#so i'll add that tag for good measure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

begko · 5 months

Text

keep quiet. -seijoh 4

warnings: 18+ MDNI, poly, implied masturbation, implied sex(? I think), idk how to tag so lmk if there's anything else

contains: fem reader, seijoh 4 x reader (but mostly Matsukawa x reader and Hanamaki x reader)

wc: 1.2 k

a/n: I feel like there's not enough seijoh 4 fics out there so I decided to write one myself lol. This is my first fic so if anyone likes this I'll finish this and try to post more. Just ask and I'll lyk if I can do it!

Living in an apartment with four other boys never left your days feeling dull. Although you were all in your 20’s and supposedly more mature than your younger selves, they were still boys.

They would each find ways to somehow piss you off, whether consciously or not. Dirty laundry in the living room, a bag of chips left open on the counter, or the loud moans of a random girl spilling through the crack in their bedroom door. These things wouldn’t typically leave you feeling so annoyed, but hearing a repeating “Yes Oikawa!” at 3 AM– the night before your abnormal psychology midterm may I add– was seriously starting to test your patience.

Before you knew it, you found your feet gliding stomping down the hallway towards the brunette’s room, unknowingly drawing the other three to peek out from their own doors.

“I SWEAR TO GOD TOORU. IF SHE DOESN’T SHUT UP YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN.” You emphasized your threat by loudly pounding your fist on his door, then swiftly retreating back to your room, slamming your door for good measure. You put your earbuds back in and tried to focus on the music that filled your ears.

Thankfully, you eventually drifted to sleep, but the groggy feeling you had the next morning did not dissipate, even with the large coffee you had made. After fumbling with your keys for what seemed like forever, you were met with the faces of your roommates, all waiting to greet you. They each gave you a warm smile, which normally would brighten your mood a bit, but the sight of Tooru’s face made a frown appear on your face. Without a word, you disappeared into your room and threw yourself onto the bed, hoping to catch up on some sleep.

“What did I do?” Hajime immediately slapped the back of Tooru’s head in response. “You idiot! She had an exam today and you haven’t even apologized for keeping her up!” Hajime clicked his tongue in annoyance at his best friend. Tooru rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain. “Well how do I make her forgive me? I didn’t know she had an exam!”

Hajime merely shook his head, “Figure it out.” he said before going to check on you. As he opened your door, he found you– jeans and all – laying face-down on your bed. A groan of acknowledgement came from your figure, causing Hajime to let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?”

“Headache.” Was all you managed to say before beckoning him to lay with you. He obliged, letting you roll over before laying on top of your half-made bed with you. He adjusted you both so your head would be comfortably caged in his arms, while you curled into his warmth.

“It’s alright, just get some sleep. I’ll stay with you, baby.” There it was. That nickname he gave you. It always put a smile on your face, this time no different, as you drifted off with your lips sleepily curled up at the corners.

While, yes, they were annoying at times, one could argue that they had a soft spot for you. They would often lay with you if they knew you wanted the company, just as Hajime was doing. When a boy would break your heart, you would find one of them waiting outside of your lecture hall with a bouquet of daffodils, ready to take you out to eat or to a club. With them, you never needed to watch cringey rom-coms while incessantly crying. They distracted you from the heartache, until it eventually melted away. And those nicknames, god, those nicknames. You were sure that they meant nothing, but the way that they locked eyes with you as they uttered ‘Princess’ or ‘Darling’ made your heart stop in ways that felt more than platonic. Sometimes, when you touched yourself in the dead of the night, you found yourself imagining them saying it, driving you to your climax. But you would never admit that to any of them. Just as they wouldn’t admit that you would sometimes let your moans get loud enough for them to hear, driving them to let their hands wander down beyond the waistbands of their boxers. They quickly chased their high, knowing that without the sweet noises of your pleasure seeping through the thin walls, they would be left unsatiated.

You awoke to the delicious smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. After stretching a bit, you opened your eyes to find Hajime no longer next to you. You followed the smell into the main area of your apartment, finding the boys sitting at the kitchen counter chatting while Tooru stood with a pink apron on.

Your small laugh caused them all to turn their heads to wear you stood, a smile appearing on each of their faces. You walked up to them and put your hands on the counter, surveying the mess left on top of it.

“I made you your favorite! And before you say anything, I was just about to clean up.” That drew another giggle to fall from your lips. You mumbled out a ‘You better.” as Tooru wrapped his arms around your form. “I’m sorry for keeping you up last night, please forgive me?”

“ Fine, just buy a gag for the next time you wanna bring one of them home.” The four laughed while you began to set the table.

After dinner, Tooru told you to put on a movie while the rest of them did the dishes and grabbed something sweet to snack on. You opted to take a quick shower before doing so and changed into a comfortable tank top and shorts. As you plopped down on the couch and simply chose to re-watch The Hunger Games, Hiro and Issei sat down on either side of you. Issei guided you between his legs, allowing your head to lay on his chest, as Hiro moved your legs into his lap. Hiro draped a blanket over your form, as you gave him a small smile of thankfulness. Soon after, Hajime and Tooru sat in the smaller armchairs and started the movie.

You’ve seen this movie a million times, after all it was your favorite. But as you watched Katniss tie herself to a tree in an attempt to get some sleep, you began to grow bored. You shifted from your position, fidgeting in hopes of becoming comfortable again. “Sit still, pretty girl. I wanna know what happens next.” You heard Issei whisper into your ear. You freeze. For some reason, the mixture of the hot breath that you felt on your neck and the raspiness of his voice made your stomach form a knot. But it wasn’t until you felt Hiro’s hand start to slowly travel up the length of your leg that you finally realized what you were feeling. You felt hot, making you squirm even more. Issei’s arm snaked around your middle, holding you in place. “I said sit still. We’ll give you a reward if you’re good.” Suddenly it felt like your senses were heightened. The feeling of Issei’s arm and Hiro’s wandering hands made your breathing come to a halt. Is this a dream?

“Do you trust us, pretty girl?”

564 notes · View notes

pinkroseblooms · 2 months

Text

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex.

“You smell so good.”

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?”

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with.

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle.

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile.

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze.

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone?

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different.

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.”

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.”

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties.

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall.

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought.

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act?

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile.

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop.

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.”

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first.

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you. “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

185 notes · View notes

angelkhi · 1 year

Text

kiss it better - j.m

pairing: dilf!joel miller x babysitter!reader

summary: turns out joel is trained in first aid, among other things.

warnings: SMUT (18+ Minors DNI) oral (f), fingering, masturbation (m), age gap, creampie but not technically p in v, cumplay i guess, squirting? cum eating/swapping(???), praise, an inkling of overstimulation, hair pulling, needy joel, some dirty talk / bad language, nicknames: dove, pretty girl, sweet girl, idk just some down right dirty shit with some feeling, mentions of injury (a scraped knee and elbow), age gap, slight hurt comfort, grumpy bucky, kinda sweet ending. very sorry if i missed anything!

word count: 2.4 k

a little note: hi! this shit is nasty soz xx i wrote this for bucky but changed it to pre-outbreak joel cause yeah, also not proofread cause i don’t like reading my own shit, and sarah is like 5 in this, also if u know me no you don’t, okay love ya x likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏾

"You, kitchen. I'll be down in 10."

You'd listened of course, planting yourself on the kitchen counter and awaiting his return, but those 7 simple words left you fidgeting for the entire 10 minutes he was gone.

Joel walks into the room without a word, puts the bright red first aid box on the counter next to you and pulls up a stool. You can't help but watch his fluid movements, admiring his grace and precision even in the smallest of movements. All of them are deliberate, calculated.

"This is gonna sting a bit." He rips open an alcohol wipe, sliding a hand behind your knee to keep you in place. "Deep breath for me."

"Joel, I can sort it myself- mother fucker!" You start to protest but he presses the wipe against your broken skin, the sting unexpected despite his prior warning.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Joel smirks, wiping over your knee once more, his fingers digging into your flesh when you try to pull away from him. "Keep still."

