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misty-caligula · 1 year

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Okay this is gonna be long, but I’ve got a lot of ground to cover so please bear with me. In a real way, this is my series thesis.

I’ve said before, many times now (like a cycle) that for me the most important scene is ep 1 act 1 scene 1. There’s something There that I have been struggling to see clearly, struggling to articulate, and s2e9 really finally gave me the last pieces for it.

I think that Pit Girl is the point of the entire story. But not in the way that I thought going in. I feel like I’m rambling, so I’m going to try to structure my thoughts.

Imagine you’re a new viewer. You haven’t watched yj start to finish 30 times, you’ve never even buzzed before. You turn on the tv and the FIRST thing that happens is you see ... brutality. A half dressed girl chased through the freezing woods, murdered without a chance. They drag her through the snow, string her up, pour her blood on the ground. Hack her into unrecognisable chunks. Sit around in scary outfits and rip at her, with a huge focus on the teeth, as horror music plays. Then, Misty takes off her mask, puts on her glasses, and does the worst possible thing. She smiles. Directly at you.

Again, forget everything you know and go on vibes. You’re seeing the teens pre-crash, and you’re seeing them in the third timeline, fully formed, with horror motifs and covered in fur. You’d be mistaken for thinking that you were seeing start and end. Except that... we know, and you know, that Pit Girl is the middle. These monsters somehow came back from this. How? When they’re so so so far gone?

Hence the show. I know I’m not breaking new ground here, but bear with me. I’m going somewhere.

(Edit: Readmore added because honestly, LONG post)

You’d be forgiven, fresh-faced new viewer, for thinking you were watching some kind of gross-out slasher. But what happens in S1? Restraint. Laura Lee, the first non-crash victim dies at the end of episode eight. Jackie end of ep 10. (For the sake of this thesis we’re going to be almost exclusively focused on the teens.)

And yet there’s this tonal shift, It’s like ... inevitability. Like watching a crack in a window that’s very slowly spreading. Everything is steadily Getting Worse. The weather is slowly getting colder, the days are getting darker, food’s getting scarcer, life is getting harder. But so much of this difficulty is coming from external events and pressure. Yes, cracks start to show in the internal relationship dynamics, of course, but if food was plentiful, if shrooms were less so, if the weather were better, then they could probably work out a very long term stable situation. Sadly for them, things are not stable, and the pressure is building.

Then Jackie dies and the glass gets a really big break.

It’s worth mentioning at this moment that Jackie at any time could’ve come the fuck inside. Safety and warmth and even love were available to her. All it would’ve required was for her not to be the centre of the world. To make actual goddamn concessions and join the team. Which is why she couldn’t possibly make that choice, because she had to be invited, she had to be apologised to, she had to be accommodated. She couldn’t see the rest of the ‘jackets as being people who just like her were in a really shitty situation. She saw them as being external, as being in cahoots against her, as being part of some Thing that she wasn’t in on. She couldn’t let go of the society they’d left, and she preferred to die. Which sure is a choice...

Keep all of that in mind though. We’re taught to blame Shauna for Jackie’s choices. Let’s stop with that. Jackie chose not to assimilate, she looked around the cabin at the team eating the bear and praying to the wilderness and instead of just paying lip service to fit in, like Tai, she decided to put her foot down and make a Thing of it. She decided that being Right was more important than being Included.

Seriously, keep that in mind, we’re coming back to it. Cycles, you know...

Season 2, everyone’s hungry and hey we have this spare Jackie lying around. And we joke like “ha, you gonna eat that?” Only...

No. They WEREN’T going to eat her.

Really think about that for a second. They put her in the meat shed. With the bear. Think about what that does, psychologically. Linguistically. The meat shed is made to store food. The bear has a word: carcass. Day after day after week after month they carve progressively more pathetic chunks from it, subsisting on what little it offers. In the EXACT same room, sitting right there is Jackie. Her body has a different name. Corpse. With many different connotations. At NO point does ANY of them raise the fact that they’ve taken their friend and added her to their meat stockpile.

Because they haven’t. Instead, they’ve added a new sub-room. The meat shed is now also a morgue. And nobody ever once had to say it. They got it. We got it. You got it. And while they starved and their bodies BEGGED for food, Jackie’s corpse lay there, frozen and fresh, and stubbornly refused to become a carcass, because they wouldn’t let it. They knew that there were more important things than meat, even when they were starving.

The bacchanal was a mistake. A literal error. It simply wasn’t planned, wasn’t meant to go down that way. Maybe if they HAD considered that route earlier and had a discussion about it they’d have been prepared, psychologically, maybe if they weren’t so starved. Who knows. But in the middle of the night they were offered a way out, and they took it.

But Shauna took it first.

Even in their state, even faced with an ideal roasted feast infront of them, they waited until Shauna said it was okay. Because Jackie was Shauna’s friend, and they knew that she was still a person. That this was still a corpse first. It was Shauna who was able to give them permission to survive. To turn a friend into a meal. It was not their place to take that step. To shoulder that guilt. So Shauna did it for them.

The next day they’re devastated. The heavy reality sets in, now the hunger is settled. And Jackie’s carcass is far too real, they can’t change her back into a corpse. Nat tries, bless her heart. But Tai’s screaming reaction at having eaten Jackie’s face is only an externalisation of the grief and horror and agony they’re all going through.

And after Jackie they starve again. Hope and heat and light dwindles further. Every single day they all take another step towards death. That’s what starvation is, it’s the same thing as dying, you die a little bit every day until you can’t die anymore.

Kristen falls. Misty doesn’t even consider that she might bring her back as meat. If she had’ve, she might think, maybe she’d be considered like ... heroic. It doesn’t even occur to her. She’s not going to LET those bitches eat her one and only friend, and she goes out of her way to protect her.

Shauna has her horror show birth. And, no matter WHAT the context is, she produces.... meat. In the most awful, brutal way. And while the fandom made so many jokes and stuff, the reality is that yes... at least to an extent there was real nutrients there. And it was never once even brought up as an option, by these desperate, starving girls.

When Coach tries to kill himself, here’s a ready source of willing meat. And Misty uses it as a threat to stop him. But it’s hollow, she’s just putting on fake fangs to try to keep him safe. She’s not actually that vicious thing that she’s pretending to be, just like she’s not actually homophobic.

When Lottie tells Misty to eat her if she dies, Misty fights her on it. Lottie has to insist. Then when she tells the rest of the team, they are so overwhelmed with the selflessness of the gesture that it inspires them to twist it into their first hunt. That’s what it takes. The hunt is an act of self-sacrifice and love.

And so we get to the hunt. The proto-pit-girl, we’ve come full circle and we start to learn all these answers to questions posed in act 1 scene 1. And they’re not the answers that were assumed.

How do they get to the point of eating each other? They sacrifice themselves willingly, for the sake of each other’s survival.

Why do they hunt the way they do? Because Shauna just can’t stand to murder a friend in cold blood, a friend she cares for and has no reason to hate.

Why the spike pit? Because it keeps the blood off their hands. Because it lets them blame It and preserve a tiny fragment of their innocence.

Why the weird symbols? The ritual itself? Because they need SOMETHING to hold onto, to make it all make sense.

Why so brutal? Is it? We THINK it’s brutal. It’s certainly bloody. But Pit Girl dies almost instantly. Her pain is over fast. She doesn’t have a good time going into it, obviously, none of them want to die. But she chose to run, she could’ve taken the knife instead. And the spike trap was efficient. Yes they drag her through the snow and string her up, but it’s mechanical and just part of the process and she’s dead already. Her pain is over fast, it’s not sadistic.

Why do they chop her up into chunks like that? Because nobody wants to eat her face. Because nobody wants to struggle with her humanity, they want her to look just like any other meat. So that they might be having deer or bear or ... friend. They’re eating because they are biological machines that need to eat, that NEED death to survive. They didn’t ask to be made the way they are, and they’re doing their best to cope. Shauna, probably blindly, takes on that responsibility, to transform their friend into unrecognisable meat to change a corpse into a carcass. She takes that pain for them, holds that sin for them, out of love. So they can eat, so they can survive.

What’s with the creepy horror masks? During the ritual they can’t handle being themselves. They create alternate versions of themselves to hold what must be done. The masks aren’t there to scare anyone, because there IS NO AUDIENCE. The masks are there to hide behind. That’s why Misty takes hers off at the end of the scene. The ritual is over and they can go back to being people again.

Why is Misty fucking Quigley in charge? Because she CAN be. Because she’s strong enough. If Lott/Nat/The AQ is the goddess/queen, Misty is the priestess/handmaiden, tasked with actually carrying out her orders. She interprets the queens words when she’s too weak, she provides counsel when she needs it, she tells the team what they need to hear in the moment, she gives out the micromanagement. Misty’s the power behind the throne, because when she says she’ll do something she fucking follows through. No matter the cost. And what the team NEEDS, whether they choose to admit it or not, is a backbone.

So...

They bring home Javi. The music uses a reference that’s never been done before. It uses the spiritual powerballad that was playing when Laura Lee tried to fly away. It builds the expectation of Great Things, of big, potent ...

And then it just stops. As the girls are faced with the reality of what’s laying on the table. The cold, blue corpse of a soft child who never hurt anyone. No matter what they do, no matter how hard they try they just cannot make him a carcass. But they have made the choice already, and if they turn back now it’s not like it’ll bring him back. They’ll just be starving and regretful as he rots.

So Shauna, blind and shaking, does the best she can. And when she brings in the meat, she - of all people - understands EXACTLY what Travis is going through. She knows what he needs. Because she’s been here. With Jackie. So she brings him Javi’s heart. His core. His love. His soul.

(She doesn’t bring him Javi’s head. She cuts that off and puts it aside so nobody has to eat his face... Some things are worth more than pure nutritional survival.)

And Travis, god bless him, does the only thing he can do left to respect Javi. He takes his heart, and he bites it, raw and bloody.

It hurts him to do so. It disgusts him so much, but he manages not to throw up. It disgusts the girls too, but they watch on, horrified. And that’s the POINT. Travis makes sure that before they do this, before they do what they have to... that they all remember this is Javi, this is human, this is a person. And he preserves the horror. For all their sakes. And only then, after he’s given his blessing, after he’s done his human acts, do these starving, ravenous girls allow themselves to reach for their food.

