#but he has a long that can stop a grown man cold

[skbeaumont]

Just a Graze | Joel x Reader oneshot

One-shot Joel/Reader. Previously posted in two parts but thought I'd make a masterpost for this one.

Summary: Joel comes back injured, and while you patch him up the tension that's been building for several months threatens to break.

Tags/warnings: dirty talk, explicit content, language, injury detail (not explicit), MDNI, sexual tension, PIV, oral (F receiving), FILTH

Word Count: 4.3k

Joel’s bleeding when he gets back. The screen door clatters shut behind him, wire shuddering against the wood, and you look up from the table. His face is set, a solid frown painted across his features – nothing unusual – but there’s a downward turn to his mouth that you recognise as a pained expression. He steps in and leans against the counter, one hand on the warped wood, the other pressed against his shoulder. Blood seeps through his fingers, clotting around his knuckles, staining his jacket red.

“I’m okay,” he says as you spring up from your place at the dusty kitchen table, “it’s just a graze.”

“Bullet?” You ask, ignoring his attempts to wave off your concern.

“Barbed wire,” he says, letting you lead him further into the cabin, toward the misshapen couch, “stupid mistake, I didn’t see it.”

The shotgun clatters onto the floor at his feet as he collapses onto the couch with a groan. He doesn’t protest as you pull his fist away from the wound, your hand warm against his wind-chilled fingers. The cut isn’t deep, but the wire has torn through his jacket and shirt down to the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a jagged cut that’s oozing blood.

“You must be getting old,” you say, standing to search through your pack for the first aid kit, “your eyes are going as well as your ears.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with my eyes. Or my ears.”

“Sorry?”

“I said, there-” he notices your grin, the glint of mischief in your eye. He sighs heavily. “You’re a damn pain in my ass.”

You huff out a laugh and pull a kitchen chair across to sit opposite him. You open the first aid kit – which is really no more than a small washbag stuffed with a bottle of Lysol and a handful of bandages – on your lap, pull out the disinfectant and start unscrewing the cap. “Can you take your jacket off?” You ask, and he nods, starts unzipping it and pulling it off of his uninjured arm. He winces a little as he peels it past his bad shoulder, shakes it down his arm and lays it over his lap, frowning at the gash in the fabric.

“I can patch that up when we get back to Jackson.” You say.

“Ain’t going back ‘til we’ve something to bring back.” He replies, and now it’s your turn to sigh.

“We’ve got two deer and a whole family of rabbits, Joel. There’s nothing else out here for us to get.”

“We both saw that clinic complex, and I ain’t arguing with you about this again. Winter’s well on its way, and we need as much medicine as we can get to make it through. I almost got in today – would have, if I hadn’t got caught on that damned barbed wire. We’ll both go back tomorrow.”

He fixes you with a hard stare, one that makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, though whether it’s through fear or something else, you’re not sure. You’ve been partnering up for a couple of months now, going out on hunts and supply runs, growing slowly closer over long hikes and cold nights camping out under the stars.

At first, he intimidated you. He was cold, harsh; a solid bulk of a man who never smiled and rarely spoke, except to tell you to keep your voice down or stop walking so loudly. But then, gradually, he’d started loosening up around you. A few weeks ago he’d cracked a smile at a joke you’d made – something stupid about a bird in a tree, the kind of joke your dad used to make when you were a kid – and then that smile had grown into a deep chuckle a couple of days later, and then a conversation, whispered and illusive, under a starry sky last week.

This latest trip outside Jackson had been the most enjoyable yet, conversation flowing easily between you, and you were starting to suspect that the strange swooping feeling in your stomach that arose each time he looked at you, or bumped against you as you walked had a lot less to do with how intimidating he could be, and a lot more to do with him.

Now, locking eyes with him over the opened bottle of Lysol, his eyes dark and with an argument boiling up between you, that feeling blossoms into something hot and delicious, stirring a fire in your belly that makes you bold.

“From where I’m sat,” you say, tipping the bottle of Lysol so that the disinfection pours out onto a clean swab, “you don’t seem to have much choice about what we’re doing next. You’re hurt, and I need to patch you up, so stop arguing and take your shirt off.”

He opens his mouth to argue but shuts it again, eyes flicking up to your face. A hint of red creeps up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, tinging them scarlet in the low light of the cabin. You keep glaring at him. He lets out a long breath through his nose and moves to unbutton his shirt. The shirt is old, vintage, even – probably older than you – with mismatched buttons and a crumpled, frayed look. It comes apart easily, Joel’s fingers working down the buttons nimbly until he reaches the bottom. He pauses there, looks up at your face. You look away, because heat is creeping up your own neck now, hot and unbridled, as he pushes the shirt off of his shoulders and lets it fall open onto the couch behind him.

After his dark eyes, the most notable thing about Joel is his stature. He’s tall, and broad enough to fill any room he’s in. You’ve seen him lift grown men like they weigh nothing, watched him pick up a dead deer and throw it over one shoulder without so much as a stumble. Last month you went out on horseback to scope a potential hunting ground, and, sitting behind him in the saddle, you couldn’t see anything past the triangular bulk of his shoulders, your hands clasped easily around his waist. So, yeah, you know he’s strong, could tell anyone that the man is built. But when you look at him in the half-light with his shirt off, uncovered by layers of leather or plaid, the sight still sends blood rushing to your face.

His shoulders are broad, curving into thick biceps that tense as he raises a hand to scratch, self-consciously, at the back of his neck. There are small scars littering his chest, running down in narrow white slices to his belly, which is softer than the rest of him, sloping and scattered with coarse hair that continues below the buckle of his belt. You want to press your face into it, kiss the contours of his bellybutton and the plains of his chest, up to the juncture of his throat, which bobs as he swallows, eyes shifting to catch yours.

“You gonna patch me up or just stare?” He asks, and there’s something teasing in his voice, something that causes heat and slick to pool in between your thighs. “I- you’ve got a lot of scars.” You say, stupidly, tipping more Lysol onto the cloth you’re holding.

“Had a lot of run-ins with barbed wire.” He replies, the words turning to a hiss when you press the wet cloth to the cut on his shoulder.

“Should be more careful.”

“Now where would the fun be in that, darlin’?”

Oh, that’s new. You’ve heard him call Ellie pet names before, laughed when she rolls her eyes and shirks away from his affections, all fifteen years old and too cool to be coddled. But he’s never called you anything but your name – never so much as shortened it to a nickname like almost everyone else does. You flick your gaze from his wound to his face. His eyes are dark, expression unreadable, but the intensity of his gaze makes you look away, cheeks reddening. You pull the cloth away from his arm and start wrapping a clean bandage around his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says, after a pause. “I forget, sometimes. Recently.”

“Forget what?”

“That you’re young enough to be my-” He cuts himself off here, “that you’re a hell of a lot younger’n I am.”

This makes you laugh out loud, a huff of breath exhaled. You’re still opposite each other, him on the sofa, knees spread wide, you in the kitchen chair. If you inched forward only slightly your own legs would be between his.

“Old days I’d have been old enough to drink and drive, and more than old enough to flirt, Joel.”

“That what you want? You want me to flirt with you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

You shrug and hold his gaze. “I think it’s what you want too. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you.”

You have. He thinks he’s being discrete, but you’ve seen how his eyes linger on your legs, how he can’t help but drop his gaze to your chest when you wear something low cut. A few weeks ago you’d seen him adjust himself in his jeans when you stripped down to your underwear to bathe in a stream you’d come across after two days out searching for supplies.

“And how’s that?” He asks. You have to hold yourself back from leaning forward and kissing the worried crease of his mouth.

“Like you’re a man dying of thirst and I’m an oasis.”

He scoffs at that. “Shoulda been a writer, sweetheart.”

“And how does this story end?”

“Ends with you walking away from me like you should’ve months ago. This,” he flicks a finger at himself and then you, “ain’t happening.”

“Why not? You want it, I want it. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“Problem is,” he slides his arms off the sofa, reaching back to pull his shirt back up over his shoulders, “you think you know what you want, but you don’t.” He starts buttoning the shirt, fixing you with a stern look. “Trust me.”

He tries to stand but you put your hands on his knees, holding him in place.

“No way,” You say, your heart thumping in your chest, “you don’t get to decide what I do or don’t want.”

“What do you want? You want me to fuck you? Want me to spread your pretty little legs out across this couch and make you come on my tongue?”

Yes. God, yes.

“What if I do? What if that’s exactly what I want you to do?” You slide your hands further up his legs, holding him down on the couch. If he wanted to, he could push you off easily, but he doesn’t. When your fingertips reach the tops of his thighs he slides his hands over your wrists and pins them where they are, stopping you moving any higher.

“Find someone your own age, sweetheart. Someone whose knees don’t creak when the stand up. Someone who can make you happy.” And then he’s standing up, moving your hands off of him with ease, stepping around you in the kitchen chair to stride to the other side of the room, the tension collapsing in on itself as he tells you to get some sleep, that there’s more work to do tomorrow.

*****

The next morning brings rain. It hammers against the walls of the cabin and drips in through the leaky roof. Joel stands at the window, one hand on his hip, silently looking out at the downpour.

“Tell me you’re not considering going out in this?” You say, moving up behind him to peer out at the lashing rain.

“Might ease up later.” He says, turning to face you. “There’s enough to do in here to keep us occupied, anyway.”

“Guns?” You ask.

“Guns.” He agrees.

Joel’s fanatical about keeping the guns clean and working. It makes sense, you suppose. You don’t know much about his past, about how he and Ellie ended up in Jackson, but what you’ve heard, the snippets Ellie’s confided in you over quiet conversations, makes for grim listening. To Joel, those guns mean the difference between life and death.

And so you both sit at the kitchen table, meticulously cleaning Joel’s shotgun and your pistol, passing cloths and gun oil between you. You make casual conversation as you go, neither of you touching on the events of the previous evening. After he dismissed you last night you’d gone straight to bed, tucked yourself into the dusty single bed in the bedroom while Joel took the couch. Your dreams had been hazy and pleasant, and you’d woken up flushed.

You’re sliding the magazine back into your pistol when Joel jumps and swears, pulling his hand back from where he’s trapped his finger in the loading mechanism of the shotgun. A tiny bead of blood wells up and spills over his fingertip and he sighs heavily. You reach out and take his hand in yours to examine the cut. It's tiny - you've seen paper-cuts do more damage - but Joel's frowning like he's in pain.

“You’ve gotta stop being so clumsy.” You say.

“I’m not clumsy.” He replies, letting you turn his hand in yours, watching you watch his thick fingers, take in the breadth of his knuckles.

“No?”

“No. It’s-”

You're not sure what makes you do it - maybe it's frustration still boiling over from yesterday, maybe it's the way Joel looks at you as you clasp his large hand in your own smaller one -  but before he can finish speaking you pull his arm across the table and wrap your lips around his finger. You snake your tongue over the pad of the digit and the noise he makes then - a breathy, broken groan - sends fire surging through you, heat coiling between your thighs.

“Distraction.” He finishes.

When you pull your mouth away and place a wet kiss to the palm of his hand, he slides his fingers across your jaw and up into the mess of your hair. His hand is hot against your scalp, curving around the back of your neck, leading you forward so that he can fit his mouth against yours across the table.

Pleasure flutters out from the pull of his fingers in your hair, and his lips are soft and dry until he opens his mouth to you, guiding your tongue into his mouth, pressing his into yours. It’s slow at first. Tentative, as though he’s waiting for you to push him away. But you’ve never wanted anything more, and when you moan against his lips he stands, bracketing your face with both hands to pull you up from your own chair.

It’s a messy walk backwards from the table. You bump against the broken coffee table, pull away from his mouth to curse and rub your shin, but then he’s falling back onto the couch, pulling you down into his lap so that your thighs are bracketing his legs.

You pause like that, looking at each other, both breathless and dazed, lips bruised.

“This what you want?” He asks again, placing his hand at your jaw gently. His fingers are thick, hand so large that his thumb rests at your temple and while his index finger sits under your chin.

“I want you, Joel. Please.”

When he kisses you again, it’s hungry and animalistic. All pretence of hesitation is gone. He presses his mouth to your throat, lets his teeth scrape the delicate skin below your ear.

“This is still a bad idea.” He says, voice breaking when you roll your hips against his. ”Shit.”

“Please, Joel.” Your voice sounds tiny, shrill to your own ears, desperate and pathetic, but Joel bites at the juncture of your neck and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except the feel of his hands on your hips, guiding you against him, pulling your clothed cunt against where he’s impossibly hard in his jeans.

“I’m gonna take this off.” He says, pulling at your shirt, tugging it up over your head. “And this.” He runs a hand over your covered tit, pinches your nipple beneath the thin fabric of your bra, rolls it between his finger and thumb while his other hand slides up your back and unclasps it. It falls between you, forgotten immediately.

“Fuck, darlin’, look at you.” He says, running the knuckle of his index finger over the swell of your chest, down along your ribs and across one hip. He lets his hand fall away, brings it back up to the side of your face, pulls your lips back to his and drags your bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth.

Pain and pleasure blossom through you, make you scrabble at the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking as you try and get them undone. He helps, slides the shirt off of his back, careful where his shoulder is still sore. He balls it up and casts it across the room, then grips your hips and lifts you, turning you onto your back on the sofa, pressing himself between your open thighs. The change in angle presses the seam of your jeans against your clit, a jolt of pleasure rocking through you.

“You ever done this before?” He asks, hovering over you, dipping down to press a chaste kiss against your collarbone.

“I ain’t that innocent, Joel.” You reply, gasping when he pulls your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. “Have you?”

This earns you a deep chuckle, a hushed whisper against the back of your neck, “I’ve been doing this since before you were born, baby.”

And, fuck, that shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does. It has your hips lifting up, seeking out friction. Joel notices and slides down your body, dropping onto his knees on the floor. He runs one hand up the inside of your thigh, presses his thumb expertly against your covered clit.

“I’m gonna take these off now, and then you’re gonna come on my tongue. That sound okay?”

You nod, voice lost as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls them down in one motion, pushing them away in the direction of his discarded shirt.

“Look how wet you are for me already.” He glides two fingers over the front of your soaked underwear, up to the waistband to hook them off.

And then he leans forward, presses light kisses up your thighs until he reaches your cunt. He pauses, blows a cool strip of air against you that has you trying to close your legs, but his hands are there, pinning them open for him. When he seals his lips over your clit and drags his tongue over it you thread your fingers through his hair, pull at the black-grey strands. You squeeze your eyes shut but he pulls away, chastises you gently.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten chocolate, rich and dark, pulling you back so that you gaze down at him.

He swipes his tongue over your slit, gathers the slick that’s pooling there. He’s like a man possessed, eyes dark, hair standing up on end from where you’ve run your hands through it, cursing and moaning as he slides his tongue over your clit, starting up a firm and consistent rhythm that has you bucking against him. His hands are gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises, his forearms corded with muscle, biceps flexing up to those impossibly broad shoulders.

“You gonna come on my tongue?” He asks, hardly breaking away from you to grunt out the question.

“Yes, Joel, fuck, please.” You can’t seem to form a coherent sentence, can hardly force yourself to keep your eyes on him where he kneels between your thighs like you’re an altar and he’s a lonely priest begging for repentance. It’s this thought – the idea of him worshipping you, tongue lapping over your clit, his eyes blazing with lust – that tips you over the edge. Your cunt clenches around nothing, body wracked with pleasure as you come, hard, on his tongue. He grins into your cunt as he feels you come apart against him, continues pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your pussy as you come down from the high, limbs shaking. When you finally push him away, overly sensitive and buzzing with pleasure, he rocks back on his heels, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Your pleasure is painted across his face, his greying stubble wet with your slick.

He crawls back up onto the couch between your thighs, dips his head to kiss you. You taste yourself on his lip; on his tongue when he sweeps it against the back of your teeth, heady and sweet. He presses himself against you, drags the front of his jeans over your bare skin. The buckle of his belt catches against your bare stomach and you hiss into his mouth, reach down to unbuckle it. It comes off easily, falls to the floor with a dull thud, and then you slip your fingers through the buttons of his jeans, undo them quickly, desperate to get them off. He stands briefly, pushes them the rest of the way down his thick thighs and then kneels back between your legs. Immediately you slide your hand into the waistband of his briefs. He feels like velvet wrapped around steel, hot and delicious in your fist. He groans into your mouth as you palm him desperately, sliding delicate skin over the head of him, feathering the pad of your thumb against his slit. When you draw his cock out you break away from his needy mouth to look. He’s big: thick, curving slightly to the left, head already weeping precum.

“Fist feels so good wrapped around my cock, sweetheart.” He tells you, “You gonna let me fuck you?”

It’s the easiest yes you’ve ever given. He chuckles darkly at your needy reply, pushes his briefs the rest of the way off and wraps his own fist around his cock. He slides himself over your cunt, coating himself in your juices. Then he’s notching the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, sucking in a breath as he pushes in gently, slowly, stretching you out deliciously.

“Good girl,” He murmurs, easing himself deeper, feeling you flex and clench around him, “good fucking girl.”

He stills when he’s fully seated inside you, sucks at a spot under your jaw that makes you gasp with pleasure, runs one big palm up your body to paw at your breast, trying to collect himself, twitching inside you with the effort of staying still.

“Cunt’s so goddamn tight, baby.” His voice is broken, pitchy and breathy against your ear.

You run your hands over his back, feeling out the breadth of his shoulders, the thin scars that lace across them, his muscles bunching and flexing beneath your fingers when he finally – finally – starts to move inside you, rocking his hips into yours, dragging himself all the way out and then gliding back in. The head of his cock hits something inside you that sends white hot pleasure jolting through your belly. The cabin is silent now – the rain has stopped – the only sounds are your frantic breathing and low, breathy moans, and Joel’s whispered praises as he rocks against you.

Good girl, so fucking good for me, letting me fuck you like this, cunt so tight around me, could come just thinking about it.

It’s dirty and sloppy and fucking incredible. The power you’ve seen him exert on infected and drunkards and raiders suddenly coiled over you, his muscles pulling you taunt against him when he changes the angle, sits up, pulls you with him so that you��re riding him, his cock somehow buried deeper in your cunt, your thighs bracketing him. You can feel yourself growing closer to release again, pleasure notching up in your belly like fire spreading. Joel shifts slightly again, makes space for his hand to come between you, places his thumb against your clit and presses, draws out slow, gentle circles that match the pace of his thrusts.

“Need my thumb on you clit while my cock’s buried inside you, sweetheart? Gonna come again just like this, huh? Dirty fucking girl.”

His words are like fuel on the fire and within seconds you’re moaning and shaking, cunt clenching around him as you come, harder than before, on his cock. Joel fucks you through it, keeps the steady pressure on your clit.

“Gonna make me come in this tight little pussy,” He says, and you know you shouldn’t, know you should make him pull out, but he feels so good inside you that you grind down on him telling him yes, please, fist your hands into his hair to pull his mouth against yours. The kiss is desperate and messy, all teeth and tongue. He hisses into your mouth as you buck your hips and drive them down on him, and then he’s swearing, fingers digging hard into your hips.

"Jesus, you feel so fucking good, baby, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna- shit.” He pulses inside you, painting your cunt with his come, hot and wet inside you.

You continue rocking against each other, slowly, coming down from the high. When he slides out of you and shifts away the old sofa groans out in protest, springs creaking. It makes you laugh, breathless, racking laughter than drives away the sudden realisation of what you’ve just done, of how you’ve indelibly changed the way you look at each other, the relationship between you.

“That was… fucking hell, Joel, that was incredible.”

He’s looking at you sideways, his hair still a mess, stubble still coated with your slick. He’s naked and vulnerable and you think it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. When he leans across to slot his lips against yours you grin against him, trying not to think about what happens next.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic

[dabislittlemouse]

run, baby, run

-Dabi x Reader

ෆ synopsis: Dabi fell for you at the first sight so he’s been stalking you and haunting you the whole time until he now gets his hands on you. He is determined to make you fall for him and crave him just as much as he does towards you

ෆ warnings: dubcon/noncon, yandere themes, smut, choking, fingering, reader has mixed feelings, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

ෆ A/N: this is totally inspired by the book I’m reading “Haunting Adeline” and I’m absolutely obsessed with the whole story. Definitely the best dark romance I’ve come across reading. So of course I had to write something :3

ෆ Song recommendation: Dutch Melrose- RUNRUNRUN

MASTERLIST

“Run” Dabi growls. “If I catch you I fuck you”

You weren’t sure how you found yourself in this situation but here you were: running in the dark woods in the middle of the night, heart pumping right out of your chest and adrenaline level chasing the sky. You kept running and running, your legs threatening to give in any time as they grew too tired to continue the movement. But you never stopped running away from the man that has been haunting you this whole time, like a shadow that never left you alone from the moment he laid eyes on you.

