#she's got it rough being surrounded by all of them and she's always seemed to have more of a head on her shoulders than any of the others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muwapsturniolo · 1 month

Text

♱ 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 ♱

Pt.01 Pt.02

IN WHICH…A virgin meets the new priest of her church, Father Matt, and her world of all things holy begins to crumble.

WARNINGS… NSFW AHEAD! Religious figures, god is mentioned, Demons, religious abuse, mentions of exorcisms, paranormal activity, making out, fingering, blow jobs, pillow humping, breath play, cum eating, rough sex, virginity mentioned, voyeurism, masturbation, blood, orgasms, death, innocent/nieve!reader, asshole!matt. IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

APOLOGIZING NOW TO ANYONE WHO IS SUPER RELIGIOUS! THIS IS NOT MEANT TO DISRESPECT ANYONE, I JUST GOT THE IDEA FROM OTHER SMUTS I'VE READ, THE SONG BY PATD!, AND THE MOVIE MOTHER!

This is a long one, like I'm talking 5k sum words. I hope y'all enjoy.

The dark.

It was something many people, both children and adults alike feared

Nyctophobia.

They hated not being able to see their surroundings correctly, to see the color in their life. They hated being alone in what seemed to be an endless descent into a void.

Y/n was the same..

She hated the dark, always has.

However it wasn't the dark that necessarily scared her, it was the fact she knew she wasn't alone in the dark.

When she was younger, she had imaginary friends, they were her only friends. During the day they were nice to her, playing tag with her outside, and holding fun conversations about rainbows and unicorns, but as it got closer to dusk,

They began to change.

Their faces would sink in, and they'd start making clicking noises and whispering. They would creep around her home and tell her to do bad things. She'd beg them to stop, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she did so.

They wouldn't listen, instead they'd get violent.

When nighttime fell, they would grab her feet in bed, attempting to drag her off the safety of her mattress. They would scratch at the walls, screaming as their talons left marks along the pink wallpaper.

She'd curl into a ball, tears rolling down her face as she prayed for god to stop them, but god didn't listen. Her prayers only seemed to enrage her imaginary friends, their screams getting louder as their actions became more violent.

But the only time they'd stop was at 3 AM.

Their screams would suddenly stop, their violent actions coming to an end.

And it was always because of Matt.

He was a ghastly pale boy, his skin being a stark contrast to her warm soft brown skin. He had a round face and sandy brown hair, his blue eyes were piercing.

And he always had a smile on his face.

He'd crawl into bed with the young girl, wrapping his small arms around her and whispering in her ear.

"It's ok Y/n, you'll understand eventually."

She was confused by his words, not understanding what he was talking about. But she never had time to dwell upon it, her eyes falling shut as sleep overtook her.

She was always able to fall asleep quickly when Matt was there,

He was comforting...He was her savior.

But that was yanked away when her parents held her first communion, crowning the girl a child of god and letting her consume the blood and body of Christ.

Her imaginary friends no longer appeared, Matt was gone.

Oddly, she missed it, the nights in which she used to fear and learned to love were taken away in the blink of an eye and she hated it. She would tell her parents how she missed Matt, how she missed the conversations they held at night.

To say her parents were frightened would be an understatement. They accused her of being promiscuous when she didn't even know what promiscuous meant.

They accused her of being friends with the devil.

Instead of just understanding she was a child with an active imagination,

They locked her in the hallway closet.

They wouldn't let her out for a week, ignoring her screams and pleas to be let out.

She was scared, hurt, confused...She didn't understand why she was being punished this way.

So when she was dragged inside her home, soaking wet from the storm outside, and her mother opened the closet,

She lost it.

She screamed as loud as she could, kicking, screaming, and fighting for them not to lock her in that closet again.

"Please! I'm sorry, it won't happen again!" She pleads helplessly to her father. Her glossy eyes stared into her fathers deep and stern ones, hoping he would have a change of heart.

He didn't.

Her body fell backward as he shoved her into the small space, her head hitting a shelf. Ignoring the pain in the back of her head, she scrambled forward, attempting to stop them from closing the door...But it was no use.

The door slammed shut, trapping her in the dark.

Her fists banged against the door, her screams raw and ear-piercing as she begged them to be let out.

but they don't listen.

Her screams eventually come to a stop, turning into soft and raspy whimpers, still pleading for forgiveness under her breath.

They ignored her, giving each other a look before heading to their bedroom to hopefully get some sleep.

A few hours had gone by, and Y/n managed to curl into a ball on the floor, her fingers dancing in the sliver of light casting from the hallway underneath the door.

Her eyes were dead, her throat sore from all the screaming and shouting she was doing earlier.

Suddenly, she feels a presence.

She tense, her fingers stopping all movement.

She thought that it was one of her parents coming to let her out of the closet, but that thought was thrown out when she heard a clicking noise.

The same clicking noise from her childhood.

She scrambles to sit up, her back touching the door as the hairs on her neck stand up.

Her eyes dart around in the darkness, her pupils straining, trying to find what she was looking for.

But she couldn’t see, it was dark.

Her breathing is harsh, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tries to figure out if her mind is playing tricks on her. She comes to the conclusion that she was in fact hallucinating, and tries to calm down, but that changes in a split second.

The clicking noise happens a centimeter away from her ear.

She lets out an ear-piercing scream, throwing herself further away from whatever was trapped in the closet with her.

It happens so quickly, the clicking noises and screaming multiplying.

She's instantly brought back to all the times she would lay in bed at a young age, screaming for her imaginary friends to stop torturing her.

"Stop it! Please stop! Let me out!" She sobs.

She curled into a ball, her hands over her ears as her eyes clenched shut.

She looked like a child, a scared child.

The screaming and clicking goes on forever, day and night, not that she could tell the time.

All sense of time had been thrown out the window.

She doesn't know how long she was in the closet, the door never opening until eventually,

It did.

The screams stop immediately, the quietness seeming so loud.

Y/n opens her eyes, blinking profusely as she adjusts to the light she hasn’t seen in days.

Once they do finally adjust, she sees a hand outstretched toward her. She follows the limb upward and her eyes land on Matt.

Her savior.

He has a warm and welcoming look on his face, contradictory to the shadows standing behind him.

“It’s ok Angel-” He voices softly as he sees her frightened eyes and splotchy cheeks.

“Take my hand,” He urges.

Hesitantly, the girl takes his hand, no longer wanting to be in the closet. As she rises to her feet her legs begin to shake, weak from being trapped in the closet with nothing to eat or drink besides a single water bottle and a loaf of bread.

Matt wraps an arm around her waist, a neutral expression on his face as he supports her shaking frame.

“Look at you, so weak and scared. They had you in there for six days.” He coos.

Suddenly her parents appear, making her flinch back in fright. She was scared they were going to put her in the closet again, trapping her with the demons.

“Did you do what I asked?” Matt questions with a straight voice. Both adults nod, their eyes casted on traumatized Y/n.

“Yes, Father…They are in your car.”

Matt hums in thanks and looks down at Y/n, “let’s go Angel.”

Her parents watch as she’s pulled out of the home, mumbling a prayer to themselves that their daughter be saved, and whatever demon inside her banished so she can live a full life.

Matt opens the passenger side door, helping her get situated in the car before walking over to the driver's side.

His eyes land on her parents standing by the door.

As they hold eye contact, they can’t help but feel a chill run down their spine. They watch as an eerie smirk makes its way onto the Father’s face.

Matt watches as her parents are yanked backward, the front door slamming shut.

He chuckles and settles into the car, starting the engine and pulling off down the street.

Y/n sits quietly in the car, her eyes dull and face grim.

Matt side-eyes her but says nothing, continuing the drive to their destination. Midway through the drive, he reaches into the backseat and places a brown paper bag in her lap.

“Eat. You need the energy.”

Y/n stares down at the paper bag full of food, her stomach grumbling at the sight. However, she doesn’t dive in.

“F-for what?”

Her voice is raspy, her throat dry from all the screaming and crying she has done. She lifts her head and looks at Matt who’s already looking at her with a devious smile.

“Your exorcism.”

Her heart dropped along with her head, more tears falling from her eyes. She had completely forgotten that she was supposed to have an exorcism…She didn’t need one. There was no use in trying to beg him to listen, she figured his and everyone else’s mind was made up. Her hands shake as she begins to eat the food, the sandwich tasting rotten as she tries to wrap her head around what her life has come to.

Eventually, they pull into the lot of a rundown motel. The dim and half-lit sign read “ Cameron Motel”.

Weeds were growing all over the parking lot that had a few dirty cars parked. The building itself was baby pink with baby blue trimming that had graffiti all over it. Some of the windows were boarded up and others were broken.

She was so busy staring at the beat up building, she didn’t realize Matt had gotten out the car. She jumps when her door opens, her head turning and looking up at a stoic Matt.

“Get out of the car Angel.”

Her breath hitches but she does as told, hugging herself as she stands in front of him. He grabs her arm, and quickly drags her towards the entrance.

Despite the eerie and dark aura of the motel, she can’t help but find an appeal to it. She knew that if the building was taken care of, it would look beautiful.

Yet, she still finds herself crossing, her index and middle finger drawing a cross that catches her head and chest, to both her shoulders.

As they enter the dingy building, her nostrils immediately begin to burn with the smell of asbestos and formaldehyde.

She coughs a little as she takes in her surroundings. Just like the outside, the inside was decaying right before her eyes.

She’s taken out of her examination by a girl in her bra and underwear running past her, the girl laughing and squealing as a boy chases her in his boxers. She jumps in shock and presses herself closer to Matt, her cheeks warm from seeing the girl so exposed.

Matt ignores her obvious signs of being flustered and keeps walking.

As they walk down the dimly lit hallway, she hears all sorts of things behind closed doors.

Screaming, crying, moaning, and tv static.

The occupants of the motel seemed to have a very different outlook on life.

But who was she to judge? She was the one here for an exorcism, not them.

They approach a door at the end of the hallway, the room number reading 333. Matt pushes the door open and to Y/n's surprise, the room isn't as dirty like she thought it would be.

A king size bed sits in the middle of the room, adorned in clean white sheets. The floor is carpeted with no stains, and there is a tv sitting on a stand across the bed.

Matt gently pushes her inside the room and closes the door, throwing the bag on his arm on a nearby chair. She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room as Matt walks around. Her head is cast downward but she can see him removing his blazer.

He throws it down on the edge of the bed, soon sitting next to it and facing her. He examines her timid frame and hums to himself.

They sit in a pregnant silence before he finally speaks, "Take that bag with you into the bathroom. Get yourself ready."

She eyes the bag on the chair and finally looks back to Matt, "W-whats in there?"

"Just take the bag, and get ready," he demands. She nods and timidly grabs the bag, holding it to her chest as she makes her way into the bathroom. She sets the bag on the counter and unzips it, all her movements stopping when she sees what's inside.

She pulls out a razor and some type of women's shaving cream, shampoo and conditioner, and the final product,

A white dress with a thin pair of white satin underwear.

She takes out the white dress, holding it up by the shoulder straps, and examines it.

It looked like her usual nightgowns, except more provocative.

Her cheeks warm at the thought of seeing herself in the dress, Matt seeing her in the dress. She sets the dress down and looks back at the shaving products. She's a bit confused at the idea of shaving considering her mother and father never let her do so, telling her that children of the lord don't need to shave, and if she does shave she's a Jezebel.

But that's what she is right? That's what her father has deemed her as,

A Jezebel.

With that, she strips herself of her clothing, climbing into the shower, and cleanses herself. With never having shaved before, she takes quite a bit of time getting rid of the hair on her body, especially in other areas.

She climbs out of the shower and dries off, rubbing a vanilla-scented lotion into her skin and slipping on the dress, underwear, and knee highs.

She stares at herself in the mirror and examines herself.

Although she's exposed, looking whorish as her father would put it, she likes what she sees in the mirror. She loves the way her brown skin is a stark contrast to the white dress, and how soft and plump her skin is.

She has a glow...an Angelic glow.

She slowly turns towards the door and hesitates as she reaches for the handle. She's a nervous wreck at the idea of Matt seeing her so exposed, no one has ever seen her in such a state since she was a baby.

She debates on locking herself in the bathroom, but she knows that's not logical. With a fast-beating heart, she slowly opens the door, her left hand clutching the rosary that hangs in the valley of her breasts, tucked into her lingerie.

She steps out of the bathroom, her eyes landing on Matt who's still sitting on the edge of the bed, but now he's smoking a cigarette. He doesn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the TV that's playing nothing but static.

"F-Father?" She addresses shakily.

Matt says nothing as he stands up from the bed, walking over to the window and drawing the curtains shut.

"Sit in the middle of the bed, on your knees, palms turned upward," he demands, loosening his tie. She tenses but does as told, her heart beating wildly as she anticipates what's to come.

Matt ashes out the cigarette, throwing his tie somewhere in the room as he finally turns to her.

She watches as he looks her up and down, his eyes staying on her chest with an unrecognizable look in his eyes. She flinches when he finally makes eye contact with her, her head dropping downward almost instantly.

"What did you see?"

She looks up in confusion, not understanding the question. Matt moves to the foot of the bed, standing tall above her.

"In the closet, what did you see?"

Her breath hitches at the question, scared to tell him the truth.

As if he's reading her mind, he tells her to tell him the truth.

"I-I...S-shadows...."

Matt hums, taking a step closer to the bed. "Shadows...and what were the shadows doing?"

"Sometimes they would j-just stand quietly...staring at me. O-other times they are whispering, screaming...clicking."

Matt says nothing for a moment, staring at her with such an intense gaze she feels something in her lower abdomen. "And how long has this been going on?"

"S-since I was five... but it stopped when I was 7, when I first had the body and blood of Christ." Matt's eyes turn into slits, his posture becoming tense.

"Your parents told me about your imaginary friends, how you explained they would go bump in the night but would stop. Why and how would they stop?"

Matt's words become quick, almost as if he's excited, anticipating her answer.

"T-they would stop at 3 AM- The devil's hour." Her heart drops as he cuts her off, her eyes wide in fear.

"W-what?"

"The devil's hour, anytime between 3 and 4 AM when demons, ghosts, anything considered hellish are their most powerful. They can cross borders between realms, speak to the living, touch the living." His words hint at something, something Y/n isn't picking up.

"T-they were demons?" She whispers softly, her hands that were still facing upward shaking and beginning to sweat. Matt smiles at her, that devilish smile that she finds herself often thinking and dreaming about.

"I believe so...So tell me, why and how they would stop." He urges once more. "I um...They-they would stop when he appeared..."

"Who's he?"

"Ma-" She stops herself as her mind begins to connect the dots. The boy who she deemed her savior, the one who showed up at 3 AM and made the things that go bump in the night disappear. The boy who would cuddle her at night and hold small conversations with her.

She wasn't sure at first, but as she started to analyze his features, everything from the head down, it was the same person.

He was standing in front of her...In all his glory.

Matt's grin grows tenfold as he sees she's connecting the dots.

"Did you miss me, angel?"

She thought if she ever saw the boy she considered a friend again, she would be jumping for joy, but instead, she crawled backward towards the head of the bed.

She was scared.

Her hands shake as she covers her mouth, the reality setting in.

"Y-you're the Devil!" she accuses softly.

Matt chuckles and turns toward the mirror behind him, still holding eye contact with the frightened girl.

"Devil? No. A product of hell itself? Yes."

Y/n feels her whole world crumbling. She couldn't wrap her head around how her life had come to this, why she was the one picked for this?

What could she have done from the time she was born, to be deemed of this fate? Was this her punishment for what she had done in a past life? Was this punishment for using God's name in vain when she was younger?

"I told you when we were younger that one day you'll understand, that time is now." He grabs a bottle of wine and pours himself a glass, taking a long sip before turning around and leaning against the dresser.

"You see, your mother wanted a baby, and with your father shooting blanks, she was never able to have one. Despite calling herself a woman of god, she made a deal at the crossroads with my father, the devil himself. She was dumb, crying and begging for a child so bad, she didn't care about the repercussions that came with it."

Y/n feels as if she's going to pass out, all this information too much for her to handle.

"So she made the deal, the deal to give her little baby girl to one of the devil's sons. Me."

y/n quickly shakes her head, refusing to believe the truth. "Y-you're lying! You're a liar! She would have never done that!" She shouts, tears running down her face. she begins to pray, hoping that god will listen and make all of this stop, hoping that he will save her. Matt grows angry, throwing the glass of red wine on the floor as he crawls onto the bed. He grips her jaw tightly, getting in her face.

"Stop praying! God can't help you, he was never able to help you!" He bellows, the whole room seeming to shake. She opens her watering eyes and Matt relaxes just the smallest bit. He removes his harsh grip on her jaw and wipes her tears away.

"You're pretty when you cry Angel, so pretty."

He inches closer to her face, his breath fanning softly. " You're mine Angel, you always were-" His hand drops from her face and down to her shoulder, his fingers fiddling with the straps of her dress.

"-You know it's true, I know you feel the connection. I kept you safe when we were younger, making all the bad stop."

Her thighs tense as his other hand grazed the freshly shaved skin, his fingers dancing along the hem of the dress.

"I've only made you feel good, I showed you how good life could be in both your daydreams and at night. I broadened your mind, I gave you pleasure."

She gasps softly at his last words.

"T-that was you....My thoughts a-and the moment in the confessional?"

He nods, a soft smile on his face, "that it was. I knew you'd appreciate it, you never felt a sense of belonging following that path. You knew they were lying, sex isn't bad, touching yourself isn't bad, and reading whatever you want isn't bad. You enjoy those things, I want you to enjoy those things. I want you to be free, I can give it to you. you just have to trust me...Do you trust me?"

She comes to the conclusion that he's right, he never lied to her. he's only ever broadened her mind, gave her what she craved, lusted after.

He was her savior.

He was her god.

"Tell me you trust me Angel, grant me the access to give you freedom." she looks to her right, watching his hand toy with the thin string on her shoulder.

She doesn't know what he means by freedom, but she wants to be free. She knows there's more to life than her small town and the path of God. She wants to experience things, she wants to create memories,

She wants to live.

With dried tears on her cheeks, she looks back up at him.

"I trust you."

That's all Matt needed to hear before his lips crashed against hers, hungry and ready to devour her. Y/n is caught off guard, never having kissed anyone before. She doesn't exactly know what to do so she lets Matt take the lead.

Matt doesn't care, he knows of her innocence, and he loves it. In fact, it's a turn-on for him, knowing that he is the once who's going to ruin her.

He pulls away from the feverish kiss, trailing his lips down her jaw and to her neck. His hands rest on her waist, his knee in between her thighs and lightly rubbing against her core. He grabs her hand and places it on the tent in his pants.

He can feel her tense, he can hear her heart thumping wildly.

It drives him wild.

"You have me so worked up Angel, this is all for you. You did this." He holds her hand as he guides it in an up-and-down motion, moaning softly in her ear, expressing the effect she has on him.

It gets her hot and bothered, that tingly feeling she usually feels in between her legs when she usually thinks of Matt expanding. Matt chuckles, his lips brushing against her ear as he gently ruts into her palm.

"I can smell you Angel...you smell so sweet, delectable, divine even."

Y/n pants heavily, her body feeling electric. It felt just like her dreams, so real, intimate, right.

It felt right.

Every inch of her body that he touches feels hot, her muscles flexing at the soft yet heavy touch.

He leaves multiple hickeys along her neck and collarbone, sucking and biting at the skin in a way to claim her.

He pulls back and and yanks her towards him by her thighs, he stares down at her, appreciating how her curls fan out across the white pillows, adoring the marks he created on her body.

She was Angelic.

He pushes her legs apart and looks down, grinning wildly as he sees the wet patch in the underwear. His finger tickles her inner thighs as he takes his time getting to her core, her chest rising and falling harshly.

"When you touched yourself, did you think of me?"

He chuckles as she turns her head away from him. "I know you did, I know of everything you dreamt of. How you imagined my fingers plunging into your mess of a cunt, how you imagined my tongue lapping at your folds."

He rips the underwear off with ease, her eyes widening in shock from the action and now being exposed. She tries to close her legs but he shoves them apart.

"And my personal favorite, was me fucking you so hard, you kept begging me to keep going. Is that what you want Angel? You want me to be your God and fuck you?"

She nods sluggishly, drunk off of his erotic and intoxicating words.

She gasps softly at the foreign feeling of his fingers trailing through her folds. It was nothing like how her fingers felt, it felt better. Her eyes flutter shut as she relishes in the newfound pleasure, only for them to fly open when two fingers are slipped inside of her.

