#it's SO NICE seeing him in 4k! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

calypsocolada · 22 days

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how the jjk boys react to sharing a bed with you... ft. gojo, geto, nanami, yuji, & choso

authors note: pls enjoy this while I work on yet another denji fic ;)

cw: slightly suggestive

wc: 4k

“You gotta be actually kidding me,” You grumbled, dragging your bags into you and Gojo’s shared room. Sure enough there was a single damn bed smack in the middle of the room. You looked for a couch but there was just a small chair in the corner and a desk with a tv a top it. Gojo slid around you and you didn’t have to look at him to know he had a shit eating grin on his lips.

“Wow… very nice, very spacious.” Gojo beamed as he plopped his bags on the chair next to the bed. You were still standing halfway in the door, contemplating a quick escape when he turned to you and pouted. “It won’t kill you to share a bed with me.”

“It might.” You grumbled but walked inside, pushing the door shut behind you. You dropped your bags on the floor and sat at the foot of the bed. You and Gojo never got along… well you expressly made efforts not to get along with him because he annoyed you to no end. You actually weren’t sure how Gojo felt about you, you tried not to think about it. You were partnered with him on this mission for the exact purpose to 'build a bond'. It was stupid. You didn’t need a bond with Gojo to fight well with him. And Gojo didn’t need your help in a fight so this whole thing was pointless.

“You’re quiet.”

“And that surprises you?” You ask sardonically. Gojo slightly raises his eyebrows in a sort of 'touché' manner.

“If it bothers you so much I can sleep on the floor.” He says and you laugh. Yeah, you’d make the strongest sorcerer in history sleep on the floor. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m not immature like you, I can share.”

“Says the person who was huffing and puffing the entire way up here.”

“It’s laughable! This is shit teenage girls read about in fan fics.” You throw your arms up, exasperated.

“I don’t know what that is.” Gojo says and you sigh.

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” You grab your bag. “I’m gonna change.” You walk into the bathroom, slipping into a tank top and sweatpants, washing your face off. You walk back out just as Gojo’s pulling sweatpants over his boxers, his back riddled with scars. You pause where you stand. You had eyes, you knew Gojo was attractive. But you were sure he wasn’t your type, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was built. The muscles on his back, his slim build. You felt a heat rush to your face when he turned slightly.

“Like what you see?”

“Don’t be an idiot.” You groaned, gaining back a little bit of sense. To your relief he pulled on a shirt over his head as you both slipped into the bed. You clicked on the tv as he clicked off the light.

“You’re gonna sleep with that on?” He asks as you nod your head.

“I can’t sleep in deathly silence.” You say and he rolls over to face you as you watch whatever was on.

“Can I ask you something?” He mumbles beside you.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me?” You look away from the tv for a moment, then to his eyes.

“I don’t hate you.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“Hate and dislike are very different.” You say as he sits up slightly.

“So you dislike me.” He says. You shrug.

“Why do you care what I think?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re partners now, right?” He asks innocently. You watch him for a moment, gauge his intent with this little questionnaire.

“The great Satoru Gojo shouldn’t care what a little nobody sorcerer like me thinks.” You say it partly as a joke but you can tell Gojo didn’t see it that way. He sniffed out your true intent.

“So that’s it? You’re jealous.” He points out and you narrow your eyes.

“I was joking.”

“It was a joke. It's a gross understatement of your abilities.” He says and you turn your attention back to the tv. “I can’t ever get a read on you. Or make you laugh or even so much as smile. You hang out with Nanami too much.” Gojo pouts, falling back on the pillows. He was right… you did hang out with Nanami quite a bit, maybe you did adopt some small parts of the serious man. A few quiet moments pass.

“I don’t dislike you.” You start and feel the bed shift slightly, he’s looking at you again, you're not sure why there’s heat in that look. “But that doesn’t mean I like you either.” You say as Gojo erupts into laughter.

“Haha… is that so? So I annoy you, that’s all?”

“Yes. You’re loud and nosey and,” you tug the covers closer to your body. “Apparently not good with sharing.” Gojo laughs a bit and you feel him scoot closer to you. The warmth radiating off of him in waves. Your heart springs to your throat and you’d be surprised if the nerves don't show on your face.

“Maybe I don’t like to share.” Gojo says beside you, and you dare look his way. He’s smirking at you, the tv illuminating his soft features.

“Sharing is caring.” You toss back and watch as that smirk turns soft. It makes your stomach flip. You decide you don’t like the way you’re feeling and roll over away from him and those damn eyes.

“Tired?” Gojo asks behind you.

“Very.” You answer shortly. You feel the bed shake softly with his laughter and you ignore it. Forcing your eyes closed.

“Goodnight then, grumpy.”

“I told you not to call me that.” You snap in a whisper.

“But it fits you so well.” He croons.

You were wondering before how you could slow your racing heart enough to sleep but the moment things got quiet you were out cold. When you woke up the next morning you felt a weight against your back, warmth radiating from behind. Sure enough Gojo was cuddled up behind you, his arm and leg both thrown over your body. If anyone asked, this did not happen. You also surely didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of comfort and definitely weren’t lulled back to sleep in seconds, moving closer to him and his body warmth.

You heard a knock at your door, your eyes drifted to the clock beside your bed.

3:15 a.m.

You placed your book on the side table and pushed out of bed. Gently opening the door, you gasped slightly. Geto stood, completely drenched from the rain at your doorstep. You opened your door all the way and reached to pull him inside.

“Suguru…” you admonished. “You’re drenched.”

“Uh huh.” Geto answered you, sort of noncommittally.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, there were dark, dark circles under his eyes, his face pale of that happiness he usually wore.

“I’m fine.” He shrugged as you furrowed your brows. He was acting strange and distant, you almost didn’t recognize him. You turned, grabbing a towel to wrap around him but he caught your wrist between his freezing fingers. You paused, looking back at him. That’s when you saw it, written all over his face. The darkness, the loneliness.

You’d been gone for about three weeks prior. In that time something horrible had transpired. Someone under Geto and Gojo’s care was murdered, you heard it happened right in front of Geto. Before Geto would often stop by your dorm to hang out, you two worked on coursework together, he liked how quiet and comfortable you made him feel.

This was the first night you’d been back. You tried talking to him earlier in the day but it was in one ear and out the other. You assumed he just didn’t want to talk. But his fingers flexed against your wrist now, gently pulling you to him by your arm as he crumbled against you. His head resting in the crook of your neck, rain dripping from his hair down your shoulder and back. His hands slid to your lower back, pulling you flush against him in a needy sort of desperate hug. You froze momentarily, you wouldn’t consider yourself the most comforting person but right now you knew you needed to be. You stood strong, holding up his weight as you wrapped your arms gently around him, damning the rain that kept him cold. He didn’t cry, just kept that tight hold on you until suddenly he pulled back.

“Fuck, I’m getting you all wet.” He says, hands coming up to wipe the transferred rain from your cheek. You blushed at the touch and shook your head.

“I don’t care about that.” You said, eyes devouring his features, you tried so hard to read him but you just didn’t know him well enough.

“Sorry… I— I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I’m glad I was.” You say and watch Geto’s eyes snake down to yours. You wanted to ask what was ailing him, how you could fix it but you didn’t want to scare him off… didn’t want him to feel like he had to talk about it.

“Can I stay with you? I can sleep on the floor.” Geto asked, your brows raised. You only had the one bed and there was no way you’d make this man sleep on the floor. You shook your head.

“You can sleep in the bed with me.” You said and turned to grab some stuff from your drawer, something he could change into out of those wet clothes. You found an old pair of your dad’s pj’s you’d brought along as well as a shirt you had stolen from Gojo. “Here, you can wear these.” You say, handing it over to him. He takes them graciously and you turn to give him privacy while you pull the covers back. When he walks around the other side of the bed your eyes drift up. He didn’t wear a shirt, just pants. You blushed as his eyes met yours. He gave you a soft smile and you two slid into the bed together. You reached over and flicked off the lights. After a quiet moment of not being able to get your heart to calm down, Geto's warm hands reached over and pulled you into him by your hips.

“I just wanna be closer.” Was all he said as your body was flush against his, his arms slotted around you. You didn’t think you’d get any sleep the night but as you listened to his breathing even out behind you your eyes slowly began to drift closed.

You’d wake up feeling cold, turns out Geto is an early riser and he was gone before the morning.

You fucked up. You’re going to lose your job for sure. You had pleaded with the hotel staff after arriving early to see one single bed in the room you were supposed to share with your boss Nanami. Your pleads fell on deaf ears. They were completely booked up for the next few days. You sighed, didn’t make a fuss and thanked the worker, it wasn’t their fault it was yours for not paying closer attention. Just as you turned to walk back up to the room the front doors slid open and in walked your boss, snow flakes in his tow colored hair. His eyes met yours and he waved. You smiled nervously and walked over to him to help him with his bags.

“I’ve got it, dear.” He says softly, reaching up to shake the snow from his hair. You nodded your head and led him to the elevator.

“How was your flight?” You asked, pressing the button as the elevator slid open.

“Bumpy,” He said. “And yours?”

“I slept the entire time.”

“Ah, that’s right… you don’t do well on flights.” He said as you two walked into the shaft and you pressed the button to your floor. “Next time I’ll schedule ours together so you don’t fly alone.”

“Oh… you don’t have to do that.” You say as the doors slide close and the elevator pulls up with a soft jolt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He says, glancing at his clock. He had a meeting early so he’d probably shower and go to bed as soon as you two got to the room. You swallowed as the doors slid back open and you led the way to the room.

“There was a… slight mix up on my part with the room.” You say as you slide the keycard into the door and it pings to let you know it’s unlocked.

“Hmm?” Nanami hums as you push the door open.

“I accidentally booked a one bed suite and they’re completely booked up for the weekend so I’m gonna call around and get myself a room.” You explain as Nanami sets his things down.

“Another room?” He echoes as you nod your head.

“There’s a hotel about a mile and a half away was gonna call and-“

“That bed’s rather large, Y/n.” Nanami said nonchalantly.

“Hmm?” You hummed as Nanami pointed to the bed.

“It’s cold and snowy out, if it makes you uncomfortable to share then I will be the one to get another room.”

“What? N-no, sir. You’re the one with a 6 a.m. meeting.” You say, then clear your throat. “I d-don’t mind sharing.”

“Then it’s settled.” He says, ruffling your hair as he walks by to shower and change. When he closes the door behind himself you're able to breathe. You quickly change yourself into something comfortable and pull the covers back, sliding into the cold sheets. You pick a show to have quietly playing as Nanami emerges from the shower, steam drifting from the open door. Your heart raced, you’d never seen him without his hair styled but now it just sort of fell around his forehead. You swallowed and forced your attention back to the tv. Nanami sat in the bed next to you, switching off the light. You reached for the remote to turn off the tv. “You can keep watching.” Nanami said, his voice deep and tired. You gave him a polite smile but turned the sound down just a bit as he settled back in the bed. You thought you would feel more nervous next to you but the warmth radiating off of him in waves was comforting. He placed his arm behind his head and watched what was on the screen, his other hand barely brushing you. You pulled the covers up, shivering slightly, gaining Nanami’s attention. “Cold?” He rasps, looking down at you. You blush… it wasn’t the cold.

“A bit.” You force out, sliding deeper into the covers.

“It is quite chilly in here,” He moves and grabs a sweatshirt from his luggage, holding it out for you. You smile thankfully and sit up to pull it over your head. It was warm and smelled just like him. You swallowed and thanked him softly as he settled back beside you. After a few moments you felt your eyelids getting heavier, in your sleepy state you move closer to Nanami’s warmth and are surprised when he gently places an arm around you instead of pushing you away. Your face slots perfectly on his shoulder and when you wake up several hours later Nanami’s head is resting on the top of yours.

Yuji’s face was bright red. His eyes are as wide as an owls. You looked at him with your head slightly cocked.

“What?”

“Y-you said we’d be sharing a bed?” He asked. You looked at him for another long moment, probably agonizingly long to him.

“Yes.” You answered simply as Yuji swallowed nervously and visibly. “What’s wrong, Yuji?”

“We-- we can’t share a bed, Y/n.”

“Why not?”

“I-- I wouldn’t be able--” He cuts himself off as he speaks, his cheeks slowly turning rosy red.

“You wouldn’t be able to do what?” You ask, brows furrowed as the moment slowly becomes sort of comical to you.

“Babe… your parents would be two doors down… I-- I want them to know I’m a gentleman.” Yuji says as you bite your lip to keep from laughing aloud.

“Yuji… We’ve been dating for months, you’ve already met my parents twice, they know you’re a good boy.” You say, reaching over and running your fingers through his hair. He instinctively moves his head closer to your hand and pouts.

“What if they’re doing this to see if I’ll sleep on the floor or in the bed? Seeing if I can behave myself.” Yuji prattles as you finally crack a soft smile, tilting your head as your hand trails from his hair to his chin, tilting his eyes up so he’s looking at you.

“Babe, you are severely overthinking this.” You say and lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips. Yuji calms at that and when you try to pull back he catches your face gently in his hands and pulls your lips back to his.

Yuji didn’t fully calm it seemed because the moment you and your parents parted after dinner and you pulled him off towards your room your hand slid into his. His palms were sweaty so you pulled his hand up and kissed his knuckles, eyes drifting to his face. He was blushing like crazy, glancing back in the way your parents had walked.

“Not this again.” You whisper as you pull him into your room and close the door behind him.

“I should sleep on the floor.” He says as you roll your head back.

“Yuji… you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“I want them to like me.”

“They do like you, baby, they like you a lot. Otherwise they would’ve said something to me already.” You say, letting go of his hand to get changed. You pull your shirt off and hear Yuji gasp behind you. You turn and watch him turn away. You laugh at that, you couldn’t help it.

“This is not funny!” You hear him pout. You pull on one of his old shirts and a pair of shorts. You walk over and slide your hands around his waist from behind, kissing his shoulder. You feel him shiver at the contact. “Stop that.” He whispers as you smile.

“Turn around.” You direct. He does as told, blowing out a breath when he sees you dressed but then blushes when he recognizes his old shirt.

“You’re killing me, they’re gonna see this.” He gently tugs on the hem of the shirt.

“Take it off then.” You say and watch the red spread from his cheeks to his ears.

“Shh.” He sibilates, gaining another soft laugh from you.

“You’re really cute… I don’t think I can behave if you're gonna act like this.” You tease, moving closer to him. His face goes five different shades of cherry red and for a moment his body moves closer before he can think better of it.

“Please,” he lets out a rush of air. “I’m holding on by a thread.” You smirk at that but ultimately give up. You loved him enough to know you’d only make him more nervous so you gently grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed.

“I’ll be good but you have to sleep in the bed with me.” You say. Yuji nods finally as you flick off the lights and pull him into the covers. He settles beside you.

“Have you… brought a lot of guys home?” Yuji asks in the dark. “Sorry… that sounded…”

“You’re the first.” You say. You feel Yuji inches closer to you as you turn to face him. “My parents always joked that if I finally brought someone home that it’d be the one I marry.” You say and you hear Yuji suck in a soft breath.

“Marry?” Yuji echoes.

“Not anytime soon.” You laugh. “We’re barely old enough for that.”

“I wanna marry you.” Yuji says, his hands finding your hips in the dark as he pulls you close.

“Oh?” You smirk in the dark. “You want to marry me?”

“Yes.” He says confidently. “Whenever you’re ready I’m ready.” You slide your hands up to cradle his face as you press a soft kiss to his lips.

“We’ll give it some time.” You whisper as Yuji nods his head, you feel him smile against your lips as you exchange kisses in the dark until sleep takes you both.

You had never seen anyone blush more than Choso when you suggested sharing a bed. You’d been on the run with the two brothers after Shibuya, dodging jujutsu sorcerers that were hired to kill you. You three had grown quite close during the few months. You protected Yuji like a younger brother but... you didn't feel that same familial protectiveness with Choso... It was something far different. Something that had you looking for him in every fight. Wanting to be as close to him as possible.

Yuji was fast asleep on the couch and you didn’t mind sharing but Choso… he was red, his eyes wide.

“Is something wrong?” You asked, slightly concerned at his reaction. For a moment he stared, his lips parting for a moment before he swallowed dryly and shook his head.

“N-no… nothings wrong.” He said unconvincingly. You slowly nodded your head, trying to understand his reaction. Maybe he wanted the bed to himself?

“Well… I don’t mind sleeping on the floor if you want the bed to your-”

“Absolutely not.” He interrupted, then looked apologetic. “S-sorry… no… I don’t mind sharing.”

“You sure?” You ask as Choso nods his head. “Okay.” You say softly, as you slide into it. Choso pulls off his shirt and changes quickly in the bathroom before laying on top of the covers. You look at him.

“Aren’t you gonna be cold?”

“I-- don’t think… so.” He forced out.

“Choso, is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?” You asked, concerned. You reach across the space between you two and press the back of your hand to his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I feel fine!” Choso inhales quickly at your touch. Your hand slides from his forehead to his warm cheeks.

“Are you sure?” You ask, eyes full of concern. Choso’s lips parted but no words came out. You furrowed your brows, if he felt fine then why was he acting so damn strange?

“Uh huh.” He finally affirmed. For a momet you stared at him, your brain working something. You laughed softly, shaking your head. You remembered a conversation you and Yuji had the previous morning. Yuji had claimed that Choso may have had a crush on you… He cited moments during fight where Choso would look for you, would find you and be the first to make sure you were okay. LIttle did Yuji know that you did the same thing. Maybe Choso wasn’t that kind of sick after all…

“Choso?” You asked as he hummed in response. “Do you… have a crush on me?” Choso’s small bit of calm seemingly breaks.

“What! What… n-no!” He looks away from you, hiding his face from your view.

“Oh… Am I wrong?” You ask. He looks at you then, his eyes and face and everything beautifully crafted. It all seemed to dawn on you in the dim light of this cold hotel room.

“Yes… you are.” He whispers intimately. Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn’t even registered that he’d taken his hair down, stands of it touching his shoulders. He was… too good looking for you to pretend you haven't felt something for him. But maybe you and Yuji were wrong... “Do you… have a boyfriend?” You hear Choso ask but your brain didn’t compute it for a moment.

“Hmm? A boyfriend?” You ask as he barely gives you a nod of his head. “Why?” Choso immediately realizes what he said and turns away, embarrassed.

“I… was just wondering that’s all.”

“No… I don’t.” You say, and bite the smile on your lips.

“... So you’re- uh- single right?”

“Yes, Choso.” You say, letting a smile fit to your lips. Choso’s eyes drift from your eyes to your lips and they linger there for a moment.

“Can I kiss y-” You press forward, cutting off his sentence. Pressing your lips against his. Choso’s eyes widen when your lips come in contact with his, he hesitantly returns the kiss, pulling you to him, bringing you both down onto the bed. He pulls the covers over you and him to shield you both if Yuji were to wake.

1K notes · View notes

cozage · 9 months

Note

hii can i request silent treatment with sabo, law, and ace? like the one you wrote before! i love reading it sm i wanted to see how they (sabo, law, and ace) would react if they received/ gave silent treatment !

Characters: gn reader x Sabo, Law, Ace Cw: everyone involved being a bit of an orange flag Total word count: 4k

Silent Treatment

Sabo

Oh sweet sweet Sabo. He didn’t even realize his offhanded joke in the meeting had offended you. He didn’t think about how you and Koala were the only ones not laughing about the jokes the officers said. He didn’t notice how you and Koala immediately left the room fuming as soon as you could.

He had to run to catch up with you after the meeting, and you showed no sign of slowing your pace.

“Hey!” he called out, trying to get to you. “I’m gonna go out with the guys for a bit, I’ll catch up with you soon?”

“Do whatever you want,” you shot back. “The men know best after all, right?”

He must not have heard the sarcasm and anger laced in your voice, because he just gave you a wink and a peck on the cheek and ran off with some of the other leaders.

Koala gave you a side smirk. “They’re clueless, I swear,” she laughed.

“We never get the credit,” you grumbled. “I can’t do it anymore, Koala! I’m so fed up with this!”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“So many times!” you cried. “We’re treated the same professionally but socially-”

“It’s a commanders club,” she finished for you. “Maybe we should make a separate club?”

“Rule One: No talking to them until they apologize.”

Sabo was surprised to find that you weren’t waiting for him in bed when he got home. You weren’t in the spare room, either.

He finally found a note on the kitchen that was short and to the point. “Sleeping at Koala’s.”

Confusing, but he was slightly drunk, so he opted to go to bed and figure it out in the morning.

When morning came, he was disappointed to find that the coffee hadn't started. He went to grab his overnight oats from the fridge, but you hadn’t made that for him either, which was strange. Usually when you stayed at Koala’s, you prepped all that stuff ahead of time. But last night you hadn’t. He’d have to ask you about that before the meeting this morning.

He arrived late to the meeting since the coffee took longer than he thought it would and he had to make breakfast. You were already sitting when he got there, you and Koala talking to each other quietly. Normally you saved a se at for him, but today all of the seats had been filled, and he was left with one at the end of the table.

He kept trying to catch your eye, but you refused to look at him. He finally caught Koala’s at one point, and mouthed “What’s wrong?” but she simply rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Dragon.

If Koala was mad at him, that meant you were mad at him. He racked his brain the entire meeting, trying to think of what he would’ve done to make you upset. But he couldn’t think of anything.

He tried to catch you after the meeting, but you and Koala made a beeline for the door and ignored his calls after you.

“Just let them go, dude,” Jiron said to him. “Those two never want to hang out with us anyway.”

Shit. It all clicked together. The jokes made in the meeting yesterday, him going out with the boys without asking if you and Koala had wanted to come.

“Maybe if you treated them with a little respect, Jiron, they would.” Sabo’s words came out in a low, threatening hiss.

“Look, I know you’re close with them,” Jiron said. “But they’re not very nice to us either. They’re kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Sabo edged, his blood starting to boil.

“Well…bitchy.”

Sabo wasn’t really sure what happened next. He didn’t remember doing anything, but the next moment, Jiron was on the ground holding his nose. Blood was leaking out through his fingers onto the ground.

“Don’t use that word to describe either of them ever again. Got it?” Sabo growled the words, looking around the room.

“What the FUCK, Sabo?” Jiron cried, but Sabo was already pacing toward the door, desperate to get to you as soon as possible.

He caught up with you and Koala quickly and jumped between the two of you, wrapping his arms around your alls shoulders. You tensed at his touch, but once you realized it was him, you just scoffed and shrugged him off.

“Go away, Sabo,” Koala sneered as she shoved him away.

“I’m sorry!” Sabo jumped in front of you all, trying to block your path. “Please, I’m sorry I laughed at those jokes yesterday and even made one myself. That was really shitty of me.”

“Sabo,” you sighed, shaking your head.

He fell to his knees and looked up at you, begging. “And please teach me how to use the coffee machine! And make overnight oats! I’ll make it from now on. I’m starving and I’m sorry.”

His apology made you giggle, and you took his hands and helped him to his feet. Once he was standing, you laced your fingers through his. “You’ll really make the oats?”

“If you want me to.”

“Deal.” You smiled, and gave him a soft kiss to seal his promise. “Can’t go back on it now.”

“And how are you going to make it up to me?” Koala pouted.

“Oh,” Sabo suddenly got very bashful. “I punched Jiron, I think.”

“You WHAT?!”

Law

You bounded into Law’s office, excited to tell him the news. “Law! Shachi just caught-”

“Hang on,” Law mumbled, flicking through his book. He was always looking for something. You were always interrupting him.

After a few minutes, he looked up at you. “Okay, go ahead.”

“Shachi just caught an electric eel! A massive one!”

The moments the words left your mouth, Law was back to looking back at his book. “Interesting. Is that all?”

“Well, I just thought-”

“Hang on,” he mumbled again, already lost on another tangent in his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” You left the room before he had a chance to respond, though you doubt he even noticed your absence.

He got like this sometimes, and you tried not to get hurt by his sudden coldness. It’s just what happened when you were with the Surgeon of Death. A few hours later you had all but forgotten the encounter. There was an island coming up, and you ran to alert him.

“Law!” You slammed his door open, ecstatic. “Law! Guess-”

“Do you mind?!” His loud and hostile voice made you take a step back. “I’m trying to do something and you keep interrupting me!”

You pushed down the lump that was in your throat, but you could feel your lip trembling, threatening to give you away. You couldn’t look weak in front of him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, rushing out of the room.

Shachi found you first, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I told you, you’re too good for him! Maybe you should give him a taste of what it’s like to lose you.”

“Like how?”

A devious grin grew on Shachi’s face. “Silent treatment.”

“Hey captain.” Bepo peeked in the door nervously, knowing there was tension about to be caused. “We’re heading off to the island.”

Law looked up from his book, confused. “Island?” You always told him when you were about to approach an island.

“We docked about a half hour ago,” Shachi chimed in from the hallway.

Law could hear something in his voice. “Where’s Y/N? Are they going?”

“They're going,” Shachi said, grabbing the door handle.

“Well, can you-” Law’s words were cut off by Shachi slamming the door shut.

That was Law’s first indication of something stirring. Shachi always took your side during squabbles, and he seemed livid today.

Law meant to go talk to you. He wasn’t sure what he needed to apologize for, but he knew it was something. But then he found an interesting article about poisons, and he got sucked into reading. Before he knew it, the sun had set and he had to turn on a lamp to keep reading.

Shachi, on the other hand, kept your mind busy. He took you out on the town, dragging you into every clothing shop and making you try anything on that even might look good on you. He pulled you into dessert shops and trinket stores and forced you to go on a beach walk with him. He was your best friend for a reason.

“What if he doesn’t apologize?” you asked him, watching the sun sink. “Then you don’t talk to him, no matter what,” Shachi responded.

Law was still shut away in his office when you returned, and your heart felt a soft ache. He hadn’t even noticed your absence.

“Come on,” Shachi said gently. “You can sleep in our room.”

“I should go talk to-”

“No,” Shachi said firmly. “He always does this. He needs to learn his lesson.” So you slept in the crew bunkhouse for the first time in months. Nobody asked questions, everyone just accepted it. You suspected Shachi had filled them in.

It took Law a few minutes to realize what was wrong. He had come into his room silently and brushed his teeth in the dark before bed like always. It was quieter than usual. And when he went to lay down, the bed was still made. As he pulled the covers back, he couldn’t help but notice how unnatural it felt. But he couldn’t place why.

It was too cold, he realized. And he quickly flicked on a light in the room to find it empty. Thoughts raced through his mind. Where were you? Had you gone missing? Had the Navy or someone else captured you to turn you in for a bounty?

He quickly walked to the shared common room, where he found Penguin and Ikkaku sitting. “Did you go to the island?” he asked, scanning the room. It was too late for you to be up, but he had to double check.

They both nodded, and Law tried not to panic. “Did Y/N come back?”

“Yeah,” Penguin affirmed. “We had dinner with them and Shachi, and we all walked back together.” He gave Ikakku a nervous glance before continuing. “I think they’re sleeping in the shared bunkhouse.”

“What?” Law hissed. “Why?” But Ikkaku and Penguin both shrugged, and Law turned and stormed out the door, making a beeline for the bunkhouse.

He flung the door open, searching for you. He quickly found you in the bunk below Shachi, and he walked over to where you were sleeping.

“What are you doing?” Law said, shaking you lightly. “Come to bed.”

You groaned in your sleep and pushed him away. You never slept well in the bunkhouse. You were a light sleeper, any type of noise made you wake up.

“Y/N,” Law said, shaking you harder. “Let’s go.”

“Law?” Your eyes finally opened, your voice full of exhaustion and sleep. Once you realized it was him, you slapped a hand over your mouth. Silent Treatment.

Law could see the hurt and anger in your eyes when you recognized him, and his heart constricted when you turned away from him.

“Can we talk about what’s going on? Please?” he begged. He was trying not to disturb others, but you could hear them beginning to stir.

You almost caved, but Shachi came to your rescue. He hopped down from his bed and put himself between you and Law. “You can talk in the morning,” Shachi said. “Y/N wants to be here, so let them sleep here.”

Law tried to look past Shachi to you. “I know you can’t stand sleeping here. Just come to bed. Please.”

“Captain.” Shachi’s voice was on the verge of dangerous defiance. “Leave.”

Law stared at him, not sure what to make of Shachi’s protectiveness over you. His gaze was almost challenging, but Shachi refused to back down. He could hear the others in the room starting to stir, and he knew he was only embarrassing you, so he conceded. “I’m coming back first thing.”

“That’s fine,” Shachi said. “If Y/N wants to talk then, you’re welcome to have a conversation.”

Law slept horribly that night. His fingers kept reaching out for you. The bed felt too big, the covers weren’t warm enough. He finally got up and started reading. He was too anxious to sleep.

So were you. You were tossing and turning every 20 minutes, trying to get comfortable. You couldn’t sleep without Law’s heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But Shachi made you promise to never admit it.

Law was sitting in the hallway outside the door when you went to get breakfast. You almost tripped over him, and when he saw you, he immediately stood to his feet. His tired gold eyes pierced into your soul, and you could see he was in rough shape. “Can we talk now?” He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but you could hear it loud and clear.

You gave a panicked look to Shachi, but he only gave you a smile and a small nod, encouraging you on.

You gave Law a nod in agreement. You still weren’t ready to talk to him, but you could listen.

“I did something yesterday,” Law said, closing the door to his office as you walked in. “I snapped at you when you were excited about something. I prioritized my studies over you and I’m sorry.”

You watched him closely, making sure his words were genuine. Law had a tendency to apologize when he knew you wanted to hear it, not when he actually felt bad about it.

“I’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he continued. “I tend to get obsessed with my work, and my relationships hurt because of it. And I know it’s not fair to ask you, but I need you to tell me when I’m hurting you. Because I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. So please…tell me. Yell at me. Smack me. Just don’t…don’t disappear on me. Please.”

