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#im going by what i can read on his lips and it's NOT 'thank you Merlin!!'
lightasthesun · 1 year
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the last thing arthur ever did was ruffle Merlin's hair... The last thing arthur ever said was I love you.
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tteokdoroki · 8 months
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✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.
things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3
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“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.
you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.
playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”
“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.
you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”
gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.
“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”
he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.
“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.
“my friends are coming over.”
“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”
“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”
“do you own this house?”
“no but i-“
“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”
“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.
even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.
your poor, spoiled, baby brother.
however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”
satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.
but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.
“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”
saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.
you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body. 
satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”
your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”
“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”
you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.
 he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.
you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”
“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”
you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”
satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.
guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal. 
pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock. 
“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”
he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.” 
his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“
he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. 
“s-satoru!”
he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i  the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?” 
you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell. 
“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride. 
angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.” 
the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.
and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base. 
he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise. 
“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“
the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks. 
that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!” 
you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.
“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.
when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms  his hard and heavy cock as he pleases. 
it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears. 
you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires. 
you think you prefer that side of you more. 
meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.
a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.
whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.” 
“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation. 
satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle. 
“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends. 
he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him. 
whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell. 
that day, you learn two valuable lessons: 
one —  never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills. 
two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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healmyhrt · 3 months
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Ok so like yk how Chris always slaps Matt’s or Nicks ass well what abt they are like live on instagram or sum and he kinda just forgets and slaps the reader ass yk and he doesn’t realized u til Nick or Matt say something and so they is like edits on tt and yea 
⌗ public, c. sturniolo
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chris x fem!reader
summary: what the request says :)
disclaimers!: established relationship, ass slapping, flirting, cursing, use of y/n, very short
a/n: i love when yall send requests and start it with “babe” like … what r we 😉??
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“where’s matt? probably sleeping or something.” chris responds to a comment. nick sits back down next to him, handing him a pepsi can.
“but yeah guys, we’re back home in LA. and we just wanted to come on here and say hello for a bit.” nick smiles into the camera.
i walk into the kitchen, and open the fridge, unaware that i’m in camera view. “y/n, come say hey to the live.” nick smiles.
i walk over, a gallon of orange juice in hand. “hey guys.”
the chat starts going insane, and i slowly start to step away. chris grips the tee im wearing (which was his), and pulls me back. he manspreads, and i glance at the phone. chris shrugs, and i give him a look.
“wanna sit and talk to them, y/n? i can move seats.” nick suggests. i shake my head, and walk back behind the island. chris stands, and walks over to me.
all you could see in the background of the live was chris towering over me.
“why didn’t you sit?”
i glare at him. “you guys are on live, chris.” he shrugs. i cross my arms. “i thought we weren’t going public.”
“so friends can’t sit on other friends laps?” he smiles, and leans closer toward me. “chris.” his smile widens when he hears me say his name. “christopher.”
“call me that again.”
i laugh. “you’re unbelievable.” i begin to walk away, still in view of the live camera. i hear chris chuckle underneath his breath, and next a slap to my ass cheek.
i stop in my tracks, and turn around trying to contain my myself while i look at chris. nick had turned around, and his mouth gaped open.
“yall are fucking ridiculous.”
nick turns back toward the phone. “um… on that note, i think we’re gonna get off. i love you guys! bye!” he says.
nick picks up his phone, and walks over to us. “chris, you’re fucking insane. are you actually mental?”
i stand next to him, and look at chris. “THANK YOU!!” chris rolls his eyes, and i walk out of the kitchen, turning down the stairwell to chris’s room.
i hear footsteps behind me, already knowing who it was.
“what the hell was that chris?” i ask in a genuinely confused tone. he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth.
“i thought it would be funny, sorry.”
“you’re the one who said you didn’t want to go public yet because of how hard it would be to have a girlfriend, then you do this shit?”
i sit on the edge of his bed. chris slumps down beside me, and leans his head onto my shoulder. “im sorry.”
i sigh. “its fine.”
chris pulls his phone out, and sees a text from nick.
“look what you did dumbass.” the text read. i giggle at the message, as chris slides it to the side, opening it.
it was a tiktok video of a screen recording from the live, and the clip was of chris slapping my butt. my eyes widen.
“shit, they’re fast.”
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rowanswriting · 1 month
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ROOOOWWWWWWW
REQUESTS ARE OPEN YOU SAY???
Self indulgent because I’m that bitch.
Maybe shy/ditsy reader (cause I love her) who is like so innocent and quiet out in public and in private is the neediest horniest depraved little slut for her man (obvs can be gender neutral) with either Steve or Eddie, or steddie x reader whatever your heart desires.
I HOPE THIS ISNT A SHIT REQUEST ITS TWO AM AND IM TIRED
- hellfiremunsonn (Lillie) 🩷
Freak Like Me - E.M.
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thank you so much for the request lovey! I hope this is everything you envisioned! @hellfiremunsonn ily! 🫶🏽
Word count- 1.3K
Warnings - pussy slapping, dirty talk, p in v sex, female masturbation (Eddie helps), Eddie teases you, if I miss something please tell me and I’ll be sure to add it here!
-feel free to reblog & interact it’s much appreciated thank you all for reading! I really hope you enjoy this! 18+ only!
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“Where you going sugar?” Eddie’s husky voice says from behind you. One of his ringed hands coming up to grip on your shoulder. You feel your knees go weak, trying your best to remain standing as you look around at all his friends. They’re all watching you as you turn to look at Eddie. “Back to the van… if that’s okay, Sir.” You mumble out. A few of his friends chuckle as you hide your face, flushing from embarrassment. He nods, leaning forward and kissing your cheek softly before handing you the keys. “It’s all yours baby be there soon.” You listened as Eddie continued talking about some dnd campaign, the sound of his voice drowning out behind you.
He’d made a spectacle of you all night long, teasing you in front of everyone. He knew exactly what it did to you, you’d almost not agreed to come out tonight because you knew this would happen. Eddie loves teasing you, and his friends love it even more, watching you babble when he asks you a question because only a minute before he had said something incredibly dirty. The wide smirk on his face causes you to stutter as you squeeze your legs together, praying that no one will be able to see. They do. This time you decide not to stick around to hear the remarks they’d make.
You slowly open the door to his van, hopping up inside and slamming yourself back onto his seat. The uncomfortableness of your panties sticking to you is too much to handle, so you lift your hips, sliding them down your legs before throwing them in the back seat. All you can think of when you slip your fingers down to flip up your skirt is Eddie’s voice, the way he mocks you, laughs at you, the sweet nothings he’ll whisper to you once he has you all to himself. “Fuck.” You whimper out, your fingers lightly grazing against your clit.
You shuffle around a bit angling yourself so when Eddie opens the door he’ll have a perfect view of what belongs to him. To his friends, you’re shy and reserved, innocent even. Eddie knew the real truth about you and you were none of those things. Your eyes close as you get lost in the moment, you bite your lip hard enough that you’re sure it’ll bleed as you circle your fingers around your clit, the sensations running throughout your body as you moan quietly. “Please Eddie.” You cry out, sliding down against the passenger door.
“Well ain’t this a pretty picture.” Your eyes snap back open as a sick smile breaks out across your face. “Knew you wouldn’t keep me waiting long.” You say, giggling as Eddie climbs up into the drivers seat. He’s quick with the door, slamming it before turning to look back at you. Your fingers are still working over yourself, only going faster now that he’s watching. You go to stop but he grabs your wrist, guiding your hand down. “Oh please honey, don’t stop because of me. Let me see how desperate you are.”
You nod, your eyes half open from the pleasure as Eddie pushes two of your own fingers inside yourself. You groan at the feeling, it’s messy but you couldn’t love it more. The sounds of wet squelching and your moans fill up the van as Eddie’s eyes burn with lust. They’re latched onto where the both of you are moving together. “This is so good, but I really need you Ed’s please.” You beg. He shakes his head, holding your hand down, rocking your fingers in and out slowly. “I didn’t say you could stop babydoll.” He whispers as you buck your hips up, grabbing at his wrist with the hand that isn’t buried deep inside you.
Eddie leans back, sitting on his knees as he watches you. He pulls his hand away slowly and makes you do all the work as he palms himself lazily over his pants. “I wish they could see you now baby, absolutely pathetic and I haven’t even given you the real thing yet.” He says, your eyes threatening to roll back into your head as a loud moan rips its way from your throat. “Fuck. Please.” You whine, your heartbeat speeding up as the tight cord winding itself in your stomach threatens to break. A bead of sweat makes its way down the side of your face as you buck your hips up again, meeting the thrusts of your own fingers.
You sit up a little, your body trembling as you watch Eddie slowly unbuckle his belt. You trail your eyes up to his face where he’s biting his lip, his eyes staring into yours as you continue to pleasure yourself. He laughs a little when he sees tears on the corners of your eyes. “Aww darlin’ you’re so ready aren’t you? Go ahead, let me see you cum, give me a show baby.” It takes you no more than a small thrust of your fingers before you’re letting go. Your wetness spreads all over yourself and down onto Eddie’s seat as he watches. You can hear him talking you through it but the blood rushing behind your ears keeps you from hearing what he’s actually saying.
He gives you no time to recover, you hear something rush past you into the back of the van before Eddie’s on you like a wild animal. He slowly strokes himself a few times, rubbing the head of his cock right against your clit as you squirm underneath him crying and begging for him to fuck you already. He stops teasing only to reach down and slap your pussy, once, twice, three times. You yelp and just as you go to sit up to scold him he thrusts into you, practically knocking the wind out of your lungs. “Y’gonna scream for me sugar? Let all my friends hear how much of a slut you really are for me?”
“F-uckkk Eddie please!” You scream out, the slapping of Eddie’s skin against yours growing louder as he thrusts harder than before. He reaches under your ass to pull you up some, angling you just right so with every thrust his cock rubs up against your g-spot. “That’s it sugar, it’s okay I got you, let go. Cum on this dick and let everyone hear who makes you feel this good.” Your body trembles beneath him, your stomach flips at his dirty words as you look down and watch him sliding in and out of you. The drag of his cock, enough to make you feel like you’re on another planet entirely as you finally give up. Your eyes roll back as your mouth babbles on, Eddie grips onto your hips, his blunt nails digging into your skin as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. His deep moans blend with yours creating a delicious melody as he fills you up.
You hear him laugh as you both come down from your high, he slowly pulls out of you leaving you empty and sore as you open your eyes to look up at him. “What’s so funny?” You say, your voice rough from how loud you were being, he smiles at you before leaning down to kiss your forehead, moving some of the hair that’s stuck to it away. “Oh, s’nothin. Just thinking how funny it is that you’re a freak, and they have no idea.” You bite your lip before giggling, slapping his arm slightly as you sit up to fix your clothes. You don’t bother with finding your panties as you watch Eddie reach into the back of the van, grabbing his pants. “Well, next time maybe we’ll have to give them a real show, Eddie.” You whisper, running your tongue up the side of his ear, his cock throbs at your words, a low moan slipping from his lips.
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tag list- @voyeurmunson @vecslut @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @josephquinnsfreckles
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sixosix · 9 months
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kissing lyney awake doesn’t really work. wc 600. fluff, established relationship, more lyney content bc i need him to come home im so desperate its not funny
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lyney sleeping is the only moment you see him at ease. he portrays a convincing act—laid-back, too friendly, performatively elegant, and it’s these that help you forget lyney is nothing like that at all on quiet days.
seeing him breathe slowly, eyes shut, and body language openly comfortable, makes your chest grow inexplicably warm.
there are no curtains. no cards, doves, or leather gloves. just you, him, and the bed with your legs tangled. you’re unable to help yourself, placing a delicate kiss on the apple of his cheek. it’s barely there: just a faint brush of your lips.
so it’s your surprise when lyney’s eyes fly open and a hand reaches for the back of your head before you can pull back.
“did i wake you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
lyney opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a quiet, hoarse groan.
“sorry,” you laugh gently, cupping his face.
“mm… no, don’t be,” lyney says, his eyes threatening to flutter shut from their sluggish weight. the consonants don’t form perfectly in his state. “it seems as… as if even in sleep my body reacts to your kisses eagerly.”
“you sure? it seems like your body seemed rather alarmed, actually.”
lyney smiles tiredly, that alone expressing more than his words could ever try. “if i were alarmed, i would’ve pushed you away. couldn’t you tell that i’m…” his eyes wander down. he makes an indecipherable noise.
“are you going to wake me up like that every morning?” he asks with a slow smirk.
“you told me to wake you up around this time to prepare,” you say, covering your mouth, much to his displeasure. “focus on the clock, not my lips.”
lyney almost whines, like the drama queen he is.
“up, lyney. and let go of my head.”
“no.” he pushes you closer, but his mouth only collides with the back of your fingers. “the cruelty. you’re heartless. kicking a man when he’s down—does this make you happy? do you derive pleasure from making a pleading fool out of this great, renowned magician?”
you successfully slip out of his grasp. he ends up clawing at air. “if you have the energy to complain needlessly, you have the energy to get up.”
lyney sighs heavily. he pulls himself up and pouts at you, like you’ve kicked a stray puppy in front of his eyes. he might be the stray puppy in question.
“if you can kiss me awake, you can also kiss me to stand up.” he yawns halfway through the sentence.
“we won’t get much done if you get your hands near me.”
instead of grinning smugly like you expect him to, lyney’s eyes crinkle alone with his soft smile. he pulls you in by your hips, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing deeply.
“hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, brushing a cheek as his eyes fall shut once again. it doesn’t take even a second before he melts back into the sheets. “you’re still tired, huh? good job performing yesterday. must’ve been exhausting. you can sleep for five more minutes.”
“mmh,” is what he replies with, pawing your waist to ask for something.
you kiss his nose, and his smile widens just a fraction—just enough of what his lax body can do. he later reveals that it was all a trick to make you kiss him awake all over again, but you know him a little better than that.
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a/n ok anyway THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LYNEY LIKERS im glad u all like reading for lyney as much as i do writing for him
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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months
Text
orange peel theory (dark! and soft!rafe)
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words: 1k (about 500 words each)
warnings: name calling, suggestive
orange peel theory: girlfriends ask their boyfriend to peel an orange for them, as a test to see if they are willing to help with small tasks that the girlfriend can do herself
dark
you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.
“what are you doing?” rafe questions, looking at you with concern, not sure if he’s ever seen you read before.
“nothing.” you shake your head, shutting the book and setting it down, glancing at your phone to make sure it is still recording. “how was work?”
“fucking tiring. dealing with idiots all day.” rafe spits the words out before toeing his shoes off and leaving them in the center of the room.
“im sorry.” you pout, standing up as rafe takes a seat on the edge of the bed. you move to stand in between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his lips. he sighs with satisfaction, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, rubbing over them, tucking his fingertips under your shorts to feel your bare skin.
“can you get me an orange rafe? i’m craving one.” you move away from him, setting back on your chair to make sure you are centered in the camera.
rafe gives you a confused look but nods, mainly because he also needs to get a glass of water for himself. he re-enters the room, tossing the orange towards you, which you catch easily.
“thanks.” you smile as rafe takes a sip of water and then sets it on the nightstand. “can you peel it for me though babe?”
“what?” he questions, moving to kneel between your legs, an amused look on his face. “my stupid little slut not able to peel it on her own? too much of a baby?” “rafey.” you whine as he takes the orange out of your hand, unpeeling it and tossing the peel into the trash. he pulls a piece and then hovers it in front of your mouth.
“open up whore, i know how much you love to do that.” rafe taunts you before you lean forward, taking the slice of orange into your mouth and pulling it out of his fingers, letting the citrusy taste flood your mouth.
“you are so mean, this was supposed to be for tiktok.” you point out your phone, making rafe turn to look at the screen opened and recording.
