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veltana · 1 month

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Buy my heart - 1

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,2k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, slow burn, eventual smut, omega auction.

✦ Summary: Bucky buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series, the parts will be short but I still hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to come back and read Lloyd's series, set in the same verse! 😉 Bucky's scent is based of my favorite perfume of all time ÆTHER XTRÆM 🤤Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

Everything is numb. As you stand on the podium in front of the faceless crowd with the lights in your eyes, you don't feel a thing, except the uncomfortable sensation of scent blocker on your skin. As soon as you pulled the thin dress on for the auction you decided that the only way you would survive this is if you just turn every emotion off.

Paddles go up. Paddles go down. The man beside you rambles fast but you don't listen. It's not irrelevant how much you sell for, since your family needs it to pay off their debt, but you can't take it in.

Instead, you focus on your breathing. The mask-covered mass in front of you is grass on a meadow on a windy day. Breathe in. They sway towards you. Breathe out. They sway away.

You don't want to look at who raises their paddle the most, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to identify them since everyone's face is concealed by the same black mask. But you'd find yourself scrutinizing their hands and build, trying to guess if they're old or young. Honestly, you dread both: a young pup with an overly cocky attitude who knows nothing about caring for an omega, or an old lone wolf who is too frail to do anything himself and would require constant care.

The sharp crack of the club startles you from your self-induced meditation. That's when you finally hear the sum you've been sold for and some of the tension in your shoulders drains away. It's enough. Your family will be fine.

An attendant leads you away through dark corridors before leaving you in another changing room. They've brought your old clothes but you don't touch them. They smell like home. Like your family. And you can't go into this new life with it, you have to leave it behind.

If the attendant is confused about you still wearing the sheer dress they provided when they come and collect you, they don't let it show before walking you out.

The air is cold against your skin but there is a car idling just outside. Well, it's a limo. The driver opens the door and gestures for you to climb inside. Guess this is your ride. Time to meet your alpha.

Pressing down every feeling of panic and dread you walk on bare feet the short distance. The door shutting just behind you makes you jump. A moment later, the car starts moving.

The first thing you notice is that it's dim in the back of the limousine since the tinted windows don't let the streetlights in. The only illumination comes from small spots in the ceiling.

The second thing you notice is him. He's at the other end of the seat. Maskless with a glass of something in his hand that he swirls before taking a sip, staring at you over the rim. He's tall, broad-shouldered, short hair that looks soft with a neatly trimmed beard framing his face.

Then the smell hits you. It's easy to filter out the artificial notes of his cologne from what is his pure natural smell. It's a woody musky scent with a light tone of florals buried beneath that is not sharp or strong. It just fills your lungs with a warm, sensual feeling. For the first time in your life, you think you understand what other omegas rave about when they say that the smell of alpha is unlike anything else. The omega in you wants to slide up to him and rub yourself all over him, but you resist.

“Hello, little darling,” his rich voice fills the compartment. “Hello, sir,” you respond and is pleased when your voice doesn't waiver. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I prefer if you call me Bucky.” “Bucky,” you try, and nod, although it feels odd on your tongue. You've never addressed an alpha by a nickname before.

He doesn't ask for your name and you don't offer it, the less personal this is for you, the better. Bucky might have bought your body but your mind is still your own and he can never take it away from you. If he never calls you by your name, the better.

“Why do you still have that dress on?” he asks. You pluck at the fabric. “I couldn't take my old clothes with me.” “And no shoes?” “No, sir. I mean, Bucky.”

He picks up his phone. You hear the dial tone and then a woman's voice answers at the other end. “We need clothes, all types, but for tonight just get some underwear and something to sleep in. Then he directs his attention to you. “What size are you?” After hesitating a second, you tell him and he passes the information along before he hangs up.

The car slows and sounds as if it's driving on gravel. Bucky finishes his drink and studies you. There is a tick in his jaw as if he's irritated. Without a word, he starts taking off his suit jacket.

The blood in your veins turns cold and you press yourself back against the door. You don't want him to touch you. The dress might be sheer but the thought of being naked with him in the back of the limo is not appealing in the least.

But his actions surprise you. He holds out the jacket for you. “Wear this. My men are loyal but I don't need them to ogle you and get distracted.” There is no hiding the way your fingers tremble as you take it from him. After putting it on you realize that in a way, he's marked you with his scent now, but without touching you. It shouldn't make you pleased, but it does.

When the car comes to a stop you reach for the handle but with something very close to a growl he instructs, “Wait there,” before stepping out. You pull your hand back quickly and place it in your lap. Moments later the door opens. “Since you don't have any shoes, I'll carry you,” he explains, reaching for you, but you shuffle away. “I'll be fine, I promise, you don't need to do that.” His jaw ticks again. “No, you will hurt your feet, darling. Come here, now.” You hesitate still, but you're not prepared to find out what the next tell of irritation might be, or if the twitch in his jaw is the only warning you're going to get.

You move closer to him and hardly have time to process what happens before you're in his arms. He carries you near his body with your face pressed against his fine dress shirt. It's dark outside but the mansion he carries you towards is well lit. There is no doubt James Buchanan Barnes is a very rich man.

After stepping inside he still doesn't put you down. You want to object but decide against it as he carries you up a flight of stairs and into a room, where he puts you down on a soft carpet, then steps back.

“Clothes should be here in about twenty minutes. When was the last time you ate?” “Uhm, this morning?” “Allergies?” “No, but I really don’t like tomatoes.” “I'll inform the chef,” he nods, before continuing, “This is your room. Mine is across the hall. For tonight, stay here, I'll have food brought up. Tomorrow I’ll give you a tour and we'll talk about what is expected of you going forward.” You nod. “I suggest you take a nice long bath, before eating and going to bed.” “Yes, Bucky.” Your obedience seems to please him because the lines between his eyebrows disappear. “Have a good night, little darling.” And then he leaves.

#veltana writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader #alpha!bucky x omega!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky barnes #omegaverse

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od4saku · 7 months

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Gojo Satoru wakes with a start.

His skin is hot with emotion but the air in the bedroom is cold. Wind whistles high and sharp outside the window: a song of storm. It's wintertime in Tokyo. He thinks it may snow soon.

He's sitting up in bed, at some odd hour of the morning. And it's not unusual for him to be unable to sleep, or even to be plagued by nightmares like the one that'd just awoken him, not in the slightest— but it's different kind of restlessness that plagues him tonight. A kind that he fears not even your company can cure.

You lay so peacefully in bed, occupying the space beside him. One hand is slid beneath your pillow, and the other is reached out. Like you're trying to touch him. Hold him. His heaving chest and harsh, hollow breathing have not roused you. The blanket is not over you, rather it rests at your hips; Satoru wonders if you are cold. With gentle, quiet hands, he slides it up from your waist to cover more of you.

Satoru has mastered the art of silence. It's something that comes hand in hand with solitude, and he is all-too-familiar with solitude. Raised to be his own god, he has never not been alone. A shrine is a lonely place at night. He sits for a moment. Stares. Your chest rises and falls like ripples on a lake. The clock on the bedside table next to you reads 2:23 AM; he will not be sleeping again tonight, Satoru decides. He's quiet as he stands, shifting to the door of the bedroom— he's about to open the door when your voice cuts through the cool stillness of the air.

"S'toru?" A yawn. "Why are you up?"

He freezes. He's usually more careful. You usually don't wake up.

He has a quiet tendency of sorts, to pull away into himself. To hold it all back. There are people who love him; there are people he loves. But on nights, these lonesome nights, it all fades into the back recesses of his mind. This same tendency tells him to ignore you, or dismiss you back to your own dreaming. He wants to push you away. He wants to tell you to go back to sleep. His eyes squeeze shut, and his fingertips ghost the cold metal of the doorknob. His nightmare comes back to him in pieces. A faceless girl; the bullet that pierces her skull. Her white headband turning red. His best friend— the hole where his heart used to be. Your body gutted, like a dead animal on the side of the road, and the powerless man who'd done it coming for him next. This dream isn't so much fictive as it is macabre pieces of his past, stuck together like tracks burned into a CD that plays on loop in his mind whenever he shuts his eyes.

It's a subtle ache. It's an emptiness that lingers, persists. It's one he knows. Satoru is familiar with his own pain. He's never been able to shake it. It's a piece of him, the other half of his heart. He is stained blue. If he turns around to face you, he will not be able to leave. He will not be able to spare you of his own pain. He'll burden you with all that he feels, all that he is, more than he already has. If he walks out the bedroom door now, he knows he'll be okay— he always is. That's what he's always done. He's always walked out. He's always faced it all alone.

"Satoru?" You call for him again, voice raspy with sleep, and his resolve crumbles.

He's always faced it alone— but he doesn't have to. He believes it when he looks at you, head propped up with a hand, sleepy gaze fixed on him. Your eyes widen when you catch the look in his eyes. He's sure they betray how he feels. He always had a hard time lying to you.

You've known Satoru since high school. Everything he's been through, you've been through with him. You'd nearly died by his side, at Toji's hands, all those years ago. You'd stood by him when Suguru left. You'd given him space when he needed it, and gifted him with your company when he'd wanted it again. His love for you is something soft like fresh snow. Renewing, beautiful, and chilling, right down to the bone. He knows you love him, too. He sees it in you constantly. He recalls a memory from only a few months back; you'd gone out on a 'girl's night' with your friends and returned wasted, hardly able to stand, heels in Shoko's hands as she dropped you off to his apartment with an amused smile.

"Where are we, Ieiri? T's not my apartment," he had heard you slur as he opened the door. It was late. He'd predicted this outcome, and he smiled when he saw you clinging to Shoko's arm. Your nails were sure to leave indents.

"You need your babysitter tonight," she replied, gesturing to where Satoru stood in the doorframe. With a slight delay, your eyes widened when you saw him and you let go of Shoko, surging forward into your boyfriend's arms.

"'Toru! I didn't know you'd be here!" You were hardly intelligible, as you began to press scores of kisses to his face. They were open-mouthed and heavy, leaving lipstick stains on his cheek, jaw, chin, nose. Every time he would try to get a word in, you'd plant a clumsy kiss to his lips, silencing him and sending him into bouts of laughter. Shoko waved him off, and he'd helped you inside, where you promptly passed out in your dress. But not before telling him about how much you'd missed him. He'd slipped your dress off with gentle hands and helped you into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and carried you to bed.

That blatant show of affection, the way your love spilt through the cracks of your porcelain mask— he knows you care for him, too. He thinks about that night now and feels it again. The ghost of your lips and hands and warm, soft kisses. The bubbling laughter that escapes your throat, the slew of “I love you’s” that you don’t even try to contain. He believes in your love for him. He believes in it more than anything. So when you tilt your head with worry and ask him, "is everything okay?" Satoru lets himself shatter, then fall apart in front of you without thinking twice. He's always faced his pain alone— he doesn't have to. You love him. You are willing to hold it all for him.

He chokes in a harsh, strangled breath, and you’re up on your feet before he can inhale again.

“Hey,” you whisper as you place a hand on his shoulder, and your voice is so soft, so sweet, so real, he can’t help how he slumps into your body. You welcome the added weight, rearranging your hands so that one falls to his neck and hair and the other is draped around his waist. “It’s okay. What’s wrong? It’s okay. I’m here.”

He can’t speak. Doesn’t trust himself to. Satoru settles for letting breathing into the crook of your neck as you rub his shoulders comfortingly, whispering sweet words he can’t quite understand into his scalp. He feels the ache dripping off his bones with every circle your fingers trace across the small of his back. He feels the rot dissolve. He tightens his hold on you. He loves you. He will let you hold him.

A sudden fear grips him. The insecurities of his dream come rushing back at full tilt. His hands squeeze the skin you’ve offered, so tight that it might bruise, and he looks into your eyes. They shine with something unsaid. He refuses to listen his grip, to let you go— if he does he fears that you won’t come back.

It’s a common theme in his life, for those he loves to banish, just like that. The minute he allows himself to care, they’re gone. And what of this love, like no other he’s felt? If he releases you, if he leaves, you’ll be gone, too. He can’t have that. Can’t handle it. The thought of your absence is more than he can bare, so he lets his head fall to your shoulder again, maximizing the contact between you and him. If you feel him on you, if you feel his touch, his love, you can’t leave. You won’t. He won’t let you.

Satoru’s truth is that he is selfish, disgustingly so. His hands hold and don’t let go— they grip, grasping onto whatever they can— loose fabric, fingers, trailing up to the nail, roots of hair, a forearm— he can’t let go. He won’t. Like a little boy holding onto a toy, tightly, so tight. White-knuckles and glossy eyes, he holds on. Oh, he’s selfish. He’s selfish with the way he clings to a memory long past, meant to be forgotten. But Satoru holds all the same, like a lifeline, like a priest holds a bible. A religious devotion, a saint’s zeal.

He holds onto you for what feels like ages but must only have been the better half of an hour before you ease him back onto the bed, so he’s lying curled into your lap. He won’t let you move, let you stop touching him. He fears you might disappear. But you don’t move, either.

You remain still beneath him, present with your touch. You’re still murmuring things too quiet for him to hear over the sound of his heartbeat in his throat, but your tone is soft and soothing. Like cool water being poured over a hot open wound. Like a salve. You don’t leave, not when his heavy breathing turns to shallow gasps, not when his shallow gasps turn to the quiet sounds of sleep. When he wakes, Satoru will find you asleep in the safe position he’d remembered you in when he’d drifted off.

His love is selfish. His mind is a mess, mayhem. He is greedy and cruel and tortured, and you will stay through it all, he realizes that morning, as he watches your chest rise and fall from your lap. For all of Satoru’s burdens, and all his doubts, for all the pain that weighs him down and sinks him like an anchor to the bottom of his own brain, you will stay. You will stay, you will stay, you have stayed. The familiarity of you is chilling in the most comforting way. It’s nostalgia. The emptiness still lingers, but it lessens. The dull ache still makes its home in his chest, but there’s something new, now. Something he thinks may have always been there, but he’s been too blinded to realize it until now. There’s you, too.

(Outside the window, snow falls silently. Satoru will have no bad dreams when night falls.)

“There were all my secrets, spread out on the table. Like someone had taken my insides and scooped them out for everyone to see. Look, here are her stupid hopes! Look, here’s her dumb soft heart!”

Carol Rifka Brunt / Tell the Wolves I’m Home

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #reader insert

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luvrodite · 1 year

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OCTOBER 7: YOU FLOWER, YOU FEAST JASON TODD (5.1K)

kinktober prompts: virginity + praise | kinktober masterlist

synopsis. you meet a beautiful stranger and every bit of sense you've accumulated over the years flies out the window. what's the worst that could happen?

cw: f!reader, smut, gentle mdom, praise, virginity loss, virgin!reader, dry humping, cunnilingus, fingering f!receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex minors, blank and ageless blogs dni

technically a part 2 to for you i'd fall from grace (just to touch your face) but can be read as a standalone

The doors open with a quiet ding.

Now it is you on the other side watching him step out, and a beat passes. The world seems to hold its breath.

You take his hand.

It feels like your undoing and rebirth all in one.

Jason’s hotel room is…luxurious. That is the first thing you notice when he leads you in, opening the door with his free hand. He doesn’t let go of you for a moment, fishing the keycard out of his pocket smoothly as his mouth skims over yours. He presses you into the door for a moment, and then you hear two small beeps before you’re being walked backwards.

When he pulls away, he’s backlit by gold and your eyes trail over his shoulder to take in the spacious room you’ve been led into.

Rich, patterned carpet, detailed plaster carvings along the trim and a chandelier – your eyes widen when you spot the bed. Jason huffs out a laugh, breath tickling your ear as you take in the wrinkled sheets, untouched from when you’d interrupted his night to coax him out with you, a cloud of what you’re sure is a thousand thread count bedsheets. It’s fit to house a king.

There’s a mouth against your shoulder, and you look back up to your companion. Jason glitters before you, sparks from the chandelier glass winking at the corners of your vision, robing him in reds, blues and purples. Your heart flutters as he grows closer.

“Hi, pretty thing,” he whispers, pressing his mouth to yours. “You okay?”

His hands are warm against your sides, and you nod into the kiss, a hum caught in his mouth. But your lips tremble against his, and you’ve begun to shake a little in his arms. You mourn the loss when he breaks the kiss, teal eyes narrowing on you.

A hand comes up to cradle your face, a dry warmth that bleeds into you, and your eyes flutter as it tilts your head.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

But how do you tell him that you are? You’re more sure of this than anything in your life. Every cell in your body, every nerve and vein and beat of your heart all thrum with the same thought, the same desire – this, him. You want him so badly, there’s an ache between your legs and when you shift your weight you can feel the dampness of your underwear, sticky with need.

How do you tell him?

That even in your desire, even in your certainty that you won’t be leaving this room unchanged, there is fear.

