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arieslost · 1 month

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quiet | op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: oscar is quiet in the ways he loves you.

word count: 1,620

warnings: disgusting levels of fluff

masterlist — join my tag list here!

– the sidewalk rule

You don’t even have to explain this to Oscar. In fact, he’s done it every single time the two of you walk together. You really don’t even notice until you see something on TikTok about it and think it would be fun to pay attention and see if he did it or not without you saying anything.

“Wanna go for a walk?” You ask him casually, and he nods, reaching for his sneakers.

Exercise tends to be the bane of your existence, a la Yuki Tsunoda, but you love to walk, and Oscar loves to walk with you. So whenever you ask him to go for a walk, no matter what he’s doing or how he’s feeling, he’ll always drop everything to go with you.

He holds the door open for you to go out first. “What kind of walk are you thinking, babe?”

“Mm, probably a longer one. It’s pretty nice out today.” You say, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. It feels so nice after being cooped up inside working for most of the day.

Lacing your fingers with his, you purposely place yourself on the outside of the sidewalk, but you don’t make it more than fifteen feet before Oscar stops both of you so abruptly that you nearly fall backwards.

“What? What’s wrong?” You ask your boyfriend, who is frowning.

“This is not right,” he mumbles, gently grabbing you by your shoulders and maneuvering you to the inside of the sidewalk. “You walk there. I walk here.”

“Why?” You feign innocence.

“I protect you,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m always on the outside to protect you.”

He says it with such conviction that you don’t bother telling him that you did it on purpose because you saw a TikTok. Instead, you press a kiss to his cheek, take his hand again, and go on your way on the proper side of the sidewalk.

– fixing your clothes

Sometimes, you think that Oscar is more attentive to you than you are to yourself. It’s like he’s gained a sixth sense dedicated entirely to you. This applies to microexpressions, body language, even when your clothes are even the tiniest bit askew.

You’re five minutes late to a work meeting, you can’t find your shoes, and you haven’t even left yet. Oscar watches you rush around the apartment, holding your bag and your keys in his hand so you don’t have to go looking for those either.

“I’m so fired after this,” you huff, forcing your feet into your shoes that you finally located and wincing when your fingers get stuck between your heel and the shoe.

“You won’t get fired,” he says gently. “This is the first time you’ve ever been late, and you’re a fantastic employee. I’m sure they’ll be understanding.”

“They’d better be, I need this job.” You mutter, shoving your arms into your jacket and buttoning it at the speed of light.

“You don’t need a job, I can take care of you.”

“Nice try, Osc. We’ve talked about this, I’m not going to be your sugar baby.”

“Trophy wife?”

You glare at him playfully. “I’ll see you later. Or in an hour, if I get fired.”

“You won’t get fired,” he repeats as you take your bag and keys from him. “Oh, wait a second!”

You pause as he reaches for you, undoing the uneven buttons courtesy of your hastiness and deftly buttoning them back up the right way. “There y’go, have a good day, honey.” He gives you a kiss and opens the door for you.

A few days later, Oscar comes home to see that his favorite hoodie is missing. He walks into the living room, where you’re curled up on the couch taking a nap, wearing the hoodie in question. He sits at your side, brushing your hair away from your face, and that’s when he notices that one of the drawstrings is tucked back behind your neck into the hoodie. It doesn’t look like it’s causing you any discomfort, since you’re asleep, but regardless he immediately starts to tug on it. You stir, and he freezes.

“No, don’t wake up,” he whispers. “Just fixing this for you.”

“M’kay, thanks Osc,” you reply, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “Cuddle me.”

“Baby, I just got home from work, I’m sweaty-”

“Don’t care,” you grumble, reaching for him when he stands up and causing the hoodie to ride up over your stomach. “Miss you. Cuddle me.”

“Let me shower quick, and then I’m all yours, okay?” He pulls the hem of the hoodie down as he leans over and kisses your forehead.

You twiddle the drawstring that he fixed between your fingers as you wait for him, thinking about how sweet he is to pay such close attention to you all the time.

– watching your favorite movies with you

Nobody is perfect, and in your eyes, Oscar’s only imperfection is that he’s never seen Star Wars. As a life-long, diehard fan, you decided to wait until you’d been with him for a few months to introduce him to that side of you and invite him over for a Star Wars marathon.

“I hope these live up to the hype,” Oscar teases, surveying the way you’ve decorated the entire living area with Star Wars paraphernalia, prepared Star Wars inspired snacks, and just laid a Star Wars blanket across the both of you.

“Are you joking? It will be everything I say it is and more, now be quiet.” You shush him as the main theme begins.

You peek over at him over and over throughout every movie, almost watching him more than the films to see how he reacts to every little moment. You start to watch him more intensely during Revenge of The Sith, but ultimately your focus goes back to the movie when Padme arrives on Mustafar to confront Anakin, Obi-Wan secretly in tow.

Oscar’s enjoying the movies, of course, but even without seeing them he knows how well you know this upcoming scene. He’s heard you recite it so many times under your breath at various times that he feels like he might be able to surprise you with his minimal well of knowledge within the next few minutes. He grins to himself as the penultimate moment of the scene grows closer and closer and you sit up straight, accidentally knocking his arm off of your shoulders without noticing as you move to the edge of the couch.

“I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new empire!” Anakin says on screen, and you say the words at the same time.

“Your new empire?” Obi-Wan replies. Oscar mouths the words along with him, gathering up his nerve.

“Don’t make me kill you,” you and Anakin warn.

“Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!” Oscar exclaims, getting a little ahead of Obi-Wan in his enthusiasm.

“If you’re not with me,” you and Anakin say as you slowly turn to face your boyfriend, “then you’re my enemy.”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes.” Oscar and Obi-Wan reply evenly, Oscar unable to hide the smile on his face at your barely contained excitement. “I will do what I must.”

“You will try.” Only Anakin says this final line, because you launch yourself at Oscar and bear hug him.

“You knew the lines! You did so well!” You cheer, kissing his head, his temple, his cheeks.

“You say them all in your sleep, that’s how I knew,” Oscar says, flushed from your sudden onslaught of affection.

“I do not!” He gives you a look. “Okay, I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, but still! You knew! I can’t believe- oh, wait, shh!” You shush him again, even though you’re the one talking. “Pay attention, this part is so good.”

Oscar’s smile doesn’t fade for the rest of the night as he pulls you back into his side, knowing that while this is the first, it definitely isn’t the last time he’s watching these movies with you.

– nose kisses

Oscar is the first and only person to kiss you on the nose, and you’re glad. It’s become such an Oscar thing that if anyone else did it you’d feel wrong.

The first time he did it had been a complete accident– all the lights were off already, you were both exhausted, and he was just trying to give you a goodnight kiss, but completely overshot your lips and ended up getting your nose instead.

“I’m too tired to apologize, I’ll do it in the morning,” he grumbled, and you had simply snuggled closer to him.

“S’alright, I liked it.”

After that it became the place he kissed you the most. He gives you a nose kiss first thing in the morning and last thing at night. At this point, he kisses your nose more than anywhere else, including your lips. You ask him for a kiss, and he kisses your nose.

“A real kiss,” you whine, and he furrows his eyebrows at you.

“That was a real kiss.”

“On the lips, like a normal person, please.”

Oscar crosses his arms over his chest. “Now hold on, I thought you said you liked it.”

“I do!” You protest. “It’s very sweet, but sometimes I want to actually kiss my boyfriend.”

He gives in easily, but the nose kisses are never ending. Posing for a picture? He wants to kiss your nose. Saying goodbye? You’re getting a nose kiss. He’s about to get in the car to race? He’s kissing your nose before he puts his helmet on.

While you love getting “real” kisses, Oscar’s nose kisses are more precious to you than any other kind of kiss.

note: here is the prompt list i used for this; this was a different format than how i usually write so i hope it was good! this is also the first full fic i’m posting that isn’t in the 3k word range which is shocking jdjfkfkf

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @mia-rrrs @customsbyjcg-blog @hauntedphotographybookstaco @bigheartsthings @northpizzasposts @notturlover @riv3rbank @gesfjjsl @oliveisunstable @lily1sposts @sadbut-true0 @lilcowboy0 @alltoowelltaylor @kimis-gloves @superheroreader @alexmarie29 @anedpev @lalalaphie @waitingforsmartpeople @arrowenchantress @zillygoose @its-cat-eyes @gxllumsriddles @fionaschicken @mrsgeorgerussell63 @bre013 @lizzypiastri @blldsnjs @samantha-chicago @homosexualjohnwayne @opheliabluewolff @catbat011 @drivelikeiido @what-is-happening-helpp @decafmickey @tania2748 @steviesscoops @annahowardsworld @nessacarty1 @tswizzleismother @anythingforourmoonsy @meko-mt @solonelystill @tomriddleswhorecruxes @sammykiszkalover @landosgirl

#full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

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hazbin-writings-and-musings · 2 months

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Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons

As much as dear Lucy and reader enjoyed themselves in this headcanon post, I can't help but imagine such activities might lead to Charlie become a big sister, so I put some headcanons together for such a situation. I know that Sinners can't get pregnant as canon currently stands, so I typically employ either the Rules of Fanfic or I imagine reader is a living human that ended up in Hell through magic shenanigans (will elaborate with a prompt post once I've got the spoons), though of course you're free to imagine them as Hellborn or whatever suits your fancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He's insistent you see the Royal Physician as soon as you start experiencing symptoms, but he's not at all prepared for the diagnosis you bring back, and he might need you to repeat it a few dozen times. You're pregnant? With a baby? And it's his? He put a baby in you? You're going to have his baby? An actual baby? He's going to be a dad again?! So goes the conversation for a good ten or so minutes, and suffice to say he's far from calm once the news finally does sink in. Given that the two of you had assumed that an angel and a mortal couldn't reproduce, this is more than an unexpected surprise, and Lucifer knows all too well how much of a fuss this will create from Hell's lowest ring all the way up to Heaven. That's to say nothing of how Charlie might take the news...

- Once the initial panic fades, after a solid hour or so, he gathers himself and focuses on setting a course of action. A very important decision needs to be made. He says it's up to you, but upon being asked what he'd like to do, the King of Hell surprises himself and answers without hesitation that he'd love to have this baby with you. He's surprised because he knows better than anyone that it will be challenging, but he can't deny how much he wants it regardless. Having Charlie was the greatest thing he'd ever done, and the thought of another little bundle makes his heart swell in ways he can barely describe, but ultimately he'll support whatever decision you make. Carrying a half-Archangel is no easy feat... Hearing that you want the same and intend to carry through is enough to make him lift you clear off the ground in a spinning airborne embrace, wings fluttering like a hummingbird as he breaks out into a celebratory musical number or two. He can't wait to be a dad all over again!

- If you thought he pampered you before, you were wrong. He doubles the amount of servants at your call, ensures there's always a physician available at a moment's notice, and hires a full team of chefs to cook whatever you might crave at any hour of the day. From beginning to end, he doesn't want you to want for anything, and the man knows a thing or two about spoiling, and he goes all out to ensure you're surrounded by comfort at all times. That's to say nothing of his own personal dedication to more or less worshiping your existence. Even the tiniest indication of pain or discomfort has him leaping to your assistance. Backrub? Footrub? Full body massage? You name it, he's quite happy to provide. If it wasn't such a cliche he'd be rather happy to feed you grapes from a golden platter. His efforts are borne from the deep sense of pride he feels every time he looks at you and thinks of how incredible it is that he's with you, that you're carrying his child, and that the two of you are bringing something quite wonderful and unique into existence. Said pride fully extends to the public view, where he doesn't hesitate to show you off and humbly brag to anyone that will listen about the news.

- You'll also find that as protective as he was before, he doesn't even hesitate to get his fangs out now, not that many in Hell are stupid enough to mess with the King's beloved. He expects you to be treated with the highest levels of respect, and if he can't accompany you somewhere, he'll insist on an armed escort to keep you safe. This fear isn't completely unfounded, as there are some willing to risk everything for an upper hand on Lucifer, but he's got ample experience keeping the opportunists at bay. He did the same when Lilith was expecting Charlie.

- Speaking of Charlie, the only thing that gives him any kind of hesitation is his fear that she might take the news poorly. Though she took your relationship well, what if she isn't thrilled about a younger sibling? With their relationship so recently repaired, he fears she might worry about being replaced or pushed aside, and he doesn't know how to reassure her that nothing will ever make him love her less. Thankfully, with her boundless kindness and eternally upbeat personality, the Princess of Hell puts his worries to rest as soon as she gets the news. In fact, she reacts much the same way her father did; a massive hug and a delighted musical number, albeit with far more happy sobbing. She promises through tears that she'll be the best big sister Hell has ever seen, and that she simply can't wait.

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azulhood · 5 months

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Danny was never a human.

While not exactly.

He kid of was, and kind of wasn't.

And that's not including the half-dead thing.

So during the start of Jack and Maddie's ghost hunting careers they experimented with the magic side of the world.

Then they stumbled across the ways to make something not living, alive.

And they thought 'well, this kind of involves our research, right?' Cos turning something that never lived but gets life most be some type of ghost stuff.

So they hunt down ways to make their experiment happen, from ancient texts to modern how to guides.

They checked it all.

Once their research was done, they made the body how the instructions say, with a few adjustments.

The only problem they had was that all of the recipes involved magic of some kind and neither Jack or Maddie had magic (they tested it multiple times)

So it was clear they had to get magic somehow.

And they did by stealing a magicians DNA, which was on him because he should know how dangerous it was to just leave DNA around, to be fair he probably wasn't expecting mad scientists to knock him out and take a blood sample.

And so it was added to the mixture of clay, their own blood,and the tiniest bit of ectoplasm moulded into a humanoid shape.

And finally it was the hard part.

Bringing it to life.

They took a page out of Victor Frankenstein's book and waited for a lighting storm, or in their case, a modified defibrillator.

The electricity acted as a spark to kick-start the process.

The blood formed the organs, skin, hair, and etc.

The ectoplasm breathed life into the golem, a bit too much.

Because once it was over they had a bouncing baby boy with the bluest eyes ever.

After running every test imaginable with each test confirming that the kid was human, they decided 'whelp, Jazz has a little brother now' and promptly forgot about it.

There was more exciting research to do after all.

When Danny's accident death happened it was only due to the magicians magic/ messed up luck powers and the ectoplasm in him that he survived.

Years go by and then Danny found out from reading their old notes.

His parents brushed it off saying that, yes, he was human and they loved him no matter what.

But Danny was a bit shook.

Finding out that he only existed not because his parents wanted him, but because they wanted to see if they could create.

Was he actually human? He was made out of clay for frick's sake!

And Danny handle this bombshell with grace and- he ran.

He ran as far as he could as fast as he could.

And so alone in a strange city and not willing to go back, he decided to seek out the magician who was technically his third parent.

What's the worst that could happen?

So off he went to find John Constantine.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #john constantine #Danny is a golem #but hes also still kind of human #i dont actually know how golems are made

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

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Miracle

Aitana Bonmatí x Baby!Reader

Summary: You're a miracle

Aitana didn't take days off.

That was something Keira knew.

Aitana refused to take days off even when she was sick and injured. She always arrives ready and willing to train even though everyone knows that she'd just be sent home.

It's why this past week has been strange.

Aitana didn't come into training once. There was no hide or hair of the girl. Her phone immediately went to voicemail. The lights in her house were always off.

If there weren't still Bonmatí shirts in the kit room then Keira could almost believe Aitana never existed.

It was strange and off putting, especially because whenever she asked, Jona would respond that Aitana was off for personal reasons.

None of it made any sense until all of a sudden it did.

Keira was running later, tripping over her own feet as she hurries out of her car. She slams the door shut as she hefts her training bag over her shoulder.

The sound of another door slamming shut shocks her and she whips her head up to see which of her teammates would be having to run laps with her.

She spots Aitana though.

Aitana who is juggling three different bags and a baby.

"Aitana?" Keira asks," Are you okay?"

Aitana looks half to tears as one of the bags fall. She shakes her head.

"I've got it," Keira says," Come on. Let's get you inside."

Aitana doesn't speak as they both make their way to the empty locker room. She doesn't really do anything apart from occasionally holding you closer, breathing in your soft baby smell and pulling back with tears in her eyes.

"So..." Keira feels awkward. This wasn't how she thought her day would be going. "Are you babysitting?"

Aitana's bottom lip wobbles as she glances at you, shaking her head and Keira doesn't push about it anymore.

"Are you training today?" She asks instead," Or is this just a visit?"

"Training." It's the first word Aitana's said to her all morning and Keira counts it as a small victory.

Her friend looks distraught but you seem fairly happy on her hip.

You're sucking on your fingers and looking around, eyes wide as you garble out half words and sounds. Your happy smiling face changes though when you notice Aitana isn't smiling.

Your whole face scrunches up and you recklessly lean towards her to press what is more an open-mouthed breath than an actual kiss to her cheek.

That causes the tiniest of smiles to appear on Aitana's face. "Sí, thank you, estrella."

You giggle, kicking your little legs as Aitana moves to exit the locker room, Keira hurrying to trail behind.

Jona welcomes them both warmly and seems to forget Keira being late in exchange for greeting you.

"If you still need time," He says to Aitana," Then you're welcome to take more time off."

"No," Aitana says," I need to be back on the pitch. I...We need normalcy. The books said I need to establish a routine."

"If you need help-"

"Jona, I'll be fine."

"Of course you will but you're not alone in this. I'll help. Irene will help. You only need to ask."

"I know."

There's already a space made up for you in the shade. Aitana doesn't question who brought out the playpen to keep you enclosed but she's thankful regardless.

You'd just begun to learn how to get around by rolling and she doesn't want to have to keep one eye on you for the whole of training.

She doesn't have to do it but she finds herself doing it anyway, like she can't bare to be separated from you.

"Hey," Irene says during a little break," I heard what happened."

"From Jona?" Aitana can't help be annoyed. Jona shouldn't be airing out her personal business to anyone.

"Alexia, actually," Irene says," She said you might need some help."

"I don't need help!" Aitana snaps, fists clenched at her side," It's not the first time I've had her! I can cope!"

"Babysitting is different from being her mother."

"I'm not her mother!" Aitana insists," Her parents are going to wake up! They are!"

Paredes look tells Aitana that she thinks it's unlikely and Aitana regrets ever informing the club about what had happened. She should have known they would tell Alexia who, trying to be the ever-helpful captain, would pass on the knowledge to whoever she felt could offer the most support.

Of course, she went to Paredes, the ever-experienced mother of the group. She could have easily gone to Marta too but with her working out how to introduce Caro to her Conejita, she would be too preoccupied to offer help.

"Aitana-"

"Thank you for the offer," Aitana says through gritted teeth," But I don't need it."

She storms off then, turning on her heel. She barges past Alexia who was hovering nearby, intent on giving her a piece of her mind.

Her mouth is already open to hurl an out of character insult at her captain when she catches onto your wailing. It seems you're a bit out of character too today.

You'd slept horribly last night and the night before. You didn't eat well this morning either and you had cried all through the car journey to training. The happiest you'd been was in the locker room with Keira.

Aitana knew it wouldn't last.

But she couldn't work out what was wrong with you. You're weren't hungry. You didn't need a change. You weren't hurt.

You were just sobbing when she picks you up, hiding your face in her neck and wiping your runny nose with her training top.

"What's wrong, estrella?" She coos," What's wrong? What's happened?"

You sniffle a few more times. "Ta-Ta."

"Hmm." Aitana runs a soft hand over your hair. "You just wanted me, huh?"

"Ta-Ta."

"I understand." She sways you side to side until your sobs have turned into little hiccups of emotion and you're looking up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"Just Estrella and her Ta-Ta," She coos," This is very different, isn't it?"

Aitana sits down on the grass, digging around in one of the bags she brought for your bottle. Your parents had begun to try to wean you but the past week has been so stressful already and she doesn't want to do more to unsettle you.

You suckle aimlessly, one of your hands moving to cover the one of Aitana's that's holding your bottle.

She stares ahead as a familiar face sits down next to her.

By now, she knows that her strange behaviour has spread all over the team. Paredes and Alexia both hover uncertainly nearby like they want to offer help again but don't want to wind her up further.

Across the pitch, Aitana can spot Marta and her Conejita doing arts and crafts together.

It sends a stabbing pain into her chest and the words spill out of her mouth before Keira can even ask.

"She's not mine. I mean, she is but not really."

"Aitana, I don't understand."

"Her parents...my friends..." Her throat closes up. "I was babysitting last week for date night and they...A drunk driver hit them."

"I'm sorry. Are they-?"

Aitana shakes her head. "They're in comas. They put me down as Estrella's guardian. I...They...I'm trying my best."

"I'm sure you are. You must love her a lot."

"She's mine," Aitana chokes out," Biologically. She's mine. They-They couldn't get pregnant and I offered to donate an egg and we agreed I'd be fun Tia Ta-Ta..."

"Oh, Aitana..."

The tears are running down her cheeks now and she's can't stop them.

"They were going to have date night with her last week. They said that they'd find something baby friendly but I insisted. It was so close. She could have...Keira, she could have died."

Keira glances at you. You're so comfortable in Aitana's arms and, now that she's really looking, she can see the similarities between the both of you.

You both have the same crying face.

"But she didn't," Keira says," You were looking after her, Aitana. You had her. You kept her safe."

"Ta-Ta?" Your tone is questioning and your little pudgy hands come up to touch her cheeks.

"I'm fine, estrella," She says to you as her phone rings. She already knows who is calling. Somehow, she already knows what they're going to tell her. "Why don't you hang out with your fun Tia Keira? I'll be back in a second."

"Ta-Ta!" You whine as you're shuffled from Aitana to Keira.

"Just a minute. Then it's Ta-Ta and Estrella time."

As she answers the phone, Aitana knows that's it's going to be Ta-Ta and Estrella time forever now.

#woso x reader #aitana bomati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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bloodorangesoup · 7 months

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Kinktober '23 Day 2 - First Time (SVT Mingyu)

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Warnings: a lot of build up, first time (tbh i didn’t address this much 😭), a lil breast sucking, desperate reader, oral (f. receiving), riding, unprotected sex (lets pretend ur on the pill), slight praise, creampie, slight perv gyu but with respect and some tlc 😌

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I can never just write a short story can I? Dammit. Anyways, pls send requests!

The rain pattering against the window muffled the busy streets. It was a Saturday in Seoul, meaning the traffic wouldn’t die down until late at night. The air outside was frigid and wet, but you found comfort inside, the heater turned up just enough to feel cozy without a blanket.

“Yah, its kinda hot in here, isn’t it Gyu?” You pulled on the collar of your sweatshirt and turned your head to face him. He sat on the other end of the small couch, legs stretched and on your lap.

“A bit I guess, do you want me to turn down the heater?” He questioned, head tilting against the top of the cushion.

“No, no. That’s okay, it’ll just get cold if you do. I’m gonna go change really quick.” You gently pushed his legs off your lap, making his body turn straight. Mingyu sat up on the couch, sitting normally as he continued watching the show streaming on the TV.

A few minutes passed, Mingyu felt stupid for feeling this way but he had already begun to miss your company. His fingers itched to have you back in his hold. Nights in were rare for you two, his schedule constantly requiring him to be everywhere at once. Most nights he had off he had somewhere new to be early in the morning, preventing any real quality time together.

“Y/n-ahhhh,” Mingyu whined. "Where are youuuu?" His head fell back against the couch, feeling more impatient with each second.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He heard your voice grow louder as you walked back towards the living room, your footsteps echoed down the hall as you approached. “Feeling impatient tonight huh?” Your voice was back in the room with him. He opened his eyes and lifted his head off the couch.

