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redtsundere-writes · 10 days

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We need sukuna brutally murdering another servant because they put reader in a bad mood. ITS NOT A WANT ITS A NEED PLEASE

Blood Bath | Sukuna Ryomen

king!sukuna ryomen x femservant!reader

Sypnosis: The king needs to wash himself after defending his favorite servant. Contents: king x servant, kinda fluffy I guess, murder, a bit of humiliation, nudity. Word count: 2255 words. Author's note: Thanks for the request, anon! I was already writing this fic when I received your message, so it was a great add-in! Beginning. ← Previous | Next →

Sukuna left the castle a week ago. He set out for distant lands to conquer villages, eat its people and spread the terror on his behalf. The absence of his presence was noticeable in the magnificent palace. Peace reigned in the spotless marble hallways, the quiet kitchen and the solitary great hall. Despite not having the pressure of everything being perfect, the servants were making sure the castle would shine for the king's return. The servants walked around at their leisure, pretending they owned the place. They ate at whatever time they wanted, lay down to rest on the lawn of the parade ground, and talked loudly about the rumors that have been surfacing about your relationship with the king.

Recently, it had come to your attention that you were Sukuna's favorite servant, but no one knew exactly why. The consensus had concluded that it was because you were his mistress. Sukuna used to lock himself in his room with you for hours at a time and always came out with a broad smile. The truth is that you didn't sleep with him, you just gave him massages, fixed his outfits and sometimes talked for hours. You tried several times to clear up the rumors, but no one believed you.

It was a rainy summer afternoon. You and a small group of servants were cleaning the great hall, the largest room in the castle. Surrounded by white concrete columns that rose to the ceiling, you sternly swept the red carpet that indicated the center. Diamond chandeliers softly lit the place, statues of the king stood tall and the beautiful hand-painted mural raised on the ceiling harmonized the entire room. The drops fell softly against the giant window in which the green outside could be admired.

“When do you think our king will return?” One servant asked the other as they cleaned the decorative torches that rested on steel bases around the perimeter.

“He won't be long, he has to come back to his mistress,” the other one joked. They both let out small, annoying laughs.

Those kinds of comments had become more recurrent as the days went by. You knew they did it on purpose. They raised their voices every time you entered the room or when you were about to go to sleep. None of the other servants seemed to want to intrude to keep what little peace they had. You slammed the broom down on the carpet hard to take out your frustration.

“How disgusting to be that monster's mistress, don't you think?” the other one asked. You could feel her piercing gaze on the back of your head, waiting for you to react to her uncalled-for comment.

“I know! I don't know how she can sleep with someone as creepy as our king,” she replied with disgust in her voice.

Those two had crossed the line. You firmly grabbed the broomstick to confront them about their lousy topic of conversation. You approached them at a steady pace, dragging the broomstick in case you needed it as a weapon to defend yours and your king’s honor.

“That's enough!” you scolded. “I don't sleep with our king! Besides, he may be a monster, but thanks to him, we can eat fresh food, sleep in comfortable beds and live in a magnificent palace! If I were you, I'd stop barking, bitches!” You exploded after such a long time of having to put up with their out-of-place comments.

“Shut up! You're only defending him because you're his favorite whore!” One of them exclaimed, throwing the feather duster in her face.

“Yeah, shut the fuck up, who-!”

A fine cut echoed throughout the great hall. A large splash of blood fell on your face, blinding you for a couple of seconds. The slight gasp of surprise from the other servants left you speechless. You dropped the broom to scrub your eyes. What had happened? You backed up in desperation until you ran into a wall that wasn't there before. After a crack, it all made sense. You looked up to see Sukuna's sharp jaw. Dried blood tainted his skin, his breath was cut short from exhaustion. He was back home after conquering another empire successfully.

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Sukuna asked the other servants, who were kneeling before him, giving him a warm welcome.

You knew you should kneel, but seeing the lifeless bodies of what used to be your gossiping companions made your body freeze. Their heads had been cut in half and the rest of their bodies were shattered. What used to be two women were now small pools of blood and bones. Sukuna had erased their existence with just a couple of his fingers. It was a scene you never thought your eyes would see in the flesh. That would be your fate if you did not obey your master's orders.

“This is a reminder that I can get rid of you just as quickly,” he threatened. His thick voice echoed off the walls. “If I hear that you even dare to speak blasphemies about me or one of your companions, I will not hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?” The servants, still kneeling, said, “Yes, my king,” in unison.

Coming out of your state of shock, you turned around to kneel at his feet. Sukuna looked at your small figure compared to him. He had heard how you had defended his honor in the face of annoying accusations. He knew you were a good servant, but now you had proven to him that you were loyal.

“Welcome home, my king,” you greeted in a trembling voice. Your body was still processing the murder your eyes had witnessed.

“Draw me a bath,” he ordered, brushing past your greeting.

“Yes, my king.”

You ran as fast as possible to his room to get there before him. Luckily, you had cleaned the bathroom thoroughly the day before, so everything was ready for the king to relax properly. You turned on the faucet to fill the tub with hot water, sprinkled scented bath salts, filled the water with bubbles and lit a few candles to romance the atmosphere. Sukuna soon arrived. Without a word, he began to undress as usual. Obediently, you stood in front of the wall to give her privacy.

“Since when?” He asked you as he untied the knots of his garments and let them fall to the floor. You could only hear the fabric sliding down his Herculean body.

“I don't understand the question, my king,” you answered confused, looking at the wall full of green tiles.

“How long have they been bothering you?” Sukuna completed the question while analyzing your figure from behind. He could tell you were nervous in his presence. It was the first time you saw him kill someone, it must have made quite an impression on you.

“Since a couple of months ago,” you answered.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Sukuna entered the bathtub, which was already bubbling. You closed the bath faucet and approached a stool to begin the most complicated task, washing his hair.

“I didn't want to waste your time.” You prepared the utensils: a sponge, a small wooden bowl and glass bottles filled with the hair products.

“You don't dictate what I do with my time,” he replied sternly.

Sukuna stepped into the tub so you could easily reach his head, drowning his torso into the soapy water. With the help of a soft sponge, you wet his pale pink hair, taking care that the water did not enter his ears. The king closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the pleasant sensation after a week of consecutive massacres. Untangling his short hair with a wooden comb, avoiding pulling too much so as not to hurt him. You placed the shampoo directly on his head and massaged the product into the roots.

Sukuna hummed happily every time your fingers gently stroked his scalp. You were so gentle with him even though he was the worst monster ever. You scratched, stroked and massaged his skull to your heart's content. While you let the product work, you focused on his broad shoulders. Your hands roamed his upper body calmly and patiently. The king was tired from having fought day after day and night after night to leave his name high as the greatest conqueror, you could tell by how tense his skin was.

“Answer me a question,” Sukuna asked with his eyes closed.

“As many as you wish, my king.”

“Are you loyal to me because you are afraid of me or because I am powerful?” He asked firmly.

“Both. I am afraid of you because you are powerful,” you replied as you took the bowl of water to rinse his hair.

Sukuna smiled in satisfaction with your answer. That's why you were his favorite servant. You are a perfectionist, shrewd and perceptive. You always managed to surprise him in a different way every time. Something no woman had ever managed to do before. Sukuna twisted his torso to face you. Your face and your white clothes were inked with the blood of your companions. He couldn't let you work like that, after all, it's his fault you were stained.

“Take off your clothes and come in,” he ordered.

“What?” You asked, shocked.

“You're dirty. Come in. I won't repeat myself,” Sukuna demanded.

You nodded and started to undress before his eyes. He had seen hundreds of women undress before. He knows what a pair of striking breasts, sexy hips and long legs look like, but even so, he was mesmerized as he watched you unfold before his eyes. Each garment slid down your body delicately, your hairs bristled from the change in temperature and your nipples stood erect at the lustfulness. No one but your mother had ever seen you naked. You had never been with a man, let alone a monster as imposing as he was.

Sukuna held out his hand to help you into the large tub. You sat in front of him and covered your breasts with the glistening bubbles that floated around you. He took one of the sponges and soaked it with soap to gently clean your face. The now dried blood came off easily. His black claws sometimes scratched your cheeks, but you could tell he was trying to be as gentle as possible with your beautiful face.

“It's not necessary, I can do it myself,” you asked, trying to take the sponge from him.

“I can wash my own hair too, but I prefer you to do it. Let me do it,” he replied before filling the bowl with water and wetting your hair.

He repeats the same process as you. The warm water, the closeness of your bodies and his hands taking care of your hair, transported you to fantasies where you had a relationship beyond king-servant. They were romantic ideas of a Sukuna you didn't quite know. A Sukuna who hugged you every time he saw you, who gave you head pats every time you did something right, and who sat you on his wide lap, demanding attention.

Someone knocked on the door, to which Sukuna allowed access. It was Uraume, who had just heard that the king had returned and what had happened with the reckless maids. What they did not expect was to see you in the bathtub next to his majesty, but even so, they decided not to ask details of how they had come to that situation.

“Welcome home, your majesty.” Uraume bowed from the doorway. “Dinner is ready. You must be hungry after the long journey.”

“I'll be there in a minute,” Sukuna answered. Uraume bowed again and left the room.

“They won't say anything,” Sukuna assured you before getting out of the tub. You were about to get out to give him his towel too, but he stopped you. “The water is still hot, it would be a shame to waste it,” he said before taking the towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“It's my job to do it,” you said.

“Your job is to obey me,” he dictated seriously. You sat back down in the tub and nodded. “Good girl,” he said with a satisfied smile before leaving the bathroom.

Sukuna returned to the bathroom and looked in his closet for what he would wear to dinner. He glanced into the bathroom from time to time to observe you. A small naked human wrapped in the ethereal steam of her innocence. He could have any woman in the world. Why was his mind obsessed with your beauty, your words, and your docility? He didn't know exactly, but he was sure you were completely his, so he didn’t have anything to worry about.

You stood alone with your thoughts in the elegant bath. You plunged your body into the water, submerging your head in the bubbles. Heads cut in half, his big hands stroking your hair, brains strewn across the carpet, his gentle touch as he washed your face. The quick, deep images made you feel confused. Your head went back up to the surface as you realized you were short of breath. You brushed your wet hair back to take a deep breath. What were you doing? Where were you? What kind of person were you serving? Sukuna confused you with his actions, and now you didn't know what to do with your poor heart beating a mile a minute for him.

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katakaluptastrophy · 3 months

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Masterpost of TLT metas

This is mostly for my own reference, as tagging doesn't seem to guarantee something being findable on Tumblr...but if you like wildly overthinking lesbian necromancers in space, enjoy!

Overthinking the Fifth House:

What is a "Speaker to the Dead"?

Actually, Magnus Quinn isn't terrible at sword fighting

Imperial complicity: Abigail the First

Pyschopomp: Abigail Pent and Hecate

Did Teacher conspire with Cytherea to kill the Fifth?

What does the Fifth House actually do?

The Fourth and the Fifth can never just be family

Cytherea's political observations at the anniversary dinner

Abigail Pent's affect: ghosts and autism

Were the Fourth wards of the Fifth?

Abigail probably knew most of the scions as children

Magnus Quinn's very understandable anger

Fifth House necromancy is not neat and tidy

Are Abigail and Magnus an exception to the exploitative nature of cavaliership?

"Abigail Pent literally brought her husband and look where that got her" (the Fifth in TUG)

The Fifth's relationship dynamic

The Fifth's relationship is unconventional in a number of ways

The queer-coding of Abigail and Magnus' relationship

Abigail and Palamedes, and knowing in the River

Was Isaac the ward of the Fifth?

Did Magnus manage to draw his sword before Cytherea killed him? (and why he probably had to watch his wife die)

How did Abigail know she was murdered by a Lyctor?

Fifth House necromancy is straight out of the Odyssey

The politics of the anniversary dinner

Was Magnus born outside of the Dominicus system?

Overthinking John Gaius:

The one time John was happy was playing Jesus

Is Alecto's body made from John's?

Are there atheists in the Nine Houses?

Why isn't John's daughter a necromancer?

The horrors of love go both ways: why John could have asked Alecto 'what have you done to me?'

Why M- may have really hoped John was on drugs

What is it with guys called Jo(h)n and getting disintegrated? (John and Dr Manhattan)

John's conference call with his CIA handlers

Watching your friend turn into an eldritch horror

Why does G1deon look so weird? (Jod regrew him from an arm)

When is a friendship bracelet not a friendship bracelet?

Why did John have G1deon hunt Harrow? (with bonus update)

The 'indelible' sin of Lyctorhood and John's shoddy plagiarism of Catholicism

Are John Gaius and Abigail Pent so different?

What was Jod's plan at Canaan House?

John and Ianthe tread the Eightfold path

The Mithraeum is more than a joke about cows

When was John Gaius born? (And another)

John Gaius and the tragic Orestes

John and Jesus writing sins in the sand

John and Nona's echoing chapters

John's motivations

Overthinking the Nine Houses:

'No retainers, no attendants, no domestics'

Funerary customs and the violence of John's silence

Juno Zeta and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time

The horror of the River bubble

Every instance of 'is this how it happens' in HTN

Feudalism is still shitty even if you make it queer and sex positive

How do stele work?

Thought crime in the Nine Houses

The Houses have a population the size of Canada

What must it be like to fight the Houses?

You know what can't have been fun? Merv wing's megatruck on Varun day...

Augustine's very Catholic hobby (decorating skeletons)

Necromancers are not thin in a conventionally attractive way

Matching the Houses with the planets of the solar system

Why don't the Nine Houses have (consistent) vaccination or varifocals?

How would the Houses react to the deaths at Canaan House?

