#been slowly chipping away at this between other things

[talkdutchtome]

"You're my forever" - Max Verstappen

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader )

genre . . . angst with fluffy end )

wc . . . 1250 words )

read my other work . . . here )

request something . . . here )

It was supposed to be a chill night out with your girlfriends, but when you turned up to the bar in tears; things ended up taking a turn. It only took a few tequila shots to spill what was on your mind to your friends. You and your boyfriend Max had gotten into a huge argument as you were getting ready to go out. You had been planning to introduce him to your parents for weeks now, and thanks to his busy schedule it had taken such a long time to find a date that suited everyone; but you had managed it. You found a date that worked and arranged everything, it was finally going to happen. Until Max informed you that he actually needed to be in the factory that day and therefore wasn’t going to make it.  

As the argument with Max replayed in your mind, you couldn't help but feel the surge of frustration all over again. It hurt, a lot. This was so important to you, and he knew that, you had checked he was free multiple times but he waited until two days before to tell you that he wasn’t going to make it. He had dismissed your feelings, brushing off the significance of meeting your parents as if it were inconsequential. Your patience had worn thin with his constant excuses and last-minute cancellations. The tension between you had been simmering for weeks, and this was just the tipping point. 

In the heat of the argument, harsh words were exchanged, wounds were reopened, and insecurities surfaced. You questioned the commitment of your relationship, wondering if Max truly understood your needs and priorities. Each accusation fuelled the fire of resentment, leaving both of you wounded and emotionally drained. 

But as you recounted the events to your friends, their sympathetic ears and flowing drinks provided a temporary escape from the pain. With each shot of tequila, the sharp edges of your hurt dulled, and the weight of disappointment lifted. Laughter replaced tears as you immersed yourself in the lively atmosphere of the bar, surrounded by the warmth of friendship. 

As the night wore on and the drinks kept flowing, you found yourself sinking deeper into a drunken haze. Your laughter became louder, your movements more unsteady, until you could barely stand on your own two feet. Your friends exchanged concerned glances as they realized you had gone past the point of no return. 

With a collective decision, they reached for their phones, dialling Max's number in a bid to get you home safely. It didn't take long for him to arrive at the bar, concern etched on his face as he scanned the crowded room for you. 

When he finally spotted you, his heart squeezed with a mixture of worry and affection. You were slumped against the bar, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes glazed over. As he approached, you caught sight of him and instinctively turned away, crossing your arms and pouting like a sulking child. 

Max couldn't help but chuckle softly at the sight of you. Despite the circumstances, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked, even in your drunken state. He settled down beside you, gently coaxing you to look at him and assuring you that everything was going to be okay. 

For a while, you remained stubbornly silent, refusing to acknowledge his presence. But as Max persisted, his patient demeanour slowly chipped away at your defences. Eventually, you relented, allowing him to wrap an arm around your shoulders and guide you out of the bar. 

The cool night air hit you like a refreshing wave, momentarily sobering you up as Max led you to his car. Exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the evening, you leaned heavily against him, your eyelids drooping with fatigue. As Max settled you into the passenger seat, you couldn't fight the overwhelming urge to rest your head on his shoulder. With a gentle smile, he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead before starting the engine and driving off into the night. 

As the car rolled down the familiar streets towards your home, Max stole glances at you, his heart heavy with concern. He wanted to address the issues that had caused the argument earlier, but seeing your bleary-eyed state, he knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he focused on getting you back safely. 

Once inside your apartment, Max gently guided you to your bedroom, helping you out of your party clothes and into your cozy pajamas. With practiced care, he wiped away the remnants of makeup from your face, knowing how much you disliked waking up with a face caked in cosmetics. 

As he tucked you into bed, Max couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for the hurt he had caused you. He wished he could turn back time and make things right, but for now, all he could do was ensure you were comfortable and cared for. 

The next morning, you stirred from your slumber, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to you in fragmented memories. As you blinked blearily, your gaze fell upon the glass of water and painkillers sitting on your bedside table. 

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what Max had done. Despite the unresolved tensions between you, his gesture spoke volumes about his concern for your well-being. With a grateful sigh, you reached for the glass, downing the painkillers in one gulp before sipping the water. 

As you stepped into the kitchen, the comforting aroma of your favorite breakfast filled the air, and your heart swelled with gratitude towards Max. He stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a focused expression, and you couldn't help but admire the way he effortlessly took care of you. 

"Hey," you greeted softly, offering him a warm smile. 

Max turned towards you, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you feeling this morning?" 

You shrugged, trying to downplay any lingering effects of the previous night's festivities. "Not too bad, actually. Thanks for asking." 

"Good," Max replied, his expression softening with relief. He moved to sit beside you, his hand finding yours as he spoke. "Listen, about last night... I'm really sorry for not prioritizing our relationship. I know meeting your parents was important, and I should've made more of an effort to be there for you." 

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, a wave of understanding washing over you. "It's okay, Max. I appreciate you saying that." 

He sighed, his gaze earnest as he continued. "I've rescheduled my day at the factory so I can make it to the meeting with your parents. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us. I know racing won't last forever, but you... you're my forever. And I need to treat you better" 

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you listened to Max's heartfelt words. Despite the challenges you faced, his unwavering love and commitment never faltered, and you felt a surge of gratitude for having him in your life. 

"I love you, Max," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. 

"I love you too," he murmured, pulling you into a tender embrace. 

As you melted into his arms, surrounded by the warmth of his love and the promise of a brighter future together, you couldn’t help but be thankful to have somebody who loved you so much in your life 

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #f1 imagine

[peachesofteal]

PEACH i’m humblingly asking for more omegaverse dead disco, maybe hearing some more thoughts from ghost and johnny about darling’s heat? perhaps they managed to get you to rest (as they’re both still incredibly sensitive) and as they’re talking about what to do, they witness even more self soothing behaviors from darling in your sleep, like they aren’t even there.

i usually don’t particularly read omegaverse, but the way you wrote it??? AGHHHHH I LOVE IT

So, I don’t usually dabble in omegaverse either, this is the first time I’ve actually started to put words down for it (except for a little fic I’ve been plucking away at) so it’s a little intimidating but also fun! I find it very self indulgent but hey, that’s why I’m here. 🩵

I live for your ideas they’re always sooooo good. Takes place after this.

Johnny closes the door behind him, ensuring it clicks shut, but keeping it quiet enough that it won’t wake you.

They don’t need it to open to listen for you, your scent alone will tell them everything they need to know.

“She’s asleep. Finally.” His head droops forward, into Simon’s chest as the bigger Alpha rubs his back gently. They managed to lull you into a heat hazed sleep, both of them emitting enough pheromones to break through your hormone addled state, reassuring you it was safe enough for you to lay in the bed.

“No- no.” Simon strips his hoodie off and places it on the bed, followed by his t shirt and then Johnny’s as they coax you towards the mattress.

“Yes, darling. It’s okay. This is our bed, it’s your bed.” He holds out your own long sleeve t shirt, trying to jog your awareness with your own scent. Your temperature has gone down since they got home, regulated by their ability to relax you, scent you, but it’s evident you haven’t slept in days. You don’t have the strength to manage a cycle right now, and their priority is your health.

The rest has to wait.

“It’s- it’s not safe.” Your eyes dart around and Simon tightens his grip on the back of your neck, just enough to help settle you into to an calmer state, while Johnny eases you onto your side slowly.

“You’re safe. We’re right here. You’re in your nest, at home.” Fat tears pool at your eyelids and then roll down your cheeks while you grab for them, trying to press yourself as close as possible.

“A-alpha.” You whimper and Johnny’s heart chips. How long had you been here, crying for them? Alone?

“Shhh.” He hums, and you wrap your arms around his neck. Simon keeps his chest to your back, steady and soothing subharmonics rattling through the three of you. “Close your eyes, darling. Rest.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Omegas to experience feelings of distress and anxiety during a heat or before, and considering the depth of your emotions on a regular day, it didn’t surprise Johnny or Simon that these heat standard emotions were affecting you so strongly.

But for you to be trying to self soothe, scent yourself, was enough to make them both very, very concerned.

It makes them wonder if there are other things about you, that maybe they don’t know.

“She won’t be down for long.” Simon murmurs into Johnny’s overgrown mohawk, and he nods. When you wake, he knows it will be to unbearable agony, and he dreads those moments when you’ll be upset and in pain.

“Need to go to the grocery store.” He grunts, and pulls away to peer into the fridge, worrying his lip between his teeth as he stares at it’s sparse contents. You haven’t been eating. Anxiety roils his stomach, and Simon rumbles a bit to calm him. You’ll need food, and lots of it, fresh fruit and vegetables, protein. Enough to water and juice to sink a ship, too. It’s been a long time since either of them have experienced an Omega’s heat, and it being yours, makes it all that more intense. Precarious. Precious.

They always dreamed of sharing your heat with you, used to whisper about it to one another during their ruts, dreaming about you, wishing you were with them.

But you were insistent about the suppressants. Stubborn about them. You said you needed the drugs, that you couldn’t handle your heats, that you didn’t want them. That you didn’t want to be controlled by your designation.

And they believed you. They didn’t want to push you, make it seem like they were engaging in overbearing Alpha behavior. They loved you no matter your designation. With heats, or no heats.

“Why did she lie?” Simon questions aloud, staring off at the door. His face is grim, and Johnny shakes his head.

“Dinnae ken.”

“I think… there are a lot of things, we don’t know.” He pauses, and then a look of heartbreak filters across his face. “This… this is my fault. I should have been paying closer attention. I shouldn’t have pushed away my instincts, should’ve taken control.” Johnny’s about to disagree when there’s a spike in your scent, waves of sour tinged distress and confusion pulsing from the bedroom.

You’re curled on the bed, shaking against the sheets, a pillow tucked between your knees and-

Your wrist is rubbing against the gland in your neck, again.

Trying to scent yourself, soothe yourself. Even though you’re laying in a pile of their clothes, even though Simon’s balaclava is twisted around your forearm.

Johnny feels sick.

Why don’t you recognize your own partners? Why are you emulating abused, abandoned Omega behaviors?

Why does it feel like you’re on an island somewhere, where they can’t reach you?

“Darling.” Simon coos, and then starts to break down the tense lines of your body, your muscles, encouraging you to lay flat while you whimper and squeak in your fitful sleep.

They shouldn’t have left you alone.

You curl up against the bigger Alpha, but your wrist finds the gland again, and Simon catches it in his hand, pressing a finger to your palm in circular movements.

“No, no baby.” He holds your hand steady, and you twitch against him, lashes fluttering. Johnny molds himself onto the other side, and replaces your movements with his own, pushing out as many calming pheromones as possible, letting his lips press to your hair, your ear, the soft skin of your neck.

Minutes pass, and Simon holds your wrists firm. You twist and pull against him but they hold you steady between their bodies, gentling you as much as they can until your eyes are blinking awake and you’re wincing in pain.

“I don’t feel good.” You moan, and he hums, wide palm sliding over your belly to tuck you closer.

“I know darling, I know. We’re going to make it better, I promise.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

[rollingsins]

trust me

summary: Reader learns a new spell and decides to test it on Wednesday.  Specifically: Wednesday's strap-on.

pairing: wednesday x witch!reader

warnings: (+18), smut, magic!strap, strap-sucking, strap riding.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: for those who requested more Wednesday. let me know your thoughts and what you want to see next!

“Baby,” You murmur, against Wednesday’s lips, “Stop for a sec. I want to try something.” 

Wednesday pulls back slightly. Her face is framed by her pretty, dark bangs. Usually, they’re perfect. Not a hair out of place. But right now? They’re wild. Strands a mess, jutted slightly to the side and sticking to her forehead. Sweat keeping them in place. 

You’re on your back, Wednesday nestled between your legs. Silicone appendage around her waist, she’s pressed deep inside you. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to you until just now. 

But now it’s all you can think about. 

Wednesday raises herself with her elbows and stops her slow assault of your neck, an eyebrow quirked. 

“Try what?” She asks, only a hint of hesitance in her voice. 

You did this often. 

Bedroom ideas sprung only upon Wednesday in the heat of the moment. You didn’t do it intentionally, but she never seemed to mind that much. 

Last week it had been whipped cream. The week before it’d been a pair of fluffy, pink handcuffs. 

Your girlfriend is a little kinky, though that shouldn’t surprise you by now. 

“I learned something today in class,” You say, a little excited, “Something that I think will make you feel really good.” 

“You learned something about coitus in class?” Wednesday says, sounding concerned. 

You shake your head. 

“Please don’t call our lovemaking ‘coitus’,” You say, wrinkling your nose. Wednesday’s nose also wrinkles, but perhaps from the opposite word, “But you’re going to like this, babe. I promise.” 

You bite your lip. She’s looking at you, a little reluctant. 

You lean up and press a gentle kiss to her lips. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Wednesday appraises you. Infamously, she doesn’t trust easily. It had been an ordeal to even kiss her for the first time, let alone do this with you. 

But as time had gone on and you’d slowly chipped away at the black coal around her heart, she’d learned to trust you more than anyone else. 

Her eyes soften. 

“Of course,” She says. 

You shoot her a wry smile, and then squeeze her hips. 

“Lay back.” 

Wednesday frowns, but obliges. She pulls out of you, carefully, looking a little aggrieved at the very fact she has to. And then she settles herself on her back, watching as you grip the dildo with your hand. 

You close your eyes. Think hard to summon the words. They’re latin, as most of the spells at Nevermore are. You mumble them quietly, trying to be careful with your pronunciation. 

The last thing you want to do is say the wrong word and turn Wednesday into a table lamp, or something much worse. 

You open your eyes, just in time to release your grip on the dildo. 

It illuminates with light, then, it fades, turning back to its original shade - a deep, royal purple. The only color other than black Wednesday had agreed to buying. 

Wednesday blinks, looking startled. 

“What was that?” She asks. 

You bite your lip. 

“A little spell I learned in class. To make inanimate objects feel.” 

Wednesday’s no fool. She looks up at you owlishly, tilting her head slightly. Her lips purse, but the concern in her eyes melts into a longing arousal. 

She clocks it as you lick your lips, looking down hungrily to appreciate your new toy. She swallows, body tensed as you reach out and touch her, like she’s ready for what’s about to come. 

Still, the moment your fingers brush the head of the shaft, she gasps. 

“I don’t think Principal Weems’ intention was for you to use her lessons in this fashion.” Wednesday says, trying - and failing to sound logical. Her eyes are dark, her red lips firmly clenched between her teeth. 

You grip a little harder and watch as her eyes jerk closed. 

“Does that feel good?” You ask. You stroke down, gently, arousal flooding through you at the look on her face. Her eyebrows are drawn, her mouth open. You know she can feel everything. Every touch of your fingertips. Every slight stroke. 

As if the dildo is now a part of her. 

“Yes.” She pants. She sits up on her elbows, all faux concern gone, now firmly off her high horse, “Don’t stop.” 

You lean down and press a kiss to her hip. 

“You know what’ll feel even better?” You ask, voice coy, but you don’t give her time to respond. 

And then you dip down and take the head of the dildo into your mouth. 

She draws a sharp breath, head tilting back onto the pillow. 

You taste your own arousal, tinged with a little of that sharp silicone taste. 

Usually, this isn’t something the two of you did. Blowing silicone seemed pointless, most of the time. But now? With Wednesday writhing and moaning under your mouth, maybe it’s something you’ll do more often. 

You suck gently, rubbing your hands along the inside of her thighs. 

She groans, as a fresh trickle of wetness elicits from between her thighs, coating your fingers. You suck down a little harder, wanting more. You miss her taste, and quickly release the dildo with a gentle pop, leaning down to clean up the mess of her thighs, mouth watering at her salty wetness. 

She makes a noise of disapproval. 

“Be patient,” You chide, nipping her inner thigh with your teeth, “Enid won’t be back for hours, I’m going to play with you all afternoon.” 

