#imagine my surprise when i played this game for the first time and saw that sora got through to tron but couldn't save him

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance - The Grid

[devilmademewriteit]

Dark but Just a Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: your dad’s associate and friend, joel miller, finally tires of your constant teasing

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long-ish hair; alcohol consumption & drunkenness; pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby); dubcon (intoxication, power imbalance); age gap.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka that’s bestfren

word count: 3.7k

no use of y/n in this fic.

Click to read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Click to read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman

ahhhh this is my first time writing for joel so any and all feedback is super appreciated. i was slightly inspired by the amazing dbf!joel drabbles that @anchoeritic writes (seriously, if you enjoy this fic, go read them). as always, my requests are open !!

—

THEN,

It started out so innocently.

Your dad often helped Tess and Joel smuggle contraband in and out of the QZ, sometimes by keeping the right people quiet, other times by offering the pair a place to lay low at. You got accustomed to the sight of them passed out on the floor, the glow of the sunrise illuminating only their sleeping faces, or else a murmuring trio of hushed voices in the middle of the night.

Soon, however, you began to notice the way Joel’s eyes seemed to trail on you, often catching his hardened gaze in yours. Still, he rarely spoke to you and when he did, he mostly just grunted a “hullo” or asked if your father was around.

But you suspected that he noticed you.

Especially when your old clothes got too tight, hugging your skin and leaving little to the imagination. You observed his breath hitching the very first time he saw you in a skirt.

So, naturally, you played into it. You started sneaking downstairs in the morning wearing only a t-shirt and your underwear, feigning innocence at the way (you imagined) he tried, hard, not to look at your ass as you sauntered back up to your room.

Sometimes, you bumped into him on the streets of the QZ. You’d loop your arm around his broad bicep, wide-eyed, gazing up at him through your eyelashes and asking why he hadn’t dropped by to say hello recently. Causing him to tense beneath your hands always felt electrifying; the restraint in his grumbled “soon” always felt like a victory.

When it was dark out and he, Tess, and your dad shared a drink together on the dusty-old-living-room-couch, you made sure to lock eyes with him, taking in the danger lurking in them. He’d look away, leaning back casually and adjusting his jeans.

But—it was always innocent.

It was a game you played with yourself; one you weren’t even sure he was in on. Life in the QZ got dull, and there were only so many good-looking men your age that your dad’s work allowed you to see.

Sometimes, when business was good, your old man got his hands on an extra shipment of liquor, inviting all of his favourite bandits in the Zone and throwing a “party” in one of the run-down, less monitored buildings. You did yourself up as best as you knew how to, shared a flask with your friends and flirted with young smugglers.

It was seedy, but it was fun.

Joel was always there, usually asking around for parts or looking to cut deals. Usually, he drank and stayed out of your way.

Once, however, after being extremely irresponsible with your consumption, you found yourself alone with Andy, a young FEDRA guard (working for your side, of course), slurring your words and stumbling on your feet. He was good-looking in a boyish way and handsy to high heavens. You vaguely remembered his insistence on taking you back to his place and the feel of his wet lips against yours. You clearly remembered hearing a gruff, “Get off,”—Joel’s baritone echo taking you both by surprise. Andy’s head swung to find Miller’s looming form in the doorway; he immediately tore his hands from your body and scampered off. You were alone with Joel, his expression a mask of rage and contempt tinged with—could it have been—jealousy?

After that, it was all bits and pieces of blurred images and sounds. Big hands pulled you into strong arms; your feet were lifted from the ground. You retained flashes of drunken faces smiling and jeering at you as you were carried away from the festivities—then it was dilapidated hallways, the jangling of keys fumbling with a lock, and finally, the ceiling above your bed as Joel gently set you down. Even now, you could clearly picture the way his eyes traveled along your exposed skin as he stood, arms crossed, at the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, fixing your drunken, playful eyes to look deeply into his, you slurred, “Got a bit jealous?”

He said nothing. He only held your gaze and crossed his arms, the muscles beneath flexing and relaxing in rhythm with the motion.

“C’mon Joel,” you teased him, “so serious, all the time. I was fine.”

Now that had an effect.

He growled, “one more minute with that asshole…” and shook his head, his words trailing off as he fought the urge to take your bait. “Just go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He turned, heading towards the door. Perhaps the excess liquor made you reckless or Andy’s kisses left you wanting—either way, you needed to push the limits with Joel. You needed him to stay, to turn around and play your game.

“I could thank you now, if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head slowly turning to the side. Your blood burned in your veins, both from the alcohol and from the tension pulsing between you and him in that darkened room. He paused for a moment and it felt like a lifetime—laid on the bed, watching his shoulders move with every breath he took. He flexed a hand, something he often did when he was around you.

Finally, he spoke.

“Go to sleep.”

And with that, he shut off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.

So, you decided it was probably all in your head. Maybe the looks and the tension and the teasing were just part of a one-sided game you played with yourself. Still, you couldn’t help thinking about the strain in his voice when he ordered you to bed or the anger that went beyond disdain and contempt at the sight of Andy’s hands exploring your body. You regularly reminisced about the events of that night, most often without meaning to. Most often alone, between the hours of one and three AM, sneaking a guilty hand down between your thighs.

That was the last time Joel had interacted with you.

At least before tonight.

—

NOW,

Joel stands between Tess and a seedy looking short guy you’ve never seen before, clearly not paying attention to whatever the two of them are hashing out. Tensions are low, which makes Joel look comically out of place. He lifts a silver flask to his lips.

The chatter of people talking and laughing fills the narrow, dusty space—from somewhere down the hall, you hear your father’s booming laugh. You’re finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on whatever your peers are gushing on about. The warmth in your stomach and the buzz under your skin from whatever liquor finds its way into your cup brings you back to the last time you’d seen Joel at one of these get-togethers.

“Can’t believe Miller comes to these things,” one such peer—a bandit in training, your good friend Emma—remarks. “Weird seeing him… well, not relaxed but… not stressed.”

You laugh. “I know, right. When he’s passed out, I don’t even recognize him. Looks completely different without his signature scowl.”

She turns away from him, focusing her attention instead on you. “Right,” she says, “I forgot him and your dad…” She trails off, her expression changing as her interests do, as well.

Emma suddenly smirks at you. “Does he sleep naked?” she asks, mischievous. This piques the interest of the others paying attention to your conversation, who subsequently tune in to hear your answer.

You smile, shaking your head. “No,” you respond, keeping your voice low. “Fully clothed—with his gun in hand.”

Emma’s eyes settle back on Joel as her smile fades. The other delinquents go back to their respective conversations. “Such a shame,” she says, wistfully. “I’d bet a month’s rations that his dick is huge.”

You giggle at that and she passes you the flask. You take a big swig, heat blooming across your tongue as the whiskey burns down your throat.

He catches you staring—his eyes darken when he notices the drink in your hand. Smiling innocuously at him, you wave your fingers in an extremely girlish greeting gesture. He raises his thick eyebrows, unimpressed.

A familiar figure interrupts your silent conversation.

“Hey,” Andy says, his voice unsure and subdued.

“Hey.”

He looks rumpled and flushed, as though recent weeks had not been kind to him. Andy’s not-brown-not-blonde hair hangs limp around his crown, mirroring the defeated air his stature gives off. Despite the near foot he has on you, he seems ironically small.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Look,” he tries, awkwardly stuffing his fingers in his pockets, “I’m sorry about last time. I was really drunk and I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it wasn’t cool.”

You scoff. “I don’t really think it was so much what you said, Andy,” you respond playfully. After all, you know he meant no harm. Drunk people get horny, and you had both been very drunk. “Don’t worry about it. No hard feelings,” you add.

That’s when, from over Andy’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Joel’s expression. Pure disapproval. Cold, ruthless contempt burns in his eyes.

“At least not from me.”

Andy turns around slowly, following your eye-line. By the time he clues in to who you’re referring to, Joel’s already looked away, turning his attention to the still-ongoing conversation between Tess and the stranger.

“Right,” Andy says, wincing. “He’s been giving me a hard time on the streets.”

“Don’t sweat over Miller,” Emma interjects casually. “He gives everyone a hard time.”

Once again, you find yourself distracted from the conversation, focussing on a different man in the room. Why should he get to decide when you get to be wild? What business does he have protecting you from other guys? After all, Joel Miller is not your father.

It frustrates you that he keeps pretending not to notice your stare. It frustrates you that he keeps his head ducked, feigning interest in the deal being made beside him. Taking in his size, the salt-and-pepper of his hair, and the fierce angle of his jaw, you steal another swig from the flask, wiping the excess off your lips.

It emboldens you.

Leaning up on your tippy-toes, you muster up your most sensual tone, whispering softly in Andy’s ear: “Let me make it up to you.”

You pull back to catch his look of disbelief, his pouty pink lips parting slightly as he struggles to locate his words. Grabbing his hand in yours, you nod your head to the right, wordlessly encouraging him to take you down the hall. He obeys without a sound.

You quickly shove the flask back into Emma’s hand.

“Save some for after,” you plead, and she shakes her head, tossing you an exaggerated eye-roll.

You lock eyes with Joel momentarily before you’re pulled down the hall, satisfaction leaking from your gaze—you’re not quite sure why. You break away, ignoring the non-verbal warning in his stare.

Who cares what he thinks, anyways?

You wind up in a run-down, dim-lit room, empty save for an old desk. Andy pins you against the wall as soon as the door creaks to a close behind you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy, tipsy kiss. His hands travel south to grab your ass and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Things heat up—his clumsy fingers brush the fabric over your breasts and you dig your hip into the bulge beneath his denim.

It’s not that you want Andy. Frankly? It could be anyone. None of the boys you hang out with really interest you beyond being potential partners for youthful experimentation—which is exactly what Andy is to you. In all likelihood, that’s not what you are to him.

Oh well. Those are morning thoughts.

Andy’s hands snake under your shirt, the pads of his fingertips creeping up to your breasts.

The door slams open.

Andy basically leaps off of you, a horrified expression settling on his features as he registers the identity of the intruder—as history repeats itself.

“Out,” Joel orders through gritted teeth, holding the door open for the boy to walk through. Andy practically sprints free—without risking a goodbye, without uttering a “sir, yes sir.”

You sigh once you and Joel are alone, adjusting your clothing and casually leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, Joel,” you say, exasperation coating your words. “What’s this all about.”

Wordlessly, he closes the door and locks the handle. His movements are slow, precise, and calculated—butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He approaches you, leaning one hand against the wall behind your head and using a pair of thick, callused fingers to tilt your head up. He smells like sandalwood and hard liquor; he smells like a man. Electricity crackles throughout your entire being.

The touch of his hand on your face drains every last drop of your boldness.

“I think,” he grumbles out, his voice low, gravelly, dangerous, “You know exactly what this is about.”

You swallow, focussing all your energy on holding his severe gaze. Between your thighs, your nerves begin to pulse, responding to his proximity with enthusiasm.

“No, I really don’t,” you respond, mustering up some confidence from god-knows-where to render your tone convincing.

He scowls. “S’lil’ game you’re playin’,” he mutters softly, coolly. “Comin’ downstairs half-naked, clingin’ onto me in public when you know I can’t do anything…”

He shakes his head, his grip on your jaw tensing slightly.

This time, when he speaks, his tone is hoarse. “What are you tryin’ to get out of it?”

A smile creeps onto your face at the anguish in his voice.

So you hadn’t imagined it. Joel had been in on it from the start.

You look up at him with big, sultry eyes, taunting him. There’s no point in avoiding the truth anymore—you want joel. And you’ve never really been the type to not go for what you want.

In this moment, you’re willing to risk anything to have Joel do something, anything to you.

Wicked innocence drips off your every word as you purr, “Whatever you’ve been dying to give me, Joel.”

You watch your answer take effect. A vein in his jaw twitches—lust floods his eyes.

In a flash, you’re facing the wall with both hands pinned above your head by one much larger, much stronger hand. Joel’s weight presses against you, pinning you in place.

“That right, angel?” Joel challenges under his breath as his other hand explores your chest, grabbing roughly at your breasts. “Want me to show you what I’ve had in mind?”

His hand travels towards your underwear, sliding down your front in a tantalizing motion; you moan before his fingers even brush your most sensitive spot.

“I do, Joel,” you moan, desperate for his touch. The feel of his chest against your spine is intoxicating, your mind goes blank at the sensation of his cock pressed against your ass.

Joel’s index and middle fingers find your clit, rubbing torturous circles around the throbbing bud. His thumb presses into your skin, anchoring his hand in place.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans. “Wonder what your dad’d say if he knew his lil’ girl was soakin’ wet for this cock.”

He slips a finger inside you, curling it up, making your mouth gape open in a silent ah and your eyebrows crease together. “You think of me when you’re touchin’ this pretty pussy?” Gasping and struggling against his hold, you nod enthusiastically, overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, wanting more, more, more.

“Manners,” he growls, tightening his grasp on your wrists. “Please, Joel,” he corrects, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, his palm flattened and working against your swollen clit.

“Please-please, Joel,” you gasp out, throwing your head back against the crook of his shoulder. He leans forward, laying a soft kiss in the delicate nook of your neck. Then, he’s releasing you, pulling his fingers out and taking a step back.

He gestures to the desk.

“Facedown, sweetheart.”

You obey, stumbling over to it and laying your chest against the cold wood. It stings and you shiver.

Joel fumbles with his belt and then he’s behind you, unzipping his fly and pulling his length out. With your cheek laid against the desk, you get a perfect view of him towering over you, a dark God, holding his cock in his hand.

Emma had been right.

“You gotta be quiet,” he warns, before flipping up your skirt. He groans at the sight of your ass, roughly grabbing one cheek and squeezing it—hard.

“I will be,” you whine, desperate to take him in.

He chuckles, pulling down your dripping panties, letting them fall to your ankles. His tip runs between your folds, teasing your clit in tormenting strokes. You whine and moan, “Joel-s’good,” responding to every brush of his tip.

“You’re needy,” he says, gruffly.

He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, settling every inch of himself inside you.

“I like needy.”

You gasp at the sting and the pleasure and the fullness, unable to control yourself. Joel is huge—your walls wrap tightly around him as he pulls out near-completely before snapping his hips against your ass, filling you up to the brim again. You cry out as he holds your arms in place, setting a rhythm, grabbing you just as roughly as he fucks you.

“Joel,” you moan loudly before a large hand slaps over your lips.

“Shut up,” he growls.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you give yourself to him entirely, cravenly grinding against his hips.

“Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on my cock,” he taunts. “Takin’ it so good, pretty girl.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the room, dirty and filthy and hot.

Joel’s fingers muffle your moans of abandonment, every “fuck,” “yes,” and “thank you,” coming out simply as “mmm.”

“This what you fuckin’ wanted?” he asks gruffly, leaning a hand next to your head and bending forward to loom over you. “Gettin’ fucked by a man twice your age?”

The angle allows him to push even more of his length inside you, causing you to squirm pathetically against his hips. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he adds, “That right, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes growing heavy, filling with abandon.

He looses a hollow laugh. “Needy lil’ thing,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in your hair. “With a needy lil’ pussy.”

Freeing your mouth, he throws his head back, straightening out and bringing both hands to your circle your waist. Now, he fucks you fast and brutally, his breath coming heavy and hard. With every stroke, Joel’s tip grazes your inner most sensitive spot, causing sheer ecstasy to radiate throughout your core.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg. “Come in me—please.”

Joel groans sinfully. “Can’t do that, sweetheart.”

Fluttering waves ripple from your cunt down your legs, threatening to take you over the edge.

“Joel,” you half-sob, “I’m gonna-”

He slows down, thrusting into you in great, harsh strokes, well-versed in the art of bringing a woman to climax. You cry out as your orgasm tears through you, unable to form words or thoughts or anything beyond “Joel,” “Ohmygod,” and “yes-yes-yes.”

“S’it baby,” he coaxes. “Come aaalll over my cock.”

Your walls clench around him, your pussy just as desperate as you are to keep him tucked inside you.

He exhales shakily, grabbing fistfuls of your ass in his hands.

“Fuck it,” he groans, thrusting faster inside you. “M’gonna fill you up.” Your eyes are still rolled to the back of your head, your hands desperately searching for something to grasp onto. His cock swells inside you, tensing up between your walls as his seed spills out between them—he comes with an “oh fuck” and a final, brutal stroke.

You lie still for a moment, listening to the sound of your ragged breathing harmonizing with Joel’s. He runs a massive hand along your arm, his touch suddenly delicate, revering.

“You’d better fuckin’ pray I can find the pill for you tomorrow,” he says finally, his husky voice both amazed and amused.

Lifting your chest off the table, you slowly flip around, perching on the edge to face him as he reorganizes his clothes, pulling his boxers up and tugging at his fly. He looks so handsome between your knees, with his hair slightly disheveled and his shirt all rumpled.

“Get extra,” you coo, your breath still uneven, your thoughts still bungled. You run a slight hand devotedly down his plaid shirt, marvelling at the pleasure the proximity brings you.

He laughs low, shaking his head. “S’was a one-time deal, angel,” he says with a smile. He finishes doing up his belt and leans both his hands on the table, his nose just centimeters away from your own. “Can’t be caught fuckin’ my associates’ daughters—bad for business,” he adds, pulling your underwear back up your thighs. You adjust yourself and pout at him, playfully.

“You didn’t like it?” you ask, pretend-innocence soaking your tone.

He smiles softly. “I liked it too much,” he responds. “S’why it can’t happen again.”

You raise your eyebrows defiantly. “Well, I’m not gonna make it easy on you, Miller.”

He slowly straightens up, offering you a hand as you scoot off the desk. Your legs feel shaky, but his hold anchors you in place.

“M’countin’ on that.”

With that said, he gestures for you to leave the room, following closely behind you. He opens the door and you peer into the hallway, making note of its emptiness before stepping out. Joel exits soon after, taking off in the opposite direction. You catch him looking back at you, a dazed, hungry look still lingering on his expression.

It makes you smile.

Later that night, you find Emma and Joel finds Tess. You’re back to your side of the divide and he’s back to his.

It’s as though nothing ever happened.

“Hey, check it out,” Emma remarks. “Miller actually looks, like, chilled-out,” she slurs loudly.

You smile knowingly, nodding in agreement.

“‘Guess he found a way to blow off steam.”

She gives you a quick, faded nod before becoming absorbed in something else. It doesn’t bother you. You’re also absorbed in something else: lost in thought, consumed by the lingering echoes and traces of Joel’s skin on yours.

When you catch his eye from across the room, you can tell that his thoughts are haunted by the very same thing.

This was no longer an innocent game.

It was a dirty secret.

—

Read part 2: Pretty When You Cry

Read part 3: Let Me Love You Like a Woman (Let Me Hold You Like a Baby)

[kalliyen]

Streamer Luck 🍀

Pairing: Wanderer x GN!Reader

Featuring: Wanderer (Genshin Impact)

Genre: Fluff, Modern AU

Summary: Streamer Wander drabbles lmao enjoy <33

Reader’s Pronouns: They/Them

Warning: wanderer (just brace yourself) bro is actually astronomically down bad, sorry id there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes i am delirious rn

Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION!

i. ‘wym you’re not single and rotting in a basement?’

Wanderer has been playing for hours on end, you could barely keep up with it.

He hasn’t come out of his room for hours and you were starting to get worried about his appetite, and his emotional well being.

Because you were such a good and doting partner, you decided to make Wanderer’s fave dish, and deliver it to his room.

Knocking on his door, he lets out a brief hum, signaling that it was good to come in. Careful not to get to close to the camera, not wanting to reveal yourself to his audience just yet.

Chat noticed the presence of another person in the room, and immediately bombarding Wanderer with questions like “who tf is that???” and “where did they spawn from???”

“Darling you’ve been streaming for 6 hours, take a break and eat first okay? Just call me when you need anything else.” You state, trying to resist giving him a peck on the lips.

Your boyfriend pauses his game, looks at you, then chat, and decides to pull your waist to his level to give you not one peck, but multiple.

Taken aback but not at all surprised from your boyfriend’s sudden show of affection, you lean into the kiss, missing the feel of his lips on yours.

Chat absolutely EXPLODES when they saw that, but Wanderer did not give two shits, and decided to kiss your hand, while deeply looking into your eyes

“Thanks Honey, I’ll take a break and eat this, thank you so much for looking out for me :)”

“No problem darl, just come out when I call you for dinner okay?” “Yes honey” And with that you leave the room, leaving Wanderer with him and his chat

He scans the messages, multiple times he sees “SO DOWN BAD LMAOO” and “did u kidnap them or something to take are of you”

A little irked at chat, he angrily replies “No I am NOT down bad (he is) and NO I did not kidnap them. They’re my partner. Why is that so hard to believe?”

ii. honey face reveal when?

