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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 8 months

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TAKE YOU DOWN A PEG ─── neil lewis ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me." — Beau Taplin.

pairing. sub!neil lewis x reader

summary. gumshoe video’s got a rude customer who neil can’t seem to ban…

warnings. swearing, voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, breathplay, oral sex (m), cockwarming, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 5.3k

a/n. the hardest thing about writing this was scouring letterboxd for obscure films that i think neil would foam over. pls don’t beat me to death if my film references miss the mark 😭

Neil loves his job. Seriously, seriously, he does. It's completely self-satisfying, his personal passion project that’s taken up a large amount of his life, and brings him the uttermost joy of allowing him to do what he does best: recommend films.

Gumshoe Video is like his fucking baby, and he takes care of it, immensely; he wipes down every tape every Sunday, he sweeps the floor and rearranges the furniture, he organizes the tapes almost constantly, and he does his hardest to provide stellar, passionate - if almost annoying - film advice. He wants the reviews up on this place, alright, otherwise it feels like he’s letting his baby down.

Now, if there’s one thing Neil hates about his job, just one minor, teensy weensy thing, it’s probably you. You, the rude customer who came in three months ago and has come in everyday since.

The day you and Neil Lewis met was one just like the rest. Gumshoe Video was promoting old spaghetti westerns; Neil was wearing a cowboy hat and opening deliveries from a video tape shop in Calabasas that had closed down; you were coming off work and were daydreaming, dizzily entering shops to get your mind off the irritatingly mundane job you had. Unlike Neil, you fucking hate your job.

You had entered Gumshoe, browsing lazily through the Film Noir section, when Neil sprung up like a weed behind you, speaking animatedly about how the best film noir’s had to be Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, or Double Indemnity, and if you’d ever watched them before.

As Neil blabbered on, your left eyebrow became increasingly raised. Finally having enough of him, you spoke. “So, are you one of those guys that talk all over the girl and ask them if they’ve ever seen Citizen Kane, or if I can even name five Ingmar Bergman movies for you?”

Neil spluttered, flustered with being confronted about his obsessive cinephile talking habit of carrying the conversation away like a track runner in a relay race going off with the baton in the wrong direction. “What? I was just —“

“— name dropping film noir’s, ‘cause I’m some ditzy, uncultured bimbo bitch who mistakenly walked in, right?” You said, rolling your eyes. Later, in retrospect, you’ll wonder if you were too rude; then, you’ll remember you don’t give a fuck, you were having a bad day, and Neil Lewis had one hell of an annoying face.

Neil’s face grew offended, an irritated furrowed brow wiggling onto his features. “If you don’t want to watch what I recommend, you don’t have to!” he exclaimed, arms up placatingly in the air.

“Uh huh, okay, and you don’t have to shove your pretentious cinephile knowledge up my ass.”

He just stared at you, boring his bright blue eyes into your own, face contorted so exasperatedly you might as well have climbed up to the stars, plucked the moon from the sky, and used it as a pillow.

My god, Neil thought. Are you just a rude customer? Or did you get off on berating small businesses like a sadistic freak?

After a moment of you two staring each other down in the fluorescent artificial light of Gumshoe, both looking terribly affronted, you left.

Neil would then rant about this “insane customer” for at least twelve hours straight to anyone who’d liste. The next day, the distasteful experience was extremely close to thereby fully exiting his mind, but didn’t, because you, yes, you, walked in again.

You shot straight daggers with your eyes at Neil, but your expression became soft, demure, and gentle when you saw Jonathan manning the register instead. You trailed through the aisles unperturbed, Jonathan too busy sporting a hangover from working the late shift at that obscure speakeasy copycat bar (in which, as often as possible, he would sneak a shot to stay awake) to recommend films.

In any case, that was Neil’s job, and Jonathan leaned over to whisper in his ear: “Neil, man, do me a favor and please distract that customer -- fuck, this headache’s killing me…”

Neil protested, shaking his head rapidly. “That’s her.”

“Her who?”

“Her! The - customer who -- who yelled at me!”

Jonathan blinked blearily, clearly still too incapacitated to think about the matter much. “She yelled at you… and she’s back. Here. And why exactly is that…?”

“To yell at me s’more, probably!” Neil whisper-shouted incredulously.

Suddenly, you broke Neil and Jonathan out of their not-so-quiet argument by slamming down Gumshoe Video’s copies of Casablanca, Sunset Boulevard, and Double Indemnity. The irony did not miss Neil - honestly, it was a little on the nose, even for him.

“Thought I’d see what all the rage was.” you explained “sweetly”, gesturing to Neil as you spoke, indignation seeping through your every word. Your grudge was, well, mostly unexplained, ‘cept for the fact you yourself were an avid cinephile, had watched those three movies more than you could count, and did not take Neil’s “have you watched these before” kindly.

Thus started you and Neil’s long-winded rivalry slash animosity slash terribly caustic back-and-forth correspondence.

You keep coming to Gumshoe Video, because, despite your anger towards Neil, you fucking adore the place. The films are downright amazing, the atmosphere is like fucking heaven with the walls lined full of video tapes, decorated in classic film props, campy lifesize cardboard cutouts making you jump at every turn, and Gumshoe Video’s concept is insanely different (and lightyears better) than the corporate monolith that is Media Giant.

He keeps coming to Gumshoe Video because, again, Neil loves his job, and treats Gumshoe like he carried it for nine months and has been lovingly raising it for the five years it's been open.

From that first incident, you and Neil’s relationship twisted a little into something like this: you come in, insult him on whatever costume he’s wearing, return the tapes you rented the other night, argue with him for exactly an hour and a half on the couch, insult him for another ten as you browse the store, ignore his film recommendations, and rent three more movies.

He waits for you to enter, wears the ugliest costume he owns to visually assault you, gladly takes the tapes back, argues with you for 1 and ½ hours, fires back retorts as you insult him, recommends movies he thinks will make you jump out your apartment window, and gives you your movies.

You’re the minor, teensy weensy headache Neil experiences everyday, but at least, at the very least, Gumshoe makes daily dollars from your rentals - kinda like the payback or relief fund a town gets after a hurricane’s run through it.

But, (somewhat?) shamefully… there’s a reason Neil doesn’t just ban you from the store and live his life without ever thinking of you again.

This reason occurred to him a month ago, when he was in the backroom, pasting barcodes and information stickers on tapes that were yet to be placed in the store. You were looking for the washroom, awkwardly stumbling through the back hallway of Gumshoe Video, and since you couldn’t find Neil — he, in spite of the nature of your relationship, trusted you to look around and rent the tapes by yourself, having done it several times while arguing with him at the counter — you had to brave through it alone.

Now, the thing about the room Neil was in — more of a shoe closet than a room, honestly — was that it was locked from the outside, and he didn’t have the key. The key was currently in the hands of one Lucien, who had gone to buy takeout for the two of them because of the late night cataloging of new tapes ahead of them.

And… he was taking about a hundred years to come back because he was trying to get the cashier’s number at their usual Chinese restaurant.

Anyway, imagine this: you’re looking for the washroom, and the door to a small room is propped open. You enter, don’t think much of the small stack of empty tape boxes acting as a door stopper, and let it close. The light in there is dim, just a shitty little ceiling light; Neil turns, tapes in his hand; you turn, after closing the door.

Finally, remember: the room is more of a shoe closet than a room.

“Jesus -- christ!” Neil yelped, startled at your sudden appearance. “What -- the hell are you doing here?”

“I take it this isn’t the bathroom?” You murmured, ignoring his question and shifting uncomfortably. Seriously, the tape closet was only meant for one person in it at a time.

If the lights were brighter, you would’ve seen how hard Neil rolled his eyes; they almost rolled out of his head. “Well, I don’t think so, given the lack of toilet, sink, and light, no.”

“Well, Neil,” you purred, hot breath curling around the sensitive skin of his neck, “maybe, just maybe, you should have a sign for the bathroom, so I don’t have my tits any closer to your face than I want them to.” You said this sweetly, voice husky, low, and oddly sultry, but Neil knew better than that: you probably wanted to fucking kill him right now.

You were right, though; your tits were flush Neil’s bandy chest, the heat between you two growing the longer you were this close in proximity.

“Now get me out of here,” you said quickly after, ignoring how warm Neil felt against your body. You’d turned so your back faced him, hands twisting at the silver knob of the door - which, Neil honestly didn’t know why was there, considering it didn’t fucking work.

Neil sighed. “The door locks from the outside.”

“What?” You said, distracted by leaning down to press your weight against the door like it was just sticky. Moments later, “…What?” you all but shrieked, hands falling from the knob, turning to face him once more.

And, again, if the lights were brighter you’d have seen Neil’s face better: he was bright fucking red, because, apparently not accounting for the small space of the room, you’d leaned and obliviously had your ass pressed right against him. It didn’t help that his large, warm hands, having long since dropped the tapes he was labeling, hung near the flesh of your rear, having nowhere else to go in the limited space.

Neil thanked the small mercy God graced upon him that there wasn’t any kind of friction, so his soft cock remained just that: soft, and barely noticed by you.

“The door locks from the outside.” Neil repeated breathlessly, the amount of air in the shoe-box room being incredibly small, too small to share between the two of you.

“Fucking…” You cursed under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “So, what, we have to stay here ‘till someone busts us out? What’re you gonna do if I go batshit and eat you or something?”

“For one, Lucien isn’t going to take that long to come back. Anyway, why’re you assuming you’ll overpower me - what if I go batshit and tear into you?”

You snorted, like the connotation he could overpower you was completely implausible. “Neil, Neil, Neil,” you repeated nonsensically, before lifting a hand up to his shoulder and digging your nails into him, the fabric of his shirt obviously not thick enough to distort your strength. “I could have you pinned down in less than a minute. I do other things than watch movies all day, unlike your lanky ass.”

Neil merely let out a chagrined laugh in response, hands clammy at the thought: you pinning him down— he then shook himself mentally, about to slap himself upside the head. Fucking hell, this situation was doing things to him.

“You don’t believe me?” You retorted with a raised brow. Swiftly, your hands curled around Neil’s wrists, pinning them behind him and pressing his back against you. “How about now, huh?” you whispered softly in his ear, making his head swim.

Your chin rested on his shoulder, your nose brushing against his neck, and it took everything in Neil not to let out a breathy keen — this was all too much for him: your touch, your voice, and the apparent dawning on him that he found you terribly, massively, attractive.

“Fuck, I, er - - um,” Neil scrambled for a response, when the door to the tape closet suddenly opened. Your hands released him immediately, and you strided out, breathing in deeply.

On the other side stood Lucien, plastic takeout bag in one hand, closet key in the other. “What happened to you?” he asked confusedly, as Neil filed out after you, gaze trained on your stretching figure walking off.

“We got, uh -- locked, in the- in the tape closet.” Neil murmured, thoughts still fuzzy from your rough touch.

“With her?” Lucien shuddered, handing Neil the chinese takeout bag sympathetically. “You need this food more than I do.”

So, there it was. Neil’s reason. He would’ve called you an insufferable bitch that he never wanted to see enter Gumshoe Video ever again hundreds of times by now — if your sensual voice insulting him didn’t get him all tight in the pants.

He began having thoughts — thoughts of you. You, whispering vulgar, humiliating words in his ear, your hands carding his hair, pulling tight against his scalp, selfishly making him do whatever you wanted him to do, no matter his pleas.

The fantasy was unlike anything Neil had dreamed up before, having always believed it should be him on top, him controlling the situation, him dominating — but it wasn’t a bad one. He’d come faster than he ever did before, just by imagining you were rolling your hips into his own… your strength pinning him down… your lips brushing past the shell of his ear, telling him he was so fucking dirty, so filthy for being this needy.

However, that was all just a vague, distant pipedream, especially with how you seem to actually hate him. All the interaction he’d had with you consisted of poisonous, irritated words, insults and curses — which had him feeling both incredibly turned on, and sick at the fact he was attracted to you just by being mean to him.

Sometime after that, nearing the end of the work day, Neil was the only one left there: Jonathan had taken the morning shift, and Lucien was, surprisingly, on a date with the cashier at their usual Chinese restaurant place. Looks like he succeeded in getting her number, while Neil had been pressed against you in that tiny tape closet, moments away from getting a hard-on.

So, Neil was the only one there - and you were the only customer there. Your daily routine of stopping by and verbally attacking him was late today, so it was nearing midnight when you and Neil sat on the couch and began arguing.

“I’m sure your “manly” ego isn’t at all pathetic and easily hurt by the superiority of Mia Farrow’s performance in Rosemary’s Baby.” You spat, leaning into the diverse array of old throw pillows that sat on the couch day after day.

Neil rolled his eyes, hands up in the air animatedly. “My manly ego - and I don’t enjoy the sarcasm nor the air quotes you’re using - isn’t pathetic, nor easily hurt! Mia Farrow just wasn’t better than John Cassavetes was. I stand by the fact they were equal.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, your hand coming down on Neil’s knee to dig into him angrily. “Neil, I don’t expect you to understand her performance - I don’t think anyone does, not with that little cinephile brain you have. Do you do any thinking up there, or is it just The Treasure of the Sierra Madre on rewind?”

Neil flushed, both at the insults and how your hand was on his fucking leg. “What about you? What is it that makes you keep coming back here if you think my opinion is so… worthless and entitled?”

You grit your teeth, leaning in closer to him. “Because, Neil, this is the only other video tape shop for miles, and I will not be caught dead at Media Giant. Trust me, I despise this - “arrangement” of ours, far more than you do.”

He huffed, his gaze trailing over your features, unable to come up with a response: he was too busy focussing, trying not to zero in on how your face was inches away from one his, your fingers oddly inching up his thigh.

“Don’t go making this about me. Why is it,” your continued, hands traced dizzying circles into the fabric of his jeans, “that you don’t just kick me out? I come in here, day after day, berating you, ignoring your recommendations… shouldn’t I have been banned a long time ago?”