“Finally-” his comment was exaggerated but died in his throat once his gaze landed on you. He knew you were changing but he wasn’t expecting you to be wearing such, well, little amount of clothes. Your sweatshirt still hung off your body, but your sweatpants had been replaced by what Mingyu assumed to be the tiniest shorts to ever exist. The shorts covered your ass just enough, but the trim was loose and frilly, exposing the bottom of your cheeks when you walked. You were technically still pretty covered up, which is why you couldn’t understand why Mingyu was looking at you with such a stunned expression. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand either. Mingyu was a 26 year old man, he was no stranger to seeing a woman’s body. Yet the sight of seeing so much leg right in front of him ignited something in his brain.

You sat back down to his right. Deciding to be a tease, you swung your legs over his lap, scooting closer to his side. Your arms rose to rest on his shoulders, your head falling against his chest as you looked back toward the TV. Mingyu’s right arm wrapped around your back to secure you. His left hand landed on your calf, rubbing up and down to your knee. You sighed, enjoying the contact, and Mingyu found it increasingly hard to concentrate on the plot of the show. His eyes looked down to your leg. He stared at your thighs and his hand slowly ran higher. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he felt you shift.

“I still feel hot,” you huffed.

“Why don’t you take off your sweatshirt, baby?” Mingyu rubbed your side. His curiosity piqued when you looked away embarrassed. It clicked in his brain, “Oh. Are you, like, not wearing anything under?”

“No, I am. I just, I’m not wearing a bra,” your voice quiet at that last part. You continued to look everywhere but at him as you felt his thumb rub the skin on your thigh. “You know, I just- we just never...” You could feel the heat creep up your neck and to your face.

Mingyu wanted to make you feel comfortable, but there wasn’t any choice. He could already imagine what you looked like underneath the sweatshirt and it was sending heat down his body. He should have offered you his shirt, or gone to turn down the heater, but it was too late and he was already thinking with his other head.

“I know,” he cooed. A slight pout formed on his lips, his eyes opening to feign innocence. “It’s okay, baby.” His right hand was now rubbing the bottom of your thigh, fingertips gracing the hem of your shorts. His other hand toyed with the bottom of your sweatshirt. “Take it off,” he whispered. Your eyes were glued to his as you nodded. Reaching down, you slowly lifted the sweatshirt off your torso. For a moment, it covered your head and your arms were raised to lift it off your shoulders. Mingyu sneaked a glance down and let out a groan at the sight. Your boobs sat beautifully in your top, the low hemline exposing your cleavage. You softly grunted as you tried to untangle your arms from the sleeves, breaking Mingyu from his trance. He helped you get it off and you let out a sigh from the exertion.

The air was thick. Even though it was just you and Mingyu you felt a million eyes on your body. Mingyu cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from your chest and looking up to meet your eyes. This was foreign territory for the two of you, but you had to admit that the way he was looking at you was turning you on. There was a hunger in his eyes and it was clear he was trying hard to fight it for your sake. He pulled you close, retaining the previous position you both held. His hand continued stroking your thigh and the urge to cup your ass was tearing him up inside. He had no idea what was going on in the show anymore despite his hard stare at the TV. His right hand slid up and down your waist, coming up higher every time until it was resting over your ribs, right under your boobs.

You let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop the torture or to manhandle you like you knew he wanted to. You felt pressure under your thigh and it took a moment for it to register to you that he was growing hard under your legs. Mingyu’s fingers itched to take hold of your breast. To squeeze them and bury his face in between them. His grip on your thigh tightened and he bit his lip hard.

He shook his head.

“You should get off me, y/n.” He exhaled, his body attempting to slip from under yours. “We haven’t- I can’t control myself right now. Just sit next to me and gimme a minute.”

You grabbed hold of his bicep.

“No.”

“No?” He looked at you incredulously.

“No, yes, wait- just,” you shook your head. Before you could understand what you were doing you shuffled forward and straddled his lap. You held eye contact, testing the waters. He just looked back confused. The two of you had made out before, this wasn’t the first time you’ve ever sat on his lap like this. But never with your boobs pressed up against his chest like this, never with such little fabric separating your body from his. Slowly, you sat down, gasping when you felt his erection press up against your clothed cunt.

Mingyu’s hands held your waist to steady you, or to press you harder against him. He didn’t know which course of action to take yet. You cupped his cheek with your hand and kissed him. As you leaned into the kiss your clit rubbed over his hard on and you moaned into his mouth. It was like something broke in you. All the waiting, all the desire, all the heat. You started moving back and forth grinding on him. He groaned into the kiss, his grip tightened on your waist in an attempt to stop your movements. Taking hold of the back of his hand, you intertwined your fingers and slid it up your body to cup your right breast. You squeezed over his hand, allowing him to feel you. Mingyu broke the kiss and rested his forehead against yours.

“What has gotten into you?” he panted. His mind was foggy. He didn’t want to stop but he wasn’t sure this was the right time for it to be the first time.

“Please, Gyu,” you whined. A trail of kisses started at his cheek, moving its way down to his adam’s apple. You continued to press his hand against your chest and he could feel you take grasp of his other hand. He knew what was coming so he took hold of your wrist.

“Y/n-”

“Please, Gyu, please,” you continued grinding over his aching cock. He could feel the precum leaking in his boxers.

“Y/n,” he said sternly this time. It caught your attention. You looked back up at him, eyes desperate.

“I’m ready, Mingyu. Please, I don’t know what it is. I need you so bad. Just touch me. Please.”

He stared at you for a moment waiting for you to take it back. To realize this was a mistake. But your breathing just got harder as you tried to move against him.

“Okay, okay baby,” he whispered. He found his voice, “Come here.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues danced together sending a sensation down both your bodies. Now that you were both on the same page, you took hold of his other hand and moved it to your chest. This time he squeezed on his own accord, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin. His body took over, his hips jerking up to continue grinding against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your core, it made him dizzy.

Kissing down your jaw, he bit at your collar bones, leaving marks down the way. You leaned back, giving him access to your chest. He continued squeezing you, watching as he pushed your tits together and let them drop. Lowering his face to the valey of your breasts, he pushed them together again, losing himself in the feeling of your soft tits suffocating him.

“Can I?” His fingers came to the neckline of your tank top.

“Please.”

He didn’t hesitate, pulling down your top and letting your breasts spill out over it.

“Fuck, fuck baby” he muttered grabbing at your bare tits. His index fingers passed over your nipples and you gasped. He watched as they hardened under his touch. Mingyu squeezed your left breast, pushing your nipple up so he could take it into his mouth. He sucked on it feverishly, as if all this time this was exactly where he needed to be. He continued playing with your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and finger. He moaned as your hand raked through the hair at the nape of his neck. He released your nipple, moving to the other and giving it kitten licks. Reaching around you, his large hands gripped your ass, pushing you forward and pulling you back over his dick.

“Ah, Gyu, I need you, please.” You gripped his hair, pulling him away from your tits.

“Need what, baby?”

“Not now, Gyu. Please,” you whined.

“No, really. I need you to tell me what you need right now.”

“I need you in me,” you pleaded.

“How do you want me?” He looked at you expectantly. You grew impatient.

“Fuck, Gyu. Just, take your clothes off. Please.” You got off him quickly, discarding your tank top and pulling down your shorts.Then you stopped. Mingyu threw off his shirt. Before he could take off his shorts he noticed your change in demeanor. You looked nervous, a stark contrast from the you that was just humping him like you were in heat.

“Baby, you okay?” His eyes grew concerned. You fidgeted.

“Yeah, yeah. I just-”

“We can stop if you want.” He reassured.

“No, Gyu. I just-”

“Don’t think that we have to keep going just cause we-”

“Mingyu, stop.” He fell silent. “I just, you’ve never seen me naked before. We’ve never done this before. I’ve never done this before. I’m just kinda nervous.”

“And you’re sure you want to keep going?”

You scoff, “Mingyu, did you see how I was like a minute ago?” He laughed.

“Fine, fine. Come here.” He reached for your hands, pulling you towards him.

You stood directly in front of him now. He was at the edge of the couch, his chin rested against your stomach as he looked up at you. His hands snaked up your thighs, sliding over your ass and resting on your hips.

“Can I take these off, pretty?”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded. Hooking his fingers over the waistband, he slowly dragged down your panties. It felt like time was still as he kissed down your legs. His hand carefully lifted your feet to step out of the garment, tossing it to the side. His lips rose to your stomach, kissing around your belly button and pulling a giggle from you. His hands squeezed your ass and he continued leaving kisses further down until he was right above your pussy. His hand ran down your left thigh, lifting it until it rested on his shoulder. His hand moved toward your inner thigh, closer to your core until he could slide his thumb through your folds. He groaned at the feeling. You were so wet. Your breath caught in your throat, staying there until he leaned forward and licked a stripe from your pussy to your clit. You let out a deep moan, reeling from this new feeling. Mingyu felt like he was drunk, he couldn’t get enough of the taste. His hand spread you open as he went in, licking up and down, only interrupted when he would stop to suck on your clit, loving the way you moaned when he would stay there. A finger prodded at your entrance. He slowly pushed it into you, kissing your clit. He kept his finger buried inside you, curling it towards himself and rubbing the ribbed flesh. You gripped his shoulders for stability, jumping as his long fingers hit a spot you had never been able to.

You backed away from him. His head lifted up, worried he may have gone too far.

“Are you okay?” his eyes searched for any signs of discomfort.

You held his face.

“I’m fucking amazing but right now I need you in me. I can’t wait anymore.” Your hands reached for the waistband of his shorts, pulling his boxers down with them as he lifted his hips. Your eyebrows lifted for a moment, taking in his naked form. Fuck, he is gorgeous. You finally looked down and your mouth fell open. Fuck, he’s big.

“Like what you see?” His cockiness took you by surprise, a switch from his previous sweetness.

“Shut up, Kim,” you retorted, pushing his chest. He fell back against the couch, his arms coming up to rest upon the top of the cushions. You held onto his shoulders, positioning your legs on either side of him. You moaned together as his cock came in contact with your pussy, your wetness spreading over him. You slid yourself back and forth over him, preparing yourself for what was to come. He had had enough.

Mingyu lifted you up, positioning himself at your entrance and pulled you down, slowly filling you up. You hissed at the stretch, face scrunching as you tried to take him. He had a strong grip on your hips, not wanting you to move too quickly and hurt yourself. He felt your pussy squeeze him the whole way down. Even as he was worried for you, he couldn’t deny how fucking good you felt. With a sigh, he bottomed out in you.

“Feel alright, baby?” Mingyu stroked your cheek. The sweetness back in his face as he studied yours.

“It’s tight,” you hissed. Mingyu’s eyebrows furrowed. You kissed in between them. “It feels good, I just need a sec to adjust.”

“Yeah, of course, baby, anything you need.” He continued to study you, wanting to make your first time as comfortable as he possibly could. His hands rubbed up and down your back, soothing you through the pain. After a moment you lifted yourself up, feeling empty as his cock pulled out of you. Slowly, you let your body slide back down somewhere halfway before lifting yourself up once again. The repetition of emptiness to fullness turned from pain to pleasure as you began to focus on the feeling of him sliding through you. You bounced directly over him and felt strangely mechanical. You huffed out a breath of frustration, needing more but not knowing exactly what.

“Baby,” Mingyu lifted you out of your thoughts.

“I don’t know what to do,” you muttered bashfully. With anyone else you would feel embarrassed, but Mingyu looked at you with such care and adoration you couldn't possibly feel that way with him.

He let out a small chuckle, “Try this.” His hands guided your hips up and towards him as he pulled your back down. He continued to move you in this rotation, noting the way you moaned every time your clit rubbed against his pelvis.

“Fuck, Gyu, that feels so good.” You were a mess on top of him. Your body taking control as your mind processed these new sensations. Your back arched when he hit a particularly deep spot and Mingyu took it as an opportunity to keep playing with your tits. He sucked a nipple into his mouth as you used him, your tits bouncing in his face. Mingyu’s mind was running a million miles a minute, he rested his forehead against your chest, your boobs bouncing on either side of his head. He had been wrong earlier, this is exactly where he needed to be.

“God, y/n,” he huffed out, “you’re so tight. Fuck you’re doing so good for me. Driving me crazy.” he shook his head against your chest, trying to hold out.

“Ungh, Mingyu” you barely got out in between moans, addicted to the feeling of him filling you up.

He looked up at you and held your face, bringing you down into a kiss. It was sweet, giving you both a moment of reprieve from the intensity of the night. Mingyu pressed his cheek against yours, whispering in your ear.

“Doing so good, baby. Making me feel so good. Keep going, princess. Make yourself come all over me.” His hands were roaming all over your body, taking in how nice it felt to have you on top of him.

“Min- agh, fuck. Mingyu I’m so close. I can’t,” you struggled. You were close but you couldn’t quite push yourself there. Sensing you were overworked, he lifted your hands from his chest and wrapped your arms around his neck in an embrace.

“I got you, baby, don’t worry. Just hold on, I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you come.” His breaths were ragged. His arms reached around your waist to hold you as he began thrusting up into you. You moaned as he moved even faster than you had been previously. You could only hold onto him as he hammered into you, your body convulsing as it reached its peak.

“I’m gonna come Mingyu, mmmhm, I can’t hold it in,” you were panting in his ear.

“Let it go baby, fuck, come all over my cock.” He was struggling to keep himself together. Your pleasure being the only motivation for him to hold his own orgasm back.

With a snap of his hips your body jerked as the pleasure took over. Your mind went blank, only being able to feel pleasure rolling through your body. Moans escaped your mouth as your head fell forward on Mingyu’s shoulder. Your pussy was buzzing, pulsating from your orgasm and tensing from Mingyu’s continued thrusts. Your walls fluttered and squeezed him, the final straw that made the burning heat building in Mingyu’s abdomen release. He stilled as his orgasm took over, his balls clenching when you started bouncing on top of him again, riding out his high. He moaned out your name, cursing under his breath.

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you looked into his eyes, glossed over and fucked. His hand rubbed your back.

“You did so good, baby. ‘M so proud of you,” he pouted. You giggled at his dramatics.

Pressing a soft kiss to his lips you sighed, “Thank you, Gyu.” You smiled at him. “We should get cleaned up now huh?” You looked down at your bodies, a sheen of sweat covering the both of you. His gaze followed yours, looking at your connected bodies.

“Yeah, we should. But let's stay here for a bit.” His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a hug against him, “I don’t wanna leave you yet.”

You nuzzled your head against his, listening to his steadying breath and the rain against the window.

A/N: Thank you for reading this far! I am taking requests so much sure to check my kinktober masterlist for some inspo!

#seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen hard hours #seventeen hard thoughts #seventeen mingyu smut #seventeen mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu hard hours #mingyu hard thoughts #kinktober #mingyu kinktober #seventeen mingyu imagines #mingyu imagines

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seeingivy · 9 months

Text

award show etiquette

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: light mentions of paparazzi/stalking, SMAU!!!! hehehehe, some fun cameos (HEHEHEHE), eren being a jealous little baby, eren and y/n being so corny

an: enjoy :DDD (for some regular readers, play close attention to usernames)

previous part linked here

Things change in the next six months. You turn sixteen. Falco and Colt buy you a shiny acoustic guitar as a gift for you to start writing songs like you’ve always wanted. The guitar is nice, but the writing doesn’t go so well. You don’t land any new acting roles for your hiatus, but everyone else does.

All in all, some parts of your dreams feel real, like you’re standing at the doorstep of everything that you ever wanted. But the setbacks are so debilitating sometimes it feels like you’re wasting your efforts. Plus, your dreams come with their own set of nightmares too.

Attack on Titan truly does trend overnight - really gaining traction around the fifth episode. Whenever episodes air, almost everyone is on social media talking about it - live tweeting the scenes, commenting on how phenomenal the storyline, the acting, the costumes were, trying to guess what happens next. It was almost like a trend, becoming bigger and bigger by everyone talking about it, pointing out all the little details woven into the story, following the press junkets.

The reception of the show feels like a victory. Levi, Erwin, and Hange get praised on the daily and people fall in love with the cast fast. Despite receiving a horrendous first impression score from The Elms, they officially take away their initial criticisms and give a glowing recommendation of you after the airing of the third episode - going as far as calling you the cast member to watch out for.

The show gets renewed for three more seasons by the eighth episode and suddenly you’re getting offers for things you have no idea about. You need a publicist, a makeup team, a personal designer, someone to control your social media presence and a manager for your next moves. Even though you're not even at that level.

It’s…taxing. You’re not really sure what you want to do next. You’re only sixteen - there’s only so much childhood left that you can cherish. But they all insist that this traction won’t come back and that you can’t fall off. There’s pressure to deliver, to keep the momentum going.

You don’t mean to sound ungrateful. This is what you wanted, but it's far off from what you expected. Evey beyond the entire thing being stressful, it changes even the tiniest, miniscule details of your life - one’s you never even recognized as important before.

Because when you go back to school, you’re not sure what’s going on. Your usual friends treat you weirdly, people who had no idea you existed are going on about how you guys have always been great friends, no one talks to you unless it’s Attack on Titan related. And it’s not that you don’t love talking about it, because you do, but it feels weird to share and bring to your tiny little unimportant high school.

You feel like a shiny, plastic toy, something people ogle in the hallways, but never touch or come near for posterity's sake.

And when you leave school, there’s a flood of paparazzi waiting for you right outside, snapping pictures of you, Colt, and Falco as you wait on the block. And they follow you all the way home, taking a seat outside your house. You think it’s stalking. And surprisingly enough, the law doesn’t see it that way.

Meaning you have to put up with the fact that they’re waiting for you every morning, following your moves like little vultures. And you’re not sure what’s so interesting about you checking your mail, but you’re advised against it, and suddenly you can’t.

You can’t go to the park. Or the grocery store. Or even into your own backyard because in all senses of the word, they are kind of relentless.

It feels harsh to say, but you feel like a prisoner. Like you’re watching life move on outside of you - kids biking down the pavement, Colt walking to the store, your neighbors mowing the lawn - and you never realized what a luxury mundane things like this were.

To be unknown, a face in a sea of people rather than a deer stuck in headlights, frozen where you are. Because the people you knew don’t see you the same way, and really, you’re not a stranger to anyone anymore.

It sucks. It’s amazing. You hate it. You love it. The highs and the lows fluctuate so fast that sometimes you feel like you’re a crazy person - teetering from one place to another. Everyone loves your acting, but no one wants to sit with you at school during lunch. The paparazzi stay outside your house almost all day, everyday but you got invited to announce an award at the Savants Show.

In some way, your feelings feel inherently wrong. Because this is some people’s dream, and it used to be yours too, but really you just want to go to the grocery store with your little brother and buy snacks. You want to talk to your friends at recess, not get asked random questions while you’re shoved into your car.

Marco visits around the four month mark, after you confide in him that it hasn’t been the greatest. He spends a whole week with your family - teaching Falco how to play Go, Colt teaches him how to do card tricks, and the two of you spend all night talking about anything and everything. And you love him for it. Because really, you’re not the only one going through this. Sure, they were primed for this since they were little, but it’s nice to have someone who understands you by your side.

And Eren calls you every single night, to the point where you’re both falling asleep on the phone together, his soft breathing lulling you to sleep every night. Some part of you feels guilty confiding in him, since he is on the set of a really big movie he’s filming right now, but he always assuages any guilt you have with his words.

“How was your day, Y/N?” he asks, nestled into a gray hoodie, the smallest tufts of his brown hair peeking out of the hood.

He’s leaning against his headboard, his forearm resting against his head and his eyes shut closed. Because he’s six hours ahead of you, in Switzerland. And it’s the middle of the night.

“Is your roommate there?”

He laughs, his dimples appearing in the glow of the computer light.

“He’s really mad at us about last night. He told me we need to stop giggling so late so he can get some “beauty sleep” or whatever.”

“I don’t giggle. He must hate me.”

“Oh, for sure. But Ry hates everyone.”

“Rude.”

“I asked a question. How was your day, Y/N?”

“Ah. It was okay, Eren. Same old.”

His eyes flutter open and he leans forward, the concern washing over his eyes. And you hate when he does this, because really, it’s worse to have Eren pity you more than anything.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Six days.”

You smile, brushing down the ends of your hair. Right. Six days till you and Eren are together again.

“Yeah. It feels like time passed by really fast.”

“What are you talking about? It feels like an eternity since I’ve seen you. I’m not even sure what you look like anymore.”

“Bullshit. You literally FaceTime me every single day, Eren.”

“Still. It’ll be nice. To see you in person, to not have the Wifi lag because Coco is trying to play Roblox.”

“He got banned the other day.”

“For what?”

“He censored a curse word, but still got banned because it picked it up.”

“Rookie mistake, Falco. He can have my account if it’s that serious.”

You both laugh, falling into a comfortable silence, as you stare at each other on the screen. The white light of the screen is doing little to illuminate Eren’s face in the dark room he’s sitting in and really, you can only make out the harsh figures on his face.

The bridge of his nose, the shape of his eyebrows, only one dimple, and his lips. And when he leans back, placing the phone on the side, as he nestles into his pillow, you put Eren to the side, typing away on your computer. When you glance over in a few minutes, he’s fast asleep, only the sounds of his breathing coming out of the phone.

Six days.

As far as red carpets go, this has to be a memorable first. You arrive there at six o’clock, which is when the red carpet starts. Meaning the rest of the cast is already out there, getting pictures taken, doing interviews while your cab driver is Tokyo Drifting you through the streets of New York City.

The second you arrive, Mikasa’s styling team throws you into a frenzy. You’re attired into a long, flowing green dress, because the original outfit that you had picked out got lost in the airport debacle.

Right. You would have been there on time if the universe was actually on your side for once. You were supposed to fly in on Thursday, with the rest of the Attack on Titan cast. You were all going to be staying together in a house near the awards show, so that you guys could get started on table reads this weekend before you start filming again next month.

Except, your flight got delayed and you didn’t make it in time. And they accidentally lost your luggage in the time in between canceling your flight and scheduling you a new one. Which leaves you in your current dilemma, of walking onto the carpet an hour late.

Somewhere in the middle of the carpet, a very antsy and anxious Eren Jaeger is doing press interviews. He’s styled in all black and a green tie, meant by his styling team to compliment the color of his eyes. He doesn’t get that entire thing, but does it anyway.

“Do you have any news you can tell us about the next season of Attack on Titan?”

Before Eren can respond, he feels a hand clamped over his mouth, Ymir standing behind him with a stern expression on her face.

“Do not answer that, Eren.” grumbles Ymir, the interviewer laughing at the two of you.

Eren rolls his eyes as he and Ymir stand side by side, the two of them answering questions from the interviewer.

“Are you guys really friends outside of the set?”

“No. Eren Jaeger is insufferable.” responds Ymir, Eren reaching over to smack her cheek as they both laugh.

“Yes, we’re all really good friends. Some of us more than oth-”

Ymir’s response is cut off by a loud sound of cheering, all of the photographers on that side of the carpet rushing to the front. And when he leans over the crowd of people to see you at the center, with all these cameras flashing at you, he can feel his heart thumping in his chest and an almost inevitable smile spreading across his face.

It’s you. It’s really you - in real life and not on a shitty wifi phone screen but only ten feet away from him, looking like the sun.

The entire thing is overstimulating. There’s almost a dozen camera’s flashing, all at one time. You’re trying your best to smile but all you can hear is clicking, twenty different people saying your name trying to get your attention, and your cheeks burning from keeping your smile in th3 same position as you flick your eyes around.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see it. The tufts of brown hair you have committed to memory. You look to your right to find Eren and Ymir smiling at you, the two of them giving you waves. And you turn back to the crowd, whisper a polite sorry, and run right into Ymir’s arms first.