Matt instantly begins to thrust, curling the slim digits in efforts to break the girl. Her jaw drops as her eyes roll back, the lewd squelching noises make her back arch.

"You're so tight-shit- can barely move my fingers Angel. I can't wait to have you wrapped around me." He grunts out as he watches her walls clamp down on his fingers. She's already making a mess and he has barely done anything.

He takes his fingers out and smears her mess over her lips before slowly pushing them side her mouth.

“Suck.”

She does as told and sucks on his fingers, finding herself addicted to her own taste. Matt smirks and slips them out of her mouth, trailing the saliva down her chin to her chest. He wraps his fingers around the rosary and yanks it off, the beads flying all over the bed.

A metaphor for her being stripped of her innocence.

Before she can fix her lips to say something, Matt’s lips crash against hers once more. Her arms wrap around him, her eyes closed as she kisses him back as if her life depended on it.

Matt rips his button-up off, throwing it somewhere in the room before he starts to unbuckle his belt. Once he manages to take his pants off, he pulls away from the kiss and forces her on her knees, a pillow being pushed in between her legs.

He pulls his boxers down making her eyes widen in shock. She's never seen male body parts before, ever. She looks up at Matt, an unsure look in her eyes.

"Go on, put it in your mouth," he persuades, eager to finally feel her mouth on him.

"I-I- don't k-know ho- Yes you do." He cuts her off, his hand wrapped around his own member and jerking himself off. She watches with wide eyes, unintentionally grinding against the pillow in between her legs.

"Put it in your mouth, lick on it like you do your ice cream cones." Matt's mind flashes back to the park, watching her walk away from the ice cream stand licking and sucking on her vanilla cone.

He wanted to claim her that day in the park, taking her under the tree for all to see, but he couldn't, he had to wait.

Y/n hesitantly moves her head forward, giving a small kitten lick to his tip. Matt's whole body shudders, the urge to fuck her mouth too strong.

He snaps.

He fists a handful of her hair and pushes himself in her mouth, groaning loudly as she gags and chokes around him. Her eyes clenched shut as the salty tears streamed down her face. "Fuck-look at me Angel," he grunts as her throat contricts around him.

She manages to open her eyes, her tears flowing even faster.

"Keep em' open," he says beginning to bob her head up and down. She does her best to follow his orders, her mouth opened as wide as it could go. She figures out that she should breathe through her nose instead of her mouth, the air flowing into her lungs easier. However, that was short-lived when Matt pinches her nose, preventing her from breathing. Instead of bobbing her head up and down, he thrusts his hips harshly, enjoying the choking and gargling noises coming from the girl on her knees.

She tries to breathe through her mouth, but it's proven difficult with the speed at which his genitalia is abusing her throat, and yet

She loves it.

She shamelessly ruts against the pillow between her legs, chasing that euphoric feeling she felt not too long ago in the confessional. She knows if her parents saw the ludicrous acts she was performing on a male, they would have a heart attack. But she didn't care, she loved how warm she felt, how safe she felt.

She loved being used.

She looks up at Matt, watching how beautiful he looks with his head thrown back and jaw slacked. It's an image that will forever be burned inside her brain.

Suddenly his thrusts stop, a warm and salty liquid filling up her mouth. He pulls himself out of her mouth, watching as his semen leaks past her lips. Instead of telling her to swallow, he wraps a hand around her throat and kisses her.

He moans into the kiss, lapping his own fluids out of her mouth.

He lifts her back onto the bed with ease, crawling over her panting and dazed form. He settles in between her legs, already lining himself up with her clenching hole.

Y/n doesn't know what's next, she's still trying to catch her breath, but she doesn't have much time to dwell on it once Matt shoves himself inside her. A strangled yelp leaves her throat and her hand flies to his abdomen, attempting to stop him or at least slow him down.

But Matt does neither, instead, he begins to pound into her relentlessly.

"I-It b-burns!" She yelps, trying to stop his brutal pace. He ignores her cries of pain, his eyes trained on the blood seeping out of her cunt, coating his cock and painting the hem of the white lingerie adorning her body. He lets out a deep and animalistic growl, his grip on her thighs tightening at the sight.

"You love it-fuck- you love the burn. It feels so good doesn't it Angel? You love the way my cock stretches you out, the way it fills you up so good you can feel it in your lungs,"

It's as if he's warping her mind, forcing her to believe his words,

and that's because he is.

With each word he speaks, the burning pain becomes pleasurable, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Her arms drop to the sides of her head, her body too weak to move on its own.

Small noises and nonsensical babbles exit her throat, her mind dizzy and fogged by the pleasure she's receiving. She couldn't believe that this is what sex feels like. She couldn't understand how something so heavenly could be considered a sin when it's so euphoric.

She begs and pleads for him to give her more, to make her feel alive.

"P-please! Please please ple-Oh God!" She arches her back when a certain spot inside of her is stimulated. Matt lets out an airy laugh, his hips still driving into her at an inhuman pace,

"That's right Angel, beg for me, beg for your God."

In the height of her pleasure, she begins to feel..odd. Almost as if there are people in the room with them. She manages to focus her eyes behind Matt, and what she sees shakes her to her core.

The shadows, the shadows she has become all too familiar with are watching, watching Matt ravage her. There's a bunch of them crowding the room, their bodies blending into each other as their groans of excitement fill the room. Matt can sense her panic, watching her eyes dart around erratically.

"It's ok Angel, they have to watch," he rasps out, his movements never ending.

"Don't look at them, look at me." He demands. However, she doesn't listen. She can't pull her eyes away from the faceless shadows, captured in a trance by their dark aura.

And that's when she starts to notice other things.

The paint on the walls is peeling, deteriorating right before her eyes. The room begins to reek of death, the smell so pungent she finds it harder to breathe. Particles of dust float in the air, a hazy film coating her eyes.

The room becomes scorching hot, suffocating the girl as a thin layer of sweat covers her body.

Y/n heaves as Matt continuously ruts into her, her chest burning as it screams for oxygen. Too much is going on for her to comprehend, the world moving slowly yet spinning so fast.

Her eyes finally avert back to Matt, her mouth open as no sounds leave her mouth. She sees the eerie smile that plants itself on his face, the dark look in his eyes. If she concentrated hard enough, she could even see the small horns coming out of his head and the pointy tail swaying behind him.

She sees the truth, she sees him for what he is.

The spawn of the Devil himself.

She feels as if her soul is leaving her body, every limb and muscle vibrating. Her jaw goes slack as she feels a sharp pain in her chest, as well as a pleasurable feeling in her lower region. Her eyes roll back as her whole body shakes violently, a metallic taste coats her tastebuds as she begins to cough and sputter out blood. The red liquid stains matts face as well as the white lingerie, before eventually coming to a halt.

Matt finds himself experiencing his own release, throwing his head back as he paints her gummy walls a pearlescent white. He groans as he pulls out of her, his dick falling limp as he crawls backward off the bed. His chest rises and falls quickly as he pulls his pants up, buckling his belt.

He pants as he stares down at her lifeless body, analyzing everything about her deadly appearance. He walks over to the side of the bed, brushing one of her curls out of her face, trailing his fingers through the blood splatter on her face.

"So pretty even in death, an angel plucked of it's wings."

he scoops her up bridal style and holds her close to his chest, her arm dangling as her head is draped back. The door to the room opens, revealing a dark abyss that still holds a blinding light.

He walks over to the door looking down at the dead girl in his arms, the shadows in the room whispering amongst themselves eagerly.

"you'll rise like a phoenix from the ashes, in all its beauty. You'll gain new wings that will set you free. You'll finally be mine...My wife."

He kisses her forehead softly and walks through the threshold of the door, into the darkness.

The door slams behind him, leaving the room empty.

The dingy structure of the motel begins to shake in the wake of the door slamming. The lights begin to flicker, cracks appearing in the ceiling. it's not long before the old and moldy building crumbles in on itself, leaving no trace of Matt and Y/n, or the other tenants and their caricatures of intimacy.

AHHHHHHH ITS FINALLY DONE! IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT WITH WHAT I LIKE TO CALL WW1 OF TUMBLR TRULY DRAINED ME AND I NEEDED A BREAK. PLZ LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK AND IF YALL WOULD LIKE TO SEE MORE FICS LIKE THIS ( OBVI WITH A DIFFERENT PLOT).

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

691 notes · View notes

miss-dollette · 10 months

Text

Makarov • Baby Daddy Headcanons

While Makarov is a psychopathic maniac without a care for anyone, he'd definitely never abandon his own. This man values loyalty above anything and will never forsake one of his own, especially his baby mama and his child.

A visit from Makarov would be rare, but when he visited, he always made sure to bring a gift for his baby, and sometimes, even for you. Nothing cheap, of course—a necklace worth thousands. See it as a reward for being an oh-so-good woman and bearing him a child.

Don't bother with work. Call in and never come back. Makarov has you covered for the rest of your life. He'd move you away from the dingy city and have you cozy with your baby in a house you'd never be able to pay off on your own. But you wouldn't need to worry about that - Makarov made sure to pay in cash to whatever sketchy realtor he knew would never reveal your location. If they did... let's just say they'd never sell another house again.

The new addition to the Makarov family would love their father. They'd cry all day in your arms, never stopping until their father's rough cheek scratched against their own, and he shushed them in his rough Russian manner.

The first time you handed over the tiny Makarov to their father would become a bittersweet memory.

"Make sure his/her neck is supported," you softly said while passing the baby into Makarov's arms, mindful of the delicate strength his/her little neck had yet to develop.

"Perfect," you said as Makarov gently held the baby in his arms, his neck crooked down as he watched his baby's eyelids flutter, their little pink cheeks, and tufts of hair on top their head. The baby tiny fist lifted into air, and Makarov placed his lips upon their tiny knuckles.

You leaned in and placed your lips on Vladimirs rough cheek.

He'd definitely pretend he wasn't obsessed with his newborn baby's scent. You'd walk into the nursery, and he'd shoot up from the crib and act like his nose wasn't all up in his baby's scalp.

He'd be fiercely protective of his family. No one, not even his closest allies, would know. Maybe Yuri, but he'd only tell him long after you gave birth.

If he had a son, he'd definitely plan to raise him in a macho-man way. Your son's fifth birthday gift would be a Russian prison knife from the Gulag. And no, he wouldn't care if you made a fuss about it being dangerous for a child.

"Now, why the hell would you give him that? What were you thinking?"

"He's nearly a grown man, and every grown man needs a knife."

"He's five!"

"I was gifted a rifle when I was five, so be grateful!"

Now, if he had a daughter, that would be a whole 'nother story. She would definitely be his little tsarina. All she would need to do is ask, and she'd have it in her little palm.

"She'll become a spoiled little brat if you keep spoiling her like that,"

"What, like you?"

"Not funny."

"Seems funny to me. Come, My Little Tsarina, let's go pick out one of your future cars."

He grew up poor and constantly surrounded by critters sneaking around in his home. He'd bring home stray cats to make sure no rats or mice would go near his baby.

Will sometimes sleep over. You'd both sleep in the same bed, and his razor-sharp training from when he was a soldier would come to good use. Any noise your baby made would wake him instantly.

He's paranoid as hell, so be ready for him to patrol the house multiple times a day. Your baby will grow up thinking it's normal for his father to have an automatic assault rifle in hand, walking around with murder in his eyes, ready to blow apart whoever dared target his family.

The baby would giggle every time their father passed by, and you'd watch boredly as he walked past. It got boring after the first ten times.

If there ever was a break in, God bless the idiot who did so. Not even his bones would be found.

Other than that, he's a cutie patootie when it comes to his baby. But like, a scary cutie patootie.

#cod mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod makarov #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #cod mw3 #mw2 #vladimir makarov #makarov #cod mwii #call of duty #mw3 headcanons #headcanon #fluff

2K notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 3 months

Note

someone said filthy and raunchy reqs for ume???? say no more !! what abt both of you eating at pothros and this random guy gives you his number, now ume isn’t used to this as everyone knows you’re bofurin’s leader gf, and at first he’s confused so he doesn’t react jealous, so that somehow makes you feel uneasy, like, why isn’t he getting jealous??

anddd when you both get home, he pushes you against the wall and absolutely PROVES how jealous he is and how disrespected he feels that you think he didn’t care enough 👀 so he shows you he does care ANSBDNFNS i’m such a sucker for him.

thank you so much in advance, if you do this req!!! 🤍✨ if not, thanks either way jsjs!

Lose Your Composure - An Umemiya x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Rough sex. Fem Reader. Ume is in his 20’s here! Divider by @benkeibear. Any and all feedback is adored!

You blink up at the man holding out a napkin to you, a series of digits scrawled on the paper. Making no move to take it, you glance over at your boyfriend for his reaction.

Umemiya is looking at the man with the same confused expression you’re wearing.

You laugh nervously. “Uh, I’m flattered, but I have a boyfriend,” you say, gesturing toward the very tall and recognizable man sitting beside you at the table.

Honestly, what is this guy thinking? He’s been staring at you from the counter ever since he walked in. Does he not know who Umemiya is? And even if he somehow doesn’t, how brazen do you have to be to give your number to a woman while she’s sitting with another man?

He’s still holding it out to you. “Take it anyway,” he says with a smarmy grin. “You might get tired of this guy sooner than you think.”

You narrow your eyes. You were trying to be polite at first, but this guy is pushing it! “I’m not interested,” you say with a firm tone.

The stranger shrugs and finally pulls his hand back, shoving the crumpled napkin into his pocket and walking out of Pothos.

You sigh and look over at Ume, curious to see his reaction, but he’s already gone back to eating his food, a pleasant smile on his face.

Damn. You were sort of hoping for something else.

You’ve never seen Ume jealous before. Maybe it’s because he’s used to seeing you surrounded by other guys, and those guys are his friends who would never dream of being inappropriate with you. To be honest, you’d like to see him get a little possessive, just once. You love that he trusts you and respects you, and you love how sweet he is, but is it wrong to want to see your boyfriend a little jealous? A little riled up?

Just the thought has you getting heated. You’ve never seen Ume in a fight before, though you know he’s strong. He’s made sure to never expose you to violence, and you appreciate his efforts. But it also means you’ve never seen him being serious or angry. You’ve been together for months now, and you’ve only managed to catch brief glimpses of his firm, dominant side. It peeks out every so often in the bedroom, so quick you almost miss it, and always followed by an apologetic look from him.

Once it was his hand on your head while you were sucking him off, pressing your head down just before cumming in your mouth. Another time it was him gripping your wrists above your head while you laid on your back, his body above yours. He’d seemed to feel guilty about those instances, but you found them extremely hot.

Now, you were expecting him to have some sort of reaction to a random guy hitting on you right in front of him, but he didn’t. He didn’t even seem to care.

You finish your meal in silence, occasionally nodding along as your boyfriend talks about his garden or the crazy antics his friends got into today. You’re not mad, but you are a bit disappointed, and you’re afraid that will be obvious if you speak too much.

After leaving Pothos, Ume walks you back to your apartment. He practically lives here too, but he hasn’t mentioned staying over tonight. Usually he just does as he pleases, so it’s not like he needs an invitation. Still, he seems a little awkward as the two of you ride the elevator up to your floor. Has he noticed the shift in your mood?

“Is everything alright?” he asks as you step out of the elevator.

“It’s fine,” you say as you make your way down the hall, digging your key out of your bag. The response came out a bit sharper than you’d intended.

“Are you upset?”

The question makes you feel a surge of guilt. Ume has done nothing wrong. But you still feel the way you feel. You should at least explain that.

You stop in front of your door, unlocking and opening it. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you say, “I’m not upset. I just expected you to have a bigger reaction to that guy trying to give me his number. It almost feels like you don’t care if other guys hit on me.”

Walking inside and dropping your bag and keys on a nearby table, you still don’t look at him. You hear Ume follow you in and shut the door behind him. When you flick on the light and finally turn to face him, your blood turns to ice.

Your sweet, adoring boyfriend who is always smiling at you, who always looks at you with the kindest expressions, now looks like an entirely different person. His smile is nowhere to be found, his lips a hard line. There’s a fiery intensity to his eyes that almost scares you, a look in them that you’re certain has made many men quiver in fear. Before you is not your doting lover. It’s the Bofurin boss that has crushed every enemy who dared to challenge him.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Ume?”

He doesn’t say anything, only moves toward you at a speed you didn’t think possible and presses your back against the wall. Not hard, but firm.

You look up as he towers over you, his big hands on the wall beside your head. Looking down at you, a few strands of hair slide down around his eyes, and you feel like a helpless little bug.

“H-Hajime?” You don’t call him by that name often, so used to calling him Ume even before you started dating. His eyes seem to glimmer when he hears it.

“Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been holding back?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically low. “How much I wanted to break that asshole’s neck for even looking at you? How I wanted to take you right there on the table so the whole town knows I’m the only one who can touch you?”

Your heart is racing, your breaths coming quicker as you stare up at him. You’re already getting wet.

“And you think I don’t care?” His voice goes even deeper as he leans in, his beautiful face tantalizingly close to yours. “I’ll show you how much I care.”

He kisses you, not in the usual sweet and gentle way, but with his mouth claiming yours, stealing your breath, his tongue pushing in to taste you.

Your arms automatically move to encircle his neck as you kiss him back, suddenly feeling like all these clothes you’re both wearing are in the way. He fixes that quickly, shrugging off his coat and letting it fall to the ground, then tearing your clothes off so aggressively, he rips your pretty new underwear.

This is a side you’ve never seen of him. And when he pulls his white T-shirt over his head and looks at you with that burning expression, his hair slightly disheveled, you nearly buckle right there.

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning up to kiss him again, but he suddenly grabs your shoulders and turns you around to face away from him. You hear him unbuckle his belt, then he’s pressing your upper half against the wall, slightly bending you over, and forcefully spreading your legs.

His fingers slide down, dipping between your slick folds, feeling how absolutely drenched you are. When he finds your clit, circling and rubbing it with one finger, you moan against the wall.

He leans over you, his bare, toned chest pressing into your naked back, and says, “That fucker at Pothos put me in a bad mood. You’re gonna have to fix that.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Ume rarely ever uses coarse language, at least in front of you. To hear him saying such things right in your ear as he plays with your throbbing clit is driving you mad.

“Now spread wider and take my cock,” he says, nearly pushing you over the edge.

You scoot your feet a little wider apart, as much as you can with your legs trembling, and then his hands are on your hips, grip firm, holding you in place. You gasp as you feel his entire length shove inside you, filling you up to the brim, stretching you to your limit.

Before you can even adjust to his massive cock, his hands lift your lower half up, so that your legs are dangling above the floor, your upper half wedged against the wall. And just like that, he takes you. His thrusts are deep, powerful, making your helpless body jerk with each one.

You whimper out his name as your hands press into the wall, trying to take pressure off your face. You were already on the edge of climax before he even started fucking you, now you’re about to explode with pleasure as your kind boyfriend rails you.

Is this even Ume? The difference in his very aura makes you shudder with delight. How did he figure out this is what you’ve been craving?

He slams in deep, hitting a sensitive spot that makes you crumble. Your orgasm ripples through you, bringing tears to your eyes as you moan incoherently. Your hands lose all strength and slip from the wall. You think you’re going to fall, but then Ume’s strong arms wrap around your torso, holding you up. The embrace is gentle, even as he continues pounding you with his cock, and you can feel his overwhelming love radiating through his arms, through his heartbeat against your back.

Then, he stiffens inside you, pushing in so deep it feels like he’s inside your womb before shooting his thick, hot cum into your core. He stays buried that way, still holding you close, until he’s completely empty. Then he gently pulls out and sits you back on your feet.

Your legs feel like they’re made of spaghetti as you struggle to turn around and look at him. He’s panting, his face red, his hair wet with sweat. And he’s wearing that cute apologetic expression. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, his voice sounding almost sheepish.

You feel like laughing, but you don’t have the energy. Instead you collapse against his chest. “Ume, you just made me cum harder than I ever have in my life.”

His hands are rubbing your back. “So… you liked that? Me being more forceful?”

You look up at him. “Yes, but not all the time. I don’t think I could handle that every night!”

He bends down slightly and scoops you up in his arms. “I just wanted to show you how I felt. When that guy offered you his number, I saw red. But I try to keep my composure in front of you. I don’t wanna scare you away.”

You lean up to kiss his cheek. “Every now and then it’s exciting to see you lose your composure,” you say as he carries you toward the bathroom.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says with his sweet smile.