Wednesday moans as you press a kiss to the base of the dildo, where it meets the straps, and then trail your tongue up to take her once more into your mouth. 

You suck a little more forcefully, now, wanting to hear the sweet harmony of moans and sighs and gasps only going down on her elicited. 

She doesn’t disappoint. Her hips press up, trying to feel as much of the wet heat your mouth provides as possible. Her hands use your hair like reins, like she’s a jockey trying to ride you as fast as she can. 

The noises she makes are glorious. Breathy moans, short, quiet gasps. 

And then a low groan when you pull your mouth away, sliding up her body to meet her lips. 

“Darling,” She says, sounding much more composed than she looks. Eyes wild, hair messy. Her lips, stained deep red with your lipstick, “Please don’t stop.” 

You smile and kiss her. 

Affectionate names aren’t her forte. In fact, the only time you get a ‘sweetheart’ or ‘darling’ or ‘baby’ is when she’s like this. Naked, wet, begging for more. 

“This is going to feel much better,” You say as you climb atop her body, positioning the head of her cock at your entrance, “I promise.” 

Her hands find your hips. 

You’re wet, comically so, and so the dildo slides in with ease. Your belly coils. The stretch of her filling you up feels insanely good. 

But the way Wednesday gasps out feels better. 

Her eyebrows knit, her grip on your hips tightens. She pants as you take her to the hilt, as deep as you can take her. She lets out a shaky breath as you lean down and press your lips to her jaw. 

“You’re not going to cum in thirty seconds are you?” You tease. 

She looks up, eyes locked in furious concentration, “Be quiet,” She orders, but there’s no edge to her voice. It’s strangled, although if she doesn’t use every braincell in her body to focus, she’ll do exactly that. 

You ignore her, and rise up, slamming back down against her hips. The movement sends shockwaves through your body. 

Wednesday curses, a fresh bead of sweat forming at her forehead. She sinks back into the mattress, gasping slightly as you gyrate your hips against hers. 

“It’s a dildo, baby, not a real cock,” You tease, slamming down into her once more, “You can cum if you want, it won’t get soft. I’m going to fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.” 

Wednesday closes her eyes, her grip on your hips lessening. You lean down and press your lips to her neck, licking and biting and enjoying the salt of her skin as you fuck yourself down onto her. 

You’re going too fast now, you realize all at once. In your effort to make Wednesday cum in under a minute you’d forgotten exactly how good this feels for you. This time, it’s you who moans out as the tip of the dildo brushes your g-spot. 

Wednesday doesn’t miss it. 

Her eyes open slightly, sparking with opportunity. You slow your pace, only slightly, trying to be subtle but her hands grab at your waist, a little rough. 

The arousal in her eyes is suddenly tinged with mischief as she takes control. 

Her hips drive up at a furious pace. You cry out, almost losing your balance, but Wednesday's grip on you steadies you. The bed squeaks, debauched sounds of her bare skin hitting yours rings out. 

She grins as you lose your composure. 

“Seems like you’ll be the one cumming in thirty seconds.” She murmurs. 

You moan, dropping down to bury your head in her neck. Her hands reach down to grip your thighs, prying you open to her. 

You gasp as she pounds into you, and through your blurry, lust filled haze, you can’t help but have the last word. 

“Two minutes,” You moan into her ear, “But nice try. For a beginner.” 

That does it. 

If Wednesday’s assault was hard before, it’s positively ruthless now. She doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. Hard, calculated thrusts as she fucks you, using your hips to bounce you up and down her cock, each thrust making you cry out in pleasure.  

She reaches down between your bodies to rub your clit and slams her hips up into you furiously. 

You cum with a final, relentless thrust, and a long, loud moan into her ear. 

Your entire body flashes white, orgasm ripping through you. The tips of your ears redden, your nipples painfully hard, your clit throbbing. And as you squeeze around her, you feel Wednesday’s body tighten and then a quiet, low gasp as she cums hard against you. 

Her entire body shakes, her movements against you still. 

You’re breathing a little heavily as your body thrums with the quiet satisfaction of your orgasm. Wednesday’s eyes are locked shut, her grip on your hips unrelenting. 

You wait a moment, enjoying the sharp beat of her pulse and the way she nestles herself into you, arms moving to lock around your waist. You press a gentle kiss to her chest and grin up at her. 

“Told you that would feel good.” You say, nuzzling your head into her neck. 

“It was an enjoyable sensation.” Wednesday admits, and you beam. 

“Does that mean you want to do it again?” You ask, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. You’re not sure it works. 

Wednesday peers down at you, introspection on her face. 

Then, you let out a quiet squeal as she takes you by your hips and flips you onto your back. 

#wednesday #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x you #mine #fanfic #wednesday x you #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader

[alwaysf0rev3r]

3 Weeks Waiting

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been hooking up with your dad’s best friend for months, but you accidentally ghosted him during finals week. saying he’s desperate is an understatement.

warnings: needy!bucky (he needs a warning), m & f masturbation, face sitting, hand jobs, riding, desperate sex, slight sub/dom dynamic, m in f penetration, dirty talk, absolute filth, hair pulling, slight degrading, praise, creampie, age gap (buckys the age he is in the movies, and reader is in college, maybe in early/mid 20s?)

note: my requests are open!!!!! REQUEST STUFF FOR ME TO WRITEEEEE :)

Tired. Annoyed. Slightly grossed out by all the old dudes around you.

That was the best way to describe how you felt in that moment. Your dad had brought over some friends and coworkers to celebrate the beginning of summer, he always found an excuse to throw a pool party.

Irritation flooded you as you got up from your beach chair, trying to subtly sneak through to go inside. You grabbed your towel to wrap it around yourself before walking through the door and into your home.

Before you could grab the chips from the kitchen island, a familiar frame stopped you. He stood tall on the other side of the kitchen island, a cup of rum in hand, “Hey, Bucky.”

Saying there was tension between the two of you was an understatement. His eyes were dark on you, a certain desperation lingering behind them, and you knew exactly why.

The two of you had been hooking up for months now, it just… Happened. But you hadn’t seen, called, or texted him in over 2 weeks because of college exams, and that was the longest the two of you had ever not spoken. Even when you went out of town, you two texted like preteens entering puberty.

And you had the audacity to sit there in front of him cluelessly.

He had to sit and just give you a small side hug greeting in front of your dad. He had to watch you tan on a beach chair in nothing but a small black bikini.

He was in pain.

“Don’t ‘Hey Bucky’ me,” he shook his head, watching you grab the cool ranch doritos on the counter and grab one.

“What?” You pretended to not know.

“I sent you like— 5 texts and called you a lot.”

“I was studying and taking exams, Buck, I warned you exam week was coming… I wasn’t even on my phone until today,” you giggled at his grump expression, not being able to hold in your own laughter. It was obvious he wasn’t truly mad, more just too stubborn to admit how much he missed you.

“Is it funny?” he scoffed lightly, matching your little giggles as he walked around the kitchen island. He stopped as he stood a foot away from you, and from afar, it’d look like the two of you were just having a normal conversation, “Do you know how hard I am right now? I can’t cum without you anymore.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and it was rare for you to get embarrassed or startled at all, “You can’t say things like that so randomly, Buck.”

“Why? Does it turn you on?” He mocked, walking closer and looking around to make sure no one looked. He slowly let the bulge in his pants touch your thigh as he breathed in relief. He didn’t grind, anxious that someone would walk in and see, even though you two were on the side of the island that covered everything below your waist, “Take the towel off.”

“You’re like a dog in heat, Jesus,” you tried to hold yourself back, wanting to come off as stronger. But when he slowly moved his hips, you swore you’d snap, “Oh my god, don’t do that— People are right th—“

“I don’t care,” he moaned a little louder than he should’ve, groaning in pain as you backed away. He watched the towel slightly open as you stood in front of him, shaking your head in shame. Your chest was revealed only slightly, but the sight was enough to make him feral, “I’m gonna cream my pants, fuck.”

“Bucky,” you scoffed, grabbing your towel and taking it off. You threw it as his chest and watched him catch it blindly, too distracted at the visual of your body, “It’s a bikini, don’t be so desperate.”

You walked past him and towards the stairs, knowing him well enough to know he was most likely staring at the view that was your ass. You turned around while you took a step on the 4th step, your eyebrows going up, “You coming or what?”

He sprinted.

Ran.

Sped.

He was a fucking track star.

He nearly fell over running to the stairs and following you, like a loyal puppy. You made sure to make it torturous and walk slowly, but your heart was telling you to sprint. You wanted this just as much as he did, if not more.

But you wanted him needy.

The minute you entered your room, he slammed the door behind you and lunged at you. Your lips intertwined with his as he gripped all parts of you, from your arms, to your chest, to your ass, to your back… all of you. But he swore he snapped when you pulled his hair just slightly, making him moan into your mouth.

God, did you miss that sound.

You pushed him on the bed, watching him sit and stare at you with lusted eyes, completely at his mercy for you. In that moment, he’d do— say— be anything for you. He needed you.

Which is why he said what he did next

“I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, unsure of where this energy was coming from. He was always a begger, or even when he was in charge, he just asked. He never demanded or told. But there he stood, feet away from you on a bed, telling you what he needed.

You giggled and stepped closer, standing in front of his sitting body. You ran a hand over his face and took a minute to take him in, it had been too long. His sharp cheekbones, his scruff, the way his eyes were wide with needy— Beauty was not a good enough word for him, he was so much more than beautiful.

“Earn it,” you kissed his cheek in response, then moved down to his jaw. You kissed and sucked on every part of his neck while you slowly slipped your hand into his swim trunks, grabbing his bulge. His breath shortened as you gripped it tightly, rubbing up and down.

You were slow to grab the waistband of his swim trunks with your other hand and pull it down, but when you did, shock filled your face. You had never seen him so hard… It was bigger than usual, almost scary, “I haven’t cum in nearly 3 weeks.”

“Do you need me to tell you what masturbation is?” you joked, running your hand on his tip and using his precum to lubricate your hand.

“You can show me,” he joked back, throwing his head back while you started stroking faster, “I tried so hard to but— Fuck— I couldn’t c-cause it wasn’t warm like you.”

“That’s so pathetic it’s hot,” you chuckled, hearing his little laugh as well. You continued jerking him off, hoping you could get him to the edge faster, “I fucked myself a lot the past few weeks.”

“So you had time to jack off but not text me back,” he breathed out, joking with you. The sex with you two was always that— Free. No pressure, just you two.

“I guess you won’t want to hear about me cumming to a photo of you then,” you shrugged, stroking him continuously.

His eyes widened as he looked down at you, sweat covering his head, “Did you really?”

“Yes— That photo with your turtle neck… I was looking through my photos and found it in my favorites album,” you became focused on stroking, trying to ignore how wet you were, “You were so hot in it— I came twice just looking at it. Then the next day I came to that video you sent me of you jerking off a while back.”

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me,” he moaned, which was motivation for you to slip your hand into your bikini bottoms, and subtly rub yourself while jacking him off. But when he looked down, the world was over for him, “Oh my god, you’re touching yourself.”

“It’s like there’s something wrong with me, Buck,” you moaned, removing your hand and shoving it into his mouth. He sucked all the juices of shamelessly, keeping your fingers in his mouth while he tasted you, “I’m always so wet. I cum, but it isn’t enough… I need you to fill me up, it’s the only thing that works.”

“Use me, take what you want— Fuck— I don’t care, just— Sit on my face or fuck me, please, just do whatever,” he moaned even though your hand was no longer touching him. Your words were enough to send him screaming.

“God, you are desperate,” you stared, straddling him and sitting on his bare dick. Your rubbed your clothed crotch on his exposed one, watching his mouth open, “You’re happy with whatever I give you, it’s sad. I could slap you and you’d probably thank me.”

He stayed quiet and grabbed your hips to encourage you to move more. There was something different about this time… You were in control. You had been very few times, but never so confidently, and it was driving him insane, “I could hump you for hours and you’d be okay with it, huh? You don’t even know what you want.”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he rebelled, ensuring you knew he knew exactly what he wanted.

You scoffed and put your hands on his shoulders. You dug your claws into them before moving them down and scratching hardly, watching red lines form as he moaned. You pressed your hands against his abs and pushed him down onto the bed to lay down.

He stared at you, no longer willing to make jokes. He watched you take your bikini bottoms off before shimming up and onto his abs. You stopped there and straddled his torso, humping his abs slowly, “I’ll let you taste me when I think you deserve it.”

“What did you drink?” He asked, swearing he could cum just watching you grind yourself on his abs, “Drink it more often cause you’re so fucking hot right now.”

“Shut up, I’m busy,” you moaned, grinding yourself on his abs and watching his eyebrows furrow, “I humped the pillow you’re laying on dozens of times while thinking of your cock filling me up— I even fucked myself with a dildo on it. Fuck, nothing makes me cum like you, it pisses me off.”

He moaned at the mere thought of it all, unsure if he could hold back any longer, “You can sit on my face on it too.”

You removed your body from his and moved up more, stopping as your crotch stood right over his face. He stared at your wetness, like a feral dog in training waiting for a treat… Waiting to get animalistic.

You decided to tease him a bit and put a finger inside of yourself, fingering yourself from only an inch above his eyes, “I bet those fingers don’t fill you like I do.”

“I’ll cum in front of your face and you can see how they get the job done, too,” you joked, moaning as you watched his hand go down to his own dick, jerking himself off.

“I can play this game too,” he moaned, stroking himself, “I could cum so fast just watching you… Fuck.”

Jealousy overwhelmed you as you removed your hand and sat down, holding back a bit of weight to let him breathe. He removed his hand from his own dick to push you off, making your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Don’t do that stupid thing you do,” aggression leaked through his pores, “Sit on me— Like just… Put yourself on me. I want you to just stuff my mouth, not that stupid pussy shit where you pretend to be one pound. I don’t care about air, just sit.”

You chuckled before doing as he asked, sitting with all your weight. You groaned as he moaned right into your pussy, sending your back arching immediately. He moved his tongue so quickly you bent forward, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. It was all overwhelming as you tested the waters, grinding yourself on his face and waiting to see if he’d ever ask for air.

But he didn’t.

Should you be concerned?

You lifted yourself up for a moment, watching him take a breath before shoving yourself on his face again, nearly coming at the sight of him being at your control. You grinded faster, using his face like a toy, “I can’t believe you want me to hump your face like a pillow— You’re so— Oh fuck.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt a knot in your stomach, a feeling which made you do the hardest thing you’d done in your entire life.

You lifted yourself up and got off of him.

He looked just as disappointed as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

The disappointment faded into desire as he watched you straddle him again, this time putting your bare pussy on his dick, rubbing up and down, but not high enough to his tip, “You’re so wet.”

You kept grinding on the side of his cock, waiting for him to do something to earn him getting what you’ve both been waiting for, “Please let me fuck you— I’ll do anything, fuck— Please. This is so good, but I need to just be inside you, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

You took his begging as the final sign, taking it upon yourself to sit on his tip and slowly push down. You took your time, adjusting to what you’d spent too long without. When you were at the base, you moved your hips and circles, ignoring how stiff Bucky was. He was holding back, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white, “Bucky— Fuck me. Please. I can’t take it anymore, it hurts, just fuck me.”

He grabbed your waist and flipped the two of you over so you now stood underneath him, staring at his face. He looked down at himself entering you, knowing with that sight and the feeling of you pulling his hair, he could cum in seconds.

He relentlessly pounded into you, doing what he spent weeks penting up and thinking about doing. He rammed himself into you like a hammer hitting a nail, making your body twitch as you whined loudly. Everyone was outside at the pool, and you had all the freedom to scream.

“You’re so fucking good for me, taking me like a good girl, look at you,” he gripped your waist tighter and fucked you harder, “You’ve corrupted me— I can’t fuck anyone else, not even myself. God, I wish I could fuck you all the time. In public, in private, in cars, in every room and closet I see— Fuck.”