****

The man with those piercing blue eyes that would send anyone to their knees just by a single stare, the scars decorating his features grotesquely and the devilish grin on his face, the sight of him alone left you breathless. The same man had been stalking you for quite a long time, keeping you on high alert constantly, every single noise, every step of his in your house late at night, the feeling of being watched, you didn’t live a day without fear stalling deep in your chest from the mysterious shadow attached to you.

He waited, he watched you closely, he studied you, he provoked you, and the more time passed the more his obsession towards you grew. No matter how much you protested, no matter the circumstances, he would make you his. But patience is key, and Dabi is indeed a patient man sometimes, especially when he wants his plans to work perfectly well. He didn’t want to just make you his, he wanted your heart too. He could easily kidnap you and use you for his own sick pleasure but no; he wanted your love, he wanted you as obsessed with him as he is with you. You ruined his life, because nothing else is in his mind except you.

You were brave, and stupid. Your threats falling on deaf ears as Dabi knew too well you’d grown accustomed with his “weird ways” of approaching you, to the point that as much as he scared you, you couldn’t help the thrill and adrenaline rush in your veins whenever he hunted you down. You hated it, it was so wrong to fall for your stalker, for someone so sick and twisted as Dabi.

But he could wait no longer. His patience grew thin. As you screamed at him to leave you alone, he decided to finally give you the damned opportunity.

“Alright sweetheart” Dabi whispered, licking his lips in anticipation. “Y’want me out of your life so badly? Then I’ll make your wish come true”

The tone in his voice was almost teasing, and you didn’t believe him. You were scared he had something up his sleeve.

And he did.

“Oh really?” you scoffed. “Is this the part when I get rickrolled and in fact I never escape you?”

He chuckled. “Nope. I thought I’ve made it clear that you can never escape me, doll”

You swallowed, the tension thick in the air as chills ran down your spine, not sure if it was from the cold night breeze or his words. You both were outside of your house, a dead silence surrounding the area where nothing except the faint sound crickets could fill your ears.

“Spill it out” you said, your voice almost shaking as you tried to put out a brave facade. But he saw right through it.

“Impatient aren’t we?” he clicked his tongue. “Alright, I will give you this one chance and if you succeed, I will be out of your life. Completely.”

You bit your lip nervously as you listened to him closely.

“It’s simple really” he continued, walking around you like a predator around his prey as you sat still, frozen in place, his heavy boots crunching down the leaves and his pace was slow and intimidating. His eyes never leaving you for once. “All y’gotta do is run away from me. Straight to that forest. If you get out of the forest successfully without me catching you.. then you’re forever free from me…Y/N~”

He pronounced your name with such low voice and rolled it on his tongue like he was mentioning the name of his favorite meal in the world.

You nodded, still nervous. “And if you catch me?”

The grin on his face was evil, licking his teeth as his eyes flared at you. You weren’t sure if the man in front of you was a man or a demon.

“If I catch you, I fuck you”

*****

Breath was caught in your throat as you sprinted deep in the dark woods not too far from your house. Despite from going there too many times during the day, it was harder to find your way during the night. The forest seemed to have changed shape, it felt like there were more trees than usual, and you could swear you’ve been running in circles for the third time, always ending up in the same place.

“Fuck, where is it?!” you whispered to yourself, panic setting in as you tried to find the shortest path out of the forest. It was hard to run fast and at the same time not make any noise, it was hard to keep calm knowing he was after you, hunting you down like the small vulnerable prey you are.

His words rang in your ears over and over, the consequences if you get caught and lose this little game of cat and mouse.

“I can smell you~” he rasped out, not too far from where you were hiding. You could hear his heavy steps crunching everything on his path, letting you know he was close. Your hand clasped your mouth, preventing any whimper from falling out of your mouth as dread settled deep in your gut. How did he get so close to you in such a short time when you’d been running for your life hoping to get as far away as possible?

You crawled out of your hiding place to get further away from him, but his sultry voice seemed too close the whole time, it was driving you crazy.

“You cannot escape me doll” the voice said, making you turn your head back. But nothing was behind you.

“You can run as far away as you like..” to your left you turned, the voice seeming to come in many directions from the dark. Then silence fell once again, all you could hear where the fast heartbeats in your chest and your own breath, blood turned cold as you froze there, sweat coating your forehead.

“…but you’ll always end up back to me”

A scarred hand emerged from the darkness, grabbing your wrist harshly and pulling you forward. A choked scream fell from your mouth as you were slammed right on a tree, your back hitting the rough surface of the trunk. Before you could even think, the same hand was wrapped around your fragile throat, preventing the air from going to your lungs as you choked, tearing up.

“Gotcha” Dabi chuckled darkly, squeezing your throat more as his other hand grabbed your hip, pulling your body towards his. The heat radiating off him was suffocating you even more, he was taller and bigger compared to you while you squealed in his grasp like a scared little mouse caught in his trap.

His warm tongue came out to lick a singular tear falling down your cheek, groaning as he enjoyed the salty flavor of it, before setting his eyes on you again.

“You’re mine baby” he whispered. “All mine. I told you from the beginning that you will never escape me. You.. you were made for me..”

His hand came under your thigh, lifting it up to wrap your leg around his waist.

“…you were created for me to love, to break and shape you however I want. For me to mold and manipulate as I please”

“N-No!” you choked out, vision going dark.

Dabi released the tight grip on your throat as you started coughing and gasping for air. His hand gripped your hair from behind, lifting your head up to look at him as he loomed over you. You could swear his eyes were almost glowing in the dark.

“I will eat your fucking heart out” he grinned, his lips touching yours before he gave you a heated kiss, moaning and grunting in your mouth as his tongue intertwined with yours. The kiss was rough and possessive, taking your breath away as he bruised your lips.

“Mmmhh fuck~ your flavor, can’t wait to fucking claim you for good” Dabi said, his hands tearing the panties off of you while you whimpered and struggled to get away from him. He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, scoffing in annoyance at your resistance.

“Stop lying to yourself Y/N. If you don’t want this why is your pussy weeping for me?” he growled, dipping a finger right inside your sloppy hole.

“It’s.. not! F-Fuuuck” your eyes rolled back as he flicked your clit, rubbing it in circles slowly. It was embarrassing, but all this chase and panic sent a thrill deep in your core, making a pool between your legs that would haunt you forever. Nothing about this was okay, but yet a sick part of you enjoyed it, the part of you who put all the morals behind and enjoyed the moment of being chased down by the big bad villain and being claimed like this. Devoured like this.

“Yeah? It’s not huh?” he laughed, adding a second finger and doing a scissoring motion, making your legs tremble. “I’m a man of my words doll, I told you what happens if I catch you. Too bad my little mouse didn’t get to escape that easily from me~”

Dabi buried his face on your neck, nibbling and biting down, leaving his marks all over you and drawing some blood out in the process. Rolling his eyes in pleasure he licked the blood off you, proceeding to go down to your chest to do the same thing. His hand continued to play with your pussy while you shamelessly grinded yourself on his palm.

“F-Fucking hate you!” you gritted your teeth, orgasm nearing.

“Yeah? Show me how much you hate me then, c’mon princess” he smiled, his palm moving faster to get you to come undone for him. The sound of your wet pussy was loud enough among the silence of the dark forest, your face heating up in embarrassment.

“Look how fuckin’ filthy you are for me darling”

Your legs squeezed shut together as you came all over his fingers, a loud whine falling from your mouth as orgasm crashed and shattered you. You leaned back, catching your breath, body trembling as Dabi enjoyed the fucked out expression on your face. You almost didn’t even hear the “click” sound of his belt unbuckling, unzipping his pants before he lifted you, spreading your legs.

“Aren’t you my gorgeous girl?” he whispered, kissing your lips while the tip of his cock teased your wet folds, grinding against your puffy clit.

“I-I’m not your girl!” you replied weakly, the soreness making you whimper in his mouth. His smoky scent invaded your senses, it was intoxicating and it made you really crave the demon that haunted you everyday.

“Ooh yes you are, only mine. My sweet girl~” Dabi replied back, and without a warning, he shoved himself in you inch by inch, his head falling back. “Nghhh fuck- my pretty slut you are~ so fucking tight f’me”

His size made it harder for you to get used to him as he stretched you, splitting you open, invading and burning your insides. Tears hanging on your lower lashes finally rolled down your cheeks as you mewled on his shoulder.

“Too much! S’ too big!” you groaned while he laughed in your face.

“I’m not even halfway in princess”

With that he buried himself deep in you, leaving you breathless as his cock almost kissed your cervix. A guttural groan left his throat as your velvety walls wrapped so nicely around his cock, it took everything in him to not cum right there.

“You feel so good baby” he bit your earlobe while setting the pace, fucking you against the tree. “Feel like fucking heaven. My heaven~”

His pace became brutal as he plunged deep inside of you, hitting the deepest parts of you while you screamed and choked on his cock. The sloppiness of your entrance and the skin slapping mixed with your moans and his grunts were the only sounds that could be heard in the woods. His hands would leave a bruise on your asscheeks as he gripped them hard and spread them, landing a harsh slap and making you yelp.

“Mmmhm scream as much as you want” he groaned. “Nobody will come to help when I get your whole soul. When I. Make. You. Fucking. Mine”

With each word he thrusted harder and harder.

“I will chase after you forever no matter how much you run, you can’t hide from me. Not here or in any other lifetime. Y’gonna have to kill me if you wanna get rid of me, but you can’t do that anymore now princess can you?” he grinned, forcing you to keep eye contact with him by gripping your chin.

“Because hate it or not, you want me too now don’t you?”

The truth slapping your face hard had your eyes flaring in rage and your face heating up in shame, you hated that you wanted him, you loathed yourself for craving him and his attention, this all was so wrong.

But it felt so right.

Not knowing how else to release your anger, you crashed your lips against his, kissing just as roughly as he did, biting him until you were sure his lips were bleeding. You poured all the hate and need in that kiss, and he took it all like a starved man while his cock continued thrusting deep inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your head spin.

“That’s it baby” he breathed out as you pulled away from him, his head dizzy from the kiss and his cock throbbing. “Just how we both like it yeah?”

Rough. That’s how you both liked it, you wanted it rough so you could pour your hate on him for haunting your life like this, and he could pour his hate and love on you for haunting his mind and soul.

“You’re mine.. as much as I’m yours, y’hear me?” he groaned, reaching his own high too.

“Mmmhmm” you moaned as you felt that knot forming in your stomach, too fucked out to reply back anything other than sounds.

“M’gonna take your heart, just like you did with mine. No getting away from me.. ever” he kissed your lips as his hand reached to rub your clit once again. You kissed him back feverishly, sweat coating both of your bodies.

“Mmm y-yours” you said meekly and he moaned in pleasure.

“Yes baby, all fucking mine. Gonna be my good girl and cum on this cock now? C’mon, princess..”

It didn’t take long for you to cum for him, his words sending you over the edge as you clenched tight around his cock, wanton high pitched moans leaving your throat. It was too much, you almost saw stars as he fucked the orgasm out of you still, milking him for all his worth as he came deep in you. You bit your lip feeling his warm seed painting your insides, you felt so full of him and you couldn’t get enough of it.

You couldn’t understand how you could hate Dabi and yet want to be full of him in every aspect, but here you were.

After catching his breath too, he leaned down to kiss your forehead, wiping the hair off your face and admiring your features.

“I know you hate me, and I’ve never been a good man” he whispered as he pulled out of you, hissing in process. He held your limp body bridal style, heading out of the forest.

“And I can’t pretend to be a good man so you can love me..” he continued, not sure if you were even hearing him. But you were, despite from closing your eyes, you were hearing every word.

“But I’m a selfish bastard, and I want ya all to myself. So, if that means forcing you to love me just the way I am, with every fucked up part of me, then I’m gonna fucking do it. I won’t pretend to be good, cause I’m not”

You swallowed hard at his words, knowing that the villain was in fact serious about all this. It wasn’t just some game of cat and mouse. He had fallen hard for you, and he’ll be damned if he won’t make you feel the same way towards him. As twisted as it all is, he made you feel desirable, he worshipped you in a way nobody ever did, he made your heart swell in your chest and your pussy clench on air just at the thought of him.

Whether he knew it or not, and as much as you hated it, you indeed had fallen for him too.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @shadowsandshapes @dabihawksluva @mossy-opal @daniidil @holydayaria @syrenkitsune @arinexeisnotworking @cherrykisssess @doumadono @dabis0bitch @mysideeffectsofyou @bubblegumsblog @murderous-snail @sukunas-bitxh

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #mha smut #bnha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #touya todoroki x reader #yandere x reader #yandere Dabi #yandere smut #dark romance #dark romantica #dark fanfiction

[ollieolliewrld]

HSR Men in Relationships (SFW)

1.5k words

Argenti ♡This man worships you. ♡He searches for beauty and to now have the very definition of that in his arm, he cannot believe it ♡Ever since you two met he questions if this is reality as you are too good to be true ♡Argenti does his best to make time for you while getting his knightly duties done

♡You will constantly have fresh flowers ♡He believes that you deserve to have constant beauty surrounding you ♡Wherever he goes he brings something back for you ♡His phone is filled with pictures of you ♡You are his model and he will start a photoshoot anywhere ♡If the light is right he will immediately pull you his phone to capture the moment ♡Whether you are posing or he catches you off guard every picture is perfect

Blade ♡He is not a man of many words but when he does speak it is to show you his care ♡When he first saw you he was entranced ♡It was only for a moment but he could remember every detail ♡After that, he would sneak away from the other Stellaron Hunters to be around you casually ♡He would never start the initial conversation so you were the one to say ‘Hello’ ♡Blade finds comfort in your presence ♡All of the pain he feels can be dulled by having your head on his shoulder ♡He’s the kind of man who would see you struggling to open a jar and without saying a word take the jar and open it for you ♡He makes sure you are taken care of ♡Nothing is going to happen to you while he’s around

Dan Heng ♡Dan loves that you are as interested in learning as he is ♡Every time he finds something new to add to his database you are the first to know ♡Your eyes lighting up when he shares information with you makes his heart skip a beat ♡Early mornings when he makes you tea ♡Then lays with you just talking ♡He can relax with you ♡Conversations between you two let him be himself ♡With you, he doesn't have to worry ♡You can handle yourself and he appreciates that ♡He is there to support you always but has a lot on his plate ♡Time with you is sacred and he wants to know you inside and out ♡You are his partner, his equal, you are treasured and he makes sure that you know this

Dr. Ratio ♡Veritas Ratio is a picky man ♡He knows exactly what he wants and refuses to settle ♡Never did he think that he would find someone that met his standards ♡When you walked in he had met his match ♡At first, he’s very skeptical as you are just too good to be true ♡With time he settles in and enjoys your company ♡You don’t need to match his intellect ♡That’s not what he’s looking for ♡He has grown cold to normal emotion and is drawn in by your humanity ♡Your care for yourself and others around you that’s what he loves ♡Ratio enjoys doing your hobbies with you ♡He may already know everything about it ♡But he wants to know what it means to you ♡You are his final lesson and he will spend his life learning you

Gepard ♡Very much a golden retriever ♡Gepard is just happy to have you around ♡No matter what you’re doing his heart swells when he looks over and sees you ♡He has worked his whole life and you are the missing piece ♡Goes out of his way to make sure everything is done for you ♡He’s an early riser because of his duties and regardless of how early he wakes up Gepard makes sure to have your coffee/tea ready with a small note ♡When he’s stationed away from you he writes you letters ♡He never wants to be away from you but knows that he needs to keep you safe ♡Likes to keep a picture of you in his wallet ♡No matter how cold it gets you keep him warm ♡You are his endgame and even though he’s very comfortable with and around you he never stops putting effort in ♡The two of you work as a team making sure the other stays happy

Jing Yuan ♡Jing Yuan is a relaxed man ♡Enjoys to take you to work with him ♡As long as nothing dangerous is going on he sees no problem with having you on his arm ♡At times he will send Yanqing your way to keep him occupied ♡Takes you to see the most beautiful parts of the Luofu ♡He wants to share everything with you, being together for everything ♡Surprisingly a very good cook ♡At least once a week he makes sure to clear time to cook a beautiful dinner for the two of you ♡Making sure you are taken care of includes making sure you are eating well ♡Seeing you smiling and eating the food he has prepared for you makes him fall for you more and more ♡A protective lover as he has seen all that can go wrong and happen ♡Above all else, he will keep you safe

Luocha ♡This man is very smooth ♡You thought he was a bit of a player at first ♡He only has eyes for you though and you saw this ♡As he is constantly on the move he hopes to bring you with him ♡He has you as a lover and partner ♡Luocha takes great care in listening to your thoughts and ideas ♡You see things slightly differently than him and he uses that to build new ideas ♡Big on slow dancing with you whether it be in the kitchen or under the moonlight he enjoys holding you close and moving in sync ♡He likes to leave small notes around when you aren’t looking ♡No matter how many you find you always get a certain look on your face as you read them that makes Luocha a happy man

Welt ♡Welt enjoys a more relaxed relationship ♡He wants to spend time with you doing things like taking walks or holding you while he works ♡Most of his time is spent working and making sure all things on the ♡Express are going smoothly so when he is with you he wants to take some time to get his mind off of that ♡There have been times when the two of you had something planned and it was interrupted by work ♡But he always makes it up to you and you know that it is not his fault ♡You sometimes take it upon yourself to try to help with the work ♡While he appreciates the thought he would much rather have your head on his shoulder or on his lap while he does what needs to be done ♡Welt goes the extra mile to show you that he cares ♡He never forgets an anniversary or birthday and makes sure that those days are for you and him with no interruptions ♡Solo time for you two is rare but when the moment comes Welt has it all elaborately planned

Luka ♡Luka is ecstatic to have a lover ♡He is so focused on fighting that he almost forgot about a relationship ♡You showing up to one of his fights one day changed that ♡Seeing you in the crowd ignited the spark inside of him and he knew he had to win so he could talk to you after ♡He is not cocky but he's sure of himself ♡Conversation between you two flows effortlessly and your energy levels match up ♡He spends a lot of time training so he likes to have you there whether you are also active or just there for him ♡He considers you his lucky charm, as long as you are there he can’t lose ♡It makes him feel so loved that you are there after every fight to clean him up and give him affection ♡The care you show him is returned to you as Luka makes sure he is there for you no matter what keeping you happy

Sampo ♡Sampo did not have faith that you would stay ♡With his line of work, he couldn’t imagine anyone would actually want to stay by his side and love him ♡But he loves you and he wasn’t going anywhere ♡He likes to bring you gifts (most of which are stolen) ♡He has never been in a relationship before and is unsure of how to approach it ♡But he is a good lover and makes sure your needs are met ♡Sampo makes sure he spends time with you, that you feel loved and safe, and that no matter what happens he doesn’t go to jail ♡Before you jail just meant being behind bars and dealing with the guards ♡Now it means being away from his light and that is not an option ♡He still lives life on the edge but he does so having his love standing with him every step of the way

Author's Note: There are a few characters I left out (Adventurine, Gallagher, etc) if you would like a post with any other characters just send me an ask and I will get right on it! Also, if anyone would like a post with the women of HSR I would love to write that as well! <3<3

#hsr argenti #argenti x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #luocha x reader #luocha #welt yang #hsr welt #welt x reader #luka hsr #luka x reader #sampo koski #hsr sampo #sampo x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #reqs open

[undiscovered-horizon]

Put it on me - Roronoa Zoro x Reader

SUMMARY: A shared stash of moonshine leads to you pouring your heart out to Zoro. Despite his rather cold exterior, he takes your words seriously and asks you to put some of your burden on him if it ever gets too heavy.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.8k

Brought to you by my obsession with this painfully relatable song:

“Save some for me.”

Zoro’s voice wakes you up from the trance. You’ve been mindlessly drinking and reminiscing about the fight for what had to be at least two hours now. Enough time to slur your words and muddy your thoughts but the latter, as welcome as it would be, doesn’t seem to come. Flashes of scenes and echoes of voices still haunt you.

