#and is then pleasantly surprised when people stick around | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tacticaldiary · 10 months

Note

Can you write something about Simon being a little to rough with reader and they end up having bad bruises so they hide it from Simon and when he finds out he goes a little crazy and won’t touch them until reader snaps and tells him they need his touch

Painless Bruises

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It really wasn't a massive deal, but she knows Simon would withdraw if he saw the evidence he left behind on her.

Masterlist

It's almost as if the day had a personal grudge against her, bringing along the hottest day of the year the one time she has to wear something unsuitable for the weather.

She itches the skin of her neck that's not covered by her black turtleneck, the long sleeves of the shirt sticking uncomfortably to her skin as she runs laps around the training centre.

Bruises.

Hand shaped bruises circle her forearms, a deep set shade of purple, and a particularly nasty one lines her collarbone, just under the juncture of the slope of her shoulder.

Thankfully she can blame the heat that creeps up her face at the thought of how she got them on the intense cardio they were doing. They were set to be dropped off in Serbia for a mission in 6 days, so the 141 was busy preparing for clearing their physical evaluations before they were dispatched.

Skin against lips, and the rustling of sheets last night. Simon had just gotten back from a solo mission somewhere up north and they hadn't seen each other in over a fortnight. Needless to say, when they did get a moment alone in his room last night things had gotten a little more intense than usual.

Rough, calloused hands held her arms in place, heavy breaths and feelings that could not be put into words exchanged under the light of the moon. She hadn't minded his grip, it had just surprised her. Simon was not a gentle person by any means, rough around the edges and as standoffish as the definition could get, but he had never been harsh enough with her for the evidence to linger into the daylight.

When she'd woken up the next day, catching sight of her arms, guilt pooled in her gut. She didn't mind it, it's not like they hurt particularly bad, but she knew if Simon saw them he'd withdraw.

It was an instinctual feeling, but she knows she's right. Simon had...a difficult past, one he rarely shared with her but she'd heard enough to know that he'd never want to hurt the people he loved.

She was afraid that bruises inflicted by him, especially ones as ugly as these, would make him blank and pull away, or even worse: treat her like she's fragile.

She didn't want a gentle Simon, she wanted him in all his brash, rough glory.

"Come on Gaz, the lass is running circles around you!" Soap heckles as she passes him by. She can't help but stifle a snort when she hears Gaz yell back an insult, a good few paces behind her. Ghost was standing next to Soap, watching the pair finish their last lap. His eyes follow her, bore into her as she passes. Him staring quietly is nothing new, but she can feel the questions from his gaze from halfway across the room.

She'd slipped out of his room before he'd woken up, and had forgone meeting him in the mess hall for breakfast to figure out how exactly she was going to hide the marks from him.

Slowing down after her last lap, she plops down on the ground with a sigh, gulps down the water bottle Soap pushes in her hands, the cool water a nice reprieve from the sweltering heat and sweat. Going to tug her turtleneck away to let some air hit her throat, her fingers freeze on the fabric when she feels Ghost's gaze on her again. Slowly lowering her hand, she clears her throat and turns her attention to Soap and Gaz bickering.

"You've got a big mouth for someone who can't outrun me either, MacTavish." She snickers, making Gaz grin.

"We're both in second place, mate." The man laughs, clapping Soap on the shoulder before offering a hand to pull her up. She accepts gratefully, feeling her legs burn pleasantly from the exercise.

She doesn't anticipate Gaz grabbing her forearm to pull her up. He grips right over her bruises and tugs her to her feet. It's just her luck that she can't manage to swallow down the strangled, muffled sound of pain in the back of her throat.

"You alright there?" Gaz lets go of her, brows furrowing. Ghost seems to have moved closer, ever the silent person.

"Fine." She swallow, her arm stinging. "Just...got a stitch in my side." Waving off the grimace Soap gives her, she's about to move on, ask if any of them would want to hit the bar with her after this, when a gruff, low voice speaks up.

"Roll them up."

She blinks, her stomach twisting as she turns to look at her Lieutenant.

"I'm fine, Ghost-"

"I didn't ask." He cuts her off. "If you're injured, better to get it fixed than ignore it."

"Good thing I'm not injured then." She offers him a smile. The other two boys glance at each other.

"Sergeant." There's a sense of finality in his tone, from which she knows it's an order. Meeting his eyes, she silently pleads with him to change his mind, a staring contest with a brick wall. Resigning herself to her fate, she relents, taking a deep breath and gingerly rolling up her sleeves to her elbows.

The sharp hitch of Simon's breath is only apparent to her after months of leaning the tiny quirks of his body.

"Steamin' Jesus, how'd you mangle that up so bad?" Soap exclaims, grabbing her hand and turning it this way and that. Gaz whistled low, eyes narrowing.

"That's some nasty bruising " Gaz frowns. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." She snatches back her arm, shoving her sleeves back down. "Not as bad as it looks, trust me." Avoiding Simon's gaze is harder than it's ever been, but she chances a split second peek at his expression.

His eyes are the only part of his face visible, but they've always been the most expressive part of him if one knows his quirks. Right now? Right now Simon has the same look he sported when that building came down on Soap after one of his explosions malfunctioned from being rigged incorrectly.

Upset and muted horror. She can tell his brows are knitted tight under his mask, his jaw clenched because he knows.

"Medbay, now." Is all Ghost says, a hand on her shoulder leading her away from the group. Her protests fall on deaf ears as they exit the room, the others not questioning their Lieutenant.

The walk down the hallway is suffocating, and Simon's grip immediately retracts once they're outside. He takes a left down the hall and she hesitantly follows.

The medbay is to the right.

The barracks are secluded this time of the day, everyone out and about, so it's the perfect place to have this discussion. Not that she wanted to have it in the first place...

"Want to explain why you didn't tell me?" Is the first thing he says. He sounds angry, and only the most seasoned of his partners would recognise the edge of concern in his voice. "You think hiding something like that was a good idea?"

"I wasn't hiding it, I just-"

"Bullshit. I hurt you." He states, a flash of pain quicker than she can catch in his eyes. "Why didn't you say?"

"Because it's fine, Simon!" She exclaims, grabbing his arms, hoping he understands. "You didn't hurt me, we just...got a little carried away. It's alright, they don't hurt bad."

"I was too rough with you." A slightly strained voice that tugs at her heart. "Fuck, I'm sorry." The apology spilled out of his mouth unprompted, and for a moment she's left shocked because he's the last person to apologise for something unless absolutely necessary.

Which means he really believes he did something terrible.

"I forgive you." She says immediately. "There, problem solved, right?"

"No, that's not how this shit works." Simon clutches onto the back of his neck, agitated at himself. "I didn't...fuck, I didn't mean to..." Something dawns on him and he meets her eyes with a newfound sense of dread. "Where else?"

Her pause is enough to give him his answer.

"Show me." He demands.

"Simon-"

"Take it off." He tugs at the bottom of her shirt. His fingers never brush against her skin.

Taking a deep breath and seeing no way out of this, she lets her shoulder sag and concedes, shrugging off the turtleneck and leaving her in a short sleeved undershirt. His eyes snap to the bruising on her collarbone, his jaw tightening.

"Don't apologise again." She says when he opens his mouth to talk. "I'm not fucking fragile, Simon. I can take a hit or two, this is nothing."

It's the wrong thing to say, the worst thing to say judging by the way Simon instantly recoils, taking a step back at her words.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. Never." He says quietly.

Ghost is a silent person. His footsteps never detected, melting in the shadows and slitting throats before anyone realises he's even there.

But he's not quiet. Never quiet. Never with her, at least.

"I know." She soothes, moving to close the distance but pausing when he shakes his head. "I worded that badly..."

"I wouldn't...I'm not-"

"You're nothing like your father." She states, pulling the words out to lay out for the both of them. "I trust you, Simon. I trust you every day with my life on the field, and my heart in our bedroom." She gestures to her bruises. "I don't blame you for any of this. The both of us were too occupied to pay attention to be considerate and hell, I liked it."

At his skeptical look, she continues on. "If it makes you feel better, the day you lay a hand on me is the day I beat your ass into the ground."

"I'd let you." He says gruffly, straightening up slowly.

Gently, he takes her hand, turning it over to bare her forearms. Gently brushing a thumb over the purple and blue, his eyes flicker to her face to scan for any discomfort. When he finds none, he directs his gaze back to the bruising, his mind somewhere else.

She lets him have a few moments of silence, knowing full well that this wouldn't be the end of this.

"I'm sorry." He says again, gently brushing his fingers over her collarbone. "Won't happen again, love."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Their quick, secret touches throughout the day had always sparked her to life.

Whether that be a gentle brush of their arms while they walked down the hall, or a quick squeeze of a shoulder after a harsh day of training. Inconspicuous touches that carried more meaning to them that met the eye.

She can count on one hand how many times Simon has touched her over the past three days, even if four of her fingers were blown off.

It's frustrating. Always busy, never standing within the length to reach out and touch, always out of his room when she'd knocked and peered in at night. He'd redirect her whenever she tried to initiate anything, even a friendly hug. Once he'd legitimately stepped away from her, and she's not going to lie, but it stung a little.

Needless to say, she was itching to corner him.

As she waits outside the meeting room where he currently is with Price, she thinks about how she knew this would happen. She knew he'd withdraw and refuse to be near enough to touch her properly, and it's driving her up the wall because godammit she misses him.

He knows he's fucked the second he walks out, pinned with a glare that promises consequences if he doesn't follow her. With a quiet sigh, he trails behind her until they're in her room, the door clicking shut behind them.

"Did you need something, love?"

"Funny you should ask." She deadpans. "You drive me insane sometimes, you know that Simon Riley?"

It's a little funny how he straightens up with the use of his full name, more at attention. She'd have poked fun at him in she hadn't been as angry.

"Do you think I'm fragile, Simon?" She snaps. "That I'll break if you breathe on me? You've been practically ignoring me for three days, pulling away. Walking away." When she strides closer to him, he doesn't move back. "And I swear to all that is holy, if you don't stop with this bullshit, I'm going to well and truly snap."

A pause.

"Well, someone sounds desperate." The poor attempt at deflection makes her even angrier. She grabs his hands, guides them to her shoulders and squeezes hard. He lets her, watching quietly.

Quiet. God, she hates it when he's quiet.

"Touch me. Just...you won't hurt me, Simon." She sighs at the feeling of his hands on her, burning even through her shirt. "You know you won't, you're just afraid."

"Not afraid." He grunts, curling his fingers around her shoulder, something she considers a small win. She can feel his hands twitch with the desire to abandon his self control and pull her closer. It almost makes her smile to think the distance is impacting him just as much.

"Then what?"

"Just...wary."

"Well stop it, then." She huffs. "I need you, Simon. I can't go about my day knowing that my damn boyfriend won't touch me because he think I'm fine china."

"You're one of the best soldiers." He rolls his eyes. "You and I both know you're anything but breakable."

"Then quit acting like a selfless asshole and-" She cuts herself off with a gasp when his hands slide to her waist, pulling her into his body. Warm and all encompassing, her blood sings at the contact after so long.

"This is what you wanted?" He hums, finally conceding. She shivers, feeling his chest rumble under her cheek.

"Yes." She sighs. "See, wasn't so hard, was it?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, the both of them taking a second to settle back down into their skins, feeling the familiar press of dips and curves pressed against each other. She rests her cheek against his chest, hands coming up to grab onto his back.

"I'm alright, Simon." She whispers. "We're both okay."

His grip tightening around her like it usually does is the only answer she needs, the press of his lips onto her head through his mask making her sigh contentedly.

This.

This was more than okay.

Requests Are Open!

(03/07/2023)

4K notes · View notes

0cta9on · 2 months

Text

FFF2+4

length: +2k words

Genre: Smut

Le Sserafim Sakura x Male Reader

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Your hand lazily inserts the key into your apartment and unlocks the door. You want to slam it behind you in anger, but you’re too tired to even manage that. Working at the convenience store was supposed to be easy, just a little side hustle you can do to make some cash while you go through school. However, you failed to anticipate the long and arduous days of being yelled at by customers over things you have no power over, all for minimum wage. Your piece of shit manager doesn’t make things easier as all she does is sit on her phone while you’re the one that has to run around like a dog just to maintain the store. With a heavy sigh, you collapse face-first into the couch, just barely fighting the urge to suffocate in between the cushions and end your suffering once and for all.

“You good?”

You turn your attention to your roommate Sakura, who’s sitting on the floor, immersed in a fighting game on the TV. Sakura seldom talks and has a bit of an unnerving air about her, but she always kept the common areas clean and upheld her side of the chores so you considered her to be the perfect roommate in your book. You’ve managed to warm up to each other a little bit over the years, yet she always remained as sort of an enigma to you. You rarely talked due to always being busy with work or school, but whenever you did see her, she was always playing some kind of video game. Supposedly she makes money from streaming herself playing these games to thousands of people. You didn’t really understand, but you didn’t really need to anyway.

Your body slides off the couch onto the floor next to her, your eyes glazing over the flashing colors on the screen. “I’m fine,” you utter. “What are you playing?”

“Tekken 8,” she answers, her eyes never leaving the screen. “You wanna play?”

“I think I’ll stick to watching you.” Video games were never really your thing, but you could admire how skillful Sakura looked with the way her slender fingers quickly pressed the right buttons at the right time, her eyes glaring with focus. The blue light of the TV reflects off of her pale skin, making her look ethereal despite wearing a simple crop top and a pale blue tracksuit. Since when did Sakura look so attractive?

Before you knew it, you were suddenly face to face with the back of Sakura’s blonde head, your legs splayed out on either side of her. She was too focused on the game to notice you pressing up against her, which you took as a sign to take things further. Maybe it was the exhaustion and the stress seeping its way into your brain, but you needed some kind of release and Sakura just happened to be at the right place at the right time.

Your hands slowly snake their way up her toned abs, grazing her soft skin with your fingertips and stopping at the hem of her top. Sakura hasn’t made any move to stop you, you wonder if she even noticed you at all. You lift up her top, pleasantly surprised to see her wearing no bra underneath. Her breasts are the perfect size and shape to fit into the palms of your hands, soft yet firm like a stress ball. With each gentle squeeze, all the stress you procured over the day begins to drain from your body, and your erection starts to strain against your pants, pressing into Sakura’s lower back. Lust takes over your body as your breath gets heavier and your heart pounds in your chest. Your lips latch onto the back of her exposed neck, kissing and licking her porcelain skin.

“You’re gonna make me lose,” she says, her voice monotone. You momentarily pause to chuckle at her nonchalance. Her body was being ravished by her roommate, yet all she cared about was winning her little game. You found it oddly cute in a weird way.

“Sorry,” you chuckle, punctuating your sentence with a kiss on her neck. “How about this? If you win while I play with your body, I’ll give you $10.”

“Make it $20 and I’ll let you fuck me afterward.”

“Deal.” Almost immediately, your hand lunges into the waistband of her pants while your other hand pinches Sakura’s nipples. To your surprise, her panties had a sizable wet spot on them - despite her lack of a reaction, she was way into this. As you apply pressure against the wet spot, you hear her breath hitch in her throat, her body shivering upon contact. You had her right where you wanted her.

As much as you would love to take your time to make her feel good, you also didn’t want to easily give up the $20 you worked so hard for. You move her panties to the side to give you easier access to the honey pot lying underneath. Her lips were already coated in her slick juices as you teased her hole with your digits. A small groan escapes her mouth right as she wins the first round with a sliver of health left.

“Ooooh, that was a close one, Kkura,” you tease, chuckling into her ear. “Maybe this’ll be easier than I thought.”

Sakura stays quiet, her focus on the game unwavering. Right as the second round starts, you shove two fingers deep inside her hot, velvety core, eliciting a cute moan from the Japanese girl. The slickness of her arousal coats your fingers, allowing you to thrust in and out of her with ease. The texture of her inner walls is like silk wrapped around steel - soft and smooth, yet firm and unyielding. You watch with enjoyment as Sakura slowly becomes undone. Lustful moans continued to escape her lips, and her fingers began to spaz out with each thrust of your hand, causing her character to lose health. Her grip on the controller tightened with frustration but quickly dissipates as you continue to finger her pussy. Miraculously, she somehow managed to win the second round, albeit with a smaller margin than before.

“Hmm, I guess I should start trying now, huh?” You quicken the pace of your hand while your thumb rubs against her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Sakura’s body. Her breathy moans fill the air as she tries desperately to ignore the lust threatening to take over her body. The walls of her pussy tighten around your fingers as she grows closer to her orgasm, her hips rocking subtly with each thrust, inadvertently rubbing her butt against your erection. Your breath grew heavy with excitement, but you didn’t want to end the fun just yet. Right when you think she’s about to cum, you remove your hand from her heat, denying her the satisfaction of a release. Sakura turns to you with a fire in her eyes, causing her to lose her first round.

You chuckle in her face. “What’s with that look?” you ask, taunting her with a sly smirk. From all your years of knowing her, this is the most emotion you have ever seen her display. You couldn’t help but find it cute how much she wanted to cum.

“Whatever…” She grumbles in annoyance before turning back to the screen. You place a gentle kiss on the back of her neck, a symbol of your apology. However, you aren’t apologizing for not taking her all the way. In fact, this is an apology made in advance - you’re about to make things so much more difficult for her.

Instead of pulling the trigger and assaulting her wetness like she wants you to, you decide to tease her by gently rubbing your fingers over the cloth of her crotch, applying just enough pressure for her to feel it but not enough for her to get off. Your other hand traces gentle circles on her breasts, tickling her skin with your fingernails. Sakura lets out a huff of irritation. She so badly wanted to feel your fingers inside of her, but unfortunately for her, her pride was stronger than her lust, and throwing the game for her own pleasure was just not a viable option. Her sexual frustration gets the better of her and the poor girl ends up losing the round in a complete stomp, leaving just one more round to decide whether or not you would be out $20.

“Ugh…” She groans while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What’s the matter? Just one more win and you get $20, easy as pie,” you say, smirking mischievously. Sakura simply shrugged it off, putting all her attention into the game, but little did she know how dirty you planned on playing the final round.

Right as the in-game announcer starts the final round, you push Sakura forward so that she’s now on all fours, her perfect ass in the air. Despite the compromising change in position, she kept her grip on her controller and her focus on winning. You didn’t let her stay comfortable for long as you grabbed the waistband of her velvet sweatpants and pulled it down along with her panties, exposing her plump cheeks in one fell swoop. Her pussy stains her thighs with her sweet nectar, ready for you to ravish her hole. All your patience is about to pay off as you free your erection from its prison, lining it up with Sakura’s core. With one thrust, you completely bottom out inside of her, causing a high-pitched moan to come out of her mouth. Your fingers sink into the plush flesh of her hips, pulling her towards you with each thrust. The sight of her modest yet plump ass vibrating with an audible slap of skin against skin is worth way more than $20, yet here you are, enjoying it all for free. Sakura’s pussy squeezes your cock with her slick walls, her climax quickly approaching thanks to the work of your fingers earlier. At this point, your roommate was a complete mess in front of you, dropping her controller and letting her opponent knock out her character without any fight. Right as the big red “DEFEAT” pops up on the screen, Sakura lets out a long moan, announcing her orgasm. You hold her hips down on the base of your cock as her body shakes with pleasure, her juices spilling down your legs and staining your work pants.

Sakura collapses onto the ground as you pull out of her, giving you a moment to catch your breath. As much as you would love to dump your entire load into her pretty pussy, you decide to show her mercy in this instance. Games aren’t fun if you win them right away.

Slowly, Sakura props herself up. Her chest rises and falls with each heavy breath and you can’t help but become mesmerized by her breasts. In turn, she stares at your dick, still glistening with her nectar. She discards her disheveled clothing, and like a kitten stalking its prey, she crawls towards you with unblinking eyes. Normally, her face void of emotion would be hard to read, but at this moment, you knew exactly what she was thinking. Her lips hungrily latch onto yours as she straddles your lap, grasping onto your cock to line it up with her dripping cunt. Your hands automatically gravitate towards her hips as you pull her down onto your lap, forcing her to take all of you at once. Sakura groans into your mouth, wrapping her arms around your head and pulling you deeper into the sloppy kiss.

As she bounces on your dick, you completely forget about all the shit you faced at work. Hell, you would gladly work at the shit hole if it meant getting to fuck your cute roommate every day. The thought gets you more excited as you meet Sakura’s hips with thrusts of your own, simultaneously breaking the kiss to suckle on her perfect bouncing tits. Her shrill moans and the slaps of your skin against hers fill your ears, driving you closer to the edge.

“S-Sakura… I’m about to c-cum…” You warn her, breathless.

“I-inside… C-cum inside me…”

With your grip tightened on her waist, you slam her down onto your cock, forcing your entire length inside as you shoot ropes of your semen into her cunt. Sakura meets your orgasm with one of her own, her pussy pulsating and milking your cock. Her body collapses onto you as both of you catch your breath.

“Well, that was something,” you say to fill the empty space. Sakura answers with a hot shaky breath against your neck. Five minutes pass before her breathing finally comes back to normal. “Soooo… Same time tomorrow?” You ask, half-jokingly. Sakura gets up from your neck with the same blank expression as always.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

#le sserafim #miyawaki sakura #le sserafim sakura #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #sakura x male oc #le sserafim sakura x male oc #sakura x male reader #le sserafim sakura x male reader #smut #sakura smut #le sserafim sakura smut

987 notes · View notes

gutsby · 6 months

Text

Nighthawk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: After your lusty, short-lived relationship with a certain archer goes south, you decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off things. Daryl isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, semi-public fucking on Daryl’s bike and hints of exhibitionism, generally rough, jealous sex. Age gap. Assplay. Angst.

One swig of the witches’ cocktail brew, a couple candy corn jell-o shots, and several spiked seltzers in, and you were starting to have serious doubts about your decision to come out tonight.

You clutched your stomach in one hand and Spencer’s arm in the other. The man guiding you inside tried his best to stifle a chuckle.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Great,” you lied through your teeth.

The two of you were weaving through a swarm of partygoers in the entryway now. A sea of masked faces and shredded costumes came dimly into view, and with the sight of the first goblin ensemble drenched in fake blood, you wanted to vomit. You’d think a community of people plagued with nightmarish walkers year-round would lay off the theatrics when it came to Halloween attire as gruesome and grisly as that, but no. Spencer laughed and clapped the ghoul on the shoulder.

“Abraham, my man!” he greeted, “You’re a vision in red.”

Abraham lifted his mask just slightly to heave a sigh.

“It’s hotter’n H-E-double hockey sticks in this sick contraption. I’m sweatin’ like a hog,” he scowled.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light and he caught a glimpse of you, practically green in hue, his face softened considerably.

