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undercoverpena · 3 months

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1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

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best24news · 2 years

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Plastic Bane: एक जुलाई से लागू हो रहा नया नियम-Best24news

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irisintheafterglow · 9 months

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coparenting!megumi with satoru where one of you gets lost after school supply shopping it's not the actual child that gets lost

"megs, where's satoru?"

"i thought he was with you."

"that's a problem, then, because he hasn't been with me for the past ten minutes." you plop down next to him, sliding your sunglasses to the top of your head and taking in the busy park in front of you. the weather was comfortable today, cool enough that you weren't sweating but warm enough to have megumi's ice cream dripping down the cone toward his little fingers. you wordlessly hand him a napkin and he takes it without looking at you, continuing to observe the people throwing around a frisbee or having a picnic in the sunshine. there was a playground on the other side of the field and you could vaguely make out the blurry forms of children running about. "you can go play, if you want. i can stay and watch the stuff."

"i don't really want to," he replies. "i like sitting here with you." the corner of your mouth turns up into a smile. he was barely big enough for his legs to touch the ground and he absentmindedly kicked his feet back and forth under the bench. "do we need to go anywhere else today?"

"i don't think so, no. i think we got everything that you'll need for next week." he nods in assent and the toes of his shoes brush against the plastic grocery bags holding his new school supplies.

you could tell megumi was excited, in his own quiet way, when the car pulled into the parking lot of the store. as much as he acted as the bane of satoru's existence, you knew he liked spending time with both of you. you stopped satoru with a gentle hand on his shoulder when his lanky legs ran for a cart, gesturing toward megumi heading down the first aisle, basket in hand. you barely had to do anything for most of the trip; at most, you'd remind the boy of a specific type of pencil or notebook he needed and provide feedback if he was split between two different designs. any additions by satoru were pointedly ignored by the boy unless they were reiterated by you. "if you need anything else, just let satoru know and he'll bring it to your school."

"you can't drop it off instead?"

"i know i usually do, but i have an assignment that's sending me out of town. you'll have to make do with your esteemed mentor for a bit." you smirk and nudge his shoulder with your elbow, chuckling softly when he frowns. it was a little funny, seeing a child have the expression of a businessman desperately waiting for retirement. "what is it, megs?"

"he scares all my teachers." you choke on the sip you take from your bottle, jolting forward and laugh-coughing your way to normal breathing again. it didn't surprise you, what megumi said; it was the incredibly straightforward, slightly amused note in his voice that had water going down the wrong pipes. "i'm serious. whenever you're visiting, people always gush about how well you take care of me."

"and when satoru comes around?"

"they hide." a prideful noise escapes your throat and the two of you have identical smirks as you sit on the bench. your eyes carefreely scan the field for any bright white hair or screams of commotion that could indicate your boyfriend's presence, but there are no such things. nonetheless, you're not worried. he always found his way back to you somehow.

at least, that's what you think.

you feel the telltale buzz-buzz-buzz of your phone in your back pocket and roll your eyes when you see the caller id.

"hello?"

"i'm lost."

"mmm, poor baby," you deadpan, glancing at megumi to see a small smile on his face.

"aren't you going to come find me?" his voice is teasingly playful, implying that he disappeared on purpose just for the hell of it.

"i'm not playing hide and seek with you, satoru. just come back to the ice cream cart."

"but it's so much more fun if you come get me instead," he argues, his voice slightly too insistent for you to think that he's joking. he better be kidding.

"satoru."

"okay, fine. i actually don't know where the hell i am." he is not kidding.

you sigh, standing and taking megumi's hand. "just retrace your steps, sweetheart." you stand and walk a random direction in hopes that your navigationally-challenged boyfriend would find his way to you. the plastic handle of the store bag digs into the crook of your elbow as you continue to hold the phone up to your ear. "can you describe your surroundings?"

"uh, trees."

"those are everywhere, satoru. we're in a park." you can't help the giggle that escapes your lips towards the tail end of your sentence. the irony of the most powerful human on earth being lost in a park was priceless. "any specific monuments or something that i can head to?"

"there's a big field-"

"again, baby, this is a park. look, i'm just gonna do the thing. if you can't find us from that, you might need to rethink your career choice." megumi stifles a snicker from next to you and you abruptly hang up, cutting off the distorted protests blaring from your phone. you have a seat on the grass and megumi mirrors your position, taking your hand when you offer it to him. "just like we practiced, okay?" he sighs impatiently, but you knew it wasn't you he was irritated with. "alright, i'll go first and then you add on to me, yeah?"

stretching your neck from side to side, you close your eyes and slowly channel more cursed energy until it engulfs your entire body. soon, you feel megumi's faint but determined aura bump against yours. after less than a minute, instinct tells you that satoru received your beacon and you look over your shoulder to see him strolling casually across the lawn. he's tall enough that, when he finally stands above you and megumi, he blocks out most of the sun. you can barely see his eyes, but you know he can see the exasperation on your face. he merely beams at you like you produced the oxygen he was breathing.

"found you."

"took you long enough." he effortlessly pulls you up from the ground and you stumble, nearly slamming into his chest. "where did you end up going, anyway?"

"there's an old daycare center towards the back of the park. sensed something there and wanted to kill it before it bothered us," he explains, humming when you brush your fingers over the fabric covering his eyes. he delicately takes your hand and presses light kisses to your knuckles, so dotingly you'd think either of you had just come back from war. you're about to kiss him properly when a small voice clears its throat some ways below you. your face heats, suddenly remembering megumi is still there.

"are we ready to go, or should i give you two a few minutes?" satoru's jaw drops in indignancy.

"watch it, megs, or i'm gonna have satoru be the one dropping off all of your things during the school year." your hand ruffles the black spikes of his hair and he pouts.

"please don't."

"wait, what's wrong with me bringing your things?" megumi exhales tiredly like he'd clocked out of his 9-5 and walks ahead to the parking lot. you and satoru lag behind, his arm wrapped around your waist and matching his steps with yours.

"i'll explain in the car. will you be able to find it okay, lost child?" you raise your eyebrows patronizingly, putting on your best doe-eyed gaze. he scoffs, but you're not done making fun of him just yet. "whatever shall i do if you were to suddenly disappear? i may be forced to find another...suitor." you bat your eyelashes dramatically and you can see his eyes rolling behind his blindfold.

"ha, ha. very funny." his hands ever so slightly squeeze the flesh around your hip and you jump. "now i know how it feels when i start reciting shakespeare over minor inconveniences." you laugh and melt a little when his thumb draws apologetic little circles on your waist. god, he's so in love with you.

"i'm surprised you didn't start monologuing on the phone. it worried me."

"you don't ever need to worry about finding me because i'll always come back."

"you promise?"

"on the moon and the stars."

prompt is from @youneedsomeprompts because coparenting megumi inspiration comes and goes from my mind like an endangered species :))

hope you enjoyed ! likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated <3

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #fushiguro megumi

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honeesucker · 5 months

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*°:⋆ₓₒ Neighbor!Simon x fem!reader ; masturbation, descriptive sex fantasy.

*°:⋆ₓₒ .5k

Neighbor!Simon who didn't think much of you when you moved into his building aside from some initial caution as he did the basic background check to ensure you weren't connected with anything unsavory. He didn't need to know everything about you, but he couldn't take the chance you were someone planted to get to him or his team - a risk he wouldn't ever take. So when it came back that you were just a normal woman who moved away when you outgrew your hometown, Simon relaxed a little and started to let more natural thoughts in...

...thoughts like how cute you looked with a red-tipped nose from the icy cold air outside when you forgot your scarf, how he wished he could somehow get an invite over on the days a savory, delectable scent wafts from your apartment at dinnertime; how whether you were wearing leggings or baggier joggers he could make out the plush flesh of your ass that gave him an uncomfortably stiff cock imagining slapping the meat of your cheeks and watching it jiggle, or how when he found you in the building's community gym and you were training on a punching bag the grunts you made went straight to his cock, imaging all the other sweet sounds he could pull from your lips.

The final straw, the bane of his existence, was the paper-thin wall that you both shared that seemed to be connected to each of your bedrooms. Late at night he could hear the soft buzzing and airy mewls of pleasure as you fucked a piece of smooth plastic into your dripping cunt. Simon could just imagine it now as he roughly palmed his cock... you laid up in your bed with your legs splayed open as your teary eyes looked up at him, begging him for his cock as he stood beside your bed fisting the thick, veiny length. The way your nipples would harden in the cool apartment air, twin peaks of desire that he wanted to suck and nibble on, oh and the absolute eye-rolling pleasure he would feel when he finally got to sink his cock into that tight little cunt of yours - crying and squirming, telling him in airy gasps "s'too big Si" as you tried futilely to push him away. He would just drop his full weight on you, propped up only by his elbows as he fucked his cock deeper into you until your walls gave way, slippery and accepting, as his movements began to glide in and out of you; the sounds of you coming undone around his cock as he plowed into your tight hole until he was stuffing you full of his cum.

Simon would be shocked out of this fantasy as a thick load of cum splattered on his abdomen and up to his chest, his cock twitching as rough grunts and a breathless panting filled his room as he tried to bring himself back down from the high of hearing you through your walls...

