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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months

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morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed. Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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reminiscingtonight · 2 months

Text

Imaginary (Girl)Friend

Leah Williamson x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

[WOSO Masterlist]

You never talk about Leah.

She’s your best friend, your better half, the first person you think to tell anything to. But you still never talk about Leah.

You don’t talk about the fact that the two of you grew up together. Or that she prefers the crust cut off her plain ham sandwiches. Or how she stays up late just to call you even after playing a late night game away from home.

You never talk about Leah because no one knew who she was. To you, she’s the most amazing person you know, the only person you’ll ever give your heart to. To everyone else, she’s simply another nameless face on another football team.

And then the Euros happened.

The Euros happened, England won, and everyone started noticing Leah.

It’s hard at first. To watch your normally shy girlfriend have to shoulder the constant attention from both fans and media alike, to go from unknown to stopped every five seconds for a picture. Where Leah once held your hand while strolling on Sunday walks now became group outlettings lest you manage to secure an indoor date somewhere secluded.

Leah didn’t want you being dragged to national attention with her, and after watching the toll it took on her, you meekly agreed. While Leah became a professional footballer, you went to college, got a job, and now work a normal 9 to 5. Being famous for any reason, let alone dating someone famous, was something you never had an interest in.

So no, you don’t talk about Leah the footballer.

Leah the girlfriend however… you talk about her quite too much.

But your friends always let you gush your heart out about the girl who’s had your heart since you were teenagers.

It’s friends like these that you treasure. They never push too hard, understanding when you skirt around bringing your girlfriend out to public events with large crowds. A couple of them are newer to the group, friends from work, but still respectful all the same.

Some of you even formed a recreational futsal team, just something to do after work once a week. It’s fun, getting to use some of those football skills you’ve acquired through your childhood playing on youth teams.

Today’s one of those days. After wrapping up the last of your paperwork, you all pile into a car and make your way to the community center.

The first half goes by quickly, not really memorable in any way.

You’re taking a quick water break during half-time when one of your friends suddenly stiffens.

“Holy shit.”

You look up to see her eyes widen at a spot over your shoulder.

“What?” you ask, alarmed, trying to see what she’s looking at. But two hands on your shoulder stops you quickly, jerking you right back to face her.

“Don’t look, but I think a couple of the Lionesses are sitting in the bleachers, watching our game.”

You almost trip ripping yourself out of her grip, doing the exact opposite of what she just said.

Sure enough, you can spot the Three Best Friends huddled near the back of the bleachers, baseball caps and hoodies on as if that combo would actually help someone go incognito.

Almost as if she can feel your gaze, Leah’s face brightens, resting scowl turning into a grin as she waves at you. Before you can so much as react, a hand on your arm spins you back around.

“Oh my god, what are we going to do? I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the Leah Williamson, Keira Walsh, and Georgia Stanway!”

You snort, gently shaking her hands off. “First off, it’s just rec futsal. If we lose it’s nothing that life ending. Also, we can always blame it on the court if we play poorly.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but the whistle from the ref calls before you can convince her some more.

Taking your spot on the court again, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy. With the constant attention and numerous commitments clogging up your girlfriend’s schedule, it’s been a while since Leah’s come to one of your games.

And so what if you end up showing off a little bit? Your girlfriend is here watching and you’re only human.

By the time the game ends, your team is up by six, four scored by you.

“God damn, we should try to invite the Lionesses out every week if you’re going to ball out like that when they’re here,” Riley jokingly complains, laughing when you shove her back playfully.

“Speaking of the Lionesses…”

Spinning around you see your girlfriend and her friends starting their descent down to the court. You skip to meet them halfway, ignoring the awestruck looks coming from all around.

Leah gives you a quick hug before pulling back, mindful of prying eyes.

“Leah! What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to surprise my girl,” she mumbles, cheeks burning bright red as she instinctively pulls her cap down tighter on her head. “That’s okay right? I just haven’t seen you play live in a while and I--”

“Of course it’s fine.” Your cheeks are starting to hurt a bit by how wide you’re smiling.

You turn quickly to her two friends by her side.

“Happy to see you guys too! Thanks for coming out.”

Georgia and Keira exchange devilish grins before each throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“We would’ve come out to a match sooner if lovergirl over here hadn’t gatekeeped when your games were.”

Keira nods dramatically. “It was like pulling teeth with this one, trying to convince her to let us tag along today. You’d almost think she wanted us to forget she had a girlfriend.”

Leah rolls her eyes at the accusations. “A). I wasn’t gatekeeping. B). It was like pulling teeth today --- you wouldn’t give me a moment of peace until I agreed. And C). If I wanted you to forget I had a girlfriend, we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.”

“Pshh, as if you could make us forget our favorite Milton Keynes native. We’d choose her in the divorce,” Georgia quips, ignoring the eyebrow Leah raises her way.

Before the three of them can get in a shoving match, you suddenly remember your friends that you’ve left behind.

“Wait, let me introduce you guys to my teammates.”

Your friends look shell-shocked, eyes darting between you and the little posse of professional footballers you’ve amassed around you when you return.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend Leah and her two friends.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Then a whispered, “why are you introducing three Lionesses to us as if you have dinner together on the regular?” Riley honestly looks like she’s about to pass out, but you decide to humor her a bit.

“Because I do? Keira and G come down sometimes during breaks, and I do live with Leah. So…”

Your explanation seems pretty straightforward to you, but if anything, it only makes things more confusing for your friends.

They exchange looks with each other before Riley cautiously asks, “You were being serious about that?”

It’s your turn to be confused, face scrunching up. “What do you mean?”

“Well you kept talking about your mysterious girlfriend Leah without ever introducing us to her…”

“Or showing us a picture,” another voice adds on, trying to be helpful.

“We just kinda assumed Leah wasn’t real,” Riley finishes off lamely.

You roll your eyes, elbowing your girlfriend when you feel Leah snort next to you.

She recovers quickly, giving your friends a smile. “Well rest assured, the girlfriend is very much real. It’s nice to meet you guys, I’m Leah.”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #Ace writes

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princesssmars · 1 month

Text

thinking about princess reader and royal knight rhaenyra…

as the young princess of dorne, tourneys were nothing new to you. you’d never really cared for them, finding the blood and violence unnecessary and borderline barbaric. when you could you would beg your mother to come up with an excuse to your father to let you stay at the palace, citing sickness, weariness, anything.

but this time you had no choice. because as your family entered into the royal watching booth, politely greeting the members of your father court, your father stops before extending his hand to your guest - king viserys of westeros himself.

you’d heard many things about him, partially from overhearing your mothers gossip and from the workers talking a little too loudly when you’d sneak in the kitchens. you obviously knew he was a targaryen, his long silver gold hair and peculiar eyes telling anyone with a short distance of his heritage.

but more importantly you’d heard that he was a mostly kind and generous king, with a large portion of his people happy under his reign. there was no better option for your father to invite to his event.

you gracefully presented yourself to him, smiling when he kissed the back of your hand and gave you a polite compliment. he introduced his wife, the beautiful queen aemma, and his vibrant young son baelon who excitedly shook his hand at you and everyone else in the booth.

after the introductions everyone say down to let the people know the tourney could commence, cheers ringing as you settled into place in front of your father and next to rosalei, one of the fellow younger ladies in court who was your closest friend ever since she snuck some sugared treats to your room when the head cook had banned you from them for a week.

the even was like any other : knights got in their horses, they picked up giant sticks, then ran at each other on said horses with said sticks and tried to knock the other man down. yet again the event did nothing to entertain you, focusing on the small conversation you were keeping up with rosalei while paying attention to the ones around you. for now, your father and his guest had discovered their shared love for the histories and had veered to the animosity but occasional generosity between their people.

your father is close to getting on to the topic of a equally beneficial trade deal when whispers from the small folk take over the crowd, some standing up and pointing at a contender who had entered the fighting area. you bend over the edge of the booth to catch a look, ignoring your mother chastising your posture and manners.

it’s a knight everyone’s looking at, that’s true, but a knight unlike you’ve ever seen before. their armor is black and scarily imposing, a beautiful construction of steel with strong pleats and swoops. their horse is somehow darker than the armor, black as knight with a bright sun medallion around its neck. its only then you notice the flag in their hand, along with the dragon emblems on their armor.

"you have a competing knight, your grace?" you ask, turning your head around when you are only met with silence. the visiting kings face is red, smile so forced it looks like he’s going to quickly gain a cramp in his jaw. the queen is resting a hand on his shoulder, subtly trying to comfort him while they exchange hushed whispers.

“said…show strength…not what i meant-“

the queen tries to comfort him more before they look in your direction, along with every one else in your booth. your body goes rigid for a second before you realize they’re looking behind you, turning your body to see what was so intriguing.

the targaryen knight, poised right beneath the opening of the booth, helmeted head and joust sword tipped towards you. and even without being able to see their face you know their eyes are trained on you.

you can also tell that everyone is waiting for you to do something. so with all the farce you can muster you gently pick up your favor, raising it high enough for the people to see, and let it slide down onto the joust.

no further words are shared, the warrior staying in place for a few more seconds before goading their horse back into position. as you watch you plop back into your seat, breathing slightly stuttering at the encounter while your friend pokes and prods for an explanation for whatever that was.

even if you had the time you wouldn’t be able to say much, feeling like a warm thick jelly has suddenly made its home inside your throat. put of the corner of your you can see one of the kings guards looking at you, but before you can turn to look back at him the sudden roars of the crowd snap your attention to the game.

almost like a bolt of lighting does the warrior speed down the jousting lane, sword aimed steady at the burly man who had bested most of the other men in the contest. just when his sword is aimed inches away from the knight, then bend their body dangerously close to falling off of their horse before thrusting at just the right moment to knock the man down, the sound of galloping hooves and crunching metal all you can hear.

the cheers from the commoners is near deafening, but all you can focus on is the knight, who instead of basking in the success and praise is yet again looking in your direction. but looking back at the aghast king viserys, you can’t exactly tell who they are trying to impress.

after congratulating and thanking the people for coming and competing, and giving a personal thanks to the king for making his way down to your kingdom, your father dismisses everyone to enjoy the other tourney activities while the royal families go to prepare for later celebrations. after giving the royal family of westeros a quick goodbye, you grab rosealai’s hand and hurry out of the booth to grab a quick bite from one of the fair booths and to try to talk all you can about what just happened.

but right before you ca leave the booth you’re stopped in your tracks, no one other than the black knight standing in front of you. you blink up at them, waiting for them to speak before their hands raise to take off their helmet to reveal themselves . it’s almost in slow motion that you take in every part of their face - a soft angled jaw, pink lips, a broad nose, short silver hair -

“rhaenyra! finally, please show a bit of grace to our hosts and introduce yourself.” king viserys comes up beside you, gently scooting beside you to wrap an arm around the armored shoulders of the knight. “the last impression i’ll have my daughter making is that she’s yet another rude and british knight.”

neither of you move however, gazes locked and bodies still. only about a thousand thoughts are running through your head at the current moment.

the knight is a woman. the knight is an attractive woman. the knight is princess rhaenyra. princess rhaenyra who came up to your booth and quietly asked for your favor.

without a word spoken or breaking ye contact, the heavy hand of the princess grabs yours, physically strong but gently soft, bringing it up slowly before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

you’ve always been able to keep your composure in the face of extreme emotions, a necessary trait as a royal who had to make quick and harsh decisions. sadly that all seems to be going out the window as you feel your cheeks warm and your breathing get faster.

“it is an honor to meet you, princess. and even greater an honor to win a competition with your favor. i hope similar opportunities make themselves available in the future.”

her voice is melodic yet curt, no room for doubt or wrongful interpretation. you break her gaze to look down at her lips, looking back up to see her doing the same before a sly smile appears on her face.

clearly the moment goes on a little too long for comfort, the king further ushering his daughter to greet your father and mother after giving the two of you a worried look. when her body passes yours you can feel her hand discreetly brush against your side, shivering slightly at the cold of the steel even through the fabrics of your dress.

your father quickly motions for one of his guard to guide you back to the castle before turning to your guests with a welcoming but greedy smile. you can feel rosalei’s barey contained excitement as you rush out of the entryway, not before looking back one last time and seeing purple eyes already trained on your body.

maybe tourneys weren’t so boring after all.

can you tell i don’t really know shit about tourneys. sorry if some things are inaccurate i’m getting everything through hotd, asoiaf wiki, and tiktok’s 💔

#rhaenyra i got some place for you to put that joust #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #ser rhaenyra targaryen #knight!rhaenyra #aemma and baelon are alive #so viserys can stfu and let rhae do what she wants #alicent is idk back at home reading <3

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petitesmafia · 4 months

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hc thinking about Chuuya being that nonchalant friend who never really talks about if he's having a hard time or if he just went through some rough shit so whenever Shirase calls to catch up he's just baffled as hell

Shirase: so i ordered a large fried rice and the delivery guy brought me a MEDIUM Chuuya: that's unacceptable Shirase: i know right? btw bro ur eye bags are looking a lil dark Chuuya: yeah busy day yesterday. a dragon attacked the city so i had to handle that Shirase: Shirase: excuse me? Chuuya: so did they refund u the difference for the rice Shirase: no no no. PAUSE go back wdym DRAGON? Chuuya: there was a dragon. i got called in and i also owed the guy so i just handled it. it's fine i just need some sleep. btw u should stop eating so much takeout and just learn to cook Shirase: what goes on

Shirase: kinda annoyed today like the bus was 20min late. i should really get a car Chuuya: do u even have ur license Shirase : that's not important rn. do u have any recs since ur car's nice Chuuya: i guess it was nice Shirase: wdym "was"? did u upgrade Chuuya: no it blew up Shirase: what Chuuya: it's gone Shirase: HOW did BLOW UP???? Chuuya: no idea. but seriously u should look into getting a license before driving around bc what are u gonna do if u get caught

Shirase: lemme tell u the craziest thing happened yesterday. bumped into this girl at a cafe and we got to talking and guess what? she knows yuan! Chuuya: really? Shirase: yeah i wanted to tell u yesterday but u didn't call me back Chuuya: sorry i got trapped in some guy's book Shirase: Shirase: huh Chuuya: it was some mystery novel with a bunch of killers. i just fought everybody to get out so it's chill Shirase: what are u talking about Chuuya: enough about me tho. so how's yuan doing

basically it’s always Shirase just asking why Chuuya didn’t tell him about these crazy events and Chuuya’s just like “I don’t like making a big deal out of things. I don’t think it’s that serious” and Shirase is like YES IT IS???

