#it's just. so fun when you're yearning for something hard enough that it feels like you've got a fever. I... am not cut out for this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbother2 · 3 months

Note

Tha hazbin hotel brainrot is so strong, your writing is so good im kicking feet hsujsjsn

May i request a Lucifer X reader where they are pining so badly for each other and ends up in a situation where they are very close to one another? Like the classic " oh shit we're stuck in a small space together and so close" or "whoops tripped and fell now I'm pinning you down and panicking" kind of thing but it's really all up to you <3 and then they end up just full on making out lol, cause yearning,,

(I simply need making out fics with the short king he's taking over my brain😭)

Thanks for requesting!! I had a lot of fun with this one :) Hope you enjoy! Also, I only realised when I went to post this that this ask didn't specify a f!reader, but I thought it did so just a warning for you guys. It's not too specific but... not entirely gender neutral.

This probably borderlines smut, so... minors DNI.

Lucifer x f!reader

PART II

You had been Lucifer's secretary for many years now, joining him just after the disappearance of his ex-wife Lilith when he had decided he needed more help with his duties. You had been there for some of the worst years of his life, assisting him through the highs and lows of being the King of Hell, had seen him at his worst, and at his best. You had helped guide him from the deepest depths of depression, and for that he was eternally grateful, batting away the darkness with a smile enchanting enough to light up the dingiest corners of Hell. He truly didn't know what he would do without you, and today that was evermore apparent.

It had been a long day, and Lucifer found himself sat at his large desk, dark bags sitting heavy underneath his tired and bloodshot eyes, jacket and hat discarded and head resting in his hands as he tried to focus on the mountains of paperwork scattered along his ornate desk. He had been stuck in this position for hours, and he could feel his back creak and something in his neck twinge whenever he shifted. He truly desired nothing more than to crawl into bed, but he had duties that he couldn't just abandon.

A soft knock at his door signals your presence, and only his gaze lifts when you enter, tray in hand and that familiar comforting smile adorned on your rosy lips. Your smile morphs into something more fond as you approach the hunched man, who runs his hands through his disheveled locks and leans back in his plush chair, hands rubbing at the tiredness of his eyes and dragging down his cheeks. He looked tired, he looked weary, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his shirt wrinkled and rolled to his elbows, blonde locks falling across his forehead. You always loved when he looked a little disheveled, appreciating his strong forearms that flexed as he clenched his hands into his hair. It was more rugged than he ever let himself look in any other situation, and you couldn't get enough. You had to fight a frown at seeing how utterly exhausted he was, however, not enjoying the darkness encircling his bright eyes. He didn't hide these things from you, he had no need to; you wouldn't threaten his power at seeing this display of weakness, you would just smile and offer reassurance, appearing with a cup of steaming tea to quell his nerves.

"Good evening, sir." You place the tray against the edge of the desk, trying not to disturb any of the numerous documents that lay strewn about, though you doubted there was any system to the disarray.

"'Evening." He leans further back in his chair, watching you tiredly as you shuffle some of his papers to the side. "How many times do I need to tell you not to call me that? We're good friends, 'Your Royal Highness' is more than fine.''

"Apologies, 'Your Majesty'." You attempt a curtsy, though that was hard with the tight pencil skirt you had chosen to wear today. He laughs at your efforts, taking the steaming tea from your hands with a grateful nod, sighing as the scolding liquid reaches his lips.

"You're marvellous, you know? I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I brought you some tea." You back-hand his compliment away, as you always did, gaze turning to try and decipher some of his scrawling writing. You always found it easier to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks by confusing yourself with his work, that method hadn't failed you yet.

"You're here on a Friday night, looking after some tired old sod, when I'm sure you had many potential plans to go to." His gaze travels up from your hip that you had propped against the desk to tidy some books, up past the curve of your waist, the swell of your chest, gaze lingering a little too long on the collarbone that peaked from beneath your blouse, before finally resting on your face. He stares again, sipping slowly from his cup, far too long for a boss to appreciate an employee, mapping the curve of your brows, the light downturn of your lips as you tried to read something on the desk, the way your hair cascaded around your features. He was tired, he usually controlled himself better. "I wish you'd take a weekend off some time."

Your gaze finally returns to him, satisfied with the state of his desk and you lean back, both hands gripping the desk ledge. "Hypocritical coming from you, don't you think? When did you last have a weekend off?"

"Hmm," He hums, finishing his drink and placing it onto his desk. He rolls his neck in an effort to rid of the crick that was increasingly bothering him. You notice, you frown. "If I am nothing else, call me a hypocrite. You should be out - I don't want to see you here tomorrow night, I want to see you on Sunday morning with a horrendous hangover and stories to tell me."

You laugh, the King of Hell instructing you to go and shirk off your responsibilities and get smashed? Only Lucifer would tell an employee that.

"We both know that won't happen." You grin, taking the opportunity to reach forward and push some of his blonde locks back from his forehead, attempting to push them back into their usual immaculate style. He swallows tightly as you do, having to fight himself from leaning into your touch. You were so gentle, and that fond smile remained etched onto your face as you did so, and God he wanted you to keep caressing his face until he fell asleep right then and there. "Come on now Luci, this place would fall apart without me."

"I can cope one day without you." He bluffs, leaning heavily onto his right armrest and closer to you, legs crossing as he fully relaxes - work didn't matter right now, you did.

"You're so sure?" You shift your stance, and he notices in his peripheral how your tight skirt lifted slightly, exposing more of your milky thigh.

"Not at all." His confidence in the statement has you laughing lightly, the King of Hell grinning up at you and admitting how royally screwed he would be without you. "In fact, I'd probably be dead the next time you walked into work. But wouldn't that be a fun story?"

"I would much rather you be alive." You slowly leave your position leant against the desk, deciding enough was enough as he winces again and rubs at a sore spot in his neck. "I do quite enjoy your company, you know."

Your hands suddenly fall against his shoulders, and he lurches in his seat, shrinking away from the cold pads of your fingers that pressed delicately against either of his shoulder blades.

"Uh-" His voice is uncharacteristically high pitched, and he has to clear his throat to stop it from breaking embarrassingly. "Y/N, what are you-" His fingers grip at his thighs as your fingers move, pressing firmly against his worn muscles. Oh heavens, that felt good.

"You've been rubbing your neck since I walked through the door." You explain, completely focussed on your task at hand and unaware of the red hue that was steadily growing on Lucifer's rosy cheeks. "You need to give yourself a break."

This was rather a bold move from yourself, but you were nothing if not opportunistic. That's how you landed this job in the first place. Your hands work steadily, finally reaching the centre of his back and gliding your thumbs up his spine, up the centre of his neck, and directly into the base of his skull. His head rocks forward lightly at the movement and he groans at the action. You continue to work at his neck, and he remains sat, eyes closed tightly, clawed hands nearly tearing through his own trousers, bruising his own thighs, feeling as though he were back in Heaven. He could feel how close you were, the heat of your body wafting across his neck and shoulders as you worked, and he had to concentrate immensely to control the sounds that wanted to escape his throat. He had nearly combusted on the spot when he had audibly groaned, but you hadn't commented on it, for which he was eternally grateful.

After several minutes, that both felt like an eternity of torture and mere seconds of bliss for Lucifer, you pull your hands back, finishing with one final carding of your fingers through the short tufts of hair at his nape. His eyes open blearily at the loss of contact, blinking heavily as he watches you gather the tray into your arms, adorning his empty cup, and a stack of paperwork.

"Y/N what are you- absolutely not, leave those here." He reaches for the papers now stacked on your tray, and you lift it higher out of his reach unless he stood. He realises his dilemma, firmly rooted into his seat unless he wanted to make an incredibly embarrassing and inappropriate reveal.

"It's only the menial stuff I do sometimes." You step away from the desk slowly, heels clicking as you go. "Besides, it's barely made a dent. I'll have them finished and with you tomorrow morning."

"You should be sleeping." He warns, leaning his elbows against his desk and watching you leave.

"No no." You mock, pausing with a hand on the handle to the door. "We should be up and having fun, making embarrassing stories to share tomorrow. I, for one, can't wait to hear about the hilarious tales of Lucifer and his mountains of paperwork. I'll make sure my story is juicy, these accounting papers are always full of gossip." You lie plainly, and Lucifer shakes his head with a grin.

"Thank you." He calls as you open the door. "I mean it."

"I always have you to thank for a wild Friday night." You grin, finally leaving through the door you had entered from with a bow of your head.

Lucifer sinks into his seat, sighing heavily as the room plunges into silence once again. He stares at the papers that still littered his desk - you had lied, you had taken a sizeable amount. Your presence had helped, and your fingers had fully relaxed the tight muscles in his back and neck, and he felt immensely better than he had mere minutes before. However, you had created an entirely new problem. He shifts at the uncomfortable tightness to his trousers, hands dragging through his hair as he thought, hard. There was no point sitting here if he wasn't able to focus. He raises from his seat, cursing his inability to man up and just tell you how he felt.

Bathroom first, and then he would focus on his paperwork.

---

A month later, Lucifer had been in charge of organising a fancy ball with some incredibly important guests - the 7 Sins of Hell and a smattering of other Royal households, as well as general persons of influence from all 7 rings. The event was to be held in the Pride ring, and as soon as it had been organised he had practically pleaded with you to attend. You hadn't been able to go to the previous events, being stuck in the Pride ring due to your human-soul. Lucifer had been ecstatic when he realised you could attend, and had nearly cried when you had agreed to go with him. Not as a date, no, definitely not, but as friends.

"We're late!" Your voice shouts as you hurry through the door to Lucifer's office, heels in one hand and your purse in the other. Your eyes land on Lucifer, who was stood fiddling with his tie in front of a mirror on the wall, forked tongue stuck out as he concentrated. "Luci, the driver's outside."

"I know, I know." He stresses, finishing off his tie and attempting to smooth down the lapels of his jacket, finally turning towards you as he arranged his cuff sleeves. "It's fine, he'll w-wait-" He stutters as his eyes finally land on you, pupils widening significantly as he forces out "for us."

You never really dolled yourself up that much, usually wearing typical office attire, and sometimes even wearing casual clothes if you were in the office particularly late. Tonight, you had gone full out - you pretended it was because of the nerves about being around such powerful figures in Hell, in reality, you wanted to impress Lucifer, you likely wouldn't get another opportunity to doll yourself up so much again, and you wanted to make the most of it. Even if nothing happened, you wanted to prove you could be just as beautiful as the Overlords and Royalty he frequented.

As you stand, hesitantly, reapplying your rouge lipstick with your small compact mirror and fluffing your hair, Lucifer stands star-struck, eyes glued to your figure. You wore an elegant black velvet dress that clasped around the back of your neck. The elegant midnight coloured dress hugged your torso tightly, and Lucifer's gaze hovered heavily. The fabric was tight and emphasised your curves, with the neckline dipping down sinfully low and exposing the rivulet between your breasts, a beautiful ruby jewel hanging from a silver chain right between the valley of your breasts, the dress cinched tightly at your waist and fell elegantly from your hips. He could see one of your smooth legs from a slit in the side of the dress. You close the mirror and pop it back into your silver purse, smiling brightly at the stunned man.

"My- Y/N you look stunning." Lucifer compliments, leaning back against his desk as he finishes clasping his cuff links. "A vision. Dare I say, I'll be having to fight away the suitors all evening."

You blush furiously, thankful for the makeup that covered your cheeks. He pauses, swallowing thickly as you bend down to begin fastening your shoes.

"Please stay away from Asmodeus."

You laugh as you continue to fiddle with your shoes, glancing up at him as you tie the clasp. "You flatterer. Should I expect to see you pulling these moves on all the girls there tonight?"

You jest, but Lucifer is so enraptured by you he cannot help but feel insulted you would even think he would entertain the notion of other women. He speaks quietly, watching you struggle to gain your balance as you try and put on the other heel. "Not at all."

He didn't know what compelled him to do it, maybe it was the way you wobbled as you tried to get into your second shoe, likely it was the fact he'd already had two glasses of wine to quell his nerves, but before he realises it he's kneeling in front of you and grasping your ankle in a feather-light grip.

You freeze as his hands replace your own, sliding your foot easily into your heel as your hand comes to rest on his shoulder to regain your balance. He works slowly, gently fixing the clasp of your elegant heel, head turning up towards you and smiling up at you. Your breath catches in your throat, Lucifers hands resting against your ankle and calf, disarming you with a charming smile and lidded eyes, and kneeling directly in front of you. His hand slides up your calf as he lets you go, standing back to his full height easily, now a little shorter than you with your heels properly on.

"T-Thank you." You breathe, fixing the slit of your dress that had become creased. Your own hands reach forward, straightening his tie and smoothing down his collar. "You look very handsome yourself."

He smiles, self-satisfied, as you fix his collar, and then immediately schools his expression to hide his awe-struck grin when he realises you were actually looking at him. "Thank you, thank you." He chirps, cane materialising in his left hand and twirling it, trying to distract himself from how close you were, and how absolutely beautiful you looked. "I think we'll make quite an entrance. Don't you?" He offers you his right arm, and you take it with a grateful nod as you both leave the office and head towards the taxi. "That is, if you manage to walk down all those stairs with those stilts under your feet."

"I'm excellent in heels." You defend, rather enjoying the way your arm brushes against his chest as you walk, the smell of his expensive cologne reaching your nose. "We'll have a problem if you start drinking, you can barely stand straight after a bottle of wine, and I certainly can't carry you home in these heels."

"Oh? You're insulting my drinking skills? What about the time I had to come and collect you from a party I wasn't even invited to, to teleport you home? I could barely understand you through the phone." He clears his throat, raising his voice high and slurring his words mockingly. "Luci- I-I'm not drunk, BUT-"

You whack his shoulder, remembering the night perfectly, and utterly mortified he had had to guide you home after you'd had a few too many. "Shut up, you're no better at holding your drink."

He laughs, and you feel the rumble of his chest against your forearm. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see."

---

It had been several months since the party, and Lucifer was growing increasingly frustrated at his inability to make any sort of move on you. Hell, he hadn't even kissed your hand, which was something he had had to do to more people than he could count. He was desperate to make his feelings known, and yet was utterly paralysed whenever the opportunity arose for him to express them. It didn't help that ever since his stunt with your heel, you had become more emboldened with your flirting attempts, but he always doubted whether your words and actions were actually meant flirtatiously, or if he was just romanticising all of your interactions in his own head.

The party had been... uneventful. True to his predictions, Lucifer had been having to whisk you away from attempted suitors all night, and at one point had grown so irate at a particular demon's attempts he had placed a hand at the small of your back and refused to remove it until the demon had thoroughly gotten the point and left the conversation. The event had only made him realise his feelings more for you, being positively furious that he couldn't just tell the other demon's you were his, and to piss off back to whatever Ring they had come from. The next passing months had been nothing short of torture as he grappled with whether to confess, or not.

