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navybrat817 · 4 months

Note

" Scraping their teeth over your neck to have a shiver of arousal run down your spine. "

With Bucky. 🥺

This probably didn't go the way anyone wants, nonnie, and I'm sorry!

Give Me a Name

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Agent!Female Reader Summary: Someone put their hands on you and Bucky can't let it go. Word Count: Over 1.1k Warnings: Tension, threat of violence (not against reader), very minor injury, pet names, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Because who doesn't want a mob boss obsessed with them? ❤️ Edit by the talented @nixakimbo. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Today was a not-so-friendly reminder that mistakes in your job weren’t so easy to fix. You had been in pursuit of a target for weeks and finally managed to catch him. The rookie agent, however, didn’t secure the cuffs and the bastard managed to get a hard hit in when he broke free. The dizziness from the blow was enough to let him get away.

The rookie went after him, but you knew he wouldn’t catch him. You’d have to start all over with tracking him and you didn’t even get a chance to go home to lick your wounds. Not when Bucky’s men showed up and put you in a car.

You should’ve known they were close by.

“I can walk!” You argued minutes later when they brought you to the Barnes mansion. The mob boss had a few homes, but this one had been in the family for years. He had invited you here before, but never took you by force.

Until today.

The men carefully arranged you on a leather sofa in the den before one of them went to get their boss. He hadn’t left the room before the door flew open, the very man he went to find standing there with a look thunderous enough to kill. He snatched something out of one of his soldier’s hands before he went to you, no one daring to speak a word.

You held your breath as you glanced at Bucky. He had the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up as he assessed you, the veins in his arms popped out as he clenched his fists. He was built like a soldier with his massive frame, his life story told in the tattoos and scars that adorned his covered skin. The notorious crime lord more than earned his reputation and he promised he’d tell you his story himself one day.

Today wouldn’t be that day.

He brushed some of his long hair from his eyes before crouching down beside you. He didn’t take his eyes off you as he dabbed at your cheek with the cloth. He stopped when you winced, but you gave him a small smile to let him know he could continue. You didn’t expect tenderness from such a rough man, but you were different to him, weren’t you? You had been since the two of you crossed paths some time ago. Why?

What made you so special?

“Who did this to you?” He asked in a low voice. You could hear that he tried to keep the raging storm inside of him, but his icy eyes showed you everything. The growing fury was bound to come out. Who would he destroy in his path to sate the beast?

“Bucky. I’m fine,” you croaked as you tried to sit up more, but he stopped you from moving. “The guy got lucky and it isn’t anything I haven’t faced before. Just let me get back to work,” you said.

You noticed most of the men nearby avoided eye contact when you looked around. They had every reason to be afraid. James Buchanan Barnes was downright terrifying when crossed.

And crossing you was a worse offense in his eyes.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, though he didn't raise his voice. “Tell me his fucking name so I can take care of it.”

“I can’t,” you whispered. If you did, he’d kill him. No, he’d torture him first. Likely for days on end before he begged for death. And you needed him alive.

That was your job.

Yet, you could never find it in yourself to bring Bucky in.

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

You froze at the cold tone before you realized Bucky didn’t direct that statement at you. One of his men standing feet away turned his head to the side because he got caught staring. You should’ve known better. Whatever cat and mouse game you and the mob boss were playing, it was for him to catch you in his trap, but never hurt you.

Not when he wanted to keep you.

“I’m sorry, boss,” the man promised, his tone wavering when Bucky reached for one of his pistols. “I-”

“‘Cause I’ll do it in a heartbeat and never look back if you glance at her again,” he promised. He was a man of his word. “Leave us. All of you. Now.”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you assured him as they filed out. The men were dangerous, but you weren’t about to let him shoot the poor guy for looking your way.

“It isn't okay. Someone put their hands on you,” he nearly growled, the soft touch to your cheek a stark contrast to his voice. “You think I can let that go? I can’t. I won’t.”

You brought a hand up to tuck a few strands of his hair behind his ear. His eyes shut for a moment and grabbed your wrist before you could pull away. He dragged your fingers through the short beard along his jaw, like he was starved of your touch and needed more. You didn’t want to admit how much you wanted him.

Not when you belonged in different worlds.

“You don’t have to ‘avenge’ me, Bucky, because I’m not yours,” you said carefully. Were you telling him for his sake or yours? “Let it go. Please.”

The storm continued to rage in his eyes when he opened them and you wondered who would win the battle of the wills. You held your breath again when he moved close, the scent of his woodsy cologne making your head spin. Instead of brushing his lips against yours, he brought his mouth to your neck. Scraping his teeth over your pulse, you couldn’t stop the shiver of arousal that moved down your spine.

“You are mine, Kisa,” he whispered, giving your neck another nip as you tried not to whimper. “And I’m going to find out who did this whether you tell me or not. And I’m going to kill him.”

Your heart shouldn’t have raced faster at his declaration. “If I tell you, will you let me go home?”

“You are home,” he replied, pulling away and looking into your eyes so you could see how serious he was. “And I’d feel a lot better if you got some rest in my bedroom.”

You shuddered because you both knew you wouldn’t get a wink of rest if he took you to bed. And if you slept with him, there would be no turning back. “You can’t keep me prisoner here, Winter.”

The cold and ruthless man who only wanted you.

“You’re not my prisoner, Kisa,” he said, pressing his lips softly to your pained cheek. “But I’m never letting you go.”

He’d prove that to you.

I don't know about you lovelies, but I kind of love them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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peachdues · 4 months

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If you asked any number of Slayers within the Corps, most would tell you that Wind Hashira Sanemi Shinazugawa has no weak spots.

How could they possibly think otherwise? The combination of his wind-hewn appearance with the bold way he displayed every one of his scars would lead anyone to believe he was a man who didn’t care about physical limits, because he, quite simply, had none.

You however, you knew different. This sacred knowledge came only by virtue of you being the one privileged with warming the abrasive Wind Pillar’s bed, and it was a weapon only you knew how to use.

“Fuck,” Sanemi whined, his head thrown back. “Fuck.”

You smirked against his skin, savoring the way he trembled beneath you as you raked your hands down his outer thighs.

“What is it, Lord Hashira?” You swiped your tongue just below his navel and blew softly against it, your breath cooling the trail you’d left behind. “Is something wrong?”

Sanemi’s hips bucked from the seat of the chair where he sat, legs spread to accommodate your body as you knelt between his thighs. From below, you spied the way his biceps rippled as he strained against his bindings, his hands tied around the back of the lacquered chair in his dining room.

Bindings, made from your obi.

“You know what’s fuckin — shit,” his low growl was cut off with a strangled moan as you sucked harshly at his inner thigh, digging your nails into the other before raking them down.

Sanemi tipped back in his seat, a tendon in his neck straining and his chest heaving as you pulled away from his flesh with a pronounced pop! You smiled at the dark violet bruise that had already bloomed, admiring its stark contrast the paleness of his skin.

A gritted whine of your name disrupted your appreciation of your handiwork. With a careful smirk, you glanced up at the red-faced, panting Wind Pillar glowering down at you between his legs. When your eyes met his, Sanemi pointedly dropped his gaze to where his cock stood straight, nearly flush against his abdomen, and back to you, in accusation and silent demand.

You suppressed a giggle; it was clear that your beloved Wind Pillar was more than pent up and desperate for release. The tip of his length had nearly turned purple in testament to how long you’d been torturing him by using your mouth everywhere but on his cock.

You could have afforded him the sweet relief you’d withheld thus far, but truthfully, you were far too transfixed by helpless submission to justify giving in to his demands quite yet.

So you leaned in, allowing your warm breath to just tickle over the underside of his rigid length, before you latched your mouth instead against the delicate skin of his other thigh, branding him with another mark to match the one you’d just given.

“I swear to fuck —,” Sanemi’s hips bucked impatiently under your ministrations, his movements further limited by the restraints you’d tied around his ankles, locking him against the chair legs. You clawed down his thighs once more before you dug your fingers into their thick, rigid muscles, heaving him closer to you. “If you don’t —“

His threat went unleveled, however, as in a single, swift movement, you parted your lips around the leaking head of his cock. The moment your mouth opened to take him all the way down your throat, Sanemi shot back in his seat so violently, he most certainly would have toppled backwards, chair and all, if not for your hands slamming down atop either of his considerable thighs to keep him rooted in place.

“Ngh — thank fuckin’ Christ,” he ground out between a litany of groans. You peered up at him as you hollowed your cheeks around his hardness, and with it was with no small amount of devious pride that you noted the way his biceps rippled and tensed as the Wind Pillar fought against his restraints.

You returned your attention back to the rhythm you set as you bobbed your head, taking more of him into your hot mouth with every stroke. Boldly, you swallowed around his pulsing length, and Sanemi’s ragged pants and snarls devolved into wanton, cracked moans.

You lost yourself to the tempo you’d said as you worked his cock, answering his euphoric sighs with satisfied hums of your own. But before long, the melodic sounds of his pleasure was interrupted by the distinct sound of fabric tearing, accompanied by a sudden tension in the Wind Pillar’s body pinned beneath your hands. Before you could pull away from him to inspect the source of the noise, Sanemi’s hands came to rest on either side of your head.

A delighted thrill shot through you like a bolt of lighting; he’d managed to break free of his restraints by summoning all of his strength to rip your obi clean in half.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he panted, his fingers weaving through the strands of your hair. “Fuck — I just —“

His explanation guttered out in favor of a series of renewed, broken groans as his hips began to twitch beneath you, Sanemi meeting each stroke of your mouth down his cock with his own, shallow thrusts.

You hummed and the vibrations from your throat made him whimper. Ordinarily, you would’ve pulled away from him for breaking your “no-touching rule,” but something about the way you’d reduced the impenetrable Wind Pillar to a gasping, desperate mess under your tongue inspired a rare but temporary mercifulness in you, and so, you allowed him to continue holding your head in place as he pushed himself further and further down your throat.

You’d let him have this one, you decided. After all, the poor man was about to learn that his disobedience meant he’d have to spill his release on his own abdomen rather than in the haven of your warm mouth or cunt.

part of my 2024 ‘make Sanemi a needy lil bitch’ agenda

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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midnightbluebells03 · 10 days

Note

hellooo! I wanted to request you (and if you are interested) power!bottom Abby or Ellie × sub!top reader. That's all, thanks!! have a good day.

SWITCHED POSITIONS

CW - strap on (A receiving), praise (R receiving), choking (R receiving)

WC - 1.7k

Reader isn't described (I think)

No outbreak

Leave me any requests for Abby or Ellie!

Hi my name is Cas and I'm a certified bottom, so if this sucks pretend it doesn't

"You're so cute when you're nervous," Abby teases from her position on the bed, legs still trembling slightly from the previous orgasm you gave her. Her taste still lingering on your tongue. Normally you would be in her spot, fidgeting inpatiently while she would be toying with the harness straps. However tonight she's the one sitting crossed legged, watching you carefully almost like you're her prey.

"Just- just wanna do a good job" you mumble as you finish adjusting the harness. A sleek brand new 7" black dildo is now attached between your legs. It's weird, unfamiliar. The added weight makes you knit your eyebrows together. But you had seen Abby use her one on you a million times, so you tried to keep yourself grounded. Failing miserably but trying. You pop the cap off the lube and apply a generous amount, not failing to notice how Abby's eyes follow your hand movements as you stroke the toy. The same way you do, knowing that it's only making her wetter by the second.

"You're gonna be fine" Abby tries to assure you, but it does nothing for your nerves. The rattling of your heart in your chest is almost concerning. If it wasn't for the fact Abby was a doctor, you might have called an ambulance. Once you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding, she beckons you over with a finger. "Cm'here" so you listen, like always. Walking over and watching as she lays back on the bed, wiping your hand on the sheet while making a mental note to throw it in the wash after. Abby takes your hand and leads it between her legs, where you're met with so much wetness that you almost doubt if you need the lube. "Feel that?"

"Mhm" you say while biting your lip. Before you can move your hand against her clit Abby pulls it away.

"All from you" she flashes you a quick smile before tilting her head towards the space next to her. "So relax and lay down"

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, your voice sounding a little shaky as your nerves work their way up from your stomach to your throat. "Am I not meant to be fucking you?"

"Yeah baby, but" Abby's hand moves up your sternum until her fingers graze against your throat in a way that makes you gasp softly. "I wanna use you a bit first, until your nerves calm a bit" you just nod as her hand slowly wraps around your neck, there's no pressure it's just enough to make your heart speed up and your pussy ache a little. She always knew how to get you like this, needy. "Colour?"

"Green" you reply so fast it's almost embarrassing. Whining softly as Abby's hand retreats and pats the bed instead. You fill the space, propping a pillow behind your head as you watch Abby straddle your lap. Trying to not let your jaw drop at the sight. You could look at her like this forever, the way she pushes her hair out her face, the freckles splashed across her skin, every scar you had ran your fingers across lovingly. You just couldn't get enough of her.

"Good girl" her praise always made your breath hitch. But at the same time it calmed your nerves, knowing she really meant it. Abby slowly trails her hand down from your collarbone, ghosting over your sensitive nipples before resting it on your stomach. She looks like she wants to eat you alive. And you would let her. "God, you look so pretty like this"

You swallow hard while looking up at her. Trying to sound confident through your wavering tone. "You should see yourself"

Abby reaches down to between your legs, gently enclosing the strap in her hand and lining it up with herself. You can't decide where to look, at the toy disappearing or the way her face distrorts in pleasure. "Fuck" she moans softly under her brearh. Slowly moving until she takes the strap to the base, making you moan quietly at the way it adds pressure to your clit. "Fuck that's good" After a few seconds Abby starts to work in a slow steady rhythm. As you grab a fistful of the sheets below you. Unsure of what to do apart from just watch her and listen to the way her moans echo throughout the room. "You can touch baby" she teases. Your hands tremble as you reach for her chest, massaging her breasts in your palm while she moans. "Good girl"

"Abs" you try to buck your hips up, but her hands land down on them. Keeping you still as she moves to her own rhythm. She really meant it. She was going to use you. All you can do is watch and let your hands wander over the parts of her you can reach. One of her hands trails up your stomach until she reaches your throat. Wrapping her fingers around it and giving you a light squeeze. Enough for you to let out a soft moan and your hips buck up uncontrollably. The way it makes Abby's eyes flutter shut has you weak. So once her hands finally rest beside your head you move your own to her hips. Holding onto her as you start to move up into her, drunk off the moans she lets out with every thrust you give.

"Just like that baby" her gentle words only make you want to work harder. You grip onto her tighter, leaving little crescents in her skin as you bounce her on the toy. Sliently thanking all those times she forced you to go to the gym with her. Because when you two started dated there was no way you could've done this. "Such a good fucking girl for me, you wanna make me cum baby?" There's a slight hint of condescension in her tone. But you're too far gone to care. Only focused on making your girl feel good, making her feel even a fraction of the pleasure she gives you.

"Please" your core is already starting to burn a little, no wonder Abby had abs like that. Perfectly chiselled and currently covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Please please please". You start to beg, with each thrust another pathetic please leaves your lips. "Wanna make you cum"

Abby chuckles softly and places a hand on your stomach after a few minutes or so. Stopping you from moving anymore. "Okay, okay" dipping her head down to meet you she presses her lips to yours. Giving you a deep kiss as she slides herself off the toy. A soft gasp leaving her mouth as she pulls back. "No need to be so pathetic about it" the way she teases you makes your face feel hot. You don't complain through. Instead, you watch her roll over onto her back next to you. Patting her thigh while spreading her legs to make room for you. "C'mon then baby, show me what you've learned"

You quickly move. A little too quick, stumbling over the bunched up sheet as Abby tries to suppress a laugh at your eagerness. You hold the silicone in your hand while being incased by her strong thighs. Biting your lip at the feeling of Abby's wetness coating it. At first you rest your hand on her inner thigh, just looking at how pretty she is like this while you trace shapes with your fingers. Babyhairs stuck to her forehead, sweat glistening across her defined body. God, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have her. To be the only one to see her like this.

"What is it?" She asks while propping herself onto her elbows. A slight hint of worry in her voice at how long you had just been still. "You wanna stop?"

Shaking your head you finally snap out of your daydream. "You're just so fucking pretty Abs" your spare hand moves up to her clit, circling slowly as you line up the toy with her dripping hole. "Love that your mine, love that I'm yours"

"God" her eyes roll back as you push it. Starting to rock your hips slowly while darting your eyes between her gorgeous face and the toy covered in her slick. The endless prasies breathily coming from Abby are enough to make you ignore the pain in your core. Forget the fact you're going to be sore tomorrow. You speed up slightly, met with Abby's hands flying onto your back, pulling you down while her blunt nails scratch lines down your skin. The sting makes you moan loudly. "Shit just like that baby" she gasps in your ear, all you can do is moan in response, feeling it getting harder to move as she clentches around the strap. "So so close" Abby had always whimperd when she was about to cum but when you had her like this it was different. She sounded so desprate. "You feel it baby?"

The friction of the base against your clit was making your legs tremble. You know you're close but you're trying so hard to make her cum first. They same way she does for you. "Feels- fuck feels good" you moan while resting your forehead to hers. Feeling yourself teter on that edge. A soft whimper of "Abby" leaves your lips as your eyes screw shut.

"Yeah?" She teases through her shaky moans. "You gonna cum with me baby? Gonna be a good girl for me?" Nodding frantically in response you open your eyes for a minute. Just long enough to watch as Abby's orgasm rushes through her. Yours following only seconds after.

You slump down on top of her as you both try to catch your breath. Every muscle in your body feels like it's on fire as you slowly pull out, discarding the harness with the strap still attached to the bottom of the bed. You'll deal with it later. For now, you just wanted to be cuddled up with Abby before you both take a shower.

"You did so good baby" she presses a soft kiss to your head and you just smile. Already excited for the next time she let's you wear the strap.

#lesbian #wlw #fanfic #smut #writer #writing #fanfiction #tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #request

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poisonedprose · 7 months

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𝐈. 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘. ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 - taglist

IN WHICH, leon is giving his all and trying so hard to save your relationship after the tragic incident but you have given up all hope on everything, including yourself. you've let yourself go, pretending like your actions have zero consequences, fighting with leon in the early mornings, making up with sex, and then doing it all again. doesn't it get exhausting making the bed?