The swordsman nudges the axe you used to crack open the barrel. Quite crude but it works as it should - both a plug and a tap, depending on the blade's position. A spicy, dry stench fills the air as Zoro pours himself some of the dark-coloured moonshine.

He takes a large swing of the mysterious alcohol and winces. Very unlike him. A troubled cough escapes his chest.

“What is this?” he asks.

“The nightmare of hangovers yet to pass, I like to call it.” Used to the questionable taste of the beverage or simply numb due to your current state of light intoxication, you’re unbothered as you take another sip. The liquor burns your throat right down to your stomach. You can almost feel it wreaking havoc on your organism. Good. “We’re both alive and not blind, so definitely not methanol. Maybe it tastes like mouldy socks but it gets the job done.”

Zoro sits down on the ground next to you. His body is suspiciously close to yours, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, but you’ve grown used to it. It’s an open secret between the two of you - he’s allowing both himself and you this kind of intimacy as long as it remains unaddressed. If it did, he’d have to admit he’s not as aloof towards you as he likes to make himself look and that is not something Roronoa Zoro has the courage to confess.

“Why are you drinking alone?”

“I’m not. You’re here,” you say as you gently poke his arm.

He chuckles and shakes his head. Zoro takes another sip and winces again but not as much as before. The ‘mouldy socks’ flavour is growing on him. Or maybe it’s the alcohol content?

“You can’t fool me,” he says in a low, serious tone. “Something’s on your mind.”

Zoro looks at you out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze is bright, perceptive. Even if you try, you can’t lie and convince him that everything’s in order. It seems that Zoro already knows your mood is foul, just can’t quite put his finger on the why. For a man who claims to be unbothered and uncaring, he sure does spend a lot of time and energy and studying your little habits and quirks. One might even say he appears to have a particular affinity for you.

“I ate shit back in the village,” you mumble without looking at him. You almost puke bolting down the rest of the dark moonshine. “Complete failure. Embarrassing doesn’t cover even half of it.”

Stumbling over the air and your own feet, you get up and pour yourself another cup of alcohol. You can see Zoro’s troubled gaze following your movements but he doesn’t say anything or try to stop you, although he’s sure you’ve had enough of strong drinks for the night.

“You did fine,” he says awkwardly. Despite meaning his words, niceties still have a problem making it through his throat. “Aside from leaving your left flank wide open but you’d have to die and be reborn to stop doing that.”

Sitting back down next to Zoro, you lose your balance and fall on your backside. Some of the moonshine spills and soaks your shirt. You don’t care about the stain for now but you surely will in the morning when the putrid smell fills your bedroom and refuses to be washed out.

“It was everything but fine,” you scold him.

Surprised, Zoro looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Never before has he seen you so hung up about mistakes. Normally, you’d shrug and laugh and just say something along the lines of “shit happens, we’ll be better next time”. Still, no matter how much he racked his brain, he simply couldn’t think of anything in particular that could get you like that. Nothing about the day and its battles stands out to him.

“Nami getting hurt was my fault,” you admit. “Luffy and Usopp too. Shit, everything was my fault.” Out of frustration, you rub your face with your free hand.

“Nonsense,” he easily dismisses your self-blame. “You couldn’t have known about the whole human-turned-arsenal crap.” Zoro takes another swing of the mysterious moonshine. This time, he doesn’t wince or cough. Mouldy socks are beginning to taste like champagne. “I don’t think anyone could,” he adds quietly.

You hit the floor with a clenched fist.

“But I did, Zoro,” you drone your words. The image of the pirate captain is clear as day before your eyes. “That’s the thing. The moment I saw that man I knew something was wrong. He moved in a strange way and the way his clothes fit him… It was right there, in front of me. And I was blind like a drunk bat stuck in a pile of cow dung.”

“Hunch isn’t exactly the best strategy. You might as well have been wrong about him and attacked an innocent man.”

“Well, he wasn’t innocent, was he, Zoro?” The anger is rising within you. Why wouldn’t he just accept your fault? Why is he so frustratingly stubborn at putting the blame elsewhere? “I could have prevented all of this or at least given us an opportunity to prepare before Usopp got half of his bones broken with a cannonball. And all of this, Nami nearly dead, because when my moment came, I failed. I hesitated. I questioned my judgment. Like I always do.”

The wooden floor is hit yet again when you look for a way to let out your anger.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but,” Zoro makes a pause and clears his throat,” you’re being too hard on yourself.”

A silence falls between you. 

The air in the cramped storage room is stuffy, soaking with a plethora of strong smells: damp wood, smoked fish, the dark liquor you’re drinking with the swordsman, aged cheeses that Sanji seems to be a fan of, roasted coffee beans… But all of those aromas are strangely comforting to you, the smells that remind you of a gathering of adventurous underdogs that have grown to be a family.

A gathering that you’ve almost killed today with your incompetence.

“Truthfully, I wish I was like you,” you finally break the silence. Zoro gives you a questioning look. “You never fail, always prepared and ready to fight. Even when you do make mistakes, which is rare might I add, you can prevent anyone else from getting hurt because of you. I wish I had the power to always do the right things and do them well. When will a day come when I finally know how to act? What to do? I make the same stupid mistakes over and over again and nothing seems to change no matter how hard I try. Maybe I’m just broken and you lot are doomed for hanging around me.” For a moment, you look into your cup. Your reflection in the dark beverage is rippling, making your face hardly recognizable. Just like when you compare who you are to who you should be. “At least in my mind, in my fantasies, I'm the hero that saves me,” you whisper to yourself and down the rest of your drink. It’s easier to be delusional when you can’t string a coherent sentence.

The realization hits Zoro like a derailed train. Of course he’s never seen you get hung up over your mistakes - you’ve been holding it inside, beating yourself up away from everyone’s eyesight. Your otherwise happy-go-lucky exterior is a mere facade, the face of someone you’d like to be. And the more you realize it’s not your true face, the more upset you get. How long have gone holding yourself to an impossible ideal? Hating yourself for being anything but perfect and imposing?

How heavy is the real burden on your shoulders?

"I'll do it for you,” he offers quietly.

Your confused gaze meets the confident glint in his eyes. He looks sure of himself - more certain than he normally is. A smile threatens to pull up one corner of his lips.

"Do what?" you ask.

"I'll be the hero that saves you."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips and echoes throughout the small storage closet. The sound bounces off the wooden walls and comes back to you with a certain depth and delay, making you feel as though it’s the world laughing at you and the poor sod that offers to help you - you don’t hold hands with someone who easily catches on fire, burning everything around them. That’s just stupid.

“Thanks but that still makes me the world’s biggest loser who can’t put the money where their mouth is and is stuck in a perpetual cycle of doom.”

You look away, staring ahead, but Zoro’s eyes linger on you. Sure, he can fight pirates and animals and fishmen and all the strange horrors lurking in the world but how in hell is he going to fight something immaterial? How powerless he feels with three swords at his side and yet no way to fight the foul-tongued beast in the back of your head.

"Just put it on me," he presses on. "If you need help, put it on me. If you're going through Hell, put it on me.” Then, to your surprise, he firmly grabs your hand, squeezing it in a meaningful manner. “Seriously."

You try to wiggle your palm out of his hold but it proves useless - his grip is iron, although not painful. No matter how much you’re enjoying this uncharacteristic intimacy, you know better than to get used to it. Zoro deserves better than to be the victim of your ricochet.

“You’ve got enough on your head already,” you say in a stern voice. “My own bullshit is the last thing you need.”

For the first time in weeks, Roronoa Zoro smiles. It’s not a smile of amusement, of being entertained. No, it’s a smile of seeing something, or someone, he holds dear. In other words, it’s not his mind that rejoices but his very heart and soul.

“I want to worry about you,” he confesses.

Tears are prickling at your eyes and you’re doing everything you can to keep them from falling. Alas, you’re quite far from sober and self-control is not an ability within your grasp. Your face feels hot as teardrops slowly roll down your cheeks.

A bitter scoff leaves your lips. “It will be an unending horror.”

“I’m not afraid,” he reassures you casually. “And we’re in the middle of the sea. I’ve got time.”

Hesitantly, you rest your head against his chest. Zoro welcomes the gesture, letting go of your hand and putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to himself.

#roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fanfiction #one piece imagine #opla #opla x reader #opla x you #opla zoro #opla fanfiction #one piece netflix #one piece live action #roronoa zoro fanfiction #roronoa zoro imagine

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, emotional abuse, conditioning, hinted loss of voice, objectification, degradation, Adam is his own warning

Today you had to scream. You don't even remember why, perhaps you saw a bug or a spider, something trivial and meaningless, something that shouldn't have been terrifying, not to you - not after everything you've been through.

Yet you have to scream - it is but a physical reaction. And then... nothing. Nothing comes out. Absolutely no sound. Not a murmer, not even a gasp. You feel his hands wrap around you from behind - at first you think that he has covered your mouth, that he has forced his fingers deep inside your throat just like he has done so many times in the past. But no, he's simply hugging you - resting his head against your shoulder.

"Ssh, baby, it's fine. I'll take care of it." Adam whispers before his fist comes crashing down onto the poor little insect, splashing the black - green insides all over the table. You almost felt bad for your initial panic - by now you should know that to him the only answer is violence, always. You have single - handedly brought this fate onto the innocent unsuspecting animal, and all because of your stupid fear.

And even with the guilt, you still want to scream - but this time out of pity. Regret. Out of bitter realization.

"Aww, darling, don't cry." Your captor coos gently, caressing your hair. For a second you can see his long fingers flash before your eyes before they rub your sticky tears into your skin. It's weirdly invasive - you feel naked despite the layers upon layers of clothes you have on. "You know what happens when you cry-" He suddenly grips your chin, squeezing it roughly, but that's hardly a surprise. He loves to see his own fingerprints on your skin. "Don't you?"

You nod. You wish you wouldn't have to. You wish you were still the same naive girl you were a few months ago - a few moments ago, when you could still pretend you didn't understand what was happening. What he was trying to do to you, to your body, little by little; one step at a time.

"Of course you know. My clever girl." His grip softens, but never wavers, and he kisses your hair with feverish content. "You know crying leads to whimpers, and whimpers lead to-" The man smirks in that nasty perverse way you've grown to despise, reaching to fix the bulge in his trousers. "Well, aside from getting my cock fuckin' hard, they sometimes make your throat tighten. It tightens so much you think you're going to choke." His eyes return to you, black like the winter sky. "Isn't that right, baby?"

You're forced to nod again, a fresh new wave of warm tears soaking your collar as you try to ignore the very feeling he's describing to you.

"And then you need to make it unclench, so you speak - well, attempt to." Adam runs a single cold digit across the length of your neck, stopping only to poke at the dent in the middle of your collarbone. "And we both know that's a big no - no, right, baby?" He kisses your neck, a contrast to the cruel, humiliating condescension in his deep, guttural voice. It makes your stomach turn, but you can't do anything. You can't sob. You can't even shout for help - not anymore. "No, no, no." He continues, explaining it as if you're just a silly child. "Worthless little sluts who break their owners' hearts don't get to use big adult words. They remain silent, to be seen and not heard."

He keeps touching you - that's the worst part. He keeps kissing you, embracing you, holding you close just like a lover would. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It makes you want to cling onto the only creature close to you, even if it's just a monster wearing a human mask - a monster set to hurt you with everything it possesses. A monster, set to build you up every time it breaks you down.

"This little mouth of yours has only one use now - to keep my dick nice and warm." Adam mumbles, keeping you in place once it all gets too much. You struggle against him until you tire yourself out. You're dizzy. You're starving. You haven't slept in days - so realistically you don't stand a chance. But fighting means life. Fighting means you might have lost your voice, but you haven't lost your will. Your humanity. "So go ahead, doll. Entertain me. Scream for me."

And for once you want to obey him - you want to scream from deep within your lungs, so you open your mouth, and then you close it, pretending that your voice could break the fragile glass and reach someone somewhere who cares.

The silence is deafening.

#yandere #yancore #male yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

[devilfic]

sleeping headcanons about bruce/reader… need to see that man rest, or like blink for more than a second

you are so real for this

bruce would be the type of boyfriend/husband that HAS to sleep closest to the door. like if the door is facing one side of the bed, that's the side he always sleeps on. same with windows. it helps him sleep knowing that if someone were to break in, they'd have to go through him before they got to you

does not EVER wear a full set of pajamas. hasn't worn them since alfred stopped trying to force him into the little silk pjs he had as a child

he has three looks for bed: oversized band tee + ratty pajama pants, shirtless + ratty pajama pants, or briefs. just the briefs

when his hair is long, he keeps a few hair ties on his wrist to tie it up when he's washing his face before bed

("wash" is generous... he's splashing his face with cold water)

when his hair is short, he does not bother keeping it out of his face. he comes out of the bathroom with his hair dripping down his forehead and you buy him one of those cute fluffy headbands for him to use

bonus points if you get him a sanrio headband

bonus bonus points if you get him one with kuromi on it like THIS and you get a matching my melody one

he's a super light sleeper, like you could slip out of bed to use the bathroom and you'll hear him suck in a breath like "everything ok?"

this also makes him a little restless on really bad stormy nights :((

he refuses to wear earplugs or a sleeping mask because he gets very worried about being at a disadvantage in case something happens

the best you can do for him is let him curl up to your chest and let him get caught up in your heartbeat instead

him being a light sleeper also means he randomly wakes up throughout the night as soon as he has to use the toilet or gets a craving for something to eat, so be prepared for him to move around quite a bit

when he actually IS asleep tho, he does not move at all

he also doesn't naturally cuddle when he's sleepy unless he's cold, he usually is the one being cuddled

sleeptalks

this happens more often when he's got a lot on his mind (so all the time) and you'll usually hear him saying random, incoherent sentences or calling out names

it actually really embarrasses him when you tell him he does this because alfred and his roommates at boarding school used to comment on it when he was younger and he just assumed he'd grown out of it but. let's be honest. he hasn't slept with another person in the same room for years. don't know why he came to that conclusion

it's also a little rare when you catch it because he tends to fall asleep only after you do

you catch it more in the morning when he's sleeping off a long night of batmanning

it's best not to tell him if he's said anything embarrassing,,, it will literally keep him up all night

it gets a little worse when he has nightmares. you can hear him calling out joker or the riddler's name seconds before he wakes up in a cold sweat

you don't tell him exactly what you hear, but you always ask if he's ok and if he'd like to head back to bed with you or not

since he was raised by Real Brit Alfred Pennyworth, alfred did sort of imprint upon him a tea addiction

there's one particular blend that alfred swears used to put bruce out like a light when he was sick so you make that for him when he's particularly stressed and it always works wonders

speaking of him being sick. he is a COMPLETELY different sleeper when he's sick

sleeps like the dead, snores LOUDLY, cuddles like crazy

it's actually the worst because he'll be so happy to pull you in and lay his head on your shoulder but then. he drools. and the. snot. the snot.....

you can imagine that whenever he's sick, you may as well be sick too

he does have the decency to wait until you start sneezing before he gives you a nasty little cough syrup-flavored kiss like the disgusting germ gremlin he is

he won't complain about feeling bad but he will sometimes have a little delirious moment where he'll be all cute and beg you to come to bed with him because he can't sleep if you're not there next to him

like you may go sleep in one of the guest rooms until his cold passes and you'll wake up to him curled up on the loveseat on the other side of the room or even just straight up laying across the foot of the bed so he won't accidentally cough in your face

it's hard to get him to fall asleep but sometimes he pushes himself to such an extreme limit that he accidentally falls asleep anywhere

in the cave? he's passed out on his desk

working on his car? takes a quick little power nap under the engine

in the middle of a business meeting? nodding off in the chair

has fallen asleep on the floor on the WAY to bed before and when you wake him up he doesn't even realize that he never actually got there

also slipping this in here for indulgence purposes but if you've adopted dick, dick will fall asleep on bruce anywhere

like he'll see bruce conked out on the couch like a dad who insists on getting up at the ass crack of dawn and just scooch on in and fall asleep on his shoulder

even FURTHER, if you guys adopt ace, he will nap on dick

the three of them can regularly be seen napping all over the place as the years go on. thank god your bed is big enough for all four of you

having dick and the dog actually makes bruce sleep more and also more soundly because when they're sleeping on top of him it's like a weighted blanket. like if a cat fell asleep in ur lap u wouldn't get up would you? you would simply sit there and rot. same thing with bruce

last thought but I also think as bruce gets older, he's going to fall asleep more often and that will result in a lot of conversations that go like this

bruce: that was a good movie

you: you fell asleep halfway through

bruce: I was resting my eyes

you: I paused the movie and you didn't even react

bruce: I was watching the movie

you: so who died at the end?

bruce: the villain

you: no one died at the end!!! we were watching paddington 2!!!!

but also somehow hears you if you make fun of him in his vicinity. you put a phone in this man's face to take a picture of him sleeping and when you go to look at the photo you see his eyes open like this

jumpscare warning: robert

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @angxlictexrs @moonlightreader649 @geekyfer @thescarletfang @navs-bhat

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne headcanons #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman headcanons #batman scenarios #batman fluff #batman fic #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites

[explicit-tae]

Carnal Desire (2/3)

You refuse to let Yoongi give you the cold shoulder, even after your night with him. So, you decide to show Yoongi that even if you were "his girl", that it didn't mean that you weren't desirable for others. @massivelyfullenthusiast @idkjustlovingbts @december-bae10 @baechugff @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111

Part 1 | Part 3

Word Count: 3.172

Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, public type sex, haegeum type vibes fr fr, possessive/jealous yoongi, licking, nipple sucking, oral (f receving),

You hated Min Yoongi.

You hated how you allowed yourself back into your hometown.

You hated how you saw the same man you’ve been in loved with for years - and how it felt as if you fell for him again once more, a decade later.

You hated Min Yoongi because you loved him and it appeared as if your love for him was not enough for him to return to you.

It felt dirty being with Yoongi like this in public, even if the pair of you were in the furthest room from everyone - and held no cameras. But you could not bring yourself to care - not now. Yoongi was willing to have you like you’ve desired for years and you were going to take the opportunity.

Yoongi had touched you like a man starved, fully embracing his attraction and arousal. His hands - so large and calloused - rubs along your skin, gripping your hips, to your ass to cupping your breast. He isn’t sure where he wants to focus on - you were far too enticing for his hands to remain on one body part.

You weren’t complaining. Your hips had bucked against his erection, wishing it was him inside of you instead - but you’d take anything you can get for now. Your kisses were sloppy, his tongue sucking onto your own. It was intimate and the teenage girl in you had dreamed of a time like this - but damn was it better than you ever imagined. 

Yoongi knew of your crush on him back then and now that you were a grown woman, it’s hard to deny you. Your eyes were what once made him soft for you, always willing to do whatever it was that you asked. Now, the same eyes were filled with lust and mischief - and full submission.

“I missed you.” you admit once Yoongi’s lips trail down your neck and on your collarbone. 

Yoongi grunts. “Yeah?”

You nod your head, leaning it back so Yoongi has full control to continue his suckling upon your skin. 

“I wish I could’ve stayed with you.” you continue, letting out years of desperation upon him. You had to sound pathetic, but you didn’t care. Yoongi was yours now - as yours as you wanted him to be. “I wanted to be your girl so bad.”

“I know.” Yoongi groans at the sultriness of your voice. There you were again admitting not only your love, but your need for him. “You’re here now.” is all Yoongi can say. 

Ten years is a long time to make up. He was no longer the young fool he was back when you left, but now a man. He had power no one else his age had. 

Not only that, but you weren’t the same little girl giving Yoongi those innocent heart eyes - you were a woman now. He didn’t have to hold back the urges any longer; he knew you could handle whatever he was going to give you. 

“You can be my girl now.” Yoongi knows he’s going to look back and think how incredibly horny he looks feasting on your skin, but he can’t allow himself to care now as lust takes over. His tongue dips out to lick at your skin while his teeth nip at it. 

“You sure you aren’t going to allow me to leave again?” you decide to joke, a soft moan slipping through your lips. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, Y/N.” Yoongi nips your neck once more, holding you even tighter against him. “Even though you know that you aren’t going to leave me again.”

How right Yoongi was.

This isn’t how Yoongi wants to have you - not in the back room of a club as if you were some whore for him. But he doesn’t want to stop - and you don’t want him to.

“I-I just got that!” you hiss when you hear the ripping sounds followed by your breast pooling out.

Yoongi groans at the sight of your bare breasts. He licks his thumb before pressing it firmly onto your nipple, gripping your breast entirely into his large hand. “I’ll buy you more.” he murmurs. 

