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luveline · 6 months

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what if bombshell!reader proposed to Spencer? Instead of Spencer proposing to bombshell!reader? Would he be upset or just as happy? Also, I absolutely adore your writing! 🥰💕

ty for requesting!! —spencer gets a love he deserves, 1.4k, fem!reader

The first proper time that you and Spencer slept together, he wasn’t nervous. It was sort of like a high school sleepover. You’d slept in shared beds in stuffy hotels and he’d once stayed the night while he was too drunk to remember it, but the first time you invited him in with intention to just be together, he wasn’t scared. You remember being surprised. Looking back, you shouldn’t have been.

You laid together like you are now. He wore a grey t-shirt and a pair of blue chequered pants, and he’d pushed his hair back all day leaving the front pieces limp, and he’d touched your cheek to encourage your face to his before he moved in for one polite kiss. “I love you,” he’d said, much too early and a couple years too late at the same time.

You turn on your side now to look at him. His contacts are out, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He’s watching a video on his laptop and the line of his jaw is soft. Or, softer than usual. He has a very sharp jaw.

You shift a bit to alleviate the pressure on your hip.

“You okay?” Spencer asks. He doesn’t look away from his laptop nor does he sound tuned in. It’s sort of funny that he manages to care even when he’s not paying attention.

“Yeah.”

“Tired?”

“Not really.”

“Hungry at all?”

“Just brushed my teeth.”

“That’s not the question I was asking.”

“Not hungry, Spencer. Can I watch too?”

He turns the laptop toward you to the point where his view is obscured, raising the volume a touch. “It’s about Tuberculosis. Do you wanna watch something else?”

“No, this sounds interesting.”

He settles in next to you. His fingers brush your chest. For a good forty five minutes, you and Spencer watch the rest of his video. He gets visibly tireder the longer it goes on, but neither of you attempt to get ready to sleep until the video’s finished. He closes the lid of his laptop, twisting in bed to deposit it gently on the floor. There’s a familiar shush of him sliding it under the bed to stop you from standing on it (a learned precaution).

“Did you take that vitamin, the primrose?” he asks, flicking off his bedside lamp, leaving yours as the only source of light in the entire room. It’s a pink glass shade that kisses his pale skin a rosy hue.

“Yeah, Spence.”

He shakes the sheets back and the over you both. One minute you’re apart and the next he’s pulling you into him, confident handed, his breath warming your face as the gap between you thins. Despite his readying, he doesn’t say goodnight, or close his eyes. This is your time now. You often spend time at night just talking to each other about everything you’d meant to say that day, or nonsense conversation, until one or both of you has been lulled into a peaceful sleep.

“I have something I want to tell you,” you say.

“Okay.” He sounds completely trusting, no worrying, no reluctance.

“You remember the first time you stayed at my apartment?”

“No.”

“The second time,” you correct.

“Yes,” he says, grinning. “I was much less intoxicated that time.”

“You were sober.”

“I didn’t feel sober,” he says.

“Nice. You’re getting so good at this.”

“Thank you.”

“But do you remember that?” You trace the curve of his nose. He’ll have to take his glasses off soon. They’ve already worn red crescents into his skin. “You told me you loved me.”

“I can’t forget it,” he says, still grinning. You’ve tried to tell people —idiots— who don’t understand you and Spencer that, even without his million charms and idiosyncrasies, you’d love him for his smile. It changes his entire face. He never looks as beautiful to you as he does when he’s smiling.

“I didn’t say it back.”

“We’d only been together for a few days,” he says. “It was one of my moments.”

“Spencer, I did love you, though. I should’ve told you. I knew in that moment that you really, really meant it, and I just want you to know that when you said it, I could have said it back. I should have. I loved you just as much, I promise.”

“I know,” he whispers, eyes slightly widened.

“I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. It’s cliche.”

“Sometimes things are cliche because they’re good,” he says, laying his cheek more firmly into his pillow as he raises a hand to your face. His thumbs rests in the space under your chin. His fingertips brush along the skin just beside your lips. “And true. I loved you the minute you introduced yourself.”

You savour the feeling of his hand on your cheek.

“You’re so handsome,” you say, “and kind. You’re everything to me. You know that.”

Spencer wraps his arm gently under your chin and behind your head as he lays closer to you. “I know. You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I– didn’t even know how happy I could be before now.”

“Me too, baby.”

He closes his eyes. Your noses touch.

“Spencer Reid, will you marry me?” you whisper.

Quiet. Aching, total quiet. He curls his arm behind your head until your lips are a hair’s width apart, and when he answers, it’s like he’s spoken directly to the deepest parts of you. “It’s all I want,” he says.

“I got you a ring,” you murmur.

The air races with your heart. The sound of your skin and clothes is the only thing to be heard between breaths. “I got you three,” he says.

“Spencer, what for?” you ask, afraid to open your eyes and break the spell, the branching, unending feeling of connection you share.

“I didn’t know which one you’d like.”

“You’ll marry me?” you ask.

“Angel, I already said yes. I love you. I told you already we’d have to get married.”

“Oh, we have to?”

Spencer kisses you. It’s startlingly open-mouthed for a moment, but you adapt and overcome, you love him and his every touch, tilting your head to the side to allow him room to ferry in and kiss you deeply. It’s slow and measured, then quick and undecided. He turns his face one way to kiss you, then the other, back again, a hint of roughness —of hunger to it as he pulls your face to his.

A spark of heat against your nose.

Your eyes flutter open, a pinked path of light scored diagonally down his cheek. “Spence,” you say, feeling the weight and heat of tears gather behind your eyes, even as you smile, “don’t cry, baby.”

“I feel like I spent my whole life waiting for someone to love me and it doesn’t feel real that it’s you,” he whispers slowly.

“No? How do I make it more real for you, sweetheart? What can I do?” you ask sincerely.

He shakes his head.

You push your forehead into his. He doesn’t cry anymore than two burning hot tears, rubbing your shoulder as you yourself sniffle back your own emotion. You’re really not sad. You hurt for him, but this is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you.

“Do you want to choose your ring?” he asks, enthusing his voice with cheer.

“Do you want to see yours first?”

“Did you get me a diamond?” he asks.

“Don’t be silly, Spencer, of course I did.”

He laughs and kisses you three times in quick succession before he sits up, wiping his face, chuckling wryly. “Sorry, I didn’t think I would react like that.”

You tangle your fingers with his before he can get too far away. “I love you, honey. There’s nothing wrong with crying about it.”

You aren’t expecting to start crying when he slides one of the rings he’s chosen for you over your finger. He says you can see each one in action and choose after you've seen them all, but the moment the band is over your knuckle, you know it’s the one you’ll keep. You push the ring you’d bought for him onto his finger with your cheeks still tearstained.

The diamond on his ring isn’t quite as big as the one he’d bought for you, but it looks right nestled against his pale skin. That night, you talk more than you ever have before, falling asleep only minutes after the glowing threads of morning have painted your twined hands with gold.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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lovebugism · 1 year

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could i request “mean” eddie and reader going swimming somewhere and maybe she’s in her swimsuit and someone says something that makes him jealous? also just want to say i love you writing sm!!! <3

hi, lovely! thanks so much for your request and your kind words!! i hope you like it xoxo (1.7k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Eddie can’t stop staring at you.

It’s not like it’s his fault, though. You’re all sprawled out beside him in a plastic lounge chair, clad only in a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination. It’s an all-black number with little white bats all over it, clinging to you like it was made to do it.

It’s a wonder the two of you even made it to Hawkins Community Pool, honestly. Eddie's thoughts verge on obscene at the sight of you. But then again, they tend to when you're on his mind.

You lay with your hands folded above your head, totally surrendering yourself to the golden sunlight. It gives Eddie the opportunity to gaze at you fully — even though sometimes he thinks he’s already memorized you by now.

He analyzes you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you, like you’re the last thing he’ll ever see.

The pudge of the top of your breast spills over the hem of your bikini. The skin of your stomach bulges underneath your high-waisted bottoms. The fullness of your thighs begins to glow beneath the glittering daylight.

He commits all of this to memory and figures maybe that’s what the sun’s doing too, as it paints your skin more golden.

He doesn’t know how he got you.

But he hopes your eyes are closed behind your thick glasses. Or, at the very least, that they block your view of him. Eddie knows he’s unabashedly staring at you, but he also knows he can’t stop. He doesn’t want his ogling to be met with your teasing — even if he is deserving of it.

The Lord of the Rings book in his hands goes quickly abandoned. It’s a feat he even made it to page fifty. He’s flipped through it enough times to memorize it, though. Sort of like you.

Like the novel, he could read you a million times and never get bored. The only real difference is he finds you much, much sexier than printed words on a page.

“I can feel you staring, you know?”

Your voice jolts him from his stupor, light and golden like the slowly setting sun. Your words are nearly drowned out by the sounds of the bustling pool — screaming kids, splashing water, and people trying to converse over it all.

Eddie’s far too attuned to you not to hear you, though.

You’re not looking at him, but he can see the corner of your lip quirk in a slight half-smile.

“Can you?” he deadpans, turning back to his book like he hadn’t been looking at you at all.

The words are all mush, though. He’ll blame it on the stifling summer heat. He was the idiot out here in a black t-shirt and trunks, after all.

“Yeah,” you nod.

He sees your smile completely when you turn to look at him. The sun pierces through your amber lenses, making your eyes more visible beneath them. You’ve got one eye squinted to evade the blinding light. The beam you wear is somehow brighter.

“’S like spidey senses, you know? I can always tell when you’re looking at me, Munson.”

Eddie wants to be embarrassed at the thought. He knows that you’re joking — if only just the slightest bit — but it makes him think about all the other times he’s shamelessly gawked at you. He spent years doing it before you ever got together.

Many of his high school years were spent paying more attention to you than his homework. He thinks maybe that’s why he had such a hard time graduating.

“You’re saying my girlfriend’s a superhero?” the boy jokes, brows raised behind his curly bangs and chocolate eyes going wide. They look more golden in the sunlight, and they twinkle with mischief.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a wider smile than before. “You didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. Some of his curls still stick to him, damp with the sweat beading on his milky skin. “No. I can confidently say that I didn’t.”

“Good. It was supposed to be a secret, anyway.”

Eddie doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

It’s a sharp exhale through his nose more than anything, paired with a crooked pink smile. He wishes he knew how much of a dork you were a year ago. He might’ve asked you out sooner.

“Brush up on your spidey senses before you go out patrolling the neighborhood, alright, Spiderwoman?” he jests in a monotone, turning the page of his book even though he hadn’t actually read it. “’Cause I totally wasn’t staring at you.”

You know he’s lying.

And it’s not just because you could feel it — even though you think his button-eyed gaze can be palpable in its attentiveness at times. But what you lacked in superhero senses, you made up for in awareness of all things Eddie Munson.

You knew when he got quiet that he was in his own head. And being that you hadn’t heard a single page turn in several minutes, you figured his eyes must’ve been on something other than the book in his hands.

Your quip was hardly more than a lucky guess, really.

“Good,” you hum as you flip over onto your stomach. Your backside had been completely deprived of sunlight before now. You prop yourself up on your elbows and lift your sunglasses to the top of your head. Your teasing gaze is no longer amber-coated. “‘Cause that would mean you find me attractive.”

“And that would just be a travesty, wouldn’t it?” Eddie scoffs.

He looks over at you again and finds your changed position. Your back is pointed towards the sun now, the very bottom of your ass on full display. Your thighs are indented softly from the slatted chair beneath you.

He can’t pry his eyes off the combination of the two despite knowing you’re watching him right back.

“It’s okay if you have the hots for me, Eds,” you tell him, feigning sympathy. “I’d only make fun of you a little bit.”

Eddie stays silent for half a moment too long, then shakes his head to dismiss the thought. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. It’s just the heat.”

You scoff. “Yeah. Let’s blame the way you’re ogling at me on sunstroke.”

He still finds it a bit difficult to be your boyfriend sometimes — or just a boyfriend. And it’s not because of you. Not in the slightest. He just sort of put a wall around himself when he was younger. He’s been behind it so long he’s forgotten how to let people back in.

And even though he hasn’t said it yet, he loves the goddamn shit outta you. But for some reason, he can’t let himself be vulnerable in that way — can’t even ask to touch you without coming up with some lame excuse that covers up all his vulnerable-ness.

“You, uh… You put sunscreen on, right?” he asks, shifting slightly in his chair. He spares a brief glance your way from the corner of his eye, halfway concealed by the fluffy brown curls framing his face.

“Yeah?” you answer with pinched brows. “Right after I forced you to put some on, remember?”

He scrunches his nose as he squints at you. It takes everything in you not to lean over and kiss the tip of it. “I don’t know,” the boy singsongs as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “I don’t remember it, actually…”

“Then maybe you’re the one that needs to get checked out, Eds.”

“I think I should just put some lotion on your back,” he summarizes with a shrug, already rising from his chair to swing his legs over the side of it. “You know, just to be safe.”

The teasing glint in his eyes makes you grin. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to dim its brightness, lest how happy he makes you go to his head.

Your feet lift in their air and twist together with a girlish excitement. It makes your ass wiggle gently. Eddie swears you’re doing it just to tease him.

“Get my legs, too, while you’re at, yeah?” you quip.

Eddie reaches for the tote beside your chair with an effervescence that can only be described as a boy on Christmas morning — his present: the opportunity to touch you. He rises again with the blue bottle in his hand.

A low whistle sounds from behind the both of you.

“Looking good, sweetheart,” Billy compliments with a smirk as he walks by your chair. He’s in his lifeguard uniform — a pair of red swim trunks and his toned, golden torso.

He lifts his sunglasses from his face and rests them on top of his curled mullet. His crystal blue eyes gape at you, far sharper than Eddie’s chocolate syrup ones.

“Bite me, Hargrove,” you deadpan in response.

“I like the sound of that,” he laughs, chomping spearmint gum between his pearly white teeth. He spins on his flip-flops and walks backward to keep ogling at you. “Just give me the word and I’m yours, darlin’.”

He disappears in the bustling crowd after that, fading like rubbed-in sunscreen. You forget about him the second he’s gone.

He’s always been an asshole like that. It’d be a rookie mistake to give more than half a shit about him. But Eddie still feels the boy’s presence like a mean, lean, green monster full of envy. It’s like he’s still there — close enough to punch, even.

He isn’t sure if it’s the heat or if he’s actually seeing red.

“What an asshole,” you murmur under your breath.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Eddie snaps.

“Whoa,” you drawl within a laugh. “Slow your roll, tiger.”

The boy's eyes go wide as he looks over at you again. “I’m not even sure what I just said, honestly.”

“You’re a dork who plays Dungeons and Dragons, remember? You can’t start talking about fighting Billy Hargrove.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he sighs, rigid body finally loosening with the heavy exhale. He squints at you after. “You don’t think I could take him?”

“I don’t thank you have to,” you lilt.

“That’s such a non-answer, babe.”

“I’m just saying,” you giggle with a shrug. “I’m asking you to feel me up, Eds. Not that creep.”

A rosy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, smug and full of love.

You meet it with a grin of your own.

“C’mon, I’m burning to a crisp over here,” you urge, shifting in the chair just to make your thighs jiggle in the way you know Eddie likes.

His eyes glaze over at the sight — one he’s seen a million times now — and you know it’s done the trick.

“Let’s give Hargrove a show, yeah?”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Text

Aphrodesiacs Pt.6

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

i’m back i’m back i’m back!

NSFW 18+ as always

It was the same old story, same old Miguel falling in the continuous spiral of something that he has long past an issue. The further this continued, it felt like another mistake living deep in chest. But he knew that this was objectively the right thing to do. Miguel blocked your number and broke his phone.

His stance remained firm and exhausted in same old boyishly endearing Miguel fashion, Peter B was standing next to him or something, saying whatever remark or sly jab at Miguel’s signature silent brooding. He wasn’t paying attention, words fell on deaf ears and he seemed even more disinterested in everything that was being uttered to him. It was like phasing out was a pitiful second instinct. All he seemed concentrated on was you, your tender sighs and sweet lips he could practically feel wet as you breathed over the phone. You were very brazen that night, it was surprising and refreshing in equal tandem. He would shut your vulgar mouth with his cock instead, he’d slap your cheeks raw with it and then slap his tip against your tongue until you’re begging him to just shove it in.

“Miguel? Buddy, you listening? Are you high or something?” Peter snapped his fingers in front of Miguel’s unappeased and unkind face to drag him away from something he never thought he would be: unfocused.

“Stop bothering me. I’m busy.” He huffed in response, his body language radiating stress. He was trying to occupy himself with working on some new tech but he couldn’t get that right either. If anything, Miguel needed to be bothered. Peter looked unimpressed and continued to be a pest warmly, in true Peter quips.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re acting all floozy and whistful into the horizon. When was the last time you even left here man?” Peter groans and grabs his cheeks like a mother would do to a small child, inspecting him gratuituously.

“Peter. Come on stop it.” Miguel grumbled lowly, not wantingto snap at him at the fullest terrifying extent he knew himself to be capable of. Peter squeezed his cheeks harder.

“You’re so damn pale…you’re like a vampire.” Peter chuckled at the inside joke that everyone actually believed that Miguel was a vampire ninja, he felt himself lighten up a little at that but he chose not to show it. Peter gasps in faux horror. “That beautiful warm golden honey glow is fading away with every second you’re here in your batcave.”

Miguel didn’t know what to say, the only time he’s ever left HQ is to go home and when he couldn’t sleep, which was always, he came back. Failing himself and everyone around him miserably. His mood strayed at the thought, but it was true. He wasn’t doing any good here, he wasn’t doing any good for you but he couldn’t tell Peter that. No one knew what was happening to him, only you, Jess and Lyla.

“Listen man, you need to get out of here. And it just so happens you know a guy who is throwing a cookout at their place back on their dimension. I.E: me.” Peter crossed his arms and looked terribly impressed with himself and Miguel just raised an eyebrow already tired of his neverending theatrics.

“No.” He said simply but firmly.

“Yes.”

“No.” He said more firmly this time.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Miguel snapped his gaze back at him, looking slightly agited but Peter wasn’t the only one with balls, he groaned out frustratedly at his candor.

“The Mysterio anomaly last week took 20 years off my already fantastic life and I need a break from it, so do you man. Plus my wife is way more unkind and insistent than me so she’ll be back to pull you by the ear so consider me a friendly warning.” Peter looked irked as he tapped his foot, waiting for a response that deserved a punch in the gut.

Miguel was in a state of bewildered shock, all he could let out was an eye twitch. He was so frustrated with you, with all of this that his nerve endings were on the outskirts of thoroughly cooked and fried with boundless anger. Every day his patience was stretching and every day was starting to feel like a losing battle but he had to keep reminding himself: it’s for the best, it’s for your own good. He absolutely deplored thinking it let alone repeating it but at this point he was too far gone to not give up now. All he needed was for you to stay away from him. God knows what you’d do to each other. Peter was right though, Miguel had the same routine: HQ, fail to sleep, HQ, avoid. Was it so wrong puncturing the rhythm of this soulless cycle? If he can’t be around you he might as well distract himself im more carefree ways, and he might not even get the opportunity ever again.