WARNINGS, i. 2.4k, no dialogue, curse words, drug consumption, alcohol consumption, throwing up, healed self harm scars, mentions of neighbors having sex, intrusive thoughts

Leon's harsh words rang through your ears. He was livid, more than you'd ever seen him. Curse words that he saved for special occasions spewing out of his mouth like they were saved up in a bank and he was taking out a deposit or like he had just won the jackpot and the coins were falling into the pot. No matter what you compared it to, it didn't matter. You weren't listening.

You never listened to him yell, at least not recently. You'd heard what he said a thousand times before. The same thing in different words. It never made the pill easier to swallow. You tuned him out, not wanting to cry yourself to sleep in your shared bed tonight. That was your excuse, but you always tuned him out.

It was easier, pretending to listen to his stupid lectures to keep him satisfied, to keep him from walking out the front door and watching the years go by without him. You didn't want to be lonely, you wanted to be alone. Leon's voice was loud, booming at you the words he's kept bottled up but he was shaken tonight, the cork popping off with rage. You wanted to scream back at him, justify your stupid actions of letting your friends convince you to pop some pills, but your voice was hoarse and you had things to do tomorrow.

The stars in the sky sparkled, each one taunting you as you looked out the window. They were free, and their only responsibility was to keep on schedule and appear when the moon relied on them. But maybe having someone relying on you with such intensity was too much for the stars to handle. It was just one thing they had to do but would it mean the weight of the world on their dulling points? There had to be a reason stars burnt out after all.

The wind howled almost with as much force as Leon's words. You feared he might wake the neighbors, the walls of the apartment that you and your boyfriend spent way too much money on were thin. You were chilly, maybe a window was left open or maybe the alcohol that was probably swimming through your veins by this point was starting to wear off. It didn't feel like it was wearing off though, in fact, you were feeling drunker than ever.

You were still sitting on the couch as Leon loomed over you. It was comical, looking at his red face from screaming for so long. You almost laughed to yourself as you imagined smoke coming out of his ears like he was a cartoon character and you were just watching late night television. Despite everything, he still looked so beautiful. The moon illuminating him, showing you his gorgeous face in the dark, chilly living room.

He was still in his police uniform for some reason. Maybe he was working late tonight or maybe he had no clean clothes left. Had you done the laundry like you promised? You couldn't remember, surely you would have heard an earful by now if you hadn't. But then again maybe you did and you just weren't listening. You could check later.

This had to be some world record for how long someone was scolded for. It felt like years, like each second passing you could feel a gray hair grow from your roots. How he had this much to say you would never know. However, you didn't need to lend him your ears to know he was saying the same thing over and over, hoping if he says it dumber each time it'll finally get through to you.

You heard words every once in a while, like 'you could have died!' and 'be better.' or even 'you're immature.' It amused you to no end. He always felt like he had power over you. Maybe it was a god complex that came with the package that the man was or maybe he developed it while patrolling the streets in his fancy cop car. Maybe it was in the dye they used to make his uniform the deep navy blue that you loved.

It was times like these when you were lost in thought, that made you wonder what he saw in someone like you. As you sat there, you couldn't help but think that you weren't the same person he fell in love with. You had changed in so many ways, for better or for worse, yet he never wavered in his love for you. You wondered what it was that kept him in love.

Maybe it wasn't love, maybe it was selfish need rather than the feeling you once understood as love. You knew selfish need all too well, most nights that was all you knew. Was it because he was scared to be lonely like you were? Was it because he didn't want to start over and try again with someone knew? Had you finally cracked the code to his mind or were you simply projecting your own fears onto him? Had you seen this film before? Had you liked the ending?

You felt too buzzed to care anymore. So what if he was being selfish? He was the lucky one, you convinced yourself. Your eyelids were heavy and Leon knew you couldn't stand, or sit, to listen to any more of his lecturing. He stopped, saving his breath for another day like he was going to run out of it.

His stomach was in knots. The mix of anger and concern made him feel sick. Your stomach was in knots too, but not for the same reasons. You felt like you were going to vomit, the drugs and the drinks catching up to you. He could see it in your face and with a sigh he dragged you to the bathroom. He sat with you as you puked into the toilet. He held your hair out of your face, he always preferred your hair away from your face so he could admire your beauty.

You wondered if he could still find you beautiful as you puked your guts out with spit drooling from your lip and your eyes bloodshot. Were you still his pretty girl? He hadn't called you that recently. So, maybe it was far before this point you had stopped being pretty to him. You didn't find yourself pretty either so you didn't blame him.

You thought he was pretty though. It made you burn with a passionate rage. He didn't have to try. He could wake up in the morning and look as pretty as ever. Your veins were laced with envy. They always were, even far before you met Leon. You blamed the sun in the sky and the worms in the dirt. There was no reason, truly they could never be the reason why you were shattered and glued back together with envy., but you blamed them anyway.

Hot tears streamed down your face as you finished puking, nothing left in your stomach. Leon flushed the toilet. He grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped your mouth clean. Your lips were cracked and dry, more than ever due to the chilling air of autumn. You feared what winter would bring.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by Leon repositioning you. He was leaned against the sink cabinet with you in front of him, your head resting on his chest. His legs were on each side of your torso, bent at the knee to keep your shambled body upright. His hands rested on your thighs, feeling the raised bumps of your dreaded past.

You were so interesting to him, for better or for worse was to be determined. The topic of the scars felt taboo. He never judged you for them, stupidly comparing them to the finishing garnish on a 5 star meal. It was the thought that counted, you knew what he meant. You laughed out loud as you recalled the memory. Leon didn't bother to ask why, too tired to listen to you explain something he probably wouldn't find as funny as your inebriated self.

The bathroom was warmer than the living room. The enclosed space was great at conserving heat. There had been multiple occasions where Leon had to get out of the shower and crack the door open due to the intense heat. And plenty of times you'd do the same when you were straightening your hair, the iron's heat had a bite bigger than its bark.

There was hardly any noise, only the sound of the crickets and the occasional car passing outside. It was odd to hear, normally you'd hear the neighbors. The one's on your right always blasting music in the depths of night. The neighbors on your left were an older couple but their love was still strong which they reminded you of every night. You'd grown accustomed to hearing their bed creak and the wife moan through the thin walls.

You wondered why tonight was different. Perhaps they were listening in on you and your boyfriend's argument, putting their own pleasure on pause to have the enjoyment of drama without raising their electric bill. You felt embarrassed, unsure if they did hear anything but if they did, you'd cry. You were never strong when it came to being yelled at. It was partially the reason for not listening carefully to Leon's words. Your skin crawled with worry as you thought of the stares you'd get from people as you walked the halls.

Leon's hand gently and begrudgingly carded through your hair. The taste of vomit lingered in your mouth, making you long for a cup of water. You were too tired to get up and even more stubborn to ask Leon to get you water. So, you dealt with the taste.

There were no words exchanged between the two of you. You were scared to say anything in all honesty. The once petty and 'don't care' attitude you once held high was crumbling. You knew you hadn't been the best girlfriend recently. You were playing with fire but you'd be damned if you called the fire department. You'd rather burn down completely than admit you were wrong.

But, honestly, maybe you were that wrong. You were just having fun. It wasn't your fault that Leon didn't approve of the way you obtained your enjoyment. Surely, when he was your age he was doing the same thing. He was a few years older than you, standing at 22. Sure, he was a cop now, but there was no way he didn't partake in fun that young adults always indulged in.

Though, he wasn't your age anymore, and he was a cop. So really, it was his job to scold you. You were lucky you were his girlfriend because if you were anyone else, you probably would've been arrested the moment he saw you. You still thought he had a stick up his ass.

It wasn't fair of you and part of you knew that. It was in the far back of your mind but you knew. You loathed how he could make you feel. You were never good with the concept of other people's feelings, always too wrapped up in your own to notice. But with him, you always noticed. You knew this was hurting him as his fingers shakily combed through your hair. If you were to look back at him right now you'd probably see him with glossy eyes, looking like a sad puppy.

So, you didn't look back. You looked ahead. The shower in front of you slowly turned into a void of nothingness as you stared without blinking. Your heart was heavy. You wanted to rip your heart out of your chest. You imagined yourself with your heart in your hand. Beating. Sobbing. Tears and blood pouring with each beat. The sight was morbid but you had a small smile on your face. In your twisted fantasy, you were still breathing, even without your heart.

And for some reason, endless scarlet blood poured from your chest but you never felt any weaker. In fact, you felt more powerful. People always told you that you were heartless, and now, you really were. Your breathing never trembled, you should be dying but you weren't. You looked down at your chest, and where the hole in your chest should be and it wasn't there. Your shirt wasn't soaked with blood like you imagined it to be and your breath was trembling.

Right, you forgot you were crying. You wiped your tears with a shaky hand. You took a deep breath, leaning further against Leon as you did. Your heart ached and you wished for your daydream to be a reality. You never voiced these thoughts to Leon for fear of what he would think. You were always fearful. Though, there was a point in time where you weren't. You reminisced on the past. Little you would be so disappointed to see the way you were now. A scowl on her face with tears in her eyes.

She wanted to be an astronaut, she wanted to sail the sea. Her dreams were big. Most childhood dreams were crushed by parents who were jealous of their children. Not yours, you were the only cause for your dreams being crushed. It wasn't a scornful parent or a teacher who hated kids. It was your own damned, wretched self. There were tears on your face despite the fact you just wiped them. The dripped off your face and onto Leon's hand that rested in your lap.

A sweet kiss was delivered to the crown of your head and the hand on your thigh made its way to your waist. He held you tightly. You hated how he pitied you but you were too tired to start another fight. You simply push his hand away from you which earns a scoff. He wants to say something about how ungrateful you are. He was taking time out of his night to sit with you and comfort you, and you push him away?

You knew it was wrong of you to do. But as long as you pretended Leon didn't have any emotions, it was easy to do. It wasn't fair to either of you, and it probably won't ever be again. Leon kept his mouth shut, silently standing up before dragging you up with him and into the bedroom. You fell onto the bed with a sigh and watched as he looked with a disappointed look in his eye.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎┊ㅤㅤ🩻 ㅤㅤ ﾟㅤㅤ ┊‎‏‏‎@ginswife @mymizery @catsareawesomek @valsthea @mememgx ‏‏‎

#! 𖦹 ₊˚✧ re .#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy angst #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil x reader #queued

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prettyboypistol · 1 year

Text

TF2 Mercs Reacting To You Accidentally Turning Them On! [x Male Listener]

Minors DNI this ain't for you.

Scout

You stretched lazily as your body relaxed into the couch. Unbeknownst to you, our shirt rode up and left your stomach exposed.

Scout watched the whole ordeal-heard the whole ordeal. The way you groaned in relief at the little pop in your back before you sighed in satisfaction.

No no no nonononononono he was not going to get turned on my another man- FUCK THAT

God DAMN it he felt his cock throb, he didn't know he could get that hard that fast.

Scout just randomly storms off in anger out of the room. You're very confused.

Medic

It was your check up appointment, and Medic had asked you to wait for a moment as he went to prep his equipment. You were one of the more sane mercs, so he assumed you would be fine.

What he came back to was you, somehow tied up in the leather straps of his vivisection table. You gave a sheepish smile and asked him for help. He couldn't help but stare for a moment.

The way you tugged against the restraints and called for him-

He clears his throat and buttons his lab coat down a tad further to hide his legs as he assists your escape. "Really, I can't leave you unattended too?"

Engi

You and Engi were in a tight spot during battle. A fully healed Heavy was on the prowl for the last surviving reds, and you two were barely hanging on.

You suddenly jump out and shoot the Heavy's back over and over as you shout at Engi to run.

Dell doesn't. He rushes by your side as you curse him out for being idiotic.

He didn't know the difference in the moment between deep respect and arousal, but he certainly figured it out later when he couldn't stop daydreaming about you. He avoid you for a little while after.

Pyro

You are sitting in their room late at night after another tea party.

Pyro looks away for what they swear was only a minute, only to find you cuddling a unicorn doll, fast asleep.

The way you looked so at peace fueled the ever-burning fire in Pyro.

They slept on the floor that night and refused to speak of it, however, you notice that they're never too far away from you from then on.

sniper

Sniper is out practicing his shots when you slam your arms on the side of his camper in a loud greeting. He misses.

He peeps his head over from his rooftop with a venomous glare, only to be met with eyes of pure, unadulterated joy and mischief.

God it's like there isn't a war happening. Sniper's mouth goes dry.

He invites you to hang out, seemingly more and more. The other mercs gossip about how strange it is to see Sniper touching another human being in a friendly manner.

Heavy

Heavy knows that you didn't mean to turn him on, it was an accident.

However, walking in on you showering would stay in his guilty mind forever.

Your skin looked so soft as the water glided over your scars from battle.

He quickly apologizes and shuts the door rather loudly. You notice that he is a lot more apologetic around you, but maybe it's just the awkwardness of seeing your ass :/

Spy

You're studying French in your room as Spy just so happens to be walking by.

You're on the phone, talking to your fluent friend. The way your tongue isn't used to the sounds is nearly enough to get him off there and then.

He wonders if he could help make your tongue more pliant in one-on one lessons.

Spy starts talking to you in only French, insisting that if you can't understand him, that's not his problem.

Demoman

You're shitfaced drunk at the local strip club.

Somehow, you manage to convince one of the strippers to let you swing on their pole for a little bit.

As you swerve and feel yourself up, you bite your lip at Demoman and giggle.

Demoman whoops and cheers for you, egging you on. When you're off the pole he's definitely more flirtatious.

Soldier

He catches you working out on the field. Pushups, to be specific.

The sun beats down on your dedication(and conveniently jacked arms) as you count your timing. Soldier loudly salutes you and joins in.

He misconstrues the sexual attraction as admiration- much like Engi, who later realizes that it might be something more when he can't stop thinking about you.

Especially late at night, when your grunts of effort plague him.

You suddenly have a workout buddy every morning.

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queenendless · 5 months

Text

✨️🍰🎉GOJO B-DAY SPECIAL~!🎉🍰✨️

A/n: Tooth rotting fluff cause it's baby's big day!

Set in that Teacher AU cause why not?

The banner down below I made using official JJK illustrations, plus Befunky and etc.

My ideal pairings with the students, teachers, sorcerers and etc sprinkled in with SatoSugu but overall it's our man's big day!

Please DON'T plagiarize, repost, AND/OR translate my FANFIC work. Rather reblog, like and follow instead. I hope you enjoy!

The lights were switched on.

Sounds of poppers went off in droves.

Confetti and streamers flew through the air.

“OTANJOUBI OMEDETOU GOZAIMASU!”

“Why, you shouldn't have!” Sparkles became animated around Gojo's beaming aura as he clasped his hands together in joy one moment before looking and sounding dead serious the next. “But really, you should have.”

“After your insufferable reminders to us the past few weeks, we considered dropping out.” Nanami bluntly put it before sighing in defeat. “L/n-Chan however pleaded for us to aid her in this endeavor.”

“Be grateful L/n is willing to put in all this effort for you, you dolt.” Utahime sternly admitted, although the smooch on her cheek from Shoko had the scarred sorcerer blushing and hiding her cute face in her wife's shoulder to Shoko's amusement.

“Honestly, you knew we were gonna throw one either way. Your disappointed whining wouldn't rest otherwise.” Shoko patted Utahime's noggin, airily adding.

“Congrats, Gojo-san, for one being one year older!” Haibara draped an arm around Nanami's shoulders, leaning against his husband's fit suited form. Raising his alcoholic free drink to that. “And for all your hard work, as always!”

“Yu-kun~!” Gojo shed waterfalls to that; dampening his black blindfold. “Nanamin, why can't you follow your hubby's example~!?”

“Your conduct can answer that.” Nanami's disdain spoke volumes as well.

“So can this grand gift from us.” Nanako and Mimiko rolled up literally with a big wrapped box topped with a bow on a foldable trolley cart.

Eyes widening behind that blindfold, Gojo cheekily giggled as he took that lid off.

With some aided help from inside.

“Tada.” The calm cheer from Suguru as he popped out of that giant wrapped present box with open arms struck love's arrow through Satoru's heart.

“YAY~!” Tackling his hubby to the floor with such intensity made the latter grunt roughly before breaking out in breathy laughs as he was being smothered in amorous smooches followed by Gojo literally chewing on them cheeks.

Expected reaction whenever those two have not been in each other's reach for just mere hours. Imagine days or weeks spent apart.

“I've missed you so much~!” Gojo whined.

Geto chuckled as Gojo suckled and tugged on his reddened cheek. “Satoru, you saw me this morning.”

“Exactly my point! I need my squeeze~” Gojo nuzzled his cheek against Geto's red marked one.

“Gojo-sensei …” Yuji's voice ominously trailed off, getting both senseis attention.

Tokyo and Kyoto students unite, lined up with cream filled pies in all their hands, smug and devious grinning looks on their faces, readying for the strike.

“Tanjōbi omedetō!” Yuji, Yuta, Junpei, Kasumi, Kokichi, Aoi, and Takuma's cheers were more enthusiastic with smiles beaming bright.

“Tanjōbi omedetō.” Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Panda, Mai, Momo, and Kamo were more on the lukewarm side.

“Mentaiko.” That is all Toge owned.

The room exploded with a shared consensus.

That be it, to bury this man, albeit in a celebratory way.

Those pies flew.

A gawking Geto was caged in Gojo's smothering hug, dragging him down with him.

Filled with unbridled enjoyment, Gojo did a double peace sign pose, covered in cream, so memorable, so snapshot worthy as many took them pics. Even with his bashful pie covered husband pressed to his side.

“I hate you,” Suguru grumbled.

“I love ya too.” Satoru cooed, smooching his man fully just to lick all that cream off, taking Suguru's chuckles as a good sign before returning the liplock.

Nanako and Mimiko giggling at their pie coated papas, taking pics whereas the rest of their fellow teens were either flustered by the PDA or were numbed to the daily PDA of these two.