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum,” you yelped, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, “Do it with me.”

“I’m not wearing a condom, not tonight, baby,” he said through grunts.

“I’m on the pill, cum inside me,” you moaned, telling him exactly what he needed to hear. He spent months cumming in a condom, and very occasionally on your stomach after fucking you, “Fill me up.”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he groaned loudly, meeting your volume as he pounded faster, “You’re milking me so good— I’ll cum inside you, I promise.”

You both moaned as you pulled him closer, the both of you grabbing each other while you felt the other release. It felt like it lasted minutes, taking longer to cool down as he peeled himself off of you to give you space.

You sat up slowly and looked down at the cum leaking out of you, which you felt curious about. You brought a finger to your entrance and picked up all the white cream around your hole and shoved inside of you. Thrusting a few times to ensure it was deep into you. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both of your liquids mixing to become one.

You brought the finger to your mouth and licked it clean, looking over at Bucky, who’s eyes were wide.

“Bend over, we’re doing Round 2.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x fem!reader #needy!bucky #avengers #smut #dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky x reader

[undercoverpena]

2. lemon twist

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

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

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

[bby-deerling]

grand theft autumn (law x reader)

🎶 eustass doesn't know that law and reader do it on the tang and eustass doesn't know 🎶

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.5k masterlist

cw: afab!reader (no pronouns specified), cheating, choking, manhandling, he pins you to the bed, rough sex, a little manipulation, evil sex with law

tagging: @freelemmingsdownload @eelnoise @themushroomofdeath @mandiemegatron

Kid’s first mistake was leaving you behind at the docks, informing you that he would rather attend the festival accompanied by Killer for some “bro time”; his second was being too conceited and self-assured to notice the way Trafalgar Law was eyeing you up like a piece of prey to toy with before devouring it whole.

He was sneaky and wily as he seduced you, chipping away at you with cocky smirks, little touches, and snide remarks about just how inattentive your partner is.  Though you knew what he was doing, his actions were meticulously planned to carry an air of plausible deniability, and designed in a way to make you come to him; as he excused himself to return to the Polar Tang, the look he shot you implored you to follow, sticking to his shadow like a lost duckling.  Swallowing hard as you entered the submarine, you thanked every heavenly body above that none of your crewmates had been around to witness the way you shamelessly gave in to his flirtations, betraying your captain; in truth, your needs had been neglected by your partner for so long that it was easy work, especially when your suitor carried an air of danger and edge that thrilled you and sent nervous shivers running through your spine.  Sneaking through the hallways of the submarine with him made guilt sting at you, causing you to hesitate for a brief moment as you crossed the threshold into Law’s dark, murky bedroom; however, any pain was swiftly quenched by unfathomable desire upon seeing the intense, wanting look in his eyes.

And now, you were far past the point of no return, your shirt off and pinned beneath Law, one hand grasped tight around your wrist while the other dragged a thumb across your bottom lip; a storm brews in your mind—this is wrong, treacherous, dangerous, and filthy—but not a thing in the world could convince you to part from his touch.  Illuminated only by the dim nightlight in the corner of the room, the rods in your eyes do the hard work of deciphering the lust-filled glare he gives you as his lips dive down towards the column of your neck.

He's serious—deathly serious—as he slowly and carefully pries you apart, almost as if you were a body on his operating table.  The languid, seductive kisses he gives you are all teeth and tongue; he’s a biter, and it’s almost as if he wants to get caught as he toes the line between lightly nipping you and leaving marks along your neck.  His foresight is a far cry from your usual encounters with Kid, which were often quick, haphazard, and unplanned.  Never one to shy away from manhandling you, Kid often tossed you around to suit his whims, usually accompanied with teasing remarks; Law’s touch was similarly dominant, but it was darker, more intense, and lit a fire deep in your soul as he wordlessly commanded you to comply with his desires—it was so different from what you were used to, and it ignited a sense of deep craving and yearning in your core. 

His head dips lower to pay attention to your chest, tongue running across bare flesh, hands never leaving your wrist and throat.  A slight twitch in your movements spurs him to press you further into the mattress with more force, making a soft mewl escape your throat.  Back arching, you can’t help but writhe against the thigh pressed between your legs as his tongue rolls along your nipple; he’s barely done anything but kiss you, yet you’re so completely unraveled for him, succumbing so effortlessly to his brazen manipulations without a bit of resistance.

Hovering over you, he latches his mouth onto yours again, swirling his tongue against yours, taking breaks to suck on your bottom lip so hard you can feel the indentations of his teeth in the soft, tender flesh of your mouth.  Each muffled moan and sinful sound that escapes your throat prompts him to tighten his grip around your throat, leaving you dizzy and disoriented as your mind buzzes with pleasure.  Before the constriction can become too much, he flips you over, hand on your back keeping you in place as he hastily removes your remaining articles of clothing.  Tattooed hands pulling your hips upward causes you let out a small squeak in surprise, making him exhale hard in amusement.

“So soaked for me… cute.” he teases, running a finger through your folds.  There is no warning as he sinks his inked digit into you and slowly pumps it in and out; though your face is buried in his pillow, eyes screwed shut and unable to see anything but the insides of your eyelids, the mental image of Law’s tattoos disappearing inside you and being soaked by your juices is enough to make you unconsciously flutter around him.  Silently, you thank him for denying you the privilege of seeing it with your own eyes, because the ungodly sight may have prevented you from ever leaving the submarine and returning back to your own crew.

“I’m sending you back to him ruined—you’re never going to be able to be with him again without thinking about how much better I can fuck you.” he warns, teasing your clit by circling it with the head of his dick.  The warmth of his cock compared to his cold, icy fingers makes you gasp, causing a dark chuckle to escape his lips.  As his head drags across your entrance, he means to tease you with it, but desperate to feel him bury himself in your walls, you press your hips back into him, silently begging him to enter you.

“Someone’s eager…better enjoy this while it lasts.” he taunts, voice husky and low as he pushes into you.  Brutal in his methods, he gives you no time to adjust, gripping your hips tightly as he fucks into you, leaving your head spinning from pure shock.  The tip of his cock brushes your cervix with each thrust, leaving you whimpering and mewling into the pillow, but a hand pressing down on the middle of your back keeps you from writhing.

He's quiet—almost too quiet as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your hips; analytical in his approach to dismantle you from the inside you, he’s soaking in and responding to each twitch and sound you make and adjusting accordingly.  Fighting his urge to keep relentlessly giving it to you hard, he slows his strokes down and places one of his hands onto the back of your neck.  Smirking at the whine you let out, he lays on top of you, chest pressed against your back, and runs kisses along your collarbone; they’re sweet, tender, and soft, a harsh juxtaposition to the harsh thrusts of his cock as he unspools every ounce of sanity and morality you had once possessed.

Now you’re the one who is eerily silent; a lesser man would be fooled into thinking the coil in your core had unraveled, but the heat he feels radiating off your cheeks lets him know you’re unbearably close as his cock slides deep inside you, brushing along your sweet spot with each thrust.  Inked fingers slip underneath your face and stuff themselves inside your mouth; drooling messily around them as you suck on his digits, your mind begins to lose focus and drift into the void, a limbo between heaven and earth where nothing exists but pure bliss.

The sensation of teeth sinking into your shoulder sends you crashing over the edge.  “He doesn’t make you come like this, does he?” he murmurs in your ear as you clench around him, gasping for air as you choke on his fingers.  “Say it—” he whispers, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, leaving a string of drool connecting them to your lips.  “—I want to hear you say it, or I’ll stop.” he warns, slowing down the speed of his strokes.

“No one can make me come like you can, Law…” you whimper, fingers curling and gripping the sheets hard so hard your knuckles turn white.

“That’s right.  No one’s ever gonna make you come like this again.” he growls in your ear, biting the shell possessively.  Reality sets in for you—Kid would never fuck you like Law; you’re going to spend the rest of your life chasing this high once he sends you back to the Victoria Punk in a matter of minutes.

You were going to have to face Kid again after being completely and entirely wrecked by Law’s cock.

But with the way he fucked you dumb, it didn’t matter—nothing matters anymore except the way Law’s cock feels as it caresses your insides, how his lips feel against your shoulders, and how his ragged breathing sounds ringing in your ears.

It’s fine, you convince yourself, becoming more delusional by the second as he maintains his brutal pace, hand wrapping around your throat.  It doesn’t matter, it feels too good.

Nobody can make you feel the way Law does; the sentiment is painfully evident and emphasized as he relentlessly continues to bully your spongy spot and draw another climax from you.  He was right, you were ruined, cursed to yearn for him from this point forward, a puppet on a string soon to be discarded.

The wire snaps.  You don’t care about the consequences anymore.

And besides, it’s not as if Kid has to know.

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #x reader #one piece smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece scenario #mdni #evil sex evil backshots with an evil man

[russos-ventitre]

leah williamson x reader | home ❤️‍🩹

✘ summary: leah finally returns as england captain after healing from her acl, asking you if youd accompany her to her first game back

✘ warnings/tags: tooth-rotting fluff, cuddles, new relationship, softy!Leah, shy!Leah, gentle giant, post-acl

✘ words: 2705

You slowly walked your way up the pavement to Leah's flat, taking a deep breath before knocking. You balled up one of your fists, feeling anxious but also buzzing on the inside. The two of you had been talking for some time, exchanging flirty chats and glances, and eventually becoming close. It was a lot easier for the two of you to meet up while she was on injury leave, although that window was slowly closing.

There were a few clicking sounds, snapping you out of your daze, your eyes looking at the doorknob turn as the door swung open.

"Hey.. you came." The blonde sighed, her tongue darting out of her mouth to wet her lips, looking you up and down. Her arm leaning against the doorframe as she smiled down at you.

"Y-Yeah.." You smiled back.

The taller woman moved out of the way, ushering you into her flat, and quietly closing the door behind you both.

"I would've cooked something.. but I'm not all that great at it.." She rubbed the back of her neck a bit embarrassed.

"That's alright, Lee." You reassured, making yourself comfortable on one of the barstools and grabbing for her hands, soothing your thumbs on the back of her wrists. Pulling her closer to you, the blonde now standing between your legs, looking down at you lovingly. "I can make something babe.." You hummed, seeing her cheeks turn red.

With the two of you only recently getting together, you both agreed to take it slow and see how things pan out and so far it's been great. Yes, you were both a bit timid and you both were afraid to overstep any boundaries, but those fears were slowly being chipped away. Becoming more comfortable being physically affectionate with each other and feeling more confident taking the lead on things.

"That sounds nice, baby." The defender hummed in reply, her fingers tangled in yours, happily smiling down at you as she leaned in for a kiss.

You slid off the stool, walking towards her fridge to figure out something to make. The blonde following behind you and leaning up against the kitchen counter. You hadn't been dating the European Champion for very long, but after the first few times you met you quickly realised that the woman was not a fan of anything that is spicy or spice-related and given that you were in her flat it made it a lot easier because practically everything in her kitchen would be something she'd eat.

As the two of you finished your meals, you grabbed your empty plates, and took them over to the sink to wash them. You were just minding your own business, completing a task that you did nearly every day, getting lost in the mundaneness of it.

Leah slowly creeped up behind you, hesitant at first, but eventually committing. She delicately wrapped her arms around your body from behind, pressing her front into your back, and fully hugging you from behind. You froze at first, only because you weren't expecting it, but quickly relaxed into the blonde's touch, blushing hard when you felt her chin come to rest on your shoulder.

"You know.. I've been meaning to ask.." She started, growing a bit shy.

"Would you like to come to my game on Wednesday? I know it probably sounds stupid but uh.. I'd really love to have you there and it would really help with my nerves and all that.. especially with it being my first game back and all.. " The blonde trailed off quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. You turned off the tap, drying your hands off and delicately placing yours on top of Leah's.

You tilted your head to the side so you could meet her eyes. "I'd love to."

You turned in her arms, the older woman's hands now resting on your hips and yours wrapping around her neck.

"I'll be there, promise." You shot her a smile, biting your bottom lip as you saw how happy your response made her.

Leah carefully took her hand and tucked your stray hairs behind your ear, seeing you melt into her touch. She leaned forward, her lips hovering nearby yours, pressing them softly against yours, feeling you kiss her back. It was a tender kiss, soft and gentle, Leah making sure to enjoy this time with you and go at your pace, slowly slipping her tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss. When you both pulled away for air, your cheeks were bright red. Tucking your face in the crook of her neck, you blushed harder, feeling strong arms pull you in even closer. You could get used to this feeling.

The defender took your hands and guided you over to the living room, helping you down on the sofa, joining next to you.

"Wine?" She offered, gesturing to the two empty glasses and brand new bottle sitting on the coffee table.

"Please." She poured a bit of wine into both glasses, handing you one, both of you clinking them together before taking a sip.

"Dinner was lovely." The older woman sighed, one arm resting on the back of the sofa and the other outstretched holding her glass of wine. You hummed happily as you sipped your wine, eventually placing it down on the table to rest your head in the blonde's lap. You noticed how she would glance down at you every now and then, sending you a soft smile between sips.

"I'm glad you liked it." You hummed in response, seeing a cheesy grin on her face. Your eyes followed her hand as she lifted the glass to her lips for another sip, her gaze returning to yours after she swallowed.

You carefully tilted your head in her lap, grabbing for your glass and slowly taking another sip without spilling it. You placed your glass back down on the table, shifting yourself on the sofa so you were more comfortable laying in her lap, staring lovingly up at the blonde. "I know what you're doing.." You smirked.

"Hmm?" She met your eyes, seeing them sparkle.

"You're getting me drunk Lee.. you know I'm a light weight so you're getting me drunk so I have to stay.." Crossing your arms, you watched as Leah gasped in disbelief, pretending to not know what you were talking about.

"I would never.." She huffed, holding a hand to her chest and pretending to be offended.

"Right.." You smirked, reaching over for your glass, sitting up to take another sip.

"Well.. is it working?" The older woman asked, no shame in her voice at all, placing her glass down to shift her focus to you.

You placed your glass back down, turning your body to face her. "You tell me." You sent her a drunken smile, one of your hands delicately resting on Leah's thigh.

The older woman's heart melted as she met your soft eyes, her hand coming to lightly caress your features, witnessing you nuzzle your face against her palm. Her strong hand pulled you into a soft kiss, pecking your lips every so often when you both pulled away for air.

She held your face there, seeing your eyes glaze over as the wine seeped into your body. It was definitely taking a toll on you now, feeling all fuzzy and a few things around you becoming blurry, the only thing keeping you anchored in this moment was the warmth of Leah's hand on your cool skin.

"C'mere love." Her other hand guided your body towards hers, pulling you close to her chest, letting you rest your head near her heart. Her fingers trailed down the side of your face, delicately tracing soft shapes into your cheeks.

The defender's eyes traced your features, drinking in every single inch of you as you clung to her body, her heart softening more and more the longer she watched you settle.

Both of you eventually falling asleep peacefully on the blonde's lounge, curled up together in each other's arms. A place that was quickly becoming a new safe space for each other, a new home.

@/your_username

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leahwilliamsonn 🤍

katie_mccabe11 wag duties

bethmead_ smileys 😭

Leah's first game back...

You arrived at the match, taking your seat in the family section that your girlfriend happily paid for, sitting right next to her mother Amanda. The redheaded woman was ecstatic to see you, pulling you into a tight hug before the two of you settled down in your seats.

"I'm so happy you made it." The older woman smiled, placing her hand on top of yours and giving it a squeeze.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." You answered, smiling back at her.