S1E1. Act 1, scene 1. We do not know who Pit Girl is. We do not know the exact circumstances that get us there. But we do know where we started now. What the original meaning is behind each of these little things. And it’s not brutality, not barbarism. It’s love. It’s not lord of the flies, a bunch of monstrous human-shaped creatures giving in to their primal nature and predating on each other. It’s a team of terrified people desperately clutching at their own humanity as hard as they can. Trying SO hard not to let that glass break, to not become the thing that the framing of act 1 scene 1 tried so VERY hard to convince us they were. Context changes everything.

And the proof is in the pudding. After they eat Jackie the shock explodes throughout the cabin. The atmosphere is thick, and horrific. Now with Javi, reduced to simple meat, carefully and lovingly seperated from what made him human, so they can grieve him while they sate their natural needs, the mood post-eating is calm and soft and warm and loving. For once they’re all together, with grateful full stomachs and in a time of peace and plenty. They’ve done the impossible and maintained their humanity and love for each other and their respect for Javi in a nearly impossible situation.

*takes a deep breath*

Which brings us to THIS asshole.

Right from the start, Jackie is only kind of part of the team. She’s the team captain, put up there by Coach Martinez, but not because she’s the best of them but because she can maybe wrangle them into doing better. And they KNOW that she’s not really one of them. They plot around her, and just don’t bring her in on it. They put up with her, more than loving her, she’s just kind of forced upon them. But she does her best, to try to maintain some semblance of order, giving pep talks and the like.

Wait, Jackie? I mean coach. My bad.

Anyway, so Jackie has one friend, Shauna. She SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to her, but Shauna’s the only one who actually likes her. And Shauna’s her connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn as to where her real loyalties lie.

Sorry I’m talking about Jackie again.... weird.

In S1E9/10 Shauna finally chooses the team, for real. And Jackie tries to pull her back away, but Shauna puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, you’re the odd one out. Why don’t YOU leave, Jackie? Jackie looks around at the burgeoning cult, she thinks “Look at these evil monstrous bitches, and now Shauna’s one of them TOO?” And instead of finding a compromise, instead of doing introspection, instead of anything like that, Jackie goes and freezes to death because it turns out that sheer rage won’t keep you warm in sub zero temperatures. Because no matter what happens, Jackie’s Right and it’s more important to her to be Right than Included. If she’s not in charge than why is she even THERE?

Hold on, I see my mistake. Let me backtrack.

Right from the start, Coach is only kind of part of the team. He’s trying to hide from his real life, from Paul and the complexities of being genuine in society by taking on the job of coaching the ‘jackets. And they KNOW that he’s not really one of them. He’s just the guy they have to listen to, because society put him there. But he tries his best, giving pep talks and the like.

So Coach has one friend, Natalie. He SEEMS popular, and everyone talks to him, but Nat’s the only one who actually likes him. (Ignore Misty, a schoolgirl comphet crush is not the same thing). And Nat’s his connection point to the team. She’s got one foot on each side, and is torn to where her real loyalties lie. Sometimes she’s on the bench with Coach, complaining about the state of things. Sometimes she’s in the thick of it with them all, and Coach is nowhere to be found.

In S2E9, Nat finally chooses the team, for real. And Coach tries to pull her back, but Nat puts her foot down. No way, she counters, I’m ON the team, I’m worse than them, you’re the odd one out. Go, save yourself, you don’t belong in this place. Coach looks at a table covered in blood and gore, at Nat’s face, at the rest of the team pledging fealty to her. And instead of looking for context, or looking for compromise, or even remotely trying to understand what he’s looking at he thinks

Look at these evil monstrous bitches. They’re eating each other. They’ve all gone mad. They’ve even gotten Nat now. There’s no hope for them, there’s no hope for anyone out here.

And he decides that they’re corrupt. That the way you deal with that is fire. And he’s wrong.

(I have a theory that he’s gone and jumped off the cliff, that he set the fire to clear the corruption, and now like Jackie, unable to live in this situation any longer, he’s decided to die himself. I’d not be surprised to find him in s3e1 that way)

Jackie was a frustrating, difficult person. Because no matter how things went she just COULDN’T let go of the fact that she was trying to fit a mold that just didn’t suit her. She was raised with super high expectations, when she was really just kind of mid. And that’s fine, honestly, most people ARE mid, that’s why it’s mid. But she refused to see that those around her were shedding their social pressures, were adapting to the wilderness. They weren’t having a good time, they weren’t hunting and foraging because they were out there, camping for fun. Nobody wanted to be there. They were just trying not to complain about it, because they were all in the same boat.

Coach is similar. He simply won’t adapt. Refuses to. I mean this is a guy who’s STILL trying to live in the closet when there’s open lesbians making out in public around him. Who thinks of others as inherently monstrous when he himself, as a gay man, should know better. Because that’s what trying to fit your society-assigned role does to you.

It’s no accident that he and Jackie both spend a long time in the woods and neither of them can do something as basic as start a fucking campfire. Javi, a little kid, survived for MONTHS on his own in that cave. Coach couldn’t make it a day alone. Jackie couldn’t get through a night. They both rely so heavily on the team without ever once recognising it. Because SOMEONE was keeping the fires going. They both just ... refused to engage.

And just like Jackie can’t see that they’re not having fun out there in the woods, on the knifes edge of survival, Coach can’t see that they’re not having fun when they are so desperate they feel it’s warranted to sacrifice one of their own. He always thought of them as monsters, and he just sees what he expects to: a bunch of stupid useless teenage girls, finally doing what he always expected they would.

At any point... At ANY point he could’ve come in from the cold. He could’ve just accepted reality as they have. He could’ve taken some meat and accepted the price, as they have, joined them in their GRIEF about it, shared their humanity, and survived. Just as Jackie could’ve come in from the cold, and become part of the whole. But instead, they sit in the cold, consumed by their bitter hate, and decide that no, it’s everyone ELSE who’s wrong.

And who emerges from the burning cabin? A bunch of scared kids. Shauna, the FIRST cannibal, who saves Jackie’s prom dress before anything else. Travis, who grabs Javi’s wolf. Nat who grabs the ammunition - that they NEVER use on each other - because if they lost that they’d get SERIOUSLY desperate. And they protect each other, they make sure everyone makes it out. These supposed monsters who are so far gone they don’t even care about eating each other go out of their way to save each other, not just themselves.

Because Coach is wrong. Just like Jackie was wrong. Just like WE were wrong, in s1e1. Which brings me to my actual point.

This question is asked so many times in S1 it’s almost a mantra. And the ‘jackets’ oath of silence really builds up that it must’ve been something REALLY bad, right? But S2E9 has really made me recognise that fundamentally... Act 1 Scene 1 is entirely what everyone who asks this question is expecting.

Imagine they DID know what really happened out there. With that bloodthirsty fucking look in their eyes...

They’re not looking for an answer. They’re looking for a story. For an exciting spooky nightmare they didn’t take part in, so they can get a shiver and a thrill they didn’t earn.

They’re not looking for a love story. They’re not looking to hear how HARD these scared, tragic, broken people fought to hold onto their morals and their humanity and their sanity even against their own survival. They’re not interested in Shauna blinding herself just to try to stop her hands from shaking. They’re not looking to hear about Travis choking down the blood of his brother just to make sure that he can really FEEL it. So he can share the guilt, and never ever pretend like it’s Just Meat. The look in his eye when he can’t think of any good response to Van’s arguments that he needs to let Javi save him. What they want is...

They don’t want the context. And if the ‘jackets ever did try to tell anybody what actually DID happen out there, all they would see is ... Episode 1, Act 1, Scene 1. A bunch of monsters. Eating each other. Just like Jackie. Just like Coach. Just like we did, on first glance.

I’ve been saying this whole time that Yellowjackets is doing something really special. That it’s letting us see behind the curtain, that while everyone’s asking this big question, “what really happened?”, we’re the ones who get to know. Because it can’t be told. It can’t be spoken. It can only be seen. Experienced. I think that S2 has finally finished the first major arc in the teen timeline, that we now have the context to understand what comes next. And I do believe that it will get messy, it will devolve. Into fighting and screaming and battles. It’s tragic, but it looks like that’s the downward spiral, spiraling. As Travis and Nat deal with the guilt of what they did with Javi for each other. As Shauna and Nat butt heads and people pick sides. As Misty Mistys. As resources get even more desperate now their shelter is gone. As potentially new people (hikers? other cabin people?) get brought into conflict with them (I believe the cabin is a smoke signal, personally).

But don’t ever forget that we got here with love. Expect that the downward spiral will be lubricated with toxic, broken, codependant, self-destructive love as well. Watch them love each other to death... they’ve already begun.

#yellowjackets #spoilers #theories #Long post #no really long post

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pinktyuns · 1 year

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sleepy spring mornings featuring choi yeonjun

hot.

was the only thought going through your still half-asleep brain as you struggled to blink open your eyes.

it’s so fucking hot.

once you were kinda awake, with open blinking eyes you regarded what the hell was making you so hot. bright washington sun crept through the curtains, sweeping the tranquil hotel room in a beautiful light.

looking to your right, you found the heat source, the culprit.

choi yeonjun, your boyfriend, sleeping ever so peacefully nuzzled into your side, brown hair messy and tussled with sleep, his arm thrown lazily over your stomach, keeping you close to him and his goddamn furnace of a body, his leg draped and entangled with yours under the sheets.

looking at him, seeing his breath rise and fall softly, the pout that seemed to always be on his lips jutting out, you couldn’t help but smile.

it was rare to see him like this, be with him like this, and instead of running away from his heat you brought him closer, wrapping your arms around him as he nuzzled closer to you, burying his face into your neck, his soft breath tickling you.

you brought your hand up to his messy head, smoothing the brown down and running your fingers through it, scratching his head lightly. he exhaled happily and, still seeming to be asleep, moved a little bit so you could see his face.

you felt like the grinch seeing him like this, your heart growing 3 sizes bigger at the sight of yeonjun.

you watched him breathe in and out, softly tracing his perfectly shaped face with your finger. across his brow bone, down his perfect sloped nose, softly grazing his cute little cupids bow, tapping his perfect pout ever so softly.

maybe it was the early morning making you feel your emotions even more so, but seeing him sleeping peacefully, cuddled up to you, lit up by the morning sun, you felt as if you might cry.

dating yeonjun wasn’t the easiest thing all the time, his schedule insanely demanding, your college classes challenging, and sometimes it was hard to just get a 15 minute facetime call these days. which is why you jumped at the opportunity to go with him on tour, seeing him on stage with his members, in what was his happiest element, made you happy even more so.

you were suddenly brought out of your thoughts with a sigh and a stir, yeonjun seeming to be waking up next to you.

cute.

was the only word that could fit this situation. you’d seen it before, sparingly, but yeonjun waking up was the cutest goddamn thing you think you’ve ever seen in your life. a small frown on his face, hair messy but somehow still perfect, eyes still closed, nose scrunched up, the pout on his lips jutting out even more so that you felt the intense urge to kiss it.

you leaned into him, feeling his breath on yours, and placed the smallest, sweetest ghost of a kiss on his perfectly parted lips.

you pulled back, hand still in his hair, smile on your face. looking at him in this light it was insane how someone so perfect could just be walking around on this earth, even more insane that you got to be with him like this and share these moments with him.