You think of girlhood, of closed bedroom windows and lonely nights, of eyeing valentines enviously. You think of bare knees and secret touches beneath bed covers, substituting your fingers for another’s, faceless hands skimming your innermost parts–

You blink at Jason. Jason, who is solid, and real. Who has already unknowingly stolen a first, on his way to take another. Teal smudges in your vision, and you press closer, seeking comfort from the bigger man.

“No one has ever..” you try to say, but your voice wavers, and heat crawls up your neck to settle in your face. A thumb skims across the nape of your neck, and you shiver.

“Will you look at me?”

You linger in the safety of his embrace for a moment longer, before you do as he says, tipping your head to gaze at him. He smiles, pleased, and the sight of it sends a rush of blood to your head.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, rewarding you with a squeeze to your side. “You were saying something. Tell me.”

You blink. Surely he wasn’t going to make you say it? Hadn’t he heard enough? You’d only known him so long, but Jason seemed intelligent enough to connect the dots. But he only stares patiently at you, waiting.

“I..” you lick your lips, throat suddenly dry. “I’ve never done this before.”

The look in his eyes confirms your suspicions – he had only wanted to hear you say it. It’s no less gentle, but his touch tightens around you a little, and you swallow as his pupils, already blown wide, seem to darken even more.

“Done what, baby?” he rasps out, lowering his head to nose at the column of your throat. “Let a stranger take you back to his room?”

You squirm in his arms, hands coming up to clutch the fabric of his shirt, fistfuls of cotton wrinkling under your touch.

“Mmh..no..I mean..yes..but–”

“But what?” he mumbles into your jaw.

“I’ve never – with anyone,” you stutter out, squeezing his shoulders, tucking your face into his collar.

He withdraws then, eyes glossy. “No one?” he asks, voice steady save for the hitch in his breath when you shake your head.

“Is–is that okay?” you ask and his eyes slip shut for a second, forehead falling forward to press against yours. The both of you stand in the living area of his obscenely large hotel room, but all you see is aqua eyes, curtained by thick lashes, staring into yours.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out a laugh, thumb sliding a path back up to your cheek. “Is that okay with you? I don’t expect anything, we can hang out a little longer, or I can walk you back down to your room–”

“No!” you protest, and his eyes widen. You scrunch your eyes closed, lowering your voice. “No, I…I do want to – y’know.”

He laughs, and you feel the press of his mouth against your cheek, there and gone just as quickly. It’s chaste, and sweet.

“Yeah?” he asks, amused. “You want to…y’know?”

You frown at him, nerves steadily melting away as he grins at you. You’ve known him less than a week but this familiarity feels age old. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Aw,” he snickers, smoothing your pout away with a kiss. “‘M sorry. You’re just cute. I can’t help it.”

You have to squirm away when his fingers pinch your sides teasingly, laughing too loudly for the hour it currently is. He doesn’t seem to care that you might be disturbing the other guests – but you suppose for what he must’ve paid for this room, any sound is unlikely to bleed through the walls. “Stop! Stop!”

He grins at you, ceasing his attack. Eyes softening, he tilts his head, gesturing to the living space you’d overlooked. A chaise longue and expensive looking sofa are arranged neatly, flowers blooming in a vase on the coffee table. You spy a book resting beside it, neatly bookmarked with a slip of paper you recognise to be hotel stationery, the filigree border sticking out from between the pages giving it away.

“C’mere, sweetheart. I wanna kiss you a bit more.”

You kick your heels off, the sparkly shoes you’d spent more money on than you ought to have landing sideways beside his. Your feet sink into the plush carpet below as you pad over to the couch, falling into Jason’s lap with a delighted giggle when he pulls you close. Knees bracketing his hips, your skirt slides up dangerously, but you’re more focused on the slide of his mouth against yours.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Jason breathes into your mouth, and your eyes droop, smiling against him. Big hands settle against the small of your back, and Jason swallows the surprised noise you make when you feel him under you, thick, and hard. “Got me so fuckin’ hard for you, sweetheart. Can you feel that?”

You rock your hips shyly, squirming on his lap, letting out a breath when you feel him bump against your covered clit, pleasure pooling low in your gut.

“Mmh..there you go,” Jason whispers, guiding you along his lap. You whine into his mouth, eyes shutting at the slide of his tongue against yours. It’s slow, and a little messy, the way he kisses you, spit slicked lips sliding against yours, hands rocking you back and forth.

You have no idea what the time is, your phone lying abandoned in the depths of your purse, forgotten in the entryway next to your shoes. Orange light burns through the back of your eyelids, and fatigue renders your limbs heavy against Jason – it’s been a long day and an even longer night, but you aren’t quite ready to give it up yet, too drunk on this new experience to call an end to it.

An open window nearby lets in a stream of air, cool against your flushed skin and some way down the road, a car beeps on the motorway. Jason, beneath you, rolls his hips up into your aching centre and you mewl. He laughs as you break away, panting, lips shiny with spit. You go dizzy at the sight.

“So fuckin’ noisy,” he laughs, leaning back against the couch. He looks sinful, head tipped back to expose his throat, thick thighs spread and hands on your hips. Like he’s at your mercy. Power ripples beneath your fingertips as you touch his neck, skimming over his Adam's apple. Almost as if in a trance, you lower your head to bite at the skin, tongue laving at the mark and relishing in the groan he lets out.

“You sure-” he gasps when you do it once more. “Y’sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Mhm,” you hum, sucking a mark below his ear. You pull away, breath hitching at the sight of the bruise blooming there. His eyes are already on you when you meet his gaze, half-lidded and hungry.

“‘M so fucking lucky, aren’t I?” he rasps, resting a hand on the back of your neck and bringing you down to him. “Nobody else gets you like this, do they.”

You shake your head in affirmation and he grins, a little pleased. And then, his gaze is drifting down to the neck of your dress.

It’s a pretty thing, the both of you know it, daringly lowcut – more than you would have ever braved to wear back home. But here, you are something else entirely, a flower in bloom. There is no one to tell you no, to heed caution. No nosy eyes – the only gazes on you now are heavy with something else. You see the same heaviness in Jason’s eyes as he drinks in the red swathing your figure.

You’d seen it in the store and known – this was it. This would be the one. Every stitch and fold of it had been made in your image, you’d known it from the moment you laid your eyes on it, only confirmed by the reflection in the dressing room mirror.

“Baby,” Jason says suddenly, voice sounding shot, eyes turning pleading and hands trailing back down to fist at your dress. “Can I take this off?”

You find yourself nodding fervently, so eager that any pretense of playing coy slips right out of your head as you lean up and forward, closing your eyes as his fingers pull the zip at your side and pull the material up your figure. It’s unbearably slow, and the drag of the fabric up your skin leaves goosebumps in its trail, your heart hammering in your chest as inch by inch, you are bared to his eyes. When the skirt gathers at your waist, only just covering your panties, Jason groans, eyes tracing your thighs hungrily. He pauses a moment, and you tremble atop him. It’s only a moment – he resumes his path.

Everything is still, and quiet around the both of you. Only your shared breathing, heavy – and, you imagine, wrapping around the other, invisible. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, and you curl your fingers into fists where they rest on your thighs.

“Up, baby,” Jason murmurs, and you raise your arms, shuddering as the dress is lifted totally. It hits the ground behind you with a quiet flutter, and you’re left atop Jason’s lap in only the pretty panties you’d slipped on before dinner.

Before dinner, when you’d flounced around your hotel room, running back and forth across the wardrobe and your suitcase and your vanity, silk robe slipping down your shoulders, giggling with your best friend. You’d slipped on the scrap of material after your shower, shrieking when she’d voiced the thought you’d quietly entertained – who exactly are you putting those on for?

Their intended subject breathes out a sigh when his eyes land on them, a groan caught in his throat. The hardness pressed against your thigh is an attestation to just how much he likes it.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” Jason tips forward to press his forehead to your shoulder, and your breath hitches when the movement causes his nose to brush against your bare skin, lips so close to your breast you can feel his breath. “Been wanting to do that from the moment you showed up at my door.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out shyly, face warming. His resounding “Mhm.” vibrates against your shoulder.

“Y’showed up looking like sin, princess,” he mumbles, a sloppy kiss pressed to your skin. And then another, and another. He moves slowly, with precision, and you’re burning for him. “Thought about just locking the door and ripping that damn dress off you – ‘m surprised you didn’t notice how hard I got.”

Your eyes flicker down but his broad shoulders obscure your view, curling over you, leaving wet kisses over every bit of skin he can reach.

“Mmh, baby y’gotta talk to me,” Jason sighs, pulling away and you almost keen at the loss, chasing after him when he sinks back into the couch cushions, hands steadying you as you tip forward. “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” you whisper, nose to nose.

Up close, he is even more beautiful, golden and freckled from the summer sun. His eyelashes are thick, fluttering with every blink. He watches you, and you are reminded of a big cat, lazy eyes fixed on its prey, slow, smouldering blinks as he stares at you.

“You want me to take care of you?” he breathes out, and you nod. He shakes his head. “Gotta hear you say it out loud, sweetheart. You can do that for me can’t you?”

His voice drops into a coo, encouraging in all the ways to make your head dizzy, every thought turning syrupy thick when he bumps his nose against yours, coaxing.

“Say it for me, baby,” he murmurs into your mouth, capturing your bottom lip between his. You feel the barest drag of his teeth and you whimper – he catches that too. “Aw, c’mon pretty. I’ve barely done anything, yet. There’ll be time for that later. Y’just gotta tell me.”

“Jason, I-” you gasp out, when he rocks his hips up into you. “Please? Please…”

“Please what?”

If they could only see you now. Shame and desire race through your veins, circling each other in a vicious stand-off. Will you give in? Will you see it through? You’ve come this far. Ruination is only a murmur away.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, and his eyes gleam.

Jason hauls you up from the couch in one swift movement that leaves you grappling for his shoulders, but his hold is firm – you’re in no danger of falling, unless he intends it. Mouth on yours, he crosses the living space and you enter the bedroom, the mammoth of a bed coming closer into view. You only register it in your periphery, much too preoccupied with the brush of Jason’s tongue against yours, yet another new, dizzying sensation that clouds your senses.

And then you’re falling back, landing amongst the sheets of his bed. Jason hovers above you – still clothed. You quirk a brow expectantly at him and he pauses. He follows your gaze, and snickers when he realises.

“I guess I’m being pretty unfair, huh,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ve got you all pretty and bare for me and I’m still dressed. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Jason is, impossibly, even more attractive under his clothes. He shucks the jacket and top, and your throat dries at the sight of him, all soft muscle and broadness. Every inch of him has been carved with a careful hand, and you drag your gaze downwards as he tugs his sweats off, left in only a pair of black boxer briefs. Powerful thighs flex as he steps out of his clothing, and you have to bite back the urge to learn forward and press your mouth to him, to sink your teeth into the muscle of his chest.

“Hope that’s a good silence,” he remarks, kicking his sweats away and you snap your eyes back up to him, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips.

“It is,” you assure. Bravely, you reach out to take his hand, and his eyes soften a little when you do. “You’re…no one should look like that.”

Pink dusts the top of his cheeks and he laughs. “I’m glad you think so.” He shakes his head then, and draws closer. “Tonight’s about you, though, princess. Can you lay back for me?”

“Like this?” you ask, unsure, settling yourself against his pillows, legs bent together. He smiles, kneeling at the foot of the bed.

“Not quite,” he says, a warm hand coming to cup your calf. “This okay? If you wanna stop, just let me know. Pinch me, or something. Promise I’ll stop.”

You nod, and nod once more, and he drops a kiss to the inside of your knee as he maneuvers your legs so they’re spread, allowing him to draw closer. All that stands between his gaze and your most sensitive parts is a scrap of fabric, and you see his eyelids droop as he settles on his stomach, breath skimming your inner thigh.

“You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” he asks, tilting his head, expectant. His voice is gentle, coaxing, and you find yourself nodding, eager to please him. He smiles, and it’s like starlight, reddened mouth curving up to reveal pearly whites.

“Yeah,” he sighs, pleased. Fingers trail up your legs, pushing them further apart with a firmness that is equally as gentle. “Knew you would. My girl knows how to listen t’me. So sweet for me. ‘M gonna kiss you now, ‘kay, sweetheart?”

You’re tipping your chin and then your panties are being hooked to the side and there’s a mouth on you, warm, and wet, tongue curling against your clit in a movement that draws a gasp right out of you, squirming against the sheets, both chasing and drawing away from the unfamiliar sensation. Jason laughs at the sound, only pressing closer to you with an arm hooking across your hips to keep you still.

Your vision swims, and you press your head back into the pillows, the canopy above you blurring under every artful lash and lick of Jason’s tongue. Your hands fist the sheets when he closes his lips around your clit, sucking gently – desire burns in your gut and explodes behind your eyes with his movements, your hips lurching off the mattress only to meet the steel resistance of his arm.

“Jason,” you cry, only growing warmer when he snakes his free hand up your torso to pinch your nipple, squeezing your breasts as he works his mouth.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just-” he cuts himself off, spitting onto your folds – only adding to the mess you’re sure you’ve made. You shudder and he laughs against your skin. “Mmh, just like that, just like that…”

Your hand finds its way into his hair, fingers sinking into thick black locks and tugging before you can register the impulse. You draw away, a babbled apology on your tongue but he only catches your wrist as it raises and pushes it back with a husky laugh.

“Touch me all you want,” he says, kissing your thigh. “Want you to feel good, angel.”

“It does,” you pant, too caught up to find any embarrassment in the needy pitch of your voice, too eager to get his mouth back on you. He grins, knowingly, and raises his hand, reaching to press his fingers against your lips.

“Get my fingers wet f’me, baby,” he says.

It feels debauched, the way you let him part your lips and sink his fingers in your mouth, pressing heavy on your tongue. Drool collects, and you flick your tongue against his thick digits, sucking. His eyes shutter, and you find yourself pleased to have turned the tables, even if only momentarily. He retracts his fingers soon, and you follow the string of spit with your eyes, flinching when it snaps, smearing against your chin.

“That’s my girl,” he exhales. “‘M gonna stretch you out, okay? Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Okay,” you murmur, resting a hand across the arm on your hips. He pushes himself up onto his haunches, and then there’s a finger pressing at your entrance. It’s a foreign feeling – Jason’s fingers are much thicker than your own, and you tense up at the intrusion, but he notices.

“Take a breath for me,” he tells you firmly, other hand stroking your skin comfortingly. “It’ll be more uncomfortable if you’re tense like that. There you go, take another for me, good girl.”

He leans up to kiss you, and you clutch his shoulders tightly when his thumb circles your clit in gentle circles, finger steadily pressing into you. You breathe through it, feeling small under his frame, but grateful for the cover. Jason whispers praise into your skin as you take him slowly, and you tip your head back as slowly, your body adjusts to the stretch.

“So good for me,” he tells you, and your eyes burn, tears crowding your lashline at the rush of emotions – it’s so much, all at once. You can’t quite make sense of things anymore, entirely consumed by the feeling of him, over, around, inside.

And still, when he deems you properly prepped, you feel you’ve entered an entirely new ballpark when he slides your panties off and removes his underwear, cock springing up and slapping against his stomach.

It isn’t as though you’ve never seen one before. The internet, and sex ed classes had at least given you some idea about what to expect, but –

Jason is big. Even inexperienced, you know this. Your mouth dries the longer you stare at it, so thick you wonder how he’s going to fit it inside you – can he? Trepidation settles in your lower gut, but with it, something else. You sit up on shaky arms, and curiosity spurs you on to reach for him, tucking your legs beneath you as you shuffle closer.

He lets you touch him, teal eyes watching in silence as your hand brushes along his hip, dipping down to press against his thigh. Skirting around where you really want to touch. When he exhales above you, you look up to find him softly smiling, amusement in the curve of his mouth.

“I don’t bite,” he says softly, fingers coming to wrap around your wrist gently, guiding your touch to his cock. The both of you shudder when you make contact, wrapping around his length experimentally. The weight of him in your hands makes your heart thrum, and you don’t realise you’ve drawn closer until he’s pulling you away just as your lips hover over the head of him.

You look up questioningly, and he gives you a reassuring grin, caressing your cheek. “Later, sweetheart. I wanna make you feel good.”

“Promise?” you murmur and he nods, looping his pinky around yours.

And then you’re being pressed back down into the sheets, a mouth on yours and Jason’s tongue licking at the seam of your lips. And you know you ought to be a little more responsible, when he presses on your bare heat, precum smearing at your entrance, but there’s a rush in the thought of having him wholly – of letting go of responsibility for just one night.

You’ve been good all your life, you figure you’re allowed one moment of recklessness.

He’s prepped you well, but the first press of his head inside still makes you gasp, stomach tightening as he enters you. He swallows the sound in his mouth, humming assuringly against your lips.