Despite his wishes, things had carried on as normal, and it was absolutely maddening. He had even spoken to Charlie about his dilemma, but she hadn't been much help, just shrieking at him excitedly through the phone. He had been so desperate he had nearly asked Asmodeus for help, but he had quickly decided against that after remembering some of the stunts he had pulled in their younger years.

Now, he sat back at his desk at 2am, frowning after realising he didn't have all the documents he needed. His hat and jacket were once again discarded, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows in his signature 'I am having a bad day' fashion.

"Y/N!" He calls, and your head pokes out from a filing cupboard you had been tasked with organising. He smiles at you, a hand running through his hair as he sits back. "Can you please find me the letter we got from Wrath about the expenses for that new armament shop? I think it was sent by a Mr. Pennine."

"Yep!" You chirp, disappearing back into the cupboard with the sounds of shuffling papers increasing. Lucifer scans the document in his hands, patiently awaiting the file.

He hears a thump, and a groan, and he straightens in his chair, trying to see what you were doing.

"I've found it." You emerge, rubbing the base of your spine with a wince. An airy laugh falls form his lips.

"What did you do?"

"It's on a high shelf that I can't reach - I fell trying to climb and get it."

Lucifer laughs properly this time, already beginning to stand from his seat and head towards you, shoulders shaking as he does.

"It's not funny."

"I think you'll find it's hilarious." He grins, walking past you and into the small storage cupboard. "Right, where is it?" He glances around the cupboard with an eyebrow raised. He hated this kind of menial work, and was frankly terrible at locating things within this jumbled mess. "I have no clue how this system works."

"Hmm, filing has never been your strong suit." You hum, appearing behind him, having to press close in the small space. A hand appears in his peripheral, motioning over his shoulder to a shelf even he would have to climb to reach. He sighs, releasing a breath as he places a foot against an unsteady shelving unit.

"Yes, another one of my many limitations. Thankfully you're so good at finding things for me." He grins over his shoulder at you, hauling himself up until he's at eye level with the correct shelf. You stand beneath him, arms outstretched tentatively, just in case.

"If I fall, I fully expect you to save me." He comments, brows furrowed as he sifts through the files, looking for a 'Mr Pennine' to catch his eye. When he does find it, he wafts the document about his head, calling down to your worried expression. "Seems I'm doing a better job than my own assistant."

You cock your head at him, taking a small step back as he readies to climb down. "Truly, don't even know why I'm here sometimes-"

You hear a worrying creak as his foot lands on the next shelf down, and his gaze locks with yours for a mere moment before the shelf breaks and he plummets to the ground. He lands on you with a yell, flattening you against the floor and opposite wall and sprawled across your lap in a heap. The whole cupboard shakes with the fall, and the door slams shut with surprising force, plunging the room into darkness.

Lucifer groans, pushing himself back up onto his knees, rubbing an elbow tenderly as he attempts to stand, back smacking into another shelf as he tries to back up. You groan as well, hunched against the wall and thoroughly winded, not entirely sure what had happened.

"Y/N! I'm so sorry, are you alright?!" Lucifer attempts to bend down to reach you, glowing eyes staring at you through the darkness, but his back smacks against another shelf. He stands there, half-hunched, useless as you try and push yourself to your feet, clinging onto a shelf to haul you upright. He can feel you moving against his legs, the cupboard really not meant to house two bodies, and when you finally stand your body presses far too close to his for comfort. He smacks the cupboard door harshly, hoping that the lock hadn't fully sealed from the outside, but the hinges remain firm. "Oh, fuck." He groans, leaning back against a shelf and staring down at you, one hand still pressed pathetically against the door. "Looks like we're trapped."

You, on the other hand, are unable to see anything except the glowing pair of amber and ruby eyes staring down at you, not possessing the enhanced vision Lucifer did. Your hands search the walls aimlessly, and you attempt to press yourself back into the opposite wall to try and create some space. Despite both of your best efforts, you can still feel the heat emanating from his body, barely inches of space between you. "Can you portal us out?" You question desperately, blinking furiously to try and see more of your surroundings.

"There isn't enough room."

You both plunge into silence, and you wring your hands together nervously. Who would find you? When was the next person scheduled to meet Lucifer? It was 2am, who else would be awake at this time? God, he was so close, you could feel his breath fanning across your forehead and hair. You rub at a saw spot near your temple, having smacked into a shelf during Lucifer's rapid decent.

A hand lands against the side of your face without warning, and you jerk at the unexpected contact in the darkness.

"Sorry!" Lucifer draws his hand back as quickly as he had placed it, returning it to his side and flexing his fingers. "I forget you can't see as well." His hand approaches much more slowly, fingers carding your hair away from your face. "I was just trying to check your head, you hit it pretty hard when I fell on you. When I said I expected you to save me, I didn't mean to sacrifice yourself as my landing pad."

"That's what I'm here for." You joke, missing the contact as he withdraws his hand, satisfied that the skin hadn't broken. "I'm fine, don't worry." You smile despite the darkness, knowing he could see.

"We'll be fine." He assures, though he wasn't sure if he was talking to you or himself, he laughs to himself, trying to dispel the anxiety in his chest. "Someone will find us soon."

You hum, doubting him very much. All you could do was wait.

God-knows how long you had spent in that closet, but it didn't take long before you were unbuttoning the first few buttons of your blouse and complaining about the heat. Lucifer hadn't been his normal chatty self, and instead leant heavily against the shelves behind him, hands gripping at the shelves that ran along either wall to prevent himself from reaching out towards you. You were so close, so warm and smelling so sweat pressed against him, all it would take was an inch of moment, barely a lift of a finger, and he'd be able to pull you close, to draw you towards his chest just like he had dreamed about for years now. It didn't help that you kept shifting your weight from foot to foot, feet aching from the amount of time you had just had to stand still, seemingly completely unaware of the way it made your hip rub against his pelvis.

He was a sweating, panicking mess, and he had twisted his torso uncomfortably, back hunched, to prevent the effects of your movements on him pressing against you. He could see your innocent expression through the darkness, the way your eyes searched blindly in the cramped space, and he wanted nothing more than to reach forward and press his lips against your neck, and not stop until someone found you the next morning.

But, he was a gentleman, and he had control, despite what his body was doing of its own accord, and so he gripped the shelving either side of your head and tried desperately to think about other things.

That was until you tried to lean against the shelf to your left, causing your thigh to rub the slowly growing bulge he had been desperately trying to hide. Lucifer's breath hitches in the darkness.

"Are you okay?" You ask, having picked up on his quickened breathing. You couldn't see him at all despite the amber eyes that flicked around the room incessantly, but you could feel his legs pressing against yours, and you could faintly feel the presence of an arm close to your head. When his amber irises land on you, you have a perfect view of the way they dilate, and you furrow your brows. "Is there something wrong?"

"God, would you stop moving." His voice was tight, straining in his throat as he tried his best to remain composed. He was fully aware you weren't even doing anything, but a love-sick pining man pressed so close up against his crush for so long? Who could blame a man for growing flustered.

You shift, attempting to lean towards him to see what was wrong, but two hands are suddenly on your hips and pushing you away from him and back into the shelf behind you, grip vice-like over the fabric of your trousers. You can feel his ragged breath against your forehead. "Heaven, please stop."

"What are you-" You go to argue, but the way his grip tightens against your hips has you halting. You stare for a moment, and it takes you far too long to put the pieces together in your mind: the dilated pupils, the shaky breaths, the way he pushes you away from his hips. Oh.

"Sir, it's okay-"

"Please stop talking." He practically begs, face a fiery red and really wishing for death right about now. "I'm sorry. It's inappropriate. You keep moving and you're so close. You don't have to work for me again after this, I'll understand-"

"Lucifer," You interrupt his rambling, hands coming to rest atop his own on your hips, sliding them up his forearms and resting atop the junction of his elbow. "you know you're the densest man I've ever met."

No response greets you for a moment.

"I said I'm sorry, you don't have to insult me too."

The hurt in his voice has your face twisting into a sympathetic smile. He really was oblivious.

"I'm insulting you, because there's an opportunity right in front of you, and you're not taking it."

You can hear the way his breathing deepens. "What do you-"

You lean forward, impossibly closer, chest pressing against his own. You can feel the way he gasps at the contact. He still has a hold of your hips, pining them away from him like a man burned.

"I'm going to die." He suddenly blurts, his breaths short and panting. His composure was slipping. "You're going to kill me if you keep doing that."

"I'd much prefer it if you didn't die." One of your hands slides up from his arm to his shoulder, burrowing into the fabric there. A high sound catches in Lucifer's throat, and you grin. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you kissed me like I've been inviting you to for the past few years."

His mind runs blank, nothing but the sound of his heart beat ricocheting between his ears. You wanted this? You wanted him?

"I don't think you understand." He stutters out, arms beginning to end their fight and allowing you to inch closer to him. "I don't want this, I want you. D-Dates-" He falters as your hand travels up his neck to the tufts of hair at the back of his head, gently scratching at his scalp. "and cheesy stuff, not just... filing cupboards."

He'd die if he got to have you only for a few hours, and then had to live the rest of his life returning to mere friendship. He would starve to death.

"It's about time you asked."

"You really want this?" He asks, voice small. His breathing was getting harder.

"Yes." You breathe. "I have for a long time."

That was all the indication he needed, and his lips crashed against yours as his hands enveloped your waist and dragged you flush against him. You gasped at the suddenness, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips atop yours in a delicate, passionate, kiss. One of his large hands remains at the small of your back, keeping you pressed against him as the other travelled up your spine, cradling the back of your head and holding you steady as he presses into you. He groans as your fingers tighten in his hair, both of your hands winding around his neck as you push up into him.

He pulls away for breath, his hot breath fanning your cheeks as he pants. You can see his eyes, half-lidded but impossibly bright, pupils the largest you had ever seen them, staring directly into your own. "Do you have any idea how crazy you've driven me over the past years?" He asks rhetorically, voice low and husky. You don't have a chance to answer before he's kissing you again, a hand gripping at your jaw and neck as he tilts his head, his brows furrowing as he pours all his concentration into the kiss. He kisses like a man starved, like a man who depended on your lungs for oxygen, like a man who would die if he separated for a moment too long. His forked tongue slides against your bottom lip and you open your mouth without question. He licks into your mouth with giddy enthusiasm, groaning into you as his tongue finally slips into your mouth, groaning louder as you submit, tugging at his hair and allowing him to push you back into the door with a thud.

His hand falls from your neck, resuming its place against your hip, thumbs pressing dangerously into your hip bones and pinning you against the wall. You gasp against him as his fingers inch their way beneath the bottom of your blouse, pressing harshly into your supple skin as he sucks the air from your lungs.

You feel dizzy when he pulls away again, and as you catch your haggard breath he ducks his head to graze his lips against your throat. He peppers kisses beneath your ear as a hand slides down to grasp the curve of your ass, the other continuing to pin your hips against the door as he presses his hips flush against your own, rolling his hips lightly. He delves down lower, tongue snaking its way down towards the junction between your neck and shoulder, his fangs nipping at your skin as he presses hot open-mouthed kisses against your pulse point.

"Oh-" You gasp, hands clinging onto his broad shoulders as he corrals you against the doorframe. You tilt your head up and to the side, exposing your neck to him as he hums happily. He finds the spot he wants and presses his teeth harshly against your skin, suckling hungrily and lapping at the bruising skin with his tongue. You groan, a hand gripping his hair as he rolls his hips up, biting into your shoulder as he moans. He grinds against you, continuing to lavish your throat with his eyes closed happily, moaning and groaning into your skin. His breath catches when you roll your hips down to meet his thrusts, and he whimpers when you tug at his hair painfully when he abuses one spot on your neck too much.

"Sir-" You gasp, and suddenly his lips are withdrawn from your neck, and his wide lidded eyes are staring directly into your own. Both of your breathing is ragged as you anticipate his next move, heart in your throat.

"How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?" His hips still against your own, and you whine trying to rub against him, but he pins you in place and rests his lips against your ear, whispering, begging, against your ear. "How many more times do I need to?"

You shudder at his hot breath, hands uselessly clinging to the collar of his ruffled shirt. "Just once more."

"Say," A kiss, pressed heavily against the underside of your jaw. "my" Another kiss, hot against the column of your throat. "name." Another, lavished between your collarbones right at the hollow of your throat. You gasp at the staggering sensation, his tongue wet and hot across your collarbone.

"Lucifer." You gasp, voice high and airy. He rewards you with a grin and a fierce kiss against your lips, pressing your head back into the doorframe. You moan his name again, and his hips rock up into yours involuntarily.

"It's unfair, the effect you have." Lucifer whispers, hands sliding up your sides and beginning to unbutton your blouse. He presses a kiss at the corner of your lips as you help him with the unbuttoning. "That massage you gave me?" You can feel his breath against your lips, and you have to fight not to lean forward into him as he gently pushes your blouse from your shoulders, warm hands sliding down your arms and the fabric bunching at your elbows, not quite falling all the way. "I had to take care of myself afterwards." He tuts against your lips, each purse of his lips pressing a ghost of a kiss to your own, but not quite giving what you wanted. A knee presses between your legs as he delves his tongue into your mouth, and you're too distracted to notice until he rolls his hips into your leg and pushes his thigh up against you. His claws dig at the tender flesh of your sides, leaving light scratches as he returns to your lips, grinning against you as you gasp and whine.

"You're not so innocent." You gasp as he leaves your bruising lips to return to his path down your neck, know able to reach your shoulders and chest, which he takes full advantage of. A hand grasps your thigh firmly and hikes your leg up and around his waist. "You constantly unbutton your shirts around me, stare at me with those eyes, leave your hand on me the entire ball and don't do anything about it. How could I resist?"

"Well, I'm doing something about it now." His voice was infuriatingly giddy, his hand grabs at your thigh through the fabric of your trousers, and he internally wishes you had chosen to wear one of your skirts today. His hips roll into yours at the new angle, and he stutters at the pleasure.

"The ball was not my fault." He presses a bruising kiss against your lips, biting down gently as he pulls away. Murmuring against your ear, you can feel the smile on his lips as he talks. "You have no idea what was going through my head that night. If I had my way, I wouldn't have gotten up from my knees for hours."

The way his silky voice hissed at the last word was downright sinful, and you're too distracted by your own thoughts to realise he had ducked his head back down to your chest.

"Luci." You gasp as he travels lower, peppering kisses down the valley of your breasts, murmuring against your skin, hands sliding lower and lower and tongue chasing them down to your naval. A finger pulls playfully at the front of your bra. Oh no, he couldn't win the upper hand that easily.

Gaining confidence, and determined not to let him be his usual cocksure self, you grasp him by the collar of his shirt. "Don't be unfair." You reprimand. He doesn't protest when you lower yourself to the floor, pulling him beneath you and straddling his hips. The cupboard was just big enough for him to lay down if he bent his knees, and you grin down at him as his hands grip your thighs tightly.