The game finally began with both teams, England and Germany, walking out of the tunnel and the fans, including yourself, going wild when England's Captain stepped foot on the pitch. The teams lined up for their national anthems but the crowd didn't stop, continuing to chant and applaud the defender for her long-awaited return as Captain. You saw as her one leg began to bounce as she started to become emotional, her free hand coming to her face to wipe away a few stray tears. Mary took her hand and gave her Captain a few pats before tucking her gloves under her arm to clap alongside the audience, the rest of her team, including the German team, followed suit.

It was a beautiful moment to behold, people in the stands standing up and shouting even louder now giving the blonde a big welcome home. She really was England's Captain, she was the heart of the team.

She brushed a few more tears from her face with her thumb before lifting her hand up to wave to the fans as a silent 'thank you' for all their love and support. Cheers finally died down, allowing the two teams to resume, England being second in singing their anthem. When it was England's turn Leah's leg shook more, her bottom lip trembling as she looked over to the family section, spotting her mother and a woman she loved so deeply, you. Watching her get emotional made you emotional, sending her a soft smile and a kiss towards the end of the anthem, the blonde returning the kiss when she finished singing.

Both teams went to their starting positions, the whistle being blown signalling for the first touch to be made and they were off. Throughout the entire game, your eyes were locked on your blonde lover, seeing how she would majestically run across the pitch and point her arm out shouting orders as if no time had passed at all. She was the missing piece that England had needed all those months ago. 

Not really understanding football all that much you cheered every time Leah had the ball practically, even if she was in your half most of the time she was in possession, but you didn't care because you were just so proud of her. 

The first half finished and it was stuck at nil-nil, the two teams filing into the tunnel, a certain blonde veering to the side before entering with her teammates. She walked over to the family section of the stands searching for you, giving you a wave to come over. You maneuvered between seats before you finally reached the railing that separated the two of you. You sat yourself down on the cement so you were almost eye-level with the blonde, her hands coming to rest on your thighs as she smiled at you.

"Everyone's so proud of you." You stated, seeing blush creep into her cheeks, the older woman dipping her head down slightly. Your hand floated up to her cheek, cupping it gently and pulling her back towards you, seeing her eyes widen as you pulled her in for a kiss.

"Thanks.." She mumbled, growing more shy the more you praised her.

The defender wasn't really a fan of praise or compliments but when it came from you, it felt different, a good different. A different that made her feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, and making her feel like there were butterflies in her stomach that were about to explode.

Leah wiggled herself underneath the bar that separated the two of you, pulling you into a tight hug, her head coming to rest in your chest. She melted into your touch as she felt your calming heartbeat, relaxing her before the start of the second half. Your hands came to stroke the back of her head, giving her light scratches to help calm her nerves. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head before she was able to pull away, seeing how the blonde's face was even more red this time.

"Go on.. don't keep them waiting." You caressed her cheek one last time, seeing the older woman hold onto your wrist delicately before she shifted your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to it.

Your Captain ran back to her team, once again emerging from the tunnel a few minutes later to begin the second half.

The second half started a lot better than the first. England getting a nice lead as Lauren Hemp scored within the first 5 minutes of the second half. The crowd going wild and all of the girls jumping on top of each other. You caught a few glimpses of Leah, who was beaming proudly at the shorter blonde, running after her and giving her a firm pat on the back. The match resumed, the German's defense now becoming stronger ever since they conceded.

It had reached the final minutes of the game, the crowd getting rowdy as the seconds ticked by. A German midfielder made a loose pass that was intercepted by Stanway, the brunette sprinted between a sea of green jerseys, weaving in and out until she lobbed the ball over to Daly. The blonde running the ball all the way down the right side of the pitch, nearly to the corner before sending the ball hurdling towards the penalty box. Leah being in that exact spot, jumping up at the perfect moment to hit it off her head and into the back of the net, completely catching the German keeper off guard.

The stadium erupted, now making the scoresheet 2-0 to England. The England Captain stood proudly with her arms out wide, allowing her teammates to jump onto her and hug her in congratulations. The final whistle blew and the deal was sealed, England had won against Germany again.

The defender ran over to the stands searching for you amongst the crowd, reaching for your hand to pull you from behind the barrier in the stands to drag you onto the pitch. She hoisted you over her shoulder, running around the field with her teammates. After a bit of running, she finally placed you down on the grass, her hands coming to the sides of your face and pull you in for a kiss.

It honestly felt like a fairytale, every single part of it, magical. You and your England Captain sharing a special moment in front of a sold-out Wembley.

However, the two of you were both rudely interrupted when your blonde felt someone poking at her back.

"Ahem.." You both pulled away, Leah's arms unknowingly wrapping around you protectively, pulling you close.

It was Georgia and Keira. "Care to explain..?" Keira asked, an arm slung around Georgia.

"Oh.. uh- this is [y/n].. my girlfriend.." She admitted, her face turning bright red.

"Riiiiight.. so you're [y/n].. Leah literally never stops talking about you." Georgia chimed in with a smirk, seeing the older woman grow more and more embarrassed.

"Really now, babe?" You turned your head to face her, looking up into her rapidly moving eyes as she became a literal tomato.

She gave you a light squeeze on your waist, biting her lower lip, nodding at you.

"You're adorable Lee." Your hand came to caress under her chin, pulling her in for another soft kiss.

The small audience that you had cringing and gagging as you resumed your previous endeavors.

"Eww.." Georgia whined.

"Get a room!" Keira shouted, giving Leah a push in hopes it would break you two apart. 

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #england women #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england wnt #woso imagine #womens football #arsenal x reader #awfc x reader #awfc

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

@nessieartss i did it again lol

based on this ask and this ask because i couldn't get "rizzless sukuna" out of my head 😭 (and also Maki being one of Sukuna's friends is relevant which is why i tagged that ask)

anyway, please enjoy!!

Edit: part 2!!

---

Sukuna can’t keep the scowl off his face as he watches Yuuji from across the courtyard. He watches as his little brother effortlessly jokes with his friends, his face and movements animated enough that they’re clear even from so far away. Yuuji has always been the more charismatic of the two brothers; always the one to make friends first. 

Yuuji throws his head back in laughter, casually throwing his arm around Megumi’s shoulders. Sukuna feels a twinge of jealousy in his gut and he can’t stop the grunt that escapes his throat. 

How ridiculous is he? Getting jealous over nothing. It’s laughable. Sukuna doesn’t get jealous! 

Except… the more he watches his little brother interact with Megumi, the more he finds himself wishing that he could hang out with Megumi—

“Oh fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

Sukuna looks up. Maki takes a seat next to him on the steps, a meticulous brow arched in intrigue. He’s quiet for a moment as he rests his elbows on his knees. While he considers Maki to be one of his closest (and one of his only) friends, Sukuna briefly contemplates brushing his inner turmoil aside. This is her cousin, after all. Would she really want to hear about Sukuna’s stupid crush that he barely acknowledges himself?

Ah, fuck it, he thinks and sits up straighter. 

“How do you ask someone out?”

Maki blinks, taken aback by the question. She holds Sukuna’s gaze as if trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“Depends on who you’re wanting to ask out,” she responds with a casual shrug. As she reaches up to fix her ponytail, she asks, “Are you saying that you’ve never asked anyone out before?”

Sukuna sniffs and says nothing, running his tongue over his teeth. His attention turns to his nails, examining them for any chips in the nail polish.

“It’s never been relevant before,” Sukuna grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Maki shift. She nods slowly with a hum of acknowledgement. 

“So, who is it?” Maki asks.

“Huh?” 

“The person you want to ask out, who is it?” she asks again.

This time, Sukuna hesitates to answer. He’s never been one to be ashamed of his preferences; he always makes his thoughts clear whether it shows on his face or in his words. Like the time when Sukuna argued that the Star Wars franchise was “extremely overrated” and Yuuji nearly had a heart attack (he still hasn’t let it go).

Finally, with a sigh, Sukuna answers in another grumble, “Fushiguro.”

The silence that stretches out between them is loud. Sukuna thinks for a moment that Maki might have gotten up and left. When he looks to the side, he finds that she’s still sitting there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He fully expects her to start laughing at him, but, she doesn’t. 

Maki continues staring at Sukuna until he narrows his eyes at her, opening his mouth to tell her to just forget about it and fuck off—

“Oh, you’re actually serious,” she huffs. “For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg.”

Sukuna feels his irritation ebb and he rolls his eyes. “Why the hell would I make a joke like that? There are other things I could use to bully you with. Like your stupid glasses. They don’t fit your face.”

Ignoring the comment, Maki goes on, “Fushiguro isn’t one for extravagance. If you really want to ask him out, you should pull him off to the side and ask him privately. He’d appreciate that.” The bell rings, signaling that it’s time for the next class. Maki and Sukuna get to their feet. 

“Also, it would do you well to work on your tactfulness,” the girl adds over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

Sukuna flips her off. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for advice anymore.”

He watches as his friend heads back inside before turning his attention back to Megumi who is walking in the opposite direction of his two friends. Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath. 

It’s another few seconds of watching Megumi walk before Sukuna’s feet start moving, carrying him in the same direction and he mentally curses at himself again.

Fuck it. Let’s do this.

#jjk #jjk sibling au #yuji itadori #sukuna #maki zenin #megumi fushiguro #sukufushi #echo writes #rizzless sukuna #i didn't know that i needed this in my life but here it is #dont worry tho maki is there to help him #kinda lmaoo

[celtic-crossbow]

A Sting in the Way You Kiss Me

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written, raunchy smut, Dom/sub dynamic, p in v, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), prostate stimulation

Summary: You and Daryl take the next step in your relationship. And it’s a big step.

A/N: Lawd, this took forever! I’m not 100% happy with it but happy enough to call it complete. I think I like Sub!Daryl. I’m sleepy now so I’ll proofread and fix errors tomorrow.

Daryl Dixon made you feel powerful. 

Given his nature, you could never be sure if it was intentional. From day one at the quarry, he was rude, standoffish, and vulgar. You found him difficult to tolerate, but hey, you didn’t get to choose the people with which you had survived an apocalypse. It was a random twist of fate that had brought you all together. Better to just make the best of it. 

So, you did. You made it a priority to get to know everyone in your group, saving the Dixons for last. Merle, you quickly surmised as a lost cause. Women, to him, were meek and fruitless, destined to die without a big strong man to ensure they were protected, fed, and bred like cattle to repopulate the earth. 

You found Daryl to be a tad more reserved. He only offered his opinion—usually loudly and to include several swears—when the conversation revolved around an important topic that would directly affect him or his brother. He otherwise attempted very hard to keep to himself. So when you began to follow him around, he naturally bucked against the idea. Still, you saw potential there and persevered. 

You took an interest in the things he was doing, namely hunting and trapping. He was a skilled tracker and a marksman with his crossbow. You started small, asking how the weapon worked. He had been skeptical and scrutinized you for sincerity, all with a glower in the span of five minutes. It was only uphill from there. 

When Daryl began to teach you his trades, he made sure you learned by doing. His only praise for getting something right was usually a curt nod and a “that’ll do.” By giving you weapons, having you track a buck that would feed the group for days, spear a fish, and skin and clean your own kills, he had put power in your hands. He had single-handedly molded you into a force that could survive in the new world. 

When it came to walkers, Daryl somehow knew things that others didn’t. “S’gotta be the brain! Don’t ya’ll know nothin’?!” You knew. Thanks to him. You had spent a lot of time in the woods, the perfect place to learn how to take down the undead. It was virtually impossible for them to sneak up on you. Too many ways to make noise if you weren’t actively trying to be silent. Once again, a weapon had been placed in your hand and you were thrown to the wolves…erm…walkers. The difference between this and hunting, you noticed, was that Daryl was never too far away with his own weapon ready. He knew how to make you feel independent without wagering your safety. 

The months and tragedies continued to pass slowly, each profound in their own way. Surviving was top priority and to continue to do so as time marched on became more and more of a victory. You lost people and homes, each leaving a mark on your soul that would never be erased, chipping away at your humanity bit by bit. Surprisingly, it was Daryl who kept you grounded. 

By the time you arrived in Alexandria, things between you and the archer had evolved into something just short of a romantic relationship. You had been sharing space with him for months now, falling asleep warm in his arms every night. You would show him affection in front of your friends and, though he scowled and grumbled, he accepted it. Kisses alternated between slow and passionate and long and needy, each accompanied by intimate touches that never seemed to go far enough. 

Today, you had been helping him with the bike Aaron had gifted him to keep him busy. He had shown you back at the prison how to make repairs, along with the correct name and function of each part. He was sitting beside you while you both diagnosed what could be causing the thing to sputter and die randomly. Your eyes were drawn to his muscles when he would tighten a bolt, and more than once, you had caught his gaze roaming up the length of your bare legs until he reached the hem of your shorts and quickly looked away. 

It was becoming a problem. An absolute dilemma that was resulting in a pulsing, wet need between your thighs. You chose to ignore it and focus your energy on the task at hand. Daryl, however, decided that he needed the wrench that just happened to currently reside between your lower thighs. When he reached for it, you were unprepared and reacted instinctively. You smacked the back of his hand before you even realized you had moved. He pulled back the limb with surprising quickness, wide blue eyes zeroing in on the red welt that began to form just below his knuckles. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” The words tumbled out of your mouth as you grabbed his hand to inspect it yourself. He let you pull it closer even though it meant he had to lean forward awkwardly. Your fingers brushed over the irritated flesh and before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to the mark you had left. A chance look from under your lashes showed he still wore the wide eyes, but the brilliant blue was merely a thin ring around his dilated pupils. 

‘Oh.’ Could it really be? You had honestly thought Daryl just wasn’t into sex since the world ended. He had never made a move, never given you any indication that he was waiting for you to make one. Sure, your make-out sessions would get pretty heated, but honestly, things were always too hectic or dangerous for anything more. Maybe, just maybe, now that your family was safe behind the walls here…

You knew Daryl had lovers in the past. It was a topic of conversation once during a night watch before the prison had fallen. Your head was on his shoulder as you recounted — in more detail than he had liked, if his growls and grunts had been anything to go by — your average-size list. When it had been his turn, he hadn’t been as forthcoming as you but you at least surmised that he knew his way around a pussy if ever the opportunity presented itself. 

On a whim, you flipped his hand and let your lips whisper over his wrist next, drawing up your legs to sit on your knees. He still didn’t stop you while you moved up his arm with hot, open-mouthed kisses and kitten licks. Eventually, you needed to skip over his clothed shoulder (for now) and his neck became your next target. He leaned back slightly when you threw a leg over both of his to straddle him, unleashing an onslaught of attention over his carotid pulse. His breath hitched, his palms hovering over your hips but seemingly not yet willing to touch you. You would use that to your advantage at some point. 

Salt, smoke, and earth were mingling on your tongue. “I like how you taste.” You whispered in his ear, smiling against his skin when you felt him shiver. You leaned back to bring your face in front of his, fingers grabbing his chin when he started to look away. “I think we need to go to your room.” He swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing. 

You stood straight up from where you were on his lap, leaving your feet on either side of his hips and the apex of your thighs directly in front of his face. Once again, he tried to look away. “Don’t.” You ordered before you thought better of it. To your surprise, he stopped short and turned back, even as he scowled from being bossed around. ‘Oh.’ The things he told you without saying a word. “Don’t keep me waiting, Dixon.” You stepped back and then over, swaying your hips more deliberately than usual as you exited the garage. 

You didn’t turn to see if he would follow. If you were reading him right, he would. 

And you were about to have the time of your life. 

Entering the home you, Daryl, and Carol shared, you passed the staircase that led up to your room and stepped into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. You probably had a good ten minutes before Daryl would stop pacing the front porch and actually come inside. 

Descending the stairs from the kitchen, you opened the basement door and flipped the light switch. Even though you had separate rooms, you spent more time in his room than your own. The things you used most were down there. You slept there. Nothing was really going to change if this happened, right?