It’s hard to be upset when Yoongi looks as hot as he does, eyes low and filled with lust. The thin material of the lingerie thong becomes sticky with slick due to Yoongi’s erection rubbing right along it.

“You’re so beautiful.” Yoongi grunts before engulfing your nipple into his mouth whole. He suckles on it like a man starved, his right hand gripping and tugging onto your free breast. His fingers find your nipple and begin to twirl it between his thumb and index.

Your mind is foggy with lust - this is all you’ve ever wanted. To be with Yoongi, to have him fully. You wished he could have been the one you laid with first, but that couldn’t be possible. Your father forbade you to be with a man such as him - it’s sad to believe that his sickness is what brought you back to Yoongi.

More.

Yoongi wanted more. He needed more of you.

Yoongi doesn’t want to be too rough - he’s unsure truly what you were into or not. And you were such a submissive woman that you wouldn’t complain if he had gone too far. He attempts to be calm and not fully go down the path of dominance - but even he has a hard time.

“Yoongi…”

Yoongi releases your nipple from his lips, a soft popping sound coming from it. His lips are wet when he presses them against yours. His free hand slaps against your ass, pressing you against his hardened erection even harder.

“I missed hearing you say my name.” Yoongi inhales deeply when he releases your lips. “I remember it sounding so sweet when you were young. Now…” Yoongi pecks your lips once more, a flushed look upon his face. “...now it slips through your lips with such need.”

You nod your head with a bite of your lip. “I-I do need you.”

Yoongi groans with a shake of his head. You don’t know what you do to him.

“I want to taste you.” Yoongi lifts from the leather couch, holding you in a tight embrace. “See if you were as sweet as I always thought you were.”

You nod your head hastily. There were times back in your teenage years that you would hear rumors of Yoongi and his tongue - as much as it pained for you to hear because it was never you - and just how amazing he was with it.

Your back hits the leather couch smoothly and it takes no time for your thong to be off. Yoongi’s face is so close to your sex, eyes fixed on it intently. It causes you to feel hot with embarrassment.

“Stop.” Yoongi slaps your thighs away as they begin to close. He hikes your legs to sit on his shoulders. “You’re already so wet.”

Yoongi is so close to your exposed sex that your world is beginning to spin. A soft whine escapes your lips when you feel (and watch) as Yoongi brings a hand up to your clit. Two of his fingers spread apart your lips, his tongue peaking out to lick a single strip upon your clit.

Your head falls back and hits the couch, your eyes snapping shut. You gasp in pleasure, the once shyness you felt now out the window.

Yoongi was now suckling on your clit, his fingers sliding down at your entrance, teasing the wet hole.

Your toes curl at Yoongi’s suckling, his fingers inching closer inside of you. 

Shit.

Shit,

Shit.

Yoongi never comes up for air, nor does his tongue stop twirling your clit. His fingers are pumping deep inside of you and you’re pondering if he was ever going to get tired. 

You begin to sob, the cries mixed with your choked moans. Your thighs clenched, caging his head in that you would have to remember to unclench them so you wouldn’t be the cause of his suffocation.

“Feels so good, Yoongi.”  you grit through your teeth, thighs quivering in great pleasure. 

Yoongi’s fingers pump even faster - how was that even possible? His tongue continues to lap vigorously.

You begin to shake your head, a familiar feeling bubbling between your legs. This couldn’t be happening - you couldn’t cum this fast. 

“S-Stop, Yoongi!” your hand slaps against his forehead to push him away, but Yoongi doesn’t bulge. He continues to lap with the same ravenous need, fingers curling inside of you that hits a sweet spot each time.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker up to watch as you cum, not caring about the wail that releases from your throat. You managed to not crush his skull with your thighs - not like he was complaining. 

Yoongi lifts himself from your wet clit, his fingers popping out of you. He wraps his tongue around his fingers and sucks, humming to himself. Your eyes manage to open to see Yoongi in the act - it causes you to groan in hot embarrassment.

“Tastes so sweet.”

You noticed just how wet Yoongi’s lips were due to your juices, but he doesn’t seem to care. He kisses up your thigh until he’s face to face with you. His lips fall onto your own, your arousal coating your lips, but you do not care. You want Yoongi entirely too much to care about anything right now. 

“Please fuck me.” you beg when Yoongi releases your lips. 

Yoongi shakes his head, sighing. As much as he wants to, he has gone too far by doing this with you now. Though you had no complaints, he allowed lust to overtake him to the point that his first time with you was in a club. “Not here.”

You sigh in defeat at Yoongi’s tone, the seriousness in it telling you that there was no point in arguing. 

“Don’t look so disappointed Y/N.” Yoongi wraps you in an embrace once more, pulling you up from the couch. “You’re still my girl. I respect you more than to take you here.”

You hated Min Yoongi.

You hated Min Yoongi because that night with you and him was weeks ago and you have yet to see him. When you had the following night, you were met with flickering eyes and pure ignorance by the men at the club - who all came there to gawk and look at women.

“You’re no longer needed on the floor.” your boss had told you when you prepared to go on stage. “Nor are you needed for private dances.”

You were left stunned and before you could question your boss, she had sauntered away. You were instructed to do nothing but serve drinks to people at the bar. You were new to this, never mixing drinks often until now. The job required you to cover a bit more, yet you still showed more skin than usual. 

And yet, even as you stand here serving men, they appear to avoid you like the plague. They speak without looking at you, pay without as much as a nod. It was weird, truly. Something deep in your gut told you it had to do with a certain Min Yoongi.

What you never understood - but guiltily never questioned - was the large sum of money for you at the end of the night. Your boss hands it to you in an envelope with a curt nod and a short “good job” before going on to the next. The cash was a large sum and insanely more than the rest of the girls who were performing - and you were just a bartender.

“Maybe it’s because you’re Suga’s girl.” Bunny had said, eyes wide at the large sum of money. “That has to be so exciting.”

Exciting it could have been if you weren’t being ignored by the man. By the fourth week, you were expected to see Yoongi once you saw the men he was with that night when you first saw him. However, he was not with them. They lingered around, eyes towards the stage as they drank from a bottle they brought in themselves. 

“Where’s Yoongi?” you asked the men as the night was slowing down. Eyes turned towards you for a moment, each of them wide at the sight of you speaking to them. “Hello?”

“We shouldn’t be talking to you.” one man - dark hair with glasses - speaks first.

“I-I…” you knit your brows. “Why not?”

“You’re Suga’s girl.” another one speaks - same dark hair shaved into a low buzz cut. “We respect you.”

“And shouldn’t be talking to you.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I’m not his girl.” you hiss - but they wouldn’t believe you. You came up to them asking for Yoongi after all. “I...can you just tell me where he is.”

The one with the glasses shrugs his shoulders. “We were told to keep an eye-”

“Shut up.” another man - wearing a hat - hisses. “He doesn’t want her to know that.”

What you were gathering by the men’s words was Yoongi had these men here for the sole purpose of keeping an eye out on you - and now you were even more livid. 

“Tell Yoongi I want to see him tomorrow night.” you tell them, eyes to look at each of their faces. 

The men nod their heads and you take your leave.

The following night was one of anticipation. You waited for Yoongi to arrive and when he had, you stood straighter. His eyes met yours and the moment you thought was yours was not. 

Yoongi ignored you. He strolled by without a second glance or a smile. He sat furthest from the bar with the same men - even more men than before - and ignored you.

Your heart sank and for a moment, you contemplated what you’ve done.

But your self pity was then met with anger.

Yoongi was avoiding you and you had not a single reason why. You and him hit it off the last time you saw him - he had taken you home insisting that he would see you once more. He had gone radio silent and now refused to look your way.

You have decided now.

Min Yoongi was going to act like you didn’t exist, then you were going to do the same. He didn’t deserve the luxury of calling you his girl if he was going to ignore you the entire time. You were going to have Min Yoongi come to you.

“How long have you been bartending?”

Your eyes widened at the man's question. He was the first in weeks to directly talk to you and make eye contact. 

“Not long.” you smile, showing your teeth. You manage to not look Yoongi’s way to see if he was watching you. “I’m actually new here.”

The man nods. “I can tell. You’re a little heavy handed with drinks.”

You laughed at any and every joke the man said - even if it did hurt your stomach to do so with such dramatics. 

“Another shot?” you ask the man, raising your bottle towards him. You made it your mission to show your breast as much as you possibly could - that and to bat your eyelashes. 

“S-Sure.” the man slurs.

You lick your lips. In that moment, your head turns and your eyes lock with dark ones. The club is packed and the music is blaring, but you can easily find Yoongi in the crowd. He isn’t far this time, leaning against a wall watching you intently. 

You continue to watch Yoongi, unsure how you managed to not fuck up. Your freehand grasps the man's chin, tip his head back and pour the alcohol in the man's mouth. You turn your eyes away from Yoongi when you see him stand straighter. 

“You’re a wild one.” the man says once the alcohol hits his throat. “Yeah?” you say, smiling at him. You engulf the man in a quick - unsolicited, kiss. It doesn’t feel right - you didn’t indulge in things like this with men you didn’t know. However, you wanted to piss Yoongi off when you knew he was watching.

You release the man's lips and giggle cutely. Your eyes turn once more and notice that Yoongi was not where he was when you last saw him. 

You flinch when the bottle in your hand explodes with a loud shot. You shuffle away from the man as another shot rings out. There’s screaming throughout the club and then running, women and men all scattering to get out. 

You look over the bar with wide eyes at the man. He’s clenching his thigh while blood oozes out from it.

“W-What the fuck?” the man hisses when he’s suddenly kicked to the side, discarded. Your eyes, painfully slow, raised to who it was.

“What were you trying to do, Y/N?”

MIn Yoongi.

Of course it was Min Yoongi.

“Yoongi did you-”

“Of course I did.” Yoongi interrupts you. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

You shake your head in disbelief. The club is slowly evacuated, leaving no one but Yoongi, you and a few of his men - and the man that has been shot and now staining the club's floor. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” you hiss at Yoongi. “You shot a man-”

“That you were using to provoke me!” Yoongi slams his hand down at the bar table as he yells. “I’m sorry.” he says with a shake of his head when you flinch at his tone. “I don’t want to yell at you, Y/N.”

You inhale slightly. 

“You knew what you were doing, Y/N. Trying to make me jealous.”

“Now you want to talk to me?” you scoff in disbelief. “After you ignored all this time? Had me stop performing because I was,” you lift your hand to do air quotations. “Suga’s girl.”

“You are my girl.” Yoongi hisses. “That’s why I don’t want you working in this club. This is why I pay you every night a large sum of money in hopes you’d stop coming back to this place.”

You’re silent at Yoongi’s words, and he continues. 

“I want you to go back to school and do what you were doing before this.” Yoongi sighs. “Come with me, Y/N. We can talk about it at home.”

You want to shake your head and deny Yoongi - you want to scream and yell that he didn’t deserve you after ignoring you. But then you look into his eyes and know that you weren’t going to do any of that.

“Okay.” you nod your head, caving all too quickly for the very man you claim to hate not too long ago. 

You round the corner just as Yoongi’s men gathered the bleeding man in their arms, taking him somewhere you were exactly unsure of. 

“He’ll be okay.” Yoongi assures, wrapping an arm around you. “Poor fool didn’t know you were my girl.”

You gulp as Yoongi presses a kiss to your temple, a feeling in the pit of your heart that sinks lower between your legs at the pet name.

#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #bts yandere #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi smut #suga smut #explicit-tae #carnal desire #bangtanwriters net #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #yoongi mafia #bts mafia au

[nrdmssgs]

Sharing one bed with your friend from 141

Masterlist Little oneshots. Sharing a bed, because there is only one left free.

TW: Please note, that in every situation, a reader is an old friend of one of the four and there is a bit of sympathy beyond friendship between them!! So I wasn't trying to make TF 141 a bunch of awkward scary guys, that hug you without any reason and consent!! Don't worry, none of them would ever harm you, guys!!!

Simon Ghost Riley

"I warn you, I'm used to sleeping alone, so I may hog the blankets. If it happens so - don't hesitate to wake me up, ok?"

Ghost glares at you and chuckles briefly. "I get to sleep in a normal bed only once every few months. Don't think you can steal anything from me."

You sigh and turn away: well, at least you warned him. He may be some kind of super-soldier, but he is yet to discover, how fury an inveterate solo-sleeper can be. "Nighty." But he doesn't answer you - must have fallen asleep immediately.

You wake up in a tight, warm cocoon of blankets: obviously yours and his. But when you try to move - it appears harder than it seemed at first. Something, or rather someone, presses all these blankets down to you. So you turn your head only to meet Simons menacing, unblinking gaze.

"You saw nothing." His hand guides you by your chin to lay back down on a pillow, facing away from him. Then he goes back to wrapping you in a tight embrace. "I got cold, and you refused to give my blanket back."

Captain John Price

"Lemme know if it gets too warm. I got feedback about being a human furnace for a couple of times." Despite the fact, that he just laid down beside you - Johns voice is already sleepy.

"I believe, you have to hug another person to get such a comment." You answer and laugh at Johns immediate 'oh, shi... sorry' and a friendly pat on your back, covered with blanket.

"Sleep well," wishes you Price. And that was... exactly, what you planned, if the man hadn't start snoring in ten minutes.

At first, you tried to be gentle, touching lightly his shoulder to make him go quiet. But when he woke you up for the fifth time in a row - you punched him so hard - you must have left a bruise on his back. But John Price could sleep on a military base. He could sleep in a flying helli between the missions, being surrounded by shouting soldiers. Even your punches feel like a tender caresses in comparison to the chaos, in which he sometimes has to fall asleep.

He wakes up only when you almost throw him off the bed. "John! You snore like a freakin bear!" You are out of energy and already consider going to sleep on a floor in another room, only to get away from this nightmare.

He blinks a couple of times, obviously not waking up fully, then scoops you up, nuzzles your neck and whispers in a sleepy ruffle voice "M`sorry, love. You should let me know right away, if I wake you up again."

Perfect: now he's mistaken you for someone in his sleep! Well, at least, he really stays quiet, as he is hugging you. So you decide to let him do it, as long as it grants you sound sleep.

On the next morning, Price inspects his back in the mirror, when you walk past him. "Never considered enlisting in the military? I could use a furious little beast like you..."

Johnny Soap Mactavish

"Soap, for f sake, you are a grown man, what are you doing?" You grunt, as yet another decorative pillow hits your back.

"Building a wall, lass. Otherwise, you'll end up on my side of bed as usual!" He isn't even thinking of stopping, so the next pillow hits your head.

"Johnny, Hadrians Wall took less time to be built up! And I repeat for the hundredth time: I don't have a single idea, how does it happen, but I swear, it's not me! I don't tend to move in my sleep. When I'm alone - I always wake up in the exact same pose, I've fallen asleep!" You try to grab a pillow to throw it away, but he doesn't let you.

"Well, then it's my natural charm, that just drawn you to my side every time." Soap finally places the last pillow up on his 'wall' between yours and his sides of the bed.

You wake up in the same place you've fallen asleep. Only this time you are buried under the remains of Johnnys 'masterpiece' from yesterday. Grunting, you try to get out from under a pile of pillows, but you feel Johnny's whole body pressing against you from behind with a displeased rumbling. And only then it hits you.

You turn to him and whisper in his sleeping face. "It was you all this time. You grabbed me and pulled to your side of the bed, you sneaky bastard..." Johnny mumbles something incoherent in his sleep and only presses you closer to him.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

"Ok, good night." Kyle turns the light down and goes silent.

You lie awake for some time, listening to the sounds outside the window, but gradually you fall asleep. However, very soon, you startle and open your eyes: there is someone in the room, you two are no more alone. You hear the wooden floor crackling closer. Someone's shadow falls on the wall. You are frightened, but you lie quietly, blaming it all on your imagination. And then you feel the mattress sag under someone's weight at your feet.

At that moment you understand, you had enough and in one swift motion dart to Kyle, ending up on top of him. It wakes him up and for a few moments, he looks confused as his eyes adjust to the darkness. But when he understands, it's you, he relaxes. "Ahem, hi?"

"There is someone in this bed. Someone besides us!" You whisper, shifting your weight to the side, so that Kyle is left to defend you from the mysterious threat.

He turns the bedside lamp on and starts laughing almost immediately. Your friends dog, that apparently freaked you out so badly, now curled up all cozy on your side of the bed.

"Hi buddy! You were feeling lonely, so you came to us, yeah?" Kyle scratches the dog behind the ear, and it happily beats the blanket with its tail. You breathe a sigh of relief, a little embarrassed at being so scared. However, you don't give Kyle a chance to start joking about this and push him closer to the center of the bed, settling in where he just slept.

"Okay, congratulations, now that buddy is your problem. I'm going to sleep!" You try to ignore Kyle's soft laugh.

"You're going to fall out of bed at night and scare the poor dog." He pulls you closer to him. "That's better. Sleep. And I'll protect you from this 'dire wolf'."

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #soap call of duty #soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #captain price #captain john price #cod price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost simon riley #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #cod gaz #gaz x you #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader

[little-diable]

"Angel" He calls me – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

Listen, this is fucked up – even I was unsure where this came from. But I ain't sorry for it, I know y'all will love this, you filthy heathen (i love you). Shamelessly inspired by the song "The Fruits" by Paris Paloma. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Her mother accuses the reader of preparing a satanic ritual, so she hopes that Priest Riddle can free the young girl from the devil's grasp. What a shame that the young priest is even more cunning than the Devil himself.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, smut in a church, heavy dub!con, choking, wax play, blood play, Tom being Tom, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x fem!reader (about 2k words)

My love, are you the devil? I would worship you instead of him, I have no time for confession, for I'm too busy committing sins

“Priest Riddle!” Her mother’s shrill voice echoed through the empty church, repeated with every further step she took. (Y/n) struggled against her mother’s grasp, feet dragged along the cold ground as if she prayed that the floor would open up, that something or someone would crawl from the eternal darkness to hold onto her, rescue her from the hell she would experience any moment now. “Priest Riddle!”

The tall man appeared after another loud call of his name, concern tugged on his features, a facade her mother instantly seemed to buy into; a facade (y/n) instantly saw through. Priest Riddle was a devilish handsome man, a man so handsome he easily fooled those who clung to him, distracting them from his sinful character. 

“Mathilda, (y/n), what is going on?” His bright eyes carried concern as he looked at (y/n)’s mother, concern that changed into something dark the second his gaze found (y/n)’s. Her mother’s torture was nothing against what he’d do to her, that much she was certain of after all those confessions she had been forced through – confessions that had ended with her knees having a carpet burn, with her ass bruised, and her jaw pulsing in pain from being stretched open. 

“She’s gone insane, I’ve found her worshipping the devil! He has his dark grasp on her, oh you have to free my girl, you’re my only chance of finding help for her sinning soul, Father!” Tears dripped from her mother’s eyes, tears (y/n) silently cursed. She had done no such thing, all she had done was read a book Priest Riddle had borrowed her, one of the few interests both shared – Latin prayers her mother had mistaken for satanic rituals as (y/n) had tried to pronounce the words. 

For a second, he studied (y/n), the annoyance she couldn’t shake, the wide pupils he had grown all too used to, feeling his cock twitch in his trousers at the excitement now thumping through his veins. “Leave her with me, Mathilda. She’s in good hands. I’ll take care of our girl.”

"Angel“ he calls me, does he know that I'm falling from a precipice that I tripped off long ago?

“Rituals, huh?” Her mother had left the church seconds ago, leaving the two of them behind. (Y/n)’s skin prickled, she was fighting against the need to scream, to throw a tantrum against her mother’s foolish behaviour. All because of him. 

“This is your fault! She heard me read that prayer book of yours.” Within seconds he stood in front of her, ringed hand wrapped around her throat. Her heart was pounding, blood rushing through her veins, he could feel (y/n)’s fast pulse against his fingertips, a sensation that left the man smirking. 

“My fault?” The way he spoke the words, with a voice so raspy and deep, (y/n) didn’t manage to stop her body from reacting, her thighs from trembling and her walls from clenching around nothing. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, all they did was stare at one another. “My fault, really, (y/n)?”

“I,” her words got stuck in her throat as he squeezed, cutting off her strength to pronounce any words. Priest Riddle always enjoyed silencing her, showing her how much power he held over her. (Y/n) was shoved backwards as he let go of her, watching her fall onto the stone stairs leading up to the altar. 