#ena.hc #enarchive: Chuuya #bsd #bsd shirase #nakahara Chuuya #Chuuya gives shirase whiplash every time #he just breezes by something CRAZY and then says “enough about me tho let's talk about you”#and shirase is like i need you to take 5000 steps back REWIND #q: from the bird app

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kamiversee · 7 months

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 26 || The Change of Events (Continued)

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & beautifully filthy smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 3.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T have to tell you twice. You chuckled and happily made your way into the passenger seat of the car after Toji told you he was going to drive further away from the nearby party.

The last thing he wanted was for anyone to see what the two of you were about to do.

You didn't even bother to put a seatbelt on as he drove, your eyes all over the man and admiring how stupidly sexy he was. Toji's eyes are low as he drives down a few streets, making a couple of turns before he gets to a house and goes to back the car in.

For a moment you were confused but when the garage to said house began to open, you realized it was his house he'd taken you to. This surprised you because it meant that Toji only lives a few streetways away from Sukuna.

As he backed his car in, his arm was stretched over to the back of your seat and you just drank in the large muscles visibly against his shirt.

"I didn't know you lived this close to campus, Mr. Fushiguro," You comment casually, having remembered that school was roughly a fifteen-minute drive from this neighborhood.

The area Sukuna lived in versus the area Toji lived in was drastically different, that fact was noticeable based on the kinds of houses on each street.

"Well," He sighs as the car comes to a stop, "You know now."

"Y'know you never answered me when I asked why you were out by yourself and near a college party..." You point out.

"Was' lookin' for my son. He has a friend who lives there," Toji explains.

You tilt your head curiously, "How old is he?"

"Uhhhh..." Toji takes a long moment to recall, "Twelve... I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah, he's twelve." The man confirms, sounding more like he was confirming it to himself.

You nod, "Right... Well, he wasn't there so, where is he?"

"Another friend's house apparently." Toji hums, "Lil' shit didn't tell me anything and just took his bike there."

You chuckle, "Ohhh I see..."

"Anyways," Toji moves to shut the garage door with the same button in his car that he used to open it and then he turns the car headlights off, looking over to you, "Do you wanna go inside or-,"

He stops as he watches you start pulling your hair back out of the way and shifting in your seat. It was sexy the way you shifted so that your knees were in the seat and so that you could turn to face Toji. His eyes widen as you comfort yourself and then lean over the console in between his seat and yours.

"Guess that answers my question..." Toji chuckles slightly, moving to slide his seat back and reclining the upper half ever so slightly to give you space.

Those large thighs of his that you once rode on, part and his hips roll up slightly as he adjusts himself in his seat. Your hands move for his belt, working the item off him with his eyes on you the entire time.

As you do that and then begin to undo his pants, Toji glances over at how your back is arched and how your ass is sticking up, the sight making his dick twitch. Your small fingers are felt brushing over his member while you work his pants out of the way.

Toji bites his lip and returns his gaze down to you. He watches the way your hands tug his boxers down and he lets out a deep and low groan as you pull his cock out.

Your eyes go wide at the sight and your mouth salivates. Again, the urge to suck dick is running strongly through you right now and your body is tingling in arousal.

Okay, you knew Toji had a big dick and you obviously remember the way it felt inside your cunt but good lord when it's right in front of your face it's almost intimidating. Toji's cock is so veiny and fucking thick. You don't know if you should be scared or aroused right now-- maybe both. Maybe scaroused.

That's not a real word but it defines how you feel right now anyway.

You can see the beads of white precum oozing out his tip and sliding down the length of his cock. The sight alone is stimulating, making your pussy clench around absolutely nothing. The fact that this thing had once been inside you is absolutely crazy.

Water wells up in your mouth and you start by simply letting a gallop of spit drip out of your mouth and down to Toji's cock. You watch the way his member twitches at the contact.

Toji tips his head back a little and gets comfortable in his seat, his breathing growing noticeably louder and even a bit heavier before a low hum is heard vibrating against his throat.

Your hand moves to his cock and you start out simple, spreading both your spit and his precum all over his length as you stroke him. Toji's brows are quick to tense up and he grits his teeth at the feeling of your soft and warm hand running up and down his dick.

Your hand jerks him off steadily as you mentally prepare yourself to take him into your mouth. You give his shaft a squeeze and hear a suppressed grunt come from him. The sound of him trying to hold it in makes you smile.

You lean your head down to his tip but angle yourself so that you can look into his eyes as you kiss it. Toji's seat was leaning decently far back so it wasn't too difficult to meet his eyes.

He was gritting his teeth already and breathing through his nose heavily. Toji watches the way your tongue sticks out your mouth and swirls around the entirety of his tip, the sensation making his brows furrow in pleasure for a moment.

"Shit." He curses quietly.

You then go from licking to wrapping your lips around his tip, lazily sucking on it, and getting your tongue used to having him against you. Toji's above you repressing every sound to the best of his ability but when you move to use two hands instead of one, he struggles to contain his groans.

Both sets of fingers curl around his cock and you focus your mouth on his tip, no longer looking at his face and directing your attention to your actions.

"Fuuck." Toji groans deeply, his low voice filling your ears and making your cunt throb.

An idea spurs into your brain and you tip your head to the side again, meeting his eyes for a moment before you pull your mouth off his dick. Your tongue sticks back out and you make him watch the way your wet pink muscle slides in between the slit of his cockhead, gathering what's left of precum onto your tongue.

You then bring yourself up just a little and swallow it down, "Mr. Fushiguro..."

"H-Hmm?" He hums in response.

"Am I..." You go back to using only one hand to jerk him off, "Am I doing this right?"

You know damn well you're doing everything right but something made you want to tease him. Toji scoffs, "Doin' jus' fine, doll. Keep goin'."

You grin and plant another kiss on his tip. Then, you tilt your head and trail kisses down his length up until you get to the base, to which you then stick your tongue out and drag it all the way back up.

Toji bites his lower lip and instinctively moves a hand to the top of your head, casually urging your lips back over his tip and clearly ready for you to take him into your mouth. Your teasing licks were driving him insane so he worked his large hand through your hair and gripped it lightly.

As he did so, you finally took him into your mouth. Toji tosses his head back immediately, "Aagh, fuck... that's it, atta' girl..." He encourages, words going straight to your sex.

The second he began entering your mouth, you grew eager to stuff your throat with as much of him as you could, regardless of whether or not you'd gag and or possibly choke. You removed your hand from him and used only your mouth, taking as much of his inches as you could.

"God damn-," Toji grunts, his eyes flickering to the wet warmth of your mouth. His head rolls back into place and he watches as you start bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

His breathing stutters while he watches you, seeing how his dick disappears into your mouth and feeling your soft hums vibrate against him. Toji's hips unconsciously jolted upward into your mouth, forcing his cock a bit deeper.

You gag only a little, the sound of it echoing throughout his car. A little whine follows your gag, making Toji smirk.

The hand on top of your head pushes you down and he does it again, jerking his hips up and this time causing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat, "You wanted' to suck me off so bad..." He hums, "At least go all the way down. Take every inch..." Toji groans a little after his last statement.

He was challenging you and you were far too horny to allow him to test you. So, you moved to put your hand over his and urge him to force your face even further down.

He chuckles, "Damn whore..." Toji then feels the way you swallow around him and try to contain your gagging.

His hand gripped onto a chunk of your hair and he began moving you up and down his cock, forcing you to suck him properly and using your mouth like a fucking cock sleeve. You quickly start to moan around his shaft as he manhandles you, feeling your pussy leak with arousal.

Toji shoved your head down and thrust up a bit harder than he meant to, his tip knocking into the back of your throat and making you choke. The sensation goes straight to his balls, making his jaw drop a little.

"Such a greedy slut-, a-aagh... fuuuck..." Toji moans, his head going back once more.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head a bit every time your lips reach the base of his cock, sloppy gagging and choking noises filling the entirety of his car as he continues to push and pull your mouth up and down his length.

Toji can feel his abs clenching every time your throat tightens around him, hearing your poor little moans and feeling how they vibrate against him, "Doin' so good... oh shiit... fuckin' throat feels so good around my cock."

"Mmmgh..." You moaned against him, leading Toji to flash a lustful smile.

Your gaze was growing hazy as water glossed over them. He was being so aggressive and you loved it. The stimulation you got from feeling his girth ram up into your mouth was like no other.

For a moment, Toji relaxes his hips from thrusting up into your mouth and focuses on bobbing your head down on him. You suck him eagerly and even continue as his hand suddenly moves away from you.

You begin to twist your head a bit as you throat his length, saliva escaping out the corners of your mouth and filthy dick-sucking noises filling the air.

Abruptly, you feel a large hand come down on your ass and you pull your mouth off his dick with a pop. The sound of the smack is loud within the vehicle.

Toji grabs the fat of your ass, toying with it in his hands before moving to tug your dress up. The fabric bundles up around your waist, revealing coordinating lace panties beneath.

Toji bites his lip at the sight before looking down at you, panting and trying to catch your breath. "Why'd you stop?" He questions, giving your ass another smack.

Your body jumps a little at the contact and you grin, "N-Needed to b-breathe..." You huff out.

His palm rubs over the area of your ass he just slapped and he gives you another squeeze, "Keep goin'." Toji says.

You suck in one last deep breath of air before sinking your head back down. His cock enters your mouth again and he hums approvingly. You went back to bobbing your head up and down his length until two fingers suddenly pressed against your underwear, feeling along your slick cunt through the fabric.

You gag on Toji and he groans, "Aagh... take it jus' like that, take my fuckin' cock," He encourages, feeling the way your cunt twitches against his fingers. He smiles, "Y'like when I talk to you, huh?"

"M-Mhmmm..." You hum as best as you can in response.

Toji's fingers rub a slow circle over your sex, feeling your wetness coat his digits even through the fabric of your panties. He scoffs, "You got this wet from suckin' me off? F-Fuck..."

As best as you can, you wiggle your hips into his touch, trying to give your cunt more friction against his fingers. The sensation makes you dizzy with satisfaction, nearly on the verge of an orgasm due to all the buildup from this night.

When you pull up, you decide to suck him all the way in as you go down again, inhaling in a deep breath and opening up the back of your throat before sliding back down. Toji moans filthy as you suddenly deepthroat his cock, his free hand moving to the top of your head.

He applies light pressure, enough to keep you still, "S-Stay like that for a sec'.... F-Fuck..." Toji moans again, the sound a bit more pitched and airy than he liked.

Your throat is being stretched by his thick cock and water is spilling from the corners of your eyes and drool is leaking down to your chin. As you hold yourself there for as long as you can, you feel Toji's fingers move your underwear to the side and then suddenly thrust two of his fingers in.

You choke around his dick, the sensation making him groan loudly before your head flies up off him. Spit and tears run down your face as you start coughing a bit, Toji's fingers thrusting knuckle deep into you.

"Oh fuck-," You gasp, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. To finally get some kind of relief after what felt like hours was so satisfying.

Unlike your first time with him, you managed not to cum after one thrust. But, there was so much moisture coming from your pussy that you could feel it slipping down in between your thighs.

Toji smirks, "Feels good, huh?"

You nod so desperately, pushing your hips back to match the thrusting of his fingers, "S-So good... nngh... fuck..."

His fingers curl against your slick walls and you moan right before lowering your head again. Toji grunts as he feels you start sucking his dick again.

He turns to look at the way you're backing your hips into his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. "Pussy was back here droolin' for some attention..." Toji comments as he massages your walls just right.

Your cunt clamps around his fingers in reaction to his lewd words and you can feel the knot in your core building up.

He glances down at how eagerly your mouth is working against him, feeling your tongue swirl around his length, "M'gonna cum soon..." He sighs, seeing your spit has completely smothered every inch of his cock.

His warning fuels you to continue, sucking him harder into your mouth and rubbing your tongue over each and every vein as if to later be able to remember the feeling. Toji releases a guttural groan when you focus on the veins of his cock, his legs starting to shift around as he grows close.

"Fuu-uck," He stammers, "...Gonna' cum down y-your throat, pretty girl," Toji warns for a second time.

He then adds a third finger inside you and you spasm, moaning and whining against his cock as you both feel pleasure evenly. Your legs threaten to close as his three large fingers skillfully work your insides.

Toji shakes his head, "Keep 'em open." He directs.

"Mmh... mmgh..." You moan again, trying your best to do as he says.

"That's it, good fuckin' girl," Toji praises, instantly feeling how tight both your cunt and throat squeeze around him.

Your eyes roll back and you deepthroat his cock one more time with a loud moan whilst releasing all over his fingers. The wet squelching of him stroking you through your orgasm can be heard and Toji wasn't too far behind you.

You start licking at him while he rests deep inside your throat, earning a low moan from him and his hand gripping your hair. Toji lifts you about halfway up off his cock before he starts thrusting up into your mouth.

As he does so, you quickly feel the way he starts cumming in your mouth with a loud groan.

"F-Fuuuuck..." When you start gulping it down as best as you can, Toji's eyes roll back a little, "Just... like... that-, swallow it all-, fuck..." He moans, his words coming out in between his thrusts.

You do just that up until he's done, feeling as his thrusts slow down and there's nothing left for you to gulp down. Toji pulls your head off his member completely, lifting it so that he can get a good look at your face.

"Show me," He instructs.

You stick your tongue out with a little ahh sound following, earning a proud smile from him.

"Good girllll," Toji praises yet again, his words causing you to flash a fucked out smile.

His fingers that were lodged inside you carefully slip out and he brings them to his mouth, making you watch as he sucks the taste off.

"Mmh." He hums, almost surprised, "Tastes' sweet."

You giggle softly in response before carefully moving back to your seat.

You both separately fix yourselves up and Toji offers you some wipes he had in his car so that you can clean your face and legs off.

When you're done, you meet his gaze and he smiles, "Think your legs will give out like last time?"

You roll your eyes, "Who knows..."

The two of you share a laugh and your night comes to a simple end just like that.

So many things felt like it had happened but even so, you had to mentally prepare yourself for the following day.

You were to meet Nanami Kento.

Who knows how that'll play out?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: ???

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

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christianbalesblueaddidas · 9 days

Note

I have a prompt 🙋‍♀️👀 (a rlly long one). reader thinking noticing how Bruce always disappears/makes an excuse to leave at night (like on dates, events, or maybe while getting freaky (👀) he suddenly just gets up and goes like “oh sorry smth came up”) and he can never give a convincing enough excuse so she starts getting distant and cold coz she thinks he’s not rlly serious in the relationship and Bruce notices this and feels rlly bad but the reader only finds out why after she had to get rescued by him……. So yeah there’s my prompt yay!!!

I'm Sorry, Sweetheart

bruce wayne x f!reader

your boyfriend seems to hate being around you. it's time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

warnings: some smut in the middle, kidnapping, graphic language

word count: 3.4k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope i did your idea justice.

Bruce Wayne is singlehandedly the most infuriating man you’ve ever dated.