#umemiya x reader #umemiya smut #umemiya #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #wind breaker smut #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #x reader

469 notes · View notes

vampiresbloodx · 5 months

Text

warnings(18+ ONLY): smut, sub!reader, Dom!Wanda, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, teasing, blow jobs (on strap), spitting, slight praise, more degradation, rough s/x, strap on use, all of it is consensual, petnames use (good girl, baby).

emo!gf!Wanda uses you however she pleases and you gladly let her.

The first time she got a taste of you, she was obsessed. No, that wasn't a joke. No one has ever seen her been like this before about anyone. You bring out a completely different side to her than not even her best friend could know about.

Wanda claimed she didn't like girls, she always told herself she wasn't a lesbian and denied any rumours surrounding that.

It wasn't that she was ashamed, she didn't give zero fucks about their opinions. Maybe a little. That's what she was known for, her no bullshit attitude, the resting bitch face, someone to not fuck with.

Then she met you.

The cute adorable nerd who's too shy for their own good.

Wanda wanted to have you all to herself, and she did.

No one was allowed to touch you, flirt with you, go as far as to ask you out.

She would kill them.

Only you'd have to stop her from even putting them in the hospital.

Even if you were left alone for a few hours, minutes, seconds, if someone tried to come at you, she would randomly pop up out of nowhere scaring the hell out of them.

But not you.

She liked that.

She really liked you.

What she liked most was making you come as many times as she wanted. How you squirm under her gaze and touch, just one look and you're begging on your knees, it drives her insane. She has to use you.

You gladly accept it. Because you know she likes you. That's all you wanted.

You've had a crush on her for as long as you can remember, and you weren't the type to crush on people easily. Sure, they'd come, but they would never last that long.

And yet with Wanda, you knew you'd do anything she asked. She was the prettiest girl you've ever met, you just wanted her attention, her everything.

Wanda knew that too.

And she used it to her advantage.

"aw, is my pretty baby already soaking wet?" She cooed, slipping her fingers inside of your tight hole, moaning when she feels your walls clench around her. "Fucking hell, I've never fucked anyone who's pussy was just dripping, begging to be touched."

You whined, bucking your hips into her but she forced them down, glaring at you.

"now, you know I'm gonna have my way with you, I'll let you come once I know you've behaved well, don't move" she demanded.

Your body shuddered, somehow you listened, you always did.

There were times where you liked being a brat, getting the worst out of her was fun, however, this time you really didn't want to mess around.

"good girl" she cooed gently, her voice sending a shiver down your spine, she didn't waste anytime, nor did she back down with starting slow and easy, practically splitting you open with her fingers hard enough that'll make you cry.

Wanda smiled wickedly, watching your every move and reaction, your mouth gaped open, your eyes never leaving hers, fuck, it drove her wild.

"aw, does someone wanna come?" She teased, slowing her movements. "Hmm, it seems this pretty pussy is ready for my cock, don't you think?" She said, loving the way your eyes widened, pupils dilated at the sound of that.

She pulled her pants down, releasing her long, lengthy strap that she kept hidden to surprise you. It was one of her favourites she brought online. A cute, pink dildo that reminded her of you.

It's just too precious.

"spit on it" she muttered, watching as you did as she ordered, once she was pleased enough, Wanda's hands came up to your head, you eagerly wrapped your mouth over her fake dick, she groaned.

"good girl, sucking my cock so well" she moaned. "God, you're my personal fucktoy, aren't you?, my flesh light, you like that, don't you?."

She heard you whimper, causing her to smirk.

"do a good enough job and maybe I'll reward you with something else."

#wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #emo!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #stuff i wrote

823 notes · View notes

dr-spencer-reids-queen · 8 months

Text

A Very Merry Unbirthday

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: minor angst, fluff at the end

Request by anon: I was wondering if you could do a angst fic where Spencer forgets readers birthday maybe he’s too distracted by JJ (or anyone else) then Derek is the one who reminds him, maybe Derek brings reader flowers and Spencer got jealous and confronted Derek and that’s when Derek tells him that it’s her birthday

Summary: Your birthday is here and the one person you expected something from doesn't even remember it's here.

Square Filled: penelope garcia for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Today is a very exciting day because today is your birthday! To celebrate the big day, you’re wearing your favorite jeans that hug your ass nicely, shoes that make you look taller without it being a high heel, a nice blouse that stays in work regulations, your hair is half-pinned to the top, light makeup on your face, and a smile to tie it all together.

It sucks you won’t get to spend it with your family but you have another family waiting for you at the office. Being surrounded by the people you care about, especially your boyfriend, is something you’d never turn down. Spencer has always been known to do cute and romantic things for you so you’re so excited to see what he has planned for your birthday.

The first person you see when you walk into work is Spencer. He is at his desk on the phone and based on his face, it’s not a pleasant phone call. You’re not going to bother him when he’s working so you’ll greet him when he gets off the phone. You walk to your desk and set your things down when JJ and Emily approach you from behind.

“Happy birthday,” Em grins.

“Thank you!”

“Anything special planned?”

“You mean besides the not-so-surprise party Pen is throwing?” JJ and Emily have shocked looks on their faces. “Come on, I know even if no one told me. Don’t worry, I’ll be prepared to be surprised.”

“She does make it obvious sometimes,” Emily chuckles.

“Other than that, no. Spencer might have something planned but that I do not know about.” Spencer gets off the phone with a sigh and you depart from your friends. You walk over to him with a smile even if he doesn’t return it. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry, I can’t talk right now.”

He grabs a bunch of files off his desk and leaves his desk and you behind.

“Okay, I’ll catch you later,” you call after him.

Maybe he’s having a busy morning. You’ll meet up with him later once he’s had enough time to get done what he needs to. Hotch and Rossi walk into the bullpen after visiting someone on the first floor, and you smile at them.

“Hi, Hotch. Rossi.”

“Hey, happy birthday, kiddo,” Rossi smiles.

“Yeah, happy birthday.”

“Thank you. Another year older. It seems like the older I get, the faster time goes.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” Rossi jokes.

They both have gifts for you but they will give them to you at Penelope’s surprise party. She is a dead giveaway when she is doing something for other people. Once she starts planning, she has a hard time keeping it inside. It’s endearing.

After lunch, you find Spencer in the break room. He has been working his ass off all day and is in desperate need of something to eat.

“Hey, Spencer. How was your morning?”

“Rough. Hotch has me running around doing everything under the sun.”

You wait for him to say something but when he doesn’t after five seconds, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“Do you know what today is?”

“Monday?”

“Yes but no.”

“It’s not a holiday.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I don’t know. What?” The smile on your face falls when you realize that he may have forgotten about you. He forgot. “Are you okay?”

“No, yeah, um, I just made you some lunch. It’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you,” he smiles and kisses your cheek.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper.

You wait for him to say anything else to you but he doesn’t. Spencer never forgets anything but he forgot this? He forgot you? Spencer’s desk phone rings and he abandons the lunch you made to answer it. Maybe you’re not important to him anymore.

You avoid him like the plague for the rest of the day. He doesn’t seem to notice since he is nose-deep in his work, but he does notice Derek walk in with some flowers in hand.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Spencer smiles.

“Yours.”

“What?” Spencer stands up and checks the card to see your name on it. “Why are you giving my girlfriend flowers?”

“You didn’t get her any?”

“No, why would I?”

“You’re in trouble, that’s all I gotta say,” Derek chuckles.

“I’m not in the mood to play games, Morgan. Why are you getting my girlfriend flowers?”

“I got them for her birthday which is today.”

“No, it’s next month.”

“No, it’s today.”

Spencer groans in realization as Derek places the flowers on your desk.

“Are you kidding me?” Now he knows why you’ve been avoiding him all day and why you were so weird during lunch. “I messed up big time. She asked me earlier what today was but I told her I didn’t know. Now I have no idea where she is. She’s been avoiding me.”

“I saw her head into Pen’s office.”

“Thank you.” Spencer rushes over to Pen’s office and knocks twice. He tries to open the door but it’s locked. “Penelope? I know Y/N is in there.”

The door unlocks and Pen only opens it slightly so he can’t barge in.

“She doesn't want to see you right now.”

“Just let me talk to her.”

“Try again later.”

“Y/N, I am so so--”

Penelope closes the door on Spencer, cutting him off. Spencer debates on knocking until you relent but he has a better idea. It’s nearing the end of the day and Hotch has granted him early leave for the day.

“I get he’s busy and gets distracted, but not one ‘happy birthday’ to me? He remembers everything but not this?”

“Honey, all men are stupid, even the smartest of them.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I gotta get back to work. I can’t hide out here forever.”

“Good luck!”

You finish the rest of the work day without seeing Spencer and you don’t see him on your way home. You unlock your front door and enter your apartment expecting to just go to bed and forget today ever happened. Instead, you see fake candles making a path straight to Spencer who is holding a single rose in his hands.

“What are you doing here?” you eventually ask and close your front door.

“I am so sorry for today. I was caught up in work and I didn’t realize what I was doing until Derek told me, but that’s not an excuse.”

“Do you even know what today is?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“You forgot.”

“No, I was distracted. Darling, I am so sorry.”

You sigh, take your jacket off, and hang it on the rack by the door.

“I’m not upset that you were busy. We all get busy. I’m more upset that you forgot. You have a mind that can’t forget but you forgot me. It made me feel like I’m not important enough to you.”

Spencer rushes over to you and pulls you into his arms, lifting your chin so you’re looking right at him.

“No, don’t ever think that. You’re the most important person in my life. You are the light in all this darkness. You are the reason I get up in the morning.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hotch has been bombarding me with work lately. I got caught up in that today.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yes.”

“Is that rose for me?”

Spencer smiles and holds the rose out for you. “Yes.”

“Do we still have time for dinner?”

“Why don’t we stay in tonight and I’ll cook for you? We can plan something for after your party I know you know about.”

“Okay, deal,” you smile.

He leans down and kisses you, relieved that he didn’t mess everything up.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

923 notes · View notes

gatheringbones · 11 months

Text

[“Coming out was very lonely. I had very few friends. Most of the adult lesbians I knew were alcoholics, chronically unemployed, prone to violence, self-hating, apolitical, closeted, cliquish. Lesbians hated each other. If you found a lover you stopped going to the bar because you could not trust other lesbians; they would try to break up your relationship. My first woman lover went into the military, where she turned in other lesbians so she would not be exposed. One of my dyke friends got a job as a supervisor in a cabinet-making company and refused to hire lesbians because, she said, they were unreliable employees who were disliked by the other workers. The only thing that seemed worse to me than the apolitical lesbian community I came out in was the strangulation of pretending to be straight. I came out only because I could not go back; there was no place for me to stand in the het world. I was driven out.

Moving to San Francisco improved things somewhat. There was more public lesbian space there—six bars instead of one. But it did not alleviate the loathing with which my family viewed me. Nor was San Francisco in the early seventies any sort of gay utopia. We had no gay-rights law, queer bashing was a frequent event, and everyone had lost at least one job or been denied a place to live. It was a relief to be surrounded by other lesbian feminists, but only to a point. Bar dykes and feminists still had contempt for one another. Feminism rapidly became a way to reconstitute sexual prudery, to the point that it seemed to me that bar dykes were actually more accepting of and knowledgeable about the range of behavior that constituted lesbianism. In the bars or in the women’s movement, separatism was pretty much mandatory, if you didn’t want to get your ass kicked or be shunned. Separatism deteriorated into a rationalization for witch hunts in the lesbian community rather than a way for women to bond with one another and become more powerful activists. The lesbian community of that decade did terrible things to bi women, transgender people, butch/femme lesbians, bar dykes, dykes who were not antiporn, bisexual and lesbian sex workers, fag hags, and dykes who were perceived as being perverts rather than über-feminists. We were so guilty about being queer that only a rigid adherence to a puritanical party line could redeem us from the hateful stereotypes of mental illness and sexual debauchery.

What did I gain? I came a little closer to making my insides match my outsides, and that was no small blessing. The first time I met other dykes I recognized a part of myself in them, and knew I would have to let it out so I could see who I was. For a time, being a lesbian quieted my gender dysphoria because it made it possible for me to be a different kind of woman. That was an enormous relief.

For a long time, I hoped that by being strong, sexually adventurous, and sharpening my feminist consciousness, I could achieve a better fit between my body and the rest of me. Lesbianism was a platform from which I could develop a different sort of feminism, one that included a demand for sexual freedom and had room for women of all different erotic proclivities. I had a little good sex and discovered that I was not a cold person, I could love other people. It was as a lesbian that I began to find my voice as a writer, because in the early days of the women’s movement, we valued every woman’s experience. There was a powerful ethic around making it possible for every woman to speak out, to testify, to have her say. But there were always these other big pieces of my internal reality that lesbianism left no room for.

The first big piece of cognitive dissonance I had to deal with, in my second coming out, was S/M. I date my coming out as a leather dyke from two different decisions. One was a decision to write down one of my sexual fantasies, the short story that eventually became “Jessie.” At the time I wrote the rough draft of that story, I had never tied anybody up or done anything else kinky. I was terribly blocked as a writer. I kept beginning stories and poems that I would destroy. I have no idea if they were any good or not. My self-loathing was so intense, my inner critic so strong, that I could not evaluate my own work.

So I decided to write this one piece, under the condition that I never had to publish it or show it to another person. I just wanted to tell the truth about one thing. And I was badly in need of connecting with my own sexuality since I was in the middle of what would be a five-year relationship with a woman who insisted we be monogamous, but refused to have sex with me. So I wrote about dominance and submission, the things I fantasized about when I masturbated that upset me so much I became nauseated. Lightning did not strike. As I read and reread my own words, I thought some of them were beautiful. I dared show this story to a few other people. Some of them hated it. Some of them were titillated. Nobody had ever seen anything like it before. The story began to circulate in Xerox form, lesbian samizdat. I found the strength to defend my story when I was told it was unspeakable or wildly improbable.

In October of 1976, I attended a lesbian health conference in Los Angeles and went to a workshop there about S/M. In order to go to a workshop, you had to sign a registration sheet. I was harassed by dykes who were monitoring this space to see who dared sign up for that filthy workshop. On my way, I had to walk through a gauntlet of women who were booing and hissing, calling names, demanding that the workshop be canceled, threatening to storm the room and kick us all out of the conference. The body language and self-calming techniques I had learned when I had to deal with antigay harassment on the street came in very handy, but how odd it was to be using those defenses against the antagonism of other dykes. Their hatred felt like my mother’s hatred. I am so glad I did not let it stop me.

When I got home from that workshop, I knew that I was not the only one. Not only were there other lesbians who fantasized about sadomasochism, there were women who had done these things with each other. I decided to come out again. If there were other leather dykes in San Francisco, they had to be able to find me, so I had to make myself visible. This meant that I often did not get service at lesbian bars, or I was asked to leave women-only clubs and restaurants. I was called names, threatened, spit at. I got hate mail and crank calls. But I also found my tribe. And because I had already experienced my first coming out, I knew we were not going to be an ideal, happy family. I could be more patient with our dysfunctions, and see them as the result of being scared, marginalized, kicked around. Being a leather dyke took me another step closer to dealing with my gender issues. I could experiment with extreme femme and extreme butch drag; take on a male persona during sex play. I gave up separatism because I needed to take support from any place where it was available. Gay men already had a thriving leather culture, and I wanted to learn from them. I also wanted to have sex with them. It still wasn’t okay as far as lesbian feminism was concerned to be bisexual, to be transgendered, but I could bring those folks into my life and make alliances with them. I could defend them in print. There was even more good sex, and people who loved me and received my love despite the fact that it was dangerous for us to show ourselves to one another. I faced my sexual shadow, and she bowed to me and then danced beautifully in profile against the white walls of my consciousness. My writer’s voice was unlocked.”]

pat califa, from layers of the onion, spokes of the wheel, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#pat califa #bi literature #lesbian literature #trans literature #history stuff #gender stuff #terra preta

773 notes · View notes

comradeghosty · 10 months

Text

Would My Lady Like to Dance? (NSFW)

NSFW Zoro x reader fic

Summary:

You are on a secret mission with some of the Strawhats to get some important documents. Things go awry and you find yourself hiding with Zoro.

Tags: nsfw, jealous Zoro, PWP, rough sex, light BDSM themes, hair pulling, vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise, possessive behavior, biting, a bit of blood, regency/ballroom attire

!!! 18+ !!!

I also posted it on AO3

The mission was simple enough: infiltrate the ball, find the documents, and get out. For some reason Nami needed these Grandline maps and you were definitely not about to argue with her. The plan was for you to dress up and pretend like you were a guest. Everybody had their own separate role to fill, so you split up into teams to prepare yourselves. Since you were dressing up as a guest, you worked with Nami to get a costume and go over all of the correct proceedings so you wouldn’t stand out. By the time you were done, you were a proper lady. All of you had to arrive separately to not arouse suspicion, so when you got to the ball, you tried to look around inconspicuously to find your crew.

The first person you saw was Robin. She was dressed plainly and playing the violin in the live orchestra. You saw Sanji running food from the kitchen, and Luffy dressed in a little chauffeur outfit taking peoples coats. He just was kind of tossing them into the coat closet in a pile and it made you chuckle. Your eyes scanned the ballroom, taking in all of the people dressed fancily. The last person you were expecting to see was Zoro since everybody else was staying on the ship in case a hasty exit was needed. Nervously, you smoothed your dress. It was light green silk that had a high waist and small bust. The fabric draped loosely down your legs and it bunched in small puffs over your shoulders. Elbow length gloves hid your calloused hands.

You took in your surroundings, people danced with their partners and chatted amongst the edges of the dance floor. The room was large and you noted faces of important people that you might need to talk with during the night, specifically looking and catching the eyes of the host, who began to wander in your direction. With a coy wave of your fan and a bashful look, you began your job for the night.

As you talked with the host, you acted curious about him, in a way that made him feel intelligent and impressive. Men always revealed more when they bragged about themselves. Slowly, you started to catalog more and more information about him, feeling confident that he had the documents you needed stored away somewhere in his estate. You egged him on, about to request a personal tour of the mansion, when you were rudely distracted. If you were not so entranced, you would’ve been pissed at him for distracting you.

Over the host's shoulder, a vision of a certain green haired man appeared. However, it was not the sweaty and crass swordsman you knew. He was a gentleman, draped in this beautiful white fabric with billowing sleeves that hid his muscles. The cravat accentuated the sharpness of his jawline, and his slick backed hair made his gaze more piercing than usual. He wore a pair of pants that hugged his slim waist, two columns of gold buttons fastening them. The metal of the buttons complimented the gold jewelry that hung from his ear. His hands were clad in black leather gloves, which he seemed to be adjusting a bit nervously.

You were snapped from your trance by the host touching your arm, gently but insistent. He asked if you were alright, to which you nodded evenly and excused yourself, promising to find him a bit later.

As you approached the swordsman, a startled look crossed his face for a moment before he corrected his expression. His eye roved down your body, registering your attire. You smiled, touching his arm briefly before curtsying. “Don’t worry, Zoro. We are allowed to interact here,” you reassured him, assuming his expression was anxiety about being recognized.

He bowed deeply, one arm pressed against his torso and the other placed against the small of his back. Before he raised his body, his head peeked up to look at you. “I’m not worried about it, my lady,” he teased. His eye crinkled slightly, a wide smile stretching across his face. You felt yourself blush at his expression, unsure of whether he was making fun of you or was impressed by you. His teeth seemed to shine as he offered you a hand, which you took gracefully. Zoro pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, still smiling up at you. “Would my lady like to dance?”

God, what was going on? Of course, you had always noticed that Zoro was handsome. Who wouldn’t? But seeing him like this, all poised and dressed up, made you feel flustered. You could feel the blush on your cheeks as you nodded dumbly at him. If he could have smiled wider, he would have.

In a swift motion, his hand had gripped yours and you felt the other one on your waist. Zoro was suddenly very near, pressing your bodies against each other as he swept you up in a dance that led you to the ballroom floor. His swept back hair revealed the handsome planes of his face. Somehow, his features looked more intense than usual as you stared up at him. His face was twisted in a smirk, as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“So the swordsman cleans up nicely, huh?”

Your hand tightened slightly on his shoulder, but you gave him a carefree smile. “Evidently so, you look very handsome tonight,” you praised. The compliment made Zoro quirk an eyebrow, hiding his smile out of your sight. He smelled incredible, which struck you as odd. The usual musky sweat, booze, and steel scent that cloyed to the swordsman was replaced by a leathery, sandalwood, citrusy smell. There were still remnants of booze, which most likely just leaked from Zoro’s pores.