Neil gulped. “You’re still a - a customer, one who rents daily I might add—“

You smirked up at him. “Don’t lie to me. I know Gumshoe’s doing just fine… and I heard you, y’know? Last week… in your office.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He stammered out, racking his head for what he might’ve been doing in his office— fuck.

Fuck, he thought, mind racing rapidly, he thought you had already left by the time he started—

“I heard you, hiding in your office… stroking yourself, moaning my name.”

You’d rented just one tape last Friday, for a movie date with a guy from work, and you almost left - before realizing Neil took your membership card and never gave it back. You waltzed back in, and to your obvious surprise, Neil wasn’t at the register.

“Neil?” You called out softly, trying not to spark an argument with him that would span hours, because you were trying to show up to this date on time.

You walked down the back hallway, and found his office door, which had a gleaming NEIL LEWIS printed on its foggy glass.

Your hand had almost reached for the handle, his name on the tip of your tongue, when you heard a needy whine slip past the door. Shocked, you lingered and pulled your hand away, pressing your ear against the pane to listen closer.

“God, fuck,” you heard Neil curse, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “Need you so bad,” you heard him whisper to no-one but himself, before a low moan belted out of him.

Your face grew warm, immediately, flushed at the news that Neil-fuckin’-Lewis was jerking off, in his office, mumbling your name. You squeezed your eyes shut, continuing to listen to his pretty voice, and after several moments of your lust-riddled mind drinking in his sweet noises, how he was so focussed on his pleasure while completely oblivious to your listening in, you found one of your hands coming up to tweak your erect nipple — fuck, his stuttered little moans had your cunt pulsing with utter need.

Neil was getting close, you could tell, hearing him buck into - what you assumed - was his wooden desk, sloppily muffled mewls leaving his mouth.

You were biting down on your lip, hard, an incredible amount of self control in place. The man was so horny, sounding so fucking submissive it drove you insane: just the thought that he’d bend to your will and do whatever you wanted made your legs clench.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending who you ask, you felt your phone begin buzzing in the waistband of your modesty shorts - probably the date you were late for - and you had quickly fled.

“Oh, jesus,” Neil blurted out now, alarmed, immediately in the flight part of fight or flight. “I- whatever you heard, I can - I can explain, really, so please don’t—“

Your hand gripped his thigh, keeping him from getting up. “Hey, hey, shh,” you said, bringing a finger to your lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know, just as well as you do, how bad you want me.”

Truly, Neil couldn’t control himself that night. You had walked in, wearing a delicious little dress with a sweetheart neckline, strolling around in 3-inch heels, cooing mockingly at his costume for that week’s theme — a criminal wearing nifty little handcuffs to promote the double feature promotion of crime films and dramas — purposely leaning down to make him feel smaller than you.

Neil had flushed, looking away, willing himself not to let out a needy groan at your get-up, instead silently checking out your tape rentals and quickly handing them back to you. After you’d walked out of the store, he’d dashed to his office, feeling the tent in his pants grow warm, aching.

Quite similarly to how he felt now, your eyes coursing over his entire form, so close Neil felt himself sinking into the couch.

“Look how fucking hard you are already.” you whispered, hand drawing away from his thigh and reaching for the bulge in his jeans, palming him between the fabric. “Does it turn you on? The fact you got caught?”

Neil’s breath hitched. “Fuck, please, I—“

“You’re so pathetic.” You said, laughing at him. “I can feel how big you are, such a thick cock, and all you know how to do with it is beg.”

Your plush lips were curled into a cheshire grin, baring your sharp teeth at him, and Neil was ashamed at how badly he wanted those teeth to press painful bites into his sensitive skin.

He was about to whine again, plead desperately, but he shut up when you slipped off the couch, sinking to your knees, fingers undoing his belt buckle and fly. Shifting his jeans down, you dipped your hand down the waistband of his boxers and pulled his cock out: it was angry, hard and begging for release.

But you wanted to tease him before you got to the good part. First, your warm breath fanned over his cock, making him jump, trying to rut up into your mouth, and your soft lips slipping past his leaking head had his hands tugging at your hair, trying to pull you closer to him.

You thinned your eyes and got up, hand pressing his cheeks together and forcing his jaw open. You spit into his mouth, then patronizingly patted his face, “Do that again and I won’t touch you - I’ll take my tapes and leave you a needy fucking mess on this couch.”

Neil groaned, your spit foreign and hot on his tongue like lava. “God, I… I just wanna — want you so bad.”

You tutted, sinking back down on your knees to face his rock hard length up and pressed flat against his abdomen. “Not yet. You haven’t earned it, you desperate fucking pervert. D’you know who jerks off in their office to someone they barely know? Fucking perverts.”

He leaned his head back, a moan leaving his lips at your insulting choice of words. It felt like you were torturing him, but his body wanted nothing more than you.

Your lips then ghosted past him for another moment before you started your assault on his strained cock: you laid tentative kitten licks all the way down his length, enjoying how he squirmed under you, wanting nothing more but your wet mouth around him. Then, without warning, you took him in your mouth whole, tongue dragging and curling around his cock. You devoured him salaciously, hollowing your cheeks, sliding his cock in and out of your full mouth at an alarming speed, hitting the back of your neck with each thrust.

Your tongue felt heavenly on his cock: wet, warm, and sticky, lapping at him without stopping. Your teeth grazed against him lightly, and Neil’s back arched into your touch.

He was practically convulsing now, drooling as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the pure pleasure you were inflicting on him with no split second or moment for him to regain his composure. You wanted to see him fall apart, come undone just by your mouth, he realized, and he wanted to let you, wanted to let go — but, as fast as you’d taken his hard cock into your mouth, you let him drop from your lips.

“Why did you - please, fuck -- why did you stop?!” Neil whimpered noisily, head rolling onto his chest to look down at your face: lips plump, faint tear tracks running off your cheeks, your gagged spit falling from your chin.

“I oughta take you down a peg, Neil. Show you what a dumb fucking loser you are, pretending you’re so confident, so dominant, like you know everything there is about movies.” You responded nonchalantly, getting up and shedding your panties and leggings.

“M’not dumb,” he whined, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes, “god, you’re killing me here.”

“You’ll live,” you grinned, climbing on his lap and lining your wet sex with the fat head of his cock. Then you descended down on him, watching blissfully as his cock disappeared into your folds.

Neil’s hands wrapped around your waist, burying his face into your neck. He mewled against your skin, drunk on your tantalizing scent, lips wet with drool and leaving a slick trail.

Despite your dominance in this situation, completely controlling Neil’s pleasure, you couldn’t control your own: Neil’s cock felt fucking good, long and thick in all the right places, a curve that arched right against your cervix, veins rubbing against your walls pleasantly. He stretched your cunt completely, making you wince, but there was still pleasure there, the feeling of your crevices being filled with his fat cock making your toes curl.

After a moment of getting used to his cock, you rose back up, then sunk down, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. Neil’s head shot back, a labored cry leaving him as you set a steady, almost too slow pace, torturously sliding his cock in and out of your tight hole.

Your hands trailed across his still-clothed chest, and you grieved the chance lost to have stripped him, your touch teasing him every step of the way — but having him deep within you was probably better.

“Your- fuck, you’re so -- so soft,” Neil squeaked below you, revelling in how you took him, bottoming out each time like it was nothing.

You simpered at his words, how helpless he was, succumbing to the pleasure; to you. “Knew you were,” you slammed down on his cock, making Neil choke, “pretending to be arrogant. You just needed someone to put you in your place.”

Neil hadn’t realized it wasn’t a rhetorical question until your hand came up to his hair, tangling through his locks and tugging. “Who d’you belong to? Who put you in your place?” you murmured lowly.

He whimpered at your roughness, leaning into the sofa obediently. “You! You own me,” he pleaded, desperately chasing his own pleasure.

“That’s it,” you said, shutting your eyes, bobbing up and down on his cock faster. Your ass bounced above him, and Neil’s hands rested on the flesh of your rear, massaging you.

Greedily, Neil tried to thrust into you, but you weren’t having any of it, deterring his attempts by pushing him so he laid flat on the couch, your hands pinning his wrists above his head, the new position pushing him deeper into you.

“You stay down, you dirty fuckin’ loser,” you said caustically, but your actions said otherwise: your walls were squeezing around him needily, your cunt sucking him in so far you could feel his balls brushing against your clit.

The tip of his cock brushed past your g-spot each time you rutted into him, and soon enough you felt it: that pulsing, that heat, that familiar coiling within your insides. Neil was reaching it too, his face flushed pink and his breathing as heavy as it was back then, in the tape closet.

You began thumping down on him, your fingers tightening around his scalp. Your pace had gotten feverish, bordering feral, both your minds focussed on one thing: release. You could feel your cunt tensing, your mind going foggy, and then, there it was: your pleasure ran through you like electric current, shocking your body. You felt numb, tingly like when the blood flow to your arm gets cut off for a moment, making your pace stutter.

You didn’t stop, however, riding out your high on his cock, bouncing up and down on Neil’s thick length. He felt fucking delicious, piercing you in all the right ways, and you adored how malleable he was right now: so horny and submissive he stopped speaking and was merely letting dirty moans leave his mouth without any protest. His gaze, his focus, was elsewhere, lost in the deep haze of pleasure your cunt was subjecting him too.

You leaned down, pressing small love-bites onto his skin like he’d fantasized so many times before, and it broke him out of his stupor. “Did you think of this, in your office?” you whispered, “did you think of me, my tits bouncing, your cock deep in my cunt?”

“Ugh,” Neil groaned, reveling in how your seductive voice sounded like music. He was much, much closer than he thought, and when you licked up his jaw, your hot breath on the shell of his ear making him sweat, your cunt still fucking him roughly, he let go.

You felt it first, the familiar liquid bursting past his thick head and painting your fleshy walls creamy, like a new coat of alabaster that Gumshoe desperately needed.

“So good, so wet,” Neil groaned, shutting his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours. You stared at him, watching his lewd expression throughout his entire high, waiting for that beautiful blue gaze of his to open and face you again.

“I’m milking you dry. Look how fucking full you’ve made me, you filthy pervert.” You were taking him for every drop he could offer, and it was delectable.

You two were heaving now, both coming down from your highs. You’d effectively ruined the couch, your slick soaking the cushions and his jeans, as well as his come, which was leaning out of your still-stuffed hole.

“I think you’ve gotta replace this manky ass couch, Neil,” was the first thing you said, your hands sliding down from their grip in his hair to his pink cheeks, rubbing his skin delicately.

His eyes opened, watching you carefully. “It was about time,” Neil shrugged breathlessly. “Do you… do you actually - hate me?” he continued, murmuring self-consciously.

You laughed, but it wasn’t sharp, not at him like before, no; it was tender, like a scarf Neil wanted to wrap around him in the winter time.

“I never hated you,” you murmured, tone reverent, “you’re just a little, how does it go…”

“Presumptuous?” Neil finished for you.

You nodded, then grasped at his shirt and pulled him from the couch so he was sitting upright again. “Jus’ wanted to, ahem, “take you down a peg” like I said earlier..” you trailed off, cheeks growing warm remembering your earlier behavior during sex.

This was all very new, to the both of you — you, in all your relationships and flings, were not the dominant partner. You guessed there was a first time for everything.

Then, you were about to get off his lap, but Neil held you steady on his cock. “Don’t go,” he said simply. “I’ve got Brief Encounter in the player, if you want to, y’know…”

He wasn’t hard anymore, but it just felt good, cozy, having you two talk and regain your composure with him filling you nicely. It felt right.

You smiled, a gummy, blissful smile. “Okay. I’ve actually never seen this,” you said, turning to face the tv, wincing slightly.

“Really?” Neil said, an amazed joy seeping into his voice.

“I’m joking,” you snorted, and you could practically see Neil pouting behind you. “But I don’t think we’ll be paying much attention…” you purred, clenching your thighs around his length.

“Jesus fuck,” Neil groaned behind you, hands coming under your shirt, “you’re exactly like those movies.”

“I’m even better, baby.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #neil lewis x reader #watching the detectives #neil lewis smut #sub!neil lewis x reader

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uplatterme · 1 year

Note

aether and kaveh look like disney princesses i wanna fuck the shit out of

there is no need for elaboration

-🪸

—okay. you’ve got me hooked. rapunzel!aether in part 2! (tba)

—cinderella!kaveh/royalty!reader, sub!bottom!kaveh/top!dom!reader, amab!reader (referred with they/them pronouns) | cinderella au, semi-public sex, quickie, clothed sex, cum as lube, porn with actual plot (don’t let the tags fool u, this is so fucking soft)

You completely regret hosting this party.

It was something that your advisor had tasked you to do. Host a party, find a suitable partner, get an heir so the kingdom has someone to depend on, blah blah blah.

It’s not like you were even that old.

You sigh, a cigarette on your lips as you lay your back on the wall of the balcony. So many folks festering you, for that chance that you’ll somehow hand them their crown.

Your head aches at the number of conversations you have had to endure just to be polite, the amount of times you’ve had to shake off someone from hugging your arm without your consent.

“Oh, fuck!” You hear someone yelp.

And while the owner of this voice sounds overly anxious, you can’t help but want to hear it again, especially with the polite wording that the attendees have used to butter you up. someone swearing right in front of you catches your interest.

Hands reach the bottom of the balcony, and someone lifts their body up to get on the platform.

“Oh god, why is the entrance so crowded?” The person says.

Your ears perk up at that.

“Well, their highness did host it. it’s been a while since such an event has happened.” You answer.

The figure flinches, turning their attention to you.

Your mouth gapes as you finally see who that voice belonged to. Everything about him is enticing that you can’t help but to drown in his gaze.

He’s properly dressed as well, although not anything overwhelming to the eyes.

Now, which family had been hiding such a prince from you?

“Ah sorry, I didn’t realize someone was here.” He quickly apologizes. His cheeks flush, not expecting someone to catch him climbing up a balcony.

“You’re more than welcome to stay.” You offer, craving more of him.

He shakes his head, much to your disappointment.

“I’m actually here for something else.” he says.

You hum. “Also aiming for the heart of their highness, then?”

Take it, unknown prince.