How does Wake understand her own name (languages over 10,000 years)

What pre-resurrection texts are known in the Houses?

Camilla and Palamedes very Platonic relationship

The horrors the Cohort found at Canaan House

Do the Houses understand the tech keeping them alive?

Overthinking House religion:

What do the Houses believe about death?

Was M's nun a Franciscan?

Cavaliership and arbitrary socio-religious structures

Ritual scarification

Sacraments and sacramentals

What did Silas think god wanted at Canaan House?

In defense of Silas

There's no such thing as a 'good' necro/cav relationship

Veiling and shaving in Ninth House cult practice

Tongue-in-cheek thoughts on Eighth and Sixth religion

A very long deep-dive on House belief and practice

Overthinking Harrowhark Nonagesimus:

'The meat of your meat...belonged to god' and 'that is how meat loves meat'

The horror of parental touch: Harrow, John Gaius, and Abigail Pent

Why is Harrow so obsessed with Abigail's hands?

Frontline Titties of the Fifth and transgressive necro/cav relationships

Harrow, Wake, and permeability of the soul in HTN

Bible studies for weird queer necromancers:

Epiphany: revealing god's child to the wider world

The Holy Innocents and the creche massacre

The Virgin Mary and Commander Wake

John Gaius and John the Baptist

Instantiating the Trinity and the Second Resurrection

What's the significance of Paul?

St Paul's theology of gender and sexuality and the House theology of cavaliership

Maundy Thursday: consuming another for eternal life

Harrow and the Harrowing of Hell

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #I like thinking about TLT a normal amount #Please do reply or reblog with your ideas or send asks!

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 5 months

Note

hate sex. rafe or drew idc, u have total creative freedom w my suggestion!

Hate Sex

Pairing - Drew Starkey x costar!reader

Summary - good old hate sex.

Warnings - sexual intercourse, fingering, language, choking, name calling. 18+

The anger bubbled in your chest, rising up your neck leaving behind a dark pink tinge to your skin. You had never let Drew get to you this bad before, you were pulling at the roots of your hair just thinking about his punchable but good looking face.

“Breath Y/n” your friend stated, she had hidden herself behind the very small table in your trailer. She was quite frightened when you let your anger out.

She jumped halfway into the air when you threw your phone at the floor, shattering the screen in the process.

“Now look what that fucker has made me do!” You all but screeched, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to go and speak to him, how DARE he talk about you like that in an interview.

“Oh no no no, you can’t go speaking to him when you're this angry! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Your friend shouted, slamming her palm over her mouth when she realized what she let slip.

“How could you side with him?!”

“Oh come off it y/n, he said lovely things about you!”

“All very untrue things! He made me look like some weak girl who was falling at his knees.. no you know what I’m leaving!”

Before your friend could stop you, you darted out the trailer door and sprinted for him. Exactly 23 steps later your fist pounded at his trailer, you didn’t wait for him to answer and stormed in.

Drew stood in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half, steam filling the very small shower. Both Chase and Austin sat on the couch staring at you with wide eyes, the sound of the PlayStation in the background echoed through the deafening silence from the four of you.

“What’s up y/n?” Drew sang, giving you his famous boy next door grin. You just wanted to rip his face off but also kiss his face off.

“How dare you?!” You yelled, Drew’s eyes creased together in the middle as he looked at you in confusion. “Want to enlighten me on what I’ve done now sweetcheeks?” He chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door. Your eyes dropped for only a moment when a bead of water ran down his chest and dissolved into the towel.

He gave you a knowing look that you shook off. “What’s all that shit you said in the interview?” You questioned, he let out a throaty laugh. Almost a cackle. This had you wild, you stormed towards him with curled fists at your side. “Don’t laugh! You made me out to be some weak girl, talking about how I’m the main person who laughs at your jokes on set, that I always get emotional at old couples!” You shouted, the old couple remark was true.

You did get emotional BUT that didn’t give him the right to tell people, it’s your personal life, personality. They get what they get, they don’t need to know the deeper version of you.

“Y/n, Come on. I wasn’t doing it out of spite” he stated, he was frustrated now. You always jump on him the second you can, yelling down his throat and making him feel like everything he does is wrong. “I honestly don’t give a shit! Don’t talk about me in interviews again!”

He rolled his eyes and looked over your shoulder at your friends, they had both gotten up ready to bounce. They hated being around when the two of you fought.

“Don’t roll your eyes! God! Drew you're so frustrating!”

“Me?! Me, frustrating? You talk some shit y/n, your always down my throat”

“Because you're always being so difficult!”

“Maybe you should lighten up a little and realize I’m a decent human being and your just angry at the world”

“Fuck you Drew”

“No, fuck you”

It happens in a split second, you're both reaching for each other. Your lips hastily press together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands cup your jaw, your tongues fight with one another. Even kissing, you have to be fighting.

“That’s our que” you heard from behind you, but you didn’t want to pull away. One of his hands drops from your face, grasping onto your waist he pulls you closer to his body.

“You're still annoying” you breathe, his lips trail down your neck. Sucking at the flesh between your collarbone and throat. Your nails scratched down the length of his back leaving deep red lines.

“You're still a bitch” he bit, pushing you towards the couch. Your back met the cushion with a thump, his body trailed behind closely. Parting your legs so he could slot between them.

You had forgotten he was only in a towel, which now parted giving you the most glorious view of his thick hard cock. “Shit” you whined, practically forcing his body down on yours. His hands bunched up your dress to expose your cotton thong, his cock nudged at your pussy.

“How can someone so annoying be blessed with such a perfect cock” you spoke, his chuckle was muffled by the skin of your chest.

“How can someone so frustrating be so fucking hot” he commented, his mouth left kisses along the apex of your chest. You pushed yourself to sit up, pulling the material of your dress over your head.

You now sat in just your panties, his hands palming at your breasts. “Fuck you” you moaned, his teeth pulling your hardened nub. Suckling at your nipple, while the other hand grabbed your ass cheek. “I’m getting their baby” he whispered, the pet name sending shivers down your spine.

“Touch me”.

His fingers dipped under the material of your panties, sliding his pointer and forefinger between your fold and back up to your clit. “Oh shit, yeah like that” you cried, grinding your pussy into his hand. Slipping his two fingers into your cunt, you bite down on his shoulder as he finger fucked you. Pressing the palm of his hand into your clit at the same time, sending your body into overdrive. “You like that? Of course the little bitch likes to be fingerbanged hm? Been thinking about these fingers inside of you huh?” He grunted, brows creased in the middle. He watched your face intently, the way your mouth dropped opened and you gasped for more breath.

“Answer me!”

“YES yes oh fuck yes! Wanted these fingers in me since I met you” you screamed, his dick twitching at your statement. Your moans bounced off the wall and you were sure everyone could hear.

He abruptly pulled his fingers out of you, a slur of protest fell from your lips. “What the fuck Drew?!”.

“Get up and sit on my cock, quit whining and do what I say for once you little slut”.

The vulgarity to his words had your insides fluttering like a damn school girl, pulling your panties down and straddling his hips.

Reaching between the two of you to grasp his cock, giving him a rough few tugs. “Fuck… what I’d do to have your pretty little mouth around my cock right now.” He groaned, his head arched against the backrest of the couch. You began to slide off him, his hands catching your hips before you could get on your knees.

“Right now I want your tight little cunt to sit on my cock, next time I’ll stuff your throat with my cock and make you eat the angry words that you constantly spit out”.

Your ears pricked up at the next part, unbothered by the way he spoke to you. “Fuck you Drew” you spat, his large hand held the base of his cock for you. The tip of his bright pink head nudged at your opening, you took him in painfully slow. Your eyes rolling back as his cock stretched you wide, your hands pressed against his chest for leverage. “Oh-h… oh” you cried, his cock buried deep within your walls.

He gives you a moment to adjust, eyes staring hard at your expressions. The moment your eyes reopened he was bringing your body up and down on him harshly, causing a string of curse words to slip from your mouth.

Your tits bounced in his face, you finally brought yourself out of the sex daze you had fallen into and moved your hips, grinding against him roughly.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his throat, his eyes were wild. Dark and full of lust, watching you gnaw at your lip. “That’s it pretty girl, fuck my cock like its best goddamn cock you’ve ever had”.

Your nodding your head in agreement, “the best fucking cock, so big” you cried, unaware you had just agreed to him. You were so drunk on dick, you had forgotten how much he irritated you.

“That’s right, best goddamn cock you’ve had. Show me how much you love it” he ordered, and you obliged. Riding him like your life depended on it, throwing your head back. Your nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, his fingers grabbing your waist tightly.

“Fuck! Just like that!” He groaned, his hands caressed your back. Ducking his head to envelope your nipple into his mouth. “Yes yes yes yes yes” you mumbled, your bodies had a light sheen of sweat to it. “Move” he order, pulling you up from his cock only to spin you around. Pushing your knees into the cushion of the couch and thrusting his cock back into you.

“SHIT!” You cried, clawing at the back of the couch. His large hand pushed you down against the couch, putting one of his legs into the couch to give himself a better angle to fuck into you. “Yeah you like it rough huh”.

The angle of his cock had you in tears, overwhelming pleasure coursed through you. “Of course you like it rough, you’re a dirty angry slut” He could feel you where close, the way your pussy walls fluttered around him, reaching around to grasp your neck and pulling out of you. “DREW! You asshole” you cried, the pleasure that had building in your lower stomach fizzled out only to reignite when his fingers closed around your neck.

“Jump”

You did as order and wrapped your legs around him, he slipped his cock back into you. Moving you both just enough so your bum sat against the bench, ruthlessly he fucked into you. Squeezing his finger around your throat, your own hand coming around to grip his wrist, you screamed and cried in pleasure.

“You dirty little slut! Who knew you were more than just a whining bitch” he spat, pressing his lips to yours before you could fight back. Your fingers scratched up and down his back, the only way you could tell him he was an asshole.

“Drew” you warned, your pussy walls pulsating around his cock and you chased your high. “You're gonna come? Go on then pretty girl, come around my cock” he urges.

His hips move faster and deeper, dropping his finger between you to fondle your clit.

“Holy shit! Oh o-oh!” You cried, letting the overwhelming pleasure knock you over. Curling your toes and tightening your legs around him, your pussy pulsated around his cock. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders trying to ground yourself.

He wrapped her arm around your waist tightly and followed suit, coming deep inside of you. “Fuck fuck fucking hell”.

His sweaty forehead met your chest, both your breathing labored. A few moments of silent breaths go by and he pulls away from you, helping you down from the bench.

“This doesn’t mean I suddenly like you” you comment, stepping around him to collect your dress. Rushing into the bathroom to clean yourself up.

A few moments and words to yourself go by and you open the bathroom door; eyes searching the floor for your panties.

“Looking for these?” He questioned as you stepped out, holding onto your thong with his finger like a prize.

“Fuck you”

“Just did”

Taglist - @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae @jjmaybankisbae

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maevesheart · 4 months

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only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

#imagine #angst #maeve writes 🎀#finnick odair x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair #thg finnick #finnick odair x reader #catching fire

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javiscigarette · 7 months

Text

In the Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: In the middle of the night, Joel is wide awake and you're moaning in your sleep

Warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, pwp, fingering, (consensual) somnophilia, Joel’s pov, him talking you through it ofc, filthy but so much fluff, Joel is just so in love ugh

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: not sure what came over me with this one but omg I had fun with it and I’m now obsessed with writing from his pov. As always, I'm so greatful for everyone who reads and interacts with this, plsss let me know if you like it and if I should write a part 2 hehehe

my masterlist

Joel has never been good at falling asleep at a reasonable time. But he doesn’t really mind staying up when you’re sleeping so peacefully next to him.

He’s lying on his back on the left side of your bed, one arm bent and resting on the pillow above his head with the other one draped over your shoulders. You’re curled into his side, your cheek smushed against his chest, small, warm puffs of air diffusing across his bare skin with each deep and steady breath you take.

He tried to fall asleep when you did a few hours ago, but the scenes from earlier that night played on a constant loop in his head keeping him wide awake. Visions of you across from him at the dinner table, head tilted back leaving your neck exposed for his viewing as you laughed at his stupid joke. The fresh memory of him pinning you against your front door as soon as the two of you stumbled inside, kissing you hard and tasting the wine on your tongue as you moaned into his mouth. He keeps coming back to the specific image of being buried deep inside of you, your heels digging into his back and his large palm pressed over your mouth in a feeble attempt to stop at least some of the noise from traveling through the thin walls to your neighbor’s apartment. But the dents and scrapes in the paint on the wall behind your headboard are clear evidence of those failed attempts.

After spilling inside of you and sending you over the edge for a third time that night, he had barely managed to get you in the shower. Once there, your soft moans echoed in the steamy bathroom as he took his sweet time pulling one more orgasm from you with two fingers sliding languidly in and our of your sore and swollen pussy.

“Need lotion” you had mumbled as he dried you off with a fluffy towel. He chuckled and intercepted your reach for the bottle of lotion, picking it up himself instead. He had to practically carry you out to the bed, where he smoothed his warm hands all over your body, rubbing the lavender lotion into nearly every inch of your skin. You were already snoring softly by the time he finished.

And now he’s here, watching your curtains flow gently in the breeze from the open window as you sleep peacefully right next to him, the smell of lavender and the cool autumn air relaxing both his mind and body.

You always kept your bedroom cool, especially when Joel was with you. Joel always radiates heat, but he was a human furnace in the bed next to you. And It wouldn’t be as bad if he didn’t insist on cuddling throughout the night, subconsciously reaching out in his sleep and pulling you in closer every time you started to stray away until you woke up sticky with sweat. Joel doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t mind the press of your tacky skin against his and in fact, he craves it when you’re not with him.