“Mmh, you’re doin’ so good for me,” he mumbles, sloppily kissing your jaw, and you throw your arms around his neck, tucking your face into his shoulder. “Breathe, breathe, princess.”

Inch by inch, he pushes until you’ve taken the entire length of him, settling there for you to adjust. You can feel it in your throat, every bit of skin and heat making your blood simmer, your eyes rolling slightly at the stretch.

“You okay?”

Jason brushes a few fingers across the back of your neck, and the touch is grounding, drawing your attention back to him. You nod, and he lets out a little laugh.

“So sweet for me,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to your head. You exhale against his collar, returning it to the spot above his heart, lips smudging against his chest and leaving a streak of colour where your lipstick rubs off. You grin privately, repeating the motion. The hand at your hip squeezes affectionately, and he speaks again. “Gonna start moving now, okay?”

“Mhm.” It’s a needy sound – not the first one he’s pulled out of you tonight, and when he rolls his hips, thumb catching at your clit, you wager it won’t be the last.

You lose all ability to think within minutes. Jason is attentive, and every touch lights you on fire, leaves you feeling scraped raw, every nerve sensitive to him. Everything feels amplified as he thrusts, making ample of use of his mouth and fingers in time with his movements. You’re clutching him, clutching the sheets, legs shaking around his waist.

The hotel room is filled with the sounds of your pleasure, Jason drawing moan after moan, whimpers and desperate moans from your lips – absently, you wonder, is that you, making all that noise? It seems utterly discomposed, something too filthy for the otherwise pristine room you’re in. But Jason is uncaring and if anything, it only spurs him on, gripping you tighter.

“Fuck,” he hisses, biting at your shoulder and you whine, nails biting into the meat of his shoulder. “That’s it, princess, you sound so fucking pretty.”

Sweat gathers in the dip of your brow, lines your skin and his as his hips cant into yours. His head dips down to catch a nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing the your sensitive bud. You choke on a gasp, throwing your head back into the pillows. He grins, letting go with a wet pop.

“Jason.” you sob out and he coos.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he says, leaning down so you’re nose to nose. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, unable to keep them open. “‘M I making you feel good? This what you expected?”

“F-feels so good,” you cry, the tears that have been gathering finally slipping free, streaking down your face as he rocks into you. His teeth gleam in the low light, victory in the stretch of his lips – the light haloes around him and he looks divine, bronzed and eclipsing your entire body with his.

He thrusts faster, a little harder, and you clutch his arm suddenly, feeling the pleasure rising in to a crescendo in your stomach. His name falls off your lips, coloured in desperation and tears, and you buck your hips up in an effort to match his.

“You close, sweetheart?” he pants and you keen.

“Uh-huh,” you mewl, voice pitching as you draw him down into a messy kiss, a meeting of teeth and tongue that leaves you dizzy.

“Fuck, princess, that’s it,” he groans, a hand coming around your lower back to lift you closer. The other circles your clit faster, and you cry out. “That’s it, come for me. Just let go for me, I know you can do it. You’re such a good girl, been so good for me, you deserve to come, don’t you? C’mon sweetheart, just like that.”

You break with a squeal, coming apart around his cock. It’s intense, the wave that crashes over you and swims through your body, reaching every nerve ending and muscle. And he doesn’t stop, fucking you through it with steady thrusts that don’t relent. You’re pushing at his stomach, fingers desperately clawing at him. It’s dizzying, and you clench down harder, drawing a groan from him.

“Shit, baby,” he gasps, forehead dropping to yours. “Sweetest fucking pussy, ‘m so fucking close.”

You can only tilt your head up to capture his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip. He pulls away swearing, sweat lining his brow.

“Gonna come,” he chokes out, forehead creasing as his eyes squeeze shut. You squeeze down around him once again, and he moans.

“Come for me,” you breathe out, and he shakes his head, looking pained. His lips turn down into a pout, and though you’ve little energy in your body, you want nothing more than to sink your teeth into it. You fear that by doing this, he’s woken something in you now – there is no coming back from the monster he’s made of you, the insatiable hunger he’s called on.

“Don’t say that, baby,” he barely manages to grit out. “I can’t, I-”

He pulls himself out suddenly, fisting his cock over your body. You realise just how close he was when in a few quick strokes, he comes over your stomach, shooting onto your skin with a strangled noise.

“Fuck!”

Silence falls over the room, save for your heavy breaths. You sink back into the pillows, spent and Jason lowers himself beside you, reaching out to pull you close. You tuck yourself into his side, and the muffled sound of his heartbeat reaches you from beneath your cheek.

“How you feeling, sweetheart?” A hand settles on the dip of your back, thumb skimming across the expanse sweetly. “Talk t’me.”

“Good,” you slur out, eyes slipping closed. Your own pulse steadily throbs in your ears and you can feel the fatigue settling in your muscles, sapped of your strength. “So tired.”

“Yeah?” he questions, affection colouring his voice. You hum, nosing at him as though you could burrow closer.

“Rest a bit. I’ll get up in a moment, run you a bath,” he promises you, voice rough. “Gotta get you cleaned up.”

“You’ll come with?” you ask quietly, and he sighs, amused. He rubs your back.

“Yeah, princess, I’ll come with.”

With that, you close your eyes, letting the sounds of the city bleed in through the window. Jason’s heart beats steadily beneath you, fingers tracing up your bare spine, and you succumb to sleep.

everybody say thank you ro you're the best ro you wrote the best first proper smut fic ever ro. jk but this was so hard to get through i would like to thank miss lana del rey herself, my smut writing playlist and the guide to writing smut by @/mevima because they were my lifelines. and also my bestest friend in the world for reading over this for me despite not knowing a single thing about dc beyond the barest minimum she is my angel and guiding star everybody give her a round of applause.

i considered quitting kinktober so many times writing this you have no idea. tell your favourite smut authors you love them because genuinely...after kinktober i'm going back to fluff /lh. also please don't expect this length for every kinktober piece hahaha this fic is just it's own creation and would not let me write anything less than 5k. we'll be returning to our regular programming soon.

#mdni banner by benkeibear #mangacap by shoujo-dreamland #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #x reader #jasonsmirrorball #kinktober 2023 #ro's kinktober '23 #jay my heart

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ink-n-shadow · 1 year

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[ GONE BAD ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where you meet mafia!ghost

𝜗𝜚 pairing: mafia!Simon "Ghost" Riley x police officer's daughter!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: alternative universe, mentions of police, tw! for creepy guy, allusion to dark!ghost (only if you squint) 𝜗𝜚 note: new au, new ideas (don't hesitate to send me requests :3)

⤷ ever since you were a little kid, your dad was a member of the police force in manchester. you were a daddy’s girl through and through. hell, you wanted to be just like him when you were little—catching bad guys and keeping people safe.

⤷ but something shifted when you were a teenager—and suddenly, the daddy’s good little girl was gone. you were sneaking out, partying with friends, skipping school to go smoke cigarettes underneath the crumbling cobblestone bridge by your secondary school.

⤷ it only got worse once you graduated and enrolled in university. this time, though, you weren’t under your father’s thumb anymore. you were in your flat, with your own roommates, doing whatever you wanted to do. that’s how you found yourself in some dingy new pub that opened up in the city.

⤷ you had dipped outside of the pub for a quick cigarette, stepping into a dimly lit alleyway and leaning against the cobbled wall to puff away at the tobacco stick. it was almost peaceful—that was until a group of drunken men stumbled by and one of them took a liking to you.

⤷ “aye, pretty thing. y’look lonely standing there all by yourself. mind if i join you? take a little puff of that cig?”

⤷ you tried to come up with some sort of excuse, eyes frantically searching for a way out—but the alleyway you were in was a dead end. the lit cigarette fell from your trembling hand, rolling across the wet asphalt. you thought you were goner until you heard an exit door from the pub behind you screech open, a hard voice rumbling like a thunder storm.

⤷ “what the fuck’s goin’ on out here? you botherin’ this girl, eh? at my fuckin’ pub? get the fuck out of here before i bury you underneath the concrete you're standin' on.”

⤷ you caught your breath as the man harassing you scrambled off quickly, turning your head to see who the gravelly voice belonged to. he was a looming figure, dressed in a steam-pressed three piece suit and tie along with shiny leather oxfords. his fingers were covered in tattoos and rings, his neck adorning two thick silver chains. His face, however, was obscured by a black mask with a slick skull face attached to the front. he looked menacing. the gun holstered to his hip didn’t help.

⤷ “you didn’t have to—”

⤷ “don’t sit there and tell me you would’ve handled it. that fucker would’ve torn you to bits if i hadn’t stepped in, lovie. too prideful to say thank you?”

⤷ having lived in manchester all your life, having listened to your father’s rants about the organized crime running rampant in the streets, you knew exactly who the man in front of you that night was: ghost, the faceless leader of the organized crime syndicate which ran manchester under an iron fist. you should’ve expected him to be here—this was his pub, after all.

⤷ you couldn't speak, but that was alright. ghost didn't mind—he was used to people keeping queit about him. that's why he felt so comfortable leaning against the wall of the alleyway, balancing a cigarette between his lips and igniting the paper.

⤷ "next time you're at my pub, make sure you stay with a friend. pretty little things like you have a tendency to get snatched up right quick out here. can't guarantee i'll be here to save you next time, lovie."

⤷ but after that night, ghost seemed to always be there to save the day. your car breaks down on the side of the road during rush hour traffic? ghost's suv just so happens to pull up behind you. you get a little too drunk out at his pub one night? ghost has one of his men drive you and your friends home. you know deep down that it's way past just coincidences now—but that added to the thrill of it, to the taboo nature of it all.

⤷ other than that, ghost might as well have been a figment of your imagination. he never gave you a phone number, never told you an address, never really stuck around much after helping you out time after time. he was almost unreal until he came out from the shadows. it took almost an entire year before ghost finally asked you to get drinks with him.

⤷ "c'mon—you gotta say yes. y'know how rare it is for me to ask a girl for drinks? usually, the girls come crawlin' to me. not you, though. that's what i like about you, lovie."

#mafia!ghost ☠#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod x reader #iNs Simon “Ghost” Riley 💀

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dmercer91 · 1 year

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the girl in your dreams, me94

in which mark’s rabbit hole of boredom induced link clicking brings him to you, and neither of you can get enough (18+)

i’m incredibly committed to making men who are tall and broad into whiny messes who beg real sweet (4.1k)

you told yourself it was just for a few days. until the tips could bring you just over the amount you needed for rent

that was for the month of may, and here you are, at the beginning of july, still doing it.

but the money was good, and once you learnt your way around the different kinds of guys that would use your services, the tips got even better

you worked for a hotline. one of those ones that guys saw at the tops of their screen on porn sites, except you didn’t need to have a camera on, and neither did they

when you signed up you told yourself it would be less embarrassing that way. if by chance you had to be on a call with someone you’d met before, they might not know it was you just by your voice

in the beginning you asked yourself if anyone even used lines like this, if that was even a thing anymore

it was quickly proven that the idea of getting off to someone real, that would do what you wanted even though they were a stranger, was incredibly appealing to a lot of people

tonight was the fourth of july, and your line had been particularly dead.

most people could get their own fix tonight, at a party or even at the bar as most of the country celebrated its independence

that was until now, when your work phone’s vibrations knocked you out of the pleasant zone you’d been in knowing you were getting paid to sit at your desk and wait for hours

“hi, sweetheart. how’s your night been?” you started your bit, ready to tease the guy on the other line for being alone on a holiday and offer to keep him company

instead, you were met with dead silence

you furrowed your eyebrows, cooing another greeting into the phone to see if you’d been dialled by accident

“uh. hi,” the boy on the other side of the phone forced out, voice cracking and nerves evident in his tone

“hi, baby. what’s a pretty boy like you doing at home on the fourth of july?” you asked, intrigued.

the faceless aspect of the hotline you worked for was usually a security blanket for the guys that used it

they normally felt better being cocky, asking for what they wanted so they could get it over with.

because it didn’t matter what they said. if you ever saw them again, you wouldn’t know

he gulped before he answered, the sound coming through on the phone and earning a bite of your lower lip

“all my friends are in different cities. lots of travelling in my market. this time of year s’ lonely” you hummed in response, getting your bit back on track

“well, i could keep you company, sweetheart,” you murmured, stomach tightening at the hitch of his breath

he scrambled to try and agree, to tell you he wanted nothing more than for you to be his company

“y-yeah.. yes. yes, please” he rushed out after a moment too long with no response

you giggled. you rarely ever got shy ones on the line. and honestly? teasing him was gonna be fun

“are you nervous, baby? there’s no need to be. i promise i won’t bite unless you ask” you flirted and he cleared his throat, shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him

“no, s’ just i’ve never done something like this before,” he explained, his chair squeaking in the background as he adjusted anxiously

“thats alright, baby. what’s your name?”

he thought about it, ultimately deciding he’d give you his real name

“s’ mark.. what’s yours?” you smiled to yourself, crossing your legs and leaning further back into your chair

“you can call me cherry. d’you want me to help you out, mark?” a high pitched but quiet noise slipped from his lips, and you felt yourself throb

he sounded sweet as could be, and he wasn’t bossing you around like some of the other men

hell, with most of your clients, the call would’ve already been over

“i didn’t call to get off, was just for fun.. what’s your real name” you bit your lip, quickly thinking of how to turn this conversation around

you couldn’t tell him your name, it was against the rules. plus, you knew all too well a tip wouldn’t be included if he didn’t get a release

“aw, come on, baby. you spent your money on a call, at least make it worth your while” you purred, completely ignoring his last question

“plus.. i can tell how needy you are. with all the pretty noises you’ve been making” he exhaled shakily on the other line and you grinned, knowing you’d gotten your way

he paused before murmuring an agreement reluctantly. you could hear him shuffling to get himself out of his pants, hissing when the cool air hit his tip

“d’you want me to use my fingers, baby? know it won’t be as nice as yours, but it’ll feel real good,” he whimpered at your words, the cap on his bottle of lube making a loud creaking noise as he pulled it open

“fuck- fucking yes, please” he worked out, biting his knuckle at the cool sensation covering his length. once he had his hand wrapped around himself, he groaned and almost dropped his phone

you pushed your panties to the side, using spit for lubricant and pushing your fingers into yourself

you moaned softly, earning a squeak from his chair and a whine from his lips as he bucked his hips up into his hand

“oh, baby. you were needy, huh?” you teased and he struggled on the other end, wanting to tell you he wasn’t, just that it feels good

how else is he meant to react?

“poor thing.. probably throbbing in your hand. wish i could get my mouth on you. you’d be all better n’ then you could let me worry about taking care of myself,” he groaned out a no at that, tip leaking with precum at the mention of your mouth on him

“no.. no, y’ could use me. fuck- ah. fuck yourself on me. i could take it”

and by the sounds of it, you knew he couldn’t. you knew he’d be a whining mess, overstimulated and trying not to fuck up into you even though he’s so sensitive and it’s too much to bare.

you knew he’d be gripping onto your hips for dear life and leaking precum into you cause it feels so good

you knew he’d scratch at your skin and muffle his moans into your shoulder. you knew he’d come again when you pulled at his hair or moaned his name

you knew you shouldn’t be thinking of any of that. not when he was a paying customer and you’d likely never hear from him again

but it had been the first time your fingers glided smoothly inside yourself. the first time you’d felt any pleasure while talking to the guys on this line, so you kept thinking of it.

of how good he sounded right now, with just his hand wrapped around himself

of how if you could ever get your hands on him, you’d make him even worse off

of how good he’d feel inside of you, how you’d squeeze him just to watch his eyes flutter shut in pleasure

of how drunk he’d get off the feeling of you around him

of how he’d love to use his mouth, and how he’d be so proud to feel you come against him while you grip his hair

and then it dawned on you that he could live in a completely different state. you didn’t even know what he looked like. did he have hair to tug on?

and just like that, this call was work again.

“are you close, baby?” he responded with a pained whimper, gathering himself to eventually give you a confirmation

“yes, i- oh, fucking god m’ so close. can i come, please? i want- i want to come, i need it, please” you bit down on your lip so hard it drew blood, core fluttering around your fingers at how sweet he sounded

it was so, so unhealthy. but the more you curled your fingers and the closer you got, the more you wished this wasn’t business for you.

the more you wished you were with him, helping him release before he leaves for whatever city he’s going to next.

“yeah, baby. you can come. d’you wanna come with me? you’ve got me so close, feels so good,” you’d said it a hundred times, and this was the first time it was the truth.

his reaction made it even better.