Miguel let out a short agitated huff and let out a pitiful yet stern “Fine.”

“I’m so convincing, it’s actually the only thing I have in my repertoire nowadays.” Peter beamed lightly, full of himself as always.

“Wait. I have one condition.” Miguel cut him off, his face mixing between frustration and anxiety.

“Okay?” Peter said hesitantly.

“Y/N can’t be there.” Miguel gaze was peneterating right through Peter, staring daggers into his face at the mere mention of your name. When he said your name he felt his mouth drawl back some drool, even saying your name had him salivating.

“What why?” Peter looked visibly confused at something so seemingly random. “I mean that’s gonna be quite difficult because her and my wife are actually the ones that are cooking for us sooo….No can do.”

Miguel looked like he got hit in the face with a brick, he was vacant and blank yet his eyes were slowly creasing, wincing at Peter for a split second and then groaning out in frustration, he almost sounded like a pained animal. God, this sweet torture.

“Lie to her. Make something up and get her to not go.” Miguel snarled poisonously, his true ferocity only showing just a fraction as it gleamed over twice in his eyes, Peter noticed it and decided not to press him further

“Okay.” Peter said hesitantly, attempting to sound cordial but he couldn't help but still be confused. This was all supposed to be for fun, he didn't want to randomly exclude people for no apparent reason. He couldn't argue with Miguel on it anyway, once his mind was set on something, Peter knew it was nearly impossible to knock it down.

Miguel's mouth went dry, his lips curled down into a crooked frown when he realized what he was about to walk into. Swimming was so pointless. Why the hell was he being coaxed into entertaining such petty things? He couldn't remember the last time he had relaxed or done something remotely fun, he used to think that working on new tech was 'fun', but now it was just a distraction to suck him out of the void of desperation. Avoiding it would be even more suspicious this time though, no one had properly seen much of him recently, and part of him wanted to see how everyone was doing. How everyone was doing without him. The thought shook him up. At least you won't be there to make him feel worse or lose any form of self-control. He was hoping it would be a breather from all this torment. It would go either one of two ways: fine or the absolute fucking worst. As always he would prepare for the worst.

Miguel arrived with a grimace he was trying to conceal, his weak smile when greeting Peter at the door was absolutely endearing and he hated it. He just had to remain calm for a few hours, show his face briefly, light conversation preferably about work and not leisure, he didn't need to grin he just had to bear it. Peter's house was in a quaint little suburb, Miguel threw his jacket in the bathroom and followed Peter when he led him to the back garden he was surprised to see that the pool was big and deep. Multiple Spideys were wilding out in it, having fun for once, not burdened by the consistent pressure to be a hero...like Miguel would put on them.

He frowned. And then his heart pulsated erratically.

Shit.

Of course.

Lord above save him.

Miguel's eyes scanned wildly around and then his gaze landed on you. His living breathing torment. You. Sprawled out on a sunbed, stomach down, kicking your feet as you drank in the golden sun, liquid rays pouring on every inch of your bikini-clad skin. God, it barely covered anything. Your back dipped and the curve of your ass was on full display. Miguel's face dropped into a mindless gawk, eyes wide and mouth agape, he swallowed when he saw what MJ was doing. She was rubbing your back down with sunscreen or tanning oil or whatever, he stood there looking like a complete idiot as he stared at you. You looked so blissed out, letting your eyes flutter as a lazy smile painted your face.

This was awful.

He was lying.

This was perfect. So damn perfect. A wet dream was written out in front of his eyes

His eyes then snapped to Peter, and an anxious yet irritated glare pierced right through him. “Why is she here?” Miguel gritted through clenched teeth. Peter just elbowed him playfully.

“Get your talons out of your ass and have fun man. Does it really matter? Wait did you...You and her-? Oh, you did that's why.” Peter chided, elbowing him in the bicep as if he uncovered the truth of ali of his schemes. “Hey man, I'm not judging you.”

Peter walked away chuckling and Miguel's gawk became even more apparent when you opened your eyes and they directly met his. When you saw him, you were sure you could've finished right then and there, eyes gleaming and wide and lips instinctively wetting. Why did he have to be so insanely hot? It's cruel and inhumane. He was wearing a grey compression shirt that fit him so damn tight and some black swimming shorts that made his thighs look beefy as fuck. You didn't even think he'd come, but obviously, Peter had to lure the snake away. You hadn't talked to him since you spoke on the phone and even then you promised you would go back to avoiding each other. He was just keeping that promise no matter how much it pained him. Especially in that tiny little bikini. The gaze you shared felt like it had been going on for hours, Miguel shook his head and grunted before turning his back to leave. This was a huge mistake. You looked so incredible it was making him lose it.

“Oh, it looks like Miguel got here.” MJ teased but you didn't even care enough to listen, you panted heavily and loosened out of her hold and rolled onto the floor and scrambled yourself up and practically rushed inside.

Pathetic and desperate didn't even begin to cover it at this point.

Miguel went into the bathroom to get his jacket, mumbling with a stern look on his face, that little v forming in between his eyebrows whenever he furrowed his brows. He quickly glanced in the mirror and took a minute to contemplate his purpose, he was sweating and the hair on his body stood to attention, it was the moment before being struck by lightning but a thousand times worse. He raked his hands through his hair, rubbed his eyes, and went to leave. When he opened them you were at the doorway. Getting closer to him. And then you closed the door behind you and leaned on it. Miguel just took and deep breath and sighed once your scorching gazes connected again. You could feel your bones going limp as he practically stared a hole into your face

He could see every dip and curve of your body, the thin fabric of your bikini covered so little but he already knew what was under it. He wanted to feel it. He needed to feel it. You had this confused aloof look on your face, a pretty pink stain on your lips and cheeks, eyes sparking with a sincere desperation that you couldn't hide when you were this close.

“Thanks for getting rid of the restriction on my watch, that was very philanthropic of you.” Your lips curved into a jagged scowl as you quipped sarcastically, and you crossed your arms like you were in a huff but Miguel wasn't thinking clearly.

“Thought we said we go back to avoiding each other.” Miguel raised an eyebrow at you. You were shining under the dim bathroom lights, the tanning oil that MJ put on you causing your skin to gleam and shimmer, your scent and skin were driving him crazy but he had to hold it together. It was all he had left.

You paused, taking yourself off the door and taking a few small steps closer to him.

“You know as much as I do that I wouldn't have been able to do that.” You whisper, blinking up at him.

“Don't give me that look.” Miguel averted his gaze elsewhere to the pale walls of the bathroom but like a magnet, his eyes always drew back to you. He was staring at your lips. Sweet yet cunning. Mesmerisingly calculating.

“Does it make me a bad person that I want to see you break?” You smiled slyly at him, half joking half not.

“Today's not that day.” He smirked, almost teasing you. It was like a second instinct, to butter you up and then leave you on edge. Miguel brushed passed you and you scoffed at his reply.

“Ouch.” You giggled dryly. “Fine. Let's manage then.” You rolled your eyes and he just let out a neutral 'hmm."

Miguel's hand went to the door handle and he tried to pry it open, not thinking anything of it initially but the handle wouldn't budge. He cocked an eyebrow, confused at his lack of strength. Then he tried again. It still wouldn't move.

“Ugh, what's taking so long? Open the door.” You groaned before turning around to see that he physically couldn't open the door. It was stuck.

"No. No. This can't be happening.” He mumbled with a strain under his breath, his eyes shot open and a confused look washed over his face, then it turned to anger. White hot anger.

“Move.” You grunted and then elbowed him to the side, the small brush of skin was enough to send sparks alighting under both of you. Ignoring it as per usual, you pulled on the handle, your grip tightened and even with all vour might it still wouldn't fucking open.

"Oh my fucking God.” Miguel buried his head in his hands and paced around as you continued to try and pry the door open, groaning and failing miserably.

“We're stuck in here.”

IM BACK FROM VACAY MORE CHAPTERS V SOON!

taglist (giggles): @thel0velykey190 @scaleniusrm @drefear @imkikibtw @tbeanie3 @spxctorsslxt @saturnknows @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @mafer383 @i-feel-violated @crowleysthings @avatar-lover @l3laze @wyvernnest @rowboatweeb @schniti-is-in-the-house @defnot-bri @awkward-d3rs3-dramer @hasai69 @unnisumi @irongardenermaker @d1lf-loverrr @iamv1n @ro99se @nxrdamp @mrssabinecallas @jesmynsjoys @spiderman2099sgf @xiylio @leahnicole1219 @reine-sans @tallmanlover @neverlandlostchild @axerrri @frieschan @plzfeedmebread @rorel1a @z0mbiekat @rey26 @stunkbiggu @leshiestybebe @honeycovered-bandaids @leviathans-fish @hearttjason @brittney69 @thyroidissues @4imhry @pinkliquor @realalpacorn @wonylvxz @dr-skazka @simoniithehomii @aisyakirmann @deezisnotreal @synamonthy @bread6069 @iite-cool @thedevax

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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ed-wwarren · 5 months

Text

Bridgeport, Connecticut in the summer time was the favorite spot for most residents of the state. It was a costal town with plenty of beaches and carnivals and fairs almost every single week.

Seventeen year old Ed Warren was born and raised in Bridgeport by his mother Sarah. His father drank himself to death about four years previous but no one would catch Ed or his mother shedding any tears over him. He was an abusive asshole who they were glad to be rid of.

But that also meant that since the age of thirteen, Ed had been working odd jobs here and there, basically anywhere that would pay a kid under the table until he turned seventeen. Once he was old enough, he went to work where most of the men in the town went to work who weren’t high class. The lumber yard. And to help out even more, he fixed cars at the local garage. He wanted to help his mother as much as he could because she had lived for fifteen years with a monster who made her miserable. She didn’t deserve to have to work a dozen jobs to keep them afloat. He wasn’t that great at the whole education thing anyway. Not to say he wasn’t smart because he was. Very street smart and very smart with building and fixing things and good with his hands but he was never interested in books and studying to go to college so he focused on what he was good at. He was a working man at seventeen.

The whistle that signaled the end of the day blew loudly around the lumber yard at exactly five o’clock on the first official Friday of summer and Ed happily punched his time card out and rushed out of the building with the rest of the other men, most younger boys like him, to enjoy the weekend with his best friend, Johnny Spera. He and Johnny had so much in common it was impossible for them not to be practically brothers. Neither had a father, both had to work to support their families, and they both lived through hell at only seventeen.

“Alright, where to first?” Johnny asked Ed when they got out into the bright summer sun.

Ed chuckled as he wiped sweat off his face and onto his shirt. “Um, I think a shower is in order first and then we can head over to the carnival if you want? Eat there, waste our hard earned cash on games and rides, and throw up all the junk food we eat?”

Johnny laughed and nodded his head, smacking Ed’s arm. “Sounds like we’re starting summer off right. I’ll see you at the gates in an hour?”

“I’ll be there,” Ed said with a smile before they turned in opposite directions to go to their respective houses.

@giftedclairvoyance

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suugarbabe · 1 year

Note

Hi lovely, congrats on 1K 🥳💐 you're amazing and deserve all the love.

If you feel inclined to write it, could i request an Enzo fic for your event pls? Like a situationship to an established relationship, where everyone knows reader is basically Enzos girl but theyre not dating and someone takes it as an invitation to challenge him on it because " she's not really yours, is she?". And Enzo kinda just snaps and everyone finds out just why hes a Slytherin.

Thank you for all your time and work love x

If this is shit it's because i'm high but i NEED MORE ENZO REQUESTS PLEASE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Warnings: mentions of blood; not proofread

There had yet to be labels, and you were generally fine with it. You knew that he was yours and you were his and that was all that really mattered to you in the long run. It did made some things a little confusing, like when a third year would ask you to Hogsmead and you would politely decline. It was fair enough, you really didn’t technically have a boyfriend, but everyone knew you were Enzo’s.

So when Cho Chang started very obviously flirting with him after Herbology, you were fuming. He didn’t immediately refuse her advances, you wanted to chalk it up to him just being a genuinely nice person. However, you were not always as nice. You wanted to rip her black stringy hair out of her scalp and choke her with it. You and Enzo were together, everyone knew it.

Sometimes people took advantage of Enzo being too nice, though. They never really expected him to be in a fight, let alone start one, but you knew he was capable. His reserved anger was one of the things you loved about him, how his possessiveness would just come out without anyone really expecting it and that he would just snap.

It almost happened once a few months ago, Draco was joking around about taking you back to his dorm after a little group common room party of just your friends. You saw Enzo’s jaw clench and his hand get a little tighter on your thigh and instantly your panties were wet. You had leaned over, assuring him the only bed you wanted to be in was his and he seemed to calm down.

But his interaction with Cho was perfect ammo to get him to really react. Your original plan was to con one of his friends or maybe some poor fourth year into asking you out, but when Rodger Davies stopped you after dinner, it was like you were given the perfect victim for your plan.

Rodger caught you by grabbing your wrist as your group of friends passed through the doors of the Great Hall. “Can I steal you for a moment, love?” His tone was smooth and confident as he spoke to you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Enzo’s eyebrows shoot up; at least he was paying attention.

“What’s up, Davies? Need help on your potions homework?” You knew what he really wanted, but playing the innocent girl card would just further push Enzo where you wanted.

Rodger chucked slightly, “No, darling, I was wondering if you’d like to go to Hogsmead with me this weekend?”

“She’s taken, Davies, how about you go bother some other poor girl with your advances,” Enzo had on a sweet smile, but he was gritting his teeth, trying his best to keep that kind facade he was so known for and quickly losing his patience.

Rodger just smirked, “Is she though?”

Enzo tongued his cheek, a clear sign he was near his boiling point, “Whadya mean, is she, mate?”

“I mean, she’s not really yours, is she? She just wets your whistle when you’re lonely and bored, right? A little muckin’ about when you’re both drunk?” Rodger knew he hit a nerve and you could thank him for it.

Enzo just nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he glanced over at Theo standing next to him. Theo just raised his eyebrows as if to say, the fights yours, mate. Enzo turned back to Rodger in front of you, who had opened his mouth to further egg him on.

In a blink Rodger had disappeared from sight, you weren’t sure what happened until you saw Enzo kneeling over him on the floor landing blow after blow. You took a step towards the two on the ground when Theo placed a hand on your shoulder, “Give him a minute longer, it’s been a while since he’s had a good reason to fight.”

So you stood there with Theo, watching Enzo’s large frame hover over Rodger’s as Enzo’s fists landed into Rodgers ribs, then his chin, then the bridge of his nose causing a spray of blood to land across the tile floor. After a second blow to the nose, Theo and Mattheo finally pulled Enzo off of Rodger.

You grabbed hold of Enzo’s hand, lacing your fingers and not caring that you were covering your own hand in spots of blood. Enzo was still fuming, but as soon as he felt your touch he turned to look at you. His furrowed brows relaxed and his scowl turned in to an expression of guilt.

“C’mon Enzie, let’s go get you cleaned up,” he nodded, following you like a puppy as you pulled him along the corridors, down to the dungeons and through your dorm to the bathroom.

“Sit,” you pointed to the edge of the tub, Enzo immediately following your direction. You grabbed some gauze, walking over and standing between his open legs. You grabbed one of his hands, the other finding solace along the back of your thigh. You began dabbing the gauze against the deeper cuts on his knuckles, assuming he caught them on some of Rodger’s teeth.

His hands switched positions as you grabbed the other off your leg and dabbed it off as well. “Hands like this,” you held your hands face down in the air in front of you. Again, Enzo followed your instruction, holding out his hands and you grabbed your wand, waving it over and mumbling incantations to slowly close his cuts.

“Be my girlfriend,” Enzo’s sudden outburst caused you to still, wand still hovering over his hands. You looked up, meeting his eyes and seeing nothing but sencerity. “Enzo, we’re together, everyone knows it,” you tried to keep your voice nonchalant, but truth is you wouldn’t mind the label being added to whatever situationship you had now.

Enzo shook his head, “Everyone knowing in a roundabout way isn’t good enough, love. Be my girlfriend, let me tell everyone you’re mine, officially.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking a step closer, his hands finding place at your hips and giving you a cheeky squeeze.

You laced your fingers behind his neck, pulling his lips down to meet yours. You loved the height difference between you and Enzo, him sitting on the edge of the tub making his face finally even with yours. As his lips slotted against yours the grip he had on your hips tightened.

When you finally pulled away, Enzo had a smile on his face, "Is that a yes, darling?" You nodded, not hiding the grin appearing on your face, "A million times yes."

#hope this isnt shite????#lemme know lolll #Enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire angst #lorenzo berkshire angst

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anisespice · 6 months

Text

12:34am — manjiro sano

Honestly, he should’ve seen it coming.

As soon as they were situated in a secluded area of the quaint, little ramen bar they occasionally visited, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that wouldn’t relent until it revealed itself. The next thing MIKEY knew, right after the server placed steaming food on the table and left the room, a gaggle of low-rate thugs came barreling in, guns drawn and aimed practically in his face with misplaced confidence. He didn’t even flinch, just set his chopsticks back down with a slow exhale through his nose.

“Can I at least eat a little before you try to kill me?” Mikey muttered, disinterested gaze briefly scanning over the opposition, sizing them up. Wack.

“Your last meal’s finna be this bullet, asshole. This what happens when you fuck with the Tokyo Vipers. We don’t care how tough you are, you’re gonna pay for what you did to Boss Nakashima!”

“Who?” Clearly, not the response they were looking for.

A stand-off commenced, his executives quick to pull out their own weapons, choosing a target with full intent to kill. The one guy focused on Mikey remained adamant to land one right between his eyes, resolve unshakable even with two or three guns aimed back at him. He’d give the idiots credit for boldness. Not everyday does the common thug grow the balls to try something with Bonten.

Unfortunately, they chose the wrong night to chase retribution.

“M-Manjiro…what’s happening?”

At the meek sound of your voice, he subtly reached for you under the table. You practically shook like a leaf, doe-eyes wide at the sight of a gun aimed at your lover with hands raised high as if you were also to blame—Definitely not the ‘simple night out’ you anticipated when he invited you to tag along. It was his own fault really, thinking simple was ever an option when it came to his reputation, not even for a night.

“A-Are they gonna kill us?” You cried, scooting closer to lean against his frame for more comfort. It made him relax a smidge, taking it as a good sign. “Please, j-just name your price, whatever the number, and it’s yours! You don’t have to do this-”

“Unless your money can bring back the dead, sweetheart, you can shove it up your ass!”

Mikey felt you jolt. Sparing you a side glance, his thumb caressed your thigh in small, reassuring circles. His poor baby, must be scared out of your mind. The blonde wanted nothing more than to shatter every bone in the bastards who put such an expression on your face.

“Let my girl step out. This doesn’t involve her.”

“The bitch stays. Want ‘er to watch you die.” The assailant hissed, thrusting the gun forward to bump against Mikey’s forehead.

His brow twitched in annoyance, grip around your thigh tightening ever so slightly as his mind filled with various ways to snap the guy’s arm without you bearing witness. The last thing Mikey wanted was you being afraid of him. You were a slice of normalcy in his chaotic life. Call him selfish, but he wanted you to stick around despite the ugly parts of it, hoping to hide it for as long as he could. Evidently, it was short-lived.