“Hey! Someone better clean up this mess cause it ain't gonna be me!” Riko complained before passing some towels for them to wipe all that cream off when her mom dove in to sweep up said mess. “Not you, Kuroi!”

“But someone has to!”

Gojo waved it off. “Eh, we can clean up after hours. Now then, where did our darling wifey go?” Seeing your figure slipping away in the midst of the creamy chaos made this white cat curious.

“Possibly preparing her gift for you, I believe.” Suguru hinted at, winking as the twins dragged him by the arms to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

The birthday man took that as his chance to find out himself, easily tracing your cursed energy signature, huddled up over the closet in your shared bedroom.

“There you are!” Your heart bursts out of your chest at seeing him pop his head into the room. You were too absorbed in what you held that you forgot to sense for anyone approaching you.

“Did you plan all this for big ol’ me?” Satoru smirked widely as he stripped off his cream splotched jacket, already knowing the answer before it got past your lips.

Your irresistibly shiny lips.

“Hey, Sugu helped. And Ieiri, Yu, Riko, Yuji, Yuta – it was a team effort. There, I said it!” You pouted.

Toru laughed a bit, dropping his creamy jacket to the floor, stretching his arms all feline like, seducing you with his flexing muscles through that black compression shirt, burning up immensely at the sight but turning away to try and focus. “I just didn't have time to wrap it amiss helping set up!”

“Any gift from you is perfect, regardless of the packaging.” He praised, slipping off those creamy pants, revealing his soft blue boxers.

“Well it's my first time celebrating your birthday with you and Sugu wanted me to feel included in helping set up and I was gonna use the kitty wrapping too – MMPH~!”

Being turned around so swiftly made you grow dizzy but his sturdy grasp kept you standing, pinning you as you were flooded with so much warmth.

The taste of creamy goodness came from that piping hot mouth of his as he took his chance to dive that tongue right in.

The familiar dance playing out as he made sure every inch of that succulent mouth of yours was touched by his very essence. Your hands loosened their grip on that small velvet box as your muffled moans made him want to wrap his own hands around you, caressing the back of your head to pull you in deeper with one as well as resting the other on your lower back.

“Such a decadent angel for a handsome devil like myself.” He sighed in bliss, falling back to land on your giant shared bed, pulling you down with him. “Now gimme gimme~!”

You rolled your eyes endearingly at his childlike spirit. “Okay, I give. Here.” You two sat up as you watched in bated breath.

He opened the box to find a silver locket with three tiny gems embedded in the lid.

An amethyst. A turquoise And a (birthstone).

One for each of you three's birth months.

“I considered putting in a blue zircon for your stone, but you're not a fan of traditions so I went with the modern option.”

He held it by the silver chain, chuckling as he marveled in its worth. “It's perfect.”

You scooted closer, hugging his arm, as anticipation made you bounce to his amusement. “Open it up.”

Once that lid flipped open, he gaped a bit.

There was a fitted picture inside. A very familiar one. He should know. He took the pic himself.

It was on your first date with the sorcerer couple.

Seated outside in the early evening.

Vines trailing down the brick back wall.

Fairy lights hanging above.

You had a rose placed behind your left ear; symbolizing your new dating status, by a tenderly smirking Suguru himself who wrapped an arm around you as Satoru took up your other side with a beaming grin as he took the picture himself.

With you blushing, shyly smiling, through it all.

“Man, how a year just passes by.” Satoru got all nostalgic.

“Trying to get that photo at just the right size was a challenge but I'm just glad it fits. Do … Do you like it?”

Your soul trembled as he pulled down his blindfold; his spiky hair now settling down, to see it with his own glowing eyes in the flesh, heartfelt emotion racing through his irises.

He looked up to pierce you with his intense gaze. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

You rubbed your nose with his, giggling as he mirthfully returned the gesture. “Every day since that first date.”

He clasped the locket around his thick neck, now hanging plush between his voluptuous pecs. “Well, I love everything you give me.” He cupped your cheeks to kiss you tenderly. “Thank you Y/n … for this … the bash … for coming into my life.”

A loud rough coughing sound brought you two out of the entrancing moment to look over and see Suguru in his white undershirt and gray sweatpants.

“Our lives, actually.” Suguru crawled over the bed to smooch you just as affectionately. “Satoru, pants."

“I could just go out in my birthday suit~” Satoru coyly suggested.

You nearly got a nose bleed at that.

Suguru snorted before nibbling on those smug lips. “Tonight, you madman. But for now, pants.”

“Hai hai.”

Mai and Momo taking selfies with the decadent sweets spread out.

Kasumi smooching off the frosting she poked on a flustered Kokichi’s nose.

Kamo fails in talking down Todo by putting Yuji through another rival challenge to test their brotherly bestie bond.

Junpei having a dopey grin as he aided Tsumiki with cleaning but trying to focus his eyes anywhere else when the girl nearly caught him every time.

Nobara cuddling against Maki as she live streamed those two on her phone.

Yuuta laughing at something Panda said with Toge holding his hand and giving it a squeeze, intertwined.

Yuji and Aoi having a chugging contest just to have a wandering cursed doll whack into him, choking out his Cola.

Megumi rubs Yuji's back after handing him a water bottle, with Yaga running over to grab his wayward creation, apologizing to Yuji whereas Todo encourages – more like yelling – for his brother to keep striving forward.

The night ended with everyone wearing party hats and blowing in birthday whistles as Satoru, wearing matching sweatpants, smiled as you dimmed down the lights along with Riko and Kuroi rolling out the cake; the candles being the only source of light.

Singing happy birthday.

Capturing this moment with his eyes, his mind, and his soul.

Claps and cheers fill the air after he blows out the candles.

“Ya wanna know what I wished for?” He asked as he settled beside you on the couch, plated cake in hand, savoring every bite.

“Unless you don't want it to come true, probably not.” You reminded him.

“Superstitions or not, I'll only say this …”

Suguru settled on his other side, relaxing against him, humming as Satoru gave a forehead smooch.

“Whatever comes next …”

Eyeing the bustling lively room of students, colleagues, friends and family with awe.

“We face it head on. As one.”

Your face rested against his shoulder, laxing in tranquility.

“Happy birthday, Toru.”

He kissed your forehead next, dropped his plate in his lap so he could wrap his arms around you both, letting you two use him as your pillow.

The fulfilling nourishment topped with the wholesome vibes of today got you three in the mood to just nod off for a bit.

“Thank you … for the best … b-day … ever.”

The befuddled, amused expressions thrown your way went unnoticed by you, of course.

As you three snoozing lovebirds curled up and cuddled up together on that couch.

With that gifted locket in full view.

Those three gems shining bright.

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melonba11s · 5 months

Text

Benefits (TPOF Fox/Kangaroo/Rhino fic)

UIuuuuUUHUHHHHHuuhuhhuhu So Bileshroom posted some fucking DELICIOUS fanart on twitter (be warned its very very nsfw, or be encouraged cause its fucking fantastic) and it tickled my brain worms so much I pumped this out.

Contains: Dub Con, Trans Masc Rhino, Streaming/Filming, Fox is in Heat, Threesome, Anal

Fox always took time off for his heats. It was practically a necessity. However two of his favored employees had his numbers just for emergencies. And they never bothered him during his heat, so this must be an emergency.

They had called him to an old building that he had used to use for his shows, but had since abandoned. It was all but demolished, so he wondered if they had found something there that needed his immediate attention. Something that could prove disastrous for his organization.

Wrapped in a coat, mask on to hide how his breath clouded even though it wasn’t too chilly outside yet, and a hat jammed onto his head, he quickly walked into the building, using the still working keycard system to scan himself in before making his way to a backroom where he heard his employees talking.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying to keep himself from snapping at them. Just his luck this would happen at the apex of his heat, every nerve was on fire. He just wanted to go home, bury himself in his favored pets tight hole. He groaned softly, thinking about how he had left them, scratched up and half asleep, half heartedly waving him goodbye. Not in much pain anymore but exhausted from his constant ruts.

Now he was facing two men, much taller than him. Rhino, dark skinned and bald, wideset. He would be warm, he’d be soft, those arms would feel so good wrapped around him, look delectable straining against silk bondage.

“Well, Boss. We know it’s a hard time of the year for you.” a more nasally voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned his attention to the smaller of the two. Though Kangaroo was still bigger than him, and his delicate pretty features were marred by large burn scars. His cock would feel great right now though, lithe fingers digging into his hips.

“So we decided to set something up to help you out.” Rhino finished the rest of Kangaroo’s sentence. It was now that Fox noticed something set up in the otherwise empty room. A laptop, a camera on a tripod. Chat was flying by at a million miles an hour.

He caught a glimpse of the title of the stream.

“Fox Bares It All, Uncensored, Railed By His Employees.”

“What do you two-” Fox began, before his arms were grabbed by Kangaroo. Fox was stronger than he looked for his size, thanks to his beastkin heritage, but he was still no match for his men as Rhino reached forward, not bothering with any delicate gestures and ripping his coat off and pushing Fox’s turtleneck up.

Any protests died on his lips as those large hands began to tease his nipples, already erect and now painfully so in the cold air. The building’s heating system had long been shut off.

“Look how sensitive he is.” Kangaroo quipped, his comment directed at Chat. “Heat really does change some things doesn’t it?... Don’t worry Boss, we’ll leave that mask on.”

Fox groaned as his hips rolled. He couldn’t fit his instincts anymore, he had been on edge for so long.

“He’s already popping a boner in his pants.” Rhino pressed himself close to his boss, grabbing a handful of the tenting erection. Fox let out a not at all authoritative noise, grinding his hips into those warm hands.

It didn’t take long for them to undress him completely aside from the mask, probably due to him always having them dress and undress his stars. He’d never been this bare in front of his audience before. Sure they saw his dick pretty often, but never his bare chest, his legs, his butt, his-

Rhino had opened up his coat and kicked off his pants, leaving his boots on before laying down, propping himself up on his elbows. His clit was swollen, standing erect as he beckoned fox in. “Hey, Boss deserves a nice bed to fuck on, right? I can provide.” And he definitely could. Soft, Warm, Huge. Fox swallowed, his gaze flickering towards that inviting hole.

“Hey Hey, let me adjust the camera first, let the good chat see, right?” Kangaroo said, let go of his boss to adjust the camera. It was immediate, Fox falling forwards into that warm chest, wrapping his arms around that lovely body. Just as he was about to sink both his teeth and his cock in though.

“Whoa whoa, we had an agreement, Rhino! What are you letting him do?” A hand grabbing his tail, yanking him up painfully.

“I bagged the most product to sell this fiscal year, so I get first shots.” Fox yelped as the grip tightened, his hips raising up into the hand to try and aleve the pain. He was painfully aware of how his swollen cock bobbed and swayed as his hips shook.

“I wasn’t gonna let him get inside, don’t worry. Just hurry up and fuck him, I want my turn.” Rhino grumbled, clearly lying just a bit. He definitely would have let Fox go ham if Kangaroo hadn’t stepped in.

Fox just whined, pushing against Rhino, nearly on the brink of begging before he felt the fat head of Kangraoo’s cock push against his needy hole.

“Fuck Boss, you’re tighter than expected.” He wanted to give some smart response, telling Kangaroo that every comment would come out of his paycheck. He couldn't, he could only push his butt back as far as the grip on his tail would let him, letting out pathetic moans.

Rhino pulled the laptop a bit closer, narrowing his eyes to focus on the chat.

“‘Roo, they want you to just shove it all in. They say he’s begging for it, after all.” He grunted, feeling Fox straddle one of his perfectly thick thighs now.

“Hmmph, no sense of patience. But whatever, they’re wish is our command.” Kangaroo’s voice was lightly mocking, and Fox wanted to growl at the clear disrespected. Until suddenly a heavy set of balls were slapping against his own, as Kangaroo pushed himself all the way in with difficulty.

It was painful, it made his stomach lurch, the sound he made probably shouldn’t have registered on a microphone. The dings of donations told him though that everyone in chat had heard his wail.

“Holding up there, boss?” Rhino laughed, gripping the back of his neck to pull him closer.

“Don’t coddle him, he can handle it!” Kangaroo snapped before Fox could respond, picking up a fast and brutal pace that left him unable to do anything but cling to Rhino for dear life and pant.

The fighting of his instincts versus his need to retain composure had turned his brain to mush, letting Fox just think about how close he was getting, how good it all felt, how even the pain amplified the pleasure.

“Hey ‘Roo. What's the poll for?” Rhino asked, his hand now stroking Fox’s neck as if he were nothing more than a friendly cat.

“Cum or Edge. Looks like Chat says you’re not cumming for a looooong time, boss.” Kangaroo let out a sharp cackle that mingled with Rhino’s deep rumbling chuckle. A pit opened up in Fox’s stomach, panting as he began to fight back half heartedly. Fighting that was quickly stopped by a yank on his tail and a grip on his neck. Pushing him back into a wonderful bliss of being nothing but a hole and cock for these two men, beginning to whimper and beg to let him cum.

“You’re evil, Roo. But I guess that's good, he’s gonna need to be desperate for my hole when you’re done with him.” Rhino lifted Fox by his scruff to look him in the eyes. “Right boss?”

Fox grit his teeth, trying to muffle his pants for at least a bit. Everytime they called him boss, it served as a reminder for who he was. What he should be like, how he shouldn’t have taken this lying down.

“You’re both….. Getting pay cuts….” He finally said, managing as much authority as he could.

Not enough authority. It still came out a whimpering mewl, as Kangaroo continued to pound his ass.

“Whatever you say, Boss” Kangaroo hissed through a grin. “FUCK, Rhino you’re gonna have to stick your fingers in here. He’s still tight as fuck.” The two laughed again, Fox’s skin aching at the vibrations the vocalizations spread across his skin.

This was going to be a long stream. Probably his longest yet.

#the price of flesh #tpof #tpof dlc #tpof fox #the price of flesh the show must go on #the price of flesh dlc #The Show Must Go On #Fox #Announceer #Ren Hana

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isa-ghost · 1 month

Note

was reading through your q!phil hc masterpost and was wondering if you could add any of your codebreakers/etoilza headcanons into the fray…? :3

YESSSS I CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK THIS LONG TO GET ASKED /LH

qPhil headcanons masterlist

RESTATES for my and your convenience (heads up, there are suggestive/mildly explicit mentions!!):

--He's FWB with Etoiles. Extremely QPR, Etoiles is an aro king --He and Phil started out as friends and that has Barely changed if at all, but sparring matches get a little too homoerotic sometimes and neither of them can resist the other when they're popping off extra hard. Things have. Escalated a few times. If yknow what I mean. Of all Phil's harem members polycule partners, he & Etoiles have absolutely ZERO emotional investment in the Spicy(tm) things they do together. It's simply a very intimate way of showing each other their respect & admiration for the other. What they have going on is a "*spanks you* good game, let's hit the showers team" kinda deal. They're the type of mfs to finish in bed then shake hands like "gg." Casual sex is >>>> to these two, but it happens waaay less between them than it did Phil & Fit, Fitza was habitual (pre-Pac). Codebreakers is a once in a while thing --Etoiles has 100% asked Phil who fucks the best out of the polycule bc like everything else, it's a competition & he Must win, he Must have the best dick game. This amuses Phil very much --Phil is attracted to Etoiles the same way he's attracted to Fit, HOWEVER, the reasoning is different. Etoiles has raw skill and talent, but it's the way he wields it and demonstrates it that makes Phil wanna act up. Also Etoiles is fucking hilarious. Who can resist a good sense of humor? Those dramatics make Phil swoon --Etoiles is one of the people who is best at catching Phil's Tells for when something is wrong --Etoiles is one of few people who can convince (or goad) Phil into doing something he normally wouldn't, especially if he's drunk --Speaking of Phil being drunk around Etoiles, the way he can still absolutely body someone or snipe smth from miles away makes Etoiles want to kiss him stupid --Etoiles left a scar on Phil's back during Purgatory when he killed him Day 1. Phil didn't know for the longest time, but it took him a while to show him his wings after that. --Phil was genuinely afraid of Etoiles (& Fit) for a while after Purgatory --Sometimes Phil's laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles. --Phil goes back and forth on gifting one of his shed feathers to Etoiles --Technically all of the Polycule vs Ender King hcs apply to Etoiles in some way --Phil could listen to Etoiles teach him about French culture for hours

And now the new stuff :D

Etoiles's dramatics can get Phil in tears laughing. His sides and stomach will hurt before it's over, and Etoiles can go on for MINUTES. Sometimes he'll keep going purely because it has Phil dying so hard and he loves seeing what a kick Phil gets out of it

Etoiles is (playfully) salty that Phil is such a My Kids Come First kinda guy bc GOD does he want Phil to be down to do dangerous pvp and dungeon busting shit without the "euuu we gotta make sure it's safe" aspect more often. He wants that Angel of Death. Etoiles is the #1 Dadza (Derogatory) islander /lh

See, Fitza is more explicit and deadass about their,, Time together. Codebreakers is more subtle. Yknow that "media literacy is knowing when something that isn't gay sex is gay sex" post? That's Codebreakers. Sparring, dungeon busting, whatever high-risk high-exertion thing they're doing together. That.

It should go without saying how down Etoiles would be to throw hands with Ender King. It would be the most exhilarating fight he's ever had

Phil's still lowkey lost about the whole resistance thing. And schedules lately have not been kind to the two of them, so he hasn't had a chance to talk about it with Etoiles as extensively about it as he'd like to

Btw he's secretly concerned as hell smth bad is gonna happen to Etoiles if more of his body becomes corrupted by code :)

They 100% refer back to the time Etoiles said this regularly, and similar things like it. The same can be said for Fitza but my god the extent to which these two are more than willing to kill for each other. OUGH.

Phil does not realize how much pent up stress and emotion he can vent out via sparring or hitting something really fucking hard. Etoiles is going to fix that one day.

