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san8ny · 17 days

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Intermission

Ellie Williams <3

Synopsis: Ellie and you haven’t spoken since highschool, you two never really that close. One day, the all-star hits you up upon getting kicked out. You down to help her steal from her own childhood home or nah?

w.c: 4.1k / warnings include: Ellie is a bit rude in the beginning, some Joel slander, she’s just hella uptight, mutual pining, kissing, she makes out with your hooha, but it’s hot. ;-;

“Am I even doing this right?” you mutter down at the pocket knife you had angled, poorly sharpening it’s blade with the edge of the worn-down whetstone you and Ellie happened to find upon arrival to Joel’s cabins.

She gives you, and both the board, a once-over before turning back to the picture frames lined up on the wall, “Sure.” Rolling your eyes, you throw the knife onto the counter, “You know, I didn’t know he had such a swanky place.”

“Yeah. Reeaal swanky.” She huffs, scrunching her brows in annoyance when the clatter of the knife you’d just thrown doesn’t quiet down immediately, “You find the checkbook yet?”

Ah, the checkbook. You almost forgot she recruited you out here to practically rob her adoptive dad blind.

I mean, fuck, had you had the luck of being in her place— living so lavishly, you’d let the bastard yell at you all he wanted.

Dragging your finger tips across the wooden counter, careful to not splinter them, you push yourself off where you were leaning, and walk towards the stairs, “Doesn’t it make sense for him to like, I don’t know, have it upstairs?”

Ellie runs a hand down her tired face, letting out a huge sigh before turning towards when you stand near the railing, your foot already placed on the first step. Why didn’t she think of that before? She gives you the green light, following behind as you ascend up the stairs. She finds her breath hitched and her eyes closing in further irritation when you suddenly stop, her face parallel with your lower back due to the step-to-height difference.

“Is that you?” You say, a smile stretching on your face as you point towards the meek framed photo that hung above the handrail, depicting a pre-teen Ellie in a science museum tee, Joel slightly crouched behind her with two thumbs up. You almost would have missed the small smile she has in the snapshot had you had nor squinted, “Didn’t know you had a dimple. Do still have it?” You ask, turning down towards where she stood.

“No. Now move.” She huffs, bumping your shoulder as she takes lead, climbing up the rest of the stairs. Rude. Nonetheless, you follow her as you enter into the main hallway. How the hell was a cabin this big? you’re only in it for, like, less than a season— Right? Not like you would know, the fanciest thing you’d ever seen was the time you went to Dina’s Bat Mizvah down at the community center and got to see a chocolate fountain, granted it was years ago, it’s the closest thing you’d ever experienced comparisable to ‘upper echelon.’

She seemingly notices your distant stare, harshly bringing her palms together in a large clap thus pulling you out of your thoughts. Clearly taken aback, you meet her blank gaze, “You take the attic, i’ll take the main bedroom”

“Where—

“Down the hall, to your left. You’ll see the ladder cord hanging.” She cuts you off, already walking away and into one of the many doors you could only assume led to Joel’s bedroom. Okay! This should be easy!

It was not easy.

On your hands and knees, you cough uncontrollably from the dust that blocks insulation. It errupted when you pulled the damn ceiling ladder cord down. All this money and they couldn’t fucking dust it once in a while? Wait, when was the last time this place was even entered? That was the question you asked as you slowly tip-toed up with wide eyes. immediate, you’re met with U-haul boxes, plastic dinosaur figurines and some comics.

In that moment, you smile a bit as you kneel on the floor, grabbing the Stegosaurus and T-rex as you gently knock them against eachother, playing with them.

Though you swear you were being satirical when you began toying with them, you couldn’t help thoughts drift to a younger Ellie playing with these like you were. She’d probably always call dibs on the Carnivore, giving the other person an eyeroll when they cry at how unfair she was being for never giving them a turn at being the razor-bearing predator. ‘Skill issue’ she’s also snicker when the kids run back to their parents.

When you finally put them down after some time, you walk over to one of the several moving boxes. Some tattered, some dirty and some even still closed up. It was wrong for you to have been snooping around her childhood home, sure, but she’s also stealing from her own said home— so you can’t be that bad. Reaching into the closest one near you, you pull out a small velvet belt. One that stroke resemblance to the ones you’d see in the cheesy karate-cop movies your dad had been a fan of. Another, and another and shortly, you have a large array of belts, with at the very bottom of the box containing a small plaque of achievements, ‘Ellie Williams’ printed in fine, gold lettering, ‘Graduate from the Jackson institute of Martial Arts.’

Of course, she was a prodigy at everything. What wasn’t Ellie good at? She’d been your highschool’s valedictorian a couple years back when you both were about to graduate, given the golden chance to speak at the commencing, well, was. That was before passing the chance onto the second runner without a second thought; she claimed she wasn’t the talking type and just casually went about her day, like it wasnt the opportunity most students would have killed for. Students like you, who spent all night and day to even make a dent in the social stratosphere that was highschool.

Given now you both were in your early 20’s, you still hold admiration for Ellie. Maybe that’s why when she randomly called you to hangout after years, you didn’t question it, or even second guess yourself.

How long Ellie had been standing there watching you coo over her baby pictures was something you, and both she couldn’t answer. Originally wanting to smack you on the head or scare you, she couldn’t help but lean against the attic wall, eyeing the way you carefully place her achievements down like they were the most important thing to you.

You’d always been like that since Ellie can recall meeting you. Always so nice, so sensible, always the first one in the room to make light out of nothing. You definitely would have been burnt on the cross or something for just how smiley you were if you were alive back in that day. Ellie found you interesting in ways she couldn’t configure why.

She and Joel had a falling out a couple of weeks ago. He cut her off of all financial support, insisting she get a job or a higher education like her peers were. A few profanities and insults were thrown around, leading eventually to her getting kicked out. Funny. Though she never cared about being embarrassed or the opinions of others, she did feel some sort of seeping humiliation. So, with the money she had, she booked a hotel and called you up. She chuckles when she remembers the first time she sent the address, your hesitancy to type back as you get the wrong, but expected idea,

‘ .’.im not fucking u lol’

‘wth no I got kicked out’

‘OHHH srry!!! D: ‘

The chuckle that hears behind startles, your grip seemingly loosening on the picture frame you had in-hand meeting the floor in cruel shatters. Quiet consumes you both with your hands shaking erratically, “O-oh my god? i’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I did that. fuckfuckfuck!! It was an accident. I can pay for that! Like, i’m so so sorry—l” you frantically plead with her, your eyes alternating from her and the bloody gla—bloody?

“You’re bleeding.” Ellie sighs, softly reaching forward to grab your wrist, pulling you around the mess you caused. You didn’t even realize you were until you felt the blood drip from your ankles down to your shins, staining your bleach-white socks in scarlet droplets.

“I messed up, Ellie, i’m really sorry.”

“Can you like, stop apologizing? It’s fine. Didn’t even know when that picture was taken anyways.”

Somehow, her words worsen your hysteric state, you sinking down back onto your knees as you sob. Oh god, she didn’t even know when that picture was taken meaning it’s that long ago. Ellie stares at you clearly with a panicked look, not really knowing how to comfort you— or anyone for that matter. Again, you were more of the sensible one between them, even if you two hadn’t exactly been all that close growing up in the same town, school and similarly interconnected friend groups. ‘What would you do?’ So, Ellie slightly crouches down, her squeaky sneakers noising as she awkwardly encircles her arms around you. Clearly taken aback by this gesture, you peer up from where your head was buried inbetween your knees and instead, at Ellie, who’s usual laid-back expression is replaced with furrowed brows, her eyes not meeting yours and some reddening on her cheeks. “Y-you’ve seen the picture frames around, man, I see myself all the time. It’s fine.”

You sniffle abit before giving her a coherent answer that isn’t just hiccups, “Im sorry.” She sighs before slightly reaching up to pat your head, “Please stop crying, I think i’m more off-put by your ugly cries than you breaking shit.” That tugs a laugh out of you, pushing Ellie away as she matches your grin. “I mean look, you ruined my tee.” She wasn’t lying, you look down to her white tee and it was absolutely soaked with shed tears belonging to you. You gently run your thumbs over her chest in a bad attempt to wipe your embarassingly smeared mascara off, but it only recieves a small whine from Ellie, who backs away immediately. You’re left confused when she gets up, clearing her voice. “We should continue searching.” With that, she leaves the attic, leaving you up there and with multiple. How could ones demeanor change that often? You almost noticed the sensitivity in her chest.

“Pfft, softie.” You mutter, a smile on your lips as you follow her down. Eventually, Ellie is the one to find the book, it’s placed inbetween some folded jeans. ‘Fuck yeah..’ She bites her chapped lip as she flips through it. Enough pages for her, and a good forged signature she’d mastered when he’d be too lazy to sign her field trip permission slips— guess something did pay off. You stand there with crossed arms, feeling a bit squeamish all of a sudden, like the thought had hit you finally, Ellie is moving away. She notices you when she lifts her gaze up, puzzled with your stance, “I told you it’s okay, the picture frame can be replaced.”

“I don’t want you to move away.”

“What.”

“I won’t repeat myself.” You shake your head defiantly, standing your ground when she towers over you, all these years and when you two have somewhat of a bond, she wants to move away? And maybe yeah, you had it coming, being easily-attached to somehow who’d you’d only started recently hanging out with. “What makes you think I care?” She mocks, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head, she’s almost astonished with your stupidity, why would she have dragged you all the way here to just, stay? Something with the way she says those words churns humility deep in your gut, who were you to even admit that to her? You flail around your arms passively as you back away, a croak in your throat, “Just something I said. You’re a cool person.”

“Right, well, I got the checkbook meaning we can get the hell out. Seeing this place almost makes me want to not drain Joel’s pockets.” She yawns, throwing you the book before retreating into one of the previous rooms, though before, she asks, “Say, where’d we put the keys?”

Who had the keys?

Comically enough, sirens began to faintly hear in the back, and your gaze locks onto Ellie’s, “Fuck— find the keys.” She says, running back into the room. How petty was her dad to call the police on them? Well, petty enough to have alarms laying around incase his thieving daughter comes around. You, instantly begin to eye around for them, palms growing clammy at the aspect of being arrested now comes into plan as the sirens grow closer. Finding them, you call out to Ellie who seemingly was already on her way once she heard the jingles of them, “Out the back. You’re gonna run, and not turn back, ‘alright?” She whispers, grabbing you and running towards the kitchen door once the front door is knocked.

Once it’s kicked in, Ellie manages to get out with a groan, definitely a bruiser, but nonetheless, they make it out of the area without getting caught. While she hasn’t broken a sweat yet, you were coughing up a storm like you were earlier, eyes tearing up as you let them out in fits. She gently rubs your back, looking around for where their parked car was, it was a good idea they’d parked so far away- granted it was flawed in multiple ways, it came out in their good favor. Once you’d caught your breath, Ellie hums, “You know where we parked?” You nod, looking around, “Yeah. near the marked tree, you smeared my lipstick over it..” She scrunches her nose to prevent a loud laugh from coming out, your sadness over lipstick being funny to her, “Right. That way.”

You both find the car and enter, ellie starting the car as she backs up and maneuvers around the various tall trees it was parked around before getting onto the main road. You don’t say anything for the majority of the one hour ride, those 60 minutes feeling like the longest ones to Ellie who’s gotten use to your talkitive habits. So when she asks you if you want aux, you shake your head— deflating her mood. She sighs, lighting up a cigarette at the light and rolling down the window. You just lean your head back and rest your eyes, emotions running through that you couldn’t even seem to process. Tiredness, embarrassment of her flat out saying she’d never stay for you, getting almost booked by the police, and just ones you didn’t want to acknowledge at all. You wanted to just, go to sleep.