Your heart melted at his words. You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “And you won’t get mad?”

“I promise I won’t.”

You gave him a mischievous grin. “Even if I smack you really hard?”

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying that,” he groaned.

You giggled and gave him a soft kiss. “Too late, Captain.” You rested your head on his shoulder, his familiar scent making your eyes start to droop. “Can we go back to bed now?”

“Bed would be nice,” he mumbled into your hair, already pulling you toward his private room.

Ace

Fifteen people in the bar, and your boyfriend had flirted with every single one.

Friendly. That’s what he always called it. He was just being friendly. But you saw the way those commoners looked at him, the lust in their eyes. Getting with a pirate would be thrilling, they’d whisper when his back was turned. He never seemed to hear them talk about him, but he’d always be around them. Convenient.

“You shouldn’t be bothered,” he’d always say. “You know that I’ll always choose you.”

But you were bothered. You hated the pit of jealousy that formed in your gut every time a new person walked up to him. They were always so touchy, rubbing their hands along his shoulders, and the daring ones would even venture down his chest. Like he was their plaything. But he didn’t belong to them.

He was yours. Just not in this bar. Or any bar.

Maybe it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. You were certain he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of you flirting with another man.

Your eyes met an attractive man across the bar, and you decided it would be a good theory to test.

Seeing what you were about to do, Marco grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down into the seat. “Wait,” he muttered.

“Stay out of it, Marco,” you hummed softly. Your voice was pleasant, but there was a threatening undertone to it.

“If you want to make him jealous that will end in a fight and change nothing except the intensity of your makeup sex, go for it.”

Your cheeks brightened at his words, and you finally broke your eye contact with the random man to look at the commander. “Marco-!”

“But if you want to make him panic and stay by your side from now on, listen.” Marco’s voice got low. “Ace looks over here at least once every five minutes. He’s checking on you. I’m guessing jealous sex is his-“

“MARCO!”

“Anyway, I guarantee if you vanish, it’ll make him sweat. Just go back to the Moby Dick, and crash in my room for the night if you want. Give him a bit of the silent treatment. Don’t lean into what he wants. Push away, and I know he’ll stop.”

“How?”

“Because he’s head over heels for you, dummy. Even right now, all he wants is your attention. Don’t give it to him and you’ll cut the bad habits.”

It was worth a shot, and you wouldn’t have to talk to any sleazy guys to test the theory.

“You’re the best, Marco.” You flashed him a grin and stood, giving Ace one last glance. “But never talk about my sex life again.”

“Oh please,” Marco scoffed. “You have no idea what the commanders talk about during shower time, do you?”

Your eyes widened in horror, but Marco just laughed. “Relax! It was a joke!”

“It better be!” you hissed. “Or I’ll skin that boy alive.”

You gave one more glance to Ace. He was caught up in some conversation with a woman, giving her most of his attention. You rolled your eyes, jealousy panging in your chest, and slipped out the door.

The first two times Ace glanced over at your table, he wasn’t worried about your absence. But the third time, he started to get a bad feeling. You had been gone for too long.

He wandered back to the table, trying to appear casual and unbothered. “Hey Marco,” he said, bringing him another beer. “Where’s Y/N?”

Marco knew he was using the beer as a bribe, but took it anyway. “Not sure, they walked out about thirty minutes ago. Hasn’t been back since.”

“What?” Ace could feel himself sobering up, worried about your safety. “Where’d they go?”

“They seemed tired,” Marco said, watching Ace carefully.

“But they always tell me when they’re going home,” Ace grumbled, looking around. “I’m gonna head back too. Kind of over this whole scene.”

Marco chuckled, reading through Ace’s words, but he didn’t say anything further. He watched Ace walk out the door and back to the ship without so much as a goodbye to anyone in the bar, and he knew his plan would work.

Ace tried not to panic when you weren’t in his room. Sometimes you slept in other places, like the common room or the bunkhouse. Especially on drunken nights, you always seemed to find some random place to pass out. But you always told him when you were going to bed.

He didn’t sleep well. He wandered around the ship several times, trying to appear unbothered. But he was searching every nook and cranny, desperately looking for where you had landed yourself.

He didn’t see you again until the next morning, sitting at the breakfast table with Marco and a few others. You were completely surrounded by people, but Ace stopped by your seat on the way to the breakfast line.

“Hey.” He touched your shoulder and you stiffened at the contact, which was odd. Normally you leaned into his touch. You always looked up at him full of love, silently begging him for a morning kiss. But this morning you didn’t even bother to look his way. “Where’d you end up last night?” he asked.

“My room,” Marco answered for you, laughing. “That sure was a shock to walk into!”

You laughed, shoving Marco slightly. You still refused to acknowledge Ace, though it was starting to get difficult. “Hey Thornton, you left shortly before me. Where did you end up?”

“I swear I could’ve made it back to my room if I wanted to!” he bellowed, and everyone laughed.

“Right!” you laughed. “I bet the deck all night sure was cozy!”

You were ignoring him. Ace was sure of it. Had something happened between you and Marco…no. The two of you had only ever been friends, so close you might as well have been siblings.

He finally left you alone, his brain in overdrive trying to figure out what had made you so upset since the last time he spoke to you.

“You flirt too much,” Marco said, joining him in line.

Ace looked back at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re wondering why Y/N is ignoring you, right?” Ace shrugged, trying not to show that it was bothering him too much, but Marco clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Drop the act, man. You should care. And I know you do. I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears trying to figure it out.”

“I just like to talk to people,” Ace defended. “What’s the harm in that?”

“The harm is you don’t just talk. You flirt.” Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “I know what you’re doing, dude, and I don’t blame you. But you’ve got a good thing. Don’t lose it because you want to…talk.”

Ace frowned, annoyed with being called out so personally, but he thought about it while he ate his breakfast alone. He knew how much you hated the way he treated local islanders when you all went out. But he loved the jealous, possessive side of you. He loved watching you fight for him, even if you were fighting with him.

He found you lounging on the deck, reading a magazine. He walked over to you and sat on the edge of the lounger. He saw your eyes flick up and then immediately back to the magazine, and he could’ve sworn the air temperature dropped 10 degrees.

“Hey,” he cooed, his hands dancing up your legs, finding the spots he knew you were ticklish.

You tried to move your legs, but there weren't many places to escape to without getting up and walking away.

“Please talk to me,” he pouted. He leaned against you, pushing your magazine out of the way and resting his head on your chest, looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes.

You turned your head away from him, trying your best to ignore him even though he was physically on top of you, pinning you down.

“Pleaseeeee,” Ace begged. His hands came up and playfully squished your cheeks, and you struggled to keep a straight face. He was so good at making you smile.

“Go away,” you finally said, trying to push him off of you. It was useless, but you had to try.

“You speak!” Ace cheered, and you rolled your eyes. You were tired of his antics. You wanted an apology.

“I’m so lonely without you, babe,” Ace sang offkey, his fingers tracing along your shoulders. “Please come back to me, my loveeeee.”

You didn’t react, but you could feel your vision starting to get blurry. He was too stubborn, but you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep being humiliated and forced to watch Ace live the best of both worlds.

“I’m sorry,” Ace finally whispered when he saw your eyes starting to get watery. “I know I’m a little insane.”

You finally looked at him, still silent. Waiting for more.

“And I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you for so long,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you. So no more flirting with random people in bars. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I promise,” he said, nuzzling into your chest and hugging you tight. He’d hold you close and never let you slip away again.

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

Note

please do one where they were like in a secret relationship and one day reader went live for her fans and idk maybe Tom walked in and now the secret's out. It's up to you how you go abt it. Have a nice day!!

Caught in 4k || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

A/n: Anon you read my mind.... I had this idea sitting in my drafts for quite some time!

Warnings: none!

Wc: 983

Divider by @pommecita

You stir in your sleep when you feel light kisses on your arm. "Good morning, love," He says, his morning voice making you smile as you turn around and place a kiss on his cheek, a smile adorning his lips. His arms wrap themselves around your waist as you both lay still, neither wanting to pull away from the embrace.

"I'm going to go for a shower," You say against his neck, his hands coming to your hips as he massages them. "Can I join?" His tone teasing as you consider the idea. "I fear if you do, we won't make it out of the bathroom for quite a bit," A smirk forms on his lips as you get out of bed, his hand still clinging to yours.

"I don't mind!" He calls out as you flip him off, not bothering to turn around as you shut the door behind you. After the calming shower, you wrap your body in a fluffy white towel as you squeeze out the excess water from your hair, letting it air dry.

You start to brush your teeth as you hear the bathroom door opening. Tom enters in only his boxers as he makes his way to you, arms wrapping around your towel cladded body as you lean back against him. You smile at him through the reflection you mouth frothy with the toothpaste as he smiles back at you.

You bend over to spit out the toothpaste as Tom pretends to fuck you from behind as laughs erupt from your mouth. You lean back up, slapping him across his chest as he smiles innocently at you. Going on your tippy toes, your arms loop around his neck and place a kiss on his lips, a few actually, as you both smile in between them.

"I feel like making pancakes, do you want blueberries or chocolate chips in yours?" You ask him whilst applying lip balm on your lips as he turns the shower on. "Chocolate chips please," He grins at you as give him a thumbs up and walk out picking out an outfit.

You pull back the curtains revealing dark clouds that littered across the sky of Brooklyn. You smile to yourself knowing today was going to full of cuddles and watching Harry Potter films with Tom. Walking down stairs, a thought plagued your mind.

You wanted to go live on Instagram as you felt as if it had been too long since the last time you did one. You leaned your phone up against a fruit bowl as you start the live. "Hey guys!" You smile as you watch thousands of people join in a matter of seconds.

You then continued to pull out the ingredients to make pancakes as you answer some of the questions that people asked. Tom walks down a few minutes later, wondering who you were talking to as your voice travelled upstairs.

He sees you in the kitchen, your back towards him as you talk about the weather. He decided to surprise you so he slowly walked up behind you and wraps his arms around you as you slightly jump. "Fucks sake, you scared me!" You sulked as Tom laughs, peppering the side of your face with kisses as your hands go up to his arms around your neck.

"Oh shit," You silently curse as you freeze, remembering you were still live on Instagram, "What?" He asks confused. You discreetly glance back and mentally face palm yourself as your phone was directly aimed at the two of you which meant that thousands of people witnessed it and most definitely concluded that you and Tom were together, which was very much the truth.

"I'm live on Insta," You whisper as you feel Tom physically pause as well, probably processing your words. He turns his head and makes eye contact with himself on your phone as he awkwardly chuckles. "Oh hey.." He trails off as you burst out laughing. "I'm going to go put a shirt on," Tom quickly says as he runs up stairs to get one.

You watch as comments blow up and you couldn't contain your smile. Everyone was going crazy as they flooded the comments with questions. You hear Tom walk back down, a shirt on his previously naked upper body as you hold out you hand and he takes is. "Well, guess it's out," He chuckles as the both of you read the comments.

Tom leans his hand against the counter as you rest your head on his arm. "Shit, I almost forgot the pancakes!" You panic as you go back to the stove and continue cooking the batter. You and Tom kept your relationship as private as you could, fans speculated that you were dating each other but nothing was confirmed, well until the live of course.

"How long have you two been together?" Tom reads out loud as you get plates for the two of you. "3 years now is it?" You say as Tom thinks about it, "Yeah, 4 years coming this September," he smiles. You come up beside him, resting your chin on your hands that were on the counter as you read through the comments, too immersed to notice that Tom was staring down at you with a huge smile on his face.

A comment mentioning how Tom is looking at you makes you look behind you, "What?" You shyly laugh as he says nothing, shaking his head. Tom takes over with making the pancakes and eventually they are done. "Well guys I'm going to end the live here and eat these pancakes with my wonderful boyfriend, bye!" You say as you end it.

You make eye contact with Tom as you both start laughing. He hugs you and kisses your forehead. "At least we don't have to keep hiding this in public anymore," He says as you agree with him.

#tom blyth #fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x gf!reader

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fanby-fckry · 2 months

Text

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

23 hr. ago

adam is literally sinner coded because of his war crimes. but whatever

🍸 bar-cat75 Follow

23 hr. ago

Angel, I know this is a joke, but just remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the devil, eventually he’ll answer.

🍎 luci-goosey-666 Follow

1 min. ago

Hi! :D

#jumpscaring my denizens #irl source

( 4,564 notes )

🎀 charlies-angel Follow

8 min. ago

New url now that the cat’s out of the bag.

moth-gf -> @.charlies-angel

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

8 min. ago

Awwwwww, babe!!! 🥹🥰💖

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

2 min. ago

gay

( 12 notes )

💙 ozzie-king-of-lust Follow

1 hr. ago

Lmao I love how Adam fought the radio demon, the princess of hell, and Lucifer himself, but in the end the one to put him down is a two-foot tall cyclops with a knife and blood lust.

💙 ozzie-king-of-lust Follow

58 min. ago

@.jest-fizzarolli Fizzie Frog, you cannot leave this in the tags.

🐸 jest-fizzarolli Follow

57 min. ago

#ozzie peer-reviewed my tags #is he biased? #yes #but idc ↯ #niffty lady ↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #adam ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo #jesters privilege #irl source

( 15,708 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

12 hr. ago

if I make it outta this alive, I’m gonna tell my crush I’m in love with him.

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

2 hr. ago

fuck

#well well well #if it isnt the consequences of my own actions

( 173 notes )

🐝 queen-bee-lzebub Follow

3 hr. ago

Nice try Heaven, but: L + Ratio + the power of friendship

#stay sinning stay winning babes!!! ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo #👑🐝

( 15,1253 notes )

📺 voxblr4k Follow

3 hr. ago

Alastor is trending again, but this time for the right reasons (getting his ass kicked and running away like the cowardly little pissbaby he is)

So I guess I won’t be deleting this hellsite just yet

↯ #alastor the radio demon #shitposting in 4k

( 794 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

I seem to have made what you might call an “oopsie daisy”

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

A real “cringe fail moment” if you will

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

I fucked up

↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo #real radio demon broadcasts

( 88,387 notes )

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

5 hr. ago

hey is no one gonna talk about how a fucking rpf smut writer just killed adam the motherfucking archangel?

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

4 hr. ago

@.niffty-lady has over 1000 fics on archive of our souls including a 500k word explicit radiostatic enemies to lovers fic that allegedly caused infighting in the vees because vox wanted it taken down and velvette kept blocking his access

and she stabbed the leader of the exorcists to death

↯ #niffty lady ↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo #her url is trending now so ig we are talking about it #cryms crimes

( 16 notes )

❤️ moth-pimp Follow

8 hr. ago

people think I’m exaggerating when I say voxxy has a fetish for killing the radio demon. I wish those people could see him now.

🧁 rad-velvette-cakes Follow

8 hr. ago

#hate boner doesnt even begin 2 describe it #radiostatic #vox ↯ #alastor the radio demon #rb

( 498 notes )

📺 voxblr4k Follow

23 hr. ago

for 2nd extermination day I’m deleting this entire site sayonara you weeaboo shits

↯ #extermination day ↯ #extermination 2 electric boogaloo #shitposting in 4k #irl source

( 262,976 notes )

⬜️ voxblr-meta Follow

23 hr. ago

Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost

#meta #fake tumblr dash

( 0 notes )

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fever-fluff · 5 months

Text

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All

Synopsis: You’re sick of Cassian and Rhysand sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. And Azriel’s tendency to let things slide when it comes to himself isn’t helping. Word Count: 4k (not proof read)

“I just think you’re becoming a bit…”

“A bit what, Cass?” Azriel was not in the mood for this. Sitting in Rita’s, in a booth right to the back while his two brothers pestered him on his love life was not how he wanted to spend the night after he’d returned to Velaris. You had been absent from his bed when he’d finally made it back in the early hours of the morning. Though he wasn’t worried. You had duties to attend to for Rhys as one of his foreign relations advisors, normally starting as soon as you woke in order to enjoy your evenings free of work to spend with him- even if he was the one still doing paperwork.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too… extreme?” Azriel snarled at Cass’ blatant insult to you. But he held his hands up in peace, Rhys cutting in before he could do more damage. “What we’re trying to say, Azriel, is that it seems like you aren’t yourself lately. You’ve been showing up more recently, which is not a bad thing and we’re happy to see more of you. But it’s the reason of these increased showings that has us worried.”

Azriel supposed it was true. He had been showing up more – to social events that is. He was always present when it was just their inner circle, but the regular accepting of invitations to social events that didn’t need his presence was a new thing, something that you had gently insisted on since the two of you had become so close.

He was never one for meaningless interactions and had been pushing himself outside of his comfort zone for quite some time now by giving in every time you looked at him, pleading with those eyes of yours. He could never quite say no when you asked, and begged him, so nicely. But he nodded all the same to the two that he understood what they were trying to say, “I guess. I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal. It makes her happy.”

“That’s the thing Az. Sure, it makes her happy. But does it make you?” Cass was trying, really trying not to say the wrong words and have this blow up in his face. Azriel thought for a moment, of all the times he’d watch you interact with others he didn’t even know the name of, never mind their importance to your work, while you linked your arm around his and had him trail along. He was always uncomfortable in the light, always wanting to slink back to the shadows. But you were the opposite, always blooming so lovely in the presence of everyone you deigned to offer your time to. He sometimes wished he could coddle you away from all their adoring eyes and have you all to himself. But he would never cage you like that.

“Not particularly. I do it for her, but sometimes I would rather sit at home while she goes about her work.” His admission was quiet, feeling that if he said it too loud it would carry on the wind and into your ear as you slept.

“What we’re trying to say, brother, is that spending your life with someone is all about compromise. You need to tell her when you don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.” Since when has Cassian ever been so wise and all-knowing? He’d bet five gold marks Nesta had whipped that piece of sense into him after he’d thrown another of her books out the window, insisting on ‘a lovely stroll through Velaris’ instead. Azriel knew he was just jealous of the new male protagonist in her recent book series, garnering all her attention throughout the day.

But Cassian’s words had stuck in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Had he been compromising on his comfort for your own? You’d never pressed the issue with him, but he supposed he’d not put much of a front up against it in the past, agreeing almost immediately every time you’d asked for his company.

“You know I respect her and the work she does” Rhys had ordered another round as they settled in for the night of drinking ahead, “she’s one of the best at her job that I’ve ever seen, placating Eris is a testament to that. But she is intense, she has to be. I don’t want that to jeopardise you or your happiness with her in any way in the future. Putting up boundaries with her now is the best way to do that.”

Azriel knew his brothers had always had his best interest in their hearts when it came to things like this. Rhys’ intervention between him and Elain on Solstice years ago was a testament to that. He would have been hurt in a way he would never have come back from. Elain and Lucien’s bond was one of the strongest he’d ever seen – even rivalling that of Rhys and Feyre’s once given the chance. Then he’d met you. You had courted him from the minute you’d met, and he’d preened under the attention he’d longer centuries for. You weren’t his mate; no bond had snapped for him in the time he’d gotten to know you. But he’d worked past that and found that someone choosing to be with him purely of their own volition made it much harder to doubt whether he was worthy of you or not.

So, as they drank on, Azriel let their words mill over in his mind, finally agreeing with their concerns, and decided tomorrow he’d tell you how he really felt about all the parties you were asking him to attend.

Waking up to a hungover Azriel was a rare sight, but an amusing one none the less. You’d gone to bed last night early after reading a note he’d left, saying Rhys and Cass had asked him to drinks to catch up after being away for three months. You were upset, naturally, as you hadn’t seen him either during that time. But Azriel was a people pleaser, and he’d accepted their invitation with no qualms. So instead of wallowing in self-pity of not spending the first night with him back falling asleep in his arms, you had invited Mor and Feyre over to take your mind off it.

They’d left soon after midnight, Feyre wanting to get back to Nyx seeing as his father would be away most of the night. But all those sour feelings had left the second you’d awoken curled into his strong, tanned arms this morning.

Trying to shift in his hold, you’d felt him curl further into you with a groan, wing casting over the two of you to block the ray of sun peering in between the curtains. You laughed, sending a small gush of magic to pull it closed, cutting the bright light off. His hum of appreciation vibrated against your neck while you reached to play with the tresses of dark hair falling in front of his eyes. It was getting long again – which you preferred on him – but he’d cut it soon now that he was home.

“Good morning, love” you’d never tire of the purr the name elicited from the Illyrian warrior beside you, and it rumbled lowly as he reached into your touches further. “How were drinks with Cass and Rhys?”

“Long. Too long. Wanted to come home to you.” his voice, gods his voice. You loved it, the deep tones in the morning unlike anything else you’d ever heard.

“Yeah? I should have realised I’d need to rescue you, nab you back to have you all to myself.” One thing you’d realised in pursuing the Shadowsinger was his need for directness. His heart had been torn so many times that it wouldn’t beat for anything else. And you’d been more than happy to provide.

The morning was slow, full of sweetness and adoration you’d both been missing in his absence. Neither of you had been pressed to rise before noon until your stomach had grumbled its dislike of the lack of food. And so, you’d found yourselves sat at the small table in front of the windows overlooking Velaris, coffee and pastries in hand.

Azriel had woken from his drunken haze, and appeared caught in his own world, more so than usual as you noticed him missing the handle of his mug, for the second time. “Something on your mind, my love.”

His sigh was enough to know you wouldn’t like what he had to say, and your mind wandered to unpleasant thoughts of Rhys already assigning him to another mission far from home. “I swear on all that is good if that High Lord of yours assigned something else to you last nigh-”

“He hasn’t. And don’t forget he’s your High Lord also.” Azriel hated when you spoke against any decisions made by his family, which was rare. You were on the same page as them, mostly. But there were some things you disagreed strongly on. Not always living in Velaris had given you another taste of the world, and it faired well for you in your work here. But there were times when it caused temporary rifts between you and your friends, and you weren’t inclined to change if it could be solved with words instead of blades. But when it involved Azriel, you found yourself more and more inclined to picking up something sharp and slicing it into anything that wanted to steal him from you.

“We were… talking. Last night. About a couple things.” Azriel was not as sweet with words as his brother, but to see him lose them completely was new altogether. Putting the pieces together from the non-existent puzzle he’d left for you, you felt your breath hitch slightly, “About us?”

“Yeah…” you didn’t like this Azriel. The unsure and unconfident kind. He had a silent strength you’d admired since the first time you’d met. You’d fallen in love with the male that wasn’t this, and you hated seeing him act like anything lesser than he was.

“Azriel. Whatever it is, please speak to me about it. I want to know.” You’d moved from your chair, coming to sit on the side of his as you laid your hand next to his, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to take it. But the warmth that encased yours was comfort enough to know it wasn’t something that would break the two of you.

“I – don’t want to go to the – social events anymore.” Your brows pinched in confusion, where was this coming from? “Care to tell me why?”

“I’m not a fan of them. At all really. And I realised I was doing something that wasn’t making me happy. It made you happy, which I’m glad, but I can’t do it anymore. S’ too much.”

You watched Azriel retreat into himself at the admission, but you said nothing as you saw his gaze flicker over the room until it finally landed on you, searching for any anger, or hurt. “If you think I’m angry, I’m not. I understand what you mean, and I’m glad you could tell me.”

“You are?”

You huffed a laugh, “Yea, I am. So long as they’re your thoughts and not your brothers, right?” he nodded, “They are.”

“Okay, no more unnecessary social outings, for you at least. I’ll still have to attend them, considering.” He nodded again, “of course, I wouldn’t assume otherwise.”

You kissed him lightly as you made to get ready for the day, the conversation ending quicker then it began. These mornings were all you really had alone with him, both your professions taking up the rest of your days and swallowing the majority of the daylight- and twilight.

He’d winnowed soon after from the garden after kissing you goodbye, seeming lighter now that he’d voiced his discomfort, and you released a sigh you’d been holding since.

There was a party in three days, one you’d assumed Azriel would attend with you. But now that he’d expressed his feelings about them, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Instead, you’d prepare yourself for the emotional and verbal onslaught to come without the Shadowsinger by your side.

You hated these things. Really, really hated them. being in a room full of fae looking to raise their status, their family name in the long list of nobles was always a tiring feet to be around, but it was a necessary evil to your work. Mor stood beside you in all her ethereal glory, and the pair of you looked nothing more than astounding. Emerie was somewhere in the crowd of people, charming her way through each table she rounded. You were sometimes envious of the support she lends to Mor at these times, the two made a good pair in these places, balancing the other out that lead to progress you would only dream of making in such short time.

But it seemed tonight all you would find for yourself was concealed and blatant admissions of fae asking about your seemingly juicy availability.

“Ladies, it’s an honour to have received an invitation to such a grand celebration, pray tell” the male who’d sauntered his way over to the two of you leered in you direction, “has the lovely lady finally been freed from her cage? Should I thank the Shadowsinger for his decision to set you free from you confines that is the Court of Nightmares?” You blanched at his obvious attempt but concealed it under a smile too easy that it felt tight, “I believe you’ve been fed the wrong fruit from the vine my lord, Azriel and I are still quite the pair. I do hope you don’t mean to sully his name when he is not here to defend himself?” your sinister pout had the blood leeching from the males cheeks, and he stuttered himself into a stupor until he could find his feet to walk quickly away.

Sighing, you grabbed a fresh glass of wine, the last going sour from the interaction. Mor’s head leaned to yours unceremoniously, “Mother, that’s the fifth one in the last hour! How often does this happen?”

“Any time Azriel isn’t with me. When he’s accompanied me in the past it stopped a lot of this for the most part. But with my reputation among the courts here and abroad, anyone will try to get their claws into the person holding the most honey pots.” You were feeling the effect of it much sooner than ever before, the mental strain making your mind lag. You’d really hoped Azriel would have been here tonight, but you couldn’t lean on his strength every time.

“That’s why you’ve been bringing him along…” something seemed to click with her. “You know he hates these things. But you wanted him here for support, for you.” You nodded without hesitation, confused as to why her face seemed so stricken by the knowledge.

“There’s something I have to tell you” Mor’s tone was sullen. As she explained, you listened and felt anger wash over you in gulfs. Oh, you were going to murder someone, and soon.

The following weeks after Azriel had admitted his feelings to you were…odd, to say the least. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. you had been the same as ever to him, loving and oh so understanding when it came to his every need. You didn’t press him to attend the gatherings you had to, opting to inform him instead of your departure. While you were gone, he would catch up on all the paperwork he had waiting, and by the time you came home, his arms would be open and waiting for you to fall into.

But something was still off. He felt it in the way your shoulders slumped more than they usually would after socialising all night. It was still taxing to you, but you had always smiled after when he had attended them with you. Now, you barely had enough energy to lift yourself from his hold, falling straight to sleep once he’d guided you to bed.

Those nights, when you’re too tired to tell him about your day, and instead just curl up against his side, Azriel thinks about the moments of when you’d first met.

Your connection to him was almost instantaneous, you’d follow him everywhere you could. The idle chatter you started with had eventually turned to long and deep conversations, sweeping him along into the early hours of the morning.

Your first kiss, when you’d found him after a more draining mission. You’d helped him bathe, nursing the tension from his back and mind with loving but firm touches to his skin. He’d turned to you in a burst of confidence and captured your mouth with his before he had anytime to think himself out of it. You’d melted into him almost instantly, and the rest had been a blur of tangled limbs and sheets.

The weeks after had been full of secret touches and longing looks, until Cassian had caught the two of you in a heated kiss after venturing to the kitchen for some late night tea. Always the one known for having loose lips, the whole house had known before Azriel could’ve knocked him unconscious, but you had laughed and squeezed his hand in reassurance, letting him know that you didn’t mind being claimed by him, if he were okay with you claiming him. No, he didn’t mind that at all.

Gods, he had been in heaven ever since. Having someone to come home to, to reach for in the long family dinner when before he had to watch the mated couples around him stare adoringly at one another. He now had someone to call his own, and he was so glad it was you.

But you seemed to be getting worse as the weeks rolled on, and he couldn’t quite understand why, until Rhysand pulled him into his office.

“She’s taking a leave of absence from her position.” Azriel’s world spun on the wrong axis as he processed the words coming from his brother’s mouth.

“She hasn’t spoken to you about this?” he shook his head, mind spiralling as to why you’d do something like this. You loved your job, more than anything. It gave you a purpose, something to give back to the world.

Cassian ventured in not long after, seeming to already know what was going on, “you’re not communicating again. Azriel, this is gonna really affect your-”

“Affect his what, Cassian?”

The three of the bristled at the sharpness of your tone. Azriel cast his gaze over you. Your eyes seemed darkened by a tiredness that hadn’t been there until a few weeks ago. Even your posture, always one to hold your head high, looked slumped against Mor and Feyre, who stood behind you.

“I was just saying that you both should talk a bit more about-”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of comments on what me and my mate should talk about.”

Azriel stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your- your what?

You sighed, your admission seeming to go amiss amongst the thoughts swirling in you mind, but Azriel couldn’t comprehend how you’d said something like that so…so… casually.

“Azriel, Can I speak to Rhysand and Cassian – alone?” he didn’t feel himself answer, but Mor and Feyre seemed to understand and guided him into the hallway, where the three of them waited with baited breath to hear the onslaught you’d ensue. It wasn’t a secret, how much you detested some of the decisions they made in this court. Hels, you had even come to Eris’ defense more than once during the time of the alliance to put him on the Autumn throne. But this was different, and he knew it deep in his bones.

Mate. You’d called him your mate. But there was no bond. Nothing had snapped in all the time you had known each other. He loved you, infinitely. but that had been a choice you had both made in all that you had gone through, not for some fate woven between you.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in” it was Feyre, “I think we should sit down, get some tea while we wait until they’re finished.”

So the three of them walked away from the voices on the other side of the door, and made for Feyre’s studio.

“You two need to butt out, now.” You were fuming, white hot rage consumed you as you looked to the grown males in front of you. But they weren’t acting like that, not in all the time you’d known them.