Ever since you’ve made your existence known to Wanderer’s fan base they’ve been calling you Honey, mostly mocking him about the nickname he has for you. (they do find it cute tho fr)

They tell him to bring you into the stream more, saying that they missed your voice and your sweet personality, honestly they don’t give a fuck about him no more they just wanna see you

Wanderer gets annoyed (again, this man is always mad at his chat somehow), and says that he can’t force you to show yourself to them, which his chat respects.

“Also their sweetness and cuteness is for me only, not my fault that you guys are lonely and don’t have a partner. Imagine that, what a massive L” he says to his chat, and they start arguing with him again. (someone save his fan base)

iii. HONEY REVEALLL !!!!!

Seeing that your boyfriend’s fans really liked you, you decided to tell Wanderer that you’re finally comfortable with sharing your face to the internet, which he was really happy with. Because god he really wanted to show of the love of his life to the world, and smash it in their faces that only he could have you.

You suggest to him that you do a cute little baking stream together as your face reveal, and he couldn’t deny the adorable smile on your face while suggesting it to him, so of course he obliged.

While he was setting up the cameras and you were setting up the ingredients you felt really nervous, thoughts of ‘what if they don’t like me?’ plagued your mind, and Wanderer sensed your uneasy demeanor. He came up to you and gave you a kiss that meant ‘don’t be nervous honey, i’ll always be here for you.’

He turns the stream on and immediately people start to come in, surprised at the change of scenery.

‘Wanderer doesn’t live in his basement confirmed?!?!’ a TTS message read, and he gave the camera a glare

Chat immediately noticed you and started chanting “HONEY!” “OH MY GOD ITS HONEY FINALLY”

You gave a meek wave to the camera, still a bit nervous, but with Wanderer’s hand on your waist you knew you had nothing to worry about.

“Hello everyone,,,,I’m y/n, you probably know me as ‘honey’ and i’m…..wanderer’s partner” you say with small smile on your face, eyes turning into small slits

In conclusion, the stream was a success and chat was absolutely smitten with you.

bonus: iv. Honey takes over the channel 😱

Now that you’ve gotten more comfortable showing yourself on stream, you sometimes played games with Wanderer too, like co-op in this game called Genshin or other games that allowed two person players.

Sometimes, you even started streams yourself whenever you wanted to share something to his audience, or get advice from them when you start a new game.

Wanderer of course sees these streams and he just has the lovey dovey-est smile in the world, you swear you saw his eyes turn into hearts.

Damn, his streamer luck is insane.

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

[yanderestarangel]

A/N:That's a really hot request! I love writing gang!bang x reader, sorry if it's a little bad, I did my best, sorry if it was too long too - thanks for the request<3

| PS: The nominations for each 'Bi Han' are: 'OG!Bi Han' - bi han from the reader's 'original' timeline, 'Titan!Bi Han' - bi han from the alternative timeline who appears at the end of the game helping liu kang in some endings, 'Dark!Bi Han' - fully corrupted bi han and also from an alternate reality. |

 TW: v!sex, handjob,oral (f!re), double!blowjob, cum!play, face!fuck, they/them used, voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesome, gang bang, sub reader, aggressive sex, praise, degradation, dumbfication, afab anatomy, titan!bi han,og!bi han, dark!bi han x reader , sub!reader, smut, nsfw, little plot in final cut.

⸺ It would be an understatement to say that you weren't surprised when you saw your boyfriend take two people to your house, but they weren't two strangers... They were versions of himself. He introduced you to 'Titan Bi Han' a wiser, calmer and softer version of him, he was the same as your companion... But as if all the qualities were gathered only in him, without the 'rotten' part that the grandmaster had - and Soon after, it was the turn of 'Dark Bi Han', the totally corrupted version of him, however, there was still something that shone there, something that only you knew.

You didn't question at first what everyone was doing there, after all, you trusted your boyfriend, but you soon realized that it wasn't just a (a) normal visit... By the way each look devoured you... After all, Bi Han was a man jealous, but it was okay to share your partner, if you with other versions of himself... Right? You tried to protest a little... Telling your boyfriend - 'OG!Bi Han' that it was too much to have three men in your body at once, but they soon reassured you... Well, not all of them.

⸺ OG!Bi Han smiled, his eyes darkening with desire as he approached you. "-Don't worry, love. We'll take it slow and make sure you're comfortable every step of the way," he said, his voice low and seductive. Titan!Bi Han nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "-Yes, we want you to enjoy every moment, darling. We'll make sure to please you in ways you've never imagined," he murmured, his fingers gently tracing your arm.

Dark!Bi Han, on the other hand, wore a wicked grin as he closed the distance between you. His touch was rough, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head back. "-I don't care about your comfort, little one. I want to ravish you, use you for my pleasure," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. The contrast between the three versions of your boyfriend heightened the anticipation and excitement coursing through your veins.

OG!Bi Han leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. "-We'll start with something simple doll face," he whispered, his voice dripping with anticipation. His hands wandered, one slipping beneath your shirt to caress your breasts, while the other trailed down to tease the sensitive skin at the hem of your pants.

Titan! Han's touch was tender as he pressed himself against your back, his hands trailing along your curves. He nibbled on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "-I want to explore every inch of your body, my love. To worship you and make you feel incredible," he murmured, his voice filled with adoration for you.

Dark!Bi Han's touch was possessive and demanding, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed his body against yours. "-You're mine to use, to fuck, little thing.." he growled, his breath hot against your neck. His lips traveled down, leaving a trail of cold kisses along your collarbone - They took their time, savoring every moment, as they brought you closer to the edge of pleasure with their skilled touches and sinful whispers. You were surrounded by a whirlwind of desire, lost in a sea of pleasure that only intensified with each passing second - As the intensity built, OG!Bi Han took the lead, guiding you to the bed, he positioned himself between your legs, his hands gently parting your folds as he leaned in to taste you. His tongue flicked against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body his lips closed around your sensitive bud, sucking and teasing it with expert precision.

Meanwhile, Dark!Bi Han held his throbbing cock in front of your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided himself between your lips. His length filled your mouth, stretching you as you eagerly took him in. Your tongue swirled around him, tasting his salty essence as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each rhythmic movement. Dark!Bi Han groaned with satisfaction, his hips rocking gently against your mouth. "-I've missed you more than words can express... And I'm going to fuck you until you're completely ruined, completely mine." - You hadn't understood his comment... yet. You decided to focus on pleasure, even though that phrase was playing in your mind, you tried to read the ghostly eyes of that corrupted version of your partner, but you found nothing but longing and lust.

Titan!Bi Han, not wanting to be left out, positioned himself next to you, his hand wrapping around his erect shaft. He moaned softly as you took control, your fingers gliding along his length, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive him wild. You could feel the heat radiating from his cock, the pre-cum slick against your fingertips as you stroked him, matching the pace of your mouth on Dark!Bi Han. "-Fuck..mmpmh- you're so pretty- yes... Just like that baby" OG!Bi Han increased the pressure of his tongue against your clit, his movements becoming more urgent and deliberate. Dark!Bi Han groaned, his hips thrusting into your mouth as he neared his climax. Titan!Bi Han's grip tightened around your hand, "-Yes fuck- I'm going to cum, keep those pretty little hands around my dick... fuck you're so good at this my bunny..."

And then, in a glorious crescendo, pleasure washed over all of you. Your body convulsed with ecstasy as your orgasm crashed through you, waves of lust radiating from your core. Dark!Bi Han released his load into your mouth, his hips jerking with each spurt of cum. Titan!Bi Han's cock pulsed in your hand, warm cum spilling over your fingers. And OG!Bi Han continued to lap at your sensitive clit, prolonging the pleasure until you were left breathless and spent. "-This isn't over yet doll..." He wasted no time in taking you on all fours, positioning himself behind you. Your body quivered with anticipation as he lined himself up with your wet entrance. With a firm thrust, he plunged into you, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips. Dark!Bi Han, ever the dominant one, stood before you, his eyes filled with a primal hunger. He relished in the power he held over you, his voice dripping with a deliciously degrading tone. "-You are an insatiable little whore.." he growled, his words sending shivers down your spine. "-Take his cock like a good little fucktoy. Show us how much you crave it."

Dark!Bi Han and Titan!Bi Han positioned themselves in front of you, their erect members proudly on display. You wanted to please them both, to take them deep into your mouth and show them the desire and passion you felt. With determination, you took them both in your hands, feeling their warmth and hardness against your skin. Your lips parted, and you eagerly engulfed both their cocks, alternating between them, giving equal attention to each. The taste of their arousal filled your mouth, their moans of lust spurring you on. As you struggled to accommodate both of them, your mouth stretched wide, taking in the delicious sensation of their lengths moving against your tongue. It was a delicious torment, the dual pleasure of being filled by both Dark!Bi Han and TiTan!Bi Han, their hands gently threading through your hair, guiding you with each rhythmic movement. You could hear praises being moaned and whispered, your knees hurt, your eyes were streaming tears and your pussy was drooling on OG!Bi Han's cock, you were being filled by all of them, the hot and cold sensation would almost make you pass out, if not it was the painful and delicious occupation of the dicks of the alternative versions of the grandmaster. Dark!Bi Han's hips bucked, a low groan escaping his lips, as he spilled his essence into your mouth. The taste of his release was both familiar and new, a delicious reminder of the intimacy you shared. Titan!Bi Han followed suit, the intensity of his orgasm, but he withdrew from your mouth, cumming on your face, and giving a light erotic slap with his cum-stained dick on your face.

"-Cum in their cunt... breed them like the little slut they are..." Dark!Bi Han told his counterpart, who started fucking you with all his intensity again, you couldn't take it anymore, looking for support in Titan!Bi Han while your cyromancer boyfriend filled you with cum, making you cry with pleasure. Your body hurt so much, you actually felt like you were going to pass out, as you saw a melancholy look coming surprisingly from the corrupted version of your boyfriend... Dark!Bi Han, a chaste kiss was left on your cheek by him, while Titan!Bi Han spoke something for the original version of your boyfriend, a 'I'm sorry' was whispered by the dark ninja, a small tear was left by him on your sweaty skin. You managed to regain consciousness and put together some loose sentences spoken by Asian men - you realized that your boyfriend, had allowed both to experience you intimately because in their reality, your version had tragically passed away. You were the only living version of yourself left, and they sought solace and connection with you, the closest thing to the love they had lost. Your heart found as you absorbed the weight of their sorrow. It was a bittersweet revelation - You reached out, your hand trembling slightly, and cupped Dark!Bi Han's cheek, his hand finding its place on your other cheek. His touch was gentle... but cold...deadly cold, his voice filled with pain. "-Thank you.. It means more than you can imagine."

You soon saw the two versions leave with your boyfriend, both giving advice and strategies on how to prevent your death... but they knew that deep down, there were fates worse than death, and that unfortunately... fate is inevitable.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[victoria-grimesss]

Call the Doctor, I'm in Love

masterlist

->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader

->Words: 2.9k

->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds

->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.

->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man. 

But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:

The 1st Time: Your Introduction

Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.

“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”

Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.

“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”

He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.

“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”

You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.

“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”

He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.

“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”

He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.

“You like bars doctor?”

“Not particularly..”

“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”

You smile, amused.

“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”

You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.

“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.

“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”

He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.

—

The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident

Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.

“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.” 

An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Troubled patient?” 

Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.

“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?” 

“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.” 

Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.

“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”

The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.

“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”

“You’re a real saint hen.”

You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.

“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”

He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.

You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown, 

“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”

He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.

“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”

“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”

He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.

“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”

You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.

You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.

You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.

“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”

You glance over and frown.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”

He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.

“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”

He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.

“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”

You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.

“Johnny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”

You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.

“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”

He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder. 

The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.

—

The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball

Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.

Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.

“Well don’t you look nice.” 

He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.

Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.

“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”

“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.” 

The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.

“You wanna head back to the table?”

You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.

“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”

You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.

You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.

“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”

“Always.”

Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.

“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.

“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”

“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”

You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.

“I got ya bonnie.”

He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.

“Johnny. Can you hear me?”

He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.

“Yea?”

“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”

“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”

You laugh and agree.

“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”

His eyes sparkle at your admiration.

“I’m always happy to help.”

—

The 4th Time: Yes

This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline. 

The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team. 

An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.

Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.

And Soap is shot.

He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic. 

“Fuck Johnny, shit.”

He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.

“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”

You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.

“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”

A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.

“You think that’s all of them?”

“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”

He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him. 

Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now. 

“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”

“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”

Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.

He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.

“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles. 

He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around. 

He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.

The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him. 

You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now. 

Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.

You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.

Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.

“Johnny?”

You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.

You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell. 

You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through. 

Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.

The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.

“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet. 

You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.

“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”

He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some. 

“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.

“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.

“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”

“Anything for you bonnie.”

—

He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.

[irisintheafterglow]

(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)🌷✨🩷🍪 Greetings Author-nim

Can I please request (⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠メ⁠)

(OPLA Zoro x You) Where Reader is an Assassin or Ninja and is a Pirate hunter, When Zoro used to be one too, they would always compete who gets the target first. Sometimes Zoro wins, sometimes reader.

So, imagine Reader's reaction when they saw Zoro with the crew.

And also, Luffy, somehow by some miracle with his own style of talk-no-jutsu managed to convince reader to join them(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥. Hope u have a great day and it's okay if u don't want to do this. I'll understand.

baby, let the games begin

wc: 2k (surprise, shawty)

cw/tags: gn!reader, swearing, canon-typical violence, mentions of drinking and alcohol, pining pining pining pining PINING

note: hi love, thank you so much for your request!! i hope you like this because i certainly love writing for this stupid himbo man

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Honor be damned, you really wanted to kill him. 

“Dirty play, demon,” you huff irritatedly, scowling at the asshole who skewered your target before you could. In a single clean slash, the head is relieved of its body and unceremoniously kicked into a bag. “We both know that one was mine.”

“Better luck next time.” Asshole. Stupid, selfish, infuriatingly attractive asshole. A million different ways you could end his life flashed through your mind and, with his back turned to you, became more of a possibility the longer you sat in your disappointment. The dock creaks beneath his receding footsteps and you spit a curse under your breath. The head now bouncing around in the pirate hunter’s hand would have had you living comfortably for months, not to mention buying some shelter for the stray dogs wandering your home island. Monsoon season was coming and you didn’t have nearly enough space to keep all of them dry. Finding food that wasn’t old bread and horse balls was hard in itself and shelter was just another task added to the to-do list. “You’re not gonna try and take it from me?” 

“Why would I? You killed him; you get the bounty,” you reply scornfully, praying that whoever came up with the idea of hunter’s honor is torn to shreds by an octopus. “Guess it is your turn,” you concede reluctantly and take note of the blood dripping from the dirty fabric sack as he reapproaches. You’d have to clean your shoes when you were done. “I did take that guy from you in Flamingo Village, last week.” 

“The one with the big, ugly hat,” he confirms and you don’t budge when he stands right in front of you. He had pretty eyes, you’d give him that. Too bad you wanted to slam your fist into his nose. “I was mad about that one.”

“Well, you got this one. Aren’t you gonna cash ‘em in?”

“I will. I’m just curious,” he says and his expression is unreadable. It bordered on amusement and suspicion with a little bit of awe. “You could have killed me a million times since I killed the target.” Already thought that, buddy. “Why didn’t you?”

“Like I said, hunter’s honor–”

“No,” he shakes his head decidedly and you narrow your eyes. “You’ve been following this guy for four days, watching other hunters fail to bring him in. My question is, why do you need this bounty so badly, and why aren’t you willing to kill me over it?”

“Technically, that’s two questions,” you deadpan and your heart does an unwanted little stutter when he scoffs, the tiniest smile pulling at his mouth. “If you really wanna know why I need it, it’s ‘cause I need to take care of some friends back home.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but you also didn’t need the most feared hunter in the seas knowing that you needed the money to buy squeaky toys and dog beds. 

“Those friends aren’t worth killing for?”

“It’s sounding like you want me to kill you,” you fire back incredulously. “Do I need to worry about you, Zoro?” 

“Look, all I’m saying is, all other hunters would be leaping at my throat as soon as I take their kill. I just don’t understand why you won’t, especially if it’s worth four days of stalking.” 

“Maybe I like playing this little game,” you admit. It’s no secret to you that your job becomes incredibly boring at times. All the other hunters you come across take their jobs too seriously and believe that they’re purging the seas of evil. You, however, knew that the real evil was pacing around ivory towers and putting up the wanted posters. When you first met Zoro, it seemed like he didn’t take his job seriously at all. He killed like it was breathing and remained unamused at the melodramatic theatrics of flashier hunters. You ran into each other often because, besides being the only ones who survive their hunts, you were the top-earning hunters of your generation and ended up following the same pace every time. “I take a bounty; you take a bounty. I try to beat the pirate hunter at his own game; he throws a fit when I’m faster than him.”

“But, today I was faster than you,” he corrects and you stick your tongue out at him in defiance. “Who’s throwing a fit now?”

“Get out of my sight, demon,” you frown but you can’t hold it for long. It becomes a tired, melancholy smile and you start to make your way back to the town to book passage home. “Hope you enjoy all that Berry.” 

“Let me buy you a drink with it before you go,” he calls after you and you freeze where you stand. “Consolation for kicking your ass this time around.” You shoot him a scathing look over your shoulder and take the bait. 

“I did all the dirty work for you, asshole, so it better be three drinks at the least.” He chuckles softly under his breath and you roll your eyes, letting him catch up to you before heading to the nearest bar together. “I hate you so much.” 

“No, you don’t.”

As time passed and you ran into him more during your hunts, that hatred turned into something different, an annoying feeling of excitement every time you heard a sword unsheathed or spotted someone with green hair. You found yourself checking your watch when you were ahead of him, counting down the hours until he caught up. You knew the sound of his footsteps and the rhythm of his breathing and memorized how the sun hit his eyes down to the iris. Sometimes, you’d work with him directly and split the bounty evenly once it was completed. During conversations to kill time, though he never admitted it, he liked being around you as often as he was. Eventually, you told him about your furry friends back on the island and started marking the places you’d been with a hasty drawing of a dog. It became part of your routine and the time that it took for him to catch up to you decreased exponentially as a result. You’re easier to follow, is what he said. On a particular mission where you were unusually behind, you were delighted to find his gross attempt at mimicking the mark scratched into the wooden bar counter. 

You lose touch with him after a year or so of working together and you don’t expect it to hurt as much as it did. Word floated around that he was captured by Marines and posted up in Shells Town, but the same mouths reported that he escaped with pirates the following day. None of it sounded like him and it reminded you that you really didn’t know him at all. Still, you marked that silly dog into every barstool and backdoor you came across as you fell back into the same boring routines. 

Taking a rest day at a floating restaurant called Baratie, you think you’ve found the perfect spot to scratch into the counter when you realize that someone has already done it for you. It was horrendous and nearly incomprehensible, but you choke back a sob when you run your thumb over the mangled wood. There was only one person who could have drawn the little dog so badly.

And it’s like your body senses him before your mind does. 

In an instant, you’re hyper fixated on the familiar rhythm of his boots and the soft noise as his swords clank together with every step. There are four others with him, but you know his approach like the back of your hand. A boy in a straw hat whom you recognize from wanted posters rushes the bar, loudly requesting a glass of milk for himself and the finest rum for his swordsman companion. When he slides into the seat next to you, you can barely look at him, rendered defenseless from the conflict of emotions stirring in your mind. Thousands of questions were screaming to be answered but you couldn’t even open your mouth. The alcohol in your half-finished glass is all you can see. 

“You found me,” he murmurs, flagging down the bartender and asking for a bottle of whatever you’re drinking.

“I wasn’t looking for you,” you reply just as quietly, watching his hand carefully replenish your glass before filling his own and downing it in a few swallows. You stop him from pouring another with a light hand on his shoulder and he wordlessly sets down the bottle, making you smile softly. “You still drink too much.”

“I don’t have you to slow me down,” he replies without hesitation, glancing at your fingertip as it traces the mark he made on the wood. “I’ve been putting those everywhere since I joined up with Luffy. Figured we’d run into each other at some point.” 

“Luffy,” you echo. “That’s your pirate captain?” The irony of your situation escapes neither of you. If you were smart, you’d have every single one of them dead and bouncing around a burlap sack, just like the pirate all those years ago. But, just the same as the first time, you were stopped by a profound desire to be closer to Zoro. 

“He’s not like other pirates. Not like the ones you and I know.” 

“I’ll let the Marines know next time I bring in a head, then,” you laugh humorlessly, feeling the rum burn down your throat when you take another sip. You feel his eyes watching you carefully but you don’t look back at him. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

“They don’t have to hear anything,” he says in a low tone, one that sends goosebumps up your spine and has your heart beating a little faster. “They don’t have to hear anything from you ever again.”

“You’re not saying…”

“That's exactly what I’m saying.” 

“You want me to just switch sides like it’s nothing?”

“This job has been nothing to you from the beginning, nothing but a way to feed strays that, thanks to you, have loving homes,” he reminds you and you exhale deeply. He was right, but part of you wanted vengeance for all the times you secretly wished he was still with you. “So, come with me.”