“You alright, darlin’? You look ready to blow chunks.”

He wasn’t far off the mark. Your stomach was busy doing somersaults up and down your body, and your brain was on the fritz with a new wave of nausea.

“Need a little water is all,” you managed meekly.

Your red-haired companion nodded and started off down the hallway without another word, beckoning you and Spencer to follow. You passed through the rest of the house with relative ease, amazed at how much Alexandria appeared to have grown and how many of those people were here, in Deanna’s house, for some seemingly inconsequential Halloween celebration. You barely recognized half the faces.

Spencer grinned as he sensed those same people were all turning their heads to follow your path. It was his first time parading Officer Friendly’s daughter around a public gathering—the first time you’d agreed to make it known you two were a tentative “thing” since the messy conclusion of your last relationship—and he was pleasantly surprised to see the effect you had on others.

Never mind the fact you were wearing a white lacy bodice, miniskirt, garter belt and stockings. Paired with the makeshift halo and wings, breasts practically bursting at the seams of your costume, it seemed you garnered more attention than you knew what to do with. You were hot, and you were his, Spencer thought with a superficial sense of pride. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and secretly hoped you’d cross paths with everyone he knew in town, so he’d get his chance to prove it.

The three of you descended the few short steps into the garage, where it seemed most of the music, booze, and bodies had congregated. A smoke machine supplied a thick white mist about the room, and alongside the near-blinding white and purple strobe lights, you had only to cling to Spencer’s side and hope he was still following Abraham.

Suddenly, a red solo cup was thrust in your direction, and you smiled at the sight of water spilling over its edges.

“You’re an angel,” you beamed, standing on tip-toes to place a quick kiss on Abraham’s cheek.

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was presently cut off by a louder, shouting voice:

“Quit your loose-lipped lolly-gaggin’ with the lady and get your ass over here!”

Eugene was drunk. So very, very drunk. You could tell by the sound of his voice alone.

“Kiss my freckled ass,” Abraham yelled back, baring a toothy smile at his friend as he started to make his way over. Tugging you and Spencer to follow suit.

You shot a worried look over your shoulder.

“Spence, I don’t think I—”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Spencer interrupted, already eyeing the white table at the center of the room, “Just drink your water, and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

You doubted you would but downed the liquid nonetheless. With each step ahead, it seemed you were only growing sicker, so you got to guzzling the water fast and just hoped you would be able to keep it together.

Unsurprisingly, the folding table was already crowded with plastic cups. Eugene and Aaron making sloppy pours across the tops with cans of Busch Light cradled in their arms and cracking up at every spill they made. You quickly scanned the group for any unknown, or unwanted, faces and felt relieved not to see Rick, your father, or Daryl, his best friend—and your ex-boyfriend.

That last part your dad still didn’t know about. You wanted to keep it that way.

Today marked six months since you and Daryl had started your ill-conceived affair and two weeks since you decided to call it quits—you know, after one too many occasions where Rick had almost caught you two boning on the sofa and Daryl swore left and right he was going to tell your dad everything, while you begged him not to. You sensed any such admission would be guaranteed to destroy your dad and Daryl’s friendship, so you made him promise not to tell.

Begrudgingly, Daryl had agreed, but he’d hated every minute of it. You knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in your face, and eventually, it did.

Fourteen days after you’d broken the man’s heart, here you were, waltzing into a party on Spencer Monroe’s arm. Six long months after you’d kept Daryl your dirty secret, you were flaunting this fabrication of a relationship for all to see.

You knew he’d hate you for it. You needed him to. There was just no other way you could shake his affections—and consequently protect his friendship with your father, along with any last shred of unity in your group—unless Daryl despised you. You knew no surer bet than Deanna’s shitbrained son to accomplish that goal.

At present, Spencer pressed a beer-sodden pair of lips to yours, and you almost recoiled.

“You in, baby?” Nodding toward the drinking game still being set up before you.

You shook your head no.

“She’s in!” Spencer announced anyway. Then, quietly, he leaned in closer to you and said, “Quit bein’ a pussy.”

Defying all logic, he kissed you again. Harder. You reluctantly accepted his tongue in your mouth and feigned a smile when the rest of your group cheered their drunken, congratulatory encouragement around you.

When you pulled apart, you felt you wanted to puke again, this time for reasons unrelated to the alcohol. Then, as if on cue, your eyes fell on a previously undetected member of your party.

Daryl stood across the table now, gaze locked on yours with a look that could’ve killed you twenty times over.

To your horror, Spencer extended his arm across the way to shake his hand. Clearly trying too hard to ingratiate himself with a man who looked like he wanted him dead.

“Daryl Dixon!” he cried, smiling too wide for anyone even half as happy.

Your archer shook his hand and hardly seemed to see him. Disinterest painted plain across his features.

Spencer turned to you next, and you wanted to melt into the floor as he gestured toward Daryl, stupidly:

“Have you two met—”

“Your girl’s too young to play.”

Daryl didn’t even deign to grace you with a look. Spencer forced a laugh.

“You kidding? She’s practically a pro at rage cage,” he returned, pinching you playfully.

Somehow, you sensed Daryl wanted Spencer to shut up even more than you did. The stoic, tight-lipped frown with a set of deadened eyes sealed it for you.

At length, he chanced a look in your direction, and his expression didn’t change.

“Doubt it,” Daryl scoffed, “Better let her sit this one out before her daddy comes and gets her.”

He sure had been singing a different tune when he’d had his cock crammed down your throat a couple weeks ago. Didn’t seem too worried about Rick’s intrusion back then, you thought to yourself.

Before Spencer could respond, the whole table shook beneath you. Eugene was beating his fists against the surface, sending solo cups shaking every which way.

“Hear ye, hear ye—”

“Someone please cut him off,” Rosita grumbled behind you.

“This is the last—I repeat last—chance any one of you gets to join this game of rage cage right here,” Eugene declared, the end of his sentence punctuated by a hiccup.

One of Deanna’s goodie bags went sliding across the table to you. You looked at Daryl, confused.

“This one’s already itchin’ to pull trig,” he said to Eugene, “She better sit this out.”

Daryl then nodded toward the plastic baggie as if to suggest you go ahead and puke, but you flung the thing back at him fast.

“I am not,” you countered defiantly.

“Prove it,” Spencer interjected, useless as a screen door on a submarine.

You turned and saw him smiling ear to ear, oblivious to just how badly you wanted to rock his shit.

“Leave her be, chucklefuck.” Abraham boomed overhead.

“Well now, nobody has to prove—” Eugene paused to hiccup again, “—anything.”

In spite of your friends’ words of support, you felt a twist in your stomach and a familiar heat rise to your cheeks. You were blushing, you knew it, but you simply couldn’t lose out in the face of such a challenge. No matter how drunk and disoriented you were, you wouldn’t let Daryl, much less Daryl and Spencer, make a fool of you now.

You glanced at the handle of Everclear in Maggie’s hands just as she started to mix herself a drink.

“I can take a pull to prove it,” you said, motioning to the bottle.

Everyone who’d heard your suggestion and spared a look to the bottom shelf bottle of liquor made a face. Though piss-poor spirits were certainly no anomaly for your group, it was hardly anyone’s inclination to start chugging stuff close to 190 proof—least of all for folks who didn’t have a death wish or a liver made of steel.

“Fuck no,” Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

“Hell yes,” Spencer supplied just as fast.

So the matter was settled.

Maggie eyed you with an incredulous look when you reached for the bottle but knew better than to stop you after you’d made up your mind. Before you knew it, you were holding the thing by the neck and struggling, at length, to ignore Rosita and Abraham’s pleas over your shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’d be better off swallowing a bag of dicks dipped in Drano, darlin’.”

Even Daryl was watching you with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading with you not to take the pull.

You would’ve gladly relented then, dropped the handle back on the table and stepped away without another word, but there was something in your brain telling you you needed to see this through. Whether it was self-sabotage or simple, drunken stupidity, you couldn’t be sure, but you probably wouldn’t care much longer.

You tipped your head back and flooded your mouth full of the grain alcohol.

Shortly after, a spasm in your stomach told you, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t be swallowing any of it.

You dropped the bottle and bolted out the door. Before you’d made it one step outside, you were already spraying a cloud of Everclear in the air, along with every food content and bodily fluid residing in your stomach. You dropped to your hands and knees in the grass and hurled like you never had before.

You closed your eyes and dug your fingers deep into the dirt below, desperately wishing you weren't wearing white. Convulsed in your tight corset and hoped this process wouldn’t be too painful to endure.

When you felt someone’s hands start to gather your hair in a ponytail behind you, you surmised you might not be so lucky. You spit on the ground and tried to shake them off.

“Get fucked, Spence,” you hissed.

The hands didn’t flinch from your hair and instead pulled it tighter between them.

“I said, get—” you struggled at the last, trying in vain to buck off whoever was above you. You cursed under your breath when it seemed clear they weren’t planning on budging.

“If this is how ye treat yer boyfriend, I’m glad ye dumped me,” a voice said with some amusement.

You groaned into the grass below you, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief,

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Daryl loosened one hand from your hair to start rubbing circles in your back. When you retched again, he moved his palm even more softly.

“I think I know ye well enough to say ya shouldn’t be chugging Everclear to prove a point,” Daryl said.

You didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right.

After one more pitiful heave, you started to struggle to get upright and eventually onto your feet. Daryl looped an arm around your waist and helped you up.

Your mind was reeling and your stomach was steeling itself against another potential onslaught of convulsions. When Daryl turned you around and steadied you in front of him, though, all concern for your current predicament ebbed gently from your mind. His blue eyes seemed to study every inch of you.

“Do you hate me now?” you asked abruptly.

You felt stupid for asking as soon as you said it. But then, to your surprise, Daryl smiled. He placed a hand on either side of your head and tilted it up to his.

“Do I look like I hate ye?” he asked.

Perhaps owing to your state of intoxication or the way Daryl made you feel when there was little more between you than a few inches and ample opportunity, you actually looked him up and down. Trying to detect any trace of hatred or the least bit of annoyance there but coming up with nothing. He started stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

The memories and the feelings all came flooding back faster than you would’ve liked, but there they were, and there he was, standing tall and tame and perfectly blameless in this situation you wished you hadn’t shot to shit two weeks ago. You suspected if he’d been looking at you any differently that night, it was simply an act of self-preservation on his part; no number of dirty looks or disparaging jabs could mask the fact that he couldn’t hate you if he tried. One warm look from those wide, placid eyes turned your stomach inside out and made you ashamed you ever left him in the first place.

You weren’t sure who started it, but your lips were back together in seconds, placing hot, frantic kisses all over the other.

“Did you miss me?” you mumbled against his mouth, in between a barrage of kisses.

Daryl’s hands traveled down your back and squeezed your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“More than you fuckin' know,” he groaned as he slid his tongue between your lips.

Quick came the mind-numbing rush of intimacy in secret, that lovely, electrifying feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. It took no time at all to get reacquainted with that addictive sensation—you felt yourself lean into it even more this time around. You slipped out of his arms and back onto your feet, ready for more of him.

“We can’t—” Daryl started, out of breath already, “—keep doin’ this, honey.”

“Yes, we can,” you returned quickly. Reaching for his belt while your pupils widened with lust.

You made the few familiar maneuvers to undo his buckle, button, and fly, and when you palmed him over his boxers, he moaned.

“What happens when your daddy finds out, hm?” Daryl managed through gritted teeth.

“If he does,” you corrected him.

“When he does.”

You sighed, frustrated. Daryl sure wasn’t making things easier on you.

“What do you want me to say, D? That I—I can just come clean and tell him his best friend’s been bangin’ me for the past six months? You know he’d skin you alive,” you said, your voice a little less kind than you intended.

It was the truth, though.

Like clockwork, Daryl took you back in his arms and carried you clear across Deanna’s yard, toward a tiny shed in the back. You snuck a look over your shoulder and saw his old, trusted motorcycle propped up against its siding.

When he placed you on the wide leather seat, you knew this fight was far from over. You kissed again, anyway.

“I’ll tell him myself then.” Daryl pulled off of you and ran his hands up your stocking-covered legs.

He rubbed them up and down and up again until his fingers faltered at the edge of your garter belt, secured snugly across the tops of your thighs.

“Or we can tell him. Together,” he rejoined, calmly dropping a hand between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat. You were already so sensitive, soaked through your panties and ready to take him whole. You whined when he swept his thumb over your clothed heat and clamped your thighs in defiance when he started to rub you up and down.

“I need you now,” you moaned.

Daryl didn’t bother concealing his smirk and just reached back to readjust himself—toying with your attention while you waited for him to take his cock out fully.

“No foreplay, huh?” he mused aloud as he eased his boxers down, “Must’ve been missin’ this cock somethin’ awful.”

You nodded without a second thought.

You were physically salivating at the sight of him. Watching him pump himself firm in one hand and brush your cheek with the knuckles of his other in a gentle touch.

“My baby won’t mind gettin’ stretched out again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise not to cry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was teasing you now. He’d seen your wide, listless eyes drink in the sight of him and couldn’t resist.

When he told you to bend over the seat of his bike, you obeyed in an instant. You planted your palms on the cushion, stuck your ass in the air, and practically wiggled it for him there.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Daryl growled just loud enough for you to hear.

He took your ass in both hands and spread yourself just wide enough so he could see the leaking, dripping mess along the slit of your panties. You sighed when he pried your underwear off a second later.

Daryl’s idea of “skipping” foreplay still wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t tease you to the point of orgasm at least once or twice.

True to form, he leaned in and placed a kiss over your unclothed core, and your knees almost buckled. He pushed his tongue up your slit, circled your clit, and dragged it all the way down past your pussy to the point he was nearly veering into uncharted territory for you both.

You gripped the bike below you and moaned out loud.

“Daryl, baby,” you pleaded with no motive in particular. You didn’t know what he was doing, you just wanted him to keep doing it.

“Want me here?” Daryl asked, his thumb sliding to that same delicate spot.

You pushed your hips back into him in a wordless but enthusiastic answer in the affirmative. Daryl grew even harder.

He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, knew he wanted to make that first-time experience in your other hole a little more sentimental than taking you over his bike with little to no lubrication—but the thought of the future endeavor excited him nonetheless. He peppered a couple more gentle kisses between your legs before standing up.

You whimpered at the loss of contact and almost turned around to say as much when he reappeared behind you, this time pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

“How bou’ here, honey? Can I fuck ya here?” he asked, all sweet words and civility when it came time to fuck you stupid.

“Y-yes, Daryl, yes,” you supplied your consent in a second.

“Then be good for me while ye take it, okay, doll?”

Before you could answer, Daryl’s cock was already starting to split you open. Soft, slow, and tender, with a stretch that made it feel like your first all over again, you both moaned at the feeling and rolled your bodies into one another.

Two weeks apart and you were all but fiending for an orgasm like he hadn’t been inside you for a year or more. Judging by the sounds Daryl made when he bottomed out, he was right there with you.

He dragged himself out to the tip and plunged back in, gripping your hips like they were the last thing holding him to earth. Then dropped his head back and groaned when you pushed yourself back to start meeting his thrusts.

“Ye feel too fuckin’ good,” he grunted, relishing the sounds of his balls slapping your ass with each bounce.

Your nose was buried somewhere between the seat and your own trembling fingers, scarcely breathing more than you could manage between each moan of his name. He loved you like this, all bent out of shape with your brain devoid of any other thought but his cock. He ran a finger over the pale, feathered wings of your costume—the ones that mirrored those emblazoned on the back of his vest—and couldn’t help but smile.

Just when you clenched and sensed you were dangerously close, Daryl hoisted you back onto your feet. Pulling out for a moment to switch positions and take you in his lap, now straddling him over his bike.

You sighed at the new sensation and smiled now that you could see him face-to-face. Daryl grinned right back and took your lips in his for a couple quick kisses.

“M’perfect girl,” he hummed, sponging kiss after kiss across your skin in sloppy, haphazard fashion.

You tipped your chin back and reveled in his gentle affections, moving your hips over him a little faster now.

“Gonna cum f’me? Show me just how good I’m making ye feel?” Daryl prodded, eyes alight with lust.

You pressed your forehead to his and nodded. Breaths coming out more ragged and strained than ever, you felt Daryl lift his hips and start fucking into you a little sharper, grip your sides a little less gently and just start giving it to you hard and fast and senseless so you’d be spilling over him in no time at all.

You were a mystery to him in many ways, but this realm was not one of them. Daryl knew just the right angle to take your soft, sensitive spot—strike it over and over and over again so you were clenching tight around him, begging him not to stop—and in a matter of seconds, you both got what you desperately wanted.

With one final squeeze around his member, you reached your peak and screamed his name, fucking him back with every vicious thrust he gave you. Then, try as he might to hold it in, Daryl grew just as oversexed and sensitive, shooting his load in you moments later.

The two of you rutted and moaned and clutched each other tight as you trembled through your highs. With Daryl’s warmth spreading deep inside you, you would’ve liked to stay this way forever—maybe rest in each other’s arms long enough to rally for rounds two, three, and four, if not more. But at present, you were content just to hold him.

A dull thump of music echoed from Deanna’s house. Daryl eyed you up and down, seemed set on asking if you’d like to go again, but took you by surprise with another question entirely.

He pulled you tight in his lap so his lips were close to yours. Sank his fingers into the flesh of your sides and said, ever casually:

“Ready to tell Rick?”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #smut #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon one shot #twd imagine

809 notes · View notes

hiwofumi · 2 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭

starring ⭒ kishibe ⭒ fem reader

tags ⭒ fluff ⭒ age gap ⭒ suggestive scenes ⭒ pet names (for kishibe: old man, dear) ⭒ size difference (reader is smaller than kishibe) ⭒ 1.7k words

note ⭒ started making the banner, had a breakdown, bon appétit 🫠 ⭒ big thank you to the dears @akicore and @blueparadis for beta reading!

𝟏 ︱ THE CONFESSION

“I like you.”

You’re seated next to him in the quiet of a meeting room when you blurt it out. He’s slouching over the wide table, tapping the surface with his fingers, a hair’s breadth of patience left. When he hears you, his fingers stop. Then he turns to you. “Why?”

He retains his lax expression. He’s noticed through your gestures—your habit of lacing your arm around his as you walk, your common act of sitting too close to him (like you are at present). Always him and no one else.

“I’m just an old man. You’re a charming young lady.” He adds.

“Give yourself some credit, old man,” you say, eyeing him casually, resting your cheek on your palm. “Sure, you’re rough around the edges, but I like that about you.”

He always thought your affection was platonic, a young devil hunter doting on her eldest senior. It didn’t necessarily help—if there was anyone who knew best what happened to the good ones, it was him.

He’s certain he won’t ask you to stop anytime soon, though.

“What do you say?” you ask.

“I say you’re crazy,” he responds.

“Is that a no?”

He deliberates as he gazes at you. “No. I like crazy.”

Intrigued by his answer, you reach for his scar, grazing it with the pads of your fingers. His thin beard scratches your palm. His fixed stare tells you he’s waiting for a motion.

The space between you recedes until your lips touch.

You know the taste of whisky and menthol cigarettes, but not when they came from his mouth. Not when he was written all over them.

They taste better like this.

When Makima walks in, you’re settled comfortably on his lap, and your lipstick smears the edges of his mouth. You both turn to her with alarm, the faces of two people caught.

“What’s this?” she smirks, then she turns to you. “I’m surprised. You never struck me as the antique type.”

𝟐 ︱ THE LIFE

When Kishibe was alone, he would come home late at night to inebriate or sleep his inebriation away. His apartment was empty whether he was in it or not; every space seemed cold and hollow, void of anything worthwhile. He refused to stick around for long periods of time.

Now it’s a dresser crowded with makeup products, a closet with nude-colored bras and panties, and a bathroom drain clogged with hair.

It’s also button-ups of contrasting sizes in the washer, big and small dress shoes in the genkan, and the empty side of the bed pleasantly filled.

He’s never felt warmer in his home.

“Eat your fruit, old man,” you lean over the armchair he sits in with a plate of sliced apples in your hand. You offer him a genial smile along with it.

His eyes reflect the motions of what’s on TV as he accepts the plate. “I don’t think you should keep calling me ‘old man,’”

You sit on one of the chair’s armrests. “How’s ‘baby’ sound?”

“Anything but that,” he says plainly, feeding the first piece of apple he picks up to you.

You chew loudly, uttering in between, “Master?”

“You’re not my student anymore,”

“Kishibe?”

“That’s just my name.”

“Hmm,” your tongue protrudes from your cheek. Then you tip your head toward him, “Dear?”

You see it in his pause: the slight curve of his lips, indicating you’ve hit the jackpot.

“I like that.”

𝟑 ︱ THE INTIMACY

“Oh dear,”

Your bare skin rubs against dark sheets as you shift sideways, your head throbbing, a soreness between your thighs. The air you’ve woken up to reeks of liquor and sin.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by the old scars on Kishibe’s broad back. He turns to face the ceiling with his eyes still closed, his gray hair sticking out at the sides. “What?” he asks groggily, another layer of gruffness to his voice; it was like that in the morning.

“Did we . . . ?”

His eyes flutter open. He looks down, raises your shared blanket to peek under it, then puts it back. “Looks like it.”

You groan and roll to the other side, facing away from him. “I can’t remember a thing,” you rub your face with your palms.

“I can remember some things,” he faces your side and shifts closer, wrapping his arm around your bare waist, pressing his front to your back. His chin rests on the crown of your head.

“Like what?” you put your hand over his as his fingers caress your stomach.

“Your pretty face,” he murmurs lowly. “Your pretty sounds.”

A breathy chuckle escapes your nose. “Was I good?”

His palm flattens on your stomach. Then it glides downward, to the middle of your thighs, leaving a streak of warmth in its wake. Your lungs feel compressed in your rib cage.

He lingers there, and your mind falls into a one-track state, absorbed in the bliss of his motions.

“So good,” he indulges in your mewls, presses himself to you further, and you squirm.

𝟒 ︱ THE FEAR

For the majority of his life, Kishibe had only seen people die, die, and die.

With you working in the same field, the thought of you joining those people inevitably crept into his mind. It’s another reason to drink, another reason to lie awake at night with a head full of troubles that drown out the sound of your light snoring.

You’re never out of his sight when you’re working together, and you’re never at peace when you’re not. Your cellphone has never received so many calls in one day.

One night, as he undresses on the edge of the bed after a day at work, you straddle his lap. You drape your arms around his shoulders, over his half-undone button-up, and regard him with a tender smile.

He shouldn’t be bothered when you’re a heavenly sight, but the thought creeps into his mind again. He could lose this smile through your line of work. He could lose this existence if you weren’t careful.

For once, he wears his heart on his sleeve. “I think you should resign.”