“Ymir, I missed you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d miss me too.”

You pull back, every unpleasant feeling in your chest accumulating for the past six months lessening at the warmth of someone so familiar, someone you love so much gleaming at you in your arms. Ymir rolls her eyes and pinches your cheek as she walks away, leaving you and Eren standing on the carpet.

You can feel yourself smiling really big and you try your best to will it down, but the pure anticipation and adrenaline of the event, and Eren Jaeger, really standing in the flesh in front of you, stops any efforts you may have.

“Hi Eren.” you whisper.

“Hi Y/N.” he whispers back.

You lean forward and lock your hands around his neck, to which he crushes you in his hold, the two of you giggling in each other's ears as you hug each other, cheeks slightly flushed. And for the rest of the carpet, you and Eren link arms, taking turns answering the interviewers questions and taking pictures together.

“Do you guys like each other?”

“I mean, I sure hope Eren likes me. We are best friends and all.” you respond.

Eren reaches forward, smacking his palm against your forehead.

“Shut up. You know I like you.”

You and Eren feel a sudden weight on your shoulders, and in true menace form, Connie Springer is leaning against both of your frames. He leans forward into the microphone, grinning at the interviewer as he starts talking.

“Oh, they like each other all right. They have all these little things they do on set that none of us are allowed to do with them. Like oh, you can’t eat ramen with Y/N that’s our thing. Or oh, you can’t get slushies with Eren, we’ve been doing that since we got here.”

You lean forward and flick Connie on the forehead, as Eren rolls his eyes.

“Are you jealous, Connie?” you ask.

“No. I just want some of that bitch ass ramen you guys are always making.”

Erwin and Levi walk up, the two of them pinching Connie’s cheek as he whines.

“Language, Springer.” Levi mutters.

He drops Connie’s ear and places his hand in your hair, giving you a warm smile. Erwin gives you a hearty hug before the two of them walk away, meeting Hange at the end of the carpet.

You turn back to the interviewer, you and Eren answering final questions before walking away all together. The second you get away from her, Connie’s leaning down, crushing you in a hug and lifting you into the air.

“I missed you yesterday.” Connie mutters, his breath tickling your ears.

“I know, I was so sad to miss it. I really missed you guys too.” You’re not entirely sure why - but Connie, Ymir, Eren, these comforting people after six months of hellscape are enough for the air to get tangled in your throat and the warm tears to start welling in your eyes.

Connie swings his arm around Eren as he talks, smirking at the two of you.

“Some of us missed you more than others.” Connie grins, poking Eren’s cheeks.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask.

“Eren pouted all day. Looked nearly depressed when he had to eat that measly ramen bowl by himself. Stared at pictures of you on his phone.”

“I DIDN’T LOOK AT PICTURES OF HER ON MY PHONE.” Eren responds, now yanking Connie by the ear.

Connie rolls his eyes as he runs off, leaving you and Eren to walk the last part of the red carpet together.

Right before you make it into the venue, you feel a tugging on your dress, to be met with two kids who must be a few years younger than you, matching smiles on their faces. You and Eren crouch down, taking in their outfits

They’re dressed as you and Eren, from the show. With perfect green capes and a red scarf. Why are they watching your show? Seems a bit gory for their age.

“Hi. I’m Y/N.” you say, holding out your hand.

They both excitedly shake, stumbling over their words as they start talking.

“Hi. I-I love you so much. You-you’re both so cool and we just-we love you so much we-” the girl starts.

“We made-made you a gift.” the boy continues.

Eren leans forward, holding his hand out, as he gives the two of them a warm smile.

“You guys are too kind. Y/N and I really appreciate it, truly.”

They place two friendship bracelets in your hands, which you and Eren immediately slide onto your hands. You and Eren take the time to give each of them a hug, making sure their parents are able to snap pictures, before you head back inside.

When you’re inside the safe confines of the theater, you look down at the bracelets. Yours is green and Eren’s is pink. The beads in the middle of yours say “attack on eren” and the beads in the middle of Eren’s say “attack on y/n” - like your matching tag names on Twitter.

“Hey. They accidentally switched them when they gave it to us. My bracelet says your name.” you say.

“There’s no way they would give us the wrong ones.”

“They could have gotten nervous. Why would I wear a bracelet with your name on it when you-”

“I’m keeping this one.” he says, with a tone so definitive you don’t even want to respond.

You and Eren hold your wrists out to admire them, the soft beads standing out against your fancy clothes. It’s simple. You love it.

You reach down and tangle one of your hands with Eren’s. He squeezes three times. You squeeze back.

And for the first time in six months, you feel at ease.

“Wait so, explain this to me one more time.” you ask, being met with eleven prepared faces staring back at you.

“These are the Savant TV show awards. There are other ones for things like movies, music, and plays. Any show that is part of this cycle has to send names in to nominate for each award. Five are selected in each category and then a select group of people in the industry, we call them the Institute, usually vote on winners.” starts Bertholdt.

“Okay. That makes sense. Is that how they pick triple threats too?”

Eren’s hand is still locked in yours, hidden under the pleats of your dress. He squeezes three times at the mention of a triple threat and you get the message.

You got this.

“Well, triple threats are different. They’re kind of variable and get announced randomly. Some years you can have a lot of triple threats and some years none. But when they get picked, they announce the three pieces that made them a triple threat. Then they have to do this long and personal interview where they discuss their time in the industry - good, bad, all of it - and at whatever award show is next, they pick one of the three - singing, dancing, or acting - and perform a piece at the end of the show.” explains Annie, fidgeting with the ends of her perfectly curled hair.

“Do we have any triple threats today?” you ask.

“No. But besides triple threat performances, there’s also other performers and an ensemble showcase. Have you ever seen one?” asks Armin, leaning forward to pull Annie’s hands down from ruining her hair.

“No. What’s that?”

“Basically, each year the Savants pick a show to perform for an ensemble showcase. It’s the cast of the entire show, or just a select portion of it, and they usually perform a dance or sing a song related to the show. This year, it’s the cast of Blue Lock, the soccer show?” responds Armin.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.”

“They’re performing that song Get Your Head in the Game from that movie High School Musical? They’re all going to do a bunch of soccer tricks on stage while they sing the song is what I’ve heard. People usually relate it to the show they’re in some type of way.” says Armin

Before the rest of them can explain more, the lights dim and you focus your head to the front, the show starting. You don’t really recognize the hosts or anyone in the room - which to you is a sign that you really should start paying attention - and you try to focus on what they’re saying.

They’re cracking jokes about different people in the industry, which Eren explains to you in your ear as they talk. What the jokes mean, who they’re talking about, what shows they’re from. They even crack a joke about you and Eren.

“The cast of Attack on Titan is here tonight.”

The statement is met with an array of cheers in the room, and in true Connie and Reiner fashion, they’re both standing up for no reason, bowing to the crowd. That just garners them both a cascading sound of laughter from the audience, which only gets louder when Erwin yanks Connie and Reiner down by the ear.

“Getting to watch the story unfold, all the twists and turns - it’s almost impossible not to pay attention to such a thrilling story. I’m sure we can’t say the same for our hosting skills, because our sweet leads Y/N and Eren have been whispering in each other's ears the entire time instead of listening to us.”

The light flashes in yours and Eren’s faces, the two of you with widened expressions as you laugh at everyone staring you down. And when Eren says, sorry what did you say? with a confused tone in his voice, the entire audience laughs and then they move on.

Somewhere around a third of the way into the show, the usher comes to the seats, whispering in your ear that it’s time for you to come backstage.

Right. You’re supposed to be presenting an award with another actor. And you totally forgot.

You turn to your right to look at Eren and before you can even express the panic, he’s already settling you down. Eren Jaeger, mind reader.

“You’ll be fine. You just have to stand there and present the award. He’s really weird but he’s nice most of the time.”

"What? I can’t do this, Eren. They’re all going to be staring at me and I don’t even-”

Mikasa and Bertholdt’s hands are on your shoulder, squeezing twice as the usher leads you along. You turn back to look at Eren, and he gives you a warm smile as you try to focus on the task at hand.

When you get backstage, everyone is in a frenzy. There are so many different crew members running around - microphones in their ears, sound-checking mics, making sure that the video on the screen stops playing on time. It reminds you of the chaos on set that you like to watch, except this is entirely more nerve-wracking because of the swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You tap on the guy closest to you, a boy that can’t be much older than you with pink hair.

“Hi. I’m supposed to present the award next, do you have any idea who I’m supposed to be presenting with?”

“Ah. That would be Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Oh. I’ve never heard of him.”

He frowns, squinting his eyes at you as you lean forward. You take a second to take him in more closely, his perfectly fitted suit with a black tie. You’re not sure why, but you swear you know him from somewhere.

“You’ve never heard of him? Ever?”

You shake your head as he starts laughing, the grin on his face so wide. And before you can ask what’s so funny, they’re pushing you onto stage, the bright lights shining in your face. You scan the crowd for Eren, who mouths it’s okay before you and him start.

You clear your throat as you turn to the guy, who you now realize is the same pink-haired guy from backstage.

“Wait. What are you doing here?”

He laughs - and the entire audience does too - as he turns to you, a devious grin in his eyes. He holds his hand out, which you return, as he introduces himself.

“Hi Y/N. I’m Ryomen Sukuna.”

You feel your eyes widen as he lifts your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he continues. You can feel your mind running in circles as you clutch the envelope in your hand, zoning back in to pay attention to him.

“You know, you and Eren spend all night giggling, talking about god knows what. Of course, this asshole never mentions me.”

And then you remember. Pink hair, Ry. Ryomen Sukuna. He’s Eren’s roommate, from the movie he was just filming.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I remember now, you’re Eren’s roommate and-”

“You’re standing here with me and you’re talking about Eren?”

“Ah, I-”

“You keep me up all night by calling Eren and you don’t even know my name. And then I'm trying to have a moment with you and you're talking about another guy?”

He's doing a bit. Right. Because from what you could tell, almost everyone who presents an award does one. Maybe this is just his.

“I'm sorry?”

The entire audience laughs at your words and Sukuna rolls his eyes, saying something about how hard it is to impress girls these days, as he hands you a lollipop.

“What’s this for?”

“The people sitting in the front row, Y/N. It’s obviously for you.” he deadpans.

“Oh, okay that’s kind of weird. Thanks!”

The audience laughs as you unwrap the lollipop, handing the envelope to Sukuna so you can do it properly.

“It’s about that time. Ready to read the name, Y/N?”

You nod as you take the lollipop out of your mouth, handing it to Sukuna and you focus on ripping the golden tape on the envelope. Except as you’re opening it, the entire crowd starts laughing and you’re not entirely sure why.

“Am I that bad at opening this or something?”

They laugh even more, which makes you turn to Sukuna for reassurance, which is when you see it. Sukuna just put your lollipop in his mouth. Like, the lollipop with your saliva all over it in his mouth.

“Hey! I was eating that.”

He pops it out of his mouth and holds it in between you, smirking at you.

“Want it back, sweetheart?”

You take it from his hands and shove it back into his mouth - which at this point, the audience is literally screaming at the two of you - as you open up the envelope. And when you read the name and hand the award over, you and Sukuna exit the stage, bickering as you get off.

“You’re such a weirdo freak. I did want to eat that lollipop.”

“Then eat it. There’s still some left, sweetheart,” he says, a joking tone present in his voice.

“You’re so gross. That’s like literally sharing saliva.”

“We can do that in other ways too if you want.”

“Ew. Are you always like this?”

You both laugh as you exit the stage, back into the panic behind the curtains. As people move around you and him, taking mic boxes off, you turn to him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s start over. I’m Y/N L/N. No more sassing me because I forgot you name.”

He gives you a glimmering smile, holding his hand out.

“Okay, okay. Ryomen Sukuna. Call him in the middle of the night and I will do this again.”

As you both continue talking, a group of people join him at his side, clearly his friends. Another boy with pink hair, who looks literally identical to him, a shorter boy with black spiky hair, and two girls - one with green hair and one with brown.

They’re all yanking Sukuna by the ears, telling him that he - as always - is doing too much.

The boy with pink hair turns to you, the look on his face apologetic.

“He’s always like this. Menacing. We sincerely apologize.”

You smile, holding your hand out to him as he repeats his name and the rest of them follow suit.. Itadori Yuuji. Megumi Fushiguro. Nobara Kugisaki and Maki Zenin.

“We’re the cast of Jujutsu Kaisen.” responds Nobara, as she flicks Sukuna on the forehead.

“Ah. I’m one of the cast members of-”

“Attack on Titan.” they all respond in unison, smiling at you.

After a few minutes, you’re joined by a group of your own friends - Ymir, Reiner, Marco, and Eren - as well as Levi and a taller man with white hair.

Marco and Ymir give you warm smiles and squeezes on the shoulder as they congratulate you for doing a good job, saying that the reception was really funny and that you and Sukuna are trending on Twitter. Eren's uncharacteristically silent, brooding in the corner. Before you can mention it, Sukuna beats you to it.

“Eren. Do you need to take a shit?” says Sukuna, leaning forward to smile at him.

“What?” Eren responds.

“You look agitated as fuck. Like you have to take a shit.”

Ymir and Reiner laugh, poking Eren’s cheeks and teasing him, as you move to the side, paying attention to Levi’s conversation.

“All they do is cuss. I need to start actually punishing them or they’re going to end up cursing like sailors in a few years.”

“Tell me about it, Satoru. Jean is actually horrible, I will genuinely wash his mouth out with soap the next time he says fuck near me.”

Satoru. Satoru Gojo. You may not know many celebrities, but you sure know this one.

He’s a triple threat.

“When I got cast on a show with a bunch of kids, I didn’t realize I was going to become a father.” sighs Satoru, grinning at the group of them as he talks.

“You’re not our father.” the group of them respond, breaking from their own conversations to shoot him down.

Levi laughs as he looks down at you, placing a hand in your hair as you join their conversation. Satoru crouches down to your height, smiling at you as he talks.

“Good job. That was real funny, kid.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Are you as rude to Levi as my kids are to me?” Satoru asks.

“We’re not your kids.” respond Megumi and Nobara, breaking from their conversation again.

“He does kind of remind me of my dad! He always gives good advice on set and helps me and-”

Levi crouches down, glaring at you.

“I’m not your dad.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Marco and Reiner walk over, holding onto Levi’s arms as they respond.

“Yes, you are.”

You all turn your heads to Satoru, who is now pouting.

“They cast the wrong kids in my show. Mine are so ungrateful,” he says, leaning down to pinch Megumi’s ear, which he just returns by literally smacking Satoru off.

You all laugh as you get directed back into your seats, as it’s time to present the next award. You wave them all goodbyes as you start walking in line with Eren, who you now realize you hadn’t talked to the entire time. His jaw is locked, an implacable look in his face. You reach down and tangle your hand with his, to which he finally looks over at you.

“Hey. Was it okay?”

He stops in his tracks, letting Ymir, Marco, and Reiner walk forward, as you stand in the outskirts of the curtain.

“It was good, Y/N. Really good.” he sighs.

“So why are you upset?”

He frowns as he looks over at you, his mouth in a straight line.

“It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not, Eren. Just tell me!”

“Imannoyedhekissedyourhand” he murmurs quickly, under his breath.

“Sorry, what was that? It’s kind of loud in here.”

“igotjealousseeingyouguysupthere.” he murmurs again, his cheeks turning red.

You lean completely into his space, looking straight into his green eyes.

“Sorry, Eren. One more time, yeah?”

“I’m annoyed he kissed your hand! It made me jealous because that should have been me and not him and he’s just doing that because I-”

Before he can finish, you start laughing, which stops Eren in his tracks and now he’s glaring at you.

“Quit making fun of me, Y/N.”

“I’m not! It’s just so cute, Eren. You’re so-”

“I’m glad you find my personal torture cute, Y/N.”

“Personal torture? Did you get more dramatic from the last time I saw you?”

“Imagine being me. I just watched an idiot, a real life blathering idiot like Sukuna, kiss your hand before I got to do it. And I was sitting next to Connie too. That’s so annoying and now everyone is going to make fun of me and-”

And now you get it. He’s…jealous. Of Sukuna. From what Itadori and Maki told you, Sukuna’s kind of infamous for being a cheeky little shit, going about things as he pleases. And Eren’s feeling possessive because you’re best friends. Connie being a little bitch probably didn’t help matters either.

You’re not sure where you garner up this uncharacteristic courage or boldness from, but you hold out your left hand to Eren.

“What? Trying to rub it in my face now? You’re worse than Ymir.”

“No, no. Sukuna kissed my right hand. But he didn’t kiss my left, so you can just do it now.”

You watch his eyes widen and his face turn positively red as he starts blabbering, awkwardly pushing his hands through his hair and teetering on his heels.

“Huh? What? You can’t just- you’re just saying that. This is weird. You’re-you? What? I can’t like- oh my god. What the-”

You place one of your hands on his shoulder as you look at him, trying to muster the sweetest smile you can.

“Eren. Please?”

The ask makes him give in and he shakily places his hand in yours, lifting your knuckles against his mouth as he places a soft kiss in between your second and third knuckle. And when you smile at him again, positively gleaming, Eren curses your existence. He hates you for making him feel like this.

“Screw you, Y/N.”

“What? What happened now?”

"You. You’re annoying.”

You roll your eyes as you and Eren walk back to your seats, hands locked together and already met with a barrage of insults from Sasha and Annie. They’re pinching Eren’s cheeks, mimicking Sukuna taking your lollipop, the rest of them all teasing him.

But when you look over and smile at Eren, which he returns, you both focus your heads back on the show, the speakers talking. And when Eren drives away at the end of the night, you hold onto the feeling.

Just one more month until you’re back together. All of you, for real.

next chapter linked here

taglist: @platromm @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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connoisseursdecomfort · 9 months

Text

All the lies in Chapter 86, and the truth behind

Yes, I'm still screaming internally, and I don't think I will ever get over this chapter.

Endo have told us right from the beginning: this is a story about lies:

Everyone has a secret self they don't show to other people. Not even to family. Not to friends. Not to lovers. And thus the world. They hide who they are and what they want behind lies and painted smiles.

Twilight is a liar. He consciously tells so many lies in this chapter, but it's what he (and the people around him) unconsciously shows really count.

*Manga spoiler alert*

Endo masterfully blends lies and truths together in this chapter. They recognise the existence of all facades, but somehow still manage to show what reality lies beneath, i.e. the three scenes many people have discussed.

When he tries to use his infamous excuse, "for the mission", once again, even Nightfall could tell that it's not the whole truth.

What's more interesting is when the team is in the car, and the old agent asked Twilight to grab a drink with him once they got back. Twilight refused, and that's when the old agent said: クツ調子いい時だけ家庭面しやがつて in the jp version.

The slight difference is he's saying Twilight only puts on that mask of a family man when he sees fit. It of course still means that Twilight is using his family as an excuse to not grab a drink with him. Twilight then replied: その面をかぶるのが任務ですつてば. (It is my job to put on that mask.)

There is something poetic about the dialogues. There IS a pretence. There IS a mask to be put on for the mission. But Twilight's excuse has lost some of its validity because literally panels ago he's just got called out. And the old agent's tease is a common one against married men who'd avoid office gatherings "because he needs to go home and be the family man". It's a friendly banter.

They then chatted about his "fight" with Yor. There were four professional spies in the car, and none of them found it weird that he just called Yor his wife, and acted like a miserable married man worrying about his wife being angry at him. They were so normal about the situation it's as if Yor really is his wife.

It is the sense of normality that makes everything feel so real. He tried so hard to keep a distance with "his mission", but his actions and the word choices have exposed him.

He still doesn't call the Forger residence home, but he uses this word - 帰, to return. Mika made a thread about this. You only return to something or someone because at the very least part of you feel belong (I'm being ultra careful here but my soul is screaming it's because you feel at home). The place you "return" to must contain some sense of stability. He unwittingly reveals how the Forgers have become his safe place.

That's probably why once he stepped into the apartment and saw a smiling Yor, he fell to his knees. His body finally allowed himself to relax.

But that is also when his lies reappeared. He lied about his day. He lied about his wounds. And he lied about his feelings. It was Yor who opened up to him. He was lying.

While confessing to Yor in his mind.

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't think he's telling the truth in his mind. This doesn't mean he's consciously lying. He is trying to convince himself into "seeing the reality".

I'm going to gush so much about these two pages. Brace yourself.

I love these two pages so much, because it shows how lies can be more revealing than a spoken confession. Especially when Twilight is probably unaware of it.

Yor told him that he could rely on her. She uses the term 甘える.

甘える is to go to someone you trust when you feel scared or upset, to moan about your problems even if they sound trivial, and to ask for help for the tiniest things. It works both ways, you wanting to get attention and knowing that the person would still love you and baby you. You know you can be weak and the one you rely on would still find you to be adorable.

That's exactly what Yuri was doing. He ran to Yor crying after being beaten up. That's also what Anya did.

Yor told him that it's okay to be not perfect, and she's willing to share his burden.

He wanted to tell her so much more, but he only gave her a short answer. He just told her that she's made him feel better, but he wanted to talk to her about it. That's when he started to confess to her in his head.

On the surface, this confession shows that he's trying to deny her request. He is insisting that he has to be perfect.

Here's the tricky thing, by explaining to her why he had to be perfect, he had to admit that he's weak.

He wanted to tell her that he fucked up today and needed to be better. He wanted to show weakness. He wanted to 甘える. And his tone just further gives him away.

I will have to admit that I love how he talked to Yor in his head, especially "でもわヨルさん、オレは". He's using such a soft tone while trying to talk himself into toughening up. He went physically soft too. Fell down thrice even if he had prepped himself to get his guard up. He just couldn't do it when he's with Yor.

There are things he can't tell her, but there are more he can't admit to himself. He has wrapped himself in layers of lies, and they turned out to be more revealing than ever.

Twilight is still a huge liar in Chapter 86. I'm not sure if he's a cool liar, but he is the softest liar ever.

There are so many things I want to scream talk about. How he called Yuri "Yuri Briar" but Yor "Yor san". How he asked about Anya once he got home. How he's failed thrice trying to keep his guard up in front of Yor. How he called out to Yor when he thought Yuri had returned. But I guess it's for another day.

#spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #yor forger #agent twilight #twiyor #spy x family manga #sorry for the Ted talk

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dolliehina · 1 year

Text

Just imagine it, You're their god, creator, hope, their reason, the control you have over them is unfathomable. They look at you with such love loyalty and desire, willing to do anything for you to have you acknowledge their existence. Despite their delusional loyalty and desire towards you, you are anything but merciful. Why? Because you're so goddamn spoiled.

You know you can make them do anything you want, if you don't like what they give you? You through a fat fucking fit, tell them how much they disappointed you. Nonononono you can't be mad at them, they'll do anything to have you forgive them. Harm themselves, kill someone, build you a whole sanctuary, They'll do anything just pleasepleaseplease forgive them. You're awfully amused by their loyalty and blind love for you. You have them all wrapped around your delicate violent finger.

The worst thing in the world of teyvat is when you're angry. It could be over the tiniest thing, like you lost your favorite earrings or necklace. Or maybe somebody was dumb enough to make you upset by giving you an awfully ugly offering, you don't care how rare or expensive it was, how dare they give you something so horrid, the lowly creature.