Ellie, on the otherhand, feels nothing but anxiety gnawing at her. Why does she care so much whether you talk to her or not? She’s never even liked talking, and somehow, the thought of never speaking to you again after this makes her feel nauseous. Would you text her? Call her? Visit her if she left? Would you buy the nearest train ticket if she told you one day to come when she settles into her new place? Or would you just move on? Would you move onto some cooler girl in town to befriend? Some other girl you’d look up to, some other girl who would show you the hidden gems around town you’d been asking her to, Fuck— some other girl you’d give all your affection to. Ellie swerves the car, and had it not been your quick-wit to pull the steering back, she might have crashed the vehicle.

Pulling over, she places her head lightly on the leather wheel while you stare at her in bewilderment, “Are you crazy?! What was that?!” You say with a slight twitch in your eye at her loss of control.

“I don’t want to move away.”

“You literally have to, we’re on the side of the road and your emergency lights aren’t on so.”

“I’ll stay.”

“You can’t, that’s like, against the rules. I don’t know, my permit is expired.” First order of business, obtain a license.

“In Jackson. I’ll stay in Jackson.” She mumbles, lifting her head up to stare at you. This feels like a joke to you, like Ellie might just begin laughing at you when you show the tiniest bit of you of relief. So, you just match her stare, tiling your head. “Why?” Why? What do you mean why? Ellie wants to scream, why don’t you look happy? She’s staying for you.

“Just..wanted to.” She says after a beat or two, pulling the car back onto the road as she nears your house. Giving a curt nod, you look out the window, your knees feeling wobbly like a teenage girl all over again as you suppress asking questions to the clearly disoriented freckled girl. Once on arrival, Ellie expects you to leave and slam that door but instead, you sit there for a bit.

“My mom isn’t here.” You say, chewing your inner-cheek.

“You don’t have a spare key or ‘sum?”

“No no I do, it’s just— want to come in?” You ask her with big eyes, your hands folded on your lap like a child on their best behavior to get something.

“Did your mom bake that pie you got me last time?” She’s referring to the Cherry Pie your mom made last time you two hung out.

“Is the sky blue?” You say, with a smile, trying to lighten the mood that’ll need more than just that to recover.

“It’s grey but I see your point. I’ll go park, leave the front door open.” She smiles when you nod, skipping out of the car and into your home.

When she does so, and enters your door, she’s met with a warm wafting smell of baked goods. Ellie might gave been fairly thin, but she had a nose on her, leading her to the kitchen. You’ve changed out of your dirty clothes, she notices, you now wearing some small pajama shorts and a tanktop. You’re bent over the oven, grabbing the treats out of the pre-heated oven your mother had likely left them in to retain warmth.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” You mutter, almost dropping the tray of food while Ellie smirks

“Can’t really promise accepting an apology if you dropped those.” She says, walking on over to where you stood by the kitchen island. Something in the way she says that so..flirtatiously, makes you look back at her twice. “Whatever. Do me a favor, take the plates out while I cut the pieces.” Ellie nods, walking over to the several arrays of cabinets. Though, upon doing so, she notices your refrigerator, decorated in colorful magnets, children’s literature and most of all, a picture of you, and an older woman. You were younger, hair a bit longer than you had it now, and a wide grin with your front tooth missing. You couldn’t of been older than 6, Ellie thinks. Smiley.

“This your mom?” she asks, running her fingerpads alongst the smooth film while you hum, nodding. “Yeah, it’s my mom” You say, handing her a slice of piece when she gives you the plate, “You look alike.” Ellie concludes when you two begin walking upstairs to your room.

It was certainly your room, is what the auburnette thinks as she sits on your bed. Messy bedsheets you never got to make, clothes scattered near your closet and other things you never got to clean up when she’d called you up this morning at such an ungodly time to divulge you in on her scheme,

though now, upon her decision to stay in the town, it seemed a bit for nothing. It’d be a funny story to tell with you. With you, she thinks, watching as you chew the treat and sit on the rugged floor as you flip through TV channels. Eventually settling on some show Ellie never knew was still even airing. She quietly sinks from the bed, onto the floor herself, sitting close to you as your gaze stays glued to the blaring screen, flashes of color reflecting onto your face as each scene passes. Ellie finds herseld staring at you, a person she once found so inconspicuous now becoming the very reasoning she stays in a town she hates so much. Whatever you had the girl under needed to be looked at.

“Do you like me?” Is what she wants to ask, but “Do you have a boyfriend?” is what she settles for.

You turn to her, meekly shaking your head. Since when was she sat so close to you?

Ellie nods, looking back at the show to get you to, before asking another question, “Girlfriend?” You shrug, “I mean, I use to talk to this one girl..”You mutter, before Ellie finds herself furthering it, “What happened?”

You sigh, before pointing a finger, “Don’t laugh.” you glare. Ellie smiles, nodding. “She told me she was straight after like 2 days AND THEN, i saw her kissing on Judy.” Ellie snorts, “No fucking way, Judy the librarian?” You nod, burying your face in a nearby throw pillow.

“I need a drink.” You mutter, getting up and leaving the room with Ellie in it. You return shortly after with a bottle of wine and some glasses. The girl groans as she stretches, “Now you’re talking. Pour me some.”

Eventually, the topic heads in the way of relationships once more, with you two telling each other of your awful sex lives in the majority straight town Jackson was as you sip.

As Ellie tells one, you find your eyes feeling heavy, alternating between her green eyes down to her pale pink lips. You nod, poorly attempting to give the illusion you were following along with whatever she was saying. Ellie, herself, wasn’t all that there but she was better. She’d stopped talking long ago and was just moving her lips with no dialogue coming out whatsoever, seeing if you’d ask why she halted her story. She licks her lips, leaning back as she places her glass down on the nightstand near her— jean-clad thighs spread tantalizingly as your gaze drops to them.

Her years of martial arts and track did her well, you admit, hoping it wasn’t obvious you were ogling the girl.

“Were you mad at me earlier?” you whisper, fidgeting with the loose seam of her jeans as you notice the difference in how she was acting at the cabin, and how she is now. Ellie hums, matching your small voice. “I was more so mad at myself.” She answers you, her hand finding where yours toys with a string, “Not at you.”

You nod, not really having anything to say.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally utter, liquid courage taking over as Ellie thumbs your soft hips from where you sit so closely. She gives you a soft ‘yeah’, pulling you onto her lap. You begin by littering feathery pecks along her jaw, her sensitivity earlier when you touched her chest beginning to make sense when goosebumps begin to arise along her pale skin, her nipples hardening as the hair on her neck stands before kissing her deeply.

You two kiss slowly for a while, finding some rhythm as it slowly turns into something else. You gently gasp when Ellie rocks your hips onto her thigh, making you detach from her mouth and straddle it the way she wants you to. The rough texture against her jeans on your soft shorts makes you huff a bit, face burning up as you grip her shoulders.

“You’re my sweet girl, you can do it.” She murmurs lowly, watching you grind all over her, your slick slowly starting to seep onto her denim pants— all like she wanted. You nod, frustrated to the brim of tears when you can’t seem to fuck yourself on her thigh well. Ellie pushes you down, caging your legs in between her hips as she tilts her head back down, "Seems like you're not the only sweet girl wanting my attention.." She smiles as you moan, the heel of her palm placed directly on your touch-starved mound, giving it just enough pressure and angling to make you whine out a small 'Ellie..'

She gives you finally what you want, sliding your shorts to the side and sighs when she sees just what a mess has been waiting for her.

No underwear?

You attempt to leverage yourself by sitting up on your elbows but Ellie pushes you down, hiking your hips up even more with a singular grasp of your shins as she kisses directly on your puffy pussy, your messy sap smearing all over her lips before giving you a grin,

Oh, you'd pay her what she was worth alright. Maybe returning Joel's checkbook can wait after this.

[All credits to the owner of the picture above!! i got it from popipa on pinterest]

#tlou 2 #Ellie Williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x f!reader #wlw #Lesbian #tlou 2 smut #sapphic #ellie williams blurbs #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams smut #the last of us hbo #the last of us game

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hazelfoureyes · 1 month

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⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone.

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care.

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?”

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.”

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.”

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now?

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel.

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.”

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest.

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it.

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven.

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense.

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high.

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk, and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.”

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?”

“I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth.

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left.

That was easy. Wow.

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would. But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not.

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows.

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable.

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded.

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home.

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control.

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip.

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest.

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt.

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect.

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls.

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear.

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you.

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure.

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell.

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat.

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm.

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit!

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions.

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all.

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way. His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features.

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically.

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless.

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious.

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly.

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing.

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that.

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing.

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #smut

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ohimsummer · 4 months

Text

✎ . . .❝…YOU LITTLE THIEF! ❞

—poly! stsgverse, some light shoko x reader, implied stsg x reader (?), ntm just some goofy silly antics

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ reader is able to skate like this during their getaway >:3 ( read the sequel! )

The Jaws theme is playing on the soundtrack within your mind. They’re both clueless, none the wiser to the incoming threat that slowly creeps up behind them. Whatever is on Gojo’s phone must be life changing, the way he and Geto are so transfixed, smiling and laughing as if they’re not about to be pulled into the depths. The perfect opportunity reveals itself when they part, leaving a gap just big enough for you to squeeze through. Locked on the target, you pick up speed, careful to avoid any stragglers between you and your prize, until…

“Hey!’” Gojo exclaims as you zoom between them, gaping at the bare hand that just held his phone. “Give that back!”

Twirling around, you stick out a tongue in reply, still gliding away as both men try and fail to run after you on their own skates. Both are stuck fumbling through groups of people, pros or others clinging to the rail just to stay upright. Your escape is swift, efficient, and they haven’t even covered half the distance by the time you’ve kicked off your skates and scurried over to the booth Shoko has claimed.

“Lookie!” Your squeal is eager, victorious, mischievous. She squeezes in next to you as you switch on Gojo’s phone, unfortunately having locked during your get away, but lucky for you, opening his camera doesn’t require a password. “Say cheese!” And Shoko leans in close, hand braced on your thigh, as you snap the first photo. And then another. And another. Picture after picture, photo after photo in rapid succession. A video of you and Shoko faux pouting, before bursting into laughter. Your selfie. Her selfie. A short clip of you puckering your lips, holding up a peace sign and blinking your lashes. You’re doing another where you and Shoko’s hands are forming a heart when something catches her eye.

“Move, move!,” she warns, and tugs you away from the wall of the booth, shared with the roller rink. You don’t question her, having spotted the tuft of white during the frantic turns of your head, and Gojo’s fingertips just brush the collar of your jacket as you settle into Shoko’s lap, mere inches out of his reach.

“Hand that over, you little thief!,” he pouts. Geto, leaning on the rail, mutters aloud ‘And how the hell were you running in roller skates…?’ but it’s mostly drowned out by Gojo’s next exclamation. “What do you think you’re doing with my property?”

You switch the camera, holding it up to snap a quick photo of them both. “I’m taking pictures, duh. Souvenirs. Something to remember us by.”

“Oh, are we dead?” Shoko squeezes her arms around your waist, and then answers her own question. “I suppose we will be, for this, right?”

The two of you share a girlish giggle, before Gojo, unamused, holds out his palm. “Phone, now.”