"I told you I'd sort it." You mumble.

"Stop being so proud for 10 minutes. Let me help you."

"But..."

He sighs, finally looking up at you. You're not sure if it's the intensity of his stare, or the fact that he's hunched over you, touching you so gently, as though a scraped knee just might break you, but that sigh defeats you.

"Okay."

Silence falls over you again and you continue to watch him work, smiling when he fiddles with small bandage and adds a princess sticker for good measure.

"I'm sorry about earlier. Didn't mean for such a dramatic entrance but you know Sarah, she's..."

"Stubborn and bossy."

"I was going to say strong minded and competitive. Like her father." His brow quirks subtly, but you pretend not to notice it.

"So... stubborn and bossy." Joel smiles, still completely focused on bandaging your knee, "There you go, all patched up."

You nod, unsure of what to say all of a sudden. Joel fills the silence.

"I've missed you." Three simple words, that probably would've had little effect on you if they hadn't come from him.

"You saw me yesterday Joel."

"You know that's not what I mean dove." He glances up at you, just for a second, but a second is all he needs to know you understand. Of course you understand. You've spent the better part of a year trying not to miss him.

"Always so proud. It's okay to let people help you."

"My pride took quite the hit today thank you very much, your kid is way too good at tag." Joel chuckles, and your bruised pride heals a little, knowing that you had made him laugh. The way that his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches, the almost giggle. You want to commit it to memory. To keep them it your pocket safe and tight for when you needed it. Even as his soft eyes bore into your own, silently demanding an answer to his statement.

"Thank you, Doctor Miller. I'd better be going." It's cowardly, barely even a whisper, almost drowned out by the low hum of the fridge.

But you don't move though and nether does he. Joel smooths the bandage over your knee, his lingering thumb quickly replaced by his soft lips. Joel gazes up at you as he rose from his knees, his hands sliding up your legs with each fluid movement. His hands move on their own accord, across your thighs, skimming your hips and waist, moving up and up until he's cradling your jaw.

"I wanna keep you in just a little while longer for observations, doctors orders" You lean into his touch, hyper aware of how close the pair of you suddenly are.

"Hmm. Okay Doctor Miller, any other remedies... since you insist." You're breathless, the air in the room seeming none existent as you bend to his will.

"I can think of one."

He bunches your skirt up around your waist in one swift motion, urging you to lay back against the cool marble countertop. His lips are full and warm against your skin, lingering on the inside of your knee, his fingers holed in the side of your panties, dragging them ever so slowly down your thighs. Joel's every movement is slow and deliberate, as though he's trying to savour each and every part of the moment.

"Such a pretty cunt." A small burst of cool air against your exposed pussy pushes you closer to the edge of desperation. Joel's hair tickles your inner thighs, his soft shirt brushing the back of your knee

"Tell me you missed me." He's so close to where you need him, practically dangling himself on a string. "Tell me how much you missed me touching you like this."

Joel finally touches you, his thumb circling your hole, watching you clench around nothing desperately spread out on his kitchen counter willing to take anything he'll give you.

"Missed you, Joel. So much." He hums, pride seeping out of his pores, dark eyes flickering when you say his name.

"Fuckin my hand to the thought of you was torture dove. Nothin compares to this perfect little thing." His lips purse and a small burst of cool air brushes over your clit. You grow more and more desperate the closer he gets, you're practically offering yourself up on a silver platter and he chooses now to take his sweet time?

Your fingers thread through his shaggy locks, prompting him to do something or you'll do it yourself. Joel' laugh is quick and breathless, his eyes slipping shut when you lightly scratch at his scalp.

He leans forward, tongue dragging from your entrance to your throbbing clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair and he groans pulling back to speak.

"Just as sweet as I remember." He takes another moment, then his head is between your thighs.

You're not sure if it's been hours or minutes but Joel's head is still buried between your thighs, lapping at your clit and weeping hole like a starved man. Every time you think he'll give you some sort of a reprise, he just gives you more. Fucking an extra finger into you each time he comes up for breath, or simply just toying with your clit, enjoying the way you respond so diligently to his every touch.

Your hands find the edge of the counter out of sheer desperation, too scared you'll pull at his hair too harshly in this marathon of touching, that is at least until Joel's movements stop abruptly, his head lifting from between your.

"Joel, are you okay?" His large hands wrap around your wrists, prying your hands off of the marble and back into his soft hair.

"Don't stop-" he presses a sweet kiss to your thigh "-feels so fuckin' good."

He wastes no time getting back between your thighs, bringing you back to that ledge he'd left you on. The soft point of his nose brushes against your clit, your hands grasping his hair with fervour. Joel's moan is low and deep, vibrating from his lips right to your open cunt. The knowledge that you're giving him just a fraction of what he's giving you makes your chest swell, and you bet that if you had to energy to lift your head and look down on him, his trousers would be uncomfortably tight and his hips Joeling up at nothing.

He curls his fingers, hooking them perfectly against where you need him, his hand moving at an unnatural pace. You try to stay quiet so not to wake the little girl asleep upstairs, but you're being torn apart from the inside out and Joel's muffled sounds do nothing but spur you on. Once his lips pucker against your clit and his fingers rest on that perfect spot, you're finished. Torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer, you simply just let it happen, let him coax your body through a perfect orgasm until you have no choice but to push the gluttonous man away.

"So fuckin' pretty. Look at ya, all mine." He's breathless, supporting your now upright frame between his muscular arm and chest. He presses his soft lips to yours, and it's a mess of nipping and sucking. His tongue brushes up against yours slowly and deeply, the taste of your own orgasm lingering on your lips.

"Just one more. Gimme one more yeah? So fucking good for me dove." You nod, something between a hoarse sigh and a whimper when he asks for verbal confirmation. He slides two long fingers back into you with ease, right back with that bruising pace, watching with dark eyes as you grind your clit on the ball of his palm.

"That's it, I've got you sweet girl. Give it to me." Joel's efficient when he works your body. He enjoys how you clench around his fingers when your orgasm builds, or how your swollen clit respond so well to his touch. He likes it when you push your fingers into his broad shoulders, anchoring yourself to him. He fucking loves it when you muffle the high pitched scream in his shoulder, teeth digging into his skin slightly as you release over his hand.

Dark grey spots linger on the cotton of his joggers from where you'd gushed all over him, but he doesn't care. Joel cradles your face, taking you in, his own little slice of heaven on earth. His.

Your nimble fingers tug the waistband of his joggers until they're just low enough to release him from their confines. His fingers brush over yours, moulding them against him, guiding you to palm his cock in a tight fist. Joel's concentrated gaze flickers between your glistening thighs, your pretty eyes, your half parted lips, your wet pussy spread out just for him. He's frantic, chasing pleasure from your white knuckled fists.

You slip your hand free, tracing over the stubble on his chin, fingers trailing around the back of his neck, until they're locked in his hair again. Your grip is rough when you tip his head back slightly, and he shudders against you, hips chasing his fist.

You relinquish in the small amount of power, the new feeling sending a rush down your spine. His lips rest against yours, his soft noises brushing against your skin.

"You gonna let me make a mess of this cunt, huh? Gonna let me come all on your pretty pussy."

"Joel please."

"Fuck. You're too good to me." He's whining for you. Fucking whining, and it's all because of you. Joel's hips stutter and thrust into his hand, the thick head of his cock bumping against your sensitive nub, extracting every last ounce of pleasure from your already spent body.

"Joel, come inside of me. Please Joel, you're always so good to me, let me be good for you." His hips slow as he takes in your words, your hands on him. He works himself over with his fist once more before he grips himself at his thick base pressing himself against your sensitive clit once again. He slides himself down, down, until the head of his dick is pressed against your waiting hole.