... he'd have to figure out how to get that dinner invitation after all.

#Honee.COD #Simon Riley #COD Ghost #Ghost COD #COD Simon Riley #Ghost mw2 #mw2 Ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #simon riley cod #mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you

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juyeonszn · 8 months

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BAD IDEA RIGHT?

PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 4.10k

GENRES … smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, literally porn with plot. like i’m so insane, enemies to “we fuckin” as reese put it 🥰, frat boy tbz again!!!, juyo is literally so irritating in the first half im not even gonna lie, he’s also a manwhore, making out, reader is a bit of a brat, juyeon has a dirty mouth, kinda dom!juyeon, vaginal fingering, oral (m! receiving), SHOWER SEX !12!1!, he’s hitting it from the back btw, unprotected sex, creampie, juyeon is actually… i don’t even know how to describe him writing his character made me want to claw at the walls lol

SUMMARY deep down you’re fully aware that you’re probably making a huge mistake by giving into juyeon just like every other girl on campus ever has. but paired with how intoxicating his mouth feels on your own and the steam filled bathroom clouding your head, you can’t seem to find a logical reason to stop.

MORE heheheh im back 🤭 oh my god this was actually the cause of a week full of sleepless nights. i genuinely drove myself crazy writing this bc NEED FRRRR like idk i’m so 😭 delusional. ANYWAYS. ANON. THIS ONE IS FOR U. U REQUESTED THIS AND I RAN WITH IT. u wanted more juyeon, i deliver more juyeon ;) also shout out to ally, moni, AND reese for beta’ing 🥺 i love u my cupcakes!! prompt used: 18 <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If there was anyone on Earth that you hated more than anything, it had to be Lee Juyeon.

To put things plainly, he was quite literally the bane of your existence. Being around him made your blood pressure skyrocket and gave you migraines that lasted for days. It was insane how one person could affect you so much by doing so little. It seemed as if he thrived off of getting under your skin.

Considering he was the captain and the pitcher of the baseball team, it wasn’t shocking. He was also a member of one of the most popular fraternities on campus. But he happened to be roommates with one of your best friends, and that made it ten times worse.

You’d known Changmin since third grade, along with Kevin and Chanhee. When he mentioned he’d be joining a fraternity in college, you were a bit apprehensive. All you knew about them was what you’d read in YA books and seen in movies. Neither gave them a good rep. Part of you wanted to talk him out of it, but you knew this was something you had to let him do, given you were adults and it was his college experience. At least you still had the other two under one roof.

The first time you met Juyeon was also the first time you attended a frat party. Changmin had just passed his initiation after waiting a year and he invited all of you to celebrate. You were excited for the most part since high school parties were more for an adrenaline rush due to the fact that your parents never let you go to them and you either snuck out or lied about going. You didn’t have to worry about the limitations of parents this go around.

The boys disappeared almost immediately upon arrival, leaving you to fend for yourself in the very crowded fraternity house. You could hardly pass through a room without bumping into somebody’s shoulder or elbow, huffing as you maneuver around the house equivalent to a sardine can. Your drink nearly spilled onto your top multiple times and you were glad you decided against the heels for the night.

You chugged the rest of the jungle juice in your cup as you stepped onto the patio, where it’s just as noisy and just as packed. You’re lucky enough to find an empty lounge chair near the house’s pool, unoccupied and calling your name. When your legs touch the plastic chair, you flinch at how hot it is, most likely from being in the sun all day.

“Woah, do you want a cushion?”

You look up at the source of the voice. You’ve seen him around campus before, and even at Changmin’s games. Lee Juyeon was just one of those people that you had to know, unless you’d been living under a rock. Just like everyone else in the world, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. From this distance, you truly understood why girls would giggle like high schoolers over the guy.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, that would be great actually.” You nod, watching as he wanders towards the shed in the corner of the big ass backyard. He returns promptly, holding his red solo cup between his teeth and one hand on your lower back guiding you to a standing position so he could place down the cushion.

“As a thank you, can I get your name?” He gives you a cocky little smile that should’ve been a warning. And looking back on it, you should’ve seen his true personality sooner, to be completely honest. The way his lips curled at the corners, like a conniving bastard who got off on irritating others.

“It’s Y/N,” you say, messing with your empty cup. “I’d ask for yours, but I kinda already know.”

He laughs at that, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s not surprising.” It’s at this point that you’re starting to see through his sweet facade, but despite knowing better— despite always keeping your guard up— you let yourself fall for it just this once. All because you didn’t want to fuck things up for Changmin. He owed you big time.

“Well, you are a talented athlete.” You didn’t want to fuel what is probably already a massive ego, but you’d rather compliment his baseball skills than the fact that he was infamous for screwing around with half of the girls on campus. Technically, that was a feat of its own since he’d only been in school for a year.

“Oh, so you think I’m talented?” He rested a hand on your chair, leaning down to your level. Confidence oozed from every corner of his being and if you weren’t so self aware, perhaps you could’ve ended up like all those other victims of his charismatic behavior.

“I go to the games for Changmin,” you scoff, glancing away from his face to stop the heat rising up your neck. “I’ve only paid attention to you once or twice.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's go with that,” he bites his lip, blatantly checking you out. “I wouldn’t mind paying attention to you a little.”

“I’m unimpressed, Juyeon,” you snort, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does this shit really work on everyone?”

“I can drop the act if you want, baby. Just let me know when you’re ready to stop playing hard to get.” He stands upright, running a hand through his hair.

Every time you ran into Lee Juyeon after that, he was more and more insufferable. He knew his influence on you, too, if his smug fucking grin was anything to go by. You wish you could just slap it off of him. However, you stood by being the bigger person in any given situation, so that was off the table. (And half of you still felt a moral obligation to not get your friend into hot water.)

“Would it kill you to play nice every once in a while? I do live with the dude, you know.” Changmin whines, trailing you in the supermarket like a lost puppy.

“He’s got a point, N/N,” Kevin adds, humming as he tosses a boxed dinner into the cart. “I get that he’s a little bit of an overconfident douche, but rolling your eyes at him when he hasn’t even done anything just makes it worse on you. And JiChang, too, I guess.”

“Bro…”

You weren’t even sure why he decided to tag along with you and the other boys when you mentioned grocery shopping. In fact, he might as well have stayed his ass home if he was just going to gang up on you the whole time. Chanhee sighs dramatically, bringing your shopping cart to a halt.

“Can we not have a peaceful grocery trip? Is that impossible or something?” His lips form a thin line. “I swear, all we do is talk about how much Y/N hates Lee Juyeon. Can we please move on?”

“Thank you, Chanhee, I agree,” you nod along, walking backwards as you do so and ignoring the faces your friends make. “He makes me want to kill myself.”

“Who makes you want to kill yourself?”

You jump up, frightened by the sudden voice in your ear. Your friends all give you sheepish smiles, as if they’d already tried to warn you. (What shitty jobs they did.) With a hand over your heart, you turn around to meet— speak of the devil— none other than Lee Juyeon himself.

“What are you doing here?” Your eyes narrow and your arms cross over your chest. Luck could never be on your side when it came to this guy.

“Uh, last I checked, this was a public supermarket. Where I can publicly shop. I wasn’t aware that I had to run that by you. So sorry, sweetheart.” He pouts, his expression so theatrical you nearly give in to your constant urge to punch him in the face.

You feel your eye twitch, and it takes everything in you to step back and assess just how bad it would be if you committed murder right now. Changmin comes to your rescue, doing damage control as best as he can while Kevin attempts to talk you out of becoming a criminal.

The two frat brothers do their little fraternity handshake thing and then finally he’s out of sight, out of mind, allowing you to visibly relax. Chanhee purses his lips. “Okay, so maybe I do see where the anger comes from. And holy shit, Y/N, you have the patience of a saint.”

“The person you have called is unavailable! At the tone, please leave a message. When you have finished recording, you may—”

“Goddammit.” You curse, ending the unsuccessful call.

The downside of working far from campus, was working far from campus. You didn’t have your own car and usually relied on one of your roommates for a ride to and from. But now here you are, stranded at work while it’s pouring cats and dogs outside. Kevin was in class and Chanhee wasn’t picking up his phone. You could call Changmin, but you’re pretty sure he also had a class around this time.

Just as you’re about to succumb to your demise, you receive a text from Chanhee.

[2:57 pm] michael jackson: IM SO SORRY AJNSSJNW BUT SOMETHING CAME UP WITH A GROUP PROJECT

[2:57 pm] michael jackson: DONT WORRY THOUGH, IVE GOT IT COVERED UR STILL GETTING PICKED UP

“Could today get any worse?” You mutter to yourself, locking your phone and tossing it into your purse. As if your timing couldn’t be better, you spoke entirely too soon. Your eyes squint at the unfamiliar car rolling up under the carport. Your brows furrowed in confusion, because you had no idea who could be your saving grace. Chanhee was a wild card so who knew who he had on speed dial.

But then the passenger window rolls down and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole. Lee Juyeon grins that stupid fucking grin of his, beckoning you to his car as it unlocks when he shifts into park. You shake your head.

“No way. There is absolutely no way I am getting into that car.” You shout over the pelting rain.