“What?! N-No, not at all!” He screams in reply. “I mean, I'd be flattered if their highness even finds me a bit intriguing.”

“Have you met them?” You ask.

“Oh. I haven’t really got the time for that.” He answers, although he seems to be in a melancholy thought when he does.

Still, you breathe at his beauty. You think you can stare at him for your whole life.

You quickly try to change the topic.

“So, what are you here for?”

He points behind you.

You turn your head back but what faces you is nothing but the empty hallway.

“Sorry?” You question.

“The castle.”

His answers just keep surprising you.

He blushes, rubbing his arm as he paces around the small space of the balcony.

“You’re interested in the architecture?”

As soon as you mention that, he brightens up. “Yes! From what I've seen, it’s alright.”

You feel offended. It is your castle, one for which you’ve decided most of the structure. He seems to notice his mistake as he panics.

“But don’t tell anyone that! Especially not their highness…”

You grin.

“Perhaps, the inside can change your mind?”

“Inside? I don’t think we’re allowed—”

“If we don’t get caught, it’s fine, right?”

“Yes, but—”

You grab the stranger’s hand and lead him inside, he stumbles in after you, the warmth in your hand startling him.

You bring him into different rooms, hoping that one of them will at least suit his taste.

“This?”

“It’s a bit cramped, the furniture set is going against the wallpaper.”

You roll your eyes, he’s so damn picky. That, or you’re just really bad at interior decorating.

Still, you smile at every single word he says. Being royalty, you have no damn clue what he’s saying. But with that pretty voice of his, you could listen to it for hours.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh? What if their highness were merely shown bad choices by their architects?” You say, hoping that wouldn’t risk the random attendee persona that you’re playing at the moment.

“If that’s true, they should’ve fired those architects.” He states confidently.

You laugh. “And what, hire you instead?”

He purses his lips, he didn’t expect you to get that so easily.

He stays silent.

“Do you want to?” You ask.

“Get hired?” The look on his face is so innocent like he can’t even believe that you’re asking such a thing. As if the answer is painfully obvious.

You shake your head.

“To build a castle.”

He stares at you dumbfounded. His eyes glimmer as he grabs your hands and does so aggressively. You don’t mind even a second of it.

“Are you fucking crazy? T-That’s like my dream!” He admits. He’s smiling widely, his face nothing but only a few centimeters away from you.

He starts babbling about the materials he’ll make it with, the different types of rooms and decorations he’ll add. He’s so damn fascinating, you don’t even care about the speech that you’re supposed to give by midnight.

It’s like he has planned this for a long time. Everything he says is so intricate. His hands move as if he’s drawing it, he’s a bit shaky but it’s obvious that it’s from excitement. To your amazement, the way he describes everything makes it seem as if you’re actually in that castle in your head.

Once he realizes how much he’s talking, he stutters an apology.

“Sorry! It’s just that no one has ever asked me about this, I mean at home I—”

“Okay. I’ll give that to you.” You reply genuinely, your eyes are focused on his soft lips.

His chest heaves and his golden eyelashes flutter with grace…just looking at you.

“You know that’s impossible. I’m not even a professionally licensed architect.”

“It’s not.”

You’ll make it happen, even if your advisor goes against it. It doesn’t matter if you have to demolish the entire castle you’re in right now.

“It is! You’re just flattering me, I get it. You’ve been nothing but nice to me, but you don’t have to promise and lie to about such things.”

“I mean it.” You say it so sternly that he almost starts believing it.

He sighs deeply. “Going to this party is already a dream come true. There was this little green fairy with white hair, I—”

The words slip out of your mouth, cutting off whatever stupid things he has to say.

“Meeting you is a dream come true.”

The next few moments are a blur. Your hands are all over the unknown stranger. Fuck, it’s as if you’ve been hit with a love spell. You want to keep kissing his mouth, tell him that he has nothing to worry about when you’re with him. That you’ll do anything he asks.

Your prince whines and the sound has you going insane.

You want more.

You’ve gotten so addicted easily that your mind is insatiable.

It doesn’t matter that the room is left unlocked, no one is going to keep your hands off him.

“Hah—God!” He breathes enticingly. His mind is so hazy, so weak at how his heart is pounding each second.

You take off his coat, the clothing echoes as it falls down on the floor. His blouse is silk and you swear you can see the way his chest is lined underneath the white cloth.

Your fingers rubbed his hardened nipples and his entire body shivers. He holds onto your shoulders for support, the aroused moan that escapes his throat is just enough for you to keep doing it, and so you do.

“W-Wait! I-I’ll—” He pushes you for a moment, to take a breath as he slowly composes himself.

You watch him impatiently. You can see how his cock twitches from his tight pants, the wet spot in the center, and his dick dripping from precum as the white liquid seeps through it.

You keep your hands inside your pocket. Despite how your pants are perfectly fitted for you, your cock is begging for warmth, specifically from the blonde stranger in front of you.

He then nods.

“I’m okay…we can continue.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any—”

“I can take it. It’s fine.” He says as if he’s in a hurry. You’re not sure if it's just because he’s needy or if it’s something else.

You still indulge in his wants, however.

You’ll have to make do with his own fluids although you really don’t want to do anything that’ll hurt him.

Your fingers steadily prepare his walls and you’re trying your best to not be greedy. His needs first, more than anything.

He’s so damn tight, not that you need to worry much as the sounds he’s making are signaling everything but pain.

He’s so soft and so perfect that you’re starting to get jealous of even your own fingers.

“Are you..?”

He nods, and desire fills his eyes. It looks like you’re not the only one getting impatient.

When you finally feel his insides with your cock, the expectations you had were completely blown out of the water. Your hands find their way to his waist and it’s perfect.

The first thrust is enough to send you to heaven.

“Keep going.” He pleads.

You continue to pound into him, enjoying how each one brings out a soft mewl from the blonde.

His cock is dripping white on the floor, and the carpet gets soaked. You know you need to get that replaced but instead, you want to keep the stain there, as if some kind of trophy.

And while you stir up his insides, a familiar noise bothers your ears.

You don’t let it even phase you, enjoying the pleasure that’s eating you up.

However, your prince decides otherwise.

“H-Hold on! What was that—”

“Just the clock. You don’t need to bother yourself with it.”

A groan escapes your throat, feeling how he tenses up all of the sudden.

“Is it twelve?” He asks.

“N-No, but it’s close. Five more minutes.”

“I need to go.” He says.

No way was he leaving you like this.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, but I—” His words are cut off by his moaning.

The way you fill him up has him salivating. You didn’t even move but god, his walls clenching on you are betraying his choices right now.

“T-Three minutes.” He whimpers out.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers feel up his cock, stroking it up and down while still continuing to pound ruthlessly. He continues to scream out, his mind too overwhelmed from getting his ass and cock ravaged at the same time.

His legs quiver and you have to hold him still. You’re both close and you’ll make sure to have him finish in time at least.

“F-Fuck!” He sobs.

And the worries in your head disappear, cumming inside his walls as he splatters more onto the carpet.

You sigh, your chest thumping as you stand there with your clothes a mess.

He quickly slides off you, trembling but still hastily moving as if the adrenaline has gotten into his head.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’ll try to get in contact with you again. I swear!” He stammers out before fixing his clothes, nearing the doorway.

“Don’t go through the balcony! There’s an exit to the right of this room!” You say, helping him out despite your wishes to keep him here.

“Thanks!” He shouts back.

You swipe the sweat on your forehead, zipping your pants back on.

The clock chimes as it signals it’s midnight. What a fucking way to end the night.

You hear rushed steps from the hallway.

Your attention turns to the door. Did he come back?

Your disappointment is immeasurable when you find out it’s just your advisor.

“Your highness! I’ve been looking everywhere, you’re late for your speech—Oh my god, what did you—No, who did you?!” She looks disappointed.

You look down. Ah, right.

Who?

Oh fuck, you never got his name.

“I didn’t ask. Oh no.” The realization slowly sets in.

“Excuse me?!” Your advisor answers offended by your words. You can tell how stressed she’s been, her teal hair in a mess.

“I’ll be right there. Let me clean up first, Ma’am”

“I’ll get everyone distracted. Jeez, young ones these days!” She says before rushing away.

The urge to punch the wall in front of you right now is high.

You look at the floor and notice the coat on the floor.

It smells just like him.

You lay your head on the cold table, mind filled with everything but your duties. The only thing that’s engraved in there is nothing but the sweet prince you met a while ago.

But no matter how many times you’ve gone through portraits of different royal families, even going through the nobles, you’re not met with a match.

“Your Highness. I see you’ve been distracted again.”

“Madame Faruzan, I cannot do this anymore.” You tell her wholeheartedly.

Your advisor rolls her eyes.

“Right after I caught you and that whole mess, you should be working.”

“He’s a great guy! He’s skilled with his hands.” You argue with her.

“I do not need to hear what he did with you.”

“That’s not what I meant! He’s an architect, he’s good! I’ve heard how he works, I’ll vouch for him.”

“You’re biased. Something that a ruler should not have. I told you this when you were younger.” She warns you.

It seems that she won’t hear you out no matter how hard you try.

“I really cannot focus.” You say.

It’s the truth. You’ve been sleeping with that coat for weeks, along with other things. As if it’s actually him to begin with.

“If he’s such a great architect, then why don’t you work with that?”

An idea enters your head.

“Ma’am, you’re a genius.”

“Of course.” She says confidently with a smile.

She shakes the compliment off, lord knows she's the smartest person you’ve ever met.

“So? What’s your verdict?” She asks.

A day after, a letter was sent out to the people of your kingdom.

Needless to say, everyone was freaking out.

“Goodness, that’s a big deal. Isn’t it?”

“Right! That’s a big opportunity.”

The entire market was in an uproar as Kaveh shops for his family. He couldn’t care any, especially not with the consequences he faced from being caught out late in the night. They never knew that he went to the party, but he’s sure his snarky scholar of a step-sibling knows.

“Oh, Kaveh.” A friendly face greets him.

“Miss Nilou.”

She smiles at him,

“Are you participating?”

The confused face of Kaveh is enough for Nilou to shake the soul out of him.

“You have to! Their highness is currently looking for an architect to turn the whole castle into something new!”

Kaveh’s eyes widen. “…Actually?”

“Yes! Oh, you have to hurry! It’s only up till today!” She brings it up, and Kaveh rushes home as fast as he can.

It’s almost like a dream come true.

First, that little green fairy that gave him the opportunity to attend the party in the first place. Then, that person he met at the said party who he flushes at every time he thinks of them. And now, this?

He almost tears the whole place down from searching for his plates.

Kaveh compiles it in an envelope. He feels rewarded as if everything that he’s gone through has finally led up to something.

“Fuck! Where is it?” He’s missing a folder.

Technically, what he’s giving is already more of what was asked for. Still, the perfectionist in him cannot stand to not have everything in its place, especially not with the opportunity that he was presented with.

A knock comes from his door and he flinches, his family cannot know about this. They’ll get rid of it again.

“It’s just me.” He relaxes, rolling his eyes before turning back.

“Asshole,” Kaveh says.

“After I saw your folder in the living room and kept it? Alright, I’ll guess I’ll throw it out.” Al-Haitham replies sarcastically.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I kept it for a reason. I wouldn’t throw it out now.” Kaveh forcefully takes out the folder and shoves it into his envelope.

He wants to say thanks, but his pride is too high for that.

“Be home before your curfew, I won’t cover for you.” Al-Haitham says.

Kaveh knows that he will despite the annoying tone that he’s using.

He runs to the front of the castle as fast as he can, his legs were not made out for this kind of journey. Still, he won’t give up.

He reaches the gates luckily, just an hour before the deadline.

Now, all he had to do was wait.

“We got a lot of submissions…and most of them are barely even considered actual pieces. I mean, look at this. Who would turn a castle into a teapot?” Faruzan complains, searching through the different envelopes.

You take a look at the amount and you couldn’t help but agree more. It’s absurd.

“Everyone who’s a licensed architect can be thrown away.” You ordered.

“Did I hear that correctly?” She eyes you as if you’re crazy.

You are.

“It’s fine, I have faith in him.”

After that, the submissions are lessened quite easily. While there were some that had fit up to the standards, they weren’t simply what you were looking for.

You remember every single thing he said, if you could just match that up with an envelope then you’ll be fine.

“We have two left.” Your advisor states.

Two names in front of you. One was named ‘Albedo’ and the other one was named ‘Kaveh’. You hesitate to open, the anxiety that he never heard of this competition or that you have sorted away his piece is eating you.

Your advisor notices this and gives one of her very rare encouragement.

“You said you have faith.”

You sigh, trying to calm down.

“I do.” You say it just loud enough to believe it.

You and Faruzan both take one, opening them at the same time.

Your hands shake as you do.

This ‘Albedo’ is good. God, it’s gorgeous. Though what he’s sent out are more artistic than they are architectural, you can see the vision that he’s presenting, it’s something you think your mystery man would find great fun studying.

You literally cannot do this.

You only had one chance left.

It’s this or nothing.

Faruzan holds your hand while you go through his envelope. It’s breathtaking, it’s almost as what you imagined that time Kaveh was talking to you were right here, laid out perfectly.

“Kaveh.” The name sounds so sweet on your tongue.

Finally.

You dress up in a nice outfit, sitting on the carriage’s seat, trying your best not to scream. You could have gotten the wrong person, but you’re sure that this Kaveh is him.

You’re not accompanied by anyone except your coachman. You’ve asked him “if you’re there yet” about five times.

You bury your face in your hands. This is fine, you’ll be fine.

You almost smack your head face-first on the seat when the carriage comes to a stop without any warning.

The door opens for you.

You hear the gossiping of the people around you and you give them that perfect smile you’ve been taught to do even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

There’s a person by the door. One who’s certainly not the one you met at the party.

“Hello.” You greet.

“Your highness.” He replies, bowing his head.

There is an awkward silence between the two of you. It is clear that neither of you likes talking.

“I’m looking for—”

“Kaveh, I presume?”

You nod nervously.

He opens the door and shouts, an annoyed response can be heard from the outside.