“Zoro, I–”

“You know, I’ve missed you so much I can’t sleep,” he shakes his head and sighs in defeat. “Every time we dock at a new city, I’m hoping you’re on a hunt because, as much as I care for them, they’ll never know me the way you do.” He looks back at his crew with something like sad fondness in his eyes. They wouldn’t ever know him the way you did, as a bounty hunter with no real place to call home and no real people to call friends. “It gets lonely when you’re not forced to be alone anymore.”

“And it’s lonely when you are forced to,” you add. “It’s lonely either way–”

“But I’d rather be that way with you,” he concludes. “It’s not bad when I’m with you.” You pause, collecting your thoughts and calculating how much money you’d have if you suddenly abandoned your current line of work. It was risky, sure, but something about risking it on Zoro made it feel a little less dangerous. “Your silence tells me I convinced you.”

“I’m not the one you need to convince; it’s your captain you should be talking to.”

“Trust me, he’s the least of our problems.” As if to drive home his point, a choir of cheers rises up from behind you as a loud belch sounds through the harbor. 

“‘Our’ as in the crew, or ‘our’ as in you and I?”

“It’s always been you and I, hasn’t it?”

“It always will be,” you promise, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. He’s warm and safe and everything you were needing. “But, I need to teach you how to draw a better dog.” He hums in agreement, downing another glass contentedly. 

“Yeah, you need to teach me how to draw a better dog.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[thesamoanqueen]

Onlyfans

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut.

A/N: this one-shot showed up in my mind because of John Cena and me thinking impossible possibilities.

He usually bring it with him all the time, but at home he paid no attention. He had left it on the table to go and do something when the first notification had arrived. Y/N hadn't even looked up from her laptop, too busy with the program sent from Stamford the previous evening and which she was reviewing as always before sending it back to the office. Two minutes had passed and another notification had arrived. Roman hadn't shown up then either, but when the third had been followed by a fourth, Y/N had held out her hand with a sigh. She didn't want to pry, she didn't even want to know, she justs cared about making that sound stop to work in peace and let Roman know of whoever had that urgency to talk to him.

What had appeared on the screen, however, had made her put the laptop aside without thinking twice, pushing her to get up and find out what the hell was that stuff.

She couldn't believe her eyes, it was crazy.

When she found him, he was busy with a box full of old fitness equipments, smile ready as soon as she came into his sight.

- Hey gorgeous – he greeted her and Y/N stopped to look at him, her perfect handsome man.

- Is there something you want to tell me? – she asked, holding back to give him a chance.

Roman froze completely, his gaze serious, back straight.

- whats up? – she heard him ask, pretending he didn’t know or maybe not knowing for real, Y/N at that point was not sure anymore.

- I don't know, should I?! – she immediately echoed him, refusing to prolong that game to place his phone in front of him, the message he had received still open.

Leaving aside what were their habits as a couple, habits that had never displeased either of them as far as she knew, they had established from the first moment they would discuss everything, to be open-minded and fair with their feelings. They had been on a verge of a breakup because of an unspoken nonsense, they had learned from the past and since that moment there had been nothing they hadn't shared, bad moods, doubts, problems, fears. She trusted him, she wasn't obsessed with knowing what, where or who he was with, not even knowing what revolved around him and was proposed to him before, it had never even crossed her mind. She had chosen a man, a good real man, one who wanted a family, with no fear about serious relationship and without warning now she found out an Onlyfans notification on his phone? At home? While she was there working?!

- I didn't mean to watch, there could be anything in there, whatever, but here Ro? For real? and honestly If you have a reason or not, I thought we were better than this- she said, unable to hold back any longer and immediately saw his expression change, an amused smile replacing his worried expression.

- Babygirl, slow down. We got no problem, there's nothing in there I want, trust me. I don't care about that stuff, its shit, I’d never do it when I’ve you – he winked, trying to pull her into a hug, but more he laughed more she tensed.

- ‘kay then what?!

- You know, John did it, an account… boys at work were joking, saying that I should make one too. Locker room chatter, bullshit, sometimes they still get me involved.

Surprised, she looked at him speechless, turmoil quickly slipping away, while his information created a strangely valid picture in her mind about possibilities.

John was a funny dude, strange at times and that stunt had actually made the news. She had seen some clips online, nothing R-rated as one might imagine, but she hadn't connected the two things. And she had never even thought that someone might have thought of doing it, even though she knew of Roman's fame among the fans, rumors, fantasies and the whole package on the most unlikely platforms. In some way it was her job to know what people thought about wwe’s top guy and she played with it to for promotion.

- A real onlyfans – she repeated flatly, staring at him and he gave her one of his billion dollar smiles.

- I'm quite successful, it might work – he joked and she reflexively batted her eyelashes, unable to control herself because yes, he was damn right.

People went absolutely crazy for a few well planted cameras shots, a couple of hits not so family friendly in his ring promos and that salt and pepper in his beard, a video or an entire onlyfans account would not have been simply successful, would have unleashed the apocalypse into the wrestling community. During the production phase, behind the scenes, she too had relied on certain shots, specific set-ups, because she knew they would work. There were things that she too was obsessed with despite having him as her in real life partner. If Roman would have really decided to do it, something direct, focused, if he didn't hold back…

The thought made her turn around, going back without another word.

-Y/N – Roman called her, trying to hold her, but she didn't let him do it, quickly marching towards the front door closet where she kept her purse always ready.

She knew Roman had followed her, sensing heavy footsteps behind her as she walked through the house, but when she finally started to reach for what she needed, his hand tightened around her wrist, physically stopping her from doing anything. He gave her a deadly serious look, his gaze dark as she broke free.

- Y/N it was a bad joke, ain’t gonna happen, don't take it that far – he reasoned, standing there as if no one could move him, searching her eyes.

Those brown eyes that would have made anyone's knees tremble, that had made her tremble too an infinite number of times and for the most absurd reasons, at the right times and not, everywhere, always, from the first moment, without exceptions and that now she saw slowly widen, confused, as she handed him what she had taken out of her jacquemus.

-Here – she offered, her personal credit card ready.

Roman stared at it stunned and Y/N knew she had caught him off guard, because that card never left her purse if he was around, he didn't like when it happened even though she was proudly independent he liked to play the role of her provider. With a deep breath, seeing him froze, she decided to take out the second one, adding it to the first and moving closer to slip them into his pocket.

- Let’s say you can have both, but the show is exclusive – she specified, as if they were really in a negotiation and at that last hint she felt him suddenly explode into laughter.

He throw his head back, perfect teeth showing, eyes crinkling, making every inch of his chiseled face smile.

- Someone woke up possessive – he pinched her when he was finally able to speak again and Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, letting him have that little win.

He didn’t like if someone was too close to her, if someone stared in a way or another, when they hadn't yet been in an official relationship Y/N had witnessed scenes of pure testosterone that would have made anyone run and even today he showed no signs of loosening his grip. She had found the notification of a site notoriously inclined towards certain ratings, messages with it, she hadn't worked entirely on her imagination, but were clearly details his ego ignored, too happy to have caught her.

-If your intention is to keep laughing, I'll take them back – she stopped him, stretching out her hand again to retrieve them, but as soon as she took them off, Roman grabbed her wrist.

- For you the show is free, just ask ma'am

His voice was velvetly soft, as was the touch of his thumb stroking her caramel skin. With eyes fixed on hers, she couldn't hold back a smile, seeing Roman return it immediately when he pushed her against the door.

- Then show me sir – she whispered and he twisted his head, making her giggle before lifting her up.

With legs wrapped around his hips, he carried her to the couch to place her between cushions like a precious thing, a rebellious lock hanging out of the bun. He stood there waiting, hands placed next to her, but deliberately not where he should, his whole body close, but not close enough and for a moment Y/N did nothing but admire him.

He was a charming man, the kind of man who captured attention even without anything special or fancy, he made her hands itch and her stomach flutter like the first time she had touched him and she had no longer been able to let him go. It wasn't just the appearance, but rather his attitude, his attentions, they were a drug, they were addictive and the idea of having them all to herself, having him when out there people would do anything to have a crumb of what she had, it made her feel special, in charge.

-You're playing a dangerous game – he warned her, eyes hovering over her full lips.

-Im pretty sure I can handle it – she replied, her breathing slowing as she saw him bend more.

-I know exactly what you can handle babygirl – he touched her with his nose, with that lock and Y/N felt the taste of him on her, even if Roman had kept himself at a sufficient distance not to kiss her.

From the couch, Y/N watched as he straightened up and grabbed the hem of his tank to pull it up. Her eyes went hopelessly down his body, looking in religious silence at every inch of his torso, as he undressed with unnatural calm. She watched the abs pop out even without oil to accentuate them, broad pecs, dark tattoo that stood out against tanned skin, those lines that she drew with her fingers whenever she could. And then the arms, bent to pass the shirt beyond his neck to which she used to cling, those arms that she scratched as if her very life depended on them, capable of hurting and carrying her around effortlessly, shaped by years of practice and dedication. Her pulse racing, she saw him turn to put away his shirt, showing her his broad back, his sculpted shoulders as he rolled them back to face her and let his hair down. She watched Roman run his long fingers through the messy locks, trying to fix them during that impromptu striptease in the living room, in broad daylight and anything could have happened, someone even broke into the house and Y/N would not have flinched, focused as she was on him.

He was slow, unnerving. What she would do quickly, throwing everything away, he did in slow motion, to push her desire, make her savor everything, drive her completly crazy. Every gesture seemed to require effort, every action was like a ritual, a video wouldn't have done him justice, he was directing a movie and she was the spectator unable to distract herself while his fingers loosened the knot of his shorts to make them hang on the hips. Enraptured, she followed his usually hidden v, focusing on the portion of skin he was revealing and that left no doubt about what was down there. Concentrated, she clenched her legs without hiding, heartbeat racing as he fill the space between them, a dangerous intense shadow on his eyes that made Y/N hold her breath.

- Why you so silent now sweetheart? – he asked, stopping a step away from her, looking down and Y/N raised her head, body tingling as she felt him tower above her.

-Im ejoying it… no words needed – she breathed innocently, reaching out a hand tentatively and Roman bent over once again following the wandering of fingers playing with his lace, tongue running on his lips.

- Hmm no, I think we need a reaction… feedbacks you know, for that onlyfans stuff

His voice, breathing caused another series of shocks through her, the desire to crash her mouth against him, suffocate in one of their kisses, feel his big hands ravaging her now almost unbearable. Roman locked her wrist once more, his grip hard enough to make Y/N throb where she was probably already a mess, preventing her from exploring more than she should, eyes going back into hers, digging, guiding her where he wanted, only where he let them.

-Its good – she admitted without rebelling, unable to concentrate on anything than those two brown pools that seemed to swallow her.

- Just that? – he asked, pinching her face with his hair and Y/N tilted her head, intercepting the trajectory of his lips with greed.

-More than good – she mewed, leaning forward and feeling him guide her to his erection, never breaking eye contact, avid more than ever on having her undivided attention.

- Not enough for me

Under her fingers, Y/N felt his boner awake, hard and she risked something more, a more intense touch, hoping to convince Roman to let her do something, but it lasted just a moment and he pushed her away, standing up straight again to do it himself. Y/N knew what to expect, she knew what Roman was hiding, and yet when he lowered his pants enough to release his erection and took it into his hand, Y/N couldn't hold back a gasp to the mere sigh of his delicious flesh. She saw him so proud, spit obscenely and his smile quickly turn into an arrogant grin enjoying his attentions in front of her who was now struggling to stay still.

Was the kind of show she was sure many people would sell their souls along with their houses for and that even her, despite knowing Roman's abilities, couldn't say was immune. She wasn't immune at all honestly and when he curled his mouth, carried away by the increasing euphoria, eyes still fixed on her, letting go an excited growl, Y/N jumped on her knees.

-Gawd com’here– she moaned sulkily before crashing her lips on him and Roman laughed at her kissing, his hand finally leaving his now tense erection to keep himself balanced.

-That's a feedback – he approved, watching her quickly undress beneath him.

And Y/N might have replied but her body was begging her to put an end to that game, get some relief and before Roman could decide otherwise just for playing around, she pulled him better on top, wedging his brawny body between her thighs. With one hand on his dark locks and the other feeling his cock, she slowly bit his lip asking with pleading eyes and he pushed himself into her palm, tongue ready to invade her mouth. She moaned against him, letting him move his hips, enveloped in the heat of him, in that tantalizing smell of his skin, lost in the exquisite taste of his mouth, until she heard Roman growl and only then she guided him where wanted. None had touched her, neither him nor herself and yet she felt him slip between her juicy folds with ease, in a feral curse that made her cry and pushed him to bite her neck. Holding her hip he enstablished a pace to fuck her opposite of his striptease, messy, rough, domineering, every thrust crushed her down, nailing her mercilessly and making her sweatin agony.

Sometimes she felt like she was a toy in his hands, but she liked that kind of treatment, more when they had already wasted enough time with other games and the thought of someone else wanting that attention was still in the back of her head. She ran her nails down his forearms, marking him, holding on with ragged breath, gasping with mouth open, as he grunted into the crook of her neck, sinking into her dripping pussy in a concert of obscene sounds. And in the throes of her ecstacy, Y/N made her hands roam over his massive back, over his strong neck, even over his ass contracted in the effort to pound her wildly.

She felt a well known fire building suddenly in the bottom of her belly, uncontrollably, like a wave of pure bliss when Roman pushed himself deeper, lifting without mercy her thigh over his shoulder to get a better angle, his balls slapping against her soft skin and she squirmed crying in pleasure. His grip became more possessive, almost to prevent her from run, even though she was now just a weeping mess, folds pulsing and gripping around his dick, heat growing for what was now a marvelous attack until the delirium reached her head.

- R-Roo… ple-aase…

- Ssh come for me… let it go, you wanted it cmon good girl -

One stroke and another, on that sweet lovely spot, his skin rubbing against her hot clit and Y/N closed her eyes, curling beneath him, her mind white, blank and ì mouth open without a sound to leave her soul. She felt him leave a sweaty kiss on her cheek, continue tenaciously to prolong her sensation and also lift her other leg, aiming it in a shameful, vulgar position to conquer his climax now. Stunned by her orgasm, she watched him with passionate eyes, his expression focused, body tense and furious in the last effort and Y/N placed her forehead against his, holding him in place, tightening with a sob around his cock, folds trembling. With all his weight pinning her down, he willingly went for a couple of thrusts, deep, rough, his breathing more and more heavy until it was enough for him too and Y/N pulled him against her neck, feeling every muscle of his thick body tense and his cock twitching until it fills her up.

As always, he got stuck inside her, refusing to come out until he stopped jerking, hands gripping her soft hips tenaciously to keep her in place and only when nothing was left anymore, he freed her, collapsing though against the couch headboard to pull her against him in a sweaty hug, while they caught both their breath. They probably should have rushed to take a shower, but Y/N wasn't in a hurry and he didn't seem to be either, leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder.

- I was thinking… - she began, sore but with her fingers tracing his arm anyway.

- Gimme ten minutes and we'll do another live

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @reignsangel444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @joannasteez @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @spritelucozade

[bipp-bopp-time-to-stop]

Pretty Boy

Finally, I got this finished. I had hoped to get this posted about two days earlier but damn did ending it kick my ass six ways 'til Sunday. I also changed the title of this fic because I kept reading the old title and it didn't gel as well as it used to for me. It may be a bit generic in my eyes, but it works. Although I do like him, I feel like I'm not the best at imagining or summarizing what Warriors' character is like. I still tried my best and am satisfied enough with the result. Enjoy!

TW: Yandere themes, gore, blood, long and detailed descriptions of torture, slightly suggestive in certain parts, some self deprecation on Wars' part, Wars is pretty... fucked up

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Being pretty wasn’t easy- and Wars knew this well. Yes, you could be considered attractive, but that was so… surface level. Surface level was enough to make merchants a bit more lenient towards you, makes it easier to obtain gossip, and made making “friends” less tiresome. Walking the walk wasn’t the hard part of being pretty. It was the talk.

To be pretty, handsome, desirable, beautiful, and more, required work. It required proper etiquette and good habits. It required a level head and a pleasant attitude. It required a good handle on your emotions regardless the situation. It required all of this and more. If you failed at any of this, even for a moment, pretty could get ugly.

For the longest time, Wars believed himself to be good at staying pretty. He knew he was on the surface- he wouldn’t be teased by his brothers otherwise if he wasn’t. He was usually chosen to be the face of the group when it came to handling locals and gathering information. A handsome face and charming attitude was nicer to deal with than a rugged face or snarky personality. No offense to Time and… maybe some offense to Legend.

It was tiresome. Playing nice with others he would sooner prefer to ignore or even berate. Hero he may be, he never saw himself as the tried and true goody-goody type. Thankfully, though, he didn’t have to be that with his brothers. He could partake in stupid games such as who can smash the most pots in a minute or who can last the longest in a cucco pen. He could make all sorts of dirty and dark jokes and have laughter answer him instead of shocked faces and gasps. It was freeing to be around his brothers- to forgo the title of hero and just be him.

And then you came along.

It was an unwelcome adjustment, at first. At all times now did he have to put on the facade of being this charming and polished hero. He forced himself to come to your aid whenever you stumbled or struggled with the journey they were on. Came to your defense whenever one of his brothers would snap at you for making a rookie mistake. It was clockwork to him. But you, on the other hand, weren’t.

“Wars? Mind if I talk to you about something? Uhm, privately?” You ask as you approach him with a noticeable level of hesitancy. It peaked Wars’ curiosity by a tad but he was far from surprised. He was your regular confidant amidst the group, after all.

“Sure,” Wars agrees as he follows you a distance away from the group. He wondered what you wanted to tell him this time. Was Legend getting too snarky with you again? Was Time making your training too rough to handle? Maybe Wind played a prank on you that crossed a line? Or was it not related to them at all? Perhaps you were feeling homesick and just wanted to talk one on one or just wanted to confide in him about something personal?

“Could you just… stop?”

… Huh?

“Listen I… appreciate you for what you’re doing- truly, I do. But… you don’t have to force yourself to like me or make the others like me,” You sigh and face him with a complex expression. Displeasure was the emotion Wars could make out the clearest and it made him squirm more than he’d like to admit.

“I… what? I’m not sure I follow,” Wars replied robotically. “Could you elaborate on what you mean?”

“I think I’m being clear enough already,” You sigh again but it’s deeper this time and Wars only finds himself growing more jittery. Why? Why was that? Why was your displeasure with him suddenly so… bad? “Please, just… stop with the facade. I’d rather you dislike me, or even hate me, then be some kind of- of fake friend with me. It’s not nice.”

Wars was left gaping like a fish. Even as you grew more suspicious with his silence and eventually walked away because of it, Wars couldn’t even formulate a word. Why was this shaking him up so badly? It was an act, yes, but… was it really? Had he actually grown to like you? Perhaps he had… and Wars didn’t know how to feel about it.

The next few days were awkward, to say the least. You’d seek out help from anyone else and Wars didn’t pipe up once. The tension was not missed by his brothers, but they didn’t butt in to help. Honestly, some seemed to enjoy the fact that the spot by your side was now left open. It was a bitter pill to swallow when Wars noticed that. Why?

He fell back on his training as a knight in hopes it would help him. When wanting to learn about the target, one must observe. He gathered intel left, right, and center in hopes of quelling the rapids of unease in his chest. He asked pestered his brothers about you whenever he was one on one with them. He’d strategically place himself behind you when the group traveled so he could watch you without worry. The more he observed, the more he learned, made him only grow more confused and… yearn.

Why were you asking Twilight how to ride horses? He could teach you that! It was drilled into him when he was training to be a knight, so no need to turn to the ranch hand for help! Why were you pestering Time for stories? Wars was a captain during a time of war! He had many stories to tell you (the not so gruesome ones, of course) and they’d be just as interesting! And why were you wanting to go into town with Legend? He’s good with merchants too, y’know?!

The unease in his chest only grew each day. The rapids had turned into a tsunami and the waters grew murky with green. The snarling and biting sensation of his heart hurt- like a viper had seized it. These boiling and bubbling feelings were awful and gross and disgusting and ugly. Pay attention to me! Think of me! Come to me first! Ask for my help! Look at me! Look at me! Look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me look at me LOOK AT ME!

As his patience was about to run dry, Hylia finally threw him a bone.

When it came to espionage, Wars was almost always the first pick. It was obvious he was the best suited for it considering he bothered to take care of himself and had formal etiquette drilled into him like a screw. Though, this event he had to sneak into was different. Why? Because it was a couple’s event and by a stroke of luck, you were his partner for the night.

Even though the outfit and make-up you were dolled up in was basic, Wars felt flabbergasted. He was so used to you being slightly grimey and dirtied up like most of the others that he never realized what all was hiding underneath that. For the first time in what felt like years, his heart was floating along on crystal clear waters. Despite this mission being supposedly high risk, Wars couldn’t help but feel relaxed as he had your hand in his nearly the whole night. Having you cling to him and coo at him, no matter how fake, had him light headed. Not even a higher power would be able to rip his gaze from you. Not like they’d be any more divine than you were.