Your smile falls. There’s no returning from this.

He continues, “Don’t worry about supporting your family. I’ll take care of it.”

Your eyes cast down to his loose necktie. You take it between your fingers and rub the silk. You deliberate for several moments, and the longer he waits, the louder the thumping in his chest resounds.

You meet his eyes with resolve, smiling again. “No.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you continue, “Look, I know I’m not as strong as you are. Nobody is. But I can take care of myse—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I’m not saying you can’t. I just want you to—”

“Be safe?” you cup his cheeks, leaning closer until your noses brush. “I know, dear.”

He breathes you in. He notes the growth of your pupils before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I can’t lose ya.”

“You won’t,” you kiss him, too, and linger on his lips. “In fact, I’ll stick around for so long that you’ll get sick of me.”

His heart settles. In a wave of relief, he takes you into his arms and stands. He kneels on the bed, sets your head down on the pillow, and swallows you with his frame. “You’ll get sick of me first,”

𝟓 ︱ THE RESOLVE

“Do you wanna get married?”

Your eyes grow, then shift from the ceiling to set on him. You lie together in bed; sweat sheens his forehead, and his bare chest rises and falls rapidly, like yours. But he sounded calm when he asked, and he looks calm as you observe him.

He turns his head to you. “If I die, everything I own will be yours. I don’t have much, but I’d like you to have all of it.”

In your pensive silence, your breathing eases. You shift your body and face his side, propping your head up on one elbow. “You make it sound like you have to convince me to marry you.”

He replies with a semblance of hope, “Is that a yes?”

You hum in brief thought. “Do you have a ring?”

He pauses, then says, “Not at the moment.”

“Then no,” you switch sides curtly, facing your back to him. He saw it coming.

You meant it lightly. But the following night, as you drink with your colleagues, your several calls to him go unanswered.

Your beer glass sweats in your hand. You wonder if it has to do with your rejection, or worse: What if something’s happened?

Your anxiety branches out, multiplying thought after thought: Should I have accepted his proposal the first time? Was that his last chance to ask me? My last chance to say yes? Are his possessions ever going to be mine like he hoped?

Your colleagues watch you closely, wanting and attempting to assure you that he’s fine. But they know as well as you do that you can never tell.

Then gray hair sticks out of the curtains, a head lowered to fit into the doorframe, and the first pair of eyes he meets is yours.

You’re on the verge of tears with your phone pressed to your ear. You put it down abruptly. “Where the hell were you?”

He trudges toward you, to the end of the low table where you sit alone, and kneels at your side. “Are you drunk? Why are you crying?”

“You weren’t answering my calls,” you sob, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, looking down abashedly.

“I was getting you something,” his hand disappears under his coat. “It was hard to pick.”

He holds a small velvet box out to you and opens it, prompting a collective gasp from your colleagues. “Will you say yes this time?”

The ring matches his silver hair; its tiny stones adorning the sides of the center stone resemble the long scar on his cheek. Your glossy eyes reflect its luster, blurring with the spill of more tears. You nod at him.

Cheers rip through the silence of the room and disrupt the peace of the establishment. He slides the ring into your finger, presses a kiss to your hand, then your lips. “I’ll never leave your side.”

You sniff and smile against the brush of his thumbs under your wet eyes, the tender kiss he lays on your forehead. “I’ll take your word for it.”

network ⭒ @tokyometronetwork

#kishibe x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm fluff #chainsaw man fluff #csm headcanons #chainsaw man headcanons #csm x you #chainsaw man x you #csm fanfic

3K notes · View notes

seeingivy · 1 year

Text

mine

satoru gojo x f!reader

in which you decide to fake date your coworker, to get your parents off your back for a few months. can you continue on when the two of you start blurring lines between fake and real?

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

“You’re going to fake date your boss?”

You smack Itadori across the back of his head, signaling him to talk quieter.

“You’re going to fake date your boss?” he asks, whispering this time.

“He’s not my boss, he’s just a coworker.”

“You’re going to fake date your coworker?”

You nod, reaching over to finish the leftover pancakes on Itadori’s plate. The three of them narrow their eyes at you, matching disapproving looks on all of their faces. You swear they practice it together when you’re not there.

“You’re in over your head. This isn’t going to fix your problem.” says Nobara, picking the strawberries off Megumi’s plate, much to his dismay.

“But, it is. My parents will lay off my back for a little bit, actually let me finish this clerkship without criticizing me every ten minutes. He gives them something to brag about in their circles, actually taking their focus off of pestering me.”

“You know they’ll just take to criticizing him instead of actually laying off of you. Be practical, Y/N” says Megumi.

“Plus, how do you know he’ll even do it?”

“Excellent question, Itadori. He needs a fake girlfriend just as much as I need a fake boyfriend. His parents won’t let him take over the firm if he doesn’t find a good match to perfect their company image. He said an aspiring lawyer matched the image, so it all works out.” you respond, finishing off the last of Itadori’s food.

“You already asked him? And he agreed?”

You nod in response, pulling out the contract you and Satoru had drafted earlier.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No romantic or sexual interactions with other people during the duration of the contract? No showing your face to the public unless both parties are present. Attendance at all firm related balls, galas, conferences. No telling other people. ”

“Contingency plans, Kugisaki. It helps make sure we both stick to our deal.”

“You just broke a rule.” deadpans Megumi.

“You guys don't count.”

Megumi and Nobara roll their eyes at you, with Itadori wishing you sincere luck in your endeavors.

You look around the room, craning to find where Satoru had run off to. He had left you at the bar, promising that he would return after he went to the bathroom. You already know he’s having diarrhea from that cheesecake he ate earlier.

You and Satoru had been fake dating for a month and a half now. Just as you predicted, your parents had gotten off your back, taking to their social circles to brag about how you were dating the son and future successor of one of the most esteemed law firms in all of Tokyo. As for Satoru’s parents, they had eased up on their criticism of him, Satoru swearing they’ll give him a real promotion any day now. You were a positive influence, they were beginning to trust him more. Your role at the firm was expanding as well, being assigned bigger projects and cases to work with as time went on.

As for the two of you, you guys were getting closer. After spending virtually every day together - driving to work together, eating lunch at the block nearby, going on dates at night - the two of you had grown close. Too close for your liking.

He was funny, unlike any other guy you had met in the past. While he seemed pretentious and immature when you first met him, you were pleasantly surprised to find out he was anything but. He was caring, compassionate, loving. You were convinced he was an angel in disguise, because no normal person could live and laugh that much.

The truth is he was growing on you. More than growing on you, you felt the presence of him being cemented into your routines, unable to go on without him. You couldn’t go to Mochicat without buying some kikufuku for him, you couldn’t go to the store without him there to reach the high shelves for you, you couldn’t go to sleep at night if he didn’t send his “goodnight beautiful fake gf :D. have a sex dream about me” text.

You feel a cold hand on the shoulder, your heart pounding at Satoru’s return.

“‘Toru, you’re back. I was wond-”

You turn to face him and realize you aren’t talking to Satoru but to Surugu, your beloved ex-boyfriend. He’s all dressed up, his hair grown out and secured into a bun at the top of his head. You put a step between the two of you, his hand falling from his place on your shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“Come on, babe. Is that anyway to treat your old friends?”

“We aren’t friends, Suguru.”

“Don’t make a scene. Let’s share a drink. Old times sake.”

You glare at him, not backing down from where you were standing. You can feel an uneasy pit forming in your stomach, the sight of him bringing on a wave of nausea. Where’s Satoru when you need him?

You and Suguru dated for three years, almost four years ago now. The two of you had started off as friends, both attending university in the states, with Suguru in medical school while you were at law school.

The two of you had become close very fast, becoming closer than most friends were. You later found out there was a term for what he was doing, very cleverly named “lovebombing.” You spent almost everyday together and when you weren’t together, you were texting, calling, facetiming each other. He swore he couldn’t go a second without you.

Eventually, the two of you started dating, your friendship leading into a relationship between the two of you. You had opened up to him, telling him things you hadn’t told other people before. You swore you were in love with him, feeling like he was the only person you could be yourself with. You gave yourself to him, letting him into every little part of you.

Things changed when he moved to California to do his residency. The two of you did long distance for four months, until you realized he was no longer interested in you. After confronting him, he mentioned that his new girlfriend, Sophia, made him happy, in a way that you didn’t. You had no idea he had a new girlfriend. You didn’t even know that you had broken up.

He said he was unsure of how to break up with you, he thought you understood the situation when he left. Despite this, the two of you continued to talk for a year after that, Suguru saying that you would always be his best friend, someone who could never be replaced in his life. He would come back to New York on holidays, the two of you spending the week together.

You could have sworn he still loved you, deep down. Every time he came to see you, he’d hold you in his arms, kiss you like nothing had changed, made love to you like you were the only one. However, he’d return to Sophia at the end of the week, eventually saying your relationship with him made her uncomfortable, cutting any ties you had left. The two of you never spoke again.

Until now.

“I can’t. I have a boyfriend.”

“So I’ve heard. Sleeping your way to the top suits you well.”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you got the Initech Case the other week. Quite a big case to give a junior associate. Do you really think they would have given that to you if you weren’t sucking junior Gojo’s dick? Though I suppose it’s no shock. You always did have trouble getting things on your own.”

You feel your blood rushing through your ears, clenching the wine glass in your hand so hard it shatters. The sound of the glass has everyone turning their heads, to find you fighting back your tears with a bloody hand.

You spot Satoru at the door with a concerned look plastered on his face. You can see him maneuvering through the people, trying his fastest to reach you. Before he can, you run to the closest door, moving up the stairs to exit to the balcony.

You pull up the side of your dress, placing your aching feet into the cold water of the pool. Your hand had stopped bleeding a little while ago, the red still smeared down the length of your arm. You use your uninjured hand to make ripples in the pool, the water moving through your fingertips.

“Oh, thank god. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You turn to find Satoru, unlacing his dress shoes and taking off his socks next to you. He sits at your side, placing his feet in the water. You feel him looking at you in your peripheral vision, but you refuse to meet his eye.

“Sorry. Needed a second.” you respond.

You feel his hand on the side of your cheek, lightly lifting your face up to look at him. You look up at his blue eyes, filled with concern, and can feel the tears you willed down rising up again. You see his expression tighten at the sight of your tears, it finally pushing you over the edge and bringing your tears on in full flesh.

You feel his arms wrap around you, your face tucked into his neck as he rubs small circles into your back. You can feel him whispering into your ear, shushing you as you sob against him. After a few minutes, your tears subside, your breath still shaking against him.

“What happened, bug? You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Did you give me the Initech Case just because I’m dating you?”

You see his eyes widening, a frown setting on his face.

“What? Of course not. You got the Initech Case because you’re best suited for the case. I didn’t even have a say in that decision”

You rub the back of your head against your nose, rubbing the excess tears off the side of your face.

“Do you think Yaga gave it to me because I’m dating you?”

“Bug, what is the Initech Case about?

“Abuse of power dynamics. Hana’s suing her boss, Daiki, for taking advantage of his position to make advances on her.” you respond.

“Right. Hana requested female counsel, specifically. She wanted to make sure she had someone who wouldn’t talk over her. But, Shoko’s still on leave till next month. You’re the only other girl at the firm.”

You’re quiet, turning back to face the water. You guess you were the only one who could do that case. But you can still hear Suguru in the back of your head, every horrible thing he said and did to you flooding your mind.

You feel his arm snake around you, his temple resting around yours. He stares down at the water with you, your reflections staring back at the both of you.

“Work with me here, bug. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallow hard, his blue eyes glimmering in the reflection of the water. His arm is warm, the polar opposite of Suguru’s frozen hands. You decide to jump.

“I’m tired of things not being mine.” you whisper, heart pounding.

You feel his hand reach the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“When I got into college, my parents took the credit, saying I wouldn’t have gotten there if they hadn’t tutored me and used their connections to get me there in the first place. When I got into law school, the boss I used to intern for asked me for a ‘well deserved kiss’, saying I wouldn’t have gotten in if he didn’t write me the letter he sent them. When Suguru left me, he said he was better suited to Sophia, because she owned him the second he met her. And now, I land a big case, work at an impressive law firm, but I only got here because I’m dating you. I just want something to be mine.” you say, your head in your hands.

He’s quiet, his hand still brushing across the side of your hair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, Satoru pondering over your words.

“In grade school, my first friend, Saiki, told me that he had only let me play with him because my parents had asked him to before we walked into class. In high school, I created a non-profit with my friend, meant to help incarcerated people find resources that would help them land jobs after being freed. When the non-profit took off, he took all the credit, stating that all I did was finance the project, when it was actually my idea. When I decided to work at the firm and become a lawyer, people turned down any interest I showed at other companies - they knew I was going to end up at my dad’s firm anyways. Nothing I ever do is mine either.”

You turn to him, looking into his eyes.

“But it doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“They’re going to say that about me regardless, bug. But does that really change what’s happening? Saiki will still be my friend, and play tag with me on the field. I still came up with that idea and my non-profit still helps people, even if my name isn’t on it. And I’ll still be a kick-ass lawyer, even if it’s at my parent’s firm.”

You soak in his words, letting the thoughts cross through your mind.

“I would still like to have some things to myself, Satoru. Things that are just mine.”

“And you do. Those godforsaken friends of yours, especially that grump little weirdo, that ugly ass cat, that disgusting green hoodie you own-

“Hey.”

“And me, of course. Those things are just yours.”

You smile at him for including himself in the list. You interlock your fingers with his, forgetting about the blood smeared all over your hand. He looks down, opening up your hand to tracing his fingers along the cut. He lifts your hand up, pressing his lips against the cut. You feel your skin burn at the contact, his soft lips brushing against your hand.

“Did you just try to kiss it better, Satoru?” you ask, feeling breathless all of a sudden.

“Did it work?”

“No.”

You look up at him, a smile plastered on his face. You swear your hand is shaking in his hold. He rolls his eyes, bringing his arms closer to yours, holding your face in his hands. The tips of his fingers brush through the sides of your hair, as he leans forward, his lips pressing a kiss on yours.

Every other kiss you had shared had been in the presence of other people, attempting to make your faux relationship look more realistic. But this was something else. The kiss was soft, slow, nothing like the rushed pecks the two of you had shared before. His lips are soft, warm. You swear you can taste the dessert he was eating earlier, his lips sweet. You can feel his hands lowering to rest around your neck, a smile forming on his mouth. He breaks apart, your face still in his hands.

“Did it work now?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You were flirting with her! In front of me, Satoru. And then you left me there at the table, sitting alone.”

“No, I wasn’t. She was just going to introduce me to her dad,”

“Why do you suppose that means? What else was she supposed to think when you told her you liked that dress and that you would love to be a part of the family?”

“It was a compliment! And you know what I meant, we’re trying to secure a deal with them.”

“So you admit it? You were trying to lay the moves on her as a business tactic.”

“Oh my god, Y/N. So what if I was? It helps the company if they share their cases with us.”

“And what about me?”

“What about you? You know your parents would love it if you got some big case with Soyin Paradigm.”

You pause, realizing you and Satoru aren’t arguing about the same thing. You knew the lines had been blurring recently, ever since the night you had spent at the pool and every date afterwards, but you never realized how far apart the two of you were standing. He was still focused on the promotion, the cases he could get. He didn’t care about you. You turn your back to him, running out the door and down the stairs to the street.

You hear him behind you, calling out your name to come back. You make it halfway across the street before he catches up, him blocking you from walking any further.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You pinch yourself for what you’re about to say next, bracing yourself for the goodbye.

“I think we’ve both fulfilled the terms of our contract. Your parents trust you and gave you a bigger role at the company like you said they would. My parents have enough to brag about for a few years. I think we should call it quits.”

You stare up at him, his eyes boring into yours.

“No.”

“What?”

“Why are you running away from me? What did I say?” he says, his grip on hands intensing.

“Nothing. This day was bound to come anyways, Satoru. We couldn’t go on like this forever.”

“Why not?”

“It’s fake, Satoru. I mean hell, you’re still flirting with other girls for goodness sake. You don’t even like me.”

You see anger flash in his eyes, his hands moving up to your shoulders.

“I don’t like you?”

“Yes, Satoru. You don’t.”

“Do you remember that night, when we sat by the water? I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since then. Every time I look at you it’s like the first time. Your stupid jokes, your ugly ass cat, the smile you only save for me, you’re literally everywhere. I tried to get the thought of you out of my mind, but I can’t. I can’t find a thing not to love about you.”

You feel your mouth dry at his words. He can’t find a thing not to love about you. He loves you.

“Come on, now. You’re the best thing that’s ever been mine, bug.”

You feel your heart glowing at his words. You grab him by the collar, pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. You feel him smile against your lips once again, his arms snaking around your waist. The two of you kiss - soft, sweet, slow - your hearts beating together. He tastes sweet, the taste of the strawberry mochi he had after dinner still lingering on his lips. You break apart, your cheeks tinted pink.

He smiles at you, running his finger across your lips. You lock your hand with his, the two of you making your way back to the apartment you had just ran out of.

“You wanna know something embarrassing?”

“Hm?”

“You have a crush on me, bug.” he says, smirking down at you.

“Okay?”

“That’s embarrassing. You have the hots for me”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door of your apartment behind the two of you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

1K notes · View notes

steddiealltheway · 1 year

Text

Has this been done yet? (Oh, this is so much longer than intended)

Everyone knows Eddie is in love with Steve. It's not like he really tries to hide it. He's always flirting with him, taking up all his personal space, and finding excuses to constantly hang out with him.

The only person who refuses to believe this is Steve. He insists that Eddie is just dramatic, so all his feelings are larger than life, and flirting is just second nature to him. Really, it means nothing. Although Steve wants it to mean something.

He's come to terms with being bisexual after a quick discussion with Robin about what his feelings for Eddie meant. And really, after discovering a universe that is the parallel Hell to his own, being bi is the least of his concerns.

On the other hand, Eddie Munson is one of his greatest concerns. Every time Eddie flirts with him, his brain goes perfectly blank. And it doesn't help that Steve gets so distracted by the man's damn lips. But Steve can tell it's all just a part of who Eddie is. He draws people in until they're utterly enamored with him, and his means of flirting is his way of drawing Steve in.

Honestly, hearing everyone trying to convince him that Eddie has feelings for him just makes Steve uncomfortable because none of them have confirmation from Eddie about it. And it just fills the room with a weird tension whenever Eddie and Steve are with anyone else. Eddie has brought it up a few times with a quick whispered, "Why is everyone staring at us?" And Steve just brushes it off until Eddie moves onto some random topic that has Steve dropping everything he's doing to listen.

But one day when Eddie's at Family Video, he's grabbing a tape and suggesting him and Steve should watch it at nine that night. Steve instantly agrees which has Eddie fanning himself and flirting, "Watching a movie with the Steve Harrington. How will I ever be able to recover?"

Steve leans in and finally flirts back, "It's a date." Which has Eddie freezing in a place a moment before he clears his throat and slow-mo punches the counter.

"It's a date," Eddie confirms without his usual bravado that has Steve finally noticing it. The dilated pupils, the way his eyes flicker to his lips, the way he licks his lips when he leans in, and just the general soft look he gets when he looks at him.

Eddie likes him. And Steve is about to pull out all the moves at his trailer tonight.

Eddie leaves a bit after that, not sticking around like he usually does, but he tells Robin he has a date to prepare for when she comes out of the breakroom. As soon as he's out the door, Steve is spilling everything to Robin who agrees to help him before his date.

A few hours later, and a lot of arguments over outfits later, Steve is showing up on Eddie's doorstep with flowers in his hands. Eddie opens the door and accepts them with a laugh. "What a kind date you are," Eddie says and welcomes Steve inside.

Steve looks around and takes note of how the trailer doesn't really look any different, and Eddie hasn't changed since he left, so Steve's unsure of what he was preparing for unless... He shakes his head. Too soon.

Eddie flops down on the couch and offers Steve a beer which he gladly accepts to calm his nerves a bit. He sits right in Eddie's space and puts his arm around the back of the couch. Eddie looks at him and jokes, "And I thought you hated when I got in your personal space." Nonetheless, he leans into Steve as the movie starts.

And Steve has no idea what's happening on the screen. He goes through his beer fast and sets it on the table in front of them. He turns to Eddie and asks, "Where's your uncle?"

Eddie glances up at him and replies, "At work."

Steve gets distracted by how close his lips are to Eddie's but decides this is the perfect time to finally make a move. "Good," he says as he leans down.

Only, Eddie is shooting back and asking, "What are you doing?"

Steve freezes. Eddie doesn't look pleasantly surprised at all, instead he looks scared and confused. Fuck. "Uh, forget about it. Sorry," Steve says as he scoots away from him and slowly stands up.

"It's okay," Eddie says still looking a bit panicked. A few awkward moments pass by before he's talking again, "I...I should apologize for leading you on... with the flirting in stuff... I didn't know you were..." he trails off.

"Bisexual," Steve fills in for him. Eddie gives him a confused look. "It means I like men and women."

"Oh," Eddie says, eyes still wide but looking a bit lost in thought.

Steve just echoes, "Yeah, oh." He fidgets the edge of the stupid blue shirt Robin had said would make Eddie lose his mind. He feels a pressure behind his eyes that's wildly embarrassing. "I'm gonna go," Steve says and rushes out the trailer and into the pouring rain. He has no idea when it started raining, but it doesn't matter because Eddie doesn't even try to stop him.

Steve parks his car outside of Robin's and goes to the side of the one-story house and knocks on her window. Robin is unlatching it immediately and asking, "What the hell are you doing? It's raining out."

"You were wrong about Eddie. He doesn't like me. Why would you convince me he did?" Steve says loudly over the rain.

Robin's eyebrows furrow. "There's no way he doesn't. What makes you think that? And get inside, you're already soaked!"

"He apologized for leading me on, Robin!" Steve says, not caring about the rain or how loud he's getting. "He didn't even stop me when I left! So, don't try this whole setting people up with me thing again. I'm done with that." He stalks off as Robin calls out to him.

He knows he's being dramatic, but he doesn't care. He really liked Eddie, and he hadn't been prepared to be rejected by him. Worst of all, this is going to ruin their entire friendship. Who are they without the flirtatious banter and constant teasing? They weren't dating but Steve has never felt so heartbroken before.

When he gets home, he doesn't really think, just goes to his pool and dives in. He's already soaked, so it's not like it matters too much. He floats on the surface and closes his eyes, feeling the raindrops falling on his face which are noticeably colder than his tears, but at least he can pretend it hides them.

The sound of thunder in the distance is what drags him out of the pool. He's not going to let lightning be the thing that kills him after everything. Although his heartache feels a bit intent on killing him. But that just makes him angry at himself.