Juyeon tsks, his eyes rolling when he reaches over the center console to open the door for you. “Is there anyone else who would drop everything they’re doing to pick you up in this weather?”

Your lips pull into a flat line. The answer was no, you didn’t have anyone else who would drop everything they were doing to pick you up in this weather. That was the reason Juyeon was here, you supposed. It didn’t mean you weren’t at least going down without a fight, though. Except, Lee Juyeon was a man who was all too comfortable with how expressive you were. Most notably towards him.

“What? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you. I’d rather walk.” You seethe, starting straight in the direction of your apartment. Juyeon groans at first, your constant need to prove yourself getting on his nerves for once. Then his eyes widen slightly when he realizes you’re not joking.

The truth was that the rain was freezing and you’d love to be in the shelter of a warm car. In fact, you didn’t really care that Juyeon was the person driving. But you were too deep into the bit now. You couldn’t just turn around and get in the car, for you had a pride to protect at this point.

“Shit.” Juyeon swears under his breath, reaching into the backseat to grab an umbrella. Sure he loved to tease you and rile you up, but he wasn’t cruel. Your friends would have his head on a silver platter if he let anything happen to you.

You pause in your steps when you’re no longer being showered in rain water. Juyeon holds the umbrella over your head with a worried expression. You feel kind of bad for making him chase after you even though he’d already gone out of his way to pick you up. Sometimes you wish your ego wasn’t so fragile. Maybe then you could accept help when you needed it instead of making things worse.

“Can you please stop being so stubborn and just get in the damn car, Y/N? Do you have to make everything difficult all the time?” Usually, pissing you off made him over the moon, but you can tell he’s not exactly pleased at the moment. You swallow thickly, nodding quietly and following him back to his car.

The whole drive to your apartment is silent save for the song playing on his speakers. It’s not as loud in comparison to the storm outside, but you’re grateful that it’s filling the space between you. If only Lee Juyeon hadn’t done such an excellent job ticking you off like a bomb, then maybe you would’ve just hopped in the passenger seat with ease. But no, he had to goad you until you made an irrational decision and now here you are.

As he pulls up to your building, you say a little prayer that you don’t regret your next actions. He stops as close to the stairs as he can, but you turn to him before unbuckling your seatbelt. With a deep breath, you ask, “Would you like to— uh— come inside?”

He glances from you to the stairs and then shrugs, parking in the nearest empty spot. He holds the umbrella over both of you as you make your way to your unit, lightly sprinting so you don’t get anymore soaked than you already are. You figured the least you could do was invite the dude into your home and offer him some hot tea, just so he could warm up before heading back to the TBZ house. Your roommates not being here to make fun of you was also a plus.

There’s still an unspoken tension even after you’ve shed your raincoats and shoes by the front door, settling into your apartment and its coziness. Juyeon sits at the breakfast bar as you busy yourself with preparing the kettle and getting a couple tea bags. His watchful gaze is a little intimidating now that you’ve seen his serious side.

Once you’ve finished making the tea, you set his mug in front of him. You look everywhere but him when you say, “I’m gonna take a shower if you’re okay waiting out here by yourself.” He doesn’t respond verbally, so you take it as your cue to leave.

You turn on the water to let it heat up before gathering your essentials. When you’ve completed your back and forth trip from the bathroom and your bedroom, you’re finally ready to just relax in your shower and forget about today’s events. But how could you ever truly relax with Lee Juyeon in your space, permeating your peace?

As you’re shutting the bathroom door, a foot jams itself between the threshold and stops you. You glance up from the floor to meet Juyeon’s eyes. They’re darker than you’re used to, a deep shade of brown that has your stomach twisting into knots.

“You know, Y/N, this game of cat and mouse is starting to get old,” he takes a step into the steaming room, locking the door behind him and trapping you. “Just admit to yourself that you want me.”

You sputter at his bold words, because you don’t. You don’t want Lee Juyeon. Why would you want Lee Juyeon? “I’m not gonna lie to myself. I don’t want you.”

He laughs humorlessly, closing the gap between you just a little more. You don’t have it in you to back away from him. He reaches a hand up to tuck some damp hair behind your ear. You’re still wet and cold from your stupid idea to walk in the rain, but Juyeon plans to warm you up perfectly. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you breathe.

“Why don’t we test that theory?” Now he’s got you backed into the wall, his face a hair’s breadth distance from your own. “I have a feeling I can change your mind.”

You don’t know if it’s the heat of the bathroom or Juyeon’s lips being so close, but so far simultaneously that has your brain turning into static. Your head feels fuzzy, like you’re watching TV on an empty channel through a blurry lens. You lick your lips, vision trained on his. “Why don’t we?”

That’s all the confirmation he needs to press your mouths together in a searing kiss, hotter than the temperature of the room. You feel him smile against you when you make no move to push him away, instead carding your fingers through his hair. He groans when you tug a bit, twirling the longer strands around your index.

His hands slip under your top, thumbs rubbing circles into your waist. This is a terrible idea. Deep down you’re fully aware that you’re probably making a huge mistake by giving into Juyeon just like every other girl on campus ever has. But paired with how intoxicating his mouth feels on your own and the steam filled bathroom clouding your head, you can’t seem to find a logical reason to stop.

When you part for air, you both start stripping your top layers, resuming your attacks on each other’s lips once you’re left in nothing but undergarments. Juyeon trails kisses along the side of your neck, nipping and sucking wherever he feels fit. You gasp when he finds that particular spot that contributes to the butterflies fluttering about your stomach. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“Yeah?” And despite getting ready to give you the pleasure of your life, his grin against your skin still manages to irritate you. “You hate me so much, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whine as his fingers dip beneath the band of your panties, toying with your sensitive cunt. “Hate you so bad— ah…”

“You might wanna shut up soon, sweetheart,” Juyeon warns, sliding his ring finger between your lower lips. “Or else I’ll give that mouth something to do.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” you pull his hand from your underwear, kneeling in front of him when he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Your nails scrape lightly down his abdomen before hooking into the waistband of his briefs, freeing him from the material. It takes a lot out of you to not visibly react at the sight of his cock, hard and flushed to the tip. You couldn’t dare inflate his ginormous ego, the situation you were currently in already doing enough on its own. His size is impressive too, making you wonder just how he expects you to take him like a champ.

“What a fucking brat,” he hisses, your tongue swiping along the underside of his dick. “Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?”

“Mmmm,” you moan, mouth full with just the tip. You’d never been the type of person who cared about size. As long as they knew what they were doing and made you finish, you held no qualms with their length. In fact, you don’t think you ever even paid much attention to anyone’s dick in your life. But if there was anything to back Lee Juyeon’s cockiness, it had to be, well, his cock.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” he confesses, wrapping your hair around his hand into a makeshift ponytail. “But, fuck, this is so much better.”

The admission shoots straight to your core and you find yourself whimpering, the vibrations against his dick driving him crazy. He has to support his weight with one hand flat to the wall, the other still tightly fisting your hair. With every suck and flick of your tongue, he tugs a little more, the sting on your scalp providing you with more pleasure than pain. You pull off of him to take a breath, jerking him off as you do so.

“Am I meeting your expectations?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, drool sliding down your chin and makeup smeared under your eyes in tear streaks. He groans at the sight of you, forcing you to a standing position so he could kiss you again.

You start dragging him towards the shower, unhooking your bra and stepping out of your panties. He raises an eyebrow at you, amused. “You want me to fuck you in the shower, baby? Have you slipping all over my cock?”

“Duh,” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his question, practically pawing at his underwear to get him out of them fully. “Did you think I sucked your dick on the bathroom floor for fun?”

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble one of these days.”

He kicks them off, reconnecting your lips as you step into the shower. The hot water hits your back almost like a massage, synchronously getting in your mouth as you make out with Juyeon aggressively. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, big hands kneading and groping everywhere and nowhere all at once. You feel insane, especially with how good of a kisser he is. It’s like you’re on cloud nine and nothing’s capable of bringing you down.

When he’s finally lost his patience, he spins you around, pressing you cheek first to the shower wall. You feel him against your lower back, his lips leveling with your ear. In spite of acting as if he had himself under control, you can hear the pant in his breathing, deep voice a little desperate than usual. He has a hand gripping your thigh and picking up your leg.

“No protection?” He asks, his cock already gliding between your folds in anticipation.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head as best you can with his body sandwiching you to the tiled surface. “Wanna feel you raw.”

“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that to me,” Juyeon groans into your ear, giving no warning as he spits down your front and hikes your leg higher, thrusting into your cunt. “You’ll make me wanna stay buried in you forever.”

You moan, hand coming up to hold the side of his head as he fucks you into the shower wall. If someone were to ask about this very moment, you weren’t too sure how you’d defend yourself. A moment of weakness, perhaps? But if a moment of weakness felt this fucking good every time, you might fall into a habit of judgment lapses.

He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting your shoulder and the surrounding area with each snap of his hips. The angle he drives into you at has stars forming at the back of your vision, the tip of his cock brushing that one spot deep inside of you whenever he thrusts up. You don’t even think his entire dick is in you as he does this, but you also don’t really have the mind to care, way too focused on memorizing the veins of his shaft with your walls.