From that night onward, Wars knew his place beside you now. While he missed being your sole confidant, he couldn’t exactly complain about his new role. A role that allowed him to be privy to every detail about you. From your routines to your clothes to your diet to your habits and even to your body. He’s lived around a castle and royalty long enough to know how to be an attendant.

He had to start small and work his way up. Given that your relationship with him was still on slightly rocky waters, he had to be patient yet again. Suggestions on what to potentially wear or little tips about hygiene were a good start in his mind. Just words, no touching- yes, that’s fine for now. Far from what he fully wants, but it’s enough to tide him over in the beginning.

And then… hmm… would you mind if he did your hair, (Name)? Nothing too fancy- just wanting to make sure it’s being taken care of and there’s a new style he thinks you might like. It’s an even mix of practical and fashionable and he’s sure you’ll like it. Hmm? Oh no no no no no! He wasn’t smelling your hair he was worshiping it, he was just getting close to get a piece of fuzz out! That’s all!

Also, what do you think about wearing this tunic with this pair of pants? He thinks the colors look well together. If it’s not your style, how about a few other outfits he came up with? Perhaps… a good ol’ green tunic to top off this pair of brown pants? Maybe maroon with something more tan colored? How about something bright like yellow? Or… oh, you’d look good in royal blue. … Oh? Why was he doing that? Well, you complained about having to pick out an outfit at times so he thought he’d help you out! Besides, he knows you trust in his style! So… is it okay if he takes care of that for you now? Okay? Okay! Great! And, uhm… do you need help getting dressed? Well, you did twist your ankle a few days ago and he wants to make sure you don’t irritate it while getting dressed. A-Are you sure? Positive? Well, okay… he’ll be right outside while you change just in case you need help please.

Ah ah ah! Don’t you give him that look! Look at your hands, do you really think you should be gripping a spoon at the moment? More than half of the soup is ending up back in the bowl and all over you, so just let him help! He’ll make sure to blow on it so that it’s not too hot, he promises. He’ll also handle getting you seconds or even thirds- yes, thirds. You need meat on your bones just as much as the rest of them and you know Wild cooks as much as he can for dinner. Just remember to open wide and say ah~.

He knows, he knows- it’s cold. Just do your best to stay still for him, will you? Can’t have your pores staying gunked up for much longer or else you could break out or even get sick. Also, your face will just feel nicer once he’s done. He’ll be careful around your eyes and lips. Actually, speaking of lips, why don’t you try out this lip balm he’s been using. No no no, don’t swat his hands- he’s just making sure to apply the right about. And… hold on, just a little more… there! Don’t your lips feel much better now? Look at how plump and pink they are now! Pretty, yes? Please just let him kiss them.

Hey! Settle down, you’ll just make your injuries worse! Yes, yes, you’re a capable adult and can wash yourself but look at you! There aren’t any potions or fairies to spare and Hyrule just knocked himself out from using too much magic! Now, please… let him help. Please, it hurts him to see you hurting like this. He won’t wash anywhere you don’t want him to and he’ll make sure to be as gentle as possible when it comes to dressing your wounds. He promises. Cross his heart and hope to die.

So, yes…

He was very content with his new role.

But don’t think this praise is one sided- oh no. He expects you to praise him back. He needs you to. If you don’t… well, he doesn’t mean to be dramatic but he’s sure his heart would stop beating.

So, please, praise him. Yes, comb your hands through his hair and admire how soft it is. No no, he doesn’t care that he just styled it- he can always style it again. Do you like it? Do you want to try out the products he’s been using? Ah, the way your fingers massage and scratch at his scalp feel lovely. Do keep going- he really doesn’t mind.

Hm? Does his voice really sound that nice? It’s nothing much, really, just his natural accent mixed with the elegancy expected from someone of his rank and title. If you like it so much… would you like to listen to him narrate a few poems he wrote? He’s been meaning to proof read them, anyways. Proof reading is easier when done aloud and with someone else there to check his work. Don’t cut back on criticism or praise- he wants to hear all of it.

Woah! No, it’s okay! It’s okay, it’s okay! You didn’t mean to barge in on him and it’s not like he’s indecent- just shirtless. But, since you’re here… would you do him a favor? He’s been checking himself out- wanting to see if his new training regiment is doing him any good. Do his biceps look bigger than before? Are his abs more defined? What do you mean he could just look in the mirror? Those things add ten pounds, you know! Just spoil him a little, wouldn’t you? He wants to hear your opinion because it’s the only one that ever matters to him anymore. No matter what he thinks of himself anymore, it’s nothing compared to how you see him. He’s all beautiful and pretty and dolled up just for you. Tell him what to change, what to do, how to act and he’ll follow every order to a T. Whatever it takes for you to hold him and touch him like he’s the embodiment of luxury. Mold the clay of his person into a masterpiece and admire the art turned life before you. Please just treasure him even a fraction of how he treasures you.

This perfect balance he had achieved with you was what made him wake up in the morning- figuratively and literally. He was there for almost every step of your daily routine now. Big or small, he had some hand in it even if you didn’t realize it. He had worked out every minute detail to the point that he’s not suffocating but he’ll never be far either. He’s good at what he does and he knows it- you make sure he does. He never gets less than five words of praise a day and if you short him- unknowingly, of course, you’re not cruel not like her- then he just has to perform at 110% the next day. So…

“The swelling and redness isn’t going down. It’s clearly poison. From what, I don’t know yet, but I intend to find out as soon as possible and have someone pay for doing this to them.”

How could he have let this happen?

You laid prone in the inn’s bed looking like you had just had your face slammed into a nest of vengeful hornets. It was swollen beyond belief and too red. Wild was silent as he slowly spooned homemade porridge into your mouth. His long and unkempt hair cascaded down his shoulders and covered his face. Wars didn’t need to look Wild in the eye to know how he silently sobbed- he was no better, after all.

“Any idea as to what happened?” Hyrule’s question draws Wars out of his stupor. He looks over at the brunette with an empty gaze. Hyrule narrows his eyes and waits with hands on hips for Wars to answer. Seconds tick by and Wars makes no sound but ultimately shakes his head.

“How… how do you not know? You’re always by their side…” Wild quietly pipes up. He’s barely turned his head and Wars can see his red rimmed eyes staring straight through him. Sadness pools in them and rage makes it seem like his tears are about to start boiling as they fall down his cheeks. Wars understood Wild’s feelings because they were his own. The wild haired man seemed ready to pin the blame on Wars and pounce so he could let out his emotion. Wars didn’t know if he’d bother to defend himself.

“I can’t think of anyone who would want to do this. We haven’t pissed off anyone in town yet nor have they,” Hyrule sighs as he returns to your side. He lets a healing spell fall from his hands to bring you some comfort. The swelling and redness doesn’t fade a bit since whatever poisoned you was actively affecting you. You barely make a sound in reaction to Hyrule’s spell or Wild continuing to feed you. Could you even speak? Did you even register that they were there or was Wars illusioning himself into believing you were even smidge bit lucid?

The door to the room bursts open and Wars doesn’t have time to snap at the intruder until he’s being slammed against the wall. Rough hands close in on his throat with a crushing grip and Wars finds himself staring into the crazed eyes of Twilight. The larger man is huffing and puffing like a raging bull and sporting his abnormally sharp teeth. For a few tense moments, Twilight does nothing more than stare down Wars. Was he debating on strangling him or tearing into his neck with his fangs? Perhaps both given that Twilight was about to blow.

“You… you… did this,” Twilight accuses as he presses Wars against the wall even harder. The accusation chills Wars to the bone as he looks over to you. He felt like this was his fault anyways but… for him to actually be the one who harmed you? How? How was that possible?! He does everything he can to support you and comfort you! He would sooner cut off his own hands than let them bring you harm! So how… how could he… what did he…

Something is slapped against his face and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. As he coughs and sneezes, powder comes out. He swipes at his face to wipe off whatever Twilight had slapped onto him but it only seems to spread it more. A wet and cold towel is scrubbed against his skin as Hyrule jumps into action to save Wars from what is likely the supposed “poison”.

“Enough!” Hyrule yells as he stops cleaning Wars’ face. He looks over at Twilight with rage that had finally boiled over. “What the hell are you doing, Twilight?! What good are you trying to achieve by poisoning one of us?! Especially with (Name) in the room?!”

“It’s his fault!” Twilight snaps back. He picks up a round, blue container from the ground and nearly shoves it back in Wars’ face. Wars’ eye nearly fall out of their sockets when he recognizes what it is. “He bought this the other night and put it on their face this morning. When I was looking through (Name)’s belongings to find what may have poisoned them, the stench of this powder caught my attention. I don’t know what it is but it smelled rancid.”

“Foundation…” Wars croaks out as he stares at the container and the powder on himself. “It… it was supposed to be foundation. I bought it the other night from a cosmetic merchant. I looked through their wares and- and all of it seemed well made and luxurious. I-It was supposed to be a gift and… and they loved it. I put it on their face this morning and it went on so nicely and they looked so lovely and… and… and then…”

Wars sinks to the floor with a choked sob. He shakes and crawls over to your bedside with his eyes trained on your poor face the whole time. He can see you try to look over at him past the swollen lids of your eyes but he doubts you can see much at all. He wants to reach out to you and comfort you through the pain. To caress your face and whisper sweet words. To pepper gentle kisses across your skin while he murmurs out his adoration but he can’t. He’s tainted by the very thing that harms you now. He bought and handed you the very poison that swells and reds your skin. He recalls how you trusted him- like you always do- when he applied your make up this morning. And now look at you- look at what he’s done to you.

He’s pulled away from you by the collar of his shirt and nearly dragged out of the room. Twilight forces him to his feet and looks him dead in the eye. Although he’s had his outburst, his eyes are still simmering with anger. Wars can hear heavy footsteps echo behind him before Time comes into view. He looks over Twilight’s shoulder and gives Wars his own stoney scowl with both eyes open perhaps a sign to Wars that he was also angry about what happened.

“Legend is currently isolating the offender away from the town. You are to meet him at the appointed place and take over from there. The poor bastard’s fate is going to be in your hands and when I come to check in on you within three hours, I better find that you’ve dealt him due punishment. I’ll let your imagination run wild with the possibilities of what will be done to you should you not meet my expectations. Understood?” Time tsked. His look and tone made it clear that this order might as well be regarded as law.

“Yes sir,” Warriors nodded. He straightened up and dusted himself up. Slowly, training was taking over him and seeping into every fiber of his being as he marched out of the building. He carried himself with purpose as he walked to where Legend was supposedly waiting for him. Crowds parted to let the man through as it was clear he was on a mission and the malice that seeped off of him was enough to make even the guards look the other way.

The well paved roads of the town quickly turned into nothing more than well trodded dirt pebbled with rocks and gravel. After more walking, moss and more overgrowth overtook the ground. Wars had to give it to the Veteran- he was good when it came to preparation. He had likely dragged the man off to a secluded area far enough away from town that no one could hear any screams. He also imagined that the Vet had picked out a secluded area that would be hard to see and get to.

“Fucking finally…” came the tired groan of a bored Legend as he emerged from the tree line. He may have put on a good poker face of being nothing more than annoyed, but Wars could easily see through it. Eyes were the window to the soul, after all, and Legend was positively burning. “I’ve gotten tired of listening to the bastard whimper and cry. Be lucky that I had the patience and benevolence to save him for you.”

“I’m more surprised than anything, Legend. The fact that you’re not jumping at me and trying to tear me a new one is a little… off putting,” Wars huffed. Legend only grins at the man and approaches him with a saunter. He claps a hand onto Wars’ shoulder and leers up at the captain.

“Oh, I wanted to and I still very much want to right now. But, then, I got to thinking about how you’re now here and not beside them like some sort of dog on a leash. Hyrule trusts me greatly so there’s no doubt in my mind that I can be at their side for hours on end without interruption. Given what you did to them- and I do plan to tell them everything- they’ll surely appreciate me being there instead of you, don’tcha think? I always thought I looked better beside them than you ever did. After today, I’m sure they’ll agree,” Legend provokes as he smiles snarls at Wars. It takes every shred of willpower Wars can spare to not deck Legend in the face right then and there. Legend obviously notices the barely masked rage and laughs. He gives Wars a pat on the back and struts off while whistling.

Wars stalks down the slope Legend had come from before dropping down a small ledge. His boots squelched as they sunk into the thick moss of the cave floor. In the very back, illuminated by a few lanterns, sat the perp. He was bound up to a wooden chair thanks to thick strands of rope and chains. He was gagged but not blindfolded. His gaze met Wars and, for a fraction of a second, he seemed relieved- as if he expected Wars to be his savior. Naturally, these delusions were dismissed the moment the bound man caught a glimpse of Wars’ ice cold scowl and clear look of intent.

Instead of immediately lashing out at the merchant, Wars observes what tools he’s been left to work with: A pair of shears, some rusty knives, a bottle of green and viscous liquid, and a few rods of metal. Of course Legend wouldn’t leave him with anything good. The thing that Wars seemed to have the most hope in was that bottle of liquid but that could be saved for later. Save the best for last and all that…

“What shall I start with first? Something small, of course, but nonetheless painful. Can’t have you dying too soon, can we?” Wars sighed in annoyance as he combed a hand through his hair. After some contemplation, he picked up the pair of shears and directed them to the merchants hands. “Let’s get rid of those pesky fingers, shall we? I think that would be a lovely place to start.”

With anger fueling him and well defined muscle lining his arms, chopping through each finger didn’t require much more effort than chopping carrots did. It sounded rather similar to it too, just with a bit more snap. Wars took his time too- bothering to get the bladed edges of the shears comfortable against each joint before he slammed a hand down on the handle. Despite his control and technique, the process still went by too quickly for Wars.

Putting the shears to the side for the moment, Wars armed himself with one of the rusted over knifes. The blade was so dull that it likely couldn’t even cut butter but Wars would make it work. He brought the knife to the man’s arm and began to cut against it with a sawing motion. It took a few back and forth motions for the skin to finally give in but Wars stopped the second that happened. He moved the blade over by a hairs length and began again. With each cut made, he would move the blade over and begin to slice again.

Were Wars a naturally more savage man, he would have caved into his rage and pummeled the sinner into broken bones and gore the second he was left along with him. It sounded tempting, he wouldn’t lie, but this felt much better to him. The slow increase of pain and letting the man before him hang on a thread for however long he allowed was much more soothing to him. Death by a thousand cuts would take awhile but awhile was something Wars didn’t exactly have and it would be too lenient in Time’s eyes.

Wars’ next pick were the metal rods. He grabbed the heaviest and thickest of them all and tested the weight of it in his hand. Once he had a sure grip, he wasted no time in introducing it to the merchant’s knees. Over and over and over and over and over again did Wars slam the makeshift weapon into the sinner’s kneecaps. Only once he heard and felt each knee pop and crack below his blows did Wars move on. In a single, powerful strike, Wars hit the man across the face with the rod and broke his nose.

The damage he’s done so far was good but not enough. The man was barely lucid anymore- overwhelmed by pain and bloodloss. The idea of removing his gag and listening to him plead for a few minutes was now out of the question. Were Wars not so limited on tools and too clouded by emotion, he was sure he could do a lot more.

Arming himself with the knives once again, Wars finally began to stab him. It wasn’t relentless and wild, but calculated. He wanted each stab wound to not be overlapped by another so he could count each one at the end of this all. Given the poor state of his equipment, the knives were quick to bend after about ten stabs each. Once the blade of each knife had bent, Wars turned back to his trusty shears to continue the job. He made sure no inch of skin was left untouched by his rage. Even once he felt like he had gotten to each part of the man possible, he untied him from the chair and flopped him down onto the ground to get to his back. He was long since dead by now, but that wasn’t going to stop Wars.

The minutes trickled on by as Wars continued his work. He grew sweaty and his arms ached but he refused to rest. With his hands slick from blood and sweat, his palms sliced across the blade of his shears more than once as the metal refused to stay steady in his grip. It stung but it was a welcome sting- it brought him away from the monotony of his actions.

“I see you’ve done well to keep yourself busy,” Time’s voice muses and it jolts Wars away from his actions. He stands up and greets the older man with a curt nod before stepping away from the body. He lets Time get a good look at the corpse and hopes that it’s up to the man’s liking. Time also looks at the bloody and/ or broken tools Wars had used. He merely hummed and picked up the bottle that Wars had forgotten about.

“How are they?” Wars asks as he discards his shears.

“Better. Their face isn’t fully red and swollen anymore, but it’s patchy and sensitive. A welcome improvement but still a sight none of us like to see,” Time replies. He uncorks the glass bottle and tips it over. The thick liquids falls out in blobs and seeps into the open wounds of the corpse. It takes Wars a moment to realize that it wasn’t some sort of acid like he had originally suspected. Instead, it was a juvenile chu chu. Good thing Wars didn’t use it or else he’d have nothing to show Time.

“That’s good to hear. Any idea when they’ll be fully recovered?” Wars inquires further.

“They should be mostly healed up in about two days, but Hyrule recommended to not have them wear anything on their face for about a week,” Time answers as he discards the bottle. He glares down once more at the body before looking back up at Wars and gives him a curt nod. “Not bad for what you had. It’ll do.”

With Time’s approval, Wars lets his shoulders sag and a breath of relief leaves him. He follows the older hero out of the cave and away from the scene. Wars tears off a few strips of cloth from his shirt to cover his bleeding hands as a makeshift bandage. He’d heal them up once back with the rest of the group. He’d also have to remember to get a change of clothes as his were very wet and very red.

He paid minimal attention to his brothers when he returned back to the inn. He fell back onto his routine to get cleaned up. He rushed at certain parts when he remembered that you were nearby and potentially hopefully waiting for him. Once he had triple checked himself and made sure no blood or poison still clung to him, he snuck over to your room. Realistically, you’d be sleeping but even getting a glimpse of your relaxed face would be far better than the pain you were in earlier.

“Warriors?” Oh… you were up.

With the face of a man caught red handed, Wars stopped trying to sneak into the room. He was still quiet as not to disrupt the peaceful air nor to alert his brothers that currently laid sleeping rooms over.

“Yes?” Wars whispered as he sat down on the chair at you bedside. It held some residual warmth, so whoever had accompanied you earlier hadn’t been gone long. If Wars had to guess, he would be all in on it being Legend.

“Where have you been? I vaguely remember you and Hyrule and… Twilight, I think? Getting into an argument earlier. I think I feel asleep and then woke up with Legend beside me…” You recount. Wars feels his heart drop to chest despite having the Vet tell him what he planned on doing.

“I’m sorry,” Wars apologies quietly as his shaking hands reach out to grab your own. He pulls them in close and presses a gentle kiss to both knuckles and palms. “I’m- I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” You sigh and Wars shakes his head. No, no you couldn’t forgive him for this. He hurt you- he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. But, then… that wouldn’t exactly be you then, would it? You always forgave them for what they did, whether or not you knew the full extent of it. You always forgave them and never stopped loving them which only made Wars’ heart clench and hurt more in the moment. Even with your face starting to look like you once again, he could still make out the residual damage done.

A hand cards its ways through Wars’ hair and massages the back of his neck. With a small grunt, Wars leans over and rests his head against your chest. He believed you should sooner be slapping him than caressing him, but he wasn’t going to argue. You were stubborn as a mule and who was he to go against your word and decisions?

“It’s okay, Link. You didn’t mean for this to happen so don’t go blaming yourself,” You coo as you continue to love on him. Hearing his name fall from your lips never failed to make him shiver and feel so vulnerable. It was such a wonderful and liberating feeling- to be the apple in your eye. Although he felt rotten and worm infested to the core, you still held him and admired him like he was ruby red and ripe from the tree. To be loved for both his pretty and ugly sides meant more to him than he could ever convey. He just hoped that, in all the he did, you would have an inkling of an idea of this.

“Look at me?”

The order was so tender and mild that he felt like it was sooner addressed to a babe and not him. Nonetheless, Wars didn’t hesitate to lift his head up and look at you. In the depths of your pupils could he see his reflection. His hair was unkempt and ruffled up by you hands. His thick lashes were misted by tears and his ocean blue eyes wobbled as he held your gaze. His skin was clean and cleared of any concealer so every pore and flaw were visible. Even in this state, he watched your eyes soften and crinkle into something so warm and sweet that made him feel like this was his most stunning moments yet.

“My pretty boy…” You whispered as you held his head his heart, his soul, his very ambition and will to live in your hand.

“Yes…” Wars croaked as he nuzzled against the silky skin of your palm. It was in these tender moments did Wars finally understand what salvation meant. “Your pretty boy… pretty just for you.”

[yandere-kokeshi]

Headcanon For Yan Gyomei, Rengoku, Uzui and Sanemi With A Very Perverted Gn Reader.