Your hands rest against his chest, and you can feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he stares up at you, his fingers flexing against your thighs when you refuse to move. He tries to roll his hips up into you, but you lift yourself just out of his reach.

"Don't do this." He whines, but you only grin down at him, leaning impossibly closer until your chest presses against his. You wish you could see the blush to his cheeks, the parting of his mouth around those little gaps, but instead you settle for staring into his blown pupils.

"Whatever do you mean?" You feign ignorance, shifting lightly and revelling in the way his eyes widened and his claws dug painfully into your skin. You press a kiss against his forehead, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

A noise traps itself in his throat, you kiss against his jaw, his chin, the other corner of his mouth.

"Sweetheart," He moans, trying to tilt his head to catch your lips with his own. You roll your hips to distract him, and he hisses unhappily. He stares up at you with big puppy-dog eyes, a world away from the confidence he had felt at having his way with you earlier. "please."

"Good." You purr, and he whines when you finally kiss him properly, hips lowering onto him and palms sliding up his chest. You pull away and immediately begin kissing at the underside of his jaw, leaving your own trail of hickeys down the column of his throat. He squirms beneath you, breathing heavy and voice high-pitched as you kiss down his chest, pulling his collar to the side and grazing your teeth along the top of his peck.

One of his hands guide your hips against him, and he jerks his hips, the buckle of his belt biting cooly into the hot skin of your stomach. The other hand lies flat against your back, caressing your spine and sides and pulling you closer, trying to guide you back towards his lips.

He had thought he was in heaven before, but with you above him, he could barely contain himself.

Your hands pull at his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bite into the tense muscle of his shoulder. He closes his eyes painfully tight, muttering incoherently as his fingers flex against you. Your pace was beginning to quicken, and you moan against his shoulder as he whimpers and whines.

"Ngh- wait, stop." His voice breaks around the syllables. He grasps your hips tightly, knuckles white as his claws dig dangerously into the skin at your hips. "Not too fast."

"Another one of your many limitations?" You grin against his neck, feeling the way his chest heaved beneath your hands.

"Hmm," He hums, bleary eyed and uncomfortably hot, warm hand cupping your jaw and bringing your face up to meet his. "You have a way of exposing those."

You give in to what he wants, allowing him to slip his tongue back into your mouth, a hand cupping the back of your head and tangling into your hair, pulling you close and making sure you couldn't get away. You rest against him, revelling in the moment, losing your breath and humming against one another's lips.

Just as you go to move your hips, a hand planting itself against his chest to help your movement, light spills into the cupboard, and you freeze, lips detaching and staring wide-eyed at the shadowy figure stood in the cupboard doorway. You blink furiously, trying to readjust to the harsh light, but Lucifer is quicker to recover and pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to hide your bra from view.

He glares at the worker who remains standing dumbly with a hand on the door handle. Lucifer's hair was a mess, sticking out in every conceivable direction, his cheeks flushed a flaming red, shirt tugged halfway down his chest, with a smattering of lipstick across his lips and jaw, and blossoming bruises dancing across his neck and chest. You weren't in a much better state.

His eyes blaze red.

"Come back in an hour. Close the door."

The worker immediately slams the door shut, plunging the cupboard back into darkness.

Your shoulders begin to shake, laughter bubbling from your throat as you tuck your head into Lucifer's chest. He sighs, resting his head back against the floor and eyes returning to their normal complexion. When you finally compose yourself, you push yourself up with your elbows, grinning down at Lucifer with a cheeky smile.

"Maybe I was too harsh." He mutters, a hand coming up to cup your jaw. He grins cheekily, eyes shining in the darkness. "Where were we?"

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #smut #hazbin hotel x reader smut #Lucifer x reader smut #x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer #lucifer morningstar

4K notes · View notes

spideyhexx · 4 months

Note

coryo eating pussy out and he is so damn horny and desperate that he humps the bed till he finishes embarrassingly fast

how 'bout that??

that is a weakness of mine, thanks

mdni

Okay, but what if it's a common occurrence for Coryo to come too quickly??? Like before he's even in you and it doesn't happen every time but it happens enough that you can tease and make fun of him for it.

"Angel, I promise I won't until I'm in you, just let me taste you," he pleads, his hands spreading your thighs as you sit in his bed. Coryo's hair is already a mess from when you were running your hands through it during your kisses just before, and his brow was raised, awaiting your words. And his eyes are just so pretty and his lips so wet from your kisses and his own spit, your tummy flips at the mere thought of having his mouth on your cunt.

"Okay, but you better keep that promise."

In no time, Coryo's taken off your pants and underwear, his tongue fucking into you as he rubs your clit with his thumb. You pull his hair hard, practically using his face as your own little toy, grinding against him. His hands just go to your thighs to hold for support, his nose being your source of sensation against your clit as he laps at your hole like it's his source of survival. He never got enough of it. If it was up to Coryo, he'd do this for ages before fucking you.

And that's also why he can't help but press against his mattress. Coryo doesn't notice he's doing it at first, too focused on the way you taste and your little mewls of pleasure. The way you're tugging his hair so hard, pressing him so tight to you, there's a moment he can barely breathe. It all feels so overwhelmingly good that he doesn't realize he's grinding himself into the bed. Your eyes are closed, you don't even notice so you can't reprimand him for it.

He realizes too late when the all-too-familiar feeling creeps up in his body and he just can't stop. He whines against your cunt and it makes your eyes open, looking down at him and seeing Coryo's hips grind down. "Coriolanus, you're humping the bed like a dog, you're not gonna keep your promise."

And he'd use his strength to pull his head away just a smidge, "I won't come, I told you. I won't." His voice is firm, his brow knitted in concentration as licks his tongue back into you. Coryo's dick is still restrained in his boxers and pants, making the pressure and the yearning to be free of the clothing even worse. The friction he does get still sends him into a state of pleasure, but he holds everything back as much as he can.

He knows he's getting close, but he feels determined to prove it to you. So determined, he lets himself hump the bed, looking to prove he can do that without coming. You watch him now, not believing he can do it, watching his eyes stare up at you as he gets more and more drunk on your pussy.

You tangle both of your hands in his hair as your own release approaches, "right there, Coryo, keep doing that please," and he obeys, his hands pushing under your hips to help you grind on his tongue until you're gushing around his mouth.

Coryo squeezes his eyes shut, tightening his grip on your hips so hard, he knows he's gonna leave a mark, but he doesn't care (and neither do you). He clenches every muscle in his body, trying so hard not to explode in his pants, but it's too much. The taste of you and how hard you came is too much and with one more slight movement of his hips, he's coming ropes into his underwear, moaning against your cunt as he's still lapping up your juices.

You settle down, your breathing returning to something normal and Coryo's pressing his forehead to your thigh, not daring to look at you and you can put together why. You rub the back of his head and breathe out deeply, "'s okay, baby."

"I'll fuck you still, just...give me a few minutes," he says, muffled as he kisses your thigh.

"Don't know. You promised me you wouldn't come...should just put it in now," you mumble, caressing his head and he wordlessly moves to sit up and take the rest of his clothes off.

let's chat about coryo, here :)

#coryoasks #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n #coryo smut #coryo x you #coryo x reader #coriolanus snow drabble

726 notes · View notes

mxtantrights · 6 days

Note

Hello there, ‘tis I again! Soo happy you enjoyed the boxer!jason request!! I know, i love him too :)))

Today i bring forth another boxer!Jason ask, maybe you introduce him to your friends and they can’t see past the fact he kinda looks like a brute (even tho he’s such a big softie, i truly believe this man reads romeo and Juliet while waiting to get on the ring), and so at the end of the night he’s feeling insecure cause he could see how your friends looked at him and he starts wondering if they are right and you deserve someone who’s softer and more approachable. And obviously reader shows him just how amazing he is!!

Today i yearn for some good hurt/comfort, if you couldn’t tell lol

Hope you have fun writing this one!! Marvellous works 🩷🩷

Everything goes right before the two of you get there. Thats how Jason knows something is gonna go wrong at this hang out. You told him all week that if he felt like not going, you could cancel. But he didn't want it to seem like he was blowing your friends off. So he trudged through.

He trudged through and is sitting side by side with you in a booth. And three of your friends are crowded into the other side of it. They've had a couple of drinks before you came. You weren't really in the mood to play catch up so you stick to your one while Jason goes dry because he's driving.

They have conversations about the recent news, the latest gossip, and then they ask about your life. Particularly your life with Jason. You start gushing about him, as if he isn't there, and tell them about how you met and how he treats you.

"This guy? This six foot tall, three hundred pounded brick wall?" one of them asks.

You scoff, "How he looks has nothing to do with how he treats me."

"Yeah, but doesn't he-don't you box?" another one of them asks him.

Jason clears his throat and sits up straight. But you notice it. You notice how he is trying to make himself smaller. He did it at the very beginning of your relationship, to make you less scared. You talked to him about it when the two of you got closer, and you haven't seen him do it since. Until now.

"I'm a boxer, yes. But I don't bring any of that home with me." Jason answers.

"Isn't it hard though? When you're angry? I mean who's to say you won't-" the third friend starts.

Hell. This has to stop.

"Enough." you speak.

They all look at you, at a loss for words. While it's true the four of you grew up looking like people who were afraid to tell others no, and looked like doormats, you were far from that person. Those days are over.

"I'm not gonna let you speak to him like that. He has been nothing but kind and open with me, and not that it's any of your business, but he has never laid his hands on me, or raised his voice." you say.

Then you're getting up from the booth, holding your hand out for Jason. He looks between you and your friends and then he's getting up from his seat. He takes your hand in his.

"He's my boyfriend. I want him in my life and I wanna be a part of his. So either you get that or you get lost." You put finally.

You turn around and walk right out the door with Jason. Jason who hasn't said a word yet. Jason who is holding onto your hand in a way that tells you he's not completely paying attention.

When the two of you cross the threshold of the doors, you squeeze his hand.

"Baby?" you ask him.

Jason looks at you then. Like everything is coming back into focus for him. He has a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"Don't ever be sorry for being you. If my so called 'friends' couldn't see past what you look like and what you do for a living then they don't need to be my friends." you explain to him.

Jason shakes his head, "You've known them longer than me. It's not fair that-"

"Jason Todd, I am not willing to give you up. For anyone. Ever. You got that?"

Jason lets out a small sigh. "Okay."

You let go of his hand to hold out your arms. He pouts a bit before stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you completely. You nuzzle into him more.

"I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I hope you know that." you add on.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"I swear it." you answer.

a/n: thank you so so much for sending this in! <333 I love some good hurt/comfort too!! I hope you like it!!

#dc x reader #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd blurb #dc blurbs #dc #Jason todd #boxer!jason

273 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 10 months

Note

horny kirishima with no limits, he's sitting on your face with his balls taint and ass, fucking your tits while slurping you're slit >-< meanwhile you're tied up and just have to take it all :(

BNHA ! THIRST

Kirishima Eijirou x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, rimming, bondage, threats, pussy slapping, forced orgasm, big-tit reader, toys

He thinks it's sweet getting a nice wet rim when he titfucks your soft fatty tits – pulling and pinching on your sore, swollen nipples while sliding his veiny meat between their plush – eagerly pushing back into your mouth, feeling your pink kiss his.

He likes to tie your mounds up so they hug each other tightly – rope pulled like a noose around them so hard they bulge for him – wrangled together so snug they swell and become all extra sensitive so when he rings your nipples with rough fingertips, you shiver under the touch and moan all desperately. So tight it’s even tighter than your cunt when he presses his cock through them.

He squeezes them like he’s trying to make something within them pop, one greedy paw on each, fucking the tight space between them while rocking back with his ass on your face – your head propped up with a pillow, perfectly angled to receive his hole with your tongue.

Slapping your cunt when you refuse – telling you to be his good baby and slurp him loudly – telling you to stop being so shy and munch on him louder so he can hear how enthusiastic you are.

He smacks your cunt without mercy, making it sore and throbbing, along with the tender insides of your thighs – whipping them so hard your flesh welts under the harsh lashing, bleeding with purple until you finally learn how to enjoy yourself. Mouth wide open and tongue out to receive him, welcoming him with a pretty moan and a deep lick each time he rides back against you.

In the end, he stops fucking your titties and opts for just sitting on your wet face. Slugging over you, he slurps your abused clit with tongue and teeth, telling you he's going to have fun fucking your sopping pussy, but only if you're sweet enough to squirt in his mouth like a dirty little slut first. And that if you don’t give him the taste his tongue yearns for, he's not only going to lap and pinch your clit, but stuff your cunt with a thick tremoring egg and sit on your little face until you do.

Of course, it’s never just a threat, and soon he’s pushing the round tip between your folds until it's fully nestled inside you. Smiling while sucking your clit, chuckling some at how your hips jutter involuntarily at the feel of it coming – telling you you're so cute for resisting while his cock leaks precum onto your tits with the feel of your little wet moans tickling his rim.

Pulling out the egg after finally getting his will, he sucks both you and it clean while your little hole flutters in wait for him. He chuckles softly at the messy wet sight before skewering the bulb into your ass and turning the vibrations back on.

He gets off your flushed face, licking the insides of your mouth in a devouring tongue kiss as he plunges his needy cock all the way inside to the hilt in one fell swoop hitting your cervix so hard you scream.

Sobbing open-mouthed, you receive all the spit and filthy words he pours onto your tongue while fucking your cunt fast and mercilessly – his groans nothing short of animalistic at the feel of the shivering egg in your ass, making everything tense and tighter.

His hands back on your tits, kneading them until they throb while pounding you like he’s a hound in his rut – sharply stabbing and only coming to a halt once he’s pumped a thick load into your womb – hips stuttering against you – breaths wasted and shuddering as he licks your face, pinching and pulling on your poor nips, completely lost in how good it makes you squeeze him in return until he’s finally dumped all his cream inside your flutter.

tip-jar: Kofi

512 notes · View notes

strongheartneteyam · 1 year

Text

*:ꔫ:*ﾟHeadcanons

How he would try to show you he loves you/convince you to be his mate:

Jake/Ao'nung/Lo'ak/Neteyam x female!na'vi!reader

CW: fluff <33, pining, kissing, love confessions, touching (not in a sexual way, just touching someone else's body), yearning

Not proofread 🥲

♡

Jake: given his goofy nature, he would tell you jokes all the time and try to make you laugh as often as he could. He would always end up stealing some laughs from you at the end and that would always leave him feeling proud of himself, everytime he saw your pretty smile. Jake would also hunt meat from big Pandoran animals, the ones who are hard to kill, like the hammerhead titanothere, and bring the meat to you already prepared as a meal as an act of courting (and to prove to you he's a fearless warrior and a good mate who will be able to provide really good food for you if you choose him). He would tease you calling you "pretty girl", making you blush and sometimes get mad at him for making you flustered and vulnerable and Jake would find your angry face just so cute and smile widely, thinking he would never give up on trying to make you his mate because you're too adorable. One night, he would approach you after dinner time and say "I've been courting you for so long. Can you please end my suffering and let me be your mate? My heart is all yours, girl." He would look at you with those perfect yellow eyes, begging for you to be his. You would step next to him, touch his beautiful face and kiss his lips, making him grab you tight in his arms, breathing out in relief.