Phil's Etoiles impression has made Etoiles attempt to learn how to mimic Phil in retaliation but he cannot for the life of him get the hang of Phil's fuckass accent. Geordies stay winning to this man's dismay

Etoiles is frustratingly yet fascinatingly hard for Phil to clock sometimes. It's difficult to gauge exactly how he's feeling or what he's thinking. And yet as inconvenient that can be sometimes, something about it is incredibly attractive to Phil at the same time. Which is funny because unpredictability is usually not something his survivalist brain would like. Something about how he trusts Etoiles and therefore his being a wildcard is not so scary,,

Etoiles 🤝🏻 Chayanne - Wanting Phil to take them on a flight

I don't know if I'd call Etoiles an anarchist the same way I would Phil, but either way he is SO DOWN to fuck with the Feds if it entails any kind of pvp or the need to be geared up

Ok listen I have to call back to the gay sex subtext thing. Things that are more sex than gay sex to Codebreakers: Sparring, adrenaline, battles of wit, flexing powerful gear, thinking too much about what an absolute potential killing machine the other is, watching one another be in The Zone during a fight

Phil has more physical strength than skill with weapons and Etoiles has more skill with weapons than physical strength. Ok now imagine that while they're in a 2v# fight

I would not put it past Etoiles to pull a Missa and say smth wildly out of pocket and suggestive so fast in French that Phil doesn't catch it.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qphil headcanons #qsmp etoiles #q!etoiles #etoiles #codebreakers #qsmp codebreakers #q!codebreakers

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dejwrites · 2 years

Text

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ late night snack ⠀ 〳 ⠀ n.kento ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) late-night snack session with y/n & yu nanami.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — warning: female reader, jjk spoilers, post shibuya arc, written with black reader in mind, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of kids, reader is seven months pregnant, established relationship (reader is married to nanami kento), tooth-rotting fluff, mentions of reader being a doctor for the kyoto school, nanami nickname for his daughter is tater tot pls its cute (say its cute now!), reader also has reverse curse technique similar to like shoko, i said tooth rotting fluff but it's low-key a lil angst at the end, this is just so cute and fluffy cause this is endgame for nanami, he's somewhere with his wife and mini me living life (scars and all)

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — i saw how good babymaking did and decided why not give you guys more of that couple. i did mention that i will possibly turn it into a full fic and decided to do it in the canon verse and a what if nanami survived shibuya. yes, the fanart of him with his eye patch made me do it. so this cute little fluff is set after shibuya. i know fluff usually flops sometimes on here..but idc this is self-indulgent.

YOUR BODY LEANED AGAINST THE COUNTER AS YOU DROVE YOUR SPOON INTO THE TUB OF ICE CREAM AGAIN. The sweet taste hitting your tongue caused you to moan out in sweet relief finally indulging in your late-night cravings. With being seven months pregnant, your cravings seemed to increase just as much as the size of your swollen belly. The discomfort of sleeping sometimes always leads you to scavenge through the fridge or the pantry for a snack while watching some tv show on Netflix until you fell asleep on the couch with whatever snack you were munching on in your hand.

However, this night was different. As you wiggle yourself out of your husband's grasp to sneak out, you were met with your daughter Yu leaving her room to use the bathroom. She never wiped the sleep from her eyes so quickly, wondering if you had to use the bathroom like her. When you told her no, her curious mind only led to more questions.

So here you two were sharing a tub of cookies and crème ice cream bought specifically for you from the local ice cream parlor. It was complete silence from the two of you in fear that you’ll wake the man upstairs when you two were supposed to be doing the same thing. Yu was the one that broke the silence as she was prompt on the counter scooping up ice cream.

“Mommy, what will my brother's name be?” Yu asked. Her bold brown eyes that she stole from her father looked up from the ice cream to look at you.

“I have a suggestion that Uncle Gojo gave me, but whatever your father and I choose—just know his name will be just as beautiful as yours,” You smiled at her.

Yu was your sunshine in the morning. The day you found out you were pregnant with her, you were panicking. You remember explicitly sitting in the doctor’s office completely astonished by the words of the doctor telling you how far along you were. You were afraid, that raising a child in a world full of curses was tricky. But it was your lovely husband Nanami Kento that assured you that everything would be okay. The two of you just had to take baby steps.

Which you did. You didn’t push yourself so hard as the main doctor at the scorcher school in Kyoto. Especially given the many eyes that examined you under a microscope to make sure you were okay. From Utahime dropping off food because when you weren’t pregnant, you sometimes were so indulged in your work—you forgot to eat. But now that you had a little human growing inside you, she doubled down on this task. You couldn’t ignore the random pops up from the students. You were completely onto them coming into your office asking about random bruises on their bodies—when they just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Nanami didn’t accept as many missions as he used to and always was home on time to greet you with a kiss and on some days even cook dinner after his long day at work. As months went on and your belly grew, you were so excited to meet your little girl. Deciding to name her after Nanami’s late friend Yu Haibara was a huge step because it forced Nanami to think about his friend. Plus, you wanted to have a natural birth in the comfort of your own home—but that was put on hold when you went into labor early—soon giving birth to a premature Yu that only weighed three pounds.

You had Nanami by your side twenty-four-seven during the process of Yu getting bigger. It wasn’t a hard journey, but you guys got through it. The kangaroo care that had your eyes clouding with tears seeing Nanami hold his daughter previously on his broad chest. You were sure even the nurses were swooning at the moment. The journey to the NICU unit and seeing your small beautiful baby girl sleeping peacefully. Obviously, the deadly postpartum depression you endured in the hospital waiting for improvements on Yu. It led you down an overthinking rabbit hole as you only blame yourself that you went into labor. Perhaps you went into maternity leave a little too late or maybe you picked up something a little too heavy for you. It was a dark time for you, but it was Nanami who assured you everything was okay.

You were grateful for your family now. With Yu turning six pretty soon and then on top of that you were bloated with another child—the Nanami’s were growing in numbers. You were excited to meet your new child and you couldn’t wait for Yu to meet her newest sibling. She couldn’t stop talking about it.

From babbling on about how she had to protect her little brother to sometimes even sleeping in the baby’s nicely decorated room.

“Do you have any suggestions?” You asked your daughter while scooping some ice cream.

“No, not at the moment. I just can’t wait to meet him though.” Yu said with a smile.

“Me either.” You said with a smile. “Let’s hope he’s not as grouchy in the morning as your father.” You snickered and Yu let out a cute giggle before eating ice cream once again.

As you and your daughter continue to chow down the rest of the ice cream before it became a melted mess, you could hear someone clear their throat to get both your attention. You glanced up seeing Nanami leaning against the door frame of the kitchen staring at the both of you. You still had your spoon in your mouth while your daughter had ice cream stains on her face.

“It’s two in the morning,” He firmly said as he looked between his two favorite girls. “Care to explain why you two are up so late eating ice cream?” His eyebrows raised waiting for a response.

Yu’s eyes looked at you waiting for you to come up with a response, but you were looking at her expecting her to give her father a response. She was the daddy’s little girl after all, if Nanami could—he would let her get away with so many things.

“I can explain, just some late-night cravings for the little guy.” You rubbed at your swollen belly smiling at your husband.

“And what’s your excuse young lady?” Nanam’s index finger pointed at his daughter who started thinking.

“I was following mommy.” Yu shrugged before he’s smiling at him and dug into the ice cream once again.

Nanami chuckles as he’s stepping forward and collecting each of your spoons out of your hand. “Both of you, to bed now.”

At the same time, both you and your daughter kissed your teeth. You slowly put the lid back onto the ice cream, “But it’s almost finished, we might as well finish it.” You whined as you stepped forward.

Nanami’s back was faced towards you as he cleaned off the spoons you used. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your belly poking him in the back as you were pouting, “Please.” You said with a high-pitched voice.

You could feel Nanami’s grasp upon your hands to untwine himself out of your grasp and now he’s facing you. His brown hues stared down at you before speaking once more, “She has school tomorrow and you have a doctor’s appointment. I want both of you to not be tired in the morning.” He leaned down to place a quick peck on your lips. “Okay?”

“If I say okay, could we stop at that food vendor that sells that delicious taiyaki?” You asked.

“Will this make you two go back upstairs to bed?” He asked. His eyes traveled to his daughter who was wiping the ice cream from her face with a paper towel, but she was frantically nodding at his question.

“You two just love to swindle me for sweets,” Nanami chuckles.

“It will make Yu, myself, and Yoshino happy.” You smiled before you’re laying your head on his chest and snaked your arms around his waist once more.

“Yoshino?” Nanami questioned.

“Yeah, it’s a name Satoru suggested before you know what happened. I mean, it’s mainly used for girls—but it means luck. So, I like it.” You said with a smile.

“I like it too,” Nanami answered.

“Me three!” Yu said through a yawn and Nanami took it upon himself to finally wiggle out of your grasp for one last time to collect his daughter to pick her up.

“Ready to go back to bed tater tot?” He asked, calling her by that adorable nickname because it was one of her favorite foods.

She tiredly giggles before placing her head on her father’s shoulder and nodding at his question. You couldn’t help but smile at the view as you followed the duo out of the kitchen and back upstairs after turning off the lights.

Even after the events that transpired after Shibuya, you were happy that you had your family. With your home that was filled with sunshine and happiness, around your happiness was the world of sorcerers and curses—which was crumbling down day by day since Satoru was sealed.

TAGS: @shamelesshoefairy @idyllicbby @stunnababyyabyyy @drugzforyou @lobotomy-lover @marokinnku @jazzyangel242 @dassmyname @bubs-world @todorokiskitten @whoatherenelly @yooniluvbot444 @jademari @caribbeanwifey19 @anajah @tonaken @anajah @dazaisfavgf @httphaitani @heartsfrommars @allukanezuko @lawscorazon @poohbea @koucaine @maydayaisha @eiflawriting

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x black reader #x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #black reader

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whattheheckmidoriya · 1 year

Text

A Soldier's Lullaby

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2,401

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Description: Restless as ever, Levi found it hard to fall within slumber's warm embrace. Luckily, his late-night awakenings have guided him to you— an angel with a honey-glazed voice and all the right words at your disposal, perfect to lull the insomniac back to sleep.

Author's note: It's finally here!!! It's been so long since I've written something, but I feel like this was such a sweet piece to help me get back into the swing of things! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!💖

Masterlist

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•

His mother used to sing to him as a kid.

Her singing wasn't anything extraordinary, but it was sweet and kind, and he loved the hushed melodies she used to coo into his ears until he'd fallen into the serenity of deep slumber. He remembers the nights he'd scoot a little closer into her embrace, seeking warmth; reaching out for safety. She'd sing to him then, serenading him with whispered lullabies until he surrendered himself to the pull of rest.

Levi remembered his mother like this— gentle, kind, and angelic in a world that didn't deserve her. He couldn't remember the words she once sang him to sleep with. Her tender lullabies were buried somewhere under the rubble of his fractured heart, aching to sink into his bones and flourish into something sweet and beautiful. He did, however, remember the tune her words carried out. The Captain often found himself humming along to the songs of his past, treasures that he so desperately clung to, as he busied himself with the stacks of paperwork that cluttered his desk. It made him feel a little bit more human, a little bit more like her.

He might've forgotten the sound of her voice, but he could never forget how her words made him feel. Nothing could ever make him feel safe the way she did, always so gentle and graceful when shooing his nightmares away at night with the hushed coo of a lullaby and a kiss to the top of his head. She was Humanity's Strongest.

Memories of her were fuzzy, but precious. He kept them close to his heart, safe where they could live on for just a little bit longer.

With a sigh, the Captain let his head fall back, closing his eyes to allow them a fleeting moment of rest. A weighted breath deflated his chest, his shoulders sinking as the aches of his bones settled deeper within him. Scarred hands were stiff with the hours of writing that strained them, relief spreading through his bones as his joints cracked and popped. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize how late it had gotten. The flame of his candle would be flickering to its end soon.

He frowned at the dying flame. Any other person might've taken the lack of illumination as a means to usher themselves to sleep, resorting to finishing the remaining workload the next day, but he wasn't any other person. Sleep wasn't a luxury he savored often, always just beyond his reach. It'd be cruel for him to entertain the idea of rest, fully knowing what terrors would await him the moment he squeezed his eyes shut.

With a pout of defeat, he grabbed his cup of tea, pressing it to his lips but grimacing as the drink slipped into his mouth. Cold.

"Damn it," Levi grumbled under his breath, his eyes stinging under the weight of exhaustion. With a tired groan, he pushed himself off his chair, abandoning his desk before grabbing his coat. He might as well grab a new candle while he's out making himself a fresh cup of tea.

The grounds were empty when he walked over to the mess hall, all cadets having retreated back to their quarters hours prior. Chilly winter air nipped at the Captain's face, tinting his nose and cheeks pink as he fastened the buttons of his coat. Nights like these, cold and quiet, reminded him of the times his mother held him just a little tighter, swearing to protect him from all harm— the chill of the night included. He smiled a broken little thing at the memory, missing her a little more that night than usual.

She'd scold him for being up so late. Levi huffed as he reached the kitchen, wasting no time setting the water to boil. He wondered what type of tea his mother would've liked. Something sweet? She certainly didn't have a taste for bitter things like he did. Tea wasn't a pleasure they could afford back in the Underground, but maybe she would've liked the drink as well had she ever had the chance to smile under the sun.

High-pitched whistling snapped the Captain out of his thoughts, and he quickly pulled the kettle away from the heated stove before sorting through tins of tea. Once he'd found what he was looking for, he set to work and it wasn't long until he was sighing in relief as the familiar aroma of black tea settled deep within his chest, easing its way into his lungs. The low temperatures of the night didn’t bother him as much now that his hands thawed under the comforting warmth of his cup, a new sense of tranquility loosening his shoulders as he pushed past the doors of the mess hall and into the training grounds.

Levi had no intentions of lingering outside for too long, knowing he still had much to do in his office. Still, he couldn’t help but stand under the moonlight as a sweet, soft voice flooded the air, carried by a cool breeze. Brows pulled together in curiosity, he instinctively followed the sound while being mindful of the fresh cup in his hands. It’d be a tragedy if it spilled. With ease, he navigated through the towering, twisted trees of the training grounds, each step silent and deliberate. As he pushed on, his heart ached with something as painful as it was beautiful. The voice pulled him in like a siren would its prey. He fell victim to how each honeyed word balmed over every sapling of common sense that sprouted within him; he let his guarded heart fall.

Familiarity thrummed through his chest, sinking into his veins and spilling down his fingertips. His breathing staggered, his lungs burning, unable to function properly as the words clinging to the air became clearer the nearer he got to their source.

He hadn't meant for it to happen, he didn't want it to stop. He hadn't meant for the twig under his boot to snap, hadn't meant for it to be so loud, so frightening. The singing stopped, the air now tense with uncertainty.

"Who's there?" Caution clung to those two words, though they held no malice. Levi sighed in relief upon realizing who he'd stumbled upon.

Moonlight bathed him as he stepped around a tree, the angelic sight easing the knot of anxiety in your stomach. "It's me," he raised a hand in mock surrender, the ther still nursing the fresh cup of tea.

Gaping at him, you fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves. You eyed him carefully, your gaze softening upon noticing the steaming cup in his hand. "Couldn't sleep?"

The Captain frowned but didn't look away from your glimmering gaze. "Not tired," a lie, he knew, but when understanding twinkled in your eyes, he knew that he didn't have to explain himself to you. "And you? Nightmares?"

You snickered, shaking your head. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips warily and he didn't miss the way your eyes flickered away just as something nostalgic flooded them. "No, not tonight," you said.

Levi hummed, but didn't push any further. He knew what you meant— knew you were much like him when it boiled down to horrible sleeping habits. It wasn't unusual for the Captain to bump into you in the forsaken hours of the early morning, hours that should've been spent resting but were instead full of restlessness and unease. Most times, however, he'd find you in the mess hall or lounging around the fire pits, not deep within the woods surrounding base.

"You won't get any taller standing there," you chimed, looking away from him and angling your face up to the sky. "Sit with me before your tea goes cold."

Levi grumbled a few curses under his breath, but didn't turn away from your invitation. Carefully, he lowered himself onto the plush grass. He didn't miss the way you smiled softly when his shoulder brushed against yours.

Silence settled itself comfortably over you both, with it an air full of ease and understanding that only you two could fall into. Leaves rustled along to the pull of a breeze, swiftly twirling in the air before cascading all around you. Not many stars dotted the night sky the way you had hoped, but the moon was bright and beautiful above you. It was more than enough.

Levi watched you quietly, sipping at the tea in his cup. He couldn't quite pinpoint the moment you entered his life, nor the moment you began to mean something to him. You were simply there one day and never left. Sometimes it became hard to remember his life before you, but he couldn't fathom the thought of spending the rest of his days without you. Such a thought didn't sit well in his stomach.

"You were singing," he commented. It wasn't a question, but curiosity still lingered in his tone. Lowering his gaze, he took another sip of his drink before speaking up. "I didn't know you could."

You huffed a low breath of amusement. "Because I never told you." Shaking your head, you continued, "It's not something I do often anymore— not after joining the Survey Corps."

Levi hummed, tilting his head at you. "You have a nice voice," His gaze didn't waver as he spoke. "You're not horrible at it." That got a laugh of surprise out of you, your shoulders shaking as you tried to keep yourself quiet. Even when trying to muffle your laughter, your smile was as wide as ever, your eyes squeezed with joy. His heart ached pleasantly at the sight.

"Shit," you choked on a laugh, a hand clutching your heart as you tried to settle down. "Thanks for the reassurance."

He only shrugged, though the softened look in his eyes spoke volumes. "Reminds me of my mom," He hadn't entirely meant for you to hear that, but he continued when noticing the way you perked up. "It's comforting."

You smiled. Levi had told you about Kuchel before on a night much like this one, when neither of you could will yourselves to sleep and the exhaustion brought the rawest parts of you forth. Without much thought, your hand found his and you offered a gentle squeeze, your heart fluttering when he reciprocated the gesture.

Taking a good look at him, it was hard to ignore the darkened shadows under his eyes or how his eyelids fluttered heavily in a bitter battle for rest. You took a chance— a shot in the dark before bringing forth a hushed question.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

At that, Levi's eyes widened, though he wiped the look away as soon as it came. A beat passed before he answered, and you could practically see him play around with possible answers in his mind.

"It's okay to say no," you reassured with a smile.

He shook his head. "That would be nice."