Everything’s fine, you rule this kingdom. If it’s another person, you can just bomb the whole place away!

The joking in your head does not make it any better.

“I swear this better be important, I was busy—” He stops talking as soon as he meets with your eyes.

There’s a flushed look on his face that matches yours.

“Oh. It’s you…”

There come the gasps from around you.

“He did not just call them that.”

“How disrespectful!”

“Right?!”

You cough, unsure how to state why you’re here. You just hand him the contract.

He shakes as he reads it.

“What…?”

“I told you that I’ll build you a castle.” You remind him.

Kaveh remembers and you can see everything click right in his face. He’s very expressive, not that you were a stranger to that.

“Y-Your Highness.” He stutters.

You wonder if it’s appropriate to go down on your knee.

Fuck it. You can have Madame Faruzan reprimand you later.

The people watching scream in shock as you go down on one knee.

“Now that we have that out of the way…Will you do me the honor of ruling by your side?”

Please say yes, please say yes, please say—

“What?!” Kaveh yells at you.

“G-Get up! Oh my god, your highness!” He tells you.

“I’m not standing up unless you say yes.”

The man you talked to previously whistles before heading inside the house. Kaveh glares at him, he did just not leave him in a situation like this.

“I’m serious, Kaveh.”

“You’re crazy.” He says.

“I know.” You look up to him hopefully.

He’s so red, it’s almost painful to look at. Not that you were any different from his case.

“I—Alright! Yes! So stand up already, your cape is getting dirty and everyone’s looking so—”

You pull Kaveh down by his collar, drowning in his sweet familiar lips.

#plattered writings #dom reader #sub genshin impact #dom!reader #sub genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #kaveh x reader #sub kaveh #sub!kaveh #sub kaveh x reader #thirsts for blake

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tossawary · 5 months

Text

Every time I see or otherwise imagine a Daemon AU (a story borrowing the concept of "physical soul animals" from the "His Dark Materials" book series), I get distracted thinking about aaaaall the logistical issues and cultural changes that would happen if the world was different in this way. Especially if it's a story that's set in the modern day!

Mostly, I'm distracted by cultural changes that are, uh, let's go with "silly". Like, I think people would put in cat doors and ramps for their daemons. I think people would put their turtle daemons on hot wheel cars and let their rat daemons drive miniature cars. I think some miserable people would be unreasonably outraged by "assistive devices" for daemons and call it unnatural. I think people would post online like, "I just watched my grandma's elderly dog daemon spend ten minutes trying to climb onto the couch." I think that there would be Tumblr polls asking: "Are daemons allowed on the furniture in your house?" And some people would be like, "Absolutely not, that's disgusting," and other people would be like, "Yes?! Of course?!?!?!"

I think some people would put their daemons in outfits. I think some people would wear MATCHING outfits with their daemons. I think there would be a huge market for daemon accessories like collars and scarves. I think you could find someone who would argue to their dying breath that putting a collar on your daemon is a form of abusing yourself. I think there would be daemons who would straight up hate wearing anything, especially the daemons of young children, and shed collars immediately. I think some people would get their daemon's ears pierced.

I think people would take photos of their daemons getting stuck in stupid places. I think people would take photos of their daemons making silly expressions. I think these photos would be used as memes. I think this would be included in the "don't take photos of strangers and post them online???" arguments. I think some people would try to get animals that are the same as their daemon forms so that their daemon could have a "friend". I think the exotic pet trade in this world would be horrible, especially in relation to modelling and acting industries, and that some people and their daemons would work as "substitute daemon actors".

I think that people would judge other people based on their daemons, sure. I also think that daemons are incorporated into things like astrology and matchmaking in ways that our world can't imagine. "Oh, I only date guys with dog daemons. Guys with cat daemons are too feminine," would be a constant sexist / homophobic sitcom joke and also a real thing people would say. There would be sex books written taking daemons into account and I'm not going to get into it more than that except to say...

The furry "discourse" that must exist in a Modern Daemon AU is operating on a level that we cannot possibly fathom.

Most of this stuff is not relevant for most Daemon AUs, but I feel like when doing any kind of cultural worldbuilding, we must face the fact that many people love and hate nothing more than to sincerely and insincerely get into extensive Twitter arguments over pointless bullshit. And also, on a lighter note, that "Draw yourself and your daemon!" would be a classic Day 1 of school activity for children. Confession blogs would have people saying, "My mom and aunt and grandma all have parrot daemons, so until I was four, I genuinely thought all women had bird daemons. When I met a woman with an iguana daemon in a grocery store, I asked her what kind of bird it was supposed to be. My mom has laughingly brought it up every few weeks for the past twenty years."

#tossawary hdm #sit with your soul #long post #fic ideas

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thehusbandoden · 9 months

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You Flinch During an Argument -Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

A/n: This is a bit shorter than I'd like but it is what it is. If you'd like a longer or angstier version just shoot me an ask or comment <33

Fluffier than some of em

Slight angst to fluff/comfort | 455 words

Warnings!: Dusting things, taking anger out in unhealthy ways, and flinching. Please let me know if I miss any <3!

As Tomura's hand reached towards you you flinched back, causing the tramautized man to pause. Did you... think he was going to hit you?

All he was planning on doing was grabbing your chin to force you to look him in the eyes. Would it have been rough? Yes, yes it would have been, but he wasn't going to hurt you.

"Tomura.. I'm just going to go." You whisper, moving to leave the gamer's sloppy bedroom.

"But wai-" Tomura was interupted by the closing of his door, causing him to curse as he kicked a pile of dirty laundry, which tangled his foot and caused him to loose his balance and fall onto the floor.

Curses strung from Tomura's mouth as he dusted the pile of clothes. As the last shirt disintergrated Tomura felt a small stroke of calmness wash over his emotions, causing him to let out a little sigh. Looking around, Tomura decided he wanted to entirely calm down and knew exactly how to do it.

After Tomura dusted every thing but his bed, tv, gaming console + controllers, and tv stand, Tomura sighed. Instead of the blazing anger he felt earlier he felt entirely calm, and ready to talk to you.

Storming towards your room, Tomura didn't bother tearing open the door and walking in, glaring at Dabi who was snickering at his display of desperation.

"Tomura what the hec-"

"Shut up and listen." Tomura growled, climbing on top of you, much to your dismay.

"Tomu-"

"I said to shut up and listen!"

After you stopped talking Tomura sighed, resting his head on your chest as he played with your hair, thinking about what he was going to say next.

"Listen I- I didn't mean to scare you.. I wasn't going to hurt you . I promise you I wasn't.

"I know Tomura."

"Will you be qui- you do?"

"Yes.. I do. I mostly wanted to get out of there to avoid furhter conflict because I know how hot headed you get when you're angry and no matter what I do or say you won't listen.

"Hey-"

"Tomura.. I'm sorry about my part of things. I didn't mean to annoy you with my teasing. I was just having a fun time and didn't realize how ganged up on you felt."

"And I'm sorry for freaking out on you instead of trying to understand your point of view."

Giggling, you peck Tomura's forehead, moving to tangle your hand in Tomura's hair.

"I love you Tomura. So much."

"I love you to goregous."

~Bonus~

Hey Tomura?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to have to get you more clothes and furniture.. aren't I?"

"Mhmmm"

Simply sighing, you get back to playing with Tomura's hair peacefully.

Reblogs help spread and support my work, therefore they help me immensely but any support is appreciated <33

Series' masterlist | Shigaraki's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Tips <3

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way minus reblogging.

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russellsppttemplates · 17 days

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can we get another of Oscar and the boys causing mischief? i loved the first one so much i need more 😭

Oscar rolled over in bed and looked at you, fast asleep beside him as you grasped the pillowcase on his pillow. Despite being tired, he wasn't able to fall asleep as quickly as he would've liked, so he got up to check on the boys. For now it was easier for you to keep Lucas and Jack in the same room and your youngest son admitted he would prefer to sleep in the same room as his brother since it meant he would have company, and since you had made the change recently, every now and again either your or Oscar checked on them in the middle of the night.

Getting up slowly to not disturb you, your husband tucked you in and kissed your cheek before he left the bedroom, heading to the boys' bedroom.

As he opened the door to their bedroom, the scene was something he had never seen before. There was a small night light that was turned on, letting Oscar see Jack and Lucas trying to do something on the crib.

Jack frowned in frustration and shook the railing as Lucas looked for something on the side of his crib, "there's no door, Jack, I can't open this", your oldest pouted, touching the screws keeping the piece of furniture together but realising he wouldn't be able to undo them without any tools.

"I want out", Jack groaned, trying to stretch his leg to climb up and setting his hands on the tailing so he could lift himself up, Lucas trying his best to help but getting nowhere.

Oscar was curious and since they didn't seem to notice him, he carried on watching the whole scene, ready to jump in at any sign of trouble.

Trying again, Jack stood on his tippy toes, making stand high enough to lift himself up and over the railing so he could slide down the outside of the crib with Lucas' help.

"Okay, enough!", Oscar gasped, running up to them and catching both boys as Jack was bound to fall on top of Lucas and hit the floor butt first, "what are you two doing? Jack, you can't leave the crib!", Oscar mumbled.

"Daddy!", Jack squealed and wrapped his small arms around Oscar's neck.

"He wanted to come out of there but I couldn't help him", Lucas clarified, "we didn't mean to get in trouble".

"I know you didn't, buddy", Oscar soothed, "still, you can't do this anymore okay? This could've been serious", he reasoned, "Can we play Legos?", Lucas mused, Jack walking to the box and getting the pieces.

When you didn't feel Oscar on the bed, you got up to look for him, seeing the boys' bedroom had the light on.

You expected to see Oscar lulling either of the boys back to sleep and not playing with toys in the middle of the night, "It's sleeping time, boys, what are you doing?" you asked as the three of them looked at you from their spot on the floor, knowing they got caught.

"Daddy let us play", Lucas offered, "Jack was escaping from his crib and neither of them wanted to sleep", Oscar offered as Jack approached you, holding his arms out for you to pick him up, kissing his cheeks softly.

"You troublemaker monkey!", you tapped his nose, "it's really early though, we all need sleep", you reasoned as they started tidying it up, "Come on, mummy is right", Oscar said, tucking Lucas in as you did the same for Jack.

"Really? He was escaping the crib?", you whispered as you closed the boys' bedroom door, "yes, he wanted to sleep in Lucas' bed apparently".

Shaking your head, you cuddled up to Oscar, letting him carry you back to bed after he tapped your thigh, "they're really cheeky, aren't they? And you didn't help with their mischief, did you?", you kissed his cheek.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#oscar piastri blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months

Text

how are you even alive?

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘love is watching them do stupid things’

rated t | 1,351 words | cw: minor injury, suggestive language | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, the hurt is Steve being stubborn, the comfort is Eddie loving him even though he should accept help

♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️

Twice a year, Steve deep cleaned the house.

Eddie had never witnessed anything like it before.

It’s not that he and Wayne were slobs, but they just did what was necessary, never spending an entire week going over a checklist a mile long to cover every inch of their house.

Steve did.

He said that when he was young, his parents hired people to do it and he was always fascinated with the way the house smelled so fresh for weeks after. He loved watching something go from dusty to shiny, loved seeing the way the windows glistened without any fingerprints from him.

And as he got older, his parents stopped hiring people and just expected it to get done, so he did. And he loved it.

Eddie couldn’t understand it, but he did love the way Steve’s eyes lit up when they got to his cleaning weeks in March and September. He’d plan it all out on a notepad by room, made a list of cleaning supplies he needed, and put stars next to things Eddie would have to help him with.

There were few stars, thankfully.

Eddie didn’t really mind helping. It was his home, too, and any time spent with Steve was time well spent. But the bleach sometimes bothered his sinuses and he’d end up coughing and sneezing for two days after.

He checked the lists now and noticed his name was only on three things:

Flip mattresses

Gutter cleaning (hold ladder and refill pressure washer)

Bookshelves (remove all books, dust, put books back)

He fist pumped once at the realization that he got off easy this time, much easier than he’d been expecting.

Actually, he almost always was enlisted to help with holding the ladder when Steve dusted the-

A bang interrupted his thoughts and he ran without even thinking what it could be.

He walked into the kitchen to see Steve on their ladder, some kind of homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“What was that noise?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Steve reach as far as he could without falling off the ladder. He’d probably land on his feet from that height and be fine, but it wouldn’t exactly feel great.

“Dropped the other bottle I had hanging on my belt. It’s fine, just furniture polish. I can get it when I’m done dusting,” Steve was busy, barely even glanced back at Eddie as he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a supervisor?” Eddie found the furniture polish and set it on the counter, watching as Steve furiously rubbed at the top of the cabinets.

“I don’t. But gutter cleaning is tomorrow and I’ll need one then.”

“Steve…”

“Don’t Steve me. I’m fine! I’m already halfway done.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped away, not wanting to argue with Steve when he was at his happiest.

“Can you put the radio on please, baby? I forgot to before I climbed up here.”

Eddie went over to the radio on the kitchen table and turned it on, surprised to find it tuned to the rock station instead of the hits station.

“Well color me shocked! Were you listening to,” he gasped and held his chest. “Rock?”

“Yes, I was. But if you’re gonna make a big deal about it then change it to the hits,” Steves eye roll was almost audible.

“No, no. Let’s listen to Def Leppard, sweetheart. It’s been my dream for one whole minute to check out your ass while listening to Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

Steve snorted, but continued his work.

Eddie continued watching.

And then Steve wobbled a little. He caught himself, but Eddie stood up straighter.

He wobbles more and Eddie started to move towards the ladder to hold it steady.

But it was too late.

Steve was already falling.

He landed on his ass with a yelp and a groan, the washcloth and bottle flying across the floor.

“Shit, Stevie, you okay?” Eddie crouched down next to him, hands cupping his cheeks as he looked him over.

“Yeah. Just twisted my ankle a little when I tried to catch myself,” Steve gestured down at his ankle. “Might need to ice it before I clean more.”