Pursing your lips, you shook the thoughts away and placed the water on the nightstand, twisting the switch on the small bedside lamp. After you turned off the overhead light, satisfied with the subtle glow left behind, you grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pausing just before you were going to lift it over your head. No. You’d stay dressed for now. Your boots came off, along with your socks, and you sat on the edge of the mattress and waited. Sure enough, after a little less than ten minutes, you heard the slow, heavy footfalls descending the stairs. 

He must have needed another moment because there was a silent span of about fifteen seconds before the door slowly opened and Daryl entered, already gnawing on his thumbnail. 

“Hi.” You beamed, crossing your legs and leaning back. The bowman nodded minutely, looking so adorably uncomfortable that you came close to calling the whole thing off. You did need to ensure this is what he wanted. If it wasn’t, you could live without it. You had him and he would always be enough. 

When he closed the door and didn’t take another step, you rose to your feet and walked toward him, adding that extra sway to your hips. It was a pleasure in and of itself to watch him watching you. When you were close enough, you started by pushing the open vest off his shoulders, smiling when he dropped his hand from his mouth to let the garment fall from his arms to the floor. 

“Daryl.” You purred his name, and his eyes found yours instantly. “I need you to answer some things for me, and I need you to use words.” You worked at the buttons of his shirt agonizingly slow. “Can you do that for me?” He nodded. You shook your head and tutted. “Words, Dixon.”

“Yeah.” He answered immediately in a quiet tone. 

“Do you want me?” A button came free. 

“Yeah.”

“Do you know that I want you?” Another. 

“Yeah.”

“Will you let me be in control tonight?” Your fingers paused when he hesitated. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah.” He may have hesitated but his answer sounded certain. 

You smiled. “I’m going to give you a safe word. If at any time, you’re uncomfortable or you need or even just want me to stop, do you promise me you will say that word?” Another button opened. You had zero intention of going very far, but it would never hurt to establish rules when you wanted so badly to play with him. And he was letting you. You feared getting carried away in the heat of the moment, and his safety and comfort were the most important thing in the world to you. 

Daryl inhaled sharply and nodded, following quickly with a mumbled “yeah.”

“And if at any time, you can’t speak and want me to stop, will you double tap somewhere on my body to let me know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Good boy.” You felt his sharp inhale beneath your fingers while you finished with the buttons, opening the shirt but not removing it. You could see a few of his scars like this. Not wanting him to grow self-conscious, you stepped into him, tracing one with a gentle fingertip only to follow with your lips. “You’re beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?” Daryl shook his head. “Daryl.” 

“No.” He whispered. 

“Well, you are.” You let your finger continue upward to stroke his jaw before abruptly turning away. “First thing’s first.” When you reached the bed, you turned back to him. “The safe word is chupacabra.” A flicker of annoyance was immediate in his eyes. “Say it.” Your tone remained no-nonsense.

“Safe word’s chupacabra.” He drawled, trying not to sneer. 

“And what do you do if you need to stop and you can’t speak?” 

“Tap on ya twice.” The archer replied almost immediately. 

You cocked a brow at him. “Good. I need you to understand that I will never be upset or disappointed if you need things to stop. Ever.”

“Alright.”

You smiled at him fondly. “Good. Now, come over here and undress me.” There was that hesitation again as his eyes raked over your body, pausing at every curve just long enough to let you know he was appreciating what he saw. Finally, he stepped toward you. Once he had reached you, he again paused. You let him. He had touched every part of you before through your clothes. This was the first time he would see you bare.

After a few moments, he reached for the bottom of your shirt while you raised your arms above your head. The garment was pulled from you and tossed aside. Your bra wasn’t anything special. Something you had grabbed on a run a few months back; white and at least one cup size too small. You decided to do this part for him, unfastening the clasp at your back and removing the thing yourself. Daryl didn’t seem to mind, his gaze lingering on the newly exposed skin. Men and boobs, a tale as old as time. 

“Shorts.” You stated simply, a smirk firmly plastered on your face when he snapped out his daze and met your eyes. There was a slight tremble to his hands as he reached for the button, his eyes narrowed. You watched him and he watched what he was doing. Button open, he dragged down the zipper, and his eyes flickered up to yours. You gave him a nod. 

His thick fingers dipped inside the waistband at both hips, but just as he started to pull, you interjected. “Panties, too.” You heard the shaky inhale as he adjusted his hold to grip your underwear as well, lowering to one knee as he pulled both garments down your legs. They were quickly shed and kicked to the side and your hand found the top of his head when he made to stand. “I think I like you there.”

Daryl tilted back his head to see you, taking the hint and lowering his other leg so he was fully kneeled. 

“Good boy.” You breathed, feeling a pulse between your legs. You had wanted to do a few other things with him before really jumping into the fun bits but your needy cunt simply would not be denied. The mattress dipped as you sat in front of him, spreading your legs in an obscene display just to gauge his reaction. The blush that crept across his cheeks should have been adorable but only served to stoke your arousal. “Come here, Daryl.” A few feet separated the two of you, so it was only natural for him to assume you wanted him to stand. 

That isn’t what you wanted at all. 

“I didn’t say get up.” 

The archer paused halfway. The look he sent you had you wondering if this was where he would end this game. He’d say ‘fuck this’ and do things his way, pounding into you until you were red and sore and screaming his name through your release. The thought was appealing. 

You arched a brow when he lowered back to his knees, a quiet curse on his lips. Would he do it? The minute he leaned forward to place one palm against the floor, you thought you might cum then and there. Daryl Dixon was crawling toward you because you told him to.  

He stopped just short of your spread knees, one of your legs coming up to rest on his shoulder. He looked over at it but quickly turned back to you. 

“Closer.” As soon as you could, you started digging your heel into his back, urging him onward until his warm breath was wafting over your core. You bit your lip, reminding yourself of the role you were playing. Your first instinct was to beg him to touch you. No, not tonight. He’d have his turn. The thought of Daryl taking charge sent another sharp pang of arousal straight to your center, your cunt clenching around nothing. The way his eyes left your face and focused on the wet mess between your legs confirmed that he had noticed. You had to reel this in if you wanted to continue. Clearing your throat, you placed your other leg across his other shoulder. “I can’t decide if I want to feel your mouth on me or those fingers inside of me.”

You tapped your chin, feigning deep thought. You had every intention of utilizing both of those delicious options. Dropping your hand, you rested back on your elbows. “Let’s see how good you are with your tongue first.” Daryl gave you a look that would have melted your panties clean off had you still been wearing them. Goddamn, he was handsome, even more so when he was showing some confidence. 

Before your mask had a chance to slip, you felt his fingers spread you open but dare not venture between your lips. Blue orbs stayed on you when he leaned in and pressed his tongue flat against you, dragging it from opening to clit before pulling back to repeat it. The second drag ended with the tip swirling around your bundle of nerves. Sparks of pleasure jolted from where he touched you. You could feel it coursing through your veins like lightning, burrowing deep in your lower belly. 

He paid special attention to your clit, taking his sweet time alternating between flicks and swirls of his tongue to gentle sucking to grazing his teeth over it with just enough pressure to make your head fall back and your fingers tangle in his hair. Then he moved down, lapping at your opening with the same attentiveness, the wet slurps and appreciative hums pulling the knot inside you tight. When he dipped his tongue inside, pumping in, out, in and then wiggling it against your inner walls, you were already close to orgasm, panting and pulling against his scalp helplessly. 

He was moving back toward your clit and you knew if he made contact, you would spiral. Not a satisfaction you were ready to relinquish to him. “Stop!” You ordered breathlessly. He almost didn’t, the brat. His breath hit hard against the sensitive nub but he didn’t touch it. “I want your fingers inside me.” You kept your head back, staring at the ceiling. “Nowhere else.” Your climax had receded but it wouldn’t take much to call it back. 

You never had a problem cumming from penetration only, but it took time and effort. It would give you a moment of reprieve to gather yourself and draw this out a little longer. 

Or would it? 

You were wet enough for his middle finger to easily slip inside, the feeling of your walls pulling him in further earning a drawn out moan from somewhere deep in your chest. You raised your head to look down the length of your body. Thank whatever deity that Daryl was watching his digit move in and out of you instead of meeting your eyes. He felt so fucking good. 

Your legs pulled toward you, leaving your ankles balancing on his shoulders and your thighs opening further. You couldn’t fucking help it. “Another.” You demanded and he immediately obliged, drawing his finger nearly all the way out so that his index finger could join the onslaught. “Mmm, so good,” You praised. Your hips began to roll in time with the slow thrusts of his hand, the hot coil that was low in your belly getting tighter and tighter. 

The sounds that filled the room were a testament to just how soaked you were, and they were only becoming more prominent. It was no longer about how long you could keep this up. Your body ached for release, your mind too clouded in a euphoric fog to care. 

“Make me cum.” You looked down again and his eyes met yours as he lowered his head, drawing your clit into his mouth. He sucked the swollen bundle and flicked it with the tip of his tongue, his fingers curling each time they pushed inside of you and tapped that sweet, soft spot that had your toes beginning to curl. 

“Yes, yes, right there. Don’t stop!” And he didn’t. He increased his efforts, humming around your clit. “I’m gonna cum!” You had no more than uttered the words when the coil inside you snapped and released wave after wave of intense pleasure; a wildfire of sensation burning through you while you cried out his name and pinned him against you with your thighs. Daryl didn’t let up, collecting all you offered as your cunt pulsed around his fingers. 

“Shit,” you murmured, your body going limp. Fingers carded through the archer’s hair while he pulled free from within you. He directed the digits toward his lips. “Let me.” The command came out breathless and shaky, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Daryl appeared almost sad that he was losing that last taste of you, but he did as he was told and leaned forward to press his fingertips to your bottom lip. You sucked both digits into your mouth, your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Goddamn.” 

Your eyes peeled open to find the bowman watching you intently, those blue pools brimming with desire. You smirked and made a show out of opening your mouth and letting your tongue sweep across his skin, gathering every drop of your nectar. The man looked as if he was going to jump your bones. He was trembling from restraint, among other things, you were quite sure. With a hum, you pulled your mouth away. 

“Stand up.” The authoritative tone was back now that you were focused on a new goal. Daryl blinked, arousal replaced with irritation. His scowl deepened but once again, he obeyed. Rising up onto your elbows, you watched him stand, flexing his fingers at his sides. Using the ball of your foot, you pressed into his groin, against his obvious desire. The archer hissed through his teeth but he dared not move. 

“Take off your clothes, Daryl.”

A smile crept across your face at how quickly he began following that command. His shirt was shrugged off in seconds and you couldn’t even be sure when his boots and socks had been removed, but you pressed your foot into him again when he reached for his belt. He stopped with a grunt. 

“Slower.”

If looks could kill, you’d soon be a walker. His hair blew away from his eyes with each hard exhale through his nose. Once again, you wondered if this was where your fun would end. And once again, he surprised you and began to follow your instructions. Your foot fell away once he had worked the belt loose and popped open the button. Your eyes tracked the downfall of the zipper, only barely concealing your excitement. 

His pants fell first and the regret of not demanding he remove those and his boxer- briefs simultaneously was immediate. Though his underwear left very little to the imagination in his current state. You met his eyes for a moment and raised a brow to urge him onward. 

“Don’t get shy on me now, Dixon.” You teased. Moving up onto your knees at the edge of the mattress, you barely waited until the last garment was kicked aside before your hands were on him. You wanted this experience to be positive for him, and while you had so, so much planned for him tonight, taking a moment to just appreciate how stunning he was wouldn’t hurt. Your lips found the skin just above his clavicle, sucking gently. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” You whispered before dragging your tongue up the length of his neck to his jaw. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real. And you’re mine.” Your hand wrapped around his cock just as your mouth pressed against his, allowing you to swallow the delicious whimper he offered at the new contact. You kept your grip loose, pumping him at a tortuously slow pace. His mouth fell open and gave you the opportunity to delve inside with your tongue, tangling it with his when he responded to the advance. His breath between the intricate dances of your mouths had begun to pick up, an excellent moment for you to pull away completely. Your cunt clenched in response to the whine he emitted. “Be a good boy and sit down for me.”

Daryl moved a little more slowly now, almost cautiously, watching you when you crawled up to the top of the bed to grab both of your pillows. Your feet met the floor just as he sat down. You circled around to stand in front of him, lifting your foot and wedging it between his knees. “Open up, pretty boy.” The archer snorted quietly as he complied. The pillows fell between his feet with a quiet sound, and then your knees dropped onto them. You wiggled a bit to get comfortable and looked up to find him watching with his head tilted and a dark brow arched. “What? I’m shorter than you.” 

His mouth formed a silent “oh” and he nodded. The adorable moment almost had you forgetting your role, but you were able to rein in your adoration just before the giggle could bubble up. To bring things back into perspective for him, you raised your hand and whispered the tip of your finger along the vein winding up the underside of his cock. There was a choked off sound, his hands balling into fists on his thighs. You splayed open the fingers of the same hand across his chest and gave a gentle push. 

“Lie back.” 

There was a deep, steadying breath and then he did as you ordered. Your fingers laced through his on both hands and moved them to the mattress, out of your way but still within sight. 

“These stay here.” You commanded without a single centimeter of room for argument. You felt him shifting and just knew he was nodding. “Words, baby boy.” You chose that exact moment to wrap your soft palm around the base of his dick. 

“Yes.” He finally answered in a rush of breath. You weren’t certain if he was responding to your words or your touch but decided to forego clarification. He wasn’t going to last long, so you were ready to play with him through that first release. Then your needy cunt could finally get its fill of him. 

“So good for me.” You purred. You pushed yourself away from sitting on your heels, bringing you just where you wanted to be. You released him quickly, rewarded instantly with him rising onto his elbows to see what was happening. The urge to reprimand was forced down. This was your first time with him and his first time allowing this. If he felt better watching, you’d let him. 

For now. 

Palm open, you dragged your tongue from wrist to fingertip, your lustful gaze never leaving his face. The way he watched you sent a surge of wetness dripping from your core. God, you couldn’t wait to fuck him. First thing was first, though. Your hand met his cock again, warm and wet and stroking from base to tip, a twist, and back down. He couldn’t watch you after all. You nearly laughed when he collapsed back onto the mattress with a groan. 

Movement in your peripheral had you looking to find his hands returning to where you had placed them. He must have realized he had moved them when he sat up. As a reward, you pumped him a bit faster. When you saw his chest heaving but heard nothing more than the harsh breaths, you found yourself pouting before remembering the power you had. 

“You’re so quiet, baby. Don’t you wanna let me know that it feels good?” 

He didn’t respond at first, and you wondered briefly if pushing him would be the right thing when he was such a quiet person to begin with. He had taken a lot of shit from you already and this just might be the straw that broke the camel’s back. So, you just moved on with your delectable torture. 

Your pace slowed significantly. There was no time for him to investigate, though. Your lips were immediately wrapping around his tip, sucking lightly and lapping at the opening to gather the sweet little drops of pre-cum. Oh, were you rewarded for that move. 

His fists white-knuckled the sheets, a guttural moan working its way past his lips. It was the absolute sexiest sound you had ever heard in your life. You closed your own eyes in restraint, almost cumming on the spot. You had to keep moving. Sudden pauses might have him second guessing what he had just done and you most certainly did not want that. He needed to make that noise. Often. 

Swirling your tongue around the tip, you pulled him back into the warm cavern of your mouth. This time, your hand slid down the length of him, followed by your lips. He pressed against the back of your throat and had you cursing your gag reflex when you couldn’t hold him there long. It didn’t matter to him, apparently. The simple move had his back arching and his cock twitching against your tongue as you dragged your way back up. 

You bobbed your head several more times, delighted in the way he began to writhe and twist the sheets in his fists. You gave him no warning and pulled off with a wet ‘pop’. There was that whine again that had your nethers pulsing. 