Carefully, he set his empty cup down and scooted closer to your side, the hesitation in the act eliciting a giggle from you.

You pulled him in, inviting him to lay his head over your lap, your fingers instinctively finding their place in his hair. Smiling down at him, you tilted your head. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah," he rasped, meeting your gaze.

Absent-mindedly, you played with his hair, not quite sure as to where to go from there. Nerves swirled within your stomach, lurching your heart into a quickened beat.

"You're supposed to sing now." Levi breathed, eyes heavy though twinkling with wonder.

Pouting, you playfully flicked his forehead. "Shut up, I'm thinking of a good song," Cupping one of his cheeks, you caressed his skin gently, feeling the tiny scars he bore under your touch. "You wouldn't know of any, would you?"

He didn't answer— not immediately, at least. Hesitation weighed on his chest, his fingers curling around the grass blades beneath his palms. A breath sunk his chest.

You didn't hear it at first, too enveloped in your own mind to notice. But it was warm and careful and sweet. A simple tune, old and familiar, rippled through his chest, thrumming within his throat. You felt him relax the further along he went into the song. He continued, as he did all those years ago while wrapped in his mother's embrace. He hummed now just as he had done then— softly and timidly.

Soon enough, your own voice followed the melody, each syllable spoken by your tongue a precious little thing he hadn't known he'd been yearning for. It felt right, he thought. The way each word was crafted and forged by your voice, the way they seeped through his ears and tickled his heart. It felt right.

Fluttering eyes peered up at you, and he swore the exhaustion was making him see things. The moon kissed your skin with so much grace, fierce and beautiful, illuminating your face in such heavenly manner. An angel. A star. A little cosmic wonder only he had the pleasure of witnessing.

Feeling his eyes on you, you met his gunmetal gaze, a giggle bubbling past your lips as you pushed through the lullaby. Delicate fingers traced over his skin; over his brows, down his nose and across his lips. His eyes dropped under the warmth of your touch.

As his eyes fluttered, his humming faded, sinking back down his throat. You sang, still, smiling down at him. You cradled his face oh so tenderly and he couldn't help but sigh in relief. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he last felt this safe.

"You're safe to sleep," you whispered into his skin, bringing his knuckles to your lips before pressing a kiss onto them. "I'll be here when you wake up."

Without much of a fight, he fell limp in your hold, his fingers squeezing yours gently before his breathing evened out. "Thank you," he rasped, his voice so tender and quiet you would've missed it if you hadn't been paying attention.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, as the tension melted away from his muscles, his jaw slack under its own weight. He was so lovely. Gently, you smoothed out the little tension lines between his brows, humming in satisfaction when he moved closer to your stomach, burying his face in your belly.

"Goodnight, Captain."

•

🏷 Levi Ackerman taglist

@leviackermanmyhero245 @violet-19999 @celestair @ms-sin-city @ghostly-haunted @andrastesbeard @ikisstoga @izukus-gf @bluetima @lemonboi69 @aconstructofamind @figlia--della--luna @imjustasimpxd @notgoodforlife @bubsonnobx @a10vely-yutazen @just-sana @Loca-raccoon @Hjnhuh @geese-goose18

#shingeki no kyoujin levi #levi ackerman fic #levi attack on titan #levi x you #levi x y/n #aot levi #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi x reader #captain levi fanfiction #captain levi x you

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sabosbabygirl · 5 months

Text

“please y/n!! god please, please….i wanna cum so fucking bad for you” he begs. You stare at him and undo the ropes on his hands and feet.

Teaching the Sensei a Lesson

Gojo x female reader

1.2K words

Dominate, Begging, Smut, Sex

Gojo has been messaging you all day on how he is going to make love to you and how easy it is to get you to cum…blah blah blah. Today you are in charge. Today your true personality is going to come out. His cocky confidence is about to be destroyed by you and you can’t help but smile to yourself as he walks into the bedroom.

He stops immediately and lifts his blindfold up, “uhh, y/n?!?! what’s going on?”. Gojo maybe great at sex but he is vanilla and truthfully you are not, so it’s about time this sensei learns a thing or two…especially since you and him have been dating for over a year now.

You stand up, showing the latex sexy outfit, and his blush doesn’t go unnoticed, however, his eyes wonder to the bed where he sees rope, whip cream and a ball gag. He removes his blindfold completely and his beautiful blue eyes widen, “y/n?” he looks at you and again blushes at your latex outfit that is hugging your curves. You smile devilishly at him “I think it’s time the sensei learns a lesson”. He looks at you, his eyes are filled with excitement, nervousness, and lust, he only musters up a simple nod.

“Good boy, now take your clothes off,” you demand him. He smirks, almost like he is already liking this side of you. He obeys like a good boy and takes his clothes off. His chest muscles ripple as his shirt comes off and his biceps pop as he pulls his pants down to the ground and kicks them off. He stands there looking at you, completely naked and already excited. His cock is hard and is 8 inches long, slightly curved and his happy trail hair matches the glorious hair on his head. You point to the bed, and he obeys, going to the bed laying down. A confident smirk appears on his face, which soon fades when he sees you tie his hands and feet with the rope on the bed to the bed posts.

Nervously, he asks “uh, y/n? I umm I---” he is cut off by your lips on his. You kiss him long, hard, and passionately before sticking the ball gag in his mouth. His eyes widen as his cock start to erect more. He is excited and surprised.

You straddle him and smile at him before you lean in and bite his neck hard. A muffled moan is heard from his mouth. You suck his beautiful neck leaving multiple hickies and teeth marks that he will have to cover up tomorrow. You kiss down his muscular chest and abs. Licking, kissing, and biting every muscle and scar. His moans become more sensual, and his body heat is rising as you press your lips against his abs. You reposition yourself so that you are in the perfect spot to suck his cock. First you tease him, licking the shaft and tip while staring at him. His eyes blinking, fighting the urge to roll back. His tied hands clench and his toes curl.

You suck his tip. His tip is shaped perfectly and is slightly bigger than the others you’ve seen. Your tongue swirls around his tip. His legs twitch and more muffled moans escape from the gag that is his mouth. You slide your mouth down to the middle of his shaft and you suck hard when you slide back up. You continue this movement a few times; making it sloppier each time. His eyes roll back and his hands twitch against the rope. You remove your mouth from his cock and smile while grabbing the whip cream. You put a little bit on the shaft of his cock, he flinches from the coldness but the flinch is quickly replaced with a loud moan as he watches you lick the whip cream off his shaft and begin sucking his cock. Your hot mouth, salvia running down his shaft and the drool is enough for him to start whimpering. You lick, suck and your hands work on jerking him off. The tempo is slow and picks up the pace. His cock throbs inside your mouth. You keep edging him closer and closer. His hips buckle and his body tense, he is so close…..you stop.

His eyes open wide at you stopping. You get off the bed and remove the ball gag from his mouth. He looks at you whimpering, “why..why did you stop?” You stare at him and shrug your shoulders.

“please y/n!! god please, please….i wanna cum so fucking bad for you” he begs. You stare at him and undo the ropes on his hands and feet.

“y/n!!” he cries out. “Please I—“, he is cut off, “You want to cum so bad for me? Then you better beg better than that” you say in a dominating voice. He stares at you, his eyes widening for the fifth time today. He nods and gets off the bed.

He hits his knees to the floor by you and kisses your leg. “Please y/n. I’m not worthy of your sexiness but if you please let me cum, I will do anything for you. Please” he begs more while biting his lip. You stare down at him. No one has ever put Gojo down to his knees, yet here you are, putting the most confident, god like man on his knees just to allow him to cum.

“Hmmm…” you say while looking away from him. “Y/n, my princess, my love, pleaseeeee, please. I want to cum for you. God I want you so badly,” he continues begging this time his hands are on your leg and he is looking up at you.

You smirk, “I see you are learning a lesson…” you motion to the bed, and he quickly gets on it.

You take off your latex outfit and you hear a small “fuck” come from his mouth. His cock is very much erect and throbbing. You are also wet, having him beg and being dominate turned you on more than you would ever express to him.

You straddle him, your wet pussy fitting perfectly over his hard, 8 in, slightly curved cock. Both of you moan and throw your heads back. You gently ride him up and down.

“MMMMM!!!”, he moans out, his hands gripping your hips. The curve of his cock is just right that as you ride him you can feel the tip hitting your G Spot. You begin to ride him faster.

“OH FUCK!! Y/N!!” he whimpers loudly. “AHHH GOD, your pussy is soo fucking wet…I’m not…I’m…mmmm fuck” he strains his words. You smirk and start riding him faster, the bed squeaking and shaking. The tip of his cock banging against your G spot harder and harder. You close your eyes and you feel his hands on your breasts massaging and his thumbs rubbing your nipples.

“SHIT!! Y/N!! My Princess….I’m right there…I’m right fucking there baby” he moans and his body shakes.

Your pace picks up to the point where all that’s heard is both of your loud moans and the bed shaking violently: “OOH GODD!!” instantaneously you both cum together. You feel your pussy getting filled to the brim and you feel you dripping all over his cock.

You both look at each other with a satisfied and lust filled look. Your pace slows and look down at him:

“So….can I tie you up now?!” was all he asked…..I guess teaching him a lesson, turned him into a freak.

#gojou satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut

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lonelyridesinecto-one · 1 year

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Can I have egon x reader where she survived a tsunami and shows Egon her scars and kisses them make it as sweet as candy!

I’ll Always Be Here for You

Egon Spengler • She/Her Pronouns • GB!Reader • ANGST/SFW • TW: PTSD / Scars

“Why are you bothering me again?”

“Because your trap placement almost ruined the capture”

“Okay so we’re doing critic reviews after jobs now? Fucking get a complaint box” Peter waves Egon off catching up with Ray who was carrying said trap like usual when it’s the whole group out.

Egon sighs putting his proton pack on the rack turning to where Y/N usually stood so that he could take hers next. But no Y/N. She did run out of there pretty quick he thought, always taking note on his partner’s actions to make sure nothing bad ever happened. Mainly for his anxiety.

“Why the puzzled look Egie?” Ray knocked him out of his thoughts for a split second when Egon pulled a Peter and waved off his best friend stepping away when he noticed Winston walking out with Y/N carrying her pack in his arms.

“Everything alright?”

“Just the man we’re looking for, I’ll take care of these and leave yea alone” Winston chimes in one last time before going to out their packs away as Egon was even more puzzled than before. Noticing the puffiness in her red tear stained cheeks making him gently hold her face in his hands.

“Are you alright, honey?”

“Could be better…”

________

When dealing with the specters in the aquarium, they were asked to investigate one of the large fish tanks for anything just to be safe. But when Egon separated from Y/N and Winston to help Ray with an active specter in a different exhibit. The two noticed the water moving in waves which was odd given it’s one of those tanks where you can’t see the top of it, where the waves would be.

But given it’s another ghost job, this was an illusionist. Making large enough waves that could consider to be a tsunami.

Since the two knew it’s a ghost and it wouldn’t cause any harm, Winston just stood there and waited till the specter popped out. Then the rapid heavy breathing caught him off guard, quickly turning to his friend holding her chest trying to take a breath. But as another “wave” crashed, Y/N dropped to the floor removing her proton pack in the process dragging her body as fast as she could to the nearest wall pressing herself against it. She stopped seeing what the specter was giving as her mind took over amplifying the terrifying feeling.

“Hey hey hey” Winston dropped to his knees in front of her seeing the tears rolling off her cheeks. “Y/N come back to me”

“W-We didn’t see it coming…n-n-no one expected it. I-In Oregon. B-B-But t-they happen” Y/N whimpers grabbing her arms trying to find purchase as her eyes snapped toward Winston who finally came into view. She reached out and latched onto his forearms.

“What happened? What do you see?”

“T-Tsunami…I-I couldn’t…I-I-I got stuck. In the rocks. T-Took hours to stitch me up…Everything was flooding…the water kept coming. It just kept coming!” Y/N screams at Winston who instantly gripped onto her arms making her attention go to the grip. Her mind triggering back slowly as she only started to sob harder. “W-Winston…”

“There you are…hey…you’re okay…I’ve gotcha” He reassures not moving or saying anything more or pressing for that matter.

Winston sat there with Y/N until they heard the rejoicing Peter from the other room capture the specters.

________

Egon has heard the story before and has witnessed Y/N’s nightmare spasms. To be honest, he didn’t know what to do every time she’d wake up screaming or she would cling onto him a bit too hard. He’d stay up with her once she’d wake and not sleep until he knew she was. Would get her water. Hold her if she wanted (some nights she would just want him to lay with her in silence but with the lights on). Egon hated seeing her in pain and when hearing from Winston what the specter was doing, all he wanted to do was isolate the two of them and just let her feel everything while he held her for however long she needed.

Which was one of these moments…but a little different.

It still felt very intimate just being in the same room and changing. Egon is a gentleman. Y/N is understanding. They are going at their own pace when it comes to more intimate endeavors but this would be the first time Egon is seeing them.

The scars that littered on her back and arms from being thrashed around in the harsh waves from years ago in her hometown on the Oregon Coast. Tsunamis rarely happened, and she just happened to be in that slim chance of occurrence.

“You don’t have to show me, darling” Egon reassures from his place on the edge of the bed and clearly she was continuing what she was doing. Y/N didn’t ignore him, she was just going at her own pace.

Y/N took herself out of the top part of her jumpsuit, tying the arms around her waist leaving her standing there in a tank top showing the scars on her arms and shoulder blades as she turned. Egon slowly rises from the bed approaching Y/N as she froze facing away from him afraid he would find them repulsive.

“Egie…?”

Egon didn’t respond as he gently traced his fingers against the scars he could see on her back. Watching her flinch at first, muttering a soft apology before waiting a second then continuing.

“Egon I know there—-“

“They’re beautiful” Egon catches her off guard wrapping his arms around her middle. “They show you’ve survived” he says in a hush voice making sure he can hear everything coming from Y/N in case he needed to do anything urgently.

Before Y/N could formulate any more words…she relaxed to the feeling of soft lips pressing against her shoulder. Egon started to kiss the few he saw on her back and shoulders, slowly unraveling her arms from her person bringing his lips to the ones on her right bicep and down to her forearm then kissing back of her hand.

The tears formed instantly to the softness of her partner as Egon slowly spins Y/N bringing his arms around her. Pressing his lips against her forehead, next were both cheeks, and finally leaving a chaste kiss on her sweet lips.

“I’ll always be here for you”

And with that she started to sob even harder, resulting in Egon pulling her flush against his chest caging her in his embrace. Rubbing soothing circles on her back letting her have all her feelings. Letting her and not analyzing it.

Letting her be human.

#lonelyridesinecto one #ghostbusters #egon spengler #requests #egon spengler x reader

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iolaussharpe-24 · 1 month

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Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Chapter One

Shoutouts to both @reallyrallyauthor and @redeyerhaenyra who are both my biggest inspirations for this. I've been working on this for a while and this was like my fourth or fifth draft, each with a different plot. I'm still not confident in it, but I'm hoping to improve my writing so that I can make the novel I'm writing extra special because that project is my baby and I want it to do well. (Grace Smith is my OC. She was inspired by Samara Weaving after I watched Ready or Not. Yes, there were drafts of this story where it was a crossover fic between Big Gold Brick and Ready or Not. No, I am not doing that anymore.)

Story part under the cut. I made the collage myself on Microsoft Word. It's a screenshot so it's a little blurry. Cross posted on my Wattpad page.

“Come in; but hurry the fuck up with it!” came Anselm’s voice from the other side of the door. He sounded breathless and his voice had been strained. Close to climax. Any idiot could tell that fact.

Despite his many different physical limitations, (his age, his breathing problems, and his bad leg, for example) Anselm Vogelweide had an impressively high libido and was frequently seen around his mansion with various people to have sex. While she hadn’t been someone unfortunate enough to walk in on him in a situation like that before now, Grace had seen people leave his bedroom or his office with messy hair or makeup while being half dressed and proudly wearing hickies and love bites on their throats, collarbones, and shoulders.

So, she kept her head down as she entered the office. Her eyes were focused on the silver tray in her hands and her own two feet while she walked. Judging by the sounds she could hear, they were on the desk. Going at each other like rabbits in heat. Today’s “companion” was a woman. A very vocal woman who moaned like an amateur pornstar. Charming.

She turned to the side table and set up the things she brought in quickly. A bit of cocaine, two glasses, a bottle of unopened champagne, and a stack of money delivered by an associate who’d recently lost an impressive bet. She didn’t know the details, just that it was some high school game. Soccer or volleyball or something. A girl’s game. The associate had made a comment about ‘tender young players’ that made the poor worker’s skin crawl. It was disgust-

“GRACE!”

Immediately, she looked up, having been caught off guard by the sound of Mr. Vogelweide’s strained voice calling out her name. A lesson that everyone who worked for him learned in their first five minutes was the need to constantly please. Keep him happy. Do as your told when you’re told, and no one gets shot. However…. She regretted that decision immediately.

Mr. Vogelweide was pounding into a fair skinned woman bent over his desk from behind. One of his hands was on her back, keeping her in place while the other hand was on her face, two of his scarred fingers shoved deep inside her mouth.

She was a lean woman, only a little bit heavier than Grace was. She had long blonde hair that looked like it had been flat ironed recently. It was a little frizzy at the ends. On top of being messy from sex.

As Grace watched them, she noticed that the woman was wearing a bright candy apple red lipstick – the same shade Grace herself was wearing – and her nails were painted a glossy black. She had a dark smokey eye that made the cyan blue of her irises pop even as she was being reduced to a blubbering, drooling, teary-eyed mess on the desk.

It was an… unsettling sight. The woman under Mr. Vogelweide looked a lot like Grace. A lot like her. The hair, the eye color, the shape of her body, the color of her skin, right down to the makeup she was wearing. It was a little eerie in a way. If she didn’t stare too hard – if she didn’t focus on the other woman’s thin lips or the almond shape of her eyes, or her square jaw – if she just watched them like she would anything else, it was like a peculiar out-of-body-experience.

Normally, (as odd as that word sounded in this context) Grace would have written off all of the similarities as a coincidence and walked away. Honestly, she should have walked away anyway. But there was one detail that, when paired with all the rest, she simply couldn’t ignore. One damning piece of evidence that sent a chill up her spine.