The streetlight right outside your bedroom window filters in through the curtains that are rustling in the breeze, slivers of pale light briefly illuminating different areas of your room. He tries to commit it all to memory: the makeup and jewelry cluttered on your vanity, the same vanity that he bent you over two weeks ago and made you watch as he fucked you until your legs were jelly and you could barely stand, the tight dress that he practically tore off your body earlier that evening now bunched up in a small heap on the floor in the corner, the various knickknacks and trinkets on the small bookshelf in the corner of the room, the seemingly ever growing collection of candles on your dresser.

He’s only been in here a handful of times. The two of you usually end up at his house where you can take advantage of being as loud as you want. But your apartment in the city had some practical advantages. Like tonight, where after a little too much red wine at dinner, neither of you were in any condition to drive back to his house. So, the only option was to walk the few blocks back to your apartment, both you giggling like idiots with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist and his jacket draped over your shoulders.

He studies the pictures on your wall too. There’s the framed photos from the trips you’ve told him about, pictures from the mountains in Colorado where you nearly passed out from the reduced oxygen levels, and the picture of the Amalfi coast taken from the boat on which you unfortunately discovered for the first time just how prone you are to seasickness. His gaze lingers on the pictures of you with your friends and family, your infectious smile making you the center of attention in all of them.

Then his mind starts to wander, maybe a bit too far, but he doesn’t exactly want to stop thinking about how everything would fit in his house. He thinks about your candles on top of his dresser, how he would move around the furniture in his room so that he could fit your vanity in a spot that catches the most natural lighting. He imagines your framed pictures hanging in his hallway or propped up on the shelves in his living room. A subtle smile spreads on his lips when he envisions your soft blankets spread over his bed, and his heart beats just a little faster at the thought of the two of you sharing a closet, your clothes mixing with his. He wonders if his room would smell like your lavender lotion too.

He's pulled back to reality when you make a small, soft noise. He looks down at you, worried that he somehow woke you up. But your breathing is still steady and your face is peaceful and relaxed. He figures that you’re probably in the middle of a dream and he wonders what it’s about. A small, maybe selfish, part of him hopes that it’s about him. Then you start to shift, and he lifts his arm from your shoulders, giving you just enough room to roll over onto your other side until your back is pressed against his side instead.

He fixes your eyes now on your side profile, the shadows and light from outside dancing across your face. He trails his gaze from your hairline to the slope of your nose to the perfect curve of your slightly parted lips. He tries to memorize all of that too, though most of it is already ingrained deep in his brain.

He stares shamelessly for another minute or two until you make another small sound, another signal that you’re dreaming. Except this time he doesn’t have to wonder too much what it’s about, not with the way that you push your hips back against him with another small sound that sounds all too familiar following in quick succession.

Joel’s entire body tenses as he looks at you, his cock already twitching underneath your linen sheets. He stays completely still, watching you and waiting to see if you’ll move again. After a few painstakingly long seconds later, you make another sound. And he’s not sure if it’s all in his head but it sounds almost like his name.

Logically, he knows that he should probably just let you sleep. You get just as grumpy as he does if you don’t get your full 8 hours. But after a few more seconds, another sound slips out of you, a desperate garble of “Joel” much clearer this time but still thick with sleep.

And that’s his greenlight.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he starts to scoot down the bed, movements slow and calculated as not to rouse you. He carefully moves his arm from where it’s draped over your shoulders and slides it under your neck instead before rolling over onto his side. He closes the centimeter gap between your bare bodies until your soft skin is pressed against his under the safety and warmth of your sheets and blanket.

He snakes his other arm around your waist, pulling you even closer so that your ass is pressed firmly into the cradle of his pelvis. He buries his face in your hair that’s cascading down the side of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He skates his fingers mindlessly over your stomach, his own skin heating up just at the sensation of your soft skin under his fingertips. He tries to resist the urge to roll his hips up against you. He wants to stay in this calm peacefulness for as long as possible and he’s fully aware that once he starts, there’s a very slim chance that he’ll be able to stop.

But his efforts are thwarted when you push your hips back again, unconsciously grinding your ass against his half-hard cock with another sweet sound slipping from your lips. He sighs quietly against your neck but stays still, exerting the last ounce of his self-control.

As if moving on their own accord, his fingertips slide further down until they’re ghosting over the crease of your thigh. He’s eternally grateful that you refused to put on any clothes before falling asleep, which, now in hindsight, was clear foreshadowing of what’s currently happening.

He moves his whole hand between your thighs to cup your sex and dips two fingertips between your folds and mouths a silent “fuck” at the copious amount of slick that quickly coats them. Still in the grips of deep sleep, you shift your legs to give him better access. He smiles. Your body is always so receptive to his touch.

With a soft groan, he gently prods at your dripping entrance, taking his time to feel how swollen you still are from when you were stretched so perfectly around him just a few hours ago. But you interrupt him with a soft whimper, your hips moving against him once again and he chuckles silently. Still so needy and impatient as ever, even in your sleep.

But he can’t deny you, he never really can. He’s wrapped so tightly around your finger that he’d do anything you’d ask of him in a heartbeat without a single second thought. It’s almost worrisome, how easily he caves into you, how you wipe every rational thought clean out of his mind, how in just a matter of a few days you so easily managed to knock down the walls around his heart that he spent decades building. But all those thoughts just fade into noise when he’s with you. Especially with you like this.

So, he gathers a generous amount of your wetness on his fingers and drags them up to your clit. Your body immediately reacts with a jolt of your hips and a louder moan. Joel curses under his breath when you back your ass up against him even further, his length now fully hard pressing against your bare ass, precum starting to slowly seep from his tip and smear against your soft, supple skin.

He trails his fingers back to your entrance. Forehead pressed against the nape of your neck With a long sigh, his breath warm and humid on the back of your neck, he slowly sinks one in finger. His eyes slip closed and his eyebrows draw together as he slowly drags his finger in and out of your dripping hole. He nearly whimpers when he adds a second finger, your walls fluttering and slick leaking down his fingers to his knuckles. “Fuuuck, baby” Joel whispers his lips just barely brushing your skin as your walls clench around him.

He works you open on his two thick fingers – not that you really need it after taking his cock like that earlier. But he’s obsessed with the sleepy sighs and soft moans you’re making. And he’s barely aware of the fact that he’s now moving his hips, gently rolling them against your ass in a subconscious attempt to relieve the pressure in his groin. He pants against your neck, already feeling so delirious and drunk on you and your body like a horned up teenager. He’s never felt this way with anyone else, so affected by you. He can hardly control himself when he’s with you, it’s like he’s a raw, exposed wire and you’re the spark that sets him ablaze in an instant.

He curls his fingertips and the way your hips immediately rock back lets him know he’s there. Your moans are more frequent and just a bit louder as he strokes your spot, a fresh wave of your wetness gushing around his fingers and dripping down to his palm. But he doesn’t want to wake you up yet, not when he has every intention of waking you up when he’s buried balls deep inside of you.

So he exercises his last bit of self-control, sliding his fingers out and dragging them back up to your clit again, tracing a few more lazily circles before pulling his hand away completely.

With his fingers and palm soaked in your slick, he tilts his hips back just enough to make enough room to wrap his hand around his cock. He hisses quietly through clenched teeth at the contact, and he can’t resist a few strokes, spreading your arousal up and down his length. After a few passes, he moves his hand from his cock to your top leg, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up til it’s bent at a 90 degree angle. Now with unobstructed access, he fists himself again and lines himself up with your dripping entrance.

He sinks in nice and slow, letting out a deep groan from the back of his throat. He drapes his arm around your middle, pulling you in close to him as he moves his hips with shallow thrusts and noses along your neck, pressing kisses along the underside of your jaw and sighing heavily once he’s nestled all the way inside you.

The thought of staying still just like this, falling asleep to the feeling of your slippery walls squeezing him so tight like this crosses his mind for a brief moment. But you soon start to stir in his hold and the sound of your sudden, sharp inhale signals that you’re regaining consciousness.

He presses his lips to the back of your neck while he patiently waits for you to come to your senses. It takes a couple seconds for you to regain control of your limbs, and when you do, you reflexively try to move from his grasp, but he tightens his arm around your middle and holds you in place. “Shh, baby” Joel whispers in your ear. “I’ve gotcha”

You immediately surrender, relaxing in his hold with a quiet hum. His chest is pressed against your back, heat radiating off of him and putting you on the verge of sweating. But it feels so safe the broad expanse nearly completely encompasses you like he’s shielding you from the rest of the world. But you don’t have much time to focus on that, the feeling of the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix creating much more pressing needs.

“Dreamin’ of me, weren’t you?” Joel asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. You answer with a sleepy whine as you move to grind your hips down, nudging his cock half an inch deeper. “Sound so sweet moanin’ in your sleep” he continues, his hand slides up from your stomach to your chest, cupping one breast and gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “moanin’ my name.”

You whimper and wiggle your hips as he presses a kiss just behind your ear. “Joel” you mumble, pushing your hips back in an attempt to get him to move. “Yeah, sounded just like that” Joel grunts as he starts to slowly pull out, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear, undoubtedly sending tingles rushing down your spine.

He keeps his arm under your neck, your head resting on his bicep while his forearm crosses your chest, his hand gripping your shoulder. He has you in a loose headlock, grunting softly near your ear as he fills you up again and groaning when he bottoms out once again.

“Always so fuckin’ tight and wet no matter how many times I stretch you out, huh? Always so ready for me.”

All you can manage is a pathetic whimper while you bring a hand up to hold onto his forearm across your chest. He keeps a slow pace, his breath hitching in your ear every time he bottoms out. You feel unbelievable wrapped around him like this, white-hot tingles shooting all the way up his spine at the sensation of his cockhead dragging along your warm, wet walls as you clamp down around him like a vice.

He wants to savor it, wants to relax into this moment for as long as possible. But you’re needy, he can feel it now with the way you're squeezing him and practically sucking him back in every time he pulls out. And his own heady desperation is starting to cloud his vision as he slowly fucks you, your tired body loose and pliant under his touch. He needs to make you come again, needs to feel you shake and squirm, needs you to make him come.

With a soft groan, he allows himself to start moving faster. His lips easily find the junction of your neck and collarbone where he immediately starts nibbling and gently sucking at the thin skin, claiming what’s rightfully his and shivering when you tighten around him.

He tries his best to keep a gentle pace, not wanting to jostle you around too much. Except your breathy whimpers are so sweet and your sleepy whines sound so angelic that he can hardly keep it together.

He tightens his grip on your shoulder, the muscles in his arm flexing gently under your palm as he locks you in place and starts to really fuck you. He moves his hand from your beast, smoothing his calloused palm down your side to your ass then palms at your cheek, grabbing a few greedy handfuls before pushing it up to give himself more space to move.

Goosebumps break out across his skin when you let out a long, drawn out moan and dig your nails into his forearm, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his skin. A not-so-small part of him hopes that you break the skin so he can admire the small purple and red marks in the morning.

“Goddamnit, baby” Joel pants as he snaps his hips, filling you to the brim. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So perfect like this.” Every few thrusts he pauses when he’s all the way inside and grinds against you, his eyes rolling back his skull when you push your hips back at the same time, multiplying the intended effect. .

“S’this what you were dreamin’ of?” Joel rasps, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “Huh, baby? S’your little pussy so needy that you can’t help but dream about me fillin’ it up?” You answer in the form of a moan with your walls pulsating around him. He keeps his steady pace, the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you floating around in your quiet bedroom.

“Attagirl” Joel sighs when your moans start to get louder. Your hips are starting to buck and swivel, and your chest heaves with every ragged breath you take. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he can access until he reaches the nape of your neck again. You whine his name, sleepy and desperate, and he shudders at the sound.

“Just keep takin’ it, baby, just like that. Doin’ such a good job.” he whispers. “My good girl…always takes everything I give her. Even in her fuckin’ sleep”

Then suddenly your hand is on top of his where it’s resting on your ass. You grip his palm and move his hand to where it was a couple of minutes ago between your thighs, only letting go when he presses two fingers to your clit and starts tracing those lazy circles again. His cock twitches inside of you, the thought of you knowing exactly what you want and demanding it, even when you’re still half asleep, drives him crazy.

With his eyes still closed and eyebrows drawn together, he sucks a sharp breath through clenched teeth and focuses on both the feeling of effortlessly gliding in and out of your sweet pussy combined with the feeling of your clit pulsing under his fingertips.

He fucking loves it. There’s not a single scenario that he could possibly conjure up in his head where he would ever be tired of this. He takes pride in it too, knowing exactly how to reduce you to a squirming mess in less than five minutes, or how to take his time, slowly breaking you down until every thought in your brain is replaced with just JoelJoelJoel. He knows your body better than his own: the way you arch your back when he tweaks your nipples just right, how you melt when he kisses that one spot on your neck, the exact patterns he needs to trace on your clit to get you to come in nearly 30 seconds.

That is all committed to memory. All of it’s burned to his brain and plastered underneath his eyelids. And just like clockwork, after a few seconds of his fingers pressed against your clit, your thighs start to shake around his hand.

“Ohh there you go, sweetheart” Joel groans, both his fingers and his hips moving faster. “C’mon, baby” he urges, voice strained and tight in his throat as he tries to keep himself together. “Cum on my cock, need to f-fuck oh god need to feel it, baby. Know you’re close, angel just give it to me.”

That’s all it takes to send you flying over the edge. He holds you impossibly tight against him as you tremble and shake, his pace not faltering even once. He’s on cloud fucking nine with you whimpering and moaning his name while your walls pulsate and choke his cock. His breath is hot and humid against your sweaty skin, panting as he tries to stave off his own release for as long as possible.