“Look at me.” You ordered with an authoritative edge to your tone. Daryl lifted his head, still panting through parted lips. “I want to try something. I hope it will make you feel good. But I need you to know that if it doesn’t, you can stop me. Remember what I said. I won’t be upset. Okay?” 

He nodded but followed it with a breathless “okay.”

“Such a good boy.” You kissed the weeping tip of his cock, parting your lips to pull him back into your warm wetness. With your hand and mouth stroking him at a steady pace, you knew he was ready to fall apart within moments. His cock began to twitch every few heartbeats. His breathing was uneven and shallow. He was a complete mess and you couldn’t seem to get enough. 

You used your other hand to cup his balls, not remaining there long. They were a marker so you could find just the right spot. Starting at the base of his scrotum, you applied gentle but firm pressure, dragging the pads of your middle and index finger back and forth to massage his perineum, stimulating his prostate from the outside. Every ‘ah, ah, ah’ he fed you in response to the new sensation was a sound straight to your pussy. He definitely liked what you were doing.  

Once again, however, your greedy little cunt couldn’t be ignored, begging to be stretched and filled. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard, your mouth squeezing him all the way up and off. Your tongue slithered out to break the string of saliva that stretched from your lips to the head of his dick. “Mmm, I think that’s enough of that, pretty boy.” 

“Y/N.” He whined, keeping his hands right where you had placed them. 

“You’ve been so good for me, baby. Move to the middle of the bed.” He complied in eager yet jerky movements, lust blown eyes on your every move as you followed him up. You stopped with your hot center hovering over his groin. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of me and you.” You lowered, grinding against and soaking his cock with your slick. “I want you inside of me. Would you like that?”

“Yeah.” Daryl reached for you but thought better of it and put his hands back on the mattress. 

“Look at you. Wanting your hands on me so badly.” You moaned as the tip of him slid over your clit, providing the friction you so desperately craved. “But waiting for permission. Would you beg for it? To be inside me?” 

His lips pressed into a thin line. Had you found the limit to how far you could push him? You drove your hips down harder, shifting back and forth, and he pressed his head into the pillow with a hiss. 

“Beg me for it. Beg me because I want it just as badly as you do, but you have to be a good boy.” His heart thudded wildly beneath your palm as you caressed the muscular plane of his chest, his muscles twitching and contracting when you scraped your nails over his abdomen. “Beg and I’ll let you touch me.” You dipped toward him, letting your hard nipples touch his heated skin while your lips sucked at the hollow of his throat. “I want to feel you moving inside me, filling me up, Daryl. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Y-yeah.”

You sat up, going completely still. “Then beg.”

You watched as the defiance left his eyes, replaced by pure, unadulterated need. His fingers flexed in the disheveled sheets, his jaw clenching and ticking with how hard he ground his teeth. You smiled as desire beat out pride. 

“Fuck, please, Y/N. Wanna touch ya. Wanna—wanna fuck ya. Need ya bad!” His expression morphed into something akin to desperation. “Please!”

“You can touch me.” 

He didn’t wait, large hands grabbing your hips; spreading his fingers as he dragged calloused palms up your sides to cup your breasts. You couldn’t help the hitch in your breath when he pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. 

“Wanna be inside ya.” He breathed, one hand traveling upward from the swell of your chest. For a moment, you thought he might wrap it around your throat. The thought of him choking you was delicious, sending a warm gush of arousal from your cunt to coat his groin. He groaned and pushed his hips up into you. 

“No.” You breathed. “Be good for me and I’ll give you what you want.”

“M’good—let me fuck ya. Please, Y/N.”

You hummed, more than satisfied, bending forward to drag your tongue from his chin to his lips. He opened eagerly, his own dipping into your mouth to taste you with abandon. You reached between your bodies, keeping your mouths connected, and positioned him at your entrance.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” Every syllable was spoken against his mouth, your cunt stretching around him inch by inch, drawing him into your fluttering, wet walls while you swallowed his desperate groans and panting breaths. “Fuck. You feel so good.” You made sure to move slowly, inch by agonizing inch, taking several heartbeats before you had taken all of him. 

“God, Y/N.”

“I know, baby.” You were so full, stretched nearly to the point of painful but longing to feel him moving within you. He wouldn’t last long, but you wouldn’t either. You lifted your hips, feeling the drag along your insides in such a way that you needed to bite back a cry. “Oh, god, Daryl.” 

His hands settled in a bruising grip on your waist but he didn’t try to move you. You had promised to take care of him and he was letting you. But you couldn’t take it anymore. You began to ride him in earnest, bouncing above him with your head thrown back. 

“Goddamn!” He keened through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut. 

“So—so good.” You felt the heat twisting low in your belly, pooling toward your clit while he throbbed within you. “Touch me, Daryl. I wanna cum with you.” His hands squeezed your hips before he brought one of them to where he was splitting you open, sucking in a sharp breath when his fingertips brushed his cock slipping inside you. He barely had the coherence to drag through your slick up to your clit, but the moment the rough pad of his finger pressed against you, you saw stars. 

“M’gonna,” he panted, “gonna cum.”

“Me too.” You leaned forward, shifting into a brutal grind against his pelvis. “Fuck, Daryl!” The logical part of your brain screamed for you to move off of him, that you couldn’t risk him cumming inside you but you were both too far gone. 

Your vision whited out just as you heard him shout your name, his finger pressing against your clit harder than you were sure he meant to, but it was just what you needed: that perfect amount of pain to send you toppling over the edge with him. You barely registered the warmth flooding into you with each pulse of his cock. Or the way his hips jerked up while his hand squeezed your hip so tightly that his fingertips turned white. 

When you could see, could breathe again, his arms were around you and holding you against him while he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Oh my god.” You whispered against his collarbone. You were both covered in sweat, trembling. He was still inside you, drained and softening, when his arms fell away to the mattress. You sat up with a great deal of difficulty, your thighs burning from exertion and your cunt deliciously sore. You’d be feeling this for at least a day or two, and the thought was exhilarating. 

You lifted your leg to move away, feeling the mixture of you and him begin to drip out of you but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Obviously, he didn’t either, his eyes tracking you until you curled into his side. Sated and tired, you smiled and reached up to brush the damp strands of hair off his forehead, watching his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. 

“I’m gonna get something to clean us up, okay? And then we’re gonna drink some water. Then you can go to sleep.” When he didn’t answer, you turned his head to face you with a gentle touch against his jaw. “Are you okay?” Daryl took a deep breath, almost as if he had forgotten to breathe before it. “Use your words, baby.” You kept your tone soft, no longer playing a role. It was just you and Daryl now.  

“Yeah, m’okay.” He gave you the smallest lopsided smile and you knew he was still floating in that space between reality and euphoria, absolutely fucked out. You couldn’t stifle your chuckle. 

“Alright, just stay awake for just a few more minutes.” You patted his chest and then climbed out of bed to fetch a damp cloth. Daryl struggled but he managed to stay awake. He was silent as you worked, wiping away the mess on both your bodies. The sheets would need washed but that was not a problem you’d solve tonight. “Okay, baby, just drink some water for me and we can go to sleep.” If he had any objections to the pet name being used outside of sex, he didn’t voice them.

It took him a moment and a bit of struggling but he managed to rise up onto one arm, letting you tilt the water bottle to his lips for a few long swallows. Then he collapsed back onto the mattress. You drained the bottle and placed it on the bedside table, climbing out of bed one last time to fetch your pillows. The archer was out by the time you returned only a few short seconds later. 

You grabbed the duvet and pulled it up over both your bodies before curling into his side, smiling when he unconsciously pulled you closer and pressed a sleepy kiss against your forehead. He was done for then, breathing deep and even, sound asleep. 

You watched him until your own eyes could no longer stay open, a muttered “goodnight, pretty boy” before you fell asleep to the thoughts of next time, when he’d be in charge. 

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #sub daryl dixon #sub daryl #dom reader #dom fem reader #Spotify

[ssahotchnerr]

need me some domestic aaron where maybe reader hasn’t moved in yet with him but he keeps all her favorite food / necessities stocked up for when she comes around 🥹

your favorite

god please i need an aaron cw; mentions of food

friday nights were notorious for movie nights.

it was the perfect way to unwind after a busy work week, and to kick off the weekend. you would find yourself at aaron's apartment, snuggled with him and jack on the couch, surrounded by blankets into the night. jack especially loved the 'no-set bedtime' rule on these particular occasions- you'd never forget the look of shock and joy on his face when aaron first introduced it.

currently, jack had been really into star wars, and so the three of you were slowly yet surely making your way through the saga.

and with movie nights, of course came the snacks.

tonight, you had come from work directly to the apartment, meaning you hadn't stopped at home. and while aaron would offer you some of his clothes to lounge in, it meant you hadn't been able to retrieve your favorite snacks from your pantry. you could've stopped at the store on the way, sure, but you were too eager to see your boys and quickly dismissed the idea.

it was the easiest sacrifice to make if it granted you more time with the pair of them, after all.

"i'll be right back."

about halfway through the movie, you threw back your end of the blanket to allow yourself to get up, tossing it gently overtop jack who had been sandwiched between you and aaron. his muffled laughter followed you as you scrambled off the couch, as well as the sound of droids firing away coming to a stop as aaron paused the movie momentarily.

you had originally been in search of another drink- the popcorn had been generous on the salty side tonight- when you noticed your usual snack of choice laying on the counter. it was a variety bag, the contents containing a combination of pretzels, sun chips, cheetos, chex-mix.

"c'mon, we're waiting." aaron teased as he entered the kitchen soon after you, grabbing a juice box from the fridge for jack.

you turned to face him, evidently about to voice something. and when you hadn't, he arched an eyebrow in question, prompting you to approach the bench.

"you have my favorite snack mix?"

"yes...?" he answered hesitantly, as if it were obvious, but also as if he didn't know whether it was a good or bad thing.

you blinked in surprise, warmth flooding through your body. “you didn't need to do that.” your voice fell on the softer side, an endearing tone.

"of course i did, they're your favorite." aaron answered easily as he approached, giving your cheek a chaste kiss in the process. "it's been in the cabinet for a while. i pulled it out earlier when i noticed you hadn't brought any."

you stared at him in astonishment. "really?"

just when you thought he couldn't get more perfect.

"yeah." aaron nodded his head, a sweet boyish grin painted on his face. his arms securely wrapped around your waist, pulling your front flush to his. "i want you to feel at home here."

you smiled up at him, lifting up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “i appreciate it. and you. so much, i don't think you understand."

aaron returned the favor, but prolonged the kiss for a few seconds more. "anything and everything for you."

you couldn't help but kiss him again, as it was all too easy to get lost and melt into him.

the perfect man, truly.

the two of you could've stayed there forever. especially when aaron backed you up against the counter, each of you being completely consumed by the other. but jack's voice echoed from the living room, calling for the two of you to 'hurry up!'

with a small, yet still satisfied sigh, aaron forced himself to pull away, while you pouted slightly at the loss. but to quickly make up for it, he grabbed ahold of your hand. "c'mon, time to go save the galaxy."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

[holydayaria]

Negotiation

Phinks x Reader

Synopsis: Phinks gets you back.

Warnings: yandere, i wrote this for his birthday and then forgot to post it on his birthday lol, hardly proofread

2.2k words

“Babe, come on, I’m not even mad.”

“We can go home and forget about this if you just come out already.”

“If you come out now, I promise I won’t hurt you. You know I’d never hurt you, yeah?” 

Phinks is loud, not shouting, but loud enough that you can hear him, how his voice echoes off of the empty halls. Loud enough to make his presence known. 20 minutes before this, he was threatening to break your ankle if you didn’t come out that instant. It’s like he can’t decide on which strategy to use to coax you out of hiding. You wouldn’t be surprised if Phinks started shaking a bag of chips and tried calling for you as if you were a runaway dog. 

Perhaps it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that’s all he saw you as.

“I’m trying to be nice to you, you’re just making things difficult?”

There’s a pause, and one of the closet doors slams shut. Phinks continues his search, his jaw clenched and his palms beginning to sweat. You stay crouched in your hiding spot upstairs, squished between shoe boxes and behind old coats on their wire hangers. The closet you’ve hidden yourself in is a small walk-in in the master bedroom. The house is on the smaller side, but it makes up for it with a second floor and a basement that is more like its own apartment. You continue trying to listen in, attempting to gauge where Phinks may be over the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“I’m trying to give you a chance to do the right thing.”

What a joke. He’s talking as if you’re doing something wrong. There’s another pause, this one considerably longer. You can imagine Phinks now, gritting his teeth and scowling, trying to calm himself down, even by a margin. If you focus hard enough, you could even smell his cologne that he wears too much of. You continue to listen, trying to pick up any noise you can. Hiding in an abandoned house wasn’t your plan for today, it was just meant to be a quick stop for you to rest and get your bearings. Phinks must have been following you this whole time, maybe not closely, if he’s already found you here.

“Fine, we can do this the hard way.”

Part of you thinks he likes this game of cat and mouse, because why else would he drag it out for so long? The truth was that Phinks was betting on you coming out on your own and apologizing to him for running away so he wouldn’t have to punish you too harshly. That, and the longer you were out of his sight, the more nervous he got. 

Phinks continues to go through the house, still not done going over the first floor. If you were down there, he’d find you right away. If you weren’t, then you were still a sitting duck. The only way out from the second floor of the home was through the windows, which had the “landlord special” of being painted shut. Phinks would undoubtedly hear you trying to pry the window open, should you dare to lave your spot. Your only other chance was to somehow sneak down the stairs while he was preoccupied checking the kitchen cabinets, just in case you were hiding there. 

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

His footsteps ascend up the stairs, getting louder and nearer. You feel like you’re going to be sick. There’s no way he won’t find you. He takes his time to look around the other rooms, the minutes passing by like hours. Soon, though, he comes before the door to the room you’re hiding in. He says nothing, no offer for you to come out already, no announcement of his impending arrival. The door slowly opens with a grating creaking sound. It must not have had its hinges oiled in years. It hurts your ears and makes your heart feel like it’s going to thud-thud-thud right out of your chest and onto the floor. You had left the door to the room unlocked, a locked door would have been a dead giveaway of your hiding place. A lock wouldn’t have helped you out much, anyway. Phinks steps inside without much urgency; as if he knows he’s got you.

His footsteps sound heavier than they are, they echo in the empty room as he pretends to aimlessly walk around. You stay crouched in the closet, a hand clasped over your mouth and nose to not risk Phinks even hearing your breathing. You feel like you’re going to throw up. It’s going to be fine, he’s going to leave. He won’t find you, you can be free. You repeat that mantra in your head, over and over again. The thought of Phinks yanking the closet door open and dragging you out by your hair overrides your thinking. He’s going to find you, he’s going to decide that you aren’t worth the trouble. You’ll die here. You want to scream, you want to pass away right there.

He eventually stands in front of the closet door, you can see his feet blocking out the light underneath the door. You hyper-focus on his shoes, it’s too dark in the closet for you to see the doorknob. Phinks leans on the wooden door slightly, pressing his ear against it, not that you can see. You can hear him, though, shifting his weight and how the door is pressed even further against its wooden frame. Your breath nearly hitches in your throat, the worst thoughts run through your head. Maybe you should open the door now, he knows you’re in there. He has to know, he’s just fucking with you. If you open the door, if you apologize and grovel at his feet, maybe he won’t kill you. Maybe the sight of you looking so sorry for yourself will convince him to forgive you and to go easy on you. 

That’s just wishful thinking.

He takes a step away from the door. Your heart is beating rapidly, now is the moment when he’ll open the doorknob. He’ll see you, sitting on the floor with your eyes about to pop out of your head in fright. That never happens. Rather, he steps away, even further. You can hear him walking around, though he’s gone quiet now. A surge of disbelief goes through you. He’s leaving. His footsteps get quieter until it’s hardly audible. There’s a loud slam of a door, and the house goes silent. He’s left, he’s gone. You strain your ear to pick up any sound, going as far as to press your ear on the closet floor. It’s so dark, and you can feel the dust on the wooden floors tickling your skin. 