He knew he didn’t deserve it. You were too pure for a tainted soul like his, too soft for someone who’d been hardened by life, too—

“Bitch? ”

The whole room came to a halt.

All eyes had flicked over to you, uncertain if that bone-chilling tone came out of such a meek little thing, who not even seconds ago was visibly trembling. Now you were still as stone, delicate features no longer consumed by fear but contempt as you stared down the man with a slight tilt in your head. Even with tears clinging to your lashes, it was very unsettling.

You gave a hollowed chuckle. “Oh, you got me fucked up.”

The assailant blinked. “Wha-?”

“Shut up, let me tell you something,” you abruptly stood, nearly giving the Bonten men heart palpitations, fearing your next sudden move might be your last. Mikey, however, merely watched in stunned silence, hand that comforted you now hovering awkwardly as he blinked up at you. Jabbing a finger into the man’s chest, you hissed, “You can come up in here waving guns all you want, but I’ll be damned if some limped-dick, broke motherfucker calls me out my name.”

He gaped, then fixed his mouth to threaten you. “Sit your ass down before I make you regret ever meeting this scumbag, you little—”

With a quickness, you swing with a crisp thwack! to the side of his head. The room clamored about, even Mikey found himself blinking rapidly at not only your swiftness, but your audacity. With the opposition aiming their guns on you immediately, the executives instantly jetted their attention over to Mikey to gauge his reaction. He remained visual unnerved, save for the slight drop in his jaw.

“SHIT—FUCK,” the man yowled, stumbling back. With his ear ringing, vision blurring with tears, it was a wonder where you kept all that unbridled strength. Was this the same person who feared for their life not even moments ago? When he clumsily regained composure, he looked at you utterly stunned. “D—…Did you just fucking slap me? Have you lost your mind, you crazy—?!”

You raised your hand, making him flinch. “Say it again. I dare you.”

Flabbergasted. Shockandawe. Slightly aroused?

That was the consensus of every gun-wielder in the room, some more than others unable to mask the evident thrill from hearing such vulgar and venomous words drip from such a pretty mouth…Mikey being the first in line. Man’s still gawked with a glint in his eye that could only be described as carnal; since when had his kitten grown claws?

“GYAT.” Ran winced, then gave a snicker. That smack alone bounced off the walls, he just knew that had to smart. “Shake it off, buddy, shake it off.”

Sanzu, with a cackle, exclaimed, “Hit ‘em again!” earning a glare from the aggravated assailant, his gun now pointed at you and no longer on Mikey.

Kakucho grew anxious, the others just as on edge. If they didn’t take action soon, someone was bound to get trigger-happy. The situation was already unpredictable as is, but with your newfound attitude, things were sure to escalate fast. He gruffly voiced, “Boss, what’s our move?…Boss?”

Said blonde paid no kinds of attention.

Head void of any thought aside from your angelic form beneath the soft lighting standing your ground without an ounce of fear, one would think Mikey was in a trance. His bleak stare practically singed right through you, calculative as he watched your pristine facade unravel bit by bit—Such vicious words filled with vinegar and oil, a contrast to your usual peaches and cream, such discourtesy when you’re normally so well-mannered.

How long had you been hiding this side from him?

Mikey thought he had you figured out, from the moment you crossed paths he was certain he’d taint you, the walking cliche of a spoon-fed daddy’s girl who wouldn’t harm a fly, who dated bad boys just to feel something. But now? He wanted nothing more than to unravel you further, leaving you raw and exposed to reveal the devil horns you’d kept hidden behind a false halo.

And frankly, he wouldn’t mind an audience.

“Mikey.” Kakucho urged.

Said blonde hummed in acknowledgment, eyes lazily trailing off you and back at his number three, seemingly distracted. With a wordless exchange, he sighed. Just as things were getting interesting… Mikey reached up and gave the back of your thigh a tender squeeze. You turned to look at him, seething as you rebelled against his silent command. Oh, he’ll enjoy fucking that attitude out of you later.

“Sit down, [_____]. Think you’ve made your point.”

You sneered. “Like hell! My point’s been made when I have this dickhead crawling on his knees, begging for mercy—!”

Before you knew it, you’re grabbed by your thigh and pulled down into his lap. You yelped, arms instinctively shooting out to grab onto something until you landed with a small oof!

As you opened your mouth to protest, your breath hitched and the words catch in your throat at the cool feeling of Mikey’s gun now nudging against your clit through the lace of your underwear. A shutter ran through your body. Thankfully, your little display was enough cover for him to swiftly grab it from his side, playing it off as if he were restraining you.

He leaned in to speak low in your ear. “Cover your ears, baby.”

Goosebumps spread like wildfire across your skin, warmth simmering in the pit of your stomach from both frustration and excitement. Doing as you’re told, you pressed hands into your ears but kept your gaze on the offender in front of you. He was yelling about something, booming voice muffled but no doubt throwing out more threats. His group began to shrink within themselves once the severity of the situation caught up with them, and the odds no longer looked to be in their favor. You almost felt sorry for them; almost.

Before the poor bastard even knew what hit him, the smoking barrel of Mikey’s .45 was the last thing he saw before he hit the cold, hard floor with a hole in the center of his forehead. And just like that, bullets rained from every angle on your side of the room, bodies piling up one after the other until none were left standing. As quick as they came, there they went—Nothing more than stains on what was an originally calm evening.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Mikey could feel it elsewhere.

With his free hand having rested on your inner thigh, thumb dangerously close to where his pistol once was, he could feel a subtle pulse in your clit from the thrilling experience. While his men busied themselves cleaning up the scene, gathering corpses and making disposal arrangements, there was nothing left to distract him from prodding.

“It appears I’ve underestimated you. What other sides have you kept hidden from me, I wonder.” He said, tilting his head.

You whimpered as his thumb pressed against your throbbing little button, biting your lip before replying, “I-I just don’t like.. being talked to that way…”

Mikey hummed, nosing at your jaw. “My sweet girl. She got her feelings hurt, hm?”

It was hard to concentrate with him playing with you beneath the table in front of his subordinates, spreaking low and softly as he littered your sensitive spots with nips and warm kisses. With the little sanity you had left, you nodded. To your horror, you moaned quite loudly when he breached past your underwear to slip two fingers inside of you with ease thanks to your flooding arousal. But, you got over it the second he immediately curled them to hit that spongey area of your walls with a precision that nearly made you see stars.

“Your words, [_____]. You had a lot to say earlier, what happened?”

You gripped his forearm for dear life, jaw dropping as your legs subconsciously spread to give him better access. “Y-Yes!”

He cooed, arm flexing as he pushed his fingers deeper while his thumb stimulated your clit. Your back arched off his front, other hand reaching out to grip the table as you whined shamelessly at the ceiling. Neither of you paid any mind to where you were, or whomever watched, too caught up in the moment. Food had long gone cold and forgotten, bullet fragments scattered at your feet and blood splattered all on the walls. Even with his stomach growling angrily, all he could focus on was devouring you. “‘m sorry, baby. Let me make it all better.”

likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

#🍁wasabi #this walked so ‘block boy’ could RUN #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tr smut #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev smut #mikey x reader #mikey smut #manjiro sano #manjiro x reader

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schrodingers-romy · 5 months

Text

Jilted (not) Lover [Mitsuya Takashi x Reader]

Pairing: Mitsuya Takashi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~2,100 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Takashi is your best friend (who you have some more than friendly feelings for); so you don't understand why he never seems to want to spend time with you anymore.

Warnings: mild misunderstandings, kissing, no gendered terms for reader; reader is a bit insecure, and Takashi is a little less emotionally mature than normal.

Notes: wasn't feeling good so I finally sat down and wrote an idea I've had for a while. Probably needs more editing but I want to let it finally fly free

You thought nothing of barging into your best friend’s room; after all, he gave you a spare key for a reason. “Takashi!” you called excitedly. “They let me off work early today! Do you wanna maybe go out and do something? I heard there was a new—”

You were cut off before you could even finish. “I’m sorry,” Takashi said, not even bothering to raise his eyes from the patterns in front of him. “I really need to finish this today.”

“Oh,” you said, deflating slightly. “Well, I could just hang around here if you want some company. I can help too!”

Still, you received barely any acknowledgement. “I’ve got it, I just need to focus. I’ll see you later, though.”

Your smile felt brittle. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll go see Yuzuha then. Don’t forget to show me your new design when you’re done.”

The door clicked shut softly behind you.

Later, you heard from Yuzuha that Takashi went out to the arcade with Hakkai that same day. You were hurt, but you wanted to think the best. Takashi probably just finished early and assumed you were busy. It was nothing.

Except it wasn’t.

Ever since the two of you met in middle school, you had never gone more than a few days without hanging out. Throughout high school you basically lived at his house, becoming almost like another sibling to his sisters. Even once you both graduated and got different jobs, the two of you spent most of your free time together. (Enough time together for you to develop a horrible infatuation with him, at the very least.)

And yet, for two weeks straight Takashi had been completely blowing you off.

He was always busy with last minute designs, or he had to take his sisters to something, or he already had plans with Draken or Hakkai or the old Toman members. Normally, he would ask you to tag along, but he barely talked to you other than to let you know he couldn’t see you or spend time with you.

You never said anything, keeping a nonchalant tone around him. But god, did it hurt. You didn’t know what you did wrong to deserve this treatment; you couldn’t remember anything. Maybe he had just finally gotten tired of you and was trying to let you down easy.

You did your best to ignore those thoughts. It’s Takashi, you thought. If there was something wrong, he would communicate with you. It was probably nothing. (You needed to tell yourself that to keep from breaking down.)

Even though your relationship with Takashi was at a standstill, you still talked to his sisters.

Today, you had come over to make the girls lunch before they left to go hang out with their friends. Takashi hadn’t come out from his room when you called.

[“It’s fine,” you said, “I know he’s busy.”

The girls gave each other a look when they thought you weren’t paying attention. At least these Mitsuyas noticed something was up, you thought bitterly.]

They were long gone, after thanking you for the food and each giving you an awkward teenager hug on the way out. You have the rest of the day free, so you take your time cleaning the dishes, in the pathetic hope that Takashi will come out and you two will go back to normal.

You think that your prayers are answered when you see him come down the stairs. He seems a little surprised to see you still there, and he gives you a small, distracted smile. Your heart flutters as you smile back.

You think he’s coming towards you, but he walks right by the kitchen and heads towards the door instead. “Thanks for making lunch for the girls. I’m sure it was great,” he says, lingering for a moment. “You can leave the rest of the dishes; I’ll get them when I come back.”

“Oh. Where are you going?” you ask. You can hear a nearly imperceptible buzzing in your ears. You wonder if you’re angry or just sad; it’s hard to tell sometimes.

“Just out with Draken. I’ll see you later, yeah?” He’s already opening the door to leave.

You try to keep your composure, but the way you slam the plate as you set it on the counter is telling. “Yeah. See you later, I guess.” You wince. Even to your own ears, you sound bitchy. And you were doing so well in keeping it straight...

There is a second of hesitation, and then the door closes. You busy yourself with drying the remaining dishes, not bothering to look up. Takashi probably left already.

But then you hear his footsteps as he comes into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks.

You still don’t look at him. You hate how concerned he sounds. Because of course he noticed how snotty you sounded; it wasn’t subtle. And Takashi was nothing if not a mediator, so he would obviously want to talk it out. But now, even after praying for the barest scrap of his attention back, you want nothing more than for him to leave you alone. You aren’t ready for whatever sort of conversation this is going to be.

On one hand, you are still hurt by how he treated you, how he hung out with you less and less as he replaced you with Draken and Hakkai. On the other hand, you feel like you’re being nothing but a spoiled brat. Takashi doesn’t owe you anything; he’s nice, so this is probably his own way of letting you know that you were too clingy and that he needed space while trying to spare your feelings. You just don’t want to hear that out loud.

At this point, you can feel yourself getting worked up. Your own thoughts buzz in your head like a swarm of angry locusts, rattling to the ever-quickening beat of your heart in your ears. You don’t quite know if you want to cry or scream.

He’s right in front of you now; you can see his shoes sidle up next to your slipper-clad feet on the kitchen floor as you valiantly avoid eye contact.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he says, voice softening even more. Because of course he can tell you are getting more upset.

“Just go,” you say. You sound muffled in your own ears. “Go hang out with Draken, or Hakkai, or your other gang friends. I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s up.”

“Oh, now that I want you to leave me alone, you won’t.”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” He sounds a little offended now, and that just makes you angrier.

You spin around to face him for the first time. You can see how his eyebrows furrow, purple eyes glistening with concern as they take in your expression.

You lose your grip on your emotions. “Oh, what does that mean? I mean you’ve been ditching me for weeks now! Every time I come around, you’re too busy, or you already have plans with someone else!” You take a deep breath, trying to rein yourself in. “Look, if you don’t want to be around me anymore, just say something. Not any of this ‘hinting’ bullshit. Just…just say something…because I honestly don’t know what’s going on, Takashi.”

Your anger burnt through you quickly, like a flashfire, and you can feel your eyes starting to water.

Takashi looks stricken. One of his hands comes up to grip yours, using it to pull you into a tight hug. It only takes one murmur of your name, spoken gently into your hair as he tucks your head underneath his chin, for you to fully break.

There are tears streaming down your face now. You start to babble. “You’re my best friend, Takashi,” you say, pitifully. “I miss you.”

You feel his arms tighten around you, until you can almost feel your bones grinding together. It kind of hurts, but you are just happy to be held. His grip loosens soon enough, and he pulls back so he can look you in the eyes.

“I fucked up.” He smiles sadly at you. “I never wanted to make you feel like that. You’re my best friend too…but I couldn’t stay like that, and I didn’t know what to do about it.”

You feel your heart drop; you don’t understand. “What’re you trying to say?”

He lets out a sigh, and then reaches to clasp both your hands in his. His eyes dart around the room, nervously, before settling back onto yours. There is a quiet intensity in them that he only has when things are serious. “I want to be more than friends. I like you…romantically. I realized it a few weeks ago…you were always so special to me, and I didn’t understand why until Draken pointed it out to me.”

He let out a light chuckle. “I treated you differently than I did everyone else because I had—have—a crush on you. I didn’t know what to do about it, so I started avoiding you. I thought I would blurt out something that would ruin our friendship. I didn’t think about how it would affect you. I’m so sorry.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. It seems so inconceivable that he would return your feelings. You don’t even know what to say, so you focus on the end of his short speech. “So much for being the emotionally intelligent one, huh?” you say, tone lighter than it has been this whole time.

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh, tilting his head down. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’m better with other people’s problems than my own. But cut me some slack, this is the first time I’ve been in love with someone before.”

You freeze. “Love?”

He already told you he had a crush on you, but this brings your thoughts to a halt. Love is a much more serious claim than a simple crush.

Takashi seems to think so as well. His face shutters. It’s clear he didn’t mean to say that much, but he doesn’t back down. “Yeah. Love. But it’s okay you don’t feel the same way. I’m good with just being friends. Or whatever makes you comfortable. Um. I owe you that much after being such a shithead, huh?” He looks uncomfortable, like he is just waiting for you to reject him. Like it’s inevitable.

You give him a sharp flick on the nose. “Idiot. Who says I don’t feel the same way.”

“…You do?”

You let out a snort, fighting to keep a grin off your face. “Like I wasn’t pining after you for years. God, Takashi, I follow you like a lovesick puppy, and you didn’t catch a hint?”

You open your mouth to say something else, but you’re swept back into his arms before you can. The two of you are face to face now; from here, you get the full force of his blinding grin. He’s smiling so wide that his eyes are nothing more than crescents of purple, his pretty eyelashes nearly brushing his cheeks. He looks breathtaking.

You break out into your own smile, unable to keep the happiness off your face. You feel so light, lighter than you have in a long time. The knowledge that Takashi loves you is like a shot of dopamine straight to your brain; you feel nearly delirious from the sudden rush of happiness.

“I love you,” he says. He sounds so tender when he says it, you can’t help but tilt your head up to press a kiss to his lips. It’s nothing more than a peck, but the touch of his soft mouth against yours sends sparks through your body.

“I love you too,” you say.

He looks at you in awe, before he leans down to steal another kiss from your lips, this one longer, and deeper.

You never want to leave; you would happily spend forever standing in the middle of his kitchen, trading heartfelt kisses and basking in the warmth of your love with Takashi.

(Draken wonders what happened to Mitsuya; he missed their hangout without so much as a “can’t make it” text. He can only hope the other boy finally got the balls to confess his feelings to you. He loves his sworn brother, but he’s getting tired of seeing Mitsuya avoid you. And he is definitely getting tired of hearing his lovesick ramblings. Well, if the two of you haven’t gotten together by now, Draken supposes he could always go with Yuzuha’s plan to lock the both of you in a closet until you worked things out.)

#mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #takashi mitsuya x reader #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya takashi #tokyo revengers #gender neutral reader #gn reader #reader insert #romy can write

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masked-men-fantasy · 4 months

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Favorite Kink (Rainbow Six Siege)

You and them are getting along for awhile. It's time to learn more about their truest, deepest desire.

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Tachanka

Breeding Kink: Tachanka will whisper how well you take him, how his virile seed performs inside your fertile body, how your belly will grow, what the baby with you and him will look like, and how well he will take care of you once the baby is born. Fear not; if you are not ready for a baby yet, he will not do it without any protection. He will wait until you accept to be fully bred by him.

Bondage kink: Alexsandr was always drawn to the idea of tying you up with rope. Be the one in charge in the room with you losing all control completely. And my, oh my, Alexsandr is sure one hell of a dirty talker. He has a dictionary of dirty words inside his head, both in English and Russian. He knows how to use his voice and his Russian to his advantage, to turn you on, and to make sure you beg for more on his bed.

Body worship kink: It is not easy to maintain the physique. Although it is part of his work, it is still challenging. Hence, Tachanka is very proud of his muscles and, overall, of his body. Guide your hand over his body. Give him plenty of massages and kisses. Perhaps compliment him on how handsome he is when he has those unique tattoos on his body. If you did this right, you can expect a hell of a ride tonight.

Kapkan

Hunter and prey kink: Maxim is a hunter by nature. He was raised to be a hunter, live like a hunter, and therefore enjoy sexual life like a hunter. If you both had a long holiday, he would bring you to the silent woods. Not well-known, no people, perfect for hunting you. Kapkan will let you run away from his hut for an hour before he starts hunting you down. You might step into his non-lethal trap, or perhaps you might cause the sound by accident and give away your location. And in the end, with his skill, he will, of course, catch you within less than two hours. Be prepared for rough, animalistic sex in the middle of the forest and on the way back to his hut. You won't get any breaks from him. Well, you cannot blame him for such behavior. The adrenaline kicked in after the thrill of the hunt, and you are too gorgeous. Plus, he deserves his reward for finally catching you with his hand.

Marking kink: Oh, and what comes along with hunter and prey kink is also his habit of marking. Kapkan hunted you down to own you. Therefore, he has to prove that you are his property. Be prepared for plenty of bite marks, hickeys, or some nail scratches. Fear not; you can do the same to him, and he is not afraid to show those marks to the rest of the Spetsnaz Unit. He takes your mark on his body as a trophy of pride.