There was a beauty mark on the woman’s cheek. Left side. Half an inch under the eye. Right on her cheekbone. Too conveniently placed to be real. Granted, it didn’t look real. It didn’t even look like makeup. It looked like a dot sloppily drawn on with a Sharpie.

It wasn’t a coincidence that the woman looked like Grace. It couldn’t be. Not to that extent. The odds had to be a million to one on that. (Well, maybe not a million to one. After all, skinny blue-eyed blondes are a dime a dozen. But, for her to be wearing that color lipstick, for her to have that nail polish, the fake mole on that specific spot on her face, for Mr. Vogelweide to be screwing her, and for him to call out ‘Grace’ as he did, that was where things crossed the line and the possibility of a coincidence went straight out the window.)

Grace was staring at her own doppelganger as her boss fucked her.

She stood there, dumbfounded, unable to fully comprehend the sight. The woman was bent over, her dress unzipped in the back to expose her skin, the skirt bunched up around her waist so that Mr. Vogelweide had access to her sex. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess and her lipstick was smudged as she sucked and slobbered on his fingers.

God, even her age… she looked like she was only a little bit older than Grace. A few years at most. Anselm had to be somewhere in his fifties or so. This woman looked about thirty. And she was drooling on the polished surface of the desk, moaning wantonly. All while the man, with his pants down around his knees, pushed and pulled his cock in and out of her cunt rapidly; the wet slapping out of skin on skin filling the room alongside their ecstatic moans and grunts.

It was such an odd sight. She might have found it arousing if she had a mind even half as perverted as his. But, thankfully, she didn’t. There wasn’t a person alive in any place or time who was as strange as Anselm Vogelweide. He was incomparable. He was insatiable. He was… insane. Some people would argue that that was part of his strangely addicting charm. That it was the reason why so many people kept coming back to this mansion. To his business. To him.

Sometimes she wondered if she was the only sane person in his weird little world. The only one who would see him like this and recognize it as the incredibly disturbing thing that it really was.

Though Grace had never understood why, she was more than aware of the fact that everyone else on staff assumed that she was Mr. Vogelweide’s favorite. From the other maids, to the kitchen staff, to the gardener, to the bodyguards and drivers, all the way down to the pool boy. They all gossiped about her to one another. They all told each other that she had gained the boss’s favor by sleeping with him. That’s how the pool boy, Óscar, did it. Back when he was the obvious favorite who spent most of his nights in Mr. Vogelweide’s bed.

It was at this moment that the older man seemed to realize that he and his toy had an audience. He kept his gaze locked on the other woman’s face; watching as her blue eyes rolled back from pleasure while she moaned pathetically and desperately suckled on his fingers.

“I thought I told you to be quick and leave, you fucking- ” His voice trailed off as he finally lifted his head and saw Grace standing in front of him. He stopped his thrusting and stared at her. From behind the yellow lenses of his glasses, his dark eyes roamed her slender figure.

Grace averted her eyes from him, just to avoid having to face… whatever this was. “I’ll just go,” she said quickly, bowing her head and turning to leave the room. She walked quickly, praying that the semi-automatic couldn’t come out behind her back. Or the pistol. Or the shotgun. Or any gun in his massive collection. The last thing she needed, or wanted, was for her employer to blow her head off or something. It wouldn’t be the first time he did something like that. She would know. It was her job to clean the blood out of the carpets and off the walls before they stained.

“Stay.”

She paused but didn’t turn around. That was the one word she feared hearing in this situation. The one thing she didn’t want to do. Staying wasn’t an option for her. Staying at this point meant something and she didn’t want to know what. But the possibilities of what it could be made her blood freeze and her heart pound.

“Ms. Quinn was just leaving,” Mr. Vogelweide said as he pulled away from the blonde woman on his desk. He pulled up his pants and buckled his belt. Then, he sat down and began to buckle up his leg brace. It was incredibly old. Probably older than him. The metal rod didn’t look like it was rusted, but it squeaked loudly whenever he walked. Well, whenever he tried to walk would be a bit more accurate. The brace, because of how it held his leg from his groin all the way down to is foot.

Grace glanced over her shoulder and saw that the other woman, Annie, hadn’t moved yet. She was still bent over the desk. Her legs were still spread wide. The back of her dress was open and the skirt was bunched up around her hips. She was breathing hard, hard enough to rival even one of Mr. Vogelweide’s asthma attacks.

She lifted her head and looked at Mr. Vogelweide, clearly disappointed in this turn of events. “Wait,” she started, before being abruptly cut off by him.

“You can go now. I want a private word with Ms. Smith.”

‘Ms. Quinn’ lifted herself up into a semi-standing position, her eyes still on him. “But… I didn’t-”

Again, he cut her off. “You have your hands. I’m sure you have toys. I don’t care how you do it or where. Just get out of my house first.”

Grace watched as her doppelganger stood up the rest of the way and pulled down her skirt to try and hide the wetness running from between her thighs. She was clutching her chest with one hand to keep her open dress from falling off her shoulders. Her knees wobbled a bit as she stood up straight. When she walked, she kept her legs apart and limped slightly. She walked to the door, then paused when she saw Grace.

For a brief moment, the two women’s eyes met. Grace’s sapphire blue orbs and Quinn’s cyan blue ones. They stared at each other, seeing all the similarities between themselves. Grace watched, almost in slow motion, as Quinn realized what she had been doing.

Just before she exited the office, she reached up and touched the fake mole on her cheek. The spot that perfectly mirrored Grace’s natural beauty mark.

The last Grace saw of Quinn was her shocked expression. Wide eyes and parted lips. Hand on her cheek. Then the door closed. She was gone.

Grace was alone with Mr. Vogelweide.

The poor girl kept her eyes faced forward, staring at the door. She wanted to go. She wanted to run and hide from the topsy-turvy, boss-wants-to-fuck-the-maid, trashy porno scenario that she’d suddenly found herself thrust into. (Pun not intended.)

She swallowed hard, trying to gather whatever shreds of courage and dignity she had left and said, in an attempt to excuse herself despite his wishes, “I’m sorry, Mr. Vogelweide, I should have-”

He cut her off just like he done to the other woman. “I’d have asked you to watch if I thought it would make you wet.” Grace stiffened when she realized that he was standing directly behind her, whispering into her ear. He reached around and touched her face with his scarred left hand. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb then gently turned her head so that she’d look at him.

“Why?” she asked. Though, she couldn’t figure out what she was asking about. Why was he touching her? Why would he say that? Why was he fucking her doppelganger? Why hasn’t she run away yet? She wasn’t sure, but she’d take whatever answer he gave her at this point because it honestly felt like someone took a whisk and scrambled her brain into a thick pink paste as it sat in her skull.

“Because you’re my favorite. You’re like a delicate flower. Beautiful and fragrant. All I want to do is pluck you from the ground and keep you with me.”

His fingers trailed down to her throat before wrapping around it. Instinctively, her head tilted back a bit and she held her breath. His grip was firm but not tight by any means. He wasn’t squeezing her, he wasn’t even trying to make her think that he would, but she knew that he could apply that pressure at any moment. The fact that just one of his hands was large enough to encompass so much of her neck. She could feel her pulse pounding against his fingers as they lay over her jugular veins.

“If I weren’t such an empathetic person, I might be tempted to take you by force. If you were not so good to me, I would.” He gently pulled her to bend backwards a bit, her back arched and head tilted back and to side. She stared at him as he forced her to lean against and rest her head on his shoulder. He stared back at her; the foggy yellow lenses of his glasses made his already dark eyes seem nearly black in color. His graying beard tickled the skin across her cheek and jaw as he smiled.

“Mr. Vogelweide,” she started to plead before being cut off again.

“Anselm, dear. Don’t be afraid to use my first name.”

“Ah… Anselm…” she said hesitantly, still staring into his eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. Óscar was always your favorite. He’s very proud of that fact.”

Mr. Vogelweide actually laughed at that. “I’m sure he is. Óscar is a puppy chasing cars he can never catch. Give him an inch and he’ll run a mile never realizing that he’s in a hamster wheel. He wasn’t my favorite anything. He was entertaining. You are different from him. You aren’t entertaining. At all. You’re quite dull, in fact. I’ve seen you in your spare time. Always reading. And it’s always the same cheap, sexless paperbacks. You’re boring and yet that’s the very thing that makes you so enticing to me. Despite everything that happens in this house, you remain pure and untarnished by both it and me.”

He leaned closer so that he could whisper in her ear, his voice practically dripping with seductive intent. He already had an oddly sensual quality to it. There was something about the odd mix between his German accent and a subtle lisp that could capture and hold anyone’s attention. It didn’t matter what he was saying. He could drone on and on about absolute nonsense and it would hold the attention of an audience. Mostly because his voice was just that enchanting; almost like a siren song. Partly because ignoring him would be a death wish granted in a split second by a hail of gunfire from the semi-automatic hidden in his desk.

He moved his body slightly so that she could feel the hard bulge of his still erect cock as it throbbed against her ass. She screwed her eyes shut at the feeling, trying hard not to focus on it.

“Part of me wants to break you. To pick the flower from the ground and pluck away the petals until there’s nothing left but the pistil. I want to bend you over and ravish you until you can’t take it anymore,” he said, practically moaning out the words like he was on the verge of orgasm from the thought alone.

For a moment, not even a fraction of a second, Mr. Vogelweide’s grip on Grace’s throat tightened. She drew in a sharp gasp as his fingers dug into her soft skin.

Then it was over. He released his hold entirely and walked away, his leg brace softly squeaking with every other step he took. Grace turned fully to stare at the boss as he moved away from her. She wasn’t sure how to process any of this. And his explanations only muddied already murky water.

He was across the room, staring out the window, his hands clasped together behind his back. Despite knowing that she shouldn’t, Grace stepped closer to him and looked out the window as well. Óscar was outside cleaning the pool. He looked up at the office window, a smile on his face, and gave a flirty little wave. He blew a kiss up to Mr. Vogelweide before setting back to work, moving a little more sensually than necessary. Putting on a little show.

“If you knew half of the half of the nasty things I’ve done to that boy you wouldn’t be standing so close,” Mr. Vogelweide said, his voice lowered for a moment on the word ‘nasty,’ while his lisp dragged out the ‘s’ in the middle. It stood out and caught Grace’s attention more than the rest of the sentence had. It tickled her curiosity and sparked her imagination to try and picture the two men together. The young pool boy and the older mob boss that signed his paychecks in the blood of his own cousins.

Óscar was the kind of person who lived for others. The embodiment of an almost self-destructive people pleaser. He was a lemming in the worst way who would stand on the edge of a cliff and backflip off of it if someone told him to. Well, maybe not just any old ‘someone.’ He wouldn’t waste himself on someone he didn’t feel was worth it.

Anselm Vogelweide wasn’t like anyone else in the world. He was strange and alluring. Everything about him screamed danger. Especially to people like Grace and Óscar. The people that worked for him and lived near him. The people who saw, on a daily basis, exactly who he really was. Not that ever made an effort to hide.

He had things hidden all around the house. Things that Grace often found on accident while cleaning. Toys; both new and used. Suspicious stains that smelled old and sour. Books with dirty titles and dirtier pictures. She could only imagine what he did to the people that had sex with him. She had her theories, everyone did, but something about his words made her think that the speculations paled in comparison to the truth.

“Sir, I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this.”

“I told you, child; you’re my favorite.” He turned away from the window to face Grace again. Startled, she automatically backed away from him. He followed; though his movements were slow and awkward, that didn’t stop her from being intimidated by him. She didn’t focus on the way his brace made it impossible for him to bend his left knee, making him hobble. She didn’t focus on the way the brace squeaked every time he lifted his leg to take a step. She focused on his eyes. On the darkness and hunger in them. She felt like prey under the searing gaze of a predator.

In the question of fight or flight, Grace liked to pretend that she’d stand up and face her fears head on. She wore a brave face in casual conversations about hypothetical situations that were never likely to happen. She’d imagine herself as a gun-toting badass in the face of a zombie apocalypse or a strong survivor in the face of an attack in a dark alley. She’d taken self defense classes. She kept pepper spray in her purse. She wore a ring knife.

Theoretically speaking, she could protect herself if she needed to.

Empasis on the word “could.”

She could do a lot of things. She could be a novelist. She could become a rocket scientist. She could marry a tech billionaire. She could do any of those things. They just weren’t likely to happen.

She didn’t know the first thing about writing a novel. She was terrible at math. And there was nothing significant about her in the slightest that would ever put her in the same room as a tech billionaire, let alone marry one.

The reality was that she wasn’t the brave warrior she liked to imagine herself as. In the question of fight or flight, Grace would always fawn.

She’d try to run first. Then, as her fears grew and her heart started to pound, she’d start to freeze up. Then, as things only seemed to be getting worse and worse and her pulse threatened to send her into cardiac arrest, she’d give in and let the nightmare consume her.

And that’s exactly what she did in Mr. Vogelweide’s office. After taking only a few steps away from him, she gripped the edge of his desk and froze, her eyes fixed on his body as he continued to advance on her. When he was near enough, when he was directly in front of her, gripping the polished wood on either side of her slender frame, she felt herself give in. She could try to tell herself that she was just putting more distance between the two of them, but she wasn’t. She was surrendering. She bent over backwards and let him hover above her.

Mr. Vogelweide seemed to realize this fact. He stared down at her, a smile playing across his lips. He leaned down so that his face was just above hers. Their noses were a hair’s width away from brushing against each other.

“Do you have any idea how easy it would be for me to claim you?” he whispered in that same attention-grabbingly sensual tone. “Do you have any idea how tempting that idea is?”

As he spoke, Anselm ran one of his hands up the length of Grace’s body. He started at her navel and lightly slid his hand up to her chest, over the mound of her left breast, across her collarbone, and up the side of her neck to her cheek. He rested his palm on the side of her head for a moment. Ran his fingers through her soft blonde locks.

Her heart was pounding in her throat as she stared up at him. She was breathing heavily beneath him, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Shush,” he murmured, grabbing her jaw with his thumb and first two fingers. Like his earlier grip on her throat, he was holding her just tight enough for her to feel it without coming anywhere near actually hurting her. He lifted her head and looked down at her lips. “Don’t worry, darling. I won’t hurt you. I’d never dream of it.”

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Grace’s eyes widened and a high-pitched whimper escaped her. He pressed his body against hers; squishing her down onto the desk. She felt his tongue slide across her teeth for a moment before he squeezed her face just tight enough to make her open her mouth to him. She let out another, louder, whimper as his tongue entered her mouth to circle and swirl around hers.

It took him a long time, but he did finally pull away from her mouth. He released her jaw and stood up straight, adjusting his suit and tie. Suddenly, he was back to his usual self. Cool and unbothered by the world around him.

“That’ll be all, Ms. Smith; thank you.”

That was it? He’d had sex with a doppelgänger, told Grace he only did it because he wanted her, kissed her, and then did nothing else? He was just going to dismiss her without another word?

Wait… why was she even asking herself that?! She didn’t want or expect any of this. It was thrust on her in a moment that she wasn’t even supposed to see. She didn’t know how to deal with any of this. She didn’t know if she was supposed to get up or stay where she was. Hell, she didn’t even know if she’d still have a job after this.

Mr. Vogelweide started to walk away, then paused. He turned to face Grace again and said, “Oh, before I forget, would you be so kind as to clean up in here? I’m afraid Ms. Quinn made quiet the mess on the other side of the desk and I have a meeting in half an hour. You might need to come back to clean up afterwards. I’d like to avoid it, but there may be blood in the rug before the hour is over.”

She looked at the other side of the desk. Where he’d had the look-alike bent over so he could fuck her brains out and pretend she was Grace. There was a wet spot on the polish. It smelled like sweat and… ugh… old fish. The lingering residue of a shamelessly wet pussy.

Back to business as usual then.

Grace stood from the desk and nodded her head. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it.”

“One other thing,” Anselm said as he watched her. “I want you to know that, on the off chance you ever change your mind, you need only to knock.”

“Knock?”

“On my door. The day you decide to me mine, I want to take you in the bedroom. Mine. Not yours. There are… things I’d like to try. Harnesses I’d like to see your body in. Toys I want to put inside you.” His dark eyes moved up and down her body at an agonizingly slow pace. Grace was fully dressed; wearing leggings, a knee-length dress, and a small sweater with sleeves that came down to her elbows. She wasn’t showing any skin that she shouldn’t be. Nothing more than her forearms. And it wasn’t even that the neckline of her dress was low either. It sat right on her collarbones. Yet she felt naked the longer he stared. Like he was peeling off her clothes with his imagination.

This is sexual harassment isn’t it? This was the kind of behavior that got the #MeToo movement started. Back when protecting victims actually meant something to people. She could quit for this, right? Wait… no. No. That was a bad idea. If this were a normal job for a normal person, she wouldn’t even consider it. She’d leave.

But he wasn’t a normal person.

This wasn’t a normal job.

She spent her time cleaning blood out of Anselm Vogelweide’s carpet and cum off of the furniture and walls. Everything in his house was about money and sex. People died here. On a regular basis. There were guns and bottles of lube in every room.

She knew too much about him. There was no leaving. There was only dismissal. And that would likely mean a hail of gunfire that would cut her life short in the living room before his massive bodyguards took her away to some place where she’d never be found again.

All because she caught his eye.

#anselm vogelweide #anselm/oc

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elusivewildflower · 2 years

Text

The Other Fitzroy | Part 3

Pairing: Court Gentry/Six x Fitzroy!Reader

Summary: You, Claire and your daughter have been held hostage by the CIA in Virginia for 2 weeks before Court finally shows up to rescue you again. Court gets to meet his daughter for the first time and your little family heads off to a safe house in the woods to lay low for a few days.

Warnings: Mentions of scars, gunfire, blood, but otherwise you may need tissues. It gets very heartwarming and sad at times.

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to get out! I’ve been a bit busy with work, and honestly I had a hard time starting this chapter as I knew it was gonna be feels-inducing. Even while writing I had to keep taking breaks because my heart couldn’t take it. I hope that this was worth the wait, and as always, I thank my beta @truesblue for helping me shape this out to what it is when you guys read it.