“fucking- ngh.. yes. god, yes. s’ all i want. wanna come with you, please” you grinned, counting down for him and then covering your mouth to hear his pathetic whines and groans while he made a mess of himself

you leaned your head back on the rest of your chair once your heart rate came back down, lips parted in shock at how powerful your orgasm was

you quickly came back to your senses when the front door to your house slammed, signalling it was time for you to turn off your work phone for the night

“shit,” you sighed, quickly scrambling to get your shorts on right

“what? what’s wrong,” mark exhaled, and you grimaced

“oh no, it’s okay, baby. just made a mess of myself. your times just about up, s’ time to go”

“wait! what- how do i talk to you again,”

you pursed your lips, shaking your head to yourself

“ask for candy. sweet dreams, baby,” your customer service voice was higher than at the beginning of the conversation

you could not get attached to a client cause he was sweet. you wouldn’t

“you said your name was cherr-“

and the line went dead.

“hi, sweetheart. how’s your night been?” you heard the hitching of his breath through the speakers of your phone and your skin went hot

“s’ this cherry?” you licked your lips, mouth suddenly dry

it’d only been a day since your first call with him. in all honesty, you were still recovering from his voice, hearing him.

“sure is, baby. who’s this?” you knew it was him. it had to be. none of your regulars would so softly ask if they’d been directed to the right girl

truly, none of your regulars would know the difference if they’d been sent to the wrong girl

“it’s mark,” he explained, and your eyes fluttered shut.

you tried to keep your composure, act like he was just gonna be one of your new clients that came back to you every time

you were gonna ignore the fact that you’d never heard prettier moans, that you’d never come on this line before last night

“hi, baby. same as last night? know you felt real good if you’re coming right back” you faked a giggle, trying to keep up with the teasing

trying to keep up with having the control

you didn’t like to have no control.

“no, just wanna talk to you,” he said, smile evident in his tone.

fuck

“baby-“

“i’ll still tip real nice, i promise. you could take anything you want from me, baby, and i’d thank you,” your breath got caught in your throat, the sincerity in his voice a painful reminder that you were on the phone with an angel that didn’t belong to you

but, he got you. you didn’t have any other true excuse. he was paying for a service, and what he wanted was to talk, so you talked

he was vague about his job, but said he was still in college

he asked if you worked elsewhere, you told him you bartended a few nights a week

he asked what kinds of things you did growing up, if any hobbies stuck around

and just as you were about to weasel your way out of the conversation, tell him your shift was up and you needed to turn off your work phone, he muttered a confession

“i had a dream about you,”

you didn’t reply, your eyes wide and mouth opening and closing like a fish

“you’re real pretty, n’ we were together, having dinner with family for the fourth.

then it got.. needy, n’ i had to wake myself up but before that it was heaven. was like my perfect life, and i could finally work out who my dream girl was.

s’ you. that pretty voice, so sweet to me, n’ teasing about how we could’ve been out at a party for the fourth,”

when you took too long to answer, he muttered your stage name questioningly, like he’d thought the line went dead

“mark.. i’m not the girl in your dreams,” you explained, trying to keep your tone unfaltering despite the fact that you did not want to deny his words, even to yourself

“you don’t know what i look like, baby. you said she was real pretty. maybe someone else! someone you know, who’s nearby,”

your heart dropped to your stomach when you heard nothing in response, knowing that you’d hurt him, that he hurt himself.

eventually, he argued

“no. it was you. you talk the same, i jus’ have this feeling. i know it was you,” before you could try and calm him down, his time was up and the call cut off.

you’d hoped he’d find the girl in his dream, but you knew well enough it couldn’t possibly be you.

you knew that the whole thing had gone too far.

he shouldn’t feel rejected, and you shouldn’t feel guilty. but he was and you do, because the world is cruel like that

“hi, sweetheart. how’s your night been?” your sickly sweet tone honestly hurt your own ears at this point, tonight having been one of the busiest nights since you started working for the hotline

that’s why you didn’t notice the sweet moan your voice earned from the person on the other end

“hi, i- oh, god..” you rolled your eyes at the faint sound of lube coming in through the speakers of your phone

“already so worked up, baby,” you giggled, hoping you didn’t sound too disinterested

and then he whined, and your eyes widened.

you muttered his name and he moaned again, struggling to cool down enough to talk properly

“m’ sorry, know i freaked you out, i- i just need this so bad, please. been throbbing for days n’ it’s like you’re my fuckin’ drug,”

you smiled, cooing slightly at him.

this you could handle. this, you felt gave you control.

you helped guys get off every day, so you could just pretend that’s all this was - you helping him come

“aw, baby. sounds like you just need me to take care of you, yeah? d’ you want that?” he moaned, louder than he ever had before, the back of his throat making a guttural noise that went straight to your core.

“please, please take care of me. fuckin’ aching for your voice,” so you obliged. telling him what pace to go, a toy tucked into your panties so you could finally get off again, too.

you had him right on the edge, his increased moans and the sound of his chair from his hips bucking both telltale signs that you got him right where you needed him

“stop,”

“what?!”

“stop touching, hands off for me, baby,”

you could hear that he obliged, and you let him catch his breath before teasing him

“you’re such a good listener, baby,” you praised and he moaned, his creaking voice making his neediness all the more apparent

“fuck. tell me again, please,” you smiled to yourself, figuring it couldn’t hurt to mess with him a little more

“you can touch,” is all you said, core fluttering when he made a small noise of disappointment

the slick noises from his lube were prominent, and you knew he was holding back the best he could. trying not to moan

trying not to ask again, to plead for you to tell him what he so desperately wanted to hear

“what’s got you so quiet, baby? you’re done being good?” with that, the dam broke.

he lost it, begging you to sweet talk him some more, to confirm for him that you were satisfied with what he’d been doing

his words were a jumbled mess, pleas being drowned out by moans and you could tell he was already close again

when he finally gave up on thinking of the right words to convince you, he just repeated please

over and over again until you shushed him

he obeyed, hoping it would get him what he so desperately needed to hear from you

“there we go, baby. good. that’s good,” you paused, smiling to yourself and waiting til you heard a shaky breath from him

“you’re listening so well, sweetheart. perfect for me. good boy,”

you bit your lip, eyes closing as you heard his seat creaking with every squirm of his hips

your core throbbed at his struggle to stay quiet, because you never told him he could be loud again.

he failed miserably, hoarse wines and groans spilling from his lips and clouding your senses

you knew he’d come. his breath was hitching from over sensitivity and the slick sounds of his lube had calmed down to none as he caught his breath

you’d come, too. biting down on your knuckle to make sure your own noises couldn’t block out the ones coming in from the other line

once he caught his breath, he thanked you. over and over, he murmured his thanks so sweetly

“sweet dreams, baby,” you smiled sombrely, your own lungs finally full again

“wait, please don’t-“

“mark.”

silence filled the line, and he sniffled awkwardly

“i need to ask you not to call back, mark. i’m sorry,”

“okay,” you hung up, rubbing your face roughly and shaking your head

fuck.

“hi, sweetheart,” the brunette boy across from you rolled his eyes, a ritual you’d become quite fond of

he always came in with a group of guys, a group you eventually learned was a camp of hockey players that were developing with the devils.

he would order an unruly number of beer, and have you help him bring them to the table

today, he sat at a barstool, and ordered three beer

“no peanut gallery tonight, eddy?” you grinned and he shook his head

“just shea, tonight. he’s in the bathroom with one of our buddies from college. holding hands, or something,” he winked, taking a sip out of his bottle once you opened it for him

“oh, yeah? who’s your buddy?” you replied, drying off a newly cleaned glass and setting it in its spot

the night was slow, so you were glad he’d showed up. he was never weird, and he and his friends usually tipped generously

he looked over his shoulder, the two boys coming out of the bathroom and chatting away

he nodded towards them, and you waited for the two of them to sit before opening the other two beer and sliding them over

you smiled at seamus, a quiet greeting, and then looked over at the other boy

“you gonna tell me your name or do i have to id you?” he blushed and ethan smiled, shaking his head

“i’m just fucking with you,” you leaned over to ruffle his hair, earning a small smile

he had light hair, and he was tall, built. his cheeks were burnt red from the sun and though he was smiling, his eyes were sad

“this is mark. excuse his puppy pout, he’s all depressed cause a girl rejected him,” you playfully glared at ethan, scolding him for being mean to his friend

“we don’t even think she exists,” seamus added, eyebrows going up and down to add to the teasing

“yeah, cause he won’t tell us where she’s from, what she looks like, or even her first na-“ ethan was met with a slap to the back of the head from mark, his hat flying off and landing on the floor behind him

“she exists.” mark stated, taking a swig of his drink and relaxing his jaw, knowing his friends were just being assholes

you, however, were suddenly panicking.

this was your mark. only guy to make you come without touching you mark.

sweet, soft, needy mark who said you were the girl of his dreams. who called a number he saw on a porn site to ask you about your life

you smiled at the three of them before serving another customer, giving yourself the time to recover while making their drink

you didn’t have a clue in the world what to do, other than let him know. without embarrassing him, without making a mess of his social life, you needed him to know

casually coming back over to them to finish up doing dishes, you leaned on your elbows

“tell me more about your girl, sweetheart,” you emphasized the sweetheart, putting on your hotline girl tone for the one word and hoping ethan and seamus just thought you were teasing him

you watched as his eyes went wide, then quickly set back to normal. he blinked a few times, cheeks doing pink and lips parting in shock

“she’s real pretty. i hardly even know her and it’s like she’s studied me her whole life. the second we met she knew her way around me,”

you raised an eyebrow, telling him to continue

“i don’t know, she’s got a spot in my head where my life looks different. nobody else does that,” he mumbled, eyes boring into yours with a pleading look

he just needed one chance

“a daydreamer, hm?” you teased him and smiled bashfully

“i’ve got a boy like that. his spot in my brain’s different, too. but i don’t even know if he’s really like that. most of him i just made up,” you shrugged, hoping he would get the hint

when you met him, you saw a life that wasn’t yours. that would never be yours. a fake timeline you could think of when shit got hard, is all

but you’d never have that, because the version of him you think of is your dream boy. someone based off him, but not really him

you gave him new hobbies in your head. you gave him a personality you weren’t sure even came close to his, cause you didn’t know him, he just sparked you to want better.

he was just a bedtime story. something to help you see what you really wanted in the grand scheme of things, in the future

you knew in his head, he saw a girl that could take care of him all the time the same way you did on the calls

but that wasn’t the truth and you knew it. you had more to you than that. more problems, more shit going on that wasn’t front and centre in the version of you he made

nobody ever sees dimension in a daydream, yourself included.

“i don’t mind if she’s not the same as i made her out to be,”

before you could respond there was a hand on your ass and waist, a mouth too close to your ear for your liking.

“bottomless pockets at table 12. he wants you,”

you cowered into yourself, uncomfortable in the way he was grabbing you and uncomfortable with serving ‘bottomless pockets’

“you know he gets handsy, ryan, i don’t-“ your whisper shouting was cut off by his grip tightening on your waist

“do you want to fucking walk home?” you shook your head, looking over at mark before going over to serve table 12

when you came back, sporting a tight lipped smile, ethan had been in the bathroom and mark hadn’t taken his eyes off you

“i’ll take a walk,” seamus nodded, giving you a pitiful look before getting up off his stool and walking away

“i’m not the girl in your dreams, mark. i can’t be. i’m stuck being the girl in theirs,” he looked down at his drink, messing with the empty bottle.

“you’ll be the girl in my dreams til i can convince you to be the girl in my arms, y/n.”

#e’s fics #e goes a little feral #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa smut #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Note

Okay but what about something smutty about Eddie being your sleep paralysis demon?? He’s coming by to visit and terrorize you, but once he sees his delicious you are, wants to have a different kind of fun?

18+ONLY, sleep paralysis, nightmares, satire, no smut (ILY I'm sorry) just a wee blurb

Nightmare Factory Masterlist

Eddie is your sleep paralysis demon, but he's really bad at it.

He's new to the gig; he was sent there on assignment from The Nightmare Factory. It's just another job to pay the bills, one that he doesn't take too seriously. On the first day, he has this heart-in-his-throat moment when he sees you, and then he immediately feels guilty that he's slinking around in your room at night while you sleep. Life for a professional Sleep Paralysis Demon (SPD certified) is, indeed, a lonely one. It's a lot of lurking and longing, and he's starting to realize that he might not be cut out for it.

But then, one night, he's sitting on the side of your bed, telling you about his day in soft whispers that he thought you would never hear, when your eyes fly open.

He stands up to apologize, but all you see is a faceless, shadow figure standing at the end of the bed, watching you.

You try to scream, but no sound comes out. You try to wake up, but it feels like you already are, and panic sets in.

Eddie takes a few steps toward you, moving his hands, trying to explain. "Listen I know this is weird but hear me out---I'm not here to hurt you. This is just a job, that's all it is, and if they didn't send me, they would've sent some other dude. Not to sound like a creep or anything but I like you and--"

But all you hear is this loud shrieking, like a banshee wail, as the thing shuffles closer. You try to move, but your limbs feel like they are stuck in concrete.

Eddie takes a few more steps, getting right up by your head to look down at you, willing you to understand him. "I'm not trying to freak you out, okay, I promise, but I've been working up the courage to say that I like coming here to hang out with you. I just wish we knew how to communicate because I think we'd have a lot in common."

The dark figure is screaming in your face, right above you, and inside your head you are begging for it to leave you alone.

Eddie hears a whimper come out of your throat as if you are trying to scream and he realizes maybe this approach isn't working, and so he backs up. "Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm going to wake you up now, okay? It's all good sweetheart, here we go, let me help you..."

You wake up choking on a frightened sob, and then you scramble to flick the bedside light on, gasping, on the verge of tears. You sit up in bed and pull the covers to your chin, eyes darting around the empty room, trembling.

Above you, Eddie floats on the ceiling, apologizing in a voice too low for any human ears to hear.

Later, back at the Nightmare Factory headquarters, he puts in his SPD resignation, citing emotional damage. A bummer in more ways than one, since those two months of SPD training were down the drain.

He goes to stand in front of the message board, to look at the job openings he could apply for. He can't help but wonder which one of the available nightmare positions would get him closer to you.

#requests #spd!Eddie #nightmare!Eddie #Eddie Munson #demon!Eddie #eddie munson blurb

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sanjisjuul · 8 months

Text

Lonely

Summary: you can't sleep cuz you're a sad and lonely bitch but luckily sanji is there

Cw: none! pure fluff/angst kinda

Note: had a shit day today, and i'm not the best at fluff but this was needed

Word count: 1.9k

Mdni 18+

10:34 pm

stretching your tired arms and deeply yawning, you are finally ready to turn in for the night. you place the book you’ve been immersed in for the past two hours on your wooden night stand. your reading glasses follow as you pull them off the bridge of your nose, letting your tired eyes adjust to the dull iridescence of your quarters.

another restless night awaits and you’re well aware. sleeping has been quite a difficult feat for you to accomplish, as you’ve been feeling awfully empty as of late. the very second your heavy head hits your feather filled pillow, your thoughts race. ones of not only your present loneliness, but the what if’s haunt you constantly. you used to cry, to curl up in a fetal position and weep yourself into a restless sleep. visions of your troubles manifest in your dreams. images of a faceless man, one who you feel unconditional love for is suddenly ripped away from you. this reoccurring nightmare startled you at first, driving your mind into anxiety and sorrow, but now you’ve become numb. numb to the idea of being alone, numb to the idea of being laid to rest never knowing the feeling of what it’s like to be held, to be sought after, to be loved.

one man in particular stands out to you, one who makes you smile, laugh, even blush on occasion. unfortunately you have talked yourself out from confessing anything to him. although he seems to like you, treat you as if you’re a rarity, he is unfortunately like that to all women, any feeling of specialty is ripped away the second he approaches nami or robin in the same manner. however it doesn’t stop you from wondering. wondering what it would be like to be loved by him, not just for your gender or your physical beauty, but loved for you. what it would be like to lay by his side night after night, strong arm wrapped around your torso as he snores quietly into your mess of hair. what it would be like to walk beside him, hand in hand as you saunter through busy streets of a shopping island. going into store after store, not looking for anything in particular, but just enjoying each others company. what it would be like to help him with breakfast, waking up earlier than usual just to spend a few extra minutes with him doing what he loves. what it would be like to be with him, to be his and for him to be yours.

12:26 pm

after almost two hours of tossing and turning, rubbing your icy feet on your legs attempting to warm up a bit you decide to get up. you attempt to swallow but the dryness of your mouth along with the lump in your throat indicates that you need a cold glass of water. you sigh, wiping the crust from your eyes and swinging your tired legs over your bed. you creep to your door quietly, tiptoeing as to not wake anybody from their slumber. most should be asleep right now, with the exception of usopp franky and zoro, none of which would be in the kitchen. you silently thank whatever entity that you won’t encounter anybody as you slowly trudge down the hall.

upon reaching the kitchen door you softly push it open, cringing as the door lets out a loud creaking noise. you try your hardest to not let it swing shut behind you, before you halt. to your horror the kitchen is occupied, the smell of cigarette smoke swirls around your air before being sucked into your nose harshly as you deeply inhale.