Point is you're just so awful when you're going through a fit, you whine, you cry and stomp your feet. Anything to get you what you want and the attention you so desperately need. Whenever you do go through one of your tantrums you are just a nightmare. A scream that could crack the walls and sky, crocodile tears that could flood all of Teyvat and stomps that could break all the mountains (whoever made your spoiled ass upset not that its hard is going to pay dearly I assure you. They may even be dead by the time you start acting like a spoiled little baby.)

Oh how they hate to see their beautiful spoiled god in such dismay and distress. Some of them come to comfort you, bringing you everything you need and want to at least get you to stop screaming and pouting.

-Kaveh, Diluc, Zhongli, Pantalone, Baizuh, Ninguuang, Kazuha, Venti, Al haitham.

Another group will find whoever made their god upset and destroy everything they ever loved bringing you their misery and despair as a gift to cheer you up <3.

-Dottore, Childe, Sandrone, Kaeya, Cyno, Scaramouche, Xiao, Venti.

When you're distressed so are they, they will cry with you and Sob over your despair until you're happy again almost like it never happened and then go back to being your loyal pet servant.

-Barbara, Nilou, Ayaka, Thoma, Kaveh, Raiden, Columbina, Nahida, La signora.

But no matter how much you throw a tantrum or almost destroy their world, you will always be their spoiled bratty beautiful creator.

#genshin cult au #sagau brainrot #sagau x reader #creator!reader #god!reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin cult au #yandere sagau #genshin smut #genshin x reader #fatui x reader #sagau smut

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bingwriterxo · 11 months

Text

arachnophobia

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which tara protects you from one of your worst fears

warnings: none

word count: 800+

Your scream cut through the silence of the apartment like a hot knife through butter, and Tara jumped at the noise, her heart dropping into her stomach and chills rising along her skin. She quickly pushed herself from her bed, grabbed the taser that was resting on her night stand--courtesy of Sam--and rushed toward the bathroom.

"Y/N?" she yelled as she thudded against the door, hand trying the doorknob only to find it locked. Horrible images were flashing through her mind: you, dead and bloodied on the ground; Ghostface tilting his head at her, that horrible white mask gleaming; a knife, sharp as ever, dripping with your blood. Tara pounded on the door. "Y/N!"

When you whipped the door open, Tara nearly fell on her face, stumbling into the small room with her taser at the ready, her eyes flitting around and preparing to catch sight of the black robes or white mask that haunted her dreams. However, she found nothing, or no one, to suggest the return of Ghostface, and she let out a sigh of relief, tucking the taser into her back pocket before turning to you.

You stood in the doorway, skin pale as a ghost and eyes wide with fear. When Tara reached out for you, she could feel you trembling beneath her, and she furrowed her eyebrows with worry. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, careful not to spook you.

"There--there's a..." You gulped and pointed toward the shower. Tara whipped around, eyeing the shower curtain. She couldn't see any shadow behind it, but that didn't mean that someone wasn't there. She slipped the taser from her pocket, took slow steps toward the shower, and then ripped the curtain to the side, her arm jabbing out to catch who--if anyone--was hiding in there.

It was empty.

"Huh?" she mumbled to herself before placing the taser on the counter. She peeked her head farther in, as though perhaps she had missed something, before shrugging and turning around. You still looked horrified, however, and she asked again, "Baby, what's wrong?"

You swallowed hard and inhaled a shaky breath. "Don't you see it? It's huge!" you said, which offered the brunette no further explanation. Still, to try to calm you, Tara looked inside the shower again, and then she realized what you were so afraid of.

There, just beneath the handle, was the tiniest spider Tara had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't moving, simply just existing in the space, and the brunette smiled softly at it. "Well, hello little guy," she cooed. She turned around and looked at you. "What do you want me to do with it?" she asked.

You waved your hands around. "I don't know! Kill it or something! Anything!" you rushed out.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced back at the spider. She didn't want to kill it--that felt a bit harsh, especially because it wasn't even doing anything menacing. Instead, she grabbed a few squares of toilet paper, folded them so that it was thick, and held it out to the spider, waiting for a moment until it climbed onto the paper.

Tara maneuvered her way to her bedroom quickly, gigging softly when she passed you and you squeaked at the sight, and then opened her window, urging the spider to hop off the toilet paper with a small, "There you go, little dude!"

"Is it safe to come in?" you asked from the doorway of her bedroom. Tara turned to you, grinning, and nodded, shutting the window once the spider was finally gone. You sighed, falling onto the brunette's bed.

She rounded the edge of her bed and stood between your open legs, resting a hand on your knee. "I didn't realize you're so afraid of spiders," she teased, nails running along your bare skin softly.

You shivered, both at the thought of those eight-legged freaks and the feel of your girlfriend's touch. "They're horrifying. I fucking hate them," you admitted. "Nothing creeps me out more than spiders." You sat up and wrapped your arms around Tara's waist, resting your chin on her chest and looking up at her. "Thank you for dealing with it, though."

She laughed. "No problem, baby. I mean, when you screamed, I thought that Ghostface had returned or some shit," she said, moving her hand up to scratch at the back of your head. You pushed into her touch as you frowned.

"I was wondering why you brought a taser into the bathroom."

"Well, you screamed bloody-goddamn-murder. Can you blame me?"

You chuckled, an embarrassed blush rising to your cheeks. "I guess that's my bad," you said softly.

Tara hummed with a smile. "It's okay." She leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips, pulling away just enough to whisper, "I'll always be around to protect you from the big, bad spiders," before kissing you again.

bonus: when sam returned home for the night, you could hear her out in the main room of the apartment, shuffling around and putting her keys away and whatnot. you didn't pay her much mind until her voice broke out.

"tara?" she called, confused. "why the hell is your taser in the bathroom?!"

#tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream 5 #scream 6

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girlboybug · 1 year

Text

Cinnamon Girl

"there's things i wanna say to you, but i'll just let you live."

or the one where joel has trouble explaining how he feels, but has no trouble in showing you. even if it means publicly.

what’s playing 🎧 : cinnamon girl by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 7k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, jealous!joel muahaha, blowjobs, facefucking, fingering, oral f!receiving, semi public sex, unprotected sex, manhandling, orgasm denial, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, multiple orgasms, mirror sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, slight spanking, allusions to handjobs, unspecified age gap, aftercare, joel is bad at words but you bet your ass he talks you through it ;)

TRIGGER WARNINGS : implied/references to fedra killing people, but it's mentioned for like two seconds, joel is very possessive, themes of co-dependency, violence, fighting, blood, if i miss anything that could be triggering pls lmk!!

a/n : this is a pt2 to Shades of Cool, but can be read as a stand alone fic! pls enjoy <;3 @spacelatinos4life

there was no title to the relationship between you and joel. there didn’t need to be. a title describing what the two of you felt for the other person was unneeded, not when you two knew.

you were both sure a person couldn’t feel this way about another without it being mutual. there was no way feelings so strong, so potent, so mind, body, and soul consuming, could ever be one sided.

that’s what you were able to remind yourself on a good day.

joel isn’t the best at articulating himself, his thoughts and emotions get too heavy sometimes. but god, he felt so full of you that he didn’t know how to let the feelings overflow from his mouth and into words.

he let his actions do the talking, he let what he could do for you exist as proof of how he felt. but sometimes, you just needed to hear it directly from him, and he would oblige in the way he could.

joel felt the hands of possession, obsession, and ownership find their way into a deathgrip over his being, something he wasn’t proud of and even tried to avoid, but there’s no avoiding the inevitable. it’s who he is. it’s who he will be, and everything that he is and will be is what you signed up for.

but in this moment, a calmer feeling blankets over his shoulders while he sits on the side of the bed you two shared most nights. he watches you lay flat on your stomach, leg hiked up, mouth slightly agape, with just the tiniest bit of drool pooling from the corner of your lips.

he silences the laugh that escapes, not wanting to embarrass you or cut his gaze on you short. he likes these moments, where he can watch you be at peace. where nothing is wrong, nothing is dangerous or urgent, there’s no rush. it’s just you, and him, and you’re safe.

his calloused fingers fall gently over your cheekbone, curling around your ear and trailing over the curve of your jawline. “c’mon baby, time to get up.” he whispers, and you stir, grumbling something grumpy, and he lets the sound back into his laugh.

“gotta get up little girl, we got things to do today.” he reminds, and you shake your head full of drowsiness. “no we don’t. lay back down with me, please?” even your words sound sleepy, but joel still shakes his head in the face of an irresistible offer.

he moves the covers off of your frame and you groan about the sudden coldness. he shushes you, i know baby i know, he kisses the side of your temple, pulling you up and out of bed, letting you cling onto him.

he picks you up, something you’re usually hesitant to let him do, too insecure about the weight he’d have to lift up, but he’s not a weak man, he can lift his girl.

you’re too tired to care, too comfortable with your arms hanging over his back, head in the crook of his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, almost drifting back to sleep in his arms.

he carries you into the bathroom, setting you down on the counter. he likes taking care of you this way, being gentle with you like you deserve.

he brings a toothbrush to your lips and he brushes your teeth, staring back into the heavy sleep-ridden eyes looking up at him. your legs come around his waist, keeping him close to you. he chuckles to himself at the small actions you do, secretly loving your instinct to always be close.

he lets you spit into the sink and rinse your mouth out, and when you turn back to him, you’re more awake. he kisses your forehead, moving to the side to let you slip off the sink and land on your sock covered feet.

(those socks he promised that he'd get for you? he got them.)

you shift around behind him, leaning your cheek against his broad back, the strong, safe and reliable back you love, remaining a stable place to rest while he brushes his own teeth.

your arms wrap loosely around his waist, pressing a kiss to his clothed back. “love you so much,” you mouth to yourself, not daring to let a sound give life to your words. you want to tell him, want him to know the burning words that sear on your tongue, but again, you refrain.

when he turns back to you, he leans against the sink, his hands resting on your hips. “mornin’” his official greeting to you, and you smile that pretty smile of yours, pushing up on your toes to be closer.

“good morning.” you kiss him and he returns it, holding you by the back of your head, his other hand inching its way down to your ass. he squeezes it, and you giggle in his mouth, pushing at his chest.

he rolls his eyes with a smile, feigning disappointment at your shooing. he pats your bottom, motioning his head towards the kitchen. “made some coffee, want some?” you nod, leaning up to peck his lips appreciatively.

you race into the kitchen, hand still attached to his as he follows behind you, an amused look on his face at the sudden burst of energy that you were very void of just five minutes ago.

you fall into your routine repeated like a sacred mantra. you sit at the table watching him make your mugs of coffee. during his last haul, he found a pink mug, pocketing it to bring home to you, and it quickly became one of your most prized possessions.

he comes back to you, sitting in the chair he always does, sliding your mug to you. you clamber out your chair to sit in his lap, his hand resting over your thigh, keeping you safe and tucked away into him. your head finds its home in the warm pocket of his neck, sipping your sweet coffee in comfortable silence.

–

he drops you off to your assigned work, street cleaning, before he has to go to his, burning the dead bodies that fedra has no issue creating every day. he holds your waist, pulling you in and kissing you a wordless bye, his hand lingering on your waist when he turns to leave.

it took awhile for joel to show you affection in public, and it wasn’t because he was embarrassed, he was a grown man, and if anyone had a problem with him kissing his girl he’d gladly address that, so that wasn’t his hindrance.

joel quite often overthinks himself into bouts of worry, and he found himself scared that if the wrong person saw you two together, saw how strongly he felt for you, you’d be taken from him.

joel was hardly ever scared anymore, there was nothing to fear. he had nothing to fear, it was just himself he had to worry about, and he could handle his own.

but now, he has you.

and with caring for someone as much as he does for you, comes the fear of losing them too, and he hates it, he's scared of it.

so for awhile, affections were scarce, even in private, too wound up in trying to not get too attached, but you tore down his walls, brick by brick, leaving him bare and vulnerable to you.

sometimes, you can still feel that blockage that holds him back, but it’s okay. you have all of time in itself to work through these things, together.

–

you came home before joel did, eager to see him, to be held by him, and talk about your day together. instead, you came home to an empty apartment.

you’re disappointed, joel’s face is the first thing you want to see after every hard day, his rich, southern voice veiled in a smooth gruffness welcoming you home was a reminder that life wasn’t all bad.

you figured he was still busy, a habit of his from even before the outbreak, never went away.

that being the inability to turn down extra work. you wish he would, you wanted more of him, more of his time, more of his presence, his everything.

while working earlier today, you were invited to the bar that had just been finished renovating, the invitation coming from a guy whose name you already forgot.

you were excited by the invite, you never really did much, and you thought it would be something nice to do with joel. but alas, he isn’t home to receive the news.

you pull out a pad of paper, quickly scribbling a note for joel to read before washing the grime of the day off your skin.

you change into clothes you think are nicely suited for a bar, you’re not completely sure, considering you’ve never been inside one.

you think to yourself how you’re actually kind of impressed how people managed to do all of this under fedra’s nose, but you weren’t complaining, people inside the qz deserved a sense of normalcy in this lack of a community.

it was a hefty walk away, which made sense, to have a bar up and running, it’d need to be tucked away from the hands ready to pluck anything semi decent away.

when you were amidst your walk, joel shared your disappointment of coming home with no warm greeting.

he looks around, a frown etching itself over his features, before his glancing lands itself on your note. he inhales deeply, exhaling a loud, irritated huff. the last thing he wanted to do was be near a big group of people, sharing you, sharing your laugh, sharing your stupid jokes, sharing how beautiful you are with undeserving wandering eyes.

he washes up, deciding to just let his hair air dry on the way to the bar. midst his walk, he feels his chest get tight with stress, imagining you on this trek so late at night, and on your own.

he makes a mental note to scold you for that when he sees you.

–

“so,” the man in front of you takes a swig from his third beer. “you got a boyfriend?” he asks, and you get a little stiff, swirling the whiskey in your glass that you’ve been taking pained sips from, the bitter sharp taste was something you did not like. “i have someone,” you confirm, feeling warm at just the mere mention of joel.

“but no boyfriend?” he pushes further and you laugh awkwardly, your eyes looking anywhere but him.

“doesn’t bother me if you do or don’t, we can still have fun either way,” he leans in closer, his hand gliding up the side of your arm. you inch back, moving away from his touch. “it’s… not something we label, but i do have someone, i’m sorry.” you’re trying to be polite, but he doesn’t bite.

“no label? y’know honey, that’s just a man’s way of getting to have his cake and eat it.” he snickers, drinking from his beer. you bring your arms around yourself, feeling defensive. “what's that supposed to mean?” you question, eyes flickering all over him in search of an answer, starting to feel anxiety prickle at your skin.

“when a man doesn’t label somethin’ it’s ‘cause there’s nothing to label, meanin’ he can do what he wants with you and have no obligations holdin’ him down, because there’s nothing there. he can go out and fuck who he wants, because he ain’t got a girl back home.” his words hit you like a gong, a sharp ache penetrating into your chest, twisting the knife and letting it gape open.

“it… isn’t like that,” your voice is failing you, and it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than you are him. he laughs out of pity and you feel small, confidence being forcibly shrunken by his seeds of doubt.

“then where is he? last i checked, you came here all by yourself.” he points out, and your shoulders nearly deflate.

“he’s just busy,” you mutter and he shakes his head holding out his hands with a cocky certainty. “tellin’ ya honey, he’s probably with another girl,” he draws patterns in the wrist of yours that’s holding your glass.

“so what’s the harm in comin’ home with me? we could be somethin’ official, i wouldn’t hide you, who’d wanna hide a pretty girl like you,” his persuasions elicit a sense of nausea from the depths of your stomach, and you back away into the wooden pane behind you, shaking your head.

“there a problem here?” the voice you’ve been craving to hear all night finally finds you, and your head whips up. you breathe out a relieved, joel.

“nah, she’s with me.” the man answers for you, and you shake your head, moving away from him to go to joel. “no, this is who i was talking about.” you introduce joel, and he doesn’t say a thing, just stares down at the man in front of him, a hard glare being shot into his skull.

“so the guy stringing you along is this fuckin’ old man? you gotta be jokin,” and joel inches in, seconds away from bursting. “i suggest you watch your tone,” he warns, and the man sets his beer down, standing up straight now.

you tug on joel’s arm, trying to deescalate the situation, but he wants it to escalate, he wants to fucking hurt the guy in front of him.

“yeah? and the fuck are you gonna do if i don’t?” joel doesn’t need to hear anything else, he leans down, making it a point to emphasize the height difference between the two, and you swallow a giggle at how the man reddens from embarrassment.

joel grips him by his collar, tugging him in close. “i’ll rip your fucking jaw straight off your skull.” he grits out, and you know he means what he says.

“i’d like to see you try asshole.”

you grab at joel’s arm again, let’s just go baby, please you don’t need to do this, you plead with him, but he’s gone deaf with a ringing rage, unable to come down from the anger inside him.

“cmon pussy, hit m-” joel’s fist rises and lands with a heavy, painful impact down into the side of the man’s jaw, and you wince at the sight. he stumbles and falls back into the wooden pane.

the owner of the bar finally comes out, rushing to separate joel away from the man. “hey hey hey, that’s enough, break it up,” the man is lurching at joel and joel just stands proudly, unflinching at the threats spewing from the shorter man’s bloodied mouth.

“i’m so so so sorry, we’ll go, i’m so sorry, i’ll take care of this.” you apologize up and down to the owner, and he sighs, dragging his fingers down the corners of his mouth.

“just get him out of my sight, i’ll take care of this one,” he nods to the man and you agree, leading joel away to the bathroom to cool down.

“fine go ahead and leave with the old man who can’t even get his dick up!” he calls out after you, and you ignore it, but joel can’t.

his arm rips away from your hold, and he surges towards him, pushing past the owner and landing his fist hard into the same place he hit last time, grunting with pride when he hears something crack. everyone around you is frozen, mouths ajar in shock and fear.

“get him out!” the owner yells, jabbing his thumb towards the back exit, and you nod quickly, frantically trying to pull joel off of the man. the people surrounding you hurriedly move aside to let you two pass.

you usher joel into the restroom, locking the door behind you. “joel what the fuck?” the first time you’ve ever raised your voice at him was now, and he stares at you pacing in front of him.

normally, it excites you when joel is fast to your defense, it makes you feel like he cares, but this? this was stupid. this was an opportunity to do something fun and different together, and he most likely just got you two banned.

but what was actually bothering you, were the things that the man said to you. his words continuously buzz around in your head like flies to a carcass.

“what were you doing with him?” his voice is steady, but you hear the anger laced underneath, you hear the silent upward trail of it leading into something else, and you pause to look at him.

“what?” you exhale and he steps forward, jaw clenching and shifting with a trembling indignation. “i said,” he grits out, sore and numb fist landing on the wall behind you. “what the fuck were you doing with him?” he repeats, louder, scarier. you flinch away from him, and he drops his fist, unfolding it by his side, a thrum of guilt strumming inside him at the fearful way you were looking at him.

“he started talking to me, joel. it started off friendly, and then he began making advances towards me, which i shot down.” your eyes are watering, and you angrily wipe them away, upset that you were even crying.

“surprised you even care,” you mutter, already feeling regretful the second the words leave your mouth. he holds you by your chin, forcing you to look at him. “excuse me?” he questions, and you blink away the last few tears from your eyes nervously.

“where were you?” you counter back, and joel raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. “workin’. like i always am.” his eyes squint confusedly. “what’s this about?”

the pipe that filtered out your frustrations just about burst, and you spurt out all the fears that the man made resurface inside you.

“i told you that all i wanted is to be with you, which is true, and it’s okay that you don’t wanna label whatever this is,” you move your hands between you two.

“and it’s okay that it’s hard for you to even hold my hand in public even though it hurts me, but what’s not okay is lying to me. i-if, if you’re f..fucking someone else i’d rather you just be honest with me.” tears are streaming down your cheeks now, and you’re barely able to speak through the sobs.

joel can’t say anything for a moment, he’s completely taken off guard from how much pain you seem to be in from the fears you’ve been keeping to yourself.

he moves closer to you, his hands on either side of your head when he speaks, leaving you nowhere else to look, but him. “listen to me,” he murmurs, swiping the new dewy drops of tears from your eyes.

“there is no one else. s’just you. i..i don’t look at, think about, or talk to anyone for that matter, that isn’t you. i don’t got the time, effort, or desire, to be near someone that ain’t you. i didn’t even wanna come to this fuckin’ thing but i went because you’re here.” he points at the center of your chest, emphasizing his sentiments.

“you wanna know what you are?” he breathes out against your lips. you nod, hands resting on his shoulders. “you, are mine.” he speaks slowly, deeply, letting his words travel into the farthest places inside you, wanting what he says to resonate in you until it reaches your bones.

you push yourself up as far as you can to reach his lips, pressing yourself to him. he kisses you hard, imprinting himself to you, holding you by the back of your neck.

he drinks in your moans, his hand on your ass keeping you right up against his crotch, bucking into you just that much, getting you to melt in his hold.

you whimper in his mouth when he slides his tongue in, taking you in so roughly.

he can taste the whiskey on you, and he grunts, gripping at your ass before planting a hard smack over it. you yelp in his mouth but he doesn’t let you move away, instead, he pushes you into the wall, cradling your head with his hand when your back connects to the wall.

when you break apart for air, that's when he nudges at your shoulders, lowering you down to your knees. you obey, resting on your knees, looking up at him with those wide pretty eyes of yours.

he caresses your cheek, smiling at the way you mold into his palm. “think i need you to show me you understand me when i say you’re mine.” his sonorous voice, thick in control and sternness lit a flame between your thighs, and you had no problem proving to him that you understood.

you unbuckle his pants, the bulge behind them intimidating you. it’s been awhile since you two have… done anything, mostly just resorting to his fingers buried inside you, and your hand wrapped around him while he fucks your palm.

you’ve never gotten around to doing this, and joel was nowhere near small, the word not even existing in his hemisphere, so this was most definitely going to be quite the feat.

you fish him out his boxers, and you clench down on your teeth with nerves rattling through your being.

he's so thick in girth, you almost can't wrap your whole hand around him, the thought of him shoving himself in your mouth both excites you, and frightens you. but it's a good fear.

it's a challenge.

“wet your hand baby,” he instructs, and you listen, spitting in your palm, feeling warm at the way he says good, all drawn out and deep, it makes you all the more fervid to impress him, to make him feel good.

you jerk him off, hands shaking, but you force yourself to keep them steady for him. you’re using two hands to touch him, a slick sound starting to fill the space around you, reminds of you of the act you’re committing, and it excites you.

you lean forward, enveloping his tip between your lips, letting your hand glide further down while your lips trail along in suit, taking him in as deep as you can.

he shudders out a wavering breath, holding you by the back of your head, not pushing, but instead following the way you bob up and down on his cock.

you take him in further than you thought you could, the stretch of your lips around the thickness of him is a little uncomfortable, but the breathless groans pouring out of him from above you, make all the discomfort go away.

he wants to praise you for being a quick learner, but the words stutter behind his thoughts, jumbling themselves up, the only thing he could think, and feel, was your hot, wet mouth sucking him off, his cock so deep down your throat, his balls were resting at your chin.

your saliva pooled around the corners of your mouth, and he wiped his thumb over it, swiping under your stretched bottom lip that was barely able to form around his shaft.

he turns to the side, looking into the mirror that’s facing you both. the reflection glimmers back to joel, and the cinches in his chest and stomach suddenly get tighter.

he groans at the sight, it’s so fucking dirty, you on your knees, taking his cock as far as it can go, he thinks to himself how sweet his little girl is.

he can't take his eyes off of the vision playing out before him, it's too hypnotizing.

he starts to fuck your mouth, throwing his head back when he hits the back of your throat, pulling a gag from you. he grits his teeth when you gag around him, the sound is so filthy, everything about this is, but he likes it.

he likes the feeling of fucking your poor mouth until your jaw goes sore, because whenever you talk, a little reminder of where he was will be there.

he fixates on the way you’ve found yourself a rhythm, trying your hardest to go along with the way he’s guiding your mouth down his cock, letting him fuck your soft, pliant mouth.

he stares into the mirror, watching as you gag when he shoves his hips forward, grinding into the hot, slick hole your mouth acts as.

your tongue supports the bottom of his shaft, licking the sensitive spot under the head of his cock, and his hips stutter.

he holds your head, pushing in and keeping still, watching you take him in.