The familiar stretch of him pushing into you has you whimpering, still so sensitive. Joel's breath stutters and his hands grip your hips as he fucks his tip into you. His thrusts are quick and shallow as he gets himself off and you're muttering against his lips how good he feels, how pretty he looks, how much you love it when he takes what he needs. You scratch at his scalp, and grip his hair that little bit tighter and he's keening over, pressing his lips to yours. His eyes squeeze shut and he whines into your mouth as he pumps himself empty inside of you.

He works swiftly, removing himself from your warmth, sliding you to the edge of the counter and falling to his knees.

"Fuckin perfect." He mutters to himself, watching as his spend leaks out of you, fingers toying with the mess he made. He drags his soft wet tongue against you, once, twice, slipping into your used cunt until you're clawing him away beyond over-sensitive.

But then he's up, and in front of you and you're reading and waiting knowing what he's about to give you and you're willing to accept it. He kisses you, the mixture of your slick and his come on his tongue. You take it, the debauchery act pushing you so far past the point of desire. His fingers still move against you, still playing with your clenching cunt until you're seeing stars.

"Joel, too much."

"M'sorry dove." He says, pulling his fingers away from you and sucking them into his mouth.

He moves quickly, reaching for a cloth and some of his pyjama pants from the washing pile on the dining table. He's careful when he runs it over your thighs and in between your legs, holds you carefully when he helps you down from the counter and slips you into the sleep trousers that are far too big. He's soft and warm and careful and everything in between when he holds you against his chest.

"Joel..." He hums. "I don't want to miss you anymore."

You pull away to look up at him, terrified that you'd misread the situation, that your cloudy brain and lingering crush on the father next door has made you overstep the mark.

"Don't wanna miss you either dove." His lips brush yours.

He seems nervous, it's beyond sweet, but you'd never felt so light, so relieved. "Stay?"

"What about Sarah?"

"Please, she's been begging me to date you for months." Oh.

"And what do you want?" His soft thumbs stroke your lips whilst he holds your gaze, soft yet demanding.

"I wanna take you out to dinner. Want you next to me when I wake up in the mornings. I want you to sit on my face til your crying. Wanna give you everything you want, no matter how ridiculous, I just want you, if you'll let me." Oh. Big oh. You pull him close, resting a hand over his quick beating heart, worried it just might give out.

"You already have me."

He flashes a toothy grin, his blue eyes sparkling even in a dimly lit room. He kisses you slow and sweet, pouring every ounce of care an affection into your lips making it certain. You absolutely already have him too.

#joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pre outbreak!joel #tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us smut #dilf!joel #joel miller smut #tlou smut #smut

727 notes · View notes

itwasthereaminuteago · 6 months

Text

|| Shop Talk ||

This one's for @theradioactivespidergwen as she's been feeling shitty and writes the best, hottest Murderdock and reader series which this little piece is inspired by. Hope you enjoy 💝💋

Tags/warnings: I should say Murderdock is from Earth 65 but I've set this in the Netflix universe. Cock warming, semi-public sex/slight voyuerism, tiny little bit of daddy kink.bif you enjoyed please reblog so that others can too!

"The Russians are getting twitchy, they don't seem happy with the property offer."

Matt pours both himself and James Wesley a generous measure of whiskey into the thick crystal glasses on the low table before throwing himself back and lounging on the plush sofa cushions.

"Ugh." He rolls his eyes, taking a long sip of the warming alcohol, savouring the taste before letting it roll down his throat. "I don't see why. This was all agreed, prime fucking property in exchange for weapons, pretty simple offer. Pretty good one if you ask me."

"I get the feeling Alexey will come back asking for more than he deserves." Wesley adds.

"Oh it's almost guaranteed…" Matt pauses as you walk into the room, the hem of your silky nightdress barely covering your ass and the tops of your thighs. "Hi honey, what're you doing up so late, hm?"

"Can't sleep." You quietly reply, coming to sit on the couch beside him with your feet tucked up under you.

"Too hot? Too cold?"

You sigh. "No, the temperature's fine."

He tilts the glass held between his thumb and middle finger back and forth. "Maybe you just need a little nightcap sweetie."

You shake your head, leaning against his side, your fingers playing with his tie, pulling it up slow and letting it slip through your fingers.

"No Matty, I don't need a drink, I need you."

"We'll be finished soon darling, and then I'll come to bed."

"Please?" You add a little flavour of bratty whine into your begging because you know he can't resist it.

"I can go, sir…" Wesley makes a move to stand up but Matt raises his hand to halt him.

"No, no Wesley, that won't be necessary. Please, stay." He sighs dramatically. "It's my own fault, I've been a terrible boyfriend, too much business and not enough pleasure, how very unlike me! My little angel just gets a little needy sometimes, don't you baby?"

You nod slowly and he kisses your forehead sweetly. "And what kind of man would I be if I didn't make sure my best girl is taken care of?"

"A very bad one." You reply and he chuckles and grins, patting his thigh. "That's right. C'mere baby."

You do as he asks, putting your hands on his shoulders and swinging your leg over him to straddle his lap.

"Now, you see Wesley, this is how the Russians need to be with me," he explains as he starts to unfasten his suit pants, "just some clear communication, that's it, no fucking around," he eases his half hard cock out from his boxers under the cover of your short slip. He nearly always gets hard when he knows you're wearing some pretty lingerie around him and this time is no exception when his fingers run over your beautiful silk-covered breasts and on downwards, to where he discovers to his delight that you're completely bare underneath your nightwear.

"All I want," Matt continues, sucking air through his teeth as he lines himself up with your pussy, "is for them to tell me what they want…" his hands move to grip your hips as he slowly guides you to sink down on his length. "Mm, fuck sweetheart you feel so good… - and if it's an acceptable request-" You moan quietly as he fills you fully, feeling every single vein and ridge of him as you take his cock to the hilt, wrapping your arms around him as you lay against his chest and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "Yeah, that's it, good girl... I'll be more than happy to give them it."

He shuts his eyes to take a breath for a second as your walls squeeze him while you adjust.

"Alright. Is that better now angel?"

"Mmm."

"And are you going to be good for me and stay nice and still? Because you know if you start teasing me I'm going to have to fuck you over the coffee table and you know how that ended last time?"

You smile softly with acquiescence at him but with mischief in your eyes. "Mm, worth it."

"Mm, expensive." He counters pointedly, albeit with a slight smirk.

He rubs his hand slowly over your back as he turns his attention back to his second in command. "So, do you have any good news for me?'

Wesley clears his throat, following Matt's lead getting back to business.

You manage around ten minutes of boring crimelord admin chat before shifting in Matt's lap, the angle pushing him even deeper within you causing your cunt to clench at his dick and a tiny whimper to sneak out from your lips as Matt groans.

"Princess," He grits out. "What did I ask you earlier? I'm working."

You bite at your bottom lip. "I'm sorry daddy! I was just trying to get comfy, I didn't mean it." His cock twitches at your petted words and his tone drops low to the voice he only uses at night in the Kitchen... and in the bedroom.

"Sweetie, you were doing oh-so well for me before…" He removes his red-tinted glasses and sets them on the arm of the couch.

"I can be good..." you whisper before tugging his earlobe between your teeth. His fingers press into your thighs and you feel the hum he makes in his chest as he responds, I know, through your entire body, and you can't help flutter around him again as he makes you even wetter.

"Wesley," Matt's voice is ever so slightly strained as he secures your legs around him before he stands, sweeping everything off of the low table in front of him onto the floor before he lays you down on it and looms over you, still buried inside your warmth.

"I'll- talk to you in the morning, sir." Wesley finishes as he knocks back the rest of his drink and starts walking towards the penthouse elevator door.

"Yes, thank you," Matt replies, but he's entirely focused on you now, the hand that's not holding you spreading around your jaw and gently pressing his thumb between your lips to suck on. The elevator bell chimes softly as the doors slide open. "Oh, and Wesley?"

"Sir?"

You gasp as Matt draws back slowly and snaps his hips forward sharply, jolting you across the polished surface of the table as he uses one hand to loosen off his tie. "Order another one of these for me, hm?" He says, slapping his palm down on the wood. "Maybe something a bit more… sturdy."