You don’t think you like this tone. “Why don’t you get out of the rink and come take it from me?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, mumbles an ‘oooh!’. She and Suguru are audience to the brief standoff between you and Gojo, before he straightens up, nibbles his lips in contemplation, narrows darkening blue eyes at you.

“Oh, just wait, you are gonna be in for it.” And you three watch him roll off towards the nearest rink exit.

Geto lingers a second longer, and so he spots you tucking his friend’s phone beneath your shirt, before leaping from Shoko’s lap. Gojo reaches one of the openings where the rink ends and black carpet begins, making eye contact with your fleeing figure and running for his shoes as you disappear into the darkness outside. Shortly afterward comes Geto. He leisurely slips off his skates, replaces them with his boots, and strolls over to join Shoko at the booth.

“Those idiots.,” she laughs as he slides in opposite of her. “How’d he let her steal his phone anyway? Thought Gojo had spidey senses?”

“We were…looking at something.” Geto hesitates on his words.

“Something?” Shoko sends you a text that goes unread and unanswered. “As in another picture of some model?”

A selfie of you, specifically. But Geto will never admit that, especially not to Shoko. “It was.”

She gives him a teasing grin. If she knows, he can’t tell. “Must’ve been quite the looker, huh?”

He props a hand under his chin. “Oh, yeah. You have no idea.”

tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis

#poly! satosugu #satosugu drabble #satosugu x reader #gojo x reader #shoko x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #sashisu imagine #jjk x you

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norrisleclercf1 · 10 months

Note

hi, are you taking requests for smut too? i'd love one for charles, where usually he's not really into rough sex but one day he just goes for it and surprises y/n

A/N: Charles doesn't seem like one to have rough sex, but this was fun to write

Warnings: Rough sex, public sex, not really you're on his yacht, whatever just enjoy, p in v, wrap before you tap, slight bondage, dirty talk, spanking, slight ass play, daddy kink, sue me okay I popped off with this one

You hated tan lines, which is funny considering your boyfriend posted the ultimate tan line picture a year ago around this time. Charles was careful in picking a place that would allow you privacy.

He didn't want cameras capturing you naked on his yacht. Besides, you're his fiancée you should be allowed to tan nude on his boat if you want too. Smiling at the seclusion, you take off your top and soon your bottoms enjoying the way the sun warmed your skin.

"Sunshine, you need sunscreen." You laugh at his comment as his summer break photos are infamous for him always having the worse sunburns ever. "Maybe you should wear the sunscreen." Taking the bottle for him.

"I don't care if I burn, just don't want you too. Now give it." Reaching for it, you pull back. He shakes his head and goes to grab it again, only for you to do the same. "Give it here." You squeal as you and Charles wrestle for the bottle, everything ending when Charles's hand wraps around your throat and pins you down.

"When I say give it, you give it." His voice stern, the look in his eyes and hand on your throat as your squirming. You can see the lightbulb go off, throwing the sunscreen away he smirk. "Awww, did my little sunshine get excited by this? That's cute." Hand careful to not hurt you or cut off your oxygen.

"Charl." You buck your hips, but his hand pushes it down. "Nahuh, stay here. Don't touch yourself." He whispers removing his hand and dipping into the back of the yacht.

Holy fuck. Charles as never once acted this way towards you. He never had rough sex with you, you didn't mind it. But, shit....were you turned on like crazy. Unable to help yourself you dip your fingers in, whimpering when you feel a pool of wetness. "Mmmm." You screw your eyes shut, rubbing your clit gently.

"Are you really that much of a slut, you can't wait?" Eyes flying open, your fiancé stands there holding a piece of rope. "I'm so wet, Charles. Look." Smirking you spread your legs wide, showing off your pussy. His nose flares, trying to stay in control.

If this was a normal sex night, he'd drop to his knees and eat his fill drawing out gorgeous moans. But, this wasn't a normal sex night, and he was going to show you that. "Tsk, can't even listen to simple instructions can you?" Stepping forward his hand in on your neck.

Gasping he shoves you back on the plush deck. The front of the deck was for people just lay, it was simple and your favorite spot on the yacht. "Charl, please it aches. Help me." You beg trying to get some type of friction. "Stop." You freeze, the command settling deep in your bones.

He let's go of your neck, flipping you onto your stomach you yelp. "This is what happens when you don't behave." He bites your ear, letting go as he sets your hands on the railing. "Gorgeous ring, who gave it to you?" You giggle at the question, but moan when a stern slap to your ass is given.

The rope in his hand was being tied around your wrists and railing, not to tight, but enough you couldn't break free. "My fiancé." You moan, trying to lean back to rub into him. His body over yours. "Hmmm, very lucky guy." Humor in the words, you smile glad to know he was still his soft self. "Very, very lucky indeed. But, let's not talk about him." Charles smiles, seeing the smile in your eyes.

"You're right. I'd rather make you scream." You try to hit back with a quip, but you gasp out a moan feeling another slap to your ass. Spreading your legs, Charles hums rubbing the soft flesh before trailing his hand to your pussy. "How gorgeous you look, Sunshine. Fuck, that fiancé of yours better never fuck up." You nod, trying to form the words.

You couldn't as Charles was always good with his fingers, the way he'd move them should be illegal. "Do I need to finger you or eat you out, Sunshine? I want to make sure you're ready." The soft words, has you blushing. How in the world could Charles be so sweet and then so nasty at the same time.

"No, I got a little needy earlier when you were napping." His jaw twitches but says nothing as he nods. Standing up over you he pulls off his swim trunks. You hate that you couldn't turn around and see him. Charles naked it stunning, he was just perfect. "Condom, or no?" Charles was making sure he didn't overstep.

He's never been rough with you before and he refuses to go too far that it's too much. "No condom, fuck Charl hurry. I'm so wet and needy. God I want to feel you fill me up, please." You beg pulling your knees up and arching your ass up. "Fuck." He curses wrapping a hand around his cock, pumping himself a couple of times.

Getting back on his knees, he pulls you down. He thrusts up watching the way his cock moves between your ass cheeks. "Charles, next time. Just fuck my pussy Daddy!" You moan, unable to help the words fall from your lips. "Sweet jesus, Sunshine." Charles slides into you, his cock even harder from hearing you call him that.

You let out a loud moan, Charles holding your hips as he takes deep breaths trying to calm down. He doesn't wait, moving back and forth fast. "Yes, yes, uhhh." You gasp, shaking your head as Charles fucks into you fast. The sound of skin slapping, and your moans drive him crazy.

"Such a dirty slut got needy and used your own fingers to get off. Then you don't even wait a minute before you're touching yourself again. Were you that hungry for Daddy's cock you needed to misbehave huh?" You yelp Charles's fingers digging into your hair as he arches you up.

"Speak." He changes his pace but keeps the same deep thrusts as he circles his hips and goes forward sending your eyes to roll into the back of your head. "Yes, I'm a dirty slut." You gasp, Charles releasing you, falling forward you moan.

"That's right, you are a dirty slut. But, my dirty slut." He whispers reaching down as he rubs your clit sending you over the edge. "Oh, GOD CHARLES!" As he fucks hard into you, but the movement of his fingers on your clit slow driving you crazy. Moving fast he tugs on the rope watching fall.

Pulling out of you, you whine hating when he leaves you empty. Moving he towers over you, as he pumps is cock you sit up sucking him down. The feeling of your mouth on him sends him off the edge as he comes deep in your throat.

Pulling off of him, careful to not overstimulate him. The two of you gasp for air, before falling into a fit of giggles. "Are you okay?" He asks, pulling you into him. "Yes, you?" Placing soft kisses on his chest. "I'm perfect. By the way, maybe we should do that again." You smile loving the idea.

"Definitely."

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #f1 smut #f1 imagines #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months

Text

Stuck On You

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dark themes, slut shaming, obsessive behaviour, smut.

Word count: ~6k

Summary: When her email is hacked and racy photos she'd sent to her boyfriend find their way onto Myspace, she becomes the social pariah of Oxford University. She turns to the only person she believes is intelligent enough to be able to help; Michael Gavey. Could uncovering the truth of the situation make things worse than they already are?

Author's note: Written to celebrate one year of my blog existing. Sorry for the delay. Crumbageddon beat the shit out of me. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Using a painting of that former duchess as a conversation piece, he describes what he saw as her unfaithfulness, frivolity, and stubbornness, and implies that he prefers her as a painting rather than as a…as a living woman,” her voice shakes, stumbling over her words, watching as her essay papers slip from her hands, fluttering towards the rug of the study.

“Sh-shit…I’m sorry,” she stammers, leaning down to snatch them back up, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment as she attempts to rustle them back into order.

“Everything alright?” Professor Ware asks, shifting in his seat and clasping his hands in his lap.

“Distracted by her own portrait, I should imagine,” snarks Farleigh, cutting her off before she has a chance to reply.

He smirks up at her, before returning his focus to the screen of his Macbook, fingers tapping quickly across the keys as he sits on the floor with it in his lap, leaning back against the armchair she currently sits in, his legs crossed at the ankle.

Of course he’d left it until the last minute to do his essay. Lazy prick.

“Stop it,” she hisses, knocking his shoulder with her knee.

“Why? It’s up again already anyway,” he retorts with a casual shrug, not bothering to look at her this time.

Her blood runs ice cold, dread gnawing a pit in her stomach. That would be the fourth time this week.

“Where?!” She demands, leaning down to snatch Farleigh’s Macbook from him, ignoring his protestation of “hey!” as she clicks on the minimised Internet Explorer window to see her Myspace profile already open.

Just as he’d said, there she is. Her profile picture depicts her in a lacy two piece lingerie set, laying on her bed, her cleavage, stomach and thighs on full display. She’d thought the angle flattering when she’d first held the digital camera above herself and snapped the picture, but now it’s splashed all over the internet for everyone to see. It makes her feel sick.

“I have to go,” she says hurriedly, shoving Farleigh’s Macbook back into his lap and stuffing her essay papers into her bag.

She almost trips over Farleigh’s long legs in her rush to escape the tutorial room, the air suddenly feeling too thick and difficult to breathe, as her heart hammers in her chest. Her feet carry her down the hallway in quick strides, no particular direction in mind, just eager to get away.

It had all seemed like innocent fun at first. She had felt excited on the second day of Fresher’s Week when a group of girls from the floor of her accommodation had invited her to go shopping with them

They had wrinkled their noses as she had beelined for the Ann Summers in Westgate Shopping Centre, lured by the big, red sale banner in the window.

“Oh darling,” India had cooed, “don’t buy that rubbish. We’ll get the train into London and take you to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair, if it’s lingerie you’re after.”

She had balked inwardly at the thought of how expensive that would be, but had simply smiled politely, stating “this is fine”, more than happy with the matching black lace set she’d picked from the sale rail.

Back in her room, she’d tried it on, loving the way the material hugged her curves and felt against her skin. Excitedly, she’d dug out her digital camera, contorting herself into various poses that she felt best displayed her assets, until she was satisfied she had several that looked good.

She hadn’t seen her boyfriend, Jake, since she had left for Oxford and he had gone to Brighton. Their reading weeks didn’t align, which meant they’d have to wait until the term came to an end to see each other at Christmas.

Emailing him the photos had felt like a nice way for them to maintain some sort of intimacy, despite the distance, and he’d certainly appreciated it, as a couple of hours later she’d gotten a text from him which simply said “wow!”

The high from that had left her with a smile on her face for days, until she’d stepped out of a tutorial a few days later to see a missed call and a text from him.