“Maybe you should rest so it doesn’t swell.” Eddie rolled the sweatpants he was wearing up and saw the way it was already swelling. “Okay, you have no choice but to rest since it’s swelling.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that after we ice it,” Eddie said as he gently moved his ankle left and right to see if it was broken.

Steve snorted. “Of course this would happen the first day of my spring cleaning.”

“Maybe if you’d let me supervise earlier…”

“I never lose my balance on the ladder! I thought I’d be fine.”

“Steve, you remember how last year when you were cleaning the pool you insisted the water wouldn’t overfill because of the filters?” Eddie smirked. “And then 6 hours later we were trying to rescue your pool chairs from floating away?”

“That isn’t the same!”

“And then when we first moved in and you insisted you could paint the ceiling yourself and you insisted on handpainting instead of a roller because it wouldn't be even to you and then you dripped paint everywhere and we had to get new carpet? Remember how you ended up breaking your finger because you insisted on rolling the carpet yourself?"

"Okay, that was just bad luck."

"And when you put out the Christmas decorations last year while I was helping Wayne with his truck and I came home to you stuck on the roof?"

"Listen, I am almost 100% sure one of the neighbor kids knocked the ladder over. There was no other way!"

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure how you're even alive. You're asking for an accident to happen."

"Weren't you supposed to be getting me ice?" Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. "You want help getting to the couch first?"

"Nope. It's cleaning week. 20 minutes with an ice pack and then I'm back to dusting."

Eddie shook his head. "You're ridiculous. We'll ice it for 20 and then you're gonna rest for at least an hour so we know if we need to wrap it and keep weight off of it."

"I'm fine, Eds."

"Humor me, sweetheart."

It's a damn good thing Steve did because an hour and a half later, they were on their way to the emergency room for x-rays.

As the doctor told them both that Steve seemed to have fractured a small bone in his ankle, Eddie did his best not to look too smug.

"It won't require a cast or boot, but I do recommend ice every couple of hours and staying off of it as much as possible for the next week or so. If anything starts to hurt worse, come back for a boot."

"Thanks, doc." Eddie waited until the doctor left the room to turn to Steve. "How about next time you want to dust above the fridge and the top of the cabinets, you let me be there to catch you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine."

Eddie kissed his lips softly, barely brushed them just in case someone decided to walk in again. "You want me to stop on the way home to get some more pain meds?"

"Please."

"You hurtin'?"

"A little."

"You want me to take your mind off it?" Eddie wiggled his brows suggestively. "I can keep your ankle elevated, even."

"We'll see when we get home. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Someone has to do the cleaning, baby. Since I can't, looks like you've got a checklist to get to."

"Or we could just put off the cleaning until your ankle heals."

Steve shook his head. "No, I think you can handle it. I'll supervise."

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Eddie groaned.

"Don't forget I'm also very good at sucking your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's go before you get us discriminated against."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is watching them do stupid things #established relationship #cw: minor injury

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

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Captain Nemo (with or without a subterranean pool to park the Nautilus)?

Hmmm!!! Now this is an interesting one!

What strikes me immediately is how much Nemo and Dracula have in common. They are both Princes. They are both obsessed with England. They are both proud and resolute. They both "I too can love." They both kidnap people. They both can enter into the spirit of the Hunter. They both have a fondness for the local "scary" wildlife. They are both real tall and value loyalty.

This could go very well or very poorly. I think the first decider is whether they would accept each other as social equals. Neither is going to react well to being denied a deference he thinks he is owed, and neither is naturally inclined to be deferential. So if the both come in with the attitude of "one Prince to another" then they'll do pretty okay. If either of them starts treating the other as his social inferior it'll get nasty fast. y.

Let's assume for the time being the former. We know Dracula has put a lot of effort into making this work, so he can play nice at the outset at least. They're well-situated for fruitful cooperation. Dracula wants secure water passage to England without too much paper trail, Nemo wants to see England wiped off the face of the earth - they can, if they are so inclined, very much help each other. Of course this ends up requiring that Nemo is always intended to leave the Castle alive, which Jonathan very much is not. If Dracula's guest is not a doomed prisoner things are very very different.

The question then becomes whether Dracula can keep it in his pants uh...mouth I guess??... and reap the full benefits of this mutually beneficial arrangement, or whether he will play Scorpion to Nemo's Frog the way he does with the Demeter. He doesn't need to eat the Nautilus to stay secret - Nemo is already a secret, he's not gonna tell anybody. Also it's real hard to disappear someone on a submarine and Nemo will NOT be pleased if he tries. There is no good reason for him to turn on Nemo ... but can he help himself?? The Devil does not keep his bargains...

The other factor of course is that Nemo has a very strong moral sense. Like yes, he wants to wipe England off the map and he sinks a lot of ships and kills a lot of people... but is he wrong??? Nemo would not be okay with the slaughter of children. But Nemo also has no reason to go snooping around the Castle and sleeping on inappropriate furniture, so he might never find out about it. Ah, but Jonathan does hear the second child cry out, and gets the story pretty direct from its mother, and Nemo is no fool. I think at that point Nemo walks on the deal, so the question is: how far does he get?

Nemo is unlikely to have any divine protection on him. But he is physically powerful in his own right, a technological genius, and he doesn't give up. His lightning weapons may not do much to Dracula (though who knows) but they should keep the wolves off him. He knows how to deal with natural predators. And... I am confident in his ability to crawl, broken and bloody, back to civilization (or wherever) after being half eaten by wolves, if it comes to that. He's a survivor.

Now, if the Nautilus is parked in the swimming pool in the crypt, he just needs to make it downstairs and then he's golden. Buuuut that requires going down the wall. I feel like he has too much dignity to climb? But again he has excellent physical prowess. But again on the other hand so did Renfield and that didn't save him when it came down to fisticuffs. So I may be just as unreasonably dazzled by Nemo as his chronicler.

I think... I think Captain Nemo can survive Castle Dracula, but it's a near thing, and only just

#20kluts #Captain Nemo #20 mille lieus sur la mer #gothlit #royalty #seafarers

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plussizefantasia · 6 months

Text

Trick-Or-Treat

Flufftober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: Here it is. The last one shot of October. Thank you to everyone who has left comments and reblogs you guys are awesome. I'll be taking a short break (like two weeks) and will be back soon with some more stories including a multi-chapter Steve Harrington x reader story and plans for the 100-follower celebration that we earned at the beginning of the month. As always, reblogs and feedback are really appreciated.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Bucky Barnes didn’t think very much of himself. Which is a real shame, considering he’s one of the most amazing men you’ve ever met. You wouldn’t have moved in together if he was a bad guy like he thought he was. The two of you had moved into a two-story townhouse in Brooklyn three months ago. Bucky really wanted to get close to his roots, especially after everything that happened. Steve had moved into an apartment about a block from you guys but split most of his time between the Avenger’s initiative and being home.

“Jamie, could you help me move the couch to the stoop please?’

‘Why are we taking our indoor furniture outdoors?”

“So that we have something comfy to sit on while we hand out candy.”

“We’re handing out candy? I thought we were just going to put it in a bowl and leave it outside the door.” Bucky was confused, and more than a little apprehensive.

“Jamie. Love of my life, this is what people who have houses do. They sit out on their porches and hand out candy to children in mediocre costumes for two hours while trying not to freeze. It’s a rite of passage.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re telling me that you didn’t do trick or treat in the olden days?”

“First of all, don’t call them the olden days. Second of all, trick or treating wasn’t really a thing until I was too old to participate, and even then, people had more things to worry about than handing out candy.”

“Why don’t you want to hand out candy, Jamie?”

“Because… it will be cold.”

“You’re literally a human furnace try again.” You lifted one eyebrow at him, trying your best to capture the essence of Roger’s ‘eyebrows of disappointment’ that he had practically trademarked.

“Doll, I just don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Why not Jamie? I won’t make you hand out candy if you don’t want to but I have a feeling that whatever reason you have in your silly little noggin for not wanting to isn’t really a good one.”

“What if they hate me?” He mumbled.

“What if who hates you, baby?”

“The kids. What if the kids are scared of me.”

“James Buchanan Barnes. You are a hero, you fought to bring back literally half of the population of the entire universe, anyone who is scared of you is an idiot.”

“That’s sweet doll, but I don’t want to ruin anyone’s night.”

“The only person’s night who is a risk of being ruined is mine. I don’t know how I’ll survive without my human furnace to keep me warm out there.” You batted your eyelashes at him. “Please, Jamie? Just try, if you hate it you can go back inside but I think you’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” You didn’t try to fight the smile that spread from ear to ear.

‘Yeah, doll. I’ll hand out candy with you.”

Bucky wasn’t sure about any of this. But you had asked so prettily and his therapist (someone you had found for him, not one of the shitty government-appointed ones) had told him that he needed to start pushing his boundaries. He figured that spending the night next to you and watching you be happy was as good of a way to start pushing boundaries as any. He had pulled the couch out into the space that was right in front of your door. He had helped you climb over the back of it with a huge bowl of candy after you realized that the couch had practically trapped you inside. Now the two of you were waiting. The night didn’t officially start until 8:00 so you had about fifteen minutes to go.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?’

“I forgot my phone.”

“Okay?’

“Jamie?”

“Yes?”

“Could you go get my phone?” He let out a deep sigh and one of those old man grunts as he pushed himself up off the couch and climbed over it. He walked further into the house and you took your chance. “Hey Jamie?”

“Yes, Doll?”

“Since you’re inside… could you make me some hot chocolate?”

“Doll, if you wanted hot chocolate you could’ve just asked in the first place you didn’t need to send me on a quest for your phone.”

“I did actually leave my phone on the counter so it’s not like I lied.”

As Bucky was making your hot chocolate, the beginning few kids started emerging from their houses, parents behind them bundled up to counteract the chilly October night.

You saw a few clowns, some kids show characters that you didn’t really know the name of, and some funny pun costumes that you laughed at. But what really caught your eye was the trio of boys four houses down from yours, making their way down the street.

They couldn’t have been older than eight but their costumes were impeccable. They really were mini versions of your three favorite guys. A mini Captain America complete with a homemade cardboard shield, a mini falcon with swim goggles and a plastic redwing, and last but certainly not least a mini winter soldier whose arm was wrapped in tinfoil.

You had to resist the urge to actually scream, but you did let out a few overjoyed giggles.

“Jamie! James come quick!” You yelled into the house.

“You’re hot chocolate is almost done.” He yelled back.

“Who cares about the hot chocolate this is way more important!”

He started making his way towards the open door, “What is more important than hot choco-” He completely stopped. Frozen in his place looking at the three little boys making their way up your steps. “Holy Shit”

‘Language.” You replied.

Bucky practically launched himself over the back of the couch to meet the boys,

“Mom! Mom look! It’s Sergeant Barnes.” The boy with the tinfoil arm turned with a bright smile on his face. His mom was nearly as frozen as Bucky, most likely not expecting to run into a retired superhero on Halloween night.

With a smack from you, Bucky released himself from his stupor. “Hey little man, what’s your name?”

“George, but everyone calls me Georgie.” He said with the confidence of a kid who had rehearsed.

“Well Georgie, that’s a very nice costume you’ve got there.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, Sir.”

“Call me Bucky, please.”

“Okay, Mr. Bucky, sir.” Both you and Bucky chuckled at that.

“I think a costume as good as that deserves some candy what do you think?” Bucky looked at you.

“Definitely, I think all three of these young heroes deserve their candy.”

You placed a handful into the Captain’s bucket, and the Falcon’s but let Bucky grab the candy for his mini-me. He grabbed two large handfuls and winked at the kid as he placed them inside his orange pumpkin bucket.

“Would you be okay with taking a picture?” Georgie’s mom asked.

“Absolutely!’ Bucky replied and pulled all three young boys in front of him. Kneeling behind them and giving a genuine smile.

Once pictures were done the parents got the boys to say goodbye and move on.

“There are more houses to go to Georgie, besides, I’m sure Mr. Barnes would like to be able to give candy to some other kids.”

“Okay Mom,” Georgie turned back to Bucky, “Thank you, Mr. Bucky, sir. You’re my hero.” He turned back away and skipped down your stairs and onto the next one like he hadn’t just broken your boyfriend.

The rest of the night went pretty similarly, with the occasional Avenger costume and star-struck kid. Bucky posing for pictures and actually enjoying it and you handing out way more candy per child than their parents were okay with.

Bucky’s smile never faded and he seemed to get more and more into it as the night went on.

“Hey Doll?” He asked when the two of you had finally returned your couch back to its rightful place.

“Yeah, Jamie.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You kissed him on the cheek. “You never did bring me my hot chocolate though.”

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Note

"listen to me.. take deep breaths, yes follow my breathing just like that. theres no need to panic, i'm right here now, aren't I? you're safe"

Jake or Bob helps you through a panic attack plz!

it's Jake that finds out outside The Hard Deck.

you've only been standing out there for a few minutes, choking on your sobs, keeping your feet firmly planted on the concrete. you're trying to stave it off--that acidic panic that's climbing your spine, making your hairs stand on end. but it's overwhelming you already, pressing against your teeth and licking your heels.

"there you are," Jake says, a goofy smile plastered to his lips--the one he only gets when he's tipsy or looking at you. and right now, it's a little bit of both. "been lookin' everywhere for you!"

he closes the door behind him and squints through the dusk, locating the back of your body as you quiver minutely and stare out across the dark beach and the rolling waves.

"needed some fresh air?" Jake tries again, stepping towards you.

but then he hears it--the tiny sounds of your upset. the sharp sniffling, the unhelpful deep breaths, the little unmistakable whimpers when you manage to choke down your saliva.

"hey," Jake says, suddenly feeling more sober now. he pushes past the random patio furniture and presses his hands against your shoulders. you hardly move beneath his touch, just stifling sobs and that's all. "babygirl, what's-a matter?"

that's all it takes for you to break finally. you bend at the hips and sob out into the open, a choking and sordid thing, clutching your chest as your heart fruitlessly tries to hammer its way out.