“y/n?” you turn towards the voice, putting on a sheepish smile to face the last person you wanted to see at the moment, the culprit of your sleepless nights. he stands back towards the counter, facing you. his suit jacket is discarded as he stands in his usual button down shirt and black slacks. you suck in a harsh breath of air when you observe that the first three buttons are undone and his tie is loosened.

“hey sanji,” you stand awkwardly by the door, arms crossed. “didn’t expect you to um… be up right now.”

he puts his cigarette out beside him, before rolling up his sleeves, “just had to finish up some things in here, i was actually just about to head to bed.” he smiles genuinely, pleasantly surprised to see you in your cute pajamas. “i’m more surprised to see you awake at this hour. do you need anything darling, how about some tea?” he questions.

your face heats up at the use of the pet name, “no no it’s fine, i just couldn’t sleep, came in here for a glass of water,” you look down trying to avoid eye contact to prevent him from asking any further questions.

“come, sit,” he pulls out a chair for you, beckoning towards it. “i’ll get you a cold glass of water.” you apprehensively approach, offering him a smile as you sit down and he pushes the chair in for you. you thank him as he opens the cabinets, fishing out a glass for you to drink out of. you fiddle your thumbs anxiously as he opens the freezer door, scooping out some ice and heading to the sink.

your thoughts cloud as you’re alone with the man you’ve been having fantasies about. you can’t help but pull your lips into a thin line and furrow your eyebrows as you try not to think about the massive admiration you carry for him. however, it’s no use, you almost blush as he sets the glass of water in front of you, pulling out the chair adjacent and taking a seat.

“so tell me,” he starts, leaning towards your frame, knee coming into contact with yours. “why can’t you sleep darling? something on your mind?” you stare down at your water, careful not to make eye contact, because you know that if you do, you’ll crumble, become putty on the floor as you confess how you really feel.

“oh,” you act a bit surprised at his question, “it’s nothing really, just a lot on my mind.” you take a small sip of water, your body shivering as the cold liquid chills your veins delightfully. he hums in response, lighting a cigarette before taking a drag, careful not to blow the smoke near you. “are you alright? if anyone is bothering you, please do tell me. is it that shitty swords-“

“no!” you cut him off abruptly, cringing at the raise of your voice. you can’t handle any more questions from him, not to mention the burning of his gaze on the side of your face, is driving you crazy. you feel as if you’re in an interrogation, angry detectives flashing bright lamps onto your guilty face.

sanji leans back at your tone, slightly hurt, but he doesn’t let it show. he falls silent for a moment before opening his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. “its just…. i feel lonely,” you start, finally facing your attention to look at him. his expression softens into one of caring, his pretty blue eyes stare affectionately into yours. “it’s just hard.” you finish, quick to grab another sip of water as a lump forms in your throat and tears prick at your eyes.

you try to blink away your tears, but sanji is quick to act. he leans towards you, opening his arms offering you a hug. you accept his embrace, leaning into his arms and sobbing into his chest immediately. “oh darling,” sanji coos, petting your hair as you stain his shirt with your tears.

you’ve broken, floodgates of emotion pour out not only in front of him, but directly into him. and although you wish you hadn’t cracked, you can’t ignore the utter feeling of relaxation as he holds you. you can’t help but cry more as each second goes by, his touch one you had been yearning for for so long.

“i-,” you start, before another sob wracks your chest, you try to hide your face into him. “you what?” he asks softly, finger picking up your chin to look at him. his beautiful blue eyes sparkle, lips parted almost as if he knows what you’re about to say. you’ve never seen sanji this way. although he is caring, he usually acts so foolish around you along with the other girls. his failing attempts to flirt and foolish antics dissipate in front of you as he awaits your response.

“i need you,” tears flow freely down your exposed face, the taste of salt pricks your tastebuds. “all i want is to be with you, i love you.” sanji freezes at your statement, eyes growing large and cigarette falling out of his mouth, dropping to the floor. his eyes start to well with tears, one falling slowly down his face, “darling,” he whispers, removing his hand from your face.

you wince at the loss of contact, preparing for the rejection you have imagined one too many times. “i love you too,” he cries. your instincts take over as you launch yourself onto him, arms wrapping around his neck resting in his locks. he reciprocates, placing you in his lap and squeezing you tightly as if you were to run off at any moment.

you stay like that, seconds and minutes tick by as you cry into each other, raw emotions filling the otherwise empty kitchen. you feel ecstatic, tears of longing form into ones of happiness as you play with the hair that rests on the back of his head. no words need to be exchanged, the way you are entangled with each other speaks louder than any sentence you could utter.

however you do speak, you ask a question that’s been haunting you for months, “can you sleep beside me? please?.” you sniffle as your crying dies down, tears reduced to dry patches on your skin.

sanji doesn’t answer only stands, lifting you in his arms as you wrap your legs around his torso. he carries you out of the kitchen, not bothering to turn off any lights. his footsteps echo throughout the hallway, before he approaches your door, kicking it softly open before setting you down onto your bed.

he admires you for a moment, pupils dilating as he adjusts to the darkness of your room. he wipes the tears that remain, smiling deeply. “i love you, so much” is the only sentence he utters as he removes his tie along with his shirt. you decide silently to not discuss further, only allowing yourselves to speak through touch as he enters your bed, lifting the blankets as he climbs in beside you.

you immediately shuffle closer to him, wrapping a leg around him as you lean on his chest. he places his arm underneath your head, turning and pressing a kiss into your forehead, “you’re so perfect,” he mutters, before laying back on the pillow. you revel in the heat of his bare skin, this contact being so longed for you almost cry again.

drowsiness has overtaken your body, between the emotional rollercoaster, the sobbing, and the immense comfort sanji gives you, you’re finally ready to sleep, but you need to ask one last thing before you allow yourself to loose consciousness. “will you be mine?” you whisper into his chest, the thumping of his heart relaxing you further.

“i’m already yours.

tags @kibblz-n-bitz @pileofmush @bby-deerling @leakyweep @bokutosbiceps @yoonavii @thevirtualvalentine @anemptypuddingcup

love, bia ૮ • ﻌ - ა

#love bia ૮ • ﻌ - ა⁩#one piece fan fiction #sanji #sanji fluff #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece fluff #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fandom #sanji one piece

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mihawkhugs · 3 months

Text

starlight

haikyuu | oikawa x reader | soulmate au

tw : mentions of depression, and brief mention of attempts at suicide

He seemed to be made of starlight, standing out among the throngs of students, the faceless members of society, and the monotony of your daily life.

Whatever Oikawa Tooru did, wherever he went, he seemed to command attention. He was like the sole candle in a dark room, and the people his willing moths. He seemed to radiate light. He was often accompanied by laughter and giggles, and smiles and grins.. He seemed to be universally admired no matter where he was, and that both terrified and amazed you.

Yet, as someone who grappled with depression, paced with anxiety, drowned in insecurity, and jested with sorrow like he was an old friend, you couldn't help but notice his eyes. Sometimes, despite being surrounded by his friends and fans, he seemed to be lonely, or like a doll on display, pretty, but devoid of life and love.

In an odd way, Oikawa Tooru reminded you of yourself, of who you were before you sought help, and opened up.

It didn't mean that you stopped hurting, stopped feeling nothing, stopped counting the seconds that seemed so fleeting, yet eternal. It just meant you hurt a little less sometimes, and that was enough, at least for now. You weren't okay, but that was alright. You were here and alive, and that opened a door of possibilities for you, even if it seemed impossible for now.

You couldn't help but notice how different he seemed around his friends, around his fangirls, and in the court. He was like an enchanted mirror, reflecting what people wished to see.

Oikawa Tooru seemed to demand attention. On the court, his intensity was unmatched, and he very much felt like a predator, hunting for his meal, desperate to survive. With his fangirls, he seemed so princely, complying to their demands and proclamations of love, his smile a little too perfect, a little too practiced.

With his friends, he seemed almost at ease, joking around, whining, calling for his "Iwa-chan" as he acted childishly. It was almost cute, you mused, how different he seemed from people to people, group to group.

But in the end, a reflection and its image only exists in the mirror, and our minds. Reality demands different.

Bleh, how disgusting.

You first met Oikawa when you were hiding at a remote stairwell in school, experiencing a panic attack. The first day of school for you had been overwhelming to say the least, and being in a new country, with foreign people, did not help.

He had come across you for god knows what reason, as you cowered in the shadows, breathing uneven, mind screaming, body trembling, feeling terrified, giddy, and like you were about to projectile vomit Picasso style.

His honey brown eyes and annoying fluffy hair, still echo in your mind. For a moment, he looked oh so kind and real and there, as he knelt down and whispered, almost too quiet to hear, "Are you okay?".

You had shivered, covering your ears in reflex.

His words seemed to shock you, almost enough to make snap out of your panicked haze, and on your lower back, you could distinctly feel your soul words tingle, and an unfamiliar warmth rushed through you.

As you opened your mouth (to say something to express the please-love-shock-fear), you couldn't help but hesitate, feeling and looking like a drowned rat. He seemed so kind, so perfect, and much too good for you. His kind stare lingered on your body, and for a moment, something seemed to flash across his eyes, a sort of understanding and pity.

So you didn't speak to him, to Oikawa Tooru, the boy who seemed to be made of star stuff, who felt so far away from you, yet so beautiful and mesmerising. You offered him a wobbly smile, before burying your head in your arms again, trying hold yourself together like it would help and make everything stop, and quiet down.

He didn't leave. You heard him sit on the steps, a slight distance away from you, and you could distinctly feel his presence. The words on your lower back seemed to shiver in foreign delight.

And he sat there as you refused to look at the world, trying to drown our everything, in the shadows and darkness of the little stairwell.

Silence had never seemed so loud.

From then on, you seemed to notice him much more often. He'd smile at you, a little soft and a little sweet, when he passed by you. You'd try and nod your head, in acknowledgement, though sometimes you insecurity made you doubt he was even saying hi to you.

You'd glance behind you sometimes, looking for someone he'd actually acknowledge.

But there were days where you felt numb, and so painfully empty. It was like you were watching the world move behind a glass box, and you felt so detached, so indifferent, that it scared you at times.

There were days where you couldn't come to school. The bed too soft and safe, the clock too loud, the sun too bright, and you, too tired, too old, too late. And on those days, or nights, starlight seemed a little less bright, and a little more cold.

There were days where you forced yourself to go to school, sluggishly dragging yourself through the day, running on future energy, running on desperation.

Sometimes you'd go to the stairwell, just sitting in the silence, because the darkness just felt so familiar and safe.

On those days, you'd find a little carton of strawberry milk, or a packet of milk bread sitting on your desk.

You were lactose intolerant, and though you knew you'd regret it, the taste of milk had never felt so comforting. And when you passed by the pretty boy, you'd give him a hesitant smile.

After all, you'd once caught him putting a packet of milk there. Not that you'd ever tell him, because it would ruin the magic of anonymity (though you appreciated his gesture).

But you'd see him talking to normal girls, beautiful girls, who seemed so warm and alive, and you'd understand, that the boy who seemed made of starlight, was out of your reach.

After all, who'd want to be soulmates with you?

It had been a year later, where you found Oikawa, sitting on your spot at the stairwell. He had his head buried in his arms, and appeared to be upset.

You blinked, hesitating a little, before setting off to the canteen, to buy some milk bread, and a carton of chocolate milk.

On your way back, you bumped into a tall, spiky haired male, who seemed like he could crush you with his bare arms. But, you noted, had kind eyes (of an older brother, of a friend who has known loss).

Sad, a little angry, but very kind. His soulmate would be lucky to have him, you concluded.

To your surprise, he looked at you amongst everyone, and seemed to see you. He noticed the little bag of goodies you bought, and a smile seemed to tug at his lips, causing you to blink in surprise, before it hit you who he was.

He passed you, before very gently patting your head, and murmured, "Take care of that idiot okay?".

Before you could answer, the giant beefy men left, leaving you to stare at his back, his volleyball jacket especially noticeable. It was the angry guy Oikawa was always with, the one who made him real, and seemed a little less like the stars.

You made your way back to Oikawa, hearing whisper along the way, about how they had lost against Shiratorizawa. You hummed a little, accepting the situation as it is, realising that he must really love volleyball a lot.

You sat on the stairwell, making sure to give him space, as you gently set the plastic bag of goods near his feet. A peace offering of sorts, and an apology.

To your surprise, as you stood up to leave and give him space, because you had noticed the annoyed glint in his eyes at times, when the girls crowded around him, he lifted his head, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Stay."

He whispered, tone bordering on begging, sounding like a puppy about to be abandoned by their owner, and your heart went out to the boy who looked so lost, so alone.

You sat down as he sniffled a little, reaching out to the plastic bag, mindlessly taking a milk bread to eat. He stared down at the snack in surprise, before looking at you, with his observant eyes.

You contemplated a little in the darkness, musing over your words. You hoped to comfort the boy, just as he had comforted you before. At this moment, he seemed so alone and tired, and a little angry, raging against the heavens. The glint in his eyes seemed so contradictory, and you fought the urge to pat his head, or hug him.

"Do I look that good?" He smirked a little at you, leaning impossible close as your eyes widened slightly.

Oh dear, you didn't realise you were staring.

Unconsciously or consciously, you spoke, voice a little soft, meeting his eyes, You didn't blush, because something about his smile seemed so fake, reminding you of the mask you used to put on, when you tried so hard to be okay.

When you saw the knowing glint in his eyes however, you couldn't help but feel that he knew.

"You'll be okay, everything will be fine."

You couldn't help but lean up, and pat his hair, which felt as soft as it looked to your amusement.

He froze, and for a moment, he looked torn between sorrow, and wonder, and you could have sworn you saw him smile drop into a sad frown, twitching. It was the face that everyone had, whenever tears were trying and failing at being held back at bay.

He reached out, and hugged you gently, as though he was afraid you'd break, as though he wasn't the one hurting right now. He buried his face in your neck, nuzzling you gently.

And that became one of many moments, where you were grateful that you didn't choose to end your life, years ago.

You couldn't help but hug him back, hands patting him automatically, just as you did whenever you comforted your baby brother as he cried. You hummed softly as he trembled slightly in your arms, milk bread laying on the stairs, forgotten.

You could feel jarringly warm tears dripping on your blouse, but you stayed silent. Years of experience told you that he had been needing a good cry for a long time. And so he did, crying silently, seeming so small despite being being physically bigger than you.

His silent tears tugged at your heartstrings, and you couldn't help but want to help him, feeling your cold, numb self softening just a little, as he reminded you of your younger self - so afraid, so sad, and alone, wanting help but not knowing how to reach out.

So you stayed at the stairwell, embracing the boy who seemed to be made of starlight, realising that in fact, he was as human as you are, though no less amazing as you had thought him to be.

And years later, as you woke up, entangled with his warm large body, as the Argentinian sun winked through the blinds at the both of you.

And you realise how fast time flies, and how much more at peace you feel. Because the universe is ever changing, ever moving, and ever healing. And as the boy made of starlight woke up with a groan, nuzzling his head into your neck, whining as his hand traced your lower back lovingly, as he had throughout the years, you couldn't help but feel grateful that you had both chosen each other, and healed, even just a little, together.

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #one shot #haikyuu #oikawa toru x reader #soulmate au #soulmarks #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff

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velvet-paradox · 2 months

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Stay (ch. 1)

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Viking!König x Female reader Length: Medium Warnings: reader is taken as ransom, eventual smut.

Chapter One

A glimpse - Payment is due - The Collector - An unwanted exchange

The water from the passing river is cool against your hands, washing away the dirt and debris from your forage through the woods.

Plentiful mushrooms in varying sizes, fresh and zesty smelling ramps, even a few plump berries had joined your haul. No rabbits were snagged in your traps, unfortunately. It wouldn't be the first time you and your parents would be going without meat for supper and surely not the last either. The early change in season had decided that fate.

A wobbly fawn bounced into view on your walk home. It stopped and you both stared at each other before it pranced away through the brush. Not enough meat on it anyway and you didn't have your bow.

Maybe next time.

Washed and cleaned were your score in a woven basket made several years prior on your hip, you mulled over how long your haul would last, what stews you would make the following night, the question up in the air if your father had caught any fish this evening, all of that seemed frivolous. Laughable even as the sudden change in Alpine scenery had changed without warrant.

A shift in the air. When you'd gone out everyone in your village was outdoors, tending their gardens, scolding their children, little ones laughing and learning the hard truths of bullying, someone was milking an ornery cow. A little girl had her own woven basket full of eggs. But no, everything was quiet and not a single soul was to be seen or heard.

You stepped on a branch and not even a crow made a peep.