Ao'nung: He would bully almost every young person in Awa'atlu but it was different with you. He would never dare to make fun of you, scared to hurt you even slightly, because imagining your little precious heart aching because of something he said or did killed him. Ao'nung would smile at you a lot, but not in a devilish way like he did to others, but in a sincere, pure way. You didn't understand why he acted that way with you but you would smile shyly back and always be nice to him. He would teach you all he knows about fishing and diving. One day, he would ask you if you wanted to meet him just before eclipse would fall, in a quieter place next to the shore, where not a lot of na'vi would go at the time. You found that a little weird but as you knew him for long enough and he was the Olo'eyktan's son, you thought he wouldn't do anything bad to you, so, you accepted his offer. When you got there, he would be waiting, looking at the sea. When Ao'nung noticed you, he would give you that cute wide smile as you were coming closer. The moment you were standing in front of him, he would hold your hands. That surprised you but you liked the way it felt. Ao'nung would look at your eyes and say "I don't know if you noticed it by now, but you're more than special to me. Can I start courting you? I've made you some bracelets but never felt confident enough to give them to you. I didn't wanna ruin our friendship..." You would smile at him and say "I didn't see it coming... but yes, Ao'nung. I'd love to be courted by you."

Lo'ak: He would make it totally obvious that he wants you as his mate way before he finds the courage to start courting you, not because he is incredibly confident, but because he sucks at hiding his feelings for you. Lo'ak would stare at you a lot. He would be so talkative and extroverted next to everyone else but, next to you, he would suddenly become shy and talk less, what even made you think maybe he didn't really like you as a person but soon enough you caught him staring at you one day with his mouth slightly open, like he was in awe. When Lo'ak noticed you saw him, he didn't know what to do at first, but then he finally found the courage to say "sorry I look so weird, I was just... to be honest, I was trying to understand how can a girl be so beautiful and real at the same time." You chuckled at how cheesy it sounded and smiled at him. He smiled back, so happy he wasn't rejected, and after that day he started to gift you many delicate jewelry he would make for you that had your favorite stones in them and talk to you everyday until he finally was confident enough to ask you if he could kiss you, to which you said "yes, please" and he pulled you in, kissing you eagerly.

Neteyam: He would be so protective over you. Neteyam would treat you like a gentleman, helping you with any weight you needed to carry, always smiling at you and making you feel that you were special in his eyes, the chosen one among all the girls in Pandora. He would gift you with all types of things: fresh fruits, delicious fungi treats, jewelry and really sharp knives he made himself to help you hunt easier. Neteyam would always ask if he could sit next to you at meal time, when the na'vi would get together to eat and you would always say you'd love his company. You guys were inseparable, a big beautiful bond between the both of you. Neteyam would slowly work his way into being sure you liked him back, before making the next move, that would be a bold one. He would at first touch one of your braids slightly when you guys were laughing and talking. When he noticed you didn't show discomfort, with time, he started to touch your hands, then your shoulders, until it escalated to him touching your waist, which sent shivers down his spine. You would melt at every gentle touch Neteyam gave you. The time for the bold move came, and Neteyam would look deep into your eyes and say "I'm gonna do something now. Please, push me away if you don't like it." He would get his mouth close to yours and give you the most tender but intense kiss, like he was starving for your lips for so long. You kissed him back, holding onto his braids, which made him sure he did the right thing. Neteyam would whisper "I love you (y/n). I want so bad to be your mate." and gaze at your eyes until you said "I wish you had said it sooner. I want to be your mate too, Teyam."

742 notes · View notes

indouloureux · 2 years

Note

Please write something about Eddie x reader having phone s*x when he's away on tour with his band

*removes shirt, stretches fingers* lets do this

18+ mdni. cw: phone sex, masturbation (f, m), praise kink. fem!reader

god— even with your voice all static, broken by the distance and lightly muffled, your moans were as dirty and angelic as they had been when he's with you.

you stick the phone between your shoulder and your ear, shirt riddled up above your breasts, the cool air hardening your nipples that beg for his lips but tonight, it was substituted by your fingers. eddie pants on the other side of the phone, and you hear the faint zip of his jeans.

"gonna touch yourself for me, baby?" he purrs. "c'mon. let me hear you play with your pretty pussy. i know just how much she's been missin' me and my cock."

and you waste no time slinging your panties off and throw them on the pillow beside you. when your fingers glide across your achingly wet folds, you mewl, loud enough for eddie to respond to. he grunts, and you can hear the slick sounds of his hand moving down his cock slowly.

"t-tell me what you're thinking," you whimper as you begin to rub punishingly slow circles around your gorging clit.

"what i'm thinking?" he repeats almost tauntingly. "well, baby i'm thinkin' about you like i always do. i miss your mouth, your tiny, pretty little slutty mouth that would take my cock so well. your precious little moans when i fuck you hard. thinking of your pussy, baby. miss filling you up. y'always liked it filthy, didn't you?"

you can't help but go faster, legs spreading wide, lifting until the bottom of your thighs press on your stomach, left tit being fondled by the hand that's not between your legs. "fuck, eddie. i miss sucking your fat cock. miss choking on it, sucking on your fucking balls and just make a mess all over you. t-treating me like some- some pretty little whore- oh!"

"yeah, that's it baby," eddie flicks his wrist, rings cold against his thick, sensitive shaft but it felt better– anything to ease the painful longing for you. "tell me what you're doing,"

mewling, you press your head harder against the phone, panting heavily on the mic when you prod your fingers at your hole. "i'm... i'm about to finger myself, eddie. but it doesn't feel as full."

you can hear the growl from him, hear the shlick of your cunt on the vacant ear. "yeah, i know honey. can't fill yourself up the way i do, yeah? y'miss my cock? miss me fucking you senseless? till you can't fuckin' talk and all you do is – shit – let your little cunt swallow me up like some greedy little whore, hm?"

finally, you push them all the way in, knuckle deep, the tip of your fingers brushing that spot that eddie would press on, and it always made you cum so easily. "fuck! yes- yes wan' you to bend me over and fuck my holes, eddie! want you to stuff my ass and my cunr full of your cum. my pussy misses you,"

"mother of fuckin' ozzy- baby, i'm gonna cum," he moans loud, his slick sounds getting louder and faster and dirtier, and it brings you to the edge, too. your thumb rubs at your aching clit, fingers curling and scissoring itself into your tight hole that yearns to be split open by him. "gonna cum?"

"y-yeah!"

"cum with me," more of a demand than a question, and you do, with a pornographic moan. "oh- uh, yeah, baby, that's it,"

your warm seed coats your slender fingers, producing obscene wet sounds from your burning sex. eddie grunts, mixing with your orgasming moans, and you can imagine his cum spurting everywhere – to his fist, leaking down to the bats on his arm, reaching up to his pudgy stomach and lathered all over his happy trail.

eddie pants, your legs falling down to your sides and fingers shoved inside your mouth. "that was fun,"

"that's all you had to say?"

you laugh through your nose. "what'd you want me to say?"

"i dunno, babe. come back home, eddie. i miss you. leave the tour and just come back to me. make love to me. i love you, i miss you,"

though it had been a mock, you know he's not mocking you; he's mocking himself and his desperation for reunion. your beloved rockstar of a boyfriend tears down his walls around you, and instead encases you in a hug inside a sanctuary. he's never afraid to be vulnerable around you.

"i miss you, too, tiger," you whisper, twirling the chord around your finger. "just two more weeks, honey. promise. i'll be here right in our home, waiting."

"yeah?" he murmurs. "love you. a lot. more than you can ever imagine. i have you with me in my heart. dedicating my concerts to you and my mama, baby."

you coo. "i love you, more."

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #x reader

2K notes · View notes

vampyrsm · 2 years

Text

'you come here often?' (4.1k) izuku midoriya x female reader

warnings: roleplaying, semi-public sex (bathroom sex at a club), alcohol, praise, fingering (f!receiving), mirror sex, unprotected sex, clothed sex, size difference/kink (i can't help it, i like my men big), creampie.

➼ 'kinktober 2022 masterlist'

You didn't do this often.

What with being so busy with work, and everything else. You didn't ever really find the time spare to spend a night to yourself, just letting your hair down and slipping into one of your shorter dresses. It was definitely a rare occasion but you weren't going to let it slip from between your fingers. Tonight was about you, and you were going to be on the prowl for something... fun.

How long had it been since you took someone home with you after a night out? Far too long. And tonight that changed, as you let the throb of the bass in your chest guide each and every one of your movements, head free and empty of any thoughts that involved work. It was a busy night tonight at the club you picked, many bodies pressed tight together, all moving together in unison to whatever song that pumped through the speakers.

And when you reopened your eyes, strobe lights flickered to create the illusion as if time had slowed down but you couldn't take your eyes off of the man who was leaning back against the bar, elbows propping himself up whilst his eyes seemed to track your own movements. He was massive, features hidden by the strobing bright lights until a rogue green strobe bounced across his face and you swore his eyes were glowing the most beautiful verdant green, like electricity.

But when the next flicker of white strobes went off, he was gone. Your eyebrow quirked as you gave a quick glance around to see if you could spot the giant of a man but somehow he had just vanished. A shame really, you had thought maybe you found your target for the night. A man big enough to throw you around as if it were no effort on his behalf, as well as one who most definitely would have you yearning for more the morning after.

The next song came and went, and all the whilst you let the mysterious man slip to the back of your mind to be forgotten about as you sipped on the cocktail you had been nursing for the last hour or so. Many bodies slipped past you, hands lingering on your hips for a fraction of a second before they vanished only for the process to repeat until hands that were engulfing your waist had you finally opening your eyes to see who had grown brave enough to lay their hands on you.

A head ducked down over your shoulder, a firm body pressed hard against your back and effortlessly moving along with your own movements. Naturally, your head fell back against his shoulder, the muscles flexing beneath the movement and his hair tickled against your cheek the further he leaned in closer to your ear. "You come here often?"

You snort at the comment, it's very cliche, something he must have heard on a romcom or something but the alcohol swimming through your blood has you grinning like a lovesick fool, eyes no doubt glazed over with a needy type of lust. "Not my usual scene, no," you turn your head enough to speak directly into his ear over the loud music, and finally you get a glance of the green hair that brushed against your face when he nodded along with your words before he turned again to speak.

"That makes two of us," his voice is smooth, caressing your brain with the way he speaks with so much confidence and the warmth of his breath fanning against the sweat on your neck isn't helping you wade through the swamp that is your mind. "Though I suppose like me, you're not here for the music."

You feel the way his lips curl into a smile against your ear at the sound of your laughter, his hands continue to roam along your hips and down to the hem of the short dress you were wearing. He was bold, you had to give him that. "Oh yeah? How could you tell?" you challenge, purposely rolling your hips back against his own and you couldn't miss the way he groaned under his breath directly into your ear, puffing out a hot breath that had your eyes fluttering in desire.

You hadn't even got a good look at the man who was fiddling with the ends of your dress and grinding the chub in his jeans up against your ass. And yet, you wanted nothing more than for him to take you home, to show you a good time just to forget everything that happened in the week.

"Saw the way you were watching me from across the room," a jolt of excitement sparks up your spine, prompting you to finally spin around in his arms which he allows surprisingly easy. His shoulders roll backwards when he stands back up to his full height, he had nearly a foot on you but he wasn't quite as imposing as you thought he might be.

Despite the fine structure of his face, the way his eyes were definitely flickering with a wisp of something electric and how the muscles in his arms would be enough to crush you if he got a hold of you—despite all of that, you felt no fear, no worry that maybe he was more trouble than he was worth. His smile was kind, features softer as he gazed down at you and he was stunning. The band of freckles across his face was hard to miss whilst he let the lights dance over his face.

Now facing him, you could feel just how hard he was against your stomach and yet it didn't show on his face that he was embarrassed or shy about it either. You grin finally at his words, his eyes dart down to your lips and he can't help but smile along with you, you're certain that must be his panty-dropping smile, it definitely has you squeezing your thighs together.

"You were definitely watching me first," you counter, and he shrugs with a look that says 'so what?', the boyish energy he's giving you is intoxicating.

"Maybe, couldn't help it with the way you were giving me a show."

"Oh, I was giving you a show?" you snicker, letting his hands pull you in tighter whilst his head ducks down into your space. Your eyes flutter at the closeness of his face, something sparks as familiar in your gut when you get a good close look at him but you can't quite put your finger on it—

"Yeah," he breathes, you hadn't even realised your lips were so close that you felt the word pass by his lips directly onto your own. His eyes bounced between your own, searching for something and he must've seen it when your hands curled into the side of his shirt, tugging on it as if you could move the mountain of a man. His lips pressed against your own, the fervour exploding between the two of you. He tasted of something bitterly alcoholic, not as sweet as the cocktail you had been drinking.

He also smelled intoxicatingly good, strong and musky but not so much so that it would have you choking on the smell. It was undeniably man, something that drew you in and had you itching to reach down and grab what was pressing painfully into your stomach. The sound of the music faded into nothing but a muffled background noise whilst your arm hooked around his neck, pulling him further down to your height as his lips moved against your own in tandem.

Your stomach flipped and dipped in excitement. Shamelessly you chased after his lips once he broke off first, a knowing smirk on his face each time he dipped his chin down to avoid your lips. It was teasing, playful and it had you playing easily into his hands. "Wanna get out of here?", you hadn't expected him to try it so early but you still were nodding along easily, glassy eyes watching how he smiled again before leaning down, laying a gentle kiss on your lips that seemed out of place given the moment.

He slipped a hand down to your own, large calloused fingers locking with your own before he turned to walk towards the exit but halted the second he felt you still not moving behind him. He turned, a confused look on his face as he watched the way you nervously chewed on your lip. "Gotta go the bathroom first," you say sheepishly, alcohol courage seeming to drain the second you spoke the words. But the man just nodded, effortlessly parting the way for the both of you as he guided you towards the long hallway that lead to the bathrooms.

Once free from the pulsing of the music and no longer squashed between sweaty bodies, you're both able to breathe for the first time that night and the tall man with green hair doesn't let your hand go until he's stood outside of the women's bathroom. Finally, he lets you go, watching you make haste into the bathroom, you spare a glance over your shoulder before the door closes. The off-white light of the bathroom light really helped you put a full picture of the man who was going to make or break your night, the butterflies swarmed tenfold when you caught the white of his teeth when he grinned at the way you were watching him.