"alright," Jake says softly, his brow creased in concern. he maneuvers himself so he's standing before you, anchoring himself to your body by his solid grip on your hips. "s'alright, hold on," he whispers.

carefully, he holds onto one of your legs and pulls up, which leaves you grasping for purchase on his shoulders.

"I've got ya," he promises, "just gonna take these pesky heels off, huh?"

you allow him to do that, firmly planting your bare feet in the cold sand, burrowing your toes deeper and deeper until your teeth are chattering.

Jake soothingly rubs your legs, kissing your hips. he knows how this all goes by now, what it's like loving a pilot who lost their wingman, what can trigger your trauma. he always allows you to get those initial sobs out, the ones that he knows make your head ache, but it's when you start hyperventilating that he takes the next step.

"listen to me, babygirl," he says, his voice velvety and smooth. he holds your face, strokes your wet cheeks with his calloused thumbs. and then he ducks to be in your field of vision. then he puts on the show--wrinkling his nose, inhaling deeply. "you smell that?"

and through your tears, you're just able to make out that grimace on his face, just able to see how serious he looks.

"Jesus, what is that?"

you fall for it every time, taking a deep breath in through your nose, inhaling precisely nothing except salt air and the beer lingering on his breath.

"there you go," he soothes, petting your face. "I've got you, babygirl. you're alright. standing in the sand with me outside The Hard Deck, huh? everything's okay," he tells you.

the panic is subsiding already, which you know is a little bit because of the cold sand on the soles of your feet and a lot a bit because Jake is here, on his knees, coaching you through this like this is the only thing in the world he cares about.

he knows you're coming down when your grip loosens on his shoulders, when your breaths become deep and less pitiful.

"there she is," he mumbles, honing in on you and only you--disregarding all his friends just inside the building, a few too many shooters split up between them. "you've got it."

when you're finally able to wipe your face, looking down at him, he smiles up at you with his brows knit.

"you tricked me," you mumble to him, voice hoarse.

"and I'd do it again," he tells you with a grin.

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rabbitsrams · 8 months

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please omg write a part 2 to sweet domestic schlatt

i am going to expand on the morning routine part bc i genuinely cannot stop thinking about it

one small instance of suggestive stuff but it's mostly fluffy/sfw <3

your first time spending the night with each other. you slept over schlatt's dorm room, thankful that his roommate and other suitemates were away so you could be together in peace.

you woke up before him, relishing in the new yet familiar feeling of his arms around you. rubbing your eyes, you look to your right to see a still sleeping schlatt, mouth agape and softly snoring. you shift slightly to get a better look at him, but your movements wake him up.

his brown eyes glitter in the sunshine peeking through the window. he gives you a groggy smile as he stretches. "mornin'." his sleep-laced voice sends a slight shiver down your spine.

"hi," you hum, kissing him on the cheek. "you sound so sexy in the morning."

"oh, do i?"

"yeah," you giggle as he rolls you off of him and climbs on top of you. he starts to kiss down your neck, pushing your, his, shirt to the side to expose your collarbone.

"fuck, you're so pretty."

hand in hand, schlatt leads you to the bathroom. it's a bit messy, as you would expect, considering he lived with 3 other men. but schlatt had cleaned and cleared one of the sink areas for your use.

you're both silent as you complete your morning routine: brushing your teeth, washing your face, et cetera. you don't notice schlatt looking over at you for a moment, studying you as you smear facial cleanser all over your face, a spa headband pushing your hair back, fully concentrated in what you were doing.

not to be absolutely cheesy, but this was the moment that he knew he wanted to spend his entire life with you.

cut to your first morning at your new apartment. waking up together was nothing new to you, of course, but this morning was different.

you were at a new point in your relationship; searching for an affordable place, signing a lease together, buying furniture, moving everything in and finally spending the night there.

your bathroom is a lot more organized, considering this was your apartment and not a shitty college dorm. and yet it had that same kind of homey feel to it much like your current one. there was one big sink with your stuff on one side and his on the other.

you smile to yourself as you and schlatt go into your new bathroom. you never said it out loud, but you always loved doing your routine together. it was something simple and quite mundane, but it brought you together. all of your little moments led to this right here: the start of your new normal.

"have i ever told you how pretty you are in the morning?"

"yes, j, multiple times."

"you're extra pretty now, in our new house."

"what does that even mean?"

"dunno, you're just pretty. that's all."

you roll your eyes, playfully shoving your boyfriend. "come 'ere," you say, opening the camera app on your phone. you aim your phone at the large mirror in front of you, capturing schlatt with his toothbrush in his mouth as you grin with a thumbs up.

"i'm framing this."

"you better not!"

and yet the frame sits on his side of the bed.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fluff #schlatt x reader #schlatt fluff #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt fanfiction #schlatt imagine #schlatt fic #schlatt fanfic #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #idk why i feel like schlatt is secretly the cheesiest mf ever #yall cant convince me otherwise #i hope this is good enough aaaa

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the-west-meadow · 1 year

Text

Heartbreaker

Roman Roy x Reader

summary: As your relationship with Roman grows more uncertain, you turn to the person who knows him best for advice.

Midway through the day, you spotted Gerri on her way out of the office and sprang up from your desk, jogging after her.

“Hey Gerri,” you said, “Could I buy you lunch today?”

“I’m flattered. What’s the occasion?”

“I need your input on something.”

She eyed you suspiciously.

“Is this business or personal?”

“Personal.”

“Fine. But you’re buying me a drink, too.”

Gerri took you to a high-end lunch spot downtown. You settled at a table near the window, picking up your menus. No prices. You swallowed. You had known this wouldn’t come cheap.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

“It’s Roman.”

Gerri let out a subtle sigh, adjusting her glasses as she scanned the menu.

“I should have known,” she murmured.

“I’m completely at a loss.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“I mean, what can you tell me? Every time I ask him about his relationship history he starts mumbling and won’t make eye contact.”

“I don’t know much more than you,” she said. “There were a few girls that I know of. But as far as I know they never went anywhere, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Do I have to say it?”

“Yes, Gerri.”

“Well, then.” She cleared her throat. “As far as I know, they never… you know. Fucked.”

You sat back with a somewhat satisfied smirk on your face.

“Okay then,” you said.

“Don’t let that hearten you. In fact, it might be a reason for you to pack up and look elsewhere.”

Gerri sighed and rubbed her nose lightly.

“Roman is extremely complicated,” she went on. “You think you have him figured out, then he surprises you again. He’s chaotic, he’s unpredictable, he’s highly unstable—“

“Gerri,” you said, interrupting. “You’re saying all this like it should deter me.”

“If you were a sane human being, it would.”

“Let’s say I’m not. Let’s say I’m invested in seeing where this Roman trip takes me.”

She finally looked at you with something like mingled sympathy and admiration.

“Then I might be able to give you a few pointers.”

The drinks arrived. Gerri took a long sip before considering what she would say next.

“First, it might help if you told me what it is about Roman that interests you.”

You took a swig of your own drink before you responded.

“Let me just say that I didn’t choose to feel this way. I fully intended not to like Roman when I came to work for this company. Everything I heard made me dread meeting him. Even in our first few meetings, I was still determined not to like him. He was weirdly twitchy, he wouldn’t stop climbing on furniture. I thought he was a self-absorbed prick.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Right. But we both know there’s something underneath that.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“He’s a heartbreaker, Gerri.”

“I know.”

You put your head down on the table. The waiter arrived with your entrees, unsure where to put them until Gerri nudged you beneath the table. You shot up, composing yourself. Gerri leaned towards you.

“Listen, I know Roman. He’s tough. But I think he’ll open up to you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Roman’s been looking in all the wrong places for love. I think his relationship with his dad shows that pretty clearly. He has an image in his mind of the kind of partner he should have. But that’s not the partner that he ultimately wants.”

“And what kind of partner does he want?”

“Maybe one who’s as broken as he is.”

You cracked a grin.

“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” you said.

“It’s meant as one. I know you’ve been through some tough times, but look where it’s brought you. Sometimes the most broken people end up being the strongest.”

She looked at you with that same admiring glint in her eye.

“When I first met you, I thought I saw a lot of myself in you.”

“Sorry, but there’s no way Gerri Kellman is a broken person.”

A small smile.

“You’d be surprised.”

You ate for a while in silence, thinking over each other’s words. Gerri finally glanced at her watch.

“We should be getting back soon.”

“Tell me what to do, Gerri. I’m lost when it comes to him.”

“My advice?” She dabbed at her lips with her napkin, took a sip of ice water. “Don’t give up on Roman.”

“Give me one good reason.”

She looked you straight in the eye. “Because,” she said, “Last week, he asked me to lunch to talk about you.”

Your heart leapt in your chest.

“You’re kidding me.”

She shook her head firmly.

“I thought he didn’t like me,” you said.

“Quite the opposite.”

“Holy fuck.”

Gerri shook her head, gathering her bag with a smile on her lips.

“That’s an understatement. You’re in for a wild ride, Y/N.”

You drove back to the office with her, riding in silence up the elevators. As you walked back towards the conference room, Roman strode out of his office, hands in pockets.

“Oh look,” he said, “It’s my two favorite people.”

He stopped in his tracks. You could see his mind backpedaling in real time.

“Sorry, did I say that? I meant my two favorite corporate thralls. Get back to the conference room where you belong. Why aren’t you on a call right now? Fuck you. Leave me alone.”

Gerri had a smirk on her lips. Neither of you budged. Finally, Roman hurried past you, running a hand through his hair, throwing obscenities into the air.

“See?” Gerri said. “He does like you.”

#succession #roman roy x reader #roman roy/reader #roman roy #gerri kellman #reader insert #taking a lil break from requests to do something indulgent #next i might do the flip side of this... roman's lunch with gerri

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lovelybucky1 · 8 months

Note

Jonathan Crane taking the reader hostage after a drug deal gone wrong (thinking of the "buyer beware" scene from the Dark Knight Trilogy, here: https://youtu.be/Wu-Jj8xRiEI?feature=shared - like how cocky he is here xD) and I'll let you take it from here 👉👈

my inbox is open for cillian characters!

warnings: gender neutral!reader (no pronouns or physical description) mentions of drug use/addicton, kidnapping, shitty boyfriends, creep!jonathan, dubcon, implied smut, degradation

masterlist

you knew it was a bad idea going to a drug deal with your boyfriend. you hadn’t even been dating that long, there was no reason for you to let him drag you into this life. he had just wanted a little, enough for a week to help him study for finals. you tried to talk him out of it, telling him that getting high off some mystery stimulant wasn’t going to help him, but he refused to listen

it was after midnight when the two of you went out. you followed his lead, and you eventually ended up in a dark alleyway between a liquor store and a furniture store. a cliché scene, but unfortunately it was real and not some shitty movie.

you and your boyfriend waited and waited, and just as you suggested to leave, a white van pulled to the end of the alley. a man in a burlap mask climbed out of the drivers seat and approached the two of you.

“i see you brought a friend this time,” the man in the mask said. you inched behind your boyfriend, trying to keep a distance between you and the man. you wondered what he meant by this time.

“where’s the stuff?” your boyfriend asked instead of acknowledging his comment

“not a fan of a small talk i take it? fine, fine,” the man huffed. “five hundred dollars.”

“what!?” your boyfriend exclaimed. “i dont have that kind of money.”

“the price is the price.”

“last time it was only a hundred.”

“last time you got coke. this stuff is more expensive,” the man spits, and even through the mask you can imagine the sneer that’s evident in his voice. “do you want it or not?”

your boyfriend huffs and scrubs his hand down his face. “yes..”

“but?”

“but i don’t have that kind of money.”

the man stands still, almost unnaturally so for a moment before turning to look at you. the only visible part of his face is his eyes, and his stare chills you to the bone.

“i think we can come to some kind of an arrangement,” he says, looking bad at your boyfriend. “i don’t usually trade, but you’ve been a loyal customer for a while now.”

“what do you want?” your boyfriend asks, and there’s a sick feeling in your stomach that tells you exactly what he wants.

“them,” the masked man says, pointing a long, thin finger at you.

you gasp in horror and cling to your boyfriend, but he doesn’t offer any comfort. “they’ll cover all of it?”

the man chuckles. “i’ll even give you a discount on your next purchase.”

your stomach churns. how could your boyfriend actually consider giving you to this lunatic just for some drugs?

“okay,” your boyfriend says, extending his hand for the man to shake, but he doesn’t. your boyfriend then grabs you and pushes you forward towards the man.

“what the fuck? let me go, asshole! you can’t fucking do this to me!” you shout, but neither man seem to care

the man grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him. you’re looking right at his mask, and from this close, you can see bits of his skin through the holes in the fabric. you struggle against his hold but his grip is firm.

“what a pretty thing,” he says. he then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a vile of clear liquid. he hands it to your boyfriend with a chuckle. “buyer beware.”

the man takes you by the wrist and drags you towards the van, ignoring your protests and screams for help. you shouldn’t be surprised that no one came to help, though. this is gotham, after all.

the man slides the door to the van open and pushes you inside, sending you tumbling onto the vehicle’s floor. he climbs in after you and shuts the door behind him, putting you in complete darkness.

through the car door, you can hear muffled screams of terror coming from outside. you shake with fear and you feel the lump in your throat growing as the reality of the situation hits you.

suddenly, a light turns on and you can see the inside of the empty van, save for the man that sits in front of you.

“would you like me to take off my mask?” he asks. you’re not sure what you want. the mask is frightening, but you’re afraid that what lies underneath is even worse. “not a talker, huh?”

the man pulls off his mask anyway, and reveals an unmarred face. he has sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline, plush lips and piercing eyes. if it wasn’t for the mask and the kidnapping, you’d think he was a regular guy. an attractive guy.

the man grins at you as he watches you take in his appearance. clearly he knows he’s good looking, because he preens at the attention.

“since we’ll be spending a lot of time together, why don’t you tell me your name?”

you dont answer, instead you lean back against the wall, trying to stay away from him. unfortunately, he leans forward so your attempts were futile.

“i’ll go first. my name is jonathan, but you can call me whatever you want,” he smirks

“asshole,” you spit.