“Fuckin christ, babygirl” he growls, as he fucks you through it, not giving you a single chance to catch your breath. “That’s it, such a good fuckin girl. Just like that. Keep squeezin’ me just like that, angel”

Even with the way you're milking his cock, squeezing him for all that he’s worth, he thinks he could last for at least another minute or two. That is until you snake an arm up and reach blindly behind you, your hand immediately finding his hair, fingers locking around the tousled strains and pulling. He chokes out a gasp, the tingling sensation traveling from his scalp all the way down to the base of his spine. His hips stutter and he can only handle a couple more uneven thrusts before he pulls out. His cock twitches where it’s pressed against your lower back as he spills hot ropes of cum onto your skin with shameless, breathy whimpers. He keeps rocking his hips with small movements, grinding his cock into the wet mess on the small of your back, extending the euphoria until his limbs are jerking from the sensitivity.

His forehead is pressed against your neck once again, his warm breath diffusing down your back as he pants a breathless “Jesus christ.”

You hum weakly next to him, melting in his arms as you sleep starts to creep back into your body once again. He keeps holding you tight against him as you both catch your breath.

“Were you awake that whole time?” you ask quietly after a moment of silence. Joel chuckles and squeezes you even tighter in his arms.

“Mhmm. Told you you were moanin’ in your sleep”

Even with his eyes closed in the dark room, he can see the frown you’re sporting clear as day in his head. You try to turn over to look at him, but he keeps you in place.

“You have work in the morning, why didn’t you say anything?” you ask. “Could’ve made things more comfortable for you, I know your old-man back doesn’t like my mattress.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches your thigh, making you yelp and giggle.

“Couldn’t be more comfortable than this even if I tried, sweetheart” he whispers. “Now go back to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep with the human fireplace glued to me” you whisper back. “And I’d love if I didn’t have cum stains on my sheet in the morning”

Joel rolls his eyes again but can’t suppress the stupid grin creeping up on his face. He reluctantly lets you go, sliding his arm out from under your neck and letting you roll over onto your stomach. He takes extra care to lift the blanket and pushes it down to your thighs, trying his hardest to not stain your precious sheets. You turn your head to face him, but your eyes are still closed, your face so sleepy where it’s squished against the pillow, your lips curved in a gentle, sated smile. His heart feels like it could burst right out of his chest.

He leans over to place a sweet kiss to your hairline before carefully crawling out of the bed. He hisses at the cool air swirling around his hot skin as he pads to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans you up and then himself before crawling back into the bed.

He pulls the blankets back up and makes sure you’re all tucked in before settling on his side, facing you. He doesn’t take you back in his arms, not yet. He’ll find you in his sleep. But he does hook one of his ankles around yours, the small amount of touch that you’ll always allow. Exhaustion is finally starting to settle into his bones as he studies your features like he’s going to be tested on them in his dreams. His eyelids finally feel heavy and he lets them close, his breathing quickly falling into a deep, steady pace.

He’s nearly fully asleep when he hears the soft sound of you whispering again.

“Oh and we’re gonna have to reenact the dream I was having when we wake up. Was really nice.”

Joel grunts, his cock already starting to stir once again. Who needs sleep anyway?

Thank you for reading :)) hope you enjoyed it!!

#Joel miller smut #Joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #Joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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explicit-tae · 5 months

Text

Ungodly Hour: Day 3

You’re feeling petty, so sending Jungkook nudes is how you get your revenge on him for leaving you.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.212

Warning: jungkook getting clowned, face riding, oral sex, smut, simp jungkook, dirty talking, ass slapping, shit talking reader bs that's what she does, slight sexting

You ponder what life would be like if you lived with Jungkook - the weekend is long and waking up besides the man felt nice. He cooked breakfast after allowing you to sleep in, you two eating together. You’d shower, spend the day together (sex came randomly in between) and then go to bed.

Work was a task you’d dreaded, but you’d refuse to give up so quickly, even when Jungkook agreed to your joke of quitting, stating that you could always live off of him - an agreement the man was too quick to settle for.

Even after your boring, easy job, you acted as if it was the worst day of your life. Jungkook had bought takeout to make up for it and you were content for a while.

And now, you and Jungkook are in his bathroom, you attempting to concentrate on your task. You were dressed in nothing but a black silk robe - a gift from Jungkook - the both of you fresh out of the shower. He has a match one that he tied loosely around himself.

“Is it supposed to burn?” Jungkook asks, opening one eye to look at you. He sits on his closed toilet, you directly in front of him.

“If you ask me that one more time, Jungkook, I swear-”

“You want me to fuck you so bad, Y/N.” Jungkook closes his eyes, his hands reaching out for your waist to bring you close to him.

You groan, squirming out of his reach. “We’re doing face masks.” you deadpan, your mind not comprehending how the man could be thinking about sex at a time like this. “Nothing about this is sexy, Kook.”

Jungkook scoffs - he begs to differ. There was never a moment Jungkook didn’t want you - but he was a man and maybe that was just the way his body reacts around you. He’d remain quiet, however, to make you any more irritated with him. Your irritation only fueled his sexual desire.

“‘Kay, done.” you lean back to admire your work on Jungkook’s face. Now the both of you matched - both sporting a cream colored face mask. “Our skins going to be so smooth when we’re done!” you squeal, and for a moment you’re excited - until you see the smile on Jungkook’s lips. “Ugh, didn’t mean to do that. Don’t think I like doing things like this with you.” you quickly scoff.

Jungkook cackles at your fraudulent change of tune. “You’re so down bad for me, Y/N.” Jungkook snatches your waist this time, bringing you closer to him. He then stands. “Give it a few more months, baby, and you’ll finally admit it outside of sex.”

“Fuck off.” you murmur, hands pushing Jungkook back - even if you didn’t put that much force into it because you actually did like his embrace.

Jungkook brings his face closer, the need to kiss you heavy. He doesn’t get the chance to, however, a loud banging noise sounding throughout his home. His eyebrows furrow. “Someone’s at the door.” he says aloud. “Be right back.”

You turn away from the man to clean up the mess you’ve made. As you turned on the water to clean the silicon brush, Jungkook takes it upon himself to slap your ass.

“Jung-” you swung around to snap, but Jungkook’s already out the door and down the hall, a loud trail of laughter echoing behind him.

Jungkook makes his way towards his front door, not caring about his appearance as he swings it open.

“Oop, jump scare.” Jimin walks past him, shoving three large pizzas in his arms. “Why do you never answer your phone?”

Jungkook is dumbfounded as Hoseok and Taehyung steps in, as well, and for a moment he thinks about what he’s going to say.

However, Jungkook remembers that it’s Sunday - and Sunday’s were movie nights. He swallows the lump in his throat.

He didn’t need Jimin knowing that you were here - not because Jimin hated you, it was quite the opposite. Jimin loved you (from afar) and your antics. He liked you and him together, stating that you made a good couple.

Jimin knowing that you were here meant that Jungkook forgot about the weekly movie night - and then he’d have to hear Jimin’s mouth about how “pussy was worth more than the friendship” as he liked to put it.

“I was, uh, showering.” Jungkook responds, closing the door behind Hoseok. “Where’s Joon?” he questions, as if he wasn’t the one who lost track of his days.

“Running late.” Jimin takes off his shoes and proceeds to go to the living room. “I wonder what’s new on the streaming services. Not like I’d know…” he trails off, side eyeing the younger male.

“You’ll have to get over that.” Hoseok snickers, taking his seat beside Jimin. “We all know Jungkook would find a girl that would take all his time.”

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, placing the boxes of pizza on the coffee table.

“Ah, yes.” Taehyung sits on one of the leather chairs, a boxy smirk on his lips. “So…did Y/N teach you any new tricks?”

“Or is barking all you do?” Jimin scoffs, then proceeds to go out in full laughter, followed by Hoseok and Taehyung.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. It was bad enough he had to hear it in the groupchat. This was a moment they’ll never let him live down.

“I just want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Y/N has to be doing something lethal to have you bark-”

“It was a joke.” Jungkook hisses. “Pick a movie while I take this off.” he murmurs, making his way down the hall and back towards the bathroom. Jungkook opens the door and eyes you, face mask already off. “So, we have a dilemma.” he mumbles, coming towards the sink.

“I heard Jimin.” your arms are crossed. “Is he talking shit again?”

“It’s Jimin.” Jungkook scoffs. He begins to wipe the face mask off of his skin, scrubbing aggressively. “I forgot tonight was movie night.”

“Movie night?” you furrow your brows. “But I thought you said we were continuing Law & Order?”

Jungkook sighs. He turns off the water and turns towards you. “I did,” he admits. “but we have movie nights every Sunday and…” he trails off.

“And…” you shake your head, not comprehending. Jungkook grabs a small hand towel and wipes his face “...you’re saying fuck Lieutenant Olivia Benson? Because you want to watch a lame ass movie?” you cross your arms, even if you couldn’t be upset about it. You just wanted a reason to give him shit.

Jungkook licks his lips and smirks. “You’re so jealous, baby. I knew you’d-”

“Ew. Go watch your lame movie with your lame friends.” you push him away, fighting the smile stretching on your lips when you feel his hands on your wrist. “I’ll be in the room, I guess.”

Jungkook pokes his head out the bathroom door to assure no one was looking. Then, he drags you towards his room and shuts the door. “I’ll sneak you some pizza.” he murmurs. He rushes towards his closet to change into clothes.

“I…I can’t come out?” you scoff in disbelief.

Jungkook shakes his head. “They’ve been cooking me in the groupchat and when they walked in. You walking out will only be my 13th reason.” Jungkook is dressed in under a minute, a black shirt and iron man pajama shorts. He comes towards you when he sees your wide eyed expression and wraps you in a sudden embrace, peppering your face with kisses. “I’ll let you sit on my face later.” he murmurs.

“You do that everyday.” you deadpan.

“Exactly.” Jungkook smiles. “So you’ll be okay for a few hours. I’ll try to kick them out after one movie, though.”

Again, Jungkook slaps your ass, but this time brings you in for a kiss. He’s out the door before you can say anything further. You eye his bedroom door for a moment and scoff with a shake of your head.

“Hyung, when did you get here?” Jungkook asks when he strolls through the living room to see Namjoon. “Did you find a movie yet?”

“Got here a minute ago.” Namjoon responds.

“Haven’t been on here in so long. Forgot how to work the app.” Jimin retorts.

“Eventually you’re going to have to get over it.” Jungkook makes his way towards the kitchen to grab a plate. He then walks back towards the livingroom to gather a few slices of pizza for you.

“Forget about the ultimate betrayal?” Jimin scoffs. “Never.”

“Where are you going?” Taehyung asks, eyeing Jungkook.

“I’m just saving myself some pizza.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Might be hungry in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond.

Jungkook makes his way down the hall and back towards his room. “Special delivery.” he scurries in to drop the plate on his bedside table. “I can’t wait for you to sit on my face later.”

“Don’t think you getting any pussy after keeping me in this room.” you retort, not removing your eyes from the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “We’ll see about that.” He doesn’t have time for a petty argument, because that would only turn it to him fucking you into the mattress - and now, he didn’t have time for that.

“Since when do you eat in your room?” Hoseok questions as Jungkook returns, a confused look on his face. “Since I got lazy.” Jungkook responds without a second thought, sitting next to Namjoon. “What are we watching?” Jungkook is barely able to focus on the movie. He eats a couple slices of pizza, his eyes watching the movie that his mind refuses to acknowledge. He would rather be with you watching Law & Order - he knows by now you two would be cuddling. You would rub your ass against him slightly, pretending to be occupied with the show and that would be his que to-

“You don’t look interested.”

Jungkook blinks a few times and then turns to Namjoon, the source of the voice.

“Just thinking.” Jungkook shrugs.

“About Y/N?”

Jungkook cracks his neck, only snorting.

“Jimin told me you were whipped. Didn’t tell me you couldn’t go a day without thinking about her.” Namjoon teases, his dimples deepening when he smirks.

“Are you two talking about Y/N?” Jimin crosses his arms. He’s laying against the arm of the couch, his eyes piercing at Jungkook.

“I sense one sided beef.” Taehyung calls.

“Because of her,” Jimin starts, and Namjoon groans, having heard this rant time and time again. “I was removed from all the streaming services. Not just one - all.”

“I gave you several warnings.” Jungkook grumbles.

Hoseok snickers. “Like what?”

“I told him when Y/N usually watches her shows.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.

“You give her access to streaming services so she can watch True Crime.” Jimin deadpans, an unamused look on his face. “When you end up on one of those documentaries because she slipped something in your drink-”

Jungkook sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Can we watch the movie-”

“- and murdered you, Jungkook. I will be on there telling the audience that there was red flags.”

Jungkook’s phone vibrates in his lap. He unlocks it, your name popping up.

Y/N 🥰: does jimin want to fight me?

Jungkook smirks.

“When are you going to admit you like Y/N?” Jungkook asks as he responds to your text.

“And while we’re on the topic,” Taehyung pauses the movie. “how did you get her mother’s number?”

You were only curious in the conversation outside the bedroom once you began to hear speaking. You never turn down an episode of Law & Order, and thankfully you had. You were told by Jungkook that Jimin liked you - his words now say otherwise.

You were growing bored. The pizza was already gone and Jungkook didn’t bring you anything to drink.

But the most important thing was that you were bored - and feeling petty.

you: I miss you

You didn’t miss him - you were bored and that’s different.