Every week, you know him a bit more. Little by little, you get to know him — soul, mind, and body — more and more every time you meet. And it’s not the cute “let’s take this slow” type of getting to know each other. It’s the irritating kind, where you get to know more about him and his world and he suddenly takes it away from your hands.

Your first date goes smoothly enough, setting an expectation he can never reach since. Despite it being the bare minimum, you are happy he is there the entire time, physically and mentally. He never once looked at his cellular phone or his watch or a random clock in the room. It is just you and him and the company you share together.

On the second date, he starts off completely interested and later into the night, he inexplicably turns distracted — and almost anxious. He picks up his phone and says he has a call to make, he disappears into the corner of the room, then comes back to your table and tells you he has somewhere to go. Wayne Enterprises business. Ignoring your barely hidden disappointment and offense, you nod with a smile and tell him, “It’s alright, Bruce.”

Of course, he notices your hurt expression when he leaves. Even if you manage to hide your emotions well, Bruce is trained to notice it. To make up for that mistake, he invites you to a fundraising party. Frankly, it’s out of your league, but you can never pass up an opportunity to be with Bruce and to finally experience a fancy party.

Contrary to your expectations, it’s the most boring party you’ve ever been in, full of snooty millionaires and social climbers. You don’t know how Bruce endures this. You’ve read about and saw the models he brings — multiple at a time too — to his parties and you’re guessing that’s how. You push away the thought, not sure whether to be insecure that you can’t measure up to his models and actresses or whether to be proud that he chose you and only you to be his date tonight.

You stand in the far corner of the large ballroom at the top of his penthouse, subtly avoiding Bruce’s “friends” and thinking about him. And speaking of the devil, his arm snakes its way around your waist from behind. Despite him being so close and having his arm around your middle, his hand is flat and open, careful not to hold you in a way you won’t like.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Bruce whispers to your ear and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You roll your eyes in amusement and turn your head to face his. Your breath hitches — a bit too obviously and embarrassingly so — as you realize that you’re so close to him. However, you quickly recover and reply, “Isn’t that line a bit too overdone for you, Bruce?”

He shrugs a shoulder playfully, his full glass of champagne sloshing in the flute.

“It always works,” he says. “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. But how about I try another line?”

With a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, his open palm grips your hip, just right above the curve of your backside. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his grip hesitant, almost like he isn’t very sure of himself or of something else. Nevertheless, you’ll fall for his charm anytime.

“You wanna get out of here?”

That single question brings you to his bedroom, which is almost the entire floor if it weren’t for the foyer to give him privacy from the elevator. You’ve never seen a bedroom quite like it. Floor-to-ceiling windows that display a view of Gotham, frosted glass panes around his bed for some semblance of privacy, and a sitting area beside it that looks over the city. It’s an apartment without a kitchen, which you’d be more astonished about if your breath weren’t taken away by Bruce’s slow kisses on your lips and your neck.

He has you on your back on the bed, silky taupe sheets like clouds under you. He hovers over you, his entire figure taking over your vision, his muscles hidden by a black Giorgio Armani suit and gray tie. His lips and tongue move languidly against yours like he has all the time in the world. He holds himself up by a hand beside your head and the other presses your thigh against his hip. His hand idly runs up and down under your dress, but never quite reaches anywhere near where you need him the most.

“Bruce, plea—“

You’re interrupted by his phone on the nightstand. Your head whips to the side, glaring at the screeching machine. Who the hell is calling during this time of night? Well, perhaps that’s what you get for dating a billionaire. Rich people are always eccentric.

He suddenly stiffens up and gets off you. A pang of hurt in your heart rings as you notice how quickly he gets up like he got burnt. Your brows furrow, confused and a bit offended.

“Who is that?” you ask and you can’t help the way you sound so jealous. You’re aware of the fact that you shouldn’t be — not yet — but the fact that you’re in his bed is making you more sensitive about your feelings for him.

“Uh,” he reaches for his phone. He looks at the screen. “It’s Lucius Fox.” Lie. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”

He disappears into the bathroom to apparently take his call. In fact, it is just an alarm set with a ringtone to sound like a phone call. He feels especially bad about using you as an alibi, but his usual strategy to get out of parties that stretch on too late involve his dates.

Due to his playboy image, nobody questions when he leaves too early. He rarely sleeps with the women he invites to parties, and if he doesn’t, they never tell anyway because it hurts their pride to say that Bruce Wayne didn’t sleep with them. It never hurt him either. You, however, are different. He wishes he doesn’t have to use you.

He emerges out the bathroom with a regretful look on his face. You don’t know how much it also hurts for him to make you leave.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll have Alfred drive you home.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just work. But it’s urgent,” he replies and he almost winces at how uncharacteristically bad he is at lying to you.

“Oh, of course. It’s alright, Bruce.”

This time, you don’t hide your disappointment.

He tries his best to not abandon you every time you see each other. He scoots your meetups an hour or so earlier because Batman can’t adjust, not even for you. Then, he texts and calls you whenever he’s free and awake, giving you random updates that he doesn’t know make your day. His efforts reassure you eventually, and you’re no longer mad at his odd tendency to leave you so suddenly in the middle of the night or when it nears twelve. Now that you’re both content with how often you see each other and how often your nights don’t get interrupted, you’re both happy.

One day, you surprise him at his penthouse after work. It’s a random visit, to be frank, and you just wanted to watch television or do anything boring with him after you eat the dinner you have brought. What you don’t expect is that you’ll be on your back on his couch, stuffed full of his cock as the TV plays in the background, neither of you interested to watch it. No dinner yet either, but he's enough to make you full and wanting more.

Airy moans leave your lips as he thrusts into you, holding onto his broad shoulders by bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt in clenched fists. It has never occurred to you that you’ve never seen him without his shirt off even during sex. You’ve always been too distracted to care.

Too distracted like right now. The stretch of him in your cunt is delicious, satiating your appetite in ways that no food or other pleasure could. His pelvis rubs against your clit and you cry out every time his tip hits that spot in you while your bundle of nerves grind against his firm body. With every grind of hips, you reach new heights on your way to orgasm.

Bruce is a sight to behold. His eyes half-lidded mouth parted, moans spill from his wet lips. His chocolate brown hair a mess on his head, a product of your hands mussing them up earlier while making out. His muscled chest heaves, pressing against your softer one when he inhales. When your eyes aren't rolling back, you love staring at him above you.

“I— 'm close,” you manage to mumble out despite being so cock drunk.

"Me too, sweetheart," he growls out, a lower register that sounds unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, considering that you've only heard this tone from him during intimacy.

Bruce has one ear for you and the other for the TV, even when he's already nearing climax. The television is now apparently showing the news. The reporter says something about a bank robbery organized by the Joker and—

His hips thrust roughly into yours out of instinct, shocking you and making you moan even louder. He doesn't go faster, knowing it doesn't quicken the job. He takes your legs by the crook of your knees and presses your thighs to your torso, essentially folding you into a position you never knew you can do. You let go of his shirt and tangle your hands into his already-messy hair. With this new angle, his cock reaches deeper inside of you.

"Bruce," you moan out, your eyes rolling back. "Oh, fuck."

You don't know that he's trying very hard to make this good for you while letting him have time to take care of the bank robbery. He doesn't want to leave you in the dust again, mostly because it'll be an asshole move and because you're both on the verge of orgasm and a hard-on isn't something to bring to a fight.

More importantly for him, he doesn't want to leave you hanging. He can't express his thoughts and feelings very well other than through gifts and sex, so he wants to show you how much he adores you, especially that he's leaving you again. He knows it isn't enough, but it's all he can do for now.

He leans his head down to kiss you, sloppy and all tongues. While you're distracted by his mouth and his cock, he reaches a hand down and rubs circles on your clit while he thrusts in and out of you.

He proudly watches as you unravel underneath him, masterfully played by him like an instrument made only for him. Your toes curl in the air as you stiffen up and relax. He swallows your moans with his kisses, eagerly drinking in your pretty noises. He helps you ride it out like the gentleman he is, still moving in and out of your pussy.

He follows suit, coming deep inside you and painting your walls white. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack.

He internally curses when he realizes he didn't have a condom on and he's only lucky that you told him before you take birth control — and that you even allowed him to come in you. But still, he curses at his lapse of sensibility.

You come down from your high. Bruce is counting down the seconds and the minutes. He needs to be out of here as soon as possible to deal with the Joker. He slowly pulls out of you, come dripping down your flesh mixed with your wetness. But you can't even bask in the afterglow because of his urgent task.

"You alright, darling?" he asks breathlessly. He looks you up and down, surveying you.

You can only nod and hum in affirmation. Eyes half-lidded and gaze trained on him in a daze.

"You don't mind if I have to go now? Something came up."

Oh, how you hate that. Why does something always come up when you're in the middle of something?

"It's alright, Bruce."

That evening, Batman is too late to catch the Joker. When he gets there, he was already in his getaway car. He pursues him, leading to a high-speed chase around the city. However, the Joker has traps ready on the way. He should've known that he'd anticipate his presence.

Bruce comes home to you weary and frustrated. He takes it out on you, inexplicably being rougher than usual for your round two. You take it, enjoying it anyway. But still, something lingers in the back of your mind, a thought rearing its ugly head since the time he left — maybe even since a few months ago.

Is he not taking your relationship seriously? You should've guessed he wouldn't, you think, considering he does have a reputation. But you're optimistic enough to have thought that perhaps his reputation is mostly the work of the media. Even then, you can't deny the photos and videos you've seen of him. Perhaps it's true. He doesn't value you as much as you value him.

You don't talk to him since that day. You don't outright avoid him but when he doesn't reach out, you don't either.

He notices you distancing yourself from him. He figures that maybe you need some space, which is one of the worst decisions he can ever do when it comes to this situation. He has never been good with relationships.

It further upsets you. In your mind, he doesn't even care when you stop approaching him. He doesn't care that you're not seeing each other or even talking to each other much. He's only there if you want him first.

To Bruce, it's fine that you need space. It's fine that he doesn't get to see you as much as he wants to — at least, that's what he tells himself. Batman feels differently. His punches hit harder, the bruises he leaves much darker. Even though no one else knows about you and him, Gotham knows there's something upsetting the Bat more than usual.

He thinks about telling you his secret but that involves putting you in possible danger. No one else can know he is Batman. Not even you, not even if he cares for you so much. He'd rather distance form between you than tell you. He's got eyes on you, anyway.

You don't know how to go about this. It seems too presumptuous to barge into his penthouse. You're obviously not on that level of relationship to do so. A call is too impersonal. So, you don't go about it at all. You have never been good at communication.

You spend days constantly on the verge of tears, bottling up every drop of frustration you've felt ever since Bruce started acting suspicious around you. When you're at work, you stifle the urge to cry. When you're at home, you hold yourself back from calling him — and then cry. It's a vicious cycle and it hurts even more than when he leaves you.

Sighing, you insert the key into your car, more than ready to drive home after work. Suddenly, strong hands grab you into a beat-up black SUV parked nearby. You scream and flail, but nobody is around to help, or maybe they're too unbothered and selfish to care. This is Gotham after all; these things happen every day.

You can't see or speak, blindfolded and a duct tape covering your mouth. You can only hear what the kidnappers are talking about as they drive you to an unknown location. It's an isolatory experience and how you wish you were actually alone instead of tied up and blindfolded. Tears wet the bandana tied around your head as you quietly cry.

"Wayne would pay so much money to get that back."

"Would he? He has a new bitch every week."

"Lucky fucker."

"Hope not too lucky. I wanna get at least a mill from this bitch."

A loud bang from the roof of the car startles all of you. The driver slams the brakes, flinging you to the back of the front seat, a cry of pain ripping from your throat.

"Shit! It's Batman!"

"Fuck! I told you we shouldn't mess with Wayne! He has him in his payroll!"

The doors of the SUV open and the kidnappers hit you on the way as they rush out. You hear scuffling and punching and metal banging on metal and bones breaking. A sob escapes you despite you trying to keep your resolve.

"Don't let me see you again," a voice growls out. Then, what seems to be a body slams onto the side of the car.

Wait, that voice sounds familiar...

A rough material brushes your skin as — you assume — Batman rips off the tape on your mouth. A gasp leaves you, heaving in a deep breath. You hear metal ripping fabric and you can see again. You blink through your tears, adjusting to the light, which isn't much as you're in a lonely road in the middle of the night. Eventually, your limbs are free too, but you're still too weak to stand or walk.

Black surrounds his eyes due to his cowl and, with his armor and cape, he is completely shrouded in darkness. But you'd know those eyes anywhere. You'd know those lips anywhere. He can't hide even in darkness, his own domain.

"Bruce," you breathe out in relief.

Surprising him, you wrap your arms around his armored neck, pulling him close to you in an embrace. It's not the warmest nor most comfortable hug in the world, but the fact that it is him is what matters.

His eyes widen. How did you guess it was him so easily? Nevertheless, without missing a beat, his arms wrap around you protectively. His muscular form and dark cape warm you up and shield you from the world. He is relieved that his tracker works and alerted him at the right time. You're safe in his arms now.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, holding back another sob. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, the armor pressing onto your cheek.

Now, you understand. You understand all his sudden leaving, the odd hours he replies to your texts, his persistent drowsiness, and the random bruises. You feel like an ass for being cold towards him when he's risking his life every night for the city. Not to say that you like the idea of your boyfriend running around beating up criminals during the night, but the fact that he is so selfless while you aren't makes you feel terrible.

"No... I should be the one who's sorry," he says and there's a sense of hesitancy in it, like he has never said those words before in that order. Still, you detect his sincerity and accept it.

In a moment of impulse, you pull away from the hug only to rest your hands on his covered cheeks and to press your lips against his. You tilt your head, the hard nose of his cowl pressing against your cheek. The pain goes unnoticed, your mind more preoccupied with how much you've missed his lips on yours.

As his tongue runs through the seam of your lips, coaxing it open, he pulls away as though he remembers where you are. Almost to placate you for the loss of contact, he runs a hand down your hair, petting you like a doll, a faint smile on his lips. It's a peculiar sight seeing the Batman with an expression other than stony emotionlessness or rage. The fact that you're the reason why makes the butterflies in your belly flutter even quicker. It makes you feel special.

"I'm bringing you home. I'll be there when the sun rises."

For the first time, you're not dejected nor disappointed unlike the other times you've uttered those words as you reply with a small grin tugging at your lips.

"Alright, Bruce."

#bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse

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kedreeva · 1 month

Note

You're sort of one of the kindest people i know on tumblr, so. um. i had a question.

how do i deal with it all?

right of the bat i will tell you i am a minor and my parents are zionists, so i have no income of my own or anything i could donate. everytime i post a single fundraiser that reaches my inbox and is vetted, i get 4-5 new fundraising asks for palestine.

most of them are unvetted, but i keep thinking that if i can't donate i should at least have faith in people and reblog the fundraisers even if they're unvetted, possibly that they're actually new and need as much help we can give, however, there's a possibility they are scams, and i don't want to draw away the attention vetted fundraisers might get.

how do you decide where to help out and how to live with your decision?