“whyd youstop,” a small, deep mumble fell out of yeonjuns perfect lips and into the room.

you scratched his head lightly again, seeing his eyes were still closed, ignoring the fact that his morning voice was somehow deeper than how he normally sounded and it was driving you crazy.

you giggled at him, his little glare on his face over the fact that you simply didn’t kiss him longer.

“i like when you kiss me,” he mumbled again, you caught sight of his ears turning a little red and he buried himself into your neck again out of embarrassment.

you laughed then, a soft real laugh, pulling him even closer to you, wanting to feel his warmth now.

“oh my god you’re literally the cutest person alive, did you know that?” you gushed over him.

you could feel his face growing hotter with the praise and he shook his head, “nuh uh, it’s you.”

you laughed again, “oh my god you’re such a baby.”

yeonjun, finally seeming fully awake, lifted his head at that, pulling his body weight and resting on one of his arms so he wasn’t on top of you anymore, rather, laying on his side regarding you.

you suddenly felt hot again, not from the temperature. it was still crazy to you how yeonjun could go from being the cutest thing alive to staring at you like he was literally going to eat you.

yeonjun smirked, he always thought it was funny how he still made you nervous.

he decided he was done teasing you and suddenly wrapped his arms around you, rolling onto his back and laying you on top of him.

“did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice soft with adoration but still octaves deep with sleep.

you nodded, feeling shy under his gaze, which he noticed and made him smile up at you, “the only thing is that you’re a fucking furnace, choi,” you pretended to be mad, “i feel like i’m gonna wake up sweating because you’re so hot.”

he laughed, a gorgeous, loud laugh that made butterflies settle in your stomach, and wiggled his eyebrows, “i know, right.”

you rolled your eyes, “you’re stupid.”

he grinned, his eyes practically disappearing with his giant smile, and whispered, “you love it.”

he moved his head forward and captured your lips with his, you practically melting into the soft kiss.

kissing yeonjun always had your head spinning, his lips always warm against yours, making you feel safe and making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun. yeonjun.

he pulled away, admiring that spaced-out look you always got when he kissed you, no matter if it was soft and sweet like this one or rough and full of want.

he pulled you closer to his chest, your head laying on top of his heart, listening to the beating.

you both stayed like that in contentment for who knows how long, yeonjun breaking the silence with a small whisper, “i like having you here, like this, with me.”

you smiled on his chest, listening to the soft thump thumping of his heart, “i like seeing you like this, and being here with you.”

yeonjun pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, your eyes closing automatically and you hummed in response. the both of you finally sitting up and yeonjun grabbing his horn-rimmed glasses from the side table, placing them just on his nose, making him look somehow even more attractive, which you didn’t even know was possible.

he captured your eye contact, holding your hand, his thumb dancing over your skin, “i love you,” he said softly, a big dumb smile on his face.

a big dumb matching one on yours, “i love you, junnie. even if you feel like lava when you sleep.”

he rolled his eyes at that and released you, getting out of the warmth that was your shared bed and standing in front of you opening his phone.

you took the opportunity to ogle him, as any sane person would.

a shirtless yeonjun was a beautiful one, like yeonjun was all the time, but there was something else about him like this, grey sweatshorts (whore) riding low on his hips, honey-colored skin exposed and kissed by sunlight, making him glow, glasses perched on his nose, brown hair the most perfectly messy thing atop his head.

yeonjun didn’t look up, but felt your stare, smirking, “see something you like?”

you blushed, “no.”

he scoffed, shaking his head, “okay liar.”

you giggled, finally taking the opportunity to stretch when there was a soft knock at the door. both of you knowing it was probably staff (or beomgyu coming to bother).

yeonjun grabbed a navy blue botton up shirt and haphazardly pulled it over him, sadly coving up his golden skin, as he padded softly over to the door.

soft words were exchanged and the door closed and he turned with two starbucks cups, smiling at you,

“oh my god, yes,” you said, making grabby hands towards the cups which made yeonjun smile as he walked back over to you, stopping to grab his ipad from the bedside table.

he gave you your drink, the caffeine comforting you after just one sip as he settled back into the bed next to you.

he opened his ipad and pulled up youtube, looking for something to watch. when he made his pick, he rested it on his legs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and bringing you close.

you rested your head on yeonjuns shoulder, holding your drink and smiling softly.

you looked up at him again, admiring his perfect side profile, and gave him a small kiss on his cheek, making him turn to face you, smile on his lips.

“what was that for?”

you shrugged, “just because.”

he grinned, glasses pushing up on his nose, and kissed your forehead again, all while snuggling you closer against him.

as the sun got brighter in the room, it danced over the white comforter, and lit up yeonjuns hands and coffee cup. it was warm and perfect, just like yeonjun himself.

yea user yawnzzn killed me today so i had to write about it this was not supposed to be this long & it is unedited i just needed to word vomit about him because OH MY GOD!!!

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amaranthineghost · 6 months

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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ LANDO NORRIS ☆ MASTERLIST

SERIES—

SPOTLIGHT—MASTERLIST (coming soon)

IMAGINES—

HOME IS WHERE HE IS—FLUFF

you don't want him to go (first person)

SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ME, MY DEAR—FLUFF, ANGST

her love language is biting, but experiences a feeling of insecurity (third person)

EVERY GODDAMN INCH OF YOUR SKIN IS MINE—SMUT, ANGST

he can't stand her, but he can't keep his eyes off her (third person)

DARLING, THE BED IS COLDER WITHOUT YOU—FLUFF, ANGST

she feels lonely without the company of lando (third person)

OUR WORLD IN YOUR HANDS—FLUFF, ANGST

they hadn't planned for pregnancy, but it changed their life (third person)

I CANT HELP BUT PUSH YOU AWAY, MY DEAR. SELF SABOTAGE IS ALL I KNOW—ANGST, FLUFF

feeling loved is foreign to her, she wants to self sabotage, but he won't let her (third person)

DARLING, OUR STARS ARE DYING, BUT WE'VE STILL GOT YEARS TO BURN—ANGST

their relationship is dying while their love burns strong, yet they're unsure if they can save themselves (third person)

I CAN'T NOT HAVE YOU. I'LL TRAVEL THE SOLAR SYSTEM TO MEND OUR STARS—ANGST, SMUT

they hadn't seen each other in months after their breakup, which left them in more misery than they thought. because now they'll do anything to make it work (third person)

MATCHING PAJAMA PANTS AND LATE NIGHTS—FLUFF

how lando spends the holiday season with his girlfriend (third person)

HE'S TOUCHING MY BODY LIKE MY SKIN IS STICKY, HE'S GLUED TO ME—SMUT, ANGST

lando and his girlfriend try special chocolate and make it a competition to see who will lose first, and he's struggling to resist the urge to touch her (third person)

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU—SMUT, ANGST

their love is toxic, but they keep coming back even when they know they shouldn’t (third person)

BUT I LOVE SO YOU (PLEASE LET ME GO)—ANGST

he loved her, but knew he had to let her go even if it killed him inside. still he left a paper trail back to him (third person)

I'LL LET YOU GO IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT—ANGST

a little over half a year later when the season ended, they haven't found their way back. At least not on purpose, but the universe knows better than them (third person)

OOPS?—FLUFF, ANGST, SMUT

to commemorate the sight in front of him, he snaps a picture on his phone without realizing he's just posted it for millions to see (third person).

#formula 1 #formula 1 drivers #formula one #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando #lando norris #charles leclerc imagine #logan sargeant fic #lando norris fic #charles leclerc

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luveline · 2 years

Note

could you maybe write struggling single dad!eddie? ily!!! 😘

love you! hope this is okay :D I did girl dad!eddie because ♡ fem!reader

Juggling car keys, a brown paper bag of groceries and a toddler that refuses to be put down today is not easy. And she's not always like this, Roan's usually a sweet (if quiet) girl who makes Eddie's life as easy as she can. A blessing, he thanks God or whoever for her everyday, but lately she's been clingy as climbing ivy.

"Babe," he says, stress seeping into the pet name and making it more chiding than he means, "could you relax?"

She glares at him. She's a mirror.

"You're being so mean to daddy today, you know that?"

She ignores him, small hands in the collar of his last nice work shirt and pulling. He can't stop her from stretching it out, doesn't have a hand free to pull her away and the shitty cruiser he swapped his beloved van for is still locked up tight.

"Baby, stop!" he scolds.

She looks like she might have a tantrum if she could. Roan pulls her hands away but starts to grizzle, a sniffle that turns loud that turns to full blown tears. He can't tell if they're crocodile tears or not. He feels awful anyhow.

Roan brings a hand up to slap his shoulder. Her fingers get caught in the fabric of his collar and she tugs to get free, jabbing herself in the eye with the back of her hand.

Her resulting cry is awful. Real, heart-hurting, Eddie forgets to be mad and starts shushing her gently. He presses his back sweaty with exertion against the cold window of the back seat door and pulls her in as close as he can.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he says softly.

She shrieks and hits the grocery bag. It topples. The groceries go everywhere. An orange rolls into the parking lot.

"Roan," he complains, defeated.

Patience, he thinks to himself desperately. Patience. She doesn't mean to.

He can't afford stuff like this. The time it takes to do simple things like get groceries feels expensive enough — he could be pressing Roan's clothes right now, or swapping out that cracked neck on the black Gibson so he can finally get paid for it, or fuck, he could be smoking a goddamn cigarette.