“what?”
“for tiktok, its some trend about asking your boyfriend to peel an orange for you to see if he will do small tasks for you, and you totally failed!” you whine, stamping your feet on the ground in annoyance.
“but i peeled the orange for you.” rafe says with confusion.
“while also calling me a stupid whore!” you stand up, grabbing your phone and stopping the recording, knowing you won’t put it on tiktok.
“are you not my dumb little slut?” rafe asks, standing and stepping close to you, hovering over with his intimidating height.
“i mean i am, but-”
“exactly.” rafe cuts you off, pressing his lips against yours as he backs you up towards the bed.
soft
you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.
“hey baby.” rafe leans down and gives you a kiss on the top of your head, which you quickly tilt up to have him press a second one to your lips.
“how was work?” you ask, setting your book to the side, glancing at your phone to make sure its still recording.
“exhausting.” rafe sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, making you pout.
“im sorry bubs.” you comment as he sits down on the bed to take his work shoes off. 
“no big deal. how was your day?” rafe asks.
“good…” you shrug. you usually go into more detail, and rafe knows it, so he sits quietly, waiting for you to continue. “but i’m actually really hungry.” you blurt out, figuring you shouldn’t delay any longer as you look at your phone again, lucky that rafe doesn’t follow your line of sight.
“what are you hungry for? we can order delivery.” rafe knows you like to cook, but he also doesn’t force it on you, leaving the option to get takeout open whenever you are tired or simply don’t feel like cooking.
“i actually just want an orange.” you shrug.
“thats not really food, darling, but okay.” rafe stands, setting his shoes on the rack next to the door before heading out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.
you can’t help smiling at the camera as you wait, covering your mouth as rafe reenters, already knowing that he’s going to pass the test.
“here ya go.” rafe hands you a bowl instead of an orange, making your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, before you take it and realize that the orange is already peeled and pulled apart, ready for you to enjoy.
“raaafe.” you whine.
“what?” rafe kneels down in front of your chair, placing his hands on your knees.
“i wanted a whole orange.” you complain, pouting your lower lip out as rafe looks at you in complete confusion.
“why, were you gonna eat the peel or something?” rafe laughs.
“no, its supposed to be a thing for tiktok.” you point towards your phone, which takes rafe a second to see from its hidden position. “you’re supposed to bring me an orange and i ask you to peel it to see if you’ll help me with a small task.”
“should i bring you back a whole orange then so you can ask?” rafe questions.
“no, i don’t even really want an orange to be honest.” you admit. rafe looks down into the bowl, taking a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing it up. 
“what do you want then honey?”
“can you get me a banana?” you tilt your head to the side. rafe nods, grabbing the bowl from your lap before heading back to the kitchen.
you grab your phone and set it closer. “he’s just too good of a boyfriend.” you sigh as rafe comes back through the door, handing you a banana.
you smile at him in thanks, taking it out of his hand before he leans to press a kiss to your cheek, glancing at the camera, still recording when you realize how you can still test the theory.
“peel it for me babe?”
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie
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atticrissfinch · 3 months
Text
I’ve Got My Red Dress on Tonight | (joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)
Part 5 of Meet Me in the Back
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pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: When your Valentine's Day date doesn't show, you decide there's one person who would be happy to see you. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), drug use (marijuana), daddy!kink, fingering (vaginal and....anal!!!), v brief foot fetish, squirting, praise!kink and degradation!kink (use of slut/whore), unprotected PIV, creampie, some ~touching in public, smoking, taking pictures mid-coitus, really nasty gross fluff i'm sorry about it. lemme know if i forgot something i gotta go fast i wanna post word count: ~7.8k jesus christ | ao3a/n: much thanks for the anon who suggested a V Day fic for these two <3 Thank you to my love Iris @papipascalispunk for making sure my commas and em-dashes are where they're supposed to be. ALSO. Chloe, resident sleazy!joel expert, wrote a little drabble inspired by Joel in this fic!! Please check it out after you've read this chapter! The Sighting by ChloeAngelic <3 Divider by @saradika-graphics ❤��� Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic! Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi
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The dress feels ungodly tight, but you had figured it would be worth it. 
It wasn’t. 
In fact, the dress hasn’t seen anything but the inside of your apartment. 
Your hair was done just the way you love it, you pulled out all the stops with your makeup, and you had squeezed yourself into this glittery, red mini dress that makes your tits look stunning, which you bought just for this night. 
You’d been out with Brent twice before, and even though you’d thought it was a little early in your “relationship” for a Valentine’s Day dinner, when he asked to “make it a special night” for you, you agreed. The last thing you wanted was to be alone on this godforsaken holiday. 
Well, at least he’d had the courtesy to give you twenty minutes' notice that he was bailing on you instead of just leaving you waiting on your couch wondering if he would come at all. 
Now you’re just waiting on your couch, wondering what the fuck to do. 
You open your messages on your phone and swipe away from your broken plans. The next thread under it is Joel’s. 
Joel: i swear 2 god i saw one tho
You: you did not see a UFO, Joel 
Joel: yes i did!!! it was way the hell up there flashin its lights!!! saw it clear as day!!!
You: that was most definitely just a normal plane, old man. Turn off Ancient Aliens once in a while. 
Joel: ur gonna be real sorry wen im FAMOUSS for findin the first REAL aliens 👽 🛸 
You: I’m sure I will be
Joel: u can make it up 2 me by flashin me them headlights of urs again 😈
Joel: honk honk 😈
You: Bye 🙄 😒
Joel: 👅
A smile tugs at your lips as you read through the conversation from earlier this evening. You hadn’t told him about the date. Or dates, rather. If this one had gone well, you might have. If things wound up back at your place and actually moved a step toward something. 
You deflate against the back of your couch. Because there’s nothing now. Just you, your suffocating dress, and your stupid heels. The vicious claws of insecurity start to scrape at the back of your neck. 
Brent didn’t want you. You weren’t good enough. You’re not good enough for anyone.
Tears prick at your eyes and you dab them with the side of your finger to keep your mascara intact, following it up with some deep breaths and your head tipping back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull.  
That’s not true, you recite to yourself. You know there’s always someone who’s happy to see you. 
Another deep breath. 
Someone who would be dead on his feet seeing you dressed like this. 
On your next breath you’re already shimmying out of your panties and checking the mirror to make sure no one is getting a free show who doesn’t deserve it. 
You scurry as quickly as you can to your car, shivering so fiercely it feels like your goddamn pussy has goosebumps from being exposed like this. You weather through it, chanting in your head some quote you heard about how hoes never get cold. 
When you get to the gas station, you scamper from your car into the store, shuddering when the heat hits you once you open the door. You tug your dress down and glance around, not immediately seeing Joel anywhere. He’s not at his usual spot, parked behind the counter. You venture further into the shop, peering down the aisle. 
“Evening,” someone says just behind you, and you jump, whirling around. 
It’s not Joel. It’s some other schmuck with a scraggly, graying ginger beard and a crooked, lumpy nose. His smile is friendly enough, but it lacks that trademark sleaziness that typically oozes from the person you’re accustomed to seeing man the store. His name tag reads Walter. 
“Evening,” you squeak out, cringing and clearing your throat when your voice spills out much higher pitched than you expected. You tug on your dress again. 
“Help you with anything?” he asks, and you’re relieved to find his gaze holding steady on yours, not drifting elsewhere despite the swathes of skin on display in your chosen outfit.
Joel wouldn’t even be able to begin to know where to fucking look, your mind provides, and you find yourself trying to come to terms with the apparent fact that… Joel isn’t here. 
He isn’t here – on Valentine’s Day. 
“I’m, um…I’m actually looking for Joel?”
Walter’s eyebrows shoot up, then fall into a furrow. “He been hiring on the clock again? Goddamn it, I told him not to fucking do that anymore,” he mutters, shaking his head down at the floor before looking back up at you. “Miss, I’m real sorry, I know you’re doing honest work and all, but I can’t have that shit here.”
It takes a moment for you to fully register what he’s saying, but when you do, your eyes go wide. “Oh, sir, I’m not— you’ve got— no, no. I’m just a friend of Joel’s.”
“I'm sure you are, Miss, but I—”
“I’m not a prostitute,” you insist under your breath, glancing around to ensure no one is in the vicinity. “I swear to god, I just had a date tonight, or I was going on a date, and then I wasn’t, and— I swear, I’m just dressed for a date. A normal date.”
You’re not sure your frantic insistence has Walter very reassured, but he just nods, a skeptical look in his eye. “Well, in any case, he’s not here. He’s got the night off.”
“Got it. Okay, thank you,” you say, wincing a little at the palpable awkwardness. You rush past him to leave, your heels clicking loudly, and apparently, whorishly, across the floor. 
“Stay safe out there, honey,” Walter calls after you. 
Your car is blessedly still harboring warmth as you clamor back inside and start the engine. You catch your breath and mull over what to do next. 
He wasn’t there. On Valentine’s Day. You feel like that can only mean one thing. Something squiggles and squirms in your belly at that thought. 
You have one more shot, and you take it, speeding off toward the outskirts, hoping you can go fast enough to drown out the weird feeling in your stomach. 
His truck is there. And it’s alone in the gravel next to his trailer. 
You see light through his weeping blinds, a warm yellow glow accompanied by periodically flickering colors that you assume is his television. A good sign, you think. 
The wind whips around your bare legs as you climb his steps carefully in your stilettos, staring up to admire the waxing gibbous moon shining absurdly bright against the speckled black sky. You lean against the dilapidated railing of his tiny porch in front of his door. The sky is never this bright where you live. It fills you with a sort of warmth. Comfort. You hear the distorted sound of voices on his television and the faint aroma of weed seeping out the frame of his door. 
You don’t hear anyone else. 
So you knock. 
You hear a nasty cough from the other side of the door and the volume of the TV ticking down. The door swings open and you’re hit in the face two-fold—with a wall of smoke and a wall of bare-chested man. 
Joel blinks and squints reddened eyes as he blocks the entire doorway, billows of haze attempting to escape around him to the fresh air. Then recognition glows in his eyes and his gaze drifts. Up and down. And his jaw goddamn drops. 
Your arms clasp at your back as you rock on your teetering heels. 
“Hi.”
Joel crams his eyes shut again, shaking his head like a dog like he’s trying to clear a fog over his vision. But he opens them again, and you’re still standing there, and he expels a long, narrow breath through his lips. 
“Jesus fucking Christ. This is heaven, right? Or— jesus— fuckin’…hell, in that devil of a dress,” he shakes his head again, slower, more like disbelief, and a smile pushes at your mouth. “You just showin’ up on my doorstep? Dressed like that? I must be fuckin’ dead.”
You temper your broadening grin, reining in your utter delight at receiving exactly the reaction you were craving. “So, you’re saying me, weed, and…” you crane your head to peek at his television, “And SVU is your idea of heaven?”
“Damn near fuckin’ close,” he says, a reverence about his tone as he drinks you in gratuitously. He pulls himself out of his stupor and hurriedly gestures inside. “Jesus, sweetheart, come in. Gotta be freezin’ your gorgeous tits off out there.”
His hand falls to the small of your back as he ushers you inside, the sweet tang of his evening stress relief burning stronger in your nostrils in his living room. 
Joel shuts the door behind you both and lets out a sharp whistle. “Sweet Mary Mother’a God. That fuckin’ ass,” he mutters under his breath. 
You peer your head around your shoulder to take in the sight of him, just as he does you. One hand frozen against the door, soft belly poking out over the hem of his sweatpants, dark hair sweeping over the curve of it and up his chest. And, of course, that fucking tent at his crotch, growing larger by the second. 
“Be still my fuckin’ heart – the hell are you doin’ here in that, darlin’ girl?”
Your cheeks begin to heat. 
He’s never said it like that. Darlin’ girl. It’s usually some iteration of one or the other, but never together. 
Darlin’ girl. 
You fill in a blank for yourself — unintentionally, but so fucking naturally. 
My darlin’ girl. 
Where your stomach was squirming, it now flutters. You swallow it down. Pull your mind back. You just want to feel wanted. That’s why you’re here. 
Then he’s at your back, pressing all of him against you. The softness of his torso, the scratch of his facial hair, the hardness of his cock. Planting feathery kisses along your neck with teasing bites. 
A giggle bubbles up your chest and you free up more of your neck for him to devour. “I’m here to see the stupid aliens, you dumbass.”
His lips pause on your neck. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles against your skin. 
“Yeah,” you laugh lightly, “Where’s your flying saucer? Your flashing lights?”
Joel’s hands sweep up your sides and cup your breasts through your dress, squeezing them tight in his grip. “Right fuckin’ here, baby,” he growls into the underside of your jaw, “Let me turn ‘em on for ya.”
You throw your head back with another easy laugh and you feel the shape of his smile against your cheek as he massages your covered tits. 
“Mmmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against your ass, his massive length nestling and sliding between your cheeks over your dress. “Come smoke a bowl with me. ‘N then tell me why you’re dressed like living sin in my living room.” 
“How about you just fuck me,” you sigh, tangling your fingers into Joel’s hair and holding his lips to your neck. 
“‘Cause I wanna stare at you in this dress a little while longer ‘fore I rip it to fuckin’ shreds,” he says, his words increasingly muffled by the exposed skin of your spaghetti-strapped shoulder. 
A shiver trembles down your spine and you take a steadying breath. “Okay. Then you better detach before all that shit goes out the window.”
Joel takes a deep breath and rolls his forehead over your shoulder with a moan. “Smart. You’re so goddamn smart. So goddamn pretty. Got my Peter pipin’ up a storm down there.”  
You roll your eyes and will yourself forward, toppling onto his sagging couch with him trailing along behind and groaning as he sinks into it. 
Your hands go to the straps on your heels and you begin to unfasten when you hear a definitive nuh-uh. You glance up and Joel’s eyes are fixated on your blood-red satin heels. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”
“Really?”
“Really. Those naughty fuckers stay on,” he orders, and you have no choice but to let your hands fall away. 
“Okay, then.”
Joel’s tongue darts out to wet his lips briefly. “Shit. Alright. Where the fuck was I?”
Joel busies his hands – his focus – with topping off the contents in the bowl of his bong. He graciously offers it to you. 
“Light it for me?”
Joel smirks and flicks his lighter as he holds the glass contraption steady. 
Once you’ve taken a healthy puff, Joel sets the devices aside and crooks a finger under your chin, coaxing you forward. The burn curls in your throat as you hold the smoke. Joel’s nose traces a delicate line down your cheek before hovering his parted lips over your mouth and tracing his thumb over your painted red lip, smearing the color down your chin. 
“Let it out,” he mutters, his heavy, rosey stare shimmering into yours. 
The smoke cascades from between your lips into Joel’s waiting mouth where he inhales it with practiced ease, holding it for a moment before exhaling the remnants of it over your face with a lazy smile. 
“So fuckin’ sweet spillin’ outta that mouth, little Sugarplum,” he croons, continuing to futz with the color on your lips. 
You wrinkle your nose at him and laugh. “Dude, you’re so fucking high right now, my asshole would probably taste sweet.”
“It does,” Joel drawls, rolling your bottom lip down and watching it snap back up. “I got first-hand ‘xperience. Or…first…mouth…” Joel’s train of thought floats off from there as his eyes transfix on your lips. 
“Another hit, please.”
That refocuses his attention and he nods, a little sluggish. You take the reins this time, lighting the bowl yourself and savoring your pull. 
As you exhale again into the thick air of his trailer, Joel takes another, more modest puff to maintain his already achieved high. 
“Shit, I needed this,” you groan, feeling more and more boneless as you melt into his couch. “That’s good shit.”
“I don’t skimp on what’s important,” Joel mumbles, slumping over until his curly mop plops into your lap. 
You chuckle at him, stroking a hand through his hair and receiving a very pornographic moan in response when your nails scratch against his scalp. 