I have a policy that when it comes to asks (or messages) that solicit money or other actions (like boosting posts) I don't respond to or even publish asks that come from anyone that has never spoken to me before that moment, and that's a policy that has been in place for many years now, and is unlikely to change largely because the majority of asks/messages that are requesting money or to visit a blog post/their blog/their website are scams (or more often several years ago, led to virus infections on your computer!). My blog is, as it has stated at the top for over ten years now, a personal blog, not a fundraising/signal boosting/vetting blog for spreading donations- there ARE blogs like that, and people can choose to interact with those blogs or not, but my blog isn't the place for it and that's a hard boundary I enforce for my own well being. Tumblr is my place to rest and recover, however I see fit to do that.

A random ask to my inbox asking for money, regardless of what it is for, is (in my view) equivalent to a cold call from a stranger soliciting money. It's not about faith in people, it's not about right or wrong, it's not about can or can't. This is my home, and I don't answer the phone to unknown numbers. I will help friends/family/people I know personally (or parasocially, if I like them or recognize them), obviously, but that's a bit of a different horse.

As for how I decide where to help out, if I have the ability (funds, spoons, time etc), I will seek out information on the best place to donate that can do the most with the money to help the person/people/cause that I want to help. It's the Food Pantry Equation: I could spend $5 on groceries at retail price to donate, and maybe get enough for 1 meal for 1 person (though in this fuckoff capitalist hellscape, I'm not sure $5 would even buy a whole meal), or I could give $5 directly to a Food Pantry organization, who buys in bulk and knows where to get stuff cheap, so that my $5 can help five people or ten people or whatever. I also do my best to participate in fandom events that raise money for good causes; stuff like the fanworks charity auction I helped run to donate to a wolf sanctuary, or stuff like Fandom Trumps Hate (another charity fanworks auction event). Those kind of events are generally open about where the donations go to, and have done research into organizations to ensure the gathered money goes to good charities.

Like with the above, however, it's different if I know the person. If my neighbor comes and asks for a cup of sugar or my friend needs help moving or whatever, I'm gonna give them what they need without the middleman because we have that relationship already established. Donating $5 to a food pantry would probably help more people by numbers, but helping my neighbors and friends and family etc builds community in a way giving $5 to a random stranger on the phone soliciting money cannot, and even in a way donating $5 (or $5 worth of food) to a Food Pantry cannot. It's also usually a matter of one and done, as well as semi-transactional the way any relationship is a give and take; I can give my neighbor some sugar, and down the road they can return the favor the next time I'm in need of help. I help my friends move and I know whether or not I ever move, myself, that they would do the same for me if they're able. You can't say this about a random ask on the Internet and you likely won't ever be able to say it for most charities unless you somehow end up in their exact area of expertise. So it's different.

I feel like you should also learn about Tim Wong, the guy who basically single-handedly repopulated the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly out in California. The lesson his story can and should teach is that... sometimes it can do more good for the world to care Very Much about one specific thing, and put your heart and soul into it, than it does to spread a little bit of care over a lot of things.

So, I guess what I mean to say here is... don't feel guilty about what you cannot do. There's no guilt in that. When you are ready and able to help, you can always go and look for a good way to do so (and what you end up helping may not always be the thing you think it will be), but you don't need to feel pressured by telemarketers or charity donation calls from strangers while you're trying to eat dinner. Especially if they don't even know who you are, either.

#asks #anon asks #how to help #You cannot help others if you're burnt out #and you burn out feeling guilt where there's no need

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twice-inamillion · 5 months

Text

Smut (Tsundere, First-time sex, Penetration, Creampie, Breaking down, Getting caught)

After Jimmy Choo

Chapter 233

3,900 Words

(Jeongyeon's first brand grand opening and her first, if you know what I mean. Jeongyeon and OC get a bit tipsy and “stuff” occurs. Jeongyeon acts like a tsundere but gets taken down by OC’s length.

Jeongyeon walks down the red carpet and stops at the black tape, turning for the camera. The flash of dozens of cameras go off, capturing the beauty of Yoo Jeongyeon.

You stand from afar and watch Jeongyeon pose and act properly in front of everyone. Internally laughing at how professional she is being compared to how she is at home.

Out of nowhere you noticed a hooded person with soccer sweats and a large camera taking pictures of Jeongyeon. “Is that a sasang?” You walk towards the direction of the person who covers their face with a hoodie and mask and grab their shoulder, “Can I help you with something?”

The person flinches and turns around, “it's me.” You're surprised to see Nayeon in a disguise and say, “What are you doing here?”

“Just here to show my support and take some funny pictures.”

You can’t help but chuckle and say, “Alright, good luck.”

You leave and go back to your position until Jeongyeon walks back to the store to look around at the merchandise. “Good job with the press.”

“Thanks. What is next on the schedule?”

“Well, you have an hour here, and then a get-together at the venue next door for a few more hours.”

“Fuck, I'm tired already. Want to go home.”

“Hey, keep it down. People are going to hear you.”

“But…”

“How about this: you relax and do well, and I'll buy you something to eat.”

“Better get that wallet ready because I'm going to empty it out.”

“That's only if you behave.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

The day goes on without a hitch and get positive feedback from the event staff about Jeongyeon's engagement throughout the day.

Once the event is over, Jeongyeon changes shoes and steps out of the changing room, “All right, let's go. I'm hungry.”

“You're not going to change outfit?”

“Nah, they said I can keep it, so I'll just wear it. Let's go. I have a place in mind, so prepare your wallet.”

“Just nothing too expensive.”

“You said you were treating me to a meal and said nothing about cost so get ready to drop some won.”

“Fuck, alright. Let's go.”

Jeongyeon gives you directions to the place, which is a mom-and-pop restaurant that serves some good drinks and a variety of meats. The server comes up and asks for the number of people in the party. “Just two,” responds Jeongyeon, and are immediately escorted to a table.

Once seated, Jeongyeon doesn't waste any time to grab the menu and look at what they offer. She orders multiple side dishes, different cuts of meats, and a couple of drinks.

“You're going to break my wallet!”

“That's on you. You're the one who invited.”

“Alright, it doesn't happen often, so I might as well.”

The food arrives, and the two of you begin to dig in. After paying the bill, Jeongyeon convinces you to go to a bar after calling you a lightweight. She orders a few beers, soju, and vodka.

It doesn't take long until she begins to slur her words and get a little touchy, “oppa, why are you so hardheaded?” Jeongyeon rubs your thighs and puts her head against your shoulder.

“Jeongyeon, I think you had enough to drink. Let’s call a cab and head back.”

”I don’t want to. I can still drink a bit more,” as she tries to pour herself another glass of soju.”

“No, I think you had enough. Let’s go.”

”Noo. I don’t to go back. You can go if you want, I’m going to stay.”

”Come on, you’re going to get hurt or draw attention to yourself.”

”Why do you care? I don’t belong to you. Just go.”

Jeongyeon can be a good drinker, but mixing different drinks isn’t her forte. You pay the tab, get her belongings and help her walk towards the exit. “I’m going to call a cab.”

”No, it’s too expensive right now. My sister’s place is nearby. We can stop there for a bit.”

”Are you sure?”

”Yeah, she’s away on a trip for a few days.”

”Okay, where is it?”

”Umm, a few minutes away, that way” as she points towards with her finger. “Alright, lets go. Just let me know.”

”Take out your phone.”

”Okay.” You hand her your phone, and she opens the navigation app and voices her sister’s address on your phone. “Here, that’s easier.”

You hold your phone out as you help her walk to her sister’s place. It only takes a few minutes for the both of you to arrive. “This is her place. Let me insert the pin.” She struggles inputting the pin with her fingers missing the keypad.

”Let me do it. What’s her pin?”

”Oh, it's my parent’s wedding date.”

You insert the pin, and the door opens. Jeongyeon walks towards the living room couch and lays down. “Jeongyeon, try to change your clothes and get some rest.”

“I don't want to, I'm too lazy.”

“Come on, you can't sleep like that.”

“Fuck, alright. Damn, you're so annoying!”

“Hey, I'm just doing it because I care, but if you don't, then forget about it.”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.”

“I'm just doing it because I care.”

“If you care then come help me stand up so I can change.”

You give Jeongyeon your hand and help her walk to her sister's room to grab some clothes.

She looks at herself in the mirror and tries to get herself together after a night of drinking. She's tippy but not drunk enough to need your help and is just playing the part of a defenseless girl. “It's now or never,” and smacks her face.

She exits the bathroom and heads to the living room, where you are on your phone. She grabs the remote, selects a movie, and plays it.

“Isn’t it kind of late to watch a movie?”

”Not sleepy. Want a snack?”

”Sure.”

Jeongyeon heads to the fridge, grabs an ice cream bar, and hands one to you, “Here.” She grabs a blanket and uses it to cover herself as she lays on the couch.

“What are we watching?”

”Just shut up and watch the movie. Dang, you and all your questions.”

You tell yourself that if Jeongyeon wasn’t drunk, you would have slapped her in the back of the head. Sometimes you don’t understand why she can be cool and rude at other times, you just can't read her.

The movie plays, and you try to watch it, but after a while, you begin to fall asleep on the couch. Your eyes feel heavy, and you turn to Jeongyeon, seeing her completely invested in the movie. With your arm resting on the couch, you use it as support and decide to close your eyes for a bit.

Suddenly, you feel a weird sensation on your crotch but don’t pay too much attention to it. Only a few moments later, you feel a hand rustling inside your boxers and grabbing your cock. You turn around and see Jeongyeon sitting next to you with her blanket covering the both of you, “What are you doing?”

”Nothing.”

You lift the covers and see Jeongyeon's hand inside your pants, grabbing onto your limp cock.”

“Jeongyeon, stop.”

“What. I just wanted to take a look.”

“Come on, right now it’s not the time, you're drunk.”

“I'm not drunk. Plus, it seemed like you needed a bit of help. You should be grateful I'm touching that nasty ass cock.” She continues to stroke your shaft with her hand, slowly.

Jeongyeon pulls the covers, giving you a glimpse of her hand in your pants. She looks at you with a smirk and pulls out your cock. “What a disgusting-looking cock. It's all limp and nasty-looking. I bet you can't even hold a boner.”

Trying to prove her wrong, you imagine yourself flipping Jeongyeon over and fucking her without mercy. This wild type of thinking makes you fully erect. “What about now?”

“Eww, it's so veiny. I don't understand why the girls are so into that cock of yours.”

“What the fuck, Jeongyeon. Why do you have to be such a bitch?”

You can see her expression change, and out of nowhere, you see her hand swing at you and towards your face.

“You think you can hit me?” as you catch her hand midair. She tries to go for another swing, but you dodge it. “Haha, what now? You can't even hit right.”

“Fuck you,” and you feel her spit on your face. “What the fuck!”

You see her smirk, making you lose your patience. With a firm grip, you grab her hands and pin her down on the couch. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson or two.”

“And you think that's you? What do you think you're going to do, fuck me?”

“That's what you want, huh? Someone to fuck the shit out of you.”

“Haha, don't think you'll be able to satisfy me at all.”

“Fuck you, let's see if that's the case,” you pick her up like a rag doll and carry her to her sister's room. She tries to fight you by smacking your chest, but you just toss her into the bed and begin to remove your clothes. All she does is watch as you get completely naked.

Jeongyeon then tries to get away, but you grab onto her oversized shirt and rip it off, “What are you doing?”

“I'm going to fuck the shit out of you,” as you focus on her shorts. With one firm grip of your hand, you pull her shorts down, exposing her bushy cunt.

“Haha, nice bush.”

“Fuck off.”

Her shorts get tossed to the ground, and you spread her legs wide open. Jeongyeon tries to cover her cunt, but with her hands but they’re pinned down, all she can do is watch as you glide your fingers against her nicely trimmed but full bushy cunt.

You can see her eyes get watery from the position she is in so you go in for a kiss. Jeongyeon is surprised by the sudden kiss and doesn’t know how to react, but her heart begins to race. She tries to fight you off, but with your weight on her, it’s futile and just watches as you explore her mouth with your tongue.

After what seems like a minute or two, you pull away from her lips and give your attention to her cunt. You grab your semi-hard cock and smack it against her pelvis, then glide it across her nicely trimmed but bushy cunt. “Fuck, that feels so nice. Didn’t know you liked keeping yours like this.”

”Shut up. It’s not like I knew you were going to do this. Just put it in already and get it over with,” she said as she tilts her head to the side.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you want this cock” as you slap it against her cunt.

“Do you think I want that nasty thing inside me? Haha, you must be crazy.”

With your cock in hand, you trace it against her folds and feel a slight wetness, “Don’t think your body agrees with you. It wants me to put this thing right here, inside.”

”No, you’re wrong.”

”I guess you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re too uptight. Momo and Chaeyoung were right; you’re such a scaredy cat,” as you turn away.

”What did they say?”

”Nothing much, just that you don’t make up your mind and are probably the last person to find a partner with your attitude. They said something like you’re going to be an, “Old cat lady” and alone your whole life.”

”Take that back.”

”I didn’t say that; it was them. But I think they might be right.” You pull up your boxers and button up your pants, ready to head out.

”Wait.”

You turn around and see her position herself against the bed with her legs wide open and her fingers spreading her lower lips.

”No, you lost your chance.”

“Why not? You legit were going to do it a few minutes ago.”

“I’m not going to be your toy to get at the others because your ego took a hit.”

”Please, all you got to do is just put it in.”

”I don’t just “put it in” I’m not a dog.”

”Alright, screw you.”

“You know what, since you want it that bad, then I’ll do it, but you’re going to owe me a favor.”

”What do you want?”

”Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know when the time arrives.”

You unbutton your pants and toss your boxers to the side. Jeongyeon stares at your member as you climb on the bed and lay on it. “Alright, there you go.”

”What do you mean?”

”Since you want it that bad, then put it in yourself.”

”It’s not that I want to, I’m just doing it because of what they said.”

”Yeah, tell yourself that.”

You get yourself comfortable and cross your arms behind your neck, “It’s ready when you are.” Jeongyeon glares at you and says, “Get that smug look off your face.”

”Why should I? I’m about to get some free pussy tonight.”

”You’re such a pig. I don’t know what Jihyo sees in you.”

”Hey, if you don't, then just find someone else,” as you try to get up.

”No!,” pushing you back to the bed. “Just shut up and I’ll do everything.”

You nod and watch Jeongyeon get her thoughts together as she tries to mount you. She grabs your cock and gives it a few strokes. Her strokes have no rhythm, and you can tell she’s nervous, which makes it even better for you. After a minute or two, she says, “I’m going to put it in.”