Warnings: yandere behavior and nsfw

A/N: since I already did Uzui, I’m going to do the other three. Hope you enjoy it, darling!

Gyomei Himejima:

He’s a shy giant once realizing you have such a naughty mind. While his face is completely red, realizing that you’ve always stared at his chest and ass, something inside him doesn’t mind it and he actually likes it.

Gyomei would rather not have you touch him inappropriately in public, but once at home, you can touch him as much as you’d like. Sure, he’s a bit embarrassed, but he loves feeling your hands on his abs and ass.

At home, this sweet giant has no complaints about you touching him – want to caress and squeeze his chest? Go right ahead, it is for you, after all. Need to suck his nipples as your mind is getting too feral? Gyomei makes sure to gently place you on his lap as a bulge appears, his quiet voice apologizing for interfering with your ‘hobby’.

Your kinks are something new to him. At times, they will overwhelm him. And while he’s more than happy to satisfy you, he’s scared of hurting or injuring in some way due to his size. But when learning you like all those type of stuff, he’s become more relaxed but still cautious in case.

Kyojuro Rengoku:

Renogoku is a bit surprised, sure he saw hints before, but he didn’t expect you to be this much obsessed with his chest and abs – it’s almost concerning to him.

Though, he immediately accepts it. If you want to play with his chest and suck his nipples? Go ahead, just expect Rengoku to be feral for the next few hours. Want to continually smack his ass? Oh, you’ll get it now; you can betcha that he’ll make it a game between you two.

Doesn’t mind that you come up behind him to squish his man boobs, he always smiles and interacts with you like nothing is going on other than spending the evening with his darling.

Your mind is something he really adores. Sometimes, coming home after missions is tiring and all he wants to do is smother you in all types of love. But at times, you have ideas that he’s more than happy to succeed in, making sure you scream loudly.

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

He’s also a sick-minded freak. Though, he’s better at hiding it. But once catching on that you have almost the same imagination as him, he’s smirking whilst teasing you; calling you all types of naughty names in the dictionary.

Sanemi is more stern about you touching him, but he overall doesn’t mind it. Though, he does expect for you to allow him to touch you about the same.

This tough man will be embarrassed the first time you touch his abs or chest, trailing to his neck and sucking on his nipples. He hates to say this, but he does like it… a lot. By the end of the session, he has a huge hard on that needs attention asap.

If you’re acting good, Sanemi might come home with a surprise; his nipples red and all sensitive from the nipple piercing he decided to get for you. He takes the healing very seriously, and while he does see your eyes continually drift to his chest, he makes you wait like a good darling till they’re healed – where the fun can actually begin.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[kornflake82]

i was sent this ask:

"Hello, you! can there be a headcannon where, (Scout, Sniper, demo, and my favorite Texan, engi) hugging S/o and the merc is like: “Oh no I’m in love with them” as their face is all red? And, S/o is sorta worried about them and asking “you good?” this scenario has been itching my brain for a few days lol

Anon jilly🦭🌺"

and i believe you may have forgotten to turn anon on when submitting the ask, so i still saw your url. out of respect for your anonymity, i will answer here instead of from the inbox, so hopefully it still finds you well! also i hope you don't mind i do a mini scenario for these as opposed to HCs, just to give yall a little more content :3

Mercs Getting a Big Ole Hug

Scout

-You two always had a strong bond, and a dynamic like childhood friends. It was always fun and games with Scout, and when the time came, he knew how to comfort you and be there for you albeit in his own clumsy and Scout-y way.

-It wasn't until he noticed the way the other Mercs looked at you did he start to see you as more than just a friend--he now became acutely aware of how soft your skin felt when it brushed up against his, the way your hair perfectly framed your face, every small detail about you, and he couldn't believe he never noticed any of this before.

-It was your day off, and as usual, you spent it with Scout. The two of you tired yourselves out playing catch outside, as well as other fun roughhousing typical of your other pastimes. While running for the ball, you tripped and fell forward, but Scout was quick enough to catch you, and held you in a tight embrace. You instinctively wrap your arms around his torso and bury your head in his chest. He maintains his grip on you, but his face is as red as his uniform--all of a sudden the outside air feels cramped and he's getting clammy. It was like getting hit with his own Atomizer: all the times he's admired every little thing about you coming together all at once to beat him over the head with the realization that he was in love with you.

-You finally let him go, looking up at him and yelping a bit in surprise. "Scout?! What happened to you? Should we go see Medic?!" You ask frantically, concern showing on your scrunched features as you took in Scout's seemingly-ill state. "N-Nah, I'm okay, really! More than that, actually...I feel amazin'." He gazed at you with a softness you hadn't yet seen before, but it sparked a warmth in your heart and your tummy that you didn't oppose.

Sniper

-Sniper wasn't exactly one for PDA, let alone physical touch. Just didn't tickle his fancy. But you, something about you gave Sniper the desire, for the first time in ages, to hold, touch, and generally be around someone of his own volition. But for some reason, he just couldn't find it in himself to act on those desires. Whether it be his own deeply-instilled professionalism or cowardice, he couldn't tell. Whatever it was, all he knew was him being afraid of scaring you off. So he did nothing. The minimal interactions with you now would suffice, and his imagination could do the rest.

-You weren't exactly having the best day. Just yesterday, you scuffed a one-on-one encounter with an enemy merc that cost your team the mission, and today's target practice was not kind to you either. You found yourself alone on the range, tears of frustration pooling in your [color] eyes as you trudged along to set up the target dummy Sniper once again. Overwhelmed by frustration, you found yourself hugging the Sniper dummy for even the slightest sense of comfort, dropping your rifle to the dust below with a thud. The real Sniper, who had volunteered to check on you, heard the sound of your rifle hitting the ground as he left the base. The impact immediately spiked his adrenaline and caused the worst thoughts to run through his mind. He quickened his pace, almost falling over in place once he beheld the scene. Sniper couldn't help but feel a tug on his heartstrings watching you embrace the dummy of him. A warm flush crept its way to his rugged features as he realized the depth of his feelings for you way-exceeded his expectations.

-It's now or never, he thought to himself, finally finding the courage to approach you. He put a large gloved hand on your shoulder, eliciting a fearful shriek from you. Your face reddened with embarrassment, stammering as you tried to come up with a good excuse for your behavior. Wordlessly, Sniper wrapped you up in a tight embrace which immediately soothed your worries. "Shhh. It's alright, roo. Don't cry, now." He spoke just above a whisper, and despite being there to comfort you, he himself was trembling with anxiety at what he's just done. When you finally gathered yourself and parted from the Aussie's embrace, your eyes widened. "Sniper! What's gotten into you?!" He looked down at you with a slight smile, as if it would conceal the way his heart pounded in his chest.

"You have, sheila."

Demoman

-He wasn't always drunk! Okay, maybe he was, but that didn't mean he was always unaware. He was especially aware of a certain little merc who always took him to bed, always got him water, and always made sure to wish him a goodnight, even when the rest left him to drink himself to oblivion. He thought of you very fondly, like a close friend more than just a colleague. You were the first of the bunch to ever show a genuine compassion for him and actually attempt to care for him even in his drunken state (and he knew that was no easy feat).

-It was another night like always, the rest of the team off taking care of their own business while Demo had some precious one-on-one time with his scrumpy, this time accompanied by you! And you were actually drinking with him! It was the weekend, after all, and you decided what the hell, why not, and let your hair down a little. While not nearly as intoxicated as your Scottish companion, you definitely felt the buzzy warmth of drunkenness sneaking up on you. You felt more bubbly, confident, and silly. You gazed upon Demo fondly as he slurred through stories of missions, both failures and successes.

-Right as he was getting to the story's climax, he raised his arms above his head for dramatic affect, and you impulsively leapt into them. "Awwe Tavichhh, I wuv when you tell stowiesss" you mumbled into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as if he'd leave you any second. The sudden show of affection almost sobered Demo up a bit, but he quickly dropped his arms and returned your embrace. In his drunken state, the warmth of your body against his felt like fire, and he couldn't help but notice the way you fit perfectly into him. Demo soon grabbed your shoulders, moving you back to meet his gaze. The sudden serious look on his face sent a shiver down your spine. "D-demo! What's the matter?!" He took in your flushed face as if he were looking upon the Mona Lisa herself before finally speaking, "Oh it's nothin, lass. I just enjoy lookin' at ye."

Engineer

-You were lucky enough to get some time off when you were informed this go-round of contracts did not include you. To your surprise, they didn't include Engie, either. You discovered this when you bolted for the workshop in a panic as you realized your prized headphones were destroyed! You were about to go on a walk before fishing them from your backpack and soon met with the disappointment of your prized possession in tatters--wires frayed, and hanging down almost mockingly.

-As you busted through the double doors of Engineer's workshop, he jumped in surprise, nearly dropping his wrench. "Well howdy to yourself too, darlin'!" He regained his bearings and approached you with a chuckle. "What's got you in such a tizzy, hm?" You simply raised the broken pair of headphones up*, looking at him like a lost puppy. "M-my headphones are destroyeeeddd!" You whined. Engie, behind his goggles, looked at you with a twinge of pain in his eyes just from hearing how distraught you were. Though he was empathetic to your "loss", he couldn't help but admire how adorable you sounded when you whimpered, and got a bit of an ego-boost from how you immediately came to him for aid. Engie took the headphones from you, inspecting them closely as he set them down on a nearby workbench. "Y'know, dear, these might not be a lost cause...let's see what some good ole fashioned Texan ingenuity can do!" He assured you with a sly smile.

-You fidgeted nervously as you watched over his shoulder while he tinkered away on your poor headphones. "Can I get you somethin' to drink darlin'? Maybe some water?" Engineer didn't take his eyes off the headphones as he spoke, currently re-twisting and wrapping wires before getting to work on the broken frame of the device. "I'm okay, thank you, Engie..." Truthfully, you were just too nervous to take your eyes off of the headphones while Engineer repaired them. Of course, you trusted his skillful hand, but with them being such a meaningful item to you, you couldn't help but hover over his shoulder and watch. Suddenly, Engie spoke up again, this time with a command-- "Close your eyes, dear." Nervously, you did as you were told. Engineer turned to face you, gently placing the repaired headphones on your head. Your eyes shot open and hands immediately went up to feel the newly repaired device now muffling your hearing.

-Without a second thought, you pulled Engie into a tight embrace. "Engie, you're the best!! Thank you so much!" You exclaimed, nuzzling his chest a bit as the two of you embraced. His large gloved hand gently caressed your back, giving it a slight pat in response to your praise. While Engineer typically maintained a relaxed exterior, internally, he was practically melting. A proper southern gentleman such as himself couldn't be indecent in the presence of a lady, but the fog on his goggles and pink in his cheeks said otherwise. You pulled away, removing the headphones. You went to inspect them further, but the sight before you stopped you dead in your tracks. "Engie?! You feeling alright??" He looked like he was about to pass out--and he felt like it, too.

-Engineer simply nodded, placing his ivory-colored cowboy hat on your head in response.

*this is exactly what i envisioned for this scene btw

[yourstory-teller]

The ramos one could be something like how he is breaking ankles and injuring people on the field but around the girl he likes he is all soft and sweet, his teammates can't believe it is their same aggressive teammate

Hey bb, thank u sm for requesting!! I'd never written for him before, but it was fun, even though I don't know if I really like this lol

But I promise you I did my best. Hope you enjoy it ♡

Tame the beast

Part of the players were moving in a frenzy. It was normal for this kind of thing to happen during a game, it was to be expected. There were just some people who crossed the line, or got really, really close to it. Some would say close enough to start something.

Ramos walked incessantly towards an opposing player, forehead pressed against his, while the other man kept stepping backwards, trying hard not to trip. "The fuck do you think you're talking to? Huh?" His voice changed considerably at times like this, so much so that even his own colleagues feared the things that he could do. After all, whatever happened to him could harm the entire equipe.

What happens is that, during a play, the Spaniard had made a tackle that directly hit the opposing player's ankle. After that, instead of helping him up, or apologizing, he scoffed, as the other laid down on the grass, complaining of pain. Obviously, the guy wasn't very pleased.

Some of both men's teammates moved to intervene and, after much painstaking, managed to pull them back. Sérgio mouthed an "Hijo de puta", before walking away. Well, it could be much worse, honestly.

Perhaps less than an hour later, everyone had already moved to the dressing rooms. The buzz was loud and between laughs, jokes and screams it was almost impossible to actually hear each other.

Neymar was the first to miss his friend. In the midst of what they insisted to call a conversation, he discreetly nudged mbappe and leaned in to speak close to the boy's ear. "Where's Ramos?" he asked, then saw Kylian move his head to look around the room, just like he'd done a few moments earlier. "He's been away for a bit, right?" "Right." And with a kind of unspoken agreement, they both got up and started walking towards the back of the room, close to the lockers. 

When they were already farther away from the shouting of their mates, a much more subtle and smooth voice could be heard. And when I say smooth, I mean smooth. It sounded eerily like someone speaking a few good octaves higher than what they would usually sound like, like when you're talking to a baby, or a dog.

It took them a while, but they gradually did recognize that voice. "Is this-" Kylian started, but the older man was quick to bring a hand over his mouth.

"I know, honey, I'm sorry, but he started it!" Sergio sounded like a kid being scolded and the two secret listeners did everything they could not to burst out laughing. What a time to be alive.

"I miss you too, baby. But I'll see you soon, right?" This time, the tone used was much lower, almost pleading. He most definetely sounded nothing like the number four they had just seen and heard out on the pitch. It was almost ridiculous to imagine that it was the same man.

"Okay, anjo, I'll call back later. Love you." Ney's eyes widened and he quickly grabbed his friend by the arm to avoid being caught snooping around.

That's when they noticed. Glorious moment.

To say that they laughed about it again and again and again, was an understatement. Neither of them spoke about that with the others, but they didn't need to, anyway. They would eventually find out themselves.

As said, Sergio got to see you not long after that. You had gotten a few weeks off and, of course, would spend as much of that time as possible in the company of your handsome boyfriend. You had arranged everything, every little detail together, and his anxiety was almost palpable, even over the phone.

So, like the hopeless romantic that you were, you decided to surprise him by arriving a few days early. It was cliché and could be very predictable, but you still hoped he wouldn't suspect a thing. He didn't. When you showed up that day, right after a match his team had emerged victorious from, he was as incredulous as you imagined he would be, perhaps a little bit more.

You calmly walked over to your boyfriend while the others were still busy cheering around. He was standing still, seemingly in disbelief of the fact that you were actually there, within reach, for the first time in a while, too fucking long, if you asked him. But when you were just a few steps away, looked like it finally hit him and Sergio was immediately grabbing you into the tightest, warmest embrace, that you missed so much.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of being at home.

When you pulled away, just enough to look into his eyes, he stared back with such apparent adoration, that it made you dizzy. Your foreheads now rested together, his lips brushing against your trembling ones. And as he whispered how much he loved you and that he had no idea how he managed to endure all this time away from you, you could feel his tears flowing down your own cheeks.

That's when everyone noticed.

After that, the other players teased him to death. Light hearted jokes, of course, even though sometimes they did carry a hint of envy. Whistles and kissing noises, but it just didn't bother Ramos. The only reaction he'd show was an eye roll and, occasionally, a slight blush that took over half of his face.

"So, Ramos, is she going tonight?" Marquinhos asked, eyebrows dancing suggestively. "We know she's going, he can't even breath without her" "He's whipped, doesn't even deny it"

It would be impossible for you to realize that there really was such a big difference between Sérgio Ramos on the field, and Sérgio Ramos when he was in your company. To other people, however, this discrepancy seemed more than obvious.

Of course, he wasn't really a violent person in everyday life, at all. He was a serious person and somewhat closed off, sometimes even frowning, but not violent. On the field, however, it was a completely different story. When he wore the team's shirt, his presence on the field was nothing short of threatening, in many ways. Sérgio was a great player, fast, skillful, but, above all, an aggressive player. And this was the man the team was used to.

Maybe that's why it was so shocking for them, seeing the two of you together.

Right after a tough workout, or another bitter defeat, which wasn't uncommon playing for PSG he would crawl into your open arms and completely melt, like putty against you.

"It's amazing" You'd hear a whisper, coming from, you just knew, probably Neymar. "She tames the beast." It took a lot of effort and a maturity that you definitely didn't have, for you not to chuckle.

It was funny, yes, but also flattering and, in a way, gratifying, to know that there was a side of him that was kept just for you, and no one else.

"Come on, babe, we're gonna have fun." Your grip around his waist was tight and you moved so that your chin was resting on his chest.

While spending the season with him, you learned that it was common for the players to gather after some more intense training sessions or a few matches, sometimes to celebrate, sometimes to lift their spirits and feel more invigorated to get back to the fight. These weren't really parties, but more like get-togethers, albeit relatively ostentatious and considerably eventful.

"We can have fun here!" You sighed, despite the smile that made its way to your lips. "I know, but we're gonna have plenty of time to stay here. Please, love." You insisted once more, giving him your best attempt of some puppy eyes, but he'd always been better than you in these type of things. He sighed and rested his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

You found yourself smirking as he looked back at you, an amused glint in his brown orbs, which now looked almost black. It all happened so fast and you honestly don't know how, but in a second Sergio was hovering over you, strong arms pinning yours against the mattress. It was easy to notice how there was still so much care and delicacy in how he held your wrists.

"Fine" He lowered his head until his lips were ghosting against the corner of your mouth. "But after that, it's gonna be just us. In this room. For a long time." You couldn't control the giggle that rumbled through your ribcage. "Si señor."

[sailorholly]

Strictly Business Pt. 8

The Ending

Summary: Spencer wants to gain sexual experience before asking out his dream date. You just want a way to release stress. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Smuttish. Friends with benefits. Mentions of pregnancy.

A/N: Sorry this took forever, life has been kicking my booty lately.

Strictly Business Masterlist

Spencer took Chloe out twice a week for three weeks. He tried to force a connection, but it didn’t feel the way he thought it should, the way it felt with you. He knew he should end things with her, but he kept waiting for the sparks to fly.

Tonight, Chloe told him she would meet him at his apartment. She had a surprise for him, so she was going to take him to the secret destination. When they arrive at the hotel, a suite is waiting for them. She must have been here earlier, setting it up.

Rose petals were scattered on the bed. A bottle of wine was chilling on the table. It was the most romantic set up he had ever seen. This is it, he thought. This is the night when it all comes together. There’s no way he could share a night like this with her and not fall for her.

Room service arrived moments later, delivering gourmet meals Chloe arranged for. Spencer sits across from her, pouring wine into her glass. “I thought it was time we take the next step in our relationship.” She tells him. He swallows thickly, trying not to choke. Spencer silently convinces his self that this would be good for them. It was finally time to put his new skills to the test.

He hopes this is the push he needs to feel something for her. When they finish eating, Chloe instructs him to wait on the bed for her. When she returns, she’s wearing the same floral, lilac lingerie set he bought for you. It brought back memories from the night he gave it to you, using the vibrator on you, how you looked when you came.

She climbs on top of him, peppering kisses across his face and down his neck. She runs her hand over his cock, straining against his pants. “I knew you would like this set.” She says confidently, thinking his erection was because of her. He flips her over, slowly kissing her. He should feel something by now. He always got aroused by your kisses.

But he felt nothing as he pressed his lips to hers. He looks at her body, the lingerie looked great on her, but she didn’t look like you. When he first saw it in the window of the store, he imagined you wearing it just for him. Thoughts of having sex with you flood his mind. You fit together perfectly. Maybe he could get through this with Chloe without thinking of you.

You squirm in your spot next to Penelope. She invited you, JJ, and Emily over for a girls’ night. You couldn’t focus on the silly games they wanted to play or the movie JJ put on. You decided not to drink tonight either. You weren’t in a good head space.

All you could think about was Spencer on his date with Chloe. He told you that she was surprising him tonight, and he sounded excited. You wanted to be happy for him, but it made your stomach upset when you thought about them together. He told you they hadn’t had sex yet, and for that you were thankful.

Tonight would be different, you had no doubt that Chloe planned to seduce him. They had been dating for almost a month. You were shocked they hadn’t slept together yet. “Okay, what’s wrong?” Emily asks, interrupting our thoughts. “You’ve been off all night.” JJ observes.

Tears spill down your face as you tell them everything. The practice sex, the lingerie, the vibrator, Rossi and the jet. They all gather around you, pulling you into a giant group hug. “You should tell him how you feel.” Penelope rubs your back.

“I can’t. He’s dating Chloe. I couldn’t do that to him. He’s finally happy.” They try to convince you the rest of the night. When you go into work the next morning, you don’t have time to ask Spencer about his date. Hotch rushes you all to the jet, the case was urgent. You walk passed him on the plane, avoiding your usual seat beside him. Instead you sit beside Rossi, who looks curiously between you two.

The day passes quickly. Tips from the police hotline flood in and you’re sent with JJ to check on them. When you make it back to your hotel room, you’re grateful you got a room to yourself so you can be alone with your thoughts. Your phone lights up with the sixth text from Spencer today.