“I didn’t know you could dance, Zoro,” you teased.

The swordsman chuckled, spinning you expertly. Somehow you ended up closer to him, if that was even possible the way he pressed your bodies together. “Robin taught me, and dressed me, and put this perfume stuff on me… I’m guessing she did a good job then?” Zoro’s brow quirked at the inquiry. You nodded your head, blushing and hiding your face against his shoulder.

“Tsk, look at me. It’s not lady-like to hide your face,” he murmured in your ear. When you looked up, his eye gleamed with mischief. “You look lovely tonight as well.”

This time, you couldn’t hide your blush. Butterflies blossomed in your stomach at the compliment, and you were speechless for the first time all night. The music ended, signaling that your dance was over. “Get back to your task. Be safe, please.” Zoro whispered into your hair, and your breath caught in your throat. He pulled away from you, bowing again and kissing your gloved hand, before dismissing himself to roam the ballroom once more.

The crisp night air cooled your skin as you stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. In order to find the papers, you had agreed to meet the host in his study. You walked to the railing, crossing your arms and resting against it. Stars sparkled in the sky and the scent of pine was in the air. You thought about what you were going to do when meeting with the host. A few moments seemed to pass before a clearing of a throat made you startle. You quickly looked over and found the green haired swordsman staring at you intensely.

“Oh, Zoro, it's just you,” you breathed. A hand rested on your chest from being startled, and you missed the way Zoro’s eye quickly flitted down to your breast and back up. “I’m glad you’re here. I think I can get the papers soon.”

Zoro’s brow quirked up, his eye studying your face intently. It was clear he was waiting for you to finish explaining. You shuffle a little, a bit awkward but confident in your plan. As if Zoro could sense your nervousness, he looked out at the expanse of forest beyond the estate.

“He’s asked me to meet him in his study,” you stated plainly. Your cheeks burned a bit red at the potential implications of the host’s request.

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered.

Your eyes flitted away from him, face red. A noise resembling a scoff escaped your lips rather clumsily. “Stupid? Please. I am very smart, the sneakiest one in our crew, actually. Thanks for the vote of confidence though,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes at the swordsman.

“I… okay. Whatever,” Zoro dismissed you, slightly turning away from you.

“What?” you demanded him to say what he was going to say.

“Just…” he sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You breathed out fast, frustrated by his vagueness. One of your hands gripped his firm bicep, prompting him to look at you. “Zoro, then what do you mean? I don't understand.”

The green haired man looked at you, his eye dark and stern. Fierce energy radiated off of him. “God, woman. You’re going to make me say it out loud? I… Just…. Don't do something he forces you to do. Call for me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe,” he grit out. Both of his hands were clenched in fists by his side, silently getting worked up.

“Oh… Oh. Well,” you snorted, a short laugh as you realized what he was so worried about. “Honestly, if it means that we can get the documents and get out of here, I don’t mind doing it. They’re kind of extremely important, y’know?”

You had never seen Zoro move so quickly, turning to face you in a split second. His eye glared at you, wide and intense. You could see the muscles in his jaw work as he ground his teeth together. It was as if his whole body was on high alert, and you blushed at his intensity. His mouth opened for a second, as if he was going to say something, but he closed it, jaw clenching again. You saw Zoro’s shoulders drop, his muscles relaxing slightly. His lip turned out in a small pout.

“Hmph… I… hmph. Just, call me if you feel like you’re in danger, okay?” You watched as he spun around, quickly hurrying away from the balcony. His shoes clacked on the stone and his white shirt flowed in the wind. You felt your stomach flutter watching him leave.

For a moment, you stood silently and stared out at the pine forest. Zoro’s reaction was hard to decipher, as much as you tried to understand it. Briefly, you wondered if he was jealous, but you brushed it aside. No way. As you made your way to the host’s study, nervousness rested heavily in your chest. Wanting to maintain your confident air, you straightened your shoulders and stood tall, steeling yourself for this interaction. You knocked on the study door and entered, unknowing of the swordsman lurking around the corner.

About 30 minutes later, you emerge alone from the room. You habitually straightened your appearance since you were about to join the company again, which was not missed by Zoro who lingered nearby. He waited around the corner, not wanting to be seen accosting you, but knowing you’d run into him on your way back to the ballroom. As you turned the corner, found yourself face to face with the swordsman, jumping a little from the fright.

“Oh! Zoro, you scared me,” you murmured, being startled by him for the second time this night. Zoro’s hand found the small of your back, ushering you in the direction of the crowd.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his mouth downturned and expression severe. “Come on. Did you get the maps?” Your heels clicked in tandem with his black boots on the floor.

“Yes,” you nodded, eyes straying to look at his expression.

Zoro only hummed to acknowledge you, offering you his arm before entering the dance hall. For a moment, both of you stood there staring at each other. There was an indiscernible expression in Zoro’s eye. You couldn’t tell if he was angry, thinking, planning… he revealed nothing.

You took his arm and followed his lead into the ballroom before parting ways. The intention was to split up and inform the crew about the completion of the mission. Weaving your way through the audience, you made contact with Robin before going to find Luffy. Zoro had made his way to find Sanji in the kitchen before reappearing. You searched around the ballroom for Luffy, unable to see his messy dark hair and bright smile, and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion and clatter from the room adjacent to the one you were in. Your body froze, knowing that you were about to have to make a quick getaway, when you heard gunshots echoing through the halls. Just before you were about to make a decision, you made eye contact with Zoro from across the room. It’s as if your body moved on its own, sprinting towards him and grabbing his hand as he dragged you behind him to safety. If it hadn’t been for your panicked brain, you would’ve realized that Zoro was only going to get you guys lost, but you didn’t even consider it. Before long, you realized you didn’t recognize your surroundings anymore. You could still hear fighting, so you decided to duck into the first closet you saw to wait out the clamor. The abrupt stop and yank of Zoro into the closet had him off balance, and you couldn’t stop either of you before landing in a heap on some jackets. He reached behind him and slammed the door, and you winced knowing it would probably alert somebody of your presence in the area. You took stock of your situation, knowing that Luffy probably got you into said situation, and that people were probably scattering. You realized that you probably had to stay in the closet for a little while, with Zoro. Oh god, Zoro who currently had you pinned beneath him.

You looked up, right into a piercingly dark eye that seemed to be taking you apart as you lay under him. Both your breathing and heartbeat increased, and you were suddenly very aware of the proximity to him. His eye roamed down your face, pausing for a second on your lips before traveling further. You felt it rake over your neck, lingering for a second before gazing unashamedly at your breasts. The dress you were wearing could be called revealing, showing lots of cleavage and giving the illusion that they were barely contained. You blushed as you felt him staring.

“Z- Zoro?” You stammered out, “did you hit your head? You seem dazed.”

“No,” he replied. His voice was firm, confident, and it made you shiver. You watched his brows furrow slightly and his jaw clench.

You took a deep breath and tried once more. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head when we fell in here?” As your hand came up to check for any head wounds, it was stopped quickly when a large hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

“No.” And this time you could tell he’s irritated. You swallowed thickly, nervous and shaking a little. The way he loomed over you made you feel like a prey animal, his demeanor dangerous in the same way he acts when he is facing down an enemy.

“Ah, Zor-”

“Shut. Up. Don’t fucking speak,” he grit out. He kept staring, unblinking, at your chest. You felt yourself start to shake, mind racing through all of the reasons he might be angry with you.

“Does it feel good? Huh?” Zoro snapped at you, his voice quiet and clipped. Your brows furrowed up at him, unsure to speak or be silent. The closet was way too small for the two of you right now, his energy emanating from him like flames. Zoro and you had always gotten along pretty well, often training together and napping together. He never used that tone of voice with you before. “Don’t play dumb with me, woman.”

Zoro trapped you underneath him, his knees pinning the skirt of your dress. “You like playing dress up? Huh? You like when they look?”

“Zoro, I-”

You were cut off again, a gloved hand pressing into your cheeks. “Don’t. Talk,” he enunciated each word with a squeeze of his hand. “I saw you flirting with that man, giving him a show. He was fucking you with his eyes in the middle of that ballroom, and you were encouraging it. You like that? You want him?”

Desperately, you shook your head no. Your eyes were wide, trying to decipher his reaction. There was a certain hesitation in his actions, like he was trying to hold himself back. His shoulders and chest were tense, his jaw clenched and his breathing quick.

For a moment, both of you just stare at each other, unsure what to do next before suddenly your mouths are crashing together. Zoro kissed with a desperation you’ve never felt before, like he’s trying to consume you. Both of your teeth clashed together, his tongue licking into your mouth. At that moment, everything was Zoro. His smell, his sounds, his touch, it changed you, like you've never been intimate with another person. The passion was a completely different caliber than you’ve ever felt before. Small whines and moans left your lips as Zoro kissed you, feeling completely at his mercy the way he pinned you beneath him.

“Ah, Zoro,” you whined as you felt his teeth scrape along your jawline.

Zoro pulled away from you, looking down at you. He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Look at you. Listen to you. Fuck, in that fancy ass dress, wearing those ridiculous heels.” Embarrassment washed over your body, heating your skin from your cheeks down your chest. You felt yourself look away from Zoro’s gaze before his hand gripped your chin harshly. Zoro forced you to meet his eye again, his teeth bared. “As if you’re not the filthiest in the room, woman. Pretending you’re a lady, waving that stupid fan.”

You felt Zoro’s hand move down your arm from where he was gripping your wrist, skimming over your peaked nipples, finding its place at your waist and squeezing. His smile was wicked, one side of his mouth curled up as he groped your body. The other hand found itself squeezing one of your breasts, thumb brushing over your nipple. A gasp escaped your lips as he touched you. “You like that, my lady?” He sneered, sarcastically and coldly.

“Zoro… please..” you whined.

“Zoro? Ha, I’m a gentleman, so I go by sir, remember?” He harshly pinched your nipple through your dress, eliciting a loud moan from you. One of his hands quickly clapped over your mouth, and Zoro tutted at you. “Ah ah, somebody might find us here, like this. Unless you want somebody to find us,” he teased. Zoro leaned down close to your ear, his lips brushing over your lobe. “Don’t let them hear. Those noises are only for me.”

The top of your dress was yanked down harshly, and you heard the silken fabric tear. Before you could protest, his hands squeezed your breasts hard, pinching them in a way you know will leave a bruise. One of your hands came up to stifle your moans, your eyes watching him as he pinched your nipples harshly.

“That dress was so fucking tight, your tits were spilling out,” he grit out. Zoro’s calloused hands played with your chest, pulling the skin between his index finger and thumb. “Couldn’t take my eyes off them all night… fuck.” His voice was breathy, needy as he touched you. A slicked strand of his hair fell from where it was stuck, the green hairs draping over his flushed face. His brow was furrowed in concentration, bottom lip sucked between his teeth.

“S- sir,” you whined, one of your hands moving to touch his arm. A small sheen of sweat covered his forehead. He gasped heavily as he ducked his head to your chest, burying it between your breasts.

Zoro’s mouth was hot and needy on you, licking and sucking the soft skin. He whined quietly against your skin as he sucked dark marks into your breast, not worrying about if they would be visible tomorrow or not.

He began to bunch your skirt up around your hips, his knuckles grazing your bare thighs. You ground your teeth to keep yourself from whining when suddenly his mouth left your breast with a wet pop. It was filthy, the way his mouth was red and swollen from kissing and sucking you, the small string of spit that dripped from his bottom lip, his mussed up hair. The last thing you saw before he ducked under your skirt was a deadly smirk that shot arousal straight to your core.

You groaned and threw your head back when his hands gripped your thighs. Zoro licked a long, wet stripe up the inside of your leg before biting down on your inner thigh. He bit down hard, possessive, like he wanted his teeth marks to be a permanent scar in your skin. A moan escaped your mouth, and you could feel yourself blushing as wetness pooled between your legs. The delicate skin of your inner thighs was already bruising under his grip, and you felt Zoro smile against you. There was something about how easily your body responded to him that brought out something sadistic in him.

Bright hickies bloomed on your thighs as his mouth and hands roamed the soft skin. Every once in a while, they would brush against your panties, making you whine. The way Zoro took his time had you desperate and needy for him. Your body started relaxing as he kissed you, his nose every so often brushing over the wet spot in your panties. The swordsman gripped your legs, keeping them from shaking, before biting down especially hard on the meat of your thigh. It broke skin, the intensity of which he bit you, and you could feel his tongue laving over the marks. You cried out before clapping a hand over your mouth, face flushed and chest heaving. The swordsman relished in your cries, suckling the spot he had broken skin. He moved to the other thigh, sucking dark marks all over. His mouth was so close to your core, that you could feel his warm breath fanning over your clothed cunt.

You were broken out of the moment by loud footsteps outside the closet door. The breath caught in your throat and your heart skyrocketed. Getting caught with Zoro at all was not good, but getting caught like this was a nightmare scenario. You tapped on Zoro through the silk of your dress to stop and come out. His head peaked out from your thighs, and for a moment he turned away from you to grab something. Zoro returned to you, his head coming up next to your ear with a low chuckle. His gloved hand gripped your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth before your fan was shoved between your teeth, like a horse with a bit in its mouth. “Don’t make a fucking noise, unless you want to get caught,” he whispered to you, his smile devious. The swordsman licked against your neck before disappearing again under your skirt.

He brushed against the damp spot on your panties as he smirked into your thigh. You could feel how red your face was, equal parts turned on and terrified of somebody hearing you and opening the closet door. Both of your hands gripped your skirt and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, trying to focus and not make a sound. Your teeth ground down against the wooden fan between your jaws. Zoro knew how to tease you, how to coax sweet sounds from you, and he wasn’t holding back his efforts.

One of his fingers pushed aside your panties, and you felt him blow a stream of cold air against your core. You grit your teeth and cursed him in your head as you clenched down around nothing. A shiver wracked your body, and Zoro chuckled lowly between your thighs. He just barely skimmed his gloved index finger against your slit, causing your toes to curl. You felt him hum against you, his tongue licking your thigh as he slowly pressed the finger into you. It started slowly, gently pumping in and out as you tried not to give away your presence.

You jumped when you suddenly felt Zoro’s tongue on your cunt, licking up from where his finger entered you to your clit. He licked against you, flattening his tongue against your lips in lazy strokes. The tip of his tongue flicked your clit every time he reached the top of your slit, building pleasure in your body. It radiated through you in waves as you tried to contain your voice. The steps outside seemed to pace as if they were searching the area. Your hand clutched your mouth, over the fan even, eyebrows drawn tight in desperation. Zoro’s finger curled in your cunt, pressing against the spongy wall and causing your mouth to open briefly and almost drop the fan. Your hands gripped your silken dress, pleasure wracking your body.

Zoro ate you like a starved man, sloppy and needy. You could feel the mix of his spit and your drooling cunt run down your ass, and you flushed with how filthy you felt. Heat nestled in your core and you felt your orgasm building every time Zoro brushed against your clit. Close, so so close, you cried in your head. Gritting your teeth, you resisted the urge to beg for him to keep going, keeping yourself from making noise. Tears slid down your cheeks as you came, throwing your head back in a silent cry. Zoro smirked against you as he felt you clench down around his finger, fucking you through your orgasm to the point of overstimulating you. He never let up, even after your orgasm had finished and you were squirming from the intense sensation.

As if Zoro had been listening for the person outside the door, as soon as their footsteps drew away from the closet, he bit down on your thigh hard again. At the same time, he added a second finger and fucked them into you with more intensity. There was no reprieve from him, he wanted to fuck you stupid. The fan fell from your mouth as your mouth dropped open. A deep moan escaped your lips at the dual sensations of pleasure and pain, as the green haired man licked the bite.

Zoro drew back from your legs, looking at you intensely. The absolute feral look in his eye made your stomach churn with something primal. He smiled, his sharp canines gleaming dangerously with a bit of your blood. A pink tongue quickly swiped over them, cleaning his teeth with a deep groan. You watched his gloved hand come up to his mouth as he bit down on one of the fingers, yanking the glove off. “Wanna feel you bare,” he stated evenly, pulling the other glove off as well.

One of his hands came up to grip the back of your neck, slamming you into a bruising kiss. The other of his hands roamed your body, finding a place on your breast to fondle you greedily. He pinched your nipple and massaged you tightly, breaking off the kiss to breathe. Zoro’s forehead rested against your neck, and you could feel him whine softly against you. You pressed your leg up between his thighs, feeling his hard cock against you. Slowly and languidly, he rutted against you. He whined and panted as he thrusted against your leg, growing more needy and desperate by the minute. Both of his brows pinched together and a bead of sweat gathered near his temple.

Suddenly, he bit down on your neck, sucking a dark mark under your ear. His thrusts became more desperate, a growl escaping his throat. Zoro pulled back, his hands coming down to your hips.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait,” he bit out, his hands grabbing at your panties and tearing the silk fabric. Zoro was impatient, desperate at this point. He grabbed the waist on his own pants, not bothering to unbutton the two rows of golden buttons. One quick yank sent buttons flying around the closet, clattering against the walls. His chest heaved with want, his hands quick to free himself from his pants. Zoro rested back on his feet, pumping his cock with a groan as he looked down at you. His eye was dark, almost glazed over with want.

With one hand, he gripped your waist, hard and bruising. Using the other, he lined himself up with your hole. He barely gave you any time to breathe before bullying his cock into your cunt, sinking deep into you in a fluid motion. A cry escaped your lips as your back arched, your jaw open and gasping. His cock was large, girthy and long, and it stretched you so well. Your body clenched down hard around him, causing him to shudder and grit his teeth. Zoro breathed out slowly, bending down and resting his hands on either side of your head.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, thrusting shallowly inside you. His teeth skimmed your jawline as he lowered himself onto his elbows, your chests pressing together. It felt to you like he was taking up every sense, as if he was all you could experience in this moment. Nothing outside of this closet even existed to you anymore. He bit down on your neck, at the spot where it joins with your shoulder, and you moaned loudly.

“Aah, Zoro, feels good,” you mumble out, your mind dazed from the mix of pain and pleasure his mouth gave you.

He thrusted into you with a hard and punctuating rhythm, emphasizing his words. “Haa, yeah? Better,” thrust “than that no good,” thrust “stuck up,” thrust “host?”

“Wh- what?” You whined when his hands tangled in the back of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. His brows were furrowed.

“Say it,” he growled, glaring down at you. Your breath caught in a strangled sound when he thrusted deep into you, holding himself there. The head of his cock was bruising against your cervix, and you squirmed with the mix of sensations. It was overstimulating, and you whimpered under him.

“Zoro, sir, move. Please,” you begged. Tears sprung to your eyes as you tried to move against him. One of his hands flew to your waist, gripping it firmly and holding you still. You cursed him silently for being so strong.

“I’m not moving until you say it.”

“Say what?,” you cried, your eyes searching his face wildly. His jaw clenched in irritation.

“Say that I fuck you better than he ever could,” he ordered. Zoro’s chest heaved with his breath, you could tell he was barely containing himself. His bicep flexed and you felt his grip tighten on your waist.

“God, yes. You fuck me better than he ever could, you feel so amazing. Please fuck me, please,” you begged, desperation dripping from your cries.

A predatory grin spread across his face with your words, his eye crinkling with pleasure. “That’s my girl,” he praised, lips ghosting across your cheek. Zoro pressed his lips against yours and rose up, grabbing your waist with both hands and dragging his cock out of you slowly. As you looked up at him, you shuddered at the fierceness of his expression.

His thumbs brushed against your skin before slamming you down on his cock with abandon, thrusting into you repeatedly. Zoro watched as your tits bounced, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated. Your hands clenched the fabric under you as he fucked you hard, and you watched as his blouse rode up as he moved, his abs flexing with each thrust.

You cried for him, his cock battering your poor cunt. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you up roughly to slam his mouth against yours. He kissed you insistently as he fucked you, before removing himself and turning you over onto your stomach. Your dress piled around you as he dragged it up, exposing your ass to him. He gripped one of your asscheeks in his hand, pinching hard. The hand dipped under your abdomen to pull you onto your knees, and he sheathed himself back in you. The new angle was world shattering, every thrust bumping deep inside you, causing your legs to shake and breath to catch.

Zoro’s hand gripped your hair, dragging your back to his chest. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, breaking the skin as he thrusted into you from behind. You felt him as he licked the bite mark, moaning as your blood stained his tongue. He was relentless, slamming into you over and over. At the same time, his voice was like honey as he moaned into your ear.