Your devil of a Kingpin finally gives in to his angel, giving you what you want, all night long.

And afterwards? You've never slept better.

#matt murdock smut #matt murderdock x female reader #murderdock x kitten #matt murdock x reader

168 notes · View notes

vodika-vibes · 6 months

Note

Round 2 *ding ding ding*

Fives and "Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here– I won't let anything happen to you, I swear."

Please and thank you, my love 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Safe and Sound

Summary: When you are doing a favor for your father you stumble across a clone who's been drugged and is being hunted for a crime he didn't commit.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader (future)

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: This is a sort of prologue towards the last Fives x Reader fic I wrote.

Divider by Saradika

“This is the place, Checkmate?” You ask as you regard the warehouses thoughtfully.

“Yes ma’am,” Checkmate, a clone formerly from the 91st, replies as he folds his arms over his chest, his sharp gaze flickering around the area, “By all accounts, the warehouses are up for auction within the next tenday.”

You hum thoughtfully, “And what’s your assessment?”

Checkmate is quiet for a moment as he looks around without leaving your side. His gaze lingers on a group of spice addicts for a moment, and he purses his lips, “It won’t be easy to keep the building secure, if you plan to use it for storage.”

“Hm…I agree.” You reply lightly, “What if we demolish the building and build something else.”

“Such as?”

“My brother is always looking for places to set up new clinics.” You reply with a light smile.

A small smile crosses Checkmate’s face, “He is an amazing man.”

“Careful Captain, you’re in danger of swooning.” You tease gently, and then you laugh when he bumps your shoulder with his own, “In any event, I didn’t see any clinics anywhere in the area.”

“Probably because there isn’t one.” Checkmate replies, “You know what businessmen are like.”

You shoot him an amused look.

“Businessmen who aren’t associated with Gryffin Industries.” Checkmate clarifies with a roll of his eyes, “Everyone knows that the people who run Gryffin are about as close to saints as mortals can be.”

You laugh again, “You think far, far too highly of my family.”

Checkmate glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “Your family takes vod’e who are no longer able to do their duty, like myself, and gives us jobs, medical attention, and a place to live. That puts you pretty damn close to sainthood to me and my vod’e.”

“It’s hardly-”

“Both of my legs were blown off, and you gave me prosthetics that helped me walk again. Pretty sure that makes you the Patron Saint of Lost Causes.” Checkmate interrupts with a grin.

“You’re awful.”

“Hm, maybe if you would pick a bodyguard, then I wouldn’t tease you so much.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Yes. I would. You’re baby sister coded.”

You pout at him, and then focus your attention back on the warehouse, “Putting a clinic here would help us win some goodwill with the lower levels,” You say lightly, “Plus we can hire a bunch of people, and piss off some very rich assholes at the same time-”

“What, exactly, did the rich and powerful do to your family to make you all so bitter against them?” Checkmate asks as he watches you buy the warehouse…and then another three just for good measure.

“People like that use their influence to hurt innocent people. And it’s disgusting.” You reply, “And…there. Gryffin Industries now owns about three blocks down here.”

“What are you going to do with three blocks worth of warehouses?”

“A hospital, maybe? And a park, with a playground.”

“I’ll just add another check in your ‘destined for Sainthood’ book.” Checkmate teases, and then he tenses, and a scowl crosses his face. “Incoming.”

You turn slightly, and see an irate man stalking over towards you.

“You,” He barks at you, and you arch a single brow, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Actually,” You reply pleasantly, “I own everything in a three block radius. Which means you are trespassing.”

“That’s-” He stops when you lift the badge marking you as one of the owners of Gryffin Industries, and his scowl deepens, “I am a General in the GAR-”

“Unless there are Separatists in my warehouses, I suggest you see yourself off my property. Before I call someone to do it for you.” You say pleasantly.

“Someone tried to assassinate the Chancellor!”

“Which is a problem for the Guard, not the army.”

The General scowls and spins on his heels, “Fine. Then I’ll call the guard and they can search for him.”

“Do make sure they have a warrant, General.” You say to his back, and you hide your smile when he flinches. He shoots you a baleful look, and then stalks away, and you turn your head towards Checkmate, “Since when does the Army search for supposed criminals?”

“Since never.” He replies, “The warehouses are ours?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s see what we just purchased.”

The first warehouse is empty, save for dust and some empty crates. The same for the second warehouse.

But in the third warehouse the pair of you stumble on one of the clones sitting on the floor leaning against a crate. He’s gray and sweaty, and his hands are shaking. “He looks like he’s in the middle of spice withdrawals.” You murmur as you crouch next to him.

The clone, who had a 5 tattooed on his forehead, turns to look at you and seems to look through you rather than seeing you, and you frown and press your hand against his forehead.

“That’s not spice withdrawal,” Checkmate replies, “He’s been drugged. Look at his pupils.”

You frown thoughtfully, “We have spare armor in the speeder, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll go grab it and bring the speeder around.” He turns and hurries away, it won’t take him more than a few minutes to bring the speeder around.

You set your hand on the ill soldier’s shoulder, “It’s okay.” You whisper soothingly, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Whatever he was drugged with seems to have stolen his ability to speak, as he doesn’t say anything. But he does whine low in his throat, and he slumps over against you, his head landing on your chest.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whisper soothingly as you stroke the top of his head, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Checkmate returns only a moment later, and with his help you get the ill clone in a set of Gryffin Industries armor, which is much more streamlined that Clone armor, and is painted with dark teal and white accents.

And then Checkmate carries him out to the speeder and you slide yourself into the backseat next to him. You call the family lawyer as soon as the speeder leaves the warehouse district, and when you hear the glee in her voice, you almost feel bad for the people who cross her.

Almost.

It takes two days for the drugs to leave the clone’s system, and another day after that before he’s actually able to walk and talk properly.

And so, here you are, four days after you found him in the warehouse, sitting at a roundtable meeting with the rest of your family, with the clone, Fives he introduced himself as, standing at the end of the table.

Your father’s smile in kind as he regards Fives, “Alright, young man. Take your time and say what you need to say.”

Fives takes a deep breath, and his hands settle behind his back as he stands at attention. And then he starts to talk.

He starts slowly, and then, when he realizes that everyone is listening and no one is interrupting him, he gains momentum.

He talks, non-stop, for an hour, and when he stops talking the room is completely silent. You lean back in your chair and rub the spot between your eyebrows.

Your father swears loudly, and you understand the sentiment.

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but-” Fives says, sounding almost panicked.

“No, no. Lad, that’s not the problem.” Your grandfather says in his crisp accent, “The problem is that we do believe you.” He closes his eyes for a moment and then turns his attention to the table, “So, what do we do?”

“We can’t run at Palpatine directly,” Your cousin, the head of security, says from where he's sitting across from you, “He’s too powerful.”

“It’s also too risky,” You brother adds, “With the knowledge of what these chips are for…” He shakes his head.

“You’ve been removing them, right?” Your father asks.

“Of course.” He sounds offended, “Of course, I thought they were more like the Hutt explosive slave chips rather than free-will overwriting slave chips, so of course I’ve been removing them.”

“It’ll be easy enough to send the information to the battalion medics,” You say thoughtfully.

“How would they keep the surgeries a secret?” Your twin asks with a frown.

“They’d have to go slow.” Your brother murmurs, “No more than one or two at a time, and whenever someone is injured, or ill, they take the opportunity to remove the chip. I can reach out to the battalion medics.”

“And what about Palpatine?” Your grandfather asks.

“We can’t touch him until the men are no longer under his thumb.” Your cousin reminds, “For now, we need to pretend he’s no longer a threat.”

“I’ll think on that. For that matter, we’re going to need to make sure that not everyone knows everything. I’ll handle it.” Your father says, and then he pauses, “And what about Fives. He can’t return to the 501st, he has a price on his head.”

“I’ll take him.” You reply after a moment of thought, “You’ve all been hounding me about not having a bodyguard for ages now anyway.”