Part One | Part Two

Well, you certainly hadn’t expected to be wrapped up in another hostage situation by the CIA when Court came to rescue you in Croatia, but you couldn’t say that you were all that surprised. After stumbling out of the hedge maze, you spent a day in the hospital being treated for your gunshot wound and concussion. However, as soon as you were back on your own feet, you fell right back into the hands of the CIA. They forced you to confess where you had hidden your daughter, and then they brought you along for the plane ride to retrieve her. While you were relieved to see your daughter unharmed after everything you had been through, you wished it could’ve been under better circumstances. One where she wasn’t dragged headfirst into the danger you had desperately tried to keep her out of. A part of you deeply wished you could go back to the way your life used to be, though you knew that could never happen. Your heart hurt over the loss of your uncle, and it only ached further when you thought of having to break that news to your toddler. You weren’t even sure how you’d explain his disappearance to her, but maybe she’d believe that he was busy with work for just a while longer, at least until you could figure it out.

After reuniting with your daughter, the both of you joined Claire at an estate in Virginia. You had traded the historic splendor of the room in the castle for a much plainer one inside of the manor. The only respite of the four walls closing you in was being escorted out to the kitchen for every meal. You had to admit, the agents that held you weren’t as aggressive as the ones in Croatia, which could easily be explained because they weren’t mercenaries hired by Lloyd. Still, after spending almost two weeks trapped in a room, the three of you were growing restless. Lyla couldn’t understand why she wasn’t allowed to go outside and play, or even take trips to the park like you had used to, and Claire was just ready to go home. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that would never be an option–she had already been through enough. Really, the both of you had–but just like when your parents died, you had to be the one to hold it together, to be strong so that she didn’t have to be. Now, you also have to be strong for your daughter. You may have already realized that you were once again, completely and utterly trapped, waiting for a rescue mission that could very well never come, but you’d never crush their hopes like that.

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, breaking your gaze from studying the same pair of trees out of the window, and had you turning towards the door as it opened. An agent’s head popped through the gap. “Lunchtime.” He spoke, pushing the door open further.

You lifted yourself from the blue chair you had been sitting on, moving to pick up your daughter, who had been playing with some toys on the carpet. “Come on, sweetie,” you murmured to her as you hoisted her into your arms, letting her rest upon your hip. Claire was the last to rise to her feet, having been preoccupied by shuffling through her records. The agent escorted the three of you down the long hallway until you reached the kitchen, where three plates were laid out on the dining table. Two grilled cheese sandwiches awaited you and Claire, while the third plate had chicken nuggets for Lyla. You were grateful that the agent who prepared your food at least understood what toddlers preferred to eat. The three of you ate your lunch mostly in silence, just like every other meal you’ve had in the last two weeks. However, today, you could tell Claire was exceptionally restless. She pushed her half-eaten sandwich back and forth across her plate, shifting in her seat. Her attention turned towards the agent that was still standing by the island in the kitchen.

“When do we get to go home?” She asked. Her question was only met with silence from the agent. Not even any of the other agents that stood within the room, guarding all entrances and exits, spoke up. “I asked you a question.” Claire announced, a bit louder this time.

“Claire…” You began in a warning tone.

“No!” Her head snapped towards you. “They always ignore my questions. I just want someone to answer me!” She aimed her ire back at the agent. “When are we going home?” Again, her question was only met by even more silence as the agent busied himself with cleaning the kitchen counter. Claire slumped in her seat, letting out a defeated sigh. “I just wanna go home…” She whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

You looked at her sadly, reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze. “I know.” You spoke in a comforting tone, but it didn’t seem to help. She gently shrugged your hand off and stood up from her seat, signaling that she was done eating. You let out a soft sigh, moving to stand with her, but not before grabbing Lyla from her high chair. The agent led the three of you back to your room in silence, and the second that the door was shut behind you, the click of the lock could be heard. You were back to being trapped within the same four walls.

The chirping of birds drew your attention away from the door behind you, and it was clear that Claire had heard it too, as she began walking towards the french doors that were usually locked shut. However, now, one of the doors was pushed open, letting in a soft breeze. You followed right behind her, glancing outside as your heart raced in your chest. There’s no way one of the agents had opened that door, so that could only mean one thing. Court was alive–and he was here.

Claire was the first one to step away from the door, and when you followed her gaze, you knew why. Her beloved record of ‘Silver Bird’ had been moved from the floor and was resting against a lamp, something yellow peeking out from inside. When she pulled the piece of paper out, you read it from over her shoulder. ‘Play me loud.’ She turned towards you, her face lit up with hope. You were sure that your expression reflected the same.

“He’s come to save us,” she voiced, quickly moving to place the record onto the player.

You nodded, chuckling softly as tears sprang in your eyes. “Again.” You emphasized as she cranked the volume all of the way up. Not even a second later and the sounds of men shouting and suppressed gunfire could be heard over the music. It wasn’t as noticeable as it should’ve been, had the record not been playing, but you could still hear it. The two of you took a seat on the edge of the bed, Claire’s hands raising to cover her ears as tears rolled over her cheeks. Your hands moved to cover your daughter’s ears, caring more about her hearing than your own, as she buried her face into your chest. You rested your chin on top of her head, murmuring comforting words to try to keep her calm as you rocked back and forth gently.

Soon, the gunshots grew louder, closer, and a second later the door was pushed open, revealing Court’s face. You breathed a sigh of relief, one that you heard Claire echo as she rose to her feet. You removed your hands from your daughter’s ears and reached to turn down the music to a tolerable level.

“Am I allowed to chew gum in here?” Court asked, a little inside joke between him and Claire as she gave him crap for chewing gum in the Fitzroy house. In response, you and your sister chuckled before Claire launched herself towards him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. Court’s eyes settled on you as he returned the hug, trailing downwards, where Lyla had pulled away from your chest now that the music and gunfire had ceased. Their eyes met, and while he obviously knew that his daughter would be there, to see his blue eyes staring back at him must’ve been a surprise. His mouth dropped open in shock, the gum long forgotten. You smiled softly at his reaction and moved to stand, raising Lyla up onto your hip. As you close the gap between you, Claire steps back from Court’s embrace, letting you and Lyla have his attention.

You cleared your throat gently, trying to find your voice. “Lyla, baby, this is your daddy.” You introduced, gesturing towards Court as your voice wavered, thick with emotion. Lyla’s attention turns to Court, the toddler peering up at him.

“Daddy?” Lyla questions, reaching her arms out to him to be held. Court’s eyes dart from her to you, nervously. The sight of him being nervous over anything, let alone over holding his daughter, had butterflies swirling in your stomach. You give him an encouraging nod before passing his daughter off to him. He takes her into his arms, holding her gingerly.

“A-am I holding her correctly?” Court stutters out, looking to you for advice.

Fresh tears well in your eyes as you let out a hushed chuckle, “Yeah. You’re doing good.” Your praise seems to instill confidence in him, and his attention returns to Lyla, who has begun rubbing her hands all over his face, poking him experimentally and tugging on his beard.

As she seemed to be busy taking in his appearance, Lyla’s small voice once again repeated, “Daddy?”

Court lets out a chuckle of his own, followed by a slight sniffle, bouncing her gently in his arms. “Yeah, baby, I’m your daddy.” He confirms with a nod, and your heart swells in your chest. Lyla beams as she begins to play with the collar of his jacket and shirt.

You wipe away a few tears that had fallen down your cheeks, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness you felt from Court finally being able to meet his daughter. The fact that he had tears brimming in his own eyes had you about ready to bawl, but you tried to hold your composure. You spared a glance over towards Claire, catching a large smile on her face for the first time in a long time. You threw your arm across her shoulders, bringing her in for a side hug that she happily returned. Court’s attention broke away from tearfully inspecting the child he had produced to you and Claire. His free arm beckoned the two of you closer, and for a good, long moment, you all embraced in a group hug. After all that you had been through in the last month, it felt good to feel happy again. When you pulled away just enough to peer up at Court, you saw something you had never seen before–a genuine smile on his face. He leaned down, the best he could with his three girls in his arms, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Alright, we gotta get moving. Go pack up whatever you need, quickly.” Court instructed, breaking up the group hug. Claire was the first to move, turning to grab the bag that had been left halfway unpacked in a corner ever since she’d been brought to the estate. You wanted to take Lyla from Court, but he shook his head at you. “I’ve got her. You’ll be able to pack quicker,” he explained, shooing you off. You hesitated for a moment, but when your daughter looked perfectly content with her head resting on his shoulder, you gave him a smile and turned on your heel. Grabbing the bag you had dropped off with Lyla to your friend’s house several weeks ago, you began repacking everything that had been in it. Her toys, a few outfits, diapers, wipes, blankets, and other items of need were haphazardly shoved inside before you zipped it shut. Now, it was your turn to pack. Thankfully, you didn’t have nearly as many things with you as Claire and your daughter did, and you were able to finish packing at the same time as Claire. You slung both bags over your shoulders and moved to take Lyla back from Court as he led the way out of the estate and to the car parked out front.

As Court opened the door to the backseat of the passenger side, he spoke. “I hope this works,” he gestured towards the car seat a bit sheepishly. “I had to ask the sales lady for help,” he admitted.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Court asking a stranger for help picking out a car seat for his daughter. “It’s perfect,” you assured, taking the time to strap Lyla in appropriately. You took note of how Court watched your every move, as if he was trying to learn how to buckle her in if he ever needed to. When you finished, you leaned back up to your full height outside of the car. Court shut the back door and moved to open the front passenger side door for you. Before getting into your seat, you leaned up on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek–but Court turned his head just in time to capture your lips instead. You let out a gasp, caught off guard, and he simply responded with a wink. He shut the door behind you as you settled into your seat and jogged around to the driver’s side, hopping in and starting the engine. Within seconds he was flooring down on the gas, determined to get you all the hell out of there before anyone could find you again.

The road trip to the safe house that Court had chosen– one he swore only he and your uncle Fitz knew about– was a long one, but otherwise relatively uneventful. You had only stopped a handful of times along the way, mostly for gas, bathroom breaks, or to grab food. You knew that Court would have survived without the last two, but having a toddler and a twelve-year-old meant those stops were necessary. The safe house was a cabin tucked way out into the woods. It wasn’t very large, having only two bedrooms and one bathroom, a small kitchen and a living room with no TV–but it was cozy, and safe. It also came with the freedom to move around whenever you wanted to without an escort and to not be confined to one room anymore. You knew that you were far from being in the clear, and would always need to look over your shoulder for the threat of danger, but you were glad to have put some distance between you and the CIA for now.

While you occupied yourself with settling Claire and Lyla, Court headed off to check the perimeter of the property and to make sure no one had followed your trail. He made sure to leave you with a handgun before he left, just in case, that you had tucked into the back of your waistband. Claire claimed the first shower and you slipped into the kitchen to prepare something for everyone to eat. Lyla played with her toys in the living room, easily within sight. By the time Claire strolled back into the kitchen, a towel slung over her shoulders and donning fresh clothes, you’d finished cooking a few hot dogs and mac ‘n’ cheese for them. Not a five-star meal, but it would do. After Lyla declared herself full, you gave her a quick bath before dropping her off in the second bedroom to play with her toys. Your sister was already curled up with a book on the bed, so you cleared your throat to catch her attention. “Will you watch Lyla while I clean up?” You asked pleadingly, even though you already knew she wouldn’t say no. Claire nodded her head in response, and you quickly left the room.

Returning to the kitchen, you were surprised to see Court standing there. “Jesus, I didn’t even hear you come back in. Everything good?” You asked, moving to grab yourself a plate of food.

He nodded, “Yeah, we’re all good for now.” He responded, following behind you to grab himself a plate.

“Sorry it’s not the best meal, it’s not easy finding stuff that kids will eat,” you apologized, referring to Claire and Lyla as you moved to take a seat at the table.

Court shook his head, waving off your apology. “It’s perfect,” he assured, taking a seat across from you as he dug into his food.��

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence. When you were finished with your food, you began cleaning up all of the used dishes. Court moved to join you, forcing you to let him dry the dishes that you washed. After all of the, now clean, dishes were put away, you turned towards him. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Do you wanna join me?”

Court shook his head. “I really shouldn’t. What if--”

You cut him off. “Court, you just spent an hour checking the perimeter and God knows what else. I think we’ll survive twenty minutes in the shower.” You then leaned in and gave a dramatic sniff, your nose scrunched up in disgust. “And you definitely need a shower.” Your words were teasing, but you weren’t being dishonest–he did stink.

He heaved a sigh, but an amused smile spread across his face. “Alright,” he conceded, ushering you in the direction of the bathroom. After the door was shut behind the two of you, Court shrugged off his jacket and yanked his shirt over his head. Your eyes raked over his torso, drinking in a sight you hadn’t seen in two years. He caught your gaze and raised a brow. “What?”

You shook your head, “Just more scars than I remember you having.” You commented as you pulled your own shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Your bra follows shortly after.

He huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, the last two years have been a bit rough.” He said as he reached into the shower and turned the knob, letting the water flow so it had time to warm up. He then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, kicked off his shoes and socks before tugging his jeans and boxers down in one go.

“I’m sorry,” you stated, slipping off your own shoes and the rest of your clothes, kicking them to the corner to join your discarded shirt and bra.

His attention turned back to you, eyeing your naked form over for a moment before giving a shake of his head. “Nothing you did, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, giving his body a glance as well—you had certainly missed that view. “That doesn’t mean I’m not still sorry you had to go through that.”

Court seemed like he wasn’t too sure how to respond to that, but after a moment he managed to deflect. “What about you? You raised a baby the last two years. I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”

“It wasn’t,” you began, “but I had Donald to help me.” You smiled fondly as you remembered your uncle, even if doing so had your heart clenching in your chest.

Court nodded in response before speaking, “Fitz was a good man.” His words were spoken softly, almost as if he didn’t have the strength to say the man’s name aloud.

You nodded in agreement, and a moment of silence fell between you. You presumed he was thinking about your uncle just as you were, wishing that the outcome in Croatia could’ve gone differently.

Court stuck his hand into the shower, checking the temperature of the water before pushing the curtain back when he found it was warm enough. He gestured for you to step in first, which you complied with, and he followed right behind you. The feeling of the water hitting your back was already enough to relax you.

“How are you, by the way?” Court spoke up after a moment of silence, drawing your attention towards him.

“I’m fine,” you replied a bit too quickly.

Court eyed you over for a moment before responding, “You know that I can see through you, right?”

You let out a sigh. “Then why even ask?”

He shrugged, “Out of courtesy, I guess.” You huffed out a laugh, but gave no other response. Court raised a hand to gently cup your jaw, his calloused thumb brushing against your wet cheek. “I heard you managed to kill a few of Lloyd’s men before they grabbed you up.”

“Yeah,” you confirmed in a soft voice with a nod, your thoughts drifting back to what felt like ages ago to the day that you and Claire were kidnapped by Lloyd’s men. You remembered watching the blood seep out onto the wooden floors from the two men you had downed with a gun, and the third who’s neck you had slashed open. Tears began to well in your eyes and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to get you to drop your façade, to finally process what you had been through.

“And then you lost your uncle,” he reminded gently, his thumb still stroking your cheek as his other hand moved to rest upon your waist. You squeezed your eyes shut as a few tears escaped, your bottom lip trembling as you tried to stay composed.

“You lost him too,” you reminded him as well, “and Margaret Cahill.” Your eyes fluttered back open as you looked up into his blue eyes.

He nodded, the hand that was on your hip raising to cup the other side of your face, both of his thumbs now brushing away the tears that leaked from your eyes. “I know, but this isn’t about me right now, this is about you. You don’t have to be strong around me, baby.”

Those words were the final straw for you, and he knew it. Before the first sob even broke free, he had you pulled tightly against his chest. The last time he held you like this was shortly after your parents had died, when you finally broke down in the middle of a sparring session–the weight of being strong for everyone in a difficult time became too much to bear. Much like it had right now. He was the only one who had ever seen you cry like this, sobbing so hard you could barely breathe. He rested his chin on top of your head, the hard muscles of his arms shielding you from the water while his hands comfortingly rubbed up and down your back. After several long minutes, your sobs had settled down into soft whimpers and sniffles. Court’s grip on you loosened as you moved to pull away. “Thank you,” you murmured softly as you looked up at him.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “Any time.” You then reached for one of the loofahs you had thrown into the shower earlier, and grabbed the neutral-scented body wash you picked up from one of your stops along the way to the safe house. Squeezing a drop onto the loofah, you lathered it until it was covered in suds, and then you hovered it just above Court’s skin.

“Can I…?” You trailed off, imagining he’d get the hint without you having to say the words. He gave you a soft smile and nodded, giving you permission to wash his body for him. You pressed the loofah to his chest, gently scrubbing his torso before moving to his arms. You started with his left arm first, dragging the loofah down his scarred shoulder and bicep, even making him raise his arm so that you could scrub his armpit. You were moving at a languid pace, massaging circles into his skin as you cleaned him. He let out a soft hum of approval, clearly enjoying the attention you were giving to him–taking care of him in a way that he probably hadn’t experienced in a while–if ever. When you took his right wrist in your grasp, your thumb gingerly rubbed over the burn mark he had. Your mind flashed back to the time he had opened up to you during a training session, telling you the story behind it. Your eyes connected with his as you brought his wrist to your face, pressing a soft kiss over the raised skin. An unrecognizable look flashed in his eyes as he looked down at you—was that lovingly? You honestly weren’t sure, having never experienced that before, but whatever it was spread a warmth through your chest. You tore your eyes from his, moving to continue washing him until he was fully cleaned.

After he had rinsed off, he reached to take the loofah from you, adding a drop of more soap. “Your turn,” he murmured, pressing the loofah on your skin and cleaning you at the same languid pace. You let your eyes drift close as you enjoyed his gentle touch, letting him move your limbs in whatever way he needed in order to scrub you clean. He crouched down to wash your legs, but as he did, he pressed a kiss to the one scar that you had on your upper thigh. The one you had received from the graze of a bullet that night in your route to escape the castle in Croatia. When he finished scrubbing your legs, he rose back to his full height. He then moved from the stream of water so that you could wash off. Court rinsed the loofah and hung it back up, reaching for the bottle of shampoo next. “Can I wash your hair?”