“You-you called Az your mate?”

Shit. Had you? Oh gods he was probably going insane with the thoughts in his head. No wonder he hadn’t answered you. How were you going to explain hiding something so profound from him for as long as you’d known each other.

“What of it.” you were snapping now. You don’t ever snap. That was your charm, ever the collected one, no matter what. But gods they had stuck their noses where it didn’t belong. And you detested it.

The statement had seemed to shut the two of the up quite quickly, so you continued, happy for the lack of interruption. “I understand you’re looking out for Az; I do. But this is getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. Have you ever considered the weight in which Az holds your words? They’re like gospel to him.”

“We were just trying to help, nothing more.” You snorted as the High Lord’s words. Feyre and Mor have known of your secret since you met Azriel, but it seemed the two of them have truly kept it privy to your circle of three.

“Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong does more damage than good?” you were breaking now, the emotions you had welled up the past while cresting. “I wasn’t asking Azriel to those gatherings because I wanted him out of his comfort zone. Gods, I know he detests them.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed him. It’s not easy listening to fae ask about your hand in marriage while your mate sits happily at home.”

You took a breath as the two said nothing more. “I came here to tell you that my leave was because I was overwhelmed. It’s a lot sometimes, even for me. And I hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Az without interruption since we met. I was going to tell you both today, about… the predicament. But it seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag, claws and all.”

Gods, how were you going to explain this to him? You’ve kept him in the dark for months. He’ll never forgive you.

“We-acknowledge our misstep. We truly didn’t mean to hurt you, or Azriel. And for that I apologise, for us both.” Rhys’ face was sullen enough for your anger towards the two wash away, and you nodded. “Believe me, you’re not the one who’s hurt him.”

With nothing else to say, you made for the door. Cassian’s voice stopping you just as you reached for the handle, “Just, make sure you get him to listen. He’ll go into his head, and its not a good place.”

You nodded.

“I know.”

There will be a Part II

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel acotar #mor acotar #fem reader #azriel x female!reader #feyre archeron

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roguelov · 7 months

Text

Sleepless Night

Summary: Unable to sleep, you stumbled across Sanji at the back of the ship. A quick exchange, and some teasing remarks, a realization was made. Sanji hasn’t been with anyone, and you wanted to be his first

Word Count: ~ 4k

Reader: Afab (referred as love/sweetheart)

Warning: SMUT (oral (m!receiving and f!receiving), light exhibition (outside at night), voyeurism, inexperienced!Sanji)

Part 2

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

The late night breeze rippled across the obsidian glasslike sea. The ship, the Going Merry, was gently rocked like a baby in a cradle. The moon and stars glittered across the sky, guiding those to the land of dreams. It was a calm night, a peaceful night.

Yet, one soul was awake.

Sanji leaned his forearms on the railing, overlooking the sea staring off into the horizon. The sky and sea almost seamlessly blended together. A cigarette lazily hung from his fingertips. The salty water misted in the air, mixing with the light smoke. He brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. The sweet nicotine swirled around, filling his chest. Tipping his head back, he exhaled slowly. His usually pristine suit was exchanged for sweatpants and a plain shirt. The chilly air nipped at his skin, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it. Everything about tonight should lull a person to sleep, and have them running to be tucked nicely under the covers, yet he was wide awake.

The only one, or so he thought.

“You know those things can kill you.”

Sanji immediately smiled to himself. He laughed once, then glanced over to you. You strolled up beside him, sporting similar pajamas. Another sign you both should be asleep, you were dressed for it. You leaned your arms onto the railing, mimicking his stance.

“Is that so?” He quipped. “I’m sure a few won’t kill me before the Grand Line.”

“No,” you tilted your head in thought. “But, I might if I see you light another one.”

Sanji dipped his head, leaning in close to you. The smoke wafted off of him, a smell which always lingered around him. A smell which stirred such conflicting emotions in you. A devilish smirk danced over his lips. “Are you threatening me, sweetheart?”

You let out a bark of laughter and matched his smirk. “Definitely.”

You quickly snatched his cigarette then flicked it out into the sea. Sanji blinked, stunned for a moment. “I still had some left,” he mumbled, disappointedly. He shook his head, then smiled back at you. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes, and bumped his hip, “So, why are you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep, you?”

“Same,” you sighed, leaning heavily into the railing. It was just one of those nights, your mind and body were at war with each other.

Sanji smirked, “Bet I could make you tired.”

You snorted, playing into this game of yours. “Yeah? Do you think you could keep up with me?”

“Oh! Well, look at you,” he chuckled. “I certainly will try. What do you say, love? Should we give it a go?”

This was your normal relationship with Sanji. The light teasing, the flirtatious comments; well, him more than you. Sanji’s silver tongue was far faster and sweeter than your own. Yet, you never thought it was nothing else but some simply fun.

Or you thought it was just for him.

Maybe it was because the two of you were alone, maybe it was because you knew you would probably just crawl back to your bed unable to sleep the rest of the night, maybe it was because he looked so unbelievably beautiful in the moonlight, you wanted to push it tonight. Normally, you would have dropped it by now. You would both laugh, and pretend nothing happened. Only for these same heart pounding scenarios to happen over and over.

Yet, a voice called out: your buried desires for the cook.

You wanted to test where the boundary in the sand was drawn between the two of you. Was it only games? Was there some truth behind his words? With the rest of the crew sleeping, you had to take your chance now.

Staring unwaveringly into his dazzling blue eyes, you said, “And if I say yes? What then?”

Sanji blinked, taken back. He opened his mouth and muttered utterly confused, “Wait, what?”

Don’t turn back now.

“I said -“

“No, no, I heard you. It’s just I, uh, I didn’t really expect you to ever answer with a yes.”

You cocked your head. Sanji’s smooth, wicked tongue was failing him. This was a side you never thought you would see, let alone a side he had. His words then replayed in your head, making you question a few things. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Sanji was handsome, sweet, kind, a great friend and cook. Only a fool would say no to him.

And a fool you were for a long time.

He licked his lips, glancing away. “I, uh, I don’t know -“ he fiddled with his hands, wishing desperately you didn’t toss away his cigarette - “I just never thought you would or if … if …”

His voice trailed off.

Your eyebrows knitted together. You stared more and more, watching him with confusion while he oddly retreated within himself. Under the moonlight, a faint blush dusted across his cheeks. His eyes widened, actively avoiding your gaze. He fidgeted in place, picking at his nails or part of the banister.

He was so nervous, so unlike him, almost as if -

Realization finally struck you.

“Oh - oh!” You twisted around to face him directly. There was no way to beat around the bush, you just had to ask him. “Sanji, have you ever been with anyone before?”

He tensed up at your question. You hit the nail square on the head. He sighed, dropping his shoulders. Was there any real point in hiding it now? “I may or may not have been busy with the Baratie and the old man, never had much time to myself.”

“Really?”

You would have never guessed. You would have assumed he had flings almost every night with the constant stream of customers. A new love, a new interest, with every ship that came in.

“Yes,” he groaned. Shame and embarrassment bubbled up inside of him. He may talk a big game, but he had nothing to back it up.

“Hey.” You gently rested your hand on his arm. His attention dropped to your hand then up to your kind face. “I’m not judging you, I don’t care honestly. I’m just surprised because you’re just so - so … flirty? Sauve? You’re just really good with your words.”

Even if he can be a bit cheesy at times.

Sanji laughed through his nose. “I find words are easier, sweetheart.”

You smiled at him, so endearing and sweet. His heart skipped at such a loving sight. “I don’t blame you, people can be a bit more complex,” you chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

He smiled softly in return, then glanced away. You both looked back out towards the sea. Sanji still naturally leaned into you, seeking out your warmth and comfort. Despite it all, nothing seemed to truly change. He was still Sanji, and you were still you.

Or so it seemed.

You, on the other hand, were now utterly restless. An idea was planted inside your head. One you couldn’t quite ignore. You bit your lip, nervously.

Where is the line? And do I dare keep pushing it?

“Sanji?”

He hummed, almost absentmindedly.

“Could … could I be your first?”

“What?” He whipped his head towards you.

“We don’t have to go all the way, I thought maybe I could just …”

How could you word this? You didn’t want to be harshly blunt and possibly frighten him.

“Just to start off small, I was thinking maybe I could … suck you off?”

You winced internally. That wasn’t entirely smooth. But, like you said, Sanji was better with words than you were.

He gulped, gawking at you. His quick fire mouth silenced for once. How could he say no? Why would he say no? To be his first, it was almost like a dream. Excited nerves sparked across his growing hot skin. His heart pounded feverishly in his chest, and he licked his lips trying to find his voice again.

“Are … are you sure?” He asked in a soft dazed whisper.

You smiled. “Sanji, I don’t mind but this is about you. Do you want this?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, without needing a second thought.

He wanted this, he wanted you. He wanted you the moment he saw you, but he never thought such fantasies could become reality.

“Good,” you whispered. You slowly sank to your knees in front of him.

“Out here?” He whispered out in surprise.

“Why not? Everyone else is asleep, and we’re at the back of the ship so no one should see us.”

His body buzzed. “Are you sure?”

You glanced up at him for a moment. Nerves were written so plainly all over his face. Maybe, this is a bit too much. “Sanji, we can go inside if you want. This is about you so -“

“Out here is good.”

You blinked, shocked by his quick change. “Are you sure? Because I want you to be comfortable.”

“Yeah,” he sighed then smiled. Honestly, the place didn’t matter. He just wanted you. But, out here on the deck, oh it sent a pleasant chill down his spine. “I’m sure, love.”

“Okay then,” you nodded.

You situated yourself, ensuring Sanji’s back leaned into the railing while you sat on your knees before him. Your hands skimmed up his thighs, just dipping your toe into the water. And yet, Sanji shook slightly under the simple touch.

“Relax, Sanji.”

“Sweetheart, I’m trying but - oh my god, you look so - so -“

Amazing. Beautiful. Stunning.

You peered up at him with adoration. Yet, a sinful darkness swept over your features. A viper-like smile crossed over your lips. You couldn’t hold back your desires. Seeing him stuttering, so unlike his usual composed self, was absolutely thrilling. You chuckled at his rosy tinted cheeks and ears.

“What happened? You’re usually so good with your words,” you teased, running your hands up and down his thighs.

His knees nearly buckled. You hadn’t even truly done anything, but any touch left his body dizzy. He was trapped in a whirlwind of building desires. “Hard to think when you’re looking up at me like that,” he mumbled.

You hummed, smirking to yourself. “Well? Can I take these off?” You snapped the band of his sweatpants, almost making him jump.

Sanji didn’t trust his voice for once. He simply nodded.

“Wonderful,” you purred.

You carefully tugged down the sweatpants, revealing a wet spot on his boxers. You bit your lip. You hadn’t begun, and yet he was already turned on. It fueled your ego a bit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” You promised.

But, you would also have your fun along the way.

You softly blew on the wet patch. Sanji’s hands grabbed the railing, holding it in a crushing white-knuckling grip. He swallowed, and groaned very softly.

How was he going to last?

You kissed directly over the patch.

Sanji shoved a fist into his mouth, forcing back an awfully loud moan.

You slowly slid down his boxers, and his cock sprung out. You shivered at the sight of it. To say the cook was packing was an understatement. You snuck a glance up at him. He looked adorable. No, appetizing. His cheeks were flushed, and a hand covered his mouth preventing any wayward sounds. He was fighting back against his own desires, but you desperately wanted the cook to lose control. You wanted to see this side of him, to see pleasure wrought into every inch of his body.

And to know you were the first made it all the more delicious.

Your fingers curled around the base of his cock. Sanji fiercely but his lip, trying to keep calm. Your thumb brushed over his red, swollen tip, gathering up precum. You gave him a few soft and teasingly slow pumps. Sanji tipped his head back, falling under your spell. His hand slid from his mouth, latching onto the railing. Your hands were far better than his own.

You then swept the flat of your tongue over his swollen tip. He bit down on his lip harshly, almost about to draw blood. His eyes squeezed so tight, losing a part of himself with every passing second.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed out.

You chuckled, mischievously. Teasing him was so easy now. His reactions were delightful, and spurred your own growing desires.

Your tongue ran up the underneath of his cock. He slapped his hand over his mouth, groaning into his palm. Then, you peppered kisses up and down. With each kiss - each sweet butterfly kiss - he became more and more vocal.

If only you could hear it so clearly.

Kissing his tip one last time, your lips finally wrapped around him and took him inch by inch. Your tongue glided along his base, tasting him and feeling the weight of him. Taking all of him, you held him in your mouth for a second before slowly pulling back. You repeated the movements, slow and steady. A teasing pace, or a way to warm him up to it.

Your eyes flickered up, eager to see all of his reactions.

His eyebrows were pinched together in pleasure. His soft pants could not be completely silenced by his hand. While, the other held firmly onto the railing. He needed stability, he needed support.

You removed your mouth completely. You reached over, gently grabbing his hand on the railing and guiding to the top of your head. “Here,” you encouraged. “You can keep your hand here, and tug on my hair if you want.”

He peered down at you like some dazzling treasure. “I - really? Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You laughed lightly. Your hands wrapped around his thighs. “You can’t hurt me. Besides -“ you threw him a wicked smirk - “maybe I want you to hurt me.”

Fuck.

He could have came right there.

“You’re dangerous, sweetheart,” he muttered in awe.

You winked, then chuckled darkly. You quickly took him in your mouth again, setting a faster pace. Your tongue swirled and grazed along him. Your fingernails dug into his thighs, eager to do all you can for him.

And dear god, you were.

Sanji was losing himself. Pleasure was filling his veins, and blood rushed in his ears. He was becoming wildly desperate for his release. His hips bucked once, unconsciously chasing his high.

You groaned, feeling his tip kiss the back of your throat.

Sanji flinched, and froze in place. Has he hurt you? He grunted, forcing himself to stay still and enjoy it.

You pulled away with a pop.

Sanji nearly whined.

“Don’t hold back,” you said, a little breathless. “I don’t mind if you move your hips.”

‘You can fuck my face,’ you almost said. However, you tried your best to be a little tame.

Sanji’s heart nearly bursted. He nodded, humming in response.

“Good.” You kissed his tip, and Sanji almost fell backwards into the sea. “Because if anything was wrong, I would tell you. Now, enjoy yourself.”

Your lips wrapped around his cock. Your head bobbed up and down again. Sanji bucked his hips again. You hummed, encouraging him.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned. He was panting heavily. His head fell forward, watching you. Your lips covered in spit, wrapped so perfectly around him. It was a sight he never thought would happen. Your eyes locked with his. His hair clung to his forehead. His eyes had pooled into the sinful black, and sweat glistened along his skin.

He hasn’t looked more beautiful until now.

You hummed. He hissed then moaned softly. His lovely lips were now an incoherent mess.

He gasped, “Love, I - I -“

He choked on his words. He couldn’t form a thought, let alone a full sentence.

But, you understood. His cock twitched in your mouth. He was close. You wanted to whisper to him, to whispering loving praises in his ear. ‘Come for me, Sanji’, or ‘you’re doing so good’ but perhaps another time.

He moaned, and leaned heavily back into the railing. He could barely keep himself upright anymore. He rocked his hips, matching your pace. He tugged on your hair, drawing you closer. Your nose brushed against his abdomen with each thrust. You relaxed your jaw, allowing him to use you.

You moaned, loudly.

This was all so hot.

His head fell back, mumbling your name over and over. This was heavenly. You were heavenly. This was better than he dreamt over, far better knowing you were the one doing such things.

God, he was already imagining other things. He wanted fuck you, he wanted to make love with you, he wanted to have you on the counter, he wanted to see you riding him, he wanted to try it all. He wanted to do it all with you.

��Please,” he whimpered. He wanted this to last forever, but the pleasure was too much. “Can - can I come in your mouth?”

You moaned a ‘yes’.

That was all he needed.

He came down your throat, moaning out your name. You hummed, taking it all. Sanji glanced down at you with heavy eyes. He panted loudly, gulping down air. Ever so slowly, he released his intense grip on your hair. His legs shook slightly reeling from all of this.

Peering up at him, you pulled away then opened your mouth. His cum sat on your tongue. He whimpered faintly, utterly spent and in awe. You gladly swallowed it with a devious smirk.

His reaction was priceless.

You pulled up his boxers and pants. Standing up, you patted his chest, feeling his chaotic heart race under your fingertips. A swell of pride surged through you. You opened your mouth to ask if he liked it, when he swiftly grabbed your face kissing you.

Your eyes widened, but instantly fell into him.

His tongue slipped past your lips, drawing out your wondrous sinful sounds and desires. He could taste himself on your tongue. He groaned.

Fuck, he thought.

He pushed off the railing, flipping you around. Your lower back dug into the wood, but you didn’t mind. Your hands wandered up his chest into his hair. Your fingers tangled into the blonde locks, tugging on them softly. He moaned against your lips. He nipped on your bottom lip, loving your small gasps.

“Please,” he murmured against your lips. “Please, I want to return the favor.”

His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping your hips. He drew you close to him. You grinded softly against him. A small, sweet moan fell off your lips.

Sanji was greedy for more.

You had only given him a tasting, he now wanted the meal.

“I … I want to … please,” he begged again.

He was already sinking down to his knees. His fingers dug into your thighs, bunching up your sweatpants. Your heart pounded in your chest as you bit your lip. Just as he thought earlier, why would you say no? Even if he was inexperienced, you didn’t care.

“Okay, okay,” you mumbled, shakily.

His eyes twinkled with glee, like a kid in a candy store. You hastily kicked off your sweatpants, and about to remove your underwear -

“Let me.”

Sanji’s hands stopped yours. You froze then nodded, letting go. You wanted him to try and take charge, to see what he would do.

Sanji hummed. He slowly pulled down your underwear. He was entranced. His fingers delicately traced down your thighs and legs being as gentle as possible. As he brought them down, you stepped out of them. Sanji placed them with your sweatpants. Glancing back, he groaned at the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, licking his lips.

His breath on your dripping folds made you shiver. You were immensely turned on by all of this. But, it was the hunger in his eyes that made you weak. Such hunger and want. He wanted to please you in any capacity, he wanted to be good for you.

Holy shit.

“Sanji,” you breathed out. “Can - can I -“

“Do whatever you need to, love.”

“I just want to -“ you carefully hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. You leaned backwards using the railing and Sanji for support.

He firmly grabbed your thigh, thrilled by this. He turned his head, kissing all over your thigh. Up and down, up and down, until he trail led back to where you needed him. You shivered, tipping your head back.

“Sanji,” you sighed.

“What do you need? Tell me what to do,” he purred, buzzing with excitement.

“Your tongue, your tongue, I -“

His tongue quickly swept through your folds. You groaned. His mouth latched itself onto you, swirling around. His tongue was like utter magic. You supposed you should have known from the kiss. Sanji knew how to work his tongue, he had experience in that field. All he needed was a little guidance and encouragement elsewhere.

“Higher,” you gasped. “Go higher.”

His mouth moved. His lips wrapped around your clit and you whined.

“Right there, fuck,” you hissed.

Sanji hummed.

For a brief moment, you saw stars. He sucked on your clit, feeling your thigh twitch. Sanji groaned at the thought of both of your thighs wrapped around his head.

Another time, he swore to himself.

His tongue slowly swirled around again, lapping up your juices. His movements were hesitant, yet with each of your sighs and praises he grew more and more confident. Every sound was music to his ears. Sanji pulled away. He stared up at you breathless. His chin coated in your juices. He wanted to savor this moment.

Savor you.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled. Your eyes dropped down to him. He smiled softly with such a boyish charm. “You are absolutely stunning.”

You laughed once, shaking your head. It seemed he had his silver tongue back. Sanji dived back in. His tongue parted your folds, curling around, and pushing inside of you. You moaned. Your fingers tangled into his hair.

“Fuck, Sanji,” you hummed.

Your foul mouth only encouraged him.

With his hand still on your thigh, he tugged you forward. His nose brushed against your clit. You gasped. Pleasure shot through you. You whimpered as your hips unconsciously bucked forward again.

More. You wanted more.

Your heel dug into his back, and you yanked on his hair. Sanji moaned, sending sweet loving vibrations throughout you. “Keeping going, Sanji, just like that.”

Sanji listened perfectly. He devoured you.

Fuck, he’s a natural.

Just with your gentle guidance, and your soft moans, Sanji had quickly learned your body. His tongue swept against your folds again and again. You moaned, almost pornographically. You rode his face, bucking your hips against his wondrous tongue.

You were panting as your pleasure built and built. “Fuck, Sanji, I’m about to come.”

He whined, “Oh, please, sweetheart.”

His fingers dug into your thigh. His lips wrapped around your clit, hearing your sweet sharp inhales. All your weight fell into the railing. You gasped, chanting Sanji’s name over and over. Your eyes squeezed shut, and finally let go, let pleasure consume you. You cried out his name. Sanji moaned as you came all over him. He greedily lapped up everything, not daring to waste a single drop.

He carefully pulled away, and your leg slid off his shoulder. He stood up, and cupped your face. He kissed you passionately once more. His expert tongue slid inside, making you taste him and yourself.

“Fuck,” you mumbled into the kiss.

Your knees were weak. You clung to his arms, humming into the kiss. Sanji slowly broke the kiss, enjoying your soft whines of protests. Both of you were panting, filling up the quiet still night.

Sanji chuckled once. “So? How did I do, sweetheart? Tired yet?”

You may have created a monster.

You blinked, then shook your head. You smirked, “Oh, I’m not done with you yet, unless you’re tired.”

He wrapped an arm around you. “Oh, sweetheart, I can keep going.”

I want to keep going, I want to have it all, he thought. Besides, what meal isn’t better without some dessert?

#one piece #one piece live action #Opla #sanji vinsmoke #opla sanji #opla x reader #sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #smut #afab!reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

Text

she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel | joel miller

Summary | Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Pairing | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader

Word Count | 4K

Warnings | brat tamer!Joel, softdom!Joel, praise kink, implied age gap, spanking, use of rope restraints, hair-pulling, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, (1) singular pussy slap, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, oral sex (M&F receiving), face-fucking, fingering, dirty talk, breath play, biting, cum play/cum eating, reader is a bratty menace, aftercare(!), no use of y/n.

Authors Note | All I'm going to say is this came to me in a dream and I had to get it down on paper. Mostly written on my phone with very little proofreading, so any mistakes are my own and I will live and die by them. This is basically just pure filth. Enjoy, and happy birthday to that old man. I love him but I would give him the hardest time, just like reader.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

If there was one thing that you lived for, it was pushing Joel Miller’s patience. The poor man had wandered into Jackson, little girl in tow, looking worn and weary almost a year ago, and from the moment you set eyes on him, you just knew you had to give this old man a run for his money.

You’d started subtle, flirting with him on patrol, taking his distaste at your attempt to talk to him at every second as a personal challenge to break him, to work him down just enough to make your move. After a couple of weeks, he’s started talking, mainly in single word answers, but you’d managed to slowly chip him down.

Then came the weekly drinks at The Tipsy Bison, everyone on patrol usually went, apart from those scheduled to be out that day, but he’d started laughing at your jokes and had even opted to sit next to you on occasion. Then one night, he’d walked you home, you’d had one too many glasses of whiskey, kissed him on the porch but agreed it wasn’t right to fuck right then, but he’d come back, that next night, both of you sober, and you’d kissed him again, and the rest really was history.

It’s late afternoon when he comes through his front door, toeing his boots off as the door slams behind him. You’ve been led on his couch for most of the afternoon, reading a book you’d plucked from his shelf – some nonsense Western that did nothing to keep your attention, but was enough to keep you occupied whilst you waited for him to come home.

“Afternoon,” You sing to him as he shrugs his jacket off, hanging it on the coat stand near the door, “Good patrol?”

“Was fine,” He grumbles, just like he always does, he swats at your legs to get you to move them enough for him to sit down, “Scoot,” You lift them up just long enough for him to ease himself onto the couch, before you put them back down on his lap, abandoning the book on the coffee table, “You sort the stuff in the kitchen like I asked?”

“No.” You say simply, shaking your head, subtly digging the heel of your foot into the front of his jeans.

His big palm circles your ankle, gripping in warning, “What about the sheets, you wash ‘em?”

“Did you see them pegged out when you came home?” You ask, sweetly, using your other foot now to dig into his jeans.

“Will you fuckin’ quit it?” He seethes a little, other hand gripping your other ankle to still you, “What have you done all day, huh?” He implores, “I don’t keep ya around to lounge about lookin’ pretty.”

You chuckle, “That’s exactly why you keep me around, old man.”

“Shut up,” He squeezes at your ankles, “I asked you a question, you gonna answer me?”

You shrug, “Woke up late,” You hold up one finger, “Felt horny so I got myself off,” Another finger, “Had a shower, used the last of that nice soap,” Another finger, “Made lunch,” Another finger, “And then led here reading one of your stupid books until you came home.” A final finger raised so you’re holding up and entire hand, palm facing towards him.

You’re looking at him, all scowling face and dark eyes as his fingers wrap even tighter around your ankles. If you didn’t know him like you did, you’d be frightened, but you know he’s just thinking about the best way to deal with you. You wonder which of his lessons he’s going to bring out today as the look he’s giving you shoots straight down to your core.

“I ask you to do two things,” He sighs, like he’s tired, “I ain’t exactly expectin’ slave labour from you, and you sit here and treat it like the Hilton?”

“What’s the Hilton?” You ask, genuinely curious, thinking it must have been something from the times before all this, the times you were too young to remember.

“Forget it.” He growls, and you think any minute now he’s gonna move to drag you off and show you just how bad you’ve been, but he doesn’t move, just sits with your ankles clasped in his hands, staring at the wall in front of him.

“I’ve been so bad Joel,” You goad, trying to wriggle your ankles free, “Aren’t you going to teach me a lesson?”

“No,” He spits, “I ain’t, because you like it too damn much, ain’t teachin’ you anythin’ because you never learn.”

You pout a little, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Promise to listen real hard this time Joel,” You promise, “Try and learn and much as possible.”

“No,” He speaks, stern tone, with a warning squeeze to your ankles again, “Been a long day, don’t have the energy to bring you into line.”

“Ah, I see,” You muse, “You’re feeling too old today.”

“What did you just say t’me?” He’s incredulous now, good, you’ve got him just where you want him.

“Oh, nothing,” You giggle, “Don’t worry.”

It seems to do the trick though, because he’s pushing himself up from the couch, gripping at your wrist now to pull you up as well. He pushes you gently by the small of your back to get you to walk in front of him, “Upstairs.” Is the only instruction he gives, along with a playful swat to your bottom as you start up the stairs.

He’s crowding behind you, always following just one step behind as you make your way to his bedroom, suddenly aware that you didn’t make the bed when you rolled out of this morning. That’s surely another black mark to your name, you think, as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Get undressed.”

This is new, normally Joel liked to be the one to unwrap you, but you start working on the buttons of your shirt, undoing it and dropping it to the floor, followed closely behind by your jeans, leaving you standing in front of him in your underwear, “All of it.” He demands.

Your hands shakily reach behind you to unclasp your bra, dragging it from your body to land with the rest of your clothes. You drag your panties down your legs and step out of them, wrapping your arms across your chest to try and cover yourself a little. Joel reaches out a hand to you, which you take timidly, expecting him to pull you into him so he could put his mouth on you, anywhere, but instead, you find yourself pulled to him and folded over his lap so quickly you let out a surprised yelp.

“So fuckin’ naughty, all the damn time baby,” He speaks softly, running his fingers down the length of your spine, “Don’t ever think you’ll learn how to be good.”

His hand trails down to your bare ass, gripping the skin with his hands, using his other arm to press you down into his lap, rough material of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive peaks of your tits and the soft skin of your tummy. He rubs his rough palm over the globes of your ass, anticipation building in your body. Then, he pulls away, bringing his palm down onto your ass with a satisfying ‘smack’ ringing through the air. It takes a while for your brain to catch up with what’s just happened, but then the stinging sensation settles across your skin and has you wriggling to get away.

“Keep still,” Joel chastises, free hand digging further into the small of your back to keep you from moving, “That’s one, how many do you think you deserve baby?” He muses, “Fifty?”

“W-what?!” You exclaim, “N-no Joel, that’s too much.”

“Forty then?” His palm is cradling at the skin he’s just spanked.

“T-ten?” You offer feebly.

“Oh baby girl,” He tuts at you, “Aim higher.”

“Fifteen?”

“How about we settle for twenty, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet, “Twenty seems reasonable to me.”

He doesn’t give you time to agree, it would seem the bargaining time is over, as he brings his palm back down onto your ass, harder than before, but in the same exact place. It jolts you on his lap, makes you cry out. The front of your body dragging against his denim.

“How many?” He asks, rubbing his hand over the skin he’s just spanked.

“Two.” You reply quietly, trying to keep the whimper you want to let out to yourself.

“Good girl,” He praises, raising his hand again, “Keep count for me, okay?”

Smack.

“Three!” You shriek, as his palm yet again connects with that same patch of skin.

Smack.

“F-four.”

Smack.

“Oh fuck,” You groan, trying to wriggle away unsuccessfully, it’s already too much, “Five!”

Smack.

This one doesn’t hurt as much; Joel’s shifted the assault of his palm onto the virgin side of your ass for you. You suck in a deep breath, try and blink away the tears that have formed in your eyes, as his hand massages where it’s just struck. He gives you another four on that cheek, and then switches back to the original, bringing his palm back down onto the skin that you’re sure is reddening by now.

“Joel!” You cry out, tears dropping from your eyes now, but your body betrays you and arches your back for him, pushing your ass up like you’re asking for it, “E-eleven.”

It carries on like that, five spanks to each cheek until you’re practically sobbing over his lap. You count the twentieth spank and a feeling of relief washes over you as he bends over you to press a light kiss to the sore skin he’s left. It makes you hiss, the contact, no matter how gentle he is with it. Then, he’s shifting you off his lap and onto the bed, letting you scurry away to the top of the mattress as he stands.