You hadn’t responded to any of them. You sigh loudly. You were being a bad friend. He didn’t share details of his personal life with anyone but you. He probably just wants to fill you in on last night. You were the one who made him confident enough to have sex with her. It was all your fault you were in this situation.

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you made the short trip down the hallway to Spencer’s room. “Hey! I thought you were mad at me or something.” Spencer says, letting you into his room. You smile weakly, failing to hide your true feelings.

“Wait, you are mad at me?” He asks frowning, as he closes the door. “I’m not mad at you, Spencer. I’m mad at myself for feeling the way I do when I have no right to.” He studies your face, concerned. “What are you talking about?” You walk out of the doorway, to sit on his bed. He sits beside you, taking your hand in his to comfort you.

“Spencer, we never should have slept together. I am ruined for life. No one is going to make me feel the way you do. It’s not supposed to feel like that every time with your best friend.” Spencer stands, facing you. “You think I don’t know that, that it’s magic between us? You think I don’t feel guilty because it’s supposed to be like that with Chloe, but I can’t even go through with it because all I can think about is you?”

“You couldn’t sleep with her?” You ask, rising to meet Spencer. “No, I couldn’t do it. I just kept thinking of you the whole time. How it was so comfortable with you, so natural. I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while. I just didn’t realize it.” He confesses, reaching down to caress your cheek. “I’m in love with you too, Spence. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you.” He embraces you, soft lips crashing against yours.

Four Months Later

“Spill the beans. You two have been acting all weird and secretive. What’s going on?” Penelope asks after trapping you and Spencer when you got to work. You looked at Spencer and he nods, smiling. You open your coat, and lift your oversized sweater, revealing a small baby bump. You had been wearing clothes that weren’t form fitting since you found out.

Penelope squeals so loudly, it captures the rest of the team’s attention as they come in. They walk over as Penelope excitedly shares your news, gesturing to your stomach. “Congratulations again.” Hotch says. “My man, didn’t know you had it in you.” Derek pats Spencer proudly on the back. The girls swarm you as JJ starts making a list of everything you’ll need. Rossi grins, “I knew it when you couldn’t eat my pasta two weeks ago!”

Tags (cont. in comments)

@cindylynn @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @modern-mermaid @analethicia @marimorena06 @ghostheartbeat @clownprincess09 @thebiggestscamislife @whistle1whistle @lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests @twsssmlmaa @cynbx @padlockedhearts @wheredafandomat @salempoe @emarich7 @itzdarling @anonymously-ominous @vivian-555 @cashtons-wife @regulus-black-223048 @nomajdetective @dazedgye @jesuisbenny @simpingforharryandcevans @misacc08 @wowzabowza69 @spencvrr @the-uncoordinated-house-cat @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @academiareid @nikkisheep @dephylirium @panhoeofmanyfandoms @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @wildernessflora @mypurplecrocs @idkbubs @ajstarkpetrova

[chaseadrian]

red light at the bowling alley

You graduated high school, Eddie didn't. Twice. After spending all four years in Hellfire with him, adulthood got the best of you, and the friendship faded over the following two years. Wracked with guilt and missing your friend, you finally spot his van late one night, and you’re determined to win him back.

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader tags: 18+ ONLY, explicit, old friends to strangers to lovers, cheesiness, groveling, degradation, giving & receiving oral, fingering, dom!eddie, light angst, unprotected sex, van sex, semi-public, light choking, fluffy aftercare word count: 6.4k+ a/n: this was supposed to just be a drabble request but i got extremely carried away. uhh this is my first time writing eddie so thoughts and feedback would be appreciate, as always. 

Hawkins wasn't a big town. It wasn't the sister-slapping, willfully-ignorant, our-population-trends-downward hick towns that you could find in Indiana, but you were wont to find someone you knew just about every time you went out. So, when you saw the battered, dark van of Eddie Munson in the middle of the Hawkins Lanes parking lot, it wasn’t a surprise. 

Eddie Munson, with the dreamiest dark eyes you’d ever seen, and hair that you’d watched grow all throughout high school. Even in the awkward phases you’d imagined combing your fingers through it, working out the knots, telling him “it’s not that bad” when he cracked up at himself in the mirror. As long as you’d known him, you hadn’t seen anyone come close to touching that hair. 

Of course, when you were sat hunched around a wobbling table—Eddie’s eyes shifting over yours as he scanned the party—girlfriends and boyfriends and the world at large, they weren’t the hot button topic. All four years of high school you sat at that table every other Friday, saw countless deaths, mourned several characters, and then you walked across the stage and suddenly you were an adult. Suddenly money and college and the future took precedence over those nights with Eddie and the parties that had come and gone and come back again. 

It was a high school club, after all, and you made it out. 

The same couldn’t be said for Eddie, who was a repeat senior, who found himself on the same playing field as the sophomores you recruited into the club. You’d heard the whispers, the slander and libel over a tabletop game, the cult conspiracy. Eddie the troublemaker, the ringleader, the host. Why else would a 20-year old stay in high school for so long if not to corrupt America’s youth? There was no way he was just…bad at math, right? 

You’d never believed it, and after all was said and done, after the pitchforks were dulled and the fires snuffed out, you were relieved to have been right. 

Eddie played hard into the “freak” moniker, and maybe he was somewhere under that smile, but he was also the Eddie that sought out lonely high school kids. The ones who would break under the pressure, not bend to it. 

The ones like you.

Your car sat idle across the street, eyes fixed on Eddie’s van in the rearview mirror. Several moments passed before you could get out of the car, before you’d decided to yourself that it wasn’t weird to go up to his van. Wasn’t weird at all and, if he asked, you were just checking up on an old friend. An old friend who you’d seen around town several times and looked away. An old friend who was becoming more of a stranger every time you couldn’t meet his gaze. 

You’d chickened out of a moment like this many times before, but tonight there was something in you that was tired of turning the other way. Tired of feeling guilty for not reaching out, because maybe Hellfire was in your past. Maybe it was something you’d never get back, but, turning on your heels with your hands shaking at your sides, you hoped the same couldn’t be said for Eddie. 

Hustling across the street, you slowed your pace as you approached the van, fists balling up the fabric of your dress. Eddie was never intimidating, not as long as you’d known him, but right now you were on the verge of a heart attack. The muffled music from the van beat in time with your chest, and from the side view mirror you could see the distinct mass of Eddie’s hair shaking around. 

The sight melted the tension in your muscles, reminded you of all the nights he’d driven you home with Dio blaring, the van swerving on the empty roads as he head banged. 

Except, it wasn’t metal that you heard as you got closer to the half open window. It was…

“Peter Gabriel, huh?” 

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie jumped, smashing his fingers into the radio to turn it off. He rolled the window up the rest of the way. 

You knocked on the glass, “Eddie, come on, it’s me. Open up.” 

“No!” He sat facing straight, his hands hanging over the top of his steering wheel, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. 

“It’s a good song! Sledgehammers are metal, right? It counts!” 

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, eyes flicking toward you for a second before he started tapping his thumbs on the rubber. Eddie was never one to feel embarrassed. He knew what everyone thought when they looked at him, even after the witch hunt over spring break. It didn’t change him, and you doubted the tense moment now was just because you caught him vibing with something that wasn’t his typical taste. 

You thought back to headbanging in the car, how you just sat there, laughing at him without headbanging yourself. How you stayed out of the mosh pits while Eddie threw himself right into the fire. When Eddie jumped on the lunch tables, you ducked your head down. You were fine being a groupie all those years in the garage, but you weren’t his friend anymore, and blending in wasn’t gonna convince him to roll down the window. 

Tapping your foot on the pavement, you closed your eyes and shook your head.

“I wanna be…your sledgehammer Why don't you call my name?”

You cringed at the echo of your voice in the night air, but Eddie tilted his head as he turned to look at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. 

“Ah! Oh, let me be your sledgehammer. This will be my testimony, Yeahhh.” 

You tapped your hands on your sides, getting a little more into the moment, refusing to open your eyes. As far as you knew, the parking lot was barren except for you and Eddie and you’d rather keep it that way. 

Eddie’s voice surprised you as he filled in the final “Yeah!” of the chorus, and you opened one eye to peek at him, the window fully down and an amused smile on his lips.

“Alright, alright hop in.” He crouched out of view, and you hurried to the other side of the van as he opened the sliding door, taking the hand he offered to climb up. You stepped between empty beer cans, and Eddie’s hand came sweeping after you to push them away. “Sorry.” 

He hopped up after you, shutting the door and leaning into the driver’s seat to close the window again. 

“No, no apologies necessary.” You sat on the orange shag carpet, ripped from the dumpster of Hawkins Furniture Supply and cut to fit the cold metal floor of the van. The neon red sign of the bowling alley flooded the van through the passenger window, carving Eddie’s features out of the dark, the warm brown of his eyes reflecting the harsh light. If there was ever a time that he was intimidating, it was now, in this light, even as he looked up at you through his lashes, hands fiddling with his rings. 

He nodded slowly at the words, biting down on his bottom lip, a half smile crossing his face before he finally spoke, “You know, yeah, you’re right.” He clasped his hands together in a tight squeeze, an incredulous laugh falling from his lips just as his head did, shaking in disbelief. 

Each word was drawn out like nails on a chalkboard, “Why would I apologize to you?” He snapped back up to look at you, “Of alllll people, why you?” 

You snaked your fingers through the shag carpet and started combing the fabric, knees tucked up towards your chest, “You shouldn’t. I should be the one—that’s actually why I came up to the van, to, uh, to apologize.” 

He tilted his head, inviting you to continue. 

“I was a bad friend, a really, really shitty one, I know. I just got caught up in the—the—” 

“The mob? The crowd?” He raised his voice, wiggling his fingers in the air as he spoke, eyes squeezing shut for a moment, “The uh, rabble…with their pretty fire and sharp pitchforks, ready to burn me at the stake?” 

“No! No, I never bought into that! You know I wouldn’t, Eddie, come on.” 

He cocked his head up at you, squinting, “I can believe that, but you sure as shit didn’t do anything to help!” Throwing his hands up, he let himself fall against the wall of the van, looking away from you with a deep breath. 

“I know! I regret it every day of my fucking life, every time I see this van speeding around the corner it’s both a relief and a reminder. You’re still here and you, somehow, didn’t fall to the batshit purist mentality in this town but then I’m reminded that—that you are still here, and I just let you fall to the wayside. Let our—our—our friendship just fade and fade and fade to the point that if you did wind up fucking dead or in prison, it wouldn’t have made sense for me to go to the funeral. Or—or to visit, you know?” 

Eddie frowned, nodding with wide eyes that bore into the carpet, “Good thing I didn’t fucking die, right? Wouldn’t want that on your conscience!” 

“No! Fuck, Eddie—I’m, fuck I’m not…saying it right. Even before all the—the...” You smoothed your dress over your knees, staring at the pleated fabric, “Before everything, after that first summer, I wished I had stuck around. The town never changed, I think it actively gets worse every year but you—” 

Eddie looked up at you, features softening for the first time, that bright red light glistening off his watering eyes. He wouldn’t cry. 

“You made this place bearable, you were the only thing—”

“Thing?” He smiled.

“Person, sorry, person. You were the only person who made staying in this town worth it, only, I got lost in the job and the responsibilities and you know my parents, they—”

“Ohh, I know.” 

You nodded, keeping your eyes on your knees, “It sounds like a lot of excuses, but I just wanted you to know it hasn’t been easy, for me, and—and even harder without you. I know that part at least is my fault but I’m…I’m trying to fix it.” You started balling up the fabric of your dress again, sitting in the silence, feeling Eddie’s eyes on you. 

“And I don’t—I don’t know how you escaped the fucking evil in this town, but I’m so relieved you did. I’m so relieved but I’m also so sorry and so angry at myself that I wasn’t right there with you. I should’ve been and—” 

Eddie started laughing, and he pushed off the side of the van, crouching on his toes in front of you, “No, you shouldn’t have. Trust me.” 

You sighed, rubbing your palms over your knees, “I wish I had done something.” 

The silence sat, thick and heavy and you were a second away from apologizing for the interruption, a second away from just leaving the van. The silence would be answer enough, and you could at least say you tried, but that Eddie and your friendship were just lost to time. Lost to the burden of the future and the verging paths of your life. 

And then he spoke, and you crawled out from under your thoughts. 

“Look,” He put his hand over yours, stilling you, “For all the shit I’m giving you, there was uh, there wasn’t much you could’ve done. Hawkins and their bullshit moral superiority…” 

Eddie shook his head, chuckling to himself, “I’ll tell you about it someday…” 

You met his gaze, and he gave you a wink, “When you can handle it.” 

“When I—you think I couldn’t handle it?” You smiled, and he patted your hands. 

“Careful, there. I can joke around, you…tch—tch—tch” He wagged his finger and chuffed at you, but he hadn’t made an effort to distance himself yet. 

“That’s…that’s fair. But, you forgive me?” 

“Mmm…” He reached forward and pinched at your cheek, “You’re on thin ice.” 

You smiled, batting his hand away, “I can deal with that.” 

He cocked his head back, pulling his lips into a surprised smile and kneeling in front of you, towering over your curled-in figure, “Oh? No groveling? You’re not even gonna try flattering your way off the ice?” 

Looking up at him, your breath caught in your throat. The light cascaded over his features, and you couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just the red making his smile so sinister. His hands were stuck in his back pockets, pushing his torso towards you. 

You swallowed and rolled your eyes, forcing a laugh, “What, you want me to bow to you?” 

Eddie shrugged. 

Tucking your knees under yourself, you made a show of raising your hands in praise, fingertips grazing Eddie as you bowed down, “Please, O Eddie the Banished, forgive me my trespasses.” 

As you came up for the third time, Eddie snatched one of your wrists and wrenched you up on your knees to match him. 

“I thought I said only I could joke around.” 

His eyes followed his fingers as they grazed down your arm, calloused fingertips gliding over your goosebumps. His other hand slipped against your thigh, slowly lifting the skirt of your dress, “Didn’t I say that?”

You nodded, frozen in place. 

He stopped and brought his fingers to your chin, tilting your face up, “Didn’t I say that?” His voice was lower now, gaze fixed on you.

“Yes, yeah, you…you did.” 

“That’s what I thought.” He rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip, smiling when you grabbed onto the edge of his jacket to steady yourself, “You know…” 

Eddie paused, the fingers on your skirt now just touching your bare leg. 

You tilted your head up more, leaning into the grip of his fingers on your chin, chest falling with stuttered breaths, body shivering in front of him. 

“I still think about that pretty face. Late at night, alone in my room…” He traced a finger along your hairline, down your cheekbone, “with my hand around my cock.” 

You let out a heavy breath, closing your eyes as Eddie took your hand and placed it square on his torso, your fingers gripping the fabric. 

He brought his lips to your ear, whispering, “You go as far as you want with that hand, okay, sweets?” 

Gripping tighter to his ratty tee, you shivered with his breath against your neck, “Say the word and this never happened. We just go back to being friends, understood?” 

You nodded, and Eddie brought his lips closer, “Understood?” 

“U—understood.” 

It took a moment of sitting in the tense silence before you’d gathered the courage to let go of his shirt, to slide your hand down over the cold metal buckle of his jeans, onto the rough denim bulge of his crotch. You felt him smile against your ear, a sharp gasp escaping your throat when he pressed a brief kiss to the skin. 

“Good girl. Don’t be afraid, now.” 

He kept one hand to himself, the other still resting on your outer thigh, pressing indents into your skin with his hands. His grip was all encompassing; it stilled the nerves you’d been fighting off, steadied your mind, encouraged the movement of your hand. 

It wasn’t the touch of a friend. 

You brought both hands to his waist, unbuckling his jeans and wrenching free his cock with an unbridled want that’d laid dormant for longer than you should’ve been able to take. Your right hand gripped the base of him, left hand sliding under his shirt to feel the pallid skin he kept hidden under layers and layers of “fuck you” to the sweater vests and polos of Hawkins. 

There was the faintest trace of muscle definition along his ribs as you grazed your hand up his side, pinching the skin, nails hooked into his back. You stroked slowly along his cock, hand gliding around his shaft, thumb running over his tip. He was half-up when you’d felt the bulge behind his jeans, but with every passing second that you worked him, the loose skin constricted until he was twitching and holding back moans. 

You knelt down in front of him—hunched forward so your lips were at the tip of his cock—and licked over the red skin. His salty precum mixed with your saliva, and you slicked up his dick with the viscous mixture, taking most of him into your mouth to do so. 

“Sh—shit.” He let his head fall back, hands flying to the sides of your head to keep you there, fingers gathering the hair into a messy ponytail. 

Licking stripes over his cock, you let your hand slide around his torso, fingernails scraping at the skin. 

When you took him in your mouth again, you felt a hand leave your hair, and heard the distinct thud of the van’s roof. Eddie steadied himself with his palm flat on the cold metal, but he couldn’t help his hips jerking towards you, trying to fuck your mouth. 

You hummed the first time it hit the back of your throat, a surprise that you could handle, and were more than happy to accommodate. 

“You like that, huh?” He laughed, jutting his hips again. 

You responded with an affirmative hum, sitting your palms flat on the shag carpet on either side of you, staying as still as possible when he kept it up. 

“You’re a good little whore, huh? Hiding—fuck—hiding behind your pleated skirts, speaking when spoken to.” His grip in your hair tightened, and you felt saliva drip from your bottom lip as he continued fucking your mouth. “You just needed the right cock to open you up.” 

He hit the back of your throat again, and you started to tear up, “Look at me.” He said, and you blinked the tears out of your eyes, looking up at him through clumped lashes, “That’s it sweetness, you like how my cock feels in your mouth?” 

You nodded, closing your eyes again as you moved a hand from the floor and squeezed it between your thighs. It was a feeble attempt to resist the mounting pressure in your cunt from the way Eddie was speaking to you, the way he was simultaneously coming undone and maintaining vicious composure. 

He thrusted into the back of your throat once more before slowing his pace, and you opened your eyes again to look at him, tears spilling from the corners. He was staring down at you, a lopsided smile on his lips, “I’m sorry, where are my manners?” 

Pulling his cock from your mouth with a wet pop!, he sat down on his heels and wiped the tears from your face with one hand, the other coasting once again up your leg, under the skirt of your dress. 

“Spread your legs for me.” He traced a finger along the hem of your underwear, waiting as you slid your legs open, skirt riding up your thighs with every inch. 

He sighed at the sight of your bare skin, the patch of wetness on your stark white panties. He slid his thumb under the side hem of the underwear, over your clit as the rest of his fingers pressed against you, the underside of his rings digging into your skin. 

The dull pain of the metal combined with the hot sensation of his thumb sent you backward against the side of the van, the back of your head hard against the steel. 

“You’re so close already, you little tease.” He slid his thumb down your vulva, slicking it up with your arousal before he went back to circle your clit. They were slow, tenuous movements that had you driving your fists into the carpet, pulling at the cheap threads. Eddie laughed, a raucous laugh that lit you up with shame, the burning between your legs now finding a home in your cheeks. 

“You like this, don’t you?” He leaned in, teeth catching the edge of your jaw, “Being my little slut, my little tease,” He nipped at your ear, bringing his voice as low as he could, a quiet ache that settled between your bones, “My good…little…whore.” 

Eddie pressed a kiss to the same spot he had earlier, lingering this time to suck a mark right at the edge of visibility. It would take extra time in the mirror to get your hair to fall right, and he knew it. 

He grabbed your jaw with his free hand, “Isn’t that right?” 

You nodded as his thumb flicked back and forth over your clit, “Yes, yes, fuck, I’m your whore, your—your slut, what—whatever you wan—nt me to be.” 

He kissed you for the first time, smashing his lips against yours with his hand still squeezing your jaw, making your lips pucker. 

Patting you on the cheek, he took his hand out from between your legs, “Good. Now get out of your clothes.” 

You hurried to kick off the dress, keeping your eyes on him as he stuck his fingers in his mouth one at a time, dragging the rings off with his teeth and collecting them in his other hand. The metal clinked together with each added ring, and he dropped them into the nearby cup holder. 

The sight had you frozen in place, still in your bra and underwear, and Eddie turned to face you, “You want me to keep repeating myself?” He walked on his knees towards you, his hands skating over your bare sides, “Because,” He pinched your hip, laughing that mocking laugh, “I don’t think you want me doing that.” 

You wrenched out of your remaining clothes, and Eddie’s tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he stared at you. Sitting back down on your knees, you stared up at him, hands on your thighs, shivering. 

He coasted his hands over your arms, “You cold?” 

“Y—yes,” You nodded, and he hunched down to press kisses against your throat, exhaling warm bouts of air on your skin. 

He dragged the tip of his tongue along the tendon of your throat, “You want me to warm you up?” 