Walking through the muddy lane wasn't any better. Doors shut, windows drawn closed. The only person you saw was a little tear streaked boy in an alley behind the blacksmith shop. He sniffled and scurried away quickly as you'd seen him, like a ghost.

A dog with a rope around its' neck bolted out of nowhere, damn near taking you out with it as you held up one side of your dress, as not to get too dirty. You already knew a soaking and washing of your garments were going to be at hand but the less mud on the skirt the better!

It was still quiet on the route up to your cabin until you heard a loud CRASH, something tore and your mothers' screams of fright reached your ears. Panic settled in hot, burning you from the inside out.

Dropping your vegetables to the earth below you ran up the rest of the hill, sweat at your brow, bile rising in your throat when you saw the door to your family home was now billowing wide open.

You panted in the doorway. "Mother! What is the meaning of this?"

Your mother clung by the hearth, her sweet face was sour with grief when you noticed and felt a looming presence. There was a humungous silhouette by the dinning table, shielding your father laying on the floor.

Collapsed, in the fetal position, his eyes as tearful as your mother quietly wept in the warm corner. You dare take a few steps in before a massive arm came shooting out, blocking you from the either devastating view or what is to become.

"It appears as though you are lacking in payment this month."

The Collector, the boogeyman, the faceless devil, worse than any lone wolf has not only been to your door but has broken inside, stalking and waiting.

So The Collector was the reason for everyone and their shadows being bundled up in their homes.

"Y/N please…" your father pleads.

"Lacking? But we have three days time to pay you!" Your attempt to stall the behemoth was not as tried and true as you would've liked and was falling quite short on deaf ears. The Collector squatted down, tilting his head to your father on the ground, grunting when he stood, holding your father by the scruff of his shirt.

"Payday is today I'm afraid." He said, but not to you, just out loud in general. If he wanted to address you personally, which was never really advised or suggested, you might perish from his dark and stormy blue eyes on the spot. A rumor had circulated a few winters' past that hung around the neighboring villages like a bad odor.

"What? Since when?"

Your mother scolded you through her tears, shaking her head at you to be quiet, twisting her hands nervously.

"Since today." König gruffed at you, shoving your father down onto one of the dining table benches with a scrape of wood on wood and with a thud.

"How are we supposed to know that the day has changed, without warning?" You made the rash instinct, like you would to a friend or your mother and touched his forearm.

Instant regret took over your frame, twisted up your face when he turned, lightning quick and gathered both of your wrists within one one his large hands. He squeezed your bones together and you winced and cried out something awful. Your mother gasping behind you.

His blue eyes boring into yours made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up and out, bristling with his heinous stare. You could see behind the coal he'd smeared around his blue orbs, he was squinting down at you like you were some bug, something to squish and stamp out. The hood he wore swayed before he pointed at you with his free hand.

"I am your warning, pet."

"I am sorry for my daughter's unruly tongue, she does not know what she speaks."

"Oh I know exactly what I am saying mother, this is unfair treatment and he knows it." You couldn't help yourself. You'd always been a little combative, to others your size anyway, never someone as big and mean and heartless as The Collector.

His laugh was anything but humorous. "He? I am just he now, is it? I am The Collector and I will get what is owed to me. If you have no money, which it is clear you and your family are low of, I will take payment in another form."

….

Your mothers pleads and cries for mercy as König dragged you tooth and nail through the threshold of your home, kicking and screaming all the way. Your battered father could no more or less, as König hung on to you, hefted up against hip like you weighed nothing at all, you prayed nothing on them were broken. Other then their obvious spirits.

Doors throughout the village slammed shut, windows drawn, shutters closed as you berated the man taking you for ransom, leverage to get your family to pay up or never see you again. Your neighbors had taken a chance to see what was all the fuss and seeing The Collector, well collect you, they wanted to part in it.

König's threats if your parents couldn't pay him, with interest of course, would go into account and he'd lock you up in his dungeon until further notice or compliance.

The thought of being alone in some dank, smelly tower or hole in the ground made you squirm, made your skin crawl at the thought of having to bash rats for food, cupping your hands for rain water to moisten your throat. Everything bleak as you'd strike down your days amongst the walls, pacing until blisters broke on your feet, your hair matted and unkept.

Gods have mercy.

He put you down when you both came to the river you had earlier washed your hands and vegetables at, just further upstream were you none-the-wiser to what was now your fate. Dreaming of hot soup and how you were going to get the stains out of the hem of your dress.

Not this.

He grunted at you as he made himself small and squatted down, bowing his thick legs out like butterfly wings. He pointed to the running water once more, a warning to avert your eyes as he cupped one of his hands, moved his head covering and drank. Sloppily at that, your ears picking up his slurps. You did the same, not so noisily of course but you drank enough until you were sated, not knowing how long this trek to wherever he was taking you was.

König barked 'that's enough now!' and snatched you up to your feet, taking out a bit of rope from his belt and looping it around your wrists then attaching it and you to his person. One damp hand on your shoulder to keep you in sight as he started off along the riverbank.

"I'm not a pet you know." You huffed, sweat brewing at your brow, your lower back beginning to warm as you stepped over a small boulder.

König scoffed. "You are now. And pet's don't talk unless spoken to."

"Like I said I am not-"

"You're my pet now, got it?! Unless I give you permission, I want you silent."

The woods were in full bloom, animals chittering to themselves, holding council with their chirps, squirrels jumping from branch to branch, to and fro. The smell of something rotting caught your nose and you went to cover it when König swatted your hands down.

You glared up at him but he only kept his eyes forward.

"It's going to be hard."

König huffed again when you started talking shortly after crossing a low and creaking bridge, having never seen this part of land before made you nervous as you were now completely out of your element. Away from your village, from anything familiar, completely at The Collectors mercy or whatever he deemed right for you.

Frightened didn't even begin to scratch the surface of emotions you were feeling.

"I'm sure I can manage."

"I don't mean you. I mean my father," you started, making a noise when he yanked on the rope to pull you closer. "Was that necessary? He'll have to catch a certain amount of fish or sell some of my mother's jewelry to market, that's if they'll even take it. I'm younger, obviously and I can make it to the market at least three times a day but with me gone I-"

"Will you please stop talking?"

"I don't know what he'll do. What can they do, really? All I know is-"

"Bitte! Please! I am trying to think."

"Of what?"

"Of what I am going to do with you until then."

A shiver ran through your body.

Your father had always told you a man without a plan was either one of two things; either incredibly useless and none to worry about or the latter, which as you began to smell a fire and some nearby livestock your heart sank a little bit more to your stomach.

Dangerous.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

#stay series #könig #konig x reader #konig x female reader #konig x you #konig imagine #konig fanfic #konig fan fiction #cod imagine #cod fanfic #cod fan fiction

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joelmillershole · 1 year

Text

dark but just a game

raider!joel x reader

warnings: 18+ mdni! raider!joel, rough sex/smut, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before u tap it folks), fingering, choking, hair pulling, probably dubcon but it’s not really?, deep throating/face fucking, spanking, joel is mean, joel is a bad man (but such a hot one), pet names (baby, sweetheart), no use of y/n

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i am depraved. also I wrote this in like 1 sitting and had to post. omg. i’ve never posted smut before and of course when I do it has to be fucking nasty! enjoy

You knew you treaded on a thin tightrope. No net, no balancing pole, nothing but the ground a hundred feet below and a short landing thirty feet away. The only consolation was the lack of a crowd, empty stands around the circus tent, only yourself and the lone figure on the other side. Waiting for you. Faceless, nameless; but you knew in the back of your mind that wasn’t true. Maybe your subconscious wanted you to believe that when you had this dream. You knew better.

You knew better than to trust yourself not to fall.

You weren’t even around too long before the outbreak happened; never even been to a circus. Only read about it in books. But the metaphor seemed apt, and as you climbed and gripped every rung of the ladder to the starting spot, you cursed and cursed yourself for the inevitable fall. Like clockwork, though -- like a machine with no off button -- you made the climb again and again.

And again. Creeping around the decimated town, you closed your eyes. Imagined taking the first step onto the taut wire. Felt it lag under your weight. Inhaled slowly, bracing yourself for the second step. And just as you swung your other foot out, just as you tightened your core and prayed to any God that would listen, your arms pinwheeled wildly and you lost your balance.

He’d snuck up on you, pinned you face-first to the wall with his large, heavy hands. The sharp inhale, the gasp, that you sucked in, overshadowed by a dark, languid chuckle from behind and somewhere above your ears.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh, baby?” You almost forgot about the drawl. The hint of some origin from long ago. Shivering, you felt his words fan against the shell of your ear, breath hot and sending goosebumps down your arms. “‘Li’l pathetic, don’t’ya think?”

You barely heard yourself respond, some breathy denial, maybe a squeak. Something truly pathetic, just as he said.

Joel used one hand to grip your hair at the root, yanking your head backward. His nails dug into your scalp. It was painful -- your eyes filled, against your will, with tears -- but then again, you knew it would be. You expected it to be.

He peered down at you, scowling. He looked strange from this point, upside-down and blurry. His other hand wrapped around your body, no longer used to shove you against the sharp bricks of some building wall. It found its spot at your throat. You swallowed against it, eyes fluttering shut as he applied pressure.

“Haven’t seen you in a minute,” he whispered. He pressed his lips against your temple. “Been hidin’ from me, baby?”

You shook your head. It was difficult to do with his hand wrapped around your throat and his vice-like grip on your hair. Miniscule, almost, but he got the message. “No?” He nosed down your cheek until his lips found the junction between your chin and your neck, just above where his thumb squeezed. Joel sucked the skin in between his lips, rolled it in between his teeth.

You gasped. You squeezed your legs together against the sharp ache between them. You grit your teeth. You didn’t think to do each one of these actions, the only thought in your head the feeling of Joel sucking on your neck. And plummeting a hundred feet down.

“Joel-” you tried but only choked as he tightened his grip with both hands. “P-please-”

“Please, what?” He mumbled into your neck. He let go of it to slide his hand down the length of your body, grabbing roughly at your breasts first, before trailing it down your belly and between the waistband of your pants. “Use your words, baby. Been so long since I’ve gotten to hear your pretty voice.”

Against your better judgment, your stomach flipped at his words, his praise. God, you craved this. It was the only reason you’d snuck out of your QZ to go searching around the abandoned city around it, far enough away from the FEDRA soldiers that you didn’t worry about getting caught. Unless there were some other raiders around; not an impossibility, but unlikely enough that you weren’t worried. Joel kept to himself. Even if someone did manage to find you two, you knew Joel would take care of it. You’d watched him kill before. He was violent and scary. There must be something wrong with you if it turned you on so much.

Joel, in a rough motion, let go of you to spin you around to face him. You barely got a glimpse of his face before he had his hands on your shoulders, pushing you down. Your knees hit the pavement with a painful jolt. You watched him undo his belt, deft hands quickly unbuttoning and pushing down his jeans and boxers. And then there he was, his thick cock hard and weeping with precum.

“You gonna suck me, baby girl?” Joel said. He fisted his hand in your hair again, pulling you closer. “Or am I gonna make you?”

You swallowed, looking up at him through your lashes. “I will, Joel,” you murmured. You leaned forward to take the tip of him into your mouth. He tasted salty, the precum rubbing against your tongue. Joel stared down at you, eyes dark and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He pressed his hips in further and you obeyed, opening wider to swallow him deep. As his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, eyes watering, but not missing the way his closed, nor the exhalation of pleasure that left his lips.

“Fuck,” he swore lowly. “Mouth feels so fucking good. Love the way those pretty lips look wrapped around my cock.”

Your stomach flipped again, even as you gagged once more. Still, Joel pressed in further, his long cock inching down your throat. Your breathing quickened, chest rising and falling rapidly. You didn’t know how you were going to keep taking him, not when you kept gagging.

“Relax, baby,” he cooed, free hand brushing against your cheek. You looked up at him, breathing heavily through your nose. “Relax your throat. Don’t panic, you can take it.”

You tried your best to listen to him. You relaxed your throat, eyes squeezing shut as he pulled your head down his length until you had taken everything. Every inch of him stuffed down your throat, nose pressed into the small mass of curls above the base of his cock. You knew you must be dripping, clenching agonizingly around nothing.

“Look at you, fuck,” Joel said. He let go of your hair to run his fingers through it. “Keep breathin’ through your nose, baby. Gonna keep my cock in that mouth.”

You moaned around his length. When you closed your eyes, tears fell down your cheeks; but you listened, nails digging into your palms painfully. You knew he would be angry if you raised them and grabbed his legs. You’d played this game before.

Joel slid out of your mouth almost all the way, enough that you could finally breathe around it. You swallowed in large gulps of air before he pressed in again, slowly, all the way down to the hilt. You only gagged once before you relaxed and let him fuck your mouth.

After that, his pace increased. It was almost too much, the in and out, your throat spasming around his thick cock. Your lips and throat and knees ached, strings of saliva hanging down your chin, but you sat there dutifully, tears streaming out of eyes that you kept trained on him. You watched his expression, dark and flushed, as he used your mouth for himself. Your core ached. You kept falling, down and down, not having yet hit the ground.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Joel panted, sliding all the way out of your mouth. Your throat felt empty at the loss. “So fuckin’ good. Little slut for me. You a slut for anybody else?”

You shook your head, turning to wipe your mouth on the shoulder of your shirt. “No, Joel,” you croaked out. Your voice was fucked. “Only a slut for your cock.”

Joel swore. Staring down at you, he thought for a moment, then dragged you standing by your hair. You winced at the crack of your knees, the strain of them straightening after being bent for so long. Joel pushed your cheek against the wall again, his hand slipping in between your waistband once more.

You gasped as he ran a thick finger across your folds; Joel swore again at the wetness, sinking two fingers in to the knuckle.

“Joel,” you begged, eyes fluttering. You groaned out something incoherent, your body twitching at the feel of his fingers curling inside of you. They were so much longer than yours and could reach so much deeper. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Joel…”

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered into your neck. His thumb flicked your swollen clit roughly and you almost screamed at the feeling. Your knees could have buckled and he would’ve kept you upright just from the force of his body pressing you into the wall. “You like that? So wet from just sucking my cock. You really are a slut, huh?”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Came looking for you. For this.”

Joel groaned, nipping at your neck. “I know, baby. So desperate for this cock.” When you nodded, he chuckled, extracting his fingers from your pussy. “So fuckin’ desperate… guess I’ll give you what you came for.”

Joel yanked your pants down to the knees. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you back against him, then pushed your torso forward so you were bent over. He pinned both of your hands behind your back with one hand and used the other to rub the tip of his cock against your soaked pussy.

Without another word, Joel thrust his full length into you in one swell move. You screamed, tears pricking your eyes at the burn, the fullness. He sighed from behind you, the hand not gripping your wrists moving to slap your naked ass. You yelped at the sting of it.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” Joel mumbled. “Who does this pussy belong to, baby?”

You shuddered throughout your entire body as you got used to the stretch. It’d been months since you had him inside of you, and it was something your body forgot. Too caught up in the feeling of his cock inside of you, you didn’t answer. He slapped your ass again, harder.

“I said, who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you cried out, clenching around him.

“Say it.” Joel dragged his cock out inch by inch, slowly, then sheathed himself back to the hilt with a grunt. “Who makes you this fuckin’ wet?”

“You, Joel.” You barely even registered speaking. “This pussy belongs to you… I’m this wet for you…” Heat bit at your cheeks, embarrassment, but you kept blubbering as he began to slide in and out of you slowly. You felt the drag of every inch, every centimeter. “Please, please, please fuck me-- harder, please--”

Joel laughed mockingly behind you. “Harder? If you say so.”

Your vision blurred as Joel fucked you, hard and deep and almost painfully. That familiar heat built up in your core. You wondered if it was even possible for you to come without him touching you, just from his cock alone. You never had before. But it’d been this long, and if you shut your eyes, you envisioned the ground steadily raising to meet your plummeting body. An acrobat you most definitely were not.

As if on cue, Joel shifted ever so slightly. His cock hit some spot inside of you, soft and spongy, and you unraveled with a start. Eyes rolling back into your head, you slumped, cheek scraping against the sharp edges of the brick wall. You barely noticed the pain and only distantly did you feel Joel pull you backward by your hair, your back arched, and heard him groan at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his cock.

“Shit, baby!” He bit down on your neck and used two fingers to rub your clit. “Didn’t even touch you. You gonna come for me again?”

Just as you started coming down, the quick circles he drew around your bundle of nerves sent painful overstimulation shuddering through your body.

“No,” you cried out, body jerking. “‘S too much, Joel-”

“Shut up,” he said, voice bland. “Take it, baby.” His hips jerked harder. You shrieked with each thrust into your sensitive core. His fingers didn’t let up, and in less than a minute, you felt your peak rising quickly again, this time muddled and almost feverish.