You’re far too gone to consider the consequences of your actions, the horizon of your release just beyond your fingertips now. You’d never needed someone so viscerally before, so carnally. Yet here you were, sucking Lee Juyeon’s cock in with your pussy like you were a damn vacuum. The sounds you’re making bounce back and forth on the walls, no doubt louder than the shower water itself.

“I— I-I’m so— fuck,” you mewl, words wobbling. “I’m so, so close, Juyo.”

“Yeah, baby?” He sighs in your ear, nudging your sensitive clit with his thumb while raising your leg as much as he physically can. “Me too, where do you want me?”

“Inside,” you don’t think you even make sense anymore, babbling as he continues to fuck you stupid. “Please. Want you to cum inside me.”

Juyeon grits his teeth, pleased with himself that he didn’t orgasm right then and there. He uses his last ounce of strength to get the two of you off together. “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for me.”

The fogginess subsides pretty quickly after you’ve finished, your brain registering what just happened almost instantaneously. If you weren’t so hypersensitive, you would’ve pulled him out yourself and scrambled to flee the scene. (And maybe even the country.) There are many more rational thoughts running through your head now. The entire trajectory of your life has just been changed, whether you realized it or not. But the biggest issue was:

What the hell do you do now?

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smut #juyeon x reader #juyeon smut #juyeonszn #juyeonszn.100🪩

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your-eternal-lies · 23 days

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LEFT HAND GREEN (oneshot)

Main Navigation || Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Loki x f!Reader SUMMARY — You hadn't planned on spending your Friday night playing a game of Twister chicken with a literal god, but hey—if it gets you to where you need to be...

WARNINGS — Plot? What plot? This is basically just porn (but with some feelings because, you know, romance). Minors, please do not interact.

LEFT HAND GREEN

"Didn't you hear me, Agent?" Comes a voice, smooth as silk yet twice as dangerous. "I said, left hand green."

You scowl, making a mental vow to yourself right then and there, that you will never again attend another one of Tony's stupid parties. You are swearing off alcohol. You are swearing off form-fitting dresses that make it hard to breathe. You are swearing off him.

Loki—god of mischief, former alien invader, and current persona non grata—your partner and the bane of your existence. The only reason the two of you have been paired together is because he's already gone through more agents than anyone can count, probably scaring them all off with the mere sounds of his batshit crazy.

Steve and Tony made it clear, while they understood your reluctance, that you should do everything in your power to make sure this partnership worked. They had run out of agents to assign him, and you were the only option left.

His usual Asgardian garb is gone tonight, replaced with the crisp clean lines of a white button-up shirt and dark trousers. His dark curls, usually slicked back with precision, not a single strand out of place, fall loosely around his face.

Maybe it was the bubbles from all that champagne that had you staring at him a little longer than usual. You normally can't stand him, his features laced with the same arrogance that had him playing puppeteer with an entire city. Your city. Despite his joining the Avengers, you haven't forgotten.

Although, you must admit, it's getting harder and harder to remember at this very moment. Especially while the two of you are a mess of tangled limbs, exposed skin, and harsh breathing.

Why did you take your clothes off again?

Oh right, you think as you glance over to where your little black dress lies abandoned on the floor. You were getting too warm from all that alcohol, and the fabric had been too restricting for a game of Twister.

Well, at least you're still wearing underwear.

All that smack talk you two had heatedly exchanged earlier comes back to bite you in the ass. He had declared that this was the most pathetic party he had ever seen. You, while not particularly fond of Tony's too lavish parties to begin with, still felt compelled to defend it out of pure spite and nothing else.

Wanda had brought the damned game, was met with a chorus of protesting groans, and then cast her big green eyes to the floor while mumbling sadly about how she'd never played before. The whole team then reluctantly caved, of course.

But soon, one by one, people decided to call it a night, eventually leaving you and your so-called partner standing before the wrinkled plastic mat, challenging each other to another round because obviously there wasn't even any competition.

He arrogantly proclaimed that victory would be his, by a landslide.

You proudly declared that you were much more flexible.

And now his large body looms over you, all sharp angles and smirks, his hands placed firmly on the mat at either side of you. Meanwhile, you try to maintain your balance, your arms and legs awkwardly bent underneath you... your lace-covered chest thrust up into his face, the warm puffs of his breath dancing across your skin.

"Enjoying the view?" You grit sarcastically, rolling your eyes as he grins down at your heaving breasts. You lift your left hand and try for the closest green circle, huffing in annoyance when it remains just barely out of reach.

"Why, yes," he confesses, his face so close that his lips brush against one of your bra cups. "Midgardian fashion is just so... quaint."

You roll your eyes, not bothering to entertain his response, trying not to focus on the infuriating shape of his mouth, your limbs straining as you try and reach that blasted green circle.

"And obviously you agree, seeing as you couldn't stop staring at me all night."

Now, that makes your ears perk up. "Excuse me? I wasn't—"

"You forget who you're dealing with, dearie," he chuckles, the sound scraping against your every nerve... especially a particularly eager one between your legs. "How do you expect to convince everyone you hate me... when you look at me like that all the time?"

"Like what?"

"Like you want to bury me and consume me all at the same time."

"You are delusional, Laufeyson, as always," you bark, turning your head away so you can't get lost in those dangerous blue eyes. "Focus up; I want to win this damn game already. I'd rather not spend a minute more with you than I have to."

"That's a bit rich, coming from someone who's underneath me whilst half-naked," his lips curve up into a smile, and you can almost feel the movement against your chest. "But I suppose this could serve to... strengthen our partnership."

"A partnership implies equality and trust," you say, your shoulders and thighs starting to ache from trying to maintain your position. "I definitely do not trust you as far as I can throw you, and you obviously don't see me as an equal."

"Says who?" Loki drawls, and the room seems to shrink beneath the weight of his question. "In fact, darling, as much as it pains me to admit, you're the only one around here worth talking to."

"Stop trying to distract me," you mutter, your brow furrowing in concentration. You try not to think about how long it's been since you were this close to a man... you know, when you aren't twisting him into a headlock or kicking the absolute shit out of him.

"Ah, so I distract you?" Again with that smirk. That smirk that makes you painfully aware that he's destructive, pompous, and always so fucking patronizing—exactly your type, apparently, given the way your nipples pebble beneath the lace of your bra.

"I will smack you," you threaten halfheartedly, angling your body slightly to make one last attempt at completing your turn.

"Careful, mortal," the teasing and good humour are gone from his voice now, replaced with something else much more treacherous, "your heart beats too loudly."

"Then stop listening," you grunt, your torso inadvertently sliding along his. You freeze when he hisses, right when you feel your lower abdomen come in contact with his groin.

"Impossible," he groans loudly, his head tossed back and exposing the long white column of his throat. You swallow hard the urge to lean forward and bite him. "Who's distracting who, exactly?"

You gape up at him, frozen, feeling something hard against your hip. "Is that—are you—?"

The shock of it all causes your elbow to give under your own weight, sending you crashing down onto the plastic mat. Loki lowers himself onto you almost immediately, trapping you between him and the floor.

"Looks like you lost," he declares, his large hands already circling your wrists and pinning you to the mat. "Do I get to claim my prize now?"

"We never agreed—" you struggle against him, your voice failing when he leans in close, your noses almost touching.

"Terms can be negotiated, darling," the god whispers, eyes absolutely blazing, flashing with a hint of green that makes your clit throb. "The timing, however, not so much. I'd like to collect now."

All thoughts of distancing yourself evaporate instantly as his mouth crashes onto yours, his hands leaving yours to slide down your arms, finding their way around the band of your bra. He latches onto you like he's starving for whatever you're offering, his tongue dragging across the seam of your lips.

Without thinking, you open for him.

You begin wondering what he is truly the god of, because with each stroke of his tongue, you swear you're being struck by lightning.

God dammit, you're kissing Loki—something your wandering mind had certainly entertained before, but never expected to happen.

And it feels so damn good.

"I see you everywhere I go, Agent," he confesses against your lips, his warmth leaving your skin as he sits back on his haunches, making a show out of unbuttoning his shirt and revealing inch after inch of perfect unblemished skin. He shrugs the garment off, a mesmerizing sight as the delicate material whispers along his sculpted arms and falls to the floor. "I can taste you in the air I breathe."

"Lo..." your voice isn't working, other than to let out a series of whimpers and moans as his hands return. This time, they find their way to your hips, his fingers teasing a path underneath the waistband of your panties and then gently pulling them off.

You clutch the plastic mat underneath you, breath quickening as he lowers his face to your newly exposed sex. The moment his tongue touches your aching clit, stars explode. Loki is relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure, the sounds and vibrations of his groans getting lost inside you as he completely buries his face in the wetness of your desire.

You screech as your hips buck forward, gasping over and over again as he practically tortures you with his tongue. He is not quiet about it either, the room filled with the sounds of his sucking and slurping while the pressure in your belly begins to burn out of control.

But just as you are about to be catapulted over the edge, he releases his hold on your lips and pushes your thighs further apart to make room for him. His hands are a blur of movement at the front of his trousers, the rasp of the zipper so loud in the empty room, before his cock spills out from between the layers of fabric, already rock hard and pointing right at you.

Loki covers you with his warmth immediately, finding his place between your legs and grunting when you wrap them around his hips. His hands squeeze your breasts and lift them higher, enough to take one into his mouth, lace and all.