There’s nothing.

You slowly move out of the closet, breathing easier now that you’re not cramped in a stuffy room. He’s left the door to the room completely ajar, you could walk out right now. You take a few steps, legs wobbly and hardly able to support you. When your weight shifts, the wooden floorboard beneath you creaks. You pause, holding your breath. It was quiet, so very quiet. You wait for a few seconds more and think the noise has gone undetected. Assuming it’s safe, you go to take another step. There’s a sudden rush of footsteps up the stairs and down the hall, coming closer to you. A scream nearly rips its way out of your throat when you hear the pounding footfalls getting closer. You rush to the door, locking it and pressing your weight against it to keep it shut. To keep him out.

Like a shitty plank of wood is going to stop Phinks.

The wooden door slams against it’s frame with how fast you move, half a second later and he would have gotten you. You can hear a hushed curse under the mans breath.The footsteps (more like stomps) come to a halt and he tries the doorknob. It nearly falls off with how much force he’s using. “Open the door.” He almost sounds out of breath when he says it. Desperate, even. You’re right there, just a few inches away. It takes an embarrassing amount of self-restraint for Phinks to not punch through the door and drag you back to him by force. “I know you’re in there, so open the fucking door. Don't make this harder than it has to be.” You don’t budge. It’s almost physically painful for him to hold back, even by the tiniest amount.

He can hear you, ragged breathing and all on the other side of the door. Phinks bites the inside of his cheek, weighing his options. He knows where exactly you are, it’d be easy to tear through the door and pull you out of there. It seems like the smart option as far as he’s concerned. But perhaps he can give you one last chance for you to come to him on your own terms. He licks his lips, trying to figure out the words to say. “Hey, come on, you know I meant it when I said I’m not even mad,” He says after a silent pause. You know him, you know better. This man has raised his voice at you for showering without notifying him first, and yelled at you for not being more careful when you cut yourself whilst chopping vegetables. He’d gone as far as to get short with you when he thought you were looking at the male news anchor on television a bit too intently. It felt like everything you did served to soothe his jealousy and play to his ego. Phinks has never hit you before, but you wouldn’t be surprised if today was the day he did. “Just… open the door, so we can go home.”

You step away from the door a bit, and Phinks thinks you’re readying yourself to open the door to face him. Rather, you quickly move away from the door to try another stunt. What an idiot, he thinks. It doesn’t take him more than five seconds to rip the door off of its hinges, meanwhile you’ve barely started trying to get the window in the bedroom open. So much for your escape attempt. Phinks pulls you into him, muscular arms wrapped tightly around you. You’re sure he can feel your heart hammering out of your chest with how close you two are. You let out a shriek, but it’s cut off with a calloused hand over your mouth. Not like anyone is around to hear you anyway.

“There you are. There's my girl.” He utters, with a heavy sigh of relief. It sends a shudder up your spine, his words make your stomach, already dropped, twist and contort. You wish he would just kill you. He sounds insane, you think. You should find the slightest amount of comfort, considering that he doesn’t sound all that angry. All you feel is impending doom. You’re too panic-stricken to note how he’s not-so-subtly sniffing your hair, as if it’s calming in a way. Phinks removes his hand from your mouth once he’s sure you aren’t going to keep screaming like a banshee. He’s got you pressed so tight against him that you almost can’t breathe. 

“Why didn’t you open the door?” If you listen closely enough, you might be able to detect a twinge of disappointment in his words. “I thought you were going to kill me.” You admit in a quavering voice. You prepare for him to shout at you, to sneer or call you stupid. Phinks scoffs, as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing in the world. He doesn’t mention to you that it was definitely on his mind when he first saw that you were gone. Not like he actually wanted to, it was just a heat of the moment thought, that’s what he tells himself. “No way I’d get rid of you that easily.” He says, turning you around so you face him. His expression contrasts with your dreading one. It’s a look that you can’t quite pinpoint, somewhere between anger and respite.

You’re here, back with him, and in that moment, that’s the only thing that matters. He can correct your behavior once you’re both at home.

His hands come to grip your shoulders, and as he talks, they slide up to your collarbones. “You are so stupid, do you know that?” His hands are inching upward. “What if you had gotten hurt? You know how fucking easy it would have been for someone else to just,“ Phinks wraps his hands around your neck to demonstrate, “kill you?” His hands squeeze your throat by the slightest, unconsciously. “You should be thankful I came to get you, you really are a pain sometimes,” Phinks says it as if it’s an endearing compliment. His hands don’t leave your throat. “Someone else could have gotten to you first, I don’t even want to think about what would happen then.” He speaks as if that’s a far-fetched possibility. You both know there isn’t any escape from him.

As if realizing that he’s freaking you out even more, he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks, squishing your face in his palms. His gaze softens a bit in comparison to your terrified eyes.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

#phinks x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere phinks #_phinks #_hxh #yandere phinks x reader

[callsign-relic]

This idea has been my brainrot for months! If you've ever been on reddit, or tiktok lately you might have seen a funny subreddit titled "humans are space orcs". Well I fell inlove with that headcannon, so I wanted to put in the request for poly ratchet and drift with a human reader, reader had stowawayed on the lostlight and was lucky enough that the ship was being supplied oxygen, with occasional stops giving the chance for reader to go out and grab some supplies.

Long story short reader ends up getting caught in the medbay, battered and bruised, and gets stuck in a staring contest with ratchet, who is bewildered.

(I also find the comparison of cybertronians being possible scared of humans, like a elephant is of mice)

And my first request after my little hiatus! I apologize for the wait :) This was a fun idea to work with! This description matched the First Contact AU pretty perfectly so this accidentally became a First Contact fic, sorry if that’s not what you were looking for HAHA. Still though, i hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, First Contact AU

“And how did you say you found this creature, again?”

“By sheer coincidence! I was gathering some extra supplies from the crates in the back of the medbay, only to push a box aside and find… this.”

You lay flat against your elbows in the palm of a bright red servo, eyes darting frantically between the two titans above you as they conversed in an exchange of vowels and consonants you couldn’t comprehend. The two aliens were similar in color, yet couldn’t look more different— as if they were opposites, yet complemented one another all the same.

The bot that held you was square in his frame, his default expression a discontented scowl. From the platform of his palm, you could see the aged paint of his plating, full of dents and scratches galore. On the hand beneath you, specifically, you could see the chips of paint around each of his joints. Near-imperceptible to a being of his scale, certainly, but you could see the little splotches of blue peeking out from constant use.

The mech beside him was a completely different story, however. Rather than the square, boxy shape of his companion— this one was decorated with sharp angles. His color palette was like the other’s but reversed, more white with accents of bright red. Despite his triangular appearance, he gazed at you in Ratchet’s palm curiously— while Ratchet appeared more skeptical than anything.

“Have you ever seen a being such as this?” Wondered Drift aloud.

“Not in my years, no,” Ratchet replies with a shake of his head.

Wordlessly, Drift offers up both of his hands cupped before you. You pull back, head flicking between Drift’s face and his offered hands, grimacing.

Despite the language barrier, you know the sound of a scoff when you hear it, and as it echoes out from above you you can feel the platform of Ratchet’s palm start to tilt out from beneath you. You can do little to grab on— the ridges of his joints weren’t wide enough for you to cling to, so you succumb to your fate and tumble down into the samurai’s awaiting servos.

“Ratchet!” Drift scolds, “You could’ve handled them a little nicer.”

“C’mon, I wasn’t going to wait all day for it to hop off,” the medic grumbles. “Plus, it’s an organic. The texture was… off-putting.”

As if to prove his hypothesis, Ratchet reaches out a large digit and pokes at your stomach. In your injured state, you let out a wheeze, and Drift is quick to pull his hands closer towards him and away from his conjux.

“Did you hear that?” He asks, not really expecting an answer. “They almost sounded injured, poor thing.”

“Can I take a look?” Ratchet hums, and the white mech stares at him suspiciously for a moment. The older bot lets out another scoff, “I won’t handle them roughly, I promise.”

Satisfied, Drift nods, and slowly lowers his hands from his chassis to present you forwards. You were holding your stomach now, curled inwards in a fetal position, but even so, one could easily tell you were covered in marks and bruises all over your little form.

Again, Ratchet hums. “Let’s take them to the main medbay, see if our scanners can pick up anything.” As the medic concedes, a smile spreads wide across Drift’s faceplate, and Ratchet has to stuff down the urge to grin himself at seeing him so excited. He occupies himself by starting towards the main scanner, activating it and preparing any systems they may have needed. “With any luck, we can figure out just what this creature is.”

Drift starts to make his way over to the scanner as well, cradling you gently between his two hands. He lifts you up to his face, and though you scoot back up away from it, something about his innocent smile seems… endearing, to you.

“Hear that, little one? We’re going to get you all fixed up in no time.”

#relic writes #Transformers #reader insert #Transformers x reader #mtmte Ratchet #MTMTE Ratchet x reader #ratchet x reader #MTMTE drift #Transformers drift #drift x reader #mtmte #more than meets the eye #MTMTE x reader #Transformers mtmte #lost light #Transformers lost light #lost light x reader #maccadam #maccadams

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

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[redrose10]

I hope everyone is enjoying the story. I do appreciate all the feedback! Here is Chapter 8. I feel like this one is going to create more questions than answers. Next chapter in a few days.

This chapter and the next one will touch on some darker subjects so I highlighted the specific trigger warning in red. In the story it’s not really detailed or any thing but I still wanted to make it known just in case.

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 3,608

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

You thought about going back in to speak with Yoongi but after what he did and what you said you decided it would be best to have some space for a while. After calming yourself down enough that you could finally breathe you headed over to Jimins. You sat on his couch clutching the photo album to your chest still sniffling every so often.

“Ahh I see he still gave you the gift.”, he said placing a bottle of water down in front of you.

“You knew about this?”, you asked wide eyed.

He took a seat next to you and began rubbing your back. “Yeah he came to me one day and asked if I had a way to contact anyone in your family. He’s been working on it for a couple months. When he finally got the book he was so excited. Seriously it was weird to see him like that. He was also so nervous to give it to you. He kept asking if I thought you’d like it or if you’d be mad or think it was weird that he did this. I don’t think he’s ever done something like this for anyone before.”

“Jimin he lied to me. He promised me he was changing and that he didn’t sleep with anyone and he slept with some woman named Suri last week.”, you said feeling the tears start up again.

“Did you hear his side of the story?”

“Seriously Jimin? He doesn’t exactly have the best history. I don’t have to hear his side of the story to know it happened.”

“Listen I’m not defending him and I can’t guarantee he didn’t do anything with her but I spend a lot of time with him and I’ve seen a big change in his ways. The way he thinks, the way he talks, the way he acts. I mean I caught the man watching a YouTube video on how to make homemade chocolate chip muffins. I just don’t think that he would do that to you any mo-.”

Before he could finish you stormed off to the spare room. The last thing you needed or wanted right now was for your best friend to try defending the man that intentionally hurt you.

The next morning you did apologize to Jimin for storming away like that. He was letting you live with him after all and you know he’s stuck in the middle between his two best friends so it puts him in a bad spot. Thankfully he was really understanding and didn’t take it to heart.

The weekend passed and Yoongi hadn’t tried to contact you once. Jimin took a couple days off from work the following week claiming to be sick but you figured Yoongi knew exactly why he did that. When Jimin did finally go to work and came home you asked if Yoongi had said anything.

“No he didn’t say anything at all. He’s acting completely normal.”, he said shaking his head.

“So he really didn’t mention anything about me or us or what happened?”

“He just asked if you were staying with me and I said yes. That was it.”

You could feel the tears start to well up again.

“Jimin, if he really did change and didn’t sleep with that woman and he loved me like he said he did, don’t you think he’d be fighting for me right now or doing anything to show me he didn’t do it?”

“Y/N, I think hes already accepted that he lost you and at this point he is just trying to get by. He’s never been the kind of person to chase after someone.” Jimin walked over and wrapped his arms around you.

You sniffled, “Jimin, the worst part of all is that I really started to believed him. I really thought he loved me and I loved him too.”

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know you don’t want to hear this but maybe you could try reaching out to him because I doubt he’ll ever come crawling back to you. But you guys do have to discuss this some time. You can’t just pretend nothing happened between the two of you.”

“I know. I’ll think about it. Thank you Jimin.”

Later that evening he knocked on your door carrying in a bowl of ramen. After you took a few bites he started to speak.

“So I hate to do this to you Y/N but I’ve just been informed that I have to go out of the country for a while. Maybe a couple weeks. Maybe a little longer. Depends on how it goes. I’m really sorry that I have to leave you like this.”

You shook your head, “No it’s okay. I understand. You have a job to do. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

“You are welcome to stay here as long as you need and I always have my phone on me.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He gave you another hug before leaving you to finish off the rest of your dinner alone.

Jimin left the following morning and with him being gone now you were left to continue trying to heal alone. You saw the photo album sitting on the dresser and realized you never properly thanked Yoongi for the book. Even though things ended badly he could’ve kept the book and never told you he had it and threw it into a fire or something instead but he had the decency to give it to you. Maybe a tiny part of you also hoped it would force him to say something to you and the two of you could talk.

Throwing on some clothes you called for a car and traveled over to his office building. The receptionist greeted you with a smile, “Hello Mrs. Min. It’s been a while.”

“Yes it truly has. I hope you’re doing well.”She nodded and reached for the intercom, “Mr. Min you have a visitor.”A few moments later there was a beep, “Who is it Areum?”

You gave her a look that you hoped translated to please lie and don’t tell him it’s me or he’ll never let me in. Thankfully it seems she got the message as she reached for the intercom again, “One of your partners.” Not completely a lie on her part.

“Send them in.”

You nodded a thanks and walked down the hall to the large oak double doors. The room was surprisingly warm and inviting. Yoongi was sitting behind his desk reading over some paper work when you cleared your throat. He looked up at you before returning back to the papers.

“What do you want Y/N?”

Suddenly you felt nervous and you were starting to regret even going there.

“Umm I just wanted to come and thank you in person for the photo album. I do really appreciate it. No one has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?” He didn’t even look at you.

You got a sudden rush of confidence and decided to just go for it since it was clear he wasn’t going to bring it up.

“I just thought maybe we could talk about everything that happened?”

Yoongi scoffed, “So now you want to talk about things? Now you want to hear what I have to say?”

“Yoongi you have to understand and see it from my perspective. I was furious and hurt. At the time I didn’t think there would be any possible explanation that you could give me but I’ve had some time to think and I would like to hear your side of the story and then decide. Maybe we could figure out how to move forward together.”

He stood up and walked over to stand in front of you, so close you could smell his cologne. The familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla making your stomach churn.

“I did understand Y/N. I knew it looked bad and how much that message hurt you. My heart broke just at the thought of you having to see that. That’s why I begged and pleaded with you to stay and give me a chance to explain.”

“I’m sorry Yoongi. I was hurt and scared and angry, but I want us to discuss this now.”

“Why does is matter any more Y/N? You said your peace the other day. If you’re always going to just assume the worst of me no matter what I do then what’s the point? Why should I even try to be better? You said it yourself, I’m unlovable. I’m not going to force you to into the miserable life that I’ve created for myself. We’ll go to public events together and pretend to be a happy loving husband and wife and then we’ll go our separate ways until we’re forced to meet again. Maybe you’ll meet someone who will love you like you deserve behind closed doors instead of just for show.”

Before you could speak he reached for the intercom, “Areum please come see Y/N out.”

A few seconds later she opened up the door smiling and gesturing for you to exit. Yoongi leaned up against the front of his desk with his arms crossed. The unreadable expression on his face made you want to cry.

“Oh Y/N before I forget.”

You spun around so fast you were dizzy.