Now with a clear head away from the strong musk of the mysterious man, you glance yourself over in the mirror and let the cool water from the sink run over your wrists to just try and ease off the erratic drum of your heart in your chest. The music was just a distant thump, but it felt like your head was still swimming. That man outside was heartbreakingly stunning, you had no doubt in your mind he must be a hero or something of the sort with the physique he had. That had you grinning to yourself in the mirror like some lunatic, eyes glittering at the fact a pro hero would look at you like that. Lady luck was definitely on your night tonight it seemed.

Not wanting to wait any longer you pulled open the door to see him still standing there, one foot propped up against the opposite wall whilst his arms were crossed over his chest and his head snapped to attention the second the door opened. But you couldn't find it in yourself to move forward, watching the way his eyes skimmed you up and down now that he could see you properly, how they lingered on your exposed thighs and slowly trailed up until they settled on your breasts. He was shameless, and yet you couldn't stop the way it made you feel—hot and fuzzy.

"Ready?" he said once he was in front of you, cutting you off from the outside world with just the broadness of his shoulders. You blinked up at him, trying to convey some sort of message to him, trying to tell him how badly you wanted him to fuck you.

And once again, luck was on your side as he grinned more wolfish than you had seen on his face before he's crowding you back into the bathroom, eyes darting to the open stalls to make sure no one else was in here with the two of you before he clicks the lock shut on the bathroom.

Now that you're in here alone, you're certain he can hear the pounding of your heart in your chest. He was impossibly big and so imposing, everything about him screamed strong and powerful. But nothing screamed at you to run when he had you pinned against the bathroom counter, marble painfully digging into your back as he loomed over you. The soft gaze in his eye was long gone and replaced with something deeper and darker, an indescribable lust that was primal.

His chest brushed against your own with every deep breath he pulled in, both of his hands now pressed against the counter on either side of you effectively making sure you had no escape. "You're so beautiful," he smirks at the way your eyelashes flutter at his sweet words, how you struggle to keep yourself up with the jelly in your legs. "Can't wait to ruin you."

You jolt at the force he kisses you, your back bending some more over the counter behind you until he bends down to hook both of his hands around the back of your thighs to hoist you up and onto the cool marble. All the whilst he bites and nips at your lips, begging you to let him into your mouth and you do without much of a fight. Your tongue meets his halfway in a smooth roll before he's pushing in further, stroking his tongue along your own and up over the roof of your mouth, flicking against the back of your teeth before he repeats the actions over and over. He's devouring you whole and you may just let him.

It was over far too soon for your liking, saliva coating your lips whilst his were smothered in a messy smear of lipgloss. His chest heaved, tongue darting out to taste the sweet strawberry that lingered there. You finally let your hands wander him for the first time that evening, stroking your fingers down along the expensive material of his shirt before you reached the hem of it. His eyes watched you with intense interest, to see your next move, to see if you were brave enough.

He fell into you easily when you tilted your head back, inviting him in for another long kiss. Once he was fully engrossed in sucking your tongue into his mouth did you let your hand wander beneath his shirt, you were definitely correct in thinking the man had to be a hero of some type. His stomach tensed at the warmth of your hand splaying out on his abs, feeling the multitude of ridges and dips, the long and deep scars that you're sure held some of the most exciting stories. You hope maybe you'd get another chance of hearing about them, but for now, you wanted what was lurking beneath his trousers.

The kiss stuttered when he had to take a gasping breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you ditched the effort to caress his stomach and went straight for groping his dick through his jeans, delicate fingers squeezing him as much as you could. "Careful, might end up fucking you right here." he groans through gritted teeth at the way you squeeze him again at the filth that spilt from his mouth.

"And what if I want that, Mr. Hero?" you smirked at the way he finally opened his eyes, a half-hearted glare meeting your teasing gaze.

"Izuku," he responds with and you furrow your brows together in confusion. "Call me Izuku, please."

"Okay, Izuku," he shudders visibly at the way you purr his name, hand working the fly and button of his jeans before you slip into the warmth of his boxers. "Gonna give me what I want?"

His chest heaves in shallow breaths, eyes drifting away from your own to see the hand buried in his boxers. You were stroking him so delicately, the tips of your nails barely scratching along the smooth velvet of his skin and along the throbbing vein, he was at breaking point and you seemed to notice that when you finally took him in your hand. It was still a tight squeeze but you still somehow managed to stroke him despite the restriction, your wrist rolling effortlessly as if you had done this a thousand times before.

"You asked for it," he groans before stepping back enough to cause your hand to slip free from his boxers and before you could complain, he's manhandling you off of the counter and bending you over it. You're forced to awkwardly hang over the sink, a hand pressed to the large mirror that covered the entirety of the wall and the other gripping the edge. "Wanted to take my time with you." he murmurs more to himself before there's warmth on the back of your thighs from both of his hands.

He shamelessly grabs and squeezes at your flesh, letting his hips roll against the roundness of your ass before his fingers slip upwards until your dress is bunched around your waist. The deep guttural groan has you clenching around nothing once he gets a good look at you, you had worn your favourite pair of lace panties tonight. They had no lines and well, they were sexy, and you were fully expecting to get laid.

"Oh, wow," he breathes, fingers grabbing at your ass to spread you wide for him and you feel yourself heating up at the compromising position, how he was letting his thumb brush up and down over the material between your ass cheeks before slipping down to press against your slit. "You definitely were hoping to get lucky tonight, huh?"

"Mhm," you reply, biting on your bottom lip, truly you wanted to give him a response back about how he was clearly the one looking for some tonight too with the way he was eyefucking you across the room before he had even approached you but you couldn't even think properly at this point. His fingers slipped under the lace at the top of your ass before he helped guide it down until they were loose around your ankles, caught on the intricate straps of your heels.

The tips of his fingers glide smoothly against your slit, dipping against your entrance teasingly before brushing back down to tap twice against your clit, each time causing you to jump. Izuku chuckles softly behind you, a little breathless as he gets lost in a smooth way his fingers stroke down along your cunt and back up again until he's slowly but surely pushing in two fingers at once. He figures time is definitely not on his side, considering the bathroom situation.

You moan at the stretch of just two fingers alone, unwillingly clenching around the digits in hopes of just holding them there deep inside of you. The fullness was intoxicating, and all your brain could supply was the possibility of what his cock must feel like. His wrist rolls smoothly, trained fingers angling slightly downwards against your walls whilst his thumb presses against your clit. The reaction was immediate, as he had hoped, your hips bucking back into his hips and forcing his fingers to rub delicately over the spongy spot deep inside of you.

"Izuku," you moan when he crooks his fingers again, tilting his head to watch your facial expressions in the mirror when he repeatedly taps his fingers against the spot that has your stomach twitching and thighs tensing up. "P-Please, shit, just fuck me already."

You miss the grin on Izuku's face as he watches your eyes flutter closed when he speeds up the movement of his fingers inside of you, your moans growing higher in pitch until you were completely silent except for panting breaths, lips parted in a pretty 'o'. Then suddenly his fingers are gone, you're violently jerked away from the orgasm he had nearly ripped from you and you try to glare at him through the mirror to which he just shrugs.

"You did ask for it," and his eyebrows raise when you ready yourself to speak back, to snip at the man who was playing with your orgasm for enjoyment before he's thrusting his cock into you in one fluid motion. You gasp before it rolls into a long moan, your hand tightens the grip it has on the marble counter whilst the other helps with pushing you back against Izuku to try and somehow take all of him inside of you deeper.

Izuku keeps his hands on your waist, fingers clutching at the fabric of your dress whilst his chin is dipped to his chest watching intently at the way he disappears into your slick cunt. "Shit," he groans finally, huffing out a breath he hadn't seemed to notice he was holding once his hips are flush with your ass. His hands move downwards, thumbs hooking either side of your ass to pull you apart for him, to see the way you clench around him fruitlessly to pull him in further. You were perfection, "Such a perfect pussy."

His thrusts are fluid after that, a practised movement that has both of your minds going blank. Just filled with the devotion to fuck one another into oblivion, to help each other reach their own slice of heaven. You finally look up into the mirror, just to see Izuku was already looking directly at you through the mirror and his eyebrows twitch, gaze hardening the longer he holds eye contact with you. His thrusts grow harsher, the slapping sound almost violent and the wet squelch of your cunt gushing around his cock is disgusting, downright filthy. Yet neither of you can think of that, not with the tension building between the two of you.

Izuku dips down slightly, a large meaty hand grabbing one of your thighs to bring up your leg to prop it against the counter and you have to remove your hand from the mirror to cover your mouth to smother the scream that wanted to escape. The angle was made to hit against your g-spot, to have your vision darkening around the edges and your mind a fuzzy blanket that shrouded you in a hazy warmth. "Cum for me angel," the pet name rolls off his tongue far too easily, and neither of you are able to unpack what that could mean whilst he fucks into you, fingers now swirling against your puffy clit that brings upon your rapture.

You squeal into your hand, sucking in a deep breath through your nose and your eyes roll back. The orgasm is a violent one, hitting you like a wave would against rocks, it has your walls squeezing and twitching around his cock trying to milk him for all he's worth whilst legs tremble, hips bucking up to try and get away from the hand that wouldn't give up on playing with your clit. "Good girl, you did so well for me."

"Gonna fill this pussy now, yeah? Gonna let me fuck you full of my cum?" he's rambling now, babbling on about how you'd look so good with his cum leaking from your sloppy pussy, you can't help but clench around him, Izuku's voice tapering off into a low groan and his hips thrusting a little more aggressively causing the edge of the counter to press harshly into your thighs, the angle is still just as head spinning now that he's fucking into you with the purpose to make himself cum.

And he does finally cum, the whine from his throat doesn't match the large frame that nearly curls over you from the force of his orgasm. His cock twitches ruthlessly against your walls, and each rope of cum feels thick and hot, coating you from the inside until you can feel it being pushed forcibly from around his cock and down along your thigh.

The air is quiet for a moment, just the intense breathing from the both of you before Izuku is the first to break the silence with a delicate kiss on your shoulder, then your neck. "I didn't go too far did I, angel?" his voice was different from the way he had spoken to you all evening, no longer a stranger but rather your boyfriend of four years.

You smile at him through the mirror, his eyes that gooey type that tells you he's spent. "No baby, you did good," he lays another kiss to your shoulder before he's pushing off of you and leaving you empty whilst he goes and grabs the toilet paper to clean up the mess between your thighs.

"Though you did nearly break character," you smirk at the wide-eyed look he gives you.

"I did? I didn't even notice."

You hum, nodding a little whilst shimmying your panties back up and turning to look up at Izuku with a dopey smile. "Yeah, called me angel when you wanted me to cum," and he somehow manages to blush, intensifying the freckles dotting his face and you can't help but laugh. The man was a big softie deep down.

"C'mon, let's go before someone breaks down the door or something." you pat his chest gently, turning towards the door and he's hot on your tail with a kiss to your head when you stop to check if the coast was clear.

➼ 'kinktober 2022 masterlist

#midoriya izuku smut #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x you #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku oneshot #midoriya izuku imagine #izuku smut #bnha x fem!reader #bnha oneshots #mha smut #bnha x self insert #bnha smut #vampyrsm kinktober 2022

724 notes · View notes

stinkysam · 5 months

Text

Buggy the Clown - Your move.

Warning : none

Genre : Angst

Synopsis : "buggy loves you."

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

Buggy likes you- no, loves you.

It took him time to come to terms with it but he finally did it. He accepted his feelings.

Letting you fully enter his heart despite the walls he had built over the years.

It was hard to resist you, you and your charming smiles, your sparkling eyes, your pretty voice and warm touch.

Oh, you haven't touched him much, just grabbing his arm as you laughed or patting his back after his bounty was augmented, serving as congratulations. It wasn't much, not happening on a daily basis, but it was enough to keep him going, seeking for more.

He fell so easily for you and so hard.

But he never planned to confess. Too afraid you'd laugh at his face.

He knew you were too kind to do that but he couldn't help it. He doesn't know how he'd take it if you laughed at him. Mocking his feelings as you repeat it to everyone, snickering and laughing. That would break him.

So for it to never happen, he simply had to never confess, to let you unaware of his feelings for you and wait for them to pass.

It was tough though, many times his heart pushed him to say something foolish and let you know. Give you hints here and there.

Especially when he was drunk.

Finding himself a bit too clingy for his sober self.

"[Naaame]." He whined, head flying to rest on your shoulder as his body lay on his throne lazily, booze in hand.

"Yes captain ?" You answer, voice gentle, amused.

He half hummed and half groaned. God, he wanted to tell you he loves you. Your small smile taunts him.

You raise your hand up, fingers digging under his bandana to scratch his head like you would with a cat, making him sigh. Fuck.

You moved your head to crack your neck and felt his stubble beard rub against your cheek.

"You sting." You say with a short laugh.

He smiled, moving his head to continue rubbing it against you, making you laugh more. Oh, how he loves that sound.

"Stop it." You chuckle, grabbing him and standing up, he looked at you with heart eyes, your hands warming his cheeks but you didn't seem to notice, placing him back on his own shoulders. And his heart breaks a bit. He wanted to stay on yours a bit longer, loving the proximity. Didn't you like it as well ? Surely not…

He grimaces, pouting, and you chuckle at his reaction, walking away. He watches as you leave, and he sighs, taking a swig of his beer, staying alone for a moment before walking out as well to drink with the rest of the crew.

He liked to imagine you loved him back in another world. Making his heart thump at the thought of you thinking of him. Looking at him the way he does. Almost making him feel dizzy at times.

Giving himself false hope as he falls asleep at night. Waking up alone in his bed as he had imagined himself falling asleep next to you in your bed.

Buggy's pinning hard, heart yearning for you every day, breaking a bit each time you're not by his side when you prefer to hang out with other people.

But each time you talk to him, it heals. It’s crazy the power you hold over his heart.

He already liked hearing praise coming from anyone, but when it leaves your delicious lips, it has him on cloud nine. His heart is beating rapidly, almost threatening to burst out of his chest and that’s the only words his brain can think of, repeating them over and over. And he can't stop boasting about it.

He loved everything about you, even when you argued, acting like you didn’t like one another with how much you both barked. But there was no bite, only empty threats. It was just for the fun of yelling.

Then he saw it. Your betrayal.

You, wrapping your arms around someone, leaning closer, and kissing them on the lips like he had dared to imagine you'd kiss him, full of love and passion.

He couldn't believe it. It shattered his heart. For a second he told himself he was happy for you, until he realized he wasn't. He was sad and jealous. So jealous.

If it were someone from the crew he would've kicked them the hell out but somehow you fell in love with a simpleton from the town you stopped at. A random person. Not even a pirate. You better not ask him to take them with you, he's going to say no.

But what if you decide to leave ?

No ! He wouldn't be able to stand to watch you leave the crew just to be with them. He'd stop you, he'd have to try to.

But you wouldn't be happy if you were forced to stay… And that'd be his fault. You'd be unhappy because of him.