Deimos

Sex toy kink: Deimos is a man of gadgets. His ability to engineer also grants him creativity for sex toys as well. He has many modified versions of sex toys. Extremely high-strength vibrator and e-stim, custom-made dildo that is exactly the same shape as his cock, or the best one yet, a drone that will monitor you while you masturbate while he is on a long mission. He has even more in store, and he cannot wait to use them with you.

Chastity kink: To be Deimos' lover, discipline and submission are must-haves. He wants to make sure that you are his and completely belong to him. A chastity device is one way to prove that. He will take the key that locked your chastity cage as a necklace on his dog tag. Also, while he is away on another mission, he will constantly remind you by making you squirm with his deep, husky, dominant voice. He will order you to touch yourself through the cage and deny your orgasm just at the right time. And all of this will pay off well once Deimos is back home; the sex after that will be one of the best experiences you ever had.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #r6 #r6s deimos #tachanka x reader #kapkan x reader #deimos x reader #tachanka x male reader #kapkan x male reader #deimos x male reader #masked men #masked man #kapkan #tachanka #deimos

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molsno · 3 months

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god, what happens next is so good. the character writing is just spectacular. it fascinates me just how much depth there is to each character and how that contributes to the story.

milo's dni is the most revealing thing about him, and it's the very first thing we hear from him:

right off the bat, we can see what kind of person the protagonist is. he's a pastel softboi trans man who clings to a childish aesthetic to appear weak and non-threatening. despite being involved in a toxic relationship with another trans guy who attempted to rape and kill an 11 year old girl when he was a teenager and later murdered his girlfriend, which milo helped with by dismembering her corpse, he puts "pedophiles and unhealthy pairing shippers dni" on his carrd. which, ok, maybe he wants to distance himself from people like griffin now - except that's not really true, because he talks to, moves in with, and regularly hangs out with a serial killer fan who idolizes griffin and is even dating the guy while he's in prison. he puts "being against neopronouns" and "anti-otherkin" on the same level as those things. he explicitly denies any responsibility in the murders of haylie and savannah, despite having literally chopped haylie's arm off. all the while, he has "you deserve to heal" in big bold letters, while not applying that belief to anyone but himself.

right from the start, it's obvious that milo is not a good person. but he's also humanized throughout the story. sure, some of his softboi persona is a means of victimizing himself to avoid taking responsibility for what he did - and you could make the case that he was a victim in some ways. on the other hand, he also never got to grow up because he spent 5 years in a psychiatric institute. is it any surprise that he clings to the same aesthetic, interests, and hobbies he had when he was 15? he never got to stop being a kid, and how is he supposed to now? he didn't graduate high school, he can't get a job, and nobody wants to be friends with him because of what he did. it raises uncomfortable questions - namely, what happens next? milo served his time for the crime he committed as a minor. he was already punished, but now he has to live the entire rest of his life. what is he supposed to do?

that, I think is the most interesting part of this story. almost every character in this story makes it hard for you to like them, but they also have very human reasons for doing the terrible things that they do. I'll talk about some of my favorites under the read more, but be aware that there will be spoilers:

claire is one of the most interesting characters to me, just because of how unlikable she is.

when we first see claire in victim impact statement, she tries to ignore haylie, griffin, and milo as much as possible. she doesn't even seem to like her sister. she treats haylie as a nuisance for coming into the room that they share as sisters. she doesn't want to go to the open mic night to listen to haylie play her ukulele. when she finds haylie bawling her eyes out in the bathroom at anime central, she just looks away, as if to say "you chose to date your shitty boyfriend". when she hears haylie and griffin fighting upstairs, she just pretends not to hear it. when haylie is curled up in terror later, claire puts on headphones and turns her back to her. her headphones become a way of drowning out haylie's screams when griffin is around, and because of that, she doesn't hear haylie screaming for her life, and ends up finding her corpse in the kitchen.

that's why I don't find it surprising at all that she becomes an outspoken transphobe who wants to take her anger out on the trans people who murdered her sister. she goes to media events and publicly degenders milo and griffin. she calls aaron's friends trannies. I think it's easy to misconstrue her as a terf, but she literally doesn't even pay lip service to feminism. how could she? she knew that her sister was being abused by her boyfriend, and she did nothing. let me remind you that she lives in a house where "smash the patriarchy" is embroidered on the wall. she doesn't care about any of that. she just wants a scapegoat. she wants to make the law impose harsher punishments on minors who commit violent crimes because she doesn't know what else to do with her life. she very clearly hates herself, becoming an alcoholic to cope with her guilt. she pretends to care about haylie and fight for this law because it's the only way she can convince herself she's a good person, even though she can see that doing what she's doing is turning everyone against her.

and then that brings us to audrey. it's difficult to like her, too, because she's dating claire despite all of the horrible things she's doing. but at the same time, I can see where she's coming from. her mother died of cancer and she and all of her other black siblings were adopted by conservative christian white parents. she's still christian to this day, and makes a point of separating herself from "criminals" by insisting that she has nothing to do with them because she goes to church and takes care of her family. she doesn't want to disavow the law that claire worked so hard to pass because at the end of the day, it won't affect her personally, even though she is aware that the justice system disproportionately punishes black people. she very clearly has a lot of internalized racism, and I think that's best exemplified in the way she draws herself. despite having pretty dark skin in real life, she draws herself as light skinned as claire, her white girlfriend:

like, it's hard to like audrey, but you can clearly see why she's made all of the decisions she has! she idolizes claire because it's her first lesbian relationship. the way she sees it, claire can do no wrong. audrey does actually seem to be aware that her girlfriend is doing terrible things, but she essentially just plugs her ears and tries to ignore it. that's why she doesn't go to claire's campaign events. she ignores all of her girlfriend's flaws because claire is essentially her savior. because she has claire, she doesn't have to go back to her family, to her abusive alcoholic white father. she doesn't have to actually take care of her younger siblings, which is a responsibility she's foisted off unto mark. that's why she ignores that claire is just as much of an emotional drain as her father. she's highly depressed, she's an alcoholic, she trashes their bedroom (leaving audrey to clean up after her mess), she puts up an emotional wall and dismisses audrey's attempts to comfort her, and dismisses audrey's own problems as being less traumatizing and less important. by all accounts, claire is a terrible girlfriend and a terrible person, but because audrey idolizes her as her savior, she stays by her side. I'm really looking forward to seeing how she reacts to claire's disappearance in future chapters.

and then of course, there's vikki. she's been doing something incredibly disrespectful for years by making true crime videos where she talks about the victims and killers like it's all a joke. she makes a video about whether ethical necrophilia is possible, and makes a callous, bitter joke that the concept of "respect for the dead" is antiquated, because nobody respects her as a trans woman of color even though she's still alive. for this comment, people have harassed her online endlessly, enough that she had to make a video called "STOP TELLING PEOPLE I FUCK CORPSES". that doesn't stop her from making a video about the murder of haylie, complete with an interview from milo. she'll throw him under the bus if it means getting the attention off herself for a bit.

and yet, I think out of everyone, I feel the most compassion for vikki. yes, she used milo for content and called him a "sad little blonde girl", but I can understand where she's coming from! like, again, she's a trans woman of color in the true crime community. she knows the archetype milo is trying so hard to be in order to avoid taking responsibility for what he did. like, I've personally seen trans women of color who are victimized by white trans men who pull the same exact shtick as milo over and over, so I completely understand her frustration. that said, she also realized she went too far and tried to apologize, only to find out she was blocked and that milo basically wrote a callout post against her. I think it says a lot that vikki was one of the only people to actually try to talk to milo, even if the way she went about it was wrong.

vikki does things that are disrespectful, but to be honest, it's not that surprising! she grew up in a 90% white town in the middle of nowhere, got assaulted by multiple white boys for being a faggot, got sent to alternative school, worked for a funeral home as a teenager, and transitioned. not only is she desensitized to death, she's angry that people revere the dead more than her.

it's astounding, really! what happens next is so well written because it makes makes you feel conflicted about each of its characters. what are we supposed to do with these people who do awful things? a lot of the intrigue in this comic comes from seeing how each of the characters handles this question as they deal with the other characters who have done terrible things, while they themselves are deeply flawed as well. I think the writing really forces you to contend with the idea that these are all still people, and that their humanity needs to be recognized even if they do terrible things. it makes you ask, what happens next?

#txt #what happens next

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furiousgoldfish · 7 months

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If you're often wondering why do abusers do this to kids, and why they don't change their behaviour even when it's pointed out, I have a few insights to share.

I believe abuse is an easy way for people to get out of parenting their own kids, while still getting credit as if they're doing it. And even more, they get special privileges and resources that normal parents wouldn't try to get, because the price of them is too high for the children to pay.

For instance, in order to take care of a child, you have to deal with their development needs; meaning you need to be educated enough about human development to know why the child is acting the way they do, you need to know if they need guidance, support, boundaries, stability, schedules, or entertainment, fun, play-time, attention, comforting, more resources, more interaction. You also need to deal with their random behaviours, like children will sometimes get loud and careless, break stuff, cause damage, turn against you, get sick, get into bad moods, get sulky, throw tantrums, get stuck in bad groups of people or be predated upon, have trouble at school, wander off, develop mental illness, and as a parent, you are expected and required to be there for all of that, on top of regularly caring that they're well-fed, bathed, that they have fitting and functional clothing, that they're well socialized, and that their living condition is clean and functional enough for them to be happy and safe.

Now, if you're an abuser, and your child is struggling or giving you any of the random behaviours that annoy you, and you lash out at them, tell them nobody is ever going to love them, threaten to 'give them a reason to cry', yell at them until they get frozen in shock and pain, they're not going to come to you next time for help. In fact, it's unlikely they'll feel safe around you to exhibit half of their normal behaviour, instead they'll be sheepish and too scared they'll accidentally annoy you, so you won't have to hear about their day, their bad moods, their worries, their loudness, them making any trouble for you; in fact, your mental energy will be yours only and you will effectively not have to emotionally raise a child anymore, it will be just another human who is too scared of you to ask you to fulfill any of your parental duties.

What about when your child is sick? You know you have to care for your sick child. Except, you're an abuser, so to you this is a drain on your energy and you'd rather not have to deal with it, because a child to you is not a real person but an object that is in your way. So, you yell at your child that they got sick on purpose because they hate you, you tell them it because they did 'x' and 'y' (which they maybe did because you failed to watch out for them) and inform them that you will not be taking them to the hospital. Now your child will not expect any care while they're sick, and in fact, they'll be too scared to even come to you next time they're sick. Again, you got out of childcare and have all of your energy for yourself, at the expense of your child's health.

If you continually call your child a financial burden, ask them when they're going to pay rent, force them to work in order to deserve to eat and sleep at your house, complain about how 'money doesn't grow on trees', then your child will be too scared and ashamed to confess when their things are broken, clothes no longer fitting or torn, their shoes too small or breaking apart, their hygiene products at their end, or for anything they might like or want from the store. Now your child will try to make ends meet on their own, and you can financially save up and buy yourself what you like, and then buy the kid something when it's convenient for you, maybe for like a birthday present. Maybe at this point you are starting to see that if your child runs around looking very rugged, people are going to notice the visible lack of care, so you either make sure the kid does have some new-looking clothes, or, you tell the kid explicitly what they're allowed to wear outside, to not bring shame on you and the entire family, once again putting the responsibility on the child to look 'cared for', while you do almost absolutely nothing to make it a reality.

Now you're having a child who is, out of deep-seated fear of you, acting politely and socialized in company, giving you ever chance to pretend that you care for them daily, while you're effectively living as if you didn't have a child at all. But maybe that's not enough for you. Maybe, you also want to use that child to earn money as well; after all, they're scared of you and will do as you say. You can put them up to any kind of labour and call it 'chores', and tell them you're just 'teaching them work habits', while they're doing your part of household chores, heavy physical labour, maybe even your job, if they're good at it.

But maybe this is not the area where you need assistance, but you're looking for a free, non-judgmental therapist who will be on your side completely and never dare to call you out or confront you - and voila, this child is so desperate to make any sort of connection to you, they'll carefully listen to all of your woes and trauma, even when it's deeply inappropriate for them to hear it, and they'll of course, be on your side as you're the only person in the story they care about, so you can cry to them as much as you want and even encourage them to fix you, to run around looking for ways to cheer you up, make your life easier to you, influence other people to give you what you want. And if they ever dare to stand up to you or defy you, you can just snap at them and call them something that makes their blood freeze in shock and they'll back down and become even more obedient.

Neat, isn't it? Not only you don't need to parent this child anymore, but you can draw any kind of benefit out of them, groom them into any kind of behaviour, extract physical and emotional labour from them, take their anger out of them, control their life so it benefits you and not them, all while convincing them it's their duty to give it to you.

As a result, you will be untouched by the chore of parenting, and your child will grow into a terrified, deeply insecure, always wondering why they're not enough, never feeling good enough, neglected but not aware of it, hyper-independent, ashamed, desperate, unloved, depressed, traumatized, engulfed by grief and loneliness, never understanding why their own parent didn't want them, care-deprived adult. Because it's all that effort, all that responding to child's needs, all that attention and care and warmth and energy put into a child, that is necessary for them to have proof that they're a worthwhile human being, that they're not only alive to be filled with emptiness and serve others.

But that's also why the abusive parents will never stop what they're doing. The benefits they get by abuse far outweigh the cost (the cost being the well being of their child, to them cost is zero), so they will not suddenly become willing to do the job of parenting, after they've spent so much time successfully avoiding it, and only put the energy into gaslighting the child into believing this is normal.

This is also why they put so much effort into making the child dependent on them, and sabotaging the potential escape - they're benefiting from having that child around, they're actively extracting what ever they want from this young person that they barely have to cover the living cost for, who doesn't know or understand how many of their human rights are being violated. There's truly no easier way to isolate, trap, groom, brainwash and then control a person.

#benefits of abuse #child abuse #abusive parents #why abusers do it #what do abusers gain by abusing #psychological abuse #emotional abuse #why do they do that #why abusers abuse #benefits of abusive behaviour #consequences of abuse

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georgiapeach30513 · 3 days

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Much Too Fast, Part 5

Summary: it's time for everyone to talk

Pairings: Curtis X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: explicit language, Curtis and Tati arguing, flashing, sexual tension/frustration, skinny dipping, wet/dry humping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And say please,” Poet slams her hands on the high chair, screeching, and you shake your head no. “Poe, you have got to say please,” your voice is still so soft, but the sweet baby slams her hands on the high chair, screaming out no.

“Poet!” Poet looks at Tati, puckering out her bottom lip, looking up at you sympathetically. Tati’s patience with Poet was virtually nonexistent, “I am tired, and I don’t want to listen to this screaming!” Poet lifts her hands up, making grabby hands up at you. Big drops of tears hug her lash line, and she softly whispers please. You didn’t want her to say please because of screaming. But you will hold her when she needs comforting.

Tati massages her temples. Circling her fingers over and over the area, paying you no mind, so you pull Poet out of her high chair. Shushing her as you bounce her around. The rules never seem to make sense when Tati is here. She wants Poet to learn to be independent, but when she’s here she just wants her daughter to be appeased as long as she’s quiet. Whatever it takes to keep her from making noise.

“Tati?”

“What?” You hold Poet even tighter at her mom’s harsh word. She never looks at you; just stays preoccupied with nursing her tender head.

“Can I ask you a question?” A question made things seem mild. You had so many questions to ask her, and none of which involved her daughter. You second guess this conversation because it truly wasn’t any of your business, but Curtis had made it your business. Over and over again he has made it your business because he is too persistent and needy, and dammit, you’re cracking.

Her arms slam on the table, and she glares at you. Her beady perfectly lines eyes bore holes into yours for daring to try and talk to her. For someone who’s head hurts, she’s being painfully noisy with that slap on the wood. She looks so irritated that you’re talking to her that you nearly change your mind. “Are you wanting a raise or something?”

“No.”

“No? Hmm, well, fine, I’ll give you a raise,” now she massages the bridge of her nose, ignoring you yet again. So you clear your throat, “What is it now?”

“My questions,” she moves her hand from her nose, glaring at you again. Clearly multiple questions isn’t something she wants to entertain. “I’m sorry, it’s just one question,” why did you fear her? Was it because she held a lot in her hands? “Umm, it’s probably none of my business.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t ask it. Grace, can you just spit it out. I really don’t have time for this. I have a headache, and I’m tired, and ready to take a nap,” that’s what she’s always doing here. You’re aware that you’re the nanny, but who was the mother?

“I’m very confused with yours and Curtis’ dynamics and relationship.”

Tati snorts, shaking her head. Her manicured fingers roll over the table before she looks at them like she’s bored. “That isn’t a question. But I should have figured. My husband is a very traditionally attractive man. But he’s stunted,” what a weird fucking thing to say about that man that spends more time with her daughter than she does. “I know there’s a lot of things about him that you may find attractive, but you deserve better.”

That took a turn. She didn’t know that you knew about her not even finding Curtis attractive sexually. She didn’t know that you knew that she had another life with a woman. You almost have a feeling she’s in love with that woman, and you’re falling for Curtis, but didn’t feel comfortable with this predicament. You didn’t want to share, you wanted him all to yourself. And Poet.

“No, I don’t love that man,” rude. There’s something that sits so grossly in your stomach about ‘that man’. That is the father of her beautiful daughter. And one she didn’t spend much time with. One that was tapping on your arm, and smiling up at you. “Curtis and I have never even been in love. This was a mistake. I got to go,” she pushes her chair back, standing abruptly before those stilettos click out of the kitchen.

There had to be some form of warmth that she possessed at some point for Curtis to have been friends with her. But now all you see is stress, and disdain for her life here at this house. Bitterness always coats her face and actions. She slams the door behind her, and Poet looks up at you gasping with a smile before she throws both hands up, “Yay!”

“You’re rotten, you know that?”

“Yep. Uh!” She looks out the back door, and to the pool. She loves swimming and spending the days outside. She’d swim in her float or your arms all day. Tati didn’t give you any clear indications on where you were with things. She didn’t give much at all other than she wasn’t in love, and Curtis wasn’t worth the time for you. And you didn’t believe that at all. You see how he loves his daughter, and know he has so much more love to give to a partner.

There is a part of you that wants to take Tati’s advice because this is a complete mess. It’s a disaster area. But you know what you feel when you’re with him. You know the way he looks at you, and smiles at you. And you love his daughter. This is all much too fast, and you didn’t know how to slam the breaks on it, but maybe you weren’t meant to.

Tati gave you absolutely no answers other than she didn’t love Curtis. She might not have told you that they didn’t have sex, but judging by her answers, you doubt she does anything with Curtis. But…dammit, you feel so conflicted. An ache sits in your stomach because you are too attached. You want him, and Poet, and want to go on a date, and not be hidden out here while she galivants around the world with her girlfriend. You want to be proud to be with Curtis.

“Poe Poe, if you eat your breakfast, we can go swimming, okay?”

“Tay,” she makes her sweet grabby hands for her plate, and you place her back in the high chair. “Pes!” she’s learning manners, and that’s more than you can say for her horny dad or hateful mother.