He sets her down. She screams bloody murder but he doesn't have a choice. He has to chase down the dispersed groceries desperately, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Being a parent has made him hyper aware of other people's judgmental looks. He can feel eyes now on the top of his head and Eddie knows it's that cruel looking blonde woman from the cold cuts aisle who'd tried to lecture him on processed ham.

He picks his head up, words already rehearsed in his head. Lady, if you don't leave me alone I swear to fuck I'm gonna feed her nothing but TV dinners for the rest of her life. She's gonna be a junk food baby and you'll have no one to blame but yourself.

Only It's not the lady. It's a girl.

You wither under his fierce scowl and offer the two oranges in your hand to him unsurely.

"Sorry," you say, shifting forward a half step. "They rolled my way."

He accepts the oranges without talking, which is rude, so rude, but his heads already decided the order of things before his mouth can catch up. Shove the groceries in the bag. Put the bag on the floor. Pick up his kid. Help her calm down.

He hikes Roan onto his hip, rubs her back, and says, "God, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

You visibly relax. Eddie's surprised you didn't turn tail and run.

"Yeah? Do I have a doppelganger?" you ask. You smile in this way that's totally your own, Eddie's never seen someone grin like that before. Maybe a little shy and the shyness is making you awkward, teeth peeking out, you're pretty.

He's shocked at the thought. She's pretty.

Years of womanising (with varying success) kicks in.

"No, God no. She wasn't nearly as pretty as you are, sweetheart."

Roan seems to realise that she's not the object of his whole affection and pulls on his hair. Eddie let's his head yank to the side with a hiss and then a rueful smile. The world skews. You follow his head movement with your own.

"Is that so? I guess you'd know all about pretty," you say, head dipped to your shoulder.

Eddie gets super excited thinking he's actually managed to pull this one off (a fucking impossibility).

You hold your hand out hesitantly and wave. He realises you had not been talking about him.

"You- Oh, yeah. She's lovely, isn't she?"

You beam. "'Lovely,'" you quote. "That's a nice word." Your attention slides to Roan. She basks in it. "Hey, baby. You're just something else, aren't you? You know! You know how pretty you are, don't go shy on me."

Roan goes smiley. Chubby cheeks full of colour, she grins and pulls her dark curls in front of her face. Like father, like daughter.

"What's her name?" you ask.

"Roan. I'm Eddie."

You introduce yourself, bent just slightly to talk directly to Roan. You offer your hand.

When Roan takes it, you shake her tiny hand gently and then rub your thumb over her fingers. "Nice to meet you, princess."

"Hi," she says slowly.

You give her hand a small squeeze and then take a step back, arms moving behind you. "God, she's a pretty baby. And she looks so much like you."

"Yeah?" he asks warmly.

You realise what you've said with a look like you've been struck. After a second, you blink and laugh self-consciously. "Well. It's true."

He's out of the game. He's miles away from the game. But if he doesn't ask you for coffee that's gotta be self sabotage, right? Eddie's trying to find the words when you take a strange breath.

"Listen, I've seen you around and- I know this is weird. Sorry, but you really are- God. Sorry, but do you wanna get coffee? Sometime?" you ask, clunky and awkward.

Eddie's enamoured. He forgets to answer because he can't believe his luck and you take it for something different, adding, "Or not coffee? What does the little lady like?"

He must smile wide enough to split his lip. "Chocolate, mostly."

"Like cake and stuff?"

"Loves it."

You nibble at the inside of your lip as you pull your bag around to your thigh and search inside for a pen. You pull out a leaflet, a Save The Children Pamphlet they pass around outside of the mall and wince as you tear a corner.

He watches you write down your number on the hood of his car. You do it quick, pass it to him quicker.

"You can just call me, let me know when you're free."

"I'm free when you are," he says like a loser. It's not even remotely true. Eddie's never free, but for you he's gonna make it happen.

"How about Thursday?"

Eddie nods. Roan slips down his side and looks between you both like she's watching a tennis match.

"Yeah, Thursday is perfect."

You smile. Eddie takes it all in, everything, your smile and your hair and your clothes and the way your fingers pull at one another. He can't believe you're the nervous one right now. His heart spins like a top in his chest.

"I'm sorry to ask you out and jet, but there's somewhere I gotta be," you say. You sound genuinely apologetic.

"No, of course-"

"But I'll see you on Thrusday. Outside of, um, Morgan's Desserts?"

"Sure, but-"

"Yeah?" you ask.

"I can bring Roan?" he asks.

Your expression softens. "Please. If you don't I'm gonna stand you up."

He laughs abruptly, a shock of it like a firecracker in his chest.

You move like you might leave but then pick up his grocery bag and pass it back it to him. "Bye, princess," you pause to say, looking melted by his daughter's puppy dog eyes, if he does say so himself.

"Bye," she says sweetly.

You nod at him. He nods back.

"Thursday," he calls at your retreating figure. You know, to make sure.

You shoot him a smile over your shoulder.

Roan turns in his hold to stare at his face.

"What?" he asks her.

"Chocolate?" she questions.

"Heard that, did you?" he mutters.

more eddie and roan

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie and roan

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hitlikehammers · 3 months

Text

bring him home

rating: t ♥️ cw: Eddie in the Upside Down,; Steve on what he thinks is a retrieval mission for his body (it's not); Eddie Munson Lives; Kas!Eddie (ish) ♥️ tags: established relationship, secret pre-S4 relationship, post-S4, presumed dead (Eddie), mourning and heartbreak (Steve), happy ending (because Eddie is alive, ofc), soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-four: Love is the only thing we can take with us (@thefreakandthehair)

oh hey look, another day I didn't intend to write at all ♥️ but then @pearynice was intrigued by a stray half-baked idea and I struggle to not at least try to provide content in such instances ♥️

He’s only thought it since, since, but he’s actually kind of grateful no one knew. That no one could even have guessed. They’re on eggshells around him enough as it is, thinking it’s the loss, finally, that he couldn’t walk them back from, couldn’t recover them allfrom safe if not wholly sound. They think he’s dealing with survivor’s guilt or just the general blow of a failure so immense, maybe long overdue: and that’s probably part of it.

But only because it’s part of the bigger thing. The real loss.

They would have been together nearly ten fucking months, y’know; the better part of a whole goddamn year since that day at the mall, eyes catching and something just…clicking. Like the barest whisper breathing this could be something into the universe for them to catch if they wanted, and for all that’s still good in the world they both wanted, beyond any kind of logic they both fucking reached.

And Steve knows he’s worrying everyone, knows Joyce cooks for him because she’s sacred for him, knows Claudia bakes for the very same reason; he knows Robin’s gone back to biting her nails over him, and he hates that, he hates it but, like: Steve feels like he left his soul in that hellscape with the man he’d wrapped up in it; knows he left his heart there, because he gave it to that same man ages ago and never ever considered taking it back—and he’s kind of just a, a shell, now, and it’s good that they all think Steve’s just fucked up over the lost, over-inflated savior complex, Rob had muttered more than once and sure, fine—let them think that’s all it is.

It means he can plan without interference.

It means he can drive to the last oozing rift in the world with axes he found in the garage, a crowbar he grabbed at The War Zone—which he knows because he found a receipt, not because he can remember going, driving, paying; he fucking can’t—a fucking tire lift that he things is better suited to trucks than his Beemer but that’s why he needs it: he need to rip open the earth beneath his feet because maybe his heart died down there with the boy he loves in ways he didn’t know he could, not until he found those reserves of feeling inside him well up for the fact of him and maybe it’s too later for his heart, and maybe his soul’s locked in as a funeral shroud but godadmn it all—

Steve needs to bring Eddie’s body home.

Dropping through he fissure in the ground is second nature, like something calling him through the break and that feel right, because the Upside Down for what it is alone is somewhere Steve never wants to be, never wants to touch: but what it holds now what it stole from him and claimed and kept: Steve wants that back beside him, it doesn’t matter how. Cold, torn, broken, gone—Steve’s already those things himself. Now he’s just a raw nerve, but if that nerve could go numb, could freeze for so much pain, so much abuse and hurt. He feels more for the knowledge of how much things should destroy him; he thinks his body is more of an echo chamber, a void that moves but isn’t…there anymore.

Is here, because he left the best of him, the whole of him here, and he—it creaks in his knees when he hits the ground on the other side, shoots up his spine from the bones of him on contact; it should hurt, it should hurt but he can’t feel so much, and he needs to get his bearings, needs to orient, needs to figure where he is and the quickest way to Forest Hills, to where Eddie—

He can’t feel shit when he’s got a purpose, here: the first he’s had in weeks.

He moves to stand, gets to his feet at—

It’s unexpected, how much he feels the impact that knocks him back down, the weight that pushes him to the ground again and covers him, snarls at him, breathes hot and violent against his jaw, against his neck, and Steve—

Steve’ll die here, that’s clear from the hiss above him, the way he’s pinned like prey, like a meal, and the only thought he really has, in all honesty, is he’ll die here.

But he already died here, so it just feels kinda anticlimactic.

The panting against him keeps up, but it…it doesn’t go anywhere, it doesn’t become other, or more—there’s no teeth, no clawing or biting or ripping him apart, draining him dry. He doesn’t think he was afraid for any of it, exactly; his heart’s pounding but it feels distant, other and something far from him, disconnected: not a part of his shell-self, so he thinks that’s just ingrained, just an automatic response to a demo-something, probably, sizing up its meal but like, it’s not doing anything and Steve, Steve doesn’t…he’s not invested, exactly, he doesn’t even think he cares, but—

He squints his eyes open the barest crack where he’d instinctively squeezed them shut and he looks, expects the toothy petals, or even a veiny body; he looks and—

“Eddie?”

Oh, good. Heart, soul: may as well add losing his fucking mind to this place, too, third time’s a goddamn charm.