You watch as Jungkook reads the text instantly and begins typing.

kookie 🍪: i miss you too 🥹😍😏

you: can’t tell

you: you’re shit talking me with your lame friends

kookie 🍪: never. I got jimin to admit that he likes you more than he admits 🤙🏻

kookie 🍪: are you hungry still?

You grunt. You couldn’t be petty with Jungkook if he was offering to feed you.

you: no

you: just bored…

You bite your lip as Jungkook types. You suddenly open the camera app and take a picture. It’s a simple picture, you smiling in the camera.

Jungkook swallows, his eyes zoning in on the picture of you. Your robe was opened slightly more and he has a peak at your breast.

“If it wasn’t for me he’d still be in the friend zone probably leasing cars for her attention.” Jimin retorts at Taehyung. Hoseok laughs at the comment.

kookie 🍪: you’re so beautiful ♥️

kookie 🍪: the robe is nice on you

kookie 🍪: i can buy you more if you’d like

You snicker at Jungkook’s response. The man didn’t know what to do now and his first option was to spend if it meant that you’d send him more pictures.

“I feel like I should be compensated for my hard work.” Jimin exclaims. “Who else can say they got Jungkook out of the friendzone?”

“They were fucking. Don’t think that’s just a friend zone.” Namjoon announces. “Raw at that.”

Y/N 😍: i seem to be the topic of conversation tonight

Y/N 😍: i wish you were as interested in me as your friends are 🤭

Jungkook glances up at his bickering friends for a moment before texting back.

kookie 🍪: im beginning to think i spoil you if you cant be without me for a few hours… 😌

You’re taken aback by the tone in the message. As if you needed him - you didn’t. You were just bored and feeling a little confrontational today.

Besides, Jungkook wasn’t going to have the last word.

“I still want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok adds. “Whatever she’s doing that has Jungkook worshiping the ground she walks on needs to be studied.”

“That or you’re just a pervert.” Taehyung shrugs.

Jungkook glances down at his phone and coughs. Eyes turn to him suddenly and Jungkook stands. “I-I’m not feeling…my stomach hurts.” he makes his way down the hall and goes to open his bedroom door.

You giggle when you hear the bedroom door twist.

You’ve locked it before sending Jungkook the picture. You were already naked, mind as well use it to your advantage.

kookie 🍪: oh

kookie: open the door

you: enjoy your movie night

You hear the door knob shuffle once more.

kookie 🍪: open the door

kookie 🍪: stop ignoring me baby

kookie 🍪: i can always break the door down

kookie 🍪 : then they’ll know you’re here

kookie 🍪: and hoseok already wants to be a fly on the wall

kookie 🍪: and i have no intentions of stopping once i have you on my tongue

You flung the door open with wide eyes. “Are you-”

Jungkook pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. “Just sit on my face.” he grumbles, hands pushing you backwards.

It doesn’t take long for your robe to be discarded on the ground. He takes in your naked sight and sighs with a shake of his head. “So needy.” he murmurs, laying down on his bed. “You missed me, huh? And it hasn’t even been a full movie length.”

“Did not.” you reject, pussy already in his face.

Jungkook clenches both of your legs. “Is that why you’re already wet?” his tongue licks your clit and hums. “It’s okay to admit you missed me, baby.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond, he’s already diving head first into your. He suckles and slurps loudly, his hands keeping you in place. This time, he doesn’t care if you preferred him to now watch - he does anyways. His eyes are intense on watching you be pleasured by him - the cute needy moans, the fucked out look on your face. He wanted to experience it all.

“Your friends are gonna know you’re gone.” you whimper as Jungkook laps his tongue slowly between your folds.

Jungkook leans back only slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions.

You shake your head, and that’s all the convincing Jungkook needs. His right palm slapped your thigh. “Then I won’t. Now just ride my face until you cum.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his excessive need to make you cum.

However, you do as you’re told. Your hips buckle against his tongue, your head falling back - mainly to avoid Jungkook’s gaze. It was his favorite part, he once told you, to watch you cum.

Jungkook’s tongue feels amazing - and it’s the same tongue. It shouldn’t feel better than the last time, but somehow it does. Maybe it’s the way his hands rub along your thighs as you ride along his tongue - or maybe it’s the way he grips your breast and pinch your nipples that are an added bonus.

Jungkook’s hands never stayed in one spot. They’re soon cupping your ass to encourage you to grind against him harder - how he never suffocates is beyond you.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Jungkook hears you hiss and he squeezes your ass even harder. His own breathing increases as he watches you - he can do this for as long as you wanted. You were so beautiful when you were aroused and cumming - it’s a sight he has engraved in his mind.

“I know you’re about to cum.” Jungkook says muffledly. His head bops back and forth, in rhythm with your grinding. He also knows how you enjoy the way he touches you, your ass being your favorite part. He probably will never know why girls enjoyed pain mixed with pleasure, but he was nothing but a man made to pleasure you.

So, Jungkook slaps your ass encouragingly, making sure to give it a good grip after each slap.

You needed to know what it was about Jungkook - and his tongue, fingers or cock - that has you cumming so harshly on his tongue like he wants you to; and even then he refuses to stop until you’re twitching.

Jungkook doesn’t allow you to fall back like you want to, his hands grasp your twitching form and assures that you’re placed on the bed.

Licking his lips, Jungkook smirks. “My pretty girl.” he says, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to continue my movie night, okay? Then I’m going to come back here and you’re going to sit on my face again.”

You nod your head lazily, not having it in you to argue.

“I knew you were so down bad for me, baby.” Jungkook teases. He places the blanket over your naked body. “One day, I won’t need to fuck it out of you for you to admit.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss when Jungkook is half-way out the door.

“Trust me. I will.” Jungkook chuckles, closing the door behind him, leaving you in a state of arousal and anticipation.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good dick, fingers, tongue and heart.

Series Masterlist

@suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk

#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #ungodly hour #explicit-tae #bts college au #jungkook college au #fake tweets #bts fake tweets #simp jk #tsundere reader

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imfinereallyy · 1 year

Text

“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.

“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.

El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”

Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”

“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.

“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.

El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.

“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.

El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”

Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”

Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”

“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”

Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.

“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.

Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.

“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.

Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.

“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”

Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”

Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”

“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.

“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”

“—well it could have been—”

“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.

“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.

“Shut up Steve!”

Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”

Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”

“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.

All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.

“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.

“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.

Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”

Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”

“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.

El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.

Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”

Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”

#steddie #byler #this is just about Steve and el bonding #steve teaching El the best way to beat mean girls is to be one #eleven hopper #steve Harrington #stranger things #Eddie munson #mike wheeler #will byers #Steve Harrington and El hopper have a sibling relationship #found family #my writing #ficlet #mean girl steve harrington #fluff #fanfiction #jim hopper

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hemmingsleclerc · 1 month

Note

Hi! Could you write a fic with dad!Carlos x reader, where they have twins, and they're in a family gathering, they're playing UNO with the kids, each has one twin, but then Carlos loses, reader won, and pretenting to be super offended and says reader cheated, and everybody is siding with her, including the twins, and he pretends to cry, and the kids feel bad and hug and kiss their daddy? Thank you! <3

UNO! ┃CS55

note: ugh I love dad!Carlos 😭💕 this request was soo funny, I loved it

The Sainz family gathered for a joyful family reunion, and laughter echoed through the living room. Carlos and his wife Y/N watched over their energetic twins, Adrian and Noah, as they ran around the room, their laughter mingling with their voices.

"Alright, who wants to play a game?!" Y/N asked. Carlos approached the large table in the living room with different board games and the twins approached the table excitedly to grab their places.

''UNO! Please!'' Noah shouted holding up the deck of brightly colored cards.

''Yes! I love that game!'' Adrian nodded in agreement

''Alright, UNO will be''

Carlos smiled, knowing that a game of UNO with his lively twins was always chaos. "Are you guys ready?" he asked, ruffling Adrian's hair as he sat at the table next to him.

Adrian nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with anticipation. "Yes, Dad! We'll beat Mommy, right, Noah?"

Noah nodded, his small hand clutching a handful of UNO cards. ''Of course, because I will win!''

The game began with cheers and jokes. Y/N and Carlos teamed up with one of the twins each, creating a competition. As the game progressed, laughter filled the room and the twins' infectious giggles warmed their parents' hearts.

''Come on Noah!'' Carlos said frustrated, ''Why do you always give me +4 cards?''

Noah giggled ''Sorry papá''

However, luck seemed to favor Y/N and Noah as they drew card after card, inching closer to victory. Carlos and Adrián exchanged determined looks, but despite their best efforts, their stack of cards steadily grew thanks to Y/N's strategies.

Finally, with a triumphant smile, Y/N laid down her last card, declaring herself the winner. "UNO!" she exclaimed, her eyes full of joy and amusement as she watched Carlos throw his stack of cards onto the table.

Carlos's jaw dropped in mock disbelief, his playful expression turning into an exaggerated pout. "No, c'mon! You cheated, amor! You must have! I was winning," he exclaimed, feigning offense.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully and her laughter filled the room. "Oh, come on, Carlos! You're just jealous because you lost fairly, once again I proved to be the best at this game, accept it cariño."

The room erupted in laughter as Carlos continued his charade, pretending to be deeply hurt by his defeat. "But…but…I thought we were a team, Adrian!" He said, turning to his son with feigned disappointment when he saw how he celebrated his mother's victory.

Adrian giggled, shaking his head. "Sorry, daddy! Mommy's the best at UNO!"

"No fair, Noah! You're supposed to be on my team!" Carlos exclaimed, turning to his other son, who simply grinned in response.

The rest of the family joined in, mocking Carlos affectionately as he continued his theatrics, pretending to wipe away imaginary tears while covering his face. However, the twins, sensing his father's distress, exchanged a worried look.

"Papá, you're the best in the world!" Adrian declared, throwing his arms around Carlos in a tight hug.''Please don't cry! We didn't want to make you feel bad''

Noah joined in, wrapping his little arms around Carlos's neck. "We love you, papá!"

Carlos's heart filled with warmth as he hugged his children tightly, his playful façade fading. Y/N watched everything fondly as she saw her husband along with their little children.

With a satisfied smile, Carlos leaned down to plant a kiss on the forehead of each of his twins. "I love you both more than anything in the world," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

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fir3ylolol · 6 months

Text

smile! you're on camera

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: Staying at Johnny's house is really nice, except...something feels a little off. You find out the hard way when you decide to entertain yourself on the couch.

tw: vaginal sex, vaginal penetration, oral sex, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, making out, face fucking, sex tape, dom/sub, switch!reader, switch!johnny cage, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, dom!johnny cage, sub!reader, sex in a theater, i physically cant write men who dont whine, he needs pussy!, afab!reader, he wants you so bad omg, smut, shameless smut, porn with light plot

a/n: hehehehehehe...this is inspired by the voice clip in the invasion mode of mk1 where he says he has cameras everywhere. ive been rly inspired lately, but im gna open up requests on here soon, so keep an eye outtt

word count: 2.63 k

Ao3

Something was really off about Cage’s house. After coming back from the tournament and training, you weren’t ready to get back to normal life. And Johnny had offered you a starring role in the movie he was planning to make about Outworld. You accepted quickly, after making sure you wouldn’t have to get naked or be a horrible person or anything like that. But rent is rough, and Johnny is so generous as to let you stay at his place.

His casual, gigantic mansion-y place.

But it was nice. You had your own space, a full fridge, and could still ignore things like work for a bit longer. Plus, Johnny was a surprisingly great host, hosting movie nights in his private theater. Everything was great, except…

You always felt like someone was watching you. As long as you weren’t in your room or the bathroom, it felt like there were eyes on you. Getting a drink of water? It’s there. Sitting on the couch? Being watched. Just wandering into a room? Oh yeah, you for sure feel it. But you brush it off and don’t bother to say anything to Johnny. You figure it’s just dumb paranoia.

After about 2 weeks without any work from Johnny, you’re getting bored. He’s never home, he has work to do and a movie to plan. So you sit around the mansion all day, waiting. Usually, you read, watch stuff, or even just take laps around the house for exercise. But today, you’re just scrolling through social media. Even that is boring to you today. You decide that, hey, you can think of a good way to pass the time. For a quick moment, you forget about feeling watched. Your fingers dip below your waistband, shivering at your touch. It’s been a long time, you’ve been training and then living in someone else’s house. When would you have the chance?

Slowly, you begin to tease yourself, fingers circling your clit. It’s quite embarrassing how much it affects you, but you’ve lost your ability to feel shame. You lose yourself in your actions, whimpers and moans echoing through the empty house. Unable to stop yourself, you finish with an almost violent snap, panting harshly. Pulling your hand out, you finally feel embarrassed, with how fast you were, and how hard you came. Shakily, you stand up and walk towards the bathroom to wash your hands.

You've forgotten what you did by the time Johnny gets home that evening. Smiling as he walks in, a grocery bag in one hand. “Here comes Mr. Celebrity to pass out treats to us poor folk,” you throw your hands out in a joking manner. But there’s a weird look in his eyes, not matching his characteristic smile. “It’s movie night, I had to make sure we had enough snacks,” he walks towards the kitchen, you shortly behind. “Oh yeah! What’s the movie tonight?” You lean against the counter, searching through the bag.

“The Thing. We haven’t done any horror movies yet.” He grabs a glass of water, drinking deeply. But that look is still there. It almost scares you away at how sharp it is. “Ah, ok. Well…I guess I’ll see you then.” You back out of the room, almost running when you’re out of his sight. Catching your breath in your room, confusion floods your mind. Did you do something wrong? Is he tired of having you here? All you can do is wait and wonder until tonight.