“Fuckin’ Christ. You’re my fuckin’ angel. Angel in devil’s clothes.”
Cleverness begins to fail you as the cozy tendrils of the weed start to lighten your brain into something a little more relaxed. So you just sink into the couch, playing with his soft locks and humming to his lethargic babble. 
When you’ve waded through the deepest of the haze, Joel sits back up, cradling his cheek in the crook of his arm as it balances on the back of his sofa. “So what are you doin’ here, Sugarplum? You get all dressed up for me? ‘Cause I somehow doubt that.”
You smirk at him in what you hope is playfully, but lands somewhere closer to dopey. “Why do you doubt that?”
He just fixes you with a telling look, and you concede. 
“Okay. No, I um– I had a date tonight.”
Joel nods, a little exaggeratedly in his current state. “Pretty little thing had a date. ‘Course she did.”
“Well, I did,” you say, pulling your legs up onto the couch and folding them to your side, maintaining what seems like a silly level of modesty given your present company. “Until he canceled on me about twenty minutes before he was supposed to pick me up.”
The divots between his brows seem to grow impossibly deep at that. “You gotta be goddamn jokin’ me. No fucker in his right mind would stand up a thing like you.”
You dip your head down, picking at the fraying threads of his couch cushion. “Not so sure about that.”
“I am. I’m damn sure.”
You shrug, “I just didn’t want the dress to go to waste.”
“Sure as hell didn’t.”
You hum in response. Picking. Tugging. Picking. Tugging. Until you feel fingers pinching your chin and guiding your attention up. And his eyes are still watery, still tinged with red, but are so unwavering as they burrow into your own, brimming with wetness for a wholly different reason. 
“Hey,” he utters, soft as anything, soft as his hair, soft as his belly, soft as his eyes. “It sure as hell didn’t,” he repeats, and waits for you to acknowledge it. 
And you do, with a small nod and sniffle. 
“Good girl.”
Your lip quivers at that, and the words tumble out. “Fuck me. Right now.”
Your back hits the seat cushions and his mouth is on yours, tasting sweet and a little bitter as his tongue strokes between your teeth. His noises pitch upward as you tug lightly at his hair, and his knee situates itself between your legs, providing you with delicious friction against your already dripping core. 
Joel’s breath wafts hot over your ear as he rasps, “You take your panties off for him or for me?”
“For you,” you reply breathily, moaning as he nips and licks at your ear, his increased breath reverberating in your head so loud it makes your pussy throb with the influx of intimacy. 
“All for me?” he asks, maneuvering a hand down to where you’re wet and begging for him, “Goin’ commando in this tight ‘n tiny little number, riskin’ givin’ anyone on the street a flash of your drippy little slit?”
Your moan bounces off the walls when he slips two fingers inside of you, pumping and curling them with a rehearsed accuracy that has pleasure fraying your edges as soon as he sets his pace. 
“And you brought it here to me? Brought me this sexy, heart-shaped box of yours all wrapped up in a pretty package?”
“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, wrapping a heel-clad foot around his waist to spread yourself open for him, “Brought it for you. All for you. Please.”
“You gonna come for me, you naughty little angel? Come on daddy’s fingers.”
You whimper as he strokes at you with those fingers, his other hand descending on your clit to rub circles with his thumb. Your hips buck into his hand on your clit and down onto his fingers pistoning inside you, and you feel yourself coming apart all at once, your voice breaking as you call out for him. 
Joel showers you in praise as he fucks you through your release, resting his forehead on your temple. “Good fuckin’ girl. All that for daddy. Good girl. Squeeze daddy’s fingers, just like that, baby. Fuckin’ shit. So fuckin’ pretty.”
A whine kicks up in your throat as the overstimulation starts to throb in your clit, and you bump at his hand to stem the sensation. Joel’s fingers web through yours as he pins your hand above your head on the arm of the sofa, his two fingers slowing to a methodical crawl within your pussy. 
“Love how you feel around my fuckin’ fingers, sweetheart. Love seein’ how tight you clench around ‘em, knowin’ I’m about to stretch you wide open on my cock and feel you just as tight.”
“Fucking love your cock, daddy,” you keen as your hips undulate in time with his continued ministrations inside you. “Wanna be filled with it right now.”
“You want daddy’s cock now?” he teases, the tips of his two fingers dragging delightfully against the most enticing spot of your inner walls, drawing a tender gasp from your lips. 
“I really, really do,” you whimper, grinding onto his hand harder, “Need you to split me open, daddy.”
“Can I get a ‘please’ all pretty-like for me?”
You whine again and nod. “Please, daddy. Fill me with your cock.”
“You deserve it, don’t you, sexy girl?”
And the way he asks it, the way his eyes bore into yours when he does, you feel like he’s asking you to admit to more than you’d otherwise be willing to offer yourself. 
Tell yourself that you deserve good things. You deserve this pleasure. 
“I—” your breath hitches as his fingers crook inside you again, your nerve faltering at your lips. 
Joel’s lips part as he keeps drawing your pleasure tighter again, and you feel your core building that pressure again. “Tell me. Tell daddy you deserve his cock.”
“I— I deserve it,” you force out through the mounting pleasure in your brain, gasping when his fingers pick up momentum. “Oh, god, that…it feels…”
“Yeah, pretty girl? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for daddy, I can feel it too. You deserve this, baby,” he coos, releasing your trapped hand to press firmly above your pulsing cunt. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn wet for me. Show me how wet you are for daddy, make your little hole gush for me.”
“Daddy, I…oh,” you squeak out as a wave of pleasure washes over you, pulsing out your limbs. And more than that, you feel a steady stream of liquid flow out of you, you hear the wet slap of Joel’s fingers, his palm, as it floods his hand. 
“Oh fuck, that’s it, baby. That’s it, darlin’ girl. Soak my fuckin’ hand. Such a naughty little bitch. Squirtin’ out your filthy little snatch for daddy. That’s fuckin’ right,” he babbles as his palm smacks lewdly up against your cunt with a fresh wave of wetness. 
Your hips jolt with the heightened sensation, and you can’t muster anything more than barely audible moans as Joel fucks you until you have nothing left for him to coax out. 
“Fuckin’ shit, sweetheart. Messy fuckin’ girl,” he grunts as he wipes his dripping hand on his sweats before tucking both behind your knees and spreading your legs to admire your drenched, finger-fucked cunt. “So juicy for daddy, huh? Daddy’s gonna slide his big straw into that sloppy little juice box of yours. And when I’m done you can suck on his big straw like a good little girl. How’s that sound, sweetheart?”
“Can you please just fuck me?” you beg, slipping the straps of your dress off your shoulders to push your dress and strapless bra below your tits. Joel stares hungrily as you play with them for him. 
“Fuck me. Yeah, your little box is ready to get stuffed, ain’t it?” he moans, tilting his head to the side to kiss up your calf and up to your ankle, still encased in your shoe. His teeth bite at the strap and buckle, skimming his lips wetly down the curve of your foot to the arch of it and sucking at the side of it he’s able to reach. 
“Joel,” you whine helplessly, desperately as your pussy screams for that bulge in his pants to bury itself inside your body instead. “What the fuck are you doing.”
“Worshippin’ my slutty little goddess. You blessed me with this little dress, this tasty little puss, so I’m gonna show my appreciation,” he mutters into your foot. 
And it shouldn’t feel good, but you’ve never had anyone put their lips on your feet before, and you’re so fucking horny for this man, you let yourself feel it. Your other heel drapes over his shoulder as his mouth drags over the slope of your foot and back up your ankle. 
“Such a pretty outfit, so I’ve decided not to tear it apart. Nasty little whore, you made it easy to access whatever I want anyway,” he chuckles a bit, gliding his teeth up until he can bite at the skin under your knee. 
You groan and press your head into the couch cushion, “Not the first person to accuse me of being a hooker tonight.”
Joel pauses for a second with a suspicious look. “Who was the first? Better not’ve been that shitty fucker who stood you up, or I’ll deck his lights out,” he says with a gentle aggression that has a rolling heat burgeoning in your stomach for a reason you can’t quite place.
“No, it was that old guy at your work tonight.”
Joel cocks his head. “Walter? Walter said you were a hooker?”
“I said I was looking for you and he just…assumed, I think. You hire hookers on the clock? ‘Cause he seems to think so.”
“Only a handful of times,” he mutters, his eyes going shifty, uneasy, almost…embarrassed. “I don’t wanna talk about that. Not with your slutty little hole winkin’ at me like that.”
“Fair enough,” you dismiss, tapping your heel against Joel’s back to spark his attention. “Stop making me fucking wait for what I came for.”
“Already came twice,” Joel says under his breath, but he uses the hand not gripping the back of your knee to work his cock out of its confines, springing out angry and red and as intimidating as ever. He leaves it bobbing free as he takes up his hands behind both of your knees to spread you wider. “Guide it where you want it, pretty girl. He’s all yours.”
You bite your lip at those words. He’s all yours. Your hand wraps around his girth before you let your mind race too far. You stroke him softly and revel in the way his chin droops down to his chest and a groan rumbles in his throat at the first real stimulation of his cock. 
“Let me feel that red velvet pussy, baby.”
You finally notch the fat head of him at your entrance and wiggle your hips down the couch, gasping as it parts your opening with a dull sting. When you capture Joel’s gaze, you beg softly, “Fuck it, daddy. She’s all yours.”
His face caves into an expression so aroused it almost looks painful. And then he’s groaning to fill the hush of the room and spearing into your cunt with every inch of him at once. 
You’ll never get used to the sounds that he pushes out of you when he fucks you full, when he enters you for the first time and smacks you in the face with how gigantic he is in comparison to the tight ring of your pussy. Like a wounded animal, like prey falling to a predator, like you’re irreversibly changed once he’s claimed you for his own. 
His rhythm sets off harsh and frantic and consuming, keeping your legs spread to feast his eyes upon your ravaged flesh. 
“Fuck, so goddamn perfect. Feel so perfect around my cock. Milkin’ daddy just right with this tight little hole, aren’t you, baby?”
“Yeah,” you whimper, tweaking your hardened nipples between your fingers and massaging at your tits as his hips smack against yours, the drenched state of your pussy enhancing the sound. 
Joel secures your legs over his shoulders and leans in over you, bracketing your head with his hands and snapping his hips into you as you cry out with the change in angle, pulling him deeper inside you. 
“Yeah, daddy’s so fuckin’ deep, huh? You love this fuckin’ cock? You love daddy fuckin’ this dirty snatch so fuckin’ deep?”
“Yes,” you keen, flinging your hands back to dig your nails into the arm of his couch and using it as leverage to fuck yourself down onto his length as he shoves it in, falling into a blissful harmony. 
“Fuck daddy’s cock, slutty girl. God, I fuckin’ love that. Suckin’ it right up your cunt like a pro. Pussy’s so tight I got it molded to my cock now, don’t I? Ain’t gonna fit right with no other cock, is it?”
“No, daddy,” you whine, plunging yourself down onto him again and again just to feel the tip of it dragging along your cervix in that way you have come to fucking crave. Joel’s cock fucks you open and curves up into that perfect spot inside of you in the most flawless rhythm, and it has you spiraling into another orgasm with no discernible warning. You pussy clenches and spills around his cock, soaking the both of you with what Joel had already primed you for with his fingers. 
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Joel moans as he lets his cock slip out of you to watch you gush onto his thoroughly soiled couch. He fucks back into you in a single push and withdraws again, just to see more of it rush out. Joel fists his cock and slaps it down onto your spread folds in a series of heavy smacks, then rubs the head of it against your clit as the rivulets cascading from you subside. “Gushin’ like a fuckin’ jacuzzi. Where you been hidin’ this little party trick?”
“I don’t fucking know,” you pant out, trying to get a grip on your shaking thighs as Joel’s cock slides through your folds. “Fuck. I didn’t know…”
“Well if anyone was gonna teach you, it would be your big dick daddy, now wouldn’t it?” Joel brags, smacking the full length of him against your lips and lower belly. 
You twitch with residual aftershocks as the weight of him jostles you, and Joel chuckles. 
“You’re shaking like a leaf darlin’,” he says, tapping one of your quivering thighs. “Flip over for me. Daddy’s gonna dick you down real good.”
“Gonna?” you squeak out, staring at him incredulously, “What have you been doing so far?”
Joel presses his lips together to stifle a laugh and smacks at your thigh again. “Ego’s already big enough, darlin’. Don’t go pumpin’ it up for me now.”
“Can say that again,” you mutter with a small smile, but flip over until you’re flat on your stomach and resting your head in your arms. “Big dick, bigger ego.”
Joel grunts behind you as he settles on top of you, slipping his arm under and around your shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. He grinds his cock into the cleft of your ass before pulling back and aligning it at your entrance again with his hand. He hums in your ear and says with laughter in his voice, “Imagine if it was my ego I was shovin’ into this tiny cunt. You’d be fucked.”
Your reply is replaced with a gasping moan as he presses back into you at a different angle, this one rubbing intensely along the front wall of your pussy. The groan you release is embarrassing, abhorrent to your own ears, but Joel’s answering moan has all concern fluttering from your conscience. 
“How’re you still so fuckin’ tight after I’ve fucked you open so many times, huh, Sugarplum?” he asks, voice clearly forced out through his teeth, like he’s fighting for his life not to spill his load inside of you in the next few seconds. But he bottoms out and fucks you slow, staying balls deep and making a home for himself there in the deepest part of you. “Jesus, need to dust off the ol’ cock ring. Wanna fuck you for hours, baby. Fuck you raw and stupid on this dick. Fuck you ‘til you fall asleep on it, you’re so goddamn tired. Fuck you ‘til you forget what it feels like to not be stuffed full of me.”
“Daddy,” you whimper into your arms, already overwhelmed by the sheer heft of this man making room for himself inside your body, not even giving your pussy an ounce of space to relax that isn’t around him, isn’t on his terms. “Feels so fucking good inside. So fucking big.”
“I know it, sweetheart. So good at takin’ this cock. That first time I thought you was gonna pass out on it. And look at you now – shakin’ and beggin’ for it like a bitch. You daddy’s bitch, nasty girl?”
“Yes,” you whine as Joel starts to slam his hips harder, faster into you, “Yes, I’m your bitch, daddy!” And you’re suddenly screaming it for him as his fingers dig into the back of your shoulder, holding you steady as he uses you. 
“Fuck yeah,” he growls out, hoisting himself off you and hauling your hips into the air along with him. He fucks down deep into you as you moan into the couch, allowing him to take what he’s rightfully earned from you, simply by appreciating you, knowing how to make you scream, knowing how to make you come. 
And you’re fairly dizzy with the experience, but you aren’t far gone enough to not feel the slippery thumb massaging circles against the tight ring of muscle he’s only ever explored before with his tongue. 
A mewl escapes your lips as the tip of the digit teases your resolve. 
“You gonna be my little slut, baby? Let daddy put his thumb in your ass. It’s real good for ya. It’ll be real good,” he speaks in breathy pants as his cock maintains its devastating tempo. 
You let out a pitiful whimper, and you’re only partially surprised that the only answer in your head is yes, yes, yes. 
It’s apparently also on your lips, because without even registering that you’ve said it aloud, Joel is rumbling out a deep and resonant, “That’s my darlin’ girl.” You swear you feel your eyes roll back in your head as the possessive praise inextricably clings itself to the sensation of his thick, meaty thumb gliding into your asshole up to the knuckle. 
It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this good having his cock filling you to the brim and then even more of him filling your ass. You’ve never liked anal, you’ve never even been interested in it, but this fucking tornado of a man has everything spinning in your head, disorienting your thoughts, screaming at you that what you thought was wrong is so, so right. 
“Lemme get a picture of this, sweetheart – of you all plugged up with me.”