“What the fuck are you playing at?!” It had read.

She’d called him back straight away, the urge to vomit growing acrid in her throat as he’d told her what he’d seen, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder, she’d scrambled with shaking hands to free her laptop from her bag, to confirm what Jake was saying.

There it was. Her Myspace profile picture had been changed to one of the lingerie photos she’d sent to him. This one was a full length photo she’d taken, aiming the camera at the mirror in her room.

The hot prickle of tears had burned beneath her eyelids, as she’d drawn in a shaky breath. “Wh-why would you do that?” She’d whispered tearfully into the phone.

“It wasn’t me!” Jake had snapped angrily. “Perhaps if you hadn't taken those bloody photos in the first place then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Are you seriously blaming me?!”

“It just looks bad. I think maybe we should cool things for a bit, I can’t with be someone that—”

Tears had rolled down her cheeks as she’d pulled the phone away from her ear, seeing the call had cut off. She’d run out of credit. In a way, she was grateful; she didn’t want to listen to Jake ending their relationship, to continue to blame her for something that wasn’t her fault.

She had taken the photo down, changed her profile picture back to what it was before, and changed the password for both Myspace and her email. However, the damage was done, the whispers of “slut” as she walked to lectures had already started.

Another two days later she had entered the IT lab to print out her essay, and saw a group huddled around a computer, laughing together. They had turned, immediately quietening down, their voices hushed whispers as they looked at her.

She had pushed them apart, already knowing what it was they were all looking at, but wanting to confirm it. Just as she’d suspected, her Myspace profile was open. This time her photo had been changed to an over the shoulder shot. The side of her face and her buttocks visible as she’d arched her back.

Running back to her room, tears of humiliation blurring her vision, she’d taken the photo down again and changed all her passwords. But once again, it was too little, too late. A print out of the photo slipped beneath her door that same day, with the word “whore” scrawled across it.

Her friends were already starting to pull away, the invites to the pub had dried up into nothing. When another photo had been uploaded, Felix had pulled her to one side.

“Look, I think it’s incredibly daring of you to be doing what you’re doing, and I respect the fuck out of you for it, really I do,” he’d said, eyes filled with sympathy as he’d looked down at her. “But a few of us really aren’t comfortable with how you’re going about…getting attention, so I just think it’s for the best if we take some space until you’ve figured out whatever this is.”

She had been stunned by his words, her eyes going wide as her mouth had dropped open. “You think I’m doing this to myself?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to think? We’re worried about you. There are better…healthier ways to make yourself stand out. Just come clean and all of this can stop.”

Turning away in disgust, anger and betrayal flaring white hot in her chest, she’d walked away. This was happening to her, she wasn’t complicit in it, and yet people continued to act like it was her fault. She had started to wonder if she really was to blame. Had she tempted fate by taking those photos in the first place?

Today was the fourth time a photo had been uploaded and having fled from the tutorial with Professor Ware and Farleigh, she finds herself in the Bodleian Library, having walked on instinct.

It serves as a quiet refuge for her in moments when she feels overwhelmed, hiding among the shelves, admiring tomes that are older than she is. She’d come here on her first day, when the influx of new people, sights and sounds had become too much, and she had crouched between the stacks the first time one of her photos had been leaked. The smell of old books and the peace and quiet feels safe.

Walking silently between the study tables she spots him, alone, as he always is; Michael Gavey. He is hunched over a notebook, scribbling furious notes, stopping occasionally to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

She had thoroughly embarrassed herself the first time she’d met him, the only time she had ever spoken to him. It had been the night of the fresher’s welcome dinner. She’d heard his outburst in the dining hall, heard how he had answered the subsequent multiplication sum flawlessly and been bowled over by how effortlessly brilliant he was. It was intimidating.

Yet, later that evening fuelled by the courage of five tropical watermelon flavoured Bacardi Breezers, she’d stumbled over to him in the rec room, ignoring how he’d recoiled slightly at her advancing towards him.

She’d wrapped an arm around his neck, taking no notice of the way he’d stiffened beneath her touch.

“Wha’s nine hundred and ninety nine divided by thirteen?” She’d slurred into his ear.

He had bristled slightly, before answering quietly. “Seventy six point eight five.”

She had giggled, patting his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. “Don’t even know how to check that, but I’ll take your word for it, genius.”

Kissing his cheek, she’d stumbled away, leaving him to wipe away the sticky residue her lips had left behind, while Felix and Farleigh had fallen about themselves, laughing, finding it far funnier than she’d intended for it to be. She had ended up making him a laughing stock without even meaning to.

The memory fills her with shame. She really did find him impressive. He was precisely the type of person she had wanted to rub shoulders with when she arrived at Oxford, yet she had made a fool of herself instead.

She smiled at him whenever she caught his eye on the rare occasions they crossed paths, but he’d either look away or stare at her expressionless.

Perhaps now was her opportunity to make amends. She has no friends now anyway, so it’s not as though she has anything to lose.

Walking over to his table, before she has a chance to talk herself out of it, she sits down heavily in the seat next to him, depositing her bag onto the tabletop.

Michael’s pen pauses its movements, and slowly his head turns to the side, narrowing his eyes at her in silent question.

She suddenly has the urge to run, realising this was a terrible idea. She feels enormous discomfort beneath the scrutiny of his gaze yet, determined to push through it, she offers him a bright smile.

“You’re Michael, aren’t you?” She says, attempting to sound more cheerful than she feels.

“Yes,” he replies simply, placing his pen down and straightening in his seat.

“Thought so. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he cuts her off. “What do you want?”

“Oh,” she swallows, shifting awkwardly in her seat. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so blunt. “Well, I wanted to apologise for how I behaved on the first night. I thought maybe we could be friends?”

He scoffs, the corners of his mouth turning up into the faintest of smirks. “As if I’d be friends with someone who’s reading literature. Why pay all that money in tuition fees for a glorified book club?”

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say. Shock, offense and hurt swirl in a hot mixture in her chest. She fights the embarrassing urge to burst into tears. Her voice is small and weak when she finally asks “How do you know what I’m studying?”

Michael nods towards the desk. “There’s a book of Robert Browning poetry sticking out of your bag.”

“Right, yeah…” She feels her skin heat up, turning to slowly tuck the book further down inside, still able to feel his eyes upon her. It’s disconcerting to be observed so closely.

“Where’s that group of losers you usually hang around with anyway?”

The question takes her by surprise, and she laughs softly, though there is no real humour to it. “I don’t think they want to hang around with me anymore.”

“So you’re a Norman no mates too then?”

His expression has softened, a slight playfulness brightens his blue eyes as she looks back at him, and she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin up on his hand. “Hmmm. So they got bored of you then?”

“No…I–”

She sighs exasperatedly, running a hand through her hair, before digging through her bag to pull out her laptop. “It’s probably easier if I show you.”

Setting the laptop down on the table, she loads her Myspace page, the same picture she’d seen on Farleigh’s Macbook earlier still set as her profile photo. “Someone keeps changing my profile picture to this. I sent my boyfriend…ex-boyfriend…some photos and now someone has them and keeps doing this every time I change it back.”

Michael’s expression is impassive as he stares at the screen. “Have you changed your passwords?”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“So, you’ve been hacked.”

“Looks that way…I don’t suppose you know anything about computers? Maybe you could help me figure out who’s doing this?”

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, staring intently at her, “so there it is, pretending to befriend the college nerd because you need computer help. Do you not think it’s a bit of a tired stereotype to assume that because I’m reading maths I’d be able to help you with your IT issues?”

“No, it’s not like that!” She protests, her eyes welling up with tears. She turns away, defeated, deciding this is a lost cause and closes her laptop. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone.”

He sighs. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it. I can help you, just not right now. Are you free later this evening?”

She sniffles, her eyes going wide as she looks at him in surprise. “Really?”

He nods, closing his notebook and slipping his pen into his breast pocket. “I’ve got a tutorial in twenty minutes, but I can help trace the IP of whoever’s hacked you. I’m on the first floor of the Brasenose, second room left of the staircase. I’ll be back around five.”

Nodding, she immediately feels lighter, the possibility that this may finally come to an end instantly lifting her spirits. A chance to get her life back. “That’s perfect, I’ll see you then. Thank you so much.”

He rises, his gaze remaining fixed upon her. “See you later.”

The way he addresses her, first and last name, sends a shiver down her spine as she watches him turn away and walk slowly out of the library. She wonders what she has gotten herself into, but with no friends and no other options there is little else to be done.

She is filled with restless energy for the rest of the day, unable to sit still or concentrate during the only other lecture she has that afternoon, until eventually she finds herself standing outside of Michael’s room at quarter past five, the hours leading up to that feeling as though they’ve lasted an eternity.

Where there is the faint sound of music or talking coming from the doors she’s passed already on her way here, she is struck by the eerie silence she is met with from his, and wonders for a moment if he’s even home.

Nervous excitement crackles like electricity through her body and her knock is louder than she intends for it to be. She hears shuffling from the other side, until the door swings slowly open. Michael stands poker straight on the threshold, staring down at her.

“Did you bring your laptop?” He asks.

Yet again she is taken aback by how forthright he is, but she nods, stepping in as he moves to the side to let her pass.

Looking around the room, she takes in the plainness of his bedspread, the shelves of mathematics and physics textbooks, the desk set up in the corner that has his laptop open on it. There is nothing that gives even the slightest indication as to who he is as a person.

The sound of him clearing his throat startles her attention back to him, and she turns with an apologetic smile to face him. “Sorry, always weird being in someone else’s room…”

“Right,” he replies, his gaze unwavering as he looks at her. “Laptop?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” embarrassment heats up her skin, as she rummages in her bag, taking it out and handing it to him.

He settles it next to his own on the desk, before taking a seat.

She stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, looking around, not quite knowing what to do with herself. “Um…where should I…?”

“Anywhere,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, not looking at her.

She settles on the edge of the bed, running her hands over the soft cotton of the duvet cover. It’s an odd sensation to sit so casually in the space that she knows he sleeps. It feels too familiar, too intimate.

Glancing to the side, she notices the shimmer of gold and purple in the bin. She smiles to herself, having learned something about him in spite of the lack of personal effects in his room. He has a sweet tooth, evidenced by the Crunchie bar wrappers in the bin.

“Password?” He asks, and her head snaps up towards him.

“Hmm?”

He turns in his chair, resting his arm on the back of it, glaring at her over his shoulder. “The password for your laptop, what is it?”

“Oh!” She exclaims. “Is it safe for me to tell you that?”

“It is if you want me to help you,” he sighs.

She squirms uncomfortably. He has the innate ability to make her feel small, foolish, but what’s most disconcerting is that she doesn’t dislike it, there is something about him that draws her to his condescension.

“It’s Shakespeare,” she tells him sheepishly, “with a four in place of the first A.”

“What about the passwords for your email and Myspace accounts?”

“The same.”

“The same?!”

“I’ve changed the passwords each time a new photo has been posted, but it’s just easier to have the same one for everything.”

He groans, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “No wonder you’ve been hacked, typical fucking liberal arts student.”

She lowers her gaze, fingers plucking nervously at the bedspread. “Different passwords for every account, got it.”

“Well, that’s a start, yes,” he tells her, turning back to the screens. “Has anyone but you had access to your computer?”

“No, it stays in my bag when I’m not using it.”