And tonight comes much too fast. You find yourself stumbling into the theater room, meeting Johnny’s eyes as you walk in. But he seems much happier. Maybe he was just tired after work. As you get settled, a bag of snacks next to your leg. As Johnny starts the movie and turns the lights down, you start to get nervous. What if he’s mad at you? He is pretty rich, if he wants you dead, it wouldn’t take long.

But Johnny sits next to you, settling down and looking towards you. You try not to look at him, fearing that you might meet a cold gaze. Unable to stop yourself though, your eyes meet his. The weird look is still there, no longer hidden under sunglasses and smiles. Ever the considerate movie-watcher, he leans in to whisper in your ear. “So, did you have a good day? It must get lonely here.” Trying to stay calm, you whisper back, “It was ok, I can’t complain. Was your day ok?”

“Yeah, more progress made on my movie. Studios are eating it up. But…” He pauses, looking at the screen shortly before looking back to you. “I did see a very interesting movie on break.” Turning fully, you look at him confusedly. What in the hell was he talking about? “Oh yeah? What was it?”

“Well, you know, I do have cameras set up like everywhere, right?”

Oh shit.

Your entire face drops, frozen in shock. You finally remember the fun you had earlier on the couch. The watched feeling finally makes sense. “O-oh…” You stumble over yourself trying to think of excuses. This is humiliating. But Johnny doesn’t falter like you. He pauses the movie, reaching his hand out and taking yours to pull your focus back to him.

“You put on quite a show for me, you know?” You finally recognize the look in his eyes. It’s intense curiosity and...lust? “Only wish I knew what you were thinking about. Care to enlighten me?” He leans slightly closer, hot breath fanning over you. Swallowing hard, you try to avoid his intense stare. “I-I wasn’t thinking. I was just…bored?” He laughs slightly, holding your other hand. “Really? I was sorta hoping you were thinking of me, but that’s a little selfish, huh?”

“H-huh? What? Do…do you think of me like that?” You fluster further at his words. “Maybe…does that bother you?” He falters slightly, realizing that he might be making you uncomfortable. But you can't stop yourself from blurting out, “No! It doesn't bother me. I-” Cutting you off, Johnny leans in closer, lips an inch apart. “Then what's the problem?” You swallow hard, eyes rapidly moving back and forth from his eyes to his mouth, and finally answer.

“I just don't know what to do when fantasy becomes reality.”

Luckily for you, Johnny knows.

He closes the distance between you two, kissing you like your life depended on it. You wrap your hands behind his neck and lean back, pulling him impossibly closer. Your tongues dance against each other, lips crashing. Suddenly, you get a surge of confidence, one that defies your previous apprehension. One of your hands slips down his chest slowly, inching along until you reach his growing bulge. He pulls back slightly, panting and staring directly into your eyes. “H-hey now, you’re not playing fair,” he manages to get out, slightly whining at your touch.

“You started it, watching me like that,” you whisper in his ear, fingers slowly rubbing along his waistband. He gasps lightly, head turning away from you. “You liked it, right? Did you touch yourself watching it?” Your fingers move further past his waist, inching towards his cock. “C’mon, you can tell me,” your voice almost sing-songy and teasing. He manages to stutter out a shaky “y-yeah” as you continue down. But you suddenly stop, much to his disappointment.

Instead, you move to kneel in between his legs, looking up at him with sultry eyes. He looks slightly confused until you undo his pants button. Biting his lip, he watches you with intense, pleading eyes. You lean up, taking the zipper of his fly in your mouth and undoing it. He looks like he could honestly cum right now, but you won't let him. As you pull his pants and boxers down his thighs, his cock springs up, the tip angry and weeping. He blushes at the sight of himself like this and you, looking up at him with his hard dick right in front of you.

You slowly wrap your hand around him, stroking him a few times. You just want to watch him squirm and squirm he does. He is whining, head turning back and forth, with one hand on his thigh and the other over his mouth. You kiss the underside, looking up at him through your lashes. With a muffled moan, he looks away again, face scrunching up in concentration and pleasure. Slowly licking at the tip, watching as he continues unraveling, you finally take him in your mouth. You fit as much as you can at first, reveling in the loud gasp you earn from him. You continue a relentless pace, gently massaging his balls as well.

This pleasure is intense for Johnny, so much so that he’s starting to tear up, eyes welling up as he holds back as many sounds as he can. But that only lasts so long as you lift your head off him, taking a deep breath and rasping out, “Do you wanna come, baby? Huh? Then come on, fuck my face like a good boy.”

You go further down this time, causing him to jump at the feeling. Scurried hands grab at your head as he's bent forward, bucking at a frenzied pace. Loud, slutty moans roll from his lips as he loses himself in the feeling. And as you kneel there, trying to stay there for as long as possible, you feel yourself growing wetter. You did this to him, got him so riled up that he could barely control himself. Amongst his hurried moves, you manage to push past your gag reflex and fully take his entire cock down your throat. A loud, long breathy moan is all Johnny can get out as he almost immediately cums at the feeling. Focusing on holding your breath until you can no longer feel him pulsing in your throat, you savor his sounds, his whines, whimpers, moans.

As you move up, taking a deep breath, you admire him in the lowlights. His face flushed and sweaty, eyes rolled back in his head, usually perfect hair messed up. Beautiful. But he only stays like that for so long, because you move up to kiss him. As if his body is reacting without him thinking, he wraps one hand behind your back and uses one to tangle in your hair. After a short kiss, he pulls away. You manage to half-whisper “That was quite a show you put on,” chuckling afterward.

Johnny lazily motions for you to sit next to him, and you oblige. But before you’re even fully down, he's on you, kissing and pulling you closer. Now it's his turn to tease, fingers traveling under your shirt to play with your nipples. You let out light gasps at the feeling, as Johnny starts to bite and suck at your neck.

Mumbling against your skin, you can hear him say, “I'll give you a show.” He manages to pull your shirt off before you even realize what's happening, his eyes still desperate and wanting. He has no grace or subtlety as he pulls your pants and underwear off, he doesn't want to wait any longer than he has to. Shrugging his shirt and pants fully off, he stares at you intensely. He moves a finger to swipe across your wetness, knees buckling slightly as he feels you. He leans in against your chest, beginning to beg. “Please, please, I wanna be inside you, love. I wanna give you a real show, show how good I can be. Please?” God, he's kind of pathetic like this. It's hot.

With a quick nod, he springs up. He wastes no time as he practically lifts you and turns you around. Now, with your hands grasping the back of your seat and ass in the air, Johnny leans over you and presses against your back. Kissing between your shoulder blades, he slowly moves his hips to yours, cock gently rubbing against your wet pussy. Unable to control himself, his hips buck at the sensation, earning a groan from both of you. Face still against your back, you feel him lightly bite you, trying to ground himself.

Finally, he manages to calm himself, standing up and taking a deep breath. After a pause, he lines himself up and pushes in slowly. With a long whine, he manages to bury himself inside you, pausing to adjust. With a strained voice, he quietly says, “Oh god, you feel so good, squeezing against my cock like that. I’m already sensitive, you know.” After a short pause, he starts to move, mesmerized by the way your ass bounces against him. “Shit, I should’ve fucked you earlier. I’ve been missing out,” he manages to get out as he speeds up, reveling in the way you mewl under him.

He’s moving at a breakneck pace now, gripping your hips desperately, and sputtering out praise. Without slowing, his hands shoot out, wrapping around your neck and grabbing your jaw. He’s using your head as leverage, but he manages to fuck you even deeper. He gently turns your head to the back corner of the theater, lightly slapping your cheek to get your attention. “See right there? That’s where the camera is. Go ahead, put on a show, baby.” Despite his confident words, his voice is higher than normal and breathy. His words shoot straight to your dripping pussy, clenching even tighter around him. His hips buck in as he laughs slightly. “You like that? You like being my own personal pornstar? Then come on, let me see it. Get louder, these mics only pick up so much. Don’t hold back, yeah?”

You decide that he’s getting a little too cocky, and decide to shut him up a bit. Moaning out obscenities, you begin to bounce back against him. His hands shoot back to your hips, using you to stabilize himself. Gone are his confident words, replaced with the most gorgeous whimpers you’ve ever heard. His head dips lower, resting once again against your upper back. You can hear his quiet whispers of “Oh fuck” repeated over and over again like a prayer.

With scrambling fingers that dart under you, he starts to play with your clit, bouncing at the same rhythm of his thrusts. “What fun is it if I’m the only one cumming? Besides…” he lets out a breathy laugh, “I studied the game tape.” He begins moving in circles, and suddenly it’s like you’re fucking him for the 50th time. He knows exactly where and what feels good, what directions, and how much pressure to use. But you have no time to wonder how many times he watched you before his hips started snapping in shaky thrusts. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, and with the energy you have left, you decide to put on a major finale. Head tipped back, you begin pleading with him, crying out, “Please come for me, please, please. You’ve done such a good job, I need it, I need you, please please please…” Unable to hold back, he cums with a harsh final thrust. But even in the throws pleasure, he manages to continue to play with your clit. You cum shortly after him, he whines at the feeling of you spasming around his extremely sensitive cock. He slowly pulls out, taking a long second to admire the sight of you bent over and dripping arousal.

He guides you into the chair, helping you sit down and catch your breath. He sits next to you, snuggling into your side and planting his face against your neck. He breathes deep, inhaling your scent and kissing lightly against your sensitive skin. He manages to mumble into your neck, looking up with sweet, half-lidded eyes, “So...there’s about 56 cameras in the house. You mind sticking around for an extra few weeks?”

#johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mk x reader #johnny cage mk1 #mk1 smut

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bby-deerling · 2 months

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sunshine of your love (law x reader nsfw)

law overhears you talking with ikkaku and takes notes ;^)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 3.4k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, virgin law, masturbation, oral sex (reader receiving), voyeurism kinda, teasing, law's kinda weird but he means well, friends to lovers, ikkaku is your girliepop, virginity loss, law is cocky, law is also a dork, alcohol consumption, hangovers

tagging: @willowbelle @sanjisjuul @eelnoise @kaizokuniichan @risenwrites @ragethebunny @mirillua @sanjisprincesswifey @atanukileaf

This was all a cruel joke—a way for Ikkaku to silently torture him as punishment for finally giving her a roommate on the submarine after all these years—at least that’s what Law tells himself as he listens to the conversation bleeding through too-thin walls into his bedroom.

The two of you had been drinking fairly heavily judging by the volume of your giggles and the way your words slur as you swap stories of escapades, some good, some bad, but mostly mediocre. Truthfully, he couldn’t care less about what Ikkaku gets up to in that respect, but when you speak, he hangs onto every word; the conversation is filthy, beyond explicit, and he now has a tantalizingly crisp image in his mind of exactly what gets you off and what doesn’t, and as drags his hand down his cock, he convinces himself that despite his lack of experience, he can give you what you crave. Part of him felt terrible for touching himself to something as innocent as you talking with your friend, but when you were describing what you like and don’t like in bed in so much detail, what else was he supposed to do with himself?

A lull in the conversation leads to Ikkaku coming up with some silly hypotheticals. “Alright, here’s one for you—fuck, marry kill: Shachi, Law, and…” she says, pausing for a moment while she thinks of a third option, “Me!” A pair of giggles echo through the wall when you immediately respond with a kill Shachi; if Law weren’t busy picturing you splayed out beneath him, he probably would have let out a snort of amusement too.

“Fuck you, marry Law.” you say decisively. Law lets out a hiss as he wills away the inadvertent image that pops into his head of Ikkaku on top of you, pleasuring you in the way he wishes he could—in the position that he should be in. Marry Law. The words bounce around his brain, driving him wild with the prospect of you not just wanting him once out of passing curiosity, but wanting him all the time. He’s wanted you so much, for so long, in every conceivable way, contriving excuses at every turn to spend more time alone with you, and lo and behold, here you were fantasizing about a life with him in your free time.

“Marry Law?” she balks incredulously, “You’re still on about that? I thought you got over that little crush you had—” Law’s hand stops stroking momentarily as Ikkaku’s words send him reeling. Feelings. You had feelings for him; he had wormed his way into your heart just like you had burrowed into his, and all of a sudden, he’s fisting himself with renewed vigor, propelled by the notion that if he plays his cards right, he’ll have the real thing sooner than he could have ever imagined. Images of you float through his mind as electricity courses through his skin—you by his side, you curled up in his lap while you flip through a novel, you laying face down as he fucks you into the mattress—each one carried the same weight of eroticism as he pictures the near future with you.

“I can’t help it!” you exclaim, far too loudly, but you were much too tipsy to be cognizant of the fact that Law’s bedroom was right next door, and despite his night owl tendencies, it was far too late to be lurking elsewhere on the submarine. “We’ve been spending so much time together and he just turns me into a flustered mess! He looks at me and has this look on his face, and I just—ugh, I need him!” you lament, causing Ikkaku to laugh at your plight and tease you further.

Rambling on, you say much more, about how much you cherish your time together, and wax poetic about how you feel a quiet kinship like him, as if he knows the contents of your soul without having to disclose them, but Law was still focused on the frustrated whimper you had let out when you said you needed him, replaying the words in the back of his mind like a broken record until he spills warm seed all over his hand. Guilt washes over him for disregarding your words of gushing adoration in the moment while his mind was preoccupied elsewhere, but he atones for his disrespect by ruminating on your tipsy ramblings as he drifts off to sleep.

The other half of my soul, you had said with a dreamy sigh—they were the exact same words that roll around his head whenever he thinks of you. Though half asleep, he concocts a half-baked plan to execute in the morning, sleepily setting his alarm to ensure he doesn’t miss his window of opportunity.

