anonymousewrites · 2 years

Text

Of Two Worlds (Book 2) Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Club

A day later…

Maki’s shattered heart hardened to stone as she walked from the Zenin Clan Compound, leaving Nishimiya behind with Mai’s body. She had no regrets over her massacre of the Zenin Clan, only the circumstances that demanded it. And now she held power in her hands, one she could use to defend others the jujutsu world took advantage of.

“Impressive work.”

Maki spun and brought her sword to the newcomer’s neck. Facing her stood a red-haired woman wearing a mask. Maki narrowed her eyes. She had heard of who stood by Kenjaku’s side in Shibuya, and the person before her fit the description. (Y/N) had made sure to fill her and the other’s in on what she had seen during her battles.

The redhead leaned her head back casually, completely unconcerned with how close the sword’s tip was to her neck. She continued speaking as if nothing was happening, “Honestly, the Zenin have had it coming for centuries. You’d think another woman would have killed them by now.” She met Maki’s gaze. “I’m sorry that your sister’s death was the catalyst, though.”

“Who are you?” demanded Maki, eyes dark with killing intent still resting within them.

“Ren.” She smirked. “And if you’ll put down the katana, I have an offer for you.” Seeing Maki’s wary look, Ren rolled her eyes. “My dear girl, put the blade away. Your strength might have grown greatly, but I assure you your skills still need refinement before you could kill me.”

“I would be stupid to lower my weapon in the face of an enemy.”

“Who’s to say I’m an enemy?” asked Ren, raising an eyebrow.

“You were with Kenjaku,” challenged Maki.

“Oh, him.” Ren waved a hand. “No, no, I quite dislike him. He experimented with women, the creep. But some pawns still have value to me.”

Maki nearly deadpanned at the comically disgusted face Ren had, like she had smelled something bad.

“Now, if you want to get any answer to the questions flitting around that head of yours, put down the katana. I don’t do business at the end of a sword,” said Ren, glancing at the blade.

“…” Maki inwardly cursed. She did want to know what Ren wanted, but she was sure the redhead would say nothing until she got what she wanted. So Maki sheathed her katana. “Alright, I did what you wanted. So what do you want?”

“I want you to have this.” Ren drew a small black chess piece from her pocket.

Maki hesitantly took and examined it. It was the knight and seemed normal enough, but Maki didn’t trust it. “What is it?”

“Think of it like a pager.”

“A what?”

Ren nearly groaned. “Break it when in a time of need, and I’ll come.”

“And what’s the price?” demanded Maki.

“You’ll owe me a favor,” said Ren.

Maki was tempted. Something about the cold determination in Ren’s eyes, the confidence with which she carried herself, the strength in the face of danger, reminded Maki of what she saw when she still lived in the Zenin Compound and looked into the mirror. It made Ren a strangely familiar face though they had never met.

“Give me a reason to believe you won’t abuse that power over me,” said Maki.

“Because you are like me,” said Ren. “And all I want is the fire within you to burn those who would hold you down.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the answer you’ll have to accept.”

Maki was quiet for a moment as she considered her options. Her sister’s face came to mind. “Destroy everything.” Those had been her words. Destroy those who hurt them. And that wasn’t just the Zenin Clan. Maki needed to change Jujutsu Society so no others would suffer like her and her sister.

Her fingers closed around the chess piece.

Ren walked over the Zenin bodies, lifting her skirt to avoid dirtying it with their blood. They were trash beneath her feet as she walked through the compound. Thanks to the blueprints she had gathered, it wasn’t difficult to decipher where rooms hidden from non-sorcerers were obscured with cursed energy (Carefully laid blackmail and payoffs gave her the first; Mastermind gained her the second).

She ran her hand along a bloodstained wall, closing her eyes. She focused on the tiny ridges of the wood until she found a long, straight cut. Ren smirked. Found you.

Pushing on the door, it swung open to reveal stairs descending into darkness. With her skirts sweeping behind her, Ren stepped down the stairwell. The shadows swallowed her whole, but she continued unimpeded.

Finally, a light appeared, and she emerged into a room that oddly resembled an art gallery. Paintings and sketches hung on the walls with lights shining down on them.

Ren took out a phone and began photographing each piece of art. Some depicted sorcerers in battle; some detailed curses standing over bodies, but some were less obvious. One had two hands reaching towards each other in a clash of shadows and light. Another showed a girl surrounded by white flames landing with poised perfection on a battlefield as hydra heads fell about her.

Artistry and destiny. Ren smiled to herself as she glanced at the likening of a woman with red hair and a scarred mouth. And oh-so helpful to me.

A day earlier…

(Y/N), Itadori, and Megumi stood in front of the building Hakari was using for his fight club. They began taking off their uniform jackets. Itadori had a white sweater underneath, Megumi wore his crisp white button-up, and (Y/N) had her black t-shirt on. Megumi then put on a plain black jacket on overtop.

“Why are we changing clothes?” asked Itadori.

“Hakari clashed with the authorities and got suspended from school, and now he’s engaged in illegal jujutsu activities, so if he realizes we’re from Jujutsu High, he might bolt,” said Megumi.