She sits watching him tap away at the keyboards of both laptops alternately for a few moments before she speaks again. “I’m not stupid, you know,” she tells him, her voice sounding meeker than she means for it to. “English Language and Literature is no less of a respectable course than Mathematics. I wrote an essay on the Robert Browning poem, My Last Duchess, recently. It’s a fascinating piece, focusing on the Duke of Ferrara using a painting of his former wife as a conversation topic. The Duke speaks about his former wife's perceived inadequacies to a representative of the family of his bride-to-be, revealing his obsession with controlling others in the process. Browning uses this compelling psychological portrait of a despicable character to critique the objectification of women and abuses of power. It’s a compelling commentary on social status and elitism.”

“What would you know about either of those things?” He asks, continuing to type.

“More than I’d like to,” she says quietly, “I don’t fit in here, not really. I earned my place with a scholarship.”

He pauses, stiffening, glancing over his shoulder at her with a “hmm”.

“I’ve managed to get into the access logs for both your email and Myspace accounts,” he tells her. “There are two sets of IPs that have accessed both accounts in the last week, but both are eduroam IP addresses.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that whoever is uploading those photos is doing so from the university.”

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut, she feels paralysed, unable to speak as his words sink in. A part of her had wanted to believe it was Jake. To think there is someone at the university who is doing this to her makes her feel nauseated. Her mind races with the possibilities of who it could be. Felix? India? Farleigh? What reason could any of them possibly have to want to do that to her?

“What should I do?” She asks worriedly, staring at Michael with her brows pinched together. “Do you think reporting it would help?”

He swivels his chair fully around to face her and shakes his head. “Not if you intend to keep your scholarship. Rocking the boat over leaked nudes won’t look good to the university board, they’ll take issue with the fact that you even took those photos in the first place.”

“So I just have to let this keep happening?” She feels her throat tighten, wetness rims her eyes.

“Change your passwords,” he says matter of factly. “A different one for every account.”

She nods, expelling a shaky breath, before standing. “I should probably get going. Thank you…for everything.”

Before she goes to bed that night, she changes her passwords - a different one for every account she owns, and deletes the newest uploaded photo, returning her profile picture to its original state.

As far as she is concerned, that should be the end of it. However, her breath hitches, icy cold fingers of fear gripping her heart when she logs on the following morning. Not only has her profile picture been changed to another photo from the set she’d taken for Jake, but the “about me” section now reads “vapid cunt”.

On autopilot, she dresses, taking her laptop and walking the six minutes from Christ Church Halls to Brasenose College.

As soon as Michael’s door opens, she flings her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. He stiffens, not returning the gesture, until she finally pulls away.

He straighens, adjusting his glasses. His hair is rumpled from sleep, clad in a t-shirt and plaid pyjama bottoms.

“God, I’m so sorry, I woke you up,” she says tearfully, “I should go. I didn’t think, I just–”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly, ushering her in.

She sits down on the bed. It’s unmade, still warm from where he’s been sleeping in it. The feeling sends a shiver down her spine, despite her emotional distress.

Gingerly he sits next to her, keeping a respectable distance as she removes her laptop from her bag and opens it. “It’s happened again. I did everything you said to do, but it’s happened again, and it’s worse this time. Look–”

Handing him the laptop she shuffles closer to him, her thigh pressed against his. She can feel the warmth of him through her leggings. It causes butterflies to flutter in her belly, it’s been so long since she’s been this close to anyone.

Michael doesn’t stiffen at her touch this time, whether it’s because he doesn’t mind it or is too distracted by what he sees on the screen, she’s unsure, but it’s progress.

“Hmm. And you’re sure you changed your passwords?”

“Yes, all of them. I don’t know what else to do. If I report it, I risk my scholarship, but if this carries on I’ll lose it anyway, because how can I concentrate when this keeps happening?”

He says nothing, closing her laptop and passing it back to her.

“I’ve worked my arse off to get here, to earn my place, this can’t be what ends it,” she says miserably, tucking her computer back into her bag.

“I’d suggest focusing on your studies and less on your peers,” Michael says matter of factly. “You haven’t made the best choice of friends since arriving here.”

“They’re not my friends,” she whispers, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “At least not anymore. Do you think it’s one of them doing this?”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” he replies bitterly, “stay away from them. I’ve got a lecture this morning, but maybe when I’ve got some downtime, I can do a deeper dive, perhaps see if I can track the logins to a device type.”

“You’d do that for me?” She whispers, looking at him with eyes full of appreciation.

“That’s what mates are for, right?”

“Thank you…just…thank you,” she tells him with sincerity, holding his gaze.

She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, desperate to kiss his cheek as a gesture of her gratitude, but remembers the first time she’d done it and cringes inwardly. Though Michael’s hand doesn’t clutch back, he doesn’t move it away and, after a few moments, she realises they’re simply sitting holding hands, looking into each other's eyes.

He is beautiful in his own way. His stare, though intimidating, is piercingly blue, and his lips are soft and plump. She swallows, lashes fluttering in embarrassment when she realises she’s staring at his mouth.

Chancing her luck, she leans in, planting a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back at lunchtime, okay?” She whispers, before standing and moving towards the door.

He simply nods, fingers raising to brush over the spot where she’d kissed him. The sight puts a spring in her step for the rest of the morning, almost enough to forget about her being hacked. Almost.

She stops at a vending machine in the rec room on her way back to Brasenose at midday, deciding to buy Michael a Crunchie, an additional thank you for him going out of his way to help her.

As awful as having her privacy violated has been, she is grateful that it has brought her and Michael closer together. She had started the term wanting nothing more than to be his friend, and had royally fucked it up.

Now it seems they have mended their rift, and the prospect of being more than just friends is on the cards. Admittedly, he isn’t her usual type, but there is something about him that excites her. She hopes that once this is all over, this can be a fresh start for her at Oxford; her and Michael, just the caliber of intelligence she had wanted to associate with when she’d first applied.

She knocks at his door, hesitating when he doesn’t open it.

“Michael?” She calls out, brow furrowing in concern when he doesn’t answer.

They’d agreed upon lunchtime to meet, where was he? She tries the door handle and it’s unlocked, gingerly she pushes it open, peering slowly inside. He’s not there, but if he’d left it unlocked then he’d surely be back soon and wouldn’t mind her waiting inside for him.

She steps into the room, finding it much the same as before, only this time the bed is made. Walking over to the window by the desk, she stops to admire the view of the church, startling slightly when her bag knocks the computer chair, disturbing the mouse and taking Michael’s laptop out of sleep.

As she is about to turn back to the window, she notices her Myspace profile is open in edit mode in his browser. She frowns, a feeling of unease washing over her, as she steps towards the desk, her hand trembling as she reaches for the mouse.

She minimises Internet Explorer, gasping when she sees a folder open on his desktop, filled with the photos she had sent to Jake, all of them, even the ones that hadn’t yet been set as her profile picture.

Her heart pounds as she selects all of them, deleting them before clicking on the recycling bin to empty it.

“You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to not create back ups, did you?”

Turning, she sees that Michael has returned, so quietly she hadn’t noticed. His fingers clutch at the USB stick that’s clipped to his cargo shorts, lips turned up into an expression of smugness.

Tears prickle her eyes, as her heart lurches, the only word that escapes her is “why?” as she looks at him with arched brows, her face pinched into an expression of emotional hurt.

“Why?” He repeats, cocking his head, advancing towards her as she shrinks back into the corner. “Because someone needed to take you down a peg or two.”

“You’ve ruined my life!” She cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, looking at him in disbelief.

This has to be a dream, it is too surreal. Any moment now, she’ll wake up and all of this will have been a terrible dream.

Only it’s not, it’s real, real as the heat of his breath that fans across her face as he looms over her, having backed her fully into the corner between the desk and the window.

“What life? Pretending to play a part with people that don’t really like you? Using your pretentious choice in reading material to make yourself seem intelligent?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” She says defiantly.

“Oh, I know all about you. Hiding your scholarship from those vapid cunts, so they won’t sniff out your working class background and drop you. The variations of John Browning as your password - adding a different number to each variation doesn’t make it a different password, stupid girl.”

“I was nice to you…” She offers feebly, almost pleading with him.

He smirks, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gripping harshly, forcing her to look at him. “You felt sorry for me. But it’s not me that needs pity, is it? It’s you. Poor little scholarship slut. You love that My Last Duchess poem so much because you see yourself in it, don’t you? Think you’re being objectified, treated unfairly. Well, let me tell you something, you are like that poem, but in the sense that you’re better in pictures than you are in real life.”

“Stop it,” she whispers, trying to pull away from him.

“Truth hurt, does it?” He asks, his grip on her face remaining tight. “That’s a pity. I enjoyed those pictures, really enjoyed them. It’s a shame the real life version is so whiny and pathetic.”

“I’ll report you,” she says quietly.

“Oh, I don’t think you will, somehow. You love the attention,” he tells her, dropping his hand from her chin to her shoulder, turning her and backing her up towards the bed. “I’ve seen how you look at me. If I wanted to fuck you right now, you’d let me.”

“I–I wouldn’t!” She stammers, feeling her face grow warm.

With a gentle shove from him, she topples back against the mattress, and he is quick to move over her, caging her in. “Liar,” he whispers in her ear.

She shudders at the sensation, despising the way her body betrays her, as heat pools between her legs. She shouldn’t be turned on by this, yet she can’t deny the way he sets her pulse racing.

“I haven’t ruined your life, but I could and you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” He hisses.

The weight of him on top of her, his warm breath fanning against her neck, it’s dizzying. She wants to tell him to get off of her, to push him away, yet she cannot find it in herself to do so. There is a part of her that’s curious to see how far he’ll push this.

When she doesn’t say anything, he carries on, nimble fingers moving to the waistband of her leggings, tugging them down. “I’m going to treat you like the desperate, little slut that you are, and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

She whines, lifting her hips as he rids her of the bottom half of her clothing.

“That’s what I thought,” he smirks.

His gaze falls between her legs, tentative fingers reaching out to brush through the wetness that has gathered there. She sees a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes and wonders if he has ever done this before.

She knows his moment of hesitation would be enough for her to push him away, grab her clothes and report him, yet she feels compelled to stay. If this is his first time, then she wants it to be her. She enjoys the dynamic of the power he has over her, while simultaneously being able to take something from him.

Wanting to bolster his confidence, urge him to continue, she sits up, eager hands unfastening his belt and unzipping his shorts. It flips a switch inside him, and he’s surging forward once more, pinning her beneath him as he pushes his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasps against the shell of her ear.

“I want this,” she mewls desperately, feeling the head of him resting at her entrance.

“You’re going to keep letting me do this to you, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll wear that tarty underwear from your photos for me, won’t you?”

“...yes.”

He presses forward and is met with resistance, not having fully prepared her. He draws back and pushes against her again, repeating the motion until he’s fully sheathed inside of her. It’s exquisite torture, a pleasurable hurt to be split apart by him, to feel so full.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he stills and she can feel his inexperience in the way that he tenses, but isn’t prepared to give up when they’ve already come this far. She rolls her hips against his, a breathy sigh escaping her as she feels her sweet spot rub up against the head of him.

He screws his eyes shut, jaw going slack, before beginning to move his own hips, pulling back to slam forward once more, quickly finding a rhythm that suits him. This isn’t careful, considered lovemaking, they rut against each other like animals, both of them allowing instinct to guide them as they seek out the movements that feel most pleasurable.

She clings tightly to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, their breaths coming in hot, shallow pants.

“Fucking knew this was all you needed,” he mutters, “someone to teach you a lesson, see you for what you really are.”

“Please,” she whimpers, her hands sliding down to his backside to push him in deeper, causing him to groan.