Law slips into your bedroom with a glass of water, a couple pieces of toast, and four-hundred milligrams of ibuprofen the moment Ikkaku leaves in the morning. Though he had only gotten a couple hours of sleep, the excitement flowing through his veins as he makes his way towards your room intent on subtly making his feelings known with a small gesture overpowers any exhaustion. Completely covered in your blankets from head to toe, the click of Law’s heeled boots against the floor prompts you to pop your head out from underneath, a dusting of red coating your face.

“For the hangover.” he says plainly as he sets the plate and glass on your nightstand. As you sip on the water, he takes in your lips and messy hair and weighs his options and contemplates taking an additional risk with you beyond simply hanging at your bedside for a bit of light conversation; despite how tipsy you had been last night, you’re now more parts pleasant than irritable and dizzy, and cute as a button as you thank him for going to the trouble of bringing you the light breakfast and medicine.

“It’s no trouble.” he insists, staring at you for a moment before committing to the urge in his core that keeps telling him to sling a teasing remark your way. “Besides since you want to get married so badly, I figured I should start taking better care of you.” he says with a smirk as he sits at the foot of your bed, masking his nerves with an aura of feigned confidence, behaving as if he’s made himself comfortable like this dozens of times.

He observes your reaction carefully, searching for any sign of disgust at him for eavesdropping as you turn red from head to toe; instead, he only finds mortification plaguing your face as your gaze turns downward towards your blankets. “I’m so sorry, Captain—” you squeak out, though before you can apologize further, he stops you, and you become acutely aware of the way he’s leaning in a bit closer to you, his hand nearly grazing the side of your leg.

“Why? Are you taking it back?” he asks; his expression is unintentionally blank as he focuses on analyzing the emotions on your own face. In turn, you find yourself unsure of whether he shared your feelings or was simply teasing you for being so brazen and loose-lipped while drunk.

“Only if you’re uncomfortable—” you start, but your voice falters and halts when his hand rests on your thigh and a devilish smirk graces his face.

“Do I look uncomfortable?” he teases, inching closer as he watches a flood of relief crash over your features, releasing your nerves with a shaky exhale.

You shake your head. “No, Captain.” you reply softly, inwardly cringing at the way you’d used his title out of habit. He lets out an exhale of amusement and gets unbearably close, hovering over you as the tension hangs thick in the small space between you.

“You need to relax.”he whispers softly, “Let me help you with that.” He hesitates for a moment before cautiously pressing his lips to yours. Law freezes for a moment before pulling away, admiring the half-lidded look in your eyes; playfully flirting with you while packaging his words in a coating of plausible deniability came naturally to him—the game of slowly pushing the envelope was fun for him—but kissing you, feeling you, and being on top of you were all novel and exhilarating new sensations that send him into a whirlpool of swirling nerves.

After listening to you complain about past experiences, he doesn’t want to disappoint you—he doesn’t want to fade into the back of your memory as another lousy story to tell.

As he gently coaxes your lips back to his, he runs through the laundry list of bad kissing habits you and Ikkaku had agreed upon last night: don’t clash your teeth against hers, don’t slobber in her mouth, don’t go crazy with the tongue. It seemed simple enough, and to an extent it was, as each muffled noise you make against his lips helps him learn, improve, and plan his next step, but everything from the press of your lips to the swirl of your tongue was so foreign and alien to him that he nearly forgets to take notes on what he likes in the process.

His hand creeps upward to cradle the side of your face—it was something you had said you adore, and the sweet, content noises you let out indicate that you were underselling your affection for the motion, if anything; however, what he doesn’t expect is to feel the flush of warmth that covers his face when you mewl against his mouth. He likes making you vocal, he decides, greedily soaking in each little bit of affection and praise you offer him as he slowly picks you apart.

I love getting my neck kissed so much—bites, licks, all of it. Words from last night echo in his head as he presses his lips in a trail down towards the sensitive column of your neck. The simple touches of his mouth along your skin are enough to make you squirm and whimper softly underneath him, giving him the confidence he secretly needs to sink his teeth into your flesh with an intent to mark you.

“You like that?” he purrs in your ear between nips of his teeth and swirls of his tongue against your neck. “Mhm…” you whine out, causing him to let out a small growl as he sucks at your skin. Satisfied with the bright red mark that would no doubt turn purple later, he lets his hovering hips fall, reattaching his lips to yours as he grinds his clothed cock into where he was approximately sure your core was underneath your sheets, and is gratified when he feels your legs spread slightly so he can feel a bit more of you. Succumbing to a haze of lust, Law is nervous but hungry for more—so much so that he becomes afraid of pushing things too far and pulls himself away so he can get a read on your pulse.

Your gazes lock together as you ask each other a silent question—how far do you want to go? A slight tremble courses though his hands; everything was seemingly happening all at once, but the tension between you had been building for months, and he can’t help but want to let everything spill over in this moment. He’s afraid to ask for too much and scare you off, but he’s filled with so much need that it makes him shake as he stares down at you, your lips still moist and kiss bitten.

“I want you, Law.” you whisper, the words traveling like tiny wisps that linger in the air. With a small sigh of relief, he’s resolved to give himself to you, give everything to you and lays the foundation in his head for a coarse path to reach that goal.

And then he moves your sheets, with the intention of being able to press himself closer to your body, and is thrown for a loop.

“Do you normally sleep without—” he stutters, unable to get the rest of his sentence out as he becomes transfixed on your bare lower half. He can’t resist letting one of his inked hands travel downward and rest along the curve of your hips as he takes in the expanse of bare skin, the tufts of wayward hair above your sex, and the hints of slick arousal that have began to creep along your inner thighs.

“No.” you say with a shake of your head, blushing furiously. Averting your eyes from his, you swallow hard before continuing. “I was… y’know…” you mumble, trailing into nothingness out of embarrassment from your admission, hoping it wouldn’t scare him off. Peeking at his reaction reveals quite the opposite as he gives you a feral grin, gears clicking together as he realized why you were hiding under your blanket when he entered the room.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about me, hm?” he hums teasingly, lips nearly grazing your earlobe. The ghost of a sensation makes you twitch, and he purrs with satisfaction at being able to make you squirm without even touching you. “Do you always think about me when you touch yourself?” he asks, letting his hand wander before resting his thumb on your needy bud, tracing light circles onto it, your words about hating when someone is too rough with it sitting clearly in the front of his mind.

“All the time…” you whisper as your back arches up off the mattress; the soft patterns he traces along your sensitive clit make you whimper for him, and the tone of your needy sounds nearly make Law cum on the spot.

“So do I.” he mumbles, the words distant on account of him being consumed by his task of working you up with his fingers. He contemplates going down on you, haphazardly pushing your shirt aside and kissing his way down your body, paying your tits some extra attention along the way, but he has absolutely no clue what to do beyond the theory of it all. Asking for assistance was out of the question—not when he was trying so hard to impress you enough to convince you to tether yourself to him permanently, not when he is so dead set on making sure you don’t realize that this is his first everything; looking incompetent in front of you was not an option, in any sense of the word.

And so, he takes a deep breath and decides to learn through doing.

Now, face settled between your legs, he was truly out of his element. More overheard guidance from the previous night floods his head. Keep your tongue flat and lick from side to side. Don’t fake a ton of obnoxious noises while you do it. It’s okay to roam a little, but keep your attention on the clit. He cyclically runs through each one of your preferences in his mind as he drags his tongue across your bud, instinctively picking up on the right pressure, the right patterns based on your reactions—it’s like a puzzle for him, though instead of clicking pieces into place or filling out a crossword, he’s slowly turning you into a squirming mess with his mouth. If he were any less drunk on the sensation of making you fervently writhe against him, he’d be thrown off by the way you snap your hips harshly along his tongue, doing more work than he feels you should be doing, but he’s simply awestruck by how pretty you look when you’re so intently focused on getting off. You seem so close, and, desperate to do something to push you over the edge, he grips your thighs tightly, making his best attempt at replicating your description of how much you said you enjoy it.

To his pleasant surprise, it works.

And when you come crashing over the edge, with white-hot intensity, he can’t help but slip his tongue inside you, wanting to feel every bit of your arousal on his tongue and experience the way your walls spasm—he wants to feel you coming apart and study it for future reference. You’re gorgeous, with your knuckles twisting and clutching at your bottom sheet, and your face blooming with heat.

He's been so singularly focused on pleasing you, on proving himself and protecting his ego, that he had put his own needs on the backburner, but seeing you glowing, needy, and all for him makes him unable to wait any longer to have you.

Unbuckling his pants, freeing his cock, and lining himself up with your entrance, he's about to slide his length inside of you, but something makes him instinctively pause; he’s not quite sure what’s making him hesitate, until he remembers.

You like to be teased.

He presses the smallest bit into you before withdrawing, making you let out a sigh of frustration. “You want it?” he coos playfully, smirking down at you when you grind your hips towards him in vain.

“Please, Law… I need it…” you whine, slightly pouting your lips out at him.

Please.

“Then take it.” he whispers lowly as he bottoms out inside of you, hiding his burning face in the crook of your shoulder as he’s flooded with another wave of novel sensations. Pride swells in his chest upon hearing you beg for him, plead for him to take you; the feeling is intoxicating, so much so that he nearly forgets that he doesn’t quite know what to do once he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Flailing for only the briefest of moments, he does the only thing he can think of—stop thinking so much, for once.

He acts on instinct, capturing your lips with his and swiping his tongue along your bottom lip clumsily as he rocks his hips into yours, trying to keep his strokes slow and even to prevent himself from getting too overwhelmed before he even truly starts. Soon enough, he regains his head and gets bolder, using your sounds and reactions as cues to make sure he’s barking up the right tree; the more decisive he is with his movements, the more you respond, and the better he can get a read on you.

But right now, he can’t see your face, opting instead to bury his own into the crook of your neck, scattering any patch of skin he can reach with kisses and love bites as he gives you surer, more intense strokes; just when he thinks he’s ascended to the truest form of a higher plane, completely dissolved into something intangible and forever mixed with you, he feels you do something that drives him even more wild. It’s paradoxical, how much he loves it when you wrap your legs around him; he so badly wants to be caged in by you, an eternal mess of tangled limbs, but the action is so intimate, so comfortable that it sends him spiraling unbearably close to the edge.

“Where do you want me to—” he rasps, unable to spit the rest of his words out as the way he buries himself deep inside you makes him gasp sharply.

“Anywhere.” you reply, the word dipped in layers of lust. He laments his inability to last longer, but the way you fit around his cock like a tight glove combined with the pretty, fucked out look on your face makes him unable to keep his composure.

A slew of whispered curses fall from his lips as he pulls out and spurts ropes of hot cum onto your lower stomach. Mesmerized by the look of his seed spread over your skin as he catches his breath, he takes a few moments to fall back down from space before planting a kiss on your lips.

“Thank you…that was… wow.” you say quietly with a smile, mind still scrambled as he haphazardly wipes you clean with the tissues that sit on your nightstand.

“Thank yourself.” he replies teasingly, pressing kisses along your collarbone as he settles in bed behind you, “You’re the one who gave me the detailed instructions.” His words make your cheeks flush as you nuzzle into his touch, his hands lacking their usual chill as they trace patterns into your skin.

“My other half.” he murmurs gently into your ear, in a hushed tone so quiet that you nearly think you’ve dreamt it.

A soft, lazy smile drifts onto your face. “My other half.” you echo, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before nodding off back to sleep together.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece scenario #trafalgar law #x reader

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mellifera38 · 1 year

Text

Bruh. As much as we talk about how funny and wacko the early era of tumblr was with its mishapocalypses and so on and so forth, I like tumblr a LOT more now. Like, if you were ace, you did NOT wanna look in the asexuality tag back then like holy fuck. It was a hostile battleground in there every day. The idea of being "aphobic" was in and of itself a joke. It was a perfectly valid stance on here. People would straight up make fake ace blogs just to say super cringy shit so ppl could screenshot and use it for an example of our attitudes and behavior. It was so fucking exhausting to be on here sometimes. Every day I had to block blogs I had followed for ages and legitimately liked and I remember being so upset All The Time like bitch I'm just existing here what the fuck man. Eventually I just kinda backed my ass right back into the closet and blacklisted any and all ace content. Just said fuck it I can't look at this shit anymore I'm done i dont even care what I am.

I glanced in the ace tag today bc it's ace day and was so relieved. Like I know it probably hasn't been bad like it was for awhile now but I'm still just like always expecting the worst from the internet. I still subconsciously stay removed from my own identity most of the time and take pains not to bring it up unless I'm with my close friends, and even then not very often. I still cautiously hesitate to say I'm part of the queer community even tho most people it seems are on board with the A in LGBTQIA being for Aspec. It could just be that with the tiddy ban most of the remaining perpetrators left or something but either way I'm really glad this place has become legitimately ace-positive. I wouldn't have believed it possible back then there was SO much vitriol aimed at us. Even if this site is actually just an echo chamber of aces shouting positivity at each other today, I'll still enjoy it. They didn't really let us do that back then. They invaded every tag we tried to make for ourselves. So happy Ace Day. Don't forget to appreciate every positive post that shows up on your dash.

#asexuality #international asexuality day #ace day #saw it trending on twitter too but I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole

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rainylana · 12 days

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“I’m not always bad.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: eddie finds you crying. why does he care?

warnings: bully eddie, bad boy, awkward and meanie eddie, language, crying, upset reader, talk of cancer, readers dad has cancer. a potential series if you want it, let me know!

gif is not mine!

update! part two has been posted and is located on my masterlist!

He supposed maybe over time it wouldn’t be absolutely crazy to have some sort of care for you, after all, he had known you since the both of you were in diapers in preschool together, and ever since, he’d treated you like dirt beneath his leather boots.