“Does that work for you, Fives?” Your father asks.

“Uh..yes sir.”

“Excellent.” He looks at his datapad, “Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Get him settled,” Your father says to you, “And make sure he gets proper armor.”

“I will.” You stand and walk over to Fives, “You can follow me.” He nods and turns to trail after you as you walk over to a hidden elevator and you press a button to activate it, “Until you get a proper helmet, we’ll be using the hidden passages and elevators.” You explain.

“That makes sense,” He replies, sounding deeply, deeply exhausted.

You smile at him soothingly as you step into the elevator, and you press one of the buttons. The elevator goes down seven levels, and then the door dings open and you lead him through a richly decorated hall, and you stop in front of a door, “This is my room.” And then you walk a single door down, “This is yours.”

You push the door open, and reveal a proper studio apartment. “This is all mine?”

“Yes. At the moment, nothing is stocked because I haven’t had a bodyguard since I was a child.” You explain, “I’ll make sure food is delivered, and you can use the datapad to order anything you might need.” You motion at the datapad on the counter, “Food, clothes, and hygiene items are included as part of your paycheck. Anything you want for fun, movies, books, games, you have to buy yourself. But that’s what the paycheck is for.”

“That seems really generous.”

You shrug, “We can afford it. Armor and weapons will be supplied. My twin will get you set up with armor as soon as you’re feeling up to it. We have a paint room with the appropriate colors all in stock.”

“Alright.”

“The bedding is clean, so you’ll be able to sleep in here tonight, or whenever you want to sleep.” You motion towards the closet, “The laundry shoot is in there, generally laundry is returned the day after you put it in the shoot.”

“What’s that door?” Five asks, as he motions to a door on the opposite wall.

“Oh. Right.” You walk over to the door, and press the button to open it, “This door connects my room with yours. It can’t be locked on either side. You have to be able to get to me quickly as my bodyguard, but I also need to be able to get to you quickly for the same reason. The door can be left open, or shut, depending on our preferences.”

“Alright. Can we keep it open? I’m not used to sleeping alone.”

“Of course.” You press another button, and the door locks in the open position, “Any other questions?”

“No-” His sentence is broken by a yawn, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You gently guide him towards the bed, “You should get some sleep.”

Fives hesitates, “I don’t know if I can. I keep thinking that someone is going to swoop in and kill me-”

You very gently sit him down on his bed, “Fives, try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here– I won't let anything happen to you, I swear.”

He hesitates for a moment longer, and then lays down on the soft bed. Fives tosses and turns for a bit, but after you grab his datapad and sit on the side of his bed, he settles a little bit.

He’s still not sleeping restfully, but he shifts and he slings his arms around you, clinging to you like you’re a stuffed animal, and he presses his face against your back, and you heave out a silent sigh of relief when his breathing becomes deep and even.

With Fives asleep, you decide to take the time to go through and place his food order. As well as ordering some clothes and the necessary hygiene things that he might need.

Everything’s going to be alright. You won’t stand for anything else.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

75 notes · View notes

maelstroem-of-love · 4 months

Text

🔞Minors DNI🔞...I know you want to but I don't wanna have this on my conscience, ok?

Things k/s smut should explore more, because I think it would be fun:

(Brought to you by an asexual dude. Just fun information.)

Spock when he is NOT in pon farr or under the influence of alien horny poison, or de-evolved into his primal self or whatever. I wanna see Spock when he's fully in control of himself! He's done his research and he intends to make his t'h'yla feel good. Cue check-ups in his usual official manner: “do you feel that you are sufficiently stimulated?” “what is the message behind your vocalizations?” “on a scale of one to ten, rate your experience” etc.

Jim being, like, completely unashamed of himself. He's the sluttiest man on the Enterprise and it's the 23rd century, so that's saying something.

On the opposite side, Spock might be very self-conscious: because of his hybrid body having different traits than a normal male vulcan's and/or because he's been taught that pleasure is illogical. Could also add a note of vulcan homophobia to that if it aligns with the author's headcanons. I personally love the idea of Spock justifying sex to himself as being exclusively for Jim (because he's a human and he's allowed to want it) while Spock himself is...performing a service. For the sake of love. And Jim's like ohhh, sure, of course, I can tell you're deeefinitely not enjoying this, uh-uh *pretending that he can't hear Spock's tiny moans*

Also - can you tell this list is mostly about Spock? - more 👏 vulcan 👏 biology 👏. Not just the cock (and honestly no shame on people who prefer him with a plain ol' human weenor. It's fine). Is Spock warm or cold to the touch? Does he sweat? What does he smell like? Can Jim feel his heartbeat when he touches his sides? Are his teeth sharper than a human's? Does he have any special erogenous zones that humans don't? There's SO much room for creativity.

In TOS, I often notice that, although Jim loves his job, he feels burdened by responsibility and inability to show weakness. Sooo...maybe a bit later in the relationship he could have fun being Spock's sub, losing all of his control & being told what to do. Vulcan strength makes this extra good.

Getting into highly specific territory, Spock treating Jim like a science experiment. Figuring out where he's most sensitive, how to make him squeal, how to give him the most satisfaction (or no satisfaction at all). He's got data and stuff, maybe even a tricorder to measure electromagnetic impulses. Jim is very amused by all this.

Finally, and most importantly, have you SEEN Jim's bed???? It's a mystery how Jim himself fits on there, much less how the two of them manage to do anything without tumbling to the floor. They need alternative fucking locations. Over the chess table. Bridge bathroom (everyone curses them). Rawdogging it in the bowling alley after closing hours. Maybe they use their provied accomodations when they're on an away mission - this is especially funny if they're captured and they're trying to escape. “Hold it with the escape plan, Scotty, me and Mr. Spock need to use the luxurious bed that our captors have so generously provided for us...” aaand we've got a whole plot right here.

If you see this, feel free to add more in the tags! Also, if you know some fics that feature these concepts, link them also, I'll check them out.

#spirk #k/s #star trek tos #tos spirk #spirk fanfiction

41 notes · View notes

ghostoffuturespast · 4 months

Text

Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review

I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.

You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.

I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.

Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words

My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.

I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress.

I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.

We’ll start with the easy one.

After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.

But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.

Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped.

I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.

Now, for the more complicated thing.

Writing

So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.

I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.

I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.

I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.

When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.

For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.

I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.

I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager.

Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more.

Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.

So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.

I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.

I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)

The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.

But this is me trying to start conversation.

It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give.

Relationships require both.

I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.

And generosity and grace is what we all need.

Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.

#cyberpunk 2077 #2023 year in review #year in review #virtual photography #writing #from the top #fic: so it goes #long post #i can't guarantee a safe space but i can guarantee a brave space #if anyone's been feeling similarly and wants to talk about it my dms are open #the door's always open

34 notes · View notes

blairwaldcrf · 5 months

Text

Sneak Peak Sunday

because i can't seem to keep to six or seven sentences today

more from the firstprince! kanthony bridgerton au (with a Roaring 20s Hollywood spin)

So maybe Alex takes the maddeningly long line of suitors as nothing more than an obstacle he shouldn't have to endure, but it's not his fault that he knows that where he belongs is in the room. He's rocking on his heels when he catches sight of blonde hair and that's all it takes for him to eschew decorum and ignore indignant shouts all to barrel ahead.

Barely sparing him more emotion than to fill a cold stare, Henry flatly states. “You’re not welcome here.”

Ignoring the way Alex very much wants to see if hitting his jaw will make the man who yelled at him in the garden reappear, he controls himself with nothing more than a smile. It's a miraculous feat, really. Someone should dedicate poetry to his restraint. “Do you really think you’re the first white man to tell me I’m not welcome somewhere?”

“Hopefully not the first to tell you that it’s due to your accursed personality and not your looks,” Henry strikes back with such precision that Alex is almost impressed. “But I meant that you are not welcome at the front of the line when there are others waiting prior.”