He isn't allowed to be this hurt over things. He really isn't. He should've known better. That's all. His thoughts wear him out until he's falling into a fitful sleep.

Work the next day sucks. Robin's acting all anxious around him, and Nancy comes in acting all sympathetic until Steve finally snaps, "If you're not here to get a movie, then you have no reason to be here."

After that, Robin lectures him about taking his anger out on other people. At least she isn't giving him that damn sad look anymore.

For the first time in weeks, Eddie doesn't show up during his shift, and Steve realizes he needs to get used to that.

A week later, the kids are giving him the same treatment Nancy did after they finally get Steve to spill the reason why Eddie doesn't come to the Family Video anymore. Steve slips away into the back after Robin tells him it's his break time - which is absolute bullshit, but Robin doesn't let the kids know that.

Steve has his head in his hands when he hears the door to the breakroom open. He doesn't look up, expecting Robin to tell him that the kids have left or something. Instead, he hears, "Just give him a while. If you're lucky, it won't take him years to figure things out."

Steve's head slowly comes up to reply, "Not all of us can be lucky like you and Mike."

Will shrugs. "If not, you know Eddie will still be friends with you. I give it a week before things are back to normal." Steve smiles at the kid. He's optimistic and determined in a way that makes Steve feel a glimmer of hope.

Two days later, Steve is wiping off the counter towards the end of his shift when he hears the bell to the front door ring. He glances up to find Eddie walking in looking slightly cautious as he looks around the empty store.

"Hey," Steve says as he approaches the counter.

Eddie smiles slightly and says, "Hey." Then, he's handing over a tape to return, and Steve tries not to flinch when he recognizes it as the one they were supposed to watch that night.

"A bit late," Steve jokes but automatically clears the fees before he sets it in the returns pile for the next day.

Eddie puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "I forgot." His eyes lock with Steve's for a moment before they begin to look at anywhere but him. "Where's Robin?"

"I let her go early," Steve explains. Another awkward silence settles between them.

"Well," Eddie says and removes a hand from his pocket to drum his fingers on the counter. "I'm gonna head out."

"Wait," Steve calls out as he turns around. Eddie freezes. "I'm about to lock up. Could you just wait around a few minutes?" Steve asks, trying not to cringe at the desperation in his tone.

Eddie turns around and gives him a small smile. "Of course."

Steve nods and rushes to clean up. It won't kill anyone to close the store a few minutes early. He grabs his stuff from the back and is slightly surprised when he finds Eddie still waiting for him when he returns. But he glances up and gives him a smile that makes Steve believe that maybe Will was right. Maybe things will return back to normal in a week.

And they do. Eddie starts showing up during Steve's shifts again, talking about something random which Steve listens to full heartedly although sometimes he doesn't get half of what he's saying. Then, Eddie is returning a tape that has been late for so long that Steve actually gasps when he sees the late fee. But Steve automatically clears it which has Eddie flirting, "Is this because you think I'm cute?"

It has both of them freezing for a second, but then Steve is firing back, "I'm just making sure you know that you owe me in the future." Eddie pouts ridiculously dramatically which has Steve laughing and saying, "And maybe because you're cute."

The compliment has Eddie's cheeks turning slightly red before they move on to a random topic. Steve is happy to find their dynamic shifts a little after this which allows Steve to flirt back easily. It confuses everyone else, but Steve is perfectly content with it, especially when he finds Eddie's smiles growing with every compliment he gets.

One afternoon, Eddie is looking through tapes and gives him the oddest deja vu when he holds one up and says, "We should watch this together."

It's said all casual, but Steve hasn't hung out with Eddie alone since... yeah. And he's kind of freaking out. "After my shift?" Steve asks.

"It's a date," Eddie says with a bright smile that has Steve excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

He splashes his face with cold water and takes a few deep breaths. It isn't actually a date this time - he knows that. But the memory of the last time might be a little too much for Steve to handle. He dries off his face with a thin paper towel, and exits the bathroom only to find Eddie anxiously fiddling with his rings at the counter.

"You okay?" Steve asks, and Eddie turns and nods with an unconvincing smile. Steve lets it go as Eddie talks about his most recent DnD session with the kids and how Will is a genius. Steve definitely agrees with him on that topic.

A few hours later, Steve finds himself in the Munson trailer on the same couch, drinking the same beer, but this time keeping a respectable distance from Eddie. Minutes later, Eddie is heading to the fridge to grab two more beers, and when he comes back, he sits right next to Steve.

Steve glances towards him in slight confusion, but Eddie remains staring at his TV as he practically chugs down his second beer. Before Steve can reach out for the other one, Eddie is opening it and starting on a third one.

Steve's hand comes up to settle on Eddie's hand on the bottle. Eddie slowly puts the bottle down and blurts out, "My uncle is working again."

Steve just slowly nods, not sure where he's going with this. Eddie looks at Steve and his eyes quickly flicker to his lips where they linger. Steve can't help but ask, "You okay?"

Eddie's eyes snap back up to Steve's eyes, and then he's taking his beer and taking a large gulp of it that has Steve on edge. He's definitely preparing for something, but Steve has no clue what it is.

Eddie turns to him and asks, "Remember when you told me you were..."

Steve racks his brain. Into you? Gutted when you didn't like me back? "Bisexual?" he asks.

Eddie nods quickly. "I... hadn't heard of that before, and it had me wondering if... I was bisexual."

"Oh," Steve says as his heart rate increases.

"Yeah, and then I thought about Chrissy and how I thought I might like her, but I think I just liked her the way Robin likes you. Completely platonically." Steve nods as Eddie builds up the courage for what he's going to say next. "And I kind of realized that maybe I didn't like girls at all. But then that freaked me out, and I realized that maybe I need to think less in labels and more about how I feel."

Steve tries not to smile as Eddie's face scrunches up as he mumbles out, "That's so fucking cheesy. Christ." In a normal volume, Eddie continues, "And I think that I have... feelings for you. Especially after you tried to kiss me. I just couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted you to, but I didn't know what that meant either. But then when you were flirting with me, I just... wanted that forever. And then fucking Mike had to talk to me about how it made me feel to imagine you with anyone else - which turns out to be really fucking not good."

Steve laughs, and Eddie finally looks at him with a big smile and says, "Don't laugh at me while I'm trying to admit I have feelings for you! That's rude!"

Steve laughs even harder and explains, "I'm laughing because you got the Mike lecture while I got the Will pep talk."

"Huh?"

"Will told me you would come to your senses eventually, and if not, you'd still be there - as a friend."

Eddie looks off for a second and shakes his head. "We can never tell them those worked. Dustin will be so pissed."

"You're right," Steve says with a laugh, but then he finally realizes what Eddie is saying. "So, you might like me?" Steve asks feeling every bit like a high school boy.

"Yeah," Eddie admits and turns to look towards his beer longingly.

Steve cups his jaw and turns his head to face him. "Want to find out?" Steve asks.

Eddie's eyes flicker to his lips again and his hand comes up to mimic Steve's as he rests his hand on his cheek. "Yes," Eddie breathes out.

Steve slowly leans into his space and lets Eddie meet him halfway for a slow kiss. Eddie pulls back after a moment and smiles wide, "Yeah, I'm definitely not straight. And I really like you."

Steve smiles and brings Eddie in again. "I really like you, too," Steve says before he kisses him again.

Posted on AO3 for @starkdusk

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things

2K notes · View notes

griffonsgrove · 4 months

Text

General Dating Headcanons | Dr. Flug

Dr. Flug X GN!Reader

fandom: Villainous/Villainos words: 1457 cw: none!! just cute tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: aaa!! following the theme with villainous, I HAD to do our favorite scientist!! Also I'm open for requests!! I'd love to see what yall would send in!!

(Platonic):

Dr. Flug was the one initially responsible for hiring a new employee for the organization after he had groveled at Black Hat’s feet, begging for an assistant to help lighten his workload.

Reluctantly, Black Hat agreed, but not without scaring the daylights out of the poor doctor first.

Flug thanked the high heavens.

And thus began the search for a new assistant, he sent out multiple ads and flyers, and in little to no time, there was a flood of applicants. Having to sift through each applicant only added even more stress to his ever-growing mountain of work. Most of them didn't really seem to stick out.

That was until he got to yours.

He wasn't quite sure what drew him to your application, maybe it was your astounding track record, accomplishments, and references, or maybe it was because he thought your appearance was pleasing to the eye, something about the gleam in your eyes told him that you were a reasonable, logical and pleasant person to be around.

Which is exactly how you ended up at the front gates of the manor, ready for an interview.

Of course, the first person you met was the doctor himself, he had to disable the alarm system to the manor before letting you in. It’s there that he gives a very brief, albeit awkward introduction.

He unfortunately doesn’t socialize much.

Everything about his energy, to his stature just screamed nervous wreck. It's from there that he leads you to the Lord’s Office. Surprisingly the interview went well!! If getting demeaned and thrown insults was a norm. But! You got the job!

Now you’re in Flug’s hands, you follow alongside him as he leads you to his lab, listing off all the responsibilities he wanted you to be in charge of some of them being: Organizing files and client paperwork, taking calls from new clients and scheduling appointments, also taking customer reviews, and some minor tidying and organization.

And based on the state of his lab you had a LOT of work to do…

I know some people think Flug is an anxious mess 24/7 but that could not be further from the truth. He’s actually quite egotistical and snarky from time to time, and of course a know-it-all.

He's like the “erm actually ☝️ 🤓” guy in physical form.

IS NOT afraid to correct you over minor errors. He’s very particular about how his things are organized in his lab. He likes to call it his organized chaos. So, if anything gets misplaced, he will get snippy or irritable.

SO..as long as you inform him of how you do things and WHERE you put them, then all is good!

Overtime as you work alongside him though, he genuinely does start to appreciate the work that you do, he's pleasantly surprised when he finds that all his files and blue prints have been organized alphabetically and by color, or that his tools had been rearranged neatly on his workbench by size and shape, and overall his lab was so much cleaner and tidy than he ever could imagine it to be.

No surprise here but, the doctor is AWFUL at taking care of himself.

Which is why you step in to do small little gestures to help him out.

Whether it be bringing him another cup of coffee or making up a small snack for him to eat throughout the day, he even noticed you had draped his lab coat over him when he fell asleep at his desk one night.

He had to admit he wasn't quite used such small acts of kindness; it was a foreign feeling to him.

Did I also mention he’s tired like 24/7. Let this poor man sleep!! 😭

Believe it or not, he’s grown to quite enjoy your company, maybe it was your relaxed nature, but he felt somewhat at ease whenever you were around.

You’ve both actually held some decent conversations from time to time, both sharing your interests that lead into a ramble about his favorite airplane models.

(Romantic):

His confession was actually quite a funny story, and he wasn't even the one to do it! It was 5.0.5 surprisingly. The sweet blue bear wasn't blind, he began to notice that his papa would longingly stare at you, that he would mumble to himself in his sleep, secret confessions he would never dare say consciously. So, the bear came up with a little plan.

5.0.5 loves to draw, Flug practically keeps every drawing he’s ever given him. He decided that he’d make a love note, from Flug to You. He spends a generous amount of time on it, putting such care into the cute little card, and when he’s deemed it perfect enough, he drops it off to you, happily growling.

You're taken by surprise at first, but then you open up the heart shaped card covered in glitter and are pleased to find an adorable childlike drawing of you and Flug, surrounded by a bunch of pink and red hearts. How sweet!

When you confront the doctor in his lab, showing him the card, he flushes, and at first denies such feelings, slightly embarrassed that his fuzzy son was the one to do it instead of him. It’s then that he decides there's no going back and spills out everything to you.

Which is why he’s shocked when you tell him you reciprocate his feelings. What?? Him?? Really????

Things start if really awkward btw, the doctor has been without physical contact for so long that WASNT being beaten down by his boss, that he honestly forgot what it was like to experience affection, aside from the crushing hugs that 5.0.5 would give him.

He’s very fidgety, doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, where to put them or how you’ll respond to his touch.

Please give him a hug :(

He’s also very respectful of your boundaries, as you are with him, he’s not quite comfortable taking the bag off his head, which you don't mind in the slightest.

Things seem to continue almost as normally, but the two of you spend more and more time with each other, taking your breaks together, having lunch and spending your evening time hanging out when neither one of you are slammed with work. He quite enjoyed having movie nights with you, the sci-fi films are always his favorite btw. He heavily critiques the machines and inventions.

You both try to keep your relationship on the down low, Black Hat would blow a gasket if he found out. Demencia on the other hand was a huge tease. She frequently mocked the two of you, mostly Flug, however. You’d stick up for him of course and tease her right back, much to the doctor's surprise.

Queue the heart eyes.

Dr. Flug expresses his affection through small, thoughtful gestures, like leaving little notes of encouragement or surprising you with inventions tailored to your interests.

Speaking of gift giving, he prefers to hand make your gifts. His ideology is that there's no point in getting you a meaningless gift that you’ll throw out in a couple of weeks, so why not make you a meaningful one that you can make your life easier???

Which btw he's VERY observant, it's actually quite endearing from time to time, and he takes note of all your special interests, favorite foods, etc.

Mans is touch-starved. Sorry I don't make the rules.

PLEASE HOLD HIM.

He’s pretty hesitant to touch at first, but the second he gets a feel for physical affection he's latching onto you like a koala-bear. He likes holding your hand, his hands are surprisingly soft underneath his gloves.

When you’re both hidden away in the evening from prying eyes, is when you can finally cuddle and be more affectionate with each other. SPOIL HIM PLEASE.

You become one of his biggest supporters, encouraging him and giving him the long-deserved praise, he aches for. When he’s with you, he’ll admit that you have substantially helped boost his ego and confidence which really pays off in his work. Not that Black Hat would ever give him the satisfaction.

Overall, Dr. Flug really is a sweetheart on the inside, especially with those he's grown to love and care about and getting him to open up to you about his insecurities is one of your best accomplishments, he feels like he can be vulnerable with you and that really says a lot. The man has a lot of inner demons and has willingly put his life down the path of villainy, but he feels with you by his side, that things will be a little bit better...

#villainous #villainos #dr flug #dr flug x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #villainousheadcanons #black hat organization #black hat villainous #demencia #dating head canons #pls protect dr flug at all costs #villainous x reader

211 notes · View notes

vampireloverz · 1 year

Text

dancing with the devil

pairing: john wick x fem! reader

words: 2.5k

cw/tw: established relationship, age gap (vague but implied, more than a decade), size difference, reader wears a dress and heels, reader and john drink alcohol, public fingering, unprotected sex, au where reader basically takes helen's place, reader knows about john’s previous job, pre canon

You don’t know how you convinced John to go out dancing after dinner, maybe it was the bourbon that loosened him up, maybe it was the trail of kisses you left along his throat as you waited for a taxi. Either way, when the driver asked where to, John had said the name of some club nearby and you’d kissed him as a thank you.

Before long, you’re dancing to garish techno music, drink in hand. Bass rattling in your chest and your heartbeat in your throat as you sway and bob to the booming rhythm, all the while John keeps an eye on you from his seat at the bar. The neon lights strobing above occasionally illuminate him, drawing your focus to him past the throng of club goers every so often.

A few people come up and dance with you; a pretty woman with dark lipstick and a wicked smile, someone wearing a shimmery top you like so much you make the effort to all but scream over the music to ask where they got it, a man who offers you one of his glow-stick bracelets with such drunken enthusiasm you have to accept, laughing.

Eventually jumping in place and bobbing your head to the beat has sobered you up a little, but you’re still pleasantly warm and fuzzy around the edges, smiling as you head back to John. He reaches for you as you approach and you take his hand, squeezing it as a silent thank you for indulging you and waiting so patiently while you had your fun.

“Hello, handsome,” you lean in so close your lips brush his ear as you greet him, “Care to buy me a drink?”

You pull back in time to watch his lips tick up almost imperceptibly as he nods, signaling the bartender over and ordering your drink of choice. You kiss John’s cheek as a thank you and sit on the stool beside him, his heavy hand finding its place on your thigh, curving around you easily. The drink goes down smooth as you curl your free arm around his, suddenly giddy with happiness.

John turns your face to his with two fingers on the side of your chin, saying something you can’t quite hear but you can read his lips. You’re beautiful.

You let out a breathy little laugh that’s swallowed up by the music, heat rising to your cheeks as if it's the first time he’s ever complimented you. But you can’t help it, you cling to every carefully chosen word that falls from his lips.

“Thank you,” you don’t bother projecting, he knows, and he leans forward to kiss you.

The flavor of bourbon is still strong on his tongue but you don’t mind the sting. His hand on your waist reminds you of the same sensation earlier today. Both of you tangled in his expensive sheets, the sun hitting his face just right to light up his dark eyes into rich brown, his lips leaving kisses further and further down your body…

You break the kiss to press your cheek against his, “Wanna get out of here?”

John pulls back and gives you a look, almost amused, and you laugh as you watch the cogs turn in his mind. He takes a long, thoughtful sip of his drink, emptying the glass and setting it down along with enough bills to pay for your drinks and then some. A thrill of excitement runs through you as you hop down from the barstool and John takes your hand.

The crowd is dense but they seem to instinctively part for you two, a sea of drunken dancing split by nothing more than John Wick’s presence.

John rounds a corner out of nowhere right as you spot the exit, turning into somewhere quieter where the pounding bass turns into a pleasant thrum. You stumble into his back, disoriented by the sudden stop, but before you can question him, he spins, crowding you against the wall and kissing you. He kisses you with a surprising ferocity, a hot, hard press of lips with a small slip of tongue before he moves downward, kissing along the column of your neck as he palms your chest over your dress.

“John, what are you—?”

His hand is suddenly on your mouth, his palm to your lips as he orders, ��Quiet,” as if anyone would hear.

Being cornered by John Wick sends a thrill down your spine, you suddenly feel high on adrenaline, and you know that this is only a minute fraction of what the people he dealt with at work feel. Felt.

It’s not often you’re reminded he was out killing scores of people when you’d barely started high school. It’s a callus on his palm from gripping a gun, it’s old scars from blades and bullets, it’s the tattoos. The knowledge of it all, his strength, his age, makes this feel dangerous. Despite his past, maybe even because of it, you trust him. He’s never turned his deadly hands to you beyond giving you pleasure.

You purse your lips to kiss his palm and his eyes soften just a touch, his hand pulling back to trace your mouth with his thumb. You kiss the pad of it, both your eyes locked as you part your lips, pink tongue barely peeking over your bottom lip.

John lets out a small laugh as he feeds his thumb into your mouth, gently pressing down to feel the grooves of your teeth, the soft give of your tongue, “Don’t be too loud,” he whispers as his other hand pushes up your dress.

You squirm when he cups your pussy, deft fingers tracing the line of your slit over the fabric before he slips his hand into your underwear. The warmth of his fingers as he slides them between your folds makes you gasp. John never takes long to find your clit, he’s always been impatient when it comes to your pleasure.

“You’re wet,” he comments, a little breathy and pleased.

“It's your fault,” you whine around his thumb.

Both of you make a pleased noise when he slides two fingers inside you, slow enough to have you squirming with impatience. John relents easily, pumping into you a few times to find his rhythm of slow, steady pulses before curling his fingers just the way you like it, the way you always beg for, you have to hold your breath to stop an indecent noise from flying out of your mouth.

The laughs of some people passing by suddenly makes you remember you’re not alone. In fact, the two of you are quite exposed if someone takes a turn into the half-hidden halfway John had slipped you into. You gasp and lift your head to look at him, ignoring the fact that you feel yourself tighten up. John maintains eye contact as the voices draw closer and you blink, alarmed and aroused all at once. He stops pumping his fingers and you watch him make a decision. His fingers stay inside you, curled against the sensitive spot there as he presses the heel of his palm into your clit, giving you a single nod as you grind down into him.

“Yea,” he grunts, “That’s it.”

He takes his finger out of your mouth to cradle your head and press closer to you, hiding and muffling you as best he can as you shudder and press your face into his collar, moaning into it and breathing in his spiced cologne. The voices pass, leaving you both in semi silence and false seclusion. Your knees buckle, adrenaline making it feel all the more intense when your orgasm slices through you, shuddering and panting open-mouthed with your lips pressed onto whatever expensive fabric his suit is made of.

He murmurs something you can’t quite catch over the ringing in your ears before he pulls out of your still throbbing pussy, circling your clit a few times with soaked fingers until you whine. The loss of his fingers makes you feel impossibly empty but watching him lick his fingers clean of you is a fair consolation. He lets out a small laugh at the expression on your face but you can tell he’s got it bad too. You’re half sure that if no one had walked by he would’ve fucked you here, or at least could’ve been persuaded to in the club’s bathroom.

“Let's go home,” John says, leaning down to kiss you. His dark hair falling around both your faces gives the illusion of privacy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

The look he gives you when you palm him over his pants makes you sure that you can get away with fooling around in the back of the cab ride back to your shared apartment. A new song starts in the club as the two of you leave and it feels like heavy bass pours onto the street, sticking in your chest until your cab is hailed and you both slip inside.

It’s late and traffic is to be expected, but you don’t mind because you can curl into John’s side and have your fun. He lets out a soft hum and drapes an arm around your waist, his hand around you tightening when you begin to loosen his tie. You play innocent at first, trailing your fingers along the column of his neck and down his chest, kissing his jaw when he shoots you a curious look. The cab jumps on an uneven patch of the road and your hand slips further down, past his belt until you’re palming him over his dark pants.

You press a kiss to his neck when he stiffens, his strong hand tightening around your waist. A warning but not a sign to stop. His free hand curls into a fist as you trace the outline of his cock, rubbing your palm back and forth until he groans, low and deep enough for a car horn somewhere outside to drown the sound out.

John leans into you and utters a single word into your hairline, “Behave.”

Firm but not angry, far from it. You can’t help the smile that spreads on your face, but you obey and move your hand away, placing it onto a more appropriate position on your thigh until your ride is over.

John’s hand is a heavy comfort on the back of your neck as you walk into your building, at this hour you’re the only people in the lobby besides the doorman. The elevator ride up is mercifully quick and it feels like it only takes a blink for you and John to be stumbling into the bedroom, neither of you willing to break the kiss.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching at his scalp when he slides his tongue along yours. He pulls away panting and presses his forehead to yours, both of you breathing each other’s air. One of his hands follows the shape of your body upwards until he can touch your chest, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You let out a mix of a laugh and a moan as he pulls down the front of your dress, “I have some idea.”

John smiles against your lips as you kiss and he takes your tits in hand, holding the weight of them and squeezing gently. You sigh into his mouth when a callus scrapes your nipple, hardening it with each pass of his palm.

“John,” you moan, shifting in place as the throb in your clit becomes insistent.

He hums thoughtfully, “Turn around.”