Because it’s not Eddie, it can’t be…it can’t be Eddie, and—

Not-Eddie leans into him, presses onto him full-bodied, hips to chest, thighs spread to hold him down like he’s going anywhere because, because…

Steve feels that. He feels the pressure, he feels pain where this body drags against scrapes in Steve’s skin, he feels his heart pounding, Jesus fucking Christ, that fucking hurts, but he looks at the face that’s looming over him, tipped to the side like it’s asking a question, like it’s considering Steve below, and it: the bones are sharper, the skin more pale, more drawn up tight and pulled—the eyes are red, bright like when the lighting cuts the sky, here, but everything else…

“Eddie, oh god,” Steve doesn’t want to question it, Steve doesn’t want to keep his mind if the alternative is moments with some version of Eddie whose breath he can feel again, it’s, he’s;

“Eds,” he chokes, and Eddie’s got him wholly pinned down, he can’t reach for Eddie’s face to cup it, to cradle it, so he lets his breath catch, his lungs hitch, lets the tears burn on their way from his eyes in streams as he twitches his fingers, stretches the tips to brush Eddie’s palm where he holds Steve down and—

Eddie stills, and his eyes narrow, and…

And if Steve has to die here, again: let it be at Eddie’s hands. Let it be maybe for Eddie’s…benefit, he’s wellbeing, however he survives here. Let it be for Eddie.

Always for Eddie.

But then Eddie: Eddie doesn’t let him up, still lean into Steve from the middle, but—he buries his head at Steve’s neck, and breathes in so deep, Steve gets to close his eyes and soak in the feeling of his chest rising into Steve’s own: strong.

Real.

“Known,” Eddie murmurs, shakes his head like he’s trying to shoo a fly, but then a shiver trembles through the whole of him, Steve can trace its trajectory where Eddie’s held against him, and then Eddie growls—it’s not a wholly new sound but it’s deeper, more animal in it than Steve’s ever heard and then he bites out through bared teeth: “Known.”

Then he draws back from Steve’s neck, studies him shrewdly, a little hesitant, like he’s unsure of whatever’s happening to him, in him: then he nods, chews at his lower lip in a painfully familiar move before his hands leave Steve’s wrists and he’s—

“Known.”

He’s tracing Steve’s cheekbones, the line of his jaw; he’s running his nose against the slope of Steve’s, he’s…it’s like he’s tracing him, and he does it so gentle, he almost like he anticipates it, he’s—

“Known,” and Eddie’s fucking…it’s not a growl this time but somehow whatever it is, is deeper, stronger, and he mouths at Steve’s neck again but instead of breathing him in, he’s sucking at the lines of his arteries down the sides, up and down, and then he follows the blood to the sounds, groans at a pitch Steve’s never heard before but it’s still, it’s sill Eddie, and—

“Hurt?” Eddie mouths at his chest through the layers of his clothes, sounds mournful, stills as he considers something, intent with it before his head pops up, those red eyes so wide and aching as his hands tap against Steve’s arms, frantic and—

Oh.

Oh; they’re tapping out Steve’s heartbeats to every racing clench-give echoing through his ribs and Eddie moans, almost wails, then—

“Hurt,” and he looks frantic, his eyes wild, and his mouth dropped open, bereft and seeking and oh, oh: Eddie thinks his heart’s pounding because he’s hurt, because he’s in pain and kinda, a little bit but not like that and—

“No,” Steve’s quick to try and soothe, even if his voice is barely a rasp; “no, no,” and his wrists are free to he reaches, covers Eddie’s hands and links their fingers together, feels something in him reanimate, come straight back into being just for that touch, and that it’s warm:

“Happy,” Steve gasps, and squeezes Eddie’s hands with force, with feeling; “happy, to see you,” and he closes his eyes in something like relief when Eddie’s mouth stills against his chest again; sighs when Eddie nuzzles there, like he always did, like he belongs because he always belongs.

“So fucking happy,” Steve breathes, and he feels weightless; wonders if he died. If he hit the ground and snapped his neck. If the impact was a monster and not the love of his life, somehow saved from ruin just to save Steve back in kind.

“Mine,” Eddie whispers, a little bit of a hiss for the feeling in it, the intensity sewn in as he mouths around the beat of Steve’s blood: that’s what he means. That’s his, that and everything it powers, everything it lends life.

His.

He pulls back, and Steve bites back a whimper for the loss before Eddie’s eyes find his and he looks…he looks lost, then, grasping, in need as he almost begs, like the answer is the end of all things:

“Mine?”

He lifts one of their joined hands—he doesn’t disentangle them, and fuck if Steve’s ever letting go—but he lifts them to Steve’s chest and holds there, presses down and looks pointedly at the way his palm covers Steve’s heart, looks up in askance, up and down, there and back over and again, more desperate every time and Steve tightens his fingers around Eddie’s and nods, just nods because his voice is gone, his throat’s too tight, he’s—

But Eddie sees it. Eddie understands because Eddie…

Eddie always understands what Steve can’t say.

“Mine,” he exhales like it’s the answer to the universe, like it’s proof of god and the devil, like it’s more than air to breathe and Steve’s…

Steve doesn’t even know what he is. Except: he’s alive.

He died before he left here last time, and now somehow he’s alive. “Known, s’known,” Eddie mutters, shakes his head slow and pins his gaze on different parts go Steve’s body, touches and looks up to Steve like it serves as confirmation just to meet his gaze, to watch him blink; “know, know,” and Eddie bends again, mouths at his chest and inhales sharp as he rips out, almost feral: “mine,” and then something in him gives, and he falls to Steve’s chest and Steve’s heart skips, the terror in him tangible, but he throws out his hands, lets Eddie’s grasp go to hold Eddie up and Eddie panting, gasping, something has to be wrong—

“St,” Eddie’s voice is sandpaper rough, but…but full somehow and Steve can’t name what it is, save that it makes him feel warm, from the inside, in a way he’d thought was gone forever. It prickles at his eyes and he doesn’t fight the tears:

“Ste,” Eddie coughs a little, and then he looks up, brow furrowed and muscles tight as he locks his eyes on Steve’s and grits out:

“Steve?”

And those eyes: those eyes meet Steve’s now—color in them, that depthless nightshade, drenched in that deep warm chocolate shade: Steve’s breath catches. His heartbeat skips again, but wholly different, and it looks, it feels like a weight’s been lifted; a spell’s been broken. And somehow, somehow even before anything shifted, somehow Eddie, his Eddie, he—

Whatever’s happened, whatever’s been done to him: somehow, deeper than any of it, he kept the love.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s voice shakes and he drops his weight again but this time when he presses against Steve it’s to wrap him close, to hold him a little clumsy, a whole lot desperate, and it…it feels like maybe Steve’s soul where it’s wrapped around Eddie? Like maybe he gets a little bit of it back; like maybe he can inhale and it could mean something again.

Eddie only draws back to tuck his head under Steve’s chin, to dip lower and put his lips to the center of Steve’s chest, to breathe there, like life into the heart of him again and fuck, but he feels it.

He kinda doesn’t need to know anything more, doesn’t need to have any more answers to know whatever this is, whatever Eddie needs: they’ll figure it out. Eddie’s lips are on his chest. His heart’s a mallet against Eddie’s mouth, beats up into the warm rush of his breath: there. Real.

Steve feels it.

also on ao3 🖤

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #kas!eddie #established steddie #pre-S4 relationship #presumed dead #(but obviously NOT)#happy ending #steve mounts a one-man rescue/retrieval mission because he's heartbroken #eddie recognizes the love of his life because in light of everything he HELD ONTO THAT LOVE #steddielovemonth #love is the only thing we can take with us #stranger things

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anemptypuddingcup · 8 months

Text

Back in one piece.

NO PUN INTENDED, I DIDN’T REALIZE THIS UNTIL I STARTED EDITING-

a smut short w Law

Contains: Heavy misuse of devil fruit. A mean little prank from Law. Teasing. Slight degradation? Slight voyeurism?? Soft sex (somewhat). A few cervix kisses. Apology & aftercare from Law.

A heavy yawn leaves your lips as you sit up from your shared bed, your hands rubbing the grogginess from your eyes before you sigh sleepily. Looking over, you see that Law isn’t in bed with you and you whimper as you yearned for his affection. Apparently your loneliness was short lived as you felt Law’s large hand squeeze and grope on your ass.

You blink blankly before looking around. Law was nowhere in the room…so how could you feel his large yet rough hand against your skin? You then felt your legs bent up against the couch- but how?

You were in your bedroom resting in your bed. So how could your legs be…

You quickly pull your blankets back and your eyes widens as you see your legs nowhere to be found in the bed. You scream loudly out of shock and realize that it was obviously Law’s doing. Sighing and crawling out of bed, you drag yourself along the carpet floors as you crawl out of your shared bedroom and into the living room.

“LAWWWWW-“ You yell out to him push the door open, your eyes glaring up and meeting with his. He sat there like a king on his throne as he held your legs on his lap, his hand caressing your ass like it was his prized treasure which it was. He chuckles as he watched you crawl and and flop against the carpet, your arms already seemingly tired from pulling your body around.

“Good morning pretty.” He says nonchalantly, a little chuckle leaving his lip as he watched you pant.

Your upper body lies there helplessly and whine out as you sit up on your elbows, glaring at Law before sighing out heavily from exhaustion.

“YOU GODDAMN IDIOT- GIMME BACK MY LOWER HALF! I CAN’T WALK LIKE THIS YOU ASSHOLE!”

A slap to your ass causes you to mewl out as you watched the fat of your ass jiggle against his lap. He then softly kneads the doughy flesh in his hand and gives you a mischievous smirk.

“Filthy words. Don’t feel bad, I just want to borrow your lower half for a little while~” He says to you.

“Can’t you just borrow me instead of cuttin’ me in half!?” You asked, giving him an irritated look the more he toyed with your ass. “Mmh…Nah.” He sighed out.

Your upper body lies there on the living room floor as you watched Laws slowly grind your hips against his briefs, rubbing your cunt up against his erection. A heavy exhale leaves you and you bit your lower lip from the sudden pleasure. You grew noisy as he rutted up into your clothed slit, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as precum began to soak a spot in his briefs

“I’m stimulating your slutty pussy aren’t I? Your thighs are trembling against mine~” Law snickers to you teasing you while you lie there against the floor, watching him handle the lower half of your body. You grit your teeth and whine out as you struggled to sit up and he giggles at your struggle. “So cute when you wriggle for me like that, like a little worm.” He sighs, gripping the fat of your thigh.

“P-Please Law! S-Stop teasing me and put me back together!~” You whined, begging for him to piece your body back together. Law begins sliding your panties off your hips, a sticky string of slick still connected to the fabric of your panties. He pulls his briefs down slightly, pulling his hard cock out and rubbing it against your sticky slit. A gasp leaves your lips and your brows furrowed from the pleasure.