You'd still smile at him, but they'd be fake, only to be polite, and then I'd stop. And you'll grow colder towards him. Slowly losing your attention and your friendship to a simpleton from boring-town. He can't let that happen. He'd have to let you go ? So you wouldn't hate him ? Really ?

He's anxiously waiting for you to make your move, ask him to leave the crew or to take that asshole who took you with them. Maybe he'll have to accept them in so you won't leave ?

And he'll have to see you being lovey-dovey with them. Kissing them, hugging them, giving them your love, attention, care and devotion. When he should be the one you're with.

God he was jealous and angry. Why wouldn't you love him ?

Ah… right, he already knew the answer.

He's an ugly bastard, a liar, an egotistical clown, a failure, a coward, an asshole, a fraud. And maybe you saw it all and didn't like it. Preferring an honest person, without any problems and no shady personality.

#male reader #m!reader #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x male reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown imagine #buggy the clown x male reader #buggy the clown #opla #opla imagine #opla buggy #opla x male reader

133 notes · View notes

power-handmaiden · 3 months

Text

what I want to (re?)gain from reading all these tinglers.

Long ass personal ramble below because this is my blog where I ramble about things now

I used to draw all the time and even longer ago I used to write and at some point I just stopped because I got hung up on whether I was "good" at these things things or whether it was a waste of my time creating such "trivial" things rather than art with "meaning" or maybe of I should be spending my time on more "useful" skills. Why write if you're just going to write gay fanfiction? But when I tried more "serious" things to "develop my skills" and also do things like proofread and edit, it just wasn't fun anymore and the hobby was dropped. Drawing lasted longer and I never dropped it so completely but I think smartphones put a damper on it. Once we all got little Google machines in our pockets I was never just out somewhere doodling freely, there was always the option to look up a reference, to draw the thing Correctly, and then time would pass where I was trying to find a picture of a ram's horns at just the right angle, and my number at the DMV would be called or whatever else I was waiting for would demand my attention and I would never even set my pencil to paper in these moments when I used to doodle.

I also felt like I could never express sexual ideas as much as I wanted to because of the "quality" of my work. Making "bad" art was one thing, everyone in the learning process does that, but sharing "bad" sexual art? Well, everyone on the internet forums I frequented was *justified* in reposting their art to mock them and linking to their online galleries for passersby to point and laugh personally, I thought at the time. How dare they be horny and express it in an appropriate adults-only space without mastering their craft first!

There's a lot holding me back. I deeply miss drawing and writing. I miss how freely I used to be able to just do them without the mental block telling me I need to run certain steps for Quality when I never did intend to do these creative things as a profession or anything?

Why is it so easy to sit down and "waste time" playing a video game or scrolling the internet, but so hard to spend the same amount of time drawing something for fun?

here's where Chuck Tingle comes in. He is someone who just DOES IT. This is the writing of someone who is not overthinking the process like I am when I become too paralyzed to create. And, I cannot stress this enough. IT'S SO GOOD. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. So much fun, joyful art has come from a process that I had convinced myself was something to be reined in and feared. The free act of creation that I'd convinced myself was nothing if I didn't learn to refine it into something "respectable". Ideas that would definitely not have passed a committee vote but make the process of reading all these stories one after another so exciting.

Even when I hit the occasional one like today that doesn't hit well anymore, it's evidence of someone who was creating from the heart, in the moment. Weirdly, they make me feel that yearning even stronger, with the knowledge that I know I'll love future stories.

I still haven't gotten there yet but I hope the love I find in these stories eventually breaks down the mental walls I've built and makes me feel free again to DRAW SOME GODDAMN LESBIAN FURRIES.

#personal

37 notes · View notes

cricketnationrise · 3 months

Note

Congratulations on 500 followers, babe! It's awesome that you're doing another ficlet fest. Here's my prompt:

Time: 1:30 a.m.

Location: Hollywood

Character: Alicia Zimmermann

Song lyrics: "Another name goes up in lights; you wonder if you'll make it out alive" from "The Lucky One" by Taylor Swift

Rating: T

HI BABE <3 I love this prompt, and I hope you like where it led me! There's never enough Alicia content, so I was really excited for the excuse to write some. 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here!

🏒🏒🏒🏒

1:30am, hollywood

Alone in the back of a taxi, finally hidden from the view of the cameras, Alicia lets her head fall back against the headrest with a heavy sigh.

It’s been a long time since award shows were fun, since after parties were anything other than an obligation pushed onto her shoulders by her agent. Tonight had been especially harrowing: enough meaningless small talk to make her want to tear her hair out, not enough food, and toast after drunken, incomprehensible toast. It was hard to believe that Alicia had ever liked the crush of people; that she had, at one point, craved this part of being an actress. More and more, her perfect idea of a late night features a warm body next to hers, a cup of chamomile, and a delightfully trashy romance novel—not backhanded compliments and uncomfortable shoes.

Above all, Alicia is tired.

Tired of the run around, tired of the hustle, tired of spineless directors and co-stars that didn’t bother to learn their lines. Tired of constantly getting her picture taken, tired of being hounded by the press, tired of being critiqued on everything from her outfit to her choice of project. Tired of the endless travel, tired of remote filming locations, tired of never being in the same time zone as her apartment for more than a week at a time. There just has to be a way for her to have more control over her career. Surely she’s paid her dues by now.

At least her taxi driver isn’t trying to make conversation, or ask for an autograph—either option was liable to send Alicia over the edge tonight. She frowns as they pass a billboard for a new movie, starring some girl she’s never heard of. Blown up to larger than life, it’s impossible to miss the excitement in the starlet’s eyes, the yearning for more. Alicia feels tears gathering in the corner of her eye and looks away hurriedly—when was the last time she had felt like that?

She still loves acting, is the thing. Still loves throwing herself into a character, really connecting with their desires and fears, breathing life into someone who would otherwise just be words on a page. Still loves becoming someone new. But everything else that comes along with being an actress makes her want to scream.

Finally at her hotel, Alicia pays the driver and makes it up to her room in a haze of exhaustion and general torpor. She changes into pajamas and brushes her teeth on autopilot. It's only as she’s reaching over to turn the bedside light off when she notices the red blinking light of the answering machine.

It’s probably her assistant. Maybe her agent. Both of them have been in constant contact on this press tour, keeping her in the loop on travel changes and adding more “quick appearances” to her schedule that end up being several hours and completely draining. But if she doesn’t check it, she’ll miss something important. With a defeated groan she checks the machine, tension leaching out of her when a man’s voice comes from the speakers instead of any of her all-female team’s strident tones.

Hi, euh, hello, Alicia? This is Bob Zimmermann, we met last week at that terrible premiere?

Alicia actually finds herself grinning as Bob’s Quebecois accent and stumbling words spill out into her hotel room, his genuinely hesitant and careful words wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know him from Adam at the premiere party, but a shared eye-roll during the director’s meandering thank you speech prompted her to wander over once it was done. The warmth in his brown eyes was reason enough to keep talking to him after introducing herself.

The message rambles a bit about how awful the movie was (he’s not wrong, it positively reeked of studio interference) and a bit about how his hockey team did this week before he clears his throat. The change in tone has her listening with bated breath.

I know timing is going to be an issue for both of us, but I really enjoyed talking to you last week, and I’d love to take you to dinner and get to know you sometime— Sometime soon, eh?

He leaves the number of his hotel for the next two days and his pager number before saying goodbye. Still grinning, Alicia scribbles down both numbers and turns off the machine. She turns the light out and settles into bed with his voice echoing in her head and thinks.

A single, unlooked-for message, the possibility of a date with an interesting man, and Alicia feels lighter. And more determined than ever to make some career changes — she wants to love her job again, just as much as Bob loves hockey. And she’s been around long enough, has enough clout, that she really thinks she can change her job to suit her desires.

Resolved to sit down with her agent as soon as she’s in the same city again, she closes her eyes, replaying Bob's message in her mind as she drifts into sleep.

Bonne nuit, Alicia.

#cricket writes #the-lincyclopedia #ficlet fest 500 #check please #omgcp #pov alicia #bonus bad bob content #bc i love their love

28 notes · View notes

softmangoes · 2 months

Text

until sunrise | eden x defiant!pc

18+ only

summary: you ask eden if you can go to town to run some errands. reluctantly, he says yes. sequel to cabin fever.

includes: defiant! fem pc, yearning, domesticity, a very needy eden

author's note: i had so much fun writing the first fic that i got excited to work on this one. i love eden so much, so please let me know what you think! comments always keep me going 🫶🏾

"you want to leave?" eden tenses. instinctively, he holds you tighter, thinking of the time you actually managed to run away. it was a while ago, but he could still feel the cold spike of fear as he tracked you through the forest.

"what," you say. "you don't trust me?"

it's not that he doesn't. he wants to. he does. it's just that after being alone for so long, he's finally found you, and now you want to leave?

the forest provides. its boughs offer wood for shelter, fruit for food. its animals bare their necks to gift flesh and fur for meals and warmth. and then there is the quiet, which is something the town never had. the quiet that eases eden's nerves, lets him think.

in the wilderness, there is nothing else he could want. he thought that after being here for a while, you would feel the same. he's provided for you, hasn't he? he's been good to you. why would -

"eden." your fingers brush his hair away from his face. what would he do, knowing he'd be without your touch? "i can hear you thinking."

it's not like him to lose his composure. on a hunt, it could cost him a meal - a bullet whizzing far past its target. in this moment, he averts his gaze. swallows.

"is it because there's someone else?" he says, quiet.

you had a life before him. he's well aware of that. before, when he would watch you spend your afternoons at the lake, he would occassionally see you have picnics with a brunette boy with a voice so soft that you had to move closer just to listen to him.

fear wraps cold tendrils around his heart. was that who you wanted? someone who still had kindness in their eyes?

"i have you." your lips feather across his cheeks. "how can there be someone else when you're all i need?"

need. it's such a terrible, wonderful thing, isn't it? before you, he thought he never needed much. since the night you told him you would stay, the thought of being around you has become as essential as air. as cherished as the quiet.

he needs you. but as much as he wants to keep you within his reach, eden knows you well enough that a cage would be the last thing you would ever want.

"a day," he says. your lips hover over his, your breath sweet with the scent of berries you had picked together earlier that morning. "nothing more, and you come back."

the kiss you give him is full of relief, gratitude. he pulls you onto his lap and the couch creaks at the shift in weight. when he brings his mouth to your neck, he bites you hard enough to leave a bruise. the throbbing will give you something to remember him by while you're gone. you touch the bloom of broken capillaries with a smile.

the next morning, he holds you tightly at the end of the forest path.

"i have to be back before breakfast tomorrow," you say, muffled by his embrace. "it'll still take me hours to get to town."

it's fall, so the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he takes an uneasy step back. there's a chill in the air, so he adjusts the scarf he's given you around your neck.

"you can come earlier than that," he tells you. "it'd be better if you do."

i'd feel better if you do, he thinks.

you smile knowingly and take his hand. he swears he'll never get used to it, how tenderly you hold him even after everything he's done. even though he is who he is.

"i'll miss you, too," you say before you leave.

for a moment, after he watches you walk through the bushes, he thinks about following you. of course, he would only do it to make sure you get there safely. he'd promised to protect you, didn't he?

but you didn't need that. you were already strong when he found you and you had given him quite the fight when he brought you to the cabin. he was sure you were capable of protecting yourself. for both your sakes, you had to be.

he slings his rifle over his shoulder. how about a deer for dinner once you got back? you always liked his venison roasts. they take long to track, but even longer to cook. at least it would give him something to do while you're away.

hours later, eden lowers his rifle. the shot is clean - straight to the temple without any damage to the hide. he hefts the fallen doe over his shoulder. this early in the season, she hasn't shed too much of her fat gained from the spring and the summer. her meat will make a fine roast, one worthy of welcoming you back.

eden dresses her away from the cabin, gathering her hide and meat. in a few days, he'll come back for the bones after they've been picked clean.

the weather is cool enough that he can place the flesh in the root cellar until he's ready to use it. there are still a few hours left in the day, so he uses them to strip the hide.

as he draws the fleshing knife over the stretched skin, his mind wanders.

normally, he'd find peace in the monotony of this kind of work, allowing his mind clear while you read a book on the patio's rocking chair. but now, all he could think about was where you were. all he could think about was how silent the cabin was without you there to fill the air with your laughter. when he looks up, he watches the empty chair sway in the breeze.

once he's done fleshing the hide, eden eats a late lunch of stewed cabbage and sausage. it's the last thing you prepared and while it's delicious, it does not soothe the ache of your absence.

dinner isn't any better. he eats quickly, sopping up the broth on his plate with a hank of crusty bread.

once he curls up with a book by the fireplace, it's only then that his mind quiets. for as long as he could remember, he's always loved reading. stories were his first escape. they allowed him to imagine a future different from his past.

the first time you had asked him to read to you, he was confused.

"your voice," you told him. "it's pretty."

"pretty?" he scoffed. "that can't be the right word for it."

"like thunder rumbling in the distance." you kissed his neck, your hands slipping under his sweater. "a shift in the tide." his breath caught. "i could listen to you all night and it would never be enough."

right now, eden flips his way through a weathered paperback, the spine cracked white throughout.

soon, the both of you would fall back into your routine.

he feels more at ease - somewhat - but perhaps it's because of the anticipation that flutters in his chest. the day is almost done and tomorrow, as promised, he will wake to welcome you home. the thought warms him like the first sunrise of spring, melting away the long winter frost.

still, his chest tightens.

what if he never heard your knock? what if dawn came and you didn't? you wouldn't do that, would you? you would keep your word.

ah, but he's done so many bad things. he hurt you, even as you kicked and clawed at him. back then, he was selfish, wanting nothing else but your body to warm the cold nights.

things were different, now. the way you looked at him was softer. fond. at night, you would take his hand and hold it until you fell asleep. in turn, he'd wake you with a kiss to the forehead, waiting until you stirred in his arms. eden was yours and you were his. you wouldn't leave him. you wouldn't you wouldn't you wouldn't -

the book falls apart in his hands with a sharp rip.

"fuck," he says, placing the ruined pieces onto the couch.

he takes a deep breath, deciding that it would be wise to turn in early. that way, he'd get enough rest to properly take care of you after your long trek through the forest.

the bed is cold when he slips in. outside the cabin window, the crickets croon softly in the night for their lovers. eden places a palm against the bed's empty space, his fingers gathering the sheets. it takes a long time for him to close his eyes.

the next morning, there's a knock at the door.

eden is there just as you swing it open.

"the way back is so much harder," you huff, dropping a couple of duffel bags onto the floor along with your backpack. "i tripped on so many roots. maybe we could spend a day clearing the path more?"

sweat has plastered your hair to your forehead and your cheeks are red with exertion. there are fragments of leaf debris sticking to your skin. you have never looked more beautiful.

eden gathers you into his arms.

he takes you on the table, lays your body down like a feast. the oak whines against the cabin floor, but it holds. when he carved it a few years ago, he made sure it would be sturdy.