Tati’s car is in the garage. Your car is here. And there’s a very cute distinctive giggle coming from the pool. His kryptonite. And now you’ve brought his daughter into it. He sighs, walking out of the garage and to the back of the house. Stopping at the fence to stare at you slightly splashing Poet just to make her giggle.

Her chunky little legs kick about, causing her tube to spin around, and then you pick her up out of the tube. You lift her above your head, fully standing up out of water, and his mouth falls open. Poet giggles down at you, as streams of water flow down your curves. You’re too sexy to be holding his daughter.

And then you squat back down into the water, taking Poet with you, and she splashes around. Continuing to giggle, and smile up at you. She crashes her mouth into you kissing your jawline. Having a time of her life in the dreaded pool. The bane of his existence. This is bad. Great, and amazing. But bad. Too many feelings and emotions course through his bloodstream. Warmth and passionate heat.

He looks down at his pants, taking a deep breath, and telling himself that he would really like to join in the family swimming time, so he needs to calm down. Inhale and exhale. Relax, and get your fucking mind out of the gutter. Who knew he had a goddamn breeding kink because all he can think about is enjoying fucking a baby into you. Not accidentally, but pumping you full of him every night until it stuck. He’s a disgusting man.

Once he’s centered himself, he slings the gate open, and Poet screams at him, “Dada!”

“Hey, baby. Do you mind if I change and come swim with you and Grace?”

“Yay!”

“I was wondering when you were going to come inside the gate, instead of lingering out there watching us,” his tongue slowly exits his mouth, and he traces his luscious bottom lip with it. Pulling the lip back in his mouth where he bites on it. Smirking and shrugging while walking to his bedroom. “He’s a menace,” a fucking menace that makes you squeeze your thighs together, and regulate your breathing because you’re holding a baby, and can’t do anything about the need to touch and rub on him.

Poet giggles, blowing raspberries and points all over the pool. Telling you, in her way, where she wants to swim to. You ferry her around the pool, letting her splash along the way. The happiest baby you’ve ever met, and when she playfully gasps, and looks towards her dad’s room, that smile gets even bigger.

Curtis and his hairy tits jog to the diving board, and he dives it. Swimming under water towards you, and you back away, “Dada go?” Poet looks at the dark figure that travels in the water, until he pops up right in front of her face. He grabs onto your hips, keeping you in place, and she begs for him to hold her. “Dada!”

“Hey, baby girl. Come ‘ere,” reaching for her he makes sure to give your side more than too much of a touch. He skims his hands from your hips up your side, and you bite back a whimper. That devilish grin pops up as he stares so intently at you. “What have you and Grace been doing today? Just being water babies?” She smiles, laughing up at him.

“You got home early.”

“I liked what I was coming home to,” silence. You can’t respond to that without sounding like a twittering school girl, or a hateful bitch. He sure knows how to lay things on thick, and it just makes you weak. In an alternative life, you can imagine him coming home, and being all excited while you playfully flirt, and still have fun with the kids. You can see him smacking your ass playfully, while the kids are too busy to see their parents are setting up the long foreplay for the night.

Having hours of buildup, until each and every one of the kids are asleep, and Curtis and you lock the door, and have fun with each other’s bodies. It seems so easy, and yet this situation is a mess. Tati at least let you know that there aren't any lingering feelings with Curtis.

“I spoke with your wife today,” you begin. Curtis dips his mouth underwater, pretending to play with Poet, but he’s watching you. Too much. “She confirmed about not having any feelings. But she didn’t seem to think too highly of you, and that makes me confused.”

“Probably because I wasn’t enough to make her straight, because being attracted to women is who she is, and it’s easier to blame other people than accept that, and there’s no one at fault here. Tati being in love with a woman shouldn’t hurt anyone. The issue is that it has stalled me from moving on with you. It’s not fair to Monica either. It’s not fair to Poe because this baby knows that while her mom wouldn’t hurt her, she doesn’t want to be a full time part of her life. And I don’t think she enjoys her very much,” you can confirm that. But he already knows.

You wade the water. Making circles around his body, and he spins right along with you. Looking between you and Poet. “I’m crazy, but this feels right. Playing in the pool with my two favorite girls. Staring at your nipples poking through your bathing suit.”

“Curtis!” the bastard laughs as you circle your hands over your chest. “You are holding a baby.”

“She can’t really talk now.”

“Is all our conversations going to end up in the perverted realm of things?” Is there more than this burning desire to just fuck each other? Or is the need to have each other shadowing anything else?

“No,” you raise your eyebrows in a challenge. “No, but I think sex should be fun. I think that life is too serious, and why can’t I shamelessly flirt with a girl I find attractive?” That’s not flirting, and he knows it. That is being a horny devil.

“I don’t want that serious of a relationship with someone. I’ve done the five star restaurants, and the dinners with family and it’s this big ordeal. I don’t want that. I want to have fun. I want to be able to joke with you,” that boyish grin fades a moment. “This house is beautiful, and perfect in its way, but I don’t need this. I do like this pool.”

“Do you?” You couldn’t tell he liked it at all…

“Yeah,” his voice is menacingly low. And you feel it right to your core. You wade further away from him. Keeping your hands low in the water. It’s wrong, and you know it is. But sometimes a little teasing never hurt anyone. Poet is paying attention too much attention to her dad’s beard. That beautiful face of hair. A face that you would like to ride, and instead you’re going to rub one out alone. Again.

You grab a side of the gusset of your panties, moving it to the side. But you think twice about it, and pull it back to cover yourself. Had he not had that sweet baby in his arms, you would have asked him to look under the water. He makes you want to sin in too many ways.

“It’s hard to try and figure out what is acceptable when there’s a baby between us. But you can try that again tonight. When you meet me out here after Poet’s put to bed,” he stalks towards the shallow end of the pool. Backing you up. Up. And up, until you collapse on the stairs. “I’d really like to see what I’ve been missing. Without touching that is.”

“On one condition,” your voice is so hoarse, and you try to keep some decency. You’re too weak when it comes ot him.

“Anything.”

“You talk to Tati tonight. She can’t hold your feelings hostage forever. And I don’t want to wait on you forever. I’m greedy and I want you right now.”

Poet splashes and splashes, reaching towards you before Curtis relinquishes her into your arms. “What if…what if I talk to her, and she doesn’t like my ultimatum? Because I think she knows.”

“Knows what?” You know what time it is. If Tati is going to be here, she’s already here, and about to have her takeout delivered. She could already be walking to the door. Maybe she’s peeked outside the window, wondering what the noise was. Right now you didn’t care. You’re willing to break all the rules for just a kiss. Just a chance of normalcy for a moment.

You know exactly what he’s talking about as he gets closer. Looming over you with that giant stature, and ignoring Poet pulling down your top and exposing yourself. Curtis puts his nose right on yours, and you forget how to breathe. Have to focus on the rise and fall of his chest because you’re breathing is irregular.

“She knows I’m finally falling for someone. She knows that this has been a slow road, because she knows normally, I just fuck and move on. That’s why she chose me,” he pulls your top to cover your body again. “She thought I’d never ask for a divorce.”

You swallow deeply. Ignoring the door closing. He wanted to get caught, so he can have a discussion with her. “So are you asking for a divorce?”

“You said I have to if I want to be with you,” Curtis stands up, reaching for his daughter, and you hand her off. Letting him walk out of the pool. “And I want to actually try something real for once, so I want to be with you.”

You let out a long breath. Watching as he walks into his room with Poet. Surely going to dry both of them off, and dress so they can join Tati for dinner. Your chest heaves as you let the intensity of that moment wash over you. It leaves you in such a weird spot because Tati is your employer. And here you just were ready to flash her husband your cunt, while he held her daughter. You are losing all self control and self respect for yourself.

Curtis is making you crazy. Imagining that you and him were a normal couple that didn’t start off as a stranger fucking you within an inch of your life. What were you doing? You were risking everything. All of your morals. Ready to throw everything away for him. For this. To make this thing work. What the fuck? How was Tati even going to respond to that?

Whether you’re the one with Curtis or — you hate to think about it being someone else, but either way, it wasn’t fair. He deserves the chance at someone more than sex. And he’s somehow chosen you, and it makes you lightheaded. You’re horny and pent up as fuck. But you like him. Like his daughter, and in order for this to work, you do need to show some decorum and just wait.

Sighing, you get up out of the pool yourself. You need food. Probably alcohol. But definitely food. And to fuck yourself, so you’re not so fucking horny when you meet Curtis at the pool when the lights go outside. That pool is an aphrodisiac. You get in it and you need body parts touching. Ugh! Why is this so hard to not be such a slut with him? You’re horny. You’re just horny. It has nothing to do with actually having feelings for him.

Nope. Not you. Food. Come. Alcohol. Make yourself come again? How many times would it take so you’re not ready to jump on top of Curtis and ride him like your life depended on it? Alcohol. Just a little, not a lot. You can do this. You and Curtis were going to talk, and see where this goes. That’s all. That’s absolutely all you were going to do. Yep.

Curtis’ fingers roll on the table, and he looks at Poet. Then at the table. Then his Chinese takeout. Then his chopsticks. Then back to Poet. Everywhere but his ‘wife’. And Tati just glares at him. Chewing her food slowly, and being too aggressive with the chopsticks.

Watching the coward as he blatantly ignores her. After the conversation with you this morning, she could tell you wanted to fuck her husband. And judging by the two of you in the pool, he wanted to fuck you, too. Asshole. How dare he dishonor the marriage like that. He didn’t care about how it made her look. He just needs to get his dick wet.

She knows she’s being ridiculous, and Curtis knows about Monica. He’s met Monica. Actually likes her. But he is sneaking behind her back. He’s probably snuck right into that pool house, and fucked you already. Walking around, and pretending that he’s never touched you. Jerk. He’s such a pig headed man.

She lays her chopsticks on the side of her bowl, places her elbows on the table, and then rests her chin on her arms. That sickeningly sweet business smile spreads over her face, but lacks any warmth. “How long have you been fucking the nanny?”

Curtis doesn’t look away from Poet at first. He gives her another bite of food before his attention goes back to Tati, “Let’s not do this in front of our daughter.”

“Oh, I know she’s our daughter. I carried her for nine fucking months, because you couldn’t pull out properly.”

“And now you fuck Monica.”

“And you’re fucking that girl!” Tati’s voice is shrill as she losing control, but Curtis’ remains collected.

“Do not call her a girl! And, no. I’m not fucking her. I have fucked her,” Tati gasps, causing Curtis’ eyes to roll in the back of her head. “Yes, Tati, it was before I even knew her. It was supposed to be a one night stand with a girl that picked me up on the side of the road.”

“You’re lucky to be alive! Poet could have lost her father, and then…”

“You’d have to actually be a mother?” Her hand slams on the table, and Curtis stands up quickly when Poet’s lip puckers out, “We’re done with this conversation since you can’t be an adult.”

“You’re cheating on me!” He chuckles, pulling Poet out of her high chair, and he holds her close to him. Letting her lay her head against his chest.

“No, I’m not. We’re not together. Just legally, and I’m — I’m filing. I’ve been patient, Tat, but you’re living a life, and I’m not. I’ve met an amazing woman, and we can’t even move forward because of this shame of a marriage. We were always supposed to be friends. Things went way too far, and now we’ve even lost our friendship. We’re roommates that share a child.”

Tati worries her lip, something she only did during deep thought, so it gives Curtis enough reason to sit down. She’s at least considering his words. He waits on her to work through everything, as long as she wasn’t raising her voice and causing Poet distress, he could be here. He reaches over to his daughter’s plate, grabbing her something to nibble on. He smiles at her, as she gnaws on her dinner..

“Tater tot.”

“Don’t call me that,” her voice is short, but it doesn’t raise, and her eyes linger on the immaculate table. “I thought we had a deal?” Tati being an only child is used to having things her way. Everything always worked out for her.

“That I stay married to you forever, when a woman that I may be in love with can never be my wife? You thought I was forever going to be slut, so that’s why you thought this stupid agreement would work forever. How does Monica feel about being your dirty secret?”

“I love her,” the confidence Tati exudes disappears, and her shoulders slump. He sounds just like Monica.

“Not enough. You roam around the world on your little vacations, but she doesn’t go to family dinners. She doesn’t have a relationship with Poet, and I told her she should,” Tati’s nose scrunches up, shaking her head no. “Can you at least say it?” She shakes her head no faster. Covering her eyes with her hand. “Tati. Just tell me, and we can move forward. Your therapist said you have to admit it.”

“I sound like a terrible person,” no, right now she sounds like a terrible person. Curtis wouldn’t hold those words against her.

“It’s only terrible if we continue this dance. I can take care of her,” Tati whispers something, but Curtis doesn’t hear her. “Tati, say it. Step one.”

“I love her in my way.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“I have never thought you would.”

“Does,” Tati sniffles, looking up at Curtis instead of the table. Glancing at her daughter with a smile, “Does she want kids?”

“I’ve never really asked. I think so,” he knows you do. You’re a perfect mom, and you deserve a child’s firsts.

“You know I can’t just tell my parents?” Curtis shrugs. He didn’t care what she told her parents, he wanted her to tell him. “You know, that your life will forever be altered?”

“It’s been that way since she was born,” Curtis made all the changes in having a child, while she didn’t make any.

“I don’t want to be a mom,” relief floods over her body, and tears break through her polished veneer. She’s been living a lie, and didn’t know how to stop it from spiraling. Gulping, she wipes at her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “I’ve got to go.”

“Tati?”

“Just…I don’t care, just don’t go flaunting her around town. And I won’t sign my rights over until you’re married to someone I approve of. You can have sole custody like we discussed. But…I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready. I’m going over to Monica’s. Have the fucking house,” her heels start to click out the door, but Curtis clears his throat.

“I’ll give you two weeks,” Her mouth drops open. She isn’t usd to negotiations, especially with him. He always gave her what she wanted. “I’m done waiting, Tati. Poet will be one in three weeks. You’re not doing anyone any favors by avoiding talking to your parents. And if they have a problem with who you truly are in love with, that’s on them. You will always have me and Poet, and you can be aunt Tati.”

Curtis senses her frustration. Can tell that she is irritated, but she smiles. Her smile actually reaches her eyes, and the warmth he loved about her shines through. She really didn’t want to be a mom. “I don’t want Poet to know about you. I mean who you are to her.”

“That’s fine. I — I had my tubes tied anyways. I didn’t — she’s not a mistake, but I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. It’s not in me. Do you hate me?” He shakes his head no, and Tati sighs. “Don’t make her hate me. Either of them. I was ugly this morning.”

“And then you ran away.”

“It’s what I do best with this situation. But I don’t run from Monica. I run to her,” Curtis silently thanks her. He knows it’s been a long time, and hard work with her therapist to say all of that. Everything she said, all that she admitted to.

“I’m proud of you, Tater Tot.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Tati smiles as she walks towards the front door. Leaving a house that was never her home. Leaving a marriage that she never wanted, a daughter she loved, but didn’t need. A daughter that she is okay to step back and not raise. Give up all that responsibility to Curtis and whatever woman he chose as Poet’s mom. And she’d sign everything away. Let his wife adopt her and Poet become hers.

And for once, she’s not running away. She’s finally going home.

The house is eerily quiet. Even in the pool house, the only thing you hear is your racing heart. Having to look into the mirror to see if you can see it beating out of your chest. Thankfully, it isn’t, but your chest heaves with bated anticipation. Wrapping a towel around your body, you sit and wait like a fool in love. With the blinds open, you stare at the lit up pool, waiting. You won’t be the first one out there, even if you’re staring into that water like it can answer your questions.

You have bared enough of yourself recently, and will soon physically do that, but you need Curtis to be the one to lose control this time. Need him to tell you what you deserve to hear. At nine o’clock on the dot Curtis emerges from his bedroom. He looks towards the pool house, before going to the diving board, and diving in.

He comes up on the other end of the pool, and sits at the table. Resting his elbows on the tile before holding his head in contemplation. Water drips down his face, and you want to lick him clean. No. No. One thing at a time. And with how you’re dressed, you’re already going to cause him to have a heart attack. Deep breaths.

You step out of the pool house, but his head remains in his palms. You walk right up to the steps, and drop your towel. Making your way into the pool too slowly. Your chest is fully submerged when Curtis lifts up. His mouth in that crooked cocky smirk when he wiggles two fingers to you. Beckoning you to come closer, and you shake your head no.

“Earlier today you were trying to show me your pussy, and now you won’t let me see your naked body?” His head tilts to the side. He’s always an observant one, especially when it comes to your body.

“It was inappropriate at the time,” he nods his head as he slides out of the chair, “You stay over there,” if he comes any closer, you’ll be begging him to lift you onto his cock.

“Why?”

“If you want me closer to you, tell me how the conversation with Tati went,” Curtis sighs. He settles back into the chair, and faces towards you. His hands slide up and down his thighs, and his legs spread ever so slightly. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. She’s fighting a lot. But I told her essentially I didn’t care, and gave her a time frame of two weeks, and I’m filing for divorce,” you take a step closer, staying squatted in the pool. “Put your arms down,” you shake your head no again, and he playfully growls.

“She left,” another step forward. “She’s going to stay at Monica’s tonight. You know when we bought this house, she jokingly said that if we ever divorced, she knew I would keep Poet, so I could just have it. She’ll give me full custody. But I need to be honest with you, so if you please give me a little peek,” he’s cheeky. Like showing yourself is going to make this any better.

You drop both arms from around your chest, and Curtis gets even more comfortable. Leaning back in the chair. “Stand up,” you shake your head no again. He wanted a little peek. “You’re frustrating tonight.”

“And you’re admitting to needing to see my tits to tell me this?”

“Yes. It relaxes me,” at least he’s honest. You stand up out of the water. Streams of water fall over your breasts, dripping down your hardened nipples before you dip back into the water. “You are a tease. Go up the stairs, and spread your legs.”

“The only person that will be spreading my legs will be you,” he palms his crotch, groaning. “Curtis,” you warn. He could have it all. Well. Maybe. Maybe not tonight.

“Tati doesn’t want to be a mom, and I will gladly take that off her hands. But…I don’t date to have someone in my life. I date for someone to be in hers, too, and maybe eventually, no time soon, adoption. I usually don’t date. In fact, I told Tati that’s why she went along with whatever childish game this was. Because she never saw me settling down. She thought I was always going to be fucking women at their places.”

“Theirs?” You cock up an eyebrow. Of course Curtis would be into casual sex. He slept with you after knowing you for a couple of hours. But keeping things at their places, keeps them away from his home. His safe space.

“I never bring women into my life. And I’m just a dick in theirs. I didn’t care to be more than that. Because I don’t want to share my daughter with them. Stand up all the way,” you do without hesitation, but keep your arms around your chest, “Now walk closer to me, I need to see you better,” you do. It’s not a slow crawl, it’s a normal speed. But the time just drags on as his eyes roam over your drenched body.

He stands, meeting you halfway, and his hands grab onto your hips. Sliding back behind your back as he pulls you closer, and presses your body against his. Your skin lights on fire at the feeling of his body against yours. All hard lines, and even harder cock pressing against you, and wanting to be free, “And yet, I don’t mind sharing Poet with you.”