“takin’ me down your throat so goddamn good, baby. bet that fuckin’ asshole wishes he could have you like this,” he’s losing himself in the haven of your mouth, the way your watery eyes look up at him, egging him on.

“it’s only ever gonna be me, who fucks your mouth, i’m the only one who’s gonna have you on your knees, gagging around a cock, shit, around my cock,” he’s panting, rambling breathlessly in the peak of his pleasure, adding emphasis on every word with each thrust in your mouth without even thinking about it.

he pulls you off his cock, and you gasp, sputtering while you catch your breath. “repeat,” he orders, slapping the tip of his cock on your cheek.

“you’re the only one who gets to fuck my mouth,” you rasp, your voice already sounding hoarse, and he chuckles darkly, nodding to himself with pride.

he's putting your throat to good use.

he slides back in your mouth, and your hands rest on his hips while you take him. “look at yourself, so fuckin dirty," he grunts under a low guise of a breath. your eyes drift to the side, and they widen. the sight is dirty in the truest form of the word, but you like it too, you like it more than you should.

the thrusts into your mouth start to get faster, and you can barely keep up. “gonna let me cum in your mouth baby?” he breathes out, and you nod around him, unable to give verbal confirmation. “gonna take it all for me,” he pushes in deeper, “gonna swallow it all for me?”

mhmm you moan around him, and that’s all he needs. he fucks into your mouth, hard and fast, before he stills, your teary eyes squeezing shut, trying your best to breathe through your nose.

“shit,” he pants, palm flat against the wall above your head while he cums.

his load is heavy when it goes down your throat, and when he slowly pulls out, he slaps the tip over your tongue, watching his cum drip onto it. he catches his breath while he pulls you up to your feet, keeping you steady when you wobble.

your lips are plump, fat with soreness and he kisses them hard, bruising himself into you.

his hand finds its way between your thighs, he walks forward as he does so, pushing you up against the sink counter. he lowers himself down to you, and you watch with hooded eyes, watching as he lifts up the fabric of your long dress, bunching it up until he reaches your panties.

his chest inflates with a proud sense of vainglory at the wet patch spreading over your underwear.

he traces over it, and you shiver, coiling into him. he kisses, he licks you through your underwear, mouthing over your cunt. he laps at you hungrily, not realizing how starved he was until he latched his mouth on you.

his eyes shut when he tastes you, the way your perfect little clit rolled around on his tongue fueled his addiction to being buried in your cunt, your sweet drawls of cries enabling him further. he circles around your hole before pushing in, keeping your hip still with his free hand from wriggling away.

he lets yourself fuck yourself on his finger, chuckling over your clit, his lips still wrapped around it when you tremble at the way he adds in a second finger.

you raise your leg, leaning on the counter, trying to spread yourself as far as you can for him. your hands fell to the back of his head, grinding into his mouth and fingers, head lolling backward into the mirror.

your chest rises and falls with shaky gasps, his name falling from your bitten lips like it's the only word you know. joel joel joel.

you’re rolling your hips into him desperately, and he takes it all in with stride, moaning into your soaked flesh.

a wet clicking sound echos around the bathroom, and you’re almost embarrassed, it’s just so loud, but you couldn’t help how wet he made you. his knuckles fill you up to the hilt, and you’re tearing up all over again, his crybaby, he’d call you, but he’s too focused on sucking your clit to say anything.

his fingers feel overwhelming inside you, his tongue curling over your clit only making it worse, making you tug and pull at his hair, lifting your ass off the counter to push yourself deeper into his mouth.

he eats your cunt with a purpose, with a drive, but more than anything, he enjoys it. he can't get enough of how fucking good you taste, it turns him on to no end over how dirty it is, having his tongue flick over your pussy, his head between your thighs, trapping him in and nearly suffocating him inside you.

but if he were to die, this is how he’d want to go out, by a lack of air supply from burying his tongue inside your cunt.

he feels you shaking, the roll of your hips has lost it’s rhythm and he looks up at you, head thrown against the mirror, lips agape and crying out his name, chest heaving, and wait, he can see your nipples hardening through your dress, and he wonders if you’ve even got a bra on. his cock twitches at the thought of it.

“you close baby?” he asks you, his words pressing themselves right on your clit, and you whimper, nodding. he presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your cunt before rising back to his tall stature.

you blink through heavy lids, looking at him pleadingly. “why?” you mumble sadly, and he flips you around, pulling you into him with your ass right up against his cock.

he kisses the back of your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“you’re gonna cum when i’m inside you.” he aligns himself with your hole, pushing in with one thrust, holding you by your hips to keep you from stumbling forward from his harsh movements.

he has to slowly inch himself a little further, a little gentler, to get himself fully sheathed in you.

it has been a minute, since he’s had you like this, he thinks to himself. he tugs down the front of your dress, growling to himself when your tits fall out, perched up from the bunched material under them. he pinches at your nipples, slapping at the underside of them.

“no bra? that for me baby or were you planning on showin’ them to someone else?” he grits out, starting to fuck you hard, finding himself getting angry at the image of someone getting to see something that belongs to him, that belongs in his palms.

you shake your head, bouncing forward with each hard thrust he fucked into you with, gripping onto the counter in front of you.

“n-no, no, joel, just for you,” your head rolled back onto his shoulder, but he was fast to grab you by the back of your neck, keeping your head forward.

“look at yourself, and look at who’s fucking you.” he whispers in your ear, his beard tickling at your neck when he speaks, the command in his voice making you shiver.

you struggle to keep your eyes open, but he kept you in place, making sure you were watching yourself get impaled over and over again by the thick length of his cock.

“no one else, is gonna get to be in your pussy like this, understand?” he reminds you of a fact that you don’t need to be reminded of, because never in a million years would you ever let someone have you the way joel does. but you’d be far from truthful if you said you didn’t like hearing him, and feeling him, fuck you as a reminder of who owns you.

“yes, yes joel yes,” you cry, nails raking at the counter. he nips at your neck, his beard leaving a tingly trail over each inch of skin it touches.

the ‘pap pap pap’ from how soaked your cunt is and from how hard he’s thrusting into you bounces off the walls, and you hope dearly that none of the patrons can hear you.

joel seems to read your mind, because he inches near your ear, gruff groans floating all around you. “y’think he can hear us, can hear you gettin’ fucked?” you mewl at his words, never used to how dirty he can be, and you nod dumbly.

“yeah?” he mocks you, but you don’t care, not when you can feel the fat head of his cock rubbing over that little spot in you so good that it almost hurts from how intense it is.

his fingers find your clit, and he rubs those tight circles over it, watching you squeal from the shock of pleasure.

you try to push him away, it was too good and too much all at once, your poor sensitive cunt could only take so much. but you’re not going anywhere, he pulls you in closer, shoves himself in deeper, rubs harder, fucks you faster.

your entire self succumbs to joel, and you take it, it’s all you can do. you watch as your whole body jerks forward with each hard thrust joel delivers, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt, being able to see your chest bounce, his wandering hands all over you, squeezing, groping in places that have never been touched before by anyone but him.

your eyes fall to the way his long fingers rub over your clit, and it makes you clench around him.

he tilts his head to the side, resting his chin atop your shoulder, joining you in the voyeurism.

he pushes himself in you, eyes locking onto yours in the mirror, grunting in your ear, plucking your skin into goosebumps in the process.

“these, are mine,” he fondles your chest, and you nod willfully, arching your back into him when he squeezes them. “this,” he raises his hand and spanks the fat of your ass, hard, kissing your shoulder blade when you cry out, running his palm over the sore skin. “is mine,”

his hand cups your cunt, and he shoves himself the deepest he’s been in, and your mouth falls open, a sob leaving past it at the intrusion. “this, is mine.” he fucks you hard and you cry his name, hands clawing desperately all over the sink.

“s’your’s joel, its all yours,” you hiccup through a series of cries. he feels pleased by your answer.

he has an endless amount of pride of getting to have you, the prettiest, sweetest girl, with the tightest cunt he’s ever had, who was so happy, and so proud to be his.

“please, please, can i cum joel? been so good, n’ i need it so bad, can i please?” you’re pleading with him so earnestly, so needy, he couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

“go ahead baby,” he grants you the permission to let go, and it’s the push into your rippling orgasm you needed. you grip at his wrist that’s rubbing your clit, squirming around in his clutch, panting and chanting his name, his favorite sound from you.

your body buzzes with burning tips of hot pleasure pointedly traveling all throughout your limbs, washing you clean with joel.

“so good, babygirl, feel fuckin’ perfect wrapped around me,” he places hard frantic kisses all along your shoulder, pounding into you now spasmodically, unable to keep a steady flow in fluidity of his thrusts, his own orgasm was tiding over him, the waves threatening to crash and soak him whole.

“who’s fucking cunt is this?” he groans forcefully in your ear. “y-your’s, joel, s’all yours,” you whimper, head back against him, your moans falling directly into his ear.

he grunts a sound so palpable, so thick, it makes you whine. he shoves himself in rapidly, before slowing down, pushing in all the way, shuddering out lowly, his head resting beside yours when he cums.

he fucks you slowly, savoring the way you grip onto him, with how stuffed and full you are of him, and his cum.

he pulls out, trying to be gentle, remembering how unpleasant it was for you last time he pulled out.

he turns you around, adjusts your dress back over your chest, leaning forward to place a soft kiss this time, to your lips.

before he puts your dress back down, he lifts it up, looking at your poor abused cunt. he watches his cum leak out of you, and he inhales sharply at the sight.

he pushes it back in, shoving his fingers inside you, and you whimper, grabbing onto his wrist. he quickly puts your underwear back on, looking with a cocky gaze at his slick immediately dampening your panties.

he wipes his fingers with the paper towels behind you, tossing it in the trashcan. he rests his palms on either side of you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, catching your breath. “let’s go home, okay?” you whisper, and he nods, moving his hands back up to your waist to squeeze lovingly.

he holds your hand, interlacing your fingers, guiding you out the restroom.

when you near the exit, the man is stood outside, cigarette in hand, smoking while wincing from the throbbing pain in his jaw.

joel wants to laugh, but he refrains for your sake. you avoid eye contact with him, keeping close to joel, arms wrapped around his toned strong one, but joel isn’t as polite as you.

he makes it a point to ram his shoulder against the other man’s, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “she just finished gettin' my dick up .” he watches with amusement when his mouth parts in shock, anger and jealousy constricting his chest. joel pulls you along, ignoring his yells after him.

there are only a few things that joel finds joy in. you, coffee, and the occasional pettiness. and he seems to have indulged in all three of them today.

–

you two made it back to joel’s, walking in a light silence. you shuffle inside, making a b-line into his bed. he locks the door shut before kicking off his boots. he disappears into the bathroom, grabbing a small towel and wetting it. he comes back to you, parting your legs.

he removes your underwear, sliding it down and letting it hit the floor. he’s gentle while he cleans you up, aware of how sensitive you must be. you watch with wide, adoring pupils, the three words that live on your tongue aching to come out.

he undoes your boots, pulling them off and tossing it where his pair sits. he holds your ankle, his thumb drawing over the bone.

“i’m sorry… about tonight,” you apologize softly.

he shakes his head, scooting closer to sit next to you. “you don’t need to be sweetheart, i...agh, i,” he runs a hand through his hair tiredly.

“i should be. i didn’t mean to make a scene, i’ll try to talk to the owner and settle things so that if you wanna go back, you won’t get kicked out.” your eyebrows pull together in sympathy. “if we both can’t go then i don’t wanna go,” you murmur, sitting up to drape yourself over him.

your fingers run along his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble from his beard.

he holds your wrist, turning his cheek to kiss your palm. he shifts around, his forehead resting on your temple while he kisses the apple of your cheek. “let’s get you changed,” he says gently, and you say nothing, just holding onto his hand until you reach his fingertips when he walks to get you a change of clothes.

he returns with one of his flannels, and a pair of boxers he accidentally shrunk in the wash.

he kneels in front of you, unbuttoning the top buttons of your dress. there we go, he murmurs when you sit up for a moment, allowing him to pull the rest of the fabric from the dress you were sitting on.

he undresses you, and you hold yourself while he unfolds his shirt. he puts it over your head, pulling it down and smiling to himself at the way it hangs off you.

he readies the leg holes of the boxers at your feet, pulling it up and over your hips, running his hands over your soft skin before he pulls the shirt back down to cover you up. he sheds off his jacket, ridding himself of his clothes until he’s left in a wife beater and his boxers.

you scoot to the side of his bed, lifting the cover while patiently waiting for him to join you.

naturally, of course he does. he opens his arms for you, and you curl up in his hold, warm and safe, wrapped up between two strong arms.

you bury yourself in his chest, his scent lulling you into a hazy relaxed state. “joel?” you whisper. “yeah?” he returns, and you close your eyes, nervously fisting at his wife beater.

“i … you know…i...you.” you huff in frustration with yourself, and he stays quiet for awhile, unsure of what you mean before it clicks.

“i know.” you feel the tears about to break through the closed curtains of your lashes, trying to ready yourself for the rejection about to hit. ”i do too, sweetheart. i do too.” and suddenly, you’re letting go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding onto.

relief rinses through you, a shining confirmation that you weren’t the only one who felt this way. you were nowhere near alone in that. and now you knew, which is all you ever wanted.

your heart just about soars in your chest, and you have to swallow back the squeals of excitement that want to come out.

you’re still nervous to say it, but it’s okay, this is okay. joel knows what you’re saying, and you know what he is as well. and that’s all you two needed.

“by the way,” he adds, pulling you away from your thoughts. you look up from his chest, resting your forehead on his chin. “what’s up?”

“don’t you go walkin’ on your own that far like that again you hear me?” he chides you and you laugh, rolling your eyes. “alright joel.”

he grumbles, kissing your hairline. “mean it, goddamnit.” you're laughing into the quiet night air and he feels at peace, feels like he can breathe when he hears that soft, happy sound from you.

"baby?" he murmurs, and you kiss his collarbone, humming a sleepy, yes?

"i ain't the most...articulate man, but i just. i want you to know i care. an-and i think of you all the time, even when you're right there beside me, i'm thinkin' about what might be goin' on in that little head of your's, an' when i'm workin' my mind drifts back to you, like it's clockwork." his voice is traveling on a low steady path of smooth warmth, but there's nervousness between the gaps of his words.

he knows he doesn't say how he feels as often as he should, or at all for that matter, but he knows being reminded is important, so he tries, he tries for you.

you raise your head from the safety of his chest, eyes watery and he chuckles, gently grazing your waterline clean of them. "why're you cryin' little girl?" he asks below a whisper.

you hold his wrist, leaning into his caress while you sniffle. "i...i love you so much joel, i love you i love you, i love you. you don't have to say it back, it's okay, but i just have to say it. i love you," you laughed through your sniffling, and he stares at you, his heart growing larger than it has in years, and he almost wants to cry with you.

he leans forward, his hand resting on the side of your neck, his thumb tracing over your jaw. "i love you." he whispers back, a few cracks of sound breaking in from the nerves of finally admitting it, and you squeal, leaping out of his hold to lay on top of him.

you straddle his waist, cupping his face in your hands, his beard tickling at your palms when you lean down and smother him with kisses. mwah mwah mwah is all he can hear through his laughter at your bursting affection.

"alright baby, alright," he chuckles, keeping you steady by your hips. "say it again, please?' you ask softly, eager to hear those perfect, sweet words one more time.

you rest your hands on his chest, leaning forward to listen. he runs his hands up your thighs, tilting his head as he looks at you. "i love you, baby."

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal joel miller

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notjustjavierpena · 7 months

Text

The Making of Ellie - Part V (Last Part)

A/N: I've crawled out of my depression hole to give you the last epilogue-esque part of The Making of Ellie. Watch me disappear again now.

Summary: Joel's thoughts surrounding fatherhood and newborn Ellie.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, thoughts of fatherhood, mention of Sarah’s mother, breastfeeding

Word count: 1.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Happy

Ellie is the tiniest baby Joel has ever seen and with the loudest voice, Joel has ever heard. She seems to sport her mother’s temper from the moment that she is born, and he knows from the get-go that she will have Sarah’s ability to persuade him to do anything just by merely existing. She fits in both of his palms which is unfathomable even if he knows that he has big hands, fits on top of your belly too, her previous home, if she’s curled into a little ball, and you call him a goof whenever he utters ‘Bellie’ under his breath whilst admiring her sleeping on you. The first time he had said it, your soft laugh had made Ellie cry again yet not as fiercely, and Joel had argued that she liked the nickname.

“We need to monitor her heart rate,” a nurse had said after the first few hours that the two of you had had Ellie alone. Joel was reluctant to hand her over at first, but when he got her back into his arms, her sporting a little blue monitor around her ankle, that same nurse had made him flush when she praised him for evening out her rapid pulse by doing skin-to-skin contact.

It’s pretty much all he does now; holds her tiny body in his hands with his shirt off so he can feel his daughter properly, connect with her as you get much-needed rest in between feedings.

He has also proclaimed that he can tell the difference between Ellie’s cries. You say that ‘it’s been two days’, but he is certain and confident in his abilities. This isn’t his first time at the rodeo. Ellie’s cries have different pitches when she’s in his or your arms compared to when she’s getting picked up by the nurses. He has to stop himself from interfering with their work, mostly by your request, but he still hovers around the hospital staff whenever they are in your room.

“She’s too tiny, we need to keep an eye on her weight,” they say. By instinct, he wants to say that she is perfect just the way she is. She’ll get there. She’s strong. He can tell.

“Silly man,” you say into a kiss when you notice his pacing as nurses bathe or weigh her, and Joel is absolutely fine with being just that. A silly, foolish man with a desperate need to look out for his three girls despite no danger lurking around the corner. But then again? Isn’t being a parent equal to living in fear of losing said child? Ellie has only been in the real world for two days, and he would burn the world down to the ground if it meant that she would be safer.

Joel knows that he has been here before. Sarah, albeit not as tiny, made him feel the exact same things that he is going through right now but still, there’s a part of him that has forgotten just how nerve-wracking having an infant is and just how much it fucks with the perception of everything. Whilst being terrified, he loves Ellie so intensely that it makes his head swim and he looks at you nervously as you announce that you can go home soon. He doesn’t get how you can say it and be so calm.

You go home a week after Ellie is born, with a pink little hat on her head that is still a bit too large for her despite it being the smallest size they had. He drives the car under the speed limit. He checks the roads several times before turning.

Sarah and Tommy wait for you in the kitchen, coming to greet you at the front door, and Joel does the pat-on-the-back hug with his brother who immediately fusses over Ellie as much as himself. He mentions that he and Maria might have one too, and makes a joke about Joel beating him to fatherhood once again.

“She’s tiny,” he also says as Ellie cries, rocking her in his arms whilst Sarah runs a hand over her baby sister’s head. She has removed the hat after claiming that it’s falling into Ellie’s eyes, and whereas Joel would have protested the act in the hospital, he finds that he absolutely trusts his oldest daughter.

“Don’t say that,” she chimes in, and then like she has read his mind despite them being apart for a week, “She’s perfect.”

Joel catches your eye across the room at that. You look at him with the gentlest smile, and despite all his efforts to appear as the strong protector for a whole week in the hospital with you and his newborn baby, he feels the facade crumbling and it allows him to feel safe, happy and relaxed. He cries then, excuses himself to breathe in the crisp air outside in the place where he realized his love for you a few years back.

Later, when the house empties - Tommy leaving with the excuse of letting you be a family of four - and everyone goes to bed, he settles into a new routine with you.

He assembled the bassinet a few weeks ago, and he holds you as the two of you stare down at the tiny life that you’ve made together. Ellie sleeps with her arms above her head and kicks her legs when she wakes up crying in the middle of the night.

He tells you that he’ll get her, lays her against his naked chest until she simply coos instead of screaming, “That’s it, baby girl. No need to use that tone with your father. No monsters here, Bellie.”

When she starts moving her hand to her mouth, smacking her lips, and looking around, he rubs your back and tells you that Ellie is hungry, “Lookin’ for ya.”

You sit up in bed, barely awake as you nurse his daughter back to sleep. He admires the scene and knows how lucky he is; in his 40s and experiencing the greatest gift of life that he’ll ever receive once more. He gets sentimental about it too, thinking of the intimacy of seeing Ellie getting fed by her mother when he never got to with Sarah’s. It wasn’t good with the chemo that never saved her.

Joel has never been able to pinpoint what had shifted the moment that he had let you into his life but with the comfort of knowing that Sarah is sleeping soundly in her own room, and by listening to the soft noises of you and Ellie sleeping occupying the room that had been so used to the sound of nothing, he knows that before, he had been satisfied but now, he is happy.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou fic #my writing #joel the last of us #dilf!joel

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kitkatscabinet · 1 year

Note

I’d picture Aemond would be quite cautious and attentive with a clumsy lover, his partner could be the most uncoordinated person ever who always manages to trip over air, runs into things, gets little scrapes and bruises & so on. If they’d cry over their injuries- I feel as is if Aemond wouldn’t ever belittle their ouchies, even if he’s felt one of the most painful experiences with his eye, he’d always validate even the tiniest of scratches if they are crying due to their clumsiness. He gives such loving protecter energy i love him sm

At first Aemond is downright annoyed with you. How could one person possibly be so fucking inept as to trip over nothing.

You have worse spatial awareness than him, hips and shins constantly discoloured with bruises. He doesn’t understand how, he’s the one with one eye, if anyone should had shit awareness it’s him.

He tells himself he's only spending so much time with you in an attempt to train the slumsiness out of you. He has no interest in a partner that must be observed with a dinner knife in fear of injury.

He tells himself it doesn't make his chest all tingly when you come to him to whine about your mundane injuries, that his stomach doesn't flutter when you lift your skirts to show off the assortmnet of colours decorating your shins.

No he hasn't started to essentially baby proof King's Landing, ordering corners padded and having suspected hazards moved out of your potential pathway.

He doesn't enjoy tending to your minor/nearly non existent wounds and the feel of your skin underneath his hands.

Maybe he enjoys the way you slot yourself against him as you cry over your newest hurt or embarrassment. Offering comforting words as you curse yourself for being such a mess.

He definitely enjoys having to stand so close to pull you upright and against his chest as you trip.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader

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infinite-hearts-333 · 17 days

Text

Smiling Critters Cartoon- Ouřa Thorn

I view the cartoon as the like. OG source of all other aus, even though the toys were probably made first, as well as the experiments, BUT I DO WHAT I WANT RWAH. So this is like. OG Thorn.

This is my explanation of where Thorn lives, and how they came into existence within the cartoon universe.

First of all, this story actually starts off with Bubbles. Although she wasn’t known as Bubbles back then- rather by her species, the Giant White-Tipped Wandering Tarantula- or ‘Big Blue’ as called by the rural farmers that would sometimes see her.

Wandering Tarantulas were a massive but mostly passive species of spider- known for patrolling expansive of land for food and water, and their freakishly good mimicry skills. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d see them clamber along the sides of wheat field, ever careful to not flatten any off the plants. They are tenders to the forest- a guardian to ward off any thing that threatens the beasts that reside inside.