“Okay,” you gasp, constricting your grip around his thumb as if needing to hammer into your head that there’s a finger in your ass. A thick finger. He can probably feel his own cock through the separating skin. 
Joel groans as you flex around his finger. “Spread yourself for the camera, baby.”
Your hands move to your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to feel shame for this. Not for shit like this, with him. Not anymore. He makes you feel dirty and sexy and beautiful and worth his time. Why the hell wouldn’t you want to document this?
“Fuckin’ hell. Just like that.” You hear a series of shutters, and then his thumb slides out of you and he uses it to pull at the small established gape he’s made of your asshole. A few more shutters and Joel is muttering perfect, fuckin’ perfect, as he tosses his phone aside.
The words flow through you like hot honey tea, even if you weren’t meant to hear them. How does a man like him make you feel so treasured when you’re with him? You don’t belong to him, but he treats you like you do, in the most respectful of ways. He drags you down with him into the depths of his depravity, and yet once you’re there, you’re pleasured like… like a goddess. Like his goddess. 
Joel’s hips ramp up again, timing his thrusts with that of his thumb as he fucks you in both holes at once. “God, so fuckin’ beautiful like this. Wanna stretch this hole open until you can take this whole cock up your ass, baby. Spill my load in there, watch it drip down your cunt.”
And you had said unequivocally no. You had said, not tabling. Off the table. But, god, deep down you know he’d make it feel so good. Somehow, he’d make it worth it. And it’s fucking killing you. You can’t admit that to him, you can’t let him know that you’re convinced he could make anything feel good. That’s too close to something. And this isn’t something. This is I make you feel good, you make me feel good, and we go our separate ways. 
So you just moan for him in response. A verbal confirmation is too much. Giving him too much power over you. And Joel seems too lost in the clutch of your body to parse the difference. 
“Velvet fuckin’ pussy, darlin’,” he chants to the rhythm of his hips colliding with yours, and you’ve come to recognize the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. His sounds start to fluctuate in pitch, his hips more stuttered in their movement, his fingernails indent your skin as he frantically clings to the final moments of euphoric crescendo before the cymbal crash. 
And crash it does, announced with an unabashed groan of sheer pleasure as he spills himself inside of you again, so many times now you’ve lost count, lost sense of the level of responsibility in your actions. Too feral, too dependent on the soothing, post-fuck tranquility of his come dripping from the deepest part of you. A balm to your stretched, aching wound that he caused, because you asked him to — keep asking him to — again and again. A reminder of where he’s been, what he’s done to you, what he’s done with you in all these private moments. 
He slips himself free, and you feel the trickle of him, evidence of how much he’s pumped into you. Leaving you open and gaping, yet so fucking full of him, even after he’s gone. Pulled out and dripped free of your heat and hold. 
Lazy kisses paint up your back where your dress has ridden up your spine, and then back down to bite more reminders of him into the flesh of your ass, until he guides your hips flush to the couch and blankets you with his weight. 
Minutes of quiet breath-catching tick by, feeling the scratch of his hair where your bare skin meets along your bodies, until Joel breaks the silence to say, “Stupid bastard was out of his fuckin’ mind.”
And you’re not positive why, but you feel tears stinging your eyes again. You steel yourself, refuse to let them fall, force them to dry out before they betray you. 
You clear your throat of any traitorous frogs before you speak again. “Sorry about your couch.”
“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he reassures, grunting quietly as he shifts himself off you and slips behind instead, pulling you into him, “Plus, Doreen’s got one of them special little steam cleaners she lets me borrow from time to time. Get it cleaned up real nice.”
“Doreen?”
“Little old lady ‘cross the way,” he says into your hair. 
You do your best to turn slightly and look at him. “You’re friends with the little old lady across the way?”
“You doubt my charm?”
Your eyes search his face — the wide, dopey smile, the drooping eyelids, the dwindling glassy rose in his eyes from the weed — and you smile back. 
“Maybe. Feel like you would be a kind old lady’s worst nightmare.”
“Nah, I’m a good boy. Just ask my mama,” he quips. 
“Sure,” you joke, positioning yourself back into a proper little spoon. 
You feel a kiss on the back of your head. “Gonna step out for some fresh air and a smoke. Keep me company?”
You grumble as Joel props himself upright on the couch and pulls his sweats back up. “‘S’cold outside,” you groan, watching him as he stands and slips on a shirt from where it was strewn onto the back of a chair. 
Joel studies you where you lie, your dress a flimsy accordion with the top and bottom convening at your torso, leaving Joel’s favorite bits on display. And as much as you assume it probably pains him to have your body hidden from his view, he says, “You can wear my coat.”
Your eyes light up. “Yeah?”
Joel masks a grin and grabs the coat off the peg by the door, throwing it to you. You know this coat. You’ve worn it before. And although you don’t want to give yourself away by inhaling its scent too gratuitously, you don’t capture any hints of your perfume on the fabric in your covert sniffs. It’s been too long. 
You push yourself onto only moderately shaky legs and work yourself back into your dress properly before slipping your arms through the coat and zipping it around you. You feel a bit like a giant marshmallow in the padded utility jacket, but when you look back up at Joel, there’s a shimmer of something in his eyes, on his face. And something like a twitch in his mouth, like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. 
You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Joel hold his tongue over anything, so it’s likely just a trick of the light, the lingering effects of your high. 
Joel’s eyes only tear from you to swipe up his smokes and lighter from the coffee table and step into a pair of slides before he’s leading you out the door. 
The cold is bitter, but Joel’s coat is warm enough. Your legs prick with the chill breeze as Joel sticks two cigarettes into his mouth and lights them both, handing one off to you. You rest on the railing with him side by side, taking reasonably synchronous puffs as you stare up at the moon, the stars. 
A couple screams at each other a few lots down, their voices only muted by the distance and the persistent, humming buzz of Joel’s porch light. 
“Right on cue,” Joel mumbles around his cig as he scratches his beard. “Kev can’t keep it in his fuckin’ pants for the life of ‘im.”
“Mmm. Sounds like someone I know.”
Joel’s sidelong glance is sprinkled with a sort of childlike mischievousness as the corners of his mouth lilt. “Maybe so. But I wouldn’t step out on my girl, though.”
His lingering gaze has the back of your neck growing hot. You hum in agreement as you take another drag, tapping the ash with fingers half-obscured by the length of Joel’s sleeves and watching as it falls to the gravel below. 
Joel flicks the ash of his own smoke against the railing to plop down next to yours, and exhales a cloud as he stares off in the direction of the feuding couple’s trailer. “When I got a girl, that’s all I need. And it’s been a rare blue moon that my girl ever went and got it somewhere else.”
He takes in a steady, clean breath and shrugs with his head before continuing. “And whenever they did, they came crawlin’ right back. Always come to find that their daddy lays the best pipe. Ain’t never seen one of my girls spread ‘em open for no one else after they stepped out the first time. Not ‘til after it was over.” 
Your focus catches on his lips as they wrap around his cigarette again, the barest concave of his cheeks as he sucks, the pout of him as he expels into the night air. And you ache to say something. You feel heavy with it. 
The opening chords of a melodic ballad fall upon your ears, and you both swivel your heads in the opposite direction of the screaming pair. Instead, you’re graced with a couple coming together in an embrace, slowly rocking to the music floating from their porch. 
A soft laugh escapes you as you watch them wistfully. “Now that is how a Valentine’s Day is supposed to end.”
Joel glances at you. He takes one last drag from his smoke and tamps it out on the wood before dropping it into a chipped mug on the railing, housing a dozen cigarette butts. He holds a hand out to you and tilts his head toward the pavement. 
You stare at his outstretched hand, and your mind trips over itself to unravel the intent behind it. “What are—”
“Dance with me.”
Your eyes snap up to his, and you’re met with an easy smile on a disheveled, glassy-eyed, gorgeous man. Braving the cold in sweats, a wrinkly and hole-riddled Henley, and slides on tube-socked feet. Asking you to dance while clad in his coat and your stilettos. 
You chew on your lip as you watch his fingers wiggle impatiently as your cigarette butt kisses Joel’s in the mug when you discard it. And then as your hand slides into his. 
“Atta girl,” he praises you softly, tugging you down the steps with him and onto the pavement. 
Joel isn’t fancy with it. He just pulls you close into him, wrapping his arms around your waist as you drape your head on his shoulder.  He sways the two of you from side to side following the beat of the music. Your heels scrape the asphalt, your nails scratch the back of his neck, and his hands dip below the hem of his coat to tease at the round of your ass over your dress. 
“Sure I ain’t said it enough, but you’re a goddamn knockout tonight,” he rumbles quietly into your ear, his fingers groping at the bottom curve of your cheeks to emphasize his point. 
And after your date flaked on you, after you got dolled up for him, got your hopes up for a nice night, and had your plans disintegrate between your fingers, just for Joel to swoop in and illuminate your sky with stars, those words spear right through your heart. 
And you know you should say something traditionally sweet back. Something like thank you or you too. But as those softer words rattle around your brain, you feel wetness trickling down your inner thigh, and you opt to whisper something more personalized. Something you know Joel would find sweetest of all to fall from your lips. “I can feel you dripping out of me.”
A groan vibrates up his chest and one hand slips between your bodies until you feel the cool press of his fingers at your cunt. 
“Fuck me, darlin’,” he breathes, bringing up two thick fingers for you to see, glistening opalescent in the moonlight. 
He doesn’t ask, you just drop your jaw and stick your tongue out for him, sucking your shared juices off his skin as your eyes lock. He pulls them free and replaces them with his mouth, tasting the two of you off your tongue. Joel’s hand nestles under your dress once more to cup your pussy. Not to slide inside, not to get you off. Just to hold you as close as he knows how. To catch where the two of you fall. 
He nuzzles your nose with his and tucks your face into his neck with his other hand as he sways with you. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sugarplum.” 
You sigh into his neck and lay your hand over his beneath your dress. 
“Happy Valentine’s Day, daddy.”
Next
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Read Chloe's Account of Joel's UFO sighting here!
Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow @atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!
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propertyofwicked · 2 months
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TIRED - LN
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warnings: nothing, just fluff (not proof read in the slightest), completely self indulgent <3
today had been a long day. a combination of early training with lando, assignments and work - you were spent. so now, you stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes focused on a boiling pot of pasta, begging your eyes to stay open.
“y/n? where are you? i’m home” your boyfriends sing-song tone travelled through the apartment, announcing his return.
“kitchen” you managed to call out, before refocusing your eyes to the pot. you barely even heard lando enter the kitchen, his arms snaking around you waist from behind was the first sign of his presence. his head came to rest on your shoulder, his face turning into your neck.
“are you tired? you look tired” he says quietly.
“thanks lan, just what a girl wants to hear”
“you know what i mean,” he laughs softly, his hands moving to turn your waist to face him, “you’re either tired or oddly interested in that pot of pasta”
you move your head to look up at him, eyes blinking slowly and muttering out a defeated ‘tired’.
“go put your pyjamas on, ill watch the pasta - is the sauce in the fridge still?” he says, but as you open your mouth to argue he cuts you off with a quick peck to your lips, one hand moving up to cup your jaw, “pyjamas, now. ill be there in a minute.”
just as your about to return to the kitchen, now in your pyjamas, the bedroom door opens, lando’s leg kicking it open as he held two bowls in his hands.
“you didn’t need to do that - i could’ve done it”
“i know you could. i wanted to. figured you’d want to eat in bed?” he says, looking at you as his arm extends one of the bowls out for you to take. lando climbs into the bed first, resting upright against the headboard and opening his legs for you to sit in between. you sat in complete silence, your back resting against his chest, as you both ate dinner. and once you’d both finished, he took your bowl, stacking it on his and leaving it on the bedside table.
lando’s arms came back around your waist, holding you tight as your head fell against his bicep. your eyes closed as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“what’s made you so exhausted, angel?” he asked in a soft tone, careful to keep you in your relaxed state.
“nothing specific. just overwhelmed. so much work to do and so little time to do it all,” you replied sadly. his heart hurt for you.
“is there anything i can do to help? take some of the load off?”
“honestly? the front room needs a vacuum,” you half joke, “im kidding, just stay here with me tonight. please."
“didn’t plan on leaving. ever.” he’s blunt, but it offers some comfort. your head moves to look up at him, only to see his face already gazing down at you. he moves closer, pressing a kiss to your lips and a relaxed sigh escapes yours. he takes this opportunity to kiss you again, slowly moving his tongue to the inside of your mouth, and his hand moves from your stomach to grip your jaw. you move closer to him, deepening the kiss, your own hand moving to the back of his head to run your fingers through his curls. when he pulls back slightly to rest his forehead on yours, an involuntary moan escapes your mouth.
“well im awake now,” you say, a smile evident in your tone.
“that’s a shame. we should do something about that,” he smirks back at you, and leans down to kiss you again.
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hazelsmirrorball · 4 months
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It's Not My Fault You're like In love with me or something | Charles Leclerc
SUMMARY: Y/n L/n new movie is opening new opportunities for her which means she has to do interviews were people can see her "lack of media training" and they start to doubt her relationship with Charles FACE CLAIM: Reneé Rapp pairings: Actress! Reader x Charles Leclerc a/n: I actually enjoyed the new mean girls movie and I am deeply in lov3 with reneé so here you guys go!
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via twitter
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y/nupdates via instagram
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liked by username101, username23, yourusername and 1,390 others.
y/nupdates y/n leaving the after party after taking a tumble
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username19 now I know why Charles been mia she's literally making a fool out of herself
username123 mother
username12 ngl she ate with that fit
yourusername still can't believe that a fan account is the one that is exposing me
landonorris thanking the gods that the internet and Digital footprints is real
y/n via instagram
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liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,903,290 others
yourusername cast party baby! No one got hurt in the making of these pics
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username120 okay? but Charles wasn't there?
username19 The paps pictures literally put you on blast
pierregasly I think the moment you took that picture with the champagne was the perfect moment to stop drinking
→ yourusername just looking for the person who asked
username15 the girls are fighting. Please @charles_leclerc come get your girl
→ yourusername Come get your girl @pierregasly
francisca.cgomes you look so so beautiful
username192 Charles not commenting freaks me out
via YouTube
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yourusername via instagram
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liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo, arthur_leclerc and 2,302,290 others.
yourusername mean girls out in theaters now!
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username21 what? girl after that interview I would've turned the comments off
username12 don't you have media training or something
username19 her pr manager has to work harder than the mclaren one
username160 Mother
username12 it's so hard that the f1 fandom doesn't understand her humor
landonorris since my job isn't that hard Im taking a part time. What do we think about acting
→ yourusername I can send you an email. there an open cast call for dicks
via YouTube
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yourusername via insta stories charles_leclerc via insta stories
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yourusername via instagram
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liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo, charles_leclerc and 2,292,220 others.
yourusername her lack of media training is outrageous
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username190 girlie I'm so glad you are self aware about how iconic you are
username12 the girls who get it get it
username14 pls the caption
username280 her lack of media training is what makes y/n y/n
username189 her lack of media training is why we love her
username18 I'm tired of people saying that when it's literally you being yourself. Has no one ever seen her broadway videos?
username19 People saying that Charles can't stand her? hello read the room
username159 exactly! they forget that Charles knows she's like this and that why he loves her so much.
→ username1821 your parasocial relationship is insane
charles_leclerc via insta
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liked by landonorris, yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 1,893,356 others.
charles_leclerc on wednesday I wear pink with the girl clumsy girl I feel in love with
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yourusername love you charlie
landonorris the movie wasn't half bad
arthur_leclerc stream sexy
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Y/n turned to face Charles with a small smile adorning her lips. He mimicked her actions as he placed his phone in  between the two of them. His hand slowly reached towards her face pushing the hair away to get a better look of her eyes. 
“You don’t mind then?” Y/n asked softly her eyes never leaving his to notice if there was any sort of discomfort. He shook his head no, not breaking eye contact. 