“This is too soon,” is it? Is it too soon? Or are you too scared?

“I know, and I still can’t stop it. I don’t know how. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be casual with you. I never saw Tati making this place her home, and she won’t be pretending to anymore. But I need to know if you see yourself becoming Poet’s mother in the future. Tati wants to be an aunt, so…” dizzy. There’s no other word than that. Whiplash maybe. But you don’t want it to be.

Yours and Curtis’ relationship has been teasing, and slightly sexual. Ultimatums about the future, but this is for real. This is the future for a little girl. “What if I don’t want that?”

“Then give me this one night, and I’ll back away. Poet needs a mother, and it’s not Tati. I’m not saying you need to adopt her tomorrow. I’m saying she doesn’t talk much, she knows you more than her mother. Her mother is nothing but an entity to her, but you are the woman that takes care of her. I already see her preferring you over her mom. And I want you, but I need you to eventually want her. Or at least see you wanting to be her mother.”

Wiggling your arms off your chest, you sink a hand low, and cup his bulge. “Do you always get horny thinking about a future with me?”

“Everything about you makes me horny. Thinking about you pregnant, seeing you make supper, watching you sneak to Poet’s room to kiss her goodnight, watching you watching me. Everything you do is sexual to me.”

You back his body up to the chair, pushing him down onto the seat before you climb in his lap. Straddling his body while you grind on him. His cock throbs on your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than for him to sink into you. But if you’re to take things slow, you need to just get this pent up energy out, “We’re not teenagers.”

“And we’re taking this slow,” you mewl. Staring at Curtis through your lashes.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not about us anymore, is it?” He groans again. Letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he looks at the stars. Staring at you was like staring at a dream that he can’t make a reality, “Was it ever about just us?”

“That night in the hotel I was not thinking about my daughter as I was fucking you, no.”

“You never thought you’d see me again?” It’s something you’ve pondered many times. Because you never thought you’d see him again. Even if he left his card. He was to be a cock for pleasure that night. And now you see a relationship.

He sits up, shaking his head no. His eyes move over your body as you work his aching cock. This clearly isn’t enough for him, and sex right now seems rushing. But you need something. You’re dying inside. You need him, but your relationship thus far has been built on forbidden romance and sex.

“And now I can’t imagine not seeing you again,” you move faster, undulating your hips with so much enthusiasm. Writhing over him, and he’s mesmerized. It’s like a beautiful little dance that you do just for him. A private performance only for his eyes. A girl he knows has this filthy streak, but you are the perfect balance of lady and freak.

You are his perfect match. A friend, a lover, a fucking porn star with the way you’re moaning, the possible mom to his daughter, his best friend, his everything. A mate for him in all walks of life. Getting off on dry humping him in the pool and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Well…he has been inside you, but this sexiness is different.

You’re frustrated, so you use him. “The tension is clouding our judgment, we — we — we need this.”

“Aw, is my little saving Grace getting off on this?” You nod your head yes, moving fast. “There’s a good girl. Ride me like you own me,” you move hard and fast over him. Leaning forward to nip and kiss on his neck. Taking out your frustrations on his freckled sensitive skin. “Because you do.”

You bite on his neck delicately, and give him a hard suck, while he bucks up his hips, meeting you while he blows his load into the water. Your movements slow until you’re just panting on top of him. “You know you do. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“So now what?”

“You can take me on a date on your bike. You’re the father, so you’re going to have to figure out a babysitter,” you move away from his neck, and smile at him. His eyes freely roam over your heaving chest. With a smirk, you lean back. Practically laying back on his legs so you spread your own, “You can look, but you can’t touch just yet.”

“But she’s swollen,” he says looking into the water. “And she’s blurry,” he starts to lift up your bottom half, but you sit up straight, shaking a finger in his face. “That’s not fair!”

“Proper date. And then we’ll see how I feel about something more serious with you.”

“You want it,” he teases as you saunter towards the stairs of the pool. You bend over to pick your towel up, but don’t wrap it around you before walking towards the pool house. “Can you sleep in the bed with me?”

“Find us a sitter first!” You scream over your shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from him. Almost impossible to tell him no, while you’re dying to let him take you where he wants to go. You want him. You want everything that comes with him, but this is moving too fast.

Right?

You pace back and forth in your pool house, wrapping the towel around your body because you seem so cold. Your house feels miles away from him now. Any distance between you and Curtis feels too far away. He’s leaving her. He’s leaving his wife. You have spent months avoiding the thing and person you want, and it’s him. It’s a life with him and his daughter. It’s crazy. Absurd, and still you’re walking towards the door. Holding your hand over the handle, and then freezing.

Is it worth the risk now? Have you tortured yourself and waited long enough?

You have. Jerking the door open, you stand transfixed in the doorway, staring up at the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He couldn’t wait either. Meeting you at your door because he was needy for more. His azure eyes look more soft than predatory, “I don’t want to be too forward, but I don’t want you in the pool house. You seem so…”

”Far away?” He nods, holding his hand up for you to take. Glancing down, you grab the appendage, and pull him close to your chest.

“But I’m not fucking you. Poet will probably wake up in about twenty minutes. And I think you’re right, date first. But until the date, can you just sleep in the bed with me?”

He’s walking backwards, pulling you towards his own bedroom. “Can we do no sex?”

“Sweetheart, my cock has been aching to get back inside of you for months, what’s one more night? Or a few days? It’ll be what it’ll have to be, but I can’t have you away from me anymore. And we could get in a quickie, but the next time I’m inside of you, I’m going to take such sweet precious time. Because I know what it’s like to have to live without that sweet cunt, and now, I know what the woman is like.”

It’d have to wait. You’d have to wait. You’ve made it this far. He was worth it. A crazy night of picking up a man on the side of the road has led you to this incredible man with the sweetest daughter, and the possibility of forever.

“I think we’ll manage until our date. Should I warn you I sleep naked?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re keeping those tits, and that ass covered, or I’m sucking on something until Poet wakes up.”

“Wanna bet?” You squeal, dropping his hand before running towards his door. Curtis rolls his eyes before chasing you. A playfully little romp around the yard to get out any extra annoying butterflies.

“I’m sucking or eating something if you sleep naked, you make your choice.”

“We’re sleeping!”

“Then all of that,” his hands sway over your body, “Has got to be covered,” you were only teasing. But seeing him having fun about sex sends a divine feeling of comfort all over your body. Sex shouldn’t just sweep you off your feet, it should be fun, playful, and wet, and passionate, but still fun.

“Deal. After the first date, I’m sleeping naked.”

“And I’ll fuck you asleep, and fuck you in your sleep,” he winks, walking into the room before you, “Come on, my lady. Let’s cuddle until the baby awakes. No touching. Just cuddling,” you can do that. And you look forward to it. All night. Every night.

Masterlist

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@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@slowdownbeforeyouregretit @rogersbarber @evelineangel66 @steviebbboi

#much too fast #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x fem!reader #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett x y/n #curtis everett x you #curtis everett smut #curtis everett fanfiction #curtis everett fanfic #curtis everett fanfics #curtis everett fic #curtis everett fics #chris evans #chris evans character #snowpiercer

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Text

Yandere Fae King + G.N Huntsman Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Drugging, Kidnapping, Angst

What’s your favorite fairytale?

You hardly remember it now. It's been so long since you've been able to kick back and think back on all those old tales you once loved. Been a while since you've been able to do anything, really. The days drain away by the second with each life you take, and the nights in wait for the next cull. Your equipment receives better care than you’ve had in years.

If you were another person, maybe you'd seek for a change. Scrounge up every coin you earn and never looked back on this world, living free and without needless bloodshed. If only such a life was meant for a person like you. The person deserving of that dream died ages ago, on the day they learned to block out the screams.

He..lp me…

At least… The ones that no longer mattered.

You shift towards the source of the plea, equipping your trusty steel from the fire in which it brewed. It damaged the durability, but was the only way you could properly snuff the weakened voice. Its frightened face reflects in the flat blade of your axe; the bloodstains you weren’t able to remove marking its place as another victim to the flame. You've lost track of how many have fallen before it. At one time, you carved a mark into the handle of your weapon, but you lost the original piece for which you did so. You can’t recall if you stopped keeping track before or after that happened.

You stalk towards your captive like the cautious hero sneaking up to the wicked wolf to save the damsel in red, yet the only one who needs saving is one of you. Your feet grow colder the closer you approach, but lost in determination is not the cause. The snowy flesh and frozen tears of your prey chills the very air to a still. It's your first run in with such a creature, but far from the last. You raise your axe high.

“Please… Have you no heart?”

You would’ve gagged it if you had more rope. There's no reason to reply, for your eyes speak volumes. Silence rains as you bring down the axe.

A wet thud sounds as you toss the spoils from your kill on the ground.

“Found this in your barn. It's what's been freezing your crops.”

The farmer's face contorts in disgust, but they keep silent as they shove your payment in your hands and slam the door shut. You hear shouting over whether who will clean up the mess you made, but that's all behind you. With their miscalculation in pay, you should be able to get a decent meal in your system along with the supplies you need. The thought was a little too hopeful as the very second you allow yourself to rest, the ghost of your past comes knocking once more.

“Hunter.”

A note slides across the table you sit at, sealed with crimson wax.

“Your majesty requests your immediate attention.”

You take small bites of your food. The messenger sighs.

“Need I remind you that it's mandatory?”

“Do I have to remind you that I no longer work for that man?”

“This isn't about you or your issues with our king. It's about another.”

Their seldom glance towards the window is all you need to know. You settle your rumbling stomach with a drink of water and pour the remaining contents over the letter.

“Let's go.”

The messenger looks confused, and slightly worried. “I really think you should read-"

You quickly place your axe on the table, blueish blood embedded into the metal. “I said we're leaving. Take me to him, now.”

The messenger returns to the castle pale as a sheet and with you in tow. They hand you off to a younger hire to avoid the backlash of your arrival themselves; the servant leading you directly to the king's throne with the same tactic you used on the other party. The king sits in his chair, chatting away to anyone who'll listen to his personal retellings of the past. His general expression shows fearlessness and glee, but the trained eye could see the anxiety practically dripping from this shell of a man. A fear that unsheathes itself as he turns his head towards you. Not a thing has changed since you left.

“Hunter!” The king masks his faulty start with a well placed cough as he rises to his feet, arms raised. “It's been a while, hasn’t it, old friend? I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. We had a feast planned and everything.”

“I'm not here for pleasantries. Are you finally putting an end to this petty war or not.”

The king struggles to maintain his smile. “Ah, right. Never were one to allow yourself a break were you? Well once this task is complete, you'll have all the time in the world. We believe we've found something that will put an end to everything once and for all.”

He calls a servant to bring the item in question. It's a map. Hand drawn from what you can see. You drew one similar in your youth.

“With the noble sacrifice of our men, we've successfully navigated a path through the cursed part of the forest and straight to the fae king’s castle. There's theory that a hidden passage exists along its walls, but we have yet to figure it out. If anyone is able to, let alone kill that creature, it would be you. We'll prepare you a steed and armor by morning-"

“I'll leave before dawn.”

The king's eyes bulge out of their sockets like you just threatened his life. “Aha, surely you jest. There's the preparations, plus wouldn't it be better to leave on a full stomach and the support of your people.”

“No.”

Your flat, direct tone cancels any further argument. “If that is what you wish… old friend. Allow my staff to escort you to your room.”

You settle down for the evening in a room of the king's choosing. The bed is softer than you're used to, but too foreign to provide you with any actual comfort. You don't sleep that night, thinking of the life you'll have after you bring an end to the opposing forces' rule. A happy ending isn’t in the cards for someone like you, but maybe, just maybe- you'll be able to return home.

You refuse the servant's billionth attempt at offering you a warm meal, wolf down the dinner roll you snuck in, and tried to get some sleep with the remaining time you had.

You're up once again before the sun can peak over the horizon. The king, reluctantly giving in to your demands, greets you at the front gates with all the equipment his guard had prepared. You pick through it, only taking a water canteen, lantern, and the shiny new axe. The king appears uneasy with your hall.

“I do not doubt your skill, but is that really all you'll take? The journey may take less than a day, but you'll need to eat and walking yourself will only lengthen that time.”

“I know the beginning of the forest like the back of my hand. I'll be fine until I reach the creek. What happens after isn’t any of your concern. There's bigger fools than me ready to play hero if I don't come back.”

“I suppose you're correct…” He holds out his hand. “For luck? …and old times?”

You toss your bag onto your shoulder as you turn your back to the man.

“Suit yourself. Goodbye, Hunter.”

Word of your travel reached the village due to the drunken ramblings of an unnamed, yet frightened individual. The folk that shunned you lest they need your aid all watch as you set out towards the forest. Some try to give you words of encouragement or extra support, but you’re long past the need of their help. Taking your first step into the forest you feel the first thing you’ve felt in ages. Grief. It quickly passes once you cross the threshold of burnt wood laid out along the ground.

The start of the journey is as easy as you expected and remembered. Just a pleasant stroll through the woodlands, if you ignore the warning signs and nail marks in the tree bark. Some are faded and thin, but the majority are far larger and much fresher. They’re getting bolder. Best to hurry.

You make it to the creek with a few hours of daylight to spare. The bridge across it broke when you were a child, but now you were old enough to cross straight through without the fear of being swept away. The water barely reaches mid calf when you roll up your sleeves and step in. You hear splashing from nearby, but they quickly disburse with the squeak of a small gasp. The wise ones knew to steer clear of anyone who matched your general profile.

Crossing into the forbidden area of the forest, you expect more danger than you're met with. In this business, it's more worrying to go without danger than to be right in the middle of it. The only sounds you hear are the crunch of leaves beneath your boots – and the rumble from your stomach.

You stop to take a break at an overturned stump. The weight of the situation is really getting to you. Normally you’re about to go at least a day or two without something to eat, but now your body was fighting just to keep upright. You check your bag to see if you had anything left over from the last time you packed. It's empty, besides a single snack cake at the bottom of the sack. And a note.

“Dearest Hunter,

I know things between us have soured over the years. Your home was taken from you in the crossfires and that is truly one of my deepest regrets. I wish the fates could have turned out differently for you, but all I can do now is offer you my prayers and this final gift in hope that you'll forgive me in another life. Know that I do not even forgive myself. In the future, I pray you are cared for well.”

You crumble the letter and toss it back in your bag. Could be used for a fire if need be on your way back. You take careful bites of the cake. It's sweet and a bit tart, filled with some sort of jam which taste you can't put your finger on. It gets caught in your throat after you swallow the rest in one mouthful, but you dislodge it with a sip of water and continue on your way.

It's night by the time you make it to the castle. The snack gave you some of your energy back, but your legs still felt heavy. You bite through the fatigue and lift them high as you cross over to the unfamiliar land. You were warned of the king's carefree attitude, but you never expected it to be this lax. Not one guard manned the front gates nor the road to doors from what your blurring vision could see. The wiser choice would have been to round the back of the castle like the original plan, but the prospect of freedom and the growing headache lead you down the riskier path.

The heaviness of your legs travels upwards with each step you take. It isn’t long before you can barely keep a grip on your axe. You want to turn back, but something keeps you moving forward. The races through the trees. Cutting firewood in the fall. You want to be the person that loved those things so dearly in the past. You wanted to be you again.

Opening the gate with a shaky palm, you fall limp in the arms of the one person who could fulfill that dream.

Welcome home, my heartless spouse.

When you wake you find yourself in shackles. They're loose enough to give you a taste of freedom, yet they fit around your wrists just right to condemn you to the bed you lie in. You look around the room. It's impossible to move your body. Everything is so heavy and your throat is dry. A cool towel wipes away the sweat beading down your forehead.

“Are you finally awake? I’m so sorry for the confusion you’re likely experiencing. This was the only way we could be together with our people coming for your head.”

His hands creep up your neck. Soft, cloud-like skin more inviting than the pillow your head rests upon, but twice as cool. His eyes meet with yours, too beautiful pools of love and adoration, and so, so much sadness. Almost enough to drown out your own. You know this man. You’ve never seen his face, but you know.

“They'll come around someday. Maybe not a month. Maybe not a year, but they will. I know they will come to love this version of you just as I.”

His fingers sap the warmth from your skin. “What ever did happen to that sweet human I promised myself to ages ago? Worry not for any attempt at change, for my love for you counters any tide.”

You close your eyes. You don't want to hear another word of what he says. His lips ghost by your ear.

“Trust is a two way street. I should start our rekindling by informing you that it wasn’t just I who willed this fate upon you, but the king of the people you gave your years to.”

Your eyes snap open. The realization brewing gifts you the will to speak. “You're lying.”

“I wish I was. I know this hurts for now, but in the future you'll see it's the best for us all.”

Your breathing grows ragged. “You're a liar.”

“You and I both know that what I say is true. Deep down you know that the fire that broke out that day was not an accident. It was not by coincidence that the former king came across your weakened form. He was in need of a new tool, and you were in the prime condition to become his blade.”

You grit your teeth; nails sinking into the flesh of your palms. Precious memories break from the chains you had locked them in since that day. Your peaceful upbringing in the forest, the kind man who carried you away from the flames. The same man who made you kill those who you once called friends.

“You don't belong anywhere, my love. Raised right in the middle of the battlefield, neither side has use for you besides the things you can do. We are alike in that aspect. It's probably the reason you imprinted on me when we met for that brief moment he took you away. From that very second I knew – you were my everything.”

“Stop. Talking.”

“Don't be so cruel, my dear. There surely must've been a time when even you had a heart. I know that better than anyone. I will do my best to pick up those pieces and make you whole."

You can't keep it in. The floodgates you tried so desperately to keep up burst, and the decades of misery resurface. You thrash against your binds, kicking and spitting at the man who only draws his spit covered fingers into his mouth, and smiles so warmly at you.

“I'll kill you! I'll slaughter the people this land protects, and then I'll go after that bastard and his! I’ll kill you all and I won’t stop until I make sure every single one of you is dead. Don't fucking touch me!”

The fae king hushes you as he hooks his arms around your flailing form. He does his best to comfort you, even when one of your hits finally connects, and long after your screams turn into hoarse cries. He brushes your tears away just as he'll do someday when he takes away all your pain permanently.

“Worry not, my broken heart. You'll get your revenge when I bring you the broken body of that man to serve as the centerpiece for our wedding. We'll rebuild your cabin and live out the remainder of our days in nothing but happiness and pure devotion. Grief will only be a bad dream by then, but for now, just rest.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere fae #yandere story #yandere drabble #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere writing #yandere fantasy

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run-clever-boy · 8 months

Text

Talk to me - 12th Doctor

12 x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minor DNI, Dirty talk, Oral (Fem receiving) Fingering, P in V sex, Unprotected, Swearing

Summary: On an adventure with the doctor, a man tries to take advantage of you in a rough area of a foreign market. The doctor is very protective, and it doesn’t help your obsessed with it.

A.N. - This is my first smut! All comment are appreciated, please be kind. All criticism is welcome, be kind and don’t eat pears! :)

You sat in the TARDIS console room, finally stopping to catch your breath after the exhausting few hours you had just endured. The Doctor decided he would take you to a market on a planet you couldn’t pronounce, which was true for most of the places he takes you. Thinks started getting scary when you got lost and ended up in that end of the market. (Similar to a red light district) You could see the nervousness in his face as men started walking up to you and asking for your price.