You do without question, looking over your shoulder as he kneels behind you, his hands steady on your hips. When you feel his lips on the back of your knee, you jolt a little, his beard lightly scratching at the sensitive skin there, but you’re more prepared when he kisses your other leg. John follows the curves and lines of your legs with his hands first, kissing your skin every few inches and only stopping when he reaches the hem of your dress. When he stands and touches your shoulder blade you think he’s going to unzip you, but instead he pushes you forward onto the bed, bending you over as he bunches and pulls your dress up over your hips.

“John!” you gasp, a short laugh bursting from your lips.

“What?” he asks like he’s not peeling your underwear down until it drops around your ankles.

You make a noncommittal noise and wiggle your hips, the emptiness in your core beginning to become almost unbearable.

“You’re beautiful,” you can’t tell if it’s because of your heels, your dress bunched around your hips, or just the way your ass looks when you’re bent over— but you decide you don’t care when you feel his cock glide through your folds, gathering your slick and nudging your clit, “Fuck, look at you.”

“Please, John,” you plea softly, “Fuck me.”

That punches a groan out of him, you feel the head of his cock push inside as he takes your hand. He slides himself to the hilt inside you in one slick thrust and it knocks the wind from you both.

He sucks in a breath behind you and grips your hip with his free hand, his grasp firm as he starts to fuck you. John fucks into you deep and hard, rutting into you as pleasure washes over you both. You feel involuntary noises spilling from your mouth but you can’t think to stop yourself as you lose yourself in the rhythm of his thrusts.

“I love you,” he grunts, fingers tightening on your hip as he goes rigid, his cock kicking inside you.

You groan into the pillows when you feel the hot spill of cum fill you, twitching every time his hips roll forward and his cock knocks against something tender inside you. It feels like forever before he finally slides out. You both give twin groans at the feeling, but you’re placated by his kisses along your shoulders. You drop your weight onto the bed, ignoring the way John laughs under his breath, and mumble something in half hearted protest as he starts to unzip and slide your dress off you, unclasping your bra and slipping your heels off your feet before he lays in the space beside you.

“Let’s clean up,” he suggests, reaching for you as you shimmy closer to him.

“In a minute.”

Resting in the easy silence, John traces your hairline and you feel the mess between your legs spill onto your inner thighs, hot and sticky and satisfying. You sling your arm over him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt with uncoordinated fingers so you can feel him. Your fingertips follow old scars until your eyelids droop and you rest your hand on him, the beat of his heart comfortingly steady beneath your palm.

“We should go out dancing more often,” you sleepily murmur.

John kisses the top of your head, “Whatever you want.”

#john wick x reader #john wick smut #📝 — john wick #💒.txt

1K notes · View notes

mitsies · 4 months

Text

❊ a night to remember - dazai osamu . . you're a barista in the middle of a turf war. dazai is assigned to babysit.

the café you work at is nowhere near 'fantastic,' like the critics acclaim.

it's situated on a busy street corner, right next to an even busier airport. this draws an unfortunately large amount of new customers. you cringe thinking about the poor foreigners, unable or unwilling to purchase overpriced airport cuisine, who find refuge (and a meal) at your workplace. it must be an awful first experience in the country, you think.

despite the wealth your employers must've accumulated from an ever-rotating customer base, you don't think a single dime has ever gone towards improving the place. the outside seems nice enough, but the appliances are hardly functional. paint peels off the walls in the back, and the windows have long since been sealed shut. it gets way too hot in the summer. tables are rickety and every time someone takes a seat, you fear for their life. a small hole in the wall exists right by the entrance to the back, and sometimes when you go to close shop you hear skittering (which you pray is a mouse and not a ghost.) the good part about this, though, is that a little cat frequents your block around nighttime. she's the only reason you enjoy working at the joint, really, especially since it's open so unusually late, meaning you have to work stupid hours. who needs coffee and sandwiches at 10 at night?

you wonder how your shoddy little place of work has passed a single health inspection. you also wonder how you're still alive, because you're pretty sure that there is black mold growing in the storeroom. that, and the fact that you're all too often worked to the bone. your boss never does much, and your coworkers, though lovely people, take way too many sick days to be normal. you think the black mold may have gotten them. either that or they're lazy and love to see you suffer. more often than not, you're the only one working the busy café all day. that place would be a mess if it weren't for you, you like to believe.

it's an unusually slow night when the cat comes by to visit. she's a little thing, with a fluffy grey body and tiny white paws. her nose is a black button framed by white fur and long whiskers. you call her misty, like the character from pokémon.

you haven't gotten a customer in a while. you suspect it's because of the bad weather; your usual clientele of travelers are all seeking shelter within the airport, not daring to venture out quite yet. misty herself is dripping water all over the entrance of the café, but she's too cute for you to care. you walk out from behind the counter to pet her with the back of your hand. your skin comes away damp and covered in a thin layer of cat fur, which is a little gross but you've seen worse while working here. she meows. from your place by the door, you can see outside to the rain-soaked sidewalk. hard droplets of water pelt down like hail, staining the world a shade darker. you grimace, because there's no way you can walk home in this downpour.

"what do i do now, misty?" you stoop down to stroke the cat a little more. she purrs a little, and her long fur continues to stick to your hand in its dampness. nasty.

standing back up, you make your way to the back of the shop to rinse your hands in the sink. you aren't expecting anyone to come in at this point, not when it's this late, and not in this weather. you are proven very wrong when you hear the door creak open, and misty's meow before she scampers away to a far corner of the store.

plastering your best customer service smile on your face, you look up and move to the counter to greet the new arrival. you expect them to be a particularly brave traveler, and you imagine the mess of rainwater you'd later have to mop up off the floor. you are, however, pleasantly surprised by the sight of one of your favourite regulars. "oda!"

he's usually not in this late. but he gives you a small kind of smile as he closes the umbrella he holds and stores it in the designated area, bless him. you, to this day, wonder why he chooses to come to this raggedy little shop enough to be considered a regular. the coffee isn't that good, and the pastries are always a little dry, in your opinion. plus, it's just gross. maybe you're just a hypochondriac, though, because oda seems like a smart and sensible man who would not come to a café that would give him diseases. probably. you hope.

he's a kind, quiet person. you don't know much about him, if anything at all. he's got your name memorised and always greets you, and he tips well, and he asks about your day sometimes. you think he's sweet. maybe not smart, actually, if he keeps coming back. or maybe he's a health advisor coming to collect evidence to shut the place down— oh, you could only hope this is true.

misty, upon realising it's just oda, walks her little feet back over towards the entrance. the tall man bends over to pet the little cat, and for the first time, you catch sight of another person behind him. a boy. he's tall, or at least taller than you. but he doesn't look like much. a set of spindly limbs, bandages covering one eye, while the other is sunken and tired. a coat hangs loosely from his shoulders. you wonder if he's been eating enough. in a flash, though, his eyes connect with yours. it's brief, and awkward, and he stares straight into you like he can see through your skull into your thoughts. a shiver runs down your spine. he might look your age but there is something about him that tells you he has been around far too long, and seen enough for lifetimes. oda stands back up, cutting your view of the boy off. you readjust, trying to shake off the uncanny veil that's just descended on your little store. "your usual, oda?"

he smiles again. "please. thank you."

you dare look at the boy again. "and anything for you, sir?"

his gaze flickers back towards you. it's less heavy than before, but still, a force resides behind it. he hums and smiles. it seems hollow. you try to pay it no mind. "nope."

you nod briskly and go about preparing oda's drink. in your periphery, you watch the pair settle down by a table on the side wall of the shop, right against a big window. oda's back is facing you and you can feel his companion's eyes following your moves every so often. you try your best to ignore it, the way his eyes carry a pressure that drills into your skull.

it's 8:07 at night when oda gets a call. you aren't eavesdropping, but you don't miss the furrow of his brows and the vacancy that passes through his eyes. he'd probably leave soon. you purse your lips; might as well close once these two leave. they came in half an hour ago, and not a single soul had even passed out the door since.

sure enough, oda stands. he fishes around in his wallet for a crisp bill— another reason why he was your favourite regular, his tips never fell short— and gives you a polite, tight-lipped smile. the mystery boy follows suit. he doesn't spare you a glance, though, not until oda halts at the door as if something's just occurred to him. he turns back to the counter and calls your name. you look up from where you were wiping down some ancient appliances. "everything okay?"

he nods, and his head involuntarily falls to the side inquisitively. "how are you getting home tonight?"

you grimace. "i'm walking."

oda and the mystery boy exchange a look. you presume it's the heavy rain they're concerned about, so you pipe back in: "it's okay, though! i have a spare coat in the back. i think."

the boy gives you another look. like you're an idiot, like he knows something you don't. you'd wonder what was going on, but that was likely above your pay grade.

oda turns back to his companion. you hear them exchange words quietly, quiet enough to be drowned out by the rain still pouring outside. they are discussing far too intensely for it to be just about the rain. at the end of the spirited conversation, oda looks resolved, and the boy looks.. upset? disgruntled? he looks more his age, that's for sure. younger, even, like a petulant child. you would laugh if you weren't so on edge.

something is off. it's like the air in the shop has suddenly grown heavier by a hundred tons. it's suffocating. you are more excited than usual to close early and go home once these two finally make their exit. but then the boy sits back down. you fight the frown growing on your face.

oda is still standing. he takes the umbrella by the door and taps it against the entrance matt. clear flecks of rainwater fall down into the fabric like a small scale version of the downpour outside. he turns back to the boy, and then swivels to face you with a small, polite smile. "thank you for the drink. i hope you don't mind that my friend dazai is staying here for a while to avoid the rain."

you want to die. staying at your place of work for the next few hours until the official closing did not seem like an ideal night. mentally you mourn the night you planned to have when you got home early; goodbye to your cozy blanket, and warm bed, and movie and popcorn. but making coffee isn't that hard and you're basically paid to be nice and stay up late, so you just smile back and say, "no problem! we close at 10, and it'll probably have calmed down by then. probably."

oda nods and walks back out the door. misty meows at his heels, until he's out from under the overhang and gone from sight. faintly, you can see his silhouette blue-lit beneath streetlights, only if you squint. after a few beats, even the shadow of the man is gone.

you slump back down onto the counter, and then slide back up because you'd just cleaned it and now you'd have to do it again. a resigned sigh escapes past your lips, and you look up to see that the boy is looking at you. what was his name again? dazai? you somehow manage a nice-enough smile, looking back into his hollow eyes. he remains expressionless; it unnerves you, like a glass of cold water down your back. awkwardly, you begin, "do you... want anything to drink now? or eat? i'm going to have to throw all these out soon."

his heavy stare leaves you for only a second as you gesture vaguely to the display case of pastries. he looks like he considers it for a second before he smiles and says, "a chocolate croissant seems good!"

it's uncanny, the way the hollows of his eyes misalign with the tone of his voice. he sounds happy. he sounds young. but the way his joy is displayed is strange. it's a mirror. like he's only watched other people be kind and learned to imitate. as if he's pretending to be human. you can't look into his eyes anymore. instead, you turn to warm up the pastry without words.

when you move to bring the pastry to his table, you find dazai surveying the glass door, as if he is mesmerised by the rain still falling in heavy torrents. your plan is, originally, to slide the treat in front of him, smile and say nothing, and speedwalk away back to the counter and pretend to be busy cleaning until the stranger either a), leaves, or b), the rain stops and you can get out of here. however, it seems that misty has other plans. in a motion that you're sure she intends to be a show of affection and not a ploy to humiliate you, she runs in front of your legs and headbutts your ankle, causing you to trip over. you land with a less-than-gracious huff, and barely manage to pull yourself up from your stomach to your knees before you feel dazai's eyes back on you.

there is a small smile on his face, that creases his visible eye. you frown ruefully, and move to rise and apologize for the disruption. but to your surprise, he stands to help you up. his extended hand is slim. he has thin fingers, like wire, and a wrist wrapped in fresh, white bandages that show through his white button-down. his hands are just as cold as they look.

"graceful," he comments as he pulls you up. you purse your lips, choosing to ignore his comment.

"i'm sorry. i'll remake your food."

he considers you for a moment, looking you up and down. suddenly, you feel very seen. in a strange, unfamiliar way. you hope your apron isn't askew or messy. you hope you don't look as frazzled as you feel. why do you hope that?

"no worries!" and thank god he says that, because you truly are not in the mood to be doing much of anything. but you ask the obligatory, 'are you sure?' to which he just says, 'i'm sure,' so the whole conversation was redundant, really. shifting back to behind the counter, you begin to clean out the display case. and you're really finding yourself in a cleaning flow until dazai's voice breaks through your haze. he says your name. you're confused as to how he knows your name, until you realise you wear a nametag, and then you're just a little embarrassed as you reply, "yes?"

"does oda come here often?"

you glance up at him while wiping a shelf with a rag. he's not looking at you, rather staring back out into the rain. misty is approaching his table. she's usually shy; you wonder if she will let him pet her.

"often enough. he's usually here once or twice a week. never usually this late, though."

at your response, you see out of the corner of your eye as dazai shifts to face you, transfixed on the methodical motions of your hands cleansing the mess of the counter. he hums, "really?"

"yeah. he's one of my favourite regulars." and you almost leave it at that but your curiosity gets the better of you, and you ask, "what are you both doing out here at this time, anyways?"

dazai considers you. then he turns back away with a ghost of a smile. "business calls."

you can't help the look that crosses your face. what a tasteless answer. so dramatic. and then, something clicks. you blink. your area was under port mafia protection and recently, a rival group has been posing threats to it. it's never affected you, always in the western district of your area, so you've never really paid it much mind. you blink. so, this boy was affiliated with those groups. either the mafia or the rebels, but you're inclined to believe that it's the former because of his crypticness and the sheer amount of black he wears. (you're honestly a little surprised you didn't clock this sooner. no normal people dress like that.) your neurons are firing at a rapid pace, making connections. so... was oda in the port mafia too? your eye twitches. you have been serving a mafioso black coffee and almond muffins for months without knowing.

when you finally look back at dazai, he's watching you again. there's something like curiosity painting his expression, more than you've seen from the boy since he walked in. you're maybe perhaps a little shellshocked so all you can manage to ask is, "am i in trouble?"

he laughs an echoey, hollow laugh. you're embarrassed but also a little indignant because you think you have a right to know, maybe. "you haven't done anything. as long as i'm here you'll be fine."

your eye twitches again.

"so i am in trouble, then."

dazai frowns. "you have such little faith."

for a split-second you forget that he is a member of the most dangerous organization in all of yokohama and not just a boy your age, as you retort, "it's hard to have trust when the person left in charge of my safety looks like he weighs the same as my cat."

misty meows as if she understands you. dazai blinks. you blink back, before adding a tasteful, albeit a little uncomfortable, "with all due respect. sir."

and he smiles. it's a familiar one. faint smile lines appear, his left cheek creases deeply enough to dimple. it's a real, earnest smile. he looks young and alive like the boys at your school. he's cute, almost. you can't help but smile back, just a little. suddenly, you're thinking about his hand again, and how it felt in yours. you turn away with a light exhale and busy yourself with wiping down cases again.

"oda told me that he 'appreciated your sardonicism,'" dazai muses, "and i didn't know what he meant until now."

you turn the sink on and begin to sponge down various mugs. "thank you, i think."

"you're welcome."

menial conversation follows. dazai asks about your work, and you're glad he chose this topic, because really, you could complain about this establishment for hours if someone gave you the opportunity. he listens intently as you talk about your coworkers and manager, the abysmal pay, and the ghastly sanitary standards of the place. to this topic, dazai glances around and questions you.

"maybe you're a hypochondriac," he says, "it looks clean enough to me."

you stare at him, hands still in the sink, covered in suds. you blink. was he blind?

you're about to respond, when the door opens. you glance at the clock; 9:48. twelve minutes before closing. you're about to try and muster up the last of your energy to be the best barista you can be before dazai speaks first. "oda. you're back early."

thank god it's oda. you look up to see misty run to him purring, as he puts his umbrella down. "we finished up the..." he glances carefully up to you, "business early."

dazai waves a hand dismissively. "they know."

oda raises his eyebrows and looks at you. "you do?"

"i do," you affirm, "you keep less-than-subtle company."

"hey!"

you and oda both ignore dazai. the taller man addresses you instead, "then you should know that it's safe to go out for tonight. and the rain is stopping, too."

you exhale. it'd been easy to ignore how stressed you were about the 'dangerous situation' that you'd been told nothing about happening right outside your place of work. and then, it clicks; dazai was distracting you from all that on purpose with his torrent of questions. you look back at him. he simply smiles.

oda speaks again. "i'll be back tomorrow morning to check on things. get home safe."

turning to dazai, he states, "the car is waiting outside. take the umbrella."

his departure leaves three people in the shop, like it's been for the past hour; you, dazai, and misty the cat. so, two people, you guess. and you can't help the twinge of sorrow that makes itself known inside your chest at the fact that this may be the first and last night that you see him. the only thing you can say is, "it was nice to meet you, dazai."

he stands. misty makes a cat noise. he meets your eyes and there is something less than hollowness there. his smile seems more real than before.

"you'll see me again," he almost promises, as if he could read your mind.

"good," is all you have time to reply, before he is out the door. you bite the inside of your cheek to restrain the grin that is breaking out from across your face, "good."

flowers chosen: pink camellia & forget-me-not . . longing for you & don't forget me

❊ send a request! ❊ 5k masterlist ❊ event info ❊

#i have not touched bsd in so long i am sorry ..#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #reader insert #mitsies 5k #insp by “a night to remember” by laufey & bea <3 #this was gonna be longer and more dramatic but i had to cut it off bc too long!

147 notes · View notes

ausfortheheart · 7 months

Text

lust life - SIRIUS BLACK

(sirius black x female!reader)

summary: you've been hooking up with james potter over the summer, but when you return to hogwarts you find yourself drawn to his best friend. you've adamantly hated sirius black throughout your school years, and you're sure the feeling's mutual... or you were

warnings: sexual references, strong & suggestive language, description of injuries including blood, cuts and bruises, 14+

other parts:

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3 (current)

PART THREE

The bold red and gold letters were unbearably obnoxious- something like this had Gryffindor written all over it. The bright colours were in stark contrast with the dark greens and black tones of the Slytherin common room. You didn't even have to walk up to the noticeboard to read the massive words plastered across.

'INTER-HOUSE PARTY

WHERE : gryffindor common room

WHEN : friday

TIME : 10 PM

(any snitches will be hexed- courtesy of Sirius Black)

You scoffed at the last part, looking around. no-one seemed to be particularly interested and neither were you.

Upon closer look, you saw rips and tears on the sides of the poster. Whoever had placed it there must have used a permanent sticking charm to prevent anyone from taking it down.

You left the room, rolling your eyes.

On the way to detention you stared aimlessly at your feet whilst you walked, completely submerged in your thoughts. A certain gryffindor boy weaseled his way into your mind. Sirius Black- the reason that you were currently headed to Filch's office on a day when you could be doing Charms homework, or spending time with your friends instead.

So when you felt a hand on your shoulder you spun around so suddenly you almost tripped over your feet. Two strong arms held you steady, as you met a familiar pair of green eyes.

"James?" You asked quizzically, glancing around to see if anyone was looking, "What happened to making sure no one saw us together?"

Still chuckling at how startled you had been, he quickly ushered you into a broom cupboard. You were fairly certain a second year had witnessed the two of you do so.

After the amused look on his face had finally faded away, the both of you just stared at eachother awkwardly. Just as you were about to ask why he was making you late to detention, James took a deep breath.

"I have feelings for Lily." He blurted out.

You weren't sure what you'd been expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn't that. You stared at him for a second, confused about the momentary wave of relief that washed over you.

James looked at you uncertainly, unsure of how you'd react. You'd suspected for a while. A long time, actually. And James' feelings for Lily Evans simply didn't bother you. Perhaps because you had known your time together was coming to an end anyway; the passion the two of you used to have was gradually ebbing away. The boy opposite you jumped as you began to speak, knocking the dusty cleansweep by his arm onto the floor with a loud clatter.

"Cool." You shrugged, "It was fun while it lasted Potter." And you left, leaving James in the dark with a pleasantly surprised look on his face.

It contorted into one of shock as Remus slipped in not even seconds after you'd left.

He looked sickly pale. His footsteps were small, and he moved slowly.

"Erm.." James sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "Shouldn't you be resting, Moony?"

But Remus ignored him, "(Y/n)? Really? Out of all people- the one person your best friend despises?" Despite his weakened state, Remus defiantly crossed his arms, "Don't you think he deserves to know?" But James had already stepped out of the cupboard, and was lingering by the open door.

He gestured to his friend's frail figure, "You need to be resting, it isn't healthy for you to be up, especially not when it's almost time." He paused, "And anyways, it's over." James shrugged, "It was just a fling, and now we're going our separate ways."

"Are you sure Sirius will see it that way?" Remus inquired knowingly, but James had already left.

⚜

"Your wand, (L/n)." Filch snapped, snatching it the second you pulled it out of your robes. You raised a hand towards the doorknob hesitantly, the grime on it so thick that what you imagined had used to be a shimmering gold, was now a dull grey.

Filch glared, "What're you waiting for then?"

The caretaker's threatening glare encouraged you to open the door and enter. Filch immediately closed the door behind you. As you grudgingly looked around the room, it became clear that it must've been used for storage. Boxes were stacked up the walls, the air was stale, and the only source of light came from the full-moon which illuminatined the room through a large, floor length window opposite.

You groaned, checking the likely broken clock on the wall. Black was late, which wasn't suprising, but you knew that to clean this place without magic you'd need an extra pair of hands.

Heading to the moudly cardboard box closest to the door, you opened it up, coughing as dust billowed in your face. The contents seemed to be random trinkets that didn't have any practical function. Great, you thought to yourself, setting to work.

An hour passed. 9 pm. Black still hadn't turned up.

As time slipped by, not only had you finally realised that Black wasn't going to come, but also that Filch had locked you in.

The room was pitch black by the time Filch opened the door. Mrs Norris stalked inside as Filch took a look around, candle held high. Once he was satisfied with the cleanliness of the room he gestured for you to leave, reluctantly handing back your wand as you did so.

The hallways were dark and quiet. Even the portraits' inhabitants were asleep as you headed back to the Slytherin common room. You were exhausted, covered in dust and grime with aching limbs, but only one thing was on your mind.

The fact that Black had bunked that definition made you almost shake in anger. It was now midnight. You had spent four hours cleaning that room, and the person who had gotten you into the situation couldn't even be bothered to show up. Engulfed in spite and bitterness, you didn't notice the person ahead until you crashed into them.

"Sorry." You grumbled, prepared to walk past when you suddenly realised who it was.