“What leaves me surprised is the fact that you think it would bother me. I know you already, I’m aware that sometimes people don’t get your humor but I’ve been long enough with you to understand it” He said slowly pecking your lips to calm you down. You let out a chuckle as you played with his hair. 
“Actually, I was worried that you would have to worry about me beating your ass in F1” Y/n said, throwing her head back laughing. Charles playfully rolled his eyes pushing her shoulder softly, accidentally  knocking her off the bed. 
“Shit sorry!” he quickly got off the bed helping her off “but, you don’t even have your license, so I think you should stick to broadway”
1K notes · View notes
colonelarr0w · 3 months
Note
Hiiii i really like reading some angst stuffs so heres my idea loll!
What about reader never felt like they were ever loved romantically and has been quite the loner for a while. So, to have Gojo confess to the reader has reader confused, but quite happy, but will soon find out that its a dare and Gojo only has the end of the year to make reader date him! (Just say the current month is near december loll)
But as time goes by, Gojo starts to actually have feelings for reader and suddenly reader overheard their convo of Gojo with his friends about the dare...
(PLS IM SORRY IF THIS IS TOO SPECIFIC THISIS ONE OF MY FIRST TIMES REQUESTING SMTHHH. BTW YOU CAN CHANGE THE GOJO TO ANYONE ELSE :3AND ALSO YOU CAN CHOOSE WETHER TO HAVE COMFORT OR NAH. AND THANKS FOR GIVING YOUR TIME TO READ THIS HAVE A NICE DAYY)
-🍰
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Sypnosis - Gojo was already known to be a heartbreaker, but you didn't stop to think for a second that maybe -- just maybe -- he was trying to break your heart too.
Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, Gojo is a MAJOR dick in this one, angst
Word Count - 3.1k
A/N - Hi Anon! (STOP IM CRYING I LOVE EMOJI ANONS SO MUCH) So you made the mistake of giving me an angst prompt while also saying that I could maybe add comfort. I will be doing no such thing. Kisses!
! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !
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Satoru Gojo was, by every single standard, a lady’s man.  
And you, by every single standard, were the complete opposite of every man’s “ideal type”. 
How you managed to find yourself in a situation where you told others, “I’m dating Satoru Gojo,” felt like a fever dream constructed by the hardest drug.  
The way in which he asked you out was — well — Satoru Gojo. A grand white banner with your name scrawled into it, underneath it the words: Go out with me?  
Of course you accepted, though you were thoroughly confused. You had always been an observer from the shadows, not emerging unless it was absolutely necessary.  
To have the Satoru Gojo ask you out in front of a gaggle of people was off putting — and certainly not anything that you had expected.  
But none of that stopped you from saying yes, which made the snowy-haired male’s smile widen three times in size — if that was even possible.  
“C’mon Satoru, it’s an easy 2,500 Yen,” Geto says, a sly smirk curling the corner of his mouth upward as he leans over the back of the couch. 
Gojo sighs, jutting out his bottom lip as one of his hands busies itself with running through his hair. It wasn’t a terrible bet — even though the payoff didn’t exactly feel worth it.  
“2,500 Yen to ask her out?” Gojo confirms, turning his head and glancing over the rims of his glasses. Geto smirks again, turning his phone and flashing a picture of you at Gojo, just to make sure that he would be asking out the right person. 
“2,500 Yen,” Geto nods. Gojo sighs, his body slumping forward dramatically. Geto grins again, watching his best friend crack down — no way was he turning down a bet that he could easily secure. 
“Fine, you have a deal,” Gojo holds his hand out, failing to hold back the smirk that curls his mouth upward as Geto slaps his hand against Gojo’s. 
The two shake on it, and the bet is made. 
But, of course, you were oblivious to all of that. You believed that, for the very first time, someone looked at you in a way that wasn’t strictly platonic. Someone loved you — really, truly loved you. 
And what an extravagant partner Gojo was, buying you small trinkets that he believed you would like, taking you to restaurants that you had looked at on the street for a moment too long — he had even forced himself to learn how to ice skate because you mentioned offhandedly that it would be nice to skate with someone.  
For the first time in a very long time, you felt connected to someone. Conversations flowed so easily between you both, never forced or uncomfortable. It was as if you had known each other your entire lives.  
Gojo knew that it was fake — you thought it was truly real.  
< … > 
“(Y/N)! There you are!” Gojo calls out with a flashy wave of his arm. Once you’re in reach of him, he latches onto you, nose nuzzling into your hair. 
You let out a startled squeak at the force of his body against yours, but immediately loosen up and return his embrace, snuggling as deeply as you can into his arms.  
“Satoru!” you laugh out breathlessly, squeezing his shoulders as he lifts you from the ground, easily spinning the both of you in a circle. “You act like you haven’t seen me in years.” 
Gojo rolls his eyes dramatically, setting you down but keeping his arms locked around your waist. He gaze meets yours through the darkened lenses of his glasses, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  
“Oh god, I know that look,” you mutter teasingly, which earns you an affectionate pinch to your side — one that you swat him away for.  
“You wound me,” Gojo sasses back, releasing you only to place a hand flat against his chest as if he had been stabbed. You roll your eyes, laughing breathily at his antics.  
“What do you want to do tonight? It’s date night,” you remind him, watching as his face breaks into a bright smile. He reaches for you again, lifting your hand and twirling you around before he tugs you to his chest. 
“I was thinking-“ he begins in a sing-song tone. You raise an eyebrow at him, which he quickly leans in to peck. “-we go to the movies, get some cheap froyo, and crash in your dorm.” 
You smile at him, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners as you throw your arms around his neck, squeezing him. 
“Yes please!” 
< … > 
“The movies? Froyo? God, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re falling for her,” Geto mocks the motion of throwing up, earning a laugh from the snowy-haired boy that stands next to him.  
Gojo rolls his eyes, catching the basketball that Geto throws at his chest. He bounces it once against the ground before taking a shot, smirking as it swishes inaudibly into the basket.  
“I want her to at least believe it,” Gojo responds with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. Geto rolls his eyes, biting back the chuckle that rises in his throat. “What? I’m not lying.” 
“No, I know you’re not lying,” Geto bends to pick up the abandoned basketball, bouncing it against the ground and taking a shot of his own — which misses. 
“So then why the sudden comment?” 
“Because of the look in your eyes whenever someone mentions her or whenever you see her,” Geto says plainly, turning to cross his arms at Gojo.  
He purses his lips together, eyebrows pinching in confusion as he silently urges Geto to continue. How he looks at you? 
Geto sighs through his nose, then lifting his fingers to pinch at its bridge. The basketball is long abandoned now, rolling into the center of the gym and remaining there.  
“Every time she calls out to you with that — stupid nickname, you brighten up like a dog who’s seeing his owner,” Geto points out. Gojo can feel the tips of his ears burn red at that — because even he knew that it was true. 
“Toru! There you are!” you call out affectionately, crossing the training fields and practically jumping into Gojo’s awaiting arms. 
He smiles warmly as your face nestles into the junction between his neck and shoulder, breathing in the familiarity of your scent and holding you close to him. 
“That isn’t true,” he murmurs, scratching at the back of his neck. Geto stands still for a moment, staring at Gojo with a look that could easily slaughter an entire town.  
“No? How about when she made you lunch that one time?” Geto raises his eyebrow — his eyes visually calling bullshit as Gojo’s cheeks burn the same shade of red as his ears.  
“Ta-da!” you smile widely as you present Gojo with the intricately put-together bento box. He takes it from your hands, allowing his fingers to brush against your own for a moment too long — an action that brought a light blush to your cheeks.  
He smiles down at the bento you had prepared for him, feeling his heart swell at the idea that someone cared enough about him to sit down and put so much thought into preparing him a lunch. Gojo is quick to then lean in, pecking your cheek and smiling widely at the dark red hue that coats your face. 
“That’s…different,” Gojo tries to argue, but Geto is quick to call out his bluff, laughing loudly in his friend’s face and striding towards the center of the gym to retrieve the abandoned basketball. He bends, scooping it into his palms and bouncing it twice against the ground.  
“Oh, I’m sure that it is,” Geto rolls his eyes, twisting his body and shooting the basketball — already displaying annoyance when it misses yet again.  
Gojo sighs, the puff of air he releases blowing his bangs from his face. He watches as Geto goes to retrieve the basketball, bouncing it once before roughly checking it to Gojo.  
“Careful Satoru, I wouldn’t want you to fall for her,” Geto teases, feeling himself smirk as Gojo’s hands catch the basketball. The snowy-haired male rolls his eyes in response, bouncing the ball. 
“That won’t happen, trust me,” Gojo bites back, not failing to notice the knowing glint in Geto’s eyes.  
“Sure it won’t.” 
< … > 
Hey! I’m at the theatre, where are you? 
READ 
Satoru? 
READ 
I’m just assuming you’re running late, just text me when you’re here! 
DELIVERED 
Puffing out the air that you held in your cheeks, you stow your phone away into your pocket, eyes silently scanning the front entrance of the theatre. Maybe you missed him? No, there was no tuft of snowy-white hair anywhere in the crowd — surely he was just running late.  
You shuffle on your feet, adjusting the small bag that you had brought with you. The interior is stuffed with snacks that both you and Gojo enjoyed — including his favorite from the local convenience store. You smile to yourself, already picturing the wide smile that would cross his face when you presented him with the snacks.  
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, which you all but dive for with a speed that feels almost inhuman. You stare down at the illuminated screen, heart deflating as you realize it’s only a message from your mother, checking in and asking you how your date with Gojo was going.  
Lifting a shaky hand to your eyes, you wipe away the tears that cling to your bottom lash line. You text your mother back, lying to her about the state of the date and pushing your phone back into your pockets. You glance back down at your open purse, blinking back your tears at the sight of the snacks — what a waste. 
< … >  
“Sato—“ 
You pause just outside of the classroom doors, resting your palms against the sliding door and peering curiously inside. Your eyebrows pinch together, eyes narrowing as you listen intently to the conversation shared between Gojo and Geto, both of whom seemed to be in the middle of — maybe — arguing with one another.  
“How much longer am I keeping this up for?” Gojo all but whines, leaning back in the seat that he was occupying, his feet propped up on the desk as he releases an annoyed huff.  
Geto chuckles, rubbing a hand over his face as he sits on the desk directly in front of Gojo, folding his legs over one another and smirking down at his best friend. Gojo sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face as he leans forward, his sunglasses slightly slipping down the bridge of his nose.  
“Why? Getting bored?” Geto raises an eyebrow at Gojo, lifting his arms to cross them firmly over his chest. Gojo rolls his eyes yet again, releasing a deepened sigh that only has Geto releasing the chuckle that he had been holding in.  
“I’m getting tired,” Gojo mocks a dramatic yawn, throwing his arms into the air and leaning back in his chair. Geto raises an eyebrow at the answer, curious now. 
“Tired?” 
“Exhausted. I don’t think you understand Suguru, she’s so desperately clingy and just — I can’t keep up with it,” Gojo explains in exasperation, rubbing his hands over his face and digging his fingers into the skin of this temples, rubbing them in slow circles.  
You feel your heart crack the more that Gojo speaks — listening quietly as he lists off all of the things that he seemingly hates about you. Your eyes burn with tears, and suddenly every ounce of love that you ever felt for Gojo seep out of you in waves. 
Had he felt that way about you the whole time? 
“Hey, you were the one that said yes. You could’ve dropped the bet,” Geto shrugs his shoulders, an action that earns him an annoyed kick from Gojo.  
“It’s 2,500 Yen. I’m not saying no to that,” Gojo reminds his friend, waving a finger in his face. Geto chuckles breathily, but pauses at an unfamiliar sound — a choked cry. His head whips around in an attempt to locate the source of the sound, feeling his heart drop to the deepest depths of his stomach at the sight of a retreating figure by the classroom's doors.  
Gojo follows Geto's wandering gaze, eyebrows knitting together in confusion at the sudden change in his friend's facial expression. "Shit." Is all that Geto says before he moves to the door, peering out of it just in time to see your figure turn the farthest corner of the hallway – then vanishing.  
Geto's eyes flicker to meet Gojo's as the latter leans his chin onto Geto's shoulder, staring at the spot that you had just disappeared from.  
"What happened?" Gojo inquires curiously, not failing to notice the way that Geto's spine stands as stiff as cardboard. The dark-haired male swallows the lump in his throat – they were both royally fucked.  
"We're fucked." 
< ... >  
"There, there, c'mon (Y/N), don't let this--" 
"He lied to me!" You rub your hands roughly over your tear-filled eyes, feeling your chest tighten as you look away from Utahime's concerned gaze. Her eyebrows furrow together in worry, eyes silently taking you in as you curl into yourself.  
She would be lying if she said that she wasn't downright pissed at what Gojo had done to you. After listening to your tearful ramble about what you heard, any and all respect that she had for her snowy-haired classmate went completely out of the window. 
Not that there was much respect there in the first place.  
"So how much of what he said did he actually mean?" Your voice is a broken cry, trembling in a way that has Utahime reaching out to comfortingly lace her fingers with your own.  
"I don't know," she whispers in response, not knowing how to help you. You turn your head away from her, sniffing and wiping your nose with the cloth of your sleeve. "I'm sorry (Y/N)." 
You shake your head, breath trembling as you grip at your knees. You screw your eyes shut, still seeing his affectionate smile behind your eyelids – you wish that you could forget it completely. You can still feel him too; you can feel his arms wrapped around you and his lips as they press affectionately to your cheek.  
You begin to wonder how much effort he actually put into your dates, you begin to wonder if his affectionate touches were genuine, you begin to wonder if it was him writing his text messages out or if it was someone else entirely. Did he ever care about you? 
"Hey." 
You glance up at Utahime, sniffling quietly as she reaches a hand out, laying her palm against your cheek and thumbing away the stray tears that roll down your cheeks. Her heart breaks at the sight of you – but her heart also yells angrily at the idea that Gojo would toy with you for a measly 2,500 Yen.  
She knew that he was an asshole – everyone did. But she didn't think he was that big of an asshole.  
"How about me and you go out? I'll even text Mei Mei and Shoko," Utahime offers, smiling again at you. You sniffle, cheeks reddened by your tears. Your eyes are puffy, lashes still wet with tears that take their sweet time in dripping down your face.  
"Can we stay in instead?"  
Utahime nods, smiling again at you. Her arms extend, wrapping around you and tugging you into her chest, squeezing affectionately at you. You sink into her embrace, face pressed comfortably into her shoulder.  
"Yeah, of course we can." 
< ... >  
"You're such a dick!" Utahime yells in a fit of rage, shoving her hands against Gojo's chest and glaring daggers at him as he stumbles backwards. He stares at her incredulously, eyebrows raised to a point that his forehead is wrinkled five times over.  
He hadn't expected this behavior from the usually calm and collected girl – but the way that she had stormed at him screaming her head off told him that he had royally screwed up.  
Over his shoulder, Geto watches knowingly. He knows that he'll likely be yelled at too, so in mental preparation, he remains completely silent, not wanting Utahime to turn her rage on him prematurely.  
"What is this about?" Gojo asks genuinely, his eyes narrowed in confusion as Utahime angrily takes a step back from him, restraining herself from actively strangling him.  
"What is this – so you just have no idea what you did to (Y/N)? God, you're dense!" Utahime all but screams, throwing her hands up in a fit of rage. 
Gojo narrows his eyes, then they widen – shit. How the fuck did you find out? 
"What do you mean?" He pauses for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What about (Y/N)?" 
"Oh, don't act so clueless! You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Utahime jabs a finger at Gojo's chest, her eyes burning with a rage that he had genuinely never seen in her before. She takes a brave step towards him – in return, he takes a step back.  