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“Is 500 interyen enough, sweetheart?” Asked a particularly insistent man who had gotten a hold of your arm.

“I’m not for sale” You bit out angrily, attempting to shake his arm off of you “just passing through.”

“Everything is for sale here darling” He said slyly, pulling you towards him.

“Not her” The doctor breathes out, barely above a whisper. He grabs you and rips the man’s arm off you. He then guides you out of the place with his hand on your lower back.

That’s when you looked at him only to be met with the rising fury in his eyes. Something you had only seen against the worst of enemies. The wrath of the time lord. You knew that this regeneration was extremely protective, and god did you love it.

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When you looked back on the interaction, the thing that stuck with you wasn’t the market, or the things you bought there, or even the man who grabbed you. It was him. His fiery eyes. His cologne. His protectiveness. Most especially, his baritone Scottish voice. The sound, deep and threatening, sent shivers down your spine. A demanding asset, but one that could whisper sweet nothings to you if he chose. He could captivate you by speaking the simplest things.

-Not her-

You crossed your legs to relieve some of the tension coiling in your stomach as you watched that very man walk back into the console room. He walked around the console on the side opposite of you and flipped a few levers. He walked around slightly to the right as if to approach you, but returned across from you. He gripped the edge of the console and dropped his head, scoffing.

“What’s that for?” You asked.

“He shouldn’t have touched you.” He said quickly and coldly, his head still dropped.

“It’s nothing we could help, doctor, it just-“

“No!” He cut you off, looking up into your eyes. “No man should lay a hand on you!” He raised his hands off the console and tugged his hair. Slowly walking towards where you sit. Power and rage emanating from him.

“Doctor please, it’s alright” You pleaded “Nothing happened to me, I’m fine.” You repeated. You were finding it extremely hard to concentrate with his voice protecting your honor.

“No, Y/n, I don’t think you get it.” He sighs “You aren’t a high dollar whore, you are one of the best beings in the universe. You deserve to be worshipped, not grabbed off the street” He continued, walking towards you still.

If you thought you couldn’t concentrate a minute ago, you had no hope now. His praises played over and over in your head. Your heartbeat quickened and your breaths became shallow. The ever growing ache in your stomach fighting the urge to escape as you squeezed your thighs together in hope of relief.

“That fucker should pay” He continued “He should know what he did, who he did it to. That you are… protected”

He had inched toward you so that he was standing about a foot away from where you sat. You looked into his eyes to see that fury once again, but this time there was something else. His eyes were enveloped with a darkening pupil. Your eyes were hooded with the weight of the lust behind them.

Before you knew what happened, he reached out, tangled his hand in your hair roughly. His lips met yours swiftly. Hard and passionate. You could feel all of his emotions in his searing touch and ragged movements. The breath had been knocked out of you. Your move your hands up and down the smooth fabric of his black suit that you adored. He only finally led up on his more-than-welcome assault to your lips when you needed to come up for air.

“You could’ve just said mine” You breathe against his lips, your faces still centimeters apart.

“What?” The doctor said between pants with audible confusion.

You smirk. “You said ‘He should know that you are… protected’, well you could’ve said” You paused, pulling your hips and body flush against his “that I am yours, or in context-”

“That you are mine. All mine�� He cuts you off again.

Your breathing hitches in your throat, and he notices. Of course he does.

“Oh,” He smirks against your lips “someone likes being claimed, do they?”

“Only when it’s you” You quip back, prompting a dark chuckle from him. ‘and in that voice’ you think.

He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You aren’t as good as you think you are at hiding those precious blushes and reactions when I speak.” He says in a particularly sultry tone, accentuating his accent just for you.

The melodic tone of his sexy voice has your eyes fluttering closed and your lips parting, soon being unable to bear the amount of tension.

“You’re right, He shouldn’t have touched what was mine.” He all but growled out, lust evident in his lowering voice.

He takes advantage of your leaned back head and leaves marks all over your neck. He made sure to make you whimper at every sensitive spot he could reach, leaving a soft bruise.

After recovering from the shock of the past few moments, you reach your hands underneath his suit coat and gently move to slide it off his body. He takes the jacket and throws it to the side dismissively, focused on you. He stands you up and kisses you more gently on the lips, with the hint of possession you craved. You stumbled backward and he pressed you against the console as he continued his trail of marks down your body. He would have to move clothing to reach other areas of your figure that he yearned to touch, but has yet to remove anything out of respect for you.

“Now darling, I know you aren’t holding back because of me, are you?” You say between pants. He looks back up into your eyes to see the suggestive smile dancing on your lips. He chuckles and hums lowly, sending a bolt of electricity up your body. You grabs his wrist and move it to touch the skin lying beneath your baggy t-shirt.

He grabs you by the waist underneath your shirt and kisses you gently on the lips. The touch was so… delicate. Contrary to the crime of passion he committed earlier. His lips left yours to stare in your eyes. He took a moment to admire the woman who had spent years following him to the ends of the universe with him. Y/n and her mad old man In a box.

"Well darling" he said in that tone designed to make you crazy "i want you to feel how much you deserve to be worshipped".

He raises your arms above your head and removes your t-shirt, casting it aside in the console room without caring where it landed. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, kissing and biting slightly. He tilted your head back in order to reach the sweet spot under your jaw. His teeth scraped over it and you had to fight back a moan. Meanwhile, his hands wandered around the bare skin of your torso, settling on your back to unclasp your bra, casting it aside.

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you began to unbutton the white dress shirt he was wearing. Each button you unhooked revealed more of his pale figure. You removed the shirt and threw it aside to join the other pile of discarded clothing. You ran your hands all over the cool surface of his chest as he continued sucking and biting on the skin on your neck. He stepped back for a moment. He was just far enough that you could still feel the heat of his body as he looked you up and down.

"God you're beautiful, y/n"

He steps between your legs again, cups your face, and kisses you so tenderly. You press back into the kiss with a little more force, causing him to groan against your lips and move a hand to the back of your neck to steady himself. Your bare chests colliding. His voice playing over and over in your mind. You separate for a moment to rest your foreheads against each other with labored breaths.

“May I?” You say as your hands travel down his stomach the rest on his waistband, looking into his eyes for silent permission.

“Please… yes” He growled out between short breaths.

You trailed your hands over the fabric of his jeans, teasing him over the fabric. His breath hitched and he reached down and caught your hands.

“How about you first, darling?” His Scottish accent rolls the R right onto your skin and sends a major shiver up your spine. “I won’t last long if you tease me like that”

He pulls your hand up and kisses the back of it and drops it. He drops his hands to your jeans and unbuttons it with ease. He grabs the side of your pants and drops them around your ankles. You regain balance against the console and kick away the jeans to join the other long forgotten about garments.

He glides his hand under the hem of your underwear and slides his cool fingertips over your folds, noticing how wet he’s made you. He removes his hand and begins to pull the thin fabric down your legs slowly. He gets the fabric about to your knees before he kneels down to pull the fabric down your long legs, kissing the heated skin all the way to your ankles. After the garment is gone, he pulls his legs underneath him and sits up on his knees, eye level with where you want him most.

He puts his large hands on your hips to steady himself. He slides his hands down between your legs, pressing kisses to your outer thighs, pausing to look up at you through heavy eyelids. Suddenly, he slid his hands over your wetness once again. You silently praised him for his experience with the fairer sex because he managed to find your clit quicker than any man could find a light switch. Your head drops back against the console, your mouth gaping open at the sensation. He used his thumb to circle the bundle of nerves while his other fingers roamed curiously. You turned to see the glorious sight of the most powerful man in the universe, on his knees just to please you. You silently prayed you would get to return the favor at some point.

You locked eyes as he used his index finger to probe into your core, then quickly adding his middle when he was sure it wouldn’t cause you pain. You unconsciously slid a hand into his long silver hair, searching relentlessly for something to steady yourself. He steadily curls and uncurls his fingers inside your core, thrusting a bit further into you each time in hopes to reach your sweet spot. His slender and powerful fingers had no problem identifying the spot that made your toes curl and abusing it. Your legs started shaking from having to stand and withstand the pleasure he was giving you. He pressed kisses to your inner thigh, continuing his ministrations while guiding you leg onto his shoulder. He did the same to your other leg and he kept your hips firmly pressed into the wall so you wouldn’t fall.

He couldn’t help but watch the involuntary faces you made due to his manipulation. He withdrew his fingers from you and you whimpered at the loss of contact, tugging his hair slightly. He very quickly replaced where his fingers were with his skilled tongue. A loud moan escaped your lips and he groaned against your core, the vibrations only making the pleasure more unbearable.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good, love.”

He added more pressure, combined with his tongue flicking back and forth against your clit and moving to tease your entrance. God his voice. You couldn’t imagine any other sound that turned you on as much as that. The pool of heat started to build slowly in your lower abdomen. He brought his thumb to tease your clit once again.

“Please… do-don’t stop. I’m s-so close, doctor”

He continued at a feverish pace, steadying your figure with his hands having a tight grip on your thighs that were draped over his shoulders. You could feel yourself get to the very cusp. Your vision started blurring. Mixes of moans, pleas, and groans streamed out of your mouth. The white hot feeling fast approaching when it all of a sudden hits like a freight train. The most guttural moan left your mouth, the pure want and relief leaving your body. He moved your legs back to their original positions, being careful to keep your weight help up. He licked you clean through your orgasm and kissed his way back up to leave a searing kiss on your lips.

“Do you have… a bedroom, doctor?” You say when you have regained enough consciousness to form sentences.

“I’ll lead the way”

He grabs your hand and slowly navigated the TARDIS hallways in an attempt to find his room, being careful to make sure you can keep up with your shaky footing. Eventually, he stops at an unassuming dark blue door, and opens it. Inside are piles upon piles of books and his other belongings. To be honest, you could look at the collection later, but right now there was something else on both of your minds. He closes the door behind him and kisses you again. He backs you up until you hit the beam. You crawled onto the bed and laid down below him submissively. He crawls on top of you and doesn’t break a string of curses for anything. He unbuttoned his pants and discarded them, along with the boxer underneath. He was one hell of a man. His lean figure and his pale skin. You reach out and stroke him, observing the look of pleasure on his face.

“Do you need more time?” He asked, clearly aching with anticipation, but still values your safety and concerns over anything.

“No, please doc, I need you”

The few words was all the permission he needed to coax himself into your tight core. The sounds that came out of him were unholy. As were the sounds he forced out of you. He stayed inside so you could adjust to his size. When he saw your face distort in pleasure, he took the hint to start moving in and out. He filled you so completely. The passion between you made it feel like two pieces of a puzzle, finally fitting together. You longed for every part of him you could reach. Skin gliding across skin. Fingers caught in your lovers hair. Nails scratching up and down his scarred back. The sweet nothings drove you crazy.

“You’re mine”

“You feel so good”

“You are my universe, and every star in it”

“Oh, y/n”

Most of all you loved the love letters he spoke in Gallifreyan that you couldn’t understand. The mystery of the language and pronunciations fascinated you. The tone and his admiration made your senses heighten and all the pressure build quickly once again. You could feel the doctor start to tremble, knowing he’s doing everything he can to hold back until you were satisfied. He leaned down and nipped at the skin underneath your jaw, eliciting the loudest moans you thought you could muster. He picked up your hips and started thrusting into you sloppily, now hitting both your clit and g-spot. You couldn’t even warn the doctor before you came, the euphoria taking over every spot of your vision, leaving you seeing stars. He thrust a few more times lazily and you could feel the tension snap. He spilled into you, holding you tightly as he steadied himself.

He pulled himself out of you and layer next to you. You could see the layer of sweat covering his body. You leaned over and rested your head on his chest.

“I’m yours” You breathed against his chest

“Y/n?”

“Yes doctor?”

“I want to make sure that you know… well” He hesitated then sighed “That I love you”

You looked into his eyes “I love you too doctor, never forget it” He sighed a sigh of relief this time.

“I really liked it when you said that”

“I’ll do it more often, darling. Just for you”

You were lulled to sleep by the soothing sounds of the TARDIS humming on the chest of the doctor. Your doctor. Limbs tangled with limbs, draped it the light of a thousand stars. All was as it should be.

Now on AO3

#12th doctor #twelfth doctor #twelve #doctor who #peter capaldi #doctor who smut #smut #Twelve x reader #the twelfth doctor #twelfth doctor x reader

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oftenwantedafton · 9 months

Text

A New Afton - Stepfather Steve Raglan/William Afton x Stepdaughter Reader

Chapter 1

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - no sexual content in this chapter

Also available on AO3

The idea of getting remarried has been tickling the back of William Afton’s mind for awhile now.

Not born of any idea of romance or desire for raising children—God had he had enough of that—rather, now that he’s settled into his new life as Steve Raglan, Career Counselor, the killer within him slumbering—for how long, who could say, he certainly missed it, but he was safe, unassuming and adding the alibi of a new wife would be an extra benefit—he found the thought of marrying again coming into his thoughts more and more. He was tired of coming home to an empty house, making dinner and eating alone before he rinsed and repeated the process the next day, and the day after, and the day after.

So when the 48 old new hire single mom started training as a receptionist at the office, it was simple enough to start the process. A dimpled smile, a few compliments, an invite to dinner, and things progressed from there. There was nothing particularly compelling about the woman, but she was attractive enough, pleasant company, and quite docile, so sliding into a housewife role should be an easy fit.

Of course, none of these reasons are the real one he’d proposed six months in.

That impulse came during dinner one night, the first when he’d finally gotten to meet you, his girlfriend’s only daughter, the result of a one night stand. Eighteen, and a senior at a Catholic high school. Nothing of your mother in your looks so whatever genes your father had were strong. You were shy and polite during that first meal and it had only made you more appealing. You were his favorite kind of treat: someone young, susceptible, easy to manipulate and take advantage of. That’s what had made him so good with all those children, after all. So easy to trust. Carefully charming them right to their doom.

He’s not thinking about killing you, of course. He’s got something much different in mind. And God does it come to mind. He fucks your mother a little rougher than usual after that meal and if she notices, well, maybe she just thinks it because of the wine he’d had at dinner.

The wedding follows soon after, nothing fancy, just an exchange of vows before the Justice of the Peace and it’s done just like that, a new Afton brought into the world. Well, Raglan, officially. Whatever.

There are a few tense first months where he’s forced to play the dutiful role of the good stepfather when every ounce of him wants to just take you right then and there on the table you’d just had a bowl of cereal on. But he bides his time, concealing everything, until fate seems to intervene on his side once again. There’s a two week retreat that his new wife is going on, leaving him alone with you. He graciously assures her you’ll be fine, she should go and enjoy herself, she deserves it. His eyes meet yours as he’s speaking, his pupils dilating with desire.

This is how it begins.

***

Mrs. Raglan leaves on a Monday. Work goes by at the usual pace. Strings of hopeful failures looking for employment. It’s tedious but the pay is good and Steve goes through the motions. He keeps busy, very pointedly not thinking about what he’s going to have at home waiting for him tonight.

He finds you that evening tucked at one end of the couch, still dressed in your school uniform. Excellent. Textbook on your lap, one leg folded beneath you. The patch of bare skin from the top of your sock to your plaid skirt haunts him. He tears his gaze away and says he’s going to shower, then order takeout, your choice.

It’s a cold one. He doesn’t want to rush things. Not just yet. He’s waited this long, he can wait a little longer. Puts on drawstring pajama pants and a long sleeve knit shirt. Decides on cologne last minute. Leaves the glasses on the dresser.

They’re not prescription anyway, just another part of his new identity, a false disguise to hide what lies beneath.

***

You’re just about finished the rough draft of your essay when your new stepfather walks back into the room, settling onto the other end of the couch. He looks…different tonight. Maybe it’s because he’s not dressed like a nerdy chemistry professor for a change. No glasses. Regular clothes. They cling to his body differently than the polyester. There’s some toned muscle in that frame. His legs are crossed, the edge of the pajama pants riding up his ankles. You’ve never had a thing for feet, but his are almost shapely, like those elegant hands of his you’d noticed immediately. Your cheeks flush. He’s your stepdad! You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this.

“Did you decide what you wanted?”

“What?”

“For dinner.” He smirks, and oh, that does something to your insides. The dimples! He’s got great skin for someone his age, smooth, unblemished. Streaks of gray through his hair and beard, but it suits him.

What is wrong with you?!

“Pizza,” you say immediately. You’ve been craving it all day.

“Good choice. What do you like? For toppings,” he clarifies, but the phrasing feels a heartbeat off.

“Um…honestly whatever. Just no anchovies.”

“Got it.”

You watch him order and try to refocus on your essay. The phone rings immediately after. It’s your mother. Steve speaks to her for a few moments before handing you the phone. You reassure her that everything is going well. Yes, you’re doing your homework and yes, you’re about to have dinner. You hand the phone back to the older man and his fingers brush yours. Accidentally, of course.

Right?

“Have a great time. Talk to you soon. Love you too. Bye.” He hangs the phone up and his eyes find yours on him. “How’s your homework going?” His lips twitch, one eyebrow lifting slightly. You swear he can read you like an open book.

You squirm in your seat, untucking your leg. Slight pins and needles. You’ve been in that position too long. It was a bad habit. Hard to break out of. “It’s going good.”

“I’m going to grab a beer. You want one? Our secret of course.” He lays a finger against his lips and you feel something lurch inside of you.

“Um…I mean I tried one once at a party and it was…they’re kind of gross.”

He laughs. “Yeah, they are. No one drinks beer because they like the taste. It’s just a cheap, easy way to get intoxicated. No pressure.” He stands and takes a step towards the kitchen.

“I’ll take one,” you say hurriedly. The smirk is back. Christ.

He returns with a pair of bottles, handing you one with the top cracked open. You take a sip, instantly remembering exactly how much you disliked the taste, but you force yourself to swallow, watching the movement of your stepfather’s Adam’s apple shift when he takes a swig from his own brown glass bottle. He sighs in satisfaction and you look away before it becomes too obvious you’re staring, taking another tentative gulp from your own.

“It’ll go down better with the pizza,” he says.

You nod, shutting your textbook. There’s no way you’re getting any schoolwork done now. “I’ll work on this later.”

“Sure.” He shrugs, reaching for the remote and switching the television on. “Pick something.” He slides the device across the empty cushion between you.

Several news programs. An infomercial. Shopping network. Talk show. Game show. A sitcom with a loud laugh track. You have no idea what to choose.

You’re well aware that Steve is looking at none of it. Your eyes shift to find his. He drains the last of his beer and you struggle to compete. Nearly there. It doesn’t seem quite as unpleasant as before. You’re getting used to it.

The door bell rings, breaking the awkward moment. Steve returns with another pair of beers and plates and some paper towels and sets the box on the coffee table, atop the fashion magazine you’d left there and the decorating magazine your mom had been reading. He sits again, this time occupying the seat directly next to you. It only makes sense, after all; of course he should be near the pizza.

“You want to pick a piece or should I serve you?”

“Um…yeah you can grab me one.”