“F–fuck,” he stutters, picking up his pace when he feels her start to tighten around him. “Tell me you’re mine, you don’t need anyone else, just me.”

“‘M yours,” she gasps, pushing her hips against his, zeroing in on the precipice she is about to fall from.

A particularly harsh thrust is the final shove she needs, and white hot waves of euphoria wrack her body, as she cries out in ecstasy. Suddenly, Michael is withdrawing, leaving her to clench around nothing as he paints her inner thigh with sticky warmth.

He collapses beside her, and she stares into the lightly fogged lenses of his glasses, their noses bumping together.

“Are you still going to ruin my life?” She asks, hazy with pleasure.

For the first time, their lips meet, a messy clash of tongue and teeth, that’s sloppy and wet, their breaths still heavy and movements uncontrolled.

“You’re going to let me,” he whispers when they finally break for air, “because you’re mine.” Resistance is futile, she will let him. She wants this, needs this. After all, Michael Gavey is the type of person she came to Oxford to associate with in the first place, and she’s gotten exactly what she asked for.

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #ewan mitchell #michael gavey saltburn #satlburn michael gavey #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #satlburn fan fiction #satlburn fan fic

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 8 months

Text

imagine zoro being at your side

a/n: reading has a condition that causes her to fall asleep

The dining table was filled with plates and half empty cups of alcohol. Everyone was talking away, laughing, and arguing as Sanji continued to serve various dishes. Zoro leaned back into his seat, chugging down his…fifth? Sixth? Well, another beer. The food was delicious not that he would compliment the cook – he wasn’t that drunk. He listened as Franky told a story about his childhood and he laughed at the funny parts, but throughout the conversation his eyes moved to where you sat. You were next to him, elbow on the table as you forked around the food on your plate. Taking little bites as you laughed at Franky’s youthful tales. The smile on your face brought warmth from the tip of his toes to his cheeks and Zoro tried to hide it but it was plain as the day, that he was completely…

Zoro lost his train of thought as your eyes glazed over – a tell tale sign that you were about to pass out. It was a condition you had, from what Chopper had explained. It had something to do with low blood pressure and, well, Zoro really didn’t understand. All he knew was that when that look came across your face, he had seconds to get to you before you passed out. Everyone took to call you the Sleeping Princess, the moniker even made its way onto your wanted poster – along with a photo of you sleeping mid battle during the Wano fight against Kaido. It was your pride and joy when you saw the poster and had it framed next to your bed.

He remembered the first time it happened in front of him; you were sitting on the railing of the Merry with Luffy, feet dangling over the water – fishing and chitchatting away. Zoro had known about your condition but never seen it in person. He had joined Luffy and you, talking and fishing, as he stood at your side. Luffy was going on and on about catching fish for dinner, and Zoro was chastising the captain warning him to not fall into the ocean. He was busy watching Luffy that he hadn’t noticed you drifting backwards or the way your arms slumped. It was Luffy who shouted for him to help you that drew his eyes to you; immediately he moved behind you, allowing you to fall into his arms. He slowly lifted you up against his chest, attempts were made to shake you awake but Luffy said not to bother.

“Right, her condition…” His eyes took in the softness of your face, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. You seemed to be sound asleep, and he started toward the women’s dorm, kicking the door gently open. The room was empty, and he realized he didn’t know which bed was yours; but then he noticed how all three beds were pushed together and figured either side was fine. He moved to the right side of the bed and laid you down, covering you with a thin blanket that sat on the edge of the bed. Zoro gazed down at you and felt something he hadn’t in a long time….an earnestness in his heart.

Now, he often was at your side as much as he could and as much as whatever situation the crew allowed but he had trust in his friends. Everyone knew the signs and there was always someone there to help you – especially during fights. While Chopper had worked hard to find a cure, it seemed your ailment was just something you were born with, and nothing was to be done. That was fine because you never allowed it to stop you. That’s what Zoro found the most attractive about you – the strength of your will. He loved you for it. Loved you like no one else.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, hand moving around your shoulder as your head slumped against his chest. He scooted your chair closer to his, arm protectively resting across your chest. He sighed as Luffy noticed and asked if he could have your plate; Nami swiftly smacked him on the head and Zoro asked Sanji if he could wrap up your plate. “She’ll be hungry when she wakes.”

The cook agreed, giving the captain a death stare as he removed the plate from the table. Zoro held you close to his body, hardly listening to the conversation around the table and when you stirred against him twenty minutes later, his fingers brushed away strands of hair from your face. Eyes blinking, the swordsman’s handsome face came into focus, and you sighed contently. “Hey…”

Zoro chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on top of your head. “The Sleeping Princess is awake – had a good nap?”

Sitting up, you yawned and kissed him gingerly on the cheek. “It’s always a good nap when I wake up in your arms.”

The man blushed so hard, the entire table exploded in laughter and teasing – much to his dismay. He shouted for everyone to shut the hell up but then the teasing grew louder, and all Zoro could do was hold your hand as Sanji retrieved your food, admiring the way you effortlessly returned to the conversation as if nothing had happened. And when you looked over to him with a kind, grateful smile, he felt his dedication to you grow stronger.

...............................

tags:

@posessedbytheinternet @smolracoon25

@notthemainblog @xentaipriest

@xitara666 @rouzuchan

@southside-otaku @dimplewonie

@stuckinthewrongworld @yourmomsgirl

@zoroshispanicwife @reneeprika

@themossiestchick @cyberneticsmoker

@starrlovet @simpx4xanimexmen

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece spoilers

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answer2jeff · 4 months

Text

i was just thinking about dad!carmy missing his wifey when she's on a girls trip for the first time since their daughters birth and anxiously waiting for her to call him...

valeria has just been put to sleep after a seemingly endless hour and a half of rocking, soothing, and shushing.

"relax baby, mommy's gonna be home before you know it," carmy says, kissing the top of valeria's head and wincing a bit when her little fist tightens around his thick index finger. "yes i know," he sighs as she lets out one last wail of 'mama' followed by incoherent babbles before her body begins to relax at the sound of her daddy's soothing hums. no one is exactly sure where the song came from. maybe it's a pre-existing song further expanded on with different notes. maybe it's a whole new song with a lack of words he made just for his little girl.

carmen's back is sore and his hands mourn the weight of his precious girl in his arms, even if he's more than happy that she's finally at peace in her crib. the reality of his temporary loneliness really sets in the moment he closes the door to his daughters nursery.

he tries to distract himself from the sight of your nearly empty home. he's been wiping down the perfectly spotless kitchen counter with a microfiber towel for the last 3 and a half minutes while he scrolls aimlessly through your Instagram with his free hand, smiling to himself with every photo of you glistening in the summer heat. a margarita in one hand, a friends shoulder in the other. he's always thought you're the most beautiful when you're happy. with the sand in between your toes, salt water frizzing up your hair, the sun caressing the spots of your skin he wished he was the one to hold and kiss—seeing you free warms something in him.

meanwhile, you're falling onto your back and feeling the silky cold fabric of your hotel room bed against your skin. the bikini you've had on for hours is still a little damp from the ocean. it makes you shiver. you giggle at your 2 friends who pile into your shared bathroom, ready to puke and laugh and cry at their sickness from alcohol. you decide that you should kill some time before it's your turn to shower and boil yourself in delicious hot water. the balcony calls your name, and you quickly grab your phone from your beach bag, getting up to slide the glass door open to your left. the air feels warm and sweet against your sunkissed skin. your bare feet patter against the concrete foundation before you lean against the railing. you don't even bother to check anyone else's attempts at communication with you today. carmen is the only thing on your mind.

carmen nearly jumps at the sound of his cellphone vibrating against the bathroom sink. he quickly spits the minty toothpaste out of his mouth and accepts your call, raising it to his ear and wiping the corner of his lip.

"hey, baby," he breaths into the line, smiling almost uncontrollably as he drops his toothbrush back in the mug. the absence of yours with that pink little clip that covers the bristles is so disheartening. it's kinda silly, the way he frowns at the missing pieces of you all around your house.

"hi!" you chew on your bottom lip. it's like you're hearing his voice for the first time again. the petname sends butterflies swarming through your stomach. hell, even with a ring on your finger, it feels like you'd just met yesterday. the sound, smell, and feeling of him could never get old.

carmen yawns, leaning back on the bed and feeling his stomach drop when the little dip in the memory foam mattress has completely raised up to its original form. god, he misses the weight of your presence. but he tries to keep it cool.

"i was just thinkin' about you. well, i've been thinking about you this whole weekend," he laughs, running his hands through his sweatlogged curls. "glad you called."

"i know," you whine, "me too. missing you both, actually." your head feels fuzzy when carmen's little huff of agreement hits your ears. for a moment, his calm attitude surprises you. but maybe it shouldn't. he insisted you should go on this 2 day trip, swearing up and down he could handle being with valeria for a little over 48 hours.

"missing you so much more."

you didn't doubt his ability to keep his temper down and his self-discipline up when taking care of her, but you almost felt a little guilty.

"how are things?" you anxiously ask. carmen goes to answer dishonestly, but you quickly clarify. "and before you tell me, i know things have probably been kinda crazy. but oh my god, carmy, thank you for letting me do this. really, i mean—"

"what?" he cuts you off with a chuckle. "letting you? baby, you—you needed it. fuck, you earned it." carmen sits up in disbelief. it pains him knowing he can't fill in the much needed space of valeria's mother, but the guilt of ever daring to ask you to fly back home would kill him even faster. all he wanted was for you to be happy. even if that required sacrifice. especially since he knew deep down you did that for him every single day, even if you didn't notice it.

"mhm."

"i'm so glad you're having fun. things have been hectic, but i'm managing, okay? valeria has just been..." carmen pauses, gnawing at the inside of his cheek and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to find the right words.

you relax a bit, letting out a deep sigh of relief. but the anxiety still eats at you. the feeling of your bikini strings digging into your skin and the sand on your inner thighs forming what would soon become a rash if you didn't shower soon certainly wasn't helping with your situation.

"...tough recently. that's all. nothing for you to worry about."

"i know, i know. i just—i don't know. i feel bad. like, my mom instincts are screaming 'go home and take care of your daughter like a proper mother you sick, sick woman! you're not a teenager anymore! god, your poor husband is taking time off of his career too! not just you,' y'know?"

the attempt of trying to make some light out of your guilt just comes out awfully sad. carmen sighs, wishing he could just envelop you in his arms right then and there and drag you back into bed, kissing and squeezing and softly biting your neck and shoulders. but his needs can be dealt with when you get back. this, your sanity and your happiness, is far more important.

"try not to even think about it like that, sweet girl. just enjoy yourself. promise me you'll do that? not just for me, but for you?"

you nod, humming in agreement and sitting down on the cheap plastic chair on the balcony. you knew he was right. carmen spends next few minutes whispering over and over again how wonderful of a person, wife, and mother you are. he assures you that this is right and that it's good for you. oh, how he wishes he could take every worry that ails you and toss it away. or even carry it on his own shoulders if he absolutely had to.

"call me when you get to the airport on monday, okay?"

"okay, i will. i'll text you as soon as i take off and as soon as i land. promise."

"alright, thank you. g'night, baby. get some sleep so you can have even more fun tomorrow."

"yeah, yeah. okay. gotcha."

"i love you."

"i love you, carmy."

"so much," he breaths.