“F-Fuck~ L-Law please!~” You gasp out to him, watching him from the floor as he lifted your hips up from his lap and against his cock

“Shh Shh~ Just lay there like my good little girl and take my dick in your cute an’ tight pussy~” He says to you, looking down at you with his golden eyes.

You pout to him but he doesn’t give any pity.

“Watch how I fuck your pussy, at least you’re getting a good view down there on the carpet.” He tells you, sliding his tip along your sticky slit. Your legs trembled against his hips while you hissed out, shuddering as you were ready for him to fuck you.

Law slowly inserts his cock into your sticky cunt, stretching you open while a moan spills from your lips. His tip kissed your cervix lovingly. “Mmh~” You whined as you watched him fuck into your pussy, sitting there in front of you and rubbing it in your face while his tongue trails across his lips.

“Such a pretty face you’re making. I love it when you look so needy and desperate. You really need your body back together that badly?” Law asks you, sighing heavily as he felt you tighten around his length.

“Mmgh!~ M-Mmh!~” It grew quite hard for you to speak while you watched him fuck your pussy. It was just something about the about watching him fuck you at that angle, lying there helpless and unable to hold on to him for comfort and pleasure while he fucked you.

“P-Please!~ W-Want it back t-together!~” You moan out, whining as you bit your lip harder from the pleasure, your face scrunching up as he hit deeper. “Hush hush~ I’ll put it back together soon.” He whispers out before flipping your hips around, a gasp leaving you as you felt him shove his cock deeper into your sweet cunt. His cock kisses your g-spot and you whimper out before tightening around his length.

Law bites his lip before groaning out heavily, enjoying the feeling of your walls wrapped tight around his cock. “So tight~ Your pussy feels so good baby girl~” He groans, sitting up a bit from the couch and pulling your hips back farther against his. “L-Law~ P-Please~” You whine out, once again begging him to put you back together. He sighs before chuckling and turns your hips back around on his cock.

He holds his right hand out while his left hand continues to bounce your ass on his cock.

“Room.” He yells out, a thin film spreading throughout the living room while he continues to thrust up into you. “S-Shambles!~” He gasps out to you. He throws your panties up above your lower half and teleports your upper half, connecting your body back together. You grasp his shoulders tightly and mewl out as he fucks up into your cunt, his hands spreading you open a bit more and shoving his length up deeper into you.

I honestly don’t remember if he needed room for shambles or not.

You gasp out lovingly, your eyes looking deep into Law’s golden ones as he pleases you. “Y-You asshole~ M-Mmh~” You moan out, laying your head up against his shoulder. “If you don’t want me to do it again, keep moaning for me.” He whispers into your ear, a little chuckle along after. You huff heavily and mewl out for him as you felt his tatted hands grip your hips tighter, his breathing growing heavier as he moves your hips a bit faster.

“Mmh~ Fuck your pussy is sucking me in baby~ You’re close to squirting aren’t you?” He continues whispering into your ear. You tremble against him and nod, arching your back from his touch. “M-Mhm!~ Y-Yes I am T-Traffy~” You whine out, closing your eyes as you felt him kiss your cervix once again.

He lifts his legs up onto the couch before lying down onto the soft couch cushions below, his hips still thrusting up into you while he lies there. You moan out and lay down against his body, your breasts pressing up on his chest while he moves your hips along his length. He watches your face twist and contort from the pleasure while you whimper out against his skin.

“Mmgh~ O-Oh goddd~ L-Law~” You gasp out, your hands holding on to him tightly as you felt your orgasm growing closer. Law smirks before pressing a smooch to your lips, your mewls making him grow a bit more feral as he began to thrust up into you a bit harder. “Admit it, you liked it when you were watching me fuck you~” He says, one of his hands trailing up and along your back. You shivered as you felt his hand slide along your soft skin and you breathe out shakily.

“Mmgh~ H-Hah~ I-I did~ I-I really d-diddd~” You admit, your mind growing cloudy as Law’s thrusting began melting your mind. He feels your pussy cling tightly to his cock, a groan leaving him as you sucked him in wonderfully. Your pussy kept him in and your warm walls only made the pleasure of him fucking into you even more better. Law’s face begins to scrunch up as he felt himself growing close as well, his gasps growing a bit louder as he pulled your body so close to his.

He embraced you as an apology and he offered his caring affecting in return along with his thick length sinking in and out of your soaking cunt. “Mmgh~ T-Traffy!~ I-I’m so close!~” You moan out loudly, burying your face into his shoulder. Law throws his head back against the cushions, his cock beginning to twitch within your walls as he felt himself ready to cum. “F-Fuck~ Cum on my dick baby~“ He mewls out, feeling you beginning to move your hips on your own.

He cups your face before pulling your lips into his, giving you a sloppy kiss while his tongue did all of the work. Your eyes grew half lidded and you wrapped your arms around him, mewling into the kiss. Pulling back you whine out as you begin to move your hips a little faster on his cock.

You slowly sit up and bounce yourself on his cock, holding your breasts as you felt yourself ready to burst. You gasp out heavily as your eyes began to flutter, his cock continuously slamming against your cervix and making you whine out. “Ah! Ah! T-Traffyy!~” You mewl out his name as you were right on the edge, your orgasm nearly reaching its peak while you stared down at him. Law grips your thighs and pulls you down on his length a bit more, making you gasp out heavily before you place your hands against his wrists.

“Come on baby, come on and cum~” He demanded, enjoying the view of you bouncing on his cock. Your toes begin to curl and your cunt tightens more around his length, you gasped out as you were finally ready to cum. “Mmgh! Ah! I-I’m cumming!~ L-Law I-I’m cumming!~” You let out a lengthy gasp and your grip on his wrists tightens as you finally cum on his cock, squirting and making a sticky mess out onto his lower abdomen.

Law shivered as he watched you cum onto him, the warmth of your essence against his tanned skin making him shudder with delight while he was also at his peak. “F-Fuck~ C-Cumming- Oh fuck m’cumming!“ He pulls you close against his body and holds on to you tightly, grunting as he felt himself spurting his cum deep inside of you. He coats your walls in his thick and sticky seed while he shudders against you, sighing out heavily as his nails scratched along the soft skin of your back.

You whimper out softly as his warmth filled you up, some of it almost spilling out of you and onto his thighs. “Mmh…T-Traffy…” You say softly, laying against his body and breathing heavily as you slowly recovered from your orgasm. Law gives you a loving kiss, his slightly-chapped lips pressed against your softer ones with delight. “Ahh~ S-So good…” He whispers followed by a deep inhale.

You pout to him and give him a soft smack on the face. “You meanie, I didn’t like you teasin’ me like that…” You say, huffing heavily before turning your head away. He chuckles. “Why not? I honestly think you looked cute split in half like that. I thought you would’ve liked the prank.” He sighs, laying his head against his hand. You frown at his words and lay your head up against his chest.

He looks down at you and blinks slowly, giving you his signature snarky smirk.

“Hold me…” You whisper to him softly. He obeys, holding your soft and pretty body in his arms. “I’m sorry. I’ll definitely do it again but I’m sorry sweetie.” He says in a snarky tone to you. You sighed and shrugged it off, it couldn’t be helped with your idiot little surgeon.

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece trafalgar law #op trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar law x reader #puddingcupfics

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Slashers with a Male(“dominant”)S/O✦

✧AMAB!Reader, implied to be on the tall & broad side, also a lil southern cause I wrote this when I was tired and my southern accent took over. ✧Danny Johnson(He/They), Bubba Sawyer(He/She/They), Stu Macher(He/Him), Billy Loomis(He/Him), & Brahms Heelshire(He/Him)

NSFW Warning; some headcanons & implications

✦Danny Johnson ~ Ghostface✦

Danny is pansexual, I will defend that til the day I die. He doesn't give a single fuck, as long as he gets to fuck. He has a typical type when it comes to men but it's never concrete. That being said, his usual type is dudes who look like they could snap him in half. Because that's what they want.

He's usually the dominant type, but he's all for being a pillow princess if the dynamic is right. But! They have to really like you, they're not a cheap whore...most of the time. Point is, he has to be fascinated with you as much as he is attracted to you, which they are. Lucky you.

Let's assume you're a survivor for this. All the survivors are pretty unique, but you being new should help your case. But what will really get Danny interested is seeing you match his energy. Flirting with him when you evade an attack, blowing a kiss before you leave through the hatch, wolf-whistling if you catch them crouched behind something. It throws him off but he's a bit too flattered to stay annoyed. A surefire way to get them obsessed with you though is to struggle when he tries to mori you. And if you're successful, keeping your cool as you pin them back? You might feel something poking your thigh in record time.

Danny's the lovable kind of annoying. Which is confusing, given the fact he's a murderous psychopath and most likely a narcissist. Matching his flirty and energetic ADHD-ass nature will get their crush to develop further. It'll be unhealthy but you're not here for someone mentally stable.

Expect him to follow you everywhere, take a million pictures of you, he probably brags about you to other killers. They're honestly sick of him shoving pictures of you taking your shirt off, taken from a distance without your knowledge.

They're a cuddly bitch, and they're incredibly starved for human contact. You're gonna need to carry him. Complain all you want. He has mommy/daddy issues and he wants to be held like a baby, damnit.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Did I mention pillow princess? Yeah. When Danny's the dominant partner in a relationship, sexual or romantic, he puts in all the work without any complaint. He doesn't mind his partner just laying there and enjoying it. Makes him feel accomplished. But sometimes a bitch needs pampering. That's where you come in.

They're an extreme masochist as much as they are a sadist. You could put the hot metal of a lighter to his thigh and he'd probably cum in his pants. Pulling his hair is the easiest way to put him in his place if he's being a bit too mouthy. And they will beg you for marks if you don't put them there yourself. He wants to be sore after it all, damnit!