"I don't--" 
"Does 2,500 Yen sound familiar to you?" Utahime raises an eyebrow at him. He deadpans, swallowing the growing lump in his throat and feeling his heart sink.  
His silence tells her everything that she needs to know. She straightens, shooting a pointed glare to Geto as well – resulting in him looking anywhere but her direction, gaze flickering around wildly.  
She turns her attention back to Gojo, looking him up and down with an expression of nothing but pure disgust. He winces at the glint in her eyes – God, he had really screwed up.  
"You're both disgusting," Utahime spits venomously, then turning on her heel and promptly striding away from both males. Gojo turns, exchanging a worried yet remorseful glance in Geto's direction. His friend only swallows, they had both royally screwed up. 
< ... >  
Gojo suffered with the aftermath of you hearing his conversation – you avoided him like he had been infected with some kind of infectious disease. Any room he entered, you exited. Any time he called out your name with a polite wave, you turned your nose up and continued walking.  
In a way, you pretended that he simply didn't exist – that the person waving to you or trying to interact with you was nothing but a phantom, one that you ignored as if it was the only thing that you knew how to do.  
"(Y/N)! Hey, can we--" 
You stride past him, shoulder knocking against his own as you exit the classroom. He stands silently at its center, lowering his hand back to his side – he had wanted to reach out for you, but something inside of him told him to simply leave you be.  
And the day that he saw you happily hanging off of Nanami's arm was the day that he realized – loving someone from afar was the worst pain of all.  
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moonstruckme · 2 months
Note
hey mae! it’s been awhile since i’ve sent an ask but im always reading your work girl! i love how you write tbh. if you’re up to it do you think you could write something with poly marauders, where the reader has trouble eating and making themself eat due to poor appetite. my appetite really does come and go and ever since covid (maybe before) it’s like eating makes me feel revolted. sometimes i just don’t feel like eating bc of other things like depression, adhd, anxiety. i was just wondering if you could write something with the boys helping out the reader with finding out what sounds good, cooking, and eating if possible. sometimes having someone around to talk to and hang out with makes it so much easier to deal -🌶️
Hey Pepper, thank you sm! And thanks for being patient with me <3
cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals
poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words
The sun’s going down, the last dregs of its light spilling brilliant and golden over the book in your lap, and you can feel your boyfriends starting to get restless. Well, two of them. 
“If we’re missing half the ingredients,” Sirius says, trailing James into the kitchen, “it’s not going to be any good.” 
James only tsks. “Ye of little faith. That’s what improvisation is for.” He starts pulling things down from the cabinet. 
“You’re not even going to glance at the recipe?” 
“I don’t need to. I know the general vibe.” 
“Help!” Sirius calls towards the living room. “He’s gone off the rails. Remus, come fix it.” 
Remus turns around to look over the back of the sofa, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. He’s sitting right up against you despite the couch being empty, not that you mind. Remus is sort of like a cat that wants to be near you but not always to be pet. His touches are often like this, passive gestures like a hand on your head or his thigh pressed against yours. It works for you just fine; you can feel the affection bleeding into you from any point of contact. 
“Don’t you think we should just eat out?” Sirius asks, tilting his head and doing that thing with his eyes that you all pretend doesn’t work on you. 
Impressively, Remus keeps his face impassive. “I’m having leftover brussels sprouts,” he replies, “so it’s not really my concern. Anyway, James has a good history with not following recipes.” 
“Exactly,” James says, grinning at Sirius, who scowls. But then he fixes his gaze on Remus. “So why are you having that, Rem? Have what I’m making.” 
“Because they’re going to go bad, and I’m not hungry enough for a big meal.” The last part is said somewhat quieter, directed towards the living room as he turns back around and picks up his own book. 
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James frown, but he glances at Sirius and they seem to collectively decide not to push it. Remus’ appetite isn’t much better than yours. He has his better days, but it’s not uncommon for him not to feel up to what your other boyfriends would consider a whole meal or to eat only chocolate until Sirius hounds him into something more substantial. 
James looks to you hopefully. “You’ll have some, won’t you sweetheart?” 
You wince, hating to let him down, and from the look on James’ face he clocks the guilt in your expression before even you get a chance to say, “I don’t think I’m really up to it tonight, either.” 
James deflates, but he’s clearly trying to put on a brave face. “That’s alright. I think I’ll just save it for another night, then.” 
“I’m sorry,” you say, setting your book facedown on the armrest and turning around to face him more fully. “You could still make it and just put leftovers in the freezer. Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow.” You wince again as soon as you say it. No promises, though.
The smile James gives you is comforting if not totally satisfied. “It’s okay. I’ll just make it another time, it’s not a problem.” 
You return his smile, close-lipped. Sirius is looking at you with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s sizing you up. 
“What are you going to eat?” he asks. 
“Hm?” 
“What are you going to have instead?” You hesitate, and he tilts his head knowingly, a piece of hair slipping from behind his ear to drape over his shoulder. “You need to have something, especially since you didn’t have lunch.” 
From the kitchen, James looks at you. “You didn’t?” 
“I just…don’t feel like it.” It’s a feeble argument even to your own ears, and the look Sirius gives you says that he thinks so, too. 
“You can’t miss two meals,” he says obstinately. “Even Remus is having some brussels sprouts.”
You look to Remus to be offended at the even Remus comment, but he only shrugs. You’re on your own. 
“What sounds good?” he asks you. 
You try not to pout. “Nothing. Everything sounds gross.” 
“C’mon, baby.” Sirius leans against the countertop. “It doesn’t have to be strictly dinner food, yeah? Just anything that sounds like you’d be willing to eat it.” 
You think for a minute. Remus touches the back of his hand to your leg, knuckles soothing over the skin beside your knee. 
“I guess…ice cream sounds okay,” you say hesitantly. “But I know that’s not exactly nutritious…” 
“Would a milkshake be close enough?” James pipes up. 
You shrug. “I guess.” 
He grins. “I can do that for you, love. Just gimme a sec.” 
James is a loud cook. You go back to your book while cabinet doors slam and the blender whirs and you hear a muffled “oh, shit” as something is undoubtedly dropped on the floor, but a minute later he’s bringing you a glass of something thick and chocolate-y looking. You smile at the added garnish of mint and a straw, reaching for it. 
“Thanks, Jamie.” 
He winks. “Anytime.” 
Remus is the only one courteous enough not to obviously watch while you take a sip, and you feel your eyebrows raise as you look up at James. 
“This is really good,” you say. He practically glows at the praise. “I didn’t even know we had chocolate ice cream.” 
Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens. 
“What?” you ask. 
“We don’t,” he admits. “Will it ruin your appetite if I tell you it’s not actually ice cream?” 
You shake your head, sucking at the straw. “I’m already drinking it, so.” 
James beams. He really is looking very proud of himself. “It’s a protein shake. A pretty balanced meal, actually.” 
“Nice!” You grin at him, taking another hearty slurp mostly because you know it’ll please him. “It’s perfect, thank you.” 
“Gotta keep our sweetheart fed,” he says, bending down for a kiss. Sirius and Remus’ hums of approval nearly harmonize, and you and James share an elated look while they both do their best to pretend like it didn’t happen. 
“Can I try?” Remus asks, and you tilt the cup towards him in invitation. 
He wraps his lips around your straw, sipping hesitantly. He looks mildly impressed. 
“Could you make me one of those too?” 
From the look on James’ face, he’d be delighted to. “Course, love.” He plants a smacker on Remus’ cheek and nearly knocks Sirius over as he beelines for the kitchen. 
“This is just excellent,” Sirius gripes, but you see the satisfaction in his expression. “Now that you two have blown up his ego, I’ll have to eat something he makes too.” 
“Correct,” James says brightly. “And you should be so lucky.” 
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matchascara · 5 months
Note
HI how was your new year?? 🥰 i hope u had a great time <33
this is a little specific but can i please have cock sucking yan mean dom scara?? 🥺 🥺 im thinking of a scene where hes had a really tiring day or hes just casually chilling around and we give him the sloppiest, obliterating, heaven-scent gawk gawk 3000 of his life 🤤 andand he'll praise us and say somth like "whats the occasion?" and we're jyst "nothing just felt like gagging on ur pretty cock <33" plspls and thank u!! 🙏🏻🙏🏻
my new years was great!! thank you for the request! i tried, it's been a while since i've written anything, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless! <3 also, thank you guys for 1k followers!!
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NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!
IN WHICH: scara's a popular streamer, so much so that he can't even give you a flicker of attention. when you catch him live one day, you decide to take matters into your own hands...
(not proofread)
scara was a popular streamer, his gaming skills, commentary, and his cocky, rude personality followed by his charming looks, brought him only the highest of attention. he's an internet celebrity, no doubt about that, so of course he's going to receive invasive fangirls that want nothing more than his attention, even if it's just him respond to their supa's with a snarky remark.
and as his girlfriend, you found yourself in a one-sided battle for his attention with said girls, even though they had absolutely no chance with him.
still, you couldn't help but feel as though they were the ones winning.
and that really bothered you. not only did you guys have to keep your relationship a secret from the public, but now he doesn't even look twice at you when you go out of your way to spend all day getting ready, just for at least some validation that he's still into you.
scara was in his streaming room, the light of his pc screens and keyboard being the only light illuminating this darkened room.
"he must not be using a webcam today." you thought to yourself as you peaked through the door.
scara, being the competitive guy he is, was way too focused on winning the game to even notice when you entered the room, making sure to quietly close the door behind you.
nor did he notice when you walked up behind him, reading all the desperate girls in his chat, increasing your jealousy ten fold.
you loosely wrapped your arms around him, causing him to flinch slightly. he muted his stream.
"get out." he didn't look up from his screen.
"i miss you..."
"i'm busy, you're gonna get me in trouble. so leave. i'll hang out with you when i'm done."
that was a lie. but you couldn't even respond, he unmuted his stream right away, made up a random excuse to his confused chat, and kept playing, as if you weren't even there.
but you weren't giving up, you had to win this one-sided battle, for the sake of your pride, and your man.
slowly kneeling down, you crawled underneath his desk, your hands trailing up, and down along his thighs as you slightly opened his legs.
scara stiffened at your touch, but ignored you nonetheless.
this only increased your need for him. you were gonna make him pay attention to you, and finally turn that damn stream off for good.
your hands traveled further up his thighs until they found themselves rested upon his bulge within his pants.
scara was in a heated match, he stopped his commentary for a moment as he bit his bottom lip softly, in a weak attempt at ignoring you once more.
noticing his reaction, you slowly slid your hand up and down that area through his pants, his cock now throbbing for more of your touch.
but he couldn't pause the game, or mute the stream yet. it would be too suspicious.
he took a deep breath before he looked down and gave you a glance of annoyance. you grinned and put your pinter finger over your lips in reply, signaling for him to keep quiet.
he clicked his tongue, irritated, but clearly turned on.
your hands slid underneath his the waistline of his sweatpants, revealing his full length of his hardened cock.
you licked your lips in anticipation, whilst scara's leg shook with anxiety.
"just relax." you said in a quiet, soft whisper.
before he knew it, your tongue slid across his shaft, making its way up, where your tongue circled around his pink tip.
his breath hitched. he missed a headshot.
"fuck." his tone was more breathy than usual.
your soft tongue kept sliding up and down against his shaft, getting it as wet as possible before you kissed his tip, before finally putting his length into your mouth.
he instantly moved his mic away from him and a soft, breathy moan escaped his lips, his head fell backward and he put his hand over his mouth.
his eyes being closed for a split second was enough to get him killed in the game, ending his match. his chat spammed, filled with confusion and suspicion.
you moved your head up and down as he let his cock shamelessly filll your mouth, using your hand to help what you couldn't fit in your mouth. your pace started off slow, and sensual.
he could handle that.
he took a few more deep breaths and gathered himself, going back to his mic.
"my bad, i had to do something--oooh"
your head bobbed faster up and down as you went down on him. your mouth and hand moving in a rhythm that sent a chill of pleasure down his spine.
he couldn't ignore this, he didn't even try to. he couldn't even get any words out to make up an excuse to his chat. his finger instantly hit the mute button as his hand took a handful of your hair, forcing you to take in more of his throbbing shaft.
he leaned back in his chair, moving you up and down his cock forcefully. his moans tuned from low, and deep to sharp, and high-pitched.
"fuck yeah...like that. just like that." his voice deep, raspy and completely breathless.
you kept going, not letting up. you could feel your eyes watering slightly as his length hit deep within your throat, causing you to almost gag slightly. but you didn't let up, your hand moving from his cock to the sides of his hips, your fingers digging deep into his skin as he face fucked you relentlessly.
his mouth hung agape, as he looked down at you, his half-lidded eyes struggling to stay open.
for the first time in a while, he wanted to see you. he paid attention to you.
what was he supposed to be doing right now? he forgot.
"ah- so good...fuck--- i'm so--"
his legs which shook with anxiety now shook with pleasure, and he couldn't get them to stop. his grip on your hair only tightened, you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth.
his harmonic moans sent a strike of pleasure through you, causing the area between your thighs to start aching.
"don't spit." he ordered.
scara failed at keeping his fingers interlocked with your hair for much longer as he leaned back in his chair, releasing a loud, sudden groan of your name. his white fluid filling up your mouth.
he stayed leaned back in his chair, his chest rising up and down heavily as his breath hitched with every exhale.
you kissed his tip and looked up at him with a grin of amusement as you licked your lips.
after a short while, scara cupped your chin firmly, pulling your face up to his level as he stared deeply into your eyes with a burning desire.
"what's the occasion? don't tell me you wanted my attention this bad..." he said with an cocky scoff.
leaning your face closer to his, you spoke. "nothing..."
you sat in a straddled position on his lap, pressing your body intimately against his, your voice becoming soft and sensual.
"i just missed gagging on my boyfriends pretty cock..."
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eddiesxangel · 16 days
Text
Eddie’s Fantasy | Knight!Eddie x Princess!Reader
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Semi proof read. Based off this blurb
2.4k
CW: Roleplay, reader addresses Eddie as 'sir' but not in a dom way, more of a respect kinda thing... it goes with the roleplay, you'll get it. Pure porn with some plot, oral (m+f), p in v, unprotected sex, breeding/cream pie, f!reader.
Needy kisses were passed between the both of you. You and Eddie sat on your bed, his hands gripped your hips, guiding them back and forth over his strained cock that was trapped beneath the black fabric of his jeans.
"Tell me your fantasies, baby," cooed him as you twirled a piece of his hair and sat in his lap.
The sex is always great and amazing, but you feel like Eddie is holding back on you; there is something he wants to share with you but is too timid to admit it. You’ve only just started dating. You’re at the stage where he just asked you to be his girlfriend, and you can’t keep your hands off one another.
"I-I-" he stutters as his eyes drift to the book sitting on the opposite side of your bed.
You follow his eyes and look over to see the book you had been reading before Eddie came over. You observe the cover he is looking at; a knight carrying a princess as he saves her from her capturers.
"Oh, baby, you want me to dress up like a pretty princess?" You smile.
Eddie nods his head profusely, mouth agape.
"Are you going to be my knight in shining armour? Do you want me to reward you for saving me from the dragon?" you ask with no judgment in your tone.
You hear Eddie curse under his breath as his chest rises and falls rapidly.
"Have my tits all pushed up in a pretty pink corset for you?" You lean in to brush your plush lips against his skin. "You wanna watch how they bounce as I ride my knight in shining armour?"
"Y-yes," he stutters.
"Okay, baby, I can be your damsel in distress"
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You had it all planned out: You found your old Halloween costume, which you embellished a little with a pink corset like you promised, some petticoats for volume, and some extra jewels to really sell it. You curled and pinned your hair with smaller braids, just as he liked it.
You arranged to meet him at eight. As you were fixing your makeup, you heard a light knock on the door. You don't need to let him in, as he has his own key.
“Hey babe,” he calls out into the empty living room, seeing you were not in sight.