One concept that I love and have burrowed is that there are ‘Critters’ aka Dogday ect, that are human like- and then ‘Beasts’ that are animals. And on some rare occasions, if a beast earns an emblem, they can become a critter, like Bobby bear hug from @novalizinpeace (who has a new blog now for their au, go check it out!!!!)

Bubbles was a beast- a very smart beast, just like how animals of our world can be very intelligent.

The way Thorn was born, was just like any other critter- by stork. And in this situation, by pure luck, fate and the animal intelligence that Bubbles possessed.

Litter happens. And sometimes, critters loose things. So whilst one fine morning, when Bubbles is wandering through the forest, they step on a paper, that had blown in, smudging a foot print on the bottom half. This note, was actually a letter- a half finished letter for a child that a parent must have lost.

Not that Bubbles knew that.

Unsure what to do with this paper, the tarantula did what most animals do- copy the creatures that normally have it. By watching the Critters, Bubbles witnessed Critters putting paper in a big red box. So they did the same. And, effectively, mailed a baby request, signed with their foot print.

Now I think there would be a little bit of slack in the Storks since in Nova’s au, King Canv(ass) got Crafty, and apparently Crafty and Dogday wrote a drunk letter and accidentally got another kid, so I’m gonna say that the storks are flexible, in case in more rural places were education isn’t the greatest, writing is a little hard.

And in the topic of rural- some farms just. Do not have addresses, and come on, it’s a magical place and babies come by storks- I’m allowed to bend the rules a little. So for rural places, you leave your finger print on the paper, and the storks use magic to track the print to exactly where you are! Hence why normally, the parent that leaves the print stays at home until the baby comes, cause you don’t want to get them like, at work.

And sometimes, since it’s such a tradition, the parents will leave the finger print instead of their name.

And well…… I feel sorry for that poor stork.

It was a first ever- that a Beast had ever snuck into the stork system. And after checking their equipment four times- nope, the letter was 100% from the Giant Tarantula. Also, there was no rules for this. Was the stork meant to leave a baby with this massive spider??? Take it back? Leave it at an orphanage? (Which was probably didn’t even exist if birth control wasn’t a problem if you get what I mean)

The stork contact their boss, and ofc, he/her/they, didn’t believe it at all. So the stork. Sat the baby down, and watch from afar, pray this animal would take the child.

And she did! The little spiky thing smelt weird, but when Bubbles pressed their pedipalps into the little things softer underbelly, it curled around them with the tiniest little purr ever. And well. Bubbles was therefore convinced that this little thing was their spiderling.

Between the half baked (defiantly a draft) writing and the crinkled, weathered paper with the dirty print- Ouřa Thorn turned out with some issues- the most prominent being that one of their horns had snapped. Whether the horn was to weak and broke, or if it never fully developed- no one knows- but it dreadfully impacted Thorns hearing, and therefore, their volume of their voice when they started interacting with other Critters.

Bubbles also being the Best Mum Ever tm, also was proven when it came to Thorns emblem- mainly because she found it. Thorns emblem is of course, the image of the world serpent- or Ouroboros.

Bubbles had found it deep within the forest, in a tiny old ruin- and well, knowing that their spiderling hoarded shinies like no one’s business, they took it back for them.

To Bubbles knowledge, they love it so much they wear it everywhere they go!

#♾ art #my art #oc #Ouřa Thorn #smiling critters oc #smiling critters cartoon #OG Ouřa Thorn

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r0und3bitch · 2 years

Text

BFF’s - Worst Behavior

Summary: You took something that belongs to Rafe but he doesn't want it back.

“Oh, I know where you got it— but I want to hear you say it…”

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!!!! Best Friends Kink, Daddy Kink, Innocence Kink, possessiveness/jealousy, hair pulling/choking, cursing, dom/sub nature. Slutty 💘

Notes: My bratty baby!!!! Truly an absolute joy to write. She's a wild one and I love her to death! Let me know what you think, loves!!

Song Inspiration:

Drake - Worst Behavior

Jack Harlow & Lil Wayne - Poison

BFF's Masterlist

Rafe Cameron was dripping in sweat.

It was a sweltering hot afternoon on the Figure Eight as the unforgiving Carolina sun beat down on the Island Club Golf Course.

He’d feigned annoyance when Kelce had mentioned playing a round today— until he pulled that beautiful little bag of white powder out of his pocket— Rafe’s kryptonite.

His irritation quickly faded with each line Kelce bumped him, their swing significantly improving after each hole. That is, until his phone buzzed eagerly in his pocket, pulling him back from the shitty joke Topper was trying to make as he rolled his eyes and flipped the screen open, ready to tell whoever it was to fuck off—

That is…until he saw it.

It took only once glance down at his phone, once clenched tightly in his large palm, now falling freely from his grasp as his brain short circuited.

“Holy fuck—”

He caught the phone in his other hand, his friends' heads whipping around at the outburst.

“You good, bro?”

Good? Was he good? Or had his entire existence just faded away into nothing?

You’d replied that you had plans for the day when he texted earlier that morning, pretending to not be annoyed by your short, standoffish answer.

He didn’t realize your plans included this.

His soul was breaking into a million pieces as he stared down at the mind bendingly, cataclysmically life altering picture of his best friend as another text quickly came through.

FUCK! I did NOT mean to send that to you!

A simple misunderstanding melted to rage as Rafe took in your words, reading them only once more before the picture demanded his eyes attention again, making his dick twitch in his pants as he stared down at the girl he’d known his entire life— you.

His best friend. His perfect, bratty, stubborn best friend— hair braided into attempted innocence, tongue curled up over those plump lips he’d more than once imagined shoving his cock down over the years, your absolutely perfect in literally every way, perky tits were hiked up to near impossible levels, somehow shoved and stuffed into the tiniest bikini Rafe had literally ever seen.

And if all of that hadn’t already sent him to his near breaking point, it compared little to the complete downward spiral he went into when he registered the necklace dangling from that pretty little neck of yours.

The necklace.

What in the actual fuck it was doing dangling from your goddamn neck right now, Rafe hadn’t a clue as another text can’t through.

I clicked the wrong chat!! 😰

If your first text didn’t sit well with him, the second one blanketed Rafe with that blood boiling, seeing red rage he was much too familiar with. He was seething.

His jaw clenched down hard, tongue between his teeth so tight he could already taste the blood.

Even though all he wanted to do was stare down at the picture all goddamn day, he swiped his phone closed, already jogging over to the golf cart, ready to tear down anyone and everything that stood in his way.

“I’ve gotta go!”

“What the fuck!” He heard Topper yell over him. “We just started!”

Rafe wasn’t paying them any attention as he sped the cart away towards the club house. Once parked, he was out and near sprinting to his truck at this point, passing a group of guys on the way out of the Island Club who looked vaguely familiar, remembering them from somewhere in his long term memory, the mental image of you in that picture fully taking over his short term memory, demanding his full and undivided attention.

It was a short drive to your house, the route memorized on auto pilot after all of these years.

The second the truck was in park, he was throwing the door open, marching up to your front steps, his large fists slamming against the front door as loud as he possibly could— still seeing nothing but red.

It was only seconds later the door was thrown open— revealing you before him. You’d had the decency to throw on a baggy, old Kildare Prep t-shirt but Rafe could still see the pink hues of the micro sized bikini you were sporting under the white fabric that hung loosely over all your curves— noticing with a nasty quirked eyebrow that you didn’t have any pants on.

Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight of him.

“Rafe—what’re you doing—”

You let out a squeak when he pushed you both beyond the threshold, hand whipping back to slam the door closed as the other pushed against your abdomen— his one hand covering your entire front side— slamming you back against the wall as a near whimper fell from your lips.

Growing up with Rafe, you were no stranger to his frequent, earth shattering anger and rage that could take hold of him. You were quite confident, as his eyes blazed down on you like he was ready to rip your head off, that although you’d spent nearly your whole life growing up with this boy— whatever or whoever was standing in front of you right now was unbeknownst to you— this was different. He was different.

“What am I doing?” His tone was one of disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom how you could even be asking him that right now. “What do you think you are doing, Y/N?”

“I think I should be the one asking you that, no?”

He was fully towering over you now, his head dipping down lower, inching closer to yours. The hand that wasn’t pressed tightly against your waist firmly planted on the wall behind you, allowing him to trap you in his arms.

“Rafe, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to send—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Y/N/N.”

His tone of voice was ice cold, the irritation with you so evident— you couldn’t help it when you felt the butterflies rise within you or the pool that gathered between your legs upon hearing your name.

“I’m only going to ask you this once…”

When you felt his chest press against you— so strong and firm you thought you could die— the breath came hollowing out of your lungs so deep Rafe could hear it, wondering what other kinds of sounds he could draw out of his best friend.

“And don’t even fucking think about lying to me, because I’ll know…”

You involuntarily groan at his words.

“Oh, I know where you got it— but I want to hear you say it…”

If Rafe wasn’t holding you up against the wall, you’d have surely fallen to the ground at his words, your knees all but threatening to give out as you guessed where this was going, heart racing at the thought.

He slowly brought his hand up to the collar of your shirt, pulling it down to expose the necklace dangling off your pretty little neck— an image he thought he’d only see in his wildest dreams from the moment he’d bought it— the jeweled letters spelling out his name hitting a few specks of sunlight— casting rainbows across your glowing face.

“Tell me where you got this fucking necklace, Y/N.”

An actual whimper left your lips this time. The sound spreading the most wicked, sinister grin across Rafe’s face.

“Nuh uh, I need words. Now…”

Your heart was racing faster than ever before. You knew he knew the truth— and now he was going to make you say it.

He couldn’t help himself when his hand came up to your neck, dying to touch and feel the necklace against your skin from the moment he saw it. His large hand grasped the entire side of your neck—you couldn’t help your mind from envisioning how it would feel to have them clench down and choke you— when you felt his thumb rub up the front of your throat, making your breath hike, as he sternly guided your chin upwards, demanding his eyes on yours— demanding an answer.

“Y/N.”

The answer falls from your lips the second your name leaves his mouth.

“I took it out of your backpack when I was over this weekend.”

And there it was. The truth that Rafe had known since the moment he saw that fucking photo pop up onto his phone screen. The necklace he’d bought (that he never thought would ever even see the light of day) surely wasn’t secured into his bag that he’d last left it in— it was dangling from his best friend's neck like a wet dream. His wet dream. The same one he’d always had for as long as he’d known you…

And although the truth was out, the harder question was yet to be answered, the one Rafe didn’t want to fucking hear but who’s brain demanded to know.

You saw the muscles in his jaw twitch, only guessing what was coming next, his voice a growl in your ear, laced with accusation as he dipped his head down to your eye level.

“And what stupid fucking asshole did you think you were going to send that photo to wearing my necklace, hmm?”

“Rafe, it doesn’t even matter—”

“No—” his voice was different this time, almost pleading in anger. “I want to hear you fucking say it.”

“Rafe…”

“Wrong name.”

His voice sounded almost disgusted with you but his eyes still held the same pleading look. The same look you’d given into so many times throughout your friendship, why should this be any different.

“Joey Hudson…”

Joey Hudson. Rafe’s mind flashed back to his hauling ass rush of leaving the Island Club only a short time ago, to the group of guys who seemed vaguely familiar as he passed, to Joey fucking Hudson sitting amongst them.

Rafe walked right past the asshole.

The lethal laugh that left his lips was anything but pleasant, the sound sending chills down your spine.

“That fucking touron? You were sending that stupid fuck a picture in my necklace—”

Rafe should’ve known, well—he did know because he knew you. Yet he was too far drowning in his own fit of rage and jealousy to account for your inevitable bratty, resilient attitude.

“Well I don’t know who your stupid fucking necklace was meant for but it looks better on me anyway.”

There it was. That stupid, spoiled, infuriating, entitled attitude of yours that had been driving Rafe crazy (and haunting his dirtiest thoughts— often times while his hand was wrapped around his own cock) his entire life.

He wanted to fucking scream.

“That’s not possible.”

His cool dismissal of your cockiness was a low blow you couldn’t ignore, your face twisting pathetically at his words, stubborn and unwilling to let him win as anger coursed through you, even if he did think the necklace would look better on some other bitch’s neck— that’s not the reason you took it.

You’re spewing now, pulsating with hurt and anger at the thought of him giving this necklace to another girl, one of the many in his repertoire to choose from.

“It looks better on me than any other stupid bitch you could’ve—”

You choke on your words as he removes his hand from the wall to clasp it down fully over your mouth.

“That’s not possible because I bought it for you, you fucking brat.”

His hand only stays covering your mouth for a second as your eyes bulge from your head. The only reason you’d taken it from his bag had been due to the fit of jealous that literally consumed you the second you’d discovered it when snooping through his bag, expecting to find coke and instead finding that diamond studded five letter word sitting so pretty in that velvet box.

Your mind blurs as you feel Rafe shove you into the small first floor bathroom right outside the foyer, hearing the door slam behind the two of you as the light flicks on.

You’re both standing facing the large mirror, Rafe directly behind you as you catch his gaze in the glass. It’s haunting as he stares down at you, eyes full of something you haven't seen before— or maybe you had…

His hand tugs on the bottom of your t-shirt.

“Take this off…”

Rafe Camerons tone always aired on the side of that dominating, arrogant, figure eight culture he’d grown up in—while this was no different, you could feel his words pool between your legs again, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. As sassy and infuriating as you absolutely loved to be with him, always pushing his buttons and driving him crazy. Right now… you wanted to obey him.

You do as you’re told, taking the fabric in your grasp and slowly bringing it above your head, tossing it to the floor as you hear Rafe let out a shaky breath behind you.

The picture you’d sent him quite literally paled in comparison to the real life image of you before him— complete and utter perfection.

He was losing himself in the way parts of you fell out of the fabric at all the right places, at how your breasts were threatening to burst from the pathetic seams of the bikini and how your hardened nipples poked through, begging to be touched.

His brain felt dizzy from seeing you like this, in ways he’d only dreamed of.

Without thinking, your hand came up to touch the necklace, fingers gently grazing the letters Rafe was begging to hear you call him.

His next words hit you straight to the gut, causing a wave of emotions you didn’t think remotely possible as his hand comes to push one of your braids over your shoulder to give him a better view.

“Jesus Christ, I knew this necklace would look so beautiful on you the moment I bought it, baby.”

Hearing him call you that feels like a dream come true, like a tidal wave crashing over you as you register his admittance of being physically attracted to you...not that you hadn’t already consciously been aware of that on some level. The whimper he hears come out of you only encourages him to go on, not like he could stop his own thoughts if he wanted to at this point.

“I never dreamed you’d let Daddy see it on you though, Y/N/N…”

You’d heard that nickname of yours come out of his mouth hundreds if not thousands of times in your lifetime, yet hearing if paired with the name glittering from your neck— this time it sinks down deep in your soul, attaching itself to your deepest, darkest want: him.

“Rafe…please”

Your plea for him was all he needed to hear.

When Rafe’s lips press down into your shoulder, your eyes fluttered closed, head falling back lazily onto his chest, unable to stop the moan falling out of your mouth as his lips turn into your neck.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror, only this time they hold a flame that sparks something deep within you, a switch that can be turned off.

“Y/N…”

You feel his hands squeeze at your sides before feeling them travel up to the back of your neck, his two fingers easily untying the bow ties there as the straps immediately come falling to your sides, your breasts quite literally popping out of the strained fabric with such force you heard Rafe moan behind you, hearing that sound from him nearly orgasmic.

It’s nothing compared to the look on his face right now though, eyes blown out beyond recognition, looking as if he might actually cry, as he devours every single inch of you.

His voice is low in your ear once more, holding a dreamlike wonder before going back to his cool edge, refusing to break eye contact through the mirror.

“Do you have any fucking clue how many times I’ve imagined this, imagined you like this?”

He was so close to you now that when he grabs your waist and pulls you back, you feel him, how absolutely rock hard he is under his pants and you literally mewl over, the most helpless, whiny pout Rafe has ever seen in his entire fucking life taking over your face as you thrust your ass back at him, almost begging to feel more of him— as Rafe just repeats the same thought on loop—knowing what he’s always known.

She’s going to be the fucking death of me.

“God you’re so pretty it actually hurts, baby.”

“Rafe...”

He feels your hands reach back, frantically trying to grasp his t-shirt in your palms and he watches goosebumps rise over your breasts, making your nipples perk up to unbelievable heights as he hears you whine again, his words coyly meant to shush you.

“Shhhhh… I know, Y/N. I feel it too.”

Your mind blows apart when he confirms it— confirms your sickest, most desperate dreams you’d never thought possible. He feels it too.

He loves the feeling of you tugging at his shirt so much, confirming you want it just as bad as he does as he finally brings his hands up your side, hands feeling like heaven as he grabs at each of your breasts, watching as he rolls and pinches your nipples between his fingers, absolutely loving watching the way your face contorts wildly, shivers running up and down your body at the feeling.

Rafe feels you tremble slightly in his arms, grin threatening to take over his face as he watches your chest rise and fall rapidly. You were falling apart in his arms and god damn he loved every single second of it— every single moment of being the one to cause you to do so.

“You like the way that feels, hmm?”

You couldn’t respond if you wanted to, words lodged down deep into your throat where his dick should be.

But Rafe didn’t need a response, he knew.

“I’ve known you your whole life, Y/N” as his hands grab at every part of you, blissed out from finally getting to touch you like this after all these years, scared he’s going to wake up and it all won’t be real.

The thoughts tormenting him of Joey fucking Hudson’s hands touching you instead of his own come piercing through his mind, making his blood boil, venom dripping from his next words.

“You really think some touron fucking idiot here for the summer knows you better than your best friend? Knows their way around your body better than me?”

You find your voice in that moment, coming out more of a pout than anything, lost in his words, not realizing his hands trailing down lower and lower.

“You’ve never even touched me like this before…”

“Yeah, and look at how fucking wet you are for me, sweetheart.”

You almost screamed when you felt his fingers brush past the fabric of your bikini bottoms, sliding over your clit, gliding back and forth with such ease due to the actual pool of liquid gathered there like a prized trophy on display for him, wanting nothing more than to show him what he was doing to you.

“Oh my god, Rafe.” Your voice coming out breathy and heavy.

You feel empty when he removes his hand all too quick, needing, begging to feel him again as his cool voice hits your ear drums again, feeling like you’re drunk.

“Turn around.”

When you do, you half expect him to demand you drop your knees, which is exactly why your jaw fully falls to the floor when he drops to his before you, looking up you in such a way you’re not sure how you’re still standing, gulping at the sight of him, lips slightly set in a pout but face determined as his hands come up to your hips.

His tongue flicks out slowly between his teeth before licking both of his lips like he’s starved as he pulls your bikini down your legs, leaving you standing there before him in nothing but the necklace. Rafe couldve came at the sight alone, memorized by the glittered letters— memorized by you.

You felt his breath fan your core as he tosses your bikini to the floor but not before seeing the giant wet mark you he made in them, filling him with such a sense of pride and newfound possessiveness over you.

“Spread your legs open for me just a little bit…”

His middle finger only comes up to toy with your clit, his finger pad just barely hitting your bud as you throw your head back, not fully giving you what you want but the sensation alone involuntarily making your legs open wider as he chuckles to himself.

“Good girl. If I don’t at least taste a little bit of you right now, I’m gonna fucking die—”

Rafe Cameron—your best friends tongue attaches itself to your core as you white knuckle grip down on the counter for dear life— you would’ve given absolutely anything to him in this moment— would’ve laid your life out on the line if it meant having him make you feel like this.

He groans when he finally tastes you, confirming what he’s always known; you’re straight poison—a drug he’d willingly overdose on— eyes rolling into the back of his head at how unbelievably sweet he just fucking knew you’d be.

Now that he’d had a taste— he needs more. He needs everything.

His mouth slowly makes its way up, hovering over your stomach and then your chest…

His lips came up to your perfectly perked up nipples, literally begging to be played with as you felt it being sucked firmly between his lips, felt the tip of his tongue flick back and forth over the hardened nub before the back arching feeling of it grazing his teeth— his eyes looking up at you at that exact moment— the way he was looking at you should be illegal.

Rafe Cameron’s mouth had been nearly everywhere on you. It had touched the most intimate parts of your body, parts you still couldn’t believe it was real.

Yet as he towered back over you and his lips came closer to yours, you felt your lungs nearly collapse.

You’d dreamed about this moment entirely too many times, had thought of him on far too many occasions— both in private and in public. What those beautiful lips could do to you. What they now had done to you…

With one final look down on you— reliving nearly every memory from the moment he’d met you till this exact moment in time— he leaned forward and made all of his wildest dreams come true.

The moment you felt Rafe’s lips on yours, you knew. You knew this was it.

This was why you had stolen the necklace without a second thought upon finding it. Hell, you knew this was why Rafe had bought the necklace.

Rafe was your best friend. You knew & he knew. This was how it should feel, how it could feel, how it does feel.

The taste of your lips on his is was so sweet, entirely too sweet for his bratty, know it all, had to always be right, best friend. He knows better. He knows you better.

Yet his brain still almost goes into a fit of shock when he feels you pull his bottom lip between your teeth, your tongue rolling over it threatening to make Rafe’s whole body shake. When he feels you bite down, his hand reaches up to grab at one of your braids instinctively within seconds, yanking you back briefly— the feeling utterly delicious— before pulling the braid closer to him, pulling you closer to him, demanding to taste more of you.

His face held no trace of a smile as he looked down on you, but the rushing effect it had when paired with his next words were all the same.

“Bend over.”

You don’t move a muscle, not fully being able to register his words as his gaze grows grim.

“I—”

He doesn’t use his words, only his hands this time as he grabs your waist and spins you so quickly you feel like you have whiplash, now facing the mirror again as he grabs your braid and pulls you flush against him so he can growl in your ear.

“Are you gonna bend the fuck over the counter for me baby or am I gonna have to ask you again?”

“Don’t be a brat, Y/N/N. I know you. I know you want to do as you’re told. I know you just want to be my good girl.”

Rafe had always been able to read straight through you, one of his more frustrating traits— his mind always crystal clear when it came to you.

He’s foaming at the mouth as he watches you sink your hands to the back of the bathroom counter, allowing your body to fall slowly forward onto the hard surface as your legs are spread wide open, ass and pussy on full display for him as Rafe takes in the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

You’d expected him to take you right then and there— not bend down to his knees for the second time as he literally coos at you.

He knew exactly what you needed at that moment.

“Mmmmm, nice and slow sweetheart. I’ve only dreamed about how tight this pussy is, now I want proof.”

You let out an unholy whimper as his fingers slid across your clit, causing shockwaves down your spine before you felt his fingers at your entrance, slowly sliding between your lips, feeling the delicious feeling of them spreading you open, of him filling you up.

You gasp as he slowly pushes two fingers deep into your pussy that’s so perfectly on display while you’re bent over, the sight alone making him almost drool. His fingers fill you in ways you didn’t think possible and when you feel his cool ring finger slide inside you, you clench down hard on him making both of you gasp out loud.

“God damn, Y/N…”

Rafe is confident he’s never been more turned on his whole life, his dick so hard against his pants it almost hurts. He could honestly cry right now as he looks at his fingers, as he feels your soft insides clench tightly around him, pussy so wet and beautiful and needy for him.

“I didn’t get a good enough taste last time, Y/N/N.”

Rafe feels and sees the pool of arousal gather around his fingers and soak out of you at his words, making his eyes roll to the back of his head at how perfect it all is— at how perfect you were— at how perfect you had always been.