"(L/n)?" Sirius Black stuttered in shock, as your wide eyes took in his appearance.

His hair was matted, and stuck to the sweat beaded on his forehead. A deep gash was just above his cheekbone; red glittered his face.

You stumbled backwards, hand shakily rising to your mouth, "Oh-- oh my god--"

Black looked at a loss for words, "I-- uh--"

"We've got to take you to Madam Pomfrey," you stated urgently, all previous anger dissipated in an instant, "you stay here, I'll go get--"

"No!" Black snapped, causing you to jump. His eyes were bloodshot, and were full of such a desperation that you had never seen before. Then, in a much more subdued and pleading tone, "She can't--" He rubbed his forehead, and you noticed his hands were coated in blood, "--no one can know."

You hesitated.

"No one." He emphasised, still tense, unsure whether you'd make a run for it or not.

Shaking your head in disbelief, your mind snapped into action, "Fine. Come with me."

Taking his elbow, you began to lead him away.

"(L/n) I don't have the time--"

You stopped so abruptly that Black crashed into your back.

"Listen to me," You faced him, eyes practically blazing, "You are going to come with me, and I am going to help you because I swear to god I refuse to be the one responsible if you're discovered tomorrow morning dead." Your breathing was heavy with adrenaline as he stared back at you silently.

"Okay?!" You snapped without meeting his eyes, immediately beginning to tug him again.

"Okay!" He said exasperatedly, "but it won't help if you tear my bloody arm off!"

"I ought to do just that after you left me in a four hour detention to clean up some disgusting room by myself." Ignoring his protests and unsympathetic apologies, you pulled him inside a room you often frequented, but with a different boy.

"Is this the prefect's bathroom?" Black raised an eyebrow as you pushed him down onto the toilet seat. Ever since you and James started having regular meet-ups, he had given you the password to enter the Prefect's Bathrooms. Apparently it hadn't been changed yet.

You nodded, quickly wetting a tissue and wiping off the blood from his face before taking out your wand. Black sank into silence as you worked, but his pained expression and sharp intakes of breath whenever you dabbed at a cut didn't escape your notice.

Brushing aside a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead, you murmured "Episkey!"

And the gash on his cheekbone quickly closed up.

"Where'd you learn that?" Black asked in awe, absentmindedly running a hair through his thick hair.

"Just because you don't pay attention during Charms doesn't mean everyone else doesn't." You stated, looking up briefly from rolling up his trouser. He had leaned back with a wolfish grin on his face, and you briefly revelled in how someone could look so handsome so effortlessly, before snapping back to your senses.

"Immature prick." You sighed, moving your hands down to the bottom of his shirt. It was soaked in blood. Peeling it up cautiously, you bit the inside of your cheek as you saw the wounds littering his abdomen.

"Didn't realise you were so eager to undress me," He smirked, as you instantly withdrew your hands in disgust.

"Can you not give it a rest for one second ?!" You snapped.

From then on he stayed silent, opting instead to rest his head against the cold wall and close his eyes. You began to murmur charms, working on each open wound until most of them were gone. The deeper ones would inevitably scar. His smooth skin felt warm against your fingers, and you observed how his muscles tensed whenever you accidentally brushed against them.

You began to wish you hadn't said anything.

After a few more anxious minutes, you sat back. There would definitely be some bruises the next day, but without a professional healer there was really nothing that could be done.

The silence was so prominent between the two of you, and your thoughts so loud, that you began to wonder whether he in fact could hear them. But Black made no semblance of opening his eyes or moving, and you wondered whether he really had fallen asleep. You cleared your throat to let him know you'd finished.

His dark eyes fluttered open, and you stared at the bruises forming under his eyes. Without much thought, you lifted your fingertips and brushed his right eyelid. Whatever had happened, it was no normal courtyard fight. These injuries had to be supernatural.

"I'm sorry." You whispered finally, fingers dropping as you began to tap them against the cold tiles on the floor.

He stared intensely, and you struggled not to squirm.

"I don't mind it when you touch me." He said bluntly, causing you to get flustered.

"No-- I meant--"

Sirius Black looked as though he could laugh, causing you to descend into an ashamed silence as he spoke, "Oh about yesterday? I deserved it I--"

"--about what happened at the Malfoy's." You interrupted, finally making eye contact, "I didn't know."

He stayed silent, but Sirius' grey eyes resembled a storm, the emotion so prevalent you found yourself lost in in them. His eyes bore into yours as you sat there, with bated breath, unsure whether he understood to what you were referring.

"I judged you. Unfairly. Just like Elizabeth did to Darcy..." You trailed off, cringing at what you had just said- internal monologue was internal for a reason.

Besides, he had likely forgotten and was probably wondering if you'd had too much pumpkin juice to drink during lunch.

You attempted to salvage your apology, "At the Chrismas ball, in the--""

"--in the broom cupboard." He almost smiled, eyes twinkling as he remembered your first proper encounter. As though it was a happy memory shared between two childhood friends.

"I'm sorry." You repeated, and he smiled so broadly, radiantly, that you couldn't help but blush, cheeks aching as you both began to laugh.

⚜

Everything seemed to shift. Much to the majority of Hogwarts' students' shock, you and Sirius began to be civil to one another. You exchanged smiles when passing in the corridor, you laughed when he pulled a prank in class, you even walked to Potions with him at the beginning of third period the following day. People couldn't seem to believe that a Gryffindor and a Slytherin who had despised eachother for years had suddenly begun to exchange niceties.

When Friday finally came around, Serafina couldn't contain her suspicions. Fully aware of what the gossips in Hogwarts could be like, she hadn't wanted to offend you by believing the talk of the school. You hadn't yet told her about what had happened that day - only about you and James breaking it off - and so she was desperate to know what had changed between you and Sirius.

Eyes practically shining as the two of you sat underneath the large oak tree in the courtyard, you started to explain everything that had happened when Sera cleared her throat. Her eyes were focused curiously on something behind you.

Turning around, you grinned as you saw Sirius nearing you.

You waved as he stopped roughly a metre away from you. He didn't return it.

Lowering your hand slowly, you noticed something had changed in his demeanour.

All of a sudden James was at his side, out of breath as though he had been running, eyes wide in...

fear?

"Don't do this mate," He began to beg uselessly, as you glanced around in confusion, students had begun to gather around, "She didn't--"

"Tell me." He began in a low voice, as James looked at anywhere but you, "for how long exactly you've been fucking my best friend."

hi loves!

i had so much fun writing this chapter! hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing<33

as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts<3

- L

taglist ;

@cumslutforaemond @blackst0nes7077 @s0vval @starsval @ttulipwritezz @xreaderbooksreads @thewiselionessfantasy @willows-lane @kieyriez

___

these works are the property of ausfortheheart

all written content is mine, do not steal, plagiarise, or publish any of my works without my permission

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #themarauders #the marauders era #james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin #harry potter x reader #harry potter #enemies to lovers #hogwarts

274 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 4 months

Text

I’m pleasantly surprised that people are actually requesting for this show. When I published my first Hc’s about the wolves, I really wasn’t sure how successful that would be.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, manipulation, gaslighting, s/o being monopolized, forced relationship, jealousy, isolation

Imprinting on Bella’s step-sister

You're the biological child of Phil Dywer and ever since he has married Renée, she has become your step-mother. You are happy for him because he genuinely seems to love her, even though his job requires him to travel often. You and your step-sister Bella see how much Renée misses her husband and Bella soon tells you that she has decided to move back to Forks to her biological dad in hopes and asks you if you would like to come with her. She explains to you that with the both of you living in Forks, Renée might be able to travel with Phil and could spend more time with him. You realize that she has the best in mind for her mother but you hesitate because whilst you know Charlie a bit, he isn't the father with whom you have grown up. On the other hand you also know that Renée can't tag along with her husband because of the both of you still being minors and you also know that your father and your new step-mom miss each other terribly whenever the both of them are separated from each other.

Bella proposes the idea one evening when the entire family is present because she kind of knows that it would be harder for you to explain yourself if only your new mother is in the house. You're still somewhat unsure about everything but Bella is already determined and you also wish for both of your parents to be able to spend more time together so hesitantly you confirm that you would like to tag along with Bella. Renée feels guilty when she realizes why the both of you are doing this, especially since Phil id your real father which makes this even harder for you. She tries to tell the both of you that everything will be fine and that she doesn't mind but Bella's mind is already set and you pull yourself together too. Your father is saddened by the news but decides to respect your wishes and instead see it as a good opportunity for you to brighten your prespective and meet new people.

Charlie is nice to you when both of you arrive in Forks, although you still feel a tad bit more awkward than Bella who seems comfortable because this is the father she has grown up with. You do your best to not show your hesitance and your nervousness though because Charlie is a good man. You come to realize soon that Bella herself seems to have troubles adjusting to Forks and the new school due to her quiet and introverted nature. Both of you just stick together in the beginning since both of you already know each other and are step-sisters anyways. Luckily both of you soon find your own group of friends and you start feeling more comfortable. At the same time though, Bella starts gravitating to the mysterious Edward who, as Jessica tells you, is together with his adopted siblings quite the mystery in the entire school. Although you have a bad feeling about him, you don't stop Bella.

You are introduced to Edward around the same time, a childhood friend of Bella as you soon find out, and you quickly notice that he is clearly in love with Bella. Your sister on the other hand only sees him as a good friend and you are just as aware of the fact that she already loves Edward. You can't help but think that Jacob appears to be the better choice though. He's sweet, protective and above all he looks normal. You subtly try to hint to Bella that he would be the safer choice but she ignores everything you say as she reacts quickly defensive as soon as you even mildly say anything against Edward. In favor of not causing a rift between the two of you, you give up and try to accept Edward. This is harder than expected though because Bella starts getting constantly in danger as soon as she involves herself with him and the Cullens. You can't help the sliver of bitter resentment when Bella breaks her leg and suddenly distances herself from you, more secretive than ever.

She always reassures you that everything will be fine throughout everything and you swallow all your strong dislike back. Only for Edward to disappear, leaving your step-sister broken and empty. If you could, you would slap him good across his stupid face as you try to support your sister and pick up the broken pieces as good as you can. You even contact Jacob snd inform him about her current status in hopes that by spending time with him, she might start feeling better. He latches onto this chance and you're all up for it, respect his wishes when he asks you if he can have some time alone with Bella. He's trying his luck now and whilst you aren't sure anymore if that will be of any use because of Bella's strong infatuation with Edward, you do what you can. Then he suddenly pulls back too and you are flabbergasted, can't believe that he would have done something like this to Bella.

You try to assist Bella to find him only for her to ask you to stay out of this. That's the first time you get really mad at her to the point of yelling because you're so frustrated. Frustrated because you know that she tries to keep something a secret from you despite you being her step-sister. Does she not trust you? She flinches, tries to make herself small as you get vent your emotions out but remains firm in her decision to keep you out of her business. It's too dangerous, you shouldn't get involved. Her own hypocrisy flies cleanly over her own head. You calm at least a bit down when she tells you that she's gotten back in contact with Jacob, explains briefly that he was having a hard time. You don't want to see the bastard's face anymore though as you wonder why Bella always has to be involved with such guys.

The final piece that breaks you is when Bella abruptly leaves and flies to Italy without giving you any explanation, although you see her with one of the Cullens. Not even Charlie can tell you clearly why she left and that is when you finally explode and storm to Jacob's house after getting the address from Charlie. Billy opens the door surprised after hearing your consistent pounding and ringing as you don't even let him have the first word, instantly asking him if Jacob is at home. He tries to stop you as you forcefully get in his house, vivid and ready to shake answers out of Jacob. Because you have a good feeling that he knows what's up with everything that has happened to Bella recently. He's most likely even directly involved. He's in the kitchen, a mug of hot beverage in his hands as he hears the loud noises and sees you storming through the door out of the corner of his eyes.

You demand answers from him, insist that you have the right to know what is going on with your sister. You notice that he looks very different. His long hair cut short and you even notice a tattoo on his arm and wonder if he has joined some sort of delinquent group. You can't help but feel disappointed because you genuinely trusted him with Bella only for him to abandon her too. Why is your sister surrounded by shitty men like that?? You glare at him, growing even more frustrated when you realize that he doesn't even turn around to look at him and start angrily yelling at him. You say some hurtful stuff to him within the passion of your anger, notice from the corner of your eyes how Billy looks increasingly worried and even scared as he tries to stop you but you're too caught up in your own frustration.

His hand clenches into a fist and you notice that he starts to tremble slightly but finally he turns around to look at you as you've successfully managed to make him unable to ignore him. You're prepared for him to get angry with you but the moment his eyes meet yours, you hear him gasping as he suddenly drops the mug in his hands, the object shattering as soon as it hits the ground as the hot liquid spills on the ground. You flinch in surprise, stare down at the broken cup only to look back at him confused only to find his gaze glued to you. He looks as if he is in a daze, a dreamy and reverent shine in his eyes as he stares at you. All traces of bitterness and anger vanish from his face as he steps forward to you. You stand still in your place, majorly confused with his sudden shift of behavior. Billy's face on the other hand has lit up with realization as he looks up at you with shock and surprise.

You have no idea what is going on as Jacob suddenly stands right in front of you, one of his hands suddenly grabbing your own hand. He’s really warm as you notice but that’s besides the point. He asks you softly if you’d like to stay for a bit and it weirds you out. What is going on? It’s like he has just forgotten about everything you just yelled at him. You look confused at his father but he still seems to be quite in shock from whatever realization he just had. Jacob seems to want to bring you into his room until you blur out that he still spilled his mug all over the floor and that you should probably clean it up. You’re just searching for an excuse to get away from him as his sudden shift in behavior scares you. He quickly tells you that he’ll do it though and that you can just sit down in the kitchen in the meantime, his eyes showing his eagerness to have you within his reach.

The following days feel surreal to you. It’s like he’s forgotten all about Bella and instead has latched onto you all of a sudden. You don’t get any answers out of him either although he promises you that he’ll tell you, even claiming to you that Bella will probably never tell you. His promises manage to keep you close and he knows that which is why Jacob uses it as manipulation. His previous love for Bella is all but forgotten as you are his real imprint and his body is filled with blissful delight. He dedicates himself to stick close to you, visits you countless times whilst using the trust Charlie has with him to lure you out of your room. He tells Charlie that he’s worried about you because of Bella’s sudden absence and would like to try to cheer you up. To your dismay Charlie decides to believe him because he is also concerned about you and you can only reject Jacob that often until Charlie starts getting suspicious.

When Bella returns with Edward, you notice Jacob’s good mood dropping rapidly. Shouldn’t he be happy that Bella is back? You want to greet Bella happily for finally returning although you’re still mad with Edward. It never gets that far though as you’re suddenly pulled back by Jacob who wraps his arms tightly and protectively around you. You glance up confused and feel your breath hitching in your throat when you see the hateful and resentful glare he gives both of them. Edward’s eyes widen a tad bit in surprise, you don’t know why but he also seems to realize something as his face reminds you of Billy when he seemed to notice something you didn’t. At least Bella is in the same boat as you as she looks at Jacob confused. When she tries to approach you, he sneers at her to stay back, his voice dripping with anger and spite that you never thought would come from him. What is wrong with him? Bella is his friend! Edward steps protectively in front of Bella as both men glare at each other.

You don’t understand what is going on as Jacob suddenly blames Bella for keeping you away from him, accusing her that she just wants to see him suffer but that this won’t happen anymore. He sounds like a paranoid maniac as he throws those accusations at her and Bella and you exchange confused and frightened looks as Jacob keeps you as close to him as possible before dragging you away from both of them. As soon as the both of you are alone and you try to collect your racing mind, he suddenly demands of you to stay away from both of them. They’re trouble for you, with him you’re much safer. You stare at him before shakily asking you what is going on. Your meek tone softens his harsh features as he embraces you and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead, promising you that everything will be fine now. You have him.

From that day on Jacob becomes unbearable. He’s always spending his time with you and his attitude is terrible. He’s hostile and aggressive around everyone around you, his mood quickly spoiled as soon as you ignore him for one freaking minute in favor of chatting with one of your friends. He’s rude and salty with them, completely ignores your feelings as he scares them away and manages to make them avoid you. Worst of all is that as soon as you lash out at him, he starts crying and begging you to not leave him and abandon him like Bella did. He loves you! He can’t live without you! Everything leaves you with a major headache, you don’t understand anything coming from his mouth. In what way did Bella abandon him? You attempt to ask Bella about it but she tells you that Jacob will probably tell you soon enough, her eyes avoiding yours as if she’s guilty of something. You don’t get much time to spend with Bella as Edward keeps her away from you and has her avoiding you just as much as Jacob makes sure that you stay away from those two. They’re bad influences after all.

Eventually he brings you along to one of the private meetings of his tribe. You initially want to reject and flee from him by locking yourself up in your room but when he tells you that tonight he’ll tell you everything, you have no choice. You notice that a lot of his other friends have the same tattoo as them as they welcome you. Jacob keeps you protectively close to him the entire time. It’s on that night that you find out everything you thought only existed in fairy tails. You have troubles looking Bella into her eyes after that, almost feel betrayed by her as you find out about her plans to turn into a vampire and for never telling you anything. The news of that Jacob imprinted on you and that it is physically painful for a shapeshifter to stay away from their imprint shackles you to him, forces a responsibility on you that ties you to him. Jacob seems satisfied though. He has you all for himself after all. That’s everything he ever wanted.

#yandere twilight #yandere jacob #yandere jacob black

130 notes · View notes

baby-jaguar · 5 months

Text

Part 1: Meeting John Price

Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope

WC: 3,131 CW: None

AN: My beloved! John Price! Would love to hear your thoughts and comments, as well as any questions. I hope ye enjoy <3

Please see the following for the explanation and precursors to the scene!

Introduction, Biography

--------

Truthfully, you’re glad you didn't have many friends in town, as it meant no one to share unnecessary secrets with, nor did it spread any word of what you were up to in your free time.

However, that isn’t to say that you trusted at least some people in the small town you lived in, such as your boss.

A scapegoat for you to write your correspondence letters was that you simply had to stay late on the farm, working extra long hours because of something that was messed up, or because you knew your parents wouldn’t argue with the fact that you were getting more money.

Feeling that you were a decent enough candidate for John to consider since you are working as a farm hand already, you decided to write your first correspondence the next day. Once sent, you received a letter back from him four days later and by god, did he sound like such a gentleman.

You were able to soon confide in him on how you wanted to leave town, start fresh, but stick with what you know since you did work on the well-known “Loyal Laswell Farm,” and help out around their farmhouse with common jobs such as sewing, cooking, and even making a dirty barn looked organized- a man’s dream spouse.

With only two weeks passing and less than a handful of letters to be traded, you already had money and an open invitation to John’s ranch. Through your correspondence, John stated that he had already known of Kate Laswell, her having been a long ago buyer from him and even she had sought out advice on taking care of her lambs long ago.

John connected the dots and realized that you were the trusty youngling that she hired early on; He already trusted your morale if Laswell had kept you after all this time. (And if Laswell did gloat about you once in a while, that was a secret between her and John.) After finding out about the mutual connection, you confided in her.

Kate, already knowing of your family’s vices, was pleasantly surprised by your major turn of life events and how quickly your fate had been granted to you in the form of Price. She made sure your head was screwed on straight enough that if it didn’t work out, you could mail her and she would help you figure it out from there…

Kate’s wife chimed in and said you and Price would be a great fit.

The two women gave their aid to you in the form of gifting you your favorite horse to ride off on during your long journey. You only brought a handful of items from your parent's house, slowly, and used the remaining amounts of wardrobe you kept at the farm to pack up. With two bags packed and some food, feed, a gun being courtesy of Laswell’s wife, and a celebratory pack of cigars for John (Kate’s wedding gift), you were on your way.

It only took you a week by horseback, luckily traveling near the Oregon Trail that had already had sorted paths cleared and lived-in, you only needed to stop when you and your horse did. You were able to send John updated letters, but were not able to receive them due to constantly being on the move. This left you daydreaming about him.

John wrote that he is originally from Deadwood, South Dakota. He comes from a long line of lawmen and followed in their footsteps in his early adult life. However, as John became sheriff and notorious for his hardened but fair demeanor, he began to see the justice system slip through the cracks right in front of him. Murderers would walk away and many left unjustly prosecuted in other cases. It angered and dwelled on him so much that he retired early on. John soon found his solace in the quiet mountain town of Pitkin, Colorado. John describes himself as a proud man who is protective and respectful, an old soul who loves his whiskey - and is looking for his strawberry wine. He is a weathered man who can fix any problems of yours, all at the cost of a shoulder to lean on and someone to spend the rest of his days with.

Coming into Pitkin, it brings forth a small town nestled within luscious green mountains and a strip of shops down the main road that highlights most of the town's activity. Riding through, you were an obvious sight to be had; a new face set out on a horse with minimal bags packed on the back. You didn’t seem like a traveler, no, you seemed like someone who was on a mission to find something- someone.

Smiling and giving small nods towards those who stare, your cheeks have a faint blush from the attention as you ride down the strip and toward the end of the town. Soon, the signs have a label of a bull, a common connotation of a ranch, causing you to garner up a bit more hope and hold your head high as you click your horse into a canter.

The sound of your horse's hooves thundering on the ground cannot beat the thrum of your heart; riding over the hill, you’re greeted with a breathtaking view of the Alpine mountains that dip into a valley with an absurd amount of leveled planes that make you believe the land was spread flat by an inviting entity. Your eyes come into focus on small black dots that move before you make out to be the shape of cattle grazing across the green and flowing grass.

There sits a house atop the hill that is before the dip of the valley, where a fence surrounds a large barn that is directly adjacent to the house. You bring your horse to a slow walk as you take in the view of the wooden house; it's a cabin-styled home but large in the additions that have been formed around the sides, making it one of the bigger houses in town. The barn rivals its size by double, and the open stalls along the side let you glimpse into the hay-filled homes of horses that linger near the fences. You have to do a double take when you see movement in the barn that is all too human-like, then pulling the reigns of your horse once a few feet away from the entrance to stop and watch.

A man stands, low grunts leaving him as he stretches his back before grabbing a hay bayle and beginning to break it up. He wears a worn-out pair of jeans and a cowboy hat as his low whistling breaks the silence between the surrounding horses neighing at your new appearance. In an instant, you know immediately this is John.

To your surprise, your horse greets the others in a sharp jeer of noise, causing him to turn around in surprise his eyes dart up at you.

For a second, you’re humored at the look he gives, not expecting something so sweet as you to ride into his ranch and most likely expecting someone within the town to come to bother him.

But in an instant, he knows exactly who you are.