“I'll wait if you tell me more about my looks.” Maybe he’s smirking a bit to drive home the point-- which there isn’t really a point other than he had noticed how irritated Henry had gotten the last time he’d gone down this route of antagonism last night. You think my smile is pleasing?

Angered enough Henry’s cheeks actually turn a bit pink at the comment, Alex feels momentarily victorious, even if it precludes another insult. Narrowing the ridiculous blue eyes of his, he drops his voice low enough to reply as derisively as possible and not show the entire hall what an ass he is. “I think I said enough about them the other night.”

“Henry, is that who I think it is?” Beatrice Fox’s voice carries behind him. The brother closes his eyes tight in what seems to be a curse at whichever God he believes in before even attempting a reply, exhaling rather dramatically before he calls back, “Cutting the line, yes.” As if for good measure, he opens his eyes to glare at Alex and spitefully add, “Rudely.” as if that wasn’t apparent enough by his tone.

Alex is too busy grinning to mind.

“Let him in, H.”

Henry doesn’t move. “Bea--,”

“Oh, don’t become Pip now that we’re in the States, please,” she says, and suddenly Henry is capable of showing genuine emotion, because the lack of pretense in his outraged gasp is almost as hilarious as the fact he immediately steps aside.

Beatrice looks as though she’s trying to hide a smirk for her brother’s pride once Alex steps into the same room, but he’s grown up with June too closely not to know the cat-ate-the-canary grin of an older sister having gotten her way. “Hello Mr. Claremont-Diaz.”

He catches the unamused look Henry gives and tries not to be too apparent with his vindication, but he's performed better at too many other endeavors to say he's successful. “Good morning, Ms. Fox.”

The playfulness behind her smile doesn’t leave, but he's aware that she's watching her brother much more than him. He might be offended if it wasn't so amusing to watch someone else put him in his place.

tagging @ssmtskw @terrainofheartfelt @vanderwoodlings @strideofpride @laufire @hydesjackiespuddinpop @kiwiana-writes

#firstprince #rwrb fic #writing tag

23 notes · View notes

space-mermaid-writing · 1 year

Text

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 12

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision. This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Previous | Next

Chapter's Note: You gave me a lot of songs recommendations and it was really hard to decide, since they were all great. So I made a whole playlist with my favorite songs from you :D Some of them even went on my personal dance playlist. I finally settled on 'Be my baby' by The Ronettes for this chapter, since the lyrics fit best. But listen to whatever song you like. Beta by @zaria-04 <3

Chapter 12: Be My Baby

The night we met I knew I needed you so And if I had the chance I'd never let you go So won't you say you love me I'll make you so proud of me We'll make 'em turn their heads every place we go

You have a bowl in your hand and a wooden spoon in the other, while you move your hips to the beat of the song. On your stove are two pots, one bubbling a purple liquid, the other so far just some water. Music is coming from a stereo on the shelf. You love listening to music while you work, turning it up to full volume, because there's no one around to complain about it.

So won't you, please, be my, be my baby Be my little baby, my one and only baby Say you'll be my darlin', be my, be my baby Be my baby now, my one and only baby Wha oh oh oh

With the spoon and a practiced eye, you measure out various ingredients to mix in the bowl. Extract of Atlantic poison oak - deadly if you use it wrong, but healing if you know your way around - chamomile and birch bark… something's missing. With a swirl of your finger, a sealed jar comes flying out of a cupboard. Dried garlic. You forget the dried garlic every time, even though you've read the recipe a dozen times and know it by heart.

When you get it all together, the bowl rises into the air on its own and everything is mixed inside by an invisible hand. You have your hands free to light a match and add the flame as an ingredient.

The next verse you sing along loudly.

I'll make you happy, baby, just wait and see For every kiss you give me, I'll give you three Oh, since the day I saw you I have been waiting for you You know I will adore you 'til eternity

The mission about the artifact was almost a week ago and by now you have recovered well. Lots of sleep and delicious snacks have helped. Since you spend most of your time in the tower in New York, your work as a witch has fallen by the wayside. So you took yesterday and today off to keep up with your orders.

While the ingredients are melting, you have time for a dance solo. It's one of your favorite songs and no one is here to judge you. Barefoot, you dance around the kitchen. Your black dress is long and figure-hugging, but through the two high slits, you have enough freedom of movement. Some clichés about witches are just true. You grab the bowl out of the air and scrape the contents into the boiling water.

So won't you, please, be my, be my baby Be my little baby, my one and only baby Say you'll be my darlin', be my, be my baby Be my baby now, my one and only-...

You sense a motion from the corner of your eye and hear a chuckle. Startled, you whirl around. The knife you throw gets stuck in the door just inches away from Loki's head. As a sign that he comes in peace, he raises his arms.

"You have a bad aim," he says.

"That was just a distraction." You point down, and as Loki lowers his gaze, he notices roots entwined around his ankles and legs, keeping him from moving. It draws his attention away from you for a brief moment and you try to shake off your embarrassment at being watched by him while dancing and singing in your kitchen. Hopefully your flushed cheeks don't give you away. You wonder how long he has been standing there.

"Consider me impressed, Witchling." The grin still graces his lips and you don’t question his good mood. With a small gesture you dissolve the protection spell and free Loki from his bonds, with another one you turn off the music.

"What do you want?" you ask him. If he shows up here at your cottage, it must be important.

"Why do you humans always ask that? Why do you always think I want something from you when I just want your company?"

His words make your heart beat fast. But you remind yourself that this is part of his game. He is flattering you to avoid a direct answer. "Because you're not allowed to leave the tower without good reason."

"Ah - that's where you’re wrong," he corrects you and starts looking around curiously. He steps to a nearby shelf and eyes at the contents. "I may leave the Tower in your company. Aside from that being a useless rule because it doesn't really stop me, Stark will probably-" Your phone rings. "… contact you."

You reach for your phone, which is on a nearby table. It's an incoming video call from Tony. You pick it up while Loki looks at your stash of labeled potion bottles with interest.

"What's up, Tony?"

You see the face of the billionaire popping up. He is wearing dark sunglasses and seems focused on something else. You hear the sound of welding in the background and every few seconds his face is illuminated by a small light source in front of him. He's probably in his tech lab, you think, when you notice the dark smudges on his face.

"Did Loki show up?" he asks you.

An idea strikes you and you raise your eyebrows in wonder. "Loki? Why would he?" you ask, seemingly surprised. "I’m off work today."

This makes Tony drop his work and turn his face to the screen. He curses under his breath. "That litte..."

Just then Loki slides into view next to you. "I'm here," he announces loudly for Tony to hear. He tries to take your phone from you, but you're faster and dodge him. A brief scuffle ensues until you manage to push Loki aside and regain control of your device.

"What's going on?" Tony asks since he hears your voices but doesn't have a clear view.

"Everything's fine. I'll drop Loki back home later," you assure him before you hang up.

"Wicked minx," Loki accuses you. He stands right in front of you, as usual in your personal space. You thought you'd have to get used to it by now, but it still gives you goosebumps. In a good way. And that's bad.

"That was for startling me earlier" you promptly retort.

Loki's grin takes on something wolfish. He's long since realized that he's found a worthy opponent in you and wonders to what extent he can test the limits.

You hear a soft bubbling and remember that you still have a potion on the stove. Quickly, you step past Loki and rush to it to keep it from boiling over. It would ruin it and you’ve put a lot of work into it.

"How did you get here?" you ask Loki in passing.

"Through the portal in your room." Apparently he's decided not to leave your side today, because the Asgardian is stepping up beside you again and watching you work over your shoulder.

"You were in my room?" You scrunch your nose. You don't like that thought. Apparently you need to put a magical protection around your room in the tower. You had refrained from doing that until now because you thought it was safe enough. "How did you get in there anyway?"

"Don't insult me," Loki speaks with his usual arrogance. "The protective measures in the tower are no obstacle to me. Speaking of which, your chambers are rather spartan and not particularly tastefully decorated. I took the liberty of changing that."