Panting, Ghostface let out a little laugh from behind their mask as he settled over you, knife raised. "Finally caught you, sweetheart. Tell you what, you're a good runner. But I won.~" He hummed raising a gloved hand to your hair in order to pull your head back, slice your neck. Danny inhaled and went to jab his knife into your jugular, only to let out a rather unmanly yelp when you suddenly jostled them. Able to completely flip around, tossing them off as if they weighed nothing. The muderer's camera landed in the grass and his hands were trapped above him by yours. He blinked in awe behind his mask, watching your chest rise and fall. "If there's one thing I hate 'bout y'all killers, it's the goddamn ego." You smiled as you spoke. For once, the talkative killer didn't reply. "What? Cat got your tongue, Casper? You were talkin' a bunch of smack befo-" You paused and glanced down. Danny swallowed as you let out a quiet chuckle. "Well I'll be damned...shoulda known you'd be into this kinda thing. Gross lil' fucker." They cleared their throat awkwardly as you tapped their mask. Danny inhaled and pulled back some of their dignity. "Should expect everything from me, big guy." He retorted. "Suppose I should, huh?...well, Ghostie. Rest of the team's down and I ain't got a clue where that hatch is. Might as well make the most of it, eh?" Perhaps a terrible idea, but exciting nonetheless.

✦Bubba Sawyer ~ Leatherface✦

SHE DESERVES A STRONG HUSBAND TO HELP HER AROUND THE HOUSE.

That aside, Bubba's not necessarily in the most accepting time or house. His brothers still poke fun at him sometimes when he dresses femininely, but have mostly grown to accept it. And I can't see Chop-Top as not being the type to mess around with a guy occasionally, so while they probably say ignorant stuff every now and then, I don't think it's those three that'd be the problem. It's the forties. Everyone else is gonna have something to say. Assure Bubba it's not a problem for you, she'll be over the moon.

They've tended to be into women and feminity in the past, but don't let that fool you, they are very bisexual. It especially helps if you're the sweet-talking type. Bubba is very easily thrown off by flirting.(Looking at you, Stretch) That and gentleness. Be a gentleman and you got Bubba swooning, especially if you're like that even after they've shown you they're cannibals.

We all know Bubba's not super dominant, at all. She's rather submissive and it's usually taken advantage of, since she struggles saying no. And they rarely get thank you's. Proper praise will get you a long, long way.

Pick. Bubba. Up. Pick her up. Do it. Pick them up and carry them around like a precious husband wife because that's what they are. They deserve it, their legs probably hurt from working all day!

Helping out around the house in general will score you major points. Especially if you aid in the process of getting food, that'll get you points with the rest of the family too. The more good word you have in Bubba's family, the more they'll be willing to keep you, because Bubba's love for you is honestly the only thing keeping you alive.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Praise. Praise praise praise praise, praise and compliments all over the place. Bubba has been nothing but criticized their entire life, if there's anything they need both in and out of sexual experiences, it's words of affirmation. They're even more submissive when underneath you. Because(southern accent activated), lawd almighty what a big strong man you are!~ Oh also, call them good girl/good boy/good baby.

Bubba's got no fuckin' clue what to do. They've only occasionally seen a dirty magazine or the clip of a porn movie that Chop-Top left on the old TV. You're gonna need to teach them basically everything. Just make sure you're gentle, because Bubba is sensitive and they need patience when it come to new things. God forbid they have an overstimulated meltdown during something that's supposed to bring you two closer together.

The old floorboards whined under your weight as you looked around the old house. "Pardon me, but uh...is anyone here?!" You called. "I don't mean to intrude, I was just wonderin' if I could borrow some water..." You voice trailed off at the sight of an...oddly furnished room. A bench made of bones, a chicken in a cage, feathers everywhere. More and more bones that were no doubt human. Alarm bells rang in your skull, amplified when there was a heavy slam of a metal door being opened, and quick footsteps. You took a defensive stance when you saw a large figure appear, dressed a button up, cowboy boots, old pants and a stained yellow apron. They held a hammer in thick hands and looked around, letting out animalistic like squeals and distressed grunts, until they spotted you. Though typically the fight type, you couldn't seem to do that or resort to flight, stuck in place. Their hands waved a bit and they ran at you full force. For a moment, your gaze fell on a cracked floorboard, one you'd avoided coming in. "Whoa hey now, wait-!" Too late, they stepped on it and it gave way, sending their leg through the floor. They whined and kicked, getting more distressed by the moment. "Hey!" They snapped their gaze up to you. It took a lot of willpower not to cringe at the sight of their mask. Instead approaching slowly with your hands open and in front of you. "Easy, alright? Relax. You're just gonna get yourself hurt thrashin' 'round like that." The stranger let out more noises of distress. "Relax, sweetheart, I ain't gonna hurt'cha." They stopped moving as soon as the pet name left your mouth. Confused, likely. They let out a little concerned whimper as you knelt down and tugged the floorboard next to the broken one. It pulled up and their leg was freed. "Look, see? Nothin' to worry 'bout. Just gotta be careful with these old floors. They give way real easy." They twisted the hammer around in their hands, standing rather stiff as you rose to your full height. Not much different from theirs. You exhaled and introduced yourself by your name. "I apologize for just bargin' in, door was open and I kinda thought this place wasn't occupied. I was just lookin' for a drink if that's alright?" You asked. They shifted their weight from side to side, shyly. Were you insane for considering this cute? Probably, but that wasn't a concern at the moment. They eventually nodded. "Yeah? Well alright then, thank ya, sweetheart. I really appreciate it." They squeaked at the pet name again and flapped their hands, pushing their face into the palms. You chuckled softly. Nearly killed only to charm the attacker, only in Texas.

✦Stu Macher ~ Ghostface✦

Stu. Is. So. Fucking. Gay. Extremely gay. “Oh but Tatu-“ SHHHH, gay. He’s a switch with a casually dominant personality, but he’s not really a dominant person. He’s just intense. He’s actually pretty gullible, especially when looking for praise or approval. Man likes to be included.

He's got a bit of a type for soft-spoken alternative dudes. Like, quiet & brooding. Basically the opposite of himself. You could say anything and if it's said in the right tone, he'll go with it. Why do you think Billy had such an easy time manipulating him?

If you're taller than him, which means over 6'4", bonus points. Major bonus points. Because that's rare and he's a whore.

Proving that you can handle yourself in dangerous situations, or that you can completely whoop ass? Stu finds that super attractive. Especially if you don't even instigate it. The whole "I don't start fights but I finish them" thing is extremely sexy to him.

He's gonna stalk you, just so you know, but he's not very good at it. Stu's a bit too loud and obvious. But he's definitely gonna try and impede your schedule so you two can constantly bump into each other, he thinks he's being subtle but he's not. It's endearing if you don't look too hard at it.

He's not necessarily the ride-or-die type with Billy in the picture, no matter how hot you are. HOWEVER, if you somehow get in on the Ghostface plot? And you're cool with it? Oh now he HAS to suck your dick, it's just a requirement. Especially if you help out directly. Depending on how you treat him and if you're manipulative enough, you might even replace Billy in Stu's mental throne. But you'd have to put in the work, don't expect it to be easy.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

With Stu, you don't really need a dominant or submissive relationship. It kinda just...exists, and that can be very refreshing! He's really not picky on whether or not he's top or bottom, he just likes feeling good. That being said, he has an affinity for oral. Giving or receiving. And he's unfairly good at it.

Pillow. Talk. Do it, all the time. If you want Stu to be your mushy-brained-bitch, use pillow talk. Saying the right things in a soft, breathy tone could be enough to make him jizz in his pants. Just expect him to be just as vulgar in return, and he has no shame, he'll do it in public. Match his energy.

Music flowed from a stereo in the kitchen, mixing with the voices of high school seniors and the clinking of alcohol bottles. Stu's house was known for great parties, especially around Halloween. He enjoyed the atmosphere of social gatherings and he made for a great, unconventional host. Ensuring everyone was as drunk as they wanted and everyone felt comfortable to let loose. He jumped out from behind a corner with a mask on, it smelt of booze and weed and he'd simply found it resting on his dining room table. Two girls, both dressed as angels, screamed. One smacked him in the chest after he took off the mask whilst laughing. Stu sipped some beer from a red solo cup as he meandered through his entryway. "Stu!" A junior girl that he sometimes asked to do his homework skipped up to him, smiling as she held a new model cellphone in her hand. "My cousin just called me cause he's new in town, can I invite him over? He's the same age as you and-" She squeaked when Stu hugged her into his side casually. "Shhhshhh your explanations, sweetheart! Call'em! But he better be cool!" He insisted. She grinned and quickly dialed back her cousin as Stu chugged back the rest of his alcohol.

It was hard hearing the heavy knock on the door about thirty minutes later, but Stu prided himself on how good his hearing was, despite all the music he tended to blast. He didn't get to the door before the same girl ran up with a smile. What was her name again? Stella? "That's probably him!" She exclaimed excitedly as Stu swung the front door open. It caught him off guard that he had to look up instead of down. His mouth grew dry as he was met face-to-face with a motorcycle helmet. "Oh, sorry." The stranger's voice was muffled and their gloved hands rose to hoist the helmet off, they quickly fixed their hair. "Thanks for the invite, I'm guessin' you're Stu?"

"The one and only! Nice to meet'cha cowboy. Got any booze?" Stu was excellent at quick recovery. You dug into your pocket for a moment and pulled out a small shot-bottle of vodka. "'Specially for the host." You said, Stu grinned and took it, stepping aside and dramatically motioning for you to enter. Stella began rambling off to you about how happy she was you were in town whilst Stu just...stared. It was noticeable at this point, which made you look over. "You want a picture, big guy?" Stu felt horniness sucker punch him in the ribs. "Nah, I'm good with staring!" He grinned. He swallowed as you snickered. "Alrighty then, feel free." Stu would be staring at you a lot. A whole lot.

✦Billy Loomis ~ Ghostface✦

Did someone say INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA?? It's so obvious. Now, I think Billy is bisexual, but he's hella hesitant to admit he's into dudes. For the sake of his dad, the idea of a dude having more power than him, and the time period? It's not easy for him to just be cool with it when it comes to himself.

That being said, Billy's more of a bottom than he'd like to admit. And it comes out with dudes that are bigger than him, and it's even worse if they're not easy to manipulate. Which you're not. That pisses him off so much.

Rule of thumb with a Ghostface? Energy matching. Be just as smooth-voiced and eerily calm and he's gonna have heart palpitations. It pisses him off so bad that he can't affect you.

To be completely honest, he's gonna try and stab you because he's an angsty teenage boy who can't handle his feelings so it's easier to get rid of the cause. Of course, it's not that easy. You don't make it easy, and that also makes him more into you. He likes the adrenaline of a struggle.