“That’s fucking right,” he grunted. “You take me so well.” Nobody had ever fucked you so well before, pleasure spiking through your body. He fucked you like he knew you could take it, like a bit of roughness wouldn’t break you. Pain blossomed through your ass as he smacked it harshly, causing your cunt to clench down. “Nobody can fuck you like this,” he promised. “Only me.”

You mumbled incoherently, the feelings of pleasure and need causing you to feel brainless and light. Zoro’s hand pressed you into the pile of coats underneath you, his hand on the back of your head. The pressure you felt from his hand was so good, rendering you immobile. The other hand on your waist pulled you back into him as he fucked you. You felt yourself drooling into the fabric under you, drunk on the pleasure. Everything was Zoro, from the feeling of his hands on you and the way his cock dragged in your cunt, to his leathery perfume, to the sounds of his groaning and skin slapping together.

The pleasure built in you again with each thrust, and you trembled with overexertion and overstimulation. Zoro’s hand moved from your head to snake past your waist to your clit. Never once did his thrusts let up, his endurance endless. Small, quick circles were rubbed on your clit with his first two fingers.

“Zoro please, please please, fuck,” you mumbled, pleasure reaching deeply into your fingers and toes.

“Let go, cum around my cock. Wanna feel you,” he mumbled out. His voice was less demanding now, more needy. The swordsman rubbed your clit insistently, and your orgasm hit you gradually, washing through you in hot waves of pleasure. You moaned as you came, feeling your body weaken like jelly.

Zoro fucked you through your second orgasm, his thrusts hard and erratic. He held you up, both hands on your waist. You could hear his breath stuttering, his voice tight and strained. “Haa… Gonna… Cum in you… Make you mine…” he grit out, leaning forward to kiss and bite at your shoulders.

You cried out as his teeth sank into your flesh, Zoro groaning loudly. His cock slammed as far in your cunt as it could go, emptying himself into you as he came. The man licked at the bite mark and he mumbled against your skin as he kissed your shoulder blades. He pulled out of you, and you whimpered at the loss of fullness.

For a moment, you didn’t move and neither did Zoro, watching his cum dribble out of your cunt with a smirk. You heard him hum, before feeling his hands flip you over to look at him. He looked at your messed up hair and smudged makeup, also noting the tear in the bodice of your dress before snorting. “Oops,” he laughed, obviously sarcastic. You were so fucked out that you didn’t even care how much of a mess you two looked, seeing his appearance sort of mirroring your own. “C’mere.”

Zoro gathered you up to him, kissing your hair and smiling affectionately. It was too late to go back now, not that you’d want anything to be different. “Now, I just gotta figure out how to get my girl outta here safely,” he chuckled.

#one piece #op x reader #x reader #one piece fanfic #fanfic #roronoa zoro #zoro smut #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro #imagine him all dressed up GOD he's so handsome

543 notes · View notes

lunartadpole · 2 years

Text

Eddie learned about two months into dating him that Steve is an active sleeper.

He was always a bit hurt when Steve wouldn't stay the night at the trailer park; dreaded watching Steve's car drive away after a night in. At first, Eddie thought it was a hit and run situation, a one night stand that spans more than one night. And yeah, it makes sense; King Steve probably just wants a new way to get his dick wet, got tired of all the babes and such. Of course this thing they have - whatever that is - isn't serious. It makes sense and still, Eddie's hurt.

But then he starts noticing things. Like Steve's reluctance to leave but his refusal to fall asleep no matter how late it is. And it's not just with Eddie either. He's noticed that Steve always seems to clock out early at any overnight event their little group have - DnD nights in Wheelers basements, Dustin's sleepovers, hell, even Buckley's movie nights. Steve is always first to arrive and first to leave.

Eddie just can't figure out why.

He goes as far as to ask Robin. Because if anyone can give any insight into the mysterious life of Dethroned King Steve Harrington, it's Buckley. But even she has no idea. She says she hadn't even noticed.

He gets his answer a week later.

They're in Eddie's trailer. Steve drove around after his shift, they're lounging in his room, Steve sitting up again the headboard, Eddie practicing his guitar, and it's midnight, bordering on Steve's usual check out time. But Harrington's been complaining about a rough day at work - something about being swamped and Buckley ditching her shift for boobies, Munson! She ditched me for boobies - and Eddie can see his eyes fluttering and his head lolling before quickly shooting up again. Rinse and repeat. Until Steve finally begins to bustle up and leave.

Eddie begs him to stay, half because he wants him to and half because there's no way it's safe to drive home when you're two fleeting seconds away from dropping comatose. They argue back and forth, Steve typically reluctant and a bit…nervous? Scared? Eddie doesn't know. And it doesn't matter because he wears Steve down and soon enough Steve is wearing Eddie's pajamas and the two of them are cuddled up in bed together.

Using Steve as his own personal Teddy bear, Eddie sleeps soundly that night.

At least, until about three in the morning.

Ever since Vecna, Eddie hasn't been the heaviest of sleepers. So when he hears banging in the kitchen rattling through the thin membrane walls, he's upandatem pretty quickly, abruptly women up to the fact that his boyfriend isn't beside him in the bed anymore. Another bang comes from the kitchen.

Okay, he's panicking.

Armed with the old tire iron he keeps by his bed for just an occasion like this, Eddie creeps towards the kitchen, mind racing. Who the fuck is here? Did someone break in? Something? From another dimension? Images play in head like worn film, images of Chrissy Cunningham floating in his living room, the sound of her bones snapping eerily similar to the banging now.

What he is met with in the kitchen is nowhere near as scary, but ten times more weird.

Because Steve 'The Hair' Harrington is in the middle of his kitchen surrounded by what little pans and pots the Munson's own.

"Uhm…Stevie?" he calls, ever so softly. And then louder when he doesn't get a response. "Steve?"

Steve stands like a ghost in the shadows. Eddie can't help but stare at his face, so relaxed unlike anything he's ever seen before.

Then. He speaks.

"I swear I left it here…" Steve mumbles, to himself or maybe to the dark shadows surrounding. The words come out slow and monotone. Hushed, slurred together in a broken string of consciousness. It does nothing to ease Eddie's worry.

"Left what here?" he asks, looking around at the mess for some item of Steve's he might've lost. All the while Harington just stands there, dazed.

Then. "Flowers. Told Eddie I'd get him flowers."

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, pushing forward into his boyfriend's space and thoughtlessly cups his face in his hands, making him look at him. Steve's eyes are just barely open, and they're glazed over with this lost, far off look. He doesn't look at Eddie, rather through him.

And somehow, Eddie catches up, a scoff of disbelief leaving his lips. Who would've thought?

"Okay, alright sweetheart," the grin is prominent in his voice, dripping with fondness. "You're still asleep, huh?" Something inside him surges and he finds himself grazing his other hand faintly across Steve's forehead to brush his bed hair out of his face. His eyes are all the more clouded over in sweet nonsense as Eddie pushes his hair into something that doesn't resemble a sad brown mop.

"I can't…remember where…" Steve mumbles, trying to break free from Eddie's hold but ultimately failing. He lets his head drop against Eddie's neck.

"Okay, let's get you back to bed, alright?" Because that's what you're supposed to do with people who sleepwalk right? Never wake a sleepwalker, that's what they say isn't it? "Hold my hand, it's OK Stevie." Pressed up close against him, Eddie breathed in the smell of Farrah Faucet spray and citrus shampoo and led Steve back into his bedroom, hand in hand.

"How about you try to stay in bed now," he says, leading Steve as he leans against him, skin warm and citrus and weary against his own, feeling a little too much like something Eddie wants to keep holding onto.

"Got somewhere to be,"

"Not right now, cmon," Eddie gently eases Steve down onto the bed, and surprisingly, Steve lets him. Not long after, Eddie is beside him, holding onto him tight once more.

In the morning, Steve wakes up confused, like he's surprised he managed to stay in one spot all night, but doesn't mention anything about sleepwalking. He does ask Eddie, "Did you sleep well? I didn't wake you, did I?" and Eddie just kisses him, tells him, "Best sleep I've ever had. You should stay around more often."

And when Steve agrees, Eddie decides not to bring it up.

It happens a few more times after that. Not all the time but more often than not Steve will stay over Eddie will wake up to him wandering about the house. The majority of the time it's stupid stuff; Steve sluggishly pacing around the room, Steve mumbling sweet nonsense to himself, Steve trying to take a shower in the hallway. Pretty harmless stuff.

Except for the time it isn't.

That time, they're in Steve's house, big and empty. That time, Eddie wakes up at 4am and just barely catches sight of Steve's fleeting figure down the stairs. Like most times before, Eddie is quick to follow him down the stairs towards the living room, staring blankly out the window. A metallic glint flickers across Eddie's eyes. His eyes widen with concern when he realises it's a kitchen knife. Steve doesn't move, but he's breathing real heavy, like he's just waiting for something to happen.

"Steve, darling." He begins, hating how his voice is cracking. "Will you come back to bed? Please?"

This time, Steve shakes his head. Frantic. Paranoid. Eddie watches his grip on the knife tighten.

"Can't." Comes the raspy, hoarse reply. "The lights. It's out there. Swear I saw it. I swear-!"

Softly, Eddie shushes him before he can get more worked up. He stays put a good six feet away, entirely out of self preservation. Harrington's deadly with a weapon in his consciousness and Eddie wouldn't like to find out what he does in his sleep, thank you very much.

"Saw what, love?"

"I heard a thud. It's so cold."

Oh. Oh shit okay.

Eddie isn't unfamiliar with nightmares. God, after what he saw it'd be weird if he didn't have them. After Mike's apparently real psychic ex-girlfriend cut ties with The Upside Down, Eddie was a mess. He couldn't sleep, plagued with visions of terror bat's tearing away at his flesh bit by agonising bit. He can't count the number of times he called Steve in the late hours of the night in need of reassurance. To tell him that it is over now.

Steve was a rock for him. Eddie almost envied him, with how easily he managed to readjust back into normality. Never did it cross his mind it might've all been a facade.

"Steve," Eddie begins, firmly and unwavering. Slowly, he begins to etch more into Steve's space. "Listen to me. The gate is closed. Vecna and the rest of his little hell beasts are gone."

In front of him, Steve doesn't move. He doesn't even appear to have heard Eddie at all.

Eddie swallows, trying to push the thought that maybe, after so near death encounters, Steve's finally gone mad, come undone at the seams, and this is what his mental state has come too: armed with a scarily sharp knife, ready to fight any sudden movement.

"Do you think you could put down the knife, dear?" Eddie suggests lightly, gently touching the outside of his hand incase Steve needs some sort of anchor to come back to. Underneath the edges of his fingertips, Steve's touch is warm, his pulse comfortingly steady, and Eddie holds onto it, selfishly, a little longer than he should have, that tightness he is becoming so acquainted with returning to his chest. He then slips his hand further within Steve's own, carefully taking the knife from Steve's grip and interlocking their fingers as if it were the most natural thing ever. As if it had always been that easy.

"There we go," Eddie praises as he places the blade down on the coffee table. "See? All better now."

"Better…"

"You're safe, Steve. I'm safe. Everyone is safe. Those things can't hurt you anymore."

"But- the lights-"

"Are fine." Steadily, Eddie begins to back out of the room, gently pulling Steve along with him. "Now let's get you back to bed, yeah? You still gotta get your full twelve hours of beauty sleep don't you?"

A dopey smile ghosts across Steve's lips as he huffs a laugh. It's barely anything. But it's enough for Eddie.

"Yeah you do," he teases. They're in the bedroom now. Eddie guides Steve underneath the duvet. As soon as he hits the soft cushions, he curls around himself like a child, protecting himself from the intangible cold or phantom nightmares, while refusing to loosen his grip on his boyfriend's hand. Eddie feels his throat close.

He has questions. How long has Steve been having these nightmares? How many of them result in sleepwalking? How many of them are violent enough to grab a fucking kitchen knife? Why didn't Steve tell him sooner?

But they can wait until morning.

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #steve/eddie #steveddie

7K notes · View notes

fallenmonsters · 5 months

Text

red flags.

summary ➳ you’re way worse than yeonjin personality-wise, but jaejun couldn’t care less when you treat him better than she ever did, even when you’re also married and may or may not just be using him.

pairings ➳ jeon jaejun x male reader

warnings ➳ nsfw content, foul language, top!reader, bottom!jaejun, probably ooc jaejun, infidelity, mafia!toxic!reader, consumption of nicotine and alcohol, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, rough couch sex, pet names, choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, shotgunning, cock warming, sir kink, jealousy, brief burn kink, mentions of murder, manipulation

author’s note ➳ toxic reader >>>>>> toxic characters

MINORS DNI !!

The scent of sex and alcohol combines together in the dimly lit room, orange hues casting shadows on furnitures as the sound of gasps and whimpers fill the arousing atmosphere. Two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey as expensive as diamonds laid on the table, now entirely ignored by the sole persons who had previously been drinking it to no end. Photographs, which seems to have been taken in secret, scattered alongside them in random orders; one in particular captured Park Yeonjin entering Siesta Luxury Shop.

“Stay still, ‘jun. Wouldn’t want me to get more angry, do you?” You ordered, lowly and warningly, gripping the trembling man’s hips with one hand and narrowing your eyes.

Jaejun shakes, gasping when you forced him to properly sit on your lap, prepped hole stretched to the brim and completely filled by your thick and long cock. He leans back on your chest and holds both of your thighs in a death grip, biting his lower lip to contain himself from moving. You hum quietly in a pleased manner against his ear that had him nearly squirming, throwing his head back to rest it on your shoulder and revealing the hickeys littered around his neck.

Your hand that was previously on his hip moves up to trail your fingers against the purple bruises and love bites you created yourself, amusement glinting in your eyes when he shivered. “You look really pretty all marked up like this. Perhaps, you could go out with your little friends sometime with all these visible so they’ll know just who exactly you fuck behind their backs.” The humiliation in your tone makes Jaejun flush as a quiet whimper escapes his throat, trying to hide his red face by burying it on the crook of your neck. The lack of his usual arrogance and cockiness gives you a surge of pride and ego, striking you further with arousal and lust.

Jeon Jaejun was by all means not a man without power. He’s always got the upper hand, whether in business or personal matters, and didn’t like having no control over the people or situation itself. He’s been an influential figure since he was young, growing up with golden spoon being fed to him by his wealthy parents who couldn’t be bothered to teach him basic human decency, which build him up to look down upon those who didn’t get a luxury to be like him. Inevitably, it built an excessive belief within himself that there’s just no one more superior and powerful, that he’d always be on top controlling and ordering people around.

But then, you came in and shattered everything he believed in with just few flicks of your hand.

Park Yeonjin’s older brother who’s got a long history of rivalry with Yeonjin herself, everyone was shocked to find out your influence and power exceeded that of theirs with many successful businesses and connections that goes beyond anyone’s imagination, grinning tauntingly at your own sister and proudly mocking her lack of capabilities in building things for herself without your mother’s help. You were quite the mysterious man, a conventionally attractive individual that had respectful manners and sultry eyes which had an unknown glint that pulls people in. A certain confidence to the way you present yourself, cool and collected demeanour surrounding your every being with pride and ego evident but not too much to appear narcissistic. You give off a high-class, elegant, well-mannered, intimidating wealthy man at first glance with multiple tattoos inked to your skin, several piercings, and a scent of expensive woody cologne mixed with slightest hint of cigarettes.

You’re the type of person who everyone will know at first glance that held a lot of power more than anyone could possibly imagine, your atmosphere giving off a silent warning to those who are foolish enough to even consider you as an enemy. There’s a certain look in your eyes that just intimidates people to submit to your doings, forcibly putting them in their places — below you, that is — and making them stay there regardless of status. You held the lives of those around you in the palm of your hand from how much power you had on society. Terrifyingly, you had done it all by yourself without help from Hong Yeong-ae, which spoke volumes of your capabilities and accomplishments.

It’s simply impossible to have control over you, Jaejun learned it the hard way.

Besides, how could he take it back when it feels utterly good being claimed and controlled by you?

“I— fuck, sir—” Jaejun cursed, feeling desperate for friction when staying still became harder as time pass by. He tilts his head sideways with a moan when you nibble on his jaw, kissing sweetly on the spot before biting down.

“It’s only been fifteen minutes, ‘jun. Quit it.” You mutter against his ear, bringing your hand to press on his stomach that had him twitching and squeezing around you. “Feel that? Got my cock nice and warm in there, doin’ such a good job of it.” You chuckled under your breath and brought a cigarette to your lips, inhaling the intoxicating nicotine.

Tears brim in Jaejun’s eyes due to desperation, eagerly accepting the smoke exhaled from your mouth when you leaned in and closing the distance to taste your lips. You quickly slipped your tongue in his mouth, exploring and rubbing his tongue with yours, making his head cloud with pleasure. He was forced to break the kiss when you suddenly thrusted your hips up and pulled a loud moan out of him, your name tumbling down from his mouth.

“shit, fuck— please,” He pleaded quietly and arched his back to cause a little friction.

You teasingly smirk at him, “I don’t know, love. Should I really fuck you? You’ve already fucked someone else this morning, after all.” Pressing kisses on his bare neck and shoulder, you held him down with one hand to keep him from fucking himself.

Jaejun shakes his head rapidly, “Didn’t— I didn’t even fuckin’ enjoyed it, fuck! Just please please, let me have it, sir.”

You let out a low chuckle, uncaring of his growing urge to pleasure himself, too comfortable with the warmth surrounding your cock. “Why fuck someone when you don’t even enjoy it, then? You and I both know how much you love getting your guts rearranged like a fuckin’ bitch by me.” You brought the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled the smoke, holding it in your lungs for a second before releasing it, the routine feeling somewhat therapeutic.

The male gritted his teeth and grasped your left hand in his shaking one to bite on the ring finger as a slightest bit of rebellion, trying his best to shoot you a glare. “F-fucking asshole… ngh! M’gonna fuckin’ ask you the same.”

There’s jealousy evident in his tone and you glanced down at your finger that he bit, only then remembering the silver wedding ring graciously wrapped around it. “Ahh, almost forgot. Haven’t seen her for a long time, do you think she misses me?” Jaejun bites back a retort at your amused face, knowing you were only saying it to get a rise out of him, yet he still can’t help the prickle of pain that struck his heart and squeezed his chest.

You’re such a fucking asshole, even more than him, and he hated it. But he could never bring himself to despise you no matter what, not when you hold him so dearly every-time you see each other, as if you were married to him.

Your amused expression falls when he doesn’t answer and you thrust your hip up roughly, pulling a startled moan out of him as you grip his jaw in a slightly painful way. “You’re in no place to ignore me, Jaejun. You’re the one that started this in the first place, calling my sister over to your shop when I told you not to. What’s wrong with me talking a little about my wife?”

The displeasure in your eyes make chills run up his spine and causes several apologies to spill from his lips, not wanting to disappoint you more and end up being thrown away for your trophy wife just because he failed to be good. He knew there’s no one better than him out there, but you’re always capable of throwing him away to find someone else that suits your taste more. After all, you only wanted him in the first place because he belonged to your despicable little sister. Even he was not special in your eyes.

Your eyes soften at the small panic in his apologetic voice, sliding your hand up to rest your palm on his cheek instead and rolling your hips to stimulate his aching cunt. Jaejun’s apologies quiet down, whimpering and moaning softly at the pleasure you were finally giving him.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, baby. m’just pissed it looks like you don’t know you belong to me now.” You nipped at his shoulder before harshly biting down, making Jaejun groan and jerk in pain. You licked the blood that seeped out, your cock twitching inside him at the taste. “You’re already mine, ‘jun. Not Yeonjin’s, and definitely not Hyejeong’s.”

Jaejun trembled at the possessiveness in your tone, whining desperately as his warm hole clamps down on your cock in arousal. It turned him on how tight you had a grip on him, the thought of not being able to escape your hold bringing a new sense of euphoria within his body.

Have you ever even treated your wife this way? Anyone could see in business gatherings how uninterested you are despite being tied down to her, the nonchalance, neutrality in your eyes and certain coldness in the way you speak to her, as if reminding her of her place, putting a clear image in people’s head. Jaejun almost pitied your wife in a way, being married to someone as cruel as you.

You thrusted your hips in an angle that rubbed against his prostate and Jaejun cries out, before you completely pulled out and shoved him down face first on the sofa without giving him time to process. Jaejun’s breath hitches when the smell of nicotine nears him, fear and lust evident in his eyes as he takes in the sight of your cigarette few inches away from his shoulder. He stays still in spite of knowing your intention, breathing hard as excitement rushed through his veins.