After his shock wears off, he sets down the hay and reaches up to take his cowboy hat off and place it on his chest as he walks toward you. Letting out a low whistle, his eyes roam over you with an enamored stare. “God was just showin’ off when he made you, sweetheart.” Comes the low timbre of his voice, sending a small fire of desire shimmying through your vertebrae.

A soft smile graces your face in return, halting your horse for the time being as he comes up to you. “Good morning sir, would I be right to assume that you are John Price, the owner of this ranch?” You ask after a moment of your eyes trailing over him, taking in his face and ice-blue eyes while he approaches to help you down from your horse.

“That I am, Sweetheart. And I suppose you’re the one that I’ve been lookin’ so forward to meetin’, that right?” He asks in return, a small smirk taking his lips while he helps you lower down from the saddle. You smile at the extended hand, taking it as you swing your opposite leg out of the stirrup while feeling the touch of his other hand coming to caress your hip in a gentle fashion.

"I hope you've been as comfortable as one can be on a week-long ride," John comments softly, keeping his hand on you once you're firmly planted on the ground as his eyes scan you from head to toe. "How you feelin’?" He asks sweetly, now finding your eyes with genuine affection in his tone.

In response to his lingering touch on your hip, and feeling it travel to your waist with a brief squeeze before he lets it fall, you give him a small squeeze of the hand you're holding to. “Not too shabby; was able to get a room a few of the nights along the way. I’m thankful for the good weather I had while getting here.” You respond as you shift your saddle-sore hips for a moment and reorient your limbs to standing.

"You're not so shabby yourself, sweet thing'." He compliments softly as he releases you, then grabs your horse’s bridle and releases the bit before attaching his own lead to it, and a small feeling of surprise crosses your mind at how easily he handles new horses. Then, gesturing for you to follow him. "Come on. Let me show you around." John leads with comfortable confidence, letting your horse sniff him while leading him to an open stall with some water and feed.

“Thank you for letting me bring my stallion here, Laswell gifted him to me when I was sayin’ goodbye. Said you may remember him from when he was a foal?” You prompt with a tilt of curiosity at the edge of your words while you join them in the stall to unload your bags and take the saddle off.

Looking back towards him, his eyes are looking over the horse for any identifiers, hints that would make him remember. “Not quite sure I remember this one, sweetheart. He got a name?” John asks in response once finished doing a sweepdown of his mane and a quick swipe of his hair coat.

“Laswell said he’s always been named Captain.” You answer curtly, now looking to see his reaction, if any.

It takes a moment for you to narrow in on the way the left side of his mustache twitches slightly before he breaks out into an all-out smile. “Well, I’ll be damned…” John trails out as he moves back towards Captain's head.

His blue eyes shine in the light of the barn windows, meeting yours for a moment while a boyish charm takes over his face. “This slick bastard got you all the way over to me?” John speaks with a gruffness that intertwines with amusement; the way his hands move to rub over the horse's forehead and nose showcases a glimpse of a gentle side reserved for his animals.

As you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, John catches your expression and gives a hearty chuckle in response. “I helped birth this one the day that Kate came up here to buy some lambs. Her wife was cryin’, thinking that him and his momma were gonna die.” He answers before moving to give Captain a pat on his chest, a huff of his breath coming out in response.

“He had both him’s front legs back during contractions. Had to help the mare by pushing his fat head on in to get him to readjust. Kate and her wife saw the whole thing.” He finishes with a hum and a distant look in his eyes only for a second, now coming back to your side and picking up a bag of yours.

“This all you got? Woulda expected a bit more from a woman movin' out west, especially to the cold mountains.” He states with a cocked eyebrow, eyeing as you bend down to hoist the remaining bag over your shoulder. You both give Captain a farewell tap before exiting the stall and heading towards Johns's house.

You wait on replying for a moment as you take a longer look at the structure, noting the wooden panels that exude a warm and weathered patina, a testament to the house's endurance against the harsh elements of the wild. The front features a symmetrical facade, with a steeply pitched gable roof that displays a combination of wooden shingles and iron accents. Windows are evenly placed on the front-facing sides of the house, and shutters open to allow glimpses into the inside.

“Didn’t have a lot to bring if I’m being honest. Just packed up what I liked and wanted, then left.” You answer with a confident nod, leaving it at that. “I did plan on finding some new or old fabrics to start making winter coats for myself.” You add on quickly, thinking over how quickly the chill must set in within the mountain valley.

You follow John onto the front porch of the house, “Ah, you do some of that fancy work or just plain work?” He inquires while gesturing for you to step inside the entrance. You’re greeted by a spacious entryway, designed to be practical and modest. The floors, made of polished wide planks, creak softly under the added weight of yourself next to John, a new soul to provide protection to in the house.

To the front of the entryway, is his living room, its centerpiece being a grand stone fireplace, providing warmth and comfort during the chilly evenings. Leather upholstered furniture invites warmth to the house, and you can see a good amount of hides used as a rug and even a throw blanket over the couch, while ornate coffee cans and some intricately shaped vases linger around the surfaces.

The sound of your mouth opening and closing resonates in the silence of you two standing there before John shuts the door softly behind you and ultimately snaps you out of your daze. “Um, just some plain work. Never had the time or materials to work on some fancy clothes, would rather make things I know I’m gonna use.” You answer while moving to face adjacent to where he stands in front of the door.

His eyes track your own as your attention comes back to rest on him, a small smirk tugging on the edge of his mouth. With a quick laugh, he moves to place his left hand along your back, his cold fingers sliding to the place between your shoulders. “Welcome home, Sweetheart.” He smiles while speaking softly, leaning over to place a light kiss atop your head.

When he moves back from your space, which you want to ultimately follow as you feel his warmth radiate next to you and already adore the way his voice dips impossibly lower when speaking so gently, his hand slides down to the small of your back and gives a small tap to lead you forward. “Come on, let's get you settled in.” He beckons you while walking to a door that is adjacent to the entrance.

Walking in, John’s bedroom exudes a haven, signifying his rest and relaxation at the end of the day. The warm, earthy tones of the wood and furniture create an internal warmth, in contrast to the view of the surrounding mountains of green and glimpse over the cattle that wander the land, the windows laden with lace curtains.

The bed was the average size for the master bedroom; The double bed sat its headboard against the wall to the right of the entrance, facing the windows. A large red quilt adorns the bed while the bed itself is a robust wooden frame with upright pieces of carved and sanded wood posted taller at each corner of the bed.

In the corner is another stone fireplace, where an armchair sits to serve as a place for John to unwind, read a book, or reflect on the day. A well-worn wooden dresser stands against one wall, its surface adorned with a few cherished mementos - a faded photograph of him on a horse, a weathered pocket watch that has seen countless sunsets, and a small collection of polished rocks, each one possibly a reminder of a special moment.

"It's not much." He pauses before speaking again, his tone becoming more personal. "And I'd love to have you share my bed when you're comfortable. However, if you need time to adjust, I can set myself up in the living room. I don't wish to pressure you if you're not comfortable yet."

The sweet and respectful offer doesn’t fly over you, and a small smile rises over your lips. “Thank you, John. That’s awfully considerate of everything you’re doing for me. I don’t want to burden you with sleeping on your own couch, I wouldn't mind.” You answer while slowly walking to the dresser, placing your bag down by the foot of it.

“It may take a few days to adjust and get to know you, but-” you take a second to turn around and look at his form with a small shy smile, “I don’t think I’ll keep you waiting long.” You finish as a soft blush rises to the apples of your cheeks. Your hands come to interlace together in the front of your lap as his heavy footsteps make their way towards you with a bright smile that borders a smirk.

He stops in front of you, holding eye contact as he places your other bag down. “Ain’t no way in hell I’d be letting you sleep on the couch, sweetheart. But, I do look forward to hearing your answer. When you’re ready for it.” He speaks in a gruff voice, eyebrows raised to make sure you're taking his answer to heart and understanding, his warm hands moving to enclose both of yours within his grasp.

Bringing your hands up to his lips, you watch with rapt attention at his mouth puckering and in turn, making his facial hair move in the action, then leaving a warm and gentle kiss on the back of each hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours while doing so, his blue eyes bring an inviting wave of ice- the kind you actively seek when you’re feeling too hot or need to wake up. “Now, how about I show you the rest of the ranch, babydoll?” He asks with a soft grin, pulling you just a fraction closer by the grip of your hands.

#i want him #call of duty modern warfare #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #tf141 #captain jonathan price #jonathan price #captain price x reader #captain price mw2 #captain price #captain price x y/n #cod mw2 #call of duty #WAUMOST #task force 141 #john price x y/n #john price mw2 #john price x you

147 notes · View notes

auxiliuno · 8 months

Note

Hiii could you do nsfw hcs for leonardo luna with fem reader?thank you if you do💜

ᶠᵉᵃᵗᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ: ᴸᵉᵒⁿᵃʳᵈᵒ ᴸᵘⁿᵃ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ | ᴺˢᶠᵂ, ᴹᵈⁿⁱ °○

ᵀᵃᵍˢ: ᴾᵒʷᵉʳ ᵖˡᵃʸ, ˢⁱᶻᵉ ᵏⁱⁿᵏ, ᴰᵒᵐ!ᴸᵉᵒ, ᴹᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵖᵃⁿᵏⁱⁿᵍ, ᵈᵉᵍʳᵃᵈᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ᵇᵒⁿᵈᵃᵍᵉ, ᴾʳᵃⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᶜᵉʳᵛⁱˣ ᵖᵉⁿᵉᵗʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ♤°

• He's a freak.

• He doesn't look like the type, but he is into all the nasty stuff: spanking, degradation, bondage, etc.

• Nobody knows this side of him, because they all assume that he's not the type of person to be into this stuff, but it's only because they never asked.

• From his arrogant and sarcastic nature though, he wouldn't have any shame telling people about his fantasies.

• But that's alright, because this side is only for you to see now.

• A hard Dom.

• From the first time he's been with you, it only brought this side out of him more, the more he's with you, the more he fantasies about all the nasty things he wants to do to you.

• When you had sex with him for the first time, he was gentle with you but always seemed a bit off, as if he was holding himself back from fully exhibiting his appetite for you.

• It was only after he has even dating you for a few months, that he knew he could share this side with you,

• You were pleasantly surprised.

• The first time he started domming you the way he wanted, it was an experience like no other.

• He loves how much bigger he is than you,

• He loves the way he can just manhandle you into any position he wants; it's like a power display to him.

• Degrades and praises you in Spanish

• So rough and with you, but always makes sure you're okay and so respectful of your boundaries

• He will immediately stop and make sure you're okay if you ever use your safe word

• Gives top-tier aftercare to make up for his roughness after; calls take out for you, bathes you himself, praises you, and cuddles you.

"Mmh, yeah baby, you like that huh?" Leo panted, as his hips slammed against your ass over and over. "You love it when I treat like nothing but a common whore huh?" His large hands grip onto your waist, grinding you deeper onto him than you already were. You mewled as you felt his warm tip poking at your cervix, threatening to penetrate it. Arms giving out, you rested your face on the pillow underneath you; covering it in a mix of your's and Leo's juices.

He continued his pace behind you, making you cry out in ecstasy. "F-fuck! Leo! I'm so close..." You whine, hands pawing at his. He doesn't hold you back, but brings one of his hands down onto your ass. PLAP! "Ah! Leo! I can't, I can't! I'm gonna cum!" You cry as his hands keep spanking you, making the skin he' abusing an angry red. "Tú eres adorable cuando dar alaridos de placer, cariño," he leaned down and whispered in your ears, "Vas a correrse?"

You could feel your insides tightening almost painfully as he whispers Spanish into your ear. He groaned as your pussy suddenly tightened around him, almost making the knot in his stomach snap. "Pl- please, please, Leo! I want to cum!" Panting, you feel your high approaching fast. "You wan- you wanna cum with me baby?" Leo gasped, his hips starting to stutter, knot tightening painfully in his stomach. "Yes! Yes! Wanna cum! Wan' you to cum in me Leo!" You beg, and with a final slam into your pussy, he growls as he releases all of his cum into you; collapsing onto your back from exhaustion. His cum was hot and thick, leaking into your cervix, and still managing to leak out of your red and puffy pussy. Both you laid still, panting, for a freak minutes; relishing in the after glow of your high's.

"H- mi amor, that was amazing," he says, finally rolling off your back, and you flip to your side to see him staring at you lovingly. "Always taking me so well and making me feel so good baby, you're so amazing." He caresses your hair, tucking a strand sticking onto your face behind your ear. "Mmm, you always fuck me so good Leo." You say back to him, smiling at his contented face. "That's because I have a baby like you," he says, pulling you into his strong arms. "I could never ask for anything more." He whispers and places a kiss on your head, letting you falling asleep into his chest. Smiling, he slowly let the heaviness of slumber take over him too.

♡ 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼! 𝓗𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓰𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝔂!

#blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #blue lock smut #leonardo luna x reader

183 notes · View notes

coff33notforme · 1 year

Note

Hello!! Just imagine a reader with magic?? Reader lives deep in the forest so that no one interferes with his existence?? And then Wally and his friends show up, and their little town now has a real wizard

A/n: This was a cute prompt! Thanks for your patience <3

Pairing: Wally Darling and Masc, Wizard Reader (no pronouns used, Fluff, romantic or platonic!)

During a picnic with Barnaby that was cut short due to some unexpected business that Barnaby had to attend to, Wally found himself alone, surrounded by the peace and sorority of the lush greenery around him

He laid down on the silent hill, grass swaying around him as he stared into the pale sky

A warm light emitted from the forest, and the light caught the puppets eye, confused he watched as the specter of light began to change fading into many different hues

Compelled by the show, Wally began to walk towards the light, the closer he got the more it seemed to withdraw from him, so he followed the trail until it came to an end

Leading him to a small wood cabin, Wally titled his head in confusion he was pretty sure he had never seen this building before, or even on any town maps, how long has this been here?

Curious Wally approached the seemingly lifeless house, hesitantly knocking on the door before it was swung open forcefully, he was greeted with a tried looking person on the other side, their head glazed with sweat, beads of their hair matted to their slick face, their clothes appearing very battered and torn

Upon seeing Wally their expression fell into one of bewilderment, as Wally tired to politely introduce himself, sticking an expectant hand out for you to take

Dumbfounded you took his hand into your weak grasp, after Wally seemingly invited himself into your home, you had explained to him the specter of light he saw was in fact your doing, you were from a different place were it was in common practice to use magic, but when you tried to create a portal you somehow messed it up and ended up here stranded with no way to get home you’ve been trying to recreate the spell from memory, but it seems like you could never get it right

Wally listened intently, though he had no idea what this magic business was, or even how he could comprehend the intricacies of magic or how your world worked but he was determined to help you find your way back home

Wally had offered to take you into town to meet everyone, you were hesitant at first, not sure if inviting more people into your life would help you achieve your goal faster, but after much convincing you gave in, maybe it would be nice to interact with people after all this time

You were pleasantly surprised with how gracious all of Wally's neighbors seemed to be

Some even asked if you would be able to perform some magic for them, to which you replied with giving them a show of lights

Sally and Julie seemed to be the most excited about this new adjustment than anyone else, while

Frank was somewhat impressed

Poppy and Barnaby shared an appreciation and respect for what you were able to do, Howdy, much like Wally couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the whole magic thing, he did think the lights were pretty though!

People around the town seemed to more frequently visit your cabin to either chat or bring something by for you to eat

Occusanily Howdy will come by to ask if you can help him with something at the shop or just to move something with some sort of levitation spell or something like that

Everyone seems to welcome you in so naturally, like you've always been there

Sees to it that you're able to make it back home

Overall everyone is just very interested in you and your magic, so don’t count on being alone for very long <3

Thanks for your patience guys! Back to my somewhat regular posting schedule

#welcome home wally #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally darling #welcome home

299 notes · View notes

shimmerwindow · 4 months

Text

I Never Really

Part Eight

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Alcohol use, mention of marijuana, brief mention of cocaine (not consumed by any main characters), smut (18+ only)

Sexual content: choking, fingering, oral (f rec), unsafe sex, plain ol' fuckin, and of course I would be lost without a creampie

Playlist | Masterlist

If the last party had been a bit overwhelming, then this party could be described as sensory hell. Within only a few seconds of being there, you saw a group of zombies playing beer pong in the front yard, and two Sesame Street characters doing cocaine off the kitchen table. You were a bit nervous, sticking close to Sam’s side as he guided you into the house. His brothers stood in the living room, a drink in each of their hands, chatting happily with the group assembled out there.

“Sammy boy!” Jake exclaimed upon seeing the two of you, running over to give both of you a hug. He was dressed as a pirate, the pieces of his costume almost a bit too accurate, like he’d stepped out of a different era. When he wrapped his arms around you, you were hit with that familiar scent, memories of the last party rushing back to your head.

He looked you over, trailing his eyes over your figure the same way he’d done the first time you met him. It made something inside you ache, something you couldn’t quite describe. He caught your eyes and you noticed he’d put on eyeliner, just a bit, just enough to make his gaze feel even more piercing.

Josh followed close behind, pulling you into a tight hug. “You look incredible, sunshine. My lord.” He looked you up and down, gesturing at you with a point of his finger. “Doesn't she look amazing?” He asked, looking between Jake and Danny, who had come over to join you.

“Quite beautiful. Very angelic,” Jake said.

“You look outstanding. None of these guys deserve to see it,” Danny joked with a whisper, cupping a hand to the side of his mouth like he was telling you a secret.

A blush rose into your cheeks, and you shook your head. “I just…wanted to look nice. And you guys all look awesome.”

Josh was dressed in a classic hippie getup, with a pair of huge sunglasses, flared pants, and a vest over his otherwise bare chest. Danny was dressed as a cowboy, and he’d gone all-in on the fit, cowboy boots and all. He had on a hat that looked far too nice for a Halloween outfit.

“Is that your hat?” You asked.

He tipped the brim at you, doing a goofy bow with one hand on the comically large belt buckle he was wearing. “Darn tootin’, little miss. Got it alongside the boots a few years ago.”

You placed a hand over your heart, returning the mock accent he’d put on. “Oh, my. What a gentleman you are!”

Jake offered to grab you and Sam a drink, and you happily accepted, following him into the kitchen while Sam took a seat in the living room with the other two.

“So, who are you trying to impress? Or make jealous?” Jake asked, taking the top off of a bottle of tequila.

“I’m sorry?”

He gestured towards you. “The costume. You’re the hottest one here, no contest. Did you get your heart broken recently?”

“I…no. Well…” You watched his hands as he poured you a drink that would certainly be too strong. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I won’t pry. Unless you want me to.” He handed you your drink, and started making another one.

You took a cautious sip, pleasantly surprised. You could barely taste the alcohol. “This is good.”

“Thank you. My secret recipe.” He finished his own drink, swirling it around in his hand for a moment while he leaned against the counter to face you. “I’m guessing you made up with Sam?”

You nodded. “He apologized. He explained how–” You cut yourself off. You definitely shouldn’t repeat his explanation to Jake, of all people. “He just explained why he was mad. But it’s all okay now.”

“That look in your eye,” he pointed at you, squinting his eyes. “You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

It was genuinely annoying how well Jake could see right through you. Like he was reaching into your brain and stealing your thoughts. It almost felt violating, the way he seemed to always just know.

“A little.”

“Because of that fight?”

You hesitated for a moment too long. “Yeah.”

He gave you a knowing smile. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“So what was his excuse?” He eyed you over the rim of his cup as he took a swig.

“I don’t want to get into it, honestly.”

“I won’t push. Just want to make sure you’re alright.” He was being genuine, that much you could tell for certain.

“I appreciate that, Jake. I really do.”

He gave you a smile, the kind that made you a bit weak in the knees, and gestured towards the living room. Sam and Danny were deep in conversation on the mantle of the fireplace, and Josh was in the corner chatting up some group of people you didn’t recognize. The two of you took a seat on the couch, and you made yourself small in the corner against the arm rest, your legs tucked under you.

Jake was a good talker. He made worthwhile conversation, even though you weren’t entirely in the mood to talk about anything. He asked a lot of questions, and the two of you would spiral off into a tangent regarding that question. At one point, he mentioned the band, the one Sam had said they were trying to drag him into.

“Do you guys have a name?” You asked.

He shook his head. “It's not serious enough for that, not yet. I want a name to come organically, when it’s time.”

“Makes sense. It would suck to pick a name and want to change it later.”

“Exactly.” He flicked his finger against one of your wings, sending it bouncing back and forth. “You should come to one of our little shows some time.”

“Where at?”

“We just play out of the garage, or back there, typically.” He gestured to the back of the house.

“Are you any good?” You smirked.

He laughed a bit, then gave you a wide-eyed, serious look. “The best.”

“Text me about it some time. I’d love to come, if I’ve got some free time on my hands that day.”

“I will,” you smiled.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, and you listened in to the conversations around the room. Sam’s voice reached your ears first, the sound of it so familiar and enjoyable that you seemed to pick it out of the crowd easily.

“She’s great.” He was still talking to Danny.

“You don’t sound very excited.” Danny's voice was harder to pick out, but you could hear it nonetheless.

“Nah, man, I was with her the other night. She’s a really sweet girl.”

Your skin prickled and your fingers tensed up. She. Her.

“She’s gorgeous,” he went on.

“Are you guys together, or what?”

“Not yet.”

You’d heard enough. Not yet. Those two words felt like a gunshot straight to your chest. You could barely hear Jake over the noise of your thoughts as he prodded you with a quiet “Hey.”

You didn’t respond.

“Hey.” He called your name, placing a gentle touch on your arm that finally snapped you out of your trance.

You blinked at him a few times, your fingers white-knuckled on the armrest of the couch.

“You okay?” He looked at you with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I just…” you cleared your throat. “I think I need another drink.”

“Not a problem. Follow me.”

You could feel Sam’s eyes burning a hole in the back of your head as you walked away with Jake, back into the kitchen, where he mixed you up another drink.

“Stronger this time,” he warned, handing it to you.

“Thanks. I need it.”

“Listen, sweetheart. What's going on with you?”

You shook your head. “I already said I don't want to get into it. Just exhausted, that’s all.”

“Well, letting it fester doesn’t seem to be doing you any favors.” He pinched one of your wings between his fingers and pulled at it. “Come here.”

He led you out the back door, and the two of you took a seat around the fire. He slid his chair across the grass as close to yours as it would go. “I can keep a secret, if that’s what you need. Just talk to me.”

“Jake…” This was only the second time you’d interacted with him. You weren’t ready to open up about anything to him – at least, not in your partially-sober mental state. “I appreciate you worrying about me. I really do. But I can't get into specifics with you.”

He toyed with the ruffled sleeves of his shirt. “Then be vague.”

“Well,” you sighed. “Do you ever just feel like everything is crashing down around you all at once?”