"Yes!" You cry out as he sucks at you shamelessly, fingers tracing the swell of your tits, swirling his tongue around your sensitive peaks until your bucking against him, trying to relieve the tension between your thighs. His teeth clamps down as one hand snakes down your torso, finding its way to your aching pussy, unceremoniously sliding two fingers deep inside you.

Loki draws back, admiring the bite mark just above the edge of your bra cup, his lips curving up into a satisfied smile.

"Well, aren't you a vision?" He growls as his fingers move faster inside you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your swollen clit. His erection grazes your thigh, twitching as if begging for attention, but Loki seems unbothered as his eyes darken just a shade. "Beg me."

"Ugh," this son of a bitch; you would slap him if you weren't so desperate to come. "Fuck you!"

"Not quite what I was looking for," he murmurs as he removes his fingers from your hole. He replaces them with the swollen head of his cock, teasing your entrance with maddeningly slow circles.

"Loki," you threaten, the tone of your voice leaving nothing up for debate, but that was all it took. Hearing his name like that goes straight to his hips, them punching forward almost as soon as you said it, sheathing himself inside you with one smooth thrust.

His own breathing becomes laboured as he keeps the pace brisk, unable to help pushing in and out of you, relishing the way your muscles clenched and trembled as you fully embraced his hard length.

"I tell myself I still yearn for Asgard's throne," he manages between thrusts, voice barely above a whisper as he continues to fuck you into the mat, his hips smacking into the back of your thighs. "That this pitiful planet is nothing more than a chessboard, a stepping stone towards my glorious purpose."

Your fingers wind themselves into his hair, your bodies reacting to each other more fervently with each passing second. Despite yourself, you tilt your chin up as if to silently beg for another kiss, the faintest whine escaping your throat when he doesn't oblige.

"But somewhere between your infuriating presence," he grunts, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust, drawing another pleasured cry from your lips. "And the chaos of this world, I find myself torn... between the call of power and the unexpected allure of something far more perilous."

You want to say something back, but he fucks you so deep it's like you can feel him right up against your throat. All you can do is hold onto him, gasping for breath, hanging on for dear life.

"Feelings. Sentiment. For you." He spits out the words like they're foreign, distasteful even, his hips keeping up their cruel punishment, but his eyes are almost kind when they find yours. His lips hover just a hair's breadth from yours, teasing and tantalizing as his body invades you over and over again.

His confession hangs heavy in the air, charged with a cocktail of what looks like regret and a vulnerability you never expected to witness from him. You feel your walls of defence crack, just a hairline fracture, but allowing more than enough room for him to slip through.

"You say I distract you?" He thrusts harder, the tip of his cock finding a spot inside you that makes you let go of the last tiny string holding any remnants of your composure together. Stars explode behind your eyes as you squeeze them closed, the plastic mat sticking to your sweaty back as you arch up into your orgasm.

You feel Loki lean forward and bite your shoulder, grunting as he fucks you through your climax, a few more thrusts before he himself tenses inside you. His hold on you softens, his teeth retreating and replaced with the soft cushioning of his lips, all the while his hips jerk again and again as he spills hot rushes of fluid into you.

You lay exhausted on the floor, sweaty and dishevelled and wrapped in a tarp of colourful circles and still joined together. You close your eyes, trying to catch your breath as Loki slowly and carefully wraps his arms around you, but doesn't remove himself from the warmth of your body.

"My dear, you're the one who won't leave me be."

Fin.

NOTES — Well then. I am definitely not going to church this morning 👀

#loki x reader #loki x f!reader #loki x female reader #loki x fem!reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot #loki smut #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x f!reader #loki laufeyson fanfic #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson fluff #summer's fics

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v3nusplanetofluv · 2 months

Text

camp

ii; good different

｡･ﾟﾟ･atsumu x fem! reader

｡･ﾟﾟ･college and 90s au

description...

atsumu miya was the bane of your existence growing up. always making it his job to tease and taunt you daily. as time went on you detached yourself from the neighborhood kids, your frequent, unwanted presence merely becoming a thing of the past. however, the summer of '98 causes you and atsumu to face the past.

warnings!

2.1k words

none!

"get him out of here," your hands slammed down on the wooden desk, shaking the small handmade frames and shitty trinkets that littered the surface. "i just wasted forty-five minutes of my day because he couldn't take a normal picture without staring at me with this dumb expression he gets on his face," a dry laugh left your lips as an exasperated expression overtook your features. tiredly, you sink back into the wobbly plastic chair littered with mysterious stains--most likely filled with kiddy germs, "why'd you have to hire him?"

"we're short-staffed--and he had a good application," the older woman leaned forward, resting her weight on her crossed arms. "why? ya have a bad fling with him--"

"NO! god no!" your eyes screwed shut, cringing at the nauseating thought. your face burned as if it was the surface of the sun, you shoved your face into your hands as if your palms could soothe the humiliating burn.

she let out an amused chuckle as she rested back into her spinny chair, causing the faux leather to peel off even further. "i just assumed," she put her arms up as a way to signal her surrender, "considerin' yall were from the same neighborhood and good lookin'."

you groan as you shake your head in your hands. "it's just playground stuff," you mutter, "it shouldn't have even come here--this is all very unprofessional--i apologize-" you ramble as you quickly begin to get up and out of your seat.

"wait, wait, if something is botherin' ya, ya are more than welcome ta tell me about it--i barely know miya-"

"no, no, no," you dismiss with a shake of your hand as begin to open up the office door, "I'll figure it out on my own! but thank you." with a smile you close the door behind you and let out a sigh. you quickly scurry out of the building, only slowing once you make it down the rotting steps--feet on steady ground.

you hunch over suddenly--violently--as you let out a callous but silent scream. hoarse fragments leave your mouth as you jump up and down stomping your feet erratically on the damp dirt. whispered curses bellow as you pull at your hair. your movements were so unsettling that if there was any chance of an ax murderer hiding out in the surrounding forest you definitely scared them away.

"stupid fucking bitch!" your grating curses fell upon deaf ears as you fell to your knees, repeatedly pounding at the ground as you panted. your forehead grew sweaty as you finally began to run out of energy, shallow breaths were the only sounds flowing through your head.

as you steadied your breath you looked down at your fingernails, covered in chipped nail polish, gripping onto your denim shorts. the blurriness in your vision began to dissipate as a pair of dirty sneakers snuck into your view.

your eyes trailed up the figure, making you let out a vexed whine as you landed on the familiar hazel eyes. you rolled your eyes, "what do you want?" a displeased sigh left your lips as he looked down at you in your weary state.

as he crouched down, you huffed at how he still towered over you. "ya were rollin' aroun' on the floor--the dirt," he let out a nervous chuckle as you only glared up at him making the climate even more suffocating in the beastly humididty. he let out a breath that he had been holding as he looked at anything but your figure underneath him, "jus' wanted ta check on ya-"

"i didn't need you to check on me," your tone was sharp as you pushed yourself off of the ground, shaking off any dirt left upon your converse. "why were you looking for me?'

it was now your turn to tower over him. and for one of the few times in his life, atsumu felt small compared to someone else...and he couldn't figure out why. maybe it was the way you looked down at him like he was dog shit on your shoe; or maybe it was his newfound attraction that made you look like a gift sent down from god; possibly a third thing--the fact that you had something over his head--the fact that he alienated and treated you like secondary when you were younger.

he snapped out of his thoughts as your hand began to wave in front of his face, "hello? what do you want from me?-"

"are ya gonna tell everyone?"

your expression softened, as confusion began to appear, "what are you-"

"are ya gonna tell everyone about how...about how i treated ya?"

a short, bitter laugh leaves your lips as you look down at him. atsumu looks up at you like a kicked puppy that doesn't want to look like he's been hurt. "no, i don't care to let everyone know about sandbox drama," his expression begins to lift with hope, "but i can hold a grudge," and then it drops. "so if that's all you had to ask then i think we're done here," you begin to turn on your heels.

"um the guys wanted me ta ask ya'd go into town ta get everyone pizza.."

you blink, "sure... i guess, what did they want?"

"they gave me a piece of paper with it on it."

"..." you look at him expectantly.

"..."

"...are you going to give it to me?"

the faux blond begins to get off of the ground, "nah, 'm gonna come with ya!" he smiles as he waves the slip of yellow notepad paper in front of your face, quickly pulling it back as you jump for it, "i don't believe in grudges, so we're gonna squash this, this summer!"

"no," you say through gritted teeth as your fists clench at your sides, "you're going to give the paper to me, so i can get in my car and get it by myself."

"well...no," he smiles down at you, "if i can't come, i guess you'll just disappoint everyone, and ya wouldn't like that now would ya?" he leans forward, "they speak so highly of ya," he tsks as he backs up, hands behind his back.

you looked as if cartoon-like smoke would come from your ears at any moment, "give me the paper atsumu!" you spit as you tried to grab it from behind his back. you lunge forward but he's quicker as he stuffs the paper into the front of his shorts.

your eyebrows furrow as he shrugs with a half smile, "ya can have it if ya get it yerself," he smirks as you suck in a frustrated breath through your nostrils.

you shove your keys into the ignition of the 1996 lexus gs 300, as atsumu slides into the passenger seat with the obnoxiously goofy smile on his face that you hated. it was as if the red hand-shaped mark adorning the side of it meant nothing!

as you began to pull out of the dirt driveway, he spotted your case holding your CDs. he began to plunder through it--much to your dismay as you maneuvered onto the road. a sound of excitement left the opposite side of the car as he pulled out a cd that caught his eye.