"so much," you reply.

taglist : @lemmejustpulloutmylightsaber @sexyyounglatinoboy @febris-amatoria

#carmen berzatto #ugh this was so cute #also i wrote this in 30 minutes please excuse me if there are any typos!!#carmen berzatto blurb #dad!carmy x mom!reader #the bear #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x fem!reader #carmy berzatto

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mirrology · 11 days

Note

hello!! I simply adored your platonic aventurine fic, so if requests are still open may I ask for a scenario with him and us going shopping together? thank you in advance, have a lovely day 💓

ノ Eudaemonia .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ Eudaemonia: (adjective) The state of being lucky

ft. Aventurine, gender neutral reader, platonic. wc: 540

Content: teen reader, big brother aventurine, they go shopping in a big mall (not specified where though), reader likes taking photos, reader and march 7th are besties, all fluff no angst!! / a day at the mall with your brother!!

Notes: I tried working as fast as I could to get this posted so it might seemed rushed, but I hope you enjoy :D ! Also short.

You snapped a photo of the giant crystal chandelier that's was hanging from the ceiling of the mall. The large crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its many crystals and gemstones glimmering in the light. It catches the light like prisms, projecting a shimmering rainbow of light around the entire mall.

You nodded to yourself and put your phone in your pocket. "I see you're interested in that chandelier." A voice came from behind you. You twisted your head around to meet with the familiar eyes of your elder brother.

You stood there for a moment after taking the photo, your eyes glued to your phone's screen as you examined the picture you just snapped. Your eyes flicker up and down the screen, taking in every detail of the image captured on your phone. Your face lit up, the photo had captured the regal atmosphere of the chandelier pretty well! You'll have to send this to March, she had always liked things like this anyway.

In his hands were two cups of flavored boba, one for you and one for him. "Uh, duh!" You playfully scoffed as Aventurine held out your drink to you. You took the beverage from his hand. "This is the biggest one I've ever seen!" You looked back up to it, your eyes sparkling in amazement. Aventurine chuckled at your enthusiasm, "I've seen many, and I can agree. This is truly one of a kind. " He leaned on the metal railing of the central part of the mall.

You nodded your head in silent agreement. You latched onto the straw of your drink, savoring the sweet flavor and the boba gracing your tongue. You closed your eyes in content, humming in the process.

"Well, where to now?" You asked your elder brother all while putting your hand on your hip. "Hm.." He thought for a moment, "Why don't you choose?" Aventurine flashed you a closed eyed smile. You lit up in an instant. You knew exactly which store to go to first. You grasped your brothers hand in yours and pulled him along. "Come on! I have the perfect store!"

You brought it to your chest and hugged it. "Going to build-a-bear was the best idea ever!" You exclaimed. Aventurine had gotten one of his own donned in a cute hoodie, deep blue jeans, and some sneakers. An emerald bow sat on its left wrist, matching yours.

You held up the plush in the air, the flourecent lights reflecting on its beady eyes. The teddy bear was dressed as if it's ready to attend a formal event. It's wearing a finely tailored little suit, complete with a bow-tie and polished black leather shoes on its plush feet. The teddy bear looks super fancy despite its adorable and huggable appearance. On its right wrist, a ribbon in shape of a bow of a color that you picked out.

"Thank you so much, Aven!" You grinned at him and rested your head on his shoulder. Aventurine smiled back at you and rested his head on yours. He reached over and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

"Whatever you want, little one" He rubbed his cheek on your head like a cat.

...

"Hey! You're messing up my hair!'

#honkai star rail #platonic relationships #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr platonic #hsr x reader #hsr x reader platonic #hsr #aventurine x reader platonic #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #march 7th #march 7th hsr

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rascal-xo · 1 year

Note

Can i request one where reader and ghost go to the zoo as a date 💞 and bonus they get to pet capybara's too 😭 i love capybara's

Bittersweet | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader |

Chapter summary: You and Simon take a day trip to the zoo

Warnings: FLUFF, Affirming!Simon, language

Word count: 792

A/N: This popped up on my twitter feed and I HAD to add it to this blog.

“I don’t think they like me, Love.” Simon chuckled, watching the penguins waddle away into the water at the sight of him.

“Their first time seeing a ghost, I bet." You smile, earning a small nudge from your fiancé, whose face is covered by a balaclava but his eyes as bright as ever. You lean on the metal railing while Simon keeps a hand around your waist.

It's bittersweet, being here with him. You're both enjoying yourselves, but there's that familiar cloud of sadness hanging over you both, knowing that today could be the last time you get to do something like this together for a while.

Simon will be deploying back to base with the 141 in just two short days. You dread the week before he has to leave, scared and full of emotion, just wishing he could stay longer or never have to leave the peacefulness of your home.

You watch the little babies follow after their mothers, while others swim under the decorative bridge happily.

“What’s got you so quiet, darling.” Simon asks, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “These little things can’t be all that interesting.” He jokes, you smile to yourself at the sound of his voice.

You take a deep breath before answering, not wanting to ruin the peacefulness of the moment. "I worry about you, Si." you say softly, feeling Simon's gaze turn to you.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead through his mask before pulling away slightly to look you in the eyes. "I always come home, don’t I? I don’t want you worrying, it’s not good for you love.”

You know he's right, he always comes back, but the thought of him being in harm's way is enough to keep you up at night. The thought of having Johnny or the Captain at your front door with Simons dogtags, is a constant fear of yours.

"I know you do," you say, “Just wish you could stay.”

"I know," Simon replies, his voice soft, almost regretful. "But duty calls, and I have to answer." You nod, understanding his dedication to his work. You also know that the time apart is just as difficult for him as it is for you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon wandering through the different animal exhibits, dragging Simon to hold various exotic creatures while never once missing the opportunity to snap pictures of him on your small camera.

Pictures you’ll eventually print out to remember back on.

As you approach the capybara exhibit, you can't contain your excitement. "Simon, look! They're so cute!" You see the sign to hold one and almost run off without him. You hand him your camera and run up to the line.

Simon smiles at your excitement, making sure to snap a photo of you getting to hold one of the pups. You can feel the warmth of the animal's fur against your skin as it nuzzles into you

"I think it likes you," Simon says, chuckling as he looks at the photo he just took. You’re smiling up at Simon in the shot, with small animal in your arms. The perfect candid moment.

He was going to make sure he keeps that one in his vest, once printed out. You can't help but grin, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. This moment, captured forever in time

As you make your way back to the car, the sun starting to set on the horizon, you hold Simon's hand tightly. You don't want to let go, not wanting to face the reality that he'll be leaving soon.

You both know that tomorrow will be spent running errands and packing for his deployment. It won't be a fun day, but it's a necessary one.

As you reach the car, Simon opens the door for you before making his way around to the driver's side. You're lost in thought, when he reaches over and takes your hand in his. You turn to look at him, seeing the small smile on his face.

“Don’t go holding any capybaras without me while i’m gone, you hear?” He chuckles, lightening the mood.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Lieutenant.” You say sternly, joking.

“Oh god, Love. I don’t wanna be Lieutenant yet. I’ve got two more days.” He whines, with a hearty laugh.

You take his much larger hand, now cupping it with both of yours and bring it up to your lips. “Come back to me, Simon.” You say against it, not wanting to feel anything but him.

He watches you with more emotion in his eyes than he had ever had before in his life. He would come back to you, one way or another.

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wheeboo · 5 months

Text

holidaze | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which you take your boyfriend on a holidate down the city. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. kissing!! n just me being very whipped for him tbh :') WORD COUNT. 1.1k

notes: these r actually pics on our date guys. i took these pics of him <3 he did this for me. anyways i def didn't write this at 4am. happy holidays everyone! why r these actually the most boyfie pics ever i'm crying sobbing dying

There's nothing more better than venturing down the city at night with the spirit of the holidays filling the air. Festive lights are hung on streetlights which cast enchanting glows on the sidewalks and reflect off the wet and icy roads. Christmas trees are scattered throughout the city, standing tall and decorated with a dazzling array of ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights.

There's also nothing better than spoiling your boyfriend to a little date. Seungkwan had insisted that there wasn't any need for you to pay for everything, but tonight, you were all too determined to show just how much you appreciate him, even if it means arguing who would pay for the bill at the restaurant you chose or who would buy the matching stuffed animals you spotted in a store and couldn't resist buying.

Seungkwan has done nothing but warm your heart than any gift ever could. He's already a gift to your life, and tonight is your way of reciprocating just that𑁋to make sure he feels just as cherished as he's made you feel every day, simply because he deserves it, even if he doesn't think so himself.

"Do you think they'd like it? I'm scared I got the bad scents." Seungkwan fiddles with the paper bag of scented candles in his hand, his opposite arm linked around yours as you both continue your stroll down the glittering streets.

"My parents will love it. You don't have to worry about a thing," You reassure him with a gentle smile, giving his upper arm a small squeeze. "And even if they don't, it's the thought that counts, right?"

Seungkwan grins back, the worry lines on his forehead smoothing out. The city lights seem to reflect in his eyes like twinkling stars. "You're right. I just want them to like me, you know?"

"They already love you, trust me," You assure confidently. "Just be yourself, and they'll see how amazing you are."

Seungkwan could only shyly cower his head down to your words, the cold air nipping at his cheek that he attempts to hide away. You already know he has every right to be nervous meeting your parents for the first time tomorrow, but you also know that he'll win them over with his genuine and bubbly charm, just as he won you over from the very beginning.

The two of you trail up to a set of rails overlooking the sidewalk below and the looming buildings surrounding the area. There's some distant holiday music that you could hear from the nearby stores. Seungkwan leans against the rail, releasing a breath that creates a small mist in the chilly air, a thoughtful expression travelling across his face.

Smiling to yourself, you take out your phone and snap a few candid photos of him against the backdrop of the city lights.

"Look back at me," You call, and Seungkwan turns to face you, a small smile to his face that you manage to capture before he playfully swats at your phone. "Hey, hey, wait𑁋just a few more... Okay, I'm done. See?"

He pouts when you swipe through the photos, showing him the blurry ones and the ones where he's mid-swat like a cat batting at a toy. "Oh my God, you make me look so goofy."

"But look at these ones." You show him the two where you perfectly captured him looking back at you and smiling naturally. "You gotta post these! You look so pretty."

Seungkwan just rolls his eyes and turns away to admire the lights of the city once more, biting back the shy grin to his face. As you tuck your phone away, you walk up to him, sliding an arm around his waist and leaning against the rail beside him.

And when you both turn your bodies to face each other, your eyes gazing into his, a smile crosses your face, and you can't help but to let a hand pinch his cheek, perhaps a bit more harder than intended. "You're so cute!”

"Ow," Seungkwan winces dramatically, his hand coming up to cup over yours on his face, but he doesn't take your hand away𑁋he doesn't want to𑁋and instead leans more into your touch.

You furrow a brow, noticing how cold his face feels against your hand, trailing a thumb lightly over his cheekbone. "You're freezing, Kwannie."

The warmth of your thumb seeping through the chill of Seungkwan's skin sends a shiver down his spine that had nothing to do with the winter breeze.

"Just a little," he mutters quietly. “But you feel warm."

His dark eyes are like pools of melted chocolate under the city glow. The playful banter has faded, replaced by a quiet intimacy that settled comfortably around you both. You knew you should pull away and head back to the warmth of your apartment, but something keeps you frozen to this moment𑁋to the way his gaze seems to pierce right through you and make you feel so seen.

Then a sudden urge, soft and insistent, sprouts within you.

Your smile blooms into a full, somewhat mischievous grin as you take your hand away from his face. Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right on the spot your touch had warmed up moments ago. It was a soft, fleeting peck, barely more than a whisper of your lips against his skin, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you both.