He nodded. “I know the feeling quite well.”

“That’s just kind of where I’m at right now.” He was basically a stranger to you, but you couldn’t help but open up just a bit around him. He radiated an aura that made you feel seen and understood, and the way he was apparently able to read your mind lent greatly to that feeling.

“I don’t want to overstep, but you know you can come to any of us about anything. These guys–” he gestured at the house. “They care. I care. Sam, especially. He really–”

“He is the issue,” you blurted out, cutting him off.

Jake shut his mouth, rocking his chair back and looking into the fire, processing your outburst. “So…” he trailed off, clearly not sure how to proceed.

“I just can’t figure him out.”

“You did only just meet him a month ago,” Jake countered. “Just give it some time. Don't let one fight taint your entire image of him.”

You were quickly painting yourself into a corner with this line of discussion. You couldn't exactly tell him why you were upset, without a full declaration of your love for Sam. “You’re right.”

“He’s smart. Smarter than anyone else I know. Guys like that can be a bit confusing.” He gave you a small smile. “Just let it go, whatever you’re still mad at him about. Your whole world doesn’t have to fall apart over one argument.”

You wished that this was something so simple, something you could just let go of.

“You need a sippy cup for that?” He pointed at the drink in your hand, still mostly full.

“Yeah, actually,” you giggled. “A princess crown too.”

For just a little while, Jake was able to make you forget all about the pain that still throbbed in your heart. Your typical worries washed away with every sip of the drinks he made you as the minutes turned into hours. You watched as all types of ghouls, monsters, and characters shuffled around the fire. The occasional couple in matching outfits would sometimes come by, and you had to avert your eyes every time, your mind drifting to the other half of your angel-devil getup that was wandering around the house somewhere.

Sam made an appearance at one point, sitting right next to you. Jake gave him a side-eyed look, glancing between you and him a few times, but he kept his mouth shut. You were a bit nervous he would leave the two of you alone. You weren’t sure you could handle that right now. Just looking into Sam’s eyes was enough, you didn’t want any more than that. He could sense it, you were certain. Something had shifted, and the air between you was thicker now. Conversation between the two of you was brief and clipped.

When he finally walked off with some guys you’d never seen before, things felt different. Jake was gazing at you intensely, giving you that same look he’d given you at the first party. Looking at you like he could eat you alive.

“You know,” he began, leaning a bit closer to you. “We never finished our conversation from the other week.”

You wracked your brain trying to recall what he was talking about, visibly lost.

“So would you be mad if I was?”

His words seemed like complete gibberish at first. But when he raked his eyes over your body, it came rushing back in like a tide, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach and your legs crossing a little tighter. That had been his response when you’d asked him if he was flirting with you.

“Not at all.” You said it with no hesitation, not a doubt in your mind. He was enchanting in a way you couldn’t describe even with a thousand metaphors.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that reminded you deeply of a certain someone. If you couldn’t have him, then you’d take the next best thing. The thought felt evil, dirty, sickening, even. That you were even considering the one thing you knew would hurt him more than anything else…it wasn't like you.

As if right on cue, the yard became eerily silent. Something had drawn the crowd inside for now, and it was just the two of you, a group quietly passing a joint in the opposite corner of the yard, and the crackling of the fire. His hand came to rest on your thigh, just below where the stockings were wrapped in a neat little white bow. It was there for comfort, but the warmth of his palm singed your skin and sent flames raging through your body. Your stomach dropped, and you wondered how a man could make you have such a reaction to such a simple, innocent touch.

“You okay with this?” He asked.

Whether he meant his advances, or his fingers burning right through your skin to the bone, was not clear to you.

You would lie to yourself every chance you'd get, but you weren’t stupid. Jake was clearly into you. The tension was palpable now that the two of you were alone, if only just for a moment. You were a perfect level of drunk at this point. Still lucid, but your inhibitions dulled to just the right level. “I’m fine, but…this costume,” you whined. “It’s so uncomfortable.”

Jake looked at you with a fire in his eyes that could scorch you, so intense you averted your gaze. It was like he had grown bigger, eclipsing everything in your vision. He burned brighter than the fire that illuminated his stunning features in a brilliant orange. “Is that so?”

You nodded.

“What a shame it would be if someone took it off.” His tone implied that he was joking, but the look on his face said quite the opposite.

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I look so nice, I can’t imagine what I would look like with less clothes.” Flirting, especially the kind you were doing now, wasn’t something you did often. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d ever done this kind of thing before.

He tilted his head at you, raising an eyebrow. “Is the little angel trying to ask me something?”

“Am I not making it obvious enough?”

You knew the gravity of the choice you were making. This would be a secret you could not keep forever, actions you wouldn’t be able to take back. None of that mattered anymore, though. There was one man you truly, unequivocally wanted, and he was not yours. He would never be yours. If he wanted you, he would be the one next to you right now.

“Plenty obvious, dear lady.” He belted the words in an accent you’d heard a few times before. “Come with me.”

“I expected something a bit more romantic from you, Jakey.”

He smiled at you, but the fire never left his eyes. “I don’t think I need to seduce you any further. Shut up and follow me.”

You felt dazed, completely out of your body as he took your hand in his and rushed you through the house and up into his room. Before you had time to come back down to reality your back was pressed up against a door and Jake was mere inches from your face, eyes piercing straight through you, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. He pulled off the headband that held a halo to your head, tossing it away somewhere behind him. So sickeningly poetic, an obnoxiously obvious metaphor.

“You’re sure you want this?” He asked, drawing a bit closer.

You weren’t completely sure of anything anymore. The one thing you knew was that this was real, he was here, and those gorgeous eyes were staring right through you. Eyes you saw in many dreams. You’d been holding back from running your fingers through his hair all night, and it had now become impossible to deny the way he made you feel. Your heart raced, blood rushing through your veins at an impossible speed. He smelled different this time, some different type of cologne. Yet there was still the underlying scent of him, of Jake.

He leaned forward and you were certain your insides turned to ice water when his lips met the side of your neck, placing a delicate kiss there. “I won’t take the most intense fuck-me eyes I’ve ever seen in my life as an answer, angel. Speak.”

“Yes.”

“I need more than that.”

“Jake, please…” you whined, drawing a gasp when his teeth raked across your skin. “Please just…just touch me.”

His fingers snaked up into your hair, giving a gentle tug to the side as he finally bit down on your neck. A soft moan escaped your lips as he sucked bruises into your skin. You knew you should stop him, tell him he can’t, people will see if he marks you up. But you just didn’t care anymore, and it felt far too good to stop him. So what. Let them see.

He wrapped his arms around you, walking you back towards the bed before almost throwing you onto it. He practically ripped his shirt off, throwing it to some dark corner of the room. He put a knee up on the bed beside you, and you leaned back as he leaned forward, until your little wings touched the mattress. He was crouched over you, silhouetted by the lamp light behind him. You were suddenly very aware of how quickly you were breathing.

“You alright?”

“Jesus, how many times do I have to say yes?”

“My name is Jake, actually. And I just want to make sure you’re happy, little angel.” He gave you such a sweet smile you thought your heart would burst right then and there.

“I couldn't be any happier right now.”

He descended onto your bare collarbones, biting against your skin with perfect pressure. You couldn't say a word, only gasp and whine under him. It felt too fucking good to finally have him like this.

You weaved your fingers through his hair, tugging at it gently, pulling him away from your neck. He moved willingly under your touch, more than you expected. You arched your back and reached for the zipper that held your costume around yourself, but his fingers wrapped around your forearms, squeezing just a bit too hard.

“Keep it on.”

“But–”

“I said keep it on. Did you not hear me, or are you choosing not to listen?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and he took your stunned silence as a chance to lean forward. There was a pause when your lips brushed. This was it, this was the point of no return. When you would awake from a dream where Jake had been right where he was now, sweat drenching your sheets and a throbbing between your legs, this was the thing you swore you would never do. This was the line you swore you would never cross, for fear of hurting Sam. None of that mattered anymore. He didn’t want you. He fought with you. He yelled at you. The line disappeared, and you crossed it without a doubt in your mind.

You pulled Jake in, unceremoniously, and your lips crashed together. He was soft, gentle, he moved with you. Your grip tightened in his hair when he sucked your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle bite. You pulled him away from your lips and he went with ease, staring at you with wide eyes.

He seemed so compliant, so eager to please you. You ran your thumb over his lips, and you couldn't help but envision him buried between your thighs. And as if he could read your mind, he began to crawl down the length of you, leaving kisses wherever his mouth could reach. He rested his head against your thigh, eyes flicking between you and the fabric draped across your lap. Like he was preparing himself.

“Jake…” You shifted your hips, growing desperate for some kind of touch.

He shushed you, trailing his fingers up your bare leg, just barely grazing the skin, making you shudder. “Wanna take my time.”

Painfully slowly, he pushed your skirt out of the way, the fabric gathering around your hips, your lacey panties on full display now. You propped yourself up onto your elbows to get a better look at him, though the sight of him there was almost too much to bear.

“You look soaked already. All I’ve done is kiss you, sweet girl.” A grin spread across his face as he met your eyes. “You need me that bad, huh?”

“Obviously,” you whined.

He ran his thumb across the fabric of your panties, gently pulling them to one side. He ran a finger through your folds, staring at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. “All for me?” he breathed.

“All for you.”

He tore your panties off as quickly as he could, and slid a finger into you, and you felt completely breathless, dropping back down against the sheets. He moved masterfully, working you open, playing with you like you were a little toy for him.

“Oh fuck, Jake…” you stuttered over your words, every syllable a whimper.

“Louder, angel.”

You looked down at him, his eyes blazing into yours, dark and hungry.

“But they'll hear–”

“Let them.” He dropped down, laving his tongue over your clit, and you couldn’t stop the choked oh, god that fell from your lips.

“I can’t, that's so…” you couldn't finish your sentence, your words interrupted by gasping moans that you bit back, mortified by the idea of anyone hearing you.

“I’ll just have to make you louder, then.” He spoke the words pressed against you, the vibrations of his lips making you writhe. You tangled a hand in his hair, unconsciously pushing him closer against you.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all fucking night,” he growled between licks of your clit. “I waited long enough to hear you.”

You had to bite the back of your hand to keep quiet when he added a second finger, curling them in just the right way, your other hand grabbing onto his hair for dear life.

“I didn’t even do anything,” you whined, sounding downright pathetic.

“Really?” He pressed his thumb against your clit in the absence of his tongue, sending a shiver through your body. “The whole night you were staring at me like you couldn’t wait for this.” He brought his tongue back to your clit, drawing a needy whine.

He was good at this, finding every spot you loved so quickly, testing different movements and angles, figuring out what made you moan the loudest or grab his hair the hardest. You were quickly unraveling beneath him.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked, his mouth still against you.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

He pulled away from you, looking up at you with those wide eyes that made you feel insane, his fingers still moving. Your own wetness was smeared across his lips, his mouth curled up in a sly smile. “You know what I mean.”

You barely gave it a second thought before you whispered out a quiet “yes.”

“What was that, baby?”

You repeated yourself, gasping out the word a bit louder this time.

He brought himself up onto his knees, placing one hand on the side of your head, looming over you while his fingers still worked you perfectly. “I need more than that.”

All of this, the talking, the way his voice was a bit more raspy than normal, the way his hair hung down into his face, it was all too much. You were rushing towards your peak far too fast, the buildup far too long, and the feeling must have reflected in your face a bit too clearly.

“Are you gonna cum? Already?” He said it so cocky, so snarky, with almost a laugh behind it. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

You nodded, words becoming impossible to form, your eyes slipping shut as your back arched off the bed.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, barely able to take in his dreamlike appearance. “Jake…” you whined, reaching for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He let you pull him closer, brushing his lips against yours as he collapsed onto you. “Yes, baby?” You could feel his lips curl into a grin and he tasted like you.

You couldn’t find words, only choked moans came out of you as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit. You were so close, holding yourself back, for what reason you weren’t entirely sure.

“Go on, do it.”

Just those simple words of coaxing were enough to send you crashing over the edge, a sound coming out of you that you didn't even know you could make. Your teeth latched onto his collarbones, biting and sucking at his skin and earning you a few soft moans from his lips.

“That’s it…good girl.” He whispered into your ear in a way that made you shiver and twist your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, your entire body on fire. It felt like it would never end, his words prolonging every sensation as he talked you through it, with words of praise and filthy commands. “Keep going, angel, doesn’t that feel good?” He asked as you started to curl in on yourself, trying to tuck your knees to your chest. Whatever he was doing to you right now, nobody had ever done before.

It felt like the longest orgasm you’d had in your life, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. When he felt you’d had enough, and you started reaching for his wrist to pull it away, he finally relented, slowing and eventually stopping. As you came down, he pulled back, looking into your eyes with that fiery gaze that pierced right through you. He needed the same thing, and god did it have you throbbing all over again.

“Fuck me,” you whispered.

In one fluid motion he pulled away and flipped you over, yanking your hips up and putting a hand on the small of your back to hold you down. You yelped, surprised he was able to just…throw you around like that. The sound of his belt clinking behind you was erotic enough to draw a small moan out of you. Then the sensation of him dragging himself over your core – you nearly collapsed back down onto the bed.

“Don’t worry, angel. Gonna fuck you nice and sweet.”

You buried your face in the sheets to hide the agonized groan that ripped out of you as he pressed into you. He filled you so perfectly, in a way nobody else ever had. And then he just…stopped. He leaned down over you, his forehead resting against your back.

“Jakey–” the nickname slipped out unconsciously. “Please move, please–”

“Patience, angel.” You could feel his chest rising and falling with shaky, quick breaths.

You made a pleading, desperate sound, tightening yourself around him and trying to rock your hips back against him.

“Oh, don’t fucking do that,” he growled.

You needed this for longer, needed him as long as you could possibly have him. You felt a pressing need to be good for him.

He pulled his hips back, and snapped them forward again, sending stars across your vision. You clawed at the sheets, downright unholy sounds escaping you as he settled into a rhythm.

His hands roamed over your body until one of them landed on your lower stomach, just below your navel. He pulled you closer with that hand, adding just a bit of pressure in just the right place. “I’m right there, baby. You feel it?”

You whimpered, your mind scattered in every direction – you weren't used to this kind of dirty talking. Of course you could feel him, impossibly deep, taking up every square inch of you. “Yeah, I do,” you choked out, each word punctuated by a gasp.

“You’re taking it so good, sweet girl.” His hand wandered a bit lower, grazing across your clit, just enough to make you buck your hips, but he gave you no more than that light touch.

“More, please,” you gasped, trying to draw deeper breaths to keep yourself grounded. But he knocked the wind out of you with every thrust of his hips.

He clicked his tongue and murmured a pitying aww. “Does my sweet angel need something?”

“I need to see you, please, I want to–”

Before you could finish your sentence he was spinning you around to face him, practically throwing you down onto the bed. The ease at which he could manhandle you was stunning.

You clawed at his chest as he guided himself back into you, and you were certain you’d leave scratch marks on his skin. His expression as he did so was something that you felt burn into the back of your mind, something you would never forget. Like a song lyric you couldn’t stop replaying in your mind. His jaw slack, his upper lip curled up just a bit in something like a sneer, his brows knitted together, his head tilted slightly to the right, as if he was trying to get a better view.

It felt gentler now. The rush and frenzy of it all had worn off, and he moved slowly and deliberately. When his eyes met yours, the sensations caught up with your mind, and a brick wall of bliss crashed against you. You dragged your nails down his chest, your back arching off the bed when he bottomed out inside you.

“Is that better?” The smirk on his face alone was enough to make you tighten around him.

“Much better,” you sighed.

He settled into a rhythm again, one hand wrapped around your thigh and the other gripping the top of the headboard. Like he was putting his body on display for you. He hadn't taken off the chains around his neck, and the amulets made a lovely clinking sound as they swung back to collide with his chest with every thrust. You lifted yourself up off the bed, trying to drape your arms over his shoulders–

He pushed you back down with a hand against your chest. He shifted, his hands coming to rest on either side of you.

“I want to be closer to you,” you whined, like a spoiled brat.

“I want to watch you.”

You pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck once again and trying to pull yourself up. But something held you back.

“You’re pinned, angel.”

It clicked – he was holding you down by your wings. The tiny bits of feather and fabric and wire strapped tightly around your shoulders. You wriggled under his grip, desperately trying to pull away, trying to get just a little closer to him, needing to feel more of him on you.

“You were taking it so good, baby,” he groaned. “Why all the fuss now?”

“Need you.” You tried to speak the words, but they came out as a full-fledged moan. It was almost embarrassing how needy you sounded.

His expression twisted into a cruel smile. “Need you,” he mimicked the way you’d moaned it, almost perfectly. “I need you to let me fuck you the way I know you’ll like it.”

You were stunned into silence, only able to take small sips of air through his thrusts.

But he mimicked that too. “You sound so pretty. I figured you would.” He always had a way of rendering you speechless.

All of his words, the perfect angle of his hips, the way you were pinned down, all of it was leading to a cliff edge you knew so well, the tension in your body rising to a level you didn’t think possible. It almost scared you a bit, and Jake must have read the fear in your eyes, from the way he grinned.

“Is the pretty angel gonna cum for me?”

You nodded frantically, words evading you.

“You didn’t ask permission first.”

Your eyes rolled back, your jaw dropping open in stunned silence at his words. Ask permission?

You managed to mumble out a “please” between moans.

“Nowhere near good enough,” he hissed. “Try again, or I’ll stop.” He wasn’t joking either, his hips slowing their pace, angling just away from your clit.

Every ounce of inhibition you had left went out the window at that moment, your eyes locking with his “Please, Jake, please, can I cum, sir? Please, I'm trying to be so good for you–” The words rushed out faster than your brain could process what you were saying.

He seemed to break a bit, his hips snapping forward harder than before. His hand came up to wrap around your throat, his fingers placed perfectly on top of your veins. “Say it again.”

“Please, sir,” you sobbed, feeling a tear roll down your cheek. “I can’t– I can’t wait any longer–”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He pressed himself against you again, grinding his hips into your clit, and it only took a moment before you were cascading off the edge into the abyss. It felt like falling, your entire body tightening all at once, before you burst into sheer bliss, a smile gracing your lips as Jake’s hand tightened around your throat just right. Through your clipped breaths you called his name, not a thought in your mind about who may hear.

Through your daze of pleasure, you could hear his voice, sweet and soft in your ear, talking you through it. “That’s it baby, cum for me, I’m right there with you,” before his words devolved into groans so sweet they could rot your teeth. You could feel him pulsing inside you, filling you, spilling out of you onto the sheets.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, his hand slipping off your neck to stroke the side of your face, brushing away the tears that gathered on your cheeks. He collapsed down onto his forearms, breathing heavily, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your voice came out of you cracked and broken, still the whisper of a moan on your tone. “Did you…”

“Yeah. I did. Fuck, I’m sorry.” He shook both of your bodies with silent laughter. “I swear I didn’t mean to. Are you…”

“Yes. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m going to.”

You giggled, a pure, clean sound that cut through the fog of tension in the room. “I forgot how good that feels.” You started to tremble, wrapping your shaking hands around him. “They definitely heard me, by the way.” You could hear laughter and conversation from the floor below – there was no chance they didn’t hear you shouting his name.

“Whatever.”

You laughed again, raising an arm to run your fingers through his hair, now damp with sweat. “That was…” you couldn't find the words to describe it.

“Too rough?” He propped himself up to look at you. “You look a mess.”

You could imagine it, mascara running down your face, hair disheveled, costume wrecked. “Perfect,” you smiled.

“Really.” He planted a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Glad to hear it.” Looking you up and down, he heaved a sigh. “You’re leakin’ on my sheets, though.”

“Sorry, sir.” You crossed your legs and shot him a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at you, a smile dancing on the corners of his lips. “Let me grab you something to clean up.”

“Not gonna do it yourself?” You teased as he rolled off the bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

“What, you want me to eat it out of you? There’s a three course meal in there right now.” He shot you a look over his shoulder, and you felt a blush creep into your cheeks.

“So vulgar.”

“Nah, just rock and roll.” He tossed you a towel and you cleaned yourself up the best that you could, before rolling over to haul yourself out of bed. You stood on wobbly knees, a dizziness suddenly crashing down over you, like your mind had forgotten you were still drunk until this moment. Jake was there in an instant, his arms hooking under yours to keep you on your feet.

“Careful now.”

He helped guide you into the bathroom as a content daze washed over you.

“Shout if you need anything,” he said in a hushed tone, letting go of you and retreating from the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Emotions you hadn’t felt in far too long rushed together through your mind all at once as you sat down on the toilet. You hadn’t had time for sex in college. Too focused on your degree, too focused on your future, you had no interest in pursuing any of the men on campus. But maybe this is what you’d been missing this whole time. This was the piece of you that you’d been stifling, holding down. The reason you couldn’t seem to forget about Sam.

For now, you could push him out of your mind, the space he’d been taking up now replaced with Jake. And that horrible, nauseating feeling of butterflies you got around Sam didn’t happen when you saw Jake. He was safe. This was platonic, this was no-strings-attached, just a good time between two friends-of-friends.

You were suddenly very aware of how uncomfortable your costume was. You threw it off in a hurry, standing naked in front of the mirror, pondering your own reflection. He’d left a few rosy bruises on your collarbones and your neck. Your fingers brushed across them, the sight of being claimed making you throb, just a bit.

Are you sore? From fucking my brother? Sam’s words echoed through your mind at an alarming volume.

I wasn’t then. But I am now.

A knock at the door startled you out of your haze.

“You okay in there?” Jake’s voice called through the wood.

“Yeah.” Your voice was broken and hitched. “I need clothes though.”

He opened the door and you quickly covered yourself with a yelp. He was holding a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt in his hand.

“I’ve already seen it all. You don’t have to hide it,” he chuckled. “Put these on.”

You did as he said, noticing the warm scent of vanilla that drifted off his clothes.

“I would offer to drive you home, but I…don’t think I should drive.”

You shook your head. The idea of being alone after that was an unpleasant one at best.

“You can sleep here, if you want.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He grabbed your hand and led you back over to his bed. He’d already made it back up neatly, the covers turned down, the room softly illuminated by only a small lamp in the corner. It didn’t feel intrusive to be here, it felt like home.

“I’m gonna go see how the guys are doing. You get some rest, alright angel?”

You crawled under the covers, your body immediately relaxing, releasing the tension you didn’t realize you’d been holding onto. “Alright,” you mumbled, eyes half-lidded.

You were nearly asleep before he even left the room.

Tag List: @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar

#ITS FINALLY HERE #i really hope you guys like this #finally. sex #greta van fic #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiska fic #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka x y/n #i never really #inr

63 notes · View notes