You came again. Harder. It felt like it lasted forever, like you were never going to come out of it, like you were stuck eternally in this high. Joel’s thrusts became erratic and off-kilter and then he was coming, too, with a grunt, filling you up. You didn’t even have the mind or energy to protest, just shook around his cock as he filled you with his come.

It took a minute, but you finally came down, bones sagging like jelly in your post-orgasmic state. Joel slid out of you. When he let you go to pull his pants up, you crumpled to the ground.

He squatted down to your level, rough hands lifting you at the hips and yanking your pants up. He set you back down and stood up, peering down at you with a blank expression.

“Keep telling you not to come back,” he said.

You stared back up at him, mind blank.

“Keep telling you ‘m not a good man, baby,” said Joel. “I ain’t gonna cuddle you after, just gonna take what I want. But you don’t listen.”

He bent down to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Then he gripped your chin in between his fingers.

“I know you ain’t gonna listen if I say it again,” he said. “So I’ll see you next time.”

You watched him walk away, turning the corner and leaving you alone in the alleyway he’d found you in what seemed like forever ago.

After a few minutes, you managed to pick yourself up, wincing at the ache between your legs. You started on the way back to the QZ, wondering when the next time was you’d decide to make the climb again.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal as joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou show #raider!joel #joel miller smut #smut #tlou smut #joelmillershole

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venus-haze · 1 year

Text

Celebrity Skin (Thomas Hewitt x Reader)

Summary: Your rollercoaster of a film career comes to its untimely end when you end up on Thomas Hewitt’s cutting room floor. He hopes you’ll be as much of a fan of his work as he is yours.

Note: Female reader, implied to be older than Thomas, but no other descriptors are used. This is mostly from Tommy’s perspective and extremely dark and bleak, so look at the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Explicit and implied non-con, mentions of animal death and cannibalism, kidnapping, Hoyt is pretty much his own warning. Implied major character death. Hurt no comfort. No happy ending. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Hollywood was never going to see you again. No one would, as a matter of fact. That much had been set in stone as soon as you sped through Fuller, Texas. Ghost town. Full of nobodies and hicks. A pass-through on the road trip you’d treated yourself to after landing a movie with Paul Newman. He’d never see you again, either.

Almost as soon as you passed the county line, going 60 in a clearly marked 45, sirens blared behind you, and you cursed as you pulled over. You should’ve never pulled over.

“Got a good one for ya here Tommy,” Hoyt said, slapping the meat of your thigh as he presented you to the hulking man. “Says she’s some kinda actress.” He leaned in close to your face, a mean grin on his own. “Sure good at actin’ like she don’t want it.”

Your lips were split, dried blood and semen on your mouth and face. Could barely manage a snarl at his uncle, but you tried.

“Bet you’re gonna taste real sweet, pumpkin,” Hoyt taunted, smacking his lips before pushing you to Thomas.

You didn’t cry or scream as Thomas dragged you down to the basement. Hoyt beat that out of you already. Mean and vicious on the side of the road, or maybe in the back of his squad car. Didn’t matter. You were all but resigned to your fate until Thomas laid you down on his butcher’s block, securing you to it with the usual metal cuffs, deftly hammered in place. You only began struggling when you caught a glimpse of the knives and blades displayed prominently throughout his workshop. Too late.

Thomas paused, staring at your face, screwed up in pathetic agony as you begged him for mercy you wouldn't receive. Recognized it from somewhere. You had looked different, though. Face made-up, eyes glistening, hair perfectly styled. Like a dream.

He leaned in closer, and you blinked, teary-eyes transporting him back to his youth. Unforgiving summer breaks where he’d wake up early to help out on the farm before the heat of the day settled in. Sometimes his mama would scrounge up some change for him to go to Fuller’s lone movie theater in the afternoon. ‘Get a break from this heat, honey.’ She knew full well that wasn’t what drew him there. The darkness, the anonymity, for once everyone else was faceless and hidden like him. He wasn’t the main attraction, not even the sideshow.

It’d been years since he stepped foot in that theater. Slowly stopped going after Hoyt got him the job at the slaughterhouse. Just like that, though, he remembered you. A film noir wherein you were cast as the leading lady to a man who may as well have been old enough to be your father, but you looked like you loved him. Especially when you cried for him, tears sparkling as they silently, regally rolled down your pretty face one by one.

Over time, femme fatales fell out of fashion, and so had you not long after he’d stopped going to the movies. He’d catch glimpses of you, though. Staring at him from the cover of magazines like a star-crossed lover whenever you had a new movie coming out, less frequent as time went on. He was barely sixteen when he swiped a copy of Modern Screen, your enticing, full-color portrait on the cover, chock-full of interviews, gossip, and most importantly, photos. A ball gown and come-hither stare. Lounging half-naked poolside. In a skimpy black dress with a fox fur piece draped around your neck, cigarette holder between your pretty lips as you leaned over a bar, your cleavage nearly spilling out from your dress.

That one had made him feel funny. Made his pants tighter around the crotch as his imagination ran wild. Thought about presenting you with a cat pelt he’d skinned and sewn up himself. Instead of running and screaming in fear like the girls at school, you’d accept it graciously, wearing it like the fine fox fur. A gentle hand on his chest, simpering eyes as you asked softly how you could ever repay him because he was your leading man. A kiss on his cheek, and then more. So much more.

Back then, he never considered how pretty you’d look when you cried for him. Grabbing a nearby pair of rusty scissors, he cut through your clothes, damp from sweat and spit and god knew what else, stuck to your skin. He peeled them off of you, unwrapping his once in a lifetime gift and wasting no time in touching your bare stomach that seized beneath his touch. His hands drifted upward, taking each of your soft breasts in his big hands, rough and calloused from years of hard labor. He brushed his thumbs against your nipples, raised from exposure to the cool air in his basement hovel. Pinching one between his fingers, he tugged on it, eliciting a whimper from you as the skin painfully stretched to its limit until he finally let go.

Frustrated by your barrage of pleas and protests, he grabbed a nearby rag and shoved it in your mouth. You gagged, senses overwhelmed by the taste of rancid blood and unidentifiable bodily fluids. He pressed his fingers against your abused cunt, marveling in the wetness as you whined like a stupid little deer that’d gotten its leg blown off during the hunt, strained bleating to be put out of its misery with a bullet to the head or a snap of its neck.

He growled, pressing his masked lips to yours, the friction from the leather re-opening the cuts that had split along your lips. You choked on your makeshift gag, tears streaming down your dirty face. He was almost dizzy. Or maybe he was in love–sweaty palms, racing hearts, an animalistic urge to possess, to mark, to maim.

Hoyt was the one who eventually caught him with the magazine. Being a bit too loud, he supposed. Instead of the tongue lashing he’d been expecting, he received a proud pat on the back instead, ‘Nothin’ to be ashamed of Tommy. You’re a man. ‘s natural after all,' Hoyt said. 'Try to keep it quiet ‘round mama, though. She still thinks you’re innocent.’

Innocent. Despite how much his mama tried, he hadn’t been innocent in a long time. You hadn’t been either. Your romantic trysts were in headlines or discussed on radio gossip programs. Those had been frequent, and his brow furrowed as he wondered who the hell you were to deny him. Hollywood floozy. Too good for him, just like every other woman.

He unzipped his pants, pulling his length from his pants and feeling himself growing harder at your muffled screams of protest. His size. He knew he was big, far too big for you to handle, but you’d make it work. As if you had any other choice.

Stroking his length with one hand, he scratched at your belly with his blunt nails on the other hand, shuddering at the fleeting thought of you bigger, pregnant with his child. With a ragged breath, Thomas positioned his cock in front of your aching cunt, reveling in your whines as he pushed in just the tip, feeling you strain around him, warm and soft. ‘I love you, Tommy,’ you had purred in his fantasies. ‘I want you to make me yours. Give me everything.’

He grunted as he buried his length deeper in you, a high-pitched squeal in return. His face felt hot beneath his mask, his cock twitching as your pussy clenched around him. You wanted it. You wouldn’t be so wet and pliant if you didn’t. Grabbing your hips, he slammed his hips against yours, burying his face in your neck, feeling how your throat strained to express your pain despite the gag. How easily he could grab a nearby knife and cut through the tender flesh, knowing just where to slice so he could watch your blood pour out of you, probably sparkling and pretty like your tears. It was perfect, you were perfect. Better than he’d ever imagined.

Pressing his body weight against you, he pinned you further, your twisting torso trapped in place beneath him as he relentlessly pounded into you, his huge cock pushing your cunt to its limits, and even further than that when he hit your cervix. Your tears poured down your cheeks, blood trickling between your legs. He was so close, he could almost reach out and touch it.

He wanted to keep you around. Wasn’t sure how he could make an appeal to mama or Hoyt, though. Probably useless around the house, let alone the farm, just a pretty face for his own amusement. ‘Another mouth to feed,’ he could practically hear Hoyt snarl. He still felt bad about Uncle Monty, now he was a burden on mama and Hoyt too. Making an exception for you would be far too much to ask. Besides, he never had luck keeping pets growing up. Was always too rough with them, too morbidly curious. Maybe it’d be different with you.

Glancing at the chainsaw beside him, he slammed into you again, his dark gaze fixed on the blood-rusted power tool.

No. It wouldn’t be. Because being this deep inside you made him only want to go deeper, see the extent of his love. Watch your heart beating in your chest for him. Stand over you as you bled out, rib cage cracked open in the ultimate display of vulnerability. You’d provide for his family, and he’d savor every moment, every bite that touched his lips, feeling you inside him. It was the only way. You’d be a part of him forever. Till death do you part.

He came with a loud groan, a primal howl muffled by his mask. Your abused pussy milked his cock until his seed spilled inside you, and his length became soft again. Laying his head on your heaving chest, he listened to your heartbeat. Rapid like a little mouse.

Nuzzling his face against your breasts, he settled against your warm skin, basking in it while he still could. You’d be even warmer once he opened you up. All too familiar with that sensation. He closed his eyes, though, imagining you lovingly running your fingers through his hair, a sweet, fucked out smile on your face. But there was no place for a man like him in Hollywood, and no place for a woman like you in Fuller. Star-crossed. What a shame.

You had stopped making noises through your gag, either too exhausted or simply resigned to your fate, only whimpering when he finally pulled out of you, your pussy feeling almost painfully empty. Eyes glazed over, they fluttered shut for a moment, but opened as soon as his hand caressed your cheek, pulling the rag from your mouth.

He watched silently as you sucked in a much needed breath, bringing on a coughing fit with how dry your throat was. You dissolved in a fit of sobs that echoed in this vast underbelly of terror, exacerbated by his attempt to kiss your forehead, pressing the leather against the deep lines in your distressed face. You struggled weakly, fruitlessly against the metal cuffs that secured you to the table.

Unlike in your movies, there was no one to save you this time, no gruff private eye or surly police chief to come in guns blazing at the last minute. Hoyt had already made you well aware he was no admirable man of the law. You were lucky to have ended up with Thomas. He thought the screams that came from the women Hoyt kept around–albeit temporarily–were more difficult to listen to than that of someone he was disembodying.

Sadistic. Thomas never considered himself such, but he understood the appeal of ravaging, tearing apart in a display of power that never failed to send adrenaline running through his veins. He would savor your demise, his magnum opus, unable to imagine someone else coming along and piquing his interest as much as you had.

He revved the chainsaw, taking in your raw screams as he raised it over his head. Lamented not having a camera around to capture how perfect you looked awaiting your end at his hands. It’s what you were made for. His movie star on the cutting room floor.

#thomas hewitt x reader #tommy hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #leatherface #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw massacre 2003 #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #slasher fandom #slasher community #tcm

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poppy-metal · 2 years

Note

Probably too much filth but idc I have THOUGHTS and I needed you to hear them.

I know there have been discussions about fucking Eddie with the neglectful wife, but I've been thinking about it as Steve too. He and his wife were a business power couple pulled together by their parents because it just ~fit~ but he's been miserable because he wants a housewife, wants someone soft and warm to come home to. And he wants kids, wants a family to be proud of and love and spoil endlessly with all this money he's taking in. But divorce would leave him alone and he's already so fucking lonely as it is that he doesn't think he can take it.

Then you're hired over the summer as the new housekeeper, an easy job after graduating university, and while you're amazing at keeping the house tidy, you also make it feel more home-y and Steve can't help but notice it. Can't help but notice the way you've rearranged his ties so they're easy to match with his suits, the way you've tidied his home office to make it easier for him to find what he needs just based off an idle comment you hear him make once when he's working from home. It starts with lunches together when he's home, you always offering to make him something when he's busy, and then you're spending more time chatting with him in his office or when your shift is technically over.

He can't stop thinking about you. That faceless housewife of his dreams starts to look like you, the kids he wants to have start to have your eyes or your hair, and you're thinking about him too. How sweet and soft he can be, how much you want to take care of him, not just his house, and it snaps one night over drinks when his wife is working late. He fucks you hard in their huge bed, pins you down and stretches you open so wide you know you've been ruined for anyone else and he knows it too ("Yeah, darling, know that none of those other boys ever fucked you like this, right? This needy little pussy needs to be spoiled properly.") He starts working from home more just to be near you, to see you smile when you bring him tea after a long work call because you know his voice is scratchy, to hear you choke on his cock when you're blowing him under his desk as he reviews something, to tease you by stealing your panties after he's fucked you up against the wall so you're left to walk around with his load still dripping out of you.

He finally calls that divorce lawyer friend of his on a work trip that he snuck you along for, watching you sleep in the big hotel bed as he smokes on the balcony. He sets up a meeting for next week and then goes back inside, drags the fluffy comforter down so he can see all of you, rolls you onto your tummy and squishes you into the mattress as he slides in slow, wanting you to wake up to the stretch. You're still wet from last night, when you'd ridden him until your legs couldn't lift you up anymore, so it's easy for him to get his thick cock inside your pussy this morning. He smiles into your shoulder when you squirm, letting out a whiny little "Stevie?" that gets drowned out in the pillow.

He sucks a bruise into the crook of your neck because you don't have to hide anything this week and he wants proof that you're his. He grinds against your plump little ass, purrs out "Morning, sweetheart, got good news for you" so gentle and tender. You're already slipping, always cock drunk as soon as he's inside you, and he loves the way you whine louder when he works his hand under you to find your swollen clit. "Meeting with a lawyer when we get home, finally gonna leave her. And I think that means we should make a trade, yeah? A nice little deal, the kind you can't turn down."

"A deal?" you'd agree to just about anything if it meant him starting to move, starting to properly fuck you.

"Yeah, darling. Figure that I buy us a new house to make our own and give you my name, and in return," he pulls out almost all the way, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you, and then slams in hard, presses his lips against your ear and says, "In return, you throw those pills out and make me a real daddy. Sound good?"