”Wait, let me get my phone.”

”Why do you need your phone?”

”I’m going to record it.”

”No! Don’t!”

”Well, you want have evidence to show the girls and prove them wrong, right?”

Jeongyeon freezes and contemplates if recording is the right choice but then remembers the videos on her phone. “Okay, just let me see it when it's done.”

”Yeah, no problem.”

With your phone in hand, you get a perfect view of Jeongyeon on top of you. She grabs your cock once more, lifts herself up and aligns your member to her entrance. “Rub the tip against your folds, it feels much better.” Without saying anything, she traces her lower lips against your tip, coating them with each other’s nectar.

Once she covers your whole tip with her nectar, she positions it at her entrance. She lowers herself slowly, inserting the tip inside her cunt. Little by little, she takes more of you, and you can feel her walls spreading from your girth.

“Ahh, so big.”

Jeongyeon stops with only two inches inside of her and tries to collect her composure.

“Why you stop?”

”It hurts. You’re much bigger than my toys.”

“Haha.”

She covers her mouth, realizing what she just said. “I didn’t mean that, I’ve had much bigger than you.”

”Oh, really? Prove it. Take it all in at once.”

”I don’t want to.”

You set the phone on the nightstand with a good bed view. “Want me to help you?”

“No, get your nasty hands off me!”

Her constant name-calling and degrading you when you’re just trying to help her out, you realize that this is the last straw. You need to teach her a lesson and show her who’s in charge.

“Know you what Jeongyeon, I’m tired of your shit.”

“ Wait, what are you doing?” as she sees you get up and suddenly flip her over with her back against the bed.

“Remember, I said that I was going to fuck the shit out of you.”

No, please. I’m sorry. I take it back.”

Her pleas go through deaf ears as you align your cock to her entrance. You can see her reaction change when she realizes what you are going to do. “Wait!” In one go you slam yourself into her, violently shoving your whole cock to the deepest part of her womb.

”Fuck! Fuck! You dumb ass, it hurts!” complaining about the pain. She tries to push you away, but it's no use; you’re going to have your fun.

"Pull it out!"

"I don't want to."

“Please wait, let me catch my breath, at least.”

Just like before, you ignore her pleas and instead start to thrust rapidly. She grabs onto your arms, digging her nails into your skin. Her nails sting, but know it's nothing compared to what Jeongyeon is going through, so you bear with it.

“Please, you’re going too rough; just slow down.”

The only response is the sound of flesh slapping against each other, her walls getting stretched by your massive girth. You keep on thrusting, switching from a rapid pace to a slow one and repeating it over and over again.

It doesn’t take long for Jeongyeon to reach her climax, her walls almost choking your cock. “Ahh, fuck! I’m cumming!”

Jeongyeon cums on your cock, arching her back and spasming uncontrollably. You all can do is hold her tight for a few seconds before fucking her again. Jeongyeon’s eyes go wide as she feels you thrust your cock inside her clenching insides and apologizes to you for being mean to you and begs you to stop and let her finish her orgasm.

“Please, I’m sorry.”

”You don’t mean it.”

”I do.”

”I don’t believe you.”

Instead of stopping, you increase the pace, making Jeongyeon realize that all she can do is try to keep whatever sanity she has left.

After some time, you feel a sense of hotness in your core, knowing that you’re about to cum soon. You want to see Jeongyeon’s reaction when you give her the news.

”Fuck, Jeongyeon. I’m going to cum soon.”

”Ah ah... just make sure to pull out.”

Instead, you switch positions and place her in a mating press. “What are you doing?”

”I want to make sure you get a good view when it cum inside you.”

”Wait, what?”

”Don’t play dumb. You heard me. I’m going to mark that womb of yours. Maybe you’ll be less of a bitch if I fill you up.”

The thing you don’t realize is that she actually wants you to cum inside. That’s all she’s ever wanted, to feel her womb get filled by your thick cum like the rest of her members. She wanted you to fuck her this whole time, but her tsundere personality doesn’t allow her to show her actual feelings.

She watches as you pin her down and spread her legs even wider to get a better position. Her heart beats faster and faster as you shout that you’re about to cum.

“Take it out, don’t come inside!”

Those are fake words that she says, but inside her head, she says the complete opposite and begs you to fill her to the brim.

”Fuck, I’m going to claim your womb as mine, so take my cum, you annoying bitch!”

”Ahh fuck! What are you doing? It's so hot!” unknowingly wrapping her legs around your waist but saying the complete opposite to her actions.

Jeongyeon’s head goes crazy with what she is feeling, her neurons firing the fastest it's ever been. She finally understands why the rest of the members enjoy the feeling of getting her womb pumped with your baby batter.

“You’re going to ruin me!” and bites your shoulder.

”Fuck!”

”Haha, that’s what you get.”

You pull out and check touch the area where she bit you, but it isn’t too bad. You then focus your attention on Jeongyeon and see her gaping cunt, oozing out cum.

“Fuck, you look hot covered in my cum” teasing her.

She rolls her eyes, “Shut up. I told you to pull out. Look at the mess you made,” pointing at the cum dripping on the sheets. You grab the camera, position it before her, and take a shot of your work.

“What are you doing?”

”Taking a picture. Nine out of nine, check. haha.”

Jeongyeon gives you a disgusted expression when she realizes what you meant and throws a pillow at you but dodge it.

“How about another round? I’ll pull out this time.”

”Do what you want. What’s the point of pulling out if you already came inside of me” and spreads her legs open.

"Turn around and get on all fours, I want to fuck you from the back.”

Like someone who has accepted her fate, she does as she’s told and gets on all fours. She buries her face onto the pillow and spreads her cheeks, giving you a good view of her holes.

You align your cock to her entrance and smack her ass, causing her to yelp from getting caught off guard.

“I’m going to fuck you all night, so make sure to keep up.”

She bites the pillow and makes a face of pure euphoria as she gets her insides rearranged. The two of you end up doing it for hours until she passes out of exhaustion and with a smile on her face.

You head to the livingroom and get something to drink as you go through your phone and look over the videos you’ve made with the rest of the members before going back to sleep.

---------

The next day you get woken up and see Jeongyeon on top of you with your cock in her hand and aligned it to her entrance. To your surprise, she seems different from usual, happy, you might suggest.

Obviously, you wouldn’t say no to some morning sex and just let Jeongyeon do her thing. She slowly inserts the tip and waits a few seconds before dropping her whole weight on your cock.

“Fuck, so good,” and begins to ride you in a hard but steady manner. She places her head on your shoulder, letting you hear her heavy breathing.

You close your eyes and whisper in Jeongyeon’s ear all the things you did last night. The more you say, the tighter her walls clench on your cock, and the more sure she gets into a good rhythm.

Unbeknownst to you, someone was making their way back home after being away for a few days. She unlocks the door and can’t think of anything but to take a nice shower and take a nap after a busy week. She notices that her house is off but can’t find what it is. She then looks down and sees a pair of shoes she’s never seen before and her younger sister’s shoes next to it.

Seungyeon walks around to see a blanket and some clothes on the couch. She has a vague idea of what occurred and smiles. Seungyeon slowly makes her way to her room and hears moaning coming out from the other side of the door. She takes out her phone and, quietly turns the handle, and sees her sister in the nude on top of some.

“Click. Click.”

Suddenly, Jeongyeon turns around and sees her sister standing at the entrance with her phone and flash on.

“Unnie!”

“Surprise!”

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ohbabydollie · 6 months

Note

omg so i’m new here but i currently have brainrot for 2 things

1) being a famous celebrity (sortaaaa like the famous streamer one but more famous) where ur like, an actress or model, things like that. and having a semi-public relationship with schlatt where you’ll be spotted holding hands on occasion, or on a red carpet but not really publicly discussing your relationship (even though everyone knows you’re together), and everyone is either super happy and ships the ever loving shit out of you, or they clown on you a bit and make “who’s punching up” videos and odd comments, and just not giving a fuck and being happy together but kinda wanting to be viewed like any other couple and not just another famous couple to be analyzed. (also similar to mutual break up but you don’t care about hate and stay together)

AND

2) schlatt made a joke about having his cock out in the latest chuckle sandwich episode and….. giving him head under his desk when he films….. for some things, like recordings where he’s not showing his face, it’s easy, but when he has his face out, it’s a bit more challenging. he has to restrain the urge to watch you and moan SOOO bad…. that’s all.

LMAO NONNIE THE FIRST ONE, I HAD TOO

okay, let’s say you’re a celebrity that is agreed by men, women, etc. to be absolutely stunning

so many people that love you, call you their wife, etc.

you are an absolute style icon, wearing pieces made for you to exclusive red carpet events

even people who hate you have to agree you’ve got a great style in clothes and makeup and yes, you’re iconic, at least a little

then somehow you make your way to the youtube community

people assume from you being so open and sweet and social is how you find yourself starring in a project directed by Ted Nivison

you’re so excited for it, interacting with other creators, etc.

Jschlatt knows of you, but thinks you’re probably like all those LA stuck up influencers that managed to make enough connections to get what you wanted

but when he has his first interaction with you on twitter??

he’s taking the chance to flirt with you publicly

in any way shape or form

and is so public about his crush on you to the point everyone is convinced he runs a stan account for you

you both do get closer behind the scenes but don’t tell much people about it

especially considering his jokes that people love taking seriously and out of context

you both are pretty secretive about it, super down low about it until the day he decides to pay for your nails

a small j is on the underside of your ring finger as to not show it off too much

it can’t even be seen unless it’s up close

then someone points it out on twitter in a selfie

you say it was dirt, but they know what they saw

then the paparazzi comes in and takes a photo that goes viral of you in sweats and a suspiciously familiar wilson hoodie

you say it a coincidence over and over again but the evidence is undeniable when you post multiple selfies in familiar hoodies that look just a little too large for you

small scratches and bite marks on your arms but you never mentioned getting a cat

then you appear in a chuckle sandwich interview

but the vibe is different in that video compared to the rest with guests

schlatt is polite??? and listening to you??

he looks at you with so much affection

yeah, your team does damage control and quickly

claiming that you’re currently single and focused on your career

then you fuck up on your own

a misclick on a story made for your close friends of you kissing your boyfriend’s cheek as he has the biggest smile ever plastered on his face

oh well, too late to deny anymore

so you don’t say anything until your next red carpet event where he’s essentially your accessory

like arm candy and dressed to match you

then everyone definitely knows

and let me tell you, some stans are sobbing

lots of “i waited 3 1/2 years, white man did it in one week” from fans and other celebrities

punching the air too

lots of crying and audios after they realize you’re dating him fr fr and not them

people definitely make memes out of it

goddess s/o and bf they probably found digging around in the trash and probably has rabies

yk that one meme of shining armor and princess cadence?

yeah, that + other attractive partner and their silly bf

so so so many of those “do you think we’re…in another universe?” slides

they clip any time he talks about you and use it for edits

editing characters you play with c! schlatt (it’s giving jack frost x elsa)

they love the two of you and seriously cannot get enough

but they really are punching the air when he marries you and when he gets you pregnant (if applicable)

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #dollie yaps 🗣️#jschlatt hcs #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff

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anomaly-hivemind · 1 year

Text

Horror Convention || No. 9 Gloryhole w/ Horror Characters x Fem! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 1995

Warnings: gloryhole, free use, exhibition, overstimulation, large cock, vaginal sex, gangbang if you squint, vagianl fingering, mask kink, stranger sex, cosplaying oral sex, blow jobs, hand job, spit as lube, multiple orgasms,

You were going to a horror convention, it was your first one and you couldn't be more excited to go. You were wearing a slutty freddy krueger outfit excluding the knife coves because they sold out at the spirit halloween. It was too late to buy any online. You were wearing a ripped up black and red cropped top, a jean mini skirt, some stressed thigh-highs and wedges.

When you finally got inside the convention center, there were a lot of things going on with an unsettling low amount of security personnel around. It was a bit overwhelming but you were going to push through it just fine. It was full of cosplaying horror characters, new and old, popular and niche. Even horror shorts films, tv shows and games.

“Can I take a picture with you? I really like the freddy outfit,” the muffled voice of a guy said behind an old respirator.

Oh yeah sure, I like your outfit too. It's from my bloody valentine right?” you lean into the guy so he could take the photo. The guy pulls you close to him for the picture, then he turns to face you.

“Yeah I've had this for a while now.” he laughs and crosses his arm.

“Well it's super cool, practically identical to the movie.” you look him up and down, he was a carbon copy of the original.

“A bunch of my buddies and staff are hosting an event on the west wing in an hour. You should totally go. “ The Harry warden cosplayer handed a pass for the event. ‘Glory Horror’ printed on the card.

“Yeah I will be there.” you nod and take the pass. You can't believe you got an event pass for free.

=========================================================================

An hour had passed, you had bought a scream poster, a friday the 13th shirt and the regret of your shoe choices. You push past the last part and make your way to the event. It was a ways away from everything else which was a bit suspicious but not enough for you to turn around. You show the bouncer guy your pass and ID, because you guess this is an 18 plus event.

You take a seat in the front, the seats were really comfortable. The lights were dim and the walls around the panel looked sound proof. This was super fancy for a panel. It makes you wonder what's going to happen, especially with how fast the room is getting filled with horror fans such as yourself. Most of them were wearing masks from what you can see in the dark space.

A bright red stage light hits the middle of the stage. The familiar guy from earlier that gave you your pass to this event walks to the center. Two other people dragged something onto the stage behind him, also dressed up, one looked like Amanda the pig from the jigsaw moves or the dead by daylight game. The other person was dressed like the monster from Jeepers creepers. There was a large box with a set of holes of different sizes, odd but you find the tv and cameras placed inside and outside the box.

“Welcome to this year's Glory Horror event. Many of you who know about this event already know what's up, but for our virgin Marys let me explain what’s up.” Harry warden cosplayer says through the microphone, his mask muffling his words.

“We’re going to pick a lucky Slasher Slut in the audience to go into the box.” The man snickered as the crowd went wild. Harry looked into the group of seated people, presumably to find someone to put in the box.

“Anything goes when you're behind the veil.” he points to the closed door.

You look around the audience that you were in and they all seemed excited to either be picked or see who was going to end up being picked. You just stare at everyone in confusion.

“You, are you willing to take a dive into carnal pleasures and try out the box?” He points to you from the crowd, when you point to yourself he nods. You stand up, nerves run down your spine as you walk onto the stage. You were surprised with how excited every person in the audience seemed to be that you got picked.

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked while looking at the box.

“It's pretty self explanatory, but you get in the box, the cameras are already set up, we gave you a screen to see the reactions you're giving people.” You nod at him and step into the box, it was large and you could stand up right without being seen by anyone, not counting the screen that was broadcasting you to the outside.

“You can strip down any point and if you want out of the box just push the button to unlock the door.