The stinging of the skin of your ass is still making you sniffle as Joel shuffles to the bedside table, digging around in it. You’re not quite sure what he’s looking for, focusing mainly on trying to keep the red raw skin of your ass off the sheets, when he stands, throwing what he was looking for onto the sheets next to you. You turn your head and see the length of rope that he keeps in his drawer just for moments like this.

“Arms up.” He short with you, sitting on his knees next to you.

You do as you’re told, raising your arms above your head, still pushing your ass off the bed, but knowing soon enough you’ll be focused on something else that isn’t the stinging sensation of your ass. He takes your wrists and binds them together deftly, like it’s a walk in the park for him, like it’s something he does all the time. Then, once he’s sure your wrists are safely encased in rope, he takes the other end and ties it to his bed frame. He tugs slightly to make sure the way he’ll have you thrashing soon means that you won’t be able to pull yourself free.

“That okay?” He asks gruffly, to which you nod, “Words, baby.”

“Y-yes,” You stammer, “It’s okay.”

“Remember your word?” He asks, stepping off the bed to partially undress, shucking his jeans and flannel off, but keeping his t-shirt and boxers on.

“I remember.”

He hums in approval, settling himself on the bed between your thighs, using wide palms to spread you open for him. You’re absolutely soaked, pussy dripping with slick from his palms and the way he’s trussed you up to his bed.

Joel lets out a low whistle, letting his thumb rub up the length of your folds, “See,” He murmurs, using his thumb to gently spread the lips of your pussy to reveal your clit, already swollen and begging for attention, “Told ya that ya liked being punished too much,” He lets his thumb make a single swipe over that bundle of nerves, chuckling as you cry out, hips bucking to try and follow his finger, “She’s already fuckin’ soaked for me, baby.”

You let out a high-pitched mewl, a begging sound that you hope tells him that you need him to touch you, you need to feel the pleasure you know he’s capable of after the pain he’s just inflicted. Mercifully he obliges, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb back to your clit, slick gathered there from before, as he starts rubbing in fast, precise circles. You’ve been so worked up that you can already feel the coil tightening in your tummy, and you know Joel can sense it as well, the way your hips are moving in time to his movements and the way you’re arching your back off the bed are a dead giveaway.

You can feel yourself reaching that peak, so fucking close to tipping over the edge when he tears his hand away from your core and sits back, watching as you try and move back towards him, moaning in frustration at being left high and dry. You’re wriggling about, trying to close your thighs to rub them together to get yourself off, when he pushes a wide palm into your belly. He’s so powerful in the best way, stilling your movements immediately as you look up at him, face serious.

“Remind me what the second thing on your list was this mornin’, baby?” He asks, voice as innocent as pie.

You’re wracking your brain, lust making you more confused about what the fuck he’s even talking about. Then it dawns on you, what you’d told him downstairs. Felt horny so I got myself off.

“You’ve got a big brain baby,” He coos, one palm squeezing your thigh, “I know you remember, so go on, tell me what you did.”

“I g-got myself off.”

“And is that what good girls do?” He asks, hand ghosting back to your pussy, knuckles of his hand brushing over your skin there.

“N-no?” You question.

“That’s right,” He hums, fingers slipping between your folds once more to gather some of the insane amount of slick that’s pooling at your aching entrance, “And besides, gettin’ to come is a reward, and I ain’t sure you deserve that right now.”

His thumb is back on your clit now, moving in exactly the same way as before, with just the right amount of pressure to be building you back up. It feels so fucking good already and you know the way it feels when he tips you over the edge, you know how delicious it is and God, you want it so bad.

“Please Joel,” You beg, all throaty and lust-filled, “I’ll be so good, I promise.”

“Maybe ya should’a thought about that earlier,” He growls, “Before you came without me, thought you could do it better than me, huh?”

“No!” You exclaim, because that’s definitely not true, you could never make yourself feel the way he does, “Oh God, please Joel.” You’re so fucking close, just a few more passes of his thumb and you could do it, you know you could, but so does he, which is why he’s tearing his thumb away from you again.

You actually cry now, tears of frustration building in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you thrash around on the bed, hissing when the rope around your wrist digs in but not caring all that much.

“Quit your cryin’.” He chastises, hand on your hip to keep you still.

You whimper, lip wobbling, trying to keep your cool. All you want is to reach out to him. You think if you could touch him, he would give you what you want, so you’re pretty sure that’s why he’s got you tied to the damn bed, to keep himself in check, to see this through, because Joel Miller always folds to you when you put your hands on him, weak man that he is.

“You’re being so mean.” You cry out as he shifts, lying flat on his stomach so you can feel his breath on your aching pussy.

“You were the one beggin’ to get punished baby,” And it smarts because it’s true, “I’m only givin’ you what you wanted.”

He leans forward, tongue licking a stripe through your pussy, all the way up to your clit where he sucks the little bud into his mouth, rolls it between his lips and then lets it pop from his mouth like an ice-pop. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue a few times and you suck in a breath, your fingernails digging painfully into the palm of your hands as you focus on trying to reach the cliff edge and fall over it this time.

You’re holding your breath, hips working in time with the movements of his mouth, eyes screwed shut just trying to focus on how good it feels. You can hear the rustling of sheets, which means if you were to open your eyes and look down at him, you’d find him grinding himself into the bedsheets for his own relief. He pulls off you, and you’re about to curse him out when he speaks.

“You wanna come, baby?” He asks, punctuating it with a flick of his tongue.

“Oh please Joel,” You beg, and even to your ears it sounds wrecked and pathetic, “Please let me come.”

Then, you’re shrieking because the palm that has dealt so much damage to your ass this evening, has now swatted your aching cunt, “No.” He says simply, pushing himself back up and onto his knees.

He pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. You’re squirming as he shucks off his boxers, moving awkwardly to kick them off, before he’s mounting your body, those strong thighs straddling your chest as his throbbing cock rests just millimetres from your mouth. He reaches down, let’s his fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head forward roughly. Your mouth, like muscle-memory takes over, opens, and the head of his cock slips over your tongue. You can already taste the salty beads of pre-cum as he shuffles forward a little, easing his cock into your mouth until it’s hitting the back of your throat.

He holds your head steady with the fingers tangled in your hair as he fucks your throat. The sound is obscene, practically pornographic, the wet sounds that come as the head of his cock meets the back of your throat on every thrust. He pulls out of your mouth every now and then, when he’s thrust too hard and makes you gag on him, but fucking hell it’s turning you on so much. You can feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets, you don’t think anything has ever made you this wet before.

He pulls his cock out of your mouth one last time, a string of saliva connecting him to your mouth until he pulls away enough for it break, laying wet across your chin and down your neck. Joel shuffles back down your body and you think finally, you’re going to get some relief.

He hooks your knees over his arms, pushing them forward to your chest as his throbbing cock slips through your folds. He rocks his hips a few times, the bulbous head of him swiping over your clit, before he unexpectedly buries himself into your soaked cunt in one go.

You actually sob at the feeling. You’ve been so empty all night, and now you’re so full of him, so crowded by his body, that you finally feel some kind of relief. He’s still for a moment – once it would have been to get you used to the heft of him inside you, but right now, you know it’s because he’s just as fucked as you are, and he wants to make sure you’ve truly learnt your lesson.

Once he’s collected himself, he sets a bruising pace. Cock dragging out of your slick heat and slamming back into you. He revels in the way your tits bounce with every thrust, so much so that he leans forward and bites at the flesh, sucking bruises into your skin as he pounds himself right into the very depth of you.

“Doin’ so good for me baby,” He groans out against your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth, letting it go with a wet pop as he pushes himself back up for me, “Takin’ your punishment so well.”

The angle he’s got you folded into means the head of his cock is brushing against the spongy spot inside you every time. Your pussy is clenched so tightly around him that it’s a miracle he’s held on for this long. He finally brings his thumb back to your clit and you’re begging this time that he’ll let you finish, because if he doesn’t you’re pretty sure you might actually die.

“Joel,” You mewl, “I’m g-gonna – holy shit – m’gonna come.”

“Go on baby,” He finally relents, you let out a sob of relief, “Come on my cock for me, like a good girl.”

It’s so overwhelming when it finally happens. Your vision blurs and blood rushes to your ears, blocking out any sound that isn’t the beating of your pulse. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight around him as pleasure finally floods through every inch of your body. You feel yourself literally gush on his cock, soaking his skin, your skin, the bedsheets beneath you. You think you might even scream his name as your body convulses and shakes, arches up into him.

You’re slightly aware of him pulling his cock from inside you, letting your knees drop. You can hear the slap of his fist on his skin as he fists his cock, and then he’s growling out your name, his cum spattering over your tummy, lying hot and thick on your sticky skin. It’s silent for a good few moments, the only thing you can focus on is the sound of you both sucking in breath to your lungs and the burn of the rope around your wrists.

“Look at me.” Joel demands, and you do, your eyes meeting his, which are almost black with lust, his face flushed, sweat pooling at his hairline.

He drags a finger through the pools of his cum, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He presses them into the flat of your tongue, letting you swallow, which continues until you’ve cleaned every inch of him from your skin. He then works quickly to untie the knots that have you bound to the bed, freeing your skin from the burning feeling that’s settled there.

“Stay still,” It’s still demanding, but it’s softer now, as he gets off the bed, dropping the rope to the floor, “I’ll be right back.”

He comes back moments later with a glass of water and a cool cloth. He rolls you over onto your tummy, pressing the cool material to your ass, trying to soothe the red welts of his handprints that have already started to form. He presses soothing, open-mouth kisses to the skin before he rolls you back over onto your back.

He moves you because you’re pliant now, to rest against the pillows, handing you the water to drink as he runs the last of the cooling cloth over your lower tummy and through the folds of your spent cunt, then it’s discarded to the floor with everything else, and you’re being pulled to his chest, kiss pressed to your forehead.

“Too much?” He asks quietly, checking to make sure he hasn’t crossed some line with you.

“Just perfect.” You reply, eye-lids heavy with sleep.

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, letting his tongue lick soothing stripes along the reddened skin there, kissing every now and then, but keeping you pressed tightly to his chest, you own arm draped around his waist.

“You learn your lesson?” He asks then.

“Probably not,” You hum against the sweaty skin of his chest, “I don’t think you’re ever going to fuck the attitude outta me, Miller.”

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norrizzandpia · 1 month

Text

My Name (LN4)

Summary: Y/n and Lando have a painful past together. When they go their separate ways and are left to pick up the pieces, Lando realizes he can no longer hear the woman he loved’s name without feeling deeply ashamed.

Warnings: this is the most angsty thing i ever written. TOXIC!LANDO TO THE MAX, lots of language, insinuations to sex, this is absolutely horrific i am so sorry its very painful and sad NO HAPPY ENDING (word count is a little over 4k)

Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

Some people had chapters they could never bring themselves to read out loud. Lando’s painfully silent chapter was Y/n. His nights were swallowed whole by the looks on her face when he let her down once more, the moment when she first thought he didn’t care about her in the way she did. Y/n was a recurring nightmare and a sobering remembrance for him.

FIVE YEARS PRIOR

“Lando, I have someone I want you to meet.” Max murmured to him as they glided through the crowd of rich sponsors. His best friend giggled under his breath as the groups separated like a sea, revealing the most beautiful woman.

From the moment he saw her, Lando knew he had to have her, “Please tell me it’s her.”

Max shook his head, his body lighting up as Y/n smiled at him and hugged him tightly. The two turned to the racer, still grinning, “This is Y/n. Friend from London.”

Lando thought she was perfect, down to the teeth peeking behind her upturned lips. His hand extended out for her hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

”You as well.” Her voice was sultry, soft. Her hand fit right in the palm of his. Her body drawn to him, his to hers. Lando wanted her in his bed yesterday.

Sensing some sort of tension, knowing it was sexual, Max slid from the grasp of Y/n. He clipped his head down as a form of goodbye before leaving the two to turn from strangers to friends, maybe more in store.

The beginning of Lando’s favorite part of his life and the downfall of whoever he was before he met her.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Whether it was because of her overwhelming, albeit attractive, confidence or the fact that she was Max’s friend, Lando didn’t ask Y/n out right away. Instead, he tiptoed around her, so did she, but he only stopped when picturing her when he was touching himself got to be boring. She only stopped when he showed up at her door with flowers, ready for their date.

“I love pink roses.” She smiled, lightly taking the bouquet from his hands and disappearing into her apartment.

He closed the door when he stepped in to follow her. His feet took him to her kitchen, where she leaned over the counter and filled a vase. His eyes bounced around the walls, peeking out into the living room to see heaps and blankets and pillows.

His hands in his pockets, “I hoped you would.”

She thought it was supposed to be a romantic gesture. Lando’s hands were touching the curve of her waist before he finished his sentence, his mouth next to her ear, “I’m glad you do.”

She made the mistake of turning around, part of her would later wonder if that was giving him the wrong idea.

Still, his lips met hers in a heated kiss, his body pushing hers further into the hard granite. She had been attracted to him from the start, gotten to know him over the two months he hadn’t actively tried to pursue her. She really liked him. That was the reasoning which led herself to being wrapped up in sheets with him a half hour later.

They never made it to that first date.

PRESENT

Lando’s eyes burned with all the flashing lights. Even after a race win, the joy could never subside the anxiety he got from all the press.

The first reporter, her name tag reading Clara, beamed at him. It reminded him of Y/n’s perfect teeth.

“Congratulations, Lando, on an incredible race! How are you feeling right now?” She spoke quickly. She pushed her microphone into his face.

His hands gripped the railing in front of him, “Amazing! This feeling will never get old.”

Her face dropped slightly as she glanced behind her, to the cameraman he presumed, “We would love to talk more about your stellar race, but we do want to ask for your thoughts on the allegations surrounding Y/n Y/l/n over hostile workplace behavior.”

His heart squeezed. He wished people knew her. Not the girl he ruined, but the woman he knew she still was deep down, past all the things that happened between them. His cheeks flushed, “Y/n is an amazing person. She has a kind heart. I just hope people can see that.”

He prayed that Clara would drop the subject. Lando would kill to clear Y/n’s name for her, maybe that would makeup for all the pain he caused, but she would never give him the light of day, even for that. People associated him with her and it tore at his insides. There wasn’t a day that went by that the taste of her name in his mouth didn’t feel like a type of betrayal.

Clara’s eyebrows moved up, “So, you think the allegations are false?”

He huffed, “I’m not speaking about the allegations. I’m simply speaking about the woman I knew.”

Whoever she was now, he didn’t know enough to comment.

FOUR YEARS PRIOR

“Oh, fuck, Y/n, that was amazing.” Lando breathed, his chest rising and falling quickly from beside her.

She laughed, “Happy for you.”

His body turned to the side, his head propped up by his arm, “It was nice having you here.”

She was quiet for a moment, trying to decipher what that sentence implied. She thought she knew, she just didn’t want to face it.

Y/n’s hand traced his arm, “It was a good time.”

Lando pulled away from her, slipping from bed and pulling his pants back on. Loud and clear, she thought.

Still, she tried. Pathetically. Her shirt slid over her body as she grumbled, “Do you wanna go get some food?”

From her view of his back, she saw him tense, “Uh, I can’t, Y/n. Sorry. I’m super busy right now.”

She sighed softly, too quiet for him to hear. He turned around, fully dressed now. She stood, shirt and underwear on with no towel to clean herself. Completely rejected. A small piece of her heart chipped away.

She nodded, ��Okay, yeah, no problem. I get it.”

He rushed out of the room, “Yeah, thanks! Feel free to let yourself out! I’ve got some errands to run!”

The door slammed shut immediately after. She took a moment in the silence to gather her messy mind. Maybe he was genuinely busy. Maybe he didn’t mean it that way. He said it was nice having her there.

He couldn’t have meant this in a mean way.

Like any girl in love with someone they thought they were too unworthy of having, the excuses began.

ONE MONTH LATER

Deja Vu flooded Y/n’s senses as Lando rolled off her body. The sinking feeling that her time with him was over mixed with the familiarity and it proved to be a horrific experience.

Her hand reached out to grab her pants that had been discarded on the floor when his voice rang out.

“Do you wanna go get food?” He asked, head turning to look at her as if it was the most regular thing.

Her hand stopped just above her jeans, “What?”

Lando sat up from bed, no longer in a rush to throw his clothes on, “Do you want to go get food with me?”

Some place within herself ridiculed her for nodding her head so eagerly. It was beginning to feel like she was trying to earn his love.

His hand around her waist moved to link in her palm and she finally felt like something to him. When he sat across from her at the quiet and secluded diner they found five minutes after leaving his apartment, his eyes bore into hers. He studied her like a thing he loved.

Maybe he finally did.

PRESENT

When Lando closed the door to Max’s apartment, he was met with hushed and frantic whispers. He walked slowly down the hall toward his best friend’s voice, clearly in distress.

“Y/n, I don’t understand that can’t be true. You’re not that person.” He gave, hand clutching his phone.

Lando heard murmurs on the other line before Max was cutting her off, “No, I don’t care how much you’ve changed over the years. I know you and I know you aren’t the person these people are saying you are. You wouldn’t scream at people because they got your coffee order wrong. You wouldn’t fire people over one small mistake. You wouldn’t humiliate others publicly to make some sort of statement. You just aren’t that person.”

More murmurs before Max’s interruption, “No! I know you know ‘this is how you run a business’ is such a bullshit excuse. If this is you, then please let me know where Y/n is because I know for fucks sake this isn’t it.”

The responses on the other line jumped in volume, Lando being able to make out some of the words. Y/n was yelling, truly yelling. Telling Max that he wasn’t a good friend, not supporting her through whatever was being alleged.

Lando’s ears rang. This wasn’t her, he knew that. Everybody knew that. She was a bright spirit, she wasn’t now. She was a hollowed out version of who she used to be and Lando knew he had taken every bit of it. He held what she once was in his hands and this was her trying to move on without it.

He wanted to give it back to her somehow, revive the life she once led, but he was so ashamed to show his face to her. He knew it would only be met with an anger he wouldn’t be able to forget.

He couldn’t hear anymore of her turmoil. Too many memories were being brought to the forefront of his mind. Maybe it was selfish, he had proven to be on many occasions, but he stepped into the room.

“Lando’s here. I have to go.” Max rushed.

The line clipped before he could even get his full sentence out.

Max stared at his phone for a moment, studying the contact picture he hadn’t changed for years. Standing off to the side, Lando could make out Y/n’s smile, her perfect teeth, and lightness in her eyes. It was a living testimony of someone that was no longer there. Someone who had lost themselves in it all. He knew it because he had gone through it. In the midst of Y/n, Lando had lost sight of himself. Part of him wanted to blame his behavior toward her on that, but there was no excuse. He had to live with the knowledge he was capable of causing such psychological damage on someone else. Someone he loved. A personal, endless hell.

Max sighed, “Hey, mate.”

It was quiet, exhausted and Lando knew Max didn’t want to talk about it, but something in him urged to hear, “That was her?”

Max nodded, “Uh, yeah. She’s just trying to fight the allegations right now.”

Lando set the takeout down on the desk, “I assume it’s not going well?”

Something switched in Max, his eyes turned cold, “No, Lando, it’s not going well. And, frankly, I don’t know why you’re even going here with me right now”

Lando put his hands on his hips with his eyebrows furrowed, “Going where with you?”

Max’s fists curled, “I forgave you for the way you treated her, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a sore spot. She’s lashing out at people, ruining her reputation, because you put her through a shit show. I’m not saying this is wholly your fault, but you had such a major fucking role in it and, to be honest, sometimes I can’t fucking look at you without seeing her and everything she has to go through on top of all the shit you did. You don't have the right, in my mind, to ask me about her.”

”I’m not trying to start anything. I still care about her.” Lando said, hands turning upwards as if he was lost.

Max scoffed, “Care about her? Fuck you! Care about her, my ass. You used her for sex, Lando! You took and then you gave, you took and then you gave. Such a twisted cycle that she never even asked for, looked for, deserved. You have no right to sit here and say you care about her. I care about her.”

The two friends had had such a hard time finding a peaceful ground in the moments after Y/n and Lando’s blow up. Max was protective over her. He entrusted Lando with her and Lando had thrown her back in his face like she wasn’t someone to be cherished. Part of him would never forgive Lando for that.

They wondered if that would be the final straw.

Lando breathed out, “I think you need some space. I’ll leave and if you want to talk things out later, call me. I don’t want to push something with you that you don’t want anymore.”

He turned around, prepared to walk out, but Max whispered, “Like you did with Y/n?”

The McLaren Driver spun around, “What?”

Max’s arms crossed in front of his chest, “You heard me.”

The fire in Max’s eyes masked pain, Lando knew that because he had lived it. Max didn’t want to fight him, he wanted this battle to be over. In a moment of growth, Lando set aside the anger in his own head and walked out the door. Hoping for a day where Max could look at him and see something other than the one moment in his life where he ruined something so perfectly his.

TWO YEARS PRIOR

Lando had DNF’d. Max and Y/n watched on as he took his gloves off, forcefully throwing them to the ground in frustration. A worker coaxed him into the car waiting to take him back to the garage, Lando shrugging him off and throwing himself into the backseat.

Andrea’s fist collided with the table he was sitting in front of and Jon ripped his headset off. Lando had been so close to securing a win, but one wrong swerve and he had gone spinning off the track with no opportunity of recovery.

Lando’s return was quick, his body storming through the room and darting up the stairs to privacy. Y/n and Max just glanced at each other, both knowing how he got with these things. Part of her wanted to go up there, hug him and tell him how amazing he was, but she also knew he needed time to be alone. Process things. She just wanted the best for him.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

Lan <3

Come up to my room?

She smiled. Lando hadn’t opened up to her that much over the year and a half they had been fooling around, whatever you wanted to call it, but she had always wanted him to. She had tried to ask him about family life, stressors he was dealing with, and he would answer, but it was brief and then his lips were on hers again.

Maybe he had finally come around to letting her in like she had him.

Y/n Y/l/n

Coming xx

When she got to his room, her knuckle hit the door once before it was flying open and he was pulling her in. She laughed as he kissed her, thinking it was meaningless. But, when his hands tried to pull her shirt off, she pulled back.

She cocked her head, “What’re you doing?”

Lando stopped, “Fucking you?”

Her heart dipped down, “What?”

He looked at her like nothing was wrong. Did this mean nothing to him?

”Lando, don’t you wanna talk about what just happened?” She tried, but he just kept playing with the hem of her clothes.

He nodded and her confusion almost subsided. Almost, “Yeah, with some kisses and an orgasm.”

His lips met her neck and a slimy feeling washed over her body. The first time she felt self-hatred in the presence of him. What was she doing?

Y/n pushed him off, “No, I don’t want to have sex right now, Lan.”

His hip popped out and he stared at her, “Why?”

She shrugged, “Because I don’t. That should be enough.”

He looked at her as if he expected sex. Like her rejection was some sort of betrayal. He didn’t just appreciate being with her?

Lando groaned, “Ugh, whatever. Okay. I have to get changed so I can go to the debrief.”

For once, she didn’t try to argue to stay. Something didn’t feel right about his hands on her anymore.

Something wasn’t kind about their situation anymore and it wasn’t the love she knew she had for him.

THREE MONTHS LATER

Y/n Y/l/n

Can I come over? We need to talk.

Lan <3

Sure

She walked into his apartment with hesitation. What she had identified as a comfortable space no longer felt that way. Now, she stood in the foyer as if she didn’t know the layout like the back of her hand.

Lando looked at her expectantly. It mirrored the way he had eyed her that afternoon in his driver’s room. She hated it.

“We need to talk about what we are.”

Lando’s eyes bulged, “Why? There’s nothing to talk about. We both know what we are.”

Y/n shook her head, “Well, I don’t. I thought I did, but I’m starting to think I’ve been a little naive.”

Naive? That was not a word Lando would choose to describe Y/n. Gullible, maybe, but naive? No. She wasn’t that.

He led her to the living room, hand falling around her waist and lips pecking her neck out of habit when they fell onto the couch. She pulled away, “Stop, Lando.”

The softness in her voice, the way it sounded broken down, made him search her face for answers.

He got them when she began speaking, “Lando, for the past year and a half, I have done everything a girlfriend would do. I have cooked for you, run out to complete errands so you weren’t stressed, come to your house at night when you couldn’t sleep, stopped seeing other men because I felt tied to you exclusively, loved you. You have done none of that. I’ve gotten flowers, but that’s rare and I’ve gotten gifts, but it’s been for my birthday and weeks late. I give you everything I have. I give you my time, my energy, my body, my feelings, everything. You’ve given me on and off moments where you treat me with some level of respect, but I have never gotten the amount I deserve. I can’t keep doing this when all I feel like is a random fling.”

Lando stuttered. He knew this was coming. He knew the way he had been treating her, giving her things occasionally so they would hold more value and pulling back when he felt like it, would catch up to him. But, to think she was in love with him and expected the same from him, was not something he was prepared for. He was speechless as he looked at her. What was he supposed to say? She was a fling.

The moment that would haunt him everywhere he went: the small drop in her face when she realized he wasn’t fighting her. The knowledge that what she had felt all along was what she had been.

She deserved more.

She stood from the couch, “Oh my god.”

Lando stood with her, “Y/n, I am so sorry. I-”

She slapped him across the face, “Who do you think you are? Giving me flowers, taking me out to dinner, giving me a taste of what it’s like to be treated with dignity by you just so you could keep stringing me along. You manipulative piece of shit!”

The anger in her eyes mirrored Max’s whenever he got mad. He worried that would be burned into his brain every time he looked his best friend’s way.

Lando grabbed her wrist when she turned around, spinning her back, “Y/n, you have no idea. I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I’ve always wanted you. I want you.”

She pushed him away, “Want me how? Want me for my body? Want me for sex? Want me for some fucking orgasms? Is that what you’ve reduced me to?”

He tried to find the right words. There were none. “I thought we were having fun! I didn’t know you were falling for me.”

She rushed into the kitchen, grabbing her purse while yelling, “What’d you think I was doing sticking around all this time? For the sex? You’re good in bed, but not that fucking good. You’re a sick fuck.”

She reached the door and he stood in front of it, forcing himself to memorize the fury that was slowly fading away to deep sadness, “Y/n, I care about you. I don’t know how I feel about you, but I know it’s more than a fling.”

Lando waited for her reply, but she just smacked his shoulder and began to cry, “Don’t say that! That’s so fucking unfair! I’ve been in love with you for a year and you don’t even have your feelings figured out for me? You’ve been fucking me for almost two years and you have no clue if you hate me or you love me? Grow up!”

Her tears bled through the fabric of her shirt as she stared up at him. The deep color of her eyes was magnified by the glossiness. He loved her eyes. Did that mean he loved her? He was furiously trying to sort out the feelings he knew he had for her in the short amount of time he had. He didn’t want her to leave. Was that cruel?

In his silence, she found everything she needed. Pushing past him, Y/n ripped the door open. Her face turned back to him, a version he didn’t recognize, and she whispered, “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Her parting words struck his soul, so raw and real. He knew that was what she wanted him to remember if he chose to block the entire conversation from his mind.

No matter how hard he would try, Lando would come to find he would never be able to forget the blip in his life. Her fast pulse under his fingers when he grabbed her wrist to the way she condemned him, it was all there. Lingering and plotting to remind him of their presence when the syllables of her name were uttered.

Maybe he did love her, he was starting to realize that, but that would never matter now.

”You should be ashamed of yourself.”

PRESENT

Lando moved the oatmeal around in his bowl as he scrolled through his Instagram feed. His TV played some random news station in the background in the living room, one he was half listening to. But, the moment the anchor spoke her name, Lando was dropping his phone and bringing his full attention to the screen.

A picture of her popped up, a headline below and one Lando couldn’t bring himself to read. He was too enthralled with her picture, remembering the times she used to smile at him that way.

”Y/n Y/l/n has officially stepped down from her CEO position at her famous boutique. She and her team released a statement this morning, apologizing for the strain she put on employees and other board members these past two years. She explains in the statement that there is no excuse for her actions, but she is heavily remorseful for them. She promises to work further on herself out of respect for the people she affected, changing her ways. She also briefly mentioned in the statement that she will be paying thousands of dollars to each employee she fired under wrongful termination. Y/n explains that the business has always meant the world to her and it is painful to let it go, put it in the hands of someone else, but she knows this is for the best. She wishes the business and all employees a more positive life after having impacted their’s negatively for so long.”

Lando stood in his living room, hands by his sides, as he read the screenshot posted on the TV. His hands shook and his palms sweat, tears pricking his eyes.

She loved that job.

This was his fault, no matter how much he tried to say her actions were under her control. It hit him fully then and there. Y/n changed him for the better, taught him how to treat someone you love, and he ruined her. He took the perfect girl with the perfect teeth, perfect hair, beautiful smile, and twisted her insides into someone who lived with rage. She never knew rage until him. He introduced it to her.

Do you feel ashamed when you hear my name?

A/N: sorry pookies sending all my love after this bc it broke ME idk how yall are doing

TAGS: @jehun

926 notes · View notes

saturnsorbits · 5 days

Text

Thirst Trap: Caught Desperate

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Smut, Prone Bone, Spanking, Pictures - Consensual. Word Count: 4k.

Summary: Read the Intro -> Here.

A/N: Idek what the fuck this is. I've genuinely forgotten how to write - smut especially apparently.

-> Part of the 'Thirst Trap' Collab.

Make sure to check out the other incredibly talented authors through the link above and don’t forget to leave a nice comment and reblog if you liked their work!

The first thing he feels is panic.

His phone won't stop. It vibrates against his palm, stirring up a numbness that radiates through his callouses as the screen flickers. The near constant updates create a blur he can't follow, the dull flashes summoning a sharp edge to the headache that has already started to press at the sides of his skull.