“You see, (y/n), your mother may think I’m the saving grace, the voice of reason, but I think you know better, don’t you? There is no saving left for you, no grace I can give you. The Devil would have tried to save you, what a shame that I’m not him.” Angry tears welled up in her eyes, tears that began to drip as a laugh clawed through him. There was no escaping him, no matter how much her mind begged her to run, to never return to these unholy walls, her body craved his touch, desperate for everything he could offer. 

“Undress, lay down on the altar, for me.” It took (y/n) a second to snap into motion, to undo the buttons of her dress with shaky fingers. Not once did her glassy eyes leave his frame, not as she stood naked, not as she slowly heaved herself onto the altar, not as she watched him alight the red candle placed next to the Holy Bible.

“Do you remember what John teaches us, (y/n)? He tells us: Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. But tonight you will sin, tonight you will offer yourself to the devil, even though he will never have you. He fears me, and he will fear my precious toy once I’m done with you.”

“In nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” He was standing behind the altar, with his ringed fingers holding onto the burned candle. (Y/n) was forced to watch him tilt the candle, letting the wax drip down onto the valley between her naked breasts. She hissed at the sensation, torn between excitement and fear, and yet she craved more. 

“Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae, sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritalia nequitiae, in caelestibus.” Priest Riddle’s voice didn’t carry any emotion as he spoke the lines of the prayer to Saint Michael, a prayer used in exorcisms, a prayer he used to mock her now. The candle kept dripping, one by one the drops of wax marked her body, leaving (y/n) moaning as his cold hand joined the wax, touching her hardening nipples with a smirk growing on his lips. 

“Veni in auxilium hominum, quos Deus ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno. Te custodem et patronum sancta veneratur Ecclesia; tibi tradidit Dominus animas redemptorum in superna felicitate locandas.” No longer did (y/n) try to keep her moans bottled in, she arched her back off the altar as he added more strength to his touch, tweaking her nipples as the wax dripped onto her stomach. It felt as if he was making an offering, sacrificing (y/n) for the sins they had committed together, giving her up for his eternal salvation. 

“Deprecare Deum pacis, ut conterat Satanam sub pedibus nostris, ne ultra valeat captivos tenere homines, et Ecclesiae nocere. Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et Satanas, et ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes. Amen.” The last drop of wax fell as Priest Riddle ended the prayer, tossing the blown-out candle aside to press his lips against (y/n)’s. Both moaned in unison as her fingers began to work on his belt, needing to free his cock with the silent hope that he’d fuck her on the altar spurring her on. 

He twitched in her grasp, a sensation so familiar, she found herself relaxing, giving her mind a few seconds to relax. Seconds he used to study her with danger laced in his gaze, danger that deepened as her eyes were drawn to his throat, watching him rip his silvery necklace from his neck. The necklace twinkled in the dim light, momentarily entrancing (y/n) as if she was studying a rare gem, an offering only God would make. 

“We have been bound together for months, you are my possession, and you will do as I say, you will let me lead you till I no longer think you’re worthy of my time.” He tightened his grasp on his necklace, and without another warning, he ran the sharp edge of the cross along his skin, instantly drawing blood. Blood so red, it looked like sacred wine, richer than Jesus’ blood, more powerful than any other offering.

He wiped his bleeding thumb along her lips, letting her taste the copper staining her skin like a tattoo made for eternity. They held eye contact as she parted her lips, letting her tongue lick his skin clean, unable to stop her moan from clawing out of her. She was nothing but a toy, someone he used to pass time with, someone to fuck whenever his body called for excitement – and she loved it, every fucked up second of their time together. 

Priest Riddle let go of her to position himself between her thighs, his fingertips dug into her skin as he wrapped her legs around his waist. Soon he’d fuck her, soon he’d remind her that she was his – his only. 

You're faithless, for you pitched me, against your holy father and it seems that I am winning

Without giving (y/n) any chance to prepare herself, he pushed into her, forcing his cock into her tightness. Her arousal allowed him to move without any struggles, moving as if their bodies had been made for one another. In some fucked up way she could have found something romantic in this, claimed in a church for all holy and unholy eyes to see, but the darkness he emanated was enough to keep her from thinking these thoughts. 

Months ago when this had happened for the first time, (y/n) had been frightened, not knowing what the man would do to her. But after the first of many orgasms had wrecked through her, she had felt like Judas, the backstabber, the liar she had been turned into. No longer held back by the fear of sinning, rather giving in – all for the promise of being punished by Priest Riddle. 

“Even the devil wouldn’t take you in, a soul filled with sins that even He would turn his back on. I’m your only rescue.” He panted his words as he buried himself deep inside of her, eyes staring down at her. Without stopping his movements, his hips from snapping against hers, he pushed the cross past her lips, forcing her to hold it between her teeth. (Y/n) could still taste his blood – heightening her senses as her walls fluttered around him. 

She hated herself for enjoying this, for being at his mercy with her legs spread and her back arched. He only spoke the truth, he was her only chance of guidance, the only one to cling to as the others had left her behind, engulfed in darkness. Her saving grace, the poison she was addicted to, the bruising grasp she couldn’t shake. 

“Cum for me, show them that there is no chance of rescuing you from me.” With the cross held between her teeth, she moaned for him. (Y/n)’s orgasm wrecked through her, leaving her shaking and panting beneath him. But the priest kept moving, searching his own high with his fingertips digging into her skin. 

A heavy moan rumbled through Priest Riddle as he came, imprinting himself on her walls without giving her a warning. Once again marked by the man who called her his own property, once again marked by the devil’s most brutal brother. 

“I need you on your knees, it’s time to beg for His forgiveness, (y/n).” 

……

Translation of the Latin prayer: 

St. Michael the Archangel, illustrious leader of the heavenly army, defend us in the battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of darkness and the spirit of wickedness in high places.

Come to the rescue of mankind, whom God has made in His own image and likeness, and purchased from Satan's tyranny at so great a price.

Holy Church venerates you as her patron and guardian. The Lord has entrusted to you the task of leading the souls of the redeemed to heavenly blessedness.

Entreat the Lord of peace to cast Satan down under our feet, so as to keep him from further holding man captive and doing harm to the Church.

Carry our prayers up to God's throne, that the mercy of the Lord may quickly come and lay hold of the beast, the serpent of old, Satan and his demons, casting him in chains into the abyss, so that he can no longer seduce the nations. Amen.

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle imagine #priest fic #Harry Potter smut

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 22 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-He sets you on the vanity, the marble cool against your bare bottom. The contrast of his hot hands upon your thighs is maddening, and you whimper as he withdraws from you.

“Shh,” he says. “Do you want these undone? Or do you want me to touch you?”

The fact that you actually have to think for a moment before you answer makes his eyes shine.

“Untie me,” you answer as quickly as you can form words. By the way he looks at you, you’re afraid it wasn’t fast enough. There is a heavy pause between you, electric with the warring of your wills.

“Hmm.” You can’t stop yourself from making a sound when he leaves you, though he only takes a few steps to the tub, turning on the taps.

“I’ve had a long day,” he says, looking you over like he might like to eat you.

You worry your lower lip between your teeth, your heart in your throat.

This is it, you realize. No turning back now.

“Where were you?”

“You’ll find out later, if you’re a good girl.”

You’re not sure you like the sound of that.

He bats the door closed with a swing of his long arm before returning to you, standing between your spread legs. You are cold, in just the thin silk of the stupid nighty, and the line of his body so near yours warms you like a furnace. He takes your wrists in his sure hands, running his fingers over the ropes as he admires his handiwork upon you. Then he begins to pick at the first knot, and even he seems to have trouble undoing it at first.

You really hope he doesn’t have to cut it. You do not like the thought of a blade in his hand, that close to your skin.

“Is this…something you’re really into?” you dare ask, your heart in your throat.

“Shibari? I may have dabbled in my misspent youth,” he answers with a smirk, enjoying your uneasiness far too much. “Are you curious about it, kitten?”

“No,” you answer quickly, winning a pout that has no business on the lips of a grown ass man, but somehow is cute.

You understand it’s something some people enjoy, and that’s perfectly fine. Consenting people, who know what they’re getting into, and trust each other.

Sadly, that is not the boat you’re in right now.

“Shame. Maybe later, when you’ve come to trust me more.”

The fact that he knows you don’t trust him now is perhaps a little heartening. However, you decide you will not be bringing it up again.

When at last your restraints are reduced to a pile of red silk on the floor you cannot suppress your sigh. He runs his hands over the marks in your skin, seeming fascinated by the twisted patterns imprinted in your flesh.

“You alright?” he asks, rubbing to aid the circulation. Even just on your wrists, his touch is maddening.

You press your lips, warring with the desire to tell him off for it, or play it like no big deal. You decide to go with what is already obvious between you.

“I didn’t like that.”

He turns your face up to his with a hand that engulfs your jaw. “Then be a good girl, and I won’t have to do it again.”

“Be sweet to me, and I will.”

He narrows his eyes at you for your pithy insolence, but you can tell that he’s secretly pleased. When he lowers his head to kiss you, his tongue sweeping your mouth possessively, you hate to admit that you forget all about your aching wrists, and your self-respect, straining to reach more of his soft mouth as he uses his height to draw away.

He places your hands on his chest, looking at you expectantly. Realizing that he wants you to undress him, you try for the first button.

As it turns out, you really weren’t lying about the circulation in your fingers. Or maybe the lack of use throughout the day, something. It is not easy to undo the first button of his shirt. It is tiny, and the hole is tight, and you are ready to rip it off by the time you finally manage to slide it through.

 “Don’t tear it,” he warns, as though he can read your thoughts.

You sigh, and concentrate on the second. It gets easier as you use your fingers more…and the prize you begin to unveil spurs you on. You realize you are biting your lip again when you taste blood in your mouth. Button by button, you unveil the marvel that lies beneath.

He stands still as a statue as you work, watching you with those eyes that miss nothing. You are not half as nervous as you should be, enjoying your task. When you pull out his shirt tails you finally begin to understand. 

A myriad of scars covers his body from collar to below his waist line. Large and small, fresh and old. Cuts, and round puckered flesh that look like bullet wounds. Your heart drops to your feet, and you sense it as John stiffens under your scrutiny. 

“Oh, honey...” 

It hurts to look at. It hurts because you cannot fathom the pain he must have gone through, enduring all these injuries. He lets you touch him, tracing the lines of these old wounds. You meet his eyes, finding him vulnerable, before giving in to the urge to press your lips to his chest over an old scar that cuts across his pectoral. His eyes slide closed, and you think it might be the first time you've seen him surrender to anything.

You slide down from the counter, pressing against his body as you plant your feet on the floor. Wanting to see all of him, you circle him slowly, never once taking your hands off of him. The scars continue there, and across the expanse of his powerful shoulders are sinister looking tattoos. Some men get tattoos like this because they think it makes them look hard, but somehow you just know that they mean something in his world. Something...ominous. On top of the tattoos, the praying hands in the center of his back bears a horrible brand of an upside-down crucifix.

That might have hurt more than all the rest.  

You rest your head in the divot of his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his muscled torso. It feels good, to nestle here. Better than it should.

“I wouldn't have run,” you tell him, and you feel a tremor run through his steadfast frame, his big hands covering yours just beneath his heart. 

You make your way back to his front, and his sharp eyes follow your every movement. 

“You would have had questions.” 

“Of course I would have.” 

You’re not a total idiot.

“You would have been scared.” 

You just shake your head, knowing it was true. At that time, you wouldn't have had the sense.  Even now, knowing what he was capable of... you still weren't half as scared of him as you should be. 

His gaze upon you is surprisingly soft, as he considers your words. You dare think you’ve finally gotten through to this man, until his long fingers close around your jaw, holding your gaze upwards. “You’re not lying to me just to appease me, kitten?”

Rather than follow the wiser path of meek contrition, you give way to the indignant anger rising in your breast.

“You’re so worked up about me running from you, but you know what? You ran from me first. You didn’t even give me the chance to accept you.”

He narrows his eyes down at you, considering what you’ve said.

If you're lying, he has to punish you.

If you're telling the truth, then this whole thing blew up for nothing, and it's all on him. 

Rather than hash this out, he dips his head to kiss you again, and he is not exactly gentle with you. Hungry for you, his tongue sweeps into your mouth, his teeth on your lips leaving you bruised. His hips pin you against the vanity, his erection pressing into you unforgivingly.

His fingers tangle in the lace skirt of your nightie, pulling it up. You fight him on instinct, and hear the silk tear as he jerks it from your grasp, defeating you so easily. He draws it up over your head with a flourish and throws it across the room, leaving you utterly bare to his gaze.

You are glad for the warm steam that is filling the room from the running bath. The tub is so massive it’s not even a quarter of the way full. Still, you try to cover yourself, but John grips your wrists in his big hands, twisting your arms behind you easily.  

His eyes rake over you, and your nipples harden as though he’d touched them. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.”

He falls on you, releasing your hands to cup your face as he kisses you again without mercy. His touch is possessive, inexorable, unyielding, and his hands explore your body, the curve of your bare back and the swell of your breast. His thumb and forefinger pinching your nipple make your knees weak. He recedes like a crashing wave down your body, his mouth upon your chest, your breasts, his tongue wreaking sweet agony upon your aching tips.

You don't know how much more of this your pussy can take. You've never been this turned on, for this long, in your life. 

You blink stupidly, when suddenly John is on his knees before you, looking up at you with his nose nuzzling the curls between your legs. That brief moment of eye contact electrifies you, before he guides your leg up over his shoulder, and licks your weeping slit. You lean back on the marble counter, and if not for his strong hands on your hips and your ass, you would have fallen, your legs shaking beneath you as he wrecks you with that devilish tongue.

He brings you so close to the edge with licks and little sucks, torturing you making circles with the tip of his tongue before taking mercy with broad, hard strokes, two of his long fingers sliding inside of you. That burning knot of pleasure begins to tighten within your womb. You clench on his fingers, your grip white-knuckling on the side of the vanity, so relieved for release on the horizon that you could cry.

That is when he leaves you, wiping his mouth on your belly as he stands before kissing you with the same punishing force as before. You whimper into his mouth, cheated of your pleasure, so pent up you could die.

“Hush,” he tells you, more gently than you would have expected from him in this unforgiving mood. He lifts you up onto the vanity again, easily as though you weigh nothing. With stars in your eyes, you watch as he undoes the zipper on his slacks with quick efficiency, pushing it all down to the floor and kicking it away.

You cannot help but stare, your lip caught between your teeth again. How many times a day can you think to yourself, This man is beautiful? His trim waist and powerful thighs covered in crisp dark hairs. The line of soft dark hair on his belly leads the eye downward…he is thick, and long, and even while you know you are in trouble, you cannot quell the dark thrill of knowing he is going to absolutely ruin you.

“Like what you see?” he asks, pulling you from your trance. He pumps himself up and down a few times, spreading the precum leaking from his tip.

Unable to find words in that moment, you nod.  

“What was that, sweetheart?” His big hands on your thighs pull you to the edge of the vanity top, his body wedged between your legs.

You make a frustrated sound between your teeth. “Yes, I find you very fucking beautiful, Mr. Wick.”

He offers you a cruel little laugh before catching your lips with his, his thick tip hovering at your weeping entrance. You try to move closer to him, hungry for the stretch and burn of his cock entering your body, but he holds you fast.

There is a surprising vulnerability in his next words, uttered quietly against your ear. “You want me?”

“Yes.”

God help you, but it’s the truth.

You give a strangled moan as he pushes inside of you, writhing from his cock and his teeth in your shoulder. The sound he makes is more animal than human as he works himself inside.

“Even your pussy fights back,” he huffs with strained laughter, easing himself in and out. “God, baby, you feel so good.”

Your fingernails dig into his shoulder as your body protests the invasion half-way.

“Wait…”

“Can’t…” he informs you raggedly. “Breathe for me, kitten, I know you can take me.”

“It’s been a long time,” you admit between a deep inhale, trying to adjust. A long time, and to be frank, none of your previous experiences with men prepared you for him.

“How long?” he demands, as though this is information he desperately needs to know.

“Over a year.”

Long before you met him.

He veritably growls his approval at this figure, and if you weren’t so cock-drunk you would have rolled your eyes at the fragility of the male ego. As it is…you can hardly think straight at all.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasps against your skin as he slides deeper and deeper inside. “So wet for me. So good.”

You cry out as he bottoms out against your cervix. He looks down between you, fascinated by the sight of his body buried in yours to the hilt.

“That hurt?”

“A little.”

“Sorry.” You can hardly believe it when he kisses you with contrition. “I’ll try…” He thrusts again, slower this time, and it makes you see stars. “To be gentle.” He presses his thumb to your lips, and you open for him, sucking and leaving a trail of saliva as he withdraws. When he circles that thumb over your clit you mewl like the needy little kitten you are for him, your thighs tightening upon his narrow hips. He moves for you at just the right speed, teasing you with the thickness of his shaft in all the right places inside. Your walls grip him with abandon, desperate for the pleasure he’s been dangling before you for days.

“You wanna cum, pretty kitten?”

“Yes,” you pant, so desperate for release. Your tight little pussy clenches around his cock in answer, and he sucks in breath through his teeth.

“Then you have to say something for me. And you have to mean it.” 

Fuck. 

“What?” You can hardly remember your own name, much less form complicated sentences as he fills you to bursting, merciless and so very wonderful, his thumb working magic on your clit.

“Say you’re mine.” 

He glides inside you, stretching you more somehow, but removes his hand to grip your hip.

When you meet him with silence he kisses your neck, nipping at your skin as punishment. There will be marks all over your chest and neck tomorrow.

It doesn't matter.

Not like you're going anywhere.

Not like anyone will see you. 

You keen, craving more pressure, more friction, pulling him deeper with legs wrapped around his back, bringing you so close to where you need him. You think you can come on his cock, whether he touches you or not. It would be a victory, to prove that your pleasure needn't only come at his own whim. 

Knowing all too well, he denies it to you, holding himself just shy of it. 

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you're mine, and I'll give you everything you want.” 

“Even freedom?” you dare ask as he strums at you again, a master at keeping the fire at just the right height, making you feel so good, but never quite enough to make you cum.

You don't know how you have the cheek, with his clever fingers between your legs frying your brain.

This man was made to torture you, it seems. He shifts, so that he is making shallow strokes that only barely stimulate you. You scream a little in frustration. It actually makes him smile. 

“Did you know that ninety percent of women cannot orgasm on penetration alone?”

“You don't have to be so fucking smug about it.” 

“You need me.” 

“Do I?”

You reach for your clit, hoping he will be distracted by watching you. Most men would, but not John. He is a man of focus, determination, sheer will. He catches your hand with a warning growl, twisting it behind you. 

Pulling you closer, he buries himself as deep as he can, his face buried in your hair. It doesn’t hurt this time. It feels like he makes you whole, and you feel the bass growl he makes against your ear in the depths of your soul.

“Please? I can’t wait anymore, baby girl. I want to feel you cum with me.” There is a new desperation in his words, and you know he must be close.

“Then let me cum,” you answer, hardly recognizing your own voice. “I want it. I want you.”

“Say you’re mine.”

You are tempted. Boy, are you. You want it so badly your legs tremble, your back arched tight as a bow. A tear rolls down your cheek, because fuck you if a part of you doesn't want to say it. Not just because it's the only way you're going to get to orgasm, and he’s driving you insane. But because...you know it would make him so fucking happy.

You’re afraid if you say it aloud, it might be true.

You are so close, but he is a master of bringing you just to the edge before backing away. In that moment, you hate him as much as you love him. You know, you just know, that if you give in to this possessive madness so soon, there will be no going back. You will be so fucked, and not in the way you want to be.

You just shake your head.

“Go to hell.” 

It is, decidedly, the wrong answer, of course. His eyes darken, and he ruts inside you out of spite, spilling himself with a growl and his teeth in the curve of your neck. You feel the scalding hot rush inside you, the impossible fullness. It is good, and you are this close as he shudders against you, but in the end it’s just not enough.  

You keen miserably as his slick length slides from you, leaving you filled with his cum, utterly wrecked yet still unsatisfied. He wipes his tip across your belly, marking you.

Men.

“You are the stubbornest fucking woman I’ve ever met,” he grumbles low in your ear.

It sends a shiver across your skin.

You have to try twice before you find your voice.

“Thank you.”