“You want me to do what now.” you asked from behind the wall, your voice muffled mostly.

“Strip, take off those slutty clothes and either open that pretty mouth or a hole. Prepared to get stuffed in whichever you choose and you can switch at whatever time doll.

You think for a moment, you could back out right now but a part of you wanted to see what happened. With a shaky breath you take off your freddy krueger fit and finally take off your dreadful shoes. You were just in your bra and underwear, taking a seat on your knees in the middle. The bigger hole was covered with a black sheet.

A knock on one of the sides catches your attention, you turn your head and your eyes widen. A veiny cock filled the hole, making it look smaller than it was and it makes your mouth water. You looked over at your screen to see what you're working with, a guy wearing a Michael Myers mask. Your lip quivers as you wrap your fingers around his length.

His balls twitch as you tighten the grip on this stranger’s cock. You use your saliva to wet the tip of his dick. You hear the faint groan of the Myers look alike, it was hot and a turn on for sure. You take his cock deeper in your mouth, almost gagging on it, using your hand to massage his balls and or stroke the rest of his meaty meat.

Another knock from the others size makes you pull your lips off Myer’s member. Someone else had slid their dick into the other hole, the screen splits so you can see the masked figure. It was Brahms, down to the black messy hair, even matches the drapes decorating the base of this man’s uncut dick.

You take your other hand and start to rub at his cute dick. Both of your hands were being filled with their cocks. You were soaking wet from how hot this was and if your hands went filled you would be touching yourself right now. You placed licks on both the dicks one after the other. Even the thought that there were a bunch of people on the other side of this box, watching and listening or maybe even waiting to take a turn with you.

It was hot, you felt hot and you wanted more of all of it. You squeeze the guys dicks as you jerk them both off with determination. Michael myers’ dick twitching was the only short warning you get before he shoots a hot load onto your chest. Your bra ruined with cum makes you pout for a moment before you take the thing off. You put your mouth onto the remaining man and take him down your throat. Brahms cums down your esophagus, his seed tasting weirdly sweet on your tastebuds.

You lick your lips after pulling away the dicks both gone from the holes, making you sigh. You slide off your panties and just as you thought you dripped in arousal. You rub yourself and let out short moans, a guy that was looking like Jason Voorhees pushed his phat cock through the hole. It looked heavy, craving your touch. You touch yourself with one hand while sucking off this fat dick. Even if you couldn’t fit all or even most of it into your mouth you sure as hell tried. You moan against the length of this Jason.

Your fingers thrust into yourself at a similar pace as you sucked and stroked his dick. You come to a stand and turn around, your wet cunt fluttering with horniness. Lining your slit with a guy who looked like a slasher’s dick. You let out a hearty moan as this fat cock stretches you out. You could feel his dick twitch and the man moan from the intrusion. He bottoms out in you, your walls clench around him and then he starts to move slowly in and out of you. You rub your clit as your hole gets pounded into. Another dick pops into the hole in front of you and wraps your hand around it with hesitation. Peaking at the screen in the box you see that it's a guy dressed up in a ghostface outfit.

“Ohshit ohshit ohfucking hell.” you were on the verge of coming and the mix of a Jason hitting all your spots with his girth was making it harder to focus on stroking the guy in front of you.

You try your best to get the other guy to completion but your own impending orgasm was a bit of a distraction to say the least. This Jason guy’s thrust was getting relentless and it was super hot to say the least. You hold on for as long as you could but when you feel the man’s load start to pool down your leg sends you down the edge. Before you could complain about how fast the guy pulled out another guy pushed into you, somehow even thicker and longer than the Jason guy.

You squeeze the hell out of the ghostface and your thumb pushes on his slit. It makes the guy come all over you and hand it a messy gush. The new masked covered hottie was fast enough to work you past that previous orgasm but Jason had given you but now you were getting a bit overstimulated. The faint tapping of the man's pyramid helmet on the box wall makes you giggle. Yet the humor in all of this was cut short from the brutal thrust this pyramid head was giving you.

You were already about to fall into another climax, you couldn't help but scream out a moan that you're sure everyone in the panel heard. Maybe even people outside nearby could hear your whorish moans and whales. This massive curved dick was rubbing your insides just right and your lower half couldn't take much more of it, not standing up like you are right now at least. You reach another chaotic mind altering, pussy spasming, leg trembling, back arching, toe curling climax that almost gives you whiplash an.

You feel the sticky seed fill your cunt and pull out with lackluster pace, almost like he didn’t want to leave your warmth so it takes a minute or so before he actually does . When the pyramid head finally pulls out, your body drops to the stage ground with a thud. You were panting like a dog, cum was dripping out of you and sticking to your thighs. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you try to catch your breath.

“This is the best Horror con ever.” you say breathlessly, as you look at another dick slipping into one of the holes. Checking your provided inside the box you see who it is, the host of this event… it’s Harry warden.

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 6 months

Text

What A View

Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: A trip to the Shard goes a little differently.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: The Shard is the tallest building in London. Also totally another case of my mind just jumping to something else in the bingo other than what was probably implied. So this is 'High Sex' and obviously I went, 'oh, right, so high in the sky?' I am so smart. (lie).

Warnings: swearing, p in v sex, Steven kinda having an exhibition kink, overuse of italics, typos, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1329

You hadn’t expected the afternoon to play out like this.

With your back pressed against the cool glass, Steven spreading you wide. His fingers dug into the fleshy part of your left thigh, pushing on your leg as you just about managed to keep your balance by pressing the ball of your foot against the marble sink.

You’d spotted a discount voucher for the Shard and had asked if Marc, Steven, and Jake would like to come with you.

Marc had rolled his eyes playfully, “I’ve seen London from up high plenty of times,” and declined.

Jake had been sleeping.

Steven had grinned and nodded excitedly. “You know love, I’ve never actually been up the Shard? It’s true what they say, you live in London but you don’t do the normal tourist things.”

Everything had been relatively normal on the way, though the elevator to the upper floors and viewing platform had been a little busy. Both you and Steven had shuffled into a corner, your back to his chest.

He’d gone quiet after a few seconds, his grip on your hand tightening as his muscles stiffened. For a moment you had thought that Marc had fronted.

Once you were on the right floor you had barely stepped out, heading towards the large wall length windows when Steven had pulled you in the opposite direction and dragged you into a bathroom.

You hadn’t even had a chance to question him before his lips were on yours and his hands slipped under your top.

You held onto his shoulders for dear life, up on the tiptoes of your right foot as he slammed into you. His thick cock hitting so deep you could see stars.

You moaned against his hand, his palm haphazardly covering your mouth in a hasty attempt to muffle your sounds. You had never been much of a screamer during sex until you’d met them.

No matter how hard you try little groans escape your mouth with every frantic thrust of his hips. He angles upwards with every buck, hitting just right on the spot he knows so well and rubbing his public bone against your clit with every motion.

Steven’s own mouth is pressed into your neck, biting and sucking and leaving sloppy kisses as he tries to muffle his whines. He had always been a screamer.

You pull tightly on his shirt, a fraction away from ripping the cotton as pleasure coils in your stomach, building higher and impossibly higher.

His name is muffled by his hand as you say it, breathless and needy, but he still hears it.

He pulls his mouth away from your skin just far enough to speak, frowning in concentration as he tries to keep his voice under control. “You… okay?”

The slap, slap, slap of skin almost drowns him out.

You nod, eyes closed but still let out a soft whine and he picks up the pace, fucking you even harder, like he is trying to get caught, trying to make you scream his name so loudly that the whole of the city will hear you.

“That’s it love, that’s it,” he whines, nipping at your neck and groaning as you clench around him. He knows you’re so close, can feel you approaching orgasm buzzing along your skin like electricity, practically taste it in the air. He wants it so badly, needs it more than breathing.

“You… you… gonna be…” he swallows, having to fight back his own moans even more. “You gonna… be good? Gonna… gonna…” he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood as he pistons his hips. Everything’s too much it’s blinding, dizzying. But not enough.

The way you squeeze him, your back arching off the glass as you meet his thrusts desperately. The bright sky behind you, the sweat on your skin. His tongue darts out to lick a stripe up your neck and he groans, his eyes rolling back.

There’s a light mist forming around you on the glass, the heat from both your bodies collecting.

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, his own pleasure close on his heels. “God, can you imagine if someone was cleaning the windows,” all his words come out in a rush, “and they just, fuck, just saw us here. Saw you moaning and taking my cock so well, saw how pretty you are all full of me and just begging. Saw how I need to keep you quiet so we don’t get caught because you just, just need it so bad that you can’t stop, and, and-” He groans loudly, the sound turning into a whine. “Love, fuck, please, please, please,” he punctuates every word with a sharp snap of his hips that has you reeling, sinking into pleasure.

“I need you to,” he groans as you squeeze and clench around him, your pussy fluttering and trying to pull him deeper. “I need to hear you.” He gasps, “please, if I move my hand can you please try, can you try not to be too loud? Please. I,” he moans again, “please, need it so bad, need it, need you.”

You nod rapidly, barely getting a chance to register his words in your hazy, lust filled mind before he rips his hand away from your mouth and grabs onto your shoulder, pressing the full length of his body up against up against yours as he pounds into you.

“Steven,” you moan, just managing to keep your voice below your regular talking level.

He groans in response, much louder than you.

“I’m gonna-”

He kisses you roughly, sliding his tongue messily into your mouth for a moment.

“Gonna come, love? Gonna come on me?” His voice rises in pitch towards the end and you nod, your thoughts all turned to mush as all you can comprehend is the feel of his skin and the heat of his body as he pushes you higher and higher to ecstasy.

“Need you to,” he whines, tears just pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Need you to.”

You moan his name, gasping against him. Every muscle tenses as he finally pushes you over the edge you've been dancing by. Pleasure washes over every nerve, running over your spine as you convulse and cling onto him like a lifeline.

Steven whines, fucking you through your orgasm even as he comes, pumping his hot, thick cum deep inside and filling you to the brim.

You breathe heavily as you both come back to yourselves, holding each other tightly. The sweat starts to cool on your skin and you swallow, a sudden flash of panic flicking to the forefront of your mind.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” You ask quietly.

Steven shakes his head, still pressed into your neck. “We weren’t that loud.”

You laugh. “You sure?”

“Nope.”

You laugh harder.

“Honestly, love, I don’t give a shit.”

“Really?”

“Hmm.” He looks up at you with a large grin on his face, his eyes soft and loving. “Too happy to care. Anyone says anything, I’ll sort them.”

You giggle at his playful tone. “My hero.”

He chuckles and kisses you softly.

“Does this count as joining the mile high club?” He giggles, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead.

You shake your head as you laugh.

“Oh, well.” There’s a soft flush to his skin, an afterglow of his orgasm that you hate to admit makes heat pool a little in your stomach.

Steven notices the slight change in your expression, the small clench as you squeeze around his softening cock.

He groans softly and presses close to you again, mouthing at the love bites he’s left on your neck. He grinds against you slowly, not pulling out but pressing up against your clit with a roll of his hips.

The little surprised gasp that leaves your lips makes him smile.

“Give me a minute love,” he mutters, keeping up the soft rock and glide. “Maybe we can be louder this time.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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defectivevillain · 5 months

Text

a heavenly, hellish housemate

pairing: Adam/Reader

The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.***

summary: “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” you break off. “Devilishly handsome?” The angel winks. “I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘Wow, thank you so much for saving my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adam, you’re so sexy and badass.'” He scoffs.

After Adam acts up yet again, Sera decides to assign him guardian angel duty. Adam is pissed, but he goes along with it and starts to look out for you: the human he’s tasked with protecting. He has no intention of ever actually meeting you, but when he saves you from death, he finds himself stuck on Earth with you.

warnings: near-death experiences, emotional manipulation, suggestive humor

author's notes: ***The reader is referred to as “dude,” and “bitch” (you can thank adam for that, lmao) but i typically use those terms with the intent of them being gender-neutral… The reader also uses cologne (but, again, smelling nice isn’t gender-specific, i don’t think…)

This fic won’t be canon compliant. Also, some of the story itself is going to be underdeveloped—in the sense that I still want this to be a “oneshot,” not a multi-chapter fic. Some big-scale things like how Adam gets to Earth and how he will return to Heaven are overlooked.

anyways, onto the fun stuff:

It’s been a long day, you think to yourself as you walk down the sidewalk. Work wasn’t particularly eventful today, but you’re still rather exhausted. You’re contemplating what you’ll fix for dinner when you see a car approaching out of the corner of your eye. You blink and your heart races as you realize it’s veering off the road and heading right towards you. It’s going far too fast and suddenly you’re frozen, trapped as the car speeds towards the sidewalk and heads straight for you in painful slow-motion. At the last possible moment, you’re shoved to the side with unnatural momentum. You fall to the ground and the car crashes into the wall—right about where you had been walking mere moments ago. You stare at it in disbelief.

You have scrapes on your knees and you get the feeling you’ll have bruises on your elbows and arms, but otherwise, you’re unharmed. It’s a miracle—there’s no other way to explain it. By all means, you should have died in that car crash. You weren’t able to move in time… until that weird sensation, as if someone unseen had just shoved you out of the way.

“Don’t get paid enough for this shit,” someone nearby mutters. You’re about to get up when a large shadow overtakes your vision. You look up to find a figure cloaked in white staring down at you; after a second look, you realize that he’s wearing a mask over his face. He’s looking down at you with a strange combination of interest and scrutiny.

“…Hello?” You choke out, once you manage to accept just what you’re seeing. This guy—whoever he is—is ridiculously tall and looks entirely unfamiliar. In fact, he doesn’t look human at all—he has a bright halo over his head and wings extending from his shoulders.

He stares at you in disbelief when he notices that you’re looking back at him. “You can see me?” He asks, clearly surprised. “What the fuck?!”

“Are you my guardian angel or something?” You ask, unable to hide your suspicion. You never thought guardian angels were even real; and, even if you were to think about it, you would expect a “guardian angel” to be clothed in blinding white. This guy has grey horns, golden wings, and a positively dangerous smirk. He does have that white halo, though…

“Ugh, fucking fine,” the guy scoffs, clearly annoyed. You’re not quite sure how he’s sick of this conversation already, when it hasn’t been more than a few moments. “Yes, I am. You’re welcome, baby.”

“Okay,” you remark, still a little unconvinced. Admittedly, the pet-name throws you for a loop—especially when you realize the guy is rather attractive, with shaggy, dusky brown hair and gleaming golden eyes. Averting your eyes, you take a look around you, only to find that everyone seems too preoccupied with the car crash to notice you talking to this strange “angel”—if that’s really what he is. Or, even more frightening… you may be the only one able to see him. You try to collect your thoughts and one question immediately comes to mind. “If you’re my guardian angel, then why are you so…?” You trail off.