"i love hall and oates!" he smiled as he began to put it into the cd player, but you quickly slapped his hand making him flinch back. "why don't ya wanna listen to a cd that ya bought?" an incredulous look overtook his face as he glanced over at you.

"if you like it, i don't want to hear it," you give him a tight-lipped smile before facing the road again. "put on the blue cd," you instruct prompting him to dig through the bag.

he pulls out the cd only to make his face scrunch up in disgust, "weezer...?" he looks over at you, the displeased look unable to leave his face.

"i love weezer," you spare him a quick look as your eyebrows furrow, a small pout on your lips.

"well 'm not puttin' that on," he stuffs the cd back into the bag and tosses it into the backseat. ignoring your protests, he slides the compilation album, looking back, into the player. he picks up the piece of plastic as he skims the back, looking for the song he wanted to skip to.

after ten nosiy clicks of the forward button, "maneater" begins to blare through the car stereo system. he sticks his arm out of the car window and begins to tap his hand on the door to the beat.

you sigh and pull your sunglasses down over your eyes as your hair whips in the wind. atsumu begins to hum along, testing the waters. as you continue to ignore him he begins to sing along quietly, "oh here she's comes," he looks over at you as he sings along, "she's a maneater..." you tap your finger on the steering wheel to the song.

as he continues to sing, he notices you silently lip-syncing to the song, "just sing," he urges making you hum and raise an eyebrow, "ya know ya want to...and this is basically yer song."

your head snaps to face him, "what's that supposed to mean?'

"ya clearly get a lot more attention from guys now because ya look so...different," he says matter of factly making you reach over and tug on a piece of his hair forcing him to wince. "a good different! yer hot now! like totally smokin'!" you shoot him a lethal glare from above your glasses.

"ok, ok..." he sinks back into his seat, the hot seatbelt burning into his chest.

the rest of the ride is in silence--well partial silence as hall and oates plays softly. the sun has begun to set, painting the sky in hues of pink, orange, and yellow. you look over to your side to see atsumu looking out the window as you turn into the parking lot.

you switch off the car with a sigh.

"all i did was get contacts and my braces off..." you mutter under your breath catching his attention.

"hmm?"

"you're obviously curious--i just always looked like this i guess-"

"no...something else looks different too..." his eyebrows furrow in thought. his eyes start from the top of your head: a new haircut, obviously--maybe even some color; the glasses have been ditched, but you have more piercings now--four in each ear and a silver nose ring; your teeth are straight and you've ditched that overbite thanks to the braces. his eyes begin to drift further down...down to your-

"boobs!"

your eyes quickly follow his line of vision, arms flying up to cover your chest, "you want another mark on the other side of your face to match?" you sneer as you feel your face heat up with agitation.

"you have boobs now, that's what i couldn't figure out!"

"atsumu! i'm going to kick your stupid teeth in!" you seethe as you wish the earth would sink in and swallow you whole. his gaze is unmoving as he looks at you with a dopey grin and matching red ears.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry!" he exclaims as he finally looks away. your arms slowly begin to drop from your chest as you unfasten your seat belt, gaze following astumu's movements as he unbuckled his seat belt as well.

a breath that you felt you'd been holding in for centuries falls from your lips as you close your eyes for a moment. a small moment of peace as you'd not only been running around setting up camp for the past three days but you'd been forced to face your unruly neighbor head-on after avoiding him for years. with your head titled back onto the seat rest, your eyes flutter open at the sound of uneasy rustling coming from the passenger seat. the slow turn of your head aids in no halt of his movements.

the sight of him fitfully digging in the front of his shorts, makes your eyes go wide and cheeks heat up as you yell to grab his attention. why'd you yell? it was a rash decision!

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" the guttural sound makes him jump in his seat, hands still stuck in his pants as he tries to quickly fumble around to get them out.

two deers in a set of headlights stare at each other across the gear shift, as the inside of the car gets unbearably hot. as he stumbles over his words your eyes constantly flicker between his incredibly red face and his hands groping in the front of his shorts.

"TAKE YOUR HAND OUT OF YOUR PANTS?"

'THE PIZZA ORDER!"

notes !

☆ i totally just watched lisa frankenstein and the freakout part is totally inspired by that.

☆ atsumu is having a hard time talking to y/n--not just because she's his type now, and intimidatingly pretty, but because he's only ever had mean things to say about her.

☆ surprisingly--to atsumu at least--y/n's pretty into rock music ie. weezer, nirvana, green day, radiohead, the cranberries, etc. whereas, atsumu is rather nostalgic and listens to music from when he was a kid ie. hall and oates, david bowie, michael jackson, al green, etc.

☆ when atsumu finally got the list out of his pants, it was crumpled, full of penis sweat, and unreadable. luckliy, y/n was able to make an educated guess on what they wanted because she's worked with them so long (and she was spot on).

taglist ! open

@bakugoswaif @luvly-writer @littlemiyastars @tvhsleb3ww @yachi-luvr @rosieandthethorns @lzaj19 @kaymarnun

if your name is bolded i couldn't tag you :(

dividers by @plutism

#hq x reader #hq fluff #hq fanfic #haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #hq x y/n #haikyuu!!#hq hcs #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x female reader #miya atsumu #msby atsumu #atsumu headcanons #hq atsumu

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tiredoffeelinglost-writes-shit · 1 year

Text

Fire in My Blood

Bane x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word count: 4908

Warnings: 18+, Non-con drug use, fuck or die (sort of), slight dub-con (but not really), unprotected sex, mainly PWP, unbeta'd

A/N: my first time writing smut so be gentle

You woke up in bed, slow and groggy. The pain in your head was rolling through you in waves and you thanked your drunk self for at least closing the curtains so there wasn’t too-bright sunlight burning through your eyelids. Idly, you hoped that whatever you couldn’t remember doing last night was worth a hangover this size. You shifted to cradle your head in your hands but your hands didn’t move. Panic washed over you, sudden and icy. Your hands were trapped above your head.

Forcing the panic aside, you tried to take in your surroundings. You didn’t want to open your eyes yet, in case you were being watched, so you listened hard for something, anything, to tell you where you were.

No footsteps, no shuffling, no breathing outside your own. Aside from our hands, you were lying comfortably on what you assumed was a bed, complete with a pillow under your head and a blanket that smelled freshly laundered. The room felt bigger than your bedroom and you could hear a kind of white noise outside the walls, getting louder and softer in intervals like–

Waves. Water.

You must be near the docks. Probably one of the abandoned warehouses frequented by one of Gotham’s handful of criminal enterprises.

Speaking of criminals, you thanked your lucky stars for the recent training in analyzing and understanding your environment from the man that still sent chills down the spine of most Gothamites.

You didn’t understand how you had caught Bane’s attention but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It took some time between your underground meetings and the handful of times he visited your apartment through the fire escape but you had molded a sort of companionship. He was gentler with you when you weren’t training. The glimpses you got of Bane the Man and not just Bane the Weapon had inklings of longing for something more worming their way into your heart but you squashed them to the best of your ability. You knew who Bane was and knew he could never see you as something more than what you had.

Taking a steadying breath, you slowly opened your eyes. Only a sliver of the room was visible through your eyelashes at first but you didn’t see anyone else around. You blinked your eyes open and looked toward your hands.

Plastic zip ties held you to the metal headboard, biting into your wrists. You flexed lightly, testing their strength, when a door to your left opened and a man in a long white lab coat walked in.

Jonathan Crane was an objectively handsome man. The whole evil mad scientist thing left a lot to be desired although, knowing him, he probably had a drug for that too. His attention was on a clipboard he was carrying. Talking to himself in soft murmurs, he strode confidently over toward your bed.

“Ah look who’s awake!” He finally looked up at you and smiled, full and genuine. “Perfect timing.” His gaze raked over you, cool and calculating, and it made your skin crawl, suddenly aware that you were dressed in only your bra and panties from the night before. The thought of Crane undressing you while you were unconscious had bile rising in your throat.

“What am I doing here?” you fought to keep your voice steady.

“I needed a guinea pig for something I’ve been working on lately. I was out looking for suitable candidates last night and saw you out with your friends.”

Something must have shown on your face because Crane waved his hand dismissively. “They aren’t here. They had too much alcohol in their systems and it would’ve taken too long for it to metabolize. I couldn’t risk that altering my results.”

Now your blackout made more sense. You had been out with a small group of friends at a bar just celebrating the end of the work week. Things had gotten a little fuzzy but you just assumed it was due to one too many margaritas. Crane must have slipped something into your drink.

Anger flooded you. “You kidnapped me to use me as a test subject?”

“You shouldn’t sound so ungrateful! You’re helping the cutting edge of science! Of understanding the human brain!” He sounded so earnest as if he truly believed in his work without a care in the world that he kidnapped you for it.