“Mhm, yes,” You tilted your chin up, eyes fluttering closed when he started kissing again, shocked when he wrapped his hand around your throat. He didn’t constrict you, he didn’t even really squeeze, just held you there, forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes…” You gulped, a hand sliding once again between your legs, “Yes, please?” 

He smiled and kissed you, pressing his tongue into your mouth, letting you fall into the kiss, waiting for you to get swept up before he pulled away. 

“There you go,” He clapped his hands together off to the side, light taps that were more patronizing than anything, “You’re getting it.” 

You smiled, squeezing your palms flat against each other between your legs, waiting. 

Eddie slid his jeans down the rest of the way, kicking his old sneakers off with them, his jacket and the flannel underneath following suit until he was right there with you, in just his faded t-shirt. Almost as exposed as you were. 

He kneeled in front of you, combing the front strands of your hair out of your face, “Lay down for me.” 

You listened without contest, stretching out in the back of the van, knees pulled toward you. 

Eddie placed both hands on either knee, spreading your legs open, staring down the length of your body. His gaze seared into you as he lowered himself between your legs, mouth hot against your cunt. You were already soaking wet from the anticipation of it all, from the previous feeling of his thumb over your clit. The waiting was excruciating, and Eddie was milking it for all it was worth. He had you at a disadvantage, you both knew it, and if you somehow forgot your station beneath him, he was more than willing to remind you. 

The first instance was when his mouth finally latched to your cunt, lips suctioned to the space around your clit, tongue flicking once, twice, three times before you moved to slide a hand in his hair. He snatched your wrist, and pulled away from you. 

“Ah-ah-ah, you’re gonna keep your hands to yourself.” He guided your hand back up, resting it atop your stomach. 

Embarrassment flocked your cheeks, and you stuttered out an “I’m sorry.” 

"Sh sh sh,” He whispered, squeezing your hand with his before he slid it back underneath your thigh to hold you, “It’s a learning experience, doll.” 

You nodded, and he pressed his tongue back against you, driving your head into the carpet, your hands threading through the shag. You barely registered the loosening grasp on your thigh before his fingers were inside you, curling upward and pumping against your walls, in tandem with the sloven flick of his tongue. 

As you lost yourself, legs shaking, body arching, Eddie laughed against your cunt, pausing to suck kisses into your skin. The slow drag of his tongue along your inner thigh was punctuated by a kiss on your knee. With his fingers still inside you, he darted up to your mouth, lips slick with your arousal as he kissed you. 

“You like the taste of your own cunt?” He spoke into your mouth, long hair falling against your cheeks. It was soft, enveloping your features as he kissed you harder. 

“Yes, shit, yes,” You muttered, Eddie’s thumb once again back on your clit, sliding back and forth over the slick nub. 

He pulled away from your mouth, watching you lose yourself in his touch, a quiet ohhhh leaving his lips as he looked on with fondness, “That’s it, good girl, shhh…” 

You couldn’t help the whines and whimpers coming from your mouth, and Eddie saw fit to quiet them with his hand, tight over your lips. 

“You don’t want someone peeking in here. Seeing you fucked out like this, mewling and pathetic before you’ve even had my cock inside you.” He squeezed your cheekbones, “That would just ruin all the work you’ve put in, ignoring me…casting me aside…playing the good girl…only to wind up back in my van, itching for me to fuck you silly.” 

Moaning against his hand, you knocked a fist against the carpet, close to coming undone from the sensation of his fingers, the heat on your clit. 

Eddie kissed around your skin, the hand over your mouth sliding away as he brought his lips back down between your legs, looking up at you from beneath furrowed brows, “Now you’re gonna cum for me, but you’re gonna be real quiet, okay, doll? 

“Okay.” You nodded, sucking your lips in and pressing them together between your teeth, the fuzziness in your brain strengthening with every moment you waited. 

With his arms wrapped around your thighs, pulling you against his mouth, he started working you again, licking up your vulva, prodding your clit with his tongue, lapping you up, making you squirm. You almost couldn’t focus on how close you were to coming, so determined to keep quiet, to ignore the way his mouth felt on you, to be the obedient girl he wanted you to be. 

The only cues he had were the heaving breaths from your chest, the rhythm of his tongue unchanging as you struggled to maintain composure, determination driving you into the floor of the van, loose threads of fabric coming up between your fingers, hair mussing in the back. 

Eddie’s grip tightened as he felt you hitting your peak, forcing your cunt closer to his mouth, smothering his face as he led you through your orgasm. 

Your body shook, guttural groans trapped and dying in your throat, determination wracking your body with spasms and the most blinding orgasm of your life. An atom bomb went off behind your eyes, fallout lighting up your brain, flocking down your body. It left you struggling to regain your breath, air cycling through your lungs in a broken, uneven pattern. 

Eddie didn’t waste a moment bringing his lips to yours, enveloping your body with his, and you swallowed the whimper that almost escaped when you felt his cock slide between your legs, slicked up with saliva and arousal, prodding at your entrance. 

“Such a good little whore for me. Don’t hold back, I, mmm,” He paused as you arched your back up against him, “I wanna hear those filthy fucking noises now, got it?” 

“Y—yes.” You had regained some composure, once again just waiting for Eddie, focused on steadying your breathing. 

Your efforts were stifled when Eddie reached over his shoulder and yanked off his shirt, his torso littered with tattoos that you’d never had the privilege to see. He was more than happy to show off the ink on his arms, and the piece below his collarbone, but his body was patched with dark ink that he’d never even spoken of. 

You leaned up on your elbows, scouring the illustrations much to Eddie’s amusement. 

“I almost feel shy, the way you’re lookin’ at me like that.” He smiled, leaning over you, pushing you down onto your back once again, “Almost.” He whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

Grabbing one of your hands, he guided you to his chest, and you silently thanked the universe that he was letting you touch him again. Your hand coasted down his abdomen, around his side, curving along his shoulder blade as he ducked his head down into your neck. 

He pressed kisses over your skin, thrusting his hips into you, cock twitching between your legs, and you found yourself feeling empty, sick of waiting and in desperate need of being filled. 

“Eddie, please, please,” You scraped your nails over his back, nicking the spattering of moles and light acne he hadn’t quite grown out of. 

“Yes, doll?” He kissed the pulpit of your throat, licking up your neck to the underside of your chin. 

“I need you inside me, please.” 

“Mmm,” He hummed against your neck, a sound of pity, as if he wasn’t also desperate to stick his cock inside you, “I guess I am feeling generous tonight.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, hand sliding down to his lower back, trying to push him into you, but he stopped himself. 

“Uh-uh, wrap it before you tap it, isn’t that what they say?” 

He started to pull away, but you clung onto him, shaking your head, “I’m on the pill, please just fuck me. Please.” 

Eddie still backed away so you could see his face, a wide grin on his mouth as he shook his head, “Well god fucking bless the feminist movement then, huh?” 

He slid his cock against you a couple more times—making you writhe underneath him—before he pushed into you for the first time. 

You inhaled a sharp breath as he filled you up, crying out just as he did, the pressure of his cock filling you up inside, making your stomach churn with his first few thrusts. 

He didn’t allow you to stay in this position long, crushed underneath his weight, his lips on yours. Pulling his cock from your cunt, he sat up on his knees, hands sliding under your thighs to drag you up, lining your entrance with his tip. He slammed once into you, sending a shockwave through your body. 

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked, thrusting his hips against you. 

“Yes, fuck.” You threaded a hand through your hair, forcing your eyes open to look at him. 

“You gonna look the other way the next time you see me around town, then? Shun the burnout, the loser, the freak?” His voice was low, each hard thrust pushing you up on the carpet, burning your skin. 

“N—no, never again.” 

His pace quickened, “Say you’re sorry.” 

“I’m s—sorry, mm, god,” You were lost. You’d do anything he said, say anything he wanted, let him control you as long as he could make you feel this good. 

He cackled, slapping his hips against yours faster now, “Good girl. You want me to fuck you like this again?” 

“Whenever you want, wh—whatever you want, E—Eddie.” 

“That’s right. Cause you’re my little whore.” He started dragging out the words again, but the words were hiccupped, broken by the thrusts, “I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this. Understood?” 

You nodded, forgetting yourself, and Eddie was quick to reach up and grab your face, “What the fuck did I say about having to repeat myself?” 

“I’m sorry, I—” 

He let go of your face, pulling out of your cunt and flipping you over onto your stomach, giving you no more than a second to adjust yourself before he was slamming back into you. 

You cried out, hard hands on your hips. He slid one over your back, grabbing onto the knotted hair and forcing your head up. 

Eddie dug his nails into your hip, his cock filling you up, desperate thrusts hitting your nerves. Your stomach churned again, a dull ache that made it hard to breathe, pain that was too good to stop. You considered begging him to stop, to give you a break, but you didn’t want either. If you could live with his cock inside you, you would, and you’d thank him for the privilege. 

“Is my girl ready to cum for me again?” He groaned, tugging at your hair again, exposing your throat. 

“Yes, please, please, please,” Each word was whinier than the last, and Eddie slid his hand around front to your throat, caressing the taut skin, feeling the way it vibrated as you moaned. 

Slamming faster into you, mounting the pressure in your cunt, “Cum on my cock,” He ordered, “Don’t be coy now, cum on my fucking cock.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you yelped at the sudden feeling of his finger on your clit, circling rhythmic to his thrusts. He tightened his fingers against the sides of your throat, and you choked out more whines, whimpering and gasping as you teetered on the edge. 

“Don’t make me say it again.” Eddie teased, you could hear the amusement in his voice, the eagerness to punish you. 

But he didn’t have to, the threat alone sent you over the cliff, the confidence he carried, playful and scary all at once. With wracked moans escaping your lips, your entire body tensed up as you came again, the cold burn of frostbite washed over you, a blue heat that came in waves from your cunt and extended outward to your toes and fingertips. 

The sensation of your orgasm had Eddie on the verge of his, and he let go of your throat to grab your hips again, pulling you backwards onto his cock. 

“You want me to fill you with my cum?” He laughed again, almost breathless. 

“God, fuck, yes, please.” You let your head fall down, arched your body up further, clasping your hands together in front of you. 

“Mmm…” Eddie moaned, and you felt his thrusts staggering, felt his hand slap against your ass, felt the unmistakable shudder of his orgasm, the string of expletives that preceded it. 

It was nearly enough to make you cum a third time. 

And Eddie—as though he knew—pulled his cock out from you with a sharp gasp, only to replace it with his tongue. He licked from your clit to your hole, lips sucking on your fucked out cunt, tongue flicking back and forth over the bundle of nerves. 

“Shit, Eddie, shit shit shit.” You thought you were done, thought he’d finally given you reprieve, but Eddie was insatiable. With his mouth on your cunt, you could almost pretend he was trying to be giving, but it was the sadist in him. The tortuous DM from all those years ago, a smile on his face as he placed impossible odds in front of you. 

He hummed against your cunt, tongue sliding sideways over your clit, pressing harder and harder into you. 

The third orgasm was the most blinding of all, your body seizing, frozen in place and unable to escape the endless sensation of his scorching tongue on you. When you finally fell out from paralysis, muscles quivering and begging for rest, he pressed kisses between your legs, a satisfied sigh hitting your skin. 

You slid down onto your stomach, stretching your legs out and resting your head on your arms. 

Eddie appeared next to you, on his back, a moment later, tapping his fingers on his chest to beckon you over. 

You were more than happy to oblige, scooting over to curl up against him, head on his chest and his arm around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to your hair and laughed, “Good girl.” 

Looking up at him, you saw the way his features had softened, the intensity faded in the blissful aftermath. In a moment of courage, you raised a hand to his face, combing your fingers through his hair. 

He let it happen, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, pressing his lips against your forearm. 

The two of you lay there in silence for a while, your leg resting atop Eddie’s, fingers running back and forth over his chest. 

You finally broke the silence, lifting your head to look up at him, “I really am sorry, you know.” 

Eddie looked down at you, “I know.” 

You nodded, “I promise I’ll never look the other way again.” Smiling, you pressed your luck, “Your eyes are too pretty for that.” 

He reached over and took your chin between his fingers, tilting you up more, the smile leaving your lips. His eyes scanned your face, lips opening to say something, a thought he ended up abandoning. 

The smile came back, “Is that a green light to joke around again?” 

He laughed and shook his head, hand leaving your chin to instead crawl down your arm, “As long as I can touch you like that again, you can tell as many jokes as your little heart desires.” 

You hummed happily, nuzzling into his chest, “Hey, why were you in this parking lot anyway?” 

Eddie waved his hand, “Some of the freshmen who took over Hellfire had their little dates here.” 

You sat up, and cocked your head at him, “So they could just…come out at any moment?” 

He grimaced and shot up with you, “Well, shit. We should probably get dressed then, huh?” 

You reached over and threw his shirt at him, shaking your head, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” 

Eddie grabbed your wrist and brought you in for a kiss, his hand on the back of your head, holding you close until he pulled away with a shiteating grin. 

“Don’t I know it.” 

[thisismeracing]

Rosy cheeks, salty hair, warm bodies | MS47

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!reader (she/her)

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: not proofread; mentions public sex (but not really); graphic description of sex; p in v; oral (fem receiving); orgasm denail; mentions of food and alcohol; +18 (minors DNI);

Summary: After finally matching their schedules and booking a trip together, Yn and Mick decide to go to Mallorca for a well-deserved break. The fact that they went weeks without seeing one another and the tension around the hot weather and beach garments only helped build the momentum in which her boyfriend would absolutely ruin her in bed.

A/n: It's my first time posting a smut piece (stand-alone/one-shot), so I'm kinda nervous about the feedback lol I hope this was just enough description without getting boring or over-detailed. I got too carried away and ended up writing 5k when it was supposed to be a small smut just over 1k. Anyways, hope you guys like it, please let me know in the comments and asks (the anon option is working, so if you're shy feel free to use it) *mwah* 🤍

Based on this request. I hope I was able to deliver, nonny! 💙

see my masterlist | check here if you want to be on my new taglist

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“Micky, can you help me with my bikini?” Yn whined stalking inside the room. Mick, who was lying on the bed, took his eyes off his phone to face Yn holding the most provocative piece of bikini he ever saw against her chest. Wind gushed inside the room through the open curtains, and the strings from her bottom piece moved deliciously against her tanned skin, her curls on top of her head moving like waves as well.

They were in Mallorca for a vacation after finally matching their schedules and taking a week off, far away from everyone and everything work-related. It wasn’t easy to see each other between race weeks, work, and classes, so both of them were hell-bent on spending as much time together as possible during the few days they got. Their friends were aware that for half of their break, Mick and Yn were each other's priorities, and they would give friends and family the attention, but only after working on the yearning for the other. 

“Sure,”  he smiled, pushing his body to the edge of the bed, and before he could get up, Yn was stepping between his legs, tits smashed behind her arm and the flowing piece of clothing right in front of him. 

Yn gave him a small smirk, turning around, and recklessly, or rather, purposely as the Schumacher knew his girlfriend very well, leaving the white bathing suit fall to the ground, “oops,” a giggle escaped her lips, and she bent to pick it up. Now, her ass was right in front of him, barely covered by the white fabric. It was as if she was giving him a show, exposing every inch of her to him in the most provocative way just to rile him up. Mick felt his body get warm, hands twitching to knead and touch her flash, but he was a patient man. He mastered the game she was trying to play. 

Maybe that was the reason she wanted to play in the first place: she knew he would take the reigns, knew he would bottle up all his pent-up frustration only to give it to her in the form of pleasure in bed. 

“Two knots?” Mick asked, already starting to twist the strings into a second know, as it was common for Yn to ask for it in a way to secure her bathing suit in place.

“No, just one,” she surprised him with her answer and made his ears perk up with the addition, “It’s easier to take it off that way.” 

Mick held in a breath, and bite his lips before letting go of the white piece and giving two taps on her bum to let her know he was finished. 

“Thank you, handsome,” Yn turned around, leaving a peck on his pink lips and running back to the bathroom. 

Mick knew he was in for a long day. He would go as far as to consider he was in for a long week because that was just Yn. She knew how to play his game, how to feed his imagination, how to push him to the edge only for them to jump together. She could very well keep the provocative jokes going around for the whole vacation. It was just the of them after all. They had yet to christen some spaces in the house.

It wasn’t long before they were both on the boat, the sun scalding against his skin as Mick found just the perfect spot to let the yacht float lightly with the waves. Away from the possibility of people on Land watching and far far away from other boats. It was them, the sun, and the calm waters.

“Love, you have to reapply your sunscreen,” Yn instructs with a bottle of the cream in her hands.

“You should too,” he mumbles when Yn starts putting the lotion on his cheeks, Mick’s hands instantly finding her waist to bring her body closer. 

“I will, but your skin is more sensitive than mine. I don’t want you looking like a lobster later,” 

“I think I rock the rosy cheeks.” It’s a joke, but he does, in fact, look stunning to Yn, especially after soaking up the sun and showing up with a new color to his face. It’s endearing.

“You do, but I’m not the biggest fan of the same color on your back, for instance,” she starts, skilled hands applying the lotion on his large shoulders. She kneads Mick’s skin and muscles under her fingers, leaving a kiss on the column of his neck and adding, “It wouldn’t be that fun to leave nails mark on your skin when it's sore. Takes away all the fun.” 

And oh, did he understand exactly what she was talking about. 

As the day went by, her provocative behaviors only got worse. She got bolder, going as far as taking off her bikinis to “tan properly” and leaving the two small pieces of fabric hanging on the yacht’s metal bar. They swam, joked around, and ate the food packed in the morning. It was so exhilarating to be just the two of them without work obligations looming around. Their shoulders seemed more relaxed, eyes lazily admiring everything around, body and mind completely calm. 

“I love you,” Yn whispered, giving Mick one more bite of the watermelon they were sharing. His pink lips curled up in a smile, the juice from the fruit escaping and sliding to his chin. Yn admired the image before dipping her face to his and licking the spot clean.

“I love you so much,” Mick echoed, holding her jaw and directing her lips to his mouth. His lips parted, and their tongues found each other in a hungry kiss, the sweet taste of watermelon sugar still present, along with hints of the alcohol they shared earlier. “I appreciate you,” he confided, hands holding her body closer and changing positions so now Yn was directly under him, his torso between her parted legs. “I’m crazy about you,” Mick kept going, warm lips trailing down to her jaw and neck. Yn tangled her fingers between his golden strands in a silent cry for him to not distance his lips from her, for him to keep going forever. 

Mick was the perfect lover, and as the sun started to change positions in the sky, bathing their wet bodies in its sunlight, illuminating the scene as if the big star was watching it, Yn couldn’t help but to feel the luckiest woman alive. 

“You’re so perfect,” his elbow left the ground, his body lowering on top of hers, and his now free hand squeezed her ass. “Everything about you is perfect,” Mick stated before kissing her hard nipples against the top of the white bikini. She swore she could feel his warm mouth suck it, yet Mick did not move the clothing, just directed his face closer to her again and captured her lips in another kiss. 

And as much as Yn expected her boyfriend to lose control and make love to her on top of his boat, she knew he wouldn’t do so, not today, at least. She suspected the make-out session was very much intentional, to make her horny and somehow work as a payback for all the teasing she did throughout the day. 

“The sun will set in some hours. We should go back,” Mick mumbled, still assaulting Yn’s neck. “I’m cooking for you tonight,” he added.

Yn smiled, caressing his back, his muscles relaxed under her nails, “I’m starving.” 

“I’m gonna feed you well, stuff you full of...” he trailed off because her lips bite his. If Mick kept throwing double-meaning words at her, she wouldn’t be able to wait until they got home. “Full of pasta, Schatz. I’m cooking pasta tonight,” he teased, and they both burst out laughing.

“We better get going if you really wanna cook dinner.” Yn pressed a peck to Mick’s cheeks, and he got up, adjusting his swim shorts and then helping Yn up as well. 

The ride back to the coast was peaceful, and they took the time to admire the place a bit more, the clear waters even clearer with the sunlight. Families, friends, and couples, swimming around and enjoying the weather and the free time. Everything seemed inviting and tranquil. 

They took the car back to the house, and Mick didn’t let space for Yn to suggest a joint shower. He knew if they got inside the bathroom together, they wouldn’t leave for dinner or anything sooner than in the morning. So he took the safe option and went shower in the guest suite while Yn got ready in their room. 

“Did you take classes? It smells fantastic,” Yn voiced when she emerged from the bathroom. Mick was already fully dressed, in black slacks and a white polo shirt, he was barefoot, and his salty hair was sticking everywhere, still naturally drying after the shower. 

“I did, in fact,” he chuckled, adding a bit of salt to the sauce. “I used my free day during the France GP to make a gastronomic tour, and they offered a free course on some dishes,” he explained before turning around to face Yn. She saw the moment he gulped, eyes trailing down her figure and taking in the sundress hugging her curves just right. 