“Devilishly handsome?” He winks.

“I was going to say ‘sleazy,’” you frown.

The guy crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, that’s not the right way to say ‘ wow, Adam, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you, you’re so sexy and badass.’”

You stare at him in disbelief for a few moments, before deciding to push yourself to your feet. Even when you’re standing in front of him, the height difference between you both is stark. You squint at him for a second. “Are you sure you’re an angel?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. The guy seems a little too profane to be from Heaven. But, who knows?

“Damn right,” the guy asserts confidently, blowing your assumptions right out of the water. “I’m the angel. Adam’s the name, pulling bitches is the game.”

While you want to focus on that horrid last part of his statement, your attention is captured by his name: Adam. Is he the first human—that Adam? “You’re the Adam?” You question. “Like, Adam and Eve?”

The smug grin on the angel’s face promptly vanishes. “Ugh, this was going so well,” Adam groans raspily. “Don’t fucking mention my ex-wife, dude. She’s a real piece of work.”

“If you say so,” you acquiesce. This entire conversation is giving you whiplash. You wonder just how you got yourself into this situation. And while you’re grateful that this guy saved you, you hadn’t expected to be stuck in an interaction with him. You really just want to go home—this day has been a nightmare, and you want nothing more than to jump into bed and sleep.

“I do say so,” he preens. Wow, this guy’s ego is extremely inflated. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone so cocky and arrogant before.

“Well… Thanks for saving my life, I guess?” You remark uneasily, taking a casual half-step backwards and hoping he doesn’t notice. You’ve been patiently waiting for the conversation to end, but somehow it’s still going—and you’re nearly at the point of just walking away and ignoring him.

“You’re fucking welcome, shrimp,” Adam responds. You ignore the dig. The guy is unnaturally tall—far surpassing the height of even the tallest humans. He must be eight or nine feet tall, at least.

“Well, I have to get home, so…” You give an awkward wave and turn to walk away. You don’t make it for more than a few steps before you notice a presence behind you. Adam is following you, you realize with dread. “Um, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Following you, dipshit,” he scoffs, as if the question is stupid. “This has never happened before. I don’t know how to get back up to Heaven yet.”

“Great.” You groan, resolving yourself to a chaotic day.

Why am I doing this again? You ask yourself as you stare at the angel walking around your apartment. You don’t realize that you utter that question aloud until you hear Adam speak. “Because you’re nice and hot and smart and totally my type?”

“Nice try,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and resolutely pretending that his remark doesn’t make your heart race. He’s the type of person to flirt with anyone—hell, anything —that has a pulse. “Flattery won’t get you very far.”

“It’s true, though” Adam insists confidently, “And you can take my word for it, ‘cause there are some real nasty bastards up in Heaven.” You watch as he continues to inspect your apartment, opening your cabinets and drawers and ultimately having zero respect for your privacy. You’re suddenly immensely grateful that you don’t have much to hide—your apartment is pretty ordinary-looking.

“So… when do you go back?” You not-so-subtly ask, as he continues looking around without permission.

“Trying to kick me out?” He grins, seeing through your rather pathetic attempt to hide your irritation. Adam shuts the drawer he was searching through and shrugs. “Not sure. I’ve never been to the human realm before; this shit blows.” He punctuates the statement with a heavy eye-roll.

“That’s not helpful,” you frown concernedly. It may be no big deal for him—he has all the time in the world to return to Heaven, considering he’s already in the afterlife. But you have a life, a job, and things to do. You don’t have the time or energy (or patience) to stumble through reorganizing your entire life just to fit an angel in it.

“I don’t fucking know!” He practically screeches, a sudden switch into extreme defensiveness. Adam must notice you watching him, because he turns around and meets your gaze. “For once. Maybe even the first time. But I know everything else, so don’t get used to it.” He’s quick to add. You’re starting to worry that your eyes will get stuck in the back of your head—from how much you’ve been rolling your eyes at his inane comments.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass?” You mutter darkly.

“Without lubrication, yeah.” You don’t bother dignifying that comment with a response. You instead shake your head relentingly and tell him you have a pullout bed on the couch, to which he complains incessantly before you offer sleeping on the street as an alternative.

Still processing everything that happened, you tell Adam you need to be alone and lock yourself in your room. Just a few hours ago, you were living your life as normal. Your guardian angel saved your life, but now he’s living here with you. You don’t remember signing up for any of this. You rub a hand over your face and try to fight off the exhaustion that has been setting in since you left work.

Eventually, it’s late enough for you to go to bed—and you fall asleep hoping that you’ll wake tomorrow morning to an empty apartment, blissfully free of a certain angel.

But the universe is not so merciful, and you see Adam sleeping on the couch when you walk out of your room and towards the kitchen. You try to move quietly—so as to not disturb him—but he must be a light sleeper, because suddenly he’s up on his feet and chastising you for being too loud. You head to work already feeling tired, which doesn’t bode well for the rest of your day.

The longer Adam stays at your apartment, the more you learn about him. For example, you learn that Adam is an incessant flirt (although that was clear from the first few moments you met). You also learn that he enjoys scaring the absolute shit out of you. Sometimes, you’ll get home from work and find yourself in an empty apartment. You’ll forget that you’re housing a goliath of a “guardian angel,” until said angel seeps out of the shadows and screams at you, cackling maniacally as you regain your breath.

Adam isn’t a great roommate, either—he’s messy, doesn’t have very many boundaries, and has no qualms about invading your personal space. He has a ton of annoying habits. Even so, you suppose it’s not the worst situation you could find yourself in. Plus, as much as you hate to admit it, it’s kind of nice to have company when you get home from a particularly long day at work. You can vent to him about some dumbass you work with and he won’t hesitate to insult them with you.

Although… Adam doesn’t pay you. He doesn’t have any human money. You’re not even sure if Heaven has currency, and you keep forgetting to ask. All you know is that he’s living here for free—practically mooching off of you. And, for the first few weeks, it really does feel like he’s taking advantage of your kindness—as he eats all of your groceries, never cleans up after himself, constantly plays your Nintendo Switch without asking you for permission… The list goes on.

After more than three weeks of that rather grating behavior, you sit him down at the table in the dining room and try to establish some ground rules. If he is going to continue staying with you, he has to: (1) clean up after himself, which includes everything from washing the clothes you bought for him at the thrift store to doing his dishes; (2) write what he wants on the grocery list, so you won’t come home to an empty fridge and pantry; (3) use his own separate account for your Switch, which you so graciously made for him; and (4) limit how many times he scares you to a few times per week.

You think these demands are perfectly reasonable, but judging from the way he stares at you for a moment before laughing in your face, Adam has never respected someone else’s rules. You don’t break eye contact with him, despite wanting nothing more than to look away from his increasingly intimidating gaze. Eventually, Adam must sense that you’re not budging on these points, because he mutters something about bossy landlords—to which you snarkily remind him that landlords have paying tenants, and that he is living under your roof for free. He shuts up after that.

After that conversation, things get better. Slowly but surely, Adam begins to adjust his behavior to be moderately less annoying. You get the feeling that being annoying is one of his core personality traits, but at the very least you’ve prevented that from affecting your lifestyle. Unsurprisingly, the angel doesn’t follow all of the rules perfectly. Ironically, it seems that Rule No. 4—limiting how often he scares the life out of you—is the most difficult one for him to follow. The fucker is constantly appearing behind you and ripping the breath from your chest. But, you respect that Adam is trying, and the two of you gradually learn to live with one another.

But things come to an unfortunate boiling point one evening as you’re getting ready to go out for dinner. You’ve attempted to tame your hair into something slightly more styled than normal and you’ve used your rather pricey cologne [a miniscule amount of it, admittedly]. You have your keys, your pepper spray in case your date goes awry, and your phone. You’re inspecting your closet in an attempt to decide on an outfit when you hear Adam enter the room.

You turn around to face him, realizing that he looks skeptical as his gaze inspects your form. “Where the hell are you going?” He asks, evidently noticing that you’re preparing to leave. You suppose it is rather unusual for you to be leaving home in the evening like this—typically, once you leave work, you stay home for the rest of the night.

“I’m going on a date,” you respond, picking out a shirt and pants and folding them over your arm.

“A date?” Adam scoffs. “Your ugly ass? Please.”

You don’t bother acknowledging that remark, instead moving to the bathroom. You change and brush your teeth, before walking back out to your room. You’ll just pretend that your giant angelic roommate—the one who still doesn’t pay rent, by the way—isn’t here. Unfortunately, you don’t get very far, because Adam continues speaking the moment you exit the bathroom.

“Hey, there isn’t-” Adam begins, turning around to face you. Whatever he means to say fades to obscurity as he stares at you. For a painful moment, the two of you are trapped in a tense silence. Just as it grows to be unbearable, Adam scoffs. “This is for him? Fucking Tom?” Wait… How does he know your date’s name? You squint at him suspiciously, before realizing that he’s holding your phone and evidently looking through your messages.

“Hey, give me that-” You say with wide eyes, reaching for your phone.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”Adam recites, scrolling through the messages from the guy you’re going on a date with. There’s a cruel amusement gleaming in his eyes. “There’s no fucking way.” He cackles.

You stare at him in shocked silence, forced to listen as he rips apart this guy you haven’t even met yet. “Are you done yet?” You eventually ask, when it seems like he’s losing steam. “I have to go, give me that-” You hiss, annoyed and frustrated. His grip is inhumanly tight as he clutches your phone; you have no idea how he hasn’t broken it yet.

“No way, sweetheart,” he grins, a malicious and cruel smile. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years ,” he says, continuing to scroll through your conversation, “Besides, why are you meeting with this guy if you don’t even know him in the first place?”

That’s the whole point of the date: to get to know Tom. You try to take a deep breath and remain calm. “You’re my ‘guardian angel,’ not my mother,” you feel the need to say, when his eye contact is growing a bit too intense and prolonged.

“Wow, strange, that doesn’t sound like gratitude,” Adam frowns, tapping a finger against his chin.

You grit your teeth. Unless you’re able to sneak around this nine-foot fucking demon looming in the doorway—because really, he’s not acting like much of an angel right now—you’re going to miss your date. You try to make a grab for your phone one more time, but Adam’s grip remains steady. There’s no way you’re getting it back, judging from both his immensely strong grasp and the determined smirk on his face.

Defeat sets in, followed by prickling embarrassment and fury. “You know what?” You say, your voice cracking in your frustration. “Fine. Fine. You win. Okay?” You leave your room and head out to the living room, desperate for some privacy. Adam either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he follows behind you. You feel tears falling down your face before you can stop them. You feel so helpless. This guy swooped into your life and fucked everything up, just for his own amusement.

“Are you crying because of that loser?” Adam asks, surprise coloring his voice.

“I’m crying because of you!” You seethe, glaring at him. You wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve. “You ruined my night. And I genuinely wanted to get to know Tom, but you’ve fucked that up too!” This is like an emotionally manipulative relationship, you think to yourself, but without the relationship. So really, it’s just emotionally manipulative. You don’t give Adam a chance to defend himself, instead pushing past him and going back into your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

You flop onto your bed and curl onto your side, unable to stop the tears sliding down your cheeks. You know it’s a somewhat insignificant thing to be upset about, but you can’t help it. The way Adam just completely decimated your plans, with all the confidence of someone who has never once been questioned, someone who has always been looked up to and venerated and-

You huff and push yourself back up to a sitting position, grabbing the nearby tissue box and blowing your nose. You’re still furious with Adam, of course, but you’d rather just not acknowledge him right now. Even the mere thought of him now is enough to send new tears slipping down your cheeks.

You lie awake a bit longer than usual that night, feeling unspeakably restless. Frustrated, you stare up at the ceiling and try to think about something other than the horrible evening you just had. Eventually, you drift off into sleep—albeit with dry eyes and anger still prickling at your core.

Against all odds, you manage to have a relatively restful sleep, and you wake to the smell of pancakes wafting through your apartment. That immediately concerns you, and you get out of bed with fear drumming in your chest. Did you leave the stove on? Is something burning? You stumble out to the kitchen, only to find Adam standing with his back to you, looking down at a griddle that you don’t remember purchasing.

“Adam?” You ask, blinking traces of sleep from your eyes. Adam stiffens and turns around, an uncharacteristically weak smile flickering on his face before it’s replaced with his trademark wide grin.

“Hey,” he remarks, turning around to flip a few pancakes. When Adam turns back around to look at you, you realize that the apron he’s wearing says Kiss the Cook. You feel a disbelieving laugh crawl out of your throat before you can stop it.

“Where’d you get that apron?” You ask, knowing damn well you don’t own an apron like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grins, which naturally just worries you more. You take a deep breath and go back to your room to change. When you return to the kitchen, there’s a stack of pancakes on the counter—evidently for you. You grab a few pancakes, a plate, and utensils, before settling at the table and beginning to eat. You keep yourself occupied throughout the meal with Youtube videos, but you’re still unable to avoid the tension settling in the air.

When you finish eating, you do your dishes before thanking Adam for the meal. Before you can retreat back to the solitude of your room, Adam takes a deep breath as if preparing himself to speak.

“So…” He starts, “This is hard for me to say………” His voice is almost entirely devoid of emotion. Before you can think about that any longer, he continues speaking. Is he about to apologize? Somehow, you doubt it. “I’m not sorry for what I did.” And there it is. You’re not surprised; you’re just disappointed. You immediately move to leave and his eyes widen. “Wait. No, that’s- Hey, I’m trying to apologize here!”

“Apologizing typically starts with ‘I’m sorry,’” you say, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Adam says with an eye-roll, “I didn’t want you going on that date. Okay?”

“Why?” You ask. You deserve to know the rationality behind his actions—if there even was any. The angel’s eyes are gleaming (with what emotion, you’re not quite sure).

“I’m your guardian angel,” Adam reminds you, “I’m supposed to protect you from harm.” That’s a load of bullshit. You turn around again, fully intent on barricading yourself in your room and never coming out. “Hey, hey, hey-!” He sputters. Adam takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Damn it! Fine. I didn’t want you to go on that date because you’re out of his league.”

That statement only confuses you further. Tom was an attractive guy, and he seemed nice. Why would you be out of his league? “Then who’s in my league?” You sputter, feeling extremely lost. “You?” You scoff.

“Yes!” He exclaims with so much vehemence that it startles you. “I mean, no! Fuck, why is this so difficult? Okay. Listen… I rescheduled your date with Tom. You’re gonna meet with him today, and wear that sexy ass outfit you had on yesterday.”

“Really?” You ask, still skeptical. You want to believe the angel, but you can’t help but think of his actions last night—the unflappable determination on his face as he wrecked your plans for the night. Adam got some sort of thrill out of ruining your night, and that still concerns you.