“You are you gonna let Daddy taste you again, baby?”

“Pleaseeeeee, Rafe…please”

The helplessness in your voice tugs at something deep within him, a newfound sense of purpose.

“I know baby girl, so good—”

Rafe wasn’t even making sense at this point; your pussy drawing nearer to his lips putting him under a spell as you felt his mouth dive deep into you, tongue tracing undecipherable love letters into your clit making you shriek out loudly, letting all your body weight fall heavy against the countertop, the cold feeling of the granite against your burning hot skin the most perfect, damning feeling as Rafe flicked your clit back and forth across his tongue at a relentless pace.

You’d heard stories of Rafe’s history and experience through the grapevine on the island— the gossip and talk nearly inevitable given his track record.

Yet you couldn’t ever believe it could feel like this. That it could literally feel like god himself was between your legs right now, sending you into the heavens above happily as he devoured you.

“Oh my god, that feels so good…” your voice came out in breathy moans. “You feel so good…”

Rafe’s hands come up to your ass at your words, squeezing firmly as he hears more beautiful moans fall from your lips, before bringing his right hand down hard on your cheek— hearing the loud smack before you register the beautiful sting that follows— the most damning gasp falling from your lips.

While he could happily taste you like this for the rest of his life— he’s also demanding, and selfish, and only then does he remember that he’s not the one who was originally supposed to make you cum today, he wasn’t the one you’d meant to send that picture to.

The thought of your perfect pussy spread out like this for anyone else—the idea of you wearing his necklace, the one he bought for you, for anyone else but him revolts him, unaccepting of such a despicable idea.

No one else in this entire world should get to have you like this, they don’t get to watch your face fall apart or hear those breathy little moans leave your lips while you’re spread apart like a little slut over your bathroom counter— they haven’t earned that right.

But Rafe Cameron sure as fuck has.

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get to physically see your face crumble the first time he makes you cum, as he makes you forget every other man in this world, as he shows you none of them can make you feel the way he can, like he’s been silently begging and craving to do for years.

His mind momentarily drifts back to your cheerleader outfit from High School, the way that tiny little skirt of yours could ruin an entire evening for him. How you ruined him over and over again every time he’d catch a glimpse of you during a game from the field, feeling his dick harden against his cup every single time.

His perfect, bratty best friend.

You feel that empty, helpless feeling when he mouth stops moving, suckling at your clit so hard it makes you gasp before fully removing his lips from you. Rafe rises up from his position on the ground to tower behind you again.

When he lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it amongst your forgotten bikini on the floor, leaving him standing there like something plucked straight from your wildest fantasy, admiring the way his own chain dangled from his neck before looking back to the one around yours, reminding you of the matching “bffs” broken heart necklaces the two of you shared as kids…

He never tore his eyes from you as he slowly undid his belt buckle; the sound of the heavy metal clanking making you nearly drool.

You needed him so fucking bad, and he needed you just as much.

You heard the zipper come down slowly, unable to handle waiting any longer.

“Rafe, I need you.”

Whether he heard your words or chose to ignore them (oh he fucking heard you alright), you’re not sure, because when you do finally open your eyes again it to see Rafe finally pull his dangerously erect cock from his pants, moaning loudly at how it falls easily into his large hand as he begins to pump it.

You could’ve actually murdered every single girl who came before you who’d gotten the chance to admire how beautiful it was— how beautiful he was.

The stories you’d heard, all but driving your mind wild for your best friend over the years, leading you to do dangerously filthy things when alone— reliving all the gossip the girls on Figure Eight had tormented you with about the legend that was Rafe Cameron.

His next words wash away any doubt, any hint of jealousy that was pulsating through you only a second ago.

“I’m going to fucking destroy you, Y/N. Just like you’ve ruined me for anyone else. All I can fucking see is you…”

With the most purpose and conviction you’d had this entire time, your pleading look turns deadly serious as your hand reaches behind you to grab Rafe’s cock, unable to not know how it feels wrapped around your hands a second longer.

“Fucking do it. Ruin me. I’ve only ever wanted to be yours, Daddy…”

Hearing that word makes Rafe’s whole brain explode into tiny fragments, his soul leaving his body as he revels in the feeling of you finally touching him where he’s craved after all of these years.

He slowly takes your hands off his cock and helps you grip the edge of the counter once more, whispering down to you as he lines up to your entrance, committing every single detail to memory.

“Hold on tight, baby. I’m about to blow your whole world apart.”

His hands were gripping tightly at your waist as you felt him slide deep into the tightest places your pussy hadn’t even dreamed of being touched before, fully bottoming out within you as his hands trembled now at your sides.

“Fuck—!”

“That’s my fucking girl—”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks as you feel his hips buck up into you, making you gasp so loud at the feeling of your best friend's cock beginning to pump in and out of you.

“It’s why I bought that fucking necklace, never even had any intention to give it to you. Paid a fortune for it too…”

As he takes you by your throat and pulls you against him, keeping his pace steady and hard as he fucks into you, watching your breasts bouce back and forth in the mirror, the light once again hitting the necklace and forcing all his attention to it— almost obsessively.

“So fucking worth it”

He removed his hand from your throat to grab at each of your braids as he fucks you, watching your dripping center swallow him over and over again, the sight truly something to behold.

Rafe wants to push you as far as you can go though, he still wants you to pay for earlier.

Rafe Cameron has been driving you crazy your entire life and you him.

Beneath him he watches as you stare intently in the mirror, jaw hanging open as loud moans fill the small bathroom.

“My dirty girl likes watching herself get fucked dumb in the mirror, huh? You like watching my cock move in and out of you like that?”

The sound you make is more of a scream than anything else, pleading with him.

“So much—”

“Mmm, Me too baby, so do I. Never dreamed you could take my cock so good. So tight for me, Y/N/N”

Him calling you by your nickname with his dick so far up inside you was doing lethal things to your already fucked out brain.

“So good, Rafe.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever let me touch you like this, pretty girl.”

“You like getting fucked like a little slut?”

“Mhm, your slut, daddy.”

“You’re taking me so well, Y/N. So. fuckin. tight—” his cock thrusting into through your walls hard as he breathed out each word, hearing the sound of skin slapping, the most vulgar noises being made between the two of you.

“Who’s the only one who can make your pussy feel this good?”

It was almost embarrassing how quick you were to answer, at how good you wanted to be for him.

“You Rafe, it’s only you, I promise.”

Rafe wasn’t surprised by how fast the confessions were falling from your lips, he felt it too— but he needed to hear it.

“You’re goddamn right—” as he grunts loudly, using the tone of voice on you that he usually only reserved for those who were on the receiving end of his fists. “Not some fucking touron who doesn’t even deserve to get to look at you!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry Rafe—”

“—You’re falling apart for me, baby look at yourself.”

At that he reaches around to grab your jaw roughly in his grasp, jolting your head upward in the mirror, forcing you to look at what he was doing to you.

“Harder, Daddy—please…”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you so hard you forget the rest of their names— fuck you so hard that you forget your name?”

If Rafe hadn’t kept repeating it, your own name would’ve already been lost to you, your mind only being able to focus on the one thing fully consuming it, likely forever: him.

“Yes, please god. Do it. Make me forget—Please Rafe. Don’t stop—”

His fingers rose to the back of the chain on your neck, pulling it tight against your throat as he heard the choked moans.

It was your turn for your eyes to roll to the back of his head, savoring the beautiful feeling as the pressure from the necklace ripped all the air out of lungs, your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip before spreading into a wicked grin almost as wide as your legs.

The second he sees you smile, so blissed out and needy with how rough he was being with you—Rafe was so proud of himself, of course he knew exactly what you wanted.

He lets go of the necklace as you gasp for air, his pace only quickening as he pulls you by your waist, bringing you as close to him as he possibly can, loving the hot, sticky feeling of your skin against his.

The feeling of your skin burning against his ignites something in Rafe as he brings his hand down between your legs, making you scream his name out loud when his fingers find your clit, his nails scratching at his bicep and forearm wrapped around your waist.

You have never in your entire fucking life felt this good and you know, you just fucking know in this moment that you’ve always been holding out, reserving yourself for him.

He watches happily as you lose it in his arms— lose control, lose sense, lose any part of yourself that didn’t now belong to him.

He heels your head lean back against his shoulder as your body begins to shake, this time not needing your words to confirm how close you were as your hands flail around, desperate to dig your nails into anything you can grasp.

“Daddy…”

He sees your doe eyes lazily roll up to him in the mirror and watches the tears pool in them, threatening to spill over—knowing he’s done for well before he hears your words.

“You’re so perfect, Rafe…fuck—I’m so close—” turning your head on his shoulder, faces only an inch apart as you look up into his crystal blue irises— never wanting to forget this.

“Best friends forever, right?”

His cock finds that sweet spot deep within you, penetrating as deep as he can go—making you see flashes of diamonds as Rafe swears he can faintly hear Drake lyrics as the poison consumes him, losing everything—losing himself in you.

“FUCK,Y/N! You’re mine, you’ve always fucking been mine—”

You cum around him at that exact moment, walls breaking free as he spills out into you, each of you literally screaming—holding on for dear life.

“It’s only ever going to be me, I promise.”

Vision still black—Rafe’s breath on your neck like silk when his lips attach to your skin there; the sweetest thing you’d ever felt. Your boy.

Yours.

Not that stupid bitch that sat next to you in Chemistry senior year who went on and on about how Rafe ate her out in the Island Club bathroom—

Or that chick you’d met on the beach last summer who you’d walked in going down on him in the bathroom at one of Kelce’s party’s— not even that girl he’d brought to Midsummers, happily dangling her around him like arm candy all night.

He was yours.

He kisses your neck a few times.

“I could fucking stay in you forever…”

He leans his forehead down on your neck to watch himself slowly pull out of you, a mix of you and him dripping down to the floor in the process, his mouth hanging wide open at the sight, a tiny little delicate gasp leaving your lips as the feeling.

“Fucking ruined…” he whispers dazily.

You’re lost in the thrill of it all— the feeling of his arms still around you, still holding you tightly to him— already dreaming and aching for him again.

You both stay like that a moment, eyes closing as you feel Rafe take your chin in his fingers guiding your head back to him, back to his lips, moaning when they collide.

He basks in it for a moment before the relentless determination returns— before the jealousy returns — this time with a fateful vengeance.

He presses his lips tightly against yours before breaking away, leaving you dizzy from the loss of contact as he grabs your bikini and t-shirt, tossing them to you.

You barely attempt to catch them as you sputter out words.

“Rafe what’re you—”

“Get dressed, Y/N/N”

“Whe—”

“We—” he points between you two, anger and rage so apparent, so easily riled up within him making you want to grin from ear to ear.

“—are going back to the club so I can tell your boy that if I catch him even so much as looking at you again I’ll break his fucking neck—”

Your hand flies up to your mouth but it doesn’t at all cover the shrill fit of giggles you break out into.

When Rafe turns to see that trademark smirk appear on your lips, feigned innocence dripping off your naked body—he knows you’re up to no good.

Guess it’s your turn to come clean before he full on whoops the boy's ass bloody for no damn reason.

“I was never even texting Joey earlier…”

And the one last smug, bratty look up at Rafe confirms it all as he looks into the eyes of God himself: he’s in love with his best friend.

“I meant to text you that picture earlier, Rafe…”

...

Taglist: @goldenjo @itsalexwin @lurkymurker @barbietiingz @drewbooooo @mackenzielovee @mor-bs @totallynotkaibiased @aaleksmorozova @onlygetaway @tsnelf7 @starkeybae @kotzmagotaz @maybanks-cupcake @valentinearc @valeriiecameron @lovedetlost

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vinxhwrites · 5 months

Text

I've had this idea in my drafts for a long time and only finished it today because I was procrastinating on the many many assignments I have for this week. I've never written smut before so I don't know what I'm doing, also I'm very sleepy so maybe it sucks, but here it is:

ghost x f!reader x soap

nsfw, +18

word count: 8.2k

cw: nsfw! lots of fluff, tiniest bit of h/c, smut in the end, unprotected sex (don't do it!); alcohol consumption, quite long descriptions of anxieties I guess; also not proofread, sorry

You enjoyed existing in the liminal space between something romantic and something purely friendly. You wanted to get to know every aspect of love, feel it from all directions, in all its forms.

You always wondered what exactly was the tipping point to make one thing turn into another. You wondered if it even existed, if experience could ever be restrained to one set type of relationship, if love could be divided into sections, named and labeled, put into existence and then put to death once things ended, instead of just being the overflowing unconditional force that you hoped it was.

In reality, of course, love can't be limited or restrained by words that aim to define, control or organize it. In practice, you've found it within yourself as something stronger, more nuanced, and freeing than you could've ever hoped it would be.

Ghost first heard Soap refer to you as his "nap buddy" over breakfast one day. He frowned, the first thought to cross his mind being whether the two of you were skipping work to take naps. But Soap went on, telling Gaz about how he'd been creeping into your bed at night when he couldn't sleep. "I feel like a baby, I swear" Ghost overheard him say "she'll just tell me stories until I fall asleep."

It all had started almost two months prior to that conversation, when you bumped into Soap in the corridor one night. You were both sleepy but suffering from insomnia. He shared little tips with you on what usually helped him: walking around, counting sheep, breath exercises; although he admitted this time none of it was working.

You explained your problem was the crippling anxiety that came with the insomnia sessions. You hated being alone with your thoughts during the dark moments of the night, which filled you with unreasonable angst.

You two walked around outside for a while. It was a cold night and you both started to shiver a bit. Soap rubbed his hand on your back in an attempt to warm you, but you concluded it was best to go back to your rooms. Then, as you approached your door, right beside his, you had an idea:

"Hey, I hope this doesn't sound too weird...but would you like to try to sleep with me?"

He smiled at you and accepted the invite.

At that moment, you navigated the perfect moment of sleepiness when rational thoughts can barely form, all that is left are the primary ideas, informed only by your senses and memories. The anxious voices of decent social conduct are far too tired to interject with your thoughts at this point. Anything can seem appropriate, nothing feels real and there is true bliss to be found somewhere.

That's why it felt so natural to curl up in bed with Soap that night, you rested your head on his shoulder and he held your hand. He caressed your hair before saying something nice about the way you smelled and closed his eyes. You surely talked for a bit, in whispers, but neither of you would be able to recall what the conversation was about if someone asked. And just like that, both of you were able to fall asleep in a few minutes of comfort.

It quickly developed into a habit for difficult nights, you now depended on these moments as if they were some kind of medicine. It surely didn't make the issue go away completely for either of you, but it sure was nice to find some comfort in each other's company. Having someone to talk to was a good distraction from your racing thoughts, it was easier to relax when you were with him. Plus, he didn't seem to mind how you jumped effortlessly from one topic to another, talking about anything that came to mind.

Soon, Soap started looking for you even before trying to fall asleep by himself, "preventive care" he explained with a smile when you'd open the door relatively early at night, looking a bit puzzled. You got into the habit of telling him stories, real and made-up, creating nice scenarios for his dreams.

You've let him kiss you a few times, but it never really went much further than that, even though it was no secret that he liked you as a bit more than a friend.

Part of the reason for your contentment with kisses was that both of you were almost always too tired to invest in more than that, but part of it was because of your resistance to changing your relationship dynamic. What you had built with him felt so stable in its tenderness that you were scared to risk losing it.

You've always felt, previously in life, that sex complicated things. Especially with men, especially when you thought they were your friends first, to later be heartbroken by the fact that they really just wanted to fuck you, and had no love to give. You really wished it would be different with him.

But Soap was well-versed in love, he wasn't scared of it. He fully embraced it, actually. Sometimes, while you played with your fingers through his hair, he'd make a point of telling you about his love, the depths of it, how much he could give you of it if you'd let him.

"But it's perfect like this" you cried, anytime he brought up the topic of sex, fearing the inevitable low after the high. Yet, to him sex was irremovable from love, it was the best way he knew how to demonstrate it.

He once told you that you made him feel like a teenager again, saying you were like his prudish high school girlfriend.

The furthest you've gone at this point was letting him finger you one night, just because he begged and whined so much. "I need to feel you" he said, out of breath from kissing you, and you just couldn't resist. It wasn't like you didn't desire him, you were scared doing it would make you want him more. And it did.

He licked his own fingers afterward, which made a moan escape from your mouth. He kissed you again before resting his head on your shoulder. Didn't ask for anything in return. Soap was a lover by definition. And the fact that he respected your boundaries made you treasure him even more.

"You know you can sleep with other people, right?" you assured him, afraid that he'd resent you if you kept him waiting.

"Yeah, but it's not the same thing" he replied.

You were on a first-name basis now, you called him Johnny and, when the two of you were alone, he called you "baby", even letting it slip in front of other people sometimes.

Ghost reprehended you for it one day when he heard it. Not Johnny, you. It was inadequate, he said, and made you apologize to him.

You thought Ghost was scary. It was in a similar manner to which you used to think your linguistics professor at University was scary: in a hot, sexy but very menacing way. You desired his approval and had the impression that you were never going to get it. His mere presence made your legs weak. Maybe it was the authority aspect that messed with your mind, or at least that's what you tried to justify to yourself.

He intimidated you more than anyone, constantly making you feel inadequate just by looking at you. It felt unfair to not even be able to see him properly most of the time, it made you feel naked in every interaction when he could see you so clearly. And on top of that, there was the constant staring: You were always under his watch if he was around as if he was constantly waiting for you to do something wrong. Plus, he seemed to be way more critical of you than he was of others, always questioning you or anything you did, and complaining about your skills or your lack of punctuality (even if you were late by just a minute).

"I think he hates me," you told Johnny one day. "I really do".

He chuckled in response. "He doesn't hate you. He's just really bad at expressing...anything"

"I think he's really good at expressing his hatred for me" you whined back "He doesn't treat you as badly".

"Well, baby, but you can't compete with me!" he smirked proudly "He loves me".

The truth is Ghost loved hearing you say "I'm sorry, sir" in a soft and exhausted voice, it tickled something inside him that he couldn't quite name. It was equally exciting and disturbing to him. But you didn't know that, which is why it caught you by surprise when he showed up at your door one night, as you were about to fall asleep.

Ghost wasn't one to sleep together, not even with the random people he had sex with on occasion. Sleep had always been a solitary activity to him, something he struggled with by himself.

The idea of having someone to sleep with, of it being such a comfort hadn't left his mind ever since he heard John talking about it at the table weeks before. He started to catch himself fantasizing about it, thinking about the warmth of having someone's body so close to him, if it'd be something to shield him from his nightmares. He started to wonder about how soft your skin must feel.

It was a foreign feeling to him, this yearning for something so intimate, but it got to a point where he just had to try it.

"Ghost?" you were confused. He wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey t-shirt, and still had a black balaclava on. He closed the door behind him.

"Johnny said you let him sleep with you sometimes" he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"Right" you responded, waiting for him to scold you for it. But he just stood there in silence "Would you like to sleep here too...?" you guessed amused after he let the silence hang for a bit too long.

He took a deep breath, "May I?" he asked.

"Sure, come here." you moved closer to the wall to make space for him. You couldn't help but smile as you felt him sit down on your bed, the heat coming from his body already making you want to get closer.

"You know I don't have sex with him, right?"

"I didn't come here for sex" he answered immediately, sounding almost offended, then sighed "I can't sleep''.

"OK" you said, already regretting having opened your mouth in the first place.

He laid down on his back beside you exhausted and took a deep breath. He removed his balaclava and put it on your nightstand. You noticed you were holding your breath, terrified of ruining this moment of intimacy.

"You'd better not snore" he said in a low voice, adjusting himself on your pillow with a hand behind his head and the other on his chest.

You chuckled a bit, letting yourself relax by his side. "I don't snore." you assured him "at least, not that I know of".

Ghost didn't answer you this time, and even in the dark you could see he had closed his eyes.

"Permission to touch you, sir?" you asked in a whisper after a few seconds of collecting your courage, craving to feel his skin.

That first night, he let you hold his hand while you two slept. It felt tiny and fragile on his. When he woke up sweating in the middle of the night, as he often did, his heart rate eased when he felt your presence by his side, it did feel different.

He avoided you like the plague for three days straight after that night, you thought he'd never look at you again. You thought you've done something wrong and scared him away. In reality, he was scared he'd poisoned himself by getting a taste of something so novel to him, and feared he'd become addicted to it.

He tried to go back to his regular routine, but now the emptiness of his bedroom felt even more evident, his bed felt colder. Then, when you were starting to become at peace with the anxiety that had built up in your stomach at this point, he showed up at your door again.

This time he didn't say anything after you agreed to let him in, feeling absolutely defeated. He laid on his side, his back turned to you. You asked if you could touch him once more and when he agreed you threw your arm around his torso, cuddling him. He felt a goosebump as your breath touched his back.

And he wouldn't tell you, but when he woke up he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night of sleep.

You told Johnny about it the next day as casually as possible, fearing to find a trace of jealousy in his eyes. But instead, they seemed to brighten with delight. "See, I told you he didn't hate you" he smiled.

For the next few weeks, your lieutenant started being kinder to you, albeit in his own way. He stopped reprehending you for stupid reasons, gave you a little pat on the back when you did well during training, and even made you a cup of tea once when he heard Gaz comment that you had a cold one day, putting it in front of you at the table and walking away without saying a word.

You discovered him to be someone more playful than you previously imagined, witty even. The affection you had for him grew stronger with each passing day, as your impression of him morphed into something new, and you just couldn't keep it to yourself. But, unlike Johnny, who loved being touched, Ghost had serious boundaries. Most times you could tell you'd overstepped. He'd let you know it immediately: removing your hand from his face if you touched it, clearly stating "don't" if you ever dared to try to touch his hair, he'd move his hand away when you started to mindlessly draw circles on it with your fingers, and - the only aspect that didn't make you feel completely rejected - pushing you away slightly in bed if you ever got close enough to feel the solid volume in his pants.

For him, physical touch tended to be a utilitarian exchange: maybe he'd get a pat on the shoulder for doing a good job, he'd get kisses and caresses when someone used him for sex, he'd get injured during combat, but your touch was something new: it made no practical sense, there was no transaction to be made, no endpoint, it was just affection for the sake of affection. He didn't know what to do with it.

As your intimacy deepened, Ghost revealed to you that suffered from terrible migraines every once in a while and got into the habit of coming to sleep with you on those days, although he did complain every single time that your constant rambling on different topics made his head hurt even more. He'd retract the statement as soon as you stopped talking though.

One day, when he was in a particularly terrible mood, you offered him a massage. "What good will that do, huh?" he grunted "You just want to touch me"

You chuckled "well, that is partially true, sir" and he smiled behind his balaclava. But you insisted, proceeding to explain how the tension on his neck muscles could be causing the headaches, or at least making them worse, and that was enough to convince him to let you do it.

"It doesn't work if you don't try to relax" you said, pressing your fingers to the base of his neck. You were sitting on the bed, back rested on your pillow, with him between your legs, his back turned to you.

"I'm trying" he mumbled.

"Come on, deep breaths," you said, and you knew immediately that he was probably rolling his eyes. "Come on" you insisted patiently, massaging just the right spot on the back of his shoulders as he let out a low moan, letting his head rest forward.

"See, isn't it better?" you said enthusiastically.

"Stop talking" he grunted, which you did, continuing to massage him in silence.

It took you by surprise when you felt his thumb lightly caress your right ankle, it was a timid touch, and you felt afraid he would stop if you moved, even though that leg felt a bit numb already.

You could feel his body melt under your touch bit by bit, letting more of his weight rest on you. He forgot about his headache, only focused on the delicious slumber that took over his body now.