"hey, wait," you start, trying to fend him off. but you're too tired, too weak from the journey back. it's alright, though. he's here to give you a proper welcome.

somehow, you manage to kick off your boots. he drags down your hiking pants, grabs ahold of your thighs.

already, you're so wet for him. he can smell it. have you been wanting this as badly as he has, he wonders. the thought drives him wild.

eden brings his mouth to your bare hip as he peels off your underwear with one hand. he licks a trail further and further downward until he's between your legs.

you hiss at the sensation of his tongue on you, his hands clasped securely around your thighs.

"i've been waiting," he says gruffly. "for this."

and when his tongue, thick and hot, pushes itself inside of you, you can do nothing else but squirm.

one of his massive hands slips under your tank top, beneath your bra, to take your nipple between his fingers.

it's all so much. you wrap a hand around his wrist, steadying yourself as he fucks you with his mouth.

once he's satisfied, eden moves to suck on your clit, groaning in approval when your hips twitch against his face.

your core tightens, back arching as the orgasm takes you.

eden pulls away. a moment later, you hear the rustling of fabric. he's removed his lounge pants.

he licks his lips, which are glistening with your wetness.

"i was worried you wouldn't come back," he says, taking a hold of your hips to pull you closer to his aching cock. "but here you are, being so good for me." eden slips inside of you slowly, making you feel every moment he's missed you. "i think you deserve a reward."

then he rips through your tank top and bra. you gasp at the sudden coolness against your skin, his ravenous hunger making you feel vulnerable.

eden fucks himself into you, planting rough kisses across your chest and collarbone.

"so tight," he praises. "and all mine."

when you come, clenching down on him so deliciously, he crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your moans as you writhe beneath him.

he's close, the yearning he had pent up the day prior threatening to make him spill, but he does not relent. instead, he bites the inside of his cheek, the pain lancing through his wave of pleasure so he can last longer.

has it only been a day since you were last together? no, that can't be right. it feels like forever. he'll have to make up for all that lost time.

with the pad of his fingers, eden rubs small circles against your swollen clit, coaxing another orgasm from you as he pushes himself deeper to reach the spot he knows will make you keen.

it's when you tongue at the hollow of his neck, nails raking across his back, that he comes gasping your name.

you hold each other, the wooden planks creaking softly under your weight.

"christ," you pant, forehead pressed against his. "i was barely through the fucking door."

he laughs - it's a deep, guttural grumble that he only ever does around you. it reminds you of thunder, of storms.

he blushes, shy. "i, ah, got excited."

eden gathers you into his arms and you wash up quickly, the both of you eager to spend the rest of the day together.

"such a sweetheart," you say, kissing him on the cheek. "you missed me a lot, didn't you?"

once you're clean, fed, and settled, you begin to unpack the spoils you gathered from town. there are the hefty duffel bags full of eden's supplies: boxes of bullets, rope for snare traps, canned food, and kerosene for the lamps.

from your backpack, you procure extra sets of clothes you bought at the mall along with a short guides on canning produce and soapmaking you found at the outdoor shop. he glances at the pile of ruined clothing he had torn to get to you and scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.

lastly, you take out a hefty rectangular bundle wrapped in brown paper. it's secured with a ribbon made of twine.

"what's this?" he asks.

you look at the fire, sheepish. you were never very good with words.

"i know the paperbacks are cheaper, but they're too small for your hands," she says.

he tears through the packaging. inside are hardcover copies of his favorite books, along with some new releases.

"you like their work the most," you tell him. "i've noticed that you reread their books a lot."

eden is speechless. you thought of him, then, even though you were gone? he takes a moment to imagine you perusing the bookstore, scanning the shelves for something to take home with you.

"i don't know what to say," he says, setting the books on the table beside him. when was the last time he'd received a gift? for the life of him, he can't remember. if he had, then that memory has been long buried by the past.

"you could thank me," you say, taking his hand to your face. your eyes darken as you slip two of his fingers into your mouth. "or you could show me."

warmth ignites his core. he pulls you closer, hunger making him lick his teeth.

one day is long enough.

sunlight filters through the glass windows. he smiles, admiring the sight of you finally back in his arms.

you don't make it out of the cabin until the next morning.

#eden the hunter #dol eden #degrees of lewdity eden #eden the hunter x pc #eden the hunter and pc #degrees of lewdity fic #dol fic #my writing #should i try writing what would happen if pc asked to be away for a week hahaha

48 notes · View notes

thirstworldproblemss · 1 year

Text

Ficlet: Kindness

Pairing: Din x gn!reader* Fandom: The Mandalorian Words: 645 Rating: Teen ...maybe? Content/Warnings: One (1) very oblique reference to sexual arousal/yearning. *Also: while this fic is technically gender neutral—(I think? let me know if you spot any gendered language that I missed)—it was written with a specific (female) "reader" in mind

Summary: A Mandalorian (ficlet) for Cindy ✨

Notes: This is a short little thing that I wrote for Cindy (@keeper0fthestars) once upon a time in response to a 'who would you ship me with and why?' ask game that was going around. I considered expanding or reworking this before posting, but somehow it doesn't seem fair to take it any further now that C's no longer here to see it… So here it is, exactly as I shared it with her. It's not my best work ever or terribly polished—it was never intended to be anything more than a silly little blurb for a silly little ask game—but it was fun to write, and sharing it with Cindy brought us both joy. In the end, I think that's enough. In the end, I think that was everything.

[ twp’s Masterlist ]

——

Din doesn't quite know what to make of you at first.

You are…. Kind. Consistently and deliberately thoughtful in a way that’s unfamiliar to him. You’re other things too: funny and pretty and smart, and so much braver than he gave you credit for in the beginning. But somehow it’s your kindness that always catches him off-guard. He’s not used to people offering to help him without strings attached or being kind just for the sake of kindness.

He hires you to take care of the kid, and you do, but somehow you wind up taking care of him as well.

When he returns to the ship with a bounty, you’re there to greet him, always checking in to make sure he's okay. The first time it happens, the attention makes him feel uncomfortable—oddly… exposed—and he brushes off your inquiries with a brusque, "I'm fine; save it for the kid,” before ingrained politeness makes him follow up with a soft, "thank you" a few moments later. You smile at him, and he has to look away.

You are kind, always smiling at him or offering him a share of the meal you made for yourself and the kid. He thinks at first that it's the unfamiliarity of being cared for that makes his breath catch. And if his heart beats a little faster when you lay a concerned hand on his arm, it's just the novelty of a gentle, non-threatening touch.

The problem is that it doesn't stop happening.

The warm smiles, the kindness, the gentle touches, the sharing of food and stories and space eventually become routine. But it never stops affecting him. If anything, it gets worse or maybe better. A look from you is enough to leave him flushed, skin prickling under his armor. The smallest interactions make his heart beat fast like he’s chasing down a bounty in full armor. Even just watching you with the kid—loving yet firm in a way that somehow, miraculously works—leaves him breathless, yearning for something he doesn’t fully understand.

You are kind, and he grows greedy for that kindness. Cataloging every smile and touch and glance from you. He hoards them away in his memory like precious treasures, reliving each one alone in his bunk at night and savoring the remembered warmth of your attention. But still he wants more. Can’t help but think of all the different ways you might touch or look upon each other. Dreams of your eyes on him, your hands, your bare skin against his, unstymied by armor or helmet, and wakes hard and aching. Wonders if he could make you ache for him in return.

You are kind.

You are kind, but it feels like more. Like something half-remembered from another life, from before the culvert and the mandalorians and the droid attack. He wants it to be more. He wants that feeling, that life… with you. He thinks sometimes that you might want the same. But you're so thoughtful. So good. So consistently nice to everyone you meet. No matter how long he watches you, he can't tell if he is special to you or just one of many. (Maker, he wants to be special.)

You are kind, and he cannot find the words to tell you how much that means to him, so he gives you the ones he has. He says, “thank you” and “you’re good with the kid” and “let me help you, please” and tries his best to repay a little of that kindness, to give you back some small part of the happiness and peace you bring to him. He hopes he’s managing it. His heart soars like a rising phoenix every time he manages to make you smile.

Maybe someday he'll find the right words and the courage to say them, but for now?

You are kind, and it’s enough.

The Beginning.

——

Want more to read? [ twp’s Masterlist | Author, Fic & Fanwork Recs ]

——

End Notes & More About Cindy:

Cindy (@keeper0fthestars) passed away on December 25th, 2022—one month ago today. She was a bright light in this fandom, and she was my friend. You can read the announcement posts here & here; and more about her here (w link to her obituary), here (w link to donate in her memory), here (w her eulogy), and here (soliciting t-shirt design ideas to raise money in her memory).

This is probably as close to a memorial post for her as I’ll get, so I guess I better say what I need to say.

...And what can I say about Cindy?

Only a few weeks after she and I first traded shy DMs full of mutually admiring fangirl flailing, she spotted a single panicked post of mine (about not being able to get in touch with my seriously ill husband who I'd sent to the ER alone at the height of the pandemic because there was no one else to watch the kids).

He was ultimately fine, and I honestly don’t even remember why he couldn’t contact me. But what I do remember is that Cindy was one of two people to reach out, and she spent hours chatting with me, distracting me, and keeping me company while I waited to hear from him. I remember she stayed up long past both our bedtimes so that I wouldn’t have to be alone with my worry.

That right there tells you what sort of person Cindy was, and I doubt that story would surprise anyone who knew her.

Cindy was a lot of things: She was smart and wickedly funny. She was humble and so, so very brave. And I think anyone who’s read her amazing stories knows that she possessed both mind-boggling talent and a gloriously debauched imagination. But what always stood out to me was the way she was unfailingly thoughtful, supportive and kind, even in the midst of her own harsh struggles.

It was Cindy's kindness that I thought of when I started to write out some ideas for that long-ago ask game request. And of course I had to chose Din—both because she loved him and because… if anyone needs a little kindness in their life, it’s our favorite tin can space man dad. In typical hot mess™ twp fashion, it quickly got out of hand, morphing into this little ficlet, which then languished, mostly finished, in my drafts for... quite a while.

I finally, belatedly, got around to finishing and sharing it with her months and months (and months ^^') after the fact, in an attempt to cheer her up after yet another round of bad news. By that point it had been so long since the original post that I felt silly and a bit embarrassed even to show it to her. But of course... feelings like that could never survive an encounter with Cindy. Somehow, despite the fact that I was trying to do something nice for her, she was so enthusiastic and effusively grateful that I wound up feeling special too.

Cindy was just... like that.

You know that Maya Angelou quote? The one that ends with, "People will never forget how you made them feel." Well Cindy was a master of that: she had a way of making everyone she talked to feel heard and welcome and supported. She made you feel special.... Because to her, you were. We were. Each and every one of us.

She never stopped saying how much she loved this fandom. How glad she was to have found a refuge in it. How grateful she was for the friendships she made here.

And I will never stop being grateful for my friendship with her.

Rest in peace, my love 💕

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #gender neutral reader #(kind of?)#fanfic #ficlet #thristworldproblemss #sfw #in memory of #keeper0fthestars #cindy ✨#fluff #it's not spelled out within the fic itself but this is definitely #mutual pining #*my fic

154 notes · View notes

harcove · 2 years

Note

Can I request a fic billy x reader where the reader has came over to Billy’s house after school because no one is home but his dad comes back early and the reader has to hide from Neil and Neil starts to attack billy and you have to just sit and watch until Billy fights back and gets you and gets out of the house completely.. the reader didn’t realise the abuse billy was getting at home and billy is embarrassed but the reader admits that she has her own issues at home too with her father.

a.n: sorry this took me a bit; it was actually kinda hard to write, but I did enjoy writing it! Even if it's sad lmao. I tried to make it a bit happier near the end (I mean as happy as a situation like this can be, you know?) Anyways I love you guys and I hope you're all safe and okay <3

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!reader

Length: 4k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, depictions of abuse, abusive parents on both Billy and the reader's side, feelings of not being worth it, cursing, angry Billy, Billy is bad with regulating emotions. probably sp mistakes somewhere oop

Deserve To Be Happy - B.H.

Billy liked how you looked on his bed.

He felt that way no matter if you were naked, laying there with him or waiting for him, or if you were simply just sitting there (fully dressed) and cross-legged, bouncing a bit as you smiled at him.

Billy just enjoyed seeing you in his room or having you with him. Billy enjoyed you.

"So, I think we should work on that history essay," you break the silence as Billy is taking off his jean jacket and throwing it near you on the bed.

He's stretching his arms and looking at himself in the mirror, using it to make eye contact with you through the reflective glass. Billy's thick brows furrow at your suggestion, and his mouth sort of turns into a half-hearted scowl.

"I tell you that no one is gonna be home, and your first thought is doing fucking homework?"

You giggle and flop backward on the bed, hand on your backpack. If you were standing by him you would've used your thumb and smoothed it over the furrow in his brow. It was something you did a lot, and something he didn't seem to mind. Any time you touched him, it electrified him in the best ways possible. He could hardly resist you.

"Think of it like this," you begin, looking at his plain ceiling, with your arms spread eagle on his bed, "if we finish the essay we can do whatever we want. All night. And tomorrow, the day after- you know, till we get another essay."

You twist it around him like you're a snake. You're more sly and cheeky than you like to let on. And you know what to say to make him nearly bend and crack at times.

"You're making a really tempting offer there sweetheart," he moved away from the mirror, advancing towards you; once close enough you sat upright again on his bed, meeting his hands which moved into your hair and your neck, holding your head firmly to look up at him, "but I have a counter offer... We have some fun now, and I'll be more ready to start that essay. I can't focus right now."

His lips press into yours before you can even tell him that he knows that's how it won't go, and it's electric. It's warm and passionate, he's always so passionate- his emotions he likes to repress sometimes find themselves in these most intimate moments. He's intense as he presses his lips with force onto yours, needy and yearning. You hardly have time to breathe as you move your own lips against his and move your hands to hold his forearms.

He's always been good at getting what he wants. And he knows he wants you. He knows you can't resist him either.

When he pulls himself away from you, only leaving a few inches between your lips, it's only because he needs to breathe and so do you. He's slightly arching his back as you're still sitting on his bed and he's standing, but his hands are still on the back of your neck and head.

"Billy..." when you say his name your intention is to scold him; to tell him that you really should work on the essay first, because you know (and you know he knows) that his counter offer has a glaring flaw.

Having fun now was going to turn into all night. And then you really wouldn't do the essay.

However, your voice is a mixture of a breathy whisper and a whimper. It's almost as if you're moaning his name because he makes you feel some type of way. And you know he likes how it sounds based on the way his lips upturn triumphantly and how his eyes seem to fill with lust. His grip on you tightens and it threatens to elicit an actual moan from your lips.

He's always playing dirty. He knows how to play you like a fiddle in these moments.

But then it stops.