“this is the part where you tell me your name.”

again, you refuse to answer. the less he knows about you the better.

jonathan sighs. “it wouldn’t take me much effort to figure it out. but unless you want me to uncover every single detail of your life, identify, dirty secrets… i suggest you tell me.”

you tell him, gritting your name out between your teeth. he grins back at you, all teeth and he looks like a predator about to eat his prey.

“i’m sure you know that i didn’t trade you for my very expensive formula just to learn your name”

“what are you going to do to me?” you ask, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice

“so eager,” he licks his bottom lip. “i was thinking we could get to know each other a little better.”

jonathan places his hand on your thigh and you flinch, which makes him chuckle.

“i’ll scream,” you say.

jonathan leans close to your face. “and no one will hear you,” he spits. “even if they did, do you think they’d give a shit? you know how many people are murdered in this city every day? no one would bat an eye at a stupid little slut screaming for help in an alleyway. hell, they probably won’t even notice you’re gone.”

his harsh words make tears well up in your eyes. you try to fight them back, not wanting to cry in front of him, but before you can stop them, they’re spilling down your cheeks.

“you poor little thing,” he says, tone now gentle as he strokes your cheek, wiping away your tears. you can’t help but lean into his touch. his hand is large and comforting, and his fingertips are cool on your hot cheeks. “let me make you feel better.”

before you can answer, jonathan is leaning in and pressing his soft lips to yours. you resist at first, but when he deepens the kiss, you melt into it. he’s dominant, claiming your mouth for his own as he explores you with his tongue, and for some reason, you let him.

he finally breaks the kiss and looks at you with wide, lust-blown pupils. “we’re going to have lots of fun together.”

his hand creeps towards your groin, but you slap his hand away. he grabs your wrists in either hand and holds you tightly so you can’t move them. “you’re not going to stockholm syndrome me,” you say.

“oh, of course not. it’s much more fun when you hate me. i’d much rather you struggle than give in.”

his tone sparks fear inside you, but along with that fear comes a strange pang of arousal.

“i’m going to break you,” he grins, pushing you back against the van wall.

part 2!

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane headcanon #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #nolanverse #cillian murphy #cillian murphy headcanon #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader

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bakugotrashpanda · 6 months

Text

Bakugou x F!Reader, Demon!Dabi x F!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

!!: sex, noncon, virginity, fingering, oral, spanking, ‘good girl’

A/N: And to round out kinktober 2023, something more than 100 words

Is there a word for bad miracles?

Stairs creak under your feet. A small gust of wind swirls around you and makes every hair on your body stand on end. Your boyfriend shines his flashlight around the dark foyer, highlighting the furniture covered with musty tarps. Whoever lived out here clearly thought they were coming back… until they didn’t.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, “Why did we have to come out here?”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid now,” Bakugou scoffs.

You watch the flashlight beam sweep across a corner laced with cobwebs. “It’s… creepy.”

“Come on,” he says and keeps climbing the staircase. “I got a surprise for you upstairs.”

“I swear to god if you’re trying to scare me.”

From the top of the stairs, the flashlight turns on you and illuminates your face. “Remember when we first started dating? Your profile said you liked adventure.”

“Yeah,” you cross your arms over your chest. “Hiking and shit, not abandoned houses.”

“C’mon, you’ll like it. I promise.” He walks down the hall, and when an eerie feeling settles over you from being alone, you run up the last couple steps to catch up to him.

Bakugou turns a door knob. You brace yourself for one of his friends to pop out from behind and scare the shit out of you. He walks in, and you take a hesitant step forward. Warm, soft lights come on.

Peering in, you let out a soft ‘oh’ before relaxing. In the middle of the room is a neatly made bed covered in rose petals. You recognize the plush comforter from Bakugou’s closet back at his apartment. The man in question walks around the room lighting white votive candles – some in equally small, carved pumpkins and others in glass holders.

“Not so scary now, is it?”

“Katsuki,” a blush crawls up your cheeks. “Did you do all this?”

“Well I sure as shit didn’t let anyone else do it.” He lights the last candle before walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Why not a hotel or something?” you blurt out.

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to nag about where I chose to go?”

“It’s just that it’s so romantic and everything else about the house is… not.”

“Our anniversary is Halloween. I’m sticking with the fucking theme.”

“We could’ve gone to an amusement park-” you start to protest.

Bakugou’s brows furrow together. “Why’re you stalling?”

“What?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I-”

“Damn it,” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair. “Kirishima was right, this was stupid. You hate it.”

“Katsuki, I don’t hate it, but there’s a bed in the middle of the room! And you know I’m saving myself for…” Your voice trails off. Saying it outloud, here, in the abandoned house, makes it seem so childish.

Bakugou’s rough thumb strokes your cheek. “I know you’re saving yourself for marriage. Which is why-” he slowly sinks down to his knee and pulls out a small velvet box. “-I was hoping you would say yes to marrying me.”

“Oh my god!” You slap a hand over your mouth. Through the tears welling up in your eyes, you can barely make out Bakugou’s hopeful expression as he waits with bated breath for your answer. Nodding, you hold out your left hand and let him slide the ring on with shaky fingers. “Yes, oh god, yes!”

You pull Bakugou to his feet and stare at the ring, a new comfortable weight on your finger. “I’m still waiting until we’re married,” you choke out as he wipes away the tears.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groans and pulls you close. “But there’s other things we can do here.” His lips press against yours. You relax into it, your body softening against his.

It starts as a distant rumble, something you could pass off as a car in the distance. But when the lights start to flicker and the house shakes, you and Bakugou break apart. An earthquake? Right now? Bakugou grabs your hand and mutters something about needing to leave before the place falls in on itself.

Black smoke swirls from floor to ceiling in front of the two of you and all the air in the room is sucked in by the vortex. Bakugou’s arm stiffens under your vice like grip. When the smoke falls away, a man with jet black hair stands where the vortex was. Scarred skin covers a majority of his arms and upper part of his torso, but what stands out against that are his unsettling turquoise eyes that seem to glow from within.

“Mortals,” a gravelly voice snarls, “You dare to disturb my resting place?”

The more you stare, the less… human the man seems – if you can even call him a human. His ears, pierced with silver, are elongated and pointed, almost like one of the aliens from a sci-fi show Bakugou had you watch. And is it your imagination, or are there puffs of smoke escaping his body where scarred and unscarred skin meet?

But the cherry on top, the features that make all the alarm bells ring in your head, are a pair of white horns standing out against his dark hair.

“Back the fuck off.” Bakugou puts his arm out protectively in front of you — as if that would protect you from whatever the fuck this thing is.

“And what are you going to do about it?” the man sneers. With a flick of his clawed fingers, Bakugou flies away from you and slams into the wall. Hands splayed, he scrabbles to find purchase as he slides upwards.

“Let him go!” you scream, “Please! Let-”

As you take a step forward, Bakugou coughs, his words strained. “Get outta here.”

“Katsuki, no, I can’t leave you here!”

“Get. Help.” That jumpstarts something in your brain. Help. Right. Help. You don’t even get one step when the door slams closed. You freeze like a deer in headlights. The demon – you decide this as your mind catches up with the last thirty seconds, it’s the only thing that makes sense – turns his attention to you. He raises his other hand and you brace yourself to fly against the wall like Bakugou had.

“Hell, what is that scent. I haven’t smelled this since…” He trails off. Inhaling deeply, his eyes burn bright, an ethereal blue you can’t stop staring at. “A virgin.”

Bakugou lashes against his invisible restraints, but you remain rooted to the spot.

A virgin.

“You. You’re my ticket out of this shithole.” He stalks around the room. Turquoise eyes glow with excitement and rove up and down your body. “A virgin sacrifice will get me out of here.”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.” Kill you? Where are these words coming from? You don’t want to fucking die here! You certainly can’t fight this thing. Now is not the time to find false confidence.

“Kill you?” His sharp laugh grates your skin like broken glass. “Why would I kill you when I could have my way with you?”

Blood drains from your face, leaving you lightheaded. “Have your way with me?”

“I intend to take your virginity, babe,” he smirks, “I’m outta here if I fuck you.”

“Fuck me?”

“Beelzebub below, are you dating a parrot or a woman?” the demon laughs at Bakugou. Turning to face you, all humor leaves the demon’s face. He makes a zipping motion with his fingers. “If all you’re gonna do is repeat what I say, then I don’t want to hear a single sound come out of you.”

Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s demonic power, but one way or another you’re paralyzed as the demon walks over to you. He drags one of his claws down your cheek and hooks it at the top of your shirt. Acrid smoke fills the air as his finger cuts away your clothes. Your shirt and bra — a black lace specially picked out for Bakugou — fall to the floor, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of the room. Your pants and panties follow suit and you close your eyes as both the demon and Bakugou drink in your naked form.

Sharp nails drag across your skin as he circles you – thankfully painless and leaving no cuts like he did your clothes. The demon’s hand cups one of your breasts as if appraising it before trailing down your stomach and across your ass.

This can’t be happening.

He’s talking, but it’s not to you, and you tune him out.

Please, please. Someone help us.

Bakugou struggles against the wall and the demon cackles before slinging more taunts.

If there is a god out there, please help me.

The demon’s hand smacks your ass with a satisfying smack. Silent tears roll down your cheek.

No one will come and save you.

Your head is viciously jerked to the side and you can make out the demon’s face inches from your own through your tearstained vision.

“I said,” he says softly, “Let’s give your precious boyfriend a show.” His hand slithers down your stomach and parts your folds. You shudder against his touch.

No. No, no, no, no.

His fingers graze your clit, sending a bolt of electricity to your core. Bile rises in your throat.

Please god no. Don’t let him touch me. This is humiliating enough.

There’s a chuckle in your ear. The demon presses a finger against your entrance and slowly eases in. Your mouth opens in a silent sob. He teases you, strokes your walls with a ‘come hither’ motion.

You hate that you can feel him writhing around inside you. You hate that he’s gone farther than Bakugou ever had. But most of all, you hate that you can feel yourself loosening up for him; getting wetter for him.

A second finger slides in. Bakugou glares at the demon but doesn’t look away. Can he not look away? Is he stuck watching you get fucked against your will?

A forked tongue wraps around the demon's fingers when he drags them out of you and holds them up for Bakugou to see – clear strings of arousal lapped up.

“Have you even tasted her?” he taunts, “She’s divine.” Bakugou’s gaze flits from you to the demon, his cheeks turning beet red. There’s no retort from him.

With a wave of the demon’s hand, the bed in the middle of the room slides closer to Bakugou. The demon takes your hand and leads you over.

A front row seat to your first time. Rose petals flutter around you as you bounce onto the bed. The bed Katsuki prepared. Your legs are knocked apart, and you watch in silent horror as the demon strokes his cock mere inches from you.

“Watch, mortal, as I take your girlfriend’s fucking virginity.” His glowing eyes turn back to you. The head of his cock presses against your entrance. You don’t want this. You were saving yourself for the man you planned on marrying. You were saving yourself for Katsuki. And now he has to watch this.

You should be embarrassed.

You should feel shame.

You should feel anything except… needy arousal.

You can’t even look away as he pushes in. Your voice may be gone, but you inhale sharply as his cock splits you open. It’s not what you thought it would be. There’s no pain, no uncomfortable tearing sensation; just a stretching that leaves you dazed and overwhelmed.

“Fuck,” the demon hisses, “I forgot how good virgins are.” Large hands wrap around your waist and pull you further down on his cock. You bite your lower lip. Maybe the pain can distract you from how your blood is roaring inside you.

It’s not until he’s buried all the way inside you that his eyes flash a brilliant blue. He holds you against him, his mouth slightly agape. His whisper barely reaches your ears. You wouldn’t have known he was talking if you weren’t watching his mouth move.

“I’m free.”

You lay on your back unmoving. If he’s free then he could leave. He could walk out of the house and leave you and Bakugou alone. This nightmare could end.

“You fucked her, now let her go!” Bakugou’s shout causes the demon’s blissful peace to crumple into a snarl.

“Your pretty lady set me free, the least I can do is give her a good fuck to remember me by,” he smirks. His hands slide up the back of your legs and hook under your knees. Pushing them towards your chest, he leans in, somehow pressing deeper into you. Your breath hitches and your mouth falls open.

Shit.

If you had your voice, you know a needy moan would’ve filled the room.

All that leaves your mouth though is a sharp exhale. But he knows. He heard. You close your eyes to school your features. The moment you open them, his eyes, blazing with desire, are locked on yours.

He knows.

There’s an intimacy that brings a blush to your face as he fucks you slowly, his eyes still holding your gaze. Neither of you can look away. His cock kisses your cervix and when you think it can’t get any better, he shifts slightly, changing the angle. The demon leans in, his tongue licking a stripe up the column of your neck

“You taste so good, babe. I can taste your fucking arousal. If I give you back your voice, will you be a good girl for me?” His teeth graze your skin, sending shivers down your skin. You nod, slowly at first – like the way the demon thrusts into you – then more emphatically as he speeds up.

“I want you screaming my name,” he murmurs in your ear, “I want to hear you screaming for Dabi.” His lips lock on yours, his tongue pressing against your lips. You can’t even pretend to put up a fight; you spread your lips and meet his tongue in the middle.

A trail of spit connects his mouth to yours when he pulls back.

“Say my name.”

“Dabi,” you croon with a worn out voice. You’re rewarded with the entire length of his dick pulling out and pushing back into you.

“Again.”

You say his name louder.

Each iteration louder than the last is rewarded with a torturously slow thrust.

But you need more. You squirm beneath him, angling your hips, anything to entice him to fuck faster. And the fucker has the audacity to slow down.

“C’mere, Princess.” Dabi wraps his arms around you, pulling you close and rolls the two of you over. “I want to see these lovely tits of yours bouncing.” You arch your back as his claws trail down your back and settle at your waist. He lifts you up and down his cock, helping you get a rhythm before you take over.

The pressure building in your core has you bouncing frantically on him – you’d felt it before when you used toys and your fingers to bring yourself pleasure, but this is something more. Something toe curling. Something that has you digging your fingers into his forearms. His dick is able to hit the right places you could never get, barely satiating a newfound need deep within you.