“Eddie! Quickly im in here!” You say with urgency.
You can hear his sock-clad feet pad down the hardwood floors as he rushes in to investigate, but he stops dead when he sees what you’re wearing.
You quickly turn, and he can see everything, the pink and blue lacy gown adorned with a lace corseted bodice that your breasts are pushed so far up his dick was hard in an instant. He loved the dainty curls that fell by your pretty face. You looked like a fairy princess, and he swore that’s when he fell in love with you.
“Oh, Sir Knight, thank goodness you are here!” You flung yourself into his arms. I never thought I would be saved!” You cupped his confused face and kissed him passionately.
“Baby, what is?—”
“Shhhhh, the dragon is so very hungry, they said I haven't much time.” You look around your room frantically.
“Ohhhhhhh!” And then Eddie gets it, and holy shit is he excited.
You give him a look to not break character.
“Oh,” he clears his throat. “I’ve travelled far and wide trying to track you down, Princess. It’s been an awful long journey.” He takes your hands in his and brings them up between your two chests to kiss the back of it.
“How could I ever repay, Thee?” You bat your lashes at him.
“It is my duty as your knight to protect you, Your Highness.”
“There must be something?” You creep closer and closer to him, letting your hands twirl a loose tendril.
“Well, there might be one thing,” he chides.
“Yes, Sir Knight?” You speak as you lean into his neck, gently brushing away his curls so you can leave a soft kiss on his neck.
“Shit, that’s good,” he whispers as your mouth travels lower to his collar bone and your hand glides down to his already erect penis.
“I would like to express my gratitude, Sir. Can I?” You start palming him through his cotton pants.
“Y-yes, Princess, I’ll do anything for you.” God, he was such a simp.
You give a satisfied smirk and sink to your knees. Your dress pillows out, and Eddie can’t help but moan, seeing your breasts falling out of the corset at this angle.
“Fuck baby, you’re too good to me; I am not worthy.” he cups your face, and you nuzzle into it. You’d do anything for him.
“Anything for my knight in shining armour.” You bite your lip, gazing up at him; your doe eyes don’t break contact until your hands finally help his cock out of its cotton confines.
You hear Eddie take a sharp breath as your glossy lips touch his reddened tip. You can taste the salty pre cum as you place it in your mouth.
Eddie wants to grip your head so badly in his hands but doesn't dare, knowing you spent all this time preparing for him. To be his pretty Princess. Just the thought alone was going to make Eddie cream his pants.
Eddie watches, not wanting to blink; he can't miss a moment of this. Your perfectly outlined glossy lips swallowing down his cock, your beautiful eyes gazing up at him lovingly.
You break eye contact when you feel Eddie's bush tickle your nose. Trying to slowly breathe, you swallow down and hear your knight moan from above. Slowly, you pull back, tasting every inch of him on your tongue before you push your head back into him at a much quicker pace.
You pump your hot wet mouth on Eddie's cock, enjoying every minute. You loved having this hold over your boyfriend, as you were the only thing he was focused on in the world.
"You suck my cock so good," he hisses, trying not to cum just yet.
With a pop, you release his cock from your mouth and replace it with your hand as you move lower to suck on his balls. No longer caring about your makeup, you smear your face into the wet skink of his undershaft, needing to worship him like he deserves.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" Eddie was so close, your hand was jerking his so smooth and fast he almost exploded, but he stopped you just in time.
"I need you, princess, please." He begged.
"How do you want me?" You stand back up, and Eddie flips you around so you're facing the bed. You walk over together, and Eddie instructs you to lie down on your back while he undresses.
He gently guides your head down on the pillow, ever the gentleman.
"Need to treat you like the Princess you are." he hums as he gently peels up your skirts layer by layer to see you're not wearing anything underneath.
Eddie could see your pussy was already soaked, his mouth watered, and as he got closer, he could smell your arousal, which drove him insane every time.
The sweet aroma filled his nostrils; he had to taste you. Slowly, his soft lips trailed the inside of your thigh, leaving small bites to claim you as his. He crept closer and closer until the small hairs from your mound tickled his nose.
You hear Eddie take a deep breath and inhale sharply as you watch his eyes flutter shut, finally satiated.
Your eyes are closed, soaking up the moment; you feel a hand trail up and squeeze your breast as the other circles your entrance. You move your hand to cup the one that’s cupping your breast and guide it so the fabric releases your nipple.
Eddie loved your taste so much he could bathe in it. His sloppy kisses make your mind go blank as his saliva and the mix of your slick coat your inner thighs, the bed sheets and his face. You open your eyes and can see his face is glistening. You're absolutely dripping for him.
"B-baby! Baby! Baby! Baby!" You chant as your breath quickens. He loves seeing your chest rise and fall as he looks up at you through his lashes. Your sweet moans are his newfound favourite genre of music.
His tongue flicking over your clit over and over and over. Nipping and sucking and swirling as your wriggle beneath him. His strong large hands have your hips pinned down as you try and grind your pussy on his face. His fingers are diving into your plush hips, and the rough stubble from his chin and upper lip only makes the feeling much better.
Your orgasm hits you and your cum it's like liquid gold on his tongue. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to lap up your cum leaking out of your hole catching every. last. drop.
"Such a good job for me," he hums into you, sending waves of aftershocks through you. You gasp into his eyes, swearing you’ve never felt so loved, even if you have yet to speak those three words to one another.
“I need you, please, Sir.”
Eddie has totally forgotten about the roleplay until now. He was so consumed, pussy drunk, that your words only had him aching for you all over again.
“Time to show me your gratitude, Princess.”
You sit up and make room for Eddie to lie down on the bed because your usual position was for you to ride him. He loved to watch your tits bounce, to latch on your nipples while you bounce on his cock like his little bunny.
You go to take off your skirts because Eddie loves to watch as he disappears inside of you, but this time, Eddie stops you from undressing.
“No, please leave it on.” He asked while stroking his cock. You watch as his big hands grip the shaft, only making your pussy clench around nothing. No longer could you wait; the anticipation was too much.
Bunching up your skirts the best you can, Eddie guides your hips to be aligned with his shaft. He nods, and you sink down while he pushes himself up into you.
The sight before him is enough to have him cumming instantly. Your tits are so far pushed up that they’re basically falling out of your top, your head is flung back, exploding your neck, daring him to mark, your dress falls as you grip his shoulder for balance, and he is enveloped fully inside of you.
“Fuck you’re so tight.”
“You’re so big, I’m so full,” you moan as you raise yourself on your knees so you can ride him.
“You’re so perfect, my perfect Princess,” Eddie mumbles, leaning in so he can press his face in your chest. You start off slow, building up speed with each bounce.
A loud moan leaves your throat in reply to his praises.
Eddie is consuming you; even if he’s under you, you’re being devoured by him. His hands, his mouth, his thick long cock filling you so good you’re about to cry from the pleasure.
“Gotta take what’s mine,” he grits before he pushes the both of you up, and you land on your back, and he’s hovering over you. Quickly he pounds into you, eyes not veering from your chest as he watches your tits bounce.
“Are you mine, Princess?” His hips slap so hard into you that you feel his balls slap you with each hard thrust.
“Yours! All yours!”
Eddie swears his heart melts when the admission leaves your lips. He’s always waited for a girl like you to come around. Now you’re here, doing this for him and enjoying it? He never thought he’d be here with you.
“More,” you moan
“Not good enough for you, your Highness?”
“I-I-I,” you can’t speak, but Eddie knows what you need.
“Gonna fill up this pussy so good.”
Before you know it, you’re being flipped around, and your head is pressed so far into the mattress your neck is craned, and it hurts, but you pay no mind because Eddie has you propped up on your knees, your dress is flipped up, and you’re all spread out, and he is ravaging you with his mouth once more.
His nose pressed into your ass as he tongue fucks you.
Your moans are muffled by the plush pillows your face is stuffed into. A small wet patch is forming on it from your drool. Your eyes are rolled back, and you're in absolute heaven.
Eddie's hot wet tongue runs up your soaked slit before he pulls back with a moan before he breathes you in as his face is drawn to your pussy like a magnet.
“More” you need his cock once again. Nothing will be able to satisfy your needs.
“You want more Princess? You want me to fill up this pussy so good your belly will swell with my seed?
“Yes!” Your white knuckle grip on the pillow almost tears it apart.
"Mmmmm, that's my good girl. Tell me what you need. " he encourages as your mains rip from your throat.
“You, My Knight! You, you, you!” Your pussy clenches over nothing once more.
You're so close that you feel it building up more and more until you break. Eddie feels you quivering beneath him, and he pulls away and quickly inserts himself before you feel a sharp slap on your ass.
“Eddie!”
Nothing pleases him more than to hear you blissed out because of him.
“Oh, Princess!” He cried, flinging his head back, fucking you with reckless abandon.
Your legs almost give out as your body shakes with ecstasy. You can’t hold it any longer; everything is Eddie, everything is beautiful. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You hadn’t even released. You were changing his name as your pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice.
Uneven thrusts continuously pound into you until you feel the grip of Eddie’s fingers dig into your flesh so hard as he cums deep inside of you, you squeak, and Eddie loosens his grip immediately.
“Need you,” you slur mindlessly.
“You got me, Princess.” You both collapse on the bed, and Eddie's weight is comforting.
“And they lived happily ever after?” You try and roll over to look at Eddie; he pushes up and but so you can roll back over.
He kisses your nose. “And they lived happily ever after.”
Tagging some mooties: @jamdoughnutmagician @littlexdeaths @voyeurmunson @ceriseheaven @munson-blurbs
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rafeandonlyrafe · 27 days
Text
sparkling juice
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words: 1.9k
warnings: 18+ only!!!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, dubcon, drugging/tricking reader into drinking, established relationship, innocent/shy!reader (at least at first wink wink), kinda dark!rafe but really he just wants to bang reader reaaaaal bad
“this is so sweet, rafey.” you coo, your hand held firmly in his.
“anything for you baby.” rafe pulls you along the path, further out into the meadow until you get to a shaded area under a tall tree.
“here is perfect.” rafe says, setting the picnic basket down and draping the large blanket he brought with him.
“thank you.” you tell rafe, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before sitting down.
“i brought all your favorites.” rafe says, taking a spot next to you and opening up the picnic basket.
you let out a little squeak in excitement and seeing all your favorite foods before your brows scrunch together as you point at a bottle. “what's that?”
“that's um… sparkling juice. that's all, baby.” of course, rafe knows that's not all it is, but you don't need to know that yet.
rafe pulls out some food for you to snack on, not hungry himself, happy to watch you nibble on crackers and bite into juicy strawberries.
“wanna try some juice with me baby?”
“mhm, of course rafey.” you watch his large hands as he fills two plastic cups, handing one to you. “drink slow.”
you nod in response before taking a sip, pulling away and sputtering. “ew!”
“oh, baby.” rafe pouts. “do you not like it? im so sorry i thought you would.”
“let me… let me try to drink it again. i think im just not used to the carbonation.” you take another sip, able to control your reaction better. “it's not bad!” rafe can tell you're lying, but he lets out a fake sigh of relief and smiles at you.
“so glad, baby. we can keep drinking while we talk, yeah? tell me about your day.”
rafe knows the easiest way to get you distracted is to have you talk, and so as you describe your day, which leads into your plans for next week, which leads into how much you love rafe, you keep taking sips as rafe refills just your cup.
“i… my head feels kinda fuzzy.” you frown, setting the drink down, realizing your fingers are also slightly numb.
“uh oh.” rafe pouts, drawing his thumb over your cheek. “maybe it's the heat. why don't you lay down?”
“yeah.” you nod, laying back onto the blanket, surprised how plush it is from the soft long grass underneath it. “im-” you let out a sudden giggle. “im like really in love with you, rafey.”
“im really in love with you too, kiddo.” rafe adjusts himself to lay next to you, propped up on his side to keep an eye on your reaction as the alcohol you didn't know you were drinking slowly takes effect. “that's why i planned out this whole picnic for you. and brought you special juice.”
“was there-” you hiccup, words slurring slightly. “anything special in the special juice?”
“hm.” rafe sits up, picking up the now half empty bottle. his eyes widen in fake shock as he reads the label. “oh no baby! i must have grabbed the wrong bottle! i meant to get us sparkling juice but i got us sparkling wine!”
“im… im drunk?” you put together what rafes words mean, mind working slowly.
“im so sorry.” rafe moves to hover over you, cupping your cheek. “will you forgive me?”
“course.” you nod quickly. “was an accident.”
“you're so sweet baby.” rafe brings his lips down on top of yours, kissing you wildly, mouths and tongues a passionate mess.
“should we go get some water to help… get rid of this feeling?” you ask rafe as he shifts to kissing your jaw.
“that's so smart, baby, but i can't drive us home drunk, and you don't have your license.” 
you knew how to drive well enough, but in your 20 years of life, never felt the need to actually get your license. your parents drove you around as a kid until you started dating rafe a year ago, and then he drove you around everywhere.
“oh, right.” you nod, letting out a small gasp as rafes kisses move lower, exploring your neck. this is where you usually stop him, pull his head back up to kiss your lips and remind him you want to wait. not necessarily until marriage, but a bit longer, until the time is right.
“we should do something to pass the time, baby. until the alcohol is out of our system.”
“doesn't eating help?” you try to remember what you heard your friends talk about, since you're not a drinker yourself. “we could share the rest of the crackers.”
“i was thinking… we could finally make love.” rafe suggests, pulling back to look in your eyes, watching the way your brain is fighting against the alcohol in your system.
“well, you did take me on this nice picnic…”
“mhm.”
“and we have been dating for over a year now.”
“yes.”
“so… i suppose we could.” you shove down any doubting voices in your head, letting the looseness of your inhibitions guide your actions as you lean forward to kiss rafe again.
“thank you baby.” rafe repeats his words between kisses, his weight shifting to his elbow as his other hand holds your waist, before moving up until it's cupping your breast.
“oh!” you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. rafe smiles, tugging at your dress until the material is below your bra, pushing your breasts up.
“what if someone sees?!” you hiss out. it's not likely someone would come by, but rafe doesn't want to ruin his chance to finally have you.
“okay.” he pulls your dress back up, settling for touching you over the material as he distracts you with soft kisses once again. “ill just push your dress up. that way if anyone comes by you can easily cover yourself up.”
“mhm.” you nod, eyes sliding shut, head fuzzy from the alcohol and now from the pleasure building in your system.
rafe reaches down to pull his cock out of his pants, leaving himself mostly covered as well. he begins to slowly stroke himself, already halfway hard just from the excitement.
“oh!” rafe hadn't even realize your eyes had opened up until your outburst.
“it's okay, baby.” rafe says. he's well aware this is your first time seeing his cock as he waits for you to form a reaction.
“i… i want to feel.” you reach down, cautious hand, still numb at the fingertips as you stroke over rafes length, eyes widening when you realize how hard it truly feels..
“can you… can you not look?” you ask shyly, hand still slowly moving as you speak. “at me.”
“baby, you know i find you beautiful. all of you… but if that's what you want, okay.” 
“just… look away for a minute.” you wait for rafes gaze to turn to the meadow, watching the flowers sway in the breeze as he hears you shuffling around on the blanket to take your underwear off.
“okay.” you say.
rafe looks back to you, smile growing as he realizes you're laid back down once again, dress pushed up to your thighs, just enough to hide your privates.
“ill be nice and slow, okay? and you tell me if anything hurts.” rafe moves over you, waiting for you to nod before reaching down with one hand to grab his cock. he keeps your skirt as far down as he can while tucking his dick between your thighs. he moves until he bumps skin, letting out a breath when he realizes you are wet.
he rubs his cock through your folds, watching the way your face twists in pleasure, brows pulling together and mouth dropping open.
you let out a moan when rafe hits what he assumes is your clit. he focuses the head of his cock on it for a moment before sinking lower to your entrance.
rafe manages to keep his word, pushing in slowly. he may have been buttering you up for an entire year just to get in your pants, but now he wants more than just once, you're well and truly his, and he plans on exploring with you until you're transformed from innocent girlfriend into personal slut.