Now this is really going too far! You whirl around to face him with an angry glare. "What?! Loki, if I go back and everything is green, I swear to god-…"

"I'm a god. Swear to me."

You blink and stare at him. He's thrown you off balance. It takes a few seconds for your brain to remember how to form words and you turn back to your potion. "Unbelievable," you mutter softly.

You don't see it, but Loki is very pleased with himself. You feel his presence at your back, knowing he's still standing there. You’re longing to touch him, brushing your back at his chest. You breathe in and out deeply, trying to focus on your work. You can't let the Asgardian throw you off.

It's just a game to him.

This phrase became a mantra in your head that you repeat over and over. You wish it was different, that you could be more than just friends. It pains you, but you allow the feeling in, even welcome it. It stings your heart, but in the long run it will help you overcome your feelings.

"So, why are you here?" you ask again, but this time less brusque. You need to talk to not fall into a spiral of thoughts. "I'm not complaining about it, just wondering. You've never seemed interested in my cottage before. It's a very small country. Not as luxurious as you're used to."

Not compared to his suite in the tower and even less to the palace Loki grew up in. Even if you can only imagine that one.

"Don't sell it short. It's lovely." His puffed confidence seems to scale down and his next words are almost apologetic. "I'm sorry for coming here unannounced. I don't mean to intrude if you are busy with your work." He watches you pour the brew out of the pot. You don't say anything, because you have a feeling there's more to come.

"Sometimes being in the tower can be a lot. My brother. Everything. I merely wished to escape it for a few hours."

You throw him a smile over your shoulder. "Of course, Loki, you can stay the day."

It's a big vote of trust that Loki is so honest with you. He seems relieved by your answer.

It's little nuances in his behavior, but by now you can read him pretty well. And you also understand his reasons. You have the freedom to enter and leave the tower as you wish. Loki doesn't. The residents and workers are friendly and polite to you. Not that much to him.

But the Avengers seem to open up to him. It’s going just fine with Tony. Natasha and Clint also seem to have a better opinion of him after the mission. But it's not friendship. Not even companionship, more like a polite tolerating on both sides.

Loki only has Thor - and you. And when the two of you aren't around, he spends his time alone in the suite, or at least that's what you assume. It's big and equipped with everything he needs. But he probably still feels cooped up in it. You certainly would. And Loki has been there longer than you’ve even had this job. You can't blame him for wanting to go somewhere else, see something different.

"I may ask you to help me with my work, though," you add.

"I'm at your service, Witchling."

A grin creeps onto your face as you think of how tempting that offer is. But in a different way. Luckily, you've turned your back on him and he can't see your face. "Great. Then you can get the box of bottles from under the table," you say instead, pointing at them.

He does as told while you pull a stack of labels from a drawer and label them as rheumatism medicine and with today's date. You show Loki how he can help you fill the bottles.

After everything is done, you put them in a basket.

"We're going to deliver these to a nursing home. Unless you'd rather stay here and read in the garden," you offer him. After all, he's come here to have some peace and quiet.

"I'll go with you."

"Great," you smile, then your eyes fall on his outfit. "But you should change into something casual. People here don't know about Asgardian gods nor their fashion."

With a green glow, his usual tunic and leathery pants change into dark jeans and a green shirt. You acknowledge it with a satisfied nod.

Your path takes you along the edge of a forest. It's a quiet area, you've chosen it at your home especially for that. There are not many people out here, they normally stick to the larger paths. Since today is a cloudy day, you see nobody else.

There is also a road from your cottage to the next village, but on foot it is a detour. You'll get there much faster on the narrow path.

It is a large forest with dense undergrowth. You visit it often to look for herbs or mushrooms. You know which trees are hollow and preferred by owls for nesting, where you can find feathers from them. You know the small pond fed by an underground spring where foxes and deer rest. The forest is familiar to you – you have lived here for many years and are more out in the wild than among people. Because of your work in the tower and with Loki, you no longer have the time to visit it every day. It's a nice change and you realize you've missed contact with others. To exchange more than a few words with someone and to see them more often than just every few weeks.

Sometimes you miss the quiet of nature. New York is a hectic city and even in the corridors of the Avenger Tower you always see someone. Loki is pleasant company, you find. He walks silently beside you here, carrying the basket, contemplating the landscape. It is an easy silence, one in agreement. You don't feel obliged to speak just for the sake of words, but revel in your own thoughts – yet you are not feeling alone.

"Did you grow up here?" the Asgardian asks you.

You shake your head.

"No, I'm from the mainland. We've gotten into the habit of moving every few decades so people won’t notice that we age differently." At his questioning look, you add, "My siblings and me. My sister lives in France at the moment and my brother in Canada."

"I didn't know you had siblings," Loki admits.

"We don't see each other often. My brother is a bit like yours: great laugh and always in a good mood. Not so good with hugs, thought," you smile as you think of him. You should talk to your siblings sometime soon.

"Do you prefer that kind of company?" Loki asks you hesitantly.

"It's nice, but also draining." You turn your head toward him. "I prefer your company."

"Do you now?"

"I do." No snarky remark, no witty comeback. Just a simple truth. It surprises Loki and he falls quiet for a while. You don't mind walking in silence, you are used to it when you’re with him.

"I also enjoy your company." You almost miss his reply, a quiet confession that makes you smile.

"That's good to hear." But before you can say anything else, the Asgardian suddenly stops and tilts his head.

"We're not alone," he says quietly in response to your questioning look. "Someone is following us."

You perk up, but you can't hear more than a rustling in the undergrowth. Loki takes a step between you and the trees, you feel the density of his magic increase around him as if he were gathering it.

A low growl sounds from between the trees, and it is picked up by two or three more creatures. It is menacing, but still you can’t see any beast.

–––––––––––––

Witchling Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu @purplekitten30 @elisadmaggiore @nothing2113 @baebeepeach @ceo-of-stfu @moonlightreader649 @ronipiamka @fluffybunnyu @ninjarose23 @ozymdias @huntress-artemiss @thedistractedagglomeration @rosaline-black @sofi786 @moonlightreader649 @paetonnn @eldriidd @r4inlov3r @maeisonline @marvel-love24 @sinsandguilt @kalinaselennespeaks

If your name is bold, you can't be tagged. Please check your settings or dm me.

#loki x y/n #Loki x reader #loki layfeyson x you #loki laufesyon x reader #Loki x you #imagine loki #the witchling and the god #imagine marvel #mcu prompt #loki odison x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #loki fanfction #slow burn #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

151 notes · View notes

a-crystallen-author · 2 months

Text

Hello, Writeblr! I hear it's polite to introduce oneself around these parts, so here it is: my Writeblr Intro (ta-dahhh)

Identification: Amanda La Crystallen (she/her). You can call me Amanda-La or La Crystallen.

Generation: Hobbit

Location: West Coast in the streets, East Coast in the sheets! Currently Nor-Cal, but if I need to hydrate, I'm asking for the bubblah.

Facts that are definitely fast and hopefully also fun:

Escaped Evangelical

Recovering perfectionist

Neurospicy

Adopted

Collector of sunglasses, lip color, socks, vinyl, and spare onewheel parts I'll probably never use again.

Writing and WIP details below the fold.

Genre(s): Spec fic, esp. fantasy; YA and/or "new adult" (is that a thing? Did "new adult" happen?); generally whimsical

Influences: Terry Pratchett, Scott Westerfeld, Charlie Jane Anders, Christopher Moore, "His Dark Materials," "Welcome to Night Vale," prob will add more to this list later

WIPs (I'm making this plural even though I only have one right now. Maybe I can trick myself into writing more??)

Necromancer Unleashed!

A subverted kids' book (think "Bunnicula" for grown-ups) about a dog who accidentally learns to raise the dead. Told through the eyes of pets around the neighborhood, "Unleashed!" is a tail—woof, I meant tale—about dogs that's secretly about people, and what happens to all of us when it's time to cross the Rainbow Bridge. Like all good stories, this one starts with a smell...