A savory smell of cheese and bacon wafts over you as the cardboard lid is lifted. The mozarella stretches, still tethering the slice to its brethren until he manages to pull it free, handing it to you.

“Thank you.” You suddenly feel starving, eagerly taking a bite. It’s really hot, fresh from the oven. You wipe your hands and lips with one of the paper towels and polish off your first beer, reaching for the second.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“What?”

“You got used to that really quick.”

“It is good with the pizza, you were right.”

“I usually am,” he murmurs. He eases back against the cushion with his own portion. He takes large bites and it disappears quickly.

You’ve left the television tuned to some horror movie about a girl who’s dissecting parts she finds attractive off of people with the end goal of making her own perfect person. It’s got that weird, kitschy indie movie feel but you like the rugged style. Maybe an odd choice to watch something graphic and bloody during dinner, but you’d been watching horror movies for as long as you can remember and the man beside you doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, it’s got his complete attention, his eyes raptly devouring each scene that involves another murder.

You’re the one to make the next trip to the fridge. You hesitate, wondering if you should switch to water but fuck it, you were enjoying yourself. It was helping you relax a little. You don’t know why you’re so nervous.

Yes, you do. Liar.

The movie ends and another starts. You don’t recognize this one. Steve clears the table and says he’s going to brush his teeth. Too much garlic, you know. You suppose you should do the same. You’ve never stood beside him at the bathroom sink. Suddenly the room seems too small for two people even though you and your mother have gotten ready side by side before. The older man beside you is six foot four, but it’s not even that length that makes his presence so dominant. There’s something in his stature, an air of confidence. A man comfortable in his own skin, who knows who he is. Not like the awkward boys in school who are trying to impress their classmates and act silly in front of their friends. He’s mature. Poised.

He pushes up his sleeves and you try not to stare at the scars there. Your mom had mentioned them before. Some kind of accident at work a long time ago. You wonder how far they extend. Your cheeks are red again and you nearly choke on your toothpaste.

Your eyes meet in the mirror.

Steve switches the lights off when you return to the living room. You think about getting changed for bed but it never progresses beyond the passing idea. He sits next to you again. There is no longer the excuse of the pizza. His thigh is pressed close to yours. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. He drapes one arm along the back of the couch. It drifts downward ever so slowly until his palm cups your shoulder.

You’re staring blankly at the television screen. You know he isn’t. You can feel the weight of his gaze. You gather your courage, turning to face him. His is right there, angled down. You can smell the mint toothpaste, feel his breath move over your features. His other hand settles on your bare knee, thumb stroking in circles.

This can’t really be happening. Your heart is pounding. You’re gifted another smirk, but this one is different. A sensual little twitch of his lips before he touches them to yours.

This is how it begins.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #fnaf fanfic #fnaf movie #william afton #steve raglan #dividers credit @ saradika graphics

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iloveaustinelvisandmannymore · 10 months

Text

Lovers dispute

Pairing: Toji fushiguro x reader

Warnings: Hate sex, Blindfold, Gagging, Bondage, Fingering, Hair pulling, Betrayal, Murder, Fighting, Torture, Cum-shot, Augst, Hurt / Comfort, Tears, Ex-Cop reader, Yakuza Toji, a bit of Dubcon.

Summary: You thought your past was buried and gone. Oh how very wrong you were.

A/n: Fanart, not mine.

"Mornin' baby," Toji gently whispered into your hair as he kissed your head, "Mornin' to you too." you hummed as you opened your eyes and set your chin on his pec, glazing up into your husband's smaragdine eyes "Do you have to go?" you asked softly as you reached up, caressing his bruised cheek, a mark left by the courtesy your 'step-father' "he'll raise hell n' I don't feel like dealin' with that bullshit." Toji kissed your palm "Besides the meeting won't be long." he reassured you as he moved your hair out your face, his large hand resting on your cheek.

"Okay. fine. I love you." you sighed rolling your eyes, already feeling the rising hate for the man your husband calls father."Oh, I know you do." Toji replied with that devilish smirk and pulled you into a passionate kiss before leaving your comfortable bed to get dressed.

You frowned while you watched Toji look for a suit to wear, you hated that he couldn't just skip it, but being the head brunch's son he'd not only show great disrespect, he'd also dishonor the Zenin family. You scowled, that family didn't deserve honor or respect, especially his father from Toji of all people but your words would be nothing, you're a foreigner and not born of a highly known family.

No, to them you were more a pet that they let Toji have Instead of a wife.

When you came to Japan you didn't plan to fall in love and marry a member of the yakuza, after all, you disliked Toji at first, a woman or two always on his arm, gambling away money, and picking fights with unfortunate souls who either earned it or was there at the wrong time. Over time you learned there was more to him, he was broken and you couldn't stand by and not try to help, days you spent listening to him, comforting him, and simply having fun, you can't pinpoint when it happened but happened all the same and you wouldn't change that. But you didn't come for that.

You came to eliminate the yakuza.

You see in your country, you had a nickname from high Officials, you were called the 'Reaper of kingdoms' and known for stealthy worming your way into gangs, into crime empires, and destroying them from the inside out, very few have seen your face or had read your real files, and those who weren't so supposed to were killed. No, loose ends.

The prime minister of Japan had heard of your service from one of your co-workers visiting the country and seeing as the yakuza was getting more and more powerful, he hired you, that was the plan but life works differently and you don't regret it. "See ya later baby," Toji spoke as he bent down to kiss your cheek and left for the meeting.

As much as you'd like to lie down and wait for him, you too had to do errands, you huffed and left the warm abyss to bear the cold air for suitable clothes and you were on your way to the grocery store. Humming you picked items and items from the shelves of the lively supermarket, walking to the drinks sections you stopped as you grabbed and held up different types of milk when that old gut feeling crept up. You put one of the milk back in the freezer and the other in your shopping cart. You continued, subtly looking behind you, once you turned your head a dark figure slipped into an isle and disappeared. The Mysterious person shadowed you the entire time and only varnished when you finished paying yet you knew it wasn't over, it mostly never is it. Just as you were putting up your groceries in the back of your car suddenly did the sounds of running footsteps coming towards your direction

The gut feeling came again and your combat training kicked in as the attacker reached you, a knife in hand. they tried to slash you but failed as you nonchalantly weaved and kicked the knife out of their hand, they barely had time to get their weapon as you gripped their hoodie from the back with one hand and the other on the trunk door. You quickly shut the lid and slammed the person against hard metal, they groaned as they fell to the concrete "You bitc-" they managed to croak out before you placed your sneaker-covered foot to their throat "Who are you?" you questioned, your (e/c) was filtered with the ice cold of the antarctic. "You're gonna regret this-" "Wrong answer." you snarled digging your heel into their pinned throat, the sounds of their choking and gargling had attracted people's attention.

"Ma'am?!" a man shouted, distracting you enough for your attack to push your leg away and run off. You watched angrily as the person hurried off, they looked behind them, and the hoodie that hid their face flew off. Your eyes widen as you get a good look 'No.No!Not her!' a dreadful, fearful feeling consumed you. You were snapped out of that as a hand grabbed your shoulder and without thinking about it, you latched on the person's arm and flipped them over said shoulder. The fear on the man's face made you realize what you did, and whispers and pointing of the scene finally pushed you to enter your car.

Why was she here? You could think of one reason and you knew you needed to find her before she could do any damage.

You spent the rest of the time waiting for Toji and doing chores. Toji got home with gritted teeth and a spine-chilling glare, it was like he was looking past you and into a vision of his father, the day was a quiet one, tensions high of unspoken anger and worries, and unlike, even in the strong arms of your husband, the worry did not fade if not it had worsened but by some miracle, you fell asleep.

Weeks upon weeks you looked for Ava. The search looked more and more pointless as you couldn't find a would trail, and you felt hopeless. You knew she wanted vengeance for her gang, in all the time you were deemed the Reaper of kingdoms she was the one who had gotten away, and she followed you to Japan, you assumed she had been stalking you and was plotting something and for the first time you feared whatever her plan was. You sighed and rolled your shoulders as you walked into your house, pulling your keys onto the key hooks by the door, Toji said he had something to discuss with his parents and he wouldn't be home. So you headed to the living room when you faltered at the sight of your father-in-law merely siping away his tea with Toji by his right...Toji refused to glaze at you instead glaring at the table "Ahh, if it isn't Miss 'Reaper of kingdoms'." Toji's father; Kenji chuckled humorlessly as he sat down his teacup on a coaster, his cruel gray eyes bore into you. Your body froze, feeling the cold and heavy dose of dreadful realization of the situation "Kenji-" "DO NOT ADDRESS ME BY MY FIRST NAME!! DECEITFUL WRETCH!!" Every part of you worked to not flinch at his volume and the sound of his fist hitting the wooden surface of the table "You took advantage of my kindness and my son. And now you will learn I am not always ruled by my kindness." Kenji cleared his throat and fixed his black tie.

"Take her away," he ordered, and unexpectedly Multiple pairs of hands restrained you and dragged you away. They had thrown you into a torture room that must have been in the head house, the room was almost bare, sporting a chair with cuffs bolted into the wood, a flat futon, and tools. Sleep was unreachable as the look of indifference Toji had given you kept you awake. It was like you were a stranger again, a person he wanted nothing to do with. You loved him like you never loved before..what if he hated you? A single tear escaped as the thought graced your mind No..no he couldn't right? Soon tears ran down your cheeks as you sobbed, curling into yourself.

You cried until you couldn't. You couldn't tell how long you've been down here, you spent most of the time on the futon with your back to the door, they gave you little to eat and drink even then you didn't touch it. Thoughts of where you and Toji stand and the ache of the unknown devoured your being. Like clockwork, someone opened the door and walked down the wooden steps to your small room.

No words were spoken for a while "So you haven't been eating?" Toji said, "T-Toji?" you stuttered as you sat up on the little mattress, He looked as handsome as ever, he wore simple black jeans and a gray shirt, his hair in its usual state, and his jade eyes shined cold as he peered down at you. "I'm so sorry." you begin as he slowly lowers himself "Don't. Just...just don't." Toji cut you off before you could continue, he pinched the bridge of his nose "I can't even fuckin' look at ya for too long without-" Toji huffed "Eat okay? I'll come back another day." with that he left you in the dimly lit room, not once sparing you a glance.

The real torture started after you began to eat, you were stripped, whipped until you bled, beaten in all different shades, and tied up. Today they forced a blindfold on your wary eyes and a ball gag passed your clenched teeth and then left

an hour late, the door opened as someone walked in, and soon the sounds rustle of clothes being shed.

You tightened your fists.

Regardless of being bonded, however, this person is, you weren't going to let them take you without a damn fight.

"They sure did a number on ya." you sat up from your lying person and you unclenched your fists. You tried to speak your husband's name but failed, the gag in your mouth became covered in your saliva from your failed speech. You jumped as his hands pushed you to lay back down and his knees nudged your legs apart "It's been so long." he whispered into your ear, his warm breath smelled heavily of sake "I hate that I fuckin' miss you." he hissed, his fingers rubbed your lower lips and clits roughly, the coarse padding of his digits felt amazing against your sex-deprived heat. Your eyes rolled back behind the black silk of your blindfold as he sank a thick finger into your soaked cunt, he slowly, agonizingly slow, pulled it out and slammed not one but two back in, your surprised cry came out mulled. He held nothing back, each hard thrust and curl was accompanied by the wet palp of your leaking pussy, your slick no doubt covered his whole hand.

He grew bored soon and decided that he'd have the main course now. His fingers left you and he wiped your wetness onto your thigh and got into position "Ya used me." he spat before slamming into your messy cunt, driving his bulbous tip to hit your cervix and his heavy balls smacked the curve of your ass, leaving stinging sensation. "'n I think it's fair I use ya," Toji grunted, throwing your legs on his broad shoulders and griped your hips with his strong, painful hold, He thrusted forward. The first was harsh and was followed by an equally unforgiving second to a third to a fourth thrust that quickly bled into rapid, brutal pounding. You cried and shook your head as your body jerked up and down the thin futon, the pleasure was overbearing "Goddamn, such a tight cunt." Toji groaned and stood up, lifting you with him, leaving only your shoulders on the ground as he ruthlessly jackhammered your pussy from above you.

You could do nothing but take it and imagine what he looked like, how sweat-covered Toji's muscular build was, his broad, scarred chest and shoulders shining in the dim lighting, his thick biceps bulging from his hold on your hips, his black hair stuck to his forehead, as he pants and groans, his skilled hips jerking as he pounded and ruined your cunt for anybody else. You couldn't help but imagine the view of his thick, girthy nine inches cock drilling into you, your juices flying and coating the dark hair around his base and balls. You yelped as Toji bend down, his dick reaching deeper into you than before as he picked you up from the floor and wrapped his arms around your lower back, his brutish hammering directed upwards, slamming into that toe-curling spot.

You came when a hand took hold of your hair and pulled it down, your pulsing walls gushed out your release. Toji growled as his thrust sped up before he yanked himself out, for a moment all you could hear was his grunting, panting, and groans until a hot liquid graced your stomach and you were un-too gently sat down on the floor. He didn't speak to you the whole time he put on his clothes and left you there.

You numbly remember two members of the gang ungagging you and taking the tear-filled blindfold off. Of course, they left a wet rag to clean yourself up.

Toji hadn't visited you since. And you don't believe he would. The torture continued, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of knowing that the person you loved the most hated you. You didn't know how long this would continue but you knew one thing, you didn't want to be stuck down here until Kenji determined whether to spare your life or not, you wouldn't allow him to decide your fate. You eat every meal and drink every drop of water, slowly but surely gearing your strength and waiting for the moment to review itself. You didn't have to wait long.

Two men came into the room, laughing and pushing each other, the men looked new to the gang and arrogant in the stupidest of ways. Just your luck. "Well, isn't the little traitor. How are you today?" one of the men, cooed mockingly, squatting down beside you. The man had terribly bleached hair, that looked like a five-year-old dyed his hair, and cut like a sad excuse of a mohawk, his teasing grin showed off his yellow teeth and he adored cheap shit and chins. His Partner didn't look any better. You didn't say anything "What? Ain't gonna talk?" the man behind him taunted, his own shit-eating grin on his face. "Hey Jiro hand me your knife will ya?" 'blondie' asked over his shoulder his eyes never straying from you "Sure man." 'Jiro' chuckles darkly, he receives his lame pocket knife from his pants and flips it open before handing it to 'Blondie'.

"Now why don't we have some fun?" his grin turned crooked as he inched the blade closer to you, just as the knife was close to your face, you griped his wrist tightly and kicked his stomach, the momentum knocking him on his ass and causing him to let go of the digger and right in your palm "You bitch!" 'Blondie' spat as you stood up. He scrambled to get up but fell back as your knee made contact with his face, easily breaking his nose. he groaned before going lay still and unmoving, blood steadily pouring out his crooked nose.

"And stay down." you spoke coldly then looked to your next victim "W-what the fuck!!" Jiro stared in terror as you calmingly stepped over his friend's body, blade in your hand. "Are you just gonna stand there?" you asked, which seemed to knock some sense into the man as he ran to you with his fist raised beside his head, you waited when he was about to swing to duck and slash his chest, while he was stunned you kicked his knee out from under him. An echo thud rolled around the almost empty room as he succumbs to unconsciousness.

Quickly you tore Jiro's suit off his body and put it on, it didn't exactly fit but it would do. Pocketing the digger and the key to the door, you locked them in and made your escape. You couldn't stay in Japan, it was time to go back to your country.

Toji had never felt the pain of betrayal when you expect the worst out of people it was hard to feel, disappointment and the treachery of someone you love. Toji wanted to hate you, he gave you a part of him that he showed no one, no woman had gotten anything but sex from him but with you it was different, you made him feel like everything was gonna be okay, you made the Toji Zenin fall in love. When he was told of who you were, he didn't want to believe it yet the evidence was the beacon of truth he couldn't ignore. His father didn't waste a moment to tell him how much he was a Disappointment, and a shame to the family, and if he wasn't his only son, he'd be in the ground, and for the first time since his young childhood it sting. All he could do was listen and bow to his father once he was dismissed. Toji didn't want to miss you, regardless every bone in his body cried to be with you and he thought maybe he only missed the feeling of your body against his.

He was wrong, it helped to feel you again though it didn't last long. His pride and mind battled, he wished to forget his love for you, he couldn't live without you and so he decided he was gonna free you and you'd run away together he didn't need his clan, he never did but he needed you. It was too late.

You had left. His love was gone and even beating the shit out of the newest recruits did nothing to please him like it normally did. He sighed as he walked away, leaving the recruits in a puddle of their blood. "WHAT?!!" The raging scream of his father made Toji's eyes roll "She escaped." Toji repeated lazily, a bored look on his face which only made his father furious "This is all your fault!" Kenji hissed through gritted teeth, stamping from behind his desk, and stopped in front of Tojj. "You married the witch and you bring shame to me! You were a mistake!" Kenji yelled and backhanded Toji "You never should have been born!" his father growled as he tried to punch him, he never connected as a hidden blade sliced open his throat and his body fell to the floor, gagging on his blood. "I think it's time ya retire old man," Toji spoke, watching as his dad slowly died with a grin.

He was now the head of the biggest gang in Japan and he knew what he wanted to do first.

It's been four weeks since you made it back to your hometown and you didn't know how much you missed it after living in Japan for a year. You just finished getting groceries and others as you walked into your rented apartment to put everything away, the strong, pungent scent of cigarettes whiffed into your nose. Dropping the shopping bags you reached behind your shirt and hastily pulled out your concealed gun "Jumpy aren't ya?" the baritone voice of your husband chuckled from the couch of the living room, his prasine eyes looking you up and down, a devilish smirk on his lips as he blows out a puff of smoke. "What are you doing here?" you stepped forward, gun pointing directly to his heart "'m here to take you home." he put out his cigarette on your side table and stood up, his biceps flexing as he pushed himself off the tiny couch, even as he did things so nonchalantly, he was still so bewitching, all he wore was a white undershirt, sleeves rolled up showing off his tattooed arms and a black suit vest over and simple black jeans, normal cloths that would make anyone looked good but him, he looked like a sinful god.

Your hands shook at every step he made toward you "I'm not going back to Kenji." you spoke sternly, stepping back "Kenji's dead. I killed him." you paused as you stared at him in shock "W-why? Why now?" you slowly lowered your gun "He made me doubt your love, that's fuckin' unforgivable." Toji gently took the weapon out of your hands and let it fall to the ground "You can't just expect that you'd just say that and I'll forgive you?" you glared at him, wanting so badly to be more mad at him for what he did "I know..let me make it up to ya." his glove covered hand cupped your cheek and he leaned close "I won't forgive you so damn easy." you whispered, "I know.." his scarred lips barely touching yours "I hate you.." Toji chuckled softly "No, you don't." with that his lips locked with yours into a passionate and loving filed kiss.

Taglist; @18lkpeters, @ablondehoe @sherlockzss, @gummi-1 @kyrie-kami, @m00dycr4nkybitc, @cvqidd, @darkstarlight82, @twistedw0nd3rland3acc, @a-big-multi-fandom-mess, @liluzisimp, @silbersee, @xxmaddhatter39xx.

#toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader

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