“oh! oh, rafe!” your hands move to grip his shoulders. “that… that feels really good!”
“doesn't hurt at all?” rafe can tell he's stretching you somewhat, but clearly by your rapid shaking of your head no, you're not feeling any pain.
“gonna f-make love to you now then.” he swings his hips back before pushing forward, and soon your moans are filling the meadow, being carried away by the wind as he thrusts into you.
“so, so good, rafey.” you cry out, back arching off the picnic blanket. rafe smiles. your first time, and you're already behaving like this. he's going to turn you into a whore sooner than he thought.
“fu-fudge!” you shout out, making rafe chuckle softly as you use your curse word substitute just like you prefer doing.
“you feel so good round me, baby.” rafe says, bending down to kiss your neck. “love the way you're squeezing me.”
“harder.” you whine out. rafes eyebrows raise, but he doesn't question your demand, pushing his hips faster, slamming into you more. your dress pushed up from all the motion to reveal rafes cock burying itself inside your pussy.
he lets out a moan as you grip onto the blanket, not caring about him being able to see you as you feel a high building inside of you.
“i think im close.” you say.
“cum for me baby. ill cum with you.” rafe says, bringing a hand down to your clit, your moans doubling as he rubs over it with his thumb.
your high hits you suddenly. it takes a perfect thrust from rafe a long with his thumb flicking over your clit and your wall breaks with a scream, hips rising off the checkered fabric as you cum, pussy clenching around rafe as he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.
you both collapse in a heap, faces flushed and chests rising and falling rapidly.
rafe pulls out of you carefully before flopping onto his back.
“that was really good, rafey.” you cuddle into his side, resting your head on his chest.
“thank you for trusting me enough to do that with me, baby.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“of course.” your eyes are on rafes cock, still halfway hard despite just cumming. you reach down, ghosting your fingers along his length before swirling your fingertip over the head then against his slit as rafes hips twitch from the overstimulation.
“do you think we can do that again? and then maybe when we get home? after you're good to drive, of course.” you look up at rafe with what he thought were big, innocent eyes, but he's quickly realizing you've got a different side just below the surface.
-- six months later --
“ugh, rafe!” you groan as he presses buttons on the controller, eyes firmly on the screen. 
“promise baby, will be done in five minutes.” he says, barely glancing to you.
you're tired of being ignored as you pull off the only clothing you are wearing, a big t-shirt of rafes to cover yourself. rafe glances over, realizing you're now completely nude as his fingers freeze.
“i want to fuck. if you're not gonna help me, im gonna go help myself.” you shrug.
rafe tosses the controller onto the floor, a proud smile on his face. you've become just who he's always wanted you to be. “of course im gonna help you baby, come get on this dick.”
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highvern · 3 months
Text
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Work Me Out II
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader
Genre: Smut, 18+
Warnings: simp gyu, car sex, protected sex, dom!gyu, brat!reader, spitting, choking, minor cock warming
Length: 2.5k
Note: happy 1k! i almost deleted this bc i hated it so y'all have to be extra nice to me about it (im joking) (not really) everyone say thank u @cheolism for beta-ing!
Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)
read part I
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
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“Hi!” 
“Hi,” Mingyu grins, dropping a kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “You look…”
He lifts your hand, encouraging a spin so he can fully appreciate the black slip dress gliding over your curves.
“Wow.”
“Wow?” You laugh as he pulls you closer, goosebumps rising under the palm at your bare spine.
“Beautiful,” he sighs into your lips. 
He kisses you deeper; crowing you against his chest with a hand at your back. The lull of Mingyu’s lips and cologne lower your defenses, mouth opening to welcome his tongue. But he pulls away just when things breach on the edge of more.
“We’re gonna miss our reservation.” He coos through a smile, dropping a consolatory peck to your nose.
“So?”
You try to bring him back but he dodges you easily, tipping his chin up until your only option is to leave a trail of kisses along his Adam's apple.
“I’d like to take you on at least one real date.” Mingyu argues.
He’d be more convincing if he wasn’t leaving fingerprints on your hips. But you think it's cute how he wants to wine and dine you. When you step back, you notice how his eyes glow the way they always do when met with approval. It’s cute, toes on the border of innocence; and it makes your knees crave the feeling of the hardwood floors so you can give him all the validation he can handle with his cock in your mouth.
But there will be more than enough time for that later.
“Wow, so eating Captain Crunch in our underwear after you defiled me wasn’t a date?” You gasp. “Okay. I see how it is.”
Mingyu snorts but plucks your jacket off the coat rack and holds it open to help you in. “Alright, drama queen. Let’s go.”
The drive is filled with chatter. Over the past week, the initial spark of attraction only grew between you; through chats at the gym, texting, or the one night he came to your apartment and ended up passing out on the couch while the movie continued to play in the background. Somehow it was more intimate waking up fully clothed, big spooning him with your face buried between his shoulder blades than having him drill your guts until tears streaked your face.
Since you slept over that first night, you’ve noticed a plethora of things that make you more fond of Mingyu. How he slurs his words when he’s excited, talking so fast you can barely decipher what he’s saying. If you throw a wink his way while walking across the gym his eyes go wide like he’s completely taken aback by your interest; as if he didn’t have a front seat to how much you liked him. Or if he notices you looking he’ll not so subtly flex or make a face that has you laughing so hard you nearly tumble off the treadmill. Or the way Mingyu prides himself on being a gentleman; pausing his workout and walking you to your car, insisting it's too dark out for him to be comfortable letting you go alone (partially because it's his fault your gym visits became a two hour endeavor since the night in the car, he just can’t stop distracting you in the name of getting to know you better).
It’s the same at the restaurant. Mingyu takes your coat and pulls out your chair. He asks for more details on the book you mentioned on the way over, asking if he can borrow your copy once you finish. He feeds you some of his entree off his fork, splits dessert to satisfy your sweet tooth, and nabs the check from the waiter before you can even think of offering to split the bill.
It’s almost too perfect; like he is running a checklist in his head. But Mingyu isn’t that kind of guy. His enthusiasm is just that, enthusiasm for spending time with you, getting to know you, picking your brain like you’re the most interesting person he’s ever met and he can’t wait to know more.
“How did you not know it was a couples class?” You ask, laughing into the curve of his arm as he walks you back to the car.
“It didn’t say it on the flier! It just said ‘portions for two’ and I thought that meant I’d leave with leftovers.”
“Wow. So Wonwoo got you banned and ate your food?”
“Wonwoo got me banned and neither of us gotta eat the food.”
The collar of Mingyu’s shirt flitters when his chest shakes with laughter, watching you down the slope of his nose. Like a flame in a vacuum, all the oxygen in your lungs is sucked up when you notice how good he looks even under the sterile overhead light. The glass of wine you sipped through dinner doesn’t help; turning your insides to mush and your blood to a boil.
Mingyu is so genuinely sweet you almost feel guilty for crowding him against his car and palming the zipper of his jeans. The taste of whiskey clings to his tongue, sucked away by your own until he opens the door and ushers you into the back seat.
“Mingyu,” you gasp, plucking the foil package from his grip. “Did you expect to fuck me tonight?”
“No,” he groans into the side of your tit, thanking whatever power in the universe exists that you hadn’t worn a bra. “But a man should always be prepared.”
You snort, “Okay, ‘Mr. I don’t sleep with girls I don’t date.’”
“I think that's former ‘Mr. I don’t’ whatever the fuck,” he moans as he finds your mouth.
Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast. Mingyu’s hip buck into the swipe of your thumb. You’d drop your mouth to suck away the mess  collecting there but the back seat of his car doesn’t provide much room since your date claims most of the space already. Instead, you settle for tracing your tongue across the raised veins webbing across his neck and nipping at the sensitive lobe of his ear.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
Mingyu paws at your ass, fingers digging into the flesh and dragging your covered core closer to his cock. His other hand dips beneath your skirt, thumb swiping at your clit and two thick fingers pushing aside the scrap of fabric posing as underwear to stretch you open without preamble.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Mingyu pants.
You meet every curl of his fingers with a whine, face falling into the cradle of his jaw as he works you up. He’s everywhere; all you can feel, touch, taste. Even his cologne floods your nose; the scent of powdery spice and something intrinsically him that you can’t name.
Whether intentional or not, the match of pace isn’t lost on your mind as your fist sinks over Mingyu’s length the same time he stuffs you with his digits; fucking you by proxy while his tongue licks away every sound of satisfaction before it can make its way between your lips.
Before long, Mingyu bats away your hand to use his own. The second the latex is rolled down he holds himself for you, offering his cock like a prize you can’t refuse.
And he’s right.
The initial discomfort trickles up your spine. Eyes closed, chest caved, you take every inch as Mingyu whispers praise after praise into your neck. Twitching in each other’s hold, each clench of your cunt dips his stomach until you pull him back to your mouth and goad him with a demanding draw against his tongue with your own; a wet suckle more obscene than the way he splits you has him returning the gesture with fervor.
Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu manages to latch to one of your nipples, teeth razing along the sensitive skin until you nearly collapse from the delightful pain.
Arching into his chest so hard it hurts, your voice cracks, “Oh, Gyu.”
“Good girl,” he groans into your chest.
The hand on your ass pulls you across his cock, forcing you down with each of his thrusts up. Mingyu’s loud but you’re louder and the abandoned top floor of the parking deck doesn’t provide any disguise from what’s happening behind the foggy windows of his SUV. 
As sexy as you are with your head thrown back, desperately moaning his name, the fear of getting caught is starting to suffocate him.
You beat against his chest when Mingyu pins you in place. He crushes you flat against him, pelvis to pelvis, so deep you feel him in your throat. Tight around the stretch, he nearly loses his train of thought but finds it when an involuntary rush of his thighs makes you squeak.
He brushes his thumb across the apple of your cheek in an effort to quell the bubbling tantrum behind your eyes. “Shhh,” he whispers. “We can't get caught.” 
Time stops as you come to a crossroads. Eye to eye, you can see him waiting for a signal. If you want to stop, drive thirty minutes back to either of your apartments, and then go at it like rabbits, Mingyu will do it. If you want him to stop, drop you off at your doorstep, and send him home with the worst hard on of his life, he’ll smile through the tears. But if you want to finish what you’ve both started in the discomfort of the back seat, Mingyu needs you to be quiet.
So you can listen without complaint, bury your face in the column of his neck and bite your lip until it bleeds from strain. Or you can let Mingyu decide the best course of action.
“Then shut me up.” 
A beat of absolute silence rattles your shaking confidence. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jumping back like he’s been burned but you fake courage until you spot the way he licks his teeth at the idea.
Whatever permission he’s looking for he finds in the slight dip of your chin. You watch Mingyu’s mood shift in an instant. The playful tilt of his lips melt away, the corners of his eyes freeze over their usual humor. And the arm around the dip of your waist squeezes so tight you fear he’ll leave a bruise in the shape of his palm.
The hand on your face falls to your jaw, pinching your cheek between his pointer finger and thumb as he tsks, forcing your head back and forth mockingly before he forces his thumb between your teeth.
“Shut. Up.” 
He punctuates his command with a bruising thrust of his cock; thrilled at the way his thumb digging into your tongue chokes any sound. The hand on your ass nearly rips your underwear as Mingyu uses it to guide your hips, keeping you bouncing in his lap until you're drooling.
Mingyu’s teeth rake against your jaw, “Touch yourself.”
You clumsily snake a hand down, hips jerking under the blind swipe of fingers at your core. Eyes unfocused, ears filled with the rush of blood, you don’t resist the urge to bite his thumb just to see what he’ll do next.
The sting of his palm against your ass isn’t a shock.
But the wet of his fingers on your throat is.
And when Mingyu squeezes, cutting off the blood to your brain for a second in a show of possessive strength, your choked wail is music to his ears.
“Fuck, you like that?”
Nodding like a bobble head, more pathetic whimpers fill the car. 
With a shift of weight, he makes you grind against his lap, the metal of his belt buckle cutting into the back of your thighs. But you’re full to the brink of shredding apart you can’t bring yourself to care. Heat in the pit of your stomach blooms, used and deep.
Mingyu fans his hand along your throat, fingers digging into the jut of your jaw to make you look at his face. His hair is a mess, cheeks rosy with sweat at his hairline. A low rumble in his throat is all the warning you get before he spits on your lips and it glides down your chin; slipping under his palm while he squeezes until stars dance in your vision.
Hips stuttering, everything draws tight; every muscle, every vein, each individual cell contracts and detonates until Mingyu fucks into your so hard your head hits the roof as he flails. Thighs firm against the top of his, you feel each sputter into the condom.
“Mingyu,” you croak, throat wrecked.
Everything feels heavy and worn when he brings you into the warmth of his chest. Somehow, you hadn’t managed to undo a single button beyond the four that let you peek at the dip between his pecs; but the friction of his shirt against your sensitive chest makes you shiver. Sweat and spit leave the fabric clinging uncomfortably but you don’t have the energy to change it.
“Jesus Christ.” Mingyu draws in a heavy breath, and the motion has your legs twitching again. “You okay?”
Nodding into his neck, your eyes slip shut. If he keeps tracing shapes on your back, you’re in serious trouble of falling asleep right there in the back of his car with his softening length still inside you. Attempting to prevent the momentum from taking over, you rise on your knees, only for Mingyu to bring you back down.
“Just…just let me hold you for a second.” he sighs, sounding as exhausted as you feel. “Please.”
Peppering languid kisses across his face, down the curve of his cheek, up the bridge of his nose, you smile when he pouts at the lack of attention to his lips. But when you meet them with your own, it's nearly impossible to call it a kiss from the sleepy grins splitting your faces.
“Wanna come back to mine?” Mingyu whispers into your cheek, leaving his own series of kisses. “We can watch that new horror movie you were talking about.”
“You hate scary movies.”
“Oh no, I guess you’ll have to stay the night in case I can’t sleep.”
“How awful!” You mock. “Did you buy more cereal?”
“Mhm.”
With a monumental sigh, “Then I guess I can come over.”
It takes nearly fifteen minutes to find the courage to unwind from each other. Mingyu distracts you by tracing shapes between your shoulder blades and making you guess his artistic interpretation. Each time you're wrong he demands a kiss. Each time you're right he gives you one back.
When you make him guess what your finger burns into his shoulder he nearly faints before deciding it's time to head home, hands intertwined over the center console the entire way.
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sanguineterrain · 1 month
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im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!
thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3
jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.
read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary
****
"Go home."
"Bruce, I—"
Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.
The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.
"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."
You take a step back at his coldness.
"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"
"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."
But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.
He'd felt safe.
"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."
That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.
"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."
"But if you would just listen—"
"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."
"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.
"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."
You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.
You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.
You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.
****
It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.
In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.
But not at the expense of civilian lives.
"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."
You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.
You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.
You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.
The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.
You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.
You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.
Oh, of all the fucking—
"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.
"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"
You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.
And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.
"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"
Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.
"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"
A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"
Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."
He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.
"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."
He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"
Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.
But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.
He was in the factory to help.
Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.
Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.
You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."
"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."
"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."
"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"
You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.
But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.
Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.
You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.
You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.
You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.
That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.
"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.
Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.
Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.
"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.
"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"
"She was unconscious, J'y..."
Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.
****
You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.
For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.
Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.
So who's cooking?
You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.
Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.
The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.
The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.
He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.
The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.
You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.
He catches it without turning.
Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.
A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.
"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."
"Why are you in my apartment?"
Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.
This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.
He sighs, back still facing you.
"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.
"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."
Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.
"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."
Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.
He turns around.
The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.
You were right: Batman was wrong.
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