He actually laughs, a harsh, disbelieving bark as he shakes his head at you. You watch as he goes to turn off the bath taps, the tub finally full, thoroughly enjoying the view despite how he’s left you. He steps into the water, turning so that he can see you with his arms on the rim of the tub.

You take some pleasure in the fact that he doesn’t look quite satisfied either.

Though your legs barely work, you slide down to the floor with a glare, intending to use the shower instead, away from him. You feel his seed dripping from you, down your thighs in warm thick rivulets. He didn’t ask if you are on birth control, and you’re grateful for your IUD, feeling like you’re armed with a secret weapon. If he means to bind you further to him with bearing his child…he’ll be disappointed. You decide right then that’s a card you’ll play close to your vest.

You take one step towards the shower before he makes a sound of warning low in his throat, and you freeze in your tracks. “In here,” he directs, and you close your eyes with wariness. Of course, that was the deal you’d made with the devil, and he’d warned you not to break an agreement with him.

He’s going to torture you more, you reckon, with his mouth or his fingers or maybe even that magnificent cock again, and you just don’t think your body can take it.

You’re not sure your heart can take it, either.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

Resigned to your fate, you go, sinking into the warm water. It would have been wonderful, you know, if your every nerve had not already been on fire.

You hover up to your neck in the deep tub, trying to relax and succeeding only by half. “Come here,” says your beautiful tormentor, holding out his hand to you. The invitation is deceptively gentle this time. Mr. Wick, the undisputed King of Hot and Cold.

“You are such an asshole,” you inform him as you take his hand, letting him pull you into the circle of his arms against his chest.

“So you tell me,” he says with his lips against your temple, his arm around your waist holding you to him. “You might be a tiger kitten, but you’re still just a kitten.” He almost sounds proud about it. “I’m going to win in the end.”

You’re afraid he’s right, but you’re not ready to surrender just yet.

#john wick #john wick fic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #bittersweet john wick imagine #yandere john wick #yandere

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi! will you write an aegon x reader imagine in which they are married out of love. and after she gives birth, alicent (or otto idk) requests to see her child like she did to rhaenyra. like what would aegon do to see his wife in pain and how would he react? thank you!

Ugh, I live for this type of angst!!! I reckon Aegon would be so fucking pisssssed. How dare they try to get you to lift a finger, let alone stand after birthing his child!!!! sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy xx

Our Child.

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,948.

WARNINGS: swearing, fluff, angst, Dad!Aegon, mentions of pregnancy/birth, mentions of bullying.

A/N - I apologise for getting carried away with the beginning lmao, but I felt the need to lay some background, so don't mind me. hope you enjoy!

Within this realm, gossip and scepticism was not unfamiliar territory. Especially regarding the livelihood and innocence of maidens such as yourself, whispers were constant, back and forth, the ongoing judgement would never be silenced although, you'd grown ignorant to. It did not matter, many accused you of being a whore, many expressed their disgust over hearing your so-called promiscuous nature, and many had ridiculed your poor upbringing.

"Surely, she's bedded men before, and the Prince seems to not mind? I heard she was betrothed to a farmer in the North, although ran away."

"Aegon is no saint either... Although he is a man, and men have needs."

"What would the Prince want with someone of her kind? She has nothing to offer, not even a dowry, and he is to be King."

The scrutiny was constant, and Aegon knew at times, no matter how well you masked it, that the words stung. He knew your story, having allowed him and granting him the time to really get to know you, Aegon had pestered you for so long, he listened and knew your truth.

The rest were all lies, deceit and gossip, for many lords had intended for their own daughters to wed the King to be.

"The realm have already made up their minds, Aegon, I stand no chance against them."

Aegon did not care. He loved you undeniably, and whatever he saw in you, made him a better man.

"They can answer to me, I'd like to hear their judgement directly."

It was true, no one dared to question Aegon's intentions with you, not at least in front of him. First off, he had a dragon. Secondly, a terribly, quick temper, the notorious Targaryen temper... The two fused well together depending on who asked.

Overtime, just as you always had, the scrutiny of the high class and council did not matter to you, for it was the least of your concerns.

Although, it bothered you greatly that his mother, Queen Alicent, had tuned into such gossip and determined herself that you unworthy.

She did not completely ignore your presence in the castle, although she was cold. She never warmed unto you like she did with other high-borne ladies, nor did she give you the chance to speak or tell your truth. Her mind was made.

Alicent was certain that you had other intentions with her son, that you'd wanted riches, gold, money, anything to help redeem your family's status in society. She assumed that you would use the Crown in all its glory, all through Aegon.

"I see you as you are, Y/N. Aegon may think with his cock when it comes to you, although I see right through you," Her words cut sharp as Valyrian blade, left you defeated and speechless.

Aegon knew of this, for he could tell how quickly your mood had shifted. He knew of his mother's sour attitude towards you, for she'd plead with him many times to let you go, even proposing the idea of offering you money in return that you leave King's Landing for good.

In despite of the adversity, Aegon held his ground, for one of the first times in his life. He remained with you, by your side relentlessly, and defended your honour. He often returned to your chambers tiresome of the repetitive quarrelling with his mother about you, and yet he did not intend to stop, until she'd accepted you. In time, he had asked for your hand, wedding you in a private ceremony, upholding his Valyrian heritage, and not before long, you were with child, Aegon's child and his rightful heir.

****

The birthing was difficult to say the least, going on for a fair few hours in the night, right until sunlight could be seen in the horizon. The instant cry of your newborn babe filled the room, and much to your relief, caused you to beam with a smile on your face, as you embraced the small bub in your arms.

"A boy, your Grace. Kicking like a goat," The experienced midwife exclaimed, as she tended to the sweat dripping on your face, and the blood marked on your cheeks, from kissing the babe, trying to make you somewhat decent if Aegon was to return.

Aegon although, desperate to be with you, was caught in a council meeting. Much to his dismay, his abrupt marriage to you left many lords in uproar as his family had promised them the opportunities for their daughters to meet the young Prince, determined to see if he'd take a liking to one of the them. Many now furious at the Crown, refusing to pay taxes and levies.

As you cradled the baby in your arms, enamoured by the bundle of joy, little shrouds of hair on his head, parallel to his father's Targaryen heritage, his nose even a copy of Aegon's. It was his little twin. Trying to take your son's presence all in, was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the door, jolting your attention towards the entrance. Your heart raced with excitement, as you'd relished in the image of Aegon rushing through to your bedside, meeting his newborn son for the first moment ever.

Much to your disappointment it was a knight, although, one that you'd grown familiar to seeing in the Queen's company.

"Apologies to bother you, your Grace. Although, Queen Alicent wishes to see you and the babe at this very moment."

A puzzled look drenched your face, as you scanned the faces of the midwives and maester present during your birth, each of them sharing a discerning look, some quickly looking to their shuffling feet, trying to seem busy.

"Right now?" You stuttered, holding your newborn tightly instinctively.

The knight merely nodded, as though hesitant to giving such orders considering the ordeal you'd endured just mere minutes ago.

Now you'd grown annoyed, you gestured for one of the midwives to hold your dear son, who continued to wail as he left your arms, whilst the others helped you to your feet, blood drenched clothes, pooling down your legs as you gained steadiness.

You couldn't stand by yourself, your head whirling and your belly and thighs aching in a dull pain, sudden movements and long strides caused sharp pains to bellow your lower back and hips, cramping your muscles. It was pain you'd never felt like before.

The maester attempted to convince you of taking milk of the poppy for the walk, although short, would be tormenting with the stairs you had to conquer.

Although, milk of the poppy made you feel weaker, less conscious. You did not want to wish dropping the babe in your arms, nor be less alert for Alicent.

The midwives carefully donned you in a clean, silk gown, attempting to make you as decent and proper as possible, for people began to bustle through the castle now. Hearing their conversations and steps outside the door, for it was morning and you'd grown familiar to its routine.

"Y/N dearest, perhaps we can send a message to the Queen that your condition does not allow for you to travel currently-" The maester pitied.

"No, it is fine. If this is what the Queen wants, this is what she shall get."

The midwife that had held your son, returned him to your arms, as the knight helped to guide you out, holding out his armoured arm as you gripped it tightly for support. Thankfully, he did not rush you, for he could see how slow and careful you were taking your steps.

Some lords and ladies passing by would congratulate you, whilst others remained ignorant to your presence, and some in pure shock that you were travelling in such a state.

Their whispers again, filled the morning air, although before reaching the steps, you'd taken a glance at your newborn son, snug in his blankets. Again, the same, warm smile gleamed on your face as you watched him, before a sharp pain pierced through your lower abdomen. Your grip on the knight tensed and he knew immediately, questioning if you wished to turn back.

"No-No, let's just fucking go."

As you took the first, agonising step up, a familiar voice yelled out your name. Slowly turning back, your body straining, resisting all the physical movement, you could see Aegon down the other side of the corridor, rushing past as he reached your side.

"What's the meaning of this, where are you going in such a state?"

He kept his focus on you, oblivious to the babe in your arms, as one hand massaged your back, whilst the other held your arm for support, as you began to cower in pain.

"Ughh-Y-Your mother, wanted t-to see the babe, now."

You stuttered, your voice trembling as the pain worsened the more you remained on your feet, becoming breathless by the second.

As you mentioned the babe, Aegon looked down, his eyes meeting his newborn son, a cherished look on his face appeared for a split second, before he realised the situation. His eyes darted towards the knight and commanded that he tell his mother, "That would not be wise, if she so wishes to see the babe, she can come down herself."

You reassured the knight that you were fine, as Aegon took his place by your side, turning you back around to your chambers, the midwives still present as they remained cleaning the bloody scene, were relieved to see you return. They all helped you back down cautiously, propping pillows behind your back for support, even preparing a small cup of milk of the poppy, now that you were rested in bed.

"What were you thinking Y/N? Don't you ever think that you need to prove yourself like that, my mother can answer to me."

"I-I don't know, Aegon. She is the Queen, a-and I thought... I am sorry husband."

Aegon had been pacing himself up and down the room, as the midwives left to give you both peace and privacy, shaking and rubbing his head. Out of fury, he slammed his fist against the wooden post of the bed railing, before calming himself. Seating himself down by your side, as he ran his fingers through his short, tussled platinum hair. A low sigh escaping his mouth, as he exchanged a worried look on his face, your hand reaching over to hold his reddened knuckles, as your thumb grazed the small, fresh cut.

"You-You my dearest, need not to apologise, you did nothing wrong. I just cannot fathom how my mother think it okay to torment you like that."

"I-I do not know, Aegon. But rest assured, our son is happy and healthy, come-"

You pulled his fingers, beckoning to come closer, as you pulled down the cover on your son's little face, despite all the mayhem that ensued following his birth, he remained quiet and slept. Unphased by the drama of his presence, he was your calm before the storm.

"He's beautiful isn't he? Our child." You softly whisper, as you looked up from the babe to Aegon, and back down again, gently cradling him in your arms.

Aegon's arm wrapped beneath yours, as his free hand, a finger gently grazed over his son's nose, dotting it. Helplessly, a smile beamed up on his face, as his son cooed against his father's touch.

"As angelic as his mother is." He uttered, before resting his head against your shoulder.

"She will be dealt with, Y/N. Rest assured, I will speak with her and it will be the last time we speak of this matter again. She did not deem me fit to be King before, she will now."

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic requests #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon imagine #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x reader #king aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfiction #alicent hightower

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: It's friday again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Once Leslie leaves, you lock yourself away again. Your father's taken to the cold shoulder over his previous aggression. You don't mind, it assures you of a tenuous peace. So long as you don't draw his attention, you're okay.

Your anxiety remains piqued. Not only by your father's stewing ire but the thought of what looms both behind and ahead of you. With all that happened at work, you have little hope of tomorrow being better. There is also the question of Mr. Laufeyson's surprise... you can't even begin to guess what he has in mind.

Another test, no doubt. Like today. You're certain you failed that one too. You took his kindness and showed yourself to be ungrateful. You questioned him when you should have just accepted it with a smile on your face.

It is not your place to worry about his intentions, as he has made it clear, you are not on the same level. He is your boss and you do what he says. So you will do that and nothing more.

Is that his voice in your head?

You sneak out for a shower but it doesn't do much to calms your nerves. You spend another night tossing and turn, kept awake by the television set a top volume and the dissonance of your anxiety. Even with the extra hours granted, you find yourself painfully awake at the same splitting hour.

You get up to make your tea. Your father's snoring on the couch at the TV continues to blare. You don't disturb either as you put on the kettle and ready a mug. You rub your eyes and yawn. Leslie will be here soon. You should wake him and get breakfast going. It will lighten her load.

When you have your cup steaming, you stay at the counter and sip tentatively, weighing your next steps. You leave your father as he is and return to your room, dressing and cleaning up before you descend again. You have your phone in hand, almost hoping a notification will pop up. Maybe Mr. Laufeyson will change his mind and you can be off before you have to face your dad. The phone remains lifeless. 

You sigh and shut off the television, hoping the sudden silence might rouse him. He continues to snort loudly. You bite down on your cheeks as your skin buzzes and itches. He's not a morning person. 

The memories of him exploding to consciousness in a furor of hollers and kicks keep you from shaking him. You back away as the doorbell rings and does the job for you, your father grumbling as you go to answer it.

Leslie enters with her usual blustering brightness. She greets your father and stops short, hands on her hips as she tuts.

"Now what is the meaning of this?" She huffs, "Charles, you can't sleep down here."

"I'm not," he sits up and hacks into his hand before sliding the oxygen tube back into place. "You woke me up."

"What's gotten into you?" She accuses, "I told you yesterday I'm not here for your attitude. You're not some teenager, you're a grown man."

"Bah, I need coffee," he snarls.

"You need a cold shower," she retorts as she goes around the couch and snatches up the pack of smoke on the cushion beside him, "and a swat on the snout. What're you doing with these things?" She pauses and looks at you, "he can't be having these in the house."

"I don't... know where they came from," your murmur.

"Don't matter, if you see them, you toss them," she reproaches, "this is a team effort, alright? Now yesterday, this place was a right mess. I'm here to help, not play maid."

"I'm sorry, I..." you snap your mouth shut. You did clean up, as best you could before work, but you'll have to do better.

"Not her fault she's useless," your father quips.

"Charles," Leslie warns as she points at him.

"Sorry, hon," he puts his hands up, "was only a joke."

"Not a very nice one," he rebukes.

"I know, I know," he chortles.

"So don't apologise to me," she flicks her finger towards you.

Your father stops his laughing and quiets. He crosses his arms and slumps his shoulders as you stare at the back of his head. You wait as Leslie tilts her head dangerous and cross her arms.

"Charles," she girds.

"Don't worry about it," you croak, "it's fine. I'll... I'm going in late so I'll get breakfast started."

"Oh yeah, she don't gotta go polish that man's silver early," your dad growls.

"Charles," Leslie snips again, "I mean it, be nice."

"I am nice, hon, I'm being funny."

"You are not," she insists.

"Come on, Les," he lowers his voice as you pad towards the kitchen, "I'll be good, alright? Don't give me that look."

She sighs but you don't look back, "alright, no more smokes."

"I'm tellin' ya, honey," he speaks so softly you barely recognise his voice, "I didn't touch 'em. Found them in the couch but I didn't smoke any. Don't be mad at me."

You shake your head and try to roll the tension out of your shoulders. She's been here just over a week and he talks like he's known her forever. He's actually nice to her. He cares about what she thinks, what she feels. But you, his own daughter, you get the blame for it all. You're the reason he hates himself and his life. Maybe if you'd never come along, he'd still have the woman he loved. 

🧹

You set off just after eleven, the bus due not long after. As you come down the overgrown walk with its cracked pavement and uneven tilt, your eyes are drawn up by the snap of a car door. Footfalls scuff on the pavement as you look over the curb to the shiny car parked there. It's an unusual sight in the rundown neighbourhood.

Mr. Laufeyson proudly steps up as the window on the passenger's side rolls down. A pair of similarly green eyes peer out as she takes in the sight of the yellow duplex. You want to run and hide. You can't imagine either of them ever had to dirty themselves in a place like this.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you rush towards him, "I--- you said noon."

You pull the phone out and check the time. He puts his hand on the roof of the car calmly as you stop a few feet away. He chuckles, amused by your panic.

"It's so quaint," Frigga remarks as she remains firmly in the front seat, "dear, how are you?"

"Um, I'm well, Frigga," you answer with a tight gulp.

"Good, good, you look well," she praises, "a bit tired. Tell me he's not overworking you."

"Mother," Laufeyson shoots a glance in her direction.

"Er, it's fine," you clutch the strap of your bag, "I... did I do something?"

"No, no," Frigga waves off your suspicion, "I simply insisted my son bring me to see you while I'm in town."

"Oh, I was just on my way..." you look at Laufeyson confused as he gives an expression you can't quite read. He's expecting something but you're not sure what.

"We have lots to do so no sense in waiting around," she trills.

"Oh?" Your lips part. "Did something-- is the house okay?"

"The house is just fine. That old place only needs a little light, but see if my own son hears me," he rambles, "Loki, don't be rude, get the door."

He flinches and drags his hand away from the top of the car, "yes, mother."

He moves to open the back door, gallantly opening it for you. You feel like you've been dropped into an alternate universe. This can't be happening.

"Get in," he says. 

You blink at him and he tilts his head, gesturing to the back seat. You obey with some reluctance and sit the large leather bag beside you. You slowly pull the seat belt down and click it into place. Laufeyson strides around the bumper as you peek in the mirror at Frigga's silvering curls.

"Right, then," Laufeyson opens the driver's door and lowers himself into the seat, "there we are."

"How are you feeling, darling?" Frigga's eyes meet yours in the rearview before you quickly look away, "are you very hungry or can you wait a bit longer for lunch?"

"I... Lunch? I'm okay," you assure. You can't figure this out. "Thank you."

The car whirs and rolls into motion. You're uneasy as you watch the street pass by. If he takes a left, he can get back to the main roads and-- no, he's going right?

"Mm, alright, the boutique first then," she orders her son, "I'm wondering if perhaps they could squeeze us in at the spa. It has been a while since I had some clay done. Oh, and my nails are ragged."

You try to connect the dots as your brows stitch together. Is this his surprise? His mother? Why are you there? You should be figuring out what's going on with the squeaky hinge on the closet. 

"I can't wait to see the new season's colours," Frigga carries on as you tune her out, lost in the riddle of her presence and your own.

Surely, you're being brought along as some sort of valet. Of course, Laufeyson would offer you to carry her bags as she splurges on her pretty dresses. And she is always dressed so nicely whenever you see her. And make up, her lips are a pleasant shade of rose. She would likely spend even more on shoes, don't forget the silver sparkling at her throat and the gemstone dangling there... 

Right, you see. Another lesson. He wants you to remember what you don't have. After your slip-up yesterday, he has to remind you of where you belong; squashed under his sole.

"Oh, is Eliana still at the salon, I should stop in and say hello," Frigga's voice once more punctures your distraction. "She was always so sweet."

"Mother, I... don't know about that. Maybe a different salon."

"You are such a pessimist, what are the odds we run into her?" 

"Don't even tempt fate," he warns.

"No one said you were invited, hm? You said you had business down at Heimdall's."

"You are stubborn, mother," Laufeyson tisks.

"It's where you got it from, dear," she taunts, "so, darling," she peeks in the mirror again and you shy away, "how about it, you and I? It will be so nice. I haven't gotten a day out in so long."

"Oh, you haven't? Should I ask father about that?"

"Let's not mention your father," she rebuffs him smoothly and his shoulders slump.

"Um, well, that's nice, but..." you protest meekly

"It's my treat," she insists, "please. You're doing me a favour."

"I really don't know--"

"I don't mind," Laufeyson interjects, "and it won't affect your hours."

"I did soften him up a bit," she purrs.

"Mother," he hisses again.

"Oh you are so serious," she chides, "she needs this more than I do, I'm sure, with a stickler like you."

He twitches but says nothing. You sense he wants to say it again, 'mother', in the tone of please be quiet. It would be laughable if you weren't so perplexed by it all. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe you didn't wake up and you're oversleeping your alarm, having stress dreams about what will happen when you wake to reality.

"He's a good little chauffeur," she pats his arm playfully, "so he will drop us at the salon, won't you, dearest son?"

He grips the wheel tight and you see his knuckles turn almost translucent, "yes, mother, whatever you wish."