“Really,” the angel assures you, tossing you your phone. You completely forgot he had it. You remember trying to wrench it out of his grip; when you stormed off to your room, he must’ve still had it. “Check your messages.” You obey and open the text conversation.

Yesterday, 2:45 p.m. Tom: Looking forward to it. Yesterday, 4:42 p.m. You: Hey, I hate to do this, but do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow? My roommate got sick and I need to look after him. Tom: Sure thing. Same time? You: Sounds good.

“Oh,” you remark aloud, lost for words.

“So go on your date and have fun,” Adam continues. “With- with Tom.” The latter statement is spoken with a decent amount of venom, and Adam averts his eyes with a surprisingly irritated expression on his face. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you busy yourself with preparing for the date, equal parts anticipation and something frighteningly similar to appreciation warring in your chest. You shouldn’t be holding any sort of appreciation for Adam’s actions—he was just righting his own mistake. Even so… You sigh and push aside any thoughts of Adam, instead busying yourself with preparing. When you’re finally ready, you walk out of your room and head for the side table—where your pepper spray, phone, and keys still remain from the night before.

You glance around the space, finding Adam sitting in front of the television and playing video games. “I’m heading out,” you decide to tell him.

“Have fun,” the angel says, not bothering to look away from his game. You take a deep breath and leave your apartment, locking your door behind you. Your date is waiting outside, supposedly.

The night passes by frighteningly fast; two hours later, you’re unlocking your front door, shutting it behind you, and trudging into your apartment with severely dampened spirits. You’re unsurprised to find Adam still playing games on your Nintendo Switch. His back is turned and you feel your throat burning. “Hey,” he says, focused on the game. “How’d it go?”

“You called it,” you murmur frustratedly. “You were right. I should’ve listened.” Your eyes are burning now too. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

It evidently takes Adam a moment to process what you just said, but you immediately notice the moment he comprehends it. The room falls eerily silent and you watch the television screen for a moment. (Meanwhile, Adam is staring ahead in complete shock, surprised as to how someone could have fumbled the bag so badly.) Adam then turns around, his game entirely abandoned. “What did that bastard do?” He hisses. “God damn it, I’m going to murder him. He’s going straight to Hell!”

“It’s- I don’t know,” you choke out, placing your hands on the back of the couch. Tears are falling down your face now, despite your best attempts to keep them in. “Maybe it’s my fault.” You murmur.

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not,” Adam declares with an unreasonable amount of confidence. “You’re the closest fuckin’ thing to perfection; there’s no way in Heaven or Hell that it was your fault.” You want to believe him, but you don’t. You can’t—not after how badly the night went.

You’re still reeling, so you decide to sit down next to Adam on the couch. For a long moment, the two of you stare ahead silently as the Animal Crossing: New Horizons music plays in the background. Eventually, Adam continues playing and you watch as he controls a purple-skinned avatar with golden eyes, black wings, and a white halo.

Sharing the silence with Adam is nice, but you soon find it more and more difficult to stay awake through it. You’re growing tired—your exhaustion from earlier catching up to you—and your eyelids are starting to sting from fatigue. You’re leaning back against the couch cushions, dangerously close to leaning on Adam’s shoulder. Your limbs feel as heavy as bricks and within moments, you’re surrendering to the urge to succumb to the darkness and the magnetic sensation pulling you to rest your head on the angel’s shoulder.

The next morning you wake up in your bed, despite having no recollection of walking back to your room. That particular mystery quickly fades to the back of your mind once you arrive at work, however. The day seems to drag, but finally, after a seemingly infinite amount of time, you finish your work and can go home to relax.

“Hey,” you say as you enter your apartment after work, surprised to find the living room empty. Typically, you’d see Adam watching television at this time. “Adam?” You ask. There’s no response. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on your coat rack, before walking through the living room and into the dining room.

To your surprise, you find your table candlelit, with boxes of takeout from your favorite restaurant scattered around its surface. “Hey, you’re back.” Adam says. Despite the fact that he probably didn’t mean to scare you, the sudden reveal of his presence is enough to send your heart racing—if only for a brief moment. You still can’t quite believe what you’re seeing; noticing your confusion, Adam continues—sounding almost apprehensive. “I thought… you deserve a nice dinner, since your date didn’t go well.” He breaks off for a moment, a truly murderous expression on his face. Adam shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts, before motioning to the takeout boxes and looking at you expectantly. “Did I get your order right?” You squint at the boxes and nod; he grins. “Hell yeah! Am I the fucking best or what?”

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. You move to sit down, but Adam tugs you back. “Hey, hey, not so fast,” he admonishes you, before placing a hand on the chair and pulling it out for you. You roll your eyes fondly and sit down at the proffered seat. Moments later, Adam takes a seat across from you. The two of you quickly dig into your food and you fall into idle conversation about your day.

When you’re both finished eating, Adam clears his throat purposefully. “So,” he starts, “I know I was kind of a dick, but you should go on an actual date with me.” He sounds forceful, but you’re pretty sure he’s just uncertain.

“Sure,” you agree rather easily. Despite all you’ve been through—all the missteps Adam has made, especially when you were trying to date other people—you like the thought of being in a relationship with him. Adam is frighteningly easy to be around, and underneath that prickly, jerkish exterior is a person who genuinely cares about you. At least, that’s what you hope.

“Oh hell yeah!” He fist-pumps, making you chuckle. “You’re about to get wined and dined, bitch. Get ready for a four-course meal—I’ll be the perfect fucking gentleman. Chivalry and all that shit.”

“You do realize chivalry has been dead for, like, centuries,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Adam groans dramatically. “You know what I fucking mean,” he chastises you. And, surprisingly, you think you actually do know what he means. He wasn’t referring to chivalry in the antiquated sense, but more in the sense that every person deserves to be treated nicely. That’s a surprisingly decent perspective, coming from him of all people. “I’m going to be so fucking nice, you’re going to be falling at my feet.” You both know that is definitely not going to happen. You don’t let Adam always have his way—you don’t let him step all over you. And, maybe, that’s one of the reasons he likes you. Maybe, just maybe, he needs someone who is just as independent and stubborn as he is.

You find yourself looking forward to learning more about this mysterious guardian angel of yours.

endnotes: oh my god, they were roommates.

y'all, i can't believe i wrote 5k words for this bastard.

thanks for reading! <3

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#defectivevillain #anyway #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Adam x reader #Adam x gn reader #Adam x male reader #transmasc reader #gn reader #male reader #etc etc

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voidpacifist · 1 year

Text

I have a new brainworm about steve harrington that I need (NEED!!) to share

imagine this for me: it's 1983. nothing eventful happens, at least in the supernatural sense. steve and nancy still date, he still drops his terrible friends when he realizes they're not gonna support him if it doesn't fit their agenda, he still accidentally becomes close to a bunch of seventh graders when nance asks him if he can babysit--

(not that he'd ever say no to her, but it's not what he envisioned the summer of '84 to be like, okay?)

--and overall, things are relatively normal for him. his parents continue to be absent, but they still get excited for him when they learn he has a girlfriend or won a new award at the end of the school year for something sporty or what have you. they're not bad people, they just don't know how to be good parents. and they're always, always away.

but the thing about 1983, is that his final interaction with tommy before he "broke up" their friendship by dating someone kind and sweet and "perfect" like nancy, was him getting absolutely wailed on. enough that he went to the hospital with a severe concussion and some damage to his optic nerve. the doctors told him he already has something going on with his vision to begin with, probably a genetic disease passed down from one of his folks, that increase his chances of going blind earlier in life. meaning, if push came to shove, his vision could go entirely if he got into any more scruples with ex-friends or people who just generally disliked him.

and then lucas sinclair asks him for dating advice, because he likes max mayfield, the new girl in his class, and ultimately it lands steve being the chauffeur for their first date just days after halloween in 1984. by now, he and nancy have broken up — they weren't emotionally available in the ways they needed to be with one another, and steve knows his dream of the future is different from her own. this time, there's no speech about bullshit or faking it. they simply both know that their expiration is upon them and call it quits.

(it still hurts, but he told lucas to shoot his shot, because if there's anything he's learned by dating nancy wheeler, it's that projecting his heartbreak and hurt onto others is a gateway to toxicity in the water; and by god he is not sabotaging this kids emotional maturity, okay? okay)

so he takes the kids to bennys burgers, because lucas insists it's "cool enough" for this girl, and he doesn't want to overdo it by going somewhere too fancy. but when steve returns to pick them up, there's a hiccup in the plan.

billy, maxs step-brother and steve's most recent bother at school, is there, gearing up to try and scare lucas off, or do something worse. steve, anointed babysitter and generally protective friend, steps in without hesitation. the fight that results makes the local news. steve lands in the hospital again.

his vision doesn't go completely, but it goes enough. enough that he can't drive, enough that he'll have to find large print books or simply relearn to read altogether in braille. enough that he's advised to get a cane or a guide dog. enough that, when all is said and done, his old life has been completely upended.

jonathan--

(the same jonathan who has now swept nancy off her feet the way steve used to)

--surprisingly, is the one who ends up getting close to steve after this. he tells steve about what it was like when will was found after being missing for a week, about how he knows it isn't the same, but that he relates to the feeling of oh god, everythings different and nothing I used to have is coming back. he doesn't divulge on the details, but steve knows he's serious about understanding the feeling.

even more surprising is nancy, who commands him every day that god dammit steve, your life is not coming back unless you take it back yourself and then reassures him in the same breath that he's not weak for needing help doing so.

and then the kids join in too. and steve harrington isnt a king anymore of anything, but he's the king of his own life, he's the king of himself. he starts going back to school even when he feels embarrassed to be there, like he's an imposter or ill equipped. he starts going to public places just to meet poorly concealed whispers with something friendly and witty in return. he starts taking his power back in a way that never needs to hurt anyone, that never needs to hurt himself.

he also discovers he loves bright colors — neons and pinks and reds especially. he takes a trip with nancy and barb one day to indy on some sort of girls trip (they've long since made up since the first house party, and barb latches onto steve as a best friend shockingly fast in the wake of his and tommy's split), and it's there that he meets someone punk for the first time. he develops a fixation on the colored hair, the leather and spikes and denim with safety pins in it. he badgers the girls about teaching him how to wear eyeliner.

it's his gateway into punk style, which is then a further path into the subculture itself, into colored laces and battle vests and the politics and social aspects. steve takes to it like a fish to water.

the name steve harrington used to mean something entirely different. even though he calls his parents every day since the incident, even though they've been back to see him multiple times, even though they've tried to be present in their strange, semi-absent way, they still haven't seen him since his transformation from local jock to local punk.

needless to say, he spends a lot more time educating them about his "waywardness" and a lot less time actually excitedly telling them about the next color of his hair. but the harringtons aren't unaware — they can see how while this may be a creative way for steve to begin expressing and discovering himself, it's also an armor. no one really wants to fuck with someone who will trip you with his cane if you're being an asshole, someone who wears a lot of spikes and other sharp objects on their body for fun.

so they let it be. and they stay a little longer, this time.

this shift doesn't go unnoticed by the local gossips, but it also doesn't go unnoticed by the "freaks and geeks" at school. he develops, quite by accident, a reputation that rivals that of the king of freaks at hawkins. eddie munson wears the title proudly, clings to it with every antic and every quip that feeds into the rumors about him. but he respects what it took for steve to get here.

so he invites him along to a hellfire session. which turns into two. which turns into steve becoming a party member, which turns into him excitedly telling the kids he babysits that he gets it now, that yes, they can absolutely host their games at his house as long as they have rides back home.

but as he and eddie get closer as friends, eddie notices that as well as steve has done accepting himself as he is, he still misses the things he used to do without thinking much about needing sight to do it. contact sports and movies and other very visually inclined things. and listen, eddie's happy that steve has renounced the toxic social scene of jockdom, he really is, but he also recognizes a guy who misses pieces of his old life.

(he finds himself missing his old life, the life before wayne, all the time, just for the parts that didn't hurt him)

so eddie, much to steves surprise, suggests he try joining the swim team for the final quarter of his senior year. and hey, fuck it, what can it hurt? he's already a nerd now as well as a punk as well as disabled — he can go for one more oddball, not-quite-jock occupation. the coach has several stipulations, all of which steve takes in stride.

he's granted a tryout. he doesn't make it on.

eddie, in his wildest nightmares, doesn't touch sports. he's already athletic in other regards, naturally good at sprinting and lifting heavy things from taking equipment to and from band practice. he doesn't think he actually needs sports, but he's willing to go with steve to lake jordan to keep practicing. he's seen how stubborn harrington is, and he's not about to stop it.

eventually, they do these laps across the lake and back (it's a pretty small lake) just to get high once they're done. and fuck, if steve can swim the length of the lake, he can get a job at the new starcourt mall. and he does. he's there at scoops ahoy the bare minimum of hours they're required to give him to technically say he's employed, but at least he has work. his friends visit him there after their own jobs are done for the day, and eddie consistently shows up just to bug him.

robin, his coworker, is impressed and startled by this version of steve. she'd say she doesn't trust it, but there's nothing to trust really, about the shock of bright green hair or the way his eyes aren't actually that focused looking, or about the way he casually tells stories about getting high and swimming the length of lake jordan. not to mention, the chemistry he can't physically or metaphorically see between him and eddie is laughable to her, and entirely too obvious.

she ends up with one bad trip from the wrong dealer, and steve stays with her through the comedown, and she realizes she would probably die for him, because he sits there and listens to her buzzed ramble about tammy thompson and his bagel crumbs and other dumb shit from when he was still in high school. he's the first person she's ever come out to, and she's the first person he's ever thought could be a soulmate, the kind he'd never give his body but would marry in a heartbeat if she asked him.

he tells her about billy. she tells him about her mother. they tell each other a lot of secrets, more than he's ever told jonathan and nancy, or barb, or even eddie.

and then their workplace gets set on fire from a gas leak after hours. they pack up and go to family video, because they're a package deal. it's barb being on the crew that convinces keith to let steve take the job, and he has a new shtick joking about being a blind guy who likes movies.

then eddie probably takes him to one or two or maybe five. then they maybe make out after one of their swims. then steve starts going to eddies shows at the hideout, starts going with him damn near everywhere, and this was the kind of companionship he needed from the get go but didn't have. the kind where they support each other's interests without changing themselves for it, the kind where there is love born from fierce and unwavering friendship, the kind where loyalty is unquestionable but agreeing all the time is optional. and god.

steve harrington has been blind for a year. and he wears metal in his face and color in his hair. and he and his friends gather for movies just for the enjoyment of it. and he swims the lakes of hawkins with his boyfriend. and he plays dungeons and dragons with the kids who haven't let go of him just yet. and his parents aren't who he needs them to be yet, but they're trying. everyones trying. and eveyrone is enough.

and he's enough, at the end of the day.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #blind steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington brainworm #drabble #sort of

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