The panic you had been fighting down, hit you like a train. You were trapped on a bed with a madman who had plans for you and no one knew where the hell you were. You wondered how long it would be until anyone found your body. You had to get out.

“I needed you to be awake before I started the test, though,” he explained. “It will be much easier to judge how quickly the effects start if you're conscious.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a syringe and vial. The pale purple, syrupy liquid in the vial seemed to swirl as Crane pulled it into the syringe, his brow furrowed in concentration.

With the dose measured out, he turned back to you. You shifted as far away as your binds would allow, inadvertently pressing yourself further into the mattress.

“You’re a smart man,” you tried to reason with him, “You know who I spend my time with.”

Explicitly connecting yourself to Bane wasn’t something you wanted to do - whatever you two had felt tenuous at best - but desperate times call for desperate measures. No one would be dumb enough to touch someone with any direct connection to the man, right?

“Oh, yes, I know,” Crane’s smile was predatory, “and I’m counting on him coming to save his little pet.”

His palm pressed the side of your face into the pillow, keeping your neck extended even as you thrashed against the bed. The needle pierced the tender skin and Crane’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he released the drug into you.

“You crazy bastard!” Your wrists were bleeding freely now, slow trickles running down your forearms and dripping onto the sheets as you continued to try and pull yourself free.

Whatever he gave you didn’t hit all at once. It started in your chest, warm and slow, and radiated outward, but warm grew into too hot all too quickly, curled around your lungs and ribs, and squeezed. Your breath stuttered on the next exhale. Part of you expected to see smoke trailing out between your lips. Liquid fire pooled low in your stomach and you were suddenly, painfully, aroused.

“What the fuck?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, overpowering Crane’s monologuing no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on it. Fire raced in your veins and you pulled against your restraints, sparks licking your wrists.

Through the haze in your brain you could barely make out Crane talking about Lust and Fever and Sex and Orgasm and Death. Even firing on all cylinders, you didn’t know if you could find a good combination of those words.

Something in the distance caught his attention and he grinned like a shark, all predator and sharp teeth. Crane knew what it meant too.

“He’s gonna tear you apart,” you hissed.

“Oh, on the contrary,” he spoke slowly and looked in your eyes, making sure you understood every word, a condescending lilt in his tone, “I think he’ll send me a thank you gift after this.”

He left with a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine even with the growing furnace inside you.

With Crane out of sight, you squirmed to try and break the zip ties again but the new sensations had you gasping. Your wrists didn’t hurt so much anymore and what little pain made it through to your awareness landed just on the side of pleasurable. The blanket underneath you rubbed against you everywhere, everywhere, and your cheeks flamed when you noticed the wetness in your panties. You tried to force yourself to lay still - to stop and think about your next move - but your hips rolled anyway, searching for friction you wouldn’t find.

You squeezed your thighs together, chasing the orgasm you could feel rushing at you just beyond your reach. The coil snapped and it flowed through you like cool water down your parched throat. It broke the haze just briefly. You gasped a breath like coming up out of water.

If it was possible for you to blush further, you would’ve when you opened your eyes and were met with Bane’s. How much had he seen?

The man stood over you, stoic as ever, and gave nothing away. He watched you silently, taking in everything.

“This is not one of his usual toxins.” He finally spoke. It wasn't a question but you shook your head anyway.

“He said it was something he had been working on.” You swallowed hard, fighting a shiver. "He didn't start really talking until he had already drugged me and I couldn’t focus. Something about fever and sex and death but..." you trailed off, nervous and unwilling to really finish that sentence. Shaking your head was a mistake you learned as nausea hit you. “Needed a test subject.”

Bane nodded slowly, hard eyes glinting off the light as he looked around the room. “There’s a camera,” he mused. “He’s watching.”

“Sick fuck,” you seethed.

Bane huffed out something that could’ve been a laugh and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. You startled both of you by moaning lowly. His touch was like a soothing balm and lit match against your nerves at the same time.

His eyes were on your face but his fingers didn’t move.

“Fuck, I’m sorry- I don’t know-,” you stuttered. “Can’t think- Too fucking hot.” You clenched your teeth, cutting off the half-formed thoughts you couldn’t stop.

Calloused fingers brushed across your forehead and you bit back a whimper.

“You have a fever.”

You nodded, eyes shut tight. There was a heavy pause.

“You are…aroused.”

You turned your face away from him but nodded again, shame rocketing through you. Tears fell against your will.

“Please just get me out of here,” you whispered.

The zip ties snapped easily under his hands and you had to clamp down on your mind straying to thoughts of feeling those rough fingers on your skin again. Your core throbbed at the mental image alone. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, breath hitching. Vaguely, you realized you were gasping out a string of apologies when Bane shushed you, just a hiss leaking out of his mask.

“You are not in control of your body. Do what you must.” The words came out stiff, barely contained anger tingeing them but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you.

Dark eyes met yours as you searched his face, needing to see if he was serious. His sincerity was open and unwavering. The weight of his hand settled on your stomach, the warmth of his palm bleeding into the coil inside you and snapping it just as soundly as the zip ties.

Your eyes rolled back and you groaned as that cooling wave shook through you, quieter this time.

“It will be easier if I carry you out but it may be…uncomfortable for you.”

“Do what you must,” you parroted his words with a weak smile, hoping for levity.

A silent nod was the only reply and he was wrapping you up in the blanket you had been laying on. The texture was scratchy and it insulated the heat of your skin but you bit your tongue. Strong arms lifted you effortlessly. You buried your face in the blanket and settled against his chest as he moved.

It was a position you had found yourself in before. You had a habit of falling asleep in places you shouldn’t and he often carried you to a place that wouldn’t have your back or neck screaming at you when you woke up. On one particular occasion, you had fallen asleep slumped over on the couch in your apartment and floated to awareness being lifted and carried to your bedroom. You felt like a child again, protected and cared for. Your nose pressed into his jaw, just under the line of his mask. He had laid you gently on your bed, still unmade from the morning, and brought the duvet up to your chin. You had tried to fight your way to full consciousness.

“Stay,” you breathed, afraid he wouldn’t hear. Afraid that he would hear and leave anyway. After a beat, the other side of your bed dipped with his weight, half laying, half sitting up against the pillows. You had rolled into him, soaking up his warmth. Later, you would blame pressing your face into his chest on the fact that you had still been on the wrong side of consciousness.

His hand tentatively rested on your shoulder as if he didn’t know what to do with it. You let out a light hum, hoping to reassure him. A smile almost slid over your lips when his palm slid down along your spine to settle at the center of your back.

Just before you slipped back into sleep, you swore you felt him press his mask against the crown of your head.

“Little one,” Bane’s voice brought you out of the fog in your brain, “Are you with me?”

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head from the blanket cocoon.

“Always,” you replied. You became mildly aware that you were in your apartment but you didn’t remember how you got there. How long had you been lost in your head?

“My men are taking care of Crane,” he said. You both knew what he meant but the fewer specifics you knew, the better. “Barsad will make sure that nothing from the camera he had in that room will be seen by anyone.” His grip on you tightened. “He will never touch you again.”

He deposited you on your bed and was standing over you once again. He didn't show any outward emotion. You didn't know what to say or how.

"I'm sorry." You said anyway. It came out small and weak. Hell, you weren't even sure what you were sorry for. Getting kidnapped? Not being able to get out of the situation yourself?

Your head was too full of feelings you didn't understand. You couldn't think straight. You had never been more aware of your own body before. The lingering feeling of Bane’s arms around you, the godawful blanket. You swore you could feel your blood flowing in your veins.

Light fingertips ghosted across your forehead, pressing lightly on the creases between your eyebrows, and your eyelids fluttered closed. You bit your lip.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" He moved his hand from your forehead to your wrist. His thumb rubbing just under the wound that the zip tie left.

You shook your head, not trusting your ability to make any noise that wasn't wholly embarrassing.

"I need to hear you say it."

You swallowed hard. "No, it doesn't hurt. It’s like my body can't decide if it feels amazing or like I'm holding it next to an open flame." You rushed out.

“What do you need?” he asked after a heavy pause.

A simple question that had your head spinning. Rapid fire flashes of his large frame over you, under you, those rough hands all over you, inside you. You bit down on a moan, nearly biting through your lip.

“Just talk to me. Please.” It came out shaky and too vulnerable.

His brows furrowed. “That will not help with the effects of the toxin.”

Resolutely keeping your lips shut tight, another tear escaped down your cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb.

“I cannot just sit by and do nothing when you’re suffering.”

You shook your head, the action making your head swim. “I can’t ask that of you. I won’t.”

His hand settled on your stomach. The pressure sent waves through you. The fire in your core roaring anew.

“You don’t have to ask. You just have to let me.”

Your glassy, tired eyes met his dark, earnest ones as you searched for something, anything, that would give you reason to say no. You weighed the option of just letting the toxin do what it would instead of ruining what you and he had.

But you couldn’t deny that you wanted what he was offering.

“Okay.” You nodded lightly.

You hissed as he shifted the blanket off of you. It felt like sandpaper against your highly sensitive skin. His gaze flicked up to you but kept on his mission, lightly tracing his fingers up your thighs. It might've tickled a little if you had a better handle on your nerves.