Fuck. He sighs, digs a knuckle into the corner of his eye and brackets his hand across his forehead. His PR team might actually murder him for this one.

Prodding at his screen, he manages to slow the endless roll of his feed. The replies are positive, mostly. His fanbase isn't exactly small and, according to the last PR meeting he was forced to attend, they were also predominately women. Although, looking at his phone now, he'd say the divide was probably about 50:50.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he scrolls...

The first few replies he sees are simple enough: suggestive emoji's, notes of amusement, the odd heckle about the size of his cock. Then, there are the more fun ones: the ones calling him a slut, asking to give him more than just head or being up front with their solicitations.

Huffing out a breath, he unfurls, spreading out on the bed and stretching an arm up behind his head. His pants are still unbuckled and pulled to the broadest point of his hips, a casualty of his drunken state. Underneath, his cock presses against the denim – twitching with every mention of the things his fans plead to do to him.

He shouldn't.

He knows its wrong.

Knows that he shouldn't indulge himself.

He shouldn't be thinking about fucking his fist to the thought of an anonymous stranger drooling down his balls, his cock bulging from their cheek, holes stretched out around him as he rolls his hips searching for the thing inside of them that'll make them scream.

His hand cups his pec, broad palm circling gently until he can catch his nipple with each slow pass. It's surprising how quickly his cock catches on. He can feel it leaking, soaking through patches of his underwear as it begs to be released. Letting his hand slip down his body, he feels the tension shake in his abdomen. He's wound tight, muscles shivering even under his own touch as he sinks his hand into his jeans and finally, squeezes his cotton-clothed cock.

He should stop.

Fuck, he should just delete the tweet and get a glass of water.

… And maybe a cold shower.

Licking over his teeth, he's reluctant when he slips his hand back out of his jeans and slams it, somewhat sticky, against his sheets. His cock protests, throbbing with the new lack of friction after being granted so little. It makes it hard to focus, the rolling pit in his stomach, the pulsing of his body – even without his alcohol impairing his judgement, his desire pleads a strong case for him to simply submit.

Bakugo swallows and moves to swipe away from the possibly career-changing tweet on his screen, but the feed is faster than he is.

It isn't the message that catches his eye, not at first anyway. No. It's the username. Your username.

He clenches his jaw.

Immediately, you fill his senses. It had barely been a few hours since you'd had your arms wrapped around his neck, your bodies pressed together as you swayed on the dance floor. If he tried, he swears he'd still be able to feel the soft skin of your thigh grazing against his fingertips as his hand had found its way under the edge of your dress. Your perfume had been intoxicating. A subtle mix of vanilla bean, sandalwood and your sweat had drifted from your collarbones and infested his senses, luring him right to the edge of what he'd known would get him into a whole heap of shit.

That was before he'd made that fucking post, of course.

Now, he was starting to wonder if taking you home would have been the right move all along.

His promises be damned.

Chewing at his lip, he lifts his thumb, revealing the message attached to your name. 'Thought you said you weren't that desperate, huh.' His stomach lurches.

The memories come quick then, fighting through the fog of too many whiskey's and regret.

He'd meant it as a joke, he really had, something to give him some pace, to make you think twice, think of the consequences – but he's never been good at managing his tone and at almost midnight even his belligerence had felt semi-formal. You'd been too close, too pretty, with the promise of a night he wouldn't be able to forget laced between your teeth and he'd... Well, he'd done what he does best.

He'd pushed you away.

Your eyes shine in the dull lights outside of the club, the yellowing tinge spilling from the surrounding lamps doing nothing to diminish how stunning you look. The alcohol has blown out your eyes, swallowing your iris' almost whole – although, he'd like to think he had a hand in how truly taken you look right now. His hand is on your waist, equal amounts keeping you close and at bay as you bat your eyelashes prettily at him and pout.

'C'mon...' You press close, hand searching the expanse of his chest. His heart thunders underneath, picking up whenever you near his pecs, so you slip a had over his shoulder and use his height to ease yourself up onto your tip-toes. 'You've practically had your hand up my skirt all night, what's stopping you now?' You chuckle, clicking your tongue against your back teeth.

Bakugo's snarl twists his features before he can stop it. He can feel the barb, feel the world curl on the back of his tongue before he can do anything to stop it. It tumbles from his mouth, but even despite his attempt to spit it out softly – hoping it won't hurt too much, your nose wrinkles.

'You really think I'm that desperate?'

It's like you've been slapped.

Your hands tense on his shoulders, feet falling back flat to the floor. Part of you knows he's just trying to get a rise out of you, but you're beyond sick of the back and forth. It's been months of this, of you getting close enough to taste him only for him to retreat at the last moment, usually with a snarled comment he doesn't mean, or some silly excuse to protect that softly-beating heart everyone swears he doesn't have. Sighing, you step back – the tap of your heels like gunshots on the pavement as you raise your bag from the crook of your arm and back onto your shoulder. 'Obviously not.'

Your distance reads like rejection, burns a hole in his pride and makes him prickle. He shakes his head and slips his phone from his pocket intent on ordering his own taxi, despite the fact he can barely make out the squiggles he hopes are words. 'Fuckin' knew I shouldn't have let Red bring you-.'

After that the memories grow hazy.

He remembers how you'd somehow smoothed over the hiccup in the conversation, laughing it off in all probability, but even then, you'd never quite come as close to him as before. He remembers your laugh. Remembers how the melody of it had ricocheted around his brain in the taxi ride home. He remembers missing your warmth. He remembers the flash of guilt, his half-hard cock and drunken brain at war. He remembers his phone, the screen a pale blue, glowing. He remembers, he remembers his thumb hovering over your name.

He remembers chickening out...

Fuck.

Evidently, he hadn't chickened out hard enough.

Clicking onto your page, he checks your replies to make sure he hasn't hallucinated your response, but before he can even begin to obsess over it – his phone pings in his hand.

It's a message. A real one. Not something filtered in through his socials. With shaking hands, he opens it and pauses.

He has your number saved under your first name.

Just your first name.

Not 'Sidekick''. Not your full title. Or what department you work in. You don't even have a stupid moniker. For fucks sake, he's called Kirishima 'Shitty Hair' in every single phone he's had since high school, and Todoroki has remained solely Todoroki – even despite the fact, both him and his father share the title.

He doesn't dwell on the reasoning.

Instead, he opens the message and is immediately confronted with a screenshot of his tweet. He cringes. Your reply is underneath it, racking up too many likes for his taste, and underneath that is your text.

You: 'You really are fucking desperate, aren't you?'

He waits, palms sweating, watching as three little dot appear and disappear and then, reappear again.

You: 'Can't even reply to me?'

You: 'You could at least turn your read receipts off. I can see you reading the messages.'

You: 'For fucks sake, Bakugo?'

His pulse quickens, thrumming strong and rhythmic under his skin as if to remind him what it is to be near you. The joints in his fingers have frozen, despite the energy rushing through his body demanding movement. Through the haze of his vision he sees you typing again.

You: 'Can we stop doing this now?'

Yes. Bakugo thinks. God, yes. The room spins as he cranes his neck down at his phone, eyes unfocused... His heart and cock war on, but now, the alcohol makes it far too easy for the tide to sway. Flexing his thumbs, he taps back a message before he can think better of it, before the noise of his life and expectation and the world outside can eat away at him again.

Bakugo: 'Please.'

Your reply takes a second this time, forcing the air in his lungs to crystallize; but before he can drum up too many doubts, there's your name again lighting up his screen.

You: Is that the great Dynamight saying please?

Bakugo: Fuck off.

You: Fuck off, or fuck you?

Bakugo's cock twitches in his jeans. He's so hard it's almost painful now, causing an ache to spread up the deep lines of his hips and radiating through his pelvis. Reaching down, he palms at himself again feeling the heft of his desire in his palm. He types back, one handed, the other already occupied.

Bakugo: Don't play with me. You know he'll kill the both of us.

You: I never did get to give you your birthday present.

Furrowing his brow, Bakugo is taps out a series of question marks – unimpressed with the idea of birthday cake when he had come to expect something a whole lot different, but before the thought can fully depress him – another message comes through.

It's a screenshot. The one this entire conversation began with – his own message glowing from his screen. Except this time, underneath is a message that makes his breath catch in a whole new way.

You: 'This offer for everyone, or just everyone who isn't me?'

Bakugo: You.

Bakugo: It was just for you.

Bakugo stills, his breath jammed in the back of his throat as his brain catches up with his fingers.

Fuck.

He shouldn't be doing this.

He should of just had a wank to all of the filth being sent from his fans. Even that would get him in less trouble than this. Part of him wants to back out, wants to claim a hack or come up with some other equally unbelievable and shitty lie so he can turn tail and run, but there's no way back now. He knows that much. His cock is hard and heavy between his thighs, his drunken mind too far from sober for him to see reason.

He types back.

You don't bother changing. You'd dressed to impress after all. Instead, you snatch a condom from your brothers stash tuck it into your bra and order a taxi, checking the address Bakugo had sent you three times before finally confirming the ride.

The journey is short and sweet, filled with anticipation and the soft jazz that trickles through the radio of the car. You've been waiting for this, grown tired of the will they won't they that had lead to this moment, but now it's here, you find yourself: nervous.

The car mounts the curb, almost sending you sprawling, then a tenner and a lift ride later, you're at his door.

He opens it before you knock looking a little more together, but still drunk. You can feel it too, the alcohol still flooding your system and making everything just a little easier. Still, nothing is as easy as coming together. You mouth drops open, an unspoken question lingering on your tongue and then, Bakugo is on you.

'C'mere.' Using one hand, he hooks it around your waist and tugs at you to him. Your bodies collide, palms coming up to rest against his chest as you peer up at him. He doesn't know how he's resisted you for so long, how he's kept true and stopped this. After all, looking at you now cradled in his arms, it is obvious this was nothing, but inevitable.

Your lips come together easily. The kiss is harsh, full of pent up tension and a longing that has broken you both. He nips at your bottom lip before you flick your tongue against his teeth, tasting him properly as he lets you in.

'Holy shit.' Panting, you claw at him – your hands are everywhere: at his buttons, his chest, wrapped in the chain circling his neck. He pays you back in kind grabbing at your hips, taking handfuls of you with an eagerness that radiates through his entire body.

With an unceremonious grunt, he bends at the knees, slipping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up against his waist. He pulls back a slither, blinking at you, his shoulders straining at he takes your entire weight with ease and presses you into the wall of his hallway. A wicked grin takes his lips as you squeak, arms and legs wrapping around him to cling on. 'Hang on.'

He kisses you again then, pressed to the wall, but before you can catch you're breath he's off. You make a stop at a small counter where he presses his clothed cock to your cunt, letting you feel just what you're getting yourself into and again at the wall outside of his bedroom. There he almost leaves your neck raw, biting and sucking, but never enough to leave too much of a mark.

You stumble into his bedroom still cradled in Bakugo's arms. There's sure to be bruises on your elbows, a symptom of attempting to peel him from his shirt while he careened through the doorway, but as your back hitting the bed and Bakugo hovering over you, you find it hard to care. Reaching into your bra, you slip out the condom with two fingers and present it to him by waving it under his nose.

Taking it with his teeth, he grins as you let out a sigh that settles in his bones. Beneath him, you look insatiable. Your eyes have blown out, the black of your iris' banishing whatever colour had once been there. The dress he'd been so anxious to get under all night is rumpled, the slit cast aside exposing the thickness of your thighs and a slither of cunt covered by a pair of soft-looking red lace. The bodice is low, the heaving of your chest apparent – your tits held high, pressed together and begging for his hands. Slipping a hand up your thigh, he brushes his fingers across the flesh and earns himself the most pretty of moans.

'I knew you'd break.' Lifting your leg, you kick out at him softly – the ball of your heel connecting with his shoulder. You perch on your elbows, eyes swollen, the pulse of your cunt matching the beating of your heart. It's been rough until now, a clash of teeth and nails, but its hard not to notice the bare desire you see splayed out in his eyes. It's mixed with carmine, a colour that barely covers what, if nurtured, could become love. 'Knew I'd have you.'

He grabs your ankle and pulls on reflex, yanking you down the bed. 'Did you?' Under his skin he feels feral. Something that's only made worse when you lick your lips and nod.

His restraint snaps. Grabbing at your hips, he kneads the fat there before flipping you over. You bounce, a scream escaping your throat, but he quickly transforms the sound into a moan with a harsh slap against your ass.

'Thought you wanted head?' You laugh, feeling your skin prickle under him. There's a rustle behind you, the tell tale sound of him shucking down his jeans and then, his fingers are pulling your underwear away from your cunt and exposing you to the air.

'You always this much of a brat?'

You wriggle and lift up your hips. 'You always this hard for me? Oh wait...' You chuckle. 'You are.'

A growl rumbles in his throat, but it's not anger he's feeling. Taking his cock in his hand, he gives himself a cursory pass – the stickiness of his own pre cum making it easy. His head rocks back on his shoulders. With a bottle of whiskey still coursing through his vein's he's more than sensitive, the simple passes of his hand having him ready to blow – God only knows what the feel of your cunt will do to him.

'C'mon... Fuck me, forget the condom – just -.' Reaching behind you, you attempt to grab at him – to pull him close, get him to touch, to taste.

Chuckling to himself, he bats your hand away easily. 'Nah-ah-ah. Don't think you deserve me raw, sweetheart. Only good girls get that.' He squeezes the base of his cock, stopping a premature end as he tears through the tinfoil of the condom and slips it on.

You go to whine, to kick your feet and protest him not giving into you, but you're not even given the chance.

The first thing you feel is impossibly full. The next is overwhelming pleasure. Bakugo hadn't wasted time prepping you and to be honest, you hadn't needed it. You're soaking, cunt dribbling greedily onto his mattress – like you haven't been waiting forever for this moment. You arc your back, one hand fisting his bed sheets as the other curls around the wrist he plants beside your head. The pace he's set is brutal, each thrust pushing deeper inside of you, taking you as he pleases as you cling on and submit to it.

'Where's the cheek now, huh?' He pants. Honestly, he's surprised he's not cum already. Your cunt milks him, squeezing him so deliciously that he doesn't think he'll ever find anyone better.

Then again, he know what they say about forbidden fruit.

''m sorry.' You moan, back curling as he fucks you harder. It's pathetic how he's barely given you anything and yet, you're already creaming around him. Your body begs for release, teetering you on the precipice of ecstasy as he uses you relentlessly.

'No your not...' Bakugo chokes out, teeth bared as he clings to the last threads of his control. Your tight now, too tight to not be close and if the way you're moaning and almost drooling onto his bed is anything to go by – he's not wrong. Leaning over you, he licks a thick stripe up between your shoulder blades before resting his lips by your ear. When he speaks is a growl, a command that comes from deep within his chest. 'Touch yourself... C'mon, show me how pretty you cum.'

You don't need telling twice. Forcing your arm beneath you, you draw quick, awkward circles on your clit and have to remind yourself to breathe. Your orgasm hits you like a train. Every muscle in your body tenses, your eyes rolling back into your skull as the high continues to roll through your body. It feels like a millennia until you come back again, until your limbs begin to feel under your own control and you become aware of Bakugo still frantically prolonging your high.

'Shit, shit, shit...' Pulling out, he ignores your protests before quickly rolling off the condom. It takes a singular pass of his fist before he cums, a grunt thrown from his chest as he releases himself over your ass. His mess is sticky, a pearlescent sheen that drips between your cheeks and onto your raw cunt – your clit still twitching.

In a moment of madness, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of the scene. In it, only the edge of your dress can be seen, coupled with the most distant droplets of his spend as it decorates the skin of your thighs.

'Post it.' Craning over your shoulder, you hiss at the new soreness in your limbs as you roll onto your back. You tilt your head, signature mischief returning to your cheeks. 'Got to let those fan girls know you've already being taken care of...' You flash a smile. 'And I'd really hate to see your DM's right now.'

Against his better judgement, he tosses you his phone. 'Knock yourself out.'

It's almost six in the morning when you finally settle for bed. You'd gone another three rounds. Once in shower, over the vanity in the hallway and then, again in his bed and each time had seen both of you aching and sore and more than pleased with yourselves. You'd posted the picture and Bakugo's phone hadn't been quiet since – not that you minded. It wasn't like anyone could really tell what it was. The lighting was awful, the image blurred and you'd cropped it so there was no chance of anyone figuring out who you were.

Still, the idea of it stirs up something hot and heavy in your stomach.

You'd laid your claim now.

'I will never know how you're such a demon when you're brother's a God damn golden boy.' Bakugo's breathing has just about leveled out, you hand rising and falling in a more subtle rhythm where it lays on the center of his chest.

You wrinkle your nose. 'Can we not talk about my brother while I can still feel your cum dripping down my ass, please.'

Bakugo chufs, but relents. His thumb rubs soft circles in the skin of your shoulder, a gentle beckoning to sleep as both of you watch the sun rise and fill his bedroom window with a brilliant orange. 'Stay?' He kisses your forehead. 'I'll make you breakfast.'

Nuzzling into him, you're about to agree – mind already reeling at the possibilities of Bakugo's cooking and another round at a more respectable hour – but, all thoughts cease when Bakugo's phone pings with a message.

'If this is my fucking publicist you can explain yourself.' Bakugo tuts, but there's still a warmth in his smile that betrays his annoyance.

You giggle. 'Happy to.'

Flipping over his phone in his hand, Bakugo's mouth drops open when the screen glows to light his face.

There's only one message on the screen.

And it isn't from his publicist.

Shitty Hair: 'Really dude, my fucking sister?'

#bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #mha smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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ssprayberrythings · 21 days

Text

living in oblivion | LS2

logan sargeant x female!reader, oscar piastri x platonic!reader

warnings: none just two people oblivious to their feelings for one another

note: im obviously not someone who works for a f1 team so i have no idea how reading the data actually works but this is a piece of fiction so just go with it lol

special mention to @whydowesleepeachnight for this idea! sorry it took me so long to get it out to the world, i hope it lives up to the idea you gave to me (:

word count: 4k

masterlist | taglist

You were currently at the first race of the new season, supporting Oscar. You and Oscar had been best friends since you were 7 and Oscar was 8. The two of you met at summer camp where you spent 6 weeks together, getting to know everything about each other.

When time came to say goodbye, you had promised each other you’d call and email (through your parents of course). By some miracle, you never lost touch and your friendship only got stronger the older you got.

When Oscar started his journey towards racing and he shared with you his goal was to be an F1 driver, you showed him nothing but encouragement and support. You celebrated all of his successes and achievements.

When he met Lily his girlfriend, you were beyond happy, seeing your best friend happy and in love. It also helped that you and Lily got along instantly and she became one of your closest friends.

You were brought back to reality when Lily called your name

“Sorry, what was that?” You asked the girl

She laughed “I just asked if you had seen him yet today. We could go pop in before he has to start getting ready for the race” she said again smiling at you.

“Oh yeah, let’s go!” You nodded, you enjoyed getting to see him before the race and you knew Lily did too, especially with how busy he usually was after a race.

As you and Lily walked through the paddock towards the McLaren hospitality, you passed Lando.

“Hey if you’re looking for Oscar, he’s outside of the William’s hospitality talking with Alex” Lando told you two smiling before continuing his walk wherever he was initially going.

You and Lily offered him a thanks and continued walking till you reached your destination and sure enough there was Oscar with Alex but there was another driver with them, Logan Sargeant. You felt your heart skip a beat.

Being best friends with Oscar, you obviously knew Logan and there had been plenty of times when you would hang out with Oscar that you also hung out with Logan.

As the three of you got older, you grew up and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Logan. The blue eyes and blonde hair got you.

As you approached the group, Oscar noticed you and Lily

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He asked bringing his girlfriend in for a side hug and offering you a smile

“We just wanted to see you before the race started” she told him

“And wish you luck” you added finding your voice, hoping the nerves weren’t noticeable.

Oscar just smiled “Thanks” he told you.

“Lily you know Logan and Alex. Y/N this is Alex and you know Logan” Oscar introduced you to the other William’s driver

“Nice to meet you” you told Alex who smiled at you

“Hi Logan” you said politely trying to stay as cool and calm as you could

“Hey Y/N!” Logan said, offering you a smile which you returned, doing your best not to blush.

The five of you spoke a bit longer before the three drivers had to go and get ready.

You and Lily said goodbye to the William’s boys as they walked into their hospitality, then you walked a bit away, to give the couple a moment before the two of you walked back to where you initially were.

When Lily joined you again, you started walking back

“So Logan’s pretty cute” Lily said out of the blue

“Lily! You have a boyfriend” you said looking at her to which she rolled her eyes

“Not for me you goof” she said “For you” she finished

If you had been drinking anything, you would’ve probably spit it out at her words

“What is that supposed to mean? I don’t like Logan” you said quickly which earned a look from your friend

“Judging by the blush on your face at the mention of him and how defensive you just got I’d say that’s not the total truth” she said matter of factly.

You bit the inside of your cheek, not sure what to say

“And now I know from the silence, how right I am” she said smirking which earned a groan from you. She was so observant, it was annoying at times.

“Okay yes Logan is cute and yes I may or may not be attracted to him” you told her

“But it’s not a big deal and I don’t want to make it a big deal” you told her,

She nodded appearing to be lost in thought.

“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no” you told her. You had been friends with the girl long enough now to know when she was planning something

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say” she said

“I don’t care, I could tell you were planning something I would’ve disagreed with” you explained as you reached your destination.

“Lils can we just drop it for now? I want to enjoy our time here and just cheer on Oscar” you asked the girl

She sighed “Fine but we aren’t done talking about this” she told you before smiling at you.

You sighed, the race had bought you a bit more time from having this conversation with the girl.

Since that moment with Lily, things only got worse and it got harder to hide your attraction towards Logan whenever you were near him.

Lily had told Oscar which you assumed she would and the two of them were relentless in “accidentally” having you and Logan be near eachother.

When Lily wasn’t around, Oscar on his own wasn’t any better.

He would playfully pick on you for your crush to the point where you were certain Logan definitely had to have known of your crush by now or atleast suspected something.

Now it was time for the Miami Grand Prix which was a big deal for Logan as it was his home race.

You weren’t going to come but Oscar had insisted you had to be there, his exact words were “to see your boy in his element” even though Logan wasn’t yours.

Fortunately you couldn’t argue with him cause deep down you wanted to be there.

You had gotten in a few hours earlier than you had told Oscar because you wanted to surprise Oscar at the track.

It was media day so you knew he’d be around somewhere and he had already given you your friends & family pass so you had a way in.

You took an Uber over and walked in no problem. As you walked to McLaren’s hospitality you passed Lando and Max,

“Hey Y/N! Oscar didn’t say you’d be here today” Lando smiled giving you a quick hug

“Yeah I thought I’d surprise him” you told him

“Oh well, have fun doing that” he chuckled before you said your goodbyes and parted ways.

You walked past William’s hospitality, not noticing Logan and Alex filming some media content.

Logan recognized you immediately but you were too far for him to call your name plus he was in the middle of something

“Bro did you hear me?” Alex asked as the camera recorded them “You just got distracted” he laughed at his teammate

“Oh sorry” Logan awkwardly laughed before turning his attention to Alex and the work they were doing.

The camera that was on them had caught the whole interaction and if someone had to describe the look on Logan’s face when he spotted you, they’d say it was someone who was in complete awe.

That’s the effect you had on him, you just didn’t know it.

You made it to McLaren just as Oscar was walking out

“Surprise” you said when your eyes met causing you to laugh, you wanted to do a bit more but the timing didn’t allow for that.

Oscar smiled widely and gave you a bear hug when he was off the steps “I’m so happy you’re here” he exclaimed, you smiled at him.

You ended up spending your day around McLaren while Oscar did his media duties. You had brought your iPad so you did some work to pass the time.

When he was done for the day, he found you in his drivers room, you had dozed off with your head leaning against the wall, your iPad discarded on the couch next to you and you were hugging your legs to your chest.

He quickly snapped a photo of you like this, remembering to use that when your birthday rolled around, then he walked over to wake you up

“Sleeping beauty, it’s time to go” he said chuckling slightly shaking you gently, you must not have been in a deep sleep cause you woke up almost right away

“Shit sorry, I think the travelling just crept up on me” you said stretching your legs and arms, rubbing your eyes to wake you up

“All good, I was coming to get you so we could head out” he told you walking over to pick up his backpack.

You got up, grabbing your iPad closing the case and putting it back in your tote bag.

“Sounds good” you said. The two of you made your way out of the building before going to the parking lot.

“You know Logan asked where you were today” Oscar told you casually “He said he saw you on your way to McLaren earlier but was too busy at the moment to say hello” he finished

“Oh I feel bad, I should’ve went and said hi” you said biting your lip out of habit.

Even if you liked Logan, you weren’t the type of person to avoid him because of it, at the end of the day you still considered him a friend.

“I think he’s still around, you could pop in, I'll wait for you in the car” he offered

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be quick, thanks Osc” you smiled at him before picking up the pace and walking to William’s.

When you got there, Alex was leaving with Lily his girlfriend

“Hey Alex, is Logan in there?” You asked him

He nodded “Yeah, he is, maybe he’ll listen to you about leaving. He keeps looking at the data from the previous races so he knows what to improve on for this race” Alex told you

You frowned,

“Oh, okay yeah I’ll see what I can do” you told him before offering him and Lily a small smile, walking around them going inside to Logan’s driver room.

You knocked on the door

“Come in” you heard Logan’s voice on the other side of the door, you opened the door

“Hey stranger” you joked offering him a smile

“Oh hey” Logan said his mood picking up from seeing you

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You walked in “Oscar told me you were asking about me so I thought I’d come say hi incase I don’t see you before the race” you told him smiling which he returned.

It was obvious to anyone but the two of you that you had a mutual interest in each other.

“Oh, that’s nice of you” he replied

You weren’t sure what else to say but then you remembered what Alex told you,

“Alex tells me you’re refusing to leave, something about looking at data” you said casually walking over to the couch he was sitting on, sitting next to him.

Sure enough he had an iPad open on his lap with data pulled up.

“I just want to make sure I do a good job at this race, it’s a big deal, I want to make everyone proud” he shared with you

You nodded understanding where he was coming from “Logan you’re a good driver and everyone is already proud of you, regardless of how you do” you told him trying to reassure him

“Plus you can only reread the data so many times, the information is still the same” you continued

“You know what you’re doing and when the time comes to be behind the wheel, your instincts will take over” you finished, trying to make him feel better.

He looked over at you, he looked tired but he nodded his head acknowledging what you had said

“C’mon, we’ll give you a ride back to the hotel” you told him nicely, he thanked you and closed the iPad which you took from him.

“What are you doing?” He asked confused

“I don’t trust you wont secretly try and steal a couple glances in the car” you said putting the iPad in your bag. He still looked confused and a bit apprehensive

“Don’t worry I won’t go sharing secrets to your opposing teams” you joked, not earning a laugh from Logan you stopped joking,

“Okay how about you come with me back to my room, we can order some food, you can give your eyes a break from the screen and then together we can look it over some more” you offered.

You realized what this meant and what it could’ve implied but you just wanted to help out your friend.

After a moment of silence he agreed and then the two of you made your way out of the building, meeting up with Oscar in the parking lot

“That was not quick” he told you when you got in the passenger seat and Logan in the back

“What were you doing?” He asked curisouly

“Don’t worry about it, we just got caught up talking” you told him

“Now can we leave? I’m hungry” you changed the subject, knowing Oscar would keep pushing.

He sighed and started the car, driving to the hotel. When you got there, you made your way to the elevator, Logan following.

Oscar stayed in the lobby, seeing some of the other drivers and choosing to chat with them before heading up to his room

“What’s up with those two?” Lando asked seeing you and Logan together

“I don’t know, I’m hoping they finally confessed their feelings” Oscar said “Not sure how much more of this oblivion I can take” he said drastically

“Maybe they’re spending the night together” Lando said wiggling his eyebrows to indicate what he was referring to

“Oh ew, I don’t want to think of that, she’s like a sister to me” Oscar said groaning, even though in the back of his mind, he knew it could be a possibility.

Meanwhile back in your hotel room, you and Logan had ordered room service and made yourselves comfortable on the couch.

You put something on the TV to fill the silence and pass the time while you waited for your food.

You eventually pulled the iPad back out and opened it, looking at the data while Logan just sat silently next to you.

You had always enjoyed stats and reading data however this was a different kind of data you didn’t fully understand.

Eventually there was a knock on the door, your food. “I’ll get it” he told you standing up and getting the food, being sure to thank the gentleman that brought it.

Logan came and sat on the couch putting your food on the coffee table infront of him. You put the iPad down, wanting to eat instead of looking at things you didn’t understand.

“Do you think there’s anything I can improve on?” he asked after sometime passed

You looked at him, he looked so sincere right in this moment.

“The only thing I found was a lot of numbers and words that I don’t fully understand however I’m going to assume because they repeat themselves it’s an indicator you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to” you told him

“You’d think you were a good driver or something” you joked nudging his shoulder, causing a slight chuckle to leave him.

There was a comfortable silence that fell upon you as you continued to eat your food.

“Thank you” Logan spoke after some time passed. He had finished his food and was now looking at you

You turned to meet his eyes “It was nothing but you’re welcome” you smiled. Damn he loved seeing your smile

“Can I ask you something?” He asked sounding slightly nervous which caused you to swallow a lump in your thought. This could be related to anything.

“Sure” you said trying to sound as casual as you could

“Would it be okay if I kissed you” he asked softly looking in your eyes.

You thought your ears might’ve been deceiving you,

‘did he just ask if he could kiss me’, you thought to yourself.

Becoming aware of your silence, you slowly nodded “That would definitely be okay” you told him as he moved closer.

Suddenly you didn’t know what to do, it was as if you had never been kissed before. He slowly leaned in, his one hand on the side of your face.