Suddenly, the moment is sizzling away as you both hear the front door to the house open, and two pairs of feet on the hardwood floor.

It's in a matter of seconds that Billy's entire demeanor changes. His hands loosen as he (reluctantly) pulls them away from your head and neck. He has become a completely different person in seconds, it's almost jarring.

His body is tense, and his posture is caged off. It's like he's preparing himself to fight. No, not fight. Defend.

Himself? You? You don't know.

"Jesus, he's not supposed to be home yet," you hear him curse under his breath. He's not happy anymore, but he's not angry either exactly, rather he seems a bit concerned, "of course, he's fucking home early."

"Who?" You question carefully, never really having witnessed this version of Billy Hargrove; one that was so put off kilter; one that seemed nervous. And it put you on edge also, "your dad?"

Billy's dad isn't someone he ever really talked about. He wasn't someone he liked to mention. You'd never met the man, so the only vision of him you had was a blank-faced man, generic in all things.

If you mentioned his parents (his dad namely since you were at least privy to the knowledge of the absence of his biological mother for some time now) he would get almost defensive. Simple, cagey responses. Annoyed almost. It was easy to conclude that Billy did not like his dad, or didn't get along with him at the very least.

Your mind was preparing you for some form of panic. Whatever energy Billy was putting off at that moment was one that seeped into you, and it felt oddly familiar.

"Come on-" he speaks quickly with a harsh undertone- but freezes when it sounds like one set of those feet, heavyset, is coming towards his bedroom, "fuck... Get in my closet. And don't make any noise."

It's hardly you that makes the movement to go into the closet as his larger hands are grabbing your arms tightly and forcing you to stand from the bed making you stumble a bit at the suddenness. Billy all but thrusts you into his small closet, your backpack thrown in after you which you hastily catch. He hasn't even met your eyes since the people came home.

Like he's hiding something in them. Or he's ashamed whenever he chooses to keep his eyes from yours it's because he's trying to hide.

The closet door closes in your face and you hold your bag close to your chest. It's pitch black in the small closet, slats letting in the natural light inside his bedroom. His cologne invades your senses from his clothes, mixed with fabric softener and the smell of cigarettes. It's all a very comforting scent to be surrounded by.

It has to be his father who was home, and he mustn't like Billy having girls over.

The sound of his door being opened with such force you thought it might have come off the hinges startled you, but you kept your mouth shut as he asked. No, told you to.

"Where's Maxine?" The voice is deep; demanding. It sends fear through you albeit it's muffled and not directed to you. It reminds you of things you only face at home, "she isn't in her room."

"She's at the arcade," Billy responds, he sounds angry, and annoyed, but it's reigned in- waiting, not letting himself be spoken to like that but inching towards caution.

"And you didn't drive her there?"

"No. She skateboarded with her friends."

It was true. That morning, when Billy picked you up for school and drove the three of you there, Max had told Billy she was going to the arcade after school with her friends and didn't need him to take her.

"You're supposed to watch her," if his voice could get any more menacing, it did.

"Neil..."

Another voice, one you do recognize. Susan, Max's mother. Billy's stepmother, though he doesn't call her that. Just Susan. She's nice enough from the dealings you had with her in the past but very timid. Like she follows, never leads.

Her voice falls upon deaf ears.

"I do watch her," Billy snaps back, standing a bit taller than he had been, "all the time. She isn't a little kid, she can do what she wants. I told you where she is!"

It's quick, but you see it all the same through the slats of the closet. If you weren't watching so intently, you may've missed the sudden motion with a blink. Billy was suddenly grabbed by his shirt, pushed back into the wall behind him, and the man was in his face.

It made your stomach drop. It made every bone in your body feel overcome with an unending chill. It's haunting. The way this scene plays before you as you realize that Billy and his father don't just not get along- his father is abusive.

It's right there in front of you as suddenly all the sounds around you turn into a buzzing in your ears. You can't hear what they're saying anymore as you cover your own ears, you don't want to hear him berate the man you love, you don't want to hear him hit him. But you see it still.

You still see the way a heavy-handed fist collides with his face, the way his heavy hands push into him and corner him, with their only intent being to scare; to dominate, and hurt. The way Billy seems so much smaller than you'd ever seen him in your time knowing him.

And you can't do anything.

You can't move, you can barely even breathe in the tiny enclosed space. You want to jump out and help but there are so many reasons that's a horrible idea. Your presence could make this all the more worse, considering he hid you on purpose. It could make Billy angry.

You know you wouldn't be able to help anyways. This scene is too familiar; it's too raw.

Billy was a safe haven from your home, your father; your parents. But you never told him that. Just like how he hadn't told you this.

And suddenly it all makes sense.

The way he acted sometimes, how angry he could get and how defensive he could be. The way he would keep every emotion inside and let it explode at times. Or the way he enjoyed the power he had at school. How people were scared of him at times. It all made sense. It made so much more sense.

You wished it didn't make sense. Why did it have to make sense? Why?

Susan doesn't do anything. She just turns away from the scene in front of her. As if hiding her eyes, pretending she doesn't see, makes her an unknowing participant; protects her from any shame for not helping. Or trying.

Billy is used to that. He is used to his stepmother pretending it isn't happening even when it's smack dab in front of her face. He is used to the world pretending.

He is used to pretending.

Usually, Billy would let this play out. Because the wrath of Neil Hargrove wasn't something you wanted to fight back against; it made things worse whenever Billy spoke back. He would endure, because what else could he do? Nothing he did changed anything. Nothing would.

But this time it isn't just him in this room. You're here, inside his closet, and he can only imagine the thoughts running through your head.

If he wasn't so scared Neil might see you through the slats, find you, and do something worse maybe not just to only him but to you, he might've felt red hot shame. Embarrassment. To see him like this? He's broken. And you can see it too. In the flesh.

The very idea that you were in danger because of his father and by proxy himself for bringing you here is what drives his actions. Anger, and adrenaline. He doesn't feel the pain in his face where Neil's fist had made contact. He reaches back and pushes against his father. The way his hands grip his father's shirt back feels empowering but foreign all the same.

"Get the fuck off me!"

Billy is stronger than his father realizes, and maybe it's because Billy never pushes back against him.

"How dare-"

The front door opens again, and Susan is calling Neil's name again. With actual urgency this time.

"This isn't fucking over," he seethes in his son's face. Is it really his son? If he were a father, a real father, he wouldn't be hurting the one he should be protecting. Loving, "respect. And responsibility."

The situation was hardly defused, but his father was leaving. He never just left it at that. And, he made it clear that he wasn't just going to leave it at that.

Maybe it was the shock that Billy pushed him back, or the fact Max was home (not that Neil cared anymore if Max saw) and Susan was calling to him even though he rarely listened to her when she said his name in those moments.

Billy doesn't know what it is. He doesn't really care at that moment however as he stalks out of his room with Susan hot on his tail. The only thing he's thinking about is you, inside his closet, and getting you out of here, away from him.

When he closes his bedroom door and takes big steps to the closet, opening it urgently, you're standing there, hands on your ears still, but your eyes are wide.

Wide with fear, with sadness, shock- he can't pinpoint it. And yet again, he doesn't care, not to sound harsh, but at that moment he does not care. Because he just wants to get you out, then he can worry about how you're feeling or what you're thinking.

Deal with the piece of his life he hid from you being laid bare; deal with the possibility you don't want him anymore.

This is too much.

"Come on, grab your shit," he says between his teeth, it almost sounds like he's mad at you. But he isn't.

You don't move, you can't. Everything is too much and it's not that you're feeling sorry for yourself, it's that you can't believe you didn't notice. How did you not notice before? He had all the signs. You should have noticed.

Especially since you were in that situation too.

Neil Hargrove is like your father with the anger he carries. Your father uses words to beat you down more than fists- but you felt that before too. And you feel sick to your stomach. Because now, the person you love is facing this too, or he has been.

And now the place with him is no longer a safe place because Neil Hargrove is bad. He is there.

"Seriously," he grabs your backpack you'd dropped at your feet, not even sure when you had, and grabs your wrist tightly, pulling you from the closet, "now isn't the fucking time to stand there like an idiot. I need to get you out of here."

He pulls you from the closet fully, you're still pretty out of it as he opens his window.

"Climb out. I'll meet you at my car."

You look at him, round eyes worried, not wanting to leave him. Like if you do, he might not come back outside and you'd be there alone. You don't want his dad to do anything else to him.

"Jesus," his patience is thin but again, it's not your fault, "go- before he comes back. I'll see you outside."

It's best to just listen, so you do. You slide out his window shakily, throwing your backpack out before you. You chance a look back into the window, he doesn't look at you as he grabs the jean jacket he had on when the two of you got there and throws it on hastily. He slams his door shut after he grabs his car keys off the dresser by his door.

It's your cue to go to the car- you quickly scoop up your bag and run over to his Camaro.

You see the end of him slamming the front door shut and the muffled noise of someone yelling. But he doesn't turn back to it, he just keeps moving forward.

It's all fast. He unlocks the car, and opens the passenger side for you, closing it harshly when you sit inside.

You have to remember: what he's feeling right now isn't directed toward you.

Somehow Billy remembers to turn the radio sound down to zero before he starts his car. Usually, he doesn't, sometimes he really does forget- but sometimes he just thinks it's sort of funny (and cute) when you jump at how loud it is when he starts the car. It never gets old.

Yet this time he's aware. And he's becoming more aware of just how rigid your body is in the passenger's seat as he pulls the car out onto the road; he doesn't have a plan on where to go. Just go. Just get away from the house, away from Neil. Maybe if he drives far enough, all these problems, all this pain, will go away too.

But it never does.

Billy drives fast. He always does, and this time it's no exception.

In any other situation you may have scolded him; told him to slow down before he got the two of you killed. But you can't even find your voice, it's as if it's been stolen from you.

The only thing you can do is sit there, stiff as a board. Mouth shut tight, lips turning pale from how you bite them closed from the inside. You want to cry, but you can't- for some reason, it feels like if you move, everything might just fall away.

To be so lost in your mind is scary. You want to rewind the day and start over. Maybe bring Billy somewhere that wasn't his house, or maybe you would somehow stop his dad. But how could you? You were just a scared little girl at that moment.

You felt like his step-mom Susan. She did nothing.

Or your own mom. She didn't stop your father from hurling words at you. So long as it wasn't herself, she was content to let it be.

Why did people have to be content with their loved ones being hurt? If only because at least it's not them.

"Babe?"

Billy's been trying to speak to you for a whole minute now. But you've said nothing, barely acknowledged him. The car was parked off the side of an empty road for a few minutes, and you didn't even notice.

"You're freaking me out," he says louder, moving his hand to shake your shoulder.

It only makes you flinch, and he stops, hand hovering. When you look to meet his eyes, you see it in them. Hurt. Your reaction triggers something deep inside him. Something deep that thinks- I am my father, and I will be my father.

He pulls his hand back, anger evident on his face.

"How long?"

Your voice sounds so fragile. It is. You feel like the world has been thrown off its axis, and things are slowly crumbling; the facade around you has been cracked.

"Since I was a kid, it was my mom mainly at first," Billy surprisingly answers your question, "worse after my mom left."

Billy loved his mom. He made it clear on the very, very rare occasion he mentioned her to you. He loves her.

And yet you find that you hate her at that moment. You hate her. Because how could she leave him? How could she leave such a beautiful boy, a child, now grown into an adult, with a man who did this?

When would parents be parents? When would they do the job they undertook when they conceived you? Because it seemed like they only wanted to slack. To do nothing.

Tears spill over your cheeks. So many tears it is hard to see, but the image of his busted lip is burnt into your mind.

"Why are you crying?" Billy sounds off put still, but now he's worried; he was never good with tears. Never good at comforting people when they cried. He could barely handle himself when he cried, "...fuck."

"It's not fair," you manage to get out between tears, "I'm sorry Billy."

Billy doesn't speak. He misconstrues your words as pity- pity he doesn't want or need. Billy Hargrove didn't want pity, it only made him angry. Pity did nothing. Pity wasn't even a comfort.

"I don't want fucking pity," he snaps out, hands clutching the steering wheel. His knuckles are so pale, he has to he hurting his hands, "so don't."

"It isn't pity," you respond quickly.

It's not pity. It's empathy. Because you get it. You understand that feeling, of the people who gave birth to you not loving you but only giving you hate. The feeling of unjust anger being hurtled towards you because that's how it has always been- even if you didn't do a damn thing wrong. The frustration that you can't do a damn thing about it because fighting back always makes it worse.

"My dad is bad too," you follow up on your previous statement; the wording feels so juvenile. Like you're a child who thinks bad means daddy wouldn't let you eat cake before dinner, "...he's angry. All the time. And I take the brunt of it. It's why I don't... Like having you over too often."

The air around the two of you is thin. Your fingers curl up in your lap as you wait. Your father never beat you the way Billy's dad beat him- you'd been hit before, pushed around, but never like that.

It was almost like Neil was going for the kill. Maybe he was- but he contained it. Hidden abuse was better than a jail sentence for the murder of his own child.

"Fuck," Billy's voice is quiet, till it's suddenly not, "fuck! I... That piece of fucking shit, he hit you?"

"Not... Not like that- it's usually just words, it's okay it's... You're hurt."

The acknowledgment of his lip feels so ridiculous in those moments but it is there.

"Who cares?" Billy is a ball of negative emotions waiting to explode, "I can deal with people fighting me, with Neil being a piece of shit, and Susan doing jack fucking all. I'm a piece of shit, that's been established. But you? I could fucking kill your dad."

"I care! You're not a piece of shit, it doesn't matter what people think because they don't know you, or me! If I don't deserve this, neither do you. You don't... I just wish I knew, I should've noticed. I should've..."

Billy's hands are on your neck as he pulls you to him across the console of his car. It's an awkward motion at first, but you twist your body instinctively to fit into his arms like putty.

His arms are tightly wound around you. And it doesn't scare you, no, it makes you feel safe. As if everything around you is fine.

"If you should have noticed it, I should have noticed too, I'm an idiot," It's muffled in your hair as he keeps you pressed against him.

It's quiet for a few moments as you hold one another. For once it isn't an intimate moment filled with a passion for something more profound, but it is one filled with love and comfort. It's an intimacy that offers protection and safety; it offers a promise that things are going to be okay. They have to be okay.

"We're getting the fuck out of Hawkins when school is over."

It's not a question or a suggestion. It's a statement on Billy's part.

"What about Max?" Leaving sounds divine with him, but Max is there, and Neil...

"Max... Fine, if we aren't leaving Hawkins, we're sure as hell moving into our own place. Away from them."

That's a promise too. One that you believe from the bottom of your heart. You're in this together, and always have been, even when you didn't know that your parents and his were a sole of a multitude of problems.

Billy deserves to be happy, to get away someday. And so do you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things #st #mine #my writing #amy writes #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fanfiction

654 notes · View notes