Vibe: Spooky slice-of-life. Hygge horror. Equal measures silly and poignant—or at least that's the goal!

Tags: #necromancer unleashed! #Homer's modern odyssey

#writing #writeblr #necromancer unleashed!#writerslife #writeblr intro #writing community #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writers of tumblr #creative writing #storyteller saturday #Homer's modern odyssey

16 notes · View notes

dragonskxn · 6 months

Text

ANNALISE'S SOUPFEST!

Join Annalise and help her make an enormous, delicious pot of soup to share with everyone!

Event will start Friday, November 10 at 9:00 AM EST and will end Sunday, November 12 at 9 PM EST.

(This mini event is just for fun, so no OOC drama please!)

Please be sure to tag the mini event as #dragonsoupfest2023 in case anyone needs to block the tag and keep their dashboards clear!

RULES

As hostess, Annalise will put the first ingredient in when the event starts. Afterwards, your muse may put ONE ingredient into the pot. Multimuse blogs may have each muse participating put their own ingredients in (for example, one muse may put in a potato, another will add a carrot, etc.). Please be sure to tag the event AND @ my blog so I can record what's been added to the soup!

Handfuls of spices, peppercorns, or other small ingredients can count as one ingredient (because just placing a single grain of rice into the pot would be silly...unless your muse wants to do that).

ANYTHING can be used as an ingredient. Your muse can try to make the soup taste good, or they can try to sabotage it by putting in something nasty. Or, if they're not a good cook, they can add something they think would taste good......

The quality of the ingredients can be specified, too! After all, a rotten onion definitely doesn't taste as good as a fresh one. If not specified, I will record the ingredient as being in good condition.

Muses are allowed to put in the same ingredient another muse has added already. For example, if Annalise puts cabbage in the soup, your muse can also put in a head of cabbage as well! It'll just be added to the tally of ingredients.

Specific measurements are not required if you're not sure! It's a comically oversized pot of soup, so don't worry about how many cups of bone broth you need to pour in.

IC interactions and dash commentary are highly encouraged! Have your muses argue about the quality of their ingredients! Make recommendations to each other!

There's no specific order in which muses have to put in their ingredients; just make a post, @ my blog, and I'll record what's been added!

When the event ends Sunday at 9 PM EST, I will post the final list of ingredients used, and Annalise will complete the soup and give it a taste! She will critique the soup based on the ingredients used. The more good ingredients there are, the more she'll like it! Muses are also allowed to get their own bowl of soup to try and give their own critiques, or they can pass on having a taste if they don't want to try it.

#out of feathers.#dragonsoupfest2023 #ok yeah I'm doing it ahsjdkglg

15 notes · View notes

l1tw1ck · 1 year

Text

Just Come Inside

Ayato's words repeat on a loop inside Thoma's head. 'Just come inside', 'Just come inside', 'Come inside', 'Come inside'

Bottom!FTM Ayato x Top Thoma

[Event] | AFAB Language Used

CW: Con to Non-Con, Ignored Safeword, Dacryphilia, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Forced Pregnancy

📝 872 Words | Reader Discretion is Advised

──────────────────

"The best part is, the cat didn't do anything, I messed up the house all by myself!" Thoma tells the taller man in front of him a funny story.

Ayato leans against the wall and listens dutifully, liking the sound of him talking. Although after a while, his attention diverted down to Thoma's lips, then to his strong arms, and further down to his crotch.

"Then the owner came and picked her up, they were-" Thoma stops, noticing the blush on Ayato's cheeks and where his gaze lies. "Um, Waka?"

Ayato lifts his head up. "Thoma, why don't we continue this in my room?" He asks. They've been flirting for a while but neither one made any further advances until now.

Thoma blushes. "Why..?"

He grabs the collar of Thoma's shirt and pulls him into a sloppy kiss. "Why do you think? Don't be nervous, just come inside." Ayato pulls him to his bedroom.

Ayato's words repeat on a loop inside Thoma's head. 'Just come inside' 'Just come inside' 'Come inside'

The commissioner snaps Thoma out of his trance by pushing him onto his bed. "I hope I'm not forcing you to do this, Thoma."

Thoma shakes his head quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking up at Ayato. "No- I- I'll gladly have sex with you, Waka."

Ayato smiles and starts to remove his clothes. Thoma remains still, mesmerized by the sight before him. Every piece of clothing being taken off his body with grace, his slender fingers working overtime to undress himself.

"Take your clothes off too, Thoma." Ayato chuckles.

Thoma nods and quickly removes his own clothes, keeping his dog tag on.

Ayato looks at the blond's hard-on, not expecting him to be this big. "Before we start, I just want to add an extra measure in case something happens. An extra measure as in a safe word."

Thoma nods.

"I like rough sex but if it goes south, I'll say 'boba' and you have to stop. And you have to pull out before you come, okay?"

"Of course." Thoma stands and holds Ayato's waist, picking him up and near slamming him onto his bed. He presses kisses along Ayato's neck and rubs his clit before sliding two fingers inside him.

"Waka.." Thoma starts. "Can you call me daddy?"

Ayato flushes pink. "Okay...daddy."

Thoma groans, his cock somehow getting harder. He pulls his fingers out and prods his dick against Ayato's entrance. "Can I?"

Ayato nods, closing one eye and bracing for the stretch. Thoma slowly pushes inside and bites his lip. "You're so tight–" He hisses. "You feel so good, Waka."

Ayato moans and grips Thoma's shoulders, shutting both his eyes as Thoma starts to fuck him at a brutal pace.

"Ye- yes- ooh~ daddy~!" Ayato digs his nails into Thoma's skin.

Thoma buries his head in Ayato's neck, kissing and sucking gently enough to not make marks.

Ayato wraps his legs around the blond's torso, shaking and whining in pleasure. "Lik- like that~! Yes-!"

Thoma slams into the commissioner's g-spot, bringing him closer and closer to an orgasm.

"You're close, aren't you?" Thoma's thumb moves to Ayato's clit.

Ayato chokes out a gasp. "Ye- yeah-" His voice increases in pitch. "'M gonna co- come da- daddy~" Ayato arches his back and comes.

"Fuck– you're squeezing my cock so tight-" Thoma bites his lip and pulls away from Ayato's neck to look at his expression. As he stares at his boss' pretty face, all he can think about is those words he said earlier.

"Just come inside."

Thoma grips Ayato's waist. "I'm gonna come too– gonna come inside you-"

Ayato's eyes widen. "Thoma!" He slaps the blond's arms. "Boba!" He repeats it over and over but Thoma ignores him.

Ayato doesn't bother yelling for help, his room is soundproof, he just hopes Thoma will stop.

"Gonna breed you, baby, fill you up and give you my babies." Thoma kisses Ayato's forehead then moves down to lick his tears. "You're pretty when you cry.."

"Thoma please! In the future, we can have kids but not now! I can't-"

"Shh, you're gonna be such a good mother." Thoma takes Ayato's legs and forces him into a mating press. "Gonna look so pretty when your stomach starts growing, all swollen and full of my kids.."

Ayato starts to feel sick. "Please..."

"You want that, don't you?" Thoma's thrusts start to slow down as he reaches his peak.

Before Ayato can make a response, Thoma brings him into a messy kiss as he buries himself and his seed deep into the man beneath him.

Thoma pulls away and brings Ayato's legs down, moving him onto his side and cuddling him while staying inside him. "Don't worry, Ayaka will take over for you."

It's not like Ayato doesn't want kids but he enjoys his job too much to settle down now, he doesn't want that taken away from him so early.

But now there's nothing he can do, now he just has to have Thoma's child. Maybe it won't be so bad, Thoma's a nice guy, Ayato likes Thoma. This is the only bad thing he's done to him, and maybe it's not really bad.

Maybe it's a blessing.

#wicks🕯works #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #thoma x ayato #top thoma #thomayato #thoma smut #bottom kamisato ayato #sub ayato #ayato smut #ayato x thoma #wicks🕯️events

95 notes · View notes