You leaned into his embrace and before you knew it his lips were on yours, you instinctively kissed back.

The way your lips fit perfectly together, you would think they were two puzzle pieces placed together.

Eventually you both had to pull away but Logan didn’t pull away fully, he rested his forehead on yours, his eyes closed

“I’ve been wanting to do that for way too long” he confessed.

You were taken back, you never thought he felt the same “I could say the same thing” you chuckled.

He pulled away opening his eyes looking at you “We were so oblivious” he joked which brought a giggle out of you.

After that you cleaned up your food, you let Logan read over the data a bit more, this time he explained what everything meant to you then eventually you put the iPad back in your bag and went to cuddle on your bed.

“I know I should go but I don’t want to leave you” Logan told you while your head rested on his chest.

You looked up at him “You could spend the night” you suggested then realized what that may have implied

“Not like that, just so than you don’t have to leave” you added a blush coming to your face as Logan chuckled slightly.

“Don’t worry I knew what you meant” he reassured you

“But if you’re offering, I’m fine with staying” he smiled “ill leave in the morning to quickly stop at my room to clean up” you nodded then pushed yourself up to go get and get changed.

That night you and Logan fell asleep cuddled up next to each other with your head nuzzled between his shoulder and his neck meanwhile his arm was tightly around you keeping you close.

The following morning, you were awoken to knocking on your door, relatively loud knocking. You groaned and cuddled closer to Logan who was still asleep.

When the knocking didn’t stop, you begrudgingly got out of Logan’s embrace and made your way to the door, opening it and seeing Oscar standing there

“Oscar what do you want so urgently, I was sleeping” you said still half asleep

Before Oscar could answer, Logan appeared rubbing some sleep out of his eyes

“Dude you knock really loudly” he said before going into the washroom, leaving a stunned Oscar and a slightly blushing you.

“You were saying” You reminded Oscar who was still shocked at seeing Logan in your room.

“No no doesn’t matter now” he said “I believe you have something to tell me” he looked at you

You shrugged deciding to be chill about it, knowing it would drive Oscar mad

“Nope, nothing to say” you said pretending to think, while Logan exited the washroom seeming more awake this time

“Logan is there anything to tell Oscar?? He seems to think there is” you informed Logan of the topic of conversation.

Logan picking up on what you were doing, shook his head,

“No I don’t believe so” he said wrapping his arm around your shoulders as if this was a normal occurrence.

Oscar was still shook and clearly speechless from his lack of words

“You’re both going to drive me mental” he finally said “Okay well whatever this is” he said referring to you and Logan

“I wish you the best and also I was coming to ask if you wanted to join us for breakfast but I’ll think I’ll just leave you be” he finished

“Thanks Osc” you told him smiling at him, before he said goodbye and Logan shut the door.

“Back to bed” you said turning to go back to the bed but before you could do so Logan gently grabbed your wrist and turned you, bringing you closer to him

“First a kiss” he said before leaning down and kissing you.

You smiled in the kiss, kissing him back.

That race in Miami ended up being one of Logan’s best, he finished in P7 which earned the team some points and was an overall great showcase of his driving abilities.

When the race was over and he found you, he engulfed you in a massive hug

“Logan that was so good, I know you didn’t get on the podium but I am so proud of you” you told him hugging him back

“I don’t care, that was one of the best races I’ve had in awhile and I’m so glad you were here to watch it” he explained pulling away smiling proudly

“You must bring me good luck” he smirked tucking a stand of your hair behind your ear

“Guess that means you can’t miss a race” you chuckled before someone called his name telling you he had to go do his after race duties

“I’ll see you around” he told you, you nodded your head and decided to lean up and leave a kiss on his cheek

“I’ll be here” you told him as he blushed from your kiss before walking away.

You were so happy that things had worked out for you when it came to Logan. You couldn’t wait to catch Lily up with all the details even though you were sure Oscar had already done so.

You laughed to yourself thinking about his reaction before deciding to go find your best friend and congratulate him on his podium finish, he had gotten P3.

When you found him, you gave him a big hug “Osc I’m so proud of you!” You exclaimed genuinely happy for your friend.

He hugged you back “Thanks Y/N” then pulled away

“Did you see Logan? P7 is good” he asked smirking at you while you rolled your eyes playfully

“Yeah I already saw him, gave him a reward for doing so well” you raised your eyebrows at Oscar who groaned

“Oh ew I didn’t need to know that” he said making you laugh

“Slow down, I didn’t say what, get your head out of the gutter” you exclaimed pretending to act offended before laughing

“I just gave him a kiss on the cheek if you must know” you told Oscar

“So I guess this means you finally told him about your crush?” He asked already knowing the answer

You nodded smiling at your best friend who mirrored your smile

“I’m happy for you two, seriously” he told you pulling you into a side hug “Now we can go on double dates” he said excitedly which you chuckled at

“Yeah but are you sure you can handle the both of us picking on you especially when you say things like thongs instead of flip flops” you looked up at him

He rolled his eyes “I take it back, im not happy anymore” he said even though you knew he was joking “And stop hating on my choice of words, it’s what I know” he groaned which earned a chuckle from you.

“Whatever you say Osc” you patted his chest before pulling out of his embrace

“Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna go find my favourite American and give him a proper reward for doing well” you told him smirking as he acted grossed out

“Ahhh please keep those details to yourself, I don’t want to know about them” he said which you laughed at before turning away and going to find Logan so you could celebrate properly.

taglist: @namgification @itsyagirlmeee @asparklysoul @bwormie @meadhbhcavanagh @talksoprettyjjx & @ari-nicole

I've had this written in my notes for so long I just wasn't sure If I was ready to post it but I guess now is better than later!!

#ssprayberrythings x formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x smau #l #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #x reader #f1 imagine #imagines #ls2 x reader #ls2 #ls2 fluff #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine

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the-head-ancho-chilli · 1 year

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The Hashira’s Favourite Hugs

Happy Valentines day everyone! Enjoy some lovin from your favourite Hashira ^^

Requests and asks are still open :)

Word count: 4k~

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mmmm

Prepare to be swept off your feet (literally)

Approaching our very own love Hashira and requesting a hug will be met with the same excitement no matter what

“Huh? Do you want a hug? Of course! Come here sweetie, let me hold you for a bit!”

She will be SO HAPPY if you asked ^^

Mitsuri may squeeze you a little, but never too much

Her goal is to get you as close to her as possible, no gap spared between you two

She’s honestly one of the best huggers here

Depending on your height, she’ll either prop her chin on either your head or shoulder

She’s a little warm from her flustering, but still enthusiastic nonetheless

If your head is tucked away, she’ll focus on swaying you both side to side in a rocking motion

Almost as if you two were dancing

But if you face is out in the open, Mitsuri will not waste a second before peppering your entire face in kisses

She tries her best to make you feel loved

Mitsuri absolutely adores hugs so she’ll never turn you down

She likes cooing about how much she loves you while the two of you hold each other

“Oh you make my heart skip a beat! I love you so much!!!”

Compliments will not be held back here, Mitsuri will go above and beyond

SHE MEANS EVERY SINGLE ONE, DONT YOU DARE DOUBT YOURSELF

But even the love Hashira has a favourite hug

Mitsuri was once gone for more than a week on some business that she had to attend to

You missed her terribly, and you grew more worried as time passed by

While lounging in your shared bedroom, you heard the door open and close as your love cheered “Honey, I’m home!”

You sprinted across the house, found Mitsuri and leapt into her arms, yours pulling her in by her neck

Seizing momentum while she had it, Mitsuri spun the two of you around while you were still in the air

But when the two of you had spun enough and she tried to put you down, she realized that your legs were around her waist

You were almost clinging onto her like a koala, and something inside of her melted

She was internally squealing at how affectionate you were :)

Mitsuri’s favourite hugs are ones where she can use her strength, often by lifting you up into her arms

“Sweetie it’s late, let me carry you to bed, okay?”

It just makes her feel strong and cherished

Would absolutely carry you around like this all the time if you let her

Obanai Iguro

He acts like he hates them

Do not underestimate him and the complete unadulterated adoration he has for you and the few people he lets near his heart

Obanai is just not used to that kind of thing, and it really stresses him out

If you asked him for a hug he would just shoot you a critical stare before groaning out an "Ughhh, fine. Come here"

You would be doing all the work here

Even if you have both your arms wrapped around him, your head resting on his shoulder, he still won't move

Obanai is really stiff about it

If you're lucky, he'll MAYBE pat your back unenthusiastically

Truth be told, Obanai doesn't let people touch him often so he wouldn't have much experience in it by far

Now if you ASKED him what is favourite hug is, he would say the side squeeze he gives you in public

Obanai can get overprotective easily, but he doesn't like showing it

He rarely misunderstands when someone is just being nice or affectionate in a platonic manner and when someone is actually hitting on you

If he sees someone making moves on you or just making you uncomfortable in general, he will glide over there and put his hand in your back pocket

Effectively pulling you into a very tense side hug

Obanai wouldn't say anything, but his main line of protection is his very judgmental look at his target

He wants you to believe that he's tough and all, that guarding you from danger is his greatest joy

But Obanai is really soft

His actual favourite hugs are what he refers to as "Sweater Time"

If you have larger sweaters than he does, he will pull the bottom hem of it up for a minute and pull it over his head

If he's taller than you then he just tucks you underneath the hem of his

Basically the two of you are wearing the same, spacious sweater

He's close enough that just fitting into it doesn't make you feel like you need to wrap your arms around him

But Obanai might pull you in if he just really needs your touch

He absolutely loves holding your face and resting his forehead on yours, absentmindedly tracing your jaw

Takes the opportunity to look into your eyes but Obanai doesn’t hold eye contact for long

So very warm :)

Tengen Uzui

Ohohoho

You’re in for a ride, that’s for sure

If you ask Tengen for a hug, he’s gonna be so snarky about it

He’ll make you confirm it like 5 times

“Hmm? You want a hug from the God of Festivals? Ahhh, of course, anyone would want to be in my arms! Come closer and claim you prize from yours truly~”

Tengen will motion you towards him, hinting to put your arms around him

Most of the time he’ll tease you about it, but sometimes Tengen will just flash a smile and pull you in

He’s pretty strong so his hugs are pretty tight by default

You can smell a hint of the cologne he uses, which is never too strong in the first place

Loves pressing you in by the small of your back, he can’t explain why though

Tengen’s hands just gravitate there, no lower or higher

Even when you two are already hugging, Tengen will not be able to resist teasing you

He is RELENTLESS about it too

Even if Tengen gets annoying with how affectionate you can be, he doesn't really mean it

Because every now and then, he just needs you there with him for a bit

It doesn't happen often but Tengen does have nights where he just can't sleep

You wouldn't know if its stress, repetitive thoughts or nightmares simply because he refuses to tell you

When he just lies there in the early hours of the morning, he'll carefully drag whoever is nearest towards him

This particular instance, you barely stirred awake as Tengen lifted your body to lie atop of his

Sensing your arousal from slumber, Tengen already hushes you back to sleep

"It's okay baby," he coos. "Just needed you a little closer. Get some rest"

If you happen to stay awake, he'll continue his attempts to get you to fall asleep again as he would honestly prefer for you to stay asleep when he's like this

Because when Tengen feels the worst of himself haunt his thoughts with all the memories and pain that he carries everywhere, nothing soothes him more than you pulling him closer whilst dreaming

This unconscious "I love you" of yours never fails to bring a sad smile and a few tears of love rolling down his cheeks

Pulls you even closer as he feels joy spread throughout his chest like fireworks

Yes, this is his favourite, and he will reward your efforts with forehead kisses and gently stroking your spine

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Either he has rabies or he just snarled at you

“Why the fuck are your arms like that? Are you looking for a fight?”

If you ask Sanemi for a hug, expect some backlash

See, all you wanted was some affection and somehow he's looking at you like you have two heads or something

"No you jerk, I just want a hug..."

Sanemi is pretty circumstantial with hugs, but he's not like Obanai where he's hiding how soft he really is

In reality, he would prefer that you got a hug from someone else

"Isn't it Mitsuri's day off? She should be in the garden at Shinobu's place"

Due to his workaholic nature, Sanemi doesn't think that he would be the best person for when you want affection

And its not because he hates affection nor does he find you annoying

Sanemi just think that because he's sweaty, covered in a bit of blood and is exhausted beyond belief, that maybe someone else's hug may bring more comfort than he could

But if there's no one else around...

"Mitsuri took a trip to a resort in the mountains, and you're already here"

With a roll of his eyes, Sanemi will acquiesce

"Get over here, you dork"

I will advise you however, that hug will not last more than three seconds

He will be firm in the hug, and maybe he'll give you a few pats on the back, but that's all you're getting

"There, now no more distractions. I've got some unfinished buisness..."

He will immediately turn away and go back to whatever he was doing

Honestly, he's trying to hide how (minorly) flustered he is by your sudden request for affection, but it's not surprising enough for him to let up a little on his unspoken self-consciousness

No, that would take at least a decade of attempts to make any progress

Just take his huffiness with a bit of grace; Sanemi just isn't the best person to go to when you want a hug

But if you come to him with tears dribbling down your cheeks, and a pained expression on your face

If you come to him with opened arms and a few sobs choked in your throat

If you push aside your dignity to allow Sanemi to see you at your worst, and a look in your eyes that shows that he's the only one who can alleviate the pain

"I've got you, I'm not going anywhere. I've got you"

He won't hesitate to immediately pull you in

There's something in the way you hold onto him that makes him believe that maybe, just maybe, he's not as bad as he thought

Hugs like these are his favourite, when he can push out his insecurities and hug you just for the sake of hugging you

Yeah, he's no good for hugging you when you want it

But he's perfect at it when you need it

Shinobu Kocho

She’s kinda iffy with them, but she does have her own preferences

If you approach Shinobu and you ask for a hug, she’ll open her arms to you and motion you toward her

“Oh my, my dear do you need a hug? No need to worry Angel, I’m right here”

She’s definitely shorter than you so she’ll normally press her face into your chest while the two of you embrace

Shinobu likes listening to your heartbeat, and sometimes seizes the opportunity to check your health

Usually she does it because she finds it soothing

Other times, Shinobu just worries even if she knows she has no reason to

Believe it or not but she doesn’t like being held

Shinobu will never breathe a word of it, especially if you’re really affectionate

Would never ask you to stop, she just wouldn’t go out of her way to ask you to hold her

You would think after learning this that Shinobu just doesn’t like physical affection

While cooking some dinner for the two of you, your mind will start to wander about Shinobu

She spends so much time studying medicine that you hardly saw her all day today

You missed her dearly

But then you feel two arms snake around your waist, and someone pressing into your back

The smell of wisteria and rubbing alcohol wafting around you

Yes, it’s true that Shinobu doesn’t like being held

But she LOVES holding you close

In bed she’s the big spoon, she hangs onto you when you share showers, her arms will wrap around your neck when she checks up on you working at your desk

But right now?

You cooking and talking about your day, while she hums along?

Feeling you relax into her touch as she hops up on her toes to press her forehead into your neck?

Yes, this is Shinobu’s favourite

There is no place she would rather be

PLEASE LET HER HYG YOU AS YOU DO STUFF

Shinobu is the type of person where she just loves existing in the same space as you, but with her chest pressed against your back

Overall, back hugs enthusiast

Kyojuro Rengoku

CUDDLE MANNNN

Look me in my eyes and tell me that he isn’t the best hugger here

If you ask Kyojuro for a hug, he would be so honoured to give you one

“But of course my love! Please allow me to give you a proper embrace!”

He’s so soft and warm you could melt away

Depending on how you are when you asked, he will either ask you about your day or stay very quiet for you

Our sunshine boy can brighten even the stormiest days

Kyojuro’s very versatile with affection, so if he knows you have a preference he will heed to it at once

Head scratches, back rubs, shoulder pats, you name it

He’ll do it all for you

If it’s possible in the moment, he will give you a loving kiss on the forehead

With how affectionate Kyojuro is, you would think maybe he doesn’t have a favourite hug but that’s not true

“My love! I have finished my project, sit down with me so I may share it with you!”

You had just came back from the kitchen with two cups of tea, setting them on the coffee table

Kyojuro sat on the floor with his legs crossed, arms open and motioning you towards him

Initially you were confused with how close you stood near him, but Kyojuro still hurriedly motioned you towards him

He softly held onto your hips, turning you away from him, and pulled you down so you sat on the floor with him

You were basically sitting in Kyojuro’s lap

He had one arm around your waist, using the other hand to pull the box he was working on for the past couple weeks across the table towards the both of you

It was a time capsule of various items and mementos of time spent with you and his friends

Although the two of you were reminiscing on the memories made , Kyojuro’s focus lied in how comfortable you were to hold in his lap

He fantasizes of turning you around to face him so he could be all romantic and look into your eyes

But yes, Kyojuro’s favourite hugs are the ones where you are seated in his lap

If you want to hug him as well, Kyojuro will spin you around so you can cuddle all you’d like :)

Big or small, he can handle you no problem

Don’t ever worry about being too heavy ^^

Giyu Tomioka

Also iffy but for different reasons

To be completely honest Giyu has no idea what he’s doing

And he doesn’t know if he should tell you

The last thing he would want is to come off as unapproachable (even if he’s aware that most of his peers don’t like him)

If you ask Giyu for a hug, he’ll just nod and open his arms slightly

When you close in on the hug though, his arms aren’t even touching you

They just stay there… hovering…

Good grief help this man

“Giyu, what are you doing…” “Hugging you?” He mumbled

HE DOESN’T EVEN SOUND SURE

There’s no way around it, you have to show him how it’s done

“Let me show you Giyu, put your arms like this-“

He’s still learning so please be patient with him

Even after you two practice a couple times, he’s still awkward about it

Very light grip on his end, he feels like if he were to actually put pressure in his hugging it might disturb you somehow

Like what if he's hugging too tight? What if you want to escape his hold earlier than you thought??? What if he's doing this wrong?????

After you two have hugged in a couple other ways, he starts developing preferences

For an example, he likes draping his arms on your shoulders in a way that they fall down your back

Giyu feels like he’s not bothering you too much this way, and it’s natural enough for him to not overthink it

His first natural instinct isn’t usually physical affection, and Giyu wouldn’t even be able to firmly place what his favourite hug would be due to his lack of experience

But one time you greeted him after he came back from a particularly rough mission

Idk he was just standing in the middle of his yard looking lost and worn out

You tried to talk to him but he was unresponsive, so you just pulled him in

His arms still rested at his sides but from the way that his chin rested on your shoulder, you couldn't have seen it but there was a twinkle in his eye

When you pulled away with a smile and bade him goodbye, you genuinely restored something in him

This is Giyu's favourite hug; ones where you just hold him close without an expectation that he has to reciprocate something

Next time you saw him seated at his desk and writing in his journal you noticed it

You almost missed it but it was most definitely there

A tiny smile was on his face as he printed his thoughts onto the paper

Gyomei Himejima

You wouldn’t notice right away, but he’s actually awkward with hugs

This gentle giant is so huge and you’re so small in comparison he doesn’t know what to do

So if you ask Gyomei for a hug, you're gonna have to be more specific

"You want a hug? Of course. May you please elaborate on your preferences?"

Boundaries are very important to Gyomei

He would prefer if you could have a discussion before you need a hug where you list the things you are and are not okay with when it comes to touch

But if neither of you have had that discussion, just describe what you need from this specific case and that'll suffice for Gyomei

Once that's done, Gyomei will only then allow you to wrap your arms around him

The most common tendencies he tends to gravitate to is petting your head and rubbing your back gently

I will warn you that unless you specify that you don't like getting picked up, Gyomei may unintentionally lift you off the ground by a couple inches

Honestly, he forgot how huge he is and he thought you were taller

If you want to return some level of affection to Gyomei, I would suggest singing some praises for him or making generally happy noises :)

He particularly likes it if you coo a small "Dawwwwwww" or let out a pleased hum, it just pulls a wide grin out of him

When you two eventually pull away, he will without a doubt rustle your hair or pat your head

"Are you feeling better? I'm always here for you, remember that"

His biggest priority whilst showing you affection is ensuring that he leaves you in a better state than he found you

Be it physically, mentally, or emotionally, Gyomei will always be ready to take care of you

Even if he's oddly stiff about it

You see, Gyomei is hyperaware of his size and it sometimes conflicts with his confidence in coming off as passive and kind

It's really hard to be perceived as non-threatening when you're 7'2 and one of the strongest Hashira

So he tries to establish boundaries with you not just to respect you and ensure he's not crossing any lines, but also to make him feel safe and comfortable in being affectionate with you

I will add however, Gyomei doesn't have any physical boundaries with you (except killing another living thing without full disclosure)

So imagine his surprise when you ask if you can try lifting him

"You can certainly try- ouf!"

He was interrupted with your efforts to pick him up

Regardless if you manage to get him an inch off the ground, your determination still has him flustered

Gyomei finds your strength and playfulness endearing, letting a soft chuckle at your smaller stature trying to lift his gigantic self

But he'll heartily tell you to put him down before you start to over exert yourself

Gyomei will hold onto you for a little longer in thanks though :)

Because Gyomei's favourite hugs are the ones that make him feel small and cared for, rather than large and nurturing

He appreciates how you remind him of that side of him

Muichiro Tokito (Platonic)

Muichiro needs a good measure of caution if you're going to be affectionate with him

Initially most people would think that it's because you would have to try a couple times to get his attention with the amount of times that he spaces out

But honestly, if you hug him without warning he gets scared

If you ever did pull him into your arms whilst his mind was elsewhere, you can see Muichiro start to panic

He won't say anything about it, just standing very very still

But Muichiro is visibly uncomfortable

I mean think about it, imagine how startling it could be if you were just minding your own business and out of nowhere, someone's in your personal bubble

It makes Muichiro feel like he missed out on something important :/

His shoulders will be shaking as he looks around the person who's hugging him, trying to gauge what kind of situation he's in and what would be the appropriate reaction

Muichiro doesn't really like hugs in general so I wouldn't recommend hugging him in the first place

If anything, Muichiro feels bad because everyone just assumes that because he's a kid that he likes hugs and being coddled

So if you ask him for a hug, he'll politely turn you down

"A hug? Sorry, I'm not a hugger..."

He really doesn't mean it maliciously so please don't hold any hard feelings about it

It's only a personal boundary, he just hopes that you'll respect it

If you want to be affectionate with him, then I would suggest handshakes :)

But I will also raise that there may be a time where Muichiro may want to give you a hug

It's usually when someone accomplishes some kind of feat, and Muichiro just feels really proud of them

So his favourite hugs are the ones that he initiates (usually out of pride)

Muichiro will always do it with his arms wrapped around your waist and pressing his face into your middle

Hugging him back isn't his favourite, but now would be a great opportunity for head pats ^^

Muichiro loves those

Overall you just need to be patient and understanding with Muichiro, and just trust that he will come to you

And you know what, if you really need that hug then Muichiro will at least go out of his way to cheer you up

It just might not be the way that you would expect

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Let me know if I should do this prompt for the Demons too!

Reminder to read the rules before submitting any asks or requests ^^

4K notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months

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𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel does everything he can to make you feel better after a civilian casualty steals your ‘sunshine’. —a fic featuring reluctantly adoring miguel and his sad spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 4k

cw character death, violence, reactive depression

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Miguel," you say, your voice grained by the communicator in his ear, "this universe is almost the same as mine, right?"

Miguel stares down at a Doc Ock variant you're staking out, lying in wait for the anomalistic antagonist to make his first move. He's trying desperately to maintain his focus but you have a nice voice, and you ask him with a confidence that betrays your total faith in him. You haven't considered that he might not know.

Well, Miguel does know. He's not sure he should start this discussion and distract you, but he has trouble saying no to you in any capacity, so he does.

"I don't know every difference, but yeah, they're the same. Same geography, world leaders, roughly the same fast food chains." He bites his lip. He's at work, more than work —you're attempting to save an entire dimension, here— and he shouldn't feed the conversation anymore. But he knows you'll be interested in this. "Donuts aren't a thing, here."

"What?"

"They have donuts, but they aren't called donuts, and they're nowhere near as popular."

"This is a very strange way to flirt," Lyla says, her flickering hazed by a golden aura as she changes rapidly between laying on her front, legs kicking, and her back, as though she's in a therapist's daybed. She floats across his vision lazily.

"That's because I'm not," Miguel says.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing. Talking to Lyla."

"How come Lyla doesn't talk to me?" you ask sweetly.

Miguel can see you in the distance, your simple black suit like an ink splodge against the blue grey glass of the skyscraper you're standing on. Anchored with a web and your body tensed, you're perfectly parallel to the ground below, as though you're standing on the windows.

"It's not that I don't want to," Lyla promises. "Miggy won't let me."

"That is not true."

Projections cover Miguel's vision, powered by his favourite lying intelligence. Movements are mapped in a bright marigold yellow, though the net turns red to signify potential danger, chance percentages bouncing up and down. Doc Ock raises an arm and it turns an eye-straining red. He sits down on a park bench and his body turns yellow again. It's a smart program, but it can't account for everything.

"Something isn't right."

You hum appreciatively. "It feels weird, how he's acting. Like he's two separate people."

Doc Ock glitches hard, the air around him fractured by colours in varying depths, like a tangible, physical screen tone. They've been coming faster. He doesn't have much time before he begins to tear apart, and that tearing will prompt panic. Panic will prompt anger.

"What should we do?" you ask.

Miguel doesn't know. He regrets asking you to come with him, not that you aren't capable. When you first joined the Spider Society you'd hadn't been Spider-Girl in your own universe for very long, and you weren't particularly proactive. You were kind-hearted but lackadaisical, and after worming your way into his life, a flower budding between concrete slabs it shouldn't have the power to crack, (he seriously doesn't know how it happened, only that you'd been bringing him things, carefully wrapped foods and trinkets you'd made, your bad conversation, and suddenly you were worrying about him and doting on him in the strange way that you do, suddenly, he was doing the same), you decided you wanted to help. You've trained hard on Spider-led courses at the Society, improving your overall fitness, your stamina, your technique, to become the fighter you are now. You can hold your own well.

Miguel knows what motivated you. You want to look after him. You'd all but admitted to it. And that's why Miguel wishes he asked someone else to come with him, because you'll put yourself in harm's way as he would for you, to protect.

"Why did you want to know if this universe was the same?" he asks, the nano of his suit morphing over his hands, claws growing long and minaciously sharp.

"Oh! Because, I used to have these favourite cookies called Butter Leaves, but they stopped making them in my dimension 'cos of the Whey disease. Even when it was better, loads of companies couldn't come back…"

You give him the entire history. He already knows it. He tries to listen to you with the attention you deserve anyway, only he's weighed the options, and taking down Doc Ock feels much more important than listening to your cravings.

"They were really thin and they had this sweet coating brushed over the top. You'd like them, I think." Miguel drops the last hundred feet to the ground, ignoring the jarring heat in his ankles at such a landing without having rolled into it. "If they were a little softer and had some sugar they'd taste just like polvorones, Miguel."

"You could say that about lots of things," Miguel argues, tone measured as not to alert bystanders nearby of his presence.

"This doesn't feel like a good idea," Lyla says. Standing now, alert.

Miguel toggles the communicator so you can't hear him.

He wonders if you'd even notice him speaking over the intensity of your excitement, "I know it's not professional but maybe we could go and look? After we beat the bad guy. They're more than worth it, I swear," you say hopefully.

"It's fine," he says to Lyla, throwing out a hand, shins braced and ready to burst into a tackle.

"It feels off, you both said it."

"It always feels off. He's in the wrong dimension, his presence caused a shift. The wrongness is unavoidable, like the body–"

"Rejecting an organ transplant," Lyla says. "I know. You say it constantly."

"If you know, why are you asking?" he asks, deadpan.

"Good to know your girlfriend can ask questions and I can't. You're a trailblazer for equality, O'Hara."

Not my girlfriend, he thinks, but he isn't sure how true that is. Miguel realigns his eyesight, the holographic netting that pinpoints anomalistic stress a menacing red where it maps Doc Ock's limbs. The colours are abrasive against the yellow-green leaves fluttering in the breeze to the grass below, trees like arms stretched toward one another standing behind the simple brown bench where Doc Ock murmurs drunken-sounding ravings.

Miguel's fangs slice through gum and lock into place. He tries not to salivate. The paralysing agent produced gives him a numb tongue.

Miguel attempts to work quickly. Approach the target. Lock the target in. Incapacitate. He rears back and takes a deep breath.

"Wait! Behind! Behind you, Miguel, there's something behind you!"

He twists backward without hesitation and swings his arm around a cold neck. He squeezes hard, hears a metallic crunch similar to a mortar and pestle, but the person in his chokehold isn't a person, it's a robot.

"Octobots!" Lyla shouts.

"HELPFUL!" Miguel shouts back, grunting as a robotic arm curves around his back, and then a second, a third.

The hills of his muscles strain against white-lacquered steel, a sweat breaking at the back of his neck as he groans, desperate to stop the octobot from crushing his arms to a powder. He can practically hear the creaking of his humerus.

Around him, civilians scatter, screaming for their lives as a small horde of octobots descends on the park. Doc Ock doesn't react to the chaos. He sits there muttering to himself as people run past him and his octobots play cat and mouse. Miguel finally snaps the arms off the robot holding him with a pissed grunt, punching the carcass of machinery away from him while you tuck and roll from a dive to the ground. In an impressive show of your improvement and coordination, you throw out a web as you roll and hit Doc Ock square in the face, a second binding his chest to the bench. You spring to your feet, shooting at bots one after another. You must take down six by the time he's gathered his bearings.

"On your left," Lyla says. Miguel smashes a bot at the apex of its white body and she laughs. "Nice. Behind."