“You know this very well, baby. I’ll kill anyone who’d dare steal you away from me,” You grin devilishly and lean down, pulling him slightly up by his throat to expose his collarbones. Jaejun hisses and groans loudly when the cigarette burned his skin, precum leaking out of his cock as he jerked his hips on the rough material of the sofa. “and I’ll kill you if you ever try to run away from me.”

“f-fuck—! jesus christ,” He whimpered, feeling the burn sting and worryingly so fucking turned on by your threat.

Holding his shoulder down with one hand, you slipped your hard cock back into his hole again and shoved it all in without warning, ripping out a loud cry of your name from Jaejun’s throat. “Fuuuuck, so tight.” You cursed, licking your lips before beginning to thrust your cock in and out without waiting for him to adjust.

“w-wait—! I can’t— ohhh, oh my god!” Jaejun grips on the leather couch tightly as he moaned, electricity sparkling in his head and pleasure clouding his mind.

“Your hole’s so tight every-time I mark you up with my cigarette,” You murmured against the skin on his nape. Just as anticipated, your teeth sink in few seconds later to leave another mark that had Jaejun gasping, tightening more around you if that was possible.

“ho— holy shit! aughh—! more, fuckfuckfuck—! please,” He begged while arching his back, which you willingly fulfilled, sharply snapping your hips to assault his prostate and gummy walls.

Jaejun looked so pretty and handsome covered in your marks, countless hickeys and love bites decorating his neck, chest, nape, and back, his black robe deeming useless as it barely hung on his body. He’s nothing but helpless under you; a moaning mess who can’t do anything except take what you give, tears streaming down his cheeks as he attempted to stay coherent. His efforts are useless, of course. He’s already becoming a dumb bitch for your dick.

You slipped your hand to his throat while keeping your pace, grunting in his ear and chuckling breathlessly. “If you want me to get rid of my wife, just say the word and I’ll do it.” You whispered, making Jaejun shiver. “Unlike my bullshit of a sister, I’m not afraid to make you officially mine.”

Your words dig into his brain yet he couldn’t muster up a coherent response from all the euphoria he felt, drool dripping down his chin as all he could do was moan and whine and scream your name. He scratches against the sofa in attempt to ground himself, but failing to do so as your thrusts kept hitting every right spot, his eyes almost rolling back into his skull.

“Can’t speak properly now? Have I fucked you dumb, baby?”

“yes— yesyesyes, fuck, there— fuckin’ good!” Jaejun sobbed, his body trembling.

His tears looked so pretty on his fucked-out face. Jaejun rarely ever cries, and it made you fucking egotistical how you can easily do it with just few thrusts of your hips. His arrogance was your most favourite thing about him, but only because you get to ruin it and reduce him into nothing but your bitch. It’s amusing, really. The humiliation he gets makes him feel so ashamed, but you knew well enough that Jaejun could never handle being away from you. You had him completely under your grasp, all you had to do is just pamper him with affection and whisper love and false promises to his ear.

There’s nothing you love more than having control over Jaejun. How easily he fell into your trap, how he doesn’t realise he was being used against Yeonjin, how putty he becomes in your arms with just few words. You found him foolish yet was addicted to his presence and can’t be bothered to let go. It’s laughable how you feel overprotective of him enough that whoever flirts with Jaejun turns up dead the next day under mysterious circumstances. You had a bit of a problematic habit of burying your enemies to the ground, not like Jaejun even knows.

“fuck, ‘jun…” You groaned, “Whose bitch are you again? Will you remind me, baby?”

“Yours!” Jaejun cried out as he feels his orgasm approaching and intertwines his hand with yours that wasn’t holding his throat, as if not clinging to you would pain him. “shitshitshit, oh my god—! m’yours, fuck! Jus’ yours, sir, promise!” He babbled, mind-fucked.

“Good, you know your place well.” You praised and suddenly squeezed his arteries, making Jaejun gasp as his cock twitched against the sofa, stars sparkling in his vision. “I’m the only one allowed to fuck you like this, hear me? You fuck around again n’ I’ll make sure those losers can’t see a day anymore.” You thrusted sharply and Jaejun sobs. “That includes my fucking sister.”

“oh— aghhnn-! fuck, yes, only you— oh fuck, oh fuck, so close— sir—!” He mumbles, the coil in his stomach tightening. “please let me cum, sir. please, pleaseplease,” He chokes up.

The corner of your lips pull up to form a pleased smirk, tightening your hold on Jaejun’s throat and cutting off his airway that caused him to clench around you and squirm. “Good boy. Cum.” You ordered almost authoritatively, and as if that’s the only push he needed, Jaejun’s mouth fall open in a silent scream as he reached his climax, eyes rolling back into his skull.

You groan at the extra tightness and maintain your pace, helping him ride out his orgasm, Jaejun’s body violently shaking from the immense pleasure with white clouding his vision. Jaejun whimpered your name when you continued to move and peppered kisses on his back. His thighs quivered from overstimulation. He was entirely blissed out, hazy eyes unfocused, soft whines and mewls falling from his lips.

However, the gentle moment doesn’t last long as you pulled your cock almost all the way out and suddenly slammed it all in, Jaejun letting out a startled scream and staining the leather underneath with another rope of white cum.

“We’re not finished,” You whispered darkly against his ear and grinned at his pale face, gripping his hips so tight to leave a bruise. “I haven’t cum yet, dog. It’s rude to finish without letting your owner cum, you know.”

“W-wait— FUCK!”

You shoved him down when he attempted to crawl up, burying yourself deeper into his guts. You licked your lips and propped one of your legs up to prepare for a much better fucking.

“I fucking love you, Jaejun, you know that? So let me use you and make me cum, yeah? Then, you can spend the whole day here with all my cum still inside you. What do you say?”

You really hated vanilla — after all, what’s the point of sex if you can’t use the other to chase your own pleasure?

“……Please.”

You smiled, “Good boy.”

Cigarette in between your fingers and addictive smoke exiting your mouth, you tilt your head with curiosity and observation. The woman before you remain unfazed despite the clear disturbed look in her eyes at your resemblance with Park Yeonjin, the indifference — almost psychopathy — in your emotionless eyes aligning with her memory of the terrible bully. It’s like staring at a ghost that had something inhumane within.

“You must’ve planned this well,” You cast a glance at all the evidence of Yeonjin’s pathetic attempt at keeping her relevance by hurting those below her standard. “The bitch’s hard to keep up with, I can’t say I’m not impressed by your determination.”

Joo Yeojeong, the plastic surgeon that accompanied her out of concern, seemingly looked surprised by your antagonistic attitude to your own blood. Moon Dongeun doesn’t seem to be the case as she barely reacted, probably having already investigated you although it isn’t unknown that you have a personal vendetta against your family member.

You’re quite open to the public of your distaste to your good-for-nothing family, often answering the questions about them with too much passive-aggressiveness that everyone easily caught up on. Simply an outstanding individual that built up businesses from zero all on your own and created great reputation among the best businessmen and women without a single mention of any family member, there were rumours of the possibility that either they’re deceased or you had a fall out, and you took that to your advantage. By laying out warnings that even your family wouldn’t be forgiven had they ever cross you, you established power and authority among many influential figures and anyone alike.

Dongeun has researched you well enough to know hatred wasn’t exactly the word to describe your perspective of Yeonjin. It’s more than distaste, rivalry, detestation, loathe, or anything.

You, quite simply, wanted Yeonjin gone.

Is it psychopathy? Derangement? Mania? Insanity? Not knowing the cause of your behaviour never fails to send chills down her spine, your questionable morals and unpredictability nothing but unsettling and sinister more than your sister’s. Luckily, Yeojeong’s there to keep her nerves at ease.

“I’m not here to chat,” She says, voice wavering.

“Obviously not.” You reply indifferently, crossing your leg over the other and inhaling a smoke, blowing it over your shoulder.

Good manners, Dongeun takes a mental note.

“I’m asking for your understanding in advance,” She stated, watching your nonchalant expression slightly shift as you raise your brows. “I don’t want to run into unpredictable problems while executing my revenge. I know my place, I’ll be unsuccessful if you happen to dislike any other people going against Yeonjin. You’ve got quite the reputation in black organisations.”

She takes out another see-through file and slides it to you across the table, an amused scoff escaping your mouth at the sight of your gang’s symbol — a grim reaper, with snake circling it, holding a scythe — on the upper section of the document. Her investigation skills were impressive, to say the least. No one knows about your side job with an exception of certain people.

Deep, raspy chuckle rumbles from your throat and your companions resisted the urge to shiver. What an odd sight it was, an intrigued grin plastered over your previously blank face.

“Great observation, eh? I’m definitely that kind of type.” You shrug, “But I can assure you, I don’t give a damn about whatever you do to her. I found it ridiculous that she’s become so cocky and self-righteous these past years when Ha Doyoung and Hong Yeong-ae are the only reason she’s still relevant, and the latter’s already losing a thing to be prideful of. Imbeciles like them deserves to be put in their places.”

Yeojeong perks up at that. “Wait, does that mean…?”

“You have my blessing to make Park Yeonjin’s life a living hell,” You smirked.

Dongeun observes your body language; a deeply comfortable and relaxed demeanour with not a single ounce of remorse or guilt that you’re practically sending your own sister to an execution site. “You’re surprisingly easy to convince,” She commented.

Amusement glints in your eyes, almost accompanied by mockery as you chuckled. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Ms. Moon. I’ve already been making Yeonjin’s life fall apart and I’m allowing you to join in. There wasn’t much convincing.”

“Why do you want Park Yeonjin’s downfall that much?” Yeojeong questioned curiously. “I thought your blood is still your blood even when you don’t see eye to eye all the time.”

You brought the cigarette to your lips and smiled, almost sinisterly, while tilting your head, an unsettling look more clearer in your eyes as you stared into their soul. “I kill people for a living, what makes you think I’ll have mercy on people who had long lost their purpose and significance in my life?”

Dongeun’s hands trembled under the table. Yeojeong swallowed thickly, the serial killer who had ruined his life before entering his mind all of a sudden due to the remote resemblance.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” As if you hadn’t been talking so cruelly about your family, an out-of-place cheerful and friendly grin appears on your face. “Jeon Jaejun is off-limits, Ms. Moon. I couldn’t care less what you do to him as long as he comes back to me alive.” You leaned in and tapped slowly on the photography of Jaejun, eyes trailing across your favourite toy’s feature.

Dongeun paused, remembering the one photograph Kang Hyeonnam managed to capture. You with your arm possessively wrapped around Jaejun’s shoulders as he talked with a certain woman, piercingly staring at her with a clear warning.

“Right, you’re possessive of Jaejun.” She remarked after a while. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re in love with him.”

You let out a laugh under your breath, extinguishing the lit cigarette by pressing it on the ashtray. “Well, he’s quite an adorable dog.” You leaned back on the office chair, “But you’re correct about that.”

“Don’t you think you’re protecting him because you like him?” Dongeun genuinely asked.

The lack of malice in her tone let you know she wasn’t looking down on you, just making an assumption that she thought was possible, which is why you remained neutral in spite of your tendency to get irritated quickly. You feel like you could have genuine conversation with this woman and perhaps, even form an alliance, because not once had she gotten into your nerves this entire meeting. Her well-mannered attitude and calm, sophisticated personality did nothing but please you. It’s actually refreshing to meet someone who isn’t an obtuse fucking asshole that pretends to be something. She’s fearless, of course, but she perfectly knew her place and yours.

“Would you call it protecting when I’m even allowing you to do whatever you please with him?” You fired back, smiling almost genuinely at her. “I don’t care if he comes back to me crippled or blind as long as he’s breathing, because I simply refuse to mind someone else’s business. This is your revenge. I’ve got no plans interfering with something that doesn’t affect me nor my businesses.”

“You didn’t ask me why I’m doing this,” Dongeun wonders out loud. “Did you already know?”

“Of course,” You admitted with a nonchalant shrug. “I already had something planned ahead for the big final revelation of my beautiful younger sister,” You sneered with sarcasm. “But this is much more fitting for her. I have too much things to do to look through your evidence and figure out which ones you haven’t gotten yet, so I’ll just send you everything I’ve gathered myself.”

Slight surprise appeared on both of their faces and they exchanged a glance before Dongeun looked back to you. “That’s… helpful, but in exchange for what?”

You smiled, glad that it’s easy for her to figure out your intent. “Their absolute damnation.”

Dongeun stares at you, feeling the silent threats hanging in the air. Looking at your eyes glinting in mischief was enough; the failure to condemn Park Yeonjin and the others will result in her getting placed in the execution site with them. It was an oath from you to her, that she will gain all of your support in her plans, but can easily lose it once something doesn’t go according to plan.

You flashed a grin at her, leaning on your elbows. “Once everything goes smooth and they’re rotting either in prison or somewhere six feet under, I’ll give you a grace to be on the off-limits list in our organisation. That means you’ll be under my protection and not a single one of my men can harm you, even me.”

“What if you break it?” Yeojeong instantly chimes in, his concern evident for the woman.

“Then, I’ll cut my throat.” You don’t miss a beat to reply, making them widen their eyes. “People like us take deals, promises and oaths very seriously. Breaking them simply makes us a disgrace to the organisation, even the one that built it, so we tend to avoid going against what we initially agreed upon.”

Dongeun goes silent for a moment, contemplation plastered on her face, but gave you a nod afterwards. “That’ll be fine.” Her expression then shifts into a skeptical look, “But wouldn’t it be troublesome for you if Jeon Jaejun finds out you’re helping me?”

Your lips outstretched into a twisted smile that Dongeun and Yeojeong can’t be sure they’ll ever get used to.

“He doesn’t have to — what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, can it?”

Jaejun would come to you for help, he was adorable like that. He’d tell you about Moon Dongeun and her revenge against him. You just have to pretend you know nothing and take care of him, like you always do, and comfort him — so he would finally realise you’re the only one he can truly rely on. Not anyone, not Yeonjin, but you.

I’m so happy you’ve come this far, baby sis.

You thought to yourself, watching as a servant poured you and your two guests a red wine.

Everything you surrounded yourself with, is mine.

I win again, so I thank you with all my heart.

You’ve always been better than her and it’s going to stay that way, even with her ex-lover.

#male reader #x male reader #x reader #the glory #the glory x reader #the glory x male reader #jeon jaejun #jeon jaejun x male reader #jeon jaejun x reader #gay #lgbtq #mlm #jaejun x reader #jaejun x male reader #the glory jaejun

186 notes · View notes

daryldicksuckon69 · 2 years

Text

Ride His Motorcyle (18+)

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)

Tags: Smut, Cowgirl Position, Rough Sex

Word Count: 4.22k

Summary: Daryl and Reader find themselves in tight quarters for hours on end and nothing came of it to the dismay of them both. Daryl grow balls and addresses the *situation* smut ensues.

Ride His Motorcycle By @daryldisuckon69

With the rise of the sun comes the trials the day brings. However, for the past few years, the challenge of living has been constant and ever present. The group had earned their place in Alexandria, fought for one another and the citizens of the naïve township.

It had been three years since you’d all arrived but everyone had seemed to find a role in the community well. Daryl had found it particularly difficult to assimilate, as did Sasha, with all the horrors and loss endured on the way, it seemed coming back wasn't an option.

You’d look at Maggie and Glenn at the farm, seeing their interactions and relationship develop to now being married and pregnant with admiration. With all this stability, members of the group in turn felt more inclined to settle down and build foundations. Now Rick and Michonne and Sasha and Abraham have been settling down, you were surrounded by happy people, people in love.

Sure, some days it you felt lonely, but it always seemed so trivial: finally having all this space to feel comfortable and happy, not always worrying where the next meal or bed would be, if there was any at all, complaining about not having a person; to vouch for you, to love you, to touch you and make you feel good.

You knew you could feel that with a certain brown-haired motorcyclist, but even with the whole town rooting for the pair of you, nothing ever came of it.

“Speaking of coming, how did you and Daryl go on this morning’s supply run?” Rosita asks, opening your communal kitchen’s shelves, taking a couple glasses and placing them on your makeshift bar.

Even with the amount of houses in Alexandria, you had decided to stay in the original house you share with Rosita and Tara. You all got along well and honestly, you couldn’t stand the idea of having a whole house to yourself.

“Ha-ha, we— uh, didn’t have any luck. Ran into an old chemist with like 12 walkers and no supplies.” You tap your nails on the benchtop, glancing upwards to meet Rosita’s knowing expression. We’ll be talking about this later, she had this way of knowing there was more in your words than you let on.

“Those two are adults! Please, think of the poor neighbours.” Carol shakes her head as she dries her hands at the sink, she and Sasha had made some pound cake for this friday’s festivities, Sasha had quickly ducked to her house to change thus, the immediate exclamations from the woman who previously dated her current boyfriend, Abraham.

“God forbid you pass their house at any off hour of the day, the two of ‘em screaming and panting,” Rosita sighs exaggeratedly, continuing to stir the drinks aggressively.

Every Friday you had happy hour in the kitchen, it was a nice way to keep track of the weeks while winding down from the days and nights endured in between; a reminder you were all alive and able to enjoy it now. Rosita snorted as she continued pouring the drinks while Tara takes a seat at the makeshift bar, raising hands in surrender; “Hey, I’m not complaining yet. Those two were a long time comin’.”

“Whose together?” Sasha arrives just in time, with a fresh shirt and a cheeky grin and a slight perspiration.

Carol smiles politely, stirring the drinks “I’m just happy the two of you are finally together together.”

“Real together these days huh.” You smirk knowingly, you and Sasha had shared your sex lives, her newly bountiful one and your lack of one, from sober watch duties to drunken kiss and tells often had on Friday nights, you began screwing the lid onto the whiskey.

Rosita slapped your arm playfully, giggling like a child who’d gotten away with something naughty.

“Hey, no use in being embarrassed now.” Tara points out, sipping her drink, eyeing Rosita knowingly.

“Yeah, you weren’t embarrassed at those times, aye.” Rosita elbows Tara, causing the two to giggle profusely.

“Stop that! Look at her, she’s beet red, poor dear.” Carol glares accusingly at the two, breaking their giggle. Not a moment after you all break into a fit of laughter. A knock at the door stops you all in your tracks, you all look at eachother meaningfully.

“Who could that be?” Tara sing-songs as Sasha raises her brow in suspicion.

“It can’t be Abraham, he’s at the house and,” Sasha pauses as the group breaks into knowing laughter,

“You’ve obviously ridden him out.” Carol finally joins in on the cheeky fun, sipping her drink with a slight blush on her face. Rosita and Tara hit each other playfully as they continued to laugh.

“Y/N? Ya there?” Daryl’s husky grunt emanated from the front door, making you all stop completely.

“No fucking way.” Sasha’s eyes are wide open as she sets her glass down. They’re all staring at you now, in complete awe.

“Congrats L/N, I didn’t know you had it in ya.” Tara pats your back supportively, making you fall forward slightly with her heavy hand.

“I knew you didn’t let on everything that happened this morning, but this isn’t what I was expecting.” Rosita glances at the others pointedly.

“I didn’t do anything, he’s probably just here to update about this morning’s supply run.” you point out, stirring your drink with your finger before downing in all in one go in an attempt to calm your beating heart.

“She really doesn’t see it?” Tara looks around the room, raising her hands in exasperation.

“How can you be so blind?” Sasha follows suit in the frustration. They were all aware of your infatuation and had been encouraging you since they’ve known you, but no matter, you’ve always been stubborn and naive to the works of love.

“What the hell are you guys on about?” You scoff unconvincingly, you knew they knew and you couldn’t admit it to yourself. Admitting your feelings to yourself, let alone him, would hurt you more; you feel you couldn’t allow yourself to fall even further into this relaxed state of feeling. If you let your guard down, you could lose him. Which was such a ridiculous statement, since Daryl was the one who taught you most of what you know to survive; hunting and long range combat. No matter, it seems anyone who gets close to you dies or leaves: all except him.

“The man’s in love with you.” Carol says pointedly, looking at you knowingly. She, out of them all, has known you as long as Daryl has, who has known this secret that’s been burning a hole in your pocket since the beginning. She wouldn’t lie, not to you: not about this.

You snort in disbelief, there’s no way that Daryl Dixon, the man that would sacrifice anything for any member of the group, and has never shown interest in anybody platonically, let alone romantically, would have feelings for you of all people.