“There’s a charity event happening next Saturday. We’re expected to attend together. A car will pick you up.”

He turned and walked back to his chair taking a seat without sparing you another look.

You quietly followed his secretary feeling the familiar burning sensation in your eyes as tears began to form.

Areum gave you a small smile before again gesturing towards the elevator doors.

“Can I get you a coffee or a bottle of water for the road Mrs. Min?”

Shaking your head you gave a small smile and headed towards the elevator. Once inside with the metal doors blocking you from view you finally let go of the tears you’d been holding in. You’ve never had someone in your life that could make you feel the way he did. One day you hate his existence and the next you’re pinning for him in ways you never thought you would.

You and Yoongi didn’t speak the rest of the week other than the one text you got telling you the details of the event.

When Saturday came around you couldn’t have been less excited if you tried. The thought of being around Yoongi while he ignored you made you want to cry so you weren’t sure how you were going to get through the night with him.

You walked down through the lobby to the waiting car. The driver greeted you before opening the door and helping you in. You stumbled a little when you saw Yoongi sitting in the seat next to you. You fully expected him to arrive separately but there he was.

The ride to the event was silent. Several times you attempted to bring yourself to speak but the words would never come out. The car finally pulled up to the Seoul Museum of Art where the event was being held and you were relieved to be able to get out of the suffocating car.

Once outside the vehicle the familiar feeling of dread hit when you saw all the cameras and droves of people. You jumped a little when Yoongi placed a hand on your lower back. He didn’t say anything but started guiding you up the stairs to enter the building. It was hard to decipher if he was doing this out of genuine concern for you knowing how uneasy the attention made you feel or just as a show for the photographers which made you want to cry even more. Once inside you expected him to run off but he stayed by your side although not speaking to you except to ask if you’d like a drink.

His father came up to you giving you a kiss on the cheek, “I just have to borrow your husband for a little bit. Don’t worry. I’ll return him in one piece.” You smiled and watched as the two walked off and you were left standing alone. You really wished Jimin was there with you but unfortunately he was still away on business so you stood off to the side trying to go unnoticed.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a man eyeing you. You didn’t recognize him at all and the way he looked at you made you uncomfortable. You were scanning the room hoping to get a sighting of Yoongi or anyone that you knew when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hi Y/N, how have you been?”

“Oh my god, hi Namjoon! Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“Well this is one of my favorite events of the year.”

You laughed, “Fair enough. How’s the new job going?”

“It’s not bad. I like the work. Just wish I didn’t have to move so far out of the city. You still taking lessons?”

“Yeah here and there. My new teacher isn’t as good though.”

He chuckled, “Well I was one of the best if I do say so myself.”

Playfully you rolled your eyes, “Always so humble Namjoon.”

“Come on Y/N. Let’s go get a drink.”

Noticing the strange man still staring at you from across the room you quickly agreed to follow Namjoon.

A bell rang through the venue signaling the auction was about to begin. Various pieces of art were set to be auctioned off with the proceeds being split between the museum and the local children’s hospital. Even though you wished to stay with Namjoon you knew it would be best for show to sit with your husband. Luckily you were able to easily find him sitting next to his parents. When you walked over you gave a small smile and he removed his suit coat from the seat he was saving for you. A small gesture that made your heart swell.

You happened to look a few rows behind you and you gasped. The same man from earlier was sitting right there staring at you once again. You told yourself it was all a coincidence but something still felt off. Yoongi gave you a questioning look but you ignored it and sat down instead, secretly happy to have him by your side.

The auction was interesting to say the least. You’d never been to one before and you’d be okay if you never went again. You watched as rich people spent a disgusting amount of money on various works of art just because they could. At least it was going to a good cause you thought.

“If there’s anything you want just go ahead and bid. I’m sure Yoongi here won’t mind.”, your mother in law said leaning over her son to get your attention.

“I’ll keep an eye out.”, you said politely knowing that Yoongi would definitely mind.

Through the night nothing really caught your eye anyways. There were a few beautiful pieces here and there but nothing you’d be willing spend that kind of money on. Then the auctioneer announced a one of a kind piece by a young up and coming artist named Hyunjin. You’d seen his work before as most of it included various flowers and this was no exception. A gorgeous water color painting of a large bouquet of blue hydrangeas with just a touch of sparkle when it caught the light just right. Instantly you knew you were going to try and get this one. Before you could even bid though the price shot up to 12 billion KRW. Your mouth dropped open. Even though it was technically Yoongi’s money you couldn’t bring yourself to spend that much on a painting. It did look beautiful though. You hoped that whomever purchased it would treasure it as much as you would.

“Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the fifth row.”, you heard the auctioneer announce.

Feeling movement next to you is when you noticed Yoongi stand and walk down to the front to grab the ticket that he would use to claim the beautiful painting. When he walked back over he handed you the ticket and took his seat next to you without saying a word. You looked down at the ticket and smiled. He had bought the painting for you.

It was amazing how long these events lasted. You felt liked you’d been there for hours and you still had to get through dinner. Yoongi had excused himself and went to sit over at another table where he began talking about numbers and things. You noticed the same man from earlier sitting a few tables over with his eyes still on you as he sipped from a glass of whiskey. Feeling uncomfortable and suffocated you grabbed your clutch deciding you needed some fresh air so you exited through the front door. The cool air felt great. It felt refreshing. You were standing off to the side watching the various people move about when you felt a presence next to you. Peeking over to your right your heart skipped a beat. That same man from earlier was now standing right next to you. “How are you Y/N? I know that you’ve been noticing me all night. Why didn’t you come say hello?”, he asked. His voice nasally making your skin crawl like you just heard nails on a chalk board.

“You’re very beautiful Y/N. Yoongi is a very lucky man.”, he continued. Looking around for an escape you realized that you’d have to walk right past him to get back to the front entrance that you came out of which seemed like a bad choice being that he could easily grab you that way. Instead you decided to try walking around the building because surely there had to be another entrance a long the way. As you made your way around and you got further away from the hustle and bustle of the front entrance, things got quieter. You heard your heels on the cement but you could also hear footsteps behind you. Looking back you confirmed your fears. The walk to the back of the building was significantly longer than you had anticipated and you were really regretting your choice of shoes. You did your best to power walk without breaking an ankle.

Feeling more and more nervous you began reaching into your clutch to find your phone. You were going to call Yoongi or Namjoon or even your in-laws. Anyone to help. The man saw that as a distraction on your part and an excuse to quicken his step running up next to you just before you could turn the corner. He grabbed your arm quickly pinning you up against the cold brick of the building.

He was much larger than you. His cologne was strong and not pleasant, kind of like a wet dog ran threw a perfume factory. He saw you still scrolling through your phone so he grabbed it tossing the device on the ground. “Come on Y/N, we’re not going to do that now.”

“Seriously who are you and how do you know so much about me?”, you asked.

“That’s not important right this moment. What is important is that you let me get what I want without a fight?”

You scoffed, “Someone will come looking for me. They probably already are.”

The man laughed, “You mean Yoongi? Do you really think he cares about you? If he did then he wouldn’t have been cheating on you most of your marriage. He wouldn’t have been hooking up with Suri a week before your anniversary and lying to you about it. He’s probably got one of the waitresses bent over in a bathroom stall right now as we speak. He doesn’t care about you Y/N. Never has and never will.”

You could feel tears begin to form. The man placed his hands on your hips leaning in like he was going for a kiss. Quickly you turned your face away from him. He pulled you a little closer.

“Maybe that Namjoon might care about you from what I’ve heard but I’m sure he knows better than to cross that boundary.”

You continue to try and wiggle free but he had a hard grip on you.

“Please just stop. Let me go.”

“I don’t think so sweetheart. I’ve wanted this for a long time and the fact that you are Yoongi’s is going to make this that much sweeter.”

The man kissed your cheek then your neck. You tried to push him away but he had moved his hands to grip your wrists.

You had your eyes screwed shut so you didn’t even see or feel anyone else come up to the two of you but you heard a loud deep voice speak which startled you,

“Get the fuck away from her.”

“Yeah or what?”

No words were spoken after that but you flinched when the man suddenly fell to the ground after taking a hard punch to the side of his face. You looked down at the unconscious man before turning your attention over to the person that threw the punch.

You stared at him your mouth open in shock, “What are you doing here?”

#bts #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #cinnamon&vanilla #arranged marriage au #yoongi fic #bts fic #bts x reader #yoongi au #bts yoongi #yoongi

[mediumgayitalian]

“I made this for you.”

Nico stares, blankly, and the freckly hand extended out to him. Twisted around the long, calloused fingers, snagging on a black-lacquered chipped nail, is a bracelet.

Hesitantly, Nico takes it.

It’s woven in some way. He doesn’t recognize the exact pattern; Annabeth probably would. Not a braid, certainly, not any particular shape he can recognise. It’s bi-coloured, a twist of black and yellow, strings wrapped around them in an aborted spiral, almost. There’s a snag a third way into the bracelet, a tiny little error betraying its homemade status.

Under the guise of still inspecting the bracelet, Nico peers through his eyelashes. Will’s attention has long since shifted to somewhere to the left of him, rocking back on his heels, teeth gnawing into his lips as he hums. No longer extended out between them, waiting for Nico’s next move, his hands pick at the colour on his nails, picking off the polish chip by chip.

Dozens of similar bracelets stack his wrists, his ankles; rainbow of colours clashing horribly with the mint green of the cheap plastic shoes.

“What…” He pauses, clearing his throat. He feels Will’s attention on him, the warming rays of his soft smile. Surely this can’t be…

“It’s a friendship bracelet! We were makin’ pottery in Arts ‘n Crafts; I got distracted and the whole thing went squelch.” He blows a raspberry, smacking his fist into his hand. Nico jumps. “Totally collapsed! Anyways. Made a friendship bracelet for all my friends, yellow for me, black for you. I got a matching one!” He holds up his his wrist. It takes Nico a second of squinting to find the matching one — yellow and black, twisted, just like the one he’s wearing, nestled against the others like he’s been wearing it for years.

I made one for all my friends.

“You, uh.” His palms sweat. He tucks them behind his back before Will notices, although the twinkle in his eye tells him he might have an idea. “You’ve done this before.”

It’s not much of a question. Will takes it as one anyway.

“Mhm. You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to, I can take it —”

Nico wrenches himself away. Will blinks.

“Absolutely not,” he says, before he realizes what’s coming out of his mouth. “You made it for me. It’s mine.” In a flurry of movement, he tugs the bracelet over his hand, twisting the loosely hanging part around his thumb.

Slowly, giving him time to pull away, a freckly hand comes back into his space. When Nico — frozen — doesn’t flinch away, they rest on the jut of his wrist, the scar on the palm of his hand.

“I got it,” he murmurs. Nico glances up to find Will already looking at him, blue eyes wide and imploring and soft.

Nico has never associated blue eyes with softness. Intensity, maybe. Clarity. Softness, to him, has long been the understanding brown of Reyna’s, the softly glowing embers of Lady Hestia’s. The golden glow of Hazel’s, especially, ever-smiling. (The gentle, endless, sun-warmed clay brown of Bianca’s. Too big for her face, hidden behind her bangs; except, of course, when Nico was overwhelmed and miserable and needed her, needed her, needed her. Or when the lawyer came to their room door, steel-faced, giving the same news, and Nico would slide a small hand in hers, squeezing.)

Will’s eyes are soft, though, he realizes. Like cotton candy at DC fairs, like grape hyacinth, like the blanket he toted around as a baby. Like a sunny smile and golden hair and teasing winks when everything is too too much.

“There.”

With a gentle tug, the loose strings of the friendship bracelet tightly pull the bracelet snug against his wrist. Looser, barely even touching, Will’s fingers follow the contours of the bracelet. He lingers. Nico wonders if he can feel his pulse, pounding, endless.

“Thank you,” he manages, finally. His throat is dry. “For.”

The rest of his sentence won’t come out. Before he can panic, Will smiles; beams, really, eyes crinkling shut, and the short breaths clattering his lungs fizzle out entirely.

“Oh,” he says, several things slotting together at once. “Oh.”

“Anytime,” Will responds grinning, squeezing Nico’s wrist once more before bouncing off. “See you around!”

He’s far gone before Nico finds his voice again. But he smiles, still, eyeing the pretty bracelet, and whispers, “You, too.”

#will making nicos first friendship bracelet. yeah #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #will/nico #nico/will #dialogue prompts #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #my writing #fic

[toastnpretzels]

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relationships: crosshair x reader

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word count: 733

warnings: angsty, fluff, there's an unexplained relationship between the reader and crosshair, kinda left it up to interpretation whether you think they were together before or if it was just them having feelings for each other.

season 3 episode 4 spoilers

author's note: i have not posted a fic in so long. ive been so busy but that doesnt matter. the new episode had me feeling some type of way so here you go. its kinda short but i didnt want to expand without seeing hunter and wrecker's reaction to crosshair being back.

thank you for any support whether its likes, reblogs, or comments <3

“I had help.”

The last few months had been terrible. From losing Tech and then losing Omega to the empire. Spending everyday looking for her with no success. Nothing was ok. All of us were miserable. Our family was being torn apart and there was nothing we could do about it. It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Getting the comm from Omega was one of the best things to ever happen to us, but seeing her running down from the ship was even better. Embracing her, knowing she was safe, felt better than anything had. Things were starting to feel right again. All it took was one hug from Omega.

But then he walked off the cargo ship and everything in my body froze. He looked so different. He had been gone for so long that I thought the feelings had disappeared. Seeing him there, I knew they never were.

I forgot what it was like to be near him. I forgot how my heart sped up and how my head felt dizzy. I forgot how he smelled and how warm he was. I forgot how much I loved him.

-

After Kaller, nothing was ever the same. He wasn’t the same. The chip had changed him. The Empire had changed him.

He let us go on Kamino. The same day you had told him you loved him. On the platform before we left, with tears in my eyes. I told him I loved him.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Crosshair, please,” you whispered. He could hear the way your voice was breaking. You couldn’t lose him again.

When he didn’t say anything, you turned to walk away. Typical Crosshair to not say anything. He grabbed your wrist as you started walking.

“I love you.”

You stared at him. Your tears threatened to spill out from his confession.

“But I can’t come with you. You deserve better. This is where I want to be. With the Empire.”

I should have dragged him to the ship. I should have done more. But what more could you do when he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with the Empire.

Why couldn’t he have just came with you that day?

-

No one moved. Everyone was just as shocked to see him. No one knew what he was going to do, how he was going to react. He had tried to kill us before, but he had also let us go. No one trusted him anymore. You chose to remember how he had let us go.

You were the first one to move. Slowly, I stepped out from behind Wrecker. Every step I took towards him was filled with anxiety. It had been too long.

He doesn’t want to see me.

Is he still him?

Why did he come then?

Why would he still be here if he didn’t want to be?

You stopped a few feet in front of him. I could see how tired he looked from where I was standing. I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It hurt so much. He had been through so much since Kamino.

What did they do to him?

I couldn’t stand there anymore. I ran the few feet that were left in between us. I wasn’t sure if he would push me away. As I got close to him, I fell right into his arms. I didn’t realize just how much I had missed him until this moment. He wrapped his arms around me in the tightest embrace I’ve ever had. It had been too long since I had felt him. He was safe. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes, so quietly that you barely heard it.

I looked up at him. He had tears that were threatening to spill over. Your heart broke at the look on his face.

“Shh. Not now. Just let me hold you.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity just holding each other. Quiet tears were spiling from both of your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. His arms tightened around you again, as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It would be hard to forgive. Hard for everyone, not just you. So much had happened. But for now, all that mattered was that him and Omega were safe. Omega was home. Crosshair was home.

“I love you too.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #the clone wars imagine #star wars imagine #clone force 99 #clone x reader #the bad batch #bad batch #crosshair tbb #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch imagine #star wars the bad batch