Miguel falls into the fight as though it's a well-practised dance. With the stress maps locked on, quick-thinking, and Lyla's pointed direction, Miguel can decapitate or incapacitate each bot swiftly as long as they don't get a hold on him like the first one managed.

You're like Lyla in that a good skirmish seems to set you off —you're giggling, cheering, enjoying yourself much more than you should be. "This is just like that video game," you say, leaping onto a moving octobot and shooting webbing at the joints, gumming them up until they can't move. "With the girl and her super powered puppy, you know that one?"

"Of course I don't know that one." Miguel brings his claws down into the aluminium shell of an octobot as it swipes your legs from under you and tears it in two. It cracks like a halved apple, the gore of its inside sparking and smoking as it hits the ground in tandem with you. Your head whacks hard into the concrete pathing beneath. He doesn't have time to help you.

The arm of a bot races forward like a stinger. This one must be the head of the hive, the Queen bee so to speak, far more complicated than the others in the plating of her ivory bodice and chain-mail like shielding on her arms.

Miguel swears under his breath and vaults at it.

He pulls your droid feed up in his display, watches you writhe from one side and the other as your pained moans play in his ear. You clamber onto wobbly footing as Miguel descends, the screeching cry of metal while it's shorn apart beneath his hands not half as loud as your useless gasping —you're winded, likely concussed.

"Civilian entering range," Lyla says.

"What? Where?"

Lyla has your drone's camera spin on the spot to show Miguel the civilian stupid enough to enter an active fight zone. They aren't stupid at all, it figures, but unaware. A man in activewear jogs the beaten path with headphones in, eyes to the ground. He stops for a moment to look at his sports watch, and like the octobot can tell, it shakes Miguel like a bothersome flea and surges for him.

You're closest.

"Y/N!" Miguel shouts, knowing it's too late before he so much as closes his mouth. You turn, your head braced in your hand, breathing hard with pain. Miguel would take it back if he could.

You can't save the civilian, but you can watch him die.

—

People look at him like he's a ghost, sometimes. Wide-eyed, horrified, they move aside in the halls. They treat him how he feels on his worst days, like someone who should've died a long time ago. Today, things are different.

No less than three Peter Parker' have stopped to stare at him unabashedly. Nearly all make the same jokes, Late for a date?

He'd honestly prefer feeling like a ghost. He can't deal with their derision and he doesn't want to, ignoring their looks and their judgement as he treks to the elevator that's gonna drop him outside of the medbay. The only person he wouldn't mind poking fun at him is you.

You aren't in the mood.

Miguel doesn't acknowledge your prone form at first. He walks to your bedside table to deposit the bouquet he'd chosen, peonies for good health and strength, swapping old for new, changing the water in your small shared sink. He may orchestrate the Spider Society, but Miguel's special privileges can't reduce the extreme turnover rate of the medbay. You have curtains to partition the room for privacy, and you got the bed by the window, and that's as much as he could get you. You deserve better.

Miguel opens the window to drown out the smell of antiseptic. He stands in front of it, his shadow stretching over your twisted hip. You're not sleeping, you're resting. Doctor's orders.

Miguel wishes you'd deign to rest in your own bed, or his, but you're a little too catatonic for a safe discharge either way.

He sighs quietly. You likely hear it with your enhanced senses and still you remain an impassive lump under your blue hospital blanket.

"Good morning," he says, instead of the thousand other things he wants to say, that he's too much of a coward to ask. "Let's get up."

He doesn't give you any choice about it. Starting slow, Miguel rounds the bed to meet your eyes through your sluggish blinking. Perhaps you'd been more asleep than he thought.

Gentle, Miguel peels down your blankets enough to push his hands under your armpits. He pulls you up into a sitting position, and it —it breaks his heart. He's a monolith, he's hurting, he has years and years of loss and grief behind him and it doesn't matter, it finds him again. His heart breaks at your limblessness and your willingness to be positioned like a paper doll.

Miguel arranges the sad pillow behind you and puts the remote for the adjustable bed frame in your hand. The last time you'd been here in the medbay after a training exercise fractured your ulna, you'd spent pretty much the entire time messing around with your bed, even as they crafted your cast. It made for messy work. Miguel must've told you to quit it fifty times.

Your fingers curl around the remote.

Miguel perches on the mattress on one knee to fix the protective style your hair is in. Nothing serious, just smoothing the tiniest of stray hairs and making sure it's still comfortable. He strokes your temple absentmindedly, checking you over one feature at a time. Tired eyes, nose tip looking parched, your lips chapped. Frowning, he sits properly, and he pulls your big hospital bag from the bedside table, his hand falling to your wrist to say, Hey, I'm here, and I'm not going far.

He finds your smaller bag of toiletries and necessities and unzips it. He tries not to think about the last time he had to take care of someone like this as he cleans your face with a wet wipe, two fingers wrapped in the wipe and petting at your skin carefully. He notices the life returning to you inchingly, his touch a tether you're pulling on, so he prolongs his actions. He smooths moisturiser over your face extra slowly. If you asked why, he could say it's cold, but you don't ask.

Your face shiny in the sunshine filtering in through the wide windows, you almost look like yourself again.

"Are you hungry?"

You shake your head. An almost imperceptible gesture.

"This is why you don't feel well," he says. "You're not eating enough."

"That's not why," you say.

He aches to hear your voice. I know, he thinks, but doesn't say.

"Eat something," he says.

You shake your head again. He managed to bring you back and squash you back down in less than a minute. He really doesn't like himself, at that moment. Often, but especially now. He's failing you. He failed you with the octobots and he's failing you now.

Miguel refuses to fail someone he cares about again.

He takes the remote for your bed and lifts the top section so you can sit back comfortably. He shakes the blankets out over you, and he puts away your things. Hopeful, Miguel places new pyjamas and underwear with your shower caddy at the end of the bed and pulls a strict pose, hands crossed over his chest.

"I need to go. Shower, eat breakfast when it comes. Please."

You give him a look that might mean Yes but probably doesn't mean anything, laying down as much as the bed allows and turning your face from him toward the flowers. Miguel leaves, stopping a ways away to look back, and watches through the gap of your curtains as you reach out to touch the flowers he'd brought. Your pinky finger is less than an inch from the petals when your movement stutters, your hand falling back to your chest with a soft thud. You close your eyes.

When Miguel returns, he's thankful to find you've done as he told you. Showered, changed, a discarded breakfast tray at your feet. You've attempted the oatmeal and left the toast to go cold, congealed butter white against golden yellow.

Miguel swaps the tray for his bags. He's hoping you might be tempted to look while he's gone. He knows before you would've known the entire contents of the open bag by the time he'd left the room, but he returns having taken your tray to the rack and is sorely disappointed.

That's fine, he decides. You don't have to look. He doesn't mind laying things out for you.

First port of call: extra pillows. He pulls the plastic wrapped 'hotel pillows' up onto your sheet and tears the plastic. They pop out. He didn't think for pillow cases, so he slides them behind your hospital pillow and pushes you down by the shoulders, not cruel but not particularly gentle —you actually laugh at his handling. He bites back a smile.

"What, you got me presents?" you ask as he dumps a blanket onto your lap. It's one of those soft, shiny fleece ones patterned with those characters you love so much, the girl and her super powered puppy.

You rub your hands over it appreciatively and spread it out over your legs. "What's that mean?" he asks, pointing at the Chinese characters, '超級汪汪!'.

"Chāojí wāngwāng!" you cheer, an impression missing the majority of your usual pep. "Super woof. It's his level five power up. He yaps and Joyce gets her HP back."

Miguel pretends to know, like he'd forgotten, and you're reminding him. "Ah."

You're watching now, interested. He puts his back between you and the bag and you whine weakly, "Miguel."

"What? You think these are for you?"

"Please, I want to see."

He gives in like a cheap tent, passing you a packet of pearly beads for your bracelet making, skeins of variegated thread that change colours, a packet of pencils with frogs on the lids, a plushie. You don't know how to react and Miguel doesn't know what to say. He honestly doesn't want to say anything, vulnerability stopped being his thing a while ago, but he clears his throat. "Do you know what I look like in the middle of Miniso? Picture it."

Miniso being a Chinese home goods store lined floor to ceiling with plushies.

You laugh weirdly. Miguel knows it's guilt holding you back.

"One last thing." He sits down on the bed next to you, hands big enough to cover the box in its entirety. "You were wrong, by the way. Extremely wrong, these don't taste a thing like polvorones."

He passes you the box. You take it into steady hands, smiling widely, your thumb brushing up against the black cursive font. A box of butter leaves from one of your sister dimensions.

"I don't know if they'll taste like they did. Are they the same ones?"

You nod, loosing a breath between parted lips. "Same ones."

"If you don't eat them all, I won't get them for you again."

"That's so mean," you murmur. Miguel would apologise if he thought you meant it.

"That's how it is. Eat your cookies. I'll come back later to make sure you actually ate dinner."

He stands. You immediately grab him, cookies dropped in favour of braceleting his wrist in your warm fingers.

You look up at him through your lashes, a frown dampening your pretty features. At least, in his eyes.

"Please don't go," you say. Your eyebrows pinch together. It's even more heartbreaking than your catatonia, this pleading loneliness, like you think he won't stay.

"You have to talk to me," Miguel says. He softens at your chastised wince, sitting back down again. "Did you want a hug?" he asks.

It's an apology to offer it, though he should've asked you this morning, or yesterday, even the day before. You'd been inconsolable when it happened. Miguel's never seen you that way. Your sunshine shattered, your shoulders shaking under his hands as he led you away from the scene, he didn't hug you like he wanted to. It wouldn't have made a difference at the time. You couldn't speak. You could barely walk.

Seeing something like that happen leaves a mark, even if you've seen it before.

You sweep aside your gifts and twist your legs to climb onto your knees. Miguel hadn't realised how much you wanted to be close to him until you're bordering his lap, your arms sliding over his shoulders, your pyjamas soft and smelling of antiseptic under his nose. A switch flicks at your nearness. He pulls you into his lap and sandwiches you there, chest to chest, thankful for his stature because it means he can encapsulate you effortlessly. He can hide you from the world for a short while.

You choke him half to death.

"It's okay," he says, your back curved into the length of his forearm, leaning forward so you can take the weight off. "You're okay."

"I don't– it's not me. I'm not worried about me."

"It's over," he says. "What's done is done." Which isn't to say it isn't tragic, or that it didn't leave a permanent mark on the world. But you're punishing yourself for a crime you didn't commit.

"It's all my fault," you whisper, your cheek pressing to his shoulder, face hidden in the juncture of his neck.

He tilts his head toward you. "It's my fault. I jumped in. I wanted it to be quick."

"I let him…"

"You had a grade ii concussion, you didn't let anyone do anything. I'm lucky you didn't pass out right there. I'm lucky you had the ability to defend yourself, because I left you defenceless."

"No, you didn't, it–" You rub your cheek against his shoulder. "It happened really fast, you were making sure that bot didn't get me because I was stupid enough to leave myself open–"

"Stop it."

It's harsh enough to stop you in your tracks. Miguel sighs hard, hair blowing away from his face.

He lays down backward, skewiff on your bed, and pulls you with him in a secure but gentle hold. You make a quiet 'oof' as you go down. Apologetic yet again, Miguel rubs a line up and down your back, fingertips between your shoulders, palm flattening as he reaches the small of your back, your shirt inching up. He's sure you look foolish to anyone watching, but for once, he's past embarrassment.

"I don't want to hear you blaming yourself. It's not your fault."

You've twisted on your side on the mattress rather than crush his pelvis, though your chest remains pressed to his. You twist a strand of his dark hair around your finger. "Why did you bring me all this stuff?" you ask softly.

"To make you feel better."

"But why… do you… want that? Why does it matter that much, that you'd waste time going to get me things?"

"Why do you think?" he asks.

Your lips ghost the column of his throat. "Mm… 'cos you're nicer than you let on."

"Wrong."

You laugh again. He's more grateful than he'd ever say aloud.

"Because you care about me too much."

Too much is right. He feels like he's at the stern of the universe's most important ship. The universes, plural. That ship is heading square for an iceberg, for the precipice of a gargantuan whirlpool, and there's nothing Miguel can do but hand out buckets and veer sharply to the left, hoping it will be enough, knowing deep down that it won't be if something doesn't give soon. And he's lived a life, two lives, before he even met you. He's tired. He doesn't want to lose anyone else, and he hoped he could do that by never caring again.

What a stupid hope.

"I just want you to feel like yourself again," he admits.

"I really wanted to save him."

"You can't save everyone."

He knows better than most.

"I know," you say, no tears left to cry, voice impossibly small.

Miguel wraps his arms around you and doesn't let go for a long, long time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading, I really really hope you enjoyed! please think about reblogging if you liked it, I appreciate it <3

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l13 · 1 year

Note

i know this is a bit strange but i see none of this type of content for COD — 💧😭

i feel like alejandro and könig (maybe others) with a pregnant wife, concerned about the health of the baby feeds their wife a lot, to the point she maintains some of the weight after and they become a little enamored with it?

like a trophy remaining of how well they took care of their family, leaving a healthy baby and a plush, well fed wife

feel free to delete or ignore this if this is weird <3 love ur writing

oooh my god i love this that's so fucking cute!! I couldn't help but add price to this! Also added some random headcanons nd changed the request up a bit to the reader feeling a lil self-concious cause I know a lot of women struggle with that after giving birth. Btw thank you so much for your kind words!!<3

btw don't comment on the baby names i'm so bad at those

CHARACTERS : alejandro vargas, konig, john price

WARNINGS : female!reader, mentions of sex, fluff fluff fluff, pregnancy aftermath, stretch marks, weight gain, body image, reader being self-concious, reader hits vargas a lot (IT'S ALL IN GOOD FUN LMFAO)

WORD COUNT : 4k

♡ Alejandro vargas ♡

this man loved showing you off while you were pregnant let me tell you-

he'd be so attentive during your pregnancy (not that he wasn't before) even learning or remembering random facts

"Yeah she's nineteen weeks as of yesterday. Well, I can tell you what she wasn't doing nineteen weeks ago- Agh- mi vida that hurt!"

you couldnt count the times youd have to tell him to stop talking when someone would comment on your pregnancy or congratulate you both-

"I know right?! I did that-"

Buys the most random shit for your baby, "...What's that." alejandro pauses the haul showcase when you point at a hat in between all the other clothes and toys he'd gotten (yes he went shopping alone, he's that obsessed) "Ah, that's a bucket hat!" you will your eye to stop twitching and take a deep breath knowing this is just your hormones making you act so pissy "Yes I know." your tone turns out to be colder than you'd anticipated but seeing him unfazed you continue, bringing your attitude down a notch, "Baby," your smile is forced as you look up at him, hand over your bump rubbing circles on it, "That looks like a fucking replica of Price's hat." A pause. A bark of laughter, "Holy shit! It fucking does!"

"At least, think about it cariño!" "We are not naming our child Price, Vargas, get yourself together!" idk i just have this headcanon that price and him became the best of buds

price obv became the godfather "Ha! Look at that! His fore'ead 's almost as big as yours!" "The fuck did you just say to me?" LMFAOOOO

(is it a headcanon or do i have to involve price everywhere because he's slowly taking over all of my thoughts?hm.)

honestly vargas always loved how cheeky you were but during your pregnancy you were a menace. He always masked it with a chuckle or a smile, knowing that it's just your hormones talking, but he was scared shitless.

After some time he got used to your attitude so much that he grew to love it, finding humor in your jabs and in turn that made you soften quicker, feeling bad about your behavior towards him, always showering him with kisses after (you don't know it but he manipulated you into being nice to him)

but yeah he also found it extremely hot and you noticed, so much so that when after you gave birth you'd always act a bit more bratty in bed just to rile him up<3

and yup he absolutely loved to take care of you and watch you and your belly grow- a healthy wife was a healthy child after all and he had to remind himself that you were pregnant each time he found himself behind you, squeezing and fondling your body saying how much he loved you like this-

"Alejandro!" your loud steps echoed throughout the house, stomping down the stairs to find your husband sitting on the couch watching tv, legs spread and all, and if you weren't mad at him you'd jump him right at that moment. He stopped munching on his sandwich, turning to look at you with a startled expression, a wobbly grin forming in his mouth, "What is it, cariño?" his eyes momentarily snapped to your son, who was currently playing with his blocks on the carpet a few feet away from him- well, he seemed fine so what was the issue?

You clicked your tongue, feet dragging you right in front of him, and you snatched his sandwich to place it on the plate right next to him, "Hey!-" "Look at me!" you whined as you outstretched your arms and his eyebrows furrowed, "I am!". You sighed exasperated, and threw a leg over each thigh as you sat on him and he sputtered, surprised, hands coming to rest on your hips nonetheless. You let another dramatic groan as you let your forehead fall on his, "You did this to me,"

He grabbed the back of your head with one hand, fingers massaging your scalp as he tried to assess the situation "Cariño, I'm gonna be honest with you- I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," your hand shoved his shoulder playfully as you warned him "Not in front of Pedro," he raised his arms in defeat, and you sighed again "Look at what you did to my body, and don't tell me you don't remember shoving food down my throat for nine months or I will skin you alive." his posture relaxed a bit, hands resting on your thighs, a shit eating grin forming on his lips.

"I do remember doing that.. and so what? You look great, mi vida, so fucking sexy," his eyes roam your body, hands squeezing the supple skin of your thighs and you squirm on his lap "You asshole, you planned this didn't you?" you slapped his hand away when he tried to cup your breast and he licked his lips, eyes sparkling devilishly, tapping your lips with his finger twice "No swearing in front of the kid, remember?"

"Oh, you fu-". Pedro's gurgles of happiness as he studied both his parents stopped you from hitting your husband for the second time today, and instead your hand came down to pat his shoulder, smiling at your son innocently as Alejandro chuckled in your neck. "It's about time he ate," he cocked his head towards Pedro as he whispered, knowing full well the tantrum his son would throw if he heard him talk about food. You smiled softly as you nodded, momentarily amusing your son, for the five seconds he had his attention on you, with random silly faces, feeling accomplished when he gave the cutest huffed out laugh.

When you turned your head back to Alejandro, he was already looking at you, eyes filled with love and affection, hand coming up to caress your cheek and you leaned into his touch, sighing. "I love you."

"I love you," you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips, his hum of appreciation clouding your mind " and thank you for taking care of me, baby," he smiled at that, really smiled, "Always, cariño." he stood up suddenly, his hands under your thighs holding you up, and you gasped, holding on to him for dear life as he twirled around with you in his arms, putting a show for your son as he maneuvered you both into the kitchen, laughter filling the house once again.

"We do need to go shopping though, because none of my clothes fit."

"You're welcome to walk around naked-Ouch!" he pouted as you flicked his forehead

♡ König ♡

oh, would you look at that, yet another cod character obsessed with you being pregnant!

no, seriously though, this big bear is loving you all round with his child inside you- god knows how many times he had to take care himself in the bathroom because he saw you doing some stupid yoga exercises in the morning, "Ah, bear there you are! Could you hold my legs up please?" You were trying to kill him, there was no other explanation.

I just know that König worries so much during your pregnancy, he once caught you bringing groceries alone and almost passed out (you weren't even showing yet). He forbade you from going out of the house alone, after that.

Goes with you to all your doctor's appointments, his leg bouncing repeatedly and you had to hold his hand so he'd stop fidgeting. "I'm sorry, which one of you is pregnant again?" Safe to say, könig didn't find the doctor funny, as he sat next to you, brooding silently.

And guess what, you were having twins!!! Now you were both nervous. And in the start of your third trimester, you were exhausted and it was taking a toll on your mental health. He once found you in the kitchen, sobbing because you couldn't even bend down to look in the oven, and it had taken him almost two hours to calm you down by which time he'd already shed some tears of his own. (He really hated seeing you this way)

"Liebling did you get your vitamins?" "You have to take your vitamins in two hours." "YOU FORGOT THEM?!! CALL THE DOCTOR!". "König it's fine-"

Always makes runs to the store if you ask for something specific, making sure you get your fill at whatever you were craving, he's literally perfect

Almost had a panic attack cause he couldn't find your hospital bag when he wanted to add more stuff in it. You almost shit your pants as he came running to you, stumbling over his feet, and you calmly explained to him that it was literally under the bed. "Ah, right!" :D LMFAOO

Loves giving you belly rubs and kisses, cuddle time is much more frequent, with him always being the big spoon, saying how he wants to be able to hug you and your children at the same time, his hands draped over your body, as he laid kisses on your hair softly "Goodnight, my loves.."

Ghost and Soap came by one day to drop off some early gifts for the little ones and König almost tackled them to the ground bc he thought they were intruders help💀 you stayed mad at him for one week after that

MY MAN IS STRESSED, he swears these 9 months took 10 years off his life at the least

You and König were in a bit of a.. disagreement to say the least. It was a couple of months after you gave birth to two healthy baby girls, and you were starting to feel a little.. self-concious. The weight you'd gained after you carried two people inside of you for nine months, was quite the difference to how your body looked before that. And you still didn't know how to feel about it.

Well, one thing you knew was how your husband felt, though. During your pregnancy you could count on your fingers the time you've been intimate with each other, not even going all the way, ever. At first you thought it was because of how stressed the both of you had been- that there was no time for that. But then you'd been woken up countless times in the middle of the night, hearing König's sighs and moans coming from the bathroom, and you'd close your eyes shut each time, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. Of course he didn't like you like this.

So that's why you were looking at gym classes on your laptop when König came in the room, and he frowned when you told him what you were looking at. He started pouting, trying to talk you out of it saying the time you're going to spend at the gym is gonna steal precious time from him and your daughters. That's how you got here, now both of you standing as you argued.

"The girls are only eight months old! I don't understand why you need to do this."

"Because I want to, König! I don't like how I look anymore- I don't feel like myself-" your voice broke as you spoke and it was as if a switch flipped inside Konig's mind as he walked to you, towering above you and you shifted in your feet, suddenly nervous. Without a word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the office, walking with big strides to the bathroom, where he placed you in front of him, both of you looking at your reflections in the mirror.

You knew where he was going with this and you scoffed, turning to leave but his arms on your shoulders kept you in place. "I don't know what brought this on, liebling, and I will support whatever you decide to do. But.. I need you to know that I love you, and you should love yourself too. You just gave birth not long ago, it is natural-" he got cut off as you wiggled yourself out of his grasp, hand coming up to rub at your arm nervously "Don't lie to me, König. Not now."

You made the mistake to look up at him, seeing his eyebrows pulled together, a look of distress painting his face "What? I'm not- I would never-"

"Just, stop. I know you've been... taking care of yourself this past year," you trail off, not knowing how to go about with this, and seeing his look of recognition, his ears turning pink gave you the proof you needed "..and I don't blame you! I understand, just don't stand there and lie to me just to make me feel better."

You watched as he stumbled backward, blinking rapidly as he processed your words.

"My love.. what do you expect me to do with you walking around the house with just my shirts and no pants on, for the entire 9 months you were pregnant?" you didn't know how to answer that, so you just stared at him dumbly and he smiled shyly, "I didn't want to bother you with that, liebling.. Besides, what do you think I was thinking about each time I.. touched myself? It was always you. You and how absolutely delicious you'd look everyday, my pretty angel." you got so lost in his words that you didn't notice that he'd walked up to you, backing you up against the counter and you gasped, "But... don't you miss... how I was before?"

He seemed to ponder at your question for a moment, tilting his head cutely to the side and then bent down to grab you by the back of your thighs to place you on the counter, brushing his lips against yours. "Nope," he grinned "Why would I think about how you were before.. when this is how you look right now?" he hissed, hands roaming your sides, rubbing, savoring.

He squeezed the soft skin of your plush belly slightly and he let out a low moan, hips grinding up against your body "So fucking sexy... and all mine. My perfect wife." you whimpered, placing your legs around his waist, "If you don't take me to bed right now, I'll lose all the weight I've gained and mor-" you gasped at the speed in which he pressed you flush against his body, walking towards your shared bedroom while he placed open mouthed kisses on your neck, and he growled in warning "Don't you dare."

"I mean, unless that's what you want to do-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Yes ma'am!" :D

♡ John price ♡

let me just start of by saying no matter how much price loves having you pregnant, he also loves getting you pregnant (i'm sorry i had to)

like you can't tell me that this man doesn't have the biggest breeding kink to ever exist, and when you finally told him you want to start a family with him- he had to sit down,

kept staring at you with that wide eyed puppy look of his, and that was the first time ever that you heard price stutter in your entire life "A-are you sure? That's a big step.. No! No, no no, I do want to, it's just-"

how was he supposed to tell you that while you were talking about how you'd have to renovate the guest room and turn it into a baby room, the color of the walls, he could only think of bending you over right then and there and filling you up till you were crying for more. DAMN ANYWAY I GOT SIDETRACKED OK

but yes ok let's just say that the baby making part is done so i could continue with the actual request- thank you brain

"Fuck," you bit your lip harshly, hand coming up to rest on your forehead as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It was quite a sad sight actually, your old jeans reaching just under the middle of your thigh and you suddenly felt a huge lump on your throat. How could you let this happen? "Fuck."

In truth, you weren't that bummed about gaining weight, you got pregnant, you had a human being inside of you for nine months, and now that devil is out of you- you're still sporting those extra pounds. It was all natural and you knew it. But fuck, did it made you feel like utter shit. The fact that you gave birth, and you still had this reminder of the near hell you've been through, all the stretch marks that were formed on your skin for life, but now the weight too? You wanted your old body back.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you tugged the clothing off your legs harshly, almost bursting in tears when you couldn't get them off your legs the first time seeing as you were tugging them off like a mad woman. You heaved as you finally got them off, throwing them next to the rest of the pile on the floor, pausing before you got to grab the next pair once you heard the bedroom door open as a satisfied chuckle filled the room.

"She's out. Ava's Out cold, love. I bet this time she ain't gonna wake up once, I tell you!" John's voice was high pitched and giddy, and you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt, momentarily forgetting your earlier thoughts as you turned to face him, rolling your eyes as you saw him lean on the door behind him, arms crossed, eyes crinkling and mouth grinning.

He eyed you up and down, in all your 4-day shirt and granny underwear glory "What's this then? If I knew you missed me that much, hon', I'd insinuated this way earlier but-" his words trailed off as he noticed the pile of clothes on the floor and he frowned, pushing himself in an upright position as he walked to you, holding his hand out in question "You doin' laundry? Why didn't you let me know, I would have-"

"I'm not doing laundry, baby, I'm throwing these out." his hands snaked around your waist once he stood in front of you and his eyebrows rose, head tilting to study the pile on the floor once more, "You're jokin'. Whatever the fuck for?" you laughed at that leaning in to give his bearded cheek a kiss as he hummed, ultimately giving you time to think of an excuse, "They just don't look good anymore.." You didn't look good anymore-

John scoffed, untangling himself from your embrace to pick up a pair of pants from the floor, "Now that's a load of shit, love," he stretched out the material as if analyzing it, nodding to himself once the image of you in them entered his mind "Cause I know for a fact that your bum looks great in 'em" he maneuvered around you to lay a slap on your ass and you yelped, giggling into his mouth as he pressed you up against him- the clothing thrown back down long ago- "What's this really about, hm?"

You sighed, leaning your head on his chest as he engulfed you in his arms, "I'm not how I was... before Ava." you felt his hum rumble deep from his chest, and it did sound understanding but most of all it sounded... appreciative. "Go on.." his hands slid down your back to your curves, to then rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh in his palms, pushing you against him as he laid kisses on your temple, his beard grazing your skin.

"A-and well..." your train of thought lost as you felt his bulge press up against your lower belly through his pants, and you swallowed harshly. "And my pants don't fucking fit 'nd I'm just gonna throw them out-" once again, you felt his chuckle before you heard it, and you raised your head to look at him, brows furrowing, a pout forming on your lips. "Ts alright love, you'll get new pairs, we'll go shoppin' tomorrow if you want-" you clicked your tongue, pushing yourself away from him slightly as you sighed, annoyed.

Annoyed at yourself for even feeling this type of way, annoyed that you couldn't explain your feelings to him without embarassing yourself, annoyed that he thought you cared for some fucking pants.

"I don't care about that-" the way you hissed out the words was ice cold and you immediately felt bad as his eyebrows shot up, his hands squeezing your sides, not letting you go just yet. You rolled your tongue over your teeth as you avoided his gaze, seemingly finding interest in a loose thread handing from the side of his shirt, hand coming up to tug it loose but he grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss on your knuckles. "Hey.. darlin', look at me."

Suddenly all previous feelings came rushing down as you looked up at him, eyes glossy and chin already wobbling and he tutted, cooing down at you as he let your hand go to grasp both of your cheeks in his palms, thumbs caressing your skin as you sniffled, your own hands snaking around his back tightly.

"Now, if I'm mistaken at any point, you can stop me an' tell me to go to hell, but don't yell too loud so we don't wake up the lil' one, yeah?" john rasped out, smiling softly, as you cracked a smile at his attempt to lighten up the mood, "Right.. well how do I say this.. I'm fuckin' pissed love." your mouth parted as you gaped at him, brows furrowing even more as you stared at his pretty eyes, "That's all my work you're hatin' on!!" he grumbled, placing a kiss on your nose and you stared at him, baffled. Huh?

"This is... about your body.." he waited for your soft nod before continuing "..not looking the same, right?" you nodded again and he scoffed, "How. dare. you." he softly patted your cheeks with his palms on either side of your face at each word, his eyes stern as he looked down at you and you couldn't help but giggle again, "John!-"

"No, no. How could you, ay? 've been feeding you for months and now you're sayin' you don't like your body anymore?" he clicked his tongue, hands sliding down to hold both your arms shaking your body back and forth lightly , "This body h's given birth to Ava, to our daughter, can you believe that? You, you did that. And now you wanna hate on it? Give yourself a break love, please." his words were so genuine, you could see it in his face, how his brows were furrowed, eyes showing how hurt he was by the whole ordeal and your heart clenched.