He was an absolute prick to you, and you couldn’t remember one memory of him being nice to you. Maybe it was because you came from a ‘white picket fence’ home, had good grades, an honor student, actually. Maybe it was because you were pretty? Maybe he liked you? No. You had long since disregarded that idea many years ago. He wouldn’t be this mean.

You walked as quickly as you could to the gymnasium, pink heels clicking with every step and turn. Your eyes blurred with tears and you hiccuped a breath. You pushed open the door, relieved no one was in there, at least, not to your knowledge, and plopped down on the closet set of bleachers to your right. You put your head in your hands and cried like a baby pathetically.

Eddie was closing up a deal when you’d come busting in dramatically. He quickly hid his stash, thinking it was a teacher as his customer quickly left the scene, muttering a thank you as he did so. When he say it was you, he cursed under his breath and put away his things.

He adjusted his jacket, putting away his weed and wallet as he watched you. He squinted his eyes. Were you crying? He’d seen you cry before, that wasn’t anything new, but you looked upset. He walked across the gym floor, adjusting his junk like a typical male specimen.

“Why the long face, L/n?” His demeaning voice boomed and echoed.

You jumped, revealing your tear stricken face. You groaned. “Fuck! I- I didn’t know anyone was in here. Sorry.” You went up to leave.

“Woah, woah,” He held up his hands. “You’re on my turf, L/n. Crying and trespassing on my property are not to go unpunished.” He tried to ignore the fact you were visibly upset, thinking maybe you got a bad grade or tripped over your own feet and embarrassed yourself. That’s usually what it was, anyways.

Today, however, you couldn’t deal with his dramatics. Your face crumbled into tears and you sobbed, slowly sinking back down to your seat and hunched back over. Eddie, despite his antics, couldn’t help but furrow his brow. He watched you for a moment, looking to see if anyone else was around he could pass you off to. He looked back at you, and when you pushed out a particular harsh sob, he knew that this time was different. Something was wrong.

Unbeknownst to him, he frowned, pursing his lips and climbed up to bleachers to sit beside you. He looked at you like you were from another planet, eyes wide and alert like you were playing a joke on him. He didn’t like this said joke.

“Hey, uh,” He cleared his throat, looking for the quickest way out. “Stop crying.” Way to cheer her up, buddy.

“I can’t.” You sobbed into your hands. “My life’s falling apart!”

That broke him out of his shocked state and he rolled his eyes at your dramatics, leaning back into his seat. “What happened now?”

“Just leave me alone, Eddie!” You snapped angrily, jerking your head toward him so hard he thought it was fly clean off and roll onto the floor with the rest of the disregarded basketballs. “Do you have to be such a jerk everyday of my life? Can’t you let me cry in peace just for once?” You stared at Eddie, who was startled and wide eyed, looking at you like you’d gone made.

He sighed heavily, a mask of irritation and annoyance falling over his hooded eyes. “Fine.”

He got up to leave, obeying your wish for once. You watched him get up and leave, and for some odd reason, your heart seemed to sink even further. Once again, you sank back into yourself, listening as his footsteps got further and further away.

He cursed when he got to the gymnasium door, turning back to look at your weeping figure. “Fuck.” He clenched his fist and brought it up to his teeth angrily. Why? Why did he suddenly seem to care about your distress?

He was back beside you, sighing loudly like he didn’t care. “Alright, L/n, what’s going on?”

You gave him a sharp glare, shooting him daggers. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” He fired back. “But I don’t need you busting in during my deals, so you might as well get whatever it is off your chest and wipe your damn tears.” He lifted himself off the seat briefly, reaching back and grabbing his black bandana and handing it to you. You didn’t grab it, so he placed it on your lap with a huff.

It was your turn to look him strangely, like he was from another planet, a strange land you’d yet to be aware of. “You’re being weird.”

“Shut up.” He retorted. “You’ve got snot all over your face.”

You purposely rubbed your nose with his bandana, making sure to clean your face of mucus and tears. He recoiled, grossed out at the action. “Yeah, you can keep that.” He said.

He gave you a minute. Nobody said anything as you calmed down, sniffling to yourself here and there. His concern grew when he noticed the shaking of your hands. “Hey,” He said, voice deep and gruff. “What’s the matter with you?”

You looked at him sadly, shaking your head. “My dad has cancer.”

He couldn’t help it then. His whole face dropped. His jaw fell slack and his eyes widened.

“I just found out yesterday.” Your voice was full and thick with tears. “I was in math class and just had to get out before I had a public fucking breaking down like I’m doing now!” You said, angry with yourself.

“It doesn’t even make sense!” You continued. “My dad is a good man! He’s done nothing to deserve this! I don’t understand!” You cried, rambling to him at this point. He didn’t mind, he didn’t know what to say anyways.

“My whole family is just…numb. Dad’s pretending he’s not bothered by it. He’s doing everything he normally does. Mowing the grass, helping mom with the flower bed.”

You kept talking and Eddie listened, and in that moment, he felt pure sorrow and remorse, compassion and empathy for you. He listened to your words and felt his stomach sink. And you were beautiful, a random thought jostled in the middle somewhere between sorrow and empathy.

You cried to him for almost an hour. You talked about your family falling apart, but continuing on despite the downfall. The number of months the doctors had given your father to live. You talked about not being walked by him down the aisle, him not seeing his grandchildren. It was all here and there, but Eddie listened and said nothing, and after awhile, you forgot he was there and that it was Eddie.

When two o’clock rolled around, you breathed heavily and looked at your watch, then him. “You didn’t need to stay.” You were completely exhausted, mentally and physically.

“It’s alright.” It was the first thing he’d said in an entire hour. “You needed someone to talk to. I’m just being a good samaritan.”

“Still,” Your eyes were red and raw. “Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not always bad.”

You managed to smile. He didn’t.

“Well, thanks.” You said softly. “My friends don’t know yet. Nobody does. Please don’t tell?” You looked at him with round eyes that were always so full of innocence.

“I won’t say anything.” He shook his head.

You sniffled once more and nodding, standing up and fixing your white skirt. “Well, I better get back to class. Thanks for listening.”

He let you walk all the way across the room and to the door before he spoke. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at you, but both of your hearts seemed to lighten. The door clicked open loudly and shut, leaving him to himself.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #bully eddie #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x female character

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rogueddie · 8 months

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Steve nearly winces when he steps into the room, following behind Dustin and Mike. He's already wishing he'd tried to shut Lucas up as soon as he'd tried to say that "no, really, I don't mind!"

Because of course he's this unlucky. Of course his date would skip out almost last minute, of course he'd end up with no excuse to avoid helping Dustin with his stupid D&D game and of course the person who probably hates Steve most is crouched on the biggest chair like it's a throne.

Eddie Munson eyes lock on him immediately. He stares for a while, making Dustin and Mike shift awkwardly beside him.

"Absolutely not. No way." He's grinning though. His eyes narrow slightly at Steve, like he's daring him to do something.

"You asked for a sub, we delivered."

Steve simply raises an eyebrow, pointedly shifting the sheets Dustin had helped him make up. It draws Eddies attention off his face, finally. When he looks back up, he's smiling a little more genuinely.

The guys standing at his sides are still glaring, looking almost cruelly excited when Eddie stands up, meandering his way over to them.

He gently plucks the sheet out Steves hand, eyebrows slowly raising as he reads.

Everyone is waiting, eyeing Eddie impatiently. Dustin and Mike are tense, as though waiting for Eddie to blow up. The others seem to expect the same, though Steve imagines they're more excited for it.

"Why did you come?" Eddie eventually asks, still holding onto the character sheet. "What could possibly be so important about this that King Steve would miss the championship game?"

"Dustin said this one was important," Steve shrugs. Fights to keep his calm demeaner. "Something about it being the last one or something. He's been going on about this shit forever. Seemed cruel to leave him high and dry at the last leg."

"Well…" Eddie eyes the character sheet before handing it back. Looks Steve up and down, before finally grinning. His eyes crinkle at the edges. "Welcome to Hellfire, Lady Elora."

He sticks his hand out. Steve shakes it, trying not to grin back.

Even with how often Dustin has talked to him about the game, Steve is clueless. Dustin and Mike both save him from embarressment every time though, quick to argue different options in such a pointed way that he knows the others aren't fooled by.

But Steve doesn't mind, often finds himself rolling his eyes at their antics only to find Eddie eyeing him almost fondly.

He finds that he enjoys it though. He'd make the character Elora as a joke, mostly just throwing whatever seemed to fit at random. An Elf who's a ranger, chaotic neutral, swinging around a bat with nails.

He wonders if it sounds as stupid to everyone else as it does to him.

He's often lost on the story too. But Eddie is brilliant at telling it. Even when he doesn't understand what he means, he flinches when the others yell at a reveal. Anxiety bubbling up when things get tense, slowly getting more and more invested in the game. Even he can tell that they're nearing the end, the final fight.

"You're scared, you're tired, you are injured," Eddie says. "Do you flee Vecna and his cultists? Or do you stand your ground and fight?"

Steve already knows the answer before Dustin speaks up; "I say we fight. To the death!"

"To the death," Mike echoes, nodding.

"To the death." Steve sniffs, doesn't bother fighting the grin.

Eddie grins back at him, the others chanting the sentiment. Steve feels warm with his attention locked on him.

Steve has the first roll. He still doesn't understand the numbers, but the others cheer so he assumes it must be good. But then it goes downhill, so many bad rolls.

Everyone is too hyped up for Steve to keep up so he focuses on Eddie. He's jeering, jumping up out of his seat, encouraging the chaos and seeming to control the energy of the room. When he laughs, he sounds more like a movie villain.

And then, one of them calls time out.

They huddle into a circle, just like they did in basketball. Steve is surprised by how easily two of the older boys pull him in.

"Guys, I hate to say this but we have got to flee."

"I concur."

"Didn't we just agree 'to the death'?" Steve frowns. He's not ready to give up yet. He can feel how close they are.

"That wasn't literal!"

A hand tightens on his shoulder. "Vecna just decimated us. We can't kill him with two players."

"You too?" Dustin sounds just as annoyed as Steve feels. "Vecna only has 15 more hit points left, don't be pussies!"

"Pussies? Really? Cause we're not delusional?"

"No, no, Dustins right," Steve butts in. Barely holds back a warning to Dustin about his language; it's not the time for babysitting. "We're too close now, we can't give up!"

"HEY!" Eddie calls, easily drawing all their attention back to him. "If I may interject, gentleman… whilst I respect the passion, you'd be wise to take Garreth the Greats concern to heart. There is no shame in running. Don't try to be heroes. Not today."

Something about his smirk and stupid head tilt just makes Steve more determined. If he has to continue fighting this stupid game alone, god dammit, he will.

Steve only half pays attention to Mike talking strategy. He's already made up his mind.

"What do you say, Elora?" Dustin turns to him, looking uncertain.

"We can kill him." Steve sounds more sure than he probably has any right to be. But he is. He can feel it in his bones. They can win.

"Fuck yeah we can," he grins at Steve. The others look more uncertain. Dustin turns back to Eddie, shoulders back, chin up and looking almost proud. "Let's kill this son of a bitch!"

Dustin gets first roll and it's bad.

It's all down to Steve.

He can feel how tense everyone is. Dustin and Gareth start yelling when he takes to long. But he can't roll yet, follows his gut; he has to get this right, has to roll at the right time.

It's just like swinging a bat in baseball, he tells himself. Just gotta time it right…

He rolls.

The dice seems to move in slow motion. Steve can almost hear each time it bounces off the board. The tension is so thick that it almost chokes him, for a moment he's sure that he can't breath.

20.

There's a moment where no one reacts. Then Dustin yells, grabbing Steves arm and shaking him in his excitement. Mike, a more similar height, throws his arms around his shoulders. It's a little painful to have him shouting directly in his ear but, he too, is too excited to care.

The others have started yelling too, Eddie dramatically overacting his shock too. Steve can't help but laugh.

It takes a while for everyone to calm down. An even longer moment to stop talking enough so they can start packing their things up. Steve only brought his jacket and character sheet, so he stays stood at the end of the table to wait for the kids.

Eddie keeps glancing up at him as he packs most of the pieces away.

"Harrington," Grant grins at him. "Never thought I'd be saying this but... thanks for coming."

"Oh, uh, yeah, no problem," Steve tries to smile.

"Dude, you missed the championship game to save our asses in DnD," Gareth grins, throwing his arm over his shoulder. "Who woulda thought, though. Steve Harrington, huh?"

The other two laugh. Steve finally feels a little lighter, on safer ground.

"How the mighty have fallen, huh?" Steve tries. And they laugh, Jeff slapping him on the back.

At the doorway, he lingers for a moment, whilst everyone else starts heading down the hall.

"Thanks for letting me play," Steve says, turning to Eddie. "I know I'm not... uh..."

"Don't strain yourself," Eddie waves him off. "It's fine. The kids have raved about you enough for me to figure out that you're a good dude."

"Oh. Thanks."

"You should join their next campaign."

"I don't know. You're graduating, right?"

"Aww, you like me that much, big boy?" He puts a hand to his chest, batting his eyelashes.

But Steve remembers the rumors that went around, remembers exactly how true they were proven to be. And, well...

"What would you say if I am?" He fires back.

Eddie, true to his reputation, is never one to back down from a fight; "then I'd tell you to ask me out like you mean it."

"Alright. If you're free tomorrow, 8pm, would you wanna go on a date? With me?"

"You picking me up in your fancy car?"

"If you want."

"Yeah, I'm free."

"So... that's a yes?"

"Yes, that's a yes."

Steve can't help but fistpump, but it makes Eddie giggle, so he counts it as a win.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #altorprecanon #this thing has been in my drafts since august 2022 😭

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