“How can someone be so smart yet so stupid!” Tara smacks her hands against her face frustratedly.

“You help Michonne with making up laws and charters for the communities: facts. And yet you can’t see the fact right in front of your face.” Carol explains, setting her glass down and staring at you with that look; the look you all know: the look of pure transparency.

“Which is?”

“Dixon wants you.” Rosita finishes, pouring more whiskey into her glass.

“I go on supply runs with him all the time and he never comes to check up on me afterward,” Tara adds, your brown furrow in thought.

“He also personally brings you food and water on your guard duty days.” Sasha mentions, glancing at Tara in solidarity.

“The lights are on, who is in there?” Daryl’s voice echoes throughout the house, shaking you from your trance.

“Well, if you’re not going to open the door,” Rosita smirks and pauses before leaping up from the bar and breaking into a sprint for the front door. You react slowly, sprinting after her frantically.

“Fuck you, wait!” Before you can say any more, Rosita has already opened the door to a dishevelled looking Daryl.

“Good Evening Dixon,” Rosita smiles politely, head leaning on the door.

“Hey Rosita, is Y/N home?”

“Hey Daryl”

“Oh.” Oh.

Daryl steals a glance down at you, taking in your striped sleeping shorts hiked a little higher than comfortable from sitting down. Your hair is slightly messy, in a cute way, he thinks, as you have trouble making eye contact with his piercing blue eyes, those eyes you know more than the average group member, but are crying out to know more.

“C’we talk?” he grunts, “In priv’te, if thas' alright,.” clearing his throat nervously.

“Sure, just give me a sec, I’ll catch up.” he nods, smiling shyly at Rosita as he tucked his hands behind him, walking down the road.

As you wait for Daryl to be a safe distance away, you say your goodbyes.

“Ride him like a motorcycle!” Rosita half whispers, half screams grinning as Tara and Sasha whoop from the end of the hall. You shush them impatiently, embarrassed you then shut the door and make your way to Daryl’s side.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you fidget, following two or so steps behind him, being even this close to him set your heart on fire, as well as other, nether, regions.

“This mornin’,” Daryl practically spits out, quickening his pace, you follow suit.

“Is that all? Well you could’ve given me an update back there, why bring me all the way out to,” you pause and take in your surroundings.

A Few Hours Earlier

“Hey Dayl! Look over there!” Daryl’s head shoots up to look at whatever you were pointing at, an old shop across the road with the word ‘Helen’s Apothecary’ written on it. He doesn’t respond, blankly staring at the building.

“An old apothecary,” you point out obviously, staring at him pointedly.

Daryl looked at you incredulously.

You sigh, “Old herbs and meds, probably untouched,” you squint through the Georgian heat of July, from what you could see from your distance, there seemed to be no walkers inside or out.

“I’m gonna go ahead and check it out,” you hop off the counter your were sitting on, sneaking an indulgent glance at Daryl’s biceps as he ploughs through the limited items on the supermarket shelves.

You didn’t know it but he could see you so obviously checking him out, he was almost proud of himself, if not for the detail that he wasn’t yours to check out.

You and him weren’t even on track to being a couple, maybe a couple of friends, but nothing even remotely similar to the fantasies Daryl’s brain has been conjuring nonstop since the day he met you, seemingly worsening the more the pair of you spend time together.

He was almost grateful for the distance, but your gaze was sweltering and he could feel the tent in his pants already warming up. He coughs awkwardly, adjusting himself in his pants as he uses his red rag to cover his predicament.

“‘M comin’,” Daryl says simply, slinging his crossbow around his back.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” you say pointedly, shrugging your shoulders,

“I wan’ to,” he grunts as he begins to make his way over to the store, and you jog to catch up with him.

"'Sides, if there's really as much as ya let on in 'ere, you'll need all the help ya can get,"

He’s knelt down, about to open the door when he feels your gaze on him, he turns slowly to you, arms crossed.

“Found this place fair and square Dixon, shove over,” you kneel down and shuffle over until you’re shoulder to shoulder with him, he feels his cheeks warming up and before you can notice, he stands up; turning around to keep duty.

“Whatever you say, L/N.” he mumbles, handing over the pick lock.

You snort, taking them in your hands as you attempt to break the chain, with each manoeuvre it seems you’ve barely made any progress. Frustrated, you take the hammer from your belt,

“Fuck it,” you grunt, smashing the glass door near the handle, unlocking it from the inside.

“What, the fuck is wrong with you.” Daryl says, a smile threatening to break at your situation.

“I got it open, didn’t I?” you raise a brow, smiling. You put your hammer back in your belt and turn your flashlight on, he follows suit, taking his crossbow off his back, holding it up in defence.

You take in your surroundings, the place is absolutely chock-a-block full of supplies. You gasp at your discovery, “You seein’ this?” you laugh, grinning like an idiot as you run through each isle in absolute awe. This will save so many lives.

“Well, shit. Not bad L/N,” Daryl allows himself to crack a small smile, gazing at your overjoyed figure running through the store.

“I think we’re gonna need bigger bags to fit all of this,” before you can continue, an arrow flies past your head, you turn in shock to find a dead walker at your feet. You sigh, “Thanks Dary—,” Daryl’s hand is covering your mouth, he’s so close to you, he pushes you against the wall and points to the front windows, you see a car full of men, large military grade weapons and frightening looks on their faces, before you can even react he takes his other hand and places his index finger on his lips, as he looks around for a way out, his heart is beating out of his chest.

He knew he shouldn’t have taken that shortcut you suggested on the way here, people must’ve heard the loud thrum of his motorcycle. He brought you out here just to see you die, it seems.

Finally spotting a door towards the back of the store, he guides you to it. Ushering you in and shutting the door behind him. As he turns around to meet your eyes, wide and terrified.

“What the fuck do we do?” Only then does Daryl notice the lack of space in this room. With the surrounding walls covered in cleaning shelves, you are forced to almost be pressed against one another. If he breathed hard enough, he reckons his chest would meet yours. He scrunches his eyes in frustration.

“My bike is out there in the bushes hidden, if they’re as stupid as they look, we’ll be safe.” he assures, hands held together.

“For now.” you sigh, looking anywhere but at him, which proved difficult as your neck was craning in this tight space.

“Jus’ gotta hole up here until they leave,” he whispers, adjusting his posture; however long it took, it was gonna be excruciating.

“Wherever it is we’re going.” Daryl grunts in response, you continue to follow him down the Alexandrian streets, absolutely oblivious and wishing you brought your glass with you.

“Jus’, follow me.” he sounds frustrated, more frustrated than usual you acknowledge. His hands are rigid fists at his side, knuckles turning white as he continues to trudge down the street, turning another corner; you know where you’re headed.

You reach Carol and Daryl’s house as Daryl opens the front door, not bothering to hold it open like he usually does, he opens the basement door and trudges downstairs in a huff. You’re practically sprinting after him at this point.

Once you reach his room he makes a beeline for his workbench, slamming his hands onto it with a loud thud. You jump, suddenly terrified.

“What the fuck Daryl?” you shout, squaring your shoulders. There’s no way he’s going to drag you across half the town just to get mad at you, no way in hell you’re letting that happen.

More silence follows, you stand there, not knowing what to do, then you sigh;

“Can you just tell me what’s going on? I feel like I’m going crazy.” you say, evenly. A moment passes before he slowly turns to face you, his eyes never meet yours.

“Sorry,” he starts, eyes darting around the room, looking for anything more interesting to look at, but there isn’t.

“I jus’, don’ know if I can handle this anymore,” your brows soften, taking a few steps towards him in concern, he cowers away almost immediately.

“Handle what?” you impatiently blurt, hands on your hips.

“You don’ get it do ya?” he rasps, eyes suddenly meeting yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

“If you tell me what’s the matter, I might be able to help you!” you cry, attempting to meet his avoidance eyes.

“Help me? You couldn’t even help yerself this mornin’!” He yells, pointing to the general direction of this morning's scavenge.

“And how would you know what’s best for me huh?”

That seemed to strike a nerve, his whole body seemed to tense at the question. He shifts awkwardly, when he looks back at you he glances at your eyes before fixing his gaze at the trees behind you.

“Trust me girl, I know,”

“Aww you’re just such a good guy, takin’ care of me like I'm your little sister! Guess what Daryl, I’m not.” You lean forward and straighten yourself up as best you can, chest heaving in frustration.

“What ya see me as yer older brother?” Daryl dares to take a step forward, lighting this candle, you don’t reply. Looking back to when you first met one another, you knew that you could never see him in the way you so desperately hoped for.

Daryl grunts, “Thought so,”

“Excuse me?” your brows furrow in frustration, crossing your arms around yourself in exasperation.

What you don’t realise is Daryl’s sorry attempt in not looking at your now pushed-out breasts in your particularly low-cut top. Daryl glares at you obviously.

“What happened this morning—”

“Should’ve happened long ago.” your breath catches in your throat, you can’t believe your ears.

“Why would you say that?” you question, carefully: the situation seeming a lot more delicate than previously realised.

“I would’a known,” he looks away, brows furrowed, “would’a realised it.” Daryl rambles, gaze stuck on the floor.

“Would’ve realised what, Daryl?”

“‘ave been fuckin’ stupid since the start,” He spits, pacing back and forth. You stand there, looking particularly stupid.

“We were fuckin’ stuck: pressed up against each other all morning, and yer tellin’ me ya don’ get it!?” he yells, pausing to compose himself.

“‘Fore it was all muddled, if I—” he paused for a beat and stared down at you, but before you could comment, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you into the wall, pressing his body against yours; you could feel his hands shake.

“I’m sweet on ya,” Daryl doesn’t break eye contact, his body flush against yours. You can feel each other's heavy, shallow breathing: chest to chest, heart to heart. Just the same as this morning. You almost lean into him, you feel safe in his warmth.

“Ya got anything to say about that?”

“I—” you begin, your throat caught in your throat, you can’t think of what to say.

“I can’t,”

“Ya can,”

“Daryl, I really can’t,”

“Say it again,”

“Sorry?”

“The part where you say my name,” you pause, staring into his eyes, his beautiful, crystal blue eyes and you know in this moment, you can no longer hide your affections.

“Say it again, Y/N, please,”

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily, afraid of the reaction you’ll get, you feel Daryl's large hand envelop your own, squeezing it encouragingly.

“Daryl.” you breathe, feeling all the nerves shot up like lightning at the sound of your voice, breathy and flustered. You feel like you’ve left your body, simply witnessing the event taking place.

“Now say it.”

“You know I can’t Daryl.”

“I don’t want to hurt our relationship, I— I can’t: I don’t want you to not talk to me again.”

“You know that’ll never happen, Y/N.”

With deep breaths, you try to calm down. But the proximity of Daryl and his intense gaze aren’t helping things.

“Jus’ tell me ya got something on ya mind— so we can stop dancin’ ‘round what’s goin’ on ‘ere.” he rasps, continuing to stare at you.

“I—I,”

“It’s okay, darlin’.”

It didn’t feel okay, especially as you said the words, those words you kept in your heart, to yourself, didn’t even let Rosita or Carol know, the words you didn’t want to accept were how you feel; but say you do.

“I love you, Daryl.”

A beat, you close your eyes as time seems to stop. You feel your heart beating from your chest, and the occasional tremble of your breathing.

Before you can elaborate, Daryl closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours roughly. You reciprocate, pressing yourself against him, he continues to kiss your lips, your cheek, down your jaw and your neck.

“Yer,” he kisses your lips, “As stubborn,” he kisses his way down your cheek, “As,” he continues pressing kisses down your jaw as you lean into him, mouth open in ecstasy, “A Mule,” he kisses your mouth again, hands on your hips as he presses himself against you. You break the kiss, and breathily reply.

“As stubborn as you.” you moan into another kiss, placing a hand in his hair as he grabs onto your ass.

“Been wanting to say it to you since the beginning—God have I been this naive for so long?”

“Jus’ shut up.” he breathes, kneading your ass as he sucks on your neck, spurred on by your moans.

His arm drops down to your leg, hoisting it up and wrapping it against his hips, he begins to grind into your core as you attempt to match his rhythm; the friction making it hard to hold back your voice.

He licks the mark he left on you before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, open mouth and moaning as you feel your breath catching and pushing him off you before you get carried away.

The pair of you stare at each other, flustered and breathing heavily.

“You alright? Wanna stop?” Daryl inquires, chest still heaving. You grab a hold of his forearms, rubbing them up and down.

“God no.” you gasp,

“Good,” he grunts, he lifts his shirt up.

“You let me know, if ya wanna stop.”

Still breathing heavily, you lean into his touch, holding onto his large bicep as he devours your neck, leaving love marks in his tow, he guides you back onto his bed as you shuffle up the bed, Daryl on top of you.

"I'm gonna make sure everyone knows who's claimed ya," Daryl grunts between licking and sucking your neck, one hand on your hip and the other at your jaw, gently guiding your neck as he tries to suck deeper in your neck.

Pulling away you take your shirt off with the help of Daryl, you lie down, lifting your pelvis up and he slides your shirts off, you look down to your clearly soaked panties, taking a deep breath as he rubs his chin.

“Fuck,” you smile up at him, you hook your leg around his and with all your body weight on him, you tun him on his back, straddling him.

Daryl holds you up as you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick, you wish you could drag this out longer but you’re so turned on the only thought crossing your mind is feeling Daryl inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sick down on his cock.

His sheer size almost sends you over the edge, pausing for a moment you stay still. Daryl runs his hands up your legs and sides, and over your stomach. Your skin prickles with the heat simply from his touch, your nipples hardening. His large hands cup your breasts and that’s that.

“‘M gonna take good care of ya, sunshine,” he smirks up at you, that cheeky boyish charm seeping through.

Driving yourself up and down on him, Daryl’s cock in and out of you rough. You can’t look away, the look of greed and desire in Daryl’s face takes your breath away.

You lean forward, letting him lean in and hungrily take your breasts in his mouth, the way he sucks and licks at you, Daryl drives you so wild you ride him harder than you would any of the motorcycles his hand over the years, his girth filling you, driving you over the edge; leaning back your mouth hangs open, his name tumbling over your lips.

He’s holding onto your hips now, pushing up into you with short, hard thrusts while your muscles tense and clench around him, he massages your clit in between frenzied thrusts. Daryl quickly pulls out of you, causing you pair to gasp at the feeling, moaning as he paints his stomach with his spend.

You collapse on top of him, exhausted, hair damp with perspiration, he begins stroking your hair while leaving tender kisses on top of your head.

“You held your end of the bargain,”

You lift your head to look him in the eye, “Rode me like a cowboy more like it, though.” he grins, completely satisfied.

“Shut up.” you can’t help but smile at that.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I had a lot of fun making it, comments and feedback is much appreciated.

My requests are OPEN! DM, Ask, Comment. I'm active as shit I'll see it and try my best to get to you <3

My AO3

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead

2K notes · View notes

thebearer · 1 year

Note

Okay, I feel like Teddy would have broken bones throughout her childhood for sure. But like, imagine Carmy and reader being so worried when Teddy gets hurt each time, and like the one time when she breaks or injures something and she needs to have surgery for it how freaked they are about it and like Tina, and Richie and everyone is there waiting for her. And Teddy would totally beg Marcus to make her all the desserts for her while she recovers. Thanks! I got a little carried away, lol.

i feel like teddy, yes. like ofc she's accident prone (she's literally just a ball of energy lol) but imagine this... it's willow.

like willow is so calm and sweet, but she's so clumsy too. and for some reasons she's always the one getting hurt. mainly bc teddy is so rough with her, not even intentionally, like she's just more fearless and wild.

they're jumping on the trampoline, and teddy is going absolutely insane bc a trampoline??? fuck yeah. and she's bouncing with little four year old willow, who's trying to keep up but her sister (in classic older sister style) has double bounced her like seven times. there's a net and you're watching, warning teddy each time she gets too wild, but then it happens- in seemingly slow motion.

teddy bounces willow, who flies for a second, before falling back on her side, extending her arm to brace her fall. you hear the pop! and then a shuddered breath before willow is wailing, her arm hanging by her side, bone sticking against the skin.

you're nearly lightheaded, screaming for carmen, trying to get willow off the trampoline carefully. teddy is scared to death, of course, and is sobbing too. and carmen is so overwhelmed, walking out frantically to your scared tone and two sobbing babies.

you spend your night and most of the morning in the er, each holding a crying child trying to console them. they tell you willow's break was bad and she'll need surgery, which makes you want to cry now too. carmen looks like he might genuinely pass out because the thought of his baby going to surgery???? he's horrified. needs his emotional support pepto asap.

they get her in pretty easily, and your family and friends (most from the bear) come to see her, bring her gifts and things afterwards. willow is terrified, bright eyes just wide and skittish when they tell her she's going to take a nap and come back with a cast.

carmen opts to be the parent in the waiting room, agreeing to follow all the procedures just to keep her calm until they get her under because willow would not go back there without him.

you're smothering her face in kisses. "daddy's gonna go with you, and he'll be with you the whole time, wills." you coo, smoothing a hand down her hair. "you'll get a pretty blue cast on, and then me and teddy and everyone can sign it for you. and marcus will bring you cupcakes. how's that sound?"

willow is sniffling, shuddering breaths that have your heart breaking but agrees. carmen hugs you and teddy good bye before going with them.

you're thankful richie is there, a sentence you never thought you'd say. your thankful he brought eva to keep teddy distracted, and that he could talk to a fucking brick wall if he had to. thankful he was there to keep you distracted so you didn't keep checking the time.

willow comes back, still asleep, all bandaged and wrapped up in a sling. carmen looks like he might need to throw up, which he does, but he's relieved.

willow spends the next night in the hospital, surrounded by toys and balloons and flowers- and of course, marcus brings her cupcakes.

she gets her cast eventually, and carmen draws on it for her with a sharpie. it wasn't very good, in his opinion, a little difficult to sketch with the cast material and a sharpie but willow seems to love it. giggles loudly when he shows her the various animals he'd drawn for her.

teddy enjoys it too. especially because with the influx of "get well soon" toys, she gets to play with them too. opting to "help" willow, of course, since her arm was broken. willow doesn't seem to mind, playing with her free hand with her sister, and you're just happy she's feeling better.

#thebearer #carmen berzatto #bearblahs #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #dad!carmen berzatto #dilf!carmen berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto #willow natalia berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear #thebearerblurbs

414 notes · View notes

mixtape-racha · 1 year

Note

YAYYYYYY 100 followersssss :) im so happy for youuuuu :)))))

okay, here is my request... hehe, im suchhh a sucker for hurt comfort and I loveeee fem 9th member au's. but like not smut or like fwb, just like a really juicy story y'know? I haven't been able to find any of those two categories combined tho, especially into like a longer fic, like it's always in the hundreds (I would love it if it was a little longer, no pressure tho :). literally, anything works, from some kinda mess up on stage to maybe you messing up a relationship w a member??? idk. I'm letting ur thoughts run wild here... THANK YOU AND CONGRATSSSS

(im sorry im really vague in requests lol)

YAYYYY THO IM LIKE REALLYYYY PROUD OF YOU<<<3333 LOV U BB KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DOOOO

thank you so much my lovely bae!! ilysm and i hope i did this request justice!! i kind of went off on a tangent and got carried away with the plot waaa <3

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

sorry seems to be the hardest word

pairing: ot8 x fem!9th member!reader

warnings: angst, hurt comfort, reader snapping at the members, reader being physically unwell, fluff at the end

words: 2.29k

everything was going wrong today, and you truly meant every. fucking. thing.

somehow, you had managed to turn your alarm off the night before (probably because you fell asleep while on your phone, accidentally calling your mom in you sleep in the process), and none of the guys took the initiative to wake you up when they got up.

okay, sure, you couldn’t blame them entirely. you were a grown woman, and you could look after yourself. but weren’t you supposed to be a team? eight other people surrounding you, and none of them thought to check on you? especially when you were usually up and alert before they were? no, instead they were all out the door without even knocking to see if you were feeling okay. so much for being your brothers and best friends.

so god forbid, you were late this morning. you managed to turn up at the company for your vocal lessons only ten minute late, but it felt awful as you’d never been late before. you were so incredibly lucky to get the opportunity to debut with skz, especially joining the group later in their career and being the only girl. you wanted to do everything perfectly to show that you deserved to be where you were, and with the way today was shaping out you were so disappointed with yourself.

but then - it got worse. you, in your rush to leave the dorms, had forgotten your sheet music, leaving your vocal teacher to be short and snappy with you. yeah, you brought it up on your phone instead, but she was strict, and a firm believer in “good old-fashioned pen and paper over your silly little radio devices nowadays”. her attitude towards you for the remainder of your lesson affected you more than you liked to admit - excusing yourself to the bathroom to have a little cry before you headed to the studio.

for some reason, none of your schedules were properly coordinated today, leaving jisung to be the one in the studio with you - rather than chan, like usual - while you recorded your lines for the demos to be sent to the company later in the month, when you’d decide the songs for the new album you had upcoming later in the year.

jisung was always the nicest to you, especially when he could tell you were having a rough day - you were both very alike in that sense, very attentive towards each other as if you could tell what the other was feeling.

however, it seemed today that something had crawled up his ass and died. he was almost as snappy as your vocal teacher, and you were quite frankly sick of it. you kept messing up your lines; whether from the stress or the ache building in your throat (god you hoped you weren’t getting sick), you weren’t sure. but clearly, jisung wouldn’t stand for it.