🧹

Mr, Laufeyson drives through the downtown area. You don't come there much, or at all. You passed through on your way to the hospital and on occasion to sort out a billing issue with the bank, but there wasn't much for you there. Along the west side, the nicer shops reside and several buildings with businesses you could never figure out.

Laufeyson pulls up into a marked spot beside a meter. As you stare out, still puzzled by it all. Everything's going so fast and you just want it to slow down. You look at your boss and feel a pang in your chest; how many times had he mentioned your clothes? This isn't a favour, this is him saying you're not good enough.

"Come, come," Frigga gets out and opens your door for you, "let's not drag our feet."

You undo the seat belt and go to grab your large leather bag. As you get out, Frigga catches you by the shoulders. "You won't need this," she takes the bag and reaches past you to put it back in the car, "only your pretty self."

"Oh, uh, sure, okay," you look again at Laufeyson but you're not sure why. He isn't going to help you. He's plunged you into this situation. He only arches a brow in response.

"Just going to give you a nice refresh," Frigga pulls on your elbow and shuts the door, tugging you onto the pavement. "You would do wonderful with some highlights."

You stumble along beside her, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. She directs you to the shining transparent windows of a salon, a sign overhead with a curled iron bar across the top. You peek over your shoulder again as Mr. Laufeyson lingers another moment before steering out into traffic.

The door chirps as it opens and you're ushered inside to the sound of jazzy pop covers. You can't choose where to focus as the sleek shelves of colourful bottle behind the pure white counter refracts the lights of a spindly chandelier. Velvet chairs are arranged around a table in the little waiting area as stylists gab with clients in chairs.

"Frigga," a woman with platinum locks flutters over with the clacking of heels, "oh, it's been so long."

"Eliana! It has, look at you," they embrace and part, Frigga playing with the tall woman's pin-straight tresses, "what happened to the black?"

"Got a few grays and a divorce," the woman, Eliana you presume, cackles, "and who's this?"

They look at you as you're ready to fade into the black and white stripes on the wall.

"Oh, a friend, she's lovely," Frigga comes back and takes your hand, drawing you forward, "she just needs a little touch-up."

"Oh, she's a natural, she won't need much at all," the stylist approaches you, "I know just the woman; Luciana," she claps and looks back, "I have someone to fill in that cancellation.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

[beardedjoel]

new addiction

boss!joel x f!reader one shot collection | part two

summary: you’ve been fantasizing about your boss, but when he leaves you a mysterious note to meet him after work hours, everything changes.

warnings: 18+! MDNI! non-apocalypse au, boss!joel is a lil mean but not too mean, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, spit kink, size kink kinda, panty stealing? does that need a tag idk, this is a filthy nasty fic and i love it

word count: 4k

a/n: basically just a shamless one shot of joel being your boss and you getting to fuck him, this is not my most proof read work i’ve ever posted but i hope you all like it! inspired by the new taylor swift song “i can see you” it’s literally my religion right now

You feel the crinkle of the paper in your hands another time, staring down at it as if the words on the page are going to change any time soon. You read over the simple phrasing, almost wanting to trace your fingers over the inking just to check that it’s truly real.

my office

6pm

JM

You’ve been working for Mr. Miller - Joel, he told you to call him, but old habits die hard - for a little over four months now. You’d always been taught to refer to any person of authority this way, so it was taking some getting used to to just call him Joel. 

This has been the longest four months of your life, mostly due to the man in question - Joel fucking Miller, your boss, the man responsible for your livelihood, the man you absolutely should not be pining over. How you can stop lusting after him is beyond you when he looks like that - his dark hair has grown out a bit since you started, brown curls flecked with gray that match his beard traveling down his neck now. Curls you dream of sinking your hands into and tugging in the heat of the moment every single day. Every time his dark brown eyes catch yours during conversation, you have to fight your mind to stay on track.  Watching his lips move, wondering what they’d feel like on yours, on any part of your body. It’s been completely mind bending, the attraction you feel for him. 

It all started a few weeks ago, when you started to wonder if the attraction was mutual. At first, it was a sidelong glance that lasted a bit too long here and there, then a few times where he brushed his body a little too close to yours, and you’d feel the heat of it linger long after he was gone. You could scarcely breathe when he got that close to you, a few times he’d hovered behind you at your desk to look at something on the computer with you and you wondered how you weren’t combusting, flames dancing across your skin. The moment you’d felt his hot breath on your neck, you fought hard not to shudder, and when one slipped by, you cursed yourself, hoping Joel hadn’t noticed. You’d thought maybe he hadn’t, but he suggested as he walked away that maybe you get a sweater to wear inside if you were so cold.

Fucking asshole.

He had to know the effect he was having on you. No matter how hard you tried to hide it, he was flirting in his own, restrained way. The most you’d gotten out of him was when he put one of his large, my god, so large, hands on your lower back as he’d breezed past you in the small, cramped employee break room to get to the coffee machine. 

“‘Scuse me, doll,” he’d said gruffly as he passed, and you nearly choked upon hearing the little pet name from him. Doll… you’d rolled the word around in your mind the entire rest of the day, amazed you could get any work done.

It was a small office - just a little, rented space to run his contracting business out of, and you’d been hired on to do any kind of admin work, really. There wasn’t any kind of official job title, you’d just been needed to tend to the books, appointments, and making sure everything was in order. It wasn’t a bad gig, not your dream job by any means, but now that you’d fallen deeply into your infatuation with your boss, of all people, it was making it hard to want to leave. 

And if you’re honest with yourself, you should want to find a new job - Joel can be, well, an asshole, to put it mildly. He doesn’t have time for bullshit, and he makes that perfectly clear to everyone in his vicinity. All the employees at the construction sites and office do revere him, and know he’s one of the best in Austin to learn from and have on your resume as far as contracting goes. On his good days, however, he really is a pleasure to have around, and you relish in the times you get to see his warm smile and hear him laugh at one of his employees busting his balls. On those days, you can see the speck of hope that keeps the people around him in his life.

Joel typically stops in at least once a day before rushing off to check on things at his job sites, and sometimes you do worry he’s wearing himself too thin. He comes in looking exhausted some days, snapping easily and drinking copious amounts of coffee. But you have to constantly remind yourself that’s not for you to worry about - you aren’t his wife, his girlfriend, his anything. You can’t fight off the desire to be something for him, though, wanting to be there for him, to provide some kind of release for him on those tightly wound days. From there, your mind drifts to the deepest corners of depravity, thinking of all the ways you could help him release.

On one such stressful day, he dropped a note on your desk, so quickly in passing anyone else in the room might have missed it. He didn’t bother to look back at you afterwards, leaving you wide eyed, staring down at the small piece of paper that was folded in half as he continued on to his office.

You felt like you were floating the entire day, anticipation boiling in your gut as you wondered if this note could mean what you think it does. By the time 5:45 rolls around, Joel having breezed back into the building and shutting himself in his office thirty minutes ago, you’ve decided you’re either getting canned or fucked tonight, and both options are making you so nervous you might jump out of your own skin. The few people left in the office pack up for the day and head out, leaving you pretending to finish up work as you wave goodbye to them.

You stand up right on time, smoothing down the short pencil skirt you’re wearing before breathing deeply and reaching for the doorknob to his office. You knock as you open the door, poking your head in. Joel looks up from his desk, where he’d had his forehead on his palm, looking over some paperwork.

“See you got my note,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse from a day of likely speaking and barking orders at his various job sites. “Shut the door behind ya,” Joel adds, and you feel your heart jump further into your throat, a slightly shaky hand shutting the door behind you as he asks. 

“Sure. Er, what’s this about, Mr. Miller?” You fidget with your hands in front of you, resting them on your belly as you wait expectantly. 

“Joel, remember?” he replies with a cocky smile. You still haven’t quite figured out his intentions, and at this point, you figure it could go either way, and you’re bracing yourself internally for either losing your job or what could be the best sex of your life.

“Right,” you say with a shaky chuckle. “Nervous habit, sorry… Joel.”

“Nothin’ to be nervous about, why don’t ya come on in,” Joel says genially, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips at hearing you say his name. 

You slowly make your way to the chair that’s across from his desk, a cluttered mess that you’ve learned is organized in his own way, as he always seems to be able to find everything he needs despite you offering many times to help organize it for him. S’okay, I’ve got a system, he’d repeat every single time, so eventually you’d given up on asking.

“How was your day? You seem stressed,” you dare to ask as you sit down, and Joel quirks a brow at you.

“Same old bullshit,” he says breezily, rubbing a hand down his face and pushing the papers on his desk aside, focusing his attention on you. “So fuckin’ stressed, but you don’t need to worry about all of that.”

“What if…” you start, swallowing hard. Now or fucking never. If you’re about to possibly lose your job, you may as well go out with all you’ve got. “What if I did worry about that?” you blink a few times, eyelashes fluttering in his direction and Joel gives you an indiscernible look, but you swear his eyes go a shake darker. “Just, that you’re stressed, I mean. Isn’t it my job to help you?”

Joel barely even reacts other than a flicker across his eyes that you only notice because you’re looking so intently. The bastard was probably prepared for this, like he knew you’d come in here ready to flirt your little heart out if the situation called for it.

Fucking. Asshole. But an extremely hot asshole with his eyes trained right on yours, making you melt instantly and forgetting all about the cursing him you were doing in your head.

“That so?” Joel says slowly with an amused, deep chuckle. He stands up, making his way around the desk towards you, and your heart picks up, practically beating out of your chest now. “That in your job description, hm? Help ol’ Mr. Miller when he’s stressed?” 

His tone, his body language, everything is screaming green lights for you to continue this witty repartee. “It could be, if you wanted it to,” you reply, squaring your shoulders back, not cowering from his gaze, but rather intensifying yours with a small pout of your lips. Joel’s movements over to you are slow and calculated, practically sauntering until he’s standing in front of you. He absolutely towers over you now, more than usual, his broad shoulders looking even wider from your angle below him. He leans back on the desk, perching on the edge, giving you a direct view at his crotch, a now very apparent bulge in his jeans.

“Pretty thing like you’d really want to do all that for me?” Joel asks.

You lick your lips, trying to steady your breathing. “Mhm,” you sound, and your confirmation is enough to have Joel leaning forward, placing a hand on your cheek, fingers ghosting along the skin as he makes his way down to your neck, the light trace of his calloused pads sending goosebumps along your arms.

“Like the way I’m touchin’ you, pretty girl?” he asks quietly, and you manage to let out another affirmative noise. You watch his thick fingers tracing down the top of your chest, silently begging please keep going, please. When his hand reaches the top button of your shirt, he pauses, and your legs squeeze together in anticipation. You nearly whine when he withdraws his hand, but seconds later he’s using a finger to tip your chin up, indicating for you to stand.

You meet him against his desk, his legs opening wide for you to step in between them, and you press in close, feeling unsure of what to do with your hands, how far he wants to take things. You delicately place a hand on his thigh to steady yourself, and he slips his arms around you, immediately sliding them down your back and to your ass.

“Fuck,” he mumbles as he squeezes your ass firmly through your skirt. “Such a sexy little thing, you wear this for me?”

“You’ve caught me,” you say with a sly look. The skirt isn’t anything that scandalous, but you do suppose it shows more of your legs than may typically be deemed appropriate in an office setting. You’ve always blamed the more skimpy clothing you’d wear on the hot Austin climate, but you know in the back of your mind, it was all always for Joel.

“Don’t have to wear all this to get my attention, y’know,” he says a little more tenderly, still kneading the globes of your ass hungrily, pulling your skirt up in the process.

“Seemed like you enjoyed it, all those times I saw you watch me leave your office,” you quip back.

“Damn right I did, ‘m only human, darlin’,” he says gruffly, yanking you forward, and the hardness in his jeans is pressing right into your own throbbing heat, sending a swirling wave of desire in between your legs. Slickness is gathering there quickly, leaving your underwear already wet and uncomfortable against your skin.

“On your knees, now,” Joel says, pushing you down by your shoulders until you bow under the pressure, getting down onto the carpet and sitting on your knees. “That’s a good girl,” he says with a smirk. He makes quick work of his belt and zipper, freeing his cock within moments, and it takes everything in you not to gasp at the sight laid before you.

His cock is beyond what you’d imagined - he’s a big guy overall, but you can’t say you’ve ever been with someone his size, and it’s immediately intimidating. And the bastard knows it, you can tell by his coy little smile as you look at his throbbing cock with wide eyes, taking in the size of him at full attention. You take a little comfort in the fact that he seems painfully turned on by you, the head of his cock leaking pre-cum, pink and pulsating for any part of you to be on it.

“Go on now, doll, ain’t got all night,” Joel says, snapping you out of your reverence for his cock, and you glance up to him before placing a few kisses on the head. Joel hisses through his teeth, his hips bucking forward at your face. When you lap up the drop of precum, swirling your tongue with your eyes locked on his, he lets out a full groan. You hover over his cock, letting your drool collect and fall down onto his shaft in a long string, and the warmth of it brings out a frustrated growl from Joel. He watches with darkened eyes, and his hand shoots to the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly.

“Knew you’d be so fuckin’ dirty, such a little tease,” he growls out. He uses your hair to tilt your head back, so your neck is craned up, facing him more directly now. “If you’re gonna act like that, be willin’ to take it in return, sweetheart,” Joel says more coldly. “Open your mouth.” It’s not an ask, but a command, and the authoritarian in him makes you want to listen. You pop your mouth open, shaking a little bit under his tight grip as you watch him gather his own saliva and let it slowly fall out of his mouth, straight down into yours. You taste the strangeness of the sensation, never having had someone else's spit in your mouth in such a copious amount.

“Now swallow,” he demands, and you make a show of swallowing hard, eliciting a devious smile from Joel. “And get back to work,” he says, loosening his grip on your hair and pushing your head back to the level of his cock, dripping and awaiting your mouth.

You immediately slide your mouth down his shaft, not wanting any more pushback from Joel on your teasing, and you taste the saltiness of him as your mouth stretches more than you’re sure you can accommodate. You start to bob more quickly, savoring the myriad of groans and hums Joel makes in the height of his pleasure. 

“Fuck… your mouth’s even better than I ‘magined,” Joel says, his hips thrusting in time with your bobbing, sending his cock back further into your throat. A gag slips out, but you swallow him down, allowing him even deeper as your hand works on the rest of him that won’t fit inside of your mouth. He inhales sharply before pushing you back by the shoulders, his cock leaving your mouth with a loud pop.

You barely have time to be confused by the sudden interruption before Joel pulls you up under the arms, spinning you and flattening you against his desk, and you scramble to slide back, papers and office supplies spilling and moving everywhere. He flings a frustrated hand to clear it out of the way, sending everything flying onto the floor, and you stare wide-eyed, thinking this kind of thing only happens in the movies. And here you are, living in a real life fucking movie.

Joel grips your face, turning your attention back his way before crashing his lips into yours, ravenous kisses and swipes of his tongue taking over every sense. You moan, grinding your hips into him as you return the energy of his kisses, pulling back to trace your lips along his chin, the roughness of his beard scratching your face before you reach his earlobe, giving it a few gentle sucks.

“Shit,” Joel hisses out, pushing down your chest to have you lay back on the desk. He tugs under your knees, pulling you to the edge and hiking up your skirt in the process. His hand slides up your thigh, and you’re panting in anticipation, knowing he’s about to see the very evidence of your arousal absolutely soaking your lace panites. When Joel hooks his thumbs in the sides, pulling them down, he makes a satisfied huff at the slick, shining stain that’s left on the black fabric.

“Now that’s a sight…” Joel says, holding the panties up before slipping them into his back pocket. “Didn’t know you’d wanted to help me de-stress this badly, darlin’, would’ve called you in here ages ago,” he teases you with a wry chuckle, clearly enjoying the very compromising position he has you in.

“I do,” you say impatiently. “Didn’t know if it was okay to… you’re my boss.” 

“More than okay. Y’see, I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing f’ a while now, havin’ to resist such a perfect little thing that walked right into my office one day.” He tuts with frustration, tightening his grip on your thighs. “Seen you watch me like you couldn't wait to get that mouth on this cock, sugar.”

You nod, confirming everything he said was true. “I j-ust see you so worked up, so much on your shoulders, Joel. Let me…” you heave, “Take it all out on me.”

You tempt him to take that next step, wrapping your legs around his hips, your ankles crossing over each other to pull him even closer. 

“Sure you ain’t gonna tell anyone about this?” Joel asks with a few huffs, clearly holding back from what he really desires right now. His body is radiating the unmet need of release that’s throbbing from his every pore right down to his painfully hard cock.

You shake your head wildly, the back of your head moving along the desk. You sit up enough to peer at him and make sure he knows you’re serious. 

“Our little secret,” you whisper huskily, letting a smile curl onto your lips. 

“Good girl.” Joel returns the smile, one much more cunning as his features darken and he pushes his hard cock against your opening, the large head alone already making your hips twitch with pleasure. When he pushes in you make a small whimper, but try to stuff it down quickly as he stretches you with a beautiful sting along your opening. 

“Fu… oh my god,” you murmur, as he pushes in further and further, until you’re sure you couldn’t possibly be more full of him. When he moves past even that point, you groan and realize he’s fully seated inside of you, deeper than you’d ever imagined was even possible. You quickly pulsate around him, your body adjusting to his size until it starts to feel more pleasurable than painful.

“There we go, look at that…” Joel says breathlessly. “Takin’ this cock so pretty, aren’t ya?” He doesn’t even take a beat before he begins thrusting, his massive hands holding tightly onto your hips to steady you as you jostle back onto the desk. Your back arches into the pounding of your two bodies together, warmth growing from deep inside of you where he’s hitting so perfectly. You decide that while you’d made this about him, you wanted to fulfill a fantasy of your own while you had the chance. You’d daydreamed of a certain scenario countless times over the weeks, one you intended to have come to life and turn out to be even better than you could have imagined.

“Fuck me over your desk, Mr. Miller,” you say, an extra bite on the last words, knowing he won’t correct you on his name this time. He growls, a noise deep in his throat at your words.

“Want me to bend you over ‘n fuck you right on this desk, d’ya?” Joel asks, not even allowing you to answer before pulling out of you. You brace yourself on the desk, hopping off and immediately turning around, standing up and pressing the entire length of your body back onto Joel’s. You reach an arm up around his neck and pull him down for a kiss, and he lets out a low hum, grinding into your back.

He doesn’t let it last, though, the tender kiss, before he pushes you down with the palm of his hand on your back, guiding you to rest with your ass out and body pressed low onto the desk. You pant hard, feeling slick gathering between your legs all over again at how close you are to fulfilling your ultimate fantasy with him.

Joel has no mercy, slamming his cock into you, and this angle is completely devastating, ready to ruin you at any moment as your legs immediately begin to shake when his cock hits against your walls hard. He thrusts into you over and over, and you can’t help but be anything but loud, moaning out his name and every expletive that comes to mind as you practically go wild over the way he pumps you so full each and every time. You feel tears sting your eyes, the release trying to build to a crescendo deep in your core. 

One of Joel’s hands finds your clit, rubbing tight circles and you fold, completely undone at the large pad of his finger starting to coax your climax out of you. 

“C’mon, let me feel you come on this cock, know you’ve been wantin’ to,” Joel says haughtily, and you give in to the sensation, letting the waves of practically transcendent pleasure overtake you as you come hard, screaming Joel’s name in the process.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna - “ Joel says in the midst of your writhing, moaning mess, before being cut off by his own orgasm being pulled from your pussy squeezing his cock. He quickly pulls out, letting himself spill onto your back with a few extra jerks of his cock, the ropes of cum warm on your skin. Joel breathes heavily, caught off guard by the intensity and quickness of his climax, knowing he nearly didn’t make it.

“Jesus, sugar, gonna make a man fuckin’ crazy with a pussy like that,” Joel purrs, using a tissue to begrudgingly clean up your back - he’d thought you’d looked much better all flushed and covered in his cum, and was already plotting a way to see it again and again.

You hum a satisfied sigh, turning back to look at him before sitting up and settling on the edge of the desk. “Glad I could help, boss,” you say teasingly, and Joel already feels another twitch in his cock at your toying with him. “You still stressed?” you ask, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“You’ve no fuckin’ idea…” Joel sighs. “Got a whole new set of problems now,” he says, looking you over with greedy eyes.

“Well, you know where to find me, if you ever need any help with that,” you say with a wink before hopping off the desk and breezing out of his office, daring a last look back at him.