You chuckled softly, “Only if I can wash yours.”

He nodded. “Deal,” he agreed, pouring a generous drop of shampoo into his hand. He ushered you to turn around, your back facing him, as he threaded his fingers in your hair. His fingertips massage your scalp, eliciting a moan from you at the feeling. His deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and you slapped his arm gently in response.

“Don’t laugh at me, it feels good.” You scolded, a smile growing on your face that he couldn’t see.

He continued his ministrations. “I’m sure that it does,” he replied, voice still alight with laughter. You shook your head with a scoff, but otherwise gave no response. You simply let him lather your hair with shampoo until he deemed it clean enough, and then you let him lead you backwards into the stream of warm water. Once your hair was rinsed of the suds, you stepped out of the spray and reached for the shampoo bottle. Court moved to sit on the edge of the tub so that you’d be able to reach his hair without any issues. As you massaged his scalp, his eyes fluttered shut and he let out a groan of his own. Your fingers froze in their movements, a smug smile pulling at your lips.

“See?!” You teased him.

He cracked one of his eyes open, looking up at you. “Alright, it does feel pretty good. Now, keep going.” He instructed, raising a hand to grasp your wrist, tugging it up and down so that your fingertips would begin moving again. You let out a laugh at that, but resumed pressing in circles on his scalp. Court’s shoulders sagged and he breathed out a sigh as your fingers shifted to massage behind his ears, and then down the base of his neck. He finally seemed to let himself relax, pushing all worries out of his mind for a bit. When you pulled your fingertips away, his eyes popped open, a look of disappointment within them.

You chuckled softly. “We’re gonna run out of hot water soon,” you explained, already feeling the temperature begin to dip in the drops of water that were cascading down your back. Court sighed and stood up, moving to stand under the shower head so that he could rinse his hair. Once he was finished, he cut off the water and reached his hand outside of the curtain to find towels. He handed you one first, and then grabbed one for himself. You each dried yourselves off and then wrapped the towel around your bodies. You hadn’t thought to bring in a change of clothes, so you’d have to walk to your shared bedroom to find a clean set. Court pushed the curtain back so that the two of you could step out, and then you led the way to the bedroom.

You put on another pair of leggings and slipped a sweatshirt over your head–not bothering with a bra this late in the day. Court even put on a pair of sweatpants that you had picked out from him when you forced him to stop by a clothing store on the way here, and a black t-shirt. Once the two of you were all dressed, you padded barefoot out into the hallway to check in on the girls. What you found brought a smile to your face as you leaned against the doorway. Claire and Lyla were fast asleep, underneath the covers. Court crept up behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he peered into the room from over your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your neck, the only patch of skin available to him from where he stood.

“Wanna make some coffee?” He whispered into your ear, not wanting to risk waking the girls. You nodded in response, reaching for the doorknob to shut the door to the room as you moved to follow after him and into the kitchen. As you waited for the coffee to brew, Court wrapped his arms around you. The two of you stood in the middle of the kitchen in a comforting embrace, the only sounds in the cabin were of your breathing and the steady drip of coffee filling the pot. You begrudgingly pushed yourself out of his arms to grab two mugs and a container of creamer from the fridge. Remembering that Court liked his coffee black, because of course he did, you poured his plain before making your own. With the mugs filled to the brim, the two of you moved to the living room. You sat knee to knee on the couch as you looked over at him.

“So, what’s the plan?” You asked after taking the first sip, almost burning your tongue.

Court hummed softly. “Well, hopefully staying here for a few days until I get the last few pieces squared away. There’s another safe house I have here in the states until I can get us out of the country, if it’s needed.” He raised his mug to his lips, taking a long sip of the bitter, caffeinated, goodness.

You nodded and remained quiet for a few moments. The two of you sipping on your coffee in a companionable silence. You loved how effortlessly you fell back into the same ease, even after not seeing him for such a long time. Though, a question did invade your mind that brought forth a flood of sorrow. “Do you ever wish it was just you?” You asked softly, almost quiet enough that you weren’t sure if he’d hear you.

Court’s ears were trained better than that, of course he would hear you. His brows furrowed as he gazed at you. “What?” He asked, a bit confused.

You paused for a moment, licking your lips as you thought of how to explain your question. “I mean,” you began, “You used to only have to worry about your own survival. Now, you have the three of us to look out for. I mean, sure, I can kind of handle my own, but Claire and Lyla are just kids…” You trailed off, dropping your gaze to the floor.

You felt a hand grasp your chin gently, raising your head up so that you could meet Court’s gaze once more. “Baby, no.” He shook his head. “Claire’s said it before, we’re like family because of Fitz. Hell, you gave birth to my child, we are a family.” He spoke firmly, pausing for a moment as he carefully chose his next words. “You’ve given me everything I thought I could never have, and I don’t plan on giving any of that up without a fight.” He put his mug down on the coffee table and you did the same, each only missing a few sips worth. Fresh tears brimmed in your eyes from his words, and you began to feel like a wrung-out dish towel, about to cry for the millionth time that day. His grip on your chin slid to your jaw as he leaned in to close the distance between you. His lips brushed over yours. “I’m not ever leaving you, baby.” His words held so much conviction that you couldn’t help the few tears that trailed down your cheeks. Court was quick to brush them away just as he had done earlier.

When his lips finally pressed against yours with an unbridled passion, you felt your heart swell in your chest. Your hand tangled itself in his short, damp, hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding between your lips. You let out a soft moan at the taste of him, and Court responded by laying you back against the couch, his body hovering over yours. The feeling of his body heat and gentle press of his weight stoked a fire within you, but you were perfectly content to just enjoy the moment. It had been far too long since you’d been able to kiss him like this without any distractions, and you loved how he was devouring you in such a familiar way.

When the two of you finally broke the kiss for air, you rested your foreheads against each other. You had never felt happier than at that very moment, in your own little world with Court where no one could touch you. You weren’t sure how much longer that feeling would last, or for how long your little family would be safe from the threats of the outside world, but you were going to enjoy the moment for as long as you could. Court seemed to have the same idea as he slipped his hands beneath you, shifting until he was the one with his back pressed into the couch and you were resting on top of him. You nuzzled your face into his chest and he let out a short sigh of content, his hand moving to rub your back gently. You knew he wouldn’t plan on falling asleep, but your eyes were quick to flutter shut, drifting off into a comfortable sleep.

#court gentry #sierra six #court gentry x reader #court gentry fic #sierra six fic #sierra six x reader #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fic #the gray man fic #courtland gentry #courtland gentry x reader #myfics #the other fitzroy

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baneswood-sins · 1 year

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Hi! I saw your slasher imagines post and I was wondering if I could make a request of a NSFW of either OG!Michael or peepaw Michael with a transman reader (top surgery done but not bottom)? First time or established I don't have a particular preference. Would love to see some bloodplay and knifeplay and just have Michael absolutely have his way with him. He can just have his mask on most of the time, and when they kiss Michael can just pull it up enough for his lips to show. Would also be great if there was some form of aftercare when they're done, in however Mikey would do it. If he decides he will take his mask off at some point I would not be opposed to that at all. Thanks!!! ;v;

Hey anon! I chose peepaw, though it doesn’t come up much in the story. Also sorry this got a little out of control. Oops.

Peepaw!Michael Myers x trans!male!reader (NSFW) 2.4k words

You were a liability. Every second Michael spent with you, he risked getting caught. Even being as good at blending into the shadows as he was, there was still a chance of him being spotted every time he made the trek from the sewers to your apartment. You were just glad your roommate had moved out.

Explaining why there was a serial killer in your bed wasn’t high on your to-do list.

He’d shown up a half-hour ago, letting himself in the door you never kept locked—why worry when the Boogeyman was your kind of, sort of, maybe boyfriend? You’d immediately pointed him to the shower, a request he was used to by this point in your relationship. You loved him and all, but not so much the smell of rats and dirt and garbage. You could hear the shower running now, the door not closed fully because Michael didn’t care much about privacy. You walked by the door, ducking inside to grab his boilersuit and throw it in the wash. His mask and rusty knife sat on the counter by the sink, also needing a good cleaning, but you were sure he wouldn’t let you near them. There were some lines you didn’t even try crossing.

You left the bathroom without looking at his silhouette behind the shower curtain, feeling like it was an invasion even though you’d barely see his outline. You were basically just killing time until he got out of the shower. You checked on dinner—spaghetti, garlic bread, and a salad, wondering if Michael would sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to eat like he normally did. The sauce was simmering, fragrant with spices. You wondered if you should eat now to shore up your strength, especially for whatever Michael had planned for you.

Down the hall, the shower cut off. Too late to eat a full meal, you realized, and grabbed a piece of garlic bread. Moments later, Michael was walking out of the bathroom, fully nude, mask in place and knife in hand.

“I hope you aren’t planning on going out like that,” you joked, watching him walk down the hallway toward you. You chuckled at your lame comment as he stopped in front of you, putting you chest-level with his naked body. Despite the uncountable badly healed scars, he was still in pretty good shape for a man of his age. His muscles were firm, legs strong. Your eyes slid down his body, taking in the line of his half-hard cock. “Thinking about me in the shower?” you asked, waggling your brows.

Michael, as usual, didn’t respond or acknowledge you in any way. You’d never heard him speak, never really heard anything but heavy breathing, and once, a groan, from the man. He was a good listener, though, letting you ramble on about whatever silly thing popped into your head, still and silent.

“Want to eat now?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Michael didn’t shake his head like he normally did, instead grabbing your wrist to pull you in the direction of your bedroom. His hand on you was firm, maybe even skirting the edge of harsh, and he tugged you along after him as he walked back to your room. You were glad he decided to drag you back there—you’d never tell him this, but he didn’t exactly have the knees or back for a fuck against the wall or on the couch, he was almost three times your age.

He pushed you back against the bed and you went willingly, tugging off your shirt and kicking off your pants and boxers as you did. He followed you up onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs with an ease borne of practice. “Hi,” you said awkwardly, staring up at him from your mound of pillows. He discarded his knife somewhere off to the side, both of his hands coming to your sides to squeeze the flesh there. They ran up your chest, lingering over the scars from your double mastectomy—he was fascinated by the thick scars, often stroking or toying with them. You wondered if he understood what they were from. It didn’t matter, anyway. With Michael, you never had to worry that you didn’t exactly look like your average man. He didn’t seem to mind. You’d explained it to him once, when he’d been petting your scars in the afterglow of some mindblowing sex, so you knew that he knew, in theory, that you were transgender.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the lips of his mask brushed your lips, eyes widening. It was rare for Michael to initiate affection of any kind. Slowly, as not to startle him, you raised your hands to the edge of his mask and started rolling it up. He allowed you to, stopping just above his nose. His face, what was visible, at least, was just as scared as the rest of him. Your hands on either side of his face, he leaned in for a kiss. It was surprisingly slow, for him, and tasted like mint from the toothbrush you left out for him. His teeth dragged over your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you granted it with a little groan, locking your legs around his hips. He rutted against you, his hardening cock slipping past your heated core. You were more focused on his tongue in your mouth, silencing your little noises and playing with your own. It was as responsive as you could get him to be. He supported himself with one arm over you, the other straying back to his knife.

You startled as the cold metal pressed into your side, but you weren’t afraid of him. It ghosted over your ribs, pressing in and drawing a raised, red line in its wake. “Michael,” you began sternly, “you can’t use that knife. I’ll get tetanus.” You wracked your brain, trying to think of the last time you’d gotten a tetanus booster. It was probably recent enough.

That was a good thing, because Michael didn’t seem to be listening to your complaints about possible diseases. The knife dragged over your hipbone, scoring a line of red that had blood welling up in its wake. It stung, the blade dull, more of a tearing sensation than a smooth cut. You sucked in a breath, pulling him close for another desperate kiss as he pressed the flat of his blade against your core, cold pressure on your engorged clit.

The threat was enough to make your rolling hips still. The knife wasn’t sharp enough to accidentally cut you, not really, but you wouldn’t put it past Michael to try it anyway. The blade pressed harder, spreading your folds, the tip of it a sharp pressure against your entrance. What little slick you produced after years of hormone therapy coated the knife. “Michael,” you warned against his lips, not quite telling him off, but not fully supportive. In theory, Michael Myers fucking you with his knife was hot, enough to send a pang of curling heat to your gut. In practice, it sounded messy—not to mention painful. The knife withdrew, dragging back up your stomach and he was rutting against you again, thick cock sliding against your core, wet with precome and your slick.

He traced a path up your chest with the knife, cutting in enough to send rivulets of blood down your sternum. The blade reached your neck, traced almost lovingly over your jugular, and then he was pulling back slightly, running the flat of the blade over the seam of your lips. His single eye stared down at you as you opened your mouth obediently, cleaning slick and blood off of the knife. It dipped into your mouth, a gruesome imitation of a blowjob, and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking on the rusty metal. It tasted like dirt and copper, unpleasant but heady. He slid it deeper, and tears welled in your eyes as it scraped against the back of your throat. If he forced it any deeper, he’d truly be stabbing you. You took it as the threat you knew he knew it was. Your tongue laved against the blade, mouth lolling open to show him the twist of your tongue against the metal. His breathing turned harsher, lips opening just the slightest amount. For a second, you felt the pressure increase against your throat, and you fought not to gag. You knew he was thinking about it, about killing you. You rutted harder against him in response, tears welling in your eyes as you fought off your gag reflex. The taste of copper flooded your mouth before the knife withdrew and he was surging forward to kiss you, licking up the taste of life, threatening to tongue fuck your throat for another taste of your sweet blood.

Michael dropped the knife off to the side, forgotten, and his hands were back on you, sliding down your body, fingers dragging over stinging cuts, smearing blood along your torso with a touch that was bruisingly hard. Your heels dug into his back, pushing his body against yours with a moan as you arched your back, pressing into the pain. His lips left yours, trailing down your throat to trace the cuts with his tongue, cleaning up your blood. His mouth was a balm against the dozens of nipping wounds, but you wanted more from him.

“Michael,” you whispered, throat sore and stinging from the cut that bled down your esophagus, “fuck me.” His eye flicked up to meet yours in the darkness of your room, black and reflective like an animal’s. Tapetum lucidum, it was called, and it was impossible in humans. Another thing that set him apart from a normal man.

For once, he obeyed you, straightening up to grab the bottle of lube off your bedside table. Besides making him shower, this was probably the only thing you’d taught him to do. Years on testosterone had essentially stopped your body’s natural lubrication, making penetrative sex painful without a little outside help. He slicked up his cock, his fingers, wet with lube, slipping over your folds, two fingers roughly nudging inside to coat you with lube. A gentle lover Michael was not, but you were into the perfunctory motions, the disinterest he seemed to have in foreplay that wasn’t violent.

The only warning you got before he pushed into you was the slip of his fat cockhead against your slick opening and then he was tearing you apart, friction enough to make white sparks dance behind your eyes. It hurt like it always did, but you moaned anyway, pushing into the sensation as he slid all the way to the root, not pausing until he was fully seated within you. You bit your lip, hand coming down to rub at your swollen clit until the pain started fading int a tight, white-hot pleasure. You could feel your body clenching around him, instinctively trying to force him out, or maybe draw him deeper. Either way, it wasn’t working, he held himself perfectly still, and the only way you could tell he was feeling anything at all was his heavy breaths that puffed next to your ear.

You dug your heels into his back, urging him to start fucking you as your fingers teased tight circles around your clit, your other hand drawing his face back to yours. Your lips dragged over his scratchy white beard, mashing your lips against his in a panting, open-mouthed kiss as he began fucking you with deep, hard thrusts. He was unforgiving, the angle of his hips sparking a painful pressure in your guts as he probably got a little too close to your cervix. It made your body cramp and clench reflexively, and you rolled your hips along with his thrusts, forcing your body down hard onto his cock. It hurt in the best way, it was almost euphoric, a heady mix of pain-pleasure-pressure against your insides that lit up your brain like an electric shock.

You writhed against him as he fucked you harder, obscene squelching echoing in your ears, almost drowned out by the moans that spilled out from between your desperately locked lips. Your toes curled, hands shooting to Michael’s back, nails dragging against his skin, drawing blood in their wake. You held on for dear life as he plowed into you, barely faltering as he kept his pace. The only sign that he was working hard at all was present in the harsh pants that bled into your mouth. The hand that wasn’t occupied propping him up strayed to your throat, pressing down enough to restrict airflow without entirely blocking it off.

Lightheaded, your hips bucked against him as your orgasm caught you by surprise. You bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed as you came, back arching while fireworks bloomed behind your eyes, a gasping, drawn-out moan slipping free of your lips. He swallowed down your noises with a groan, fucking hard into your convulsing, vice-tight cunt. He didn’t make a noise when he spilled his seed into you, the only indicator of his own orgasm was the way his shoulders relaxed just slightly. He fucked into you slowly, forcing his seed deeper in an animalistic display of ownership.

You were both left breathing hard in the afterglow, his masked forehead pressed to yours. It was… surprisingly peaceful. Your fingers came off his shoulders stained with blood from where they’d bitten into his back. You grinned at him, lopsided and dopey, and kissed his bleeding lower lip. He was still against you, not returning the kiss. You were used to his stoicism post-orgasm, pulling him down and against you until he was laying on his side, your back to his front. You tangled your legs with his, and his arms came around you slowly, a parody of a lover’s embrace—but was it really parody? Michael’s nose buried itself in your hair as his breathing slowed back to its normal, steady pace. It was almost hypnotic, lulling you into a half-asleep state in the wake of your lovemaking.

There was a laundry list of things you needed to do, but all of those things paled in comparison to a little one-on-one snuggling with Michael Myers, which was rare enough to begin with. He was usually the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, disappearing in much the same way he appeared. Maybe he was getting sentimental in his old age.

Ha. Probably not.

#slasher smut #slasher imagines #trans reader #male reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #slashers x reader #michael myers #knifeplay #bloodplay #baneswood writes #halloween #peepaw myers x reader

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