“Hold on, Princess,” Dabi groans and effortlessly holds you above him, the tip of his cock barely inside you. You whimper at the loss of contact and try to fight his grip. “I want this to last as long as possible, so take a seat up here.”

Apparently your dumbfounded expression is hilarious since he starts laughing.

“Up here, babe.” His tongue flicks out between a scarred bottom lip and an unscarred upper lip. When you still look unsure, he hauls you up and settles your legs on either side of his face. He trails kisses up your inner thigh, each one inching closer to your core.

“Don’t worry, babe, I won’t break.”

He locks your legs against his face and you have no choice but to seat yourself against his mouth.

He has you gasping the moment his tongue flicks out. Your hands run through his hair as he laps at you, each stroke adding to your overwhelming passion. Grabbing onto hair and horn – really whatever is within your grasp, you pull yourself against him and spread your legs further.

A chorus of ‘please’ and ‘more’ fall from your lips like a desperate prayer as Dabi’s tongue swirls around your sensitive nerves.

It’s not until you lean back so his tongue can delve inside you that you feel guilt. Crimson eyes locked onto you in disbelief silences your intoxicated begging. He might as well have poured ice water over you.

You forgot about him.

You forgot your fiance was pinned to the wall, watching you enjoy a demon’s cock.

Every moment, every sound forever etched into his mind as you stopped fighting and gave in to temptation.

A sharp nip on your inner thigh brings you back to Dabi. You tear your gaze away and pull back to see the forked tongue you were enjoying so much laving the pinpricks left from his teeth.

“As much as I want you to come on my tongue, I’d rather have you creaming on my cock.”

He rolls you off his face and onto your back.

Obediently, you spread your legs, one hand creeping down to continue where he left off. The buzz running throughout your body increases with every enticing swirl of your fingers around your clit.

“I want to come, Dabi,” you mewl.

He laughs, the sound no longer shards of glass against your skin. “How can I refuse since you asked so nicely.”

He sinks inside you with a single stroke and you wrap your legs around his hips. Dabi’s fingers swat your hand away before taking over, his hand possessively splayed over your mound as his thumb works on your clit. Your hands twist in the comforter and rose petals as you drown in impending pleasure.

“Who does this cunt belong to?” Dabi growls.

“You,” you whisper.

Correct, but not enough. There’s no rewarding thrust of his dick.

“Who?” He raises an eyebrow. You know what he wants. You’re teetering on the precipice of orgasm, and every second he’s not fucking you, the feeling slips ever so slightly.

“You, Dabi!” You clench around him, desperate to keep your high. A clawed hand digs into your waist slightly and pulls you flush against him.

“Who’s the only one you’re going to fuck?” he hisses, turquoise eyes narrowing.

“You, Dabi!” you wail, the electric feeling building up, almost uncontainable. “I belong to you!”

“Good girl,” he growls and fucks into you again, “Come for me.” His words – his permission – wash over you and release the pent up feeling. Your orgasm rips through you, an intensity you’ve never felt before. No toy or even your own fingers could compare – would compare ever again.

Dabi’s hips smack against your own once, twice more before pressing flush against you. Heat pools in your lower abdomen and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. A part of you wonders if sex is always like this, but an even smaller part of you knows that it’ll only be this good when you’re with Dabi.

He untangles from you and leans over, panting slightly. He presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek before his lips ghost over your skin to your ear.

“Left you a parting gift, Princess,” he purrs, “If you ever want to see me again, just look in a mirror and say my name three times.”

The bedroom door flies open and Dabi looks your blissed out form over one last time before walking out.

When the front door slams closed, Bakugou is released and falls to the floor. He rushes to you, his hands clenching and unclenching as he hovers at the edge of the bed. Worry pushes his brows together.

All he can do is watch.

It’s up to you to break the silence.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki,” you pant, “I said I was saving myself for the person I was going to marry.”

One Week Later

You look yourself over in the bathroom mirror, adjusting your light blue bra. Pushing moving boxes out of the way, you nod to yourself encouragingly.

No time like the present.

“Dabi,” you whisper. Your irises flash a brilliant turquoise for a second. Your heart leaps into your throat.

“Dabi.” You swear you can feel his claws ghosting over your skin.

“Dabi.” The lights flicker for a moment before going out completely. The only thing visible in the mirror is the thin blue ring around your irises – until another pair or ethereal blue eyes just over your shoulder joins them. Sharp nails dig into your arms.

A deep voice chuckles in your ear. “Miss me already?”

banner image by /mwrona on unsplash

#kinktober 2023 #dabi x reader #bakugou x reader

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ptergwen · 2 years

Note

could you maybe do one where peter accidentally climbs into the readers window after a long night of being spiderman but then watched the reader sleep and immediately falls in love?

ask box | taglist | blurb masterlist | main masterlist

w/c: 615

warnings: literally just one mild swear

a/n: aw pls i can so see him doing thisssss and y’all have been killing it with these requests lately so thank you sm and happy reading <3

peter can hardly keep his eyes open as he climbs the wall of his apartment building. he’s just finished spider-manning for the night, and he’s exhausted. patrol has been busy lately. a long and loud yawn escapes him, his eyes beginning to droop closed. he can’t even be bothered to keep them open as he crawls up the wall.

relying solely on his muscle memory, which is enhanced thanks to his spider abilities, peter stops when he reaches his bedroom window. or, what he guesses is his bedroom window. he pushes it up, then the screen, then squeezes himself inside and lands on the floor with a thud.

peter pulls off his mask and makes a beeline to his bed, only to find that someone is already in it. he can’t see who because they’re facing the other way. his tired mind must be playing tricks on him. he rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes, but when he opens them, they’re still there.

“what the hell?”

he takes a look around his room to make sure everything else is still in order. his confusion only grows upon doing so. none of his furniture or decor is here, it’s all been replaced by someone else’s.

the logical part of peter’s mind then kicks in. this isn’t his room, it’s yours. he must have stopped a window too early… or too late. either way, he’s in the wrong apartment. so much for his enhanced senses.

peter slaps his forehead with a gloved hand, mumbling to himself.

“stupid, so stupid. why would you-“

you start to stir. you switch to your other side, smushing your face into your pillow. the sight of you instantly melts peter’s heart. even though he can only see part of your face, you’re so pretty. his eyes become doe-like, lips parting in awe of you.

peter comes closer and crouches down in front of you. he tries to make out every detail of your face in the darkness of your room. he knows it’s wrong, and sort of creepy. he shouldn’t even be here. he can’t help himself, though. and, it was an honest mistake.

the best mistake.

you hum in your sleep, and the sound of your voice is music to peter’s ears. he coos quietly.

“gosh, you’re cute.”

peter wonders how he hasn’t seen you around the building before. he would definitely remember if he had. he needs to meet you, has to, but preferably when you aren’t asleep. the only problem is he doesn’t know who you are, or anything about you for that matter. he doesn’t even know your name.

but karen might.

peter puts his mask back on and awakes his artificial intelligence.

“karen?”

“yes, peter?”

“could you identify her?”

“yes, peter. stand by for biometric scan.”

karen uses the identification software built into peter’s spider suit.

“individual identified. y/n y/l/n, no known aliases. her information should be displayed above.”

your name, a photo of you, and the rest of your basics are assembled into a profile for peter to access.

“thanks, karen. you’re the best.”

“you’re welcome, peter.”

peter makes sure to save your profile. he yawns again, and it’s then that he remembers how tired he is. he should go before he wakes you, anyway. he’d hate to disturb your sleep.

he slowly rises to his feet and starts to back away from your bed, heading to the window. he jumps up onto the windowsill, grabbing at the window frame to balance himself and turning back to take one last look at you. you’re still fast asleep, and absolutely angelic, cuddled into your covers. peter can’t wait to meet you properly.

“see you later, y/n.”

tags: @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @jenoslov @crvshnburnn @yourlocalomlette @starlight-starks @belovasheart @liltimmyst @eviewriites @hollandsangel @parkerctrl @eichenhouseproperty @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @varshhyy @ellebutnotwoods

(join my new taglist!)

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker writing #peter parker imagine #marvel #mcu #mcu writing #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland writing

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pawnshopbleus · 1 month

Text

Miller's Girl

Chapter Three - The Meeting

Professor!Joel Miller x Fem!College Student!Reader Very Loosely based off of the new movie, Miller's Girl, starring Jenna Ortega and Martin Freeman

Summary - Your landlord decides to raise the rent in your studio apartment the day you are fired from your job. In need of money, you sign up for a babysitting service your friend suggested. You didn’t expect to get an offer so quickly, and you also didn’t expect to come from your professor.

Series contains - cursing, mature language, teacher x student relationship, age gap, smut, fluff, angst, non beta read chapters and everything else I forgot to mention

Authors Note - after i dont know how long and several fights and bomb and shooting threats at my school, i'm back. I wrote this at 12 am so I hope you can understand it.

College, no outbreak, and modern AU

The Miller residence was a cozy two story home in the suburbs of Austin. The exposed brick fireplace climbed up the side of the black and white home. The green grass was a little too long for the pristine way Professor Miller held himself.

You walked along the concrete walkway to the front door. You wiped your sweaty hands on your black pants and knocked on the door. You hoped that Professor Miller wouldn’t notice the circles under your eyes or the fact that you wore these exact pants to class two days ago.

When the door opened you didn’t see Professor Miller towering over you. You didn’t see anything until you looked down a little bit. Standing there in all her might was a little girl no older than thirteen.

“Sarah! What did I tell you about opening the door without asking who it is?” you heard Professor Millers stern voice yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Sorry Dad but I think the babysitter is here!” Sarah yelled back.

Sarah looked at you and shrugged her shoulders before skipping away. You stood still, not wanting to enter the home uninvited. The door was left wide open and you could feel the cold air wafting out of the home. The pay as a professor must be stacked to keep the AC running in the middle of October.

“What are you just standing there for? Come in,” Sarah says with a hand on her hip.

“Did your dad say it was okay?” you ask, not wanting to make your professor and future boss angry.

“Yes, I did.” Professor Miller says from the stairs.

He’s wearing something much more casual than what you are used to seeing him in. The blue jeans and white shirt that are sticking to his body make him look like he does something physical for work. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought that he was some sort of contractor.

“Professor I-” “When you’re here it's Joel. Just Joel.”

You nod your head and look at your shoes. Your beat-up Converse aren't exactly appropriate for a meeting with your future employer, but it was these or the flip flops that squeak every time you walk.

“Go ahead and sit on the couch. Sarah, go to your room.”

Sarah stomps up the stairs and into her bedroom. Joel walks over to the accent chair across from the couch and sits down. He huffs as his body hits the soft velvet of the furniture. He leans back and spreads his legs, almost as if he were making room for someone to sit on his lap.

Your eyes roam from his lap to his grey eyes that are staring back at you. You’ve just been caught eyeing your professor like a slut. Whether he minded or not didn’t come up as he gets straight to the point.

“Look, you are the most qualified person for this job. Your resume and experience are great and you seem like a nice girl, but I don’t know if I can trust you with my daughter.”

“Look, Joel, I know that my being late to your class could have affected your perception of me, but I think I would be great with your daughter. She was wearing a Madden Boys shirt when I walked in, right? Well, I saw the Madden Boys in concert just last year! I think having a cool babysitter would do her some good.”

“Did you just call yourself ‘cool’?” Joel asks.

You open your mouth to say something and then close it as nothing comes out.

“How about I give you a trial week? You’ll get paid a flat rate and if Sarah likes you then you can stay.”

“That would be wonderful! Thank you, Joel.”

Your peppy attitude threw Joel off. When you first arrived at his home, you were cautious and timid but now you were smiley. He has never seen someone with such a bright smile. All thirty-two teeth were on display as you shook his hand and thanked him once again for this opportunity.

Your hands were also unbelievably soft compared to his calloused hands. The same hands that cramp when they hold a pen for longer than fifteen minutes.

You leave his home after that, your mysterious scent lingers in the spot where you once sat. Joel jogs up the stairs and almost trips on his daughter who is sitting on the top step.

“I like her,” Sarah mumbles, her voice barely audible as her face rests on her knee.

“Well, we’ll see about that kid,” Joel says as he walks to his office and closes the door behind him.

As much as Joel wants to not like you. As much as Joel wants to blame you for being late to his class, he can’t. He could tell how sincere you were when you apologized to him. Your soft eyes begged for his forgiveness while he tried his best to not look into them. It was like a siren's call, slowly luring him into a trap that he didn’t want to be in again. He loved one woman and she left him alone with a baby and no money.

The optional homework he assigned burned a hole in his desk. The key word was ‘optional’ and still almost all of his students did it. As much as he loved it when his students took advantage of every opportunity they got, he hated that he had to grade the work.

After almost a hundred essays on why Victorian architecture is important, Sarah knocked on his door. She opened the door and placed a basket of cookies on his desk. The basket looked like Easter came very late. There was plastic wrap covering every inch and crevice of the pink and white basket. Pink and blue bows stuck to the top and bottom of the basket. Inside the basket held what looked like two dozen cookies.

“The babysitter came by and dropped these off. She said that there's a note in there but only you can read it.”

Joel peered around the basket for a sign of the note but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Can you hurry up and open it? I really want a cookie.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her weight on one hip.

“Sarah Miller, are you rushing me?” Sarah nodded her head. Joel shook his with a smile on his face. He loved that his daughter felt like she could be sassy with him. This type of banter made him feel like he was a good father.

Unwrapping the basket was Joel's idea of hell. The texture of the wrap felt weird under Joel's hands and the bows and glitter fell to the floor, making a mess. A pink bow fell into his black coffee which made him groan. He would have to make another.

Sarah snatched two cookies and skipped her way to her room. Coincidentally, those two cookies were hiding the note that he was looking for. The small white square of construction paper housed five words. In loopy writing, it said ‘I hope you like cookies.’ It was so simple yet it made Joel close his eyes and rest his head on the back of his chair.

#joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #the last of us fic #tlou

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