#thanks to my beautiful coworkers for brainstorming this idea with me i love y'all #i kind of like this meanie boss joel he's kindaaaaaa #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #fic: boss!joel

[kitasgloves]

"Kiss Goodnight"

event masterlist

— ♬ "I don't want to spend my life, life. Without your kiss goodnight"

— ♬ Sakusa x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, fem reader, friends to lovers, no beta just Kiyoomi being terribly in love

For a long time, Sakusa Kiyoomi was accustomed to not caring about anything that didn't concern or affect him. All he regarded was volleyball, hygiene, and his health. He doesn't care about how others perceive him, he doesn't care about their opinions, and he doesn't care about getting along with people. Sakusa doesn't care about anything at all. But he wished someone would tell him why he still stops and stares every time you call.

He knows that girls like you, don't come with guarantees. But why does Sakusa bother lingering around you? Why does he often seek you in a room? Why does he make an effort to talk to you? And why do you have such a profound effect on him? Sakusa knows all he shared with you was friendship, but if you've got to spend your time, why won't you spend it with him?

For the period he has met and grown to know you as the team manager, changes began to occur with him. Changes that cause concern and changes that he knows you were the cause. Sakusa finds his social battery persisting when you start talking with him. He looks forward to group nightouts when you're invited. And outstandingly, he finds crowds more bearable when he's close to you, especially when you take hold on of his hand. During the evenings he'll walk home with you, seeing how near you get to him with each step, Sakusa hoped you and he would kiss goodnight before parting ways. If you think that it's right, he hopes you and him kiss goodnight. Alas, it never occurs.

Not that he started caring about people, he just became less gloomy. Sakusa just learned to ease up because of you. He notices how he easily lets people approach him and how he doesn't immediately push them away. He can hold conversations longer and even crack a smile or two. Most of all, Sakusa becomes more confident in showing the world who he is. Because he was more than just a prickly-looking, serious-toned, and intimidating athlete. He was a man passionate about things he cared about. And it involved you.

As subtly and quietly as he could, Sakusa cared for you in both minuscule and major ways, something so foreign but refreshing to experience. Offering spare wet wipes during lunch, holding the umbrella for you when it was raining or sunny, or even combing your hair back when you were throwing up during one of your hangovers. He never verbally expressed his affection because he believed his actions were loud enough. But will you pick those loose signals up?

Should you invite him in to spend the night on the floor? Sakusa realizes that he doesn't mind. How absurd as it may seem, especially from a clean freak like him, that he doesn't care about sleeping on the dusty floor of your bedroom if it means he gets to spend the night with you. If you prefer him not to, best believe he'll be a gentleman or you can show him the door. However, hope blooms in his chest when you take him to your room that night after watching movies. There was an unexplainable glimmer in your eye that blinded him in the dark as he sat on the foot of your bed.

"Kiyoomi?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to stay over?"

"Sure"

And you smiled at him. At that moment, he doesn't want to spend his life with anyone else. He slept on a cold futon but his body felt flushed with heat. Sakusa was peering up at you on your bed and you gaze back at him with a playfulness that makes his cheeks ache from grinning. 

"Good night, Kiyoomi"

"Good night, [Name]"

Sakusa didn't want to close his eyes without reaching over to give you a kiss on the forehead. The action makes you momentarily freeze but let out a giggle that makes his chest flutter. Why don't we kiss goodnight? Sakusa thinks. Though it might just end his life. But he's pretty sure that it's right that you and him should kiss goodnight. 

The longer he looked at you, the more it made sense. And over time Sakusa couldn't hold back his emotions any longer without spilling them to you. But call him delusional but he's beginning to see you returning his affections. His eyes feed him with encouragement every time he sees your smile wider when he's around, or how your voice sounded more tender when calling his name, or how gentle your hand felt on his arm. Even if the two of you grew more obvious, Sakusa needed confirmation.

Valentine's Day was naturally busy with couples walking around and special events made for lovers. There were promos for the team Sakusa played with that he had to deal with and exclusive events for fans. Such as meet and greets. Sakusa couldn't wait for the day to end so he could shoot his shot at you while today lasted. After hundreds of talking and taking pictures with fans, Sakusa bolted into the showers and got dressed. 

"Oh, Omi-kun's got a date!"

"I bet it's [Name]-chan!"

"It is! I saw him asking her out after the meet and greet!"

Chatter filled the showers, and although Sakusa rolled his eyes, there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and a hint of a smile. He nods goodbye to his teammates and rushes to meet you at the restaurant he suggested. Sakusa arrives breathless but oxygen was even more severely knocked out of his lungs when he saw your alluring figure waiting for him at the entrance. For beyond a six-foot man, Sakusa felt absolutely weak.

"You good? You're sweating a lot"

You tilt your head at him and he waves it off as he offers his arm for you to take before entering the restaurant. Dinner was filled with hushed laughter and exchanging dirty jokes. Sakusa thought how impressive it was that he didn't look away from you at least once and he finds you doing the same. It took all of his willpower not to lean over the table and kiss you then and there, not caring if he got lipstick on his lips. He holds back because he was reserving it for later on.

After dinner, you and he strolled around the city with linked arms and intertwined hands. Sakusa couldn't help but stare and think a lot about your mouth, he wanted to shut you up so badly with his mouth whenever you talked. But he's not really the type to be into making out in public. So, he clings on to the remains of his patience as he takes you home. He was about to lean in at your doorstep and kiss you goodnight on the lips but you stop him with a grip on his tie.

"You should stay over"

Oh, Sakusa's heart skips a beat. You were not asking him if he wanted to stay over, you were commanding him to stay over. And he agrees quicker than a blink of an eye. He shrugs off his jacket and strips it into his underclothes, you brush your teeth and change into your sleepwear. But you both didn't plan on sleeping yet. While tucked under the covers with the television on, Sakusa gives you one look to find your eyes drooping, it was his chance.

You felt a pair of soft and eager lips on yours, enough to jolt you awake. Sakusa was kissing you and you sprung into action by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to deepen the kiss. He hums into the kiss as his hands snake around your waste while he towered over you. The happiest chemicals burst throughout his body as you open your mouth to invite his tongue in, he obliges and steals a moan out of you. Feverent hands pull and grip each other close while in a liplock as you two pull away after what felt like eons later.

"Kiyoomi..."

His name sounded breathless on your lips and his guts suddenly felt like mush. Then he leans in to steal a kiss, and another, and another until you laugh and push him away because of how greedy he is.

"I'm terribly in love with you, [Name]"

"You're lucky I feel the same way"

"So, can we kiss goodnight?"

Sakusa looks into your eyes and smiles when you roll your eyes before cackling at him. He was beyond glad now you and he can kiss goodnight. When you lean forward and give him a long smooch on the lips, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"I don't want to spend my life without your kiss good night"

He says to you and your eyes soften. As the television switches off and you both curl under the covers, Sakusa gazes at you with his onyx orbs filled with warmth as he goes to stroke your cheek before going forward one last time to kiss you goodnight. Your eyes shoot open and grin as you return the favor and it makes Sakusa's limbs feel like melting butter. Yeah, for the rest of his life, Sakusa needs your kiss goodnight.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

#— ♬ ©kitasgloves #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #Spotify

[cherryc1nnam0n]

Breeding season | Best boys (Steve, Billy, Eddie) x FEM!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend's have always been competitive, what happens when you want to have a baby and they all want to contribute? Breeding season is open!

Cw: Lots of cum, the boys are crazy for reader, competition, lots of swearing, lots of smut, heavy breeding kink, big dicks, belly bulges, cum inflation, overall filth so, enjoy!

"No! I can do it better!"

"Dude you can't even hold your breath for one minute!"

"Says who?!"

"Me that I had to pull your ass out of the pool last summer!"

The bickering continues as you try and zone out of it, your boyfriends always had something to fight about, snapping at each other and then making out furiously with each other

You have been dating Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson since 1985, the three boys ganged up on you one summer and since then they have been up your ass (literally)

It's fall in Hawkins of 1992, your favorite season of the year, perfect for taking walks around town with the constant bickering of your boys, that are no longer boys but grown ass men that fight like they're still in highschool

You're walking at the front of them three, wearing a sweater as the cold wind blows through you, you sigh when you see a couple with their baby, wrapped in a bundle as they sit at the kid's park, happily taking care of their first born that plays in the games, you stop to stare at them, dreamily imagining the woman as yourself and your boyfriends

"Y/n? Y/n you okay?" You hear Steve talk to you as he places his hands on your shoulders "Baby..."

"I-I-" you begin, the other two men stopping their chatting "I want to have a baby" you finally say, making them three perk up

Their eyes lock on what you're seeing and their hearts melt, something awakening in them

"You sure about it?" Billy asks you, you turn to look at them

They have changed with the years, Billy has a dad bod, he still works out but has kept a belly and has a scruff on his chin and a mustache, his mullet is still here, but a little bit shorter, Steve remains with his perfect coifed hair, but a beard is evident in his face, he has the same complexion as always and Eddie, he has more tattoos, his hair is still long but he now ties it up, and he has the biggest beard of them all.

You have aged too, beautifully as they say, and you have been thinking about it for a long time, not just right now, you want a family and you want it with them and now, you switched your birth control for vitamins some months ago and now you're ready to have the talk

"Yes, I'm ready and I want a baby, from one of you, all of you" you say

The idea of three babies, one for each man makes you feel so full and happy

You imagined them all as girls, because believe me, they're all a girl dad

One cute blonde girl, with ocean eyes, you would name her Maysie, one with straight brown hair and freckles, that would be Alice, and an unruly head of curls and doe eyes would be Amelia

They were looking at you like they wanted to eat you alive, they wanted this and they wanted to see you pregnant, so, another competition started

~•~

"No! No! No! You do it like this okay?!"

"Get out of the way Munson, I can do it better!"

"Your mom can do it better!-sorry sweetheart"

You rolled your eyes at their antics, tired of them not pleasing you so you sat up, butt naked in front of them in the bed

"Okay enough!" They all look at you "Billy, you fuck Eddie, Steve come here and fuck me already!"

They scrambled to do as they're told, moans filling the room as Billy starts to fucks into Eddie's tight ass

"Fuck! You're so tight" he moans as he starts to set a brutal pace

Eddie is just a moaning mess, meanwhile Steve is buried in your pussy, hips snapping against your's as his huge cock fills you up

"Fuck baby, you're so wet for me" he moans, holding your legs up in a mating press, he wanted to get you pregnant probably the most

"Mmmm Steve, gonna cum baby" you moan at him, sloppily making out as he whines into your mouth from how you clench around him

"Gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck!" He whined as he stills inside you, groaning loudly

You're snapped out of your thoughts by Eddie's protests of wanting to cum

"No, it's my turn to fuck our girl, can't waste my cum in you" Billy said

Turning you on your belly he angles his dick and fills you up, your eyes roll back and you feel him bulge in your belly, he's probably the biggest one of them three, he fucks into you brutally, just as he was fucking Eddie a while ago

Meanwhile Eddie and Steve make out as they masturbate each other, whining into each other's mouths

"Mmmm gonna fill you up baby, fuck I'm so close"

The mix of your cum and Steve's makes it easier for him to fuck into you, still tight around his cock nonetheless

"Fuck baby, you're milking me so good~" he moans

You feel your climax approaching, being overstimulated already, you cum hard around his cock, queening him like a viper, delicious

"Fuuuuck" he groans filling you with his cum

"Get your hands off me Harrington!" You hear Eddie whining behind you

Soon his calloused hands grab you, laying you on your side as he thrusts into you next to your twitching body

His dick was big too, actually all of them are, you were so lucky you got three boys with huge dicks all for you

"Fuck baby, so wet, your pussy is such a mess" he said in your ear

Holding your leg up while he thrusts into you, making out with him while the other two clean each other up

With a loud moan into Eddie's mouth you came again, he thrusted into you so hard he moved you up the bed, and he came into you

"It will definitely take"

~•~

Some months later, you started to show pregnancy signs, vomits, nausea and some cravings

So you got a test done and...

"It's positive!"

The three men cheered, they didn't care who the father was, they were happy they were having a baby!

The pregnancy was beautiful, your boys took great care of you, your belly grew bigger each month and when you went to know what gender your baby was you were so happy it was a girl!

When said baby was born, you could definitely tell whose baby it was

"Welcome to the world Amelia" you said to the head of curls wrapped in a bundle, cooing back at you

Amelia Munson grew slowly, she was just like her dad, she learnt how to crawl really late, she didn't know how to sit properly without falling to her side and giggling, she loved loud noises so when her dad played guitar she would yell and coo at him, finally when she was 1 year old, you were pregnant again

With Amy being all chaotic and you being pregnant as fuck, Eddie took it in him to take care of his daughter and you, while the other two worked and provided to the house

When your second girl was born, she had a head of brown hair and freckles, Steve's daughter, Alice Harrington was beautiful, just like you predicted it

"Amy! Don't poke your sister's eyes!" You said at the girl who was curious about her sister in her cradle

Amy was growing bigger with time, being more chaotic and unruly, truly like a Munson, meanwhile Alice was calm and collected, they were two and 1 year old now

Your girls were so beautiful, and they seemed to get along greatly, now you just needed a final baby, a Hargrove baby

And said baby came soon enough

The curly blonde baby joined the family some months later, she was just as beautiful, Maysie Hargrove was a copy of her dad

One year later...

With your family now all big and beautiful you were more than happy, complete

You sighed happily as you watched Steve and Eddie play with their girls while Billy carried his girl, too afraid of letting her explore

You were so happy with the family you've built, complete...

Breeding season did catch...

#eddie munson #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #boyfriend eddie munson #eddie munson x chubby reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove hc

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror."

Pairing: Dire Crowley and GN!Prefect/ Yuu/ MC

Genre: Yandere (platonic)

TW: Yandere Dire Crowley, crow man's delusional and literally does not give two fucks, just generally creepy vibes all around.

AN: I am so, so, so sorry for what you are about to read now lol. If you get too confused in the middle, don't worry, I was just as confused writing this but my brain just wouldn't rest until I finished and posted this so here we are. The basic summary of this is that Yuu or the Prefect is trapped in an endless cycle because Crowley overblotted. You might have to read this twice or thrice to understand the how and why <3

He knows.

From the moment he sees them, he remembers.

He remembers and he watches as they do it again.

And again.

And again.

A puppet, unaware of their being handled by someone else, someone kinder and gentler who just wants to keep them safe and sound.

Even if it means trapping them in an endless cycle.

Even if he is the only one who sees and notices and remembers.

Dire Crowley cuts an imposing figure as he stands in his office, facing an ornate mirror. Not the Dark Mirror, no. This particular mirror has its roots in mystical arcane magic, from the times of Jupiter and when the Titans roamed free. Dire has a faint memory of his mother, the Crowley Matriarch, telling him to be careful with it, to pass it down to his heir as she had, to him.

Crystal clear, it beckons to him to reveal himself. To bare himself, imperfections and flaws laid out in the privacy of his office for it to see.

A selfish, sadistic desire to pick apart every carefully constructed lie, each bejeweled facade to show the utter mess of a man that lies beneath it all arises in him; he finds himself indulging in it more often than he likes to admit.

The masked man removes his mask for what is not the first time, and most certainly would not be the last. Sharp golden eyes look on as black ink, once held within the confines of his mask, drips down his face. Times like these make him wonder and marvel at how he has not met his demise yet.

Fingers adorned with golden claws rise and touch the blot, marveling at how cold it feels as it stains his skin. Lesser mages would have been dead long ago, Crowley knows this. Slight dread rises in him at the thought, knowing that his magic reserves are long finished; he lives on borrowed time and magic.

But then again, who cares? As long as he can have them here, where they belong, safe and sound-

A knock resonates through the room, startling the headmage. He quickly puts the mask on his face again and clears his throat, saying, "Come in."

He watches as they walk in, no doubt to complain about something, or to talk about their financial situation. Perhaps he should increase their allowance? After all, it is their being, their magic that sustains him, and allows him to live through these lifetimes watching over the unassuming, now magicless human he had imprinted on and the students they had endeared themself to.

Crowley watches as they speak, unable to stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He hems and haws and lies through his teeth about not being able to find them a way back.

He sees the light in their eyes dim; it is a small change, one that doesn't stay for long. But the magicless human is precious to him, and so he observes them. He watches them leave his office silently, a stark contrast to when their impatience and indignance have them cursing his name to the skies. No outcome, no outburst of their emotions will be able to move his cold, frozen heart to thaw, however; they belong to Twisted Wonderland, as Twisted Wonderland belongs to them.

In their first lifetime, Crowley recalls with the fondness of a father thinking of his grown-up child, they did possess magic; far different in nature, but magic nonetheless. And powerful too, considering the aura of it radiated from their being even as something stopped them from being able to use it.

Crowley wonders if it was so that he could see how invaluable, how indispensable they were.

How the entirety of Twisted Wonderland was made for them.

He did try, the first time, to find them a way back home. Endless efforts were dedicated to researching the existence of universes and multiverses. Of course, such exhaustive research would take time, time which he saw them spend getting close to the students of Night Raven College and fighting overblots.

Seven overblots, in the span of one year.

A record untouched by any other being, mage or otherwise. A record they kept making each and every lifetime they spent in the loop. A record that became his new normal, so much so that he no longer gives more than a cursory glance to the overblots and their aftermath.

He knows how it all ends, after all.

In their first lifetime, his efforts had bore fruit. His studies revealed a way to connect the Dark Mirror to their plane of existence, through the use of the very mirror that was hidden behind his back. His blood had run cold at the revelation, and he spent the next few weeks? months? looking for alternatives. For other ways to be able to send them back.

Until one day, the Prefect found out.

As they angrily interrogated him for the reasons behind his silence, asking him why he would not send them back even though there was a way, he realized exactly why he was hesitant about sending them back.

Crowley had no spouse, no children. But the mirror, the mirror which had been in his family for generations, needed an heir. One who could gain control over it, rather than have it control them like it did with so many of his ancestors, including his mother.

Surely the one dubbed a beast-tamer could tame such a dangerously powerful magical artefact?

He desperately begged and bargained with them, trying to change their mind. Trying to entice them into staying forever in Twisted Wonderland, as his heir. He offered them gold and silver, riches beyond what one would expect a man like him to have. He offered them the immense honour and prestige that came with being a deity that the entirety of Twisted Wonderland bowed to.

But they... they refused to stay. The only thing that was in their mind was to go home. Why couldn't they get it through their head that Twisted Wonderland was meant to be their home?

The aftermath of that argument... Crowley's memories are hazy at best. He remembers waking up in a pool of blot, the sticky ink covering his hands and the top of his face, dripping constantly. He remembers the mirror glowing as he dragged himself to it like a mindless moth flies to the flame even with the risk of getting burned.

Words had slipped through his mouth like the prayers of the devout at the altar of their deity, the faint and familiar hum of magic accompanied by a slight crackle of dark miasma.

"Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor... My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all," he had spoken, not knowing exactly what spell he was casting. All he knew, was that he was succumbing to the mirror, the same way his mother had; the same way all of his ancestors had, giving into the madness that such unchecked power and magic could create.

"O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat... Reveal unto me the visage I seek.." A vision of them, standing on the other side of the mirror, had Crowley try to reach out to them. His hand grazed the solid glass, before passing through it. He watched as their eyes widened and they took a step back.

"You, whose image the Dark Mirror did beckon forth... If your heart bids it, take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror." A shiver of thrill ran up his spine as they gingerly placed their hand in his after giving his words some thought, even with all the doubt in their eyes. He curled his fingers around their warm hand, and pulled.

He later found out that, during his overblot, he had managed to trap a significant portion of their soul in the mirror that was his family heirloom. The mirror rejected their magic, foreign as it was, and somehow those powers transferred themselves over to Crowley.

The words Crowley spoke, was the way to invoke their soul and bring them back each time they left Twisted Wonderland. A reset button, if you will.

Every time they show the slightest hint of wanting to leave, the slightest glimpse of understanding that he is the one they need to defeat in order to go home, he resets. Memories get wiped and Twisted Wonderland moulds beneath his gold-plated fingertips to what it was before. They say time waits for no man, but then again, Dire Crowley is more monster than human now. And so it bends to his will, but not without taking away his memories as well.

But then he sees them.

And he remembers.

#ice write #twst writing #twisted wonderland #twst #twst crowley #dire crowley #gn!yuu #gn!prefect #twst yuu #yandere twst #yandere dire crowley #platonic yandere #gn!reader #gn!mc #dire crowley twst #yandere crowley and gn!prefect #i dunno what this is #but it is something