The green fabric was just the perfect shade against her tanned dark skin, although Mick suspected there wasn’t a color that wouldn’t go with her tone. Anything Yn wore, she did it flawlessly, and he would never get tired of watching her with different sets and colors going around her day as if things were normal. Meanwhile, he was trying to stop his heart from bursting through his throat. 

“You like it?” she asked a bubbly tone to her voice, twirling her dress around. 

“Did I like it?” Mick echoes, putting his two hands on his hips and doing a once over on Yn again. “I fucking adored it, Schatz,” he panted, and she smiled.

Mick winked at her and turned back to the stove in a poor attempt to calm his nerves. They had to have dinner before eating dessert. He reminded himself. 

“I’m taking you on a ride later,” some minutes passed until the German mentioned, now skipping to the pasta dough, it was ready to go into the pan. 

“Oh, then let me switch for pants,” Yn pointed at her dress, and Mick smirked.

“Nah, you got just the right outfit for my plans.” 

Her eyebrows went up for less than a second before her mind registered the double meaning behind his words, a chuckle passing between her lips. She absolutely adored his dirty side and how it started coming out in hints and soft words before going on full mouthy. 

“Let me help you with dinner,” it was not a question, and Mick knew she was plotting something when she got in front of him, reaching for the cupholder when he had yet to give her instructions.

Her ass brushed against his crotch, and he bites his lips to keep both, the groan from escaping his throat, and his hands from grabbing her hips and smashing her flesh harder against him. But Mick knew sex worked like the art of cooking sometimes. You had to be patient with the right timing, not too soon, or it will be undercooked, not too late as it can get burned. 

However, Yn was still in her teasy mood, and Mick couldn’t do anything but try to hold himself back. At least until he finished dinner. Yn knew it was taking him everything, especially because Mick loved to feed and fuck her, most of the time on this order, but not always. Nonetheless, considering their lunch was a packed sandwich and fruits back in the boat hours ago, she knew he would make sure she had food on her belly and enough energy to keep up with his stamina. 

So dinner prep was harder than Mick anticipated, and for as curious as it seems, it was the same for Yn. She was the one teasing, but Mick, sure as well, knew how to pay with the same coin, so when they sat at the table to eat, they were both flushed and eager to be over with the food. The latter was indeed as tasty as the smell gave out, and Yn did not hold back her praises to her boyfriend about how good his course was and how she was excited for when he would try some new recipe again. 

After they were both finished, Mick stood up to take the dishes to the kitchen, claiming it was time for dessert, and for a second, Yn believed him until her boyfriend showed up at the table empty-handed.

Well, not empty-handed per se.

Mick had two protein bards and two bottles of water in hand. A playful smirk was on display on his lips.

“Dessert is a protein bar?” Yn wondered aloud.

“Nah, that’s for later,” Mick murmured before sitting back on his chair and putting up his palm for Yn, silently asking for her hand. She held it, and he motioned for her to get up and stand between his open legs and the table, “Did you already forget what my dessert was supposed to be?” he teased, and Yn felt her legs shake in anticipation. “What? Cat got your tongue, Schatz?” 

Mick’s hand brought her body closer by the waist, face dipping and bit and appreciating the view of her hard nipples against the fabric of the green dress right in front of his face. He parted his lips just enough to roll one between his teeth, wetting the fabric, and, consequently, Yn’s panties. 

She whimpered.

Mick smiled, finally hearing something from her. 

“You made my job a lot easier wearing this piece, babe,” it was said out loud, but it seemed as if Mick was talking to himself for a second. Yn was too absorbed between the feeling of his mouth playing and teasing her boobs and his skilled hands traveling the length of her dress, dipping under it to share her attention. 

“Micky,” Yn chanted before he smashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss. 

There was a hint of wine mixed with her balm, and Mick had to withdraw for a second to let the guttural noise go past his lips. Yn swallowed it in a new kiss, fingers gripping his hair tightly and bringing him closer, taking what she wanted without an ounce of hesitation. 

“You teased me too much. I’m not letting you get away with it,” the German interrupted, dipping his hands under her dress one more time, except this time, his fingers found the side of her panties and pushed it down to her ankles. A grin formed on Mick’s face when he noticed the wet spot in the middle of the clothing. Yn stepped off the piece, and he directed her body right on top of the table, legs spread for him, pussy right in front of his face. 

What a dessert. 

If his temper weren’t so controlled, he could easily rip his pants and fuck her until everyone on that island knew how hard they went in bed. However, he wasn’t that guy. He knew exactly how to work Yn’s body, and this week was all about extending their pleasure and taking their time. 

He had the energy to do so.

And that he did when he held Yn’s ankle, opening her legs even wider while kissing her inner thighs. Yn shudders when his breathing hits her center, and there’s a jolt on her body when his lips finally make contact with her pussy. Mick pays attention to everything, kissing, touching, and tracing. It’s almost infuriating how good he is at it, mainly because some things just happen naturally, such as when he’s licking her entrance and his nose has just the perfect size to bump against her clit in a friction that makes her toes curl but still are not enough to make her cum. 

And Mick knows that. He knows exactly what his body and actions do to Yn, and he has fun in the process. He enjoys every stage of sex with Yn, and maybe that’s why they find solace in giving each other pleasure. Mick gets hard just at the thought of giving head to Yn, and you could definitely say the same about Yn. 

“You so wet,” he jibes, sucking her clit just enough to make her moan louder. “Look at me, Schatz, look at the mess you’re making on my face,” and didn’t she look?!

The scene of Mick between her legs, jaw, and mouth glistening with her juices, eyes a shade darker, and lips parted, ready to dive in again, was enough to bring another whimper out of her. 

“Please, Mick,” she pleaded, and his sly grin only grew bigger.

“You spent the whole day testing me. Now you’re going to take it like a good girl. I’m not even close to finishing with you.”

And then his lips were attached to her clit again, sucking, licking, and drawing figures. When her hips roll off the table and up to his mouth, pushing his face impossibly closer, Mick groans, lacing his arm around her torso and keeping her in place, “Be. Fucking. Patient.” Each word was punctuated by a flick of his tongue on her most sensitive spot, and Yn can’t help but cry his name. 

“Babe, please, use your fingers,” it’s a whine, a plea, after minutes of Mick lazily sucking and licking her pussy. Each time he does it gets wetter. It’s like her body is hanging on his mercy and his wants. 

Yn feels his lips pull against her pussy before he withdraws, kissing around her legs, and finally, fucking finally –she sighs– he inserts one finger inside. It’s not enough, though it stretches her just right until a second and longer finger makes its way inside too. Yn’s body shakes from pleasure, and she squeezes her tits harder under her own hands. 

“Mick, it feels so good,” the praise escapes between her lips, and he takes the opportunity to insert yet another finger. This time she screams his name, and the blonde knows she’s getting closer to her climax. 

She was looking fucking fantastic in front of him, and, for a second, he saw himself considering the possibility of delaying her orgasm for a while longer, only to watch her body sprawled on top of the table, legs spread, dress bunched up her hips, one of its sleeves unabashedly down revealing her hard nipple and tit, hair around her head like a crown. 

She was a sigh for sore eye. 

Mick moved his fingers inside her delivering motions he knew would bring her closer to the edge. He let go of her hips just to find her tits and pinch one between his pointer and forefinger. Mick did it all without stopping his fingers inside of her. He explored, kissed, and licked a bit more, and he did it all, grinning up at her like a devil. 

“Best fucking dessert ever,” Mick vowed. 

He watched as Yn bite her lip, her hips pushing closer to him, back arching and toes curling, he watched it all unfold, and he wanted to keep that image engraved on his mind forever. The image and the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair, pushing his face closer to her entrance, seeking her own high without an ounce of shame. 

The wait was so worth it.

“C’mon, Schatz, you can let go,” he mumbled against her pussy, taking her clit between his lips and rolling his tongue just right to throw Yn over the edge. 

She screamed his name. She whimpered at him. It was him she praised and thanked as she rode her high with his fingers still inside her, lips and tongue helping her through the wave so it would last longer.

Mick smiled against her thighs before pushing up the chair and kissing his way up to her neck. His fingers worked on her dress to remove it completely, and Yn could only sigh in a relaxed instance while her boyfriend worked on the sweet spot on her neck. 

“How was dessert?” she whispered, and Mick chuckled.

“Fucking phenomenal, Schatz. It tasted like heaven,” his words were delivered while his ocean-blue eyes stared right into her, and her body shuddered deliciously. “Here,” Mick dipped his face close to her lips, and Yn was quick to kiss him feeling the wet spots on his jaw work against her skin. 

She groaned, and he grounded his hard-on against her lower half involuntarily. 

“Fuck me, just fuck me, Mick,” and oh, there was something so dirty about the whole scene. Yn was lying completely naked,  asking to be fucked, while Mick was still dressed up. 

“Not yet. Opposed to you, I was patient, and so I deserve to have dessert again,” He smirked. “I want you to listen attentively ok, love?” Yn could only nod, and Mick kept going. “We’re going to the bedroom, and you’re going to sit on my face. Not that hovering shit you like to pull up sometimes, you’re full-on sitting, and I’m gonna eat you out for a bit longer, just so you can understand how things work when you tease your boyfriend the whole day. Then, and only then, I’m fucking you, ass up, face down. If you behave, you get to have a fourth orgasm.” 

Yn nodded again, and Mick shook his head, “I wanna hear your voice, Schatz.”

“I’m sorry, Micky. I won’t tease you anymore, and I’m sitting on your face just like you want me to.”

And that she did.

 “Good girl,” the blonde praised when Yn kept her hips still for him to insert a finger inside. Her walls involuntarily wrapped around his digits. She was way too needy, and he almost gave up his games to give her what she wanted. Her orgasm came in shockwaves, this time harder than the first, and her body toppled backward, back finding the soft mattress between a series of swears and praises directed to her boyfriend. 

Mick kissed her naked body, fingers lazily caressing her sweaty skin, praising her silently. He reached for the water bottle, uncapped it, and planted a kiss on her jaw before handing it to her. Yn motioned for him to hold her up, and he laughed, putting her body in a seating position, supporting her back in case she fell. Yn gulped down the water and sighed, enjoying the break. 

“Do you want a protein bar now, meine Süße?”

“Please,” she put her hands together in a plea and then took another swing from the bottle. Mick chuckled yet again and opened the small bar handing it to his girlfriend. “Thank you,” Yn breathed.

She passed him the bottle, and Mick finished the water while watching her munch on the bar. Yn glanced at her fingers stained with chocolate syrup, and before she could clean them, Mick’s lips were attached around them licking them clean. 

“Tell me you’re finally fucking me, Mick,” Yn cried out, “I love it when you give me head, but right now, I need your dick. Inside me,” she added the last part running her nails over his neck. “Or you could let me suck you too. I wouldn't mind.”

And it was crazy how crude and free she could be around him without fear of judgment, never had Yn, in all her life, experienced love this way. The kind of love that can be both dirty and still warm and make you giggle. Mick was the perfect balance between both. He was a gentleman, he was careful, he was loving. But he knew when to be rough and dirty-mouthed, and oh, when he did, it was like experiencing a piece of heaven.

“You don’t deserve it right now,” Schumacher pondered, caressing her jaw, his fingers drawing around her cheekbones and coming straight into her open mouth. Yn sucked two digits in, twirling her tongue around and hollowing her cheeks, which cost a shudder followed by a grunt from Mick. 

“But you do. C’mon, Micky.” 

He shook his head, traced her face one more time, and then started to strip himself. When all his clothes are on the ground, Mick doesn’t waste any time fitting his body between Yn’s legs, mouth naturally finding hers in a languid kiss. His fingers knead the flesh of her ass pulling out pants from her. Mick could feel the familiar and impatient rise of her hips, pussy leaking her juices on the naked skin of his abs, “You’re gonna turn around now, stick your ass up, lie your face down, and let me fuck you just right, ok?” There’s a beat of silence, Yn trying to keep from trashing under Mick and begging him to just stick it in. She was so sensitive it wouldn’t take long for her third orgasm to hit. “I asked you a question, Schatz,” Mick pinched her nipple between his pointer and forefinger, and Yn whined but gathered the energy she just got from the protein barn to turn around and do exactly as told, once again body completely exposed and opened to her boyfriend. The confidence in the effects her curves had on him, and the certainty of a reward coming, only made the moment more electric. 

When Mick finally slides in, they both let out shaky breaths and although his dick goes easily all the way inside with the help of her moisture, her body still needs a second to accommodate his full size. The angle is just perfect. Mick has access to the headboard to steady himself if needed, he controls the pace by holding her waist, and his hands can travel around her whole body with ease. And that’s what he does.

With one of his hands positioned on Yn’s waist, he massages her ass with the other one and bends his body just enough to leave a wet kiss on the place where her neck and shoulders meet. She whines again because the movement just changed his position inside. Yn silently looks for his hands, squeezing them, and it’s all the confirmation Mick needs to now direct both hands to her midsection, and pull all the way out before slamming his hips against hers in a swift motion. 

His eyes roll back when she shudders and moans his name loudly. The Schumacher was grateful the house was theirs and only theirs for the whole week. Otherwise, everyone would hear what the couple was up to. 

Hips snapping again, it was Mick’s turn to let out his noises, hands coming down on Yn’s ass in a sharp slap when she rocked back against him just right and hit a spot that sent both of them to see stars. 

“Micky, you’re filling me up so good,” Yn panted. 

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he husked, and she moaned louder. “Go ahead. You can moan as loud as you want. Let me hear you, babe. Who’s filling you up good, huh?” 

“Answer. Me.” He punctuated each word with a deep stroke, and Yn could feel the coil starting on her stomach and traveling to her lower belly. 

“You, Mick- oh fuck,” Yn choked. “You’re the only one to make me feel this way.” 

The Schumacher bent his body, nipping at Yn’s neck without stopping the snap of his hips. Yn pressed her eyes closed, trying to stand on her elbows, Mick’s lips quick to find hers in a sloppy kiss, smiling and moaning, swallowing every dirty word whispered. His fingers traveled to her front and flicked against her clit, pressing and pinching it, bringing Yn to the edge. 

“I’m about to cum, Mick.”

“No, you’re not coming yet,” he breathes the order, lips kissing and biting her neck, hips thrusting, and fingers moving. It’s too much, and Yn can’t help but voice it loudly. It’s way too good, but it’s also way too much. She wouldn’t be able to hold back, and just when she was about to reach that peaceful space, to snap the coil on her belly, Mick stopped everything. 

“Mick!” It was a frustrated plead, and he turned her on her back, smiling up like a devil. 

“Want you to look at me,” he rasped, and she mewled when he buried himself inside her again without much ceremony. The new angle brought more intimacy, and when her legs opened wider, lacing themselves around it, they knew it was enough to make them cum even faster than they would before. 

Yn raked her nails through the skin of his back, and Mick rutted harder against her pussy, his hands looking for leverage on the headboard before sliding off and thrusting in harder. He repeated the motion some more until Yn grabbed him by his golden chain and smashed their foreheads together, “Tell me what you want. Use your words,” Mick ordered.

“Let me cum, kiss me, touch me,” she begged, and Mick rolled his eyes back from pleasure. There was something so unique about having that side of her, a side only he could see.

“Spread your legs wider, touch yourself, and don’t take your eyes off me, m’kay?” 

“Ok,” Yn nodded and did exactly as told, fingers lazily playing with her clit while he kept his pace going. Her free hand found his shoulders holding it for support when Mick ducked his head and took her boob inside his mouth, tongue swirling around the bud and teeth scraping it lightly. 

She could feel her body dissolving into pleasure, pushing her to the edge, toes curling, eyes involuntarily starting to shut, but there he was, face near her again, kissing and nipping her jaw and eyes finding hers and then sinking his dick in a hard thrust, just what Yn needed to topple over, nails digging harder on Mick’s back. 

“Don’t hold back, Schatz,” he cooed, slowing his movements but not stopping. “You did so well. Can you take just one more?” 

She was still dizzy in ecstasy, adrenaline coursing through her body. Her fingers tangled on his chain again, and Mick obliged, kissing her hard and starting a new series of thrusting, gridding, and hutting, now searching for his own relief. 

Yn contracted her pussy, her body still riding the orgasm. It was hell and heaven, and Mick could only take so much. He tried closing his eyes, but it was her turn to bark a simple order, “Keep your eyes on mine, Mick. I wanna see you cum.”

And that he did. He stared deep into Yn’s eyes while his body switched paces on its own accord, from fast and hard, to lazy and deep, and then hard again, until he couldn’t take it anymore, his features going dark, pink lips spelling all the most profanes and dirty things imaginable before his hips stilled coming inside her, taking yet another orgasm from Yn. 

They collapsed together in bed, his body on top, dick still twitching inside her. 

“That was…woah-” Yn’s voice was raspy, and Mick chuckled, moving his face to the side to plant a kiss on her neck. 

Yn’s fingers threaded through Mick’s short strands, massaging his scalp while they evened out their breaths. 

“Is there more from that pasta we had for dinner?” Yn asked, and the German kissed his way to her chest, resting his head there and letting out a sigh of pleasure. 

“I’m gonna grab it for you, and then we’re going at it again in the shower. I’m not done with you yet.” He reached for the other water bottle by the nightstand and unclasped it, taking a swing and pushing it toward Yn. 

“I guess that’s what I get for dating an athlete, huh?” she joked before sitting up slightly and sipping her water.

“Oh, but you love it, don’t you?” 

Yn smiled bright and big. Her body was floating after four orgasms and so much affection, “I do. I love you.” 

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @Dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie

[ohthewh0rror]

MATTHEO RIDDLE: DATING HEADCANONS

A/N: if you’re looking for a “bad boy” with behavioral issues, but none of the homicidal tendencies, look no further than Tom Riddles son! (Or in some cases his brother, an idea I still don’t understand)

Honestly he flirts with you at first as a joke.

Which sounds bad! I know! But he wasn’t doing it to make fun of you. He’s a flirt, that’s just who he is, it’s harmless fun.

That’s the dynamic for a while: the whole annoying classmate and/or housemate that teases you who you say you can’t stand but are sad when they aren’t in class.

Once he does start to develop a crush on you, the teasing let’s up, and he starts just having genuine conversations with you.

You think this is him losing interest in you, so imagine your surprise when he says, “you know you’re my girlfriend, right?”.

And that was the start of the relationship!

Let’s get real here: Mattheo would not be a “bad boy 🥰”. He’s a boy with serious authority and anger issues. The childhood trauma this boy has from having Voldemort as his father is through the fucking roof.

The relationship is very fragile, it’s a on-again-off-again type of relationship for a long time.

One minute he’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, and the next you’re screaming at him to get away from you because of something he’s said or done.

It always ends the same: you ignore each other for a while, no one apologizes, and then one day Mattheo will start talking to you again like the argument 2 weeks ago didn’t happen. Now you’re back together.

This relationship is never going to last though unless Mattheo can work through his personal problems.

Mattheo wouldn’t be a bad ex to have, unless you two ended on a bad note. Mattheo enjoys ruining other people’s life/day for fun, and he will do the same to you if you crossed him in some way.

On a good note!! Let’s get the sweet side of him:

Loves to play with your hair. Takes the ends of your hair and twirls them around his finger.

Gets you things he thinks you would like, even if it’s just a little trinket he saw while out at Hogsmeade, he will buy it and bring it back to you saying he has a surprise for you.

Loves to situate himself between your legs, resting his head on you, his cheek squished against your chest as you run your nails lightly across his upper back.

Helps you study by making up ridiculous games to play using cards. It also helps take your mind off the nervousness you may have about said test.

If you’re having a bad day he won’t hesitate to sweep his thumb under your eyes, wiping the tears away and pulling you in for bone crushing hug.

Has no problem letting you cry it out on his shoulder, and honestly gives you great advice, no matter your situation.

Is always on your side!! Literally your #1 supporter.

Even when you two are on a break and you’re not speaking to each other, he will not let anyone disrespect you. Any hateful word uttered about you is met with him smashing said persons face in.

Mattheo takes care of your needs first in bed. Makes you cum before he’ll fuck you.

It doesn’t matter if he has to finger you, eat you out, etc. he’ll do it every time if it’ll get you off.

Loves aftercare, is very touchy after the fact, and it’s why (contrary to popular belief) he’s not the biggest fan of quickies.

Might call you a ‘bitch’ and a ‘whore’ in bed, but never outside of that.

He refers to you as “my girl” to his friends, but uses pretty generic pet-names to your face.

Will refer to you as his “sweet girl” even if you’re an absolutely terrible human being!!

Because to them you may be awful, but to him you’re the best things that’s ever walked earth.

Marriage/Father bonus:

First of all: doesn’t want kids.

You two probably won’t have kids because he’d be very cautious.

But!!! If you two did have an accidental baby, he’d be a girl dad.

Though he didn’t want kids at first, he is a good dad in the end. Well, as good as someone with his trauma can be.

Tries to be the father that his wasn’t.

You two get married either way!! It’s your dream wedding, he will spare no expenses for you. If it makes you happy, he’ll find a way to make it happen.