"Not to mention, I really was feedin' ya like everyday was the last day you were ever allowed to eat, wasn't I?" you barked out a laugh at that, and he joined you, letting his forehead fall on your own, "You really were.." he chuckled deeply, squeezing you harder in his arms that it was almost impossible to breathe. "You have to know that I don't care about any of that, right?" you smiled and leaned in to kiss him,

"Now I do.." he almost missed you mutter those words as they were said into his lips but he didn't. He heard them. And the gasp he let out was way too dramatic, and you laughed it off, "Don't tell me-! You- you thought- you thought I didn't find you attractive?" he boomed and you had to shush him, barely able to contain your laughter as you told him to shut up hurriedly.

Next thing you realize, you're upside down, thrown over his shoulder as he slaps your ass, setting you down on the bed not a second later and you gasp, as he crawls on top of you, eyes dark and primal. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

"You asked for this, love. 'S Time I reminded m'wife how much I love her and her beautiful body, hm?"

this isn't even what anon asked for but I got way into this and I couldn't stop

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symbiomancy · 3 months

Text

video game —ryōmen sukuna

—summary: Sukuna can play his video games if you're sitting on his cock, you're not that distracting.

—cw: f!reader, stepcest, cockwarming, their reasoning as to why cockwarming ≠ sex is questionable / ao3 ver

—wc: 1, 4k

You lean over the back of the couch, wrapping your arms around Sukuna’s shoulders. He doesn’t even look your way, his eyes glued to his video game on the living room TV screen. His fingers tap the buttons of the controller swiftly and his character moves around on the TV screen. “So,” you begin with a drawl, mouth next to his ear, “we’re home alone and I’m bored.”

“So?”

You roll your eyes and pull away, rounding the couch to stand in front of the TV, hands on your hips. Sukuna frowns, leans to the right to look past you. You lean, too.

“I’m just saying, you’re here, I’m here, I’m also horny; you could just be in me and play your little game.”

Sukuna pauses his game and leans back on the couch, drapes one arm along the backrest. He lets his eyes trail down your body, from the tight shirt — no bra, again, you’re killing him here — to the already short skirt hiked way up. It wouldn’t leave much to the imagination if you bent over. The thought makes his pants tighten.

“How generous of you.”

“And — and, it’s not even sex; Mormons or someone have a technicality where it’s not premarital sex if you do cockwarming and get someone to jump on the bed to create friction. They also have a loophole about anal but that’s not important right now.”

“Right now?” He raises a brow. You nod. He tucks that knowledge away into the crevices of his mind. “And are you Mormon? Because I don’t see how what you said correlates to this.” He motions between you with the sweep of his finger.

“Yes, it correlates, okay?” You step forward and lean in, hands on his thighs, open cleavage right in his face. Sukuna soaks the sight in, the plush flesh and the perked nipples, swallowing around the tightness in his throat. “As long as you don’t actually move in me, it’s fine, it’s not the actual action of sex. You can do that for me, right?” You lean forward until your lips brush his and press a chaste kiss against his lips. He parts them to reciprocate, the game controller forgotten next to him on the couch, hands now on your body, tugging you toward him. “Sounds nice, right?” You mumble against his mouth.

“You’re very convincing, baby,” he says, pulling back just enough but still lingering in your personal space.

You tug the hem of his boxers down and his half-hard cock springs, up, resting against his abdomen. Beads of precum are gathered at the tip and you swipe a finger over the slit and drag it along the thick vein on the side of his shaft. Sukuna inhales slowly and exhales, long and heavy. His breath fans your lips.

“So?”

“Yeah, sure.” It doesn’t come out as aloof as he would’ve liked it to — there’s a soft lilt in his voice, instead, the curve of his lips curled up. You’re going to be the death of his reputation, if not the entirety of his being.

You stand with your knees on either side of his thighs and pull your underwear to the side. Sukuna hikes up your skirt with one hand and makes a sound of pure contentedness in the back of his throat at the sight of your pretty pussy, his other hand fisting his cock. What he wouldn’t do to ruin it, to have it dripping with his cum, gathering it up with his fingers to force it back in. You could take it, could take everything he has to offer. If he had the time, he’s sure he could spend hours watching it slowly dribble out only to fuck it back into you. He gives his cock a quick stroke, then another, painfully hard at the idea of ruining your pretty pussy with his cum, and adjusts himself so he’s lined up with you.

The tip drags across your folds and your breath hitches in your throat. You want to avert your eyes from him, look at where the tip of his cock is pressing against your entrance, but he’s too enticing, eyes half-lidded, lips parted and glossy from spit. He pushes in, eyes snapping up to meet yours, hands on your hips to slowly bring you down. Your mouth drops open, nails digging into his shoulders — the stretch is slow and aching and so divine you feel tears prickling your eyes but you don’t look away from him. It sends a flashfire rolling under your skin, clenching around his tip. Fingers — your own fingers, even — work well enough but having someone inside you, someone whose movements you can’t control, someone this thick—

Sukuna pauses with a swear tumbling from his lips, large warm hands on your hips to keep you at half-mast on his cock.

“No, no, no — keep going, keep going.”

“Just… give me a sec.” He closes his eyes and lets his head tip back and breathes in slowly, holds it for a moment, then exhales. His hands squeeze your hips. He doesn’t look at you again, but slowly, excruciatingly slowly pulls you down. His cock drags against your walls so sweetly until he’s buried to the hilt.

The air stands still, your breath caught in your throat. All at once, you both exhale, heavy and drawn-out, adjusting. You’re so warm around him, hugging him so tightly he might blow his load into you any minute. He doesn’t think he could hold himself back from jumping you like a dog in heat, fucking his cum back into you again and again and again. He has the stamina. Sukuna takes a deep breath to level himself, picks up the discarded game controller, and wraps his arms around your waist, unpausing his game.

You dare a glance to where your bodies are conjoined and snap your gaze up immediately, heat rushing to your cheeks. Slowly, you let your body tip forward until you’re chest to chest, your chin on his shoulder.

The tiled kitchen backsplash provides a distorted but somewhat coherent reflection of the TV screen. His character moves around, leaps, shoots. It’s a lot to keep track of. Fatigue from the summer heat weighs down your shoulders and you stifle a yawn.

Other than the sounds from Sukuna’s game and the hum of the fridge, the house is quiet.

Your drooping eyes follow the action on the TV. You can make out figures walking around but that’s about it.

“Somebody on your left.”

Sukuna’s avatar turns right and promptly dies.

He smacks a hand against your ass and you yelp, press forward and he’s so much deeper, tip nudging your cervix. It drives the air from your lungs, a broken moan chasing it. Maybe he’d be willing to stay this way forever; if you ask nicely enough. “Your left,” he says. But his hand doesn’t leave. Instead, it massages the spot it made contact with. You take a deep breath, heart thrumming against your sternum, and press a kiss against the side of his neck. He smells good, a pleasant mixture of shampoo and cologne.

“Could you ever find it in your big, big heart to forgive me?” You clench around him for emphasis and Sukuna groans. You almost, almost want to sit up and sink down on him, just to hear that sound again. But that wasn’t in the deal. So, you change the subject. “Why are you wearing cologne at home?”

“I have plans.”

“Nobody wears cologne to hang out with the guys.” You trace mindless patterns on his back, feeling the grooves of the vertebrae of his spine underneath your fingertips. “Do I know this girl you’re meeting with?”

“No.”

A low hum leaves your parted lips and you don’t bother to push the topic. It’s not worth it, whoever she is; it’s not worth it. This right here, right now is just the two of you. She doesn't matter. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, the tip of your nose grazing his neck, breath ghosting over his collarbones with every exhale, and let your eyes slip closed, giving into the summer heat and the fire simmering under your skin. “Wake me up when you have to leave.”

Sukuna responds with a non-committal hum and turns down the volume on his game.

And if his date texts him to ask if he's still up for their outing, maybe he asks her for a raincheck.

banner + divider by @/cafekitsune

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #stepcest

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

pairing: raider!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: thank god—a handsome stranger saves you from the grips of a pack of cruel, cruel men. unfortunately, said stranger, joel miller, is cut from the exact same cloth as the rest of them.

warnings: oh. boy. rough sex/smut (fem penetration, fingering, cum play if you squint) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; raider!joel; canon typical violence; mentions of hair pulling/reader having long hair; light dacryphilia; age gap; pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, girl); slapping, spanking, choking; !!!NONCON!!! (sexual violence/assault, coercion, allusions to more sexual abuse—Dead Dove, Do Not Eat y’all, protect yourselves).

word count: 4k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all!!! here is the non-con raider!joel fic!! stay tuned for the version coming out soon wherein Joel actually rescues the reader LOL join the taglist to be notified when I post it!!! y’all’s requests will quite legit be the death of me BUT this was fun to write so im not mad. this version is just purely depraved & Joel ‘Big Dick’ Miller is a mean mean man. wrote it pretty fast too so b nice 2 me.

love u all, sorry for searing your eyeballs:)

-em<3

—

The stucco prickles and tears at the flushed skin of your cheek, a reminder that it’ll be winter soon. The birds are sure of it, and most of them managed to get away before the frost stood a chance of nipping them.

You didn’t.

After a few years of non-stop struggle, losing everything but your own life, you figured there were worse ways to go. At least you would be… well—you, in the end.

In whatever shape this man and his leering group of accomplices left you in.

“Against the wall,” and his voice had been the crack of a whip, snapping by your ear as electricity shot up and down your spine, as the tingling realization that the chase was over—the jig, up—settled into your bones. “Spread your fuckin’ legs.”

There were more hounds around… waiting.

Always waiting.

They’d already gotten to your old, tattered clothes. The brisk air bites at your exposed skin, but at least the cold would account for the violent shivers wracking your limbs. Even as the beast pins you to the side of the decrepit house, forces himself between your knees, your primary preoccupation is to stifle your fear.

They’d get everything else on display—but they would never get to see that.

When the screaming starts, those confused grunts, huffs, and squelches of a blade carving into flesh, you mostly commend your own imagination:

“I did it. I’m in my happy place. This will be quick, then.”

But then a rough, unfamiliar hand grabs hold of your naked waist, flipping you around, slamming your spine against the frosty stucco.

This is real.

And you bear witness to his carnage.

He painted the side of the house into a mosaic of inter-mingling blood, splattered like a Pollock against the grass, the wrinkled clothes and the rugged face of your salvation.

His eyes rake over your still-trembling body before he wrenches a red-coated knife—never breaking eye-contact—from the throat of the man you’d been at the mercy of just a few seconds ago.

Blood gushes up from the fatal wound, and you both watch the cruel scene, mesmerized. The attacker’s eyes dull, all evil dissipating from that once-ferocious gaze. The rescuer’s big, wide hands flip him over, stripping him of his stained beige jacket. Then, he carelessly kicks the lifeless form face-down onto the yellowing grass.

“Put it on.”

You uncross your arms, snatching the coat from the stranger’s extended hands. It doesn’t bother you, its belonging to him.

He’s dead; you get his coat.

A fair exchange.

He keeps an eye on you as he sorts through the pickings: a few strips of dried meat here, a loaded gun there (two bullets in the clip—you watch as he checks), and a few good blades, stashed inside pockets, bags, and down shirt-fronts.

The man straightens up.

Tall.

“Get in front of me,” his low baritone strikes you, causing your knees to concede to a slight wobble. “You run, you die. Got it?”

Texan.

Slowly, you nod, and a firm grip circles your wrist, tearing you from the wall.

“Walk.”

Your heart hammers—near deafening in your ears—as the stranger stalks behind you, directing your trembling movements with brusque, snapped commands.

Finally, the scattered orangey-red leaves begin to multiply, the domestic remnants of a past civilization thinning. The neighborhood opens into a field; large oaks and slouching willows shiver under the weak glare of the afternoon sun.

There’s a house up there. It seems to be in alright shape (some things are built tougher than others) and it’s certainly a step up from a few of the more… unsavory places the outbreak had led you to.

Nearing it, you take not of how much it resembles a barn-house. Red, pentagonal roof, and a big, wide, brown front door.

Gingerly stepping a foot on the cracked wood of the porch, you turn to face your rescuer, uncertainty tying slippery knots in your tummy.

Because there’s clamour coming from inside. There’s people in there.

The momentary hesitation allows you to get a good look at your rescuer: he’s greying and dark—mixed, likely, or just disposed to a stubborn tan—and probably in his mid forties. Probably handsome, too, if it weren’t for the resident cruel scowl deepening his apathetic expression, or the violence dancing in his eyes.

A raise of his eyebrows.

“I tell you to stop?” He nods towards the looming house. “Move.”

But… you don’t.

“Are you gonna kill me?” and you’re downright shocked by the strength—the resignation—of your tone, the way the question comes out so matter-of-fact.

That sparse mustache crinkles in the corners, teasing into something wicked. “You want me to?”

“No.”

“So get movin’, then.”

That left little room for debate.

So, you turn, fingers and knees shaking with anxious anticipation. He cuts in front of you at the last minute, shoving the front door open with his knife at his side—for you or for something else, you’re not entirely certain.

He pulls you into the foyer by your forearm; to your great dismay, you’re faced with an entire group of middle-aged men. Killers—for sure—leering at you with that same starved, animalistic look your rescuer had fixed you with.

Then, he tosses the bag on the floor.

“Found ‘em by the school. Decent haul.”

Their eyes tilt to your shuddering frame, dwarfed by the jacket weighing down your shoulders. One of them looks strangely familiar, proud features reminding you of something else you were afraid of. “No shit, huh,” he commends, “Nice work, Joel.”

Joel.

As the shaggy-haired man speaks, his voice strikes familial resemblance, and it dawns on you. Your rescuer’s brother, or at the very least a cousin.

And what he says is a clearly marked taunt. That much is clear. Uttered with the kind of cruel camaraderie which collected on the tongues of men who committed acts of violence together.

Who hunted together.

And it’s obvious you’re not being rescued. Just… reclaimed. Redistributed.

Fuck.

Another voice joins the mix. “How much you think y’could get for her?”

Joel’s profile turns, harsh, brutal lines forming as he assesses you. “Depends,” and then—ohmothermary—he smirks.

“Gonna have to test her out first.”

A few snickers.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

You’re trapped with nowhere to go, once again surrounded by a gaggle of soulless monsters. Fear grips you, but thankfully, it’s muted, now, having been mostly expended during the harrowing events of the morning.

Just an hour ago, pressed to the side of an abandoned house, you’d allowed yourself to give up.

So, it feels easy—natural—settling back into that rhythm.

To submit to your inevitable, violent fate.

Joel’s voice cuts through the clamour of your racing thoughts. “Upstairs, the room with the open door. Go.”

Eyes glued to the floor, you put one foot in front of the other, your insides twisting and turning inside your core. Fuck, you can feel the pairs of eyes following you with every step you take. The stairs creak as your weight presses into them, squealing like wounded prey.

“N’ take that fuckin’ jacket off,” Joel calls after you, the echoes of his booming voice and the group’s degrading laughter chasing you all the way up into the room—the one with the open door.

And it’s nice, surprisingly. Dusty, admittedly, and clearly having belonged to someone else—a long, long time ago—but the bed is made, the window lets the light in, and the walls remind you of cinnamon.

No, this wouldn’t be the worst prison. Or the worst place to die. It’s a sure-fire step up from the gutter between two dilapidated houses.

You keep the jacket on, shivering under its weight. Even as you hear footsteps climbing the stairs, even as the more rational, civilized side of your mind urges you to accede to your (non)rescuer’s every command.

The conversation downstairs dies off just as Joel rounds the corner, appearing in the doorway—a giant. Though your stomach lurches, and though your legs feel like putty, you hold your ground.

“I’ll fight, you know,” you hiss, watching him seal off the entrance to the room behind him. His flannel has droplets of blood on the collar—reminders of your previous captor—would your other attacker have been a better option? Who’d be more merciful to your quivering body?

You charge your voice with every last modicum of strength at your disposal. “I’ll fight.”

He turns, smirking softly at your clenched fists. “S’good, sweetheart. I like a little fight.” He stalks towards you, swiping his thumb along the plushness of his bottom lip, his intimidating presence forcing your back to meet the flat hardness of the wall behind you.

So much for fighting.

There’s nothing living in his eyes as he says it—nothing save the roiling flames of hunger: “You see those guys downstairs?”

You glare up at him, trying not to notice the alluring hook of his nose, or the way your body works against you, responding to the earthy smell of him.

Then, you nod, wordlessly.

“Did you count ‘em?” He splays a hand beside your head, using one hand to pry your arms uncrossed.

Again, you nod. “How many?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Five.” Breathless.

“S’right, sweetheart. Ever had your lil’ holes stuffed by five guys at once?”

A swallow, and your voice cracks when you’re finally able to put it to use. “No.”

He pries your elbows to your sides, pulling the beige fabric open, revealing the torn remains of your underwear.

It’s almost a croon, feigned concern underpinning his low tone. “You wanna see what it’s like?” He drinks in the sight of your bare chest, almost groaning at the sight of your naked front.

It’s not cold anymore; no, suddenly you’re very hot.

“No, please, no.”

He slips the coat off of your shoulders, letting it fall in a heap to the ground. He assesses you once more: studying every square inch of your skin under his shadowed eyes.

“M’only gonna say this once, sweetheart.” All that fake-gentleness fades from his tone, replaced by the sadistic, authoritative timbre he’d first greeted you with. “I need you to be very careful.”

You’re frozen—all that fight, it drains out of you, captivated by the raider’s looming form, his mesmerizing speech.

“You’re alone, yeah?” A nod, which he acknowledges, trailing a hand up the length of your waist. “S’what I thought. N’ the way I found you today? That’s a best-case-scenario for a girl like you, out here on your own.”

He drags a finger up the centre of your breast, skilled fingertips just barely brushing the peaked nipple. You lean into his touch—the near imperceptible arch of your back doesn’t go unnoticed, and you kick yourself internally as the corners of his lips twitch up.

Still, the raider ignores your trembling.

“You’re mine, now,” he continues, egged on by your involuntary movement. “Means you’re gonna be a good girl n’ do as I say, n’ I’ll make sure I’m the only man who touches you.” His big hand drops to his heavy silver buckle, and the clearly defined, bulging lines underneath it have your heart clawing out of your chest. Joel senses your fear—and it only makes him harder. “I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine, y’know? But you try anything—you step outta line—I’ll throw you to my guys downstairs.”

His hand finds your throat, hunger and warning beating to the same rhythm in his gaze. “I have no problem watching.” He gives your larynx a squeeze, multitasking as he pulls the strap of his belt through the worn loops of his denim. “Understood?”

You have no words left, shaking from head to toe as the reality of the situation finally settles in.

As he works the intimidating weight of his cock out of his jeans.

A huff. Joel flips you over, impatient, pressing your scraped up cheek to the cinnamon-brown of the wall.

Déjà vù.

Your knees are separated by his own, and his weight flattens you. He wastes no time: lining himself up, his tip separates your folds. Resistance is futile—with one hand, he holds your thighs open—even as they try to press themselves closed, even as you whimper at the rough, male knuckles pressed to bruise on the insides of your legs.

Leaving his mark.

It’s not an option to simply take it. Joel forces you to participate in the sinful act: “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he growls, gripping your chin indelicately. “You understand me, girl?”

A swallow and a flinch as you feel the head of his cock poke at your entrance. “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

“Yes, Joel,” he corrects. “Use my name. You’re mine now. Use my fuckin’ name.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes at the promised savagery in his tone. Holding back a sob, you respond: “Yes, Joel.”

You watch his hand, large and capable, splaying out a mere inch away from the tip of your nose. “Good,” he commends. “Z’are the only fuckin’ words you know, from now on.”

His free hand slaps against your hip, yanking you down onto his hard length. Your hips buck up against his abdomen, responding to the pull of his fingertips, even as you cry out at the sting, the stretch. The raider tries to force himself between your walls—muttering a grunted “shit”—and thrusting up against your ass.

But you’re too tight, too tense, and your stubborn body refuses to open up for him. Finally listening to you.

“Relax,” he orders, surprisingly softly. He moves his hand from your hip to the apex of your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit. Fuck, how’d he find it so fast? You gasp at the feel of his fingertips against your most sensitive, touch-starved spot, hating yourself for the way his pressure makes you feel.

Because…

Because—fuck.

It feels… good. The man knows exactly what he’s doing—methodical in his ministrations, prepping you only enough to ensure his own eventual pleasure. “S’too tight, baby,” he breathes against your neck, “Need to loosen up for me, yeah?”

He’s not gentle. No part of it is gentle. Nonetheless, pleasure ripples through your centre and down your thighs as he effectively turns you on.

“Thaaaaaa’s right,” and his voice is mocking and taunting and degrading as he drags his digits away, grabbing and pulling at your breasts, instead. Feeling the involuntary release of your cunt, Joel finally pushes himself in, sheathing the long, thick length of his cock inside you.

“Need to show this pussy what it’s fuckin’ made for.”

A current of pain flutters up your cunt just as he fills it up to the brim. You can’t help it—your stoicism crumbles to dust—and a soft, scared, pained whimper tumbles from your lips.

And he groans at it, thrusting roughly, over and over again. And again. “Hurts, does it?”

His breath is hot against your ear, and despite the fear, the ancient instincts gripping your bones, telling you to run, run, run, fight, fight, fight—it’s… enticing.

Hot.

“It hurts.”

He laughs, low and dark, bringing his hands to circle your hips, steadying you as you stumble on your tip-toes.

“Cry about it.”

And he keeps on going, tearing you open. The way his girth touches every starved part of your insides leaves you wanting, even despite the sting of his fingernails biting into your hips, the tears and cuts stinging at your opening.

You hate yourself for it.

But you clench around him, stifling a pathetic moan.

God, no—I am not enjoying this.

He breathes another laugh. “Feelin’ full, baby? Tell me how good it feels, c’mon,” and your inhalations come in heaves as he pounds into you, delivering a harsh slap to the side of your hip, hard enough for your skin to ripple from the contact. “Do as I say.”

When you refuse to sate him, swallowing all of your little noises, Joel grips your throat, bringing your head slamming against his shoulder. Your back arches into a perfect crescent, spine contorting at his will. A gasped cry fans out against his salt-and-pepper jaw.

A sob—of fear, of frustration, of reluctant pleasure. “You’re evil.”

The grip on your throat tightens, and he looses another laugh, squeezing your skin, muscles, and tendons oh-so-tight.

You’d be wrecked, bruised—branded—come sunrise.

“Yeah?” He groans, cock slamming up into your very guts.

“M-mhmm—” and the saltwater tears start pouring, trailing glistening slopes down your cheeks in long, long lines. Distantly, you hear his answer—“Yeah, well, you’re wet”—as those silver droplets keep on falling. Where they come from, you aren’t certain; of course, the terror, the physical torture, and the frustration at your entrapment contribute to the mess under your eyes.

But that warmth… the unbridled desire radiating between your thighs… that wasn’t helping, either.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, muttering another “S’it—s’right,” and releasing your throat to tilt your head up to face him. He drinks in his creation, the ruined sight of your tear-stricken face, and his cock swells between your beaten walls. “God, you look so fuckin’ pretty takin’ it from me—cryin’ like your lil’ pussy ain’t desperate for this.”

Joel smiles when you sob.

It goes on for a while. He doesn’t tire quickly, bringing you right up to the edge of reluctant ecstasy before you remind yourself of the hatred you owed the man fucking into you. You get used to the sound of his hips snapping against your skin, your cries mingling with his gravelly, low grunts. It’s a dirty, depraved symphony—orchestrated by the monster between your thighs.

You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips when he finally, finally brings his fingers back down between your legs. He grunts in approval, barely grazing the length of your folds, pressing his thumb into the delicate flesh of your thigh, instead. “Dirty lil’ girl—fuckin’ dyin’ to be an old man’s whore, z’that it?” and he doesn’t even touch you, focussed on his own pleasure, but the proximity alone is enough to have you wrecked.

And you just can’t help it: “J-joel—”

“Y’know,” he chuckles, slightly out of breath, slowing his strokes to address your wanton whine, “You’re gonna make such a good lil’ fuck-toy, baby, f’you keep makin’ those pretty lil’ noises for me.”

The reality of the situation comes barrelling down on you as he acknowledges—praises—your enjoyment of his torture.

This man… this man was cruel. He was hurting you, and enjoying it.

You struggle against him, a pathetic show of weakness. Joel holds you in place effortlessly, arching your back further, keeping your hips preened back to receive the harsh thrusts he delivers to your torn, ruined cunt. “Where you goin’?” He laughs at your pathetic attempt at resistance, grips tightening. “Thought we were havin’ fun, baby—don’t it feel good?”

And he quickens again, slamming into every needy spot inside you. His breaths grow shallow, as rough as his hands and the ferocity of this punishment.

“No,” you manage, fingernails digging into his forearm.

He tuts, the vocal click constricted with lust, and his hand travels the length of you, settling against that aching bud between your thighs. “Fuckin’ liar.”

He presses down, proving his point. Your entire body tenses as pleasure ripples through you—despite your best efforts, climax crests through your core, threatening to implode within you. Joel hums, smirking when he feels your legs parting even wider.

“S’mine now, alright? You’re mine now.” He crams every inch of his cock up inside you, pulling you flush against his chest. “S’okay to come for me—s’okay, baby, I want you to—s’fuckin’ right, let go for me, baby—” and his crooning takes you over the edge.

Christ, it feels so good.

You clench around him, high-pitched pleas and moans tumbling from your lips, his own pair dragging down the swoop of your ear. In that split second, Joel—the devil at your back—is your favourite thing in the world: your hero, your haven, your God. Fuck, you could just kiss him, marry him, fuck him over and over and over and over—

A hand clamps over your mouth during those brief, blissful moments; the man practically bounces you up and down the length of him, muffling the cries of pain and pleasure tearing from your sore throat against the rough skin of his palm. He groans inside your ear—a stammered, sinful “fuuuck”—and then he’s spilling his seed inside you, shoving it impossibly deep as those quick, harsh strokes stutter and slow.

You come to, waking up from your pleasure-drunk daze. Before you get the opportunity to wriggle away from him, the monster flips you over again, slamming your shoulders to the wall. With his forearm barring your chest, and despite your fear and ire—somehow, all you can think about is the fact that he’s not as out of breath as he really should be (given his age and, of course, what he’d just done to you).

Joel leaks out of you. His cum paints masterpieces down your legs.

He slides his free hand down the length of his cock, collecting the last bits of slick clinging to him and not dripping out of you. The intermingling juices are brought to the roundness of your breasts—the raider slathers your sore peaks with his own spend.

“Nobody’s gonna fuck with you—but that means you’re Joel’s girl. Hear me?” With your head bowed, you glare up at him through silver-lined spider lashes, shame beating at your cheeks. When you hum your acknowledging “uh-huh,” the stranger continues on, gripping your jaw to angle your gaze up: “Means you listen—you-you don’t fuckin’ try me—n’ you take everything I give you, every fuckin’ time. Understand?” He tucks his softening length back in his pants, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction as he leers at your destroyed form.

When you don’t respond, he brings the back of his punishing hand colliding with the side of your face.

Something between a squeal and a gasp tumbles from your lips; Joel catches it, placing the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down. Your cheek stings from his harsh slap, delivered on top of the scrapes and wounds a different cruel man had left upon your skin.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby, but I will f’I have to,” and he’s earnest, commanding and pleading at once. “You gotta answer me.”

Slowly, you croak out a timid, “Yes,” and an “I understand,” followed by a final “Joel.”

Nodding, he straightens, the violence in his gaze fading just minutely. When he lets go, you stagger—the raider senses the instability of your knees, reflexively snaking a steadying arm around your waist.

You’re not sure where the impulse comes from. Perhaps it’s exhaustion, the aftermath of your orgasm, or maybe it’s just a sick, twisted desire to sink into something beyond your body—either way, you respond to Joel’s support by throwing your arms around his neck.

And he responds by lifting you, walking you over to the bed, and tossing you down on the sheets. Awakening into reality, you scamper back, grabbing and yanking at the surrounding bedding in a desperate attempt to cover yourself.

But Joel pays you no mind.

Having had his way, he’s through with you—for now. Nonchalantly, apathetically, he runs a hand through his hair, tracing heavy steps towards the door.

“Lock the door when I leave,” he instructs, but his tone is soft… possessive and commanding, yes, but… caring. “Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

He waits for your show of understanding, your near imperceptible nod.

Then, he sighs, yanking on the handle and giving you his final address over a pair of creaky, squeaky, rusted hinges. “Try to sleep, sweetheart—got a long night ahead of you.” Chuckling to himself, he leaves the sanctuary of the room.

All you can hear as your body grows heavy and warm, travelling somewhere far, far beyond this violent world are the echoes of male laughter down the hall, and a familiar, satisfied, gravelly voice:

“Not worth much, now. Might just fuckin’ keep her.”

And you slip away, dreaming of belt buckles, blood-stained collars, and the lung-squeezing heat of the setting Texan sun.

—

He used to call me DN

That stood for deadly nightshade

'Cause I was filled with poison

But blessed with beauty and rage

Jim told me that

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

Jim brought me back

Reminding me of when we were kids

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

He used to call me poison

Like I was poison ivy

I could've died right then

'Cause he was right beside me

Jim raised me up

He hurt me but it felt like true love

Jim taught me that

Loving him was never enough

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

We can go back to New York

Loving you was really hard

We could go back to Woodstock

Where they don't know who we are

Heaven is on earth

I would do anything for you, babe

Blessed is this union

Crying tears of gold, like lemonade

I love you the first time

I love you the last time

Yo soy la princesa, comprende mis white lines

'Cause I'm your jazz singer

And you're my cult leader

I love you forever

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence

I can hear sirens, sirens

He hit me and it felt like a kiss

I can hear violins, violins

Give me all of that ultraviolence

—

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