“honestly, (y/n), you might as well just call it a day and come back to this with chan-hyung another day. i need to get on with other stuff.” he sighed, dismissively, as you bit back the tears fighting to escape your eyes. he wouldn’t even look at you, and your stomach was doing somersaults. was he really that mad? surely he could see how hard you were trying.

but instead of confronting him, you just grabbed your belongings and left after silently agreeing. no one answered your message on the group chat when you asked if anyone was down to get lunch together, even though you could see basically everyone had read it, so you retreated to the canteen alone before you had to go to practice with the boys.

as the ache in your throat spread to your joints, fatigue plaguing you, you trudged up to the practice room for rehearsals with the boys. you were learning a new dance - in fact, the already chosen title track for the new album, and deep down you were dreading it. it was more difficult than you had imagined, and definitely aimed more towards moves the boys could do compared to you. you loved the boys, but sometimes you felt like they forgot that men and women’s bodies worked differently.

surprisingly, you weren’t the last to arrive, squashing your fear of another thing going wrong.

but just as soon as practice began, your fear was reawakened. the ache in your joints was making the dance more difficult for you to execute, and you could feel the annoyance radiating off of minho’s body even if he wouldn’t admit it. you stumbled a few times, almost knocking into felix, who looked at you more frustrated than concerned.

“seriously, (n/n), what’s going on? it’s really not that hard. get your head in the game.”

you huffed, shaking out your limbs and telling minho to start the track again. maybe if you ignored your surroundings, ignored how you were feeling, then things would be easier. you could block out minho’s harsh criticisms - he was probably just tired. you could block out everything, knowing the boys were suffering just as much as you lately. but when the music stopped again, and everyone was talking at you, voice after voice lapping over each other you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“shut the fuck up! shut up, shut up, shut up! give me a fucking break, i’m trying my hardest!”

you honestly didn’t mean to snap, you were just so overwhelmed and couldn’t take anymore. when chan tried to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, you flung it off, all your annoyance and stress from the day building up at once.

“don’t fucking touch me. i don’t need your pity, i don’t need you to tell me that i don’t know how to do my job well enough. this is the fucking worst day of my life and you all keep making it worse!”

every fiber of your being was telling you to stop, to be reasonable, but it was like your mouth was making its own decisions. you couldn’t tell which member it was, but you were interrupting the gentle call of your name before you could even control it.

“and no, before any of you try to be funny, i’m not on my period,” you sneered, anger bubbling under your skin as you saw jisung look away sheepishly. “i’m just sick of feeling like i have to fight to prove i’m good enough, like i’m not one of you guys yet. we’re supposed to be a team, but all day i’ve been pushed to the side and treated like i don’t matter. i’m sick of it!”

you breathed heavily, grabbing your duffle bag from the side of the room and storming towards the door.

“i’m staying with yeji tonight, leave me the fuck alone.”

was all you said before leaving the boys stood in shock, confused as to why you were acting like you hated them.

regrettably, the minute you found yourself in yeji’s dorm and explained your day to her, you knew you were in the wrong. how could you let yourself treat your best friends that way? they didn’t deserve that, and you would be most understanding if they never forgave you. it was only when the throb in your head and ache in your joints became too much that you finally allowed yourself to sleep.

chan’s apology

luckily, you and the boys were granted a week off a while ago, and today marked the first day of that week. however, knowing chris he was probably still hauled up in the studio from the night before. it was around 3am (yeji shouldn’t have let you crash so early, your sleep schedule was going to be manic), so you pulled yourself together before making the decision to go visit him.

he may not even want to see you after your little outburst, but you could still try.

you stopped by the convenience store on your way to the studio, grabbing some snacks and some drinks just to be on the safe side. carefully checking the group chat, you saw that changbin was still in the studio with chan and you hoped you could get there before he left - it might be easier to kill two birds with one stone. you were just glad you bought way too much food for just two people.

you smiled politely, bowing at the security guard as he let you into the building, heart thumping in your ears as you carefully traced the steps to chan’s studio.

when you finally approached the door, you had to take a minute to prepare yourself to knock. you heard chan’s voice mumbling behind the door once you did, nervously waiting until he came and opened it.

he looked surprised to see you, frozen for a moment before quickly ushering you in and sitting you on the couch next to changbin. almost in instinct, changbin’s arm was slung around your shoulder - something he always did when you were close by, relishing in the fact he wasn’t the shortest in the group anymore.

you sheepishly held out the bag containing all the goodies you got at the convenience store to chan, a small smile on your face when he took it.

“got you some snacks.. kind of guessed you might have forgotten to eat.” your voice was quiet, ashamed. you just hoped they wouldn’t hold your outburst against you.

but when chan grinned, you knew he could never be mad at you for long.

“we were worried about you, y’know? that’s why jisung let you go early today - something seemed off and we didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed.” changbin said from next to you, the hand on your shoulder rubbing it comfortingly.

you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up behind your eyes again, but bit them back in fear they’d think you were looking for sympathy.

“i– i’m so sorry. i’ve just had an awful day, and i feel like shit, but that doesn’t excuse my actions, and i shouldn’t have snapped at you all - you couldn’t have known, and its not your fault.”

you explained why your day had been so bad to them (after some pushing from chan), and how you were feeling physically, causing changbin to look at you with great worry.

they indulged in a small cuddle session, feasting on the snacks you provided while they tried to help cheer you up. and honestly, it worked, just talking through how you were feeling, and gettin constructive feedback rather than just a shoulder to lean on was relieving.

you couldn’t apologize to them more, feeling so ashamed of your actions, but they were quick to reassure you it was okay - everyone had bad days, you were only human after all. you just needed to work on your communication a little bit.

when you finally got ready to head back to the dorm at 5am, you felt better than you had in a long time, actually.

apology numbers one and two: complete.

but when you arrived back at the dorm, head peacefully resting on changbin’s shoulder, what you weren’t expecting to walk into was what you all called a “cuddle pool” - the sofa bed pulled out, covered with pillows and blankets - and a spot waiting for you between felix and seungmin.

your eyes watered at the expectant faces of your soul-brothers, small sobs leaving your lips as your shoulders shook. god, the day had taken a toll on you - you couldn’t remember the last time you cried in front of the boys.

it was only then that minho - who you hadn’t seen standing by the door - scooped you into a hug.

“oh, angel,” he frowned, a hand pressed to your forehead. “you’re burning up. is that why you felt so bad earlier?”

words seemed to fail you, and all you could do was nod as your grip on his sweater tightened. it certainly wouldn’t be the first time you got sick from stress, but you hated being sick. you hated feeling out of control in your own body, and despised being doted on like you were unable. however, this time… you think you could let it slide. you just needed your boys close by right now.

they seemed to enjoy looking after you, and you felt you owed them that after the situation in the practice room.

minho was quick to place on you on the couch, felix and seungmin suffocating you in a bone-crushing hug. jisung handed you the tv remote, saying you could choose to watch whatever you wanted, and that everyone would be having a slumber party in the living room until you felt better.

minho and chan had gone to make you some chicken noodle soup - using felix’s mom’s recipe, which was known for being a lifesaver in your dorm. jeongin was quick to grab you your comfort plushie, taking his place on the floor by your feet - the two of you were 100% keen on physical affection, but having him close by helped.

within merely an hour, all nine of you were curled up, an animated disney movie playing, with soup and mugs of tea being passed around the room. it was nice, and it felt so good to have your boys so close and willing to help you.

you definitely took on changbin’s mention of needing to improve on communication, wanting nothing more than to improve yourself for the little family you had build around you. and yeah you were sick, and they would probably get sick too by being in such close proximity to you, but that was a problem for another day. you’d just return the favor of looking after them.

you just knew you were lucky to have them.

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha

#mixtape-racha #mixtape-racha fic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz 9th member #fem reader #chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #skz hurt comfort #skz angst

542 notes · View notes

nats-firefly · 1 year

Text

my train could take you home

part 1 of bent right to your wind | main masterlist

vampire!natasha romanoff x witch!reader x vampire!wanda maximoff

summary: everyone has mixed feeling going back to their hometown, what you didn't expect were the people you ended up running into

warnings: vampires, magical powers, tension, mentions of blood, death, and grief, church, prayer, disrespect towards religious figures, no smut but as with all my other works 18+ only

words: 2.6k | feedback is always welcome

You take a deep breath as you look down at the map on your passenger seat. You wanted to make sure your return to the small town was absolutely necessary. All of your most treasured and simultaneously painful memories lived in the cobblestone paths and surrounding woods. A faint purple fog surrounded your steering wheel as you checked the geological map, trusting your centuries worth of practicing magic to keep you safe.

“Why do blood crystals only exist in this fucking town?” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You took control of the steering wheel once again as your car shook from the cobblestone road.

An eerie chill ran down your back as you drove through town, the buildings still looked suspiciously well preserved. To anyone else, this looked like any other small historical town; brick buildings lining the narrow cobbled streets. Everything seemed so monotone now, you don’t remember it being this way.

As you turned the corner, your stomach knotted and you felt like you needed to throw up. You cleared your throat, resisting the urge to heave your breakfast up. The small church surrounded by an equally small cemetery made the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. You parked your car across the street, turning your head to face the building still standing after all this time.

“What am I doing here?” You groaned to yourself, your fingers tingling with a purple glow. You clenched your fists for a second, before relaxing again, then frowned at your hands. What the hell? The last time you had to deal with subconsciously showing your powers you were just starting out. Right behind that church. A glimmer in the surrounding woods caught the corner of your eye and you snapped your head towards it. There was nothing.

Maybe you were just imagining things.

Right as you faced forward to pull away, another glint. You were definitely not imagining it. You glued your eyes to the spot, the sound of your car door slamming shut made you flinch. You hadn’t realized you got out of the car. You could hear your heartbeat increase with every step you took.

Your hands felt warm, and without even glancing at them, you could tell faint streaks of purple circled your fingers. You took another deep breath, trying to focus on the spot in front of you. There was another glint, it shone right into your corneas. It was so bright you wanted to bring your hand up to shield your eyes.

And then, suddenly, as soon as it appeared, it was gone. You stopped mid step, the ground underneath you a different texture as you heard your shoe scrape against something rough. You looked down and quickly stepped aside with a gasp, you accidentally stepped on a small rectangular gravestone.

“Crap, sorry…” You groaned, stepping back. Your eyes scanned for the name of who was buried there, wanting to apologize. You crouched down, wiping the grass off the stone. You fell backwards as your whole body went rigid. Your breath picked up and your ears started ringing. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you clutched your chest with one hand and supported yourself with the other. You swallowed hard, slowly standing back up. As your eyes stung with tears, you struggled to croak out the name you hadn’t spoken in centuries. “Sorry, Wands.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You weren’t planning on coming to see Wanda, it had been almost 300 years since she died. You felt like you moved on. At least you told yourself you did. You never again had a friend as close to your heart as Wanda. You didn’t want to reopen the wounds you worked so hard to heal.

The fact you stepped right on Wanda’s grave was enough to creep you out, but what upset you more than anything was that you felt no connection to this gravestone. Even with the surrounding strangers you could feel some sort of energy emanating from each person eternally laid to rest. And from Wanda, someone you once loved and deeply cared for, you felt nothing. It was as if she was never there in the first place.

You wanted to barf. As you turned away from the gravestone, you decided to go into the church. You were here anyway, might as well revisit your roots. The sound of your shoes against the floor of the old church echoed in the space. You looked around, noticing the small differences to uphold the structural soundness of the building. You walked to the back corner, deciding to light a candle. As you lit the small prayer candle, you heard faint century old footsteps sound behind you.

It was late at night, you pulled your shawl tighter around your shoulders as you took refuge in the slightly warmer church. You walked a few steps closer to the altar, bowing your head and making the sign of the cross. As you made your way to the back of the church, your tears uncontrollably rolled down your cheeks once more. You don’t remember a time you weren’t crying.

You internally prayed to any higher being who would hear you, you felt hopelessly lost without Wanda. She was part of every aspect of your life. Now she was gone, and you didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Now every night without fail, you took solace in the church, hoping that wherever Wanda was, she was okay and at peace. You hoped the peace she took from you brought her comfort in whatever form of afterlife there was.

You dragged your feet to the closest pew, your already bruised knees from your constant attendance sending a sharp pain up your body.

“Dear Heavenly Father,” You silently prayed, clasping your hands together as tight as you could make them. As you continued your prayer, you felt a pair of eyes on you, the same you’ve noticed every night. “Please, God, please let her be okay,” Your shoulders shook with sobs. “Please, whatever happened to her, let her be at rest,” You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hands. “Or bring her back to me, my lord. I need her, I need my best fr—” You knew you were more than that. “I need my Wanda.” You opened your eyes just enough to see your tear stains on the wood in front of you. “Amen.”

“Oh honey, God isn’t gonna help you with that,” Your eyes snapped open with a gasp, the one whose observant eyes belonged to now sitting at the other end. “Your faith astounds me. Every night you walk in here, begging for your Wanda back,” You frowned, you didn’t like the way her name sounded coming from her mouth. “But you know she’s buried right out front. So why do you come in here? Why don’t you stay out there with her?”

You sniffled, still frowning at the overconfident attractive woman sitting a few feet away from you. You opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you’d say. You closed your mouth. Why did you come in here every night? What has God ever done for you besides taking your Wanda? You looked down at the wood between you as you sat on the seat, hearing the sound of raindrops against the large windows.

“You have a powerful energy,” She says, leaning towards you. “You have so much potential. I’m Dorothea.”

Dorothea passed on all her knowledge to you before she decided her life cycle was over. The corner of your lips tugged upwards as you remembered when she recruited you. Dorothea turned into a better mother figure than your own. She taught you everything you knew and every time you felt your power flowing through your body, you knew a part of her was with you too.

Your heart felt full as you walked back to your car. It felt weird. You once felt comfort here because of your faith; now you feel comfort there because of your power. You barely noticed Wanda’s grave as you walked back to your car, sending it a quick glance before looking ahead.

She didn’t linger here. You had to take comfort in that. You took a shallow breath. You had to.

It didn’t take long to get to the hotel from the church. It didn’t take long to get anywhere in the small town. The second you got out of your car, you felt eyes on you. Everywhere you looked there was at least one person who turned their head. You swallowed hard as you pulled your bag out of the trunk of the car, looking behind you sharply catching two strangers staring right at you. The sound of the trunk closing echoed in the space, dispersing any lingering looks, you never liked the center of attention.

The large building of the hotel seemed to be built long ago; it wasn’t there the last time you were in town, but you estimate the construction started not too long after you left. The air was surprisingly cold inside, it carried a weird energy you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Your shoes clicked against the marbled floor as you made your way to the check-in desk. You took in the wall behind the counter, the intricate pattern almost comes to life with its flowing curves and surprising depth; the more you looked at it, the more detail you found. The front desk clerk rounding the corner to the front desk caught your attention. Her face seemed slightly paler than it was supposed to be and her hair was slightly tousled. Her blood stained shirt collar gave her away. When you turned your face to catch the more lingering looks sent your way you were finally able to pinpoint the weird energy you felt earlier.

You were in a hotel full of vampires.

Not everyone in the room was one, you could tell some of them were human; you could feel their lively energy and they stood out as tourists more than the others. They seemed comfortable here. Centuries worth of comfortable. You never noticed them before. The clerk called you up, you checked in seamlessly.

“You have a beautiful view,” She said, sliding the keycard over to you. “The most ocean any of us get around here.”

“Oh? The website didn’t advertise an ocean view,” You said, taking it back with your ID and credit card.

“That’s because calling it an ocean view is pushing it,” She laughed. “The town is surrounded by cliffs, and this is a three story building, if you squint you can catch a glimpse of it past the tree line.”

“I’ll keep an eye out then,” You smiled, finally putting your documents back in your bag. “Thank you.”

As you turned to leave the counter, you walked straight into someone. You stumbled back apologetically, almost tripping over your own bag in the process, but luckily the beautiful stranger caught you. Her cold, strong grip sent chills down your spine.

“Oh God,” You said, standing back up, face heating in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, dear,” Her grip lingered even after you were steady on your feet. “Glad I caught you.”

The redhead smiled at you, shamelessly roaming her eyes over your face. She was hypnotizing. Your body felt warm, lighter, almost as if you were floating just slightly above the ground. You stepped out of her grip, grounding yourself once again.

“Thank you…” You trailed off, not breaking eye contact.

“Natasha,” She replied. You smiled. Her hand came up to your face, delicate fingers brushing against your cheekbone before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Natasha,” You repeated, bringing your hand up to hers. Despite her delicate touch, her hand was strong, unwavering. She opened her mouth to ask your name, your eyes followed her lips. Pink, delicate, soft. “Y/N.”

“I can help you with your bags,” She said, taking the opportunity to look you up and down.

“It’s okay,” You gripped the handle, biting the inside of your lip. “I’m a big girl, I can do it myself.”

She smirked, a light hum leaving her throat. “Welcome to Willowcrest,” She replied, starting to walk past you before leaning in close to your ear. Her lips met your cheek. “Y/N.”

Before she could walk away you reached out your arm, stopping her midstep. “Anywhere you'd recommend for lunch?”

Natasha smirked. Her answer wasn’t tasteful. “There’s a cute diner down the street,” She turned towards you again. “I have lunch plans, unfortunately,” Her eyes subtly drifted to the front desk clerk helping another set of guests who had just arrived, before drifting back to your neck. She thought the way you wore your hair up was indecent. It made her mouth water. “I can give you a tour around town tonight though, I’ve always thought the town looks better in the dark.”

“You live here?” You wondered, she felt confident enough in the space you sensed she was a local.

“My family owns part of the hotel,” Her eyes dipped down to your lips before moving back up to your eyes. Natasha couldn’t pinpoint why you felt so different. “We all live here.”

“I’ll take you up on that tour then, Natasha.” The two of you exchanged numbers before you finally made your way up to your room. It was by no means the most luxurious room in the hotel, but it was nice. The bathroom was a decent size, the bed looked comfortable.

You set your bags on the floor just in time for your stomach to growl. As you straightened back up, the view out the window caught your attention. The clerk was right. You could just make out the glimmer of the sun against the water of the ocean in the horizon, just barely over the tops of the conifer trees of the surrounding boreal forest. You walked over to the window, cracking it open. The fresh air was cool, it brought a new color to the stale air of the room.

When you made your way to the lobby, you spotted Natasha by the clerk that helped you. Her gaze lingered on the clerk’s collar and you wondered if the clerk was her lunch plans. You lowered your sunglasses as you stepped outside, the bright sunlight warming you down to your bones.

As you walked down the street to the diner, you felt a weird sense of belonging. This town was the closest you could call to a hometown. You had to move around pretty often, never able to stay at a place for more than a few years. Sometimes because you got bored, and others because you did something suspicious. It was almost… nice.

The bell rang as you opened the door to the diner, some heads turned your way but not many. You wouldn’t expect a diner out of all places to be filled with vampires. You sat down at a booth in the back, a waitress handed you a menu and a glass of water before going back to another customer to give you some time with the menu.

You heard it then. The sweet, angelic sound of an unforgettable laugh that made your heart stop and your body go cold. Your hands gripped the menu you were holding, your palms warming.

You took a deep breath, your stomach knotted.

It’s not her, it can’t be her. She’s dead. Surely it’s just someone else with a similar laugh.

When you put your menu down, you locked eyes with green ones. The green eyes you never thought you’d see again.

“Wanda?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fanfiction #wlw fanfiction #scarlet witch x reader #black widow x reader #wandanat x reader #bonk.au #bonk.brtyw

507 notes · View notes