"You're gonna have to do this every day now" he muttered, eyes closed.

"I'll gladly do it" you assured him, treasuring the way he seemed so relaxed now. You had to fight the urge to put a kiss on his neck with all your might.

That night he held you like a pillow, resting his head on your stomach. You slowly pulled his mask up, waiting to see if there'd be any resistance, but there wasn't.

He shivered when you then touched his hair. It felt soft. You scratched his head gently with your nails and he savoured the foreign feeling that it caused.

"You little demon" he whispered, surrendering completely to your touch.

Ghost knew what love was supposed to look like. He just wasn't that sure about how it felt to receive it anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he was under the impression that he lacked the vocabulary to express it.

Once, when working in complete silence next to him, filling and writing reports, you asked:

"Can you take a look at this, sir?" you held the paper in front of him.

"You know you can call me Simon" he said, eyes still fixed on his papers.

"I didn't actually." you said and he looked at you, you could notice a quick smile appear on his eyes.

"Ok, now you know."

You smiled and he moved his gaze back to the papers in front of him.

"Can you take a look at this, Simon?" you repeated, and this time he looked up and happily took the paper from your hand.

Simon had never really tried anything besides actual sleep with you, and you were terrified of initiating it yourself and getting rejected. But sometimes you could feel the imminence of something, nothing clear or distinct, just the way the silence of the room felt different, a change in the pace of his breathing or a slight shift in the atmosphere. On these moments you'd feel like he could turn you over and fuck you at any second. It fed the anticipation in your chest, but it never happened.

You wondered, at times, if you were somehow able to read his thoughts in cryptic ways and that's how you'd know he was thinking about fucking you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked in a whisper one of these nights.

"Why do you care?" his response was immediate, defensive. Your fantasies definitely weren't supported by his lack of attention to your romantic attempts.

"Just wondering" you shrugged. "Are you not going to tell me?"

He looked at you, and even in the dark you could tell he was smiling "No".

You prayed that he would kiss you, just a little bit would be enough. But, of course, he didn't.

"I was thinking about you, in case you were wondering," you said casually a few moments later, gazing at his face. You were getting sloppier with hiding your feelings for him, he couldn't possibly not see it.

He chuckled quietly at your response, "Stop flirting with me" he said and you felt your cheeks turn red, "you should get some sleep" he suggested then, shutting off the conversation. And, as if he intended to get you a bit more confused, he lightly caressed your hair.

Sometimes you'd wish he'd just reject you once and for all so you could move on. But the more you thought about your love the more you wanted to cultivate it and share it with him, the same way you felt you could share with Johnny. And if Simon didn't want it, so be it. It felt like, and it was, a big act of bravery on your part. At least you'd be able to comfort yourself on the fact that you loved, it grew and flourished inside you, and it was a beautiful thing.

It got to the point where one of them was occupying your bed almost every day of the week, people were starting to catch on to it. You knew the day would come when they'd both show up and the thought alone made you nauseous, at least until it actually happened.

You held your breath when you heard Johnny's steps approaching your door, even before he knocked on it.

"Come in" Simon said before you could even react.

Johnny tilted his head for a second, looking amused at the scene of his lieutenant cuddling you. He closed the door behind him and took off his slippers, then he approached your bed to lay down beside you.

You held your breath when you saw Johnny rest his neck on Simon's extended arm so nonchalantly. Simon didn't move his arm. You couldn't exactly name what is it that you feared at that moment, the next few moments of silence translated into nervousness within you. Johnny took your arm and casually put your hand on his chest.

"So," he said, looking at Simon playfully "Are you trying to steal her from me?"

Simon chuckled "Didn't know she was yours to steal".

The tension you felt was not shared between them.

"You could've come to sleep with me, lieutenant," Johnny said, he sounded almost offended that Simon would have preferred to sleep with you.

"Back at you, Johnny" he murmured, closing his eyes, making Johnny smile from ear to ear.

You knew your bed surely wasn't made for three, but you managed to make it comfortable. You woke up lying on top of Johnny like a baby, your chest to his, while Simon laid on his side with one arm thrown around you.

That night, Johnny could almost feel his heart flutter and twirl inside his chest. It was perfect. He had so much love to give, he couldn't wait to share it. To him, Love was generous and ever-giving, it was infinite, it overpowered him and he gladly let it.

To Simon, on the other hand, Love was a terrifying force he feared would take over him completely if he let it. He feared it could destroy him, or, even worse, he would destroy it. But, at moments like this one, he couldn't help but let love overflow in his heart, couldn't resist the warmth both of you shared from entering his own body.

Throughout the whole following day, you felt a sweet anticipation for something in your stomach, being only able to think about how nice it had felt to be surrounded by both of them. How you wished you could stay in that state forever, unmoved.

At night, Johnny curled up in bed with you, resting his head on your chest after a tiring day. He seemed almost disappointed to find you alone when he came in, he smiled while he kissed you nonetheless.

He inundated you with questions that gradually turned into whines: did you sleep with him? what do you mean you don't even kiss? what are you doing? don't you find him attractive? why don't you just ask him? do you think we should go after him? why not? let's knock on his door! why not?!

You were able to dissuade him from these impulsive thoughts eventually, stroking your fingers through his hair and recommending that he do the same as you and try to stop thinking about it. It was for the best, you assured him, trying to convince yourself of it, too. He yielded at last, but he wasn't pleased.

"Do you even want me?" he asked with a sigh

"Of course I do." you replied, almost offended at the question "You know I do."

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes" he muttered.

You took a deep breath before taking him through your typical monologue, practically memorized at this point, on your reasons for keeping things as they were - no sex - would be better. The more you talked, the less you found yourself believing in your own words. Still, you tried to make him care for the utter shape of your relationship as it was, in an eternal transient state of a romantic friendship that never lost itself. "That sounds terrible, bonnie" he said, but you insisted he just didn't understand.

"I'm sensitive, Johnny." you tried to explain yourself "I can't stand the thought of ruining what we have."

"Seems like you can't stand the thought of improving them" he sighed.

You knew he had been sleeping with other people, and the thought soothed you more than anything. He never lied to you about it when you asked, and it was comforting to see his heart still belonged to you. You tried to imagine yourself as something separate entirely.

He traced his fingers down to your waist, then hips, and back to your shoulders, letting his hand linger on your breast.

"Don't you want it, baby? Not even a little bit?"

"I do, Johnny" you admitted, not immune to the desire that kept itself alive inside you.

"Haven't you been dreaming about it...?" he continued, his voice lower than before as his fingers played with your hair "Huh? You, me and Simon?"

Your eyes widened at his words, even though you had, in fact, been thinking about it constantly ever since the first night that Simon slept with you.

"That would be a mess" you murmured, telling him what you kept telling yourself.

Johnny chuckled, "a hot, delicious fucking mess?" he suggested.

"Just a regular mess" you lied.

"Just think about it, alright?" he eventually said, resting his head back on your chest.

"Okay." you promised before turning off the light on your nightstand..

"I love you, baby. Truly." he whispered in the dark "There's nothing for you to be afraid of."

"I love you too, Johnny"

Part of you knew it was a silly decision to insist on depriving yourself of pleasure, things were already messy enough. There was no saving any naivety of a friendship that hadn't been merely a friendship from the start, and refusing to admit that you did, in fact, have physical desires toward them was, perhaps, just making things worse. You made a mental note to search for a therapist when you got back home, perhaps dig into whatever religious guilt you seemed to have inherited to drive your decisions.

Nevertheless, you were able to remain firm in your decision. At least until two days later, when everyone went out for drinks at night after a long day.

The sky was dark grey when you left the base to go to the bar. The space was crowded, but comfortable. You knew almost everyone there and quickly settled with some friends.

After one and a half beers Johnny was already getting touchy with you by the counter.

"Have you thought about what I said?"

You nodded and he got closer to you, hands on your waist, "And will you let me make love to you?" he asked softly in your ear.

"Maybe I will" you confessed, already feeling a bit tipsy.

"Come on, bonnie" he insisted, hands on your waist "You know I've been dying to fuck you."

You felt as if your legs would melt right then and there. And, even with your back turned to him, you felt Simon's oppressive stare on you. You turned to find him across the bar.

You both looked at him, sitting at the table next to Price, who seemed to be talking to him, even though his attention laid somewhere else. His hair was covered by a black hoodie, but he didn't cover his face. He grinned at you playfully, taking a sip of the cold beer in his hand.

Johnny followed your gaze and smirked at Simon, then looked back at you with a devilish smile. "I'm gonna get Ghost to come with me" he said and you froze in place.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you plead, already feeling the palms of your hands sweat. What is it exactly that you feared? You didn't really know. It felt childish to be this scared of your own desires.

"I think he's into it" Johnny said, winking at you.

"I don't think so." you grew a bit nervous "I don't think he wants me like that"

Johnny just chuckled in response. "Sure" he said sarcastically. "I can't believe you think that's possible, baby".

You looked around the room nervously, the idea made your stomach turn.

"Tell me you don't want it." he said, suddenly looking at you with a serious expression "Just tell me you don't want it and I won't say anything to him. I'll drop it."

But you couldn't say anything, which made him smile before taking another sip of his beer. Johnny pecked a kiss on your cheek, before leaving you to sit at the table beside Simon.

Although you couldn't pinpoint what exactly caused you so much anxiety, you did notice that it mixed into a twisted excitement.

You watched as they interacted with each other, leaning closer to talk, smiling, and laughing lightly. They looked so pretty you couldn't believe such a dreamy scenario would become a reality to you. Johnny touched Simon's arm and whispered something to him, he grinned and looked at you.

You tried to pretend you hadn't been staring at him the whole time, suddenly feeling a lot of interest in the bottle in your hand and then the conversation that took place between the colleagues beside you.

You tried to distract yourself the rest of the night, interacting with other people and trying your best to focus on different subjects, other people's lives and problems, it was very hard considering that yours seemed to be about to become so much more exciting than anything your friends had been up to.

Johnny didn't seem to want to leave Simon's side anymore, they were engaged in conversation with Price and Gaz at the table on the corner of the bar for what felt like hours to you.

It was pouring rain outside by the time you gave yourself a little tipsy pep talk in the dirty restroom mirror. You told yourself you looked attractive enough, beautiful even. Nothing to worry about.

When you came back, you were so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn't even notice when Simon sat on the barstool beside you.

"What are you thinking about?" you heard his low voice behind you.

You turned around to look at him, feeling blood rush to your cheeks "Didn't see you there"

"Are you not going to tell me?" he repeated your words from the other night with a playful smirk, to which you frowned. He leaned a little closer to you to whisper in a high-pitched voice "I'm thinking about you".

"I don't sound like that"

"Yes, you do" he chuckled.

You took a deep breath before answering, echoing his own words back to him: "Well, you should stop flirting with me"

"I don't think you want me to stop" he grinned, and you wished you knew exactly what Johnny had said to him. "Do you?"

"No," you said frankly "no, I don't."

It was almost 2am when Johnny pointed his head to the door, signaling it was time to leave. Simon was already outside, and you were already soaking wet even before you left the covered environment of the bar.

You thought your heart was trying to jump out of your chest when Simon opened his bedroom door later that night, and felt both of the men you loved follow you inside.

You closed your eyes when you felt both of Simon's hands hold you by the shoulders from behind, as he got closer to you "are you OK, love?" he asked against your neck, the softest you've heard him speak, with the remains of alcohol on his breath. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest.

You nodded, your body burning in anticipation. "Will you guys stop if I don't feel well?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

The anxiety about the implications and consequences of this was already set on your chest. Now there was nothing else to do, no escaping the disturbance this would cause to your life. At this point, stopping would be much worse. Your desires had already manifested, they had been spoken, and transformed, there was nothing left to do but give in to it.

The violent rumbles of lightning bolts shook the sky outside, and sudden flashes of light illuminated the room at an unpredictable frequency. Your eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the room, and the darkness felt comforting, providing an atmosphere of otherworldliness to the room, you could almost imagine this scene took place in a different reality and try not to worry about it.

"Of course" Johnny answered and Simon nodded with his face on your neck.

Johnny kissed you first while Simon held you, his familiar lips searching urgently for you in the dark. You had one hand on his neck, while the other held tight to Simon's, afraid to lose his touch. Johnny looked at him with a smile before grabbing you by the waist and turning you around so that you faced Simon.

"What do you want me to do to you?" Simon asked, looking deep into your eyes, his tone was soft, the question genuine.

“Will you please kiss me?” you cried.

He took your hands in his and kissed them, the small sounds of his kisses covering your fingers and wrists. Then, finally, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You felt your heart could explode at any second. You cupped his face with both hands and caressed his skin.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. His tongue was warm and smooth on yours and he tasted like beer and cigarettes.

You heard when Johnny unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants behind you, grabbing and pulling your hips so you could feel the volume in his underwear, you moaned into Simon's mouth.

Johnny left wet kisses on your neck, making you shiver as he pulled up your t-shirt. Simon cupped your breasts in his hands as soon as he saw them, quickly struggling to free them from your bra, peppering kisses on your chest and nipples.

Simon kneeled in front of you and pulled your pants down, helping you remove your shoes along with them, then smiling at you before kissing over your panties.

You rested your head on Johnny's chest and trusted that his strong grip on your waist would be enough to keep you in place because you barely made any effort to stand anymore.

You hummed when Simon's tongue first touched you, drawing small circles around your clit. Johnny groaned in your ear, pressing his hips against yours, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this horny in his life. His hands danced around your body until, feeling very bold from the alcohol, he moved one of his hands down to stroke Simon's hair.

"tastes so good, doesn't she?' he asked, to which Simon nodded, burying his face deeper between your thighs.

Your mind seemed to finally quiet, you wouldn't be able to form a coherent thought if you tried now. You could feel Simon's desire to devour you.

He slipped a finger inside you, moaning back when you did. He moved his lips back to your clit, sucking it with just enough intensity to make your legs tremble. And, as if he knew, just as you were about to come undone on his touch, Simon stopped, standing up again to kiss you, you whined in protest against his lips, but it was useless.

They exchanged glances and Johnny wet his own lips.

"Let me see you ride him, love" Simon whispered in your ear, eyes fixed to his. And you obeyed.

Johnny quickly removed the rest of his own clothes and lead you to Simon's bed by your hand.

He laid down, but you stood there looking at his body for a moment. He looked so beautiful lying naked in front of you, the low light that came from the window was only enough to highlight the contrast of his features. You couldn't believe you had actually been this stupid to deny yourself from him for so long. You bit your own lip at the sight, his eyes brightened with passion. "Go on" Simon encouraged behind you.

You spread kisses to his chest before sitting on him. You tried to do it slowly, making him roll his eyes back, getting used to the size of it little by little. You both gasped with pleasure when you finally took him in completely.

“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned when you started to move.

You could hear Simon ditching his own clothes somewhere behind you. Then you felt him behind you, one of his big hands gently holding your waist. Simon used his other hand to put one finger in your mouth and you sucked on it, making Johnny audibly moan under you.

You froze immediately when you felt his naked body touch yours, his hardened cock poked the skin of your lower back.

"Relax, I won't do anything you don't want" he assured you in a low voice against your neck. You received wet kisses on your back and shoulders.

Johnny moaned, his fingers tracing your thighs "Feels so good like that" he purred, and you nodded in agreement. He grabbed your hips but Simon quickly slapped his hands away.

Johnny blinked, confused, but then smirked when Simon started to guide your movements by the hips, slowly and gradually changing the speed to fit what you seemed to respond better to. He guided your body on Johnny in a way that made his cock touch you precisely in the right places. You barely had to do any work, so you rested your head on Simon's chest, only opening your eyes to watch Johnny's face under you.

Johnny rubbed his thumb softly on your clit, making very small movements around it. You moved accordingly, enjoying the way the pressure created a response deep within your stomach. You panted on top of him, exhausted but eager to continue, your body guiding you toward release.

The obscene sounds you made were thankfully muffled by the heavy rain outside. You felt your orgasm reach you with the growing rumbles in the sky, which eventually resulted in a violent lightning, not that far from the window. You let your body rest on Simon's chest after the wave of pleasure washed over you.

"You did so good, bonnie" Johnny sat up to kiss your face, and laid back down.

Simon pulled your hips back gently, indicating you should stand on your knees. Intuitively, you positioned yourself so that you could put your lips around Johnny's cock. He closed your eyes when you did.

"Look at her, Johnny" Simon ordered.

He held your hips firmly in place, then pressed into you slowly, savoring how the wet heat between your legs welcomed him.

Johnny had his head resting on one of his arms, his free hand lazily stroking your face as he watched you struggle to fit him in your mouth. He tried his best to be obedient and focus only on you, but his eyes kept looking up curiously, dying to watch Simon's face as he fucked you.

"God, you feel so fucking good" he whimpered before he started moving his hips, filling you completely with every thrust. You could feel his length messing up your insides and you were grateful to have Johnny's cock keeping you silent.

Simon traced his fingers down your spine, around your waist, then back to your neck. He gently stroked your head and grabbed your hair. You thought he'd pull it, but Simon just pressed the back of your head deeper on Johnny's cock, pulling you back when you gagged, then repeating the same movement again and again. Johnny closed his eyes in an effort not to come so soon from the view alone.

You gave up on your own body for a moment, forgot it was yours to control in the first place, letting it be taken by all their movements like one gets taken by the current at sea.

"'m gonna cum if you keep this up" Johnny announced in a low voice, and you weren't sure if he was talking to you or Simon, but the latter let go of his grip on your hair, unsure of what you wanted to do with that information. You kept going on your own now, until you felt Johnny pulse inside your mouth.

He let out a soft moan as he watched you swallow it. His body finally relaxed on the bed and you felt his fingers search your head and caress your hair.

Simon's movements became slower, almost nonexistent, and you anxiously moved your hips against him to alleviate the desire in your core.

"Don't stop" you begged in a small voice, resting your head on Johnny's thigh, but he did stop. Simon gently pulled your hips back and switched your body so that you were facing him.

"Lay down" he instructed, "I wanna see you".

Johnny's arms guided you to lay on top of him, your back to his chest. He kissed and caressed your head lazily while Simon spread your legs, sinking into you with a grunt.

You moaned loudly when you felt him entirely inside you again.

“Shh!” both of them reprehended you, and Johnny quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

"You wanted him to fuck you like this, huh?" he asked close to your ear and you nodded, unable to speak anything other than little moans that were muffled by his palm. Simon looked at you directly in the eyes, his face subtly contorting in pleasure with every little sound you made.

He pushed into you slowly, delighting himself in the warmth of having you wrapped around him. He tried to memorize the feeling of having your skin against his so he could dwell on it later.

Johnny uncovered your mouth to kiss you, moving his hand to hold you at your waist. The familiar feel of his tongue was both comforting and exciting, your lips searched for his with noticeable hunger. You didn't think you could possibly get more aroused at this point.

You rested your head on Johnny's shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling your body relax now that you've gotten more used to Simon's size inside you.

"Eyes open, love" Simon demanded, and you obeyed.

He kept his gaze on your eyes until he couldn't resist moving on to Johnny's anymore. They looked at each other for what felt like too long, Simon's thrusts into you got more intense, and it made you wonder if you were simply the vessel through which they fucked each other at that instant.

Johnny, who had his hands wandering around your body, now moved them from your breasts to caress Simon's chest on top of you, at first in shy quasi-accidental strokes, and then shamelessly grabbing at his waist, scratching nails on his back once he got a positive reaction.

He pressed his hand against the lower part of your stomach, right where you could feel Simon's cock attempting to tear you open with every thrust, you moaned into Simon's mouth as you felt Johnny getting hard under your body again. Your arousal was dripping down his crotch, his chest already wet from your sweat.

"Hm you're taking him so well, baby" Johnny whispered in your ear and you watched as Simon's eyes darkened at the sound of the words.

You’d lost track of time and sense of space completely. It was so unbelievably indulgent it almost felt wrong, as if you couldn't possibly be allowed to experience this much pleasure all at once in life.

You felt you’d reached some new sense of consciousness in which you did not belong to your body anymore, you've transcended into something else, something in complete harmony with them and their own bodies around you. You were certain for a moment that, if you tried or wanted to, you'd be able to read their minds and communicate without words.

The utter feeling of Love just invaded you in the form of radiating happiness, an epiphany planted in your heart, as if you had been stung by Eros himself and you felt yourself capable of reaching an orgasm without your body. All of a sudden the whole universe seemed to become clear and there were no questions you couldn't answer if you wanted, any doubt you had was gone, and any anxiety dissipated. You almost felt like laughing, relishing - for what was probably the first time - in the wonder of cloudless thoughts.

Simon dropped the support of his hands to his forearms, getting impossibly closer and resting his torso on top of you, the cold and metallic touch of his dog tags against your chest sent a shiver down your spine. Johnny’s hands moved from his waist to your hips, grinding you on top of his hardened cock in search of some relief, which was positioned between your ass cheeks.

You drunkenly intercalated kisses between the two of them, feeling absolutely in control until Simon locked your neck in place with his hand, choking you a little before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Open” he demanded and you did.

He spit saliva into your mouth and, before you could swallow it, Johnny urgently pulled your face to kiss you, desperately licking your tongue.

"Fuck, Johnny" Simon grunted, digging even deeper into you, attempting to get even closer, making your toes curl. He leaned over and kissed Johnny, and you felt him instantly melt under you. His hands left your body to cup Simon's face.

They moaned into their kisses. You almost felt inadequate being there, as if you weren't supposed to witness that much intimacy, but the thought quickly died down when Simon's lips found yours again, leaving Johnny breathless, and he sealed you back into their little universe.

Your back arched when Johnny moved his fingers to your clit again, you barely needed any stimulation at this point, your legs were tense locked around Simon's hips.

"Come on, baby" Johnny purred in your ear "Let me see you cum all over his cock".

Almost as if on command, you did. The high building up in your lower stomach finally reached its breaking point and crashed into your body in waves of ecstasy. Simon moaned as he felt your entire body pulse and relax under him, he jerked faster into you and then quickly pulled out.

Johnny moved you away from him so that your back rested on the mattress with both of them towering over you, stroking themselves. Simon's eyes rolled back as he came on top of you, a heavy moan leaving his throat as he covered you with the warm gooey liquid that dripped from him.

The sheer sight of it, along with your little moans, was almost enough to get Johnny off immediately, and it only took a few strokes to make him cum again.

You watched them as Simon gently cleaned a bit of his own semen off of Johnny's abdomen with his thumb. He brought the finger close to his face in an offer, and Johnny obediently opened his mouth and sucked it off, receiving a pat on his head and a satisfied smile from his superior afterward.

You laid there exhausted while they cleaned you with tissues, getting little gentle kisses on your skin every once in a while. Simon turned you around on the bed and wiped a soft tissue on your face, removing the remains of mascara you had under your eyes.

It took you a few minutes to eventually get up and use the bathroom, Simon had one all to himself, which meant you didn't have to put your clothes back on.

When you came back, they were both still naked on the bed. Johnny was already asleep, a permanent smile stamped on his face, being only partially covered by the sheets.

"Come here" Simon whispered to you, and you gently climbed over Johnny's body to rest in the space between them.

Johnny sleepily arranged his arms around you, one over your waist and the other under the crease of your neck, his fingers reaching to caress Simon's hair.

Simon kissed your forehead. "This feels nice" he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear. You looked up to kiss his lips again and rested your head on the pillow, wishing you wouldn't have to get up the next morning.

(now that this is out of my system I can finally move on with my life).

#ghoap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x soap #soap x reader #cod x reader #cod one shot #ghostsoap

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