“Illegal jujutsu activities?” Itadori tilted his head.

“He has fights between sorcerers in front of non-sorcerers,” said (Y/N). “That violates the rules surrounding secrecy.”

“Oh. Then are we on Jujutsu High’s side?”

“We’re in a grey area now,” said Megumi.

A really dark grey area, thought (Y/N).

“But to Hakari we might as well be,” continued Megumi.

“Do you think he’ll cooperate?” questioned Itadori.

“Given what he’s involved in, I’m not sure. All the senpai say he’s a good-for-nothing, but Okkotsu-senpai says Hakari stronger than him.”

“We need his strength,” said (Y/N) as they approached the building.

“Hey, scram, this ain’t no place for kids,” said a big, muscular man. “Go back now or I’ll clobber ya.”

“We need money, so let us join the fights,” said Megumi, bored.

The guy swung at Megumi’s face, stopping right in front of him. Megumi didn’t react. “Rule one is no one says anything about the club. So tell me who told you. Then I’ll beat the snot out of you.”

“I didn’t get his name before I killed him.” Megumi was lying, but his eyes were so dark that anyone looking at him would think he was a cold-hearted killer. “It was about a month ago? Remember that scumbag who was full of it?”

He’s good at this, observed (Y/N) as she watched the guards eat the story up.

“Let me take his place. Or shall I lay you flat in front of bookie?” asked Megumi, stoic as ever.

“That’s enough,” said the bookie, holding up a phone. “Boss said it’s okay. We’ll throw him in as today’s seeded fighter. But…she’s the one who has to fight.” He pointed at (Y/N), who frowned and pointed at herself in confusion.

Megumi narrowed his eyes but bit his lip. They couldn’t afford to give up their chance. But one thing was for sure: he didn’t like it one bit.

“The boss doesn’t like you,” said the bookie. “If you don’t like, then the deal’s off.”

Megumi glanced at the security camera watching them. “Understood. We accept.”

As they walked out of earshot of the men and further into the compound, Itadori remarked, “Fushiguro, all that bluffing was risky.”

“Not really. If curse users are fighting, there must be turnover,” said Megumi.

“And Hakari is here. He watched us on the cameras,” said (Y/N).

Megumi nodded. “You’ll join the fights and get a look from the inside. Meanwhile, Itadori and I might sneak into the parking garage.” (Y/N) cocked her head, indicating she wanted an explanation. “They want to see what I’m up to. If they catch me trying to sneak in, there’s no chance of getting them to trust you, and we won’t get to meet Hakari.” She nodded.

“If that happens, we can just use force,” said Itadori brightly.

“Sure, but only as a last result,” reminded Megumi before Itadori got any ideas. “We’ve only come to request Hakari’s cooperation. I want to avoid anything that might have a lasting effect on relations.” As much as possible, anyway, he thought. We’re getting into a lot of trouble lately. “To be honest, Itadori and I should lay low tonight, but I don’t want to waste any more time before Tsumiki’s deadline to declare participation in the Culling Game.”

“We’ve got nine days,” murmured (Y/N)

Megumi nodded. “We’ll sneak in to look for Hakari, but if things get dicey, we’re out.”

�� (Y/N) nodded, and Itadori said, “Got it!”

“Oh, and (Y/N)…” Megumi looked at her seriously. “Win the fight and try not to get hurt.”

“Yeah, you’re already busted up,” commented Itadori. Megumi deadpanned at him.

“I’ll be alright,” said (Y/N), smiling at Megumi.

That’s what you keep saying…and you keep getting hurt. Megumi balled his fist as he watched her walk into the fighter’s building. Once we’re in the Culling Game, I’m not leaving your side. Soon I’ll be strong enough to support your strength.

“There’s two rules,” said the bodyguard. “No runnin’ away and no cursed techniques. The spectators are non-sorcerers who can’t see them. An invisible fight ain’t much fun to watch; same goes for fighting where they can see. They need to be able to watch. This is a business.”

(Y/N) nodded in understanding. “What’s the boss like?”

“Curious?”

She nodded in confirmation.

“You’ll see if you meet him.”

“I will?” That would make this easier.

“Listen, there are two types of games,” explained the man. “Unscripted matches like today’s tournament and scripted matches. Boss fixes those. Look sharp today and he might speak with ya.”

So I need to put on a show… (Y/N) narrowed her eyes. Alright… She emerged into a makeshift arena. The viewing stands of people were simply a destroyed upper floor of a parking garage while she was to fight on the lower floor. The spectators looked down at her judgmentally.

“Welcome to the Gachinko Fight Club Tournament!” shouted an announcer. “I’m your announcer, Bobby John! And now I’ll introduce the fighters! We have a surprise challenger! These assassins just keep on coming!” He pointed at (Y/N) from his vantage point. “On one side, we have (L/N) (Y/N), the killer with a heart of ice!”

Is he just making things up? wondered (Y/N).

“On the other side, it stands like a panda, sits like a panda, and walks like a panda. Iiiiiiit’s Panda!” cried Bobby.

That one made more sense.

“Have you placed your bets?! Let’s get ready to rrrrrrumble!”

Welcome to the show.

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