There was only a slight pause in his movements before he was bending down to pull his boots off and then joining you on the bed, kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched your face as he spread your thighs, placing one of your legs on either side of his hips. You fought down every bit of embarrassment you could feel burning red on your cheeks and looked away.

“No,” he spoke softly but clearly. A calloused finger under your chin turned you back to meet his gaze. “Don’t look away, little one. You need to stay present and tell me if I do anything to hurt you or if you need me to stop. I want to help, not cause more harm. Understand?”

Only after you gave a small nod did he release your chin and return his hands to your inner thighs, higher than before. His thumbs rubbing small circles mere inches from where you needed him.

His eyes caught on the damp patch darkening the fabric of your panties. He made a single slow pass over your center with his thumb. You bit down on the inside of your cheek and let out a rough exhale, your fists curling into the sheets.

“Try to relax,” he rumbled, gaze flicking up to your face and back down. “I understand this must be unpleasant for you but fighting the toxin will prolong the effects and may make it worse.”

A whine escaped your clenched teeth as you forced your muscles to relax. His thumb began slow, even circles over your clit, like a reward. Pleasure rose quickly now that you had stopped pushing it down.

“Nothing said or done here will leave this room,” he assured you. “You are safe to do what you need to get through this.” He hooked a finger around damp fabric and pulled your panties to the side. The first brush of a callused fingertip sent a jolt up your spine. “Tell me that you understand.”

Your hips rocked minutely, chasing his touch. “I understand.”

“Good girl.”

His finger slid inside you in one push and your walls tightened around him, sending you over the edge again. You couldn't be embarrassed about the noise you made even if you tried.

The toxin’s haze faded marginally again. In all honesty, you had hoped that an orgasm brought on by someone else would have been all it would take but, of course, Crane’s concoctions are never that simple.

As many times as you indulged fantasies of Bane in your bed, though you would never admit it aloud, you didn't want it to happen like this. Not when it was only like an obligation for him.

The finger steadily pumping inside you became two and the stretch brought you out of your thoughts with a whine.

Bane slowed but didn’t stop. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just a lot,” you reassured him, moaning around the last word when picked up his pace again. “It’s like I’m feeling everything double or triple.”

“It’s good then?”

He curled his fingers slightly, searching.

“So good.” You choked on a gasp when he found the spot inside you that made your toes curl. Those rough fingertips massaged tight circles around it while his thumb copied the movement around your clit.

Moans flowed from your lips unhindered. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his wrist while the other tightened in the sheets.

You could feel the crest coming but it was just out of reach. Your head thrashed on the pillow, grinding your teeth.

"Fuck, I can't. It's not-" you stopped with a whine, tears gathering in your eyes. Your hips rolled of their own accord in search of friction.

“It’s not enough,” he finished for you.

"Crane told me that you'd send him a thank you gift for this." You blurted out. "Like this was something you wanted."

He froze.

“He’s wrong, right? Of course he is,” you rambled, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “You don’t want this. Why the hell would you? I’m just me. An annoyance even on a good day, a hindrance on any other. I’m not-”

Pressing his hand over your lips, he stopped your rambling.

"Not like this." It was quiet but you heard it, you knew you did. Your gaze met his again and you just stared at him for a heartbeat then two, willing yourself to take a chance. Telling yourself it would be worth it.

Fuck it. If it goes wrong, you can just blame it on the toxin.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling yourself further toward him. Your heat pressed against the obvious tent in the front of his pants. His hand fell from your lips as you dragged yourself up to him, close enough to share breath.

“Please.” You ran your nose along his cheek and quickly unhooked your bra. His eyes flicked down briefly once the lace was removed and laying on the floor.

“Little one,” he murmured.

"You're the only person I would trust with this." You pressed a firm kiss to the front of his mask.

A harsh breath hissed out from behind the grate. He took only a brief pause to gather himself before moving off the bed stripping quickly. Your eyes raked over every inch of newly exposed skin. Lightly tanned, criss-crossed with scars, and stretched over his wide frame and well-built muscles. You’d seen him shirtless before under much different circumstances and it was a sight you had guiltily used on nights when you were alone and you knew this was something that you would add to your shameful late night fantasies until the day you died.

His cock slapped against his stomach as his pants hit the floor. The sight alone had a whimper crawling up your throat. He was thick, flushed red and leaking, and you couldn’t tell if the need to feel him inside you was more the toxin or your own.

Your breath caught when his fingertips curled into the top hem of your panties. His gaze held yours until the lace joined his pants on the floor and he returned to his spot between your thighs.

He wrapped a hand around himself, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Are you with me?” His eyes searched yours.

“Always,” you breathed.

He filled you slowly, measured, careful, and watching your face the entire time. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you and he was acutely aware of the size difference between the two of you. His fingers flexed against your thighs, keeping you still in his grasp.

Even with the toxin’s effects on you, the stretch of Bane filling you had a twinge of discomfort filtering through the pleasure otherwise washing over you.

He finally bottomed out and you let out a low groan. You couldn’t decide where to keep your hands and they flitted from his shoulders to the bedsheets to his forearms to his abs, anything you could touch. Maybe if you found something to hold on to, you could keep yourself from floating away.

Bane grunted as you clenched around him and minutely ground his hips into you.

“Shit, move please,” your fingers dug into his forearms.

You expected him to be rough and fast. Simply chasing release with his mission as a sole focus. But this was something else entirely. He was still focused but his mission was you, not just getting off. He was curled over you, forehead pressed into your shoulder, caging you in with his forearms and rolling his hips into you. It felt amazing.

But it wasn’t enough. You could tell he was holding back, even if it was for your sake, and, if this was the only time you got to experience Bane like this, you wanted all of him.

“Bane, baby, please.” You gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face up from its hiding place. Flicking your eyes up to meet his wild ones, you planted a firm kiss onto his mask, running the tip of your tongue along the grate. “I’m not gonna break.” You dug your heels into his ass, urging him on. His eyes darkened at your words, pupils already blown wide. His hips snapped forward with a grunt, forcing a gasp from between your lips. He levered up on his knees, towering over you, as he pulled out almost entirely and wrapped your hips in a bruising grip.

A growl slid out from behind his mask as he looked down at you.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned out. Your eyes rolled back when he filled you again, impossibly deeper than before.

Long gone was the caring pace he had set before. Every one of your favorite fantasies of rough sex with Bane couldn’t compare to the real thing. Part of you was already excited to see the vibrant bruises you’d find on your hips later.

Bane’s angle was perfect, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot with devastating precision.

“Oh fuck, right there, please.” Your fingers curled around his wrists and your back arched up off the bed.

You bit your lip hard to try and stop the string of embarrassing whines escaping with every powerful thrust.

“No,” something akin to a snarl clawed out of Bane’s throat.

He pinned your wrists above your head, holding you fast with one hand. He ran the thumb of his other over your bottom lip, spit-slicked and bitten red, and pulled it from between your teeth.

“I want to hear every single noise of pleasure you make,” he growled.

You caught his thumb between your teeth and curled your tongue around it. His fiery gaze dropped to your lips as you sucked, drawing the calloused pad deeper into your mouth.

“I’ve heard those pretty sounds fall out of your lips countless times, I’ve heard you call my name at night, don’t you dare hide them from me now.”

He hooked his thumb behind your teeth and pulled down. A hard snap of his hips forced a loud cry from between your lips.

“Good girl.” He chuckled darkly.

He released your jaw and trailed his hand down your neck. His fingers found your nipple, spit-slick thumb circling the bud before pinching it between rough fingers. You squirmed beneath him as he twisted and pulled, the bite of pain only serving to amplify the pleasure coursing in your blood. He showed the same treatment to your other nipple and you fought weakly against the hold he had on your wrists.

“Please, fuck, please,” you moaned. At this point, you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your head was fuzzy with the tightening of the coil in your stomach. Each drag of his cock inside you, each grind against your clit, feeling wholly and solely overwhelmed by the man above you, nothing else existed outside this moment.

“Let go, little one,” he purred. He reached down and rubbed tight circles over your clit. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

You screamed his name as the knot in your core snapped hard and your vision went white. Bane snarled and buried himself to the hilt finding his own release as you lost yourself in the waves of your orgasm crashing one after another.

Floating back to yourself, you felt a firm body under your cheek and tentative fingertips tracing along your back.

The toxin had burned itself out, no longer smoldering in your core. Now, you were afraid. Was all that just because of the toxin? Had Bane just reacted to you? Of course, he had offered but what if none of it really meant anything to him? Hell, it probably didn’t. Just a means to an end.

You didn’t realize you had started shivering until Bane moved you to lay over him and wrapped his arms and the duvet around you.

You slid your hands under his shoulders and pressed your face into his neck.

“Are you with me?” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

A beat of silence and his arms tightened around you.

“Always.”

The talk that both of you knew needed to happen, could wait just a little while longer. For now, you were content to stay in the moment. You placed a slow line of kisses down his neck and pressed your nose into the juncture of his shoulder instead.

“Sleep now, little one,” he rumbled beneath you.

Just before unconsciousness took you, you felt him press his mask into the crown of your head.

#bane x reader #bane imagine #bane fanfiction #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut #my fic #cross posted on ao3

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