Seungkwan can practically still feel the kiss lingering when you pull away, a blush creeping up his neck and painting his skin and ears with a rosy hue. The flustered look to his face was enough to send your heart into a giddy leap, and as you cup his face again, you feel it's grown significantly warmer under your touch.

"All better now," You whisper teasingly as you continue to hold Seungkwan's face gently between your hands. "Are you blushing?"

Seungkwan lets out a scoff, lightly shoving your hand away from his face. "No."

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"You are!”

"H-How can I not when you kiss me like that?"

His words make a chuckle leave your mouth, and you stretch your arms to wrap around his neck, closing the distance between your bodies. His own hands come to instinctively rest at your waist, breath hitching from the way your closeness sends another wave of warmth through him.

But before he can say anything, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips, catching him off-guard once more. When you pull back, there's a playful glint in your eyes, and Seungkwan is left speechless and dazed, his cheeks now an even deeper shade of red. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and he lets out a choked laugh, a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

"You're... you're really something else, you know that?" Seungkwan stammers, his fingers playing with the hem of your coat as he avoids your eyes bashfully.

You tilt your head slightly. "In a good way hopefully?"

He leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of your cold nose, his lips lingering for a moment. When he draws back, a few snowflakes land in his hair. "In the best way possible."

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify

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here-but-forgotten · 6 months

Text

drabbles and concepts / call of duty

alejandro x reader / Rudy x reader / soap x reader / Gaz x reader / price x reader. I am currently feral.

implied fuller bodied reader. implied f!reader.

If you want to use any of these as a prompt for your own story, please do! just tag me I want to read it >:) you can also talk to me ab them in my ask box if you’d like.

tags / @lucyisdoingfine @frogchiro

guess who’s ovulating

♡ soap being a menace panty stealing thief but not really. like, he is a menace, and he is stealing your panties; but he never takes too many and he always washes them in a nice gentle detergent after he’s cum in them multiple times :(( he’s a gentlemen I promise. just ignore the part where he sneaks into your room daily to steal your newest pair or to lay out a pair for you to wear when you get out of your shower ♡

♡ the only people able to keep up with a feral darling who’s just in a wonderful hell of ovulation being Alejandro, Kyle, and Johnny. on a calm week, captain price is in there too. they’re the only ones who can keep up with you; keep you cumming and making you rest and drink enough water before delving back into you.

♡ Gaz taking your panties off and making you rub his thigh, having the denim rub against your clit, making a wet spot on his thigh while he watches you; you completely bare and exposed while he stays nice and dressed with your pretty pussy rubbing against him.

♡ alejandro with an s/o who loves to bake. Alejandro who loves to come in on them baking, pushing them against the counter with his hips, pressing his hard-on against your hips, before pushing you onto a clean section of the counter and breeding you. Grabbing your hair and holding your throat with his hand, only to rail into you harder. Groping your pretty body before you’re allowed to cum; alejandro making you finish your cake before resuming, musing you for being willingly overpowered by an older man. Spanking your ass before you finish; his focus on making you have a shattering orgasm, leaving you leaning against him with your body weight. just for him to pick you up and clean you up before your cake is done baking <3 this is definitely not based off of anything I’ve been talked about doing with an online friend

♡ your perfect and wonderful and charming husband rodolfo cornering you in the restroom of a family holiday gathering, covering your mouth with his hand and groping your body under him just to leave you needy. Doing that two more times until you’re rutting your hips against his own, keeping you on the teasing edge until the gathering is finished and you’re fucked on the couch. definitely not based off of anything spoken about pt. 2

♡ alejandro coaxing you onto the couch with him, getting you to bounce on his cock, slapping your pretty ass every so often to keep up your pace. telling you how good of a girl you’re being, how good you feel, how you’re so good at taking his cock and making him feel good. Keeping you riding him till it’s too much for you, just for him to flip you onto the couch and rail you into mush </3

♡ rudy is a menace who loves your ass so much. he is groping. he is grabbing. he is massaging. he is holding it while you ride him and while he rails into you and while he takes all his stress out on you. asks for ass photos. Will buy you cheap panties just to cut and rip them off of you so.

♡ you know what rudy is a panty thief too.

♡ Gaz will offer to help you remove your mascara by fucking your throat <3 looking up at him while mascara runs off your face and his eyes looking at you so lovely. praising you for taking him so well and gagging on his cock. petting and stroking your hair while tears roll off with your mascara <3

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drysdaleknieslee · 3 months

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omggg i am obsessed with your juraj works! could you maybe do one where you and juraj are out maybe with the team or something, and you get talking to this guy and juraj gets all protective and slightly jealous, so he takes you home and absolutely rails you into oblivion 🫢 thank you love <3

Thank you for loving my work (I haven't written smut and you guys give me a lot of practice 😉) I love protective guys so I hope you like this 🩵

I hope it's not too rushed at the end!

It was an annual charity for the Montreal Canadiens and there was a fundraiser involved every time. You and Juraj arrive hand in hand as you start to see the familiar faces of the teammates and their wives or significant others.

You smile and hug Arber and Stephanie and then of course Cole (he get's pouty if you don't) and you strike up a conversation with Kirby.

As the night went on, you taking group photo's with the wives and girlfriends, you nudge Juraj lightly. "Hey I'm just going to the bar to refill my drink ok?"

"OK, srdiečko, just be careful ok? There's a lot of people here" he says looking around nervously.

"I'll be ok Jur, I'll come right back."

I grab my glass and head over to the bar and order another drink. With the crowd that was in here it was taking the bartenders a while to get the drink out. And I didn't notice how cold it was in there until you felt the goosebumps on your arms. Your dress has spaghetti straps so there wasn't much to cover.

"What's beautiful girl like you doing at the bar by yourself?" you heard someone slur behind you.

You roll your eyes before turning around to face the stranger and your forced to smell the strong stench of alcohol and sweat. This guy was at least your fathers age, shirt undone from the partying, and eyes wandering all over you making you severely uncomfortable.

"I'm not alone" you try to say in the most polite way you can.

"I don't see no boyfriend. You don't have a ring on your finger," he tried to grab your wrist for emphasis but you snatched it away before he could, making him aggravated, "whoever he is I bet he ain't doing it right."

"That is none of your concern." Your looking for someone you know but everyone is wrapped up in their own conversation to notice your silent cry for help.

"You know it's rude to ignore company." he says before taking a step towards you but he stops. Arrogance is now replaced with fear.

"I'm so sorry srdiečko, didn't mean to leave you waiting" said the deep Slovakian voice behind you. Suddenly, you feel his strong hand wrap under your jaw before tilting you head back and initiating a heat filled, jealousy ridden kiss. Smearing your lip gloss. Juraj never broke eye contact with the stranger who's face was beet red at this point.

Juraj smirks at his reaction and runs his thumb across his lip for emphasis. The stranger throws his drink back before adding, "you can have the bitch. She would've been a quick fuck anyways."

Everything happened so quickly after that because all you know is Juraj threw a right hook directly at this guy's nose, followed by another, punch, followed by a crack signifying something was definitely broken on his side.

Security was called to escort the guy out as apparently he had multiple complaints against him already. Juraj looked disheveled before turning to you to make sure you were ok.

"Jur, I'm ok. Are you ok? Your hand has to be broken-"

"Did he touch you?"

"No. He almost did, but he didn't."

He was still angry but he relaxed a little after that. We called it early as Juraj's bleeding knuckles weren't gonna fix themselves.

The ride in the car was silent. Tension was there as Juraj's good hand was gripping the steering wheel and the other gripped your knee.

"I should've checked on you earlier-" "Juraj, stop. It's not your fault. I should've left or called for you. Let's worry about your hand first then everything else."

When you arrive home you instruct him to go to the bathroom and to wait for you. When you grab the first aid he's leaning against the sink with his head down. Upon hearing you, he lifts his head with the most solemn look.

You grab his hand lightly and dab a cloth with alcohol on it. He winces slightly but only for a second. He doesn't stop looking at you.

"I'm glad you're here. I hope you know that." he barely says above a whisper.

"I'm glad I'm here too. And that your always gonna be there to protect me."

You finish wrapping his hand before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. He deepens the kiss by wrapping his bandaged hand around your neck, moaning softly.

His hands move to the hem of your dress in an attempt to take it off before you stop him. "Your hand needs to heal Jur."

"I'm not made of glass my love, and I don't expect to treat you like you are either."

He knows the effect his words have on you as you, as you start to dampen and squeeze your thighs together, which goes unnoticed by him.

He lifts you swiftly before carrying you into the bedroom to lay you on your shared bed. His lips now make contact with your shoulder blade and down between your breasts. He hovers there for a second before blowing on your nipples, releasing a moan from you as your nipples harden.

He leaves a light kiss on your right while he begins to pinch the nipple on your left. Your back arches as he engulfs your right nipple in his mouth. After doing that, he switches sides, giving both sides the needed attention, but you needed him somewhere else.

"Juraj" you say as you choked on your own words.

"Yes my love?"

"I need you."

"Use your words," he says sternly. "I need your mouth, down there."

He removes himself from your chest and hovers over your face with a shit eating grin. "Say it correctly and I'll do it."

Your bucking your hips at this point and he's loving this.

"I need you to eat me out Juraj."

"With pleasure."

He gets on his knees and starts to lift your dress up. You lift to assist him. He glances up, eyes hooded and dark. You didn't wear panties.

"You better be glad we don't have practice tomorrow," he said darkly before bringing his face closer to your entrance. He starts to kitten lick you lightly, making your body jerk with each stroke before licking a long stripe up your entrance. You lift your hips with a moan at the sensation and he places his good hand on your hips to hold you down.

Nothing filled the room but the sounds of your panting and whines and his lewd noises. You grab his hair for leverage as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to form. Your whines becoming more frequent, telling Juraj that you were close.

"Cum for me love," he says while inserting his index finger and curling it to hit your g spot. Your mouth drops open as stars fill your vision and you release on his tongue.

His lips are wet with your release as you try to contain your composure. "We're not done srdiečko. I think you have one more in you."

He starts to unbuckle his belt and undress and you mustered up the little energy you had to remove your dress. After removing his boxers, he collects some of your release, making you convulse lightly, as he uses it to pump himself a few times. His tip, angry and red and leaking pre-cum. You wrap your legs around his waist and he balances himself with one hand while he lines himself at your entrance.

He slowly pushes himself in, letting you adjust. After adjusting you signal him to move. He begins to gain a rhythm and his head falls back in pleasure. The angle that you're in has him hitting every spot every thrust. You notice his arm start to shake after trying to support himself.

You look at him and his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. He's trying to hold you up without hurting himself further in the process.

Jur, let me ride you. Your in pain."

He slows, still buried within you, as he flips you both so now you're on top. He released a sigh and a moan as now he is buried at the hilt. He's fully in you, and imprint in your stomach only makes him harder.

"You did well my love, let me finish," you say as you start to get a rhythm. Groans and moans now fill the room along with the sound of slapping skin. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head as this new angle has you feeling Juraj everywhere.

You start to clench and the grip on your hip tightens which each one. "Let's do it together."

With one last rut of your hips, both you and Juraj release a joined moan before you collapse on his chest. "We'll shower in the morning. Just let me hold you for a second," he said. Your eyes eventually close listening to the sound of his heartbeat. No matter what happens, you know he'll always be there to break a few noses for you.

#juraj slafkovsky imagines #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky

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