You know a good deal when you hear one.

oh lord. oh my. oh me. oh dear. hhhhhh OUYGHHHHHHGG

#ask #i dont even know what to say oh fuck #tw: cheating #stevie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

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skrunksthatwunk · 1 year

Text

ok sequel post to the it's cool how obvious mako's crush on ryuko is from day one post from a couple hours ago bc I wanna talk about them more

ryuko takes a bit longer to warm up to her, but honestly? not by much. ryuko has a protective streak in her that lets her befriend people who need her pretty easily, and she's endeared to people relatively quickly if they don't piss her off (i.e. the mankanshokus, senketsu, maiko, eventually satsuki). she really does like people, even if she can be a little standoffish at first

ryuko's a little taken aback by mako's immediate strong affection, but she quickly adapts (very clear in how her approach to mako trying to tackle her changes from dodging to catching her and setting her down gently in only a few episodes). she doesn't get mako at first, but figures her out pretty quickly and adjusts. that's just mako, y'know? plus mako's just very kind to her in a way most people aren't. ryuko, too, wants company. she wants a family, she wants friends.

plus, her protective nature is fed a lot by the other students kidnapping mako so much and mako's dependence on her in those moments. mako is something precious to save and ryuko's weakness, but she also gives her strength. her support means a lot to her and mako comes to her rescue often (in the bathroom with tsumugu, de-monsterifying her, standing up to her family and fighting her demons in the fight club episode, etc etc). ryuko's fight against satsuki is one that feels very solitary. it's emphasized a lot just how many people satsuki has willing to fight for her, and there's just one ryuko. she has backup via mikisugi, mako, and senketsu, but what they can do for her is often pretty limited by their circumstances. again, mako's the one who calls her back from the edge multiple times. she's the key to calming her down. she's the one she staggers home to, the one she celebrates with, the one she spends her free time with. she chooses her company because she likes it. a lot.

there's a lot of moments where ryuko's like yep that's mako :) she's sillyyy. she brightens up immediately around her and often sours when other people enter the picture. she's the one good thing about honouji academy, y'know? she gives in to her a lot, letting her come along on her return to the ruins of her house, letting her come to honouji for the cultural festival, etc. she has an "aww i can't say no to you" thing going most of the time. mako's resolve and persistence is what bores through ryuko's walls and lets her get close to her. it's what she mentions when, after the wedding scene (and we'll get to that, trust me) she says mako and senketsu are more than friends. mako's surprised at her inclusion (again, she tends to slot herself as #2 to senketsu, her sunday best) and ryuko cites that persistence. mako was not only there for her, but stuck around, even when ryuko pushed her away, and that means something to ryuko. ryuko who people always misjudged or sent away or avoided or fought. ryuko who was lonely, whom no one fought for but herself. mako was there, and mako feels the same (as she says running in the naked sol's generator very near the end which. the sheer joy with which they say each other's names there is just. waaaaaaa)

ok the wedding scene. the wedding scene. not gonna go too crazy on this bc I don't wanna detail this but I'll say this: junketsu is frequently referred to as a wedding dress, and the fantasy/hallucination it forces upon ryuko (as the kamui itself was forced on her) is one of a normal-girl, average kinda life. one where she has a mother who's always there for her, she grows up normally, and she's happy. and she's happy because she has a family. she's not fighting all the time, she's in her place in society, she's having a wedding. of course, who she's marrying is irrelevant, even to junketsu. the man is faceless and unacting. he's not what makes this fantasy appealing. it's the assimilation, the acceptance of her by a greater society and authority structure (in this case ragyo). when mako and senketsu burst through the door, its handle flies off and knocks over the groom, stiff as a board, and he is forgotten. mako walks down the aisle to her, to call her back to her senses. ryuko says this is what she needs to be happy, that she'll kill mako to get it. mako says this isn't her or what she wants, pulling the "the ryuko i know" thing from before. but she's always been right. she knows her well. ryuko thinks she hurts mako/senketsu, and that realization lets her break out, lets her flay herself ripping junketsu off. she says she's getting out of that damn wedding dress even if it kills her. this is all to say that that scene is one of the most lesbian-coded things I've ever seen. mako's like you don't need to conform or marry a faceless groom or have a normal life to be happy, and i don't think you're truly happy or yourself like this. and ryuko realizes she's right. she doesn't want to marry a faceless groom, she feels trapped and changed by the wedding dress, by its ceremony and expectations. it's something that has a lot of similarity to a lot of lesbians' experiences of the expectations the world puts on them to marry men, to fit into this role. the joy of having a wedding vs the indifference to actually being married to someone. it's something that resonated with me a lot, having figured out i was a lesbian only a few months prior to seeing it for the first time.

it's after this that she says mako and senketsu are something more than friends. the exact nature of her and senketsu's relationship is unclear to me and debatable, but her and mako's take a very definite romantic shape by the end when mako asks her out, her hallelujah moment featuring them kissing and holding hands, with ryuko in a boy's highschool uniform, evoking heterosexual imagery to imply romantic intent ("I want to go on a date like a boy and a girl would go on a date" is kinda the effect). I think ryuko kinda figures it out then. she wants to go out with mako. she wants to be something romantic to her, something romantic with her.

ryuko lets her in. it's clear to everyone that mako's managed a closeness with her that no one else has (they don't acknowledge senketsu as a person/friend for a long time). they'd move mountains for each other. ryuko, who always had to fight everything alone, finally has someone who's willing to wade through all the bullshit life and ryuko herself give her because she believes in ryuko, because she thinks she's worth it.

my point is ryuko's into mako as much as mako's into her, she's just a bit quieter about it

#anyways. i love them very much #i dont tend to think about the ryuko side of it as much so this is partially me doing that #klk #kill la kill #ryumako #ryuko matoi #mako mankanshoku

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bexdrey · 5 months

Text

Have something slice of lifey! Take a break from the angst!

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The sound of the tide rolling in and out helped to qualm the tides in Shego's mind, however not by much. Her gaze was fixated upon the horizon, the moon shining brightly in the sky. The reflection was certainly beautiful.

Yet Shego couldn't help but feel… oddly lonely. She wasn't quite sure what was causing this sudden wave of profound loneliness, but it wasn't pleasant. Not even Drakken's ramblings seemed to aid in her distress. Normally it was a strangely welcome distraction to anything that plagued her thoughts.

She let out a soft exhale and let one leg straight in front of her as she leaned her arm against the other, her other arm fell behind her slightly and her fingers hit the sand.

She was tired and unable to sleep as of late and when she did, she always woke up gripping tightly to an old plushie she'd recently dug out of the closet on one of her nostalgia trips.

Shego's dreams were vague but often involved Drakken, though that was as far as she could remember when she woke up.

Why was she feeling like this? Why now? It'd been like this for the past two weeks and was only, seemingly, getting worse. She'd even considered going out with Junior to get some drinks and find some faceless bodies to dance with but not even that appealed to her lately.

She found herself more cooped up and hanging around Drakken more than she'd like to admit.

What is wrong with me?

Shego hadn't even realized that tears had welled within her eyes. She only noticed when the sound of footsteps broke her from her thoughts. She quickly wiped them away and pulled her gaze from the horizon to the sand below.

"Ah Shego, there you are! Evil Eye for the Bad Guy is on, you won't believe the guest." The familiar voice of Drakken then sounded and she pulled her gaze towards where he stood a few feet behind her.

"Let me guess, you?" She forced the quick response and a smirk.

Drakken grumbled something, rolled his eyes and moved towards her only to sit beside her. The briefly annoyed look was replaced by a smirk. "Oh I wish, I'd kill to get on Evil Eye for the Bad Guy!" He let out a bit of a chuckle as he got comfortable. "No, they got Kim Possible's baffoony sidekick.. uh.. I wanna say Ryan Strangle? I dunno, the name escapes me." He shrugged.

Shego let out a forced snicker and rolled her eyes. "You haven't seen that one? It was when the doofus started outshining you in evil. You know you really gotta get out of the lab more often." She teased with the raise of a brow.

There was a beat of silence before a smirk appeared on Drakken's face. "Oh really? Don't think I haven't noticed you hanging around in there more than usual lately." There was a teasing tone to his voice. "You've even woken me up a good few times just this past week to, and I quote, 'Get up and eat so we can get an early start on evil today.'"

Shego felt her heart against her chest and her face flush in embarrassment. The smirk she held had faltered into a look of surprise. Her brows then furrowed and she looked away. "Yeah well, I haven't been sleeping well and I was bored." She responded with more aggressiveness then she had intended.

Her hands now nervously stroked her long black hair as she struggled to get her thoughts in order. She could hear Drakken shift slightly and she couldn't help but glance over, the nervous petting of her own hair slowed.

He looked as if he was trying to figure out a response, his gaze fixated on the horizon and his brow was furrowed. She could practically see the gears spinning for something to say.

She clenched her teeth and also looked towards the horizon. There was another long moment of silence before she exhaled and furrowed her own brows, her gaze falling towards her knees as she brought them close to her chest.

"Dr. D? Do you ever get.. lonely?" She internally cringed as the words left her mouth, almost immediately regretting asking.

Whatever it was Drakken had been thinking about prior seemed to halt as she asked this. There was a pause before he spoke. "Well… Sometimes. Why? Are you..?"

Shego exhaled and let her knees fall again. "Uh.. No reason. Just curious." She quickly decided to end this before it became far too uncomfortable. At least the company of Drakken was beginning to distract her thoughts from the dampened state they were in prior to his arrival. "You said Evil Eye for the Bad Guy was on? I think they air new episodes after a re-run."

She stood herself, brushing the sand off her pants and hands. She turned to face Drakken, thankful now that his company was aiding in getting a hold on her thoughts.

Drakken looked to her quizzically. A brow raised in confusion, most likely at the sudden shift in energy. However he seemed to either accept it and the confused look was replaced by a grin. "And I still have yet to see the one that's on."

It was Drakken's turn to stand and the two began to head towards the lair. "Oh you'll like this one. He totally loses it!" Shego laughed.

There was a moment of silence as the two headed back in, she heard footsteps slow to a stop and she looked behind her to see Drakken had halted. His brow was furrowed with a look of mild concern. Shego raised her own brow in confusion.

"Shego… You're okay, right? Like… mnnh.. You know I do worry sometimes." He seemed unsure of himself and was unable to make any form of eye contact.

The sudden questioning caught Shego off guard and she could feel her heart skip a beat. He was worried? She wasn't sure whether to be angry or comforted by the idea. It wasn't like she was some damsel in distress needing to be saved from her own thoughts. She settled on snarky.

"Yes, Dr. Dorky. I'm fine. Come on. I'll get the popcorn, you get the blankets. I'm feelin' a movie after Evil Eye." She rolled her eyes and headed inside. She didn't even wait for his response, she'd walked off before he could question it any further.

Besides, she was feeling better now. Drakken's company helped ease the dreaded loneliness she'd been feeling the past couple of weeks. And this was the first time in a long while that he seemed interested in relaxing.

Hm.. I guess it was kind of sweet that he was worried about me. I mean, he knows I can handle myself..

But that did beg the question; what else did he notice that she was unaware of? The thought made her stomach twist as she mindlessly grabbed popcorn out of the cupboard.

He is right though… I have been hanging around the lair a lot lately.. Christ, what's gotten into me?

As the popcorn now sat in the microwave whilst it heated up, she let her mind wander as to what was getting into her as of late. She was always around Drakken, hovering more than usual and was unusually lonely while Drakken was busy tinkering away at the latest doomsday device he'd been so eagerly focused on these past two weeks.

And she was noticing more and more that his ramblings and ideas were less annoying than they had been before. The more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to realize just how tolerant she'd become to… a lot of his quirks. Quirks that used to bug the crap out of her.

Then it clicked right as the microwave beeped.

Oh no. No there is no way I'm falling for that big blue idiot.

And yet…

"Shego? I can't find the lounge blankets. Where'd you put them?" The sudden sound of Drakken's voice caused Shego to jump slightly. She spun around to face him.

"Jesus, a little warning on your arrival would be nice." She tried to sound more annoyed, but her tone came across as more amused than anything. "They're in the wash, just grab one from my room."

She turned back to the popcorn and poured the bag into a bowl as she heard Drakken's steps receding from the kitchen. She hadn't even noticed she'd said her room instead of his until…

"You said… your room, right?"

She turned to face where Drakken peaked out from behind the doorway, a quizzical look on his face. Her face felt hot, realizing her mistake. Of course she'd never admit to her slip in wording. "Yea, or yours, doesn't really matter to me. It's not like you've never been in there before." She turned with a shrug.

The footsteps receded once more and she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She grabbed the bowl of popcorn and headed towards the living room. She plopped down and threw her feet on the coffee table.

It was only a moment until Drakken returned with the blanket in hand. Her gaze fell onto the blanket. It was hers. The fact he'd chosen to grab hers rather than his own made her heart skip a few beats.

So he chose mine… wait. He only grabbed one.

The revelation made her mind swim. Why was she suddenly over analyzing every action like a love-struck teenager?

Well you certainly feel like one…

Shego internally facepalmed at her own thoughts.

Maybe his is dirty. Maybe yours is all there is for blankets right now.

She rationalized her own thoughts and gave a slight nod of approval to herself as Drakken sat himself down and flicked the blanket up and over them. It was like he was completely oblivious to the implications of this. He did this so casually. He got himself cozy and grabbed the remote, flipping the channel to Evil Eye before tossing it onto the coffee table and reaching over to grab a handful of popcorn. Popcorn Shego hadn't realized she was basically holding the bowl hostage.

Upon this realization she put the bowl between them. She then began to wonder when this shift had occurred. When had she began to hover? Take interest? Find him overall less annoying?

Nothing about it made any sense and yet, it made perfect sense. Drakken, even in the beginning, had never really been afraid of Shego. He only ever seemed scared when she got all blasty or when she had been under the influence of the Moodulator. He may be forgetful at times but when boundaries were clearly spoken, they were listened to without further question.

He seemed to genuinely value her opinion on certain things and since day one had never made her feel unwelcome in the lair. Even going so far as to give her, her own room, her own space. No one she'd ever worked with before Drakken had been so considerate. Not to mention it saved money on motels.

Shego's thoughts were interrupted however. "Shego? Is there something on my face? You've been staring quite intently for a few minutes now." He noted, matter of factly.

She'd been staring. This caused her to look away with haste towards the TV. "Nothing, it's nothing." She stated quickly, cursing herself internally for being so careless.

There was a sigh followed by the TV volume lowering. "Okay, you've been especially weird tonight." He suddenly grimaced. "You're not under the influence of that Moodulator again, are you?" He gulped.

"What? No! Drakken. No." Though I wish that was the case right now…

At least then she could chalk up the weirdness around Drakken to that.

"Then what's going on with you? You're never like this and it's… kind of freaking me out. Did I do something to upset you?" His face held worry. "Cause if I did I-"

Before either of them could truly realize what was happening, Shego's lips met his. Her hand gripped his t-shirt while the other gripped the arm of the couch. And before Drakken could even have a chance to return the kiss, Shego had already pulled herself away, only to pause and hover above him, her emerald eyes staring right into Drakken's.

His eyes held shock, confusion and something else she couldn't read. His face was as red as a cherry. Even Shego herself held a similar expression. "I… " She then shut her eyes, furrowed her brows and pulled herself off of Drakken before clearing her throat. "You didn't do anything. Okay? Just.. let's just watch a movie."

Though as Shego went to stand, she'd noticed Drakken had grabbed her hand and was staring right at her, trying to analyze her no doubt. However the same unreadable expression was still within his eyes.

Her mind was completely void of thought as the only thing that held her focus was Drakken's unreadable face. But when he cleared his throat and removed his hand, all thoughts came rushing back to her. "So.. we're not going to talk about how you just kissed me?" It was Drakken's turn to avoid her gaze.

Shego's brows furrowed and she looked away for a moment before she flopped back in the couch, gripped her head and let out an annoyed yell. "I don't know, alright! I don't know what's wrong with me! You didn't do anything. Yenno it's not always about you! It's not always something 'you did'!"

She shot her gaze towards Drakken, who tensed at the sudden glare. Though her anger wasn't directed towards him. It was more towards herself. "I'm so.. confused and angry at myself." She was heaving and hunched slightly now. "Uhg!" She grabbed the nearest thing, which happened to be a pillow, and hurled it across the room before exhaling and letting her head fall into her hands.

There was a good moment of silence before she felt his arm wrap around her waist and pull her slightly. She tensed and was about to slap him away but instead she felt herself collapse into his chest and his other arm wrap gently around her.

Her hands fell from her head and she shifted to grip Drakken's shirt instead. Her face buried as she began to sob, unable to control the sudden wave of emotions that seemed to hit her all at once at the sudden and oddly brave gesture from Drakken.

This only caused his grip to tighten some and pull her closer. She couldn't even fully understand why she was suddenly overwhelmed with such strong feelings. It was a mix of so many things that just seemed to hit her all at once. It caused her to break.

It was like everything she'd held in over the years had finally caught up and Drakken had just been caught in the middle of it. She let herself cry for a while in the comfort of his arms. The rhythmic rising and falling of his chest as he breathed helped calm her.

After a few more moments, she pulled her face from his chest and sniffled, wiping her eyes with a hand. "Better..?"

"Yeah… thanks." She exhaled before offering a small hint of a smile towards Drakken who then smirked playfully.

"You sure there's no Moodulator hidden somewhere?" He lightly teased, an attempt to lighten the mood. If this had been a couple years ago, she would've decked him with a plasma blast, but instead she just rolled her eyes and turned over and rested her head against his chest, rather than getting up, she found herself getting comfortable in his embrace.

The look Drakken gave her was now of confusion, though he didn't make any attempts to move Shego. She smirked now slightly. "I threw my pillow across the room. I needed a replacement." She mused, letting the mood settle finally. He opened his mouth to retort something but she turned quickly and placed a finger against his lips. "Pillows don't talk." Her eyes held amusement in them.

Once Shego got comfortable again, Drakken let off a bit of a chuckle and reached to grab the remote, thankfully it was within his arms reach. He flipped the TV to a movie they would most likely fall asleep to. Shego reached to grab the popcorn and placed the bowl on her lap, within both of their reach.

A few minutes into the movie, Shego spoke. "We never speak of this again."

"I won't if you don't." Was Drakken's only response.

It didn't take them long to fall asleep in each others comfort.

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WHOOF okay I wasn't expecting to make this so long lmfao. I kept trying to find a way to end it earlier but any idea I had just didn't work. Anywhoo, have a really long fluff one shot :) Kinda flows with some of my other artworks. Namely the nostalgia comic and follows the same world that my angst one is in.

This takes place just before graduation and my angst fics of which i need to make part 3 for.

ANYHOO ENJOY!

#art #my art #kim possible #dr drakken #fanart #shego #drakgo #drakken x shego #drakken #shegoxdrakken #shego kim possible #fanfic #story #one shot #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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