What'll really get him is if you somehow get him vulnerable, which will take a blue-moon and 1/10,000 type of luck odds. But not take advantage of it. Don't pity him and don't poke at him, just...being there. Even trying to lighten the mood, that kind of thing gets any angry boy with mommy issues to get at least a lil soft.

If you know he's Ghostface and ask to help, especially if he just tried to kill you? Bro how dare you...offer something so sexy, of course he's gonna say yes. But don't ask to be a Ghostface. He's comfortable with being in control of that aspect. But you can help with things like the gameplay or the information on victims, or being an alibi. If you can be an alibi put on the spot? Mm, so sexy.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

Look, I know Billy probably isn't a bottom at all, but this is fiction and I can do whatever I want. And I say Billy Loomis is a reluctant pillow princess. Reluctant because of internalized homophobia and a fear of being vulnerable, but we're gonna lie to ourselves and say that you somehow managed to get past that.

You're gonna need to have the patience of a saint. No hard doms here, ironically. He likes a power struggle, but what really gets him is you being in control and calm. Like you don't have to try. Oddly enough that kind of thing is comforting. It feels like he's relinquishing control to someone who knows what they're doing, rather than someone flying blind.

Billy chucked the burner phone as hard as he could into the woods surrounding Stu's house before bending down and ensuring his knife was properly strapped down. Hidden under his jeans and boots. The music from inside was headache-inducing. Stu was far more sociable than Billy, he had never been much of a party person, aside from the booze. He was more of a homebody.

He walked around the house and went over his alibi story a few more times as he hopped onto the porch, ringing the doorbell. It swung open to Stu, who was very clearly buzzed, if not just straight drunk. "Billy! Baby, my man, c'mere. I gotta introduce you to this dude." Billy didn't get a chance to speak as Stu pulled him inside, rambling on. The teen sighed and rolled his eyes. "Aight, Bill, this is the new guy that's coming to our school next week." Stu motioned to you. Significantly taller than him and probably twice as broad, holding an air of natural intimidation and a stern expression. But it softened when you turned.

"Oh, you're Billy? Stu kept talkin' bout you. Nice to meet you." You held out a large gloved hand, mentioning your name. Billy held up his fist instead, which you quickly adjusted to make it a fist bump. "Bill, this dude is so cool. He's got like a ton of motorcycles and a fuck ton of knives-" Stu slurred. "I have two motorcycles, one of which isn't even technically mine. And I have a collection of pocket knives, he's exaggerating." You smiled. "Oh! You two wait here, I'm gonna get you both some booze." You didn't have a chance to deny the offer before Stu rushed off.

Billy stood with his arms crossed, tongue tucked into his cheek. "Introvert?" You asked. "Hm? Oh uh, yeah, more or less." He replied, to which you nodded. "Yeah, I'm not much for parties either. I'm just here for my cousin. Definitely wasn't my plan for tonight." Billy blew some of his hair out of his face, leaning on a wall. "Then what was your plan?" "Watching scary movies." You replied, and maybe it wasn't intentional, but you noticed how he perked up. "Yeah? You a big horror fan?" He inquired. You nodded with a growing smile. "Oh yeah, especially the gory ones. They're the most fun. Do you like scary movies?" You asked. Billy nodded. "Mhm." "What's your favorite scary movie?" He felt a shiver run down his spine as you tilted your head, probably unaware of just how significant the word choice was. Billy smiled and rested the back of his head against the wall. For a moment, slightly lowering his guard as he grinned slyly. "Guess."

✦Brahms Heelshire ~ The Boy✦

How the fuck did you manage to make that happen? We have no idea. Assuming you're a nanny, that is. There's always a chance you work for the Heelshire's for a different reason. (my boy @disc0dild0s has a fic like this on Wattpad, y'all should look at it)

But for my personal wants, we're gonna say you're the nanny, and you somehow meandered your way into a position. Maybe the Heelshire's were just extremely desperate for anyone at that point that they basically told Brahms to deal with it. He has no choice, really. He's gonna be the biggest brat because you're not the pretty woman he asked his parents for.

Yet, seeing how well you handle the job, all the patience you have and the kind demeanor you carry, it intrigues him. Until eventually he's attached. He doesn't know what exactly to do with the emotions, because it feels the same way as it did back when he had female nannies, but...you're a man. Isn't that weird? You can thank his old ass parents for that.

When he reveals himself, it's probably an accident. He's worried you'll run away of course, but part of him is also worried you'll whoop his ass. You're bigger than him and he's seen you hoist shit up no problem when cleaning the mansion. Which is very sexy as much as it is intimidating.

But there goes your gentle nature again, despite how you look. You don't run away even if you probably should, and you don't whoop his ass. Brahms is so hooked after that.

He's not going to make it easy for you. He's got it built in his head that he's the man of the house, that's what his father was trying to turn him into after all. But he is not, you are. You may follow his rules but you also keep him in line, you do all the work, and you could probably snap him in half. He can't just outright admit he enjoys it but he does. Especially when he's feeling sensitive and vulnerable. It's comforting to be carried around by a big strong man, probably more than it should be.

𖤐Bonus NSFW𖤐

B O T T O M . Holy shit he's a fuckin' bottom. And a pillow princess, for sure. He's there to feel good, what do you mean you want him to do some of the work?

Brahms is horny as hell but he's not really sure what to do. Teaching him what to do as a woman is difficult, but at least he's read some books to have a very hazy idea. Two men? There's like...two books in that library within it that he probably isn't aware are there. But he's willing to learn, as long as it feels good.

"Brahms? Brahms! Come on, Brahms, I'm not mad, you can come out! I wasn't trying to make fun of you!" You called. The only response you got was the echo of your own voice bouncing back from the walls. You sighed, resting your hands on your hips. It really was a misunderstanding. It had been a month and a half since Brahms had been caught outside the walls. It had been quite the experience. Freaky, but, the reality of his situation was heartwrenching, and his pleading for you not to leave really solidified it. It didn't feel right to leave. So you stayed, now properly caring for a grown man instead of a doll.

He was a man, even if he had these slips in mentality where he acted like a kid. But being an adult with barely any contact, affectionate or otherwise, could lead to some issues. One of which caused Brahms to grow extremely embarrassed recently, which was why he'd retreated into the walls. He'd gotten a pretty obvious boner from just a hug, something you had noticed and lightly teased him for. It was an attempt at lightening the mood but it backfired. You'd given him some time, hoping it would settle down and you could talk to him properly. Unfortunately, an hour had passed and he still wasn't out. Now dinner was nearly done and you didn't want him skipping a meal.

Though the dust would've made your allergies hell, you approached a mirror in one of the sitting rooms, setting it up on a wall before slipping through the cutout behind it. You'd never properly gone into the walls, but you'd heard and seen Brahms use the pathways. You rubbed your nose as you took an inhale, immediately burning from all the dust. "No wonder he coughs all the time...poor baby." You muttered as you began walking. It was confusing and you were far more lost than you'd anticipated, but eventually, you saw the glimpse of a bedside lamp.

You were quiet as you approached. Brahms' inner bedroom was...well, sad. Given he felt the need to live all hidden in the walls on an old bed without support, cobwebs everywhere. You could only imagine how bad his lungs would be if he'd been left in here any longer than he had. The man laid on the mattress in the corner, facing the wall, hugging something you could recognize. A sweater that had gone missing from your luggage a while ago. You sighed as you stood, crossing your arms. "Brahms." Your voice made him harshly flinch, scrambling to sit up and push himself more into the corner.

He let out a sad noise and shrank back, making you frown more. "Hey, hey, don't do that. I'm not here to chastise you." You said softly, walking closer. You tried not to think of the cleanliness of his bed as you sat down, keeping some distance so he didn't feel pressured. "Brahms, sweetheart, can you look at me please?" He did as asked, probably because of the pet name. "I'm not upset or anything, you know that, right? I was just trying to make light of it. I wasn't trying to embarrass you." You explained as Brahms picked at a string in the sweater.

"'s embarassing." He muttered. His voice teetered between states, but was overall soft and muffled. "I know, and I'm sorry for teasing you. But it's okay, it's not like you can help it." You reassured. "But, but...but you're a man..." Brahms replied. Oh. You sighed and glanced at the wall, thinking. "Yes, but, that doesn't have to mean anything. I'm sure you've been told that's weird but it's really not. I like men." You shrugged, a bit caught off guard by how shocked Brahms seemed. "Really?" "I- pfft, yeah? Do you think I go around flirting with just every guy friend I have? No." You smiled. Brahms' face grew warm and red under his mask. "I...I didn't know, I wasn't really sure."

"Well yes, I was flirting with you. You can take that how you will. And if something like that happens again, we can deal with it or we can not. But you don't have to run from me, okay?" You whispered, holding out a hand for him to take. He hesitated but did so, even though he didn't move closer either. "Regardless of the situation, you don't need to hide. I don't want you to feel that way with me. Okay?" Brahms swallowed and messed with a ring you wore. He sighed and nodded shyly. His first instinct was always to hide, even if it always made him feel worse after doing it. "Good boy, now come on, it's dinner time and I don't want it getting cold." You stood up and he did the same, messing with the sweater. "You can keep that if you want." Brahms glanced at the fabric. It had some cobwebs on it and a few flyaway strings from him picking at it, but he took off his cardigan and put it over his head. You chuckled and took the opportunity to kiss his temple, putting him more at ease. "We can talk more about it later. Let's get you some food first. Now, help me get out of here because I nearly got lost at least four times." Brahms snickered quietly and walked ahead of you.

2K notes · View notes

valkyrayn · 6 months

Text

congratulatory sex is in order // Marius x F!Reader

Tags: Boxer!Marius, black tank top!Marius, rough sex, locker room sex, wall sex, mirror sex, all the sex, cum swallowing, deepthroat, fingering, dirty talk, sweat kink, blood kink (if you squint)

posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments <3

Marius von Hagen in that stupid, fucking, black tank top is your undoing.

The damned material clings to his body, sticking to his skin from being soaked with his sweat and accentuating the well-defined contours of his ridiculously fit physique. The fabric adheres to him, creasing as he flexes, tracing the sculpted lines of his chest and abs.

Your eyes return to his face, now fixated on it—the once-perfect, nearly flawless complexion now marked by cuts, one near his eyebrow and another on his bottom lip. A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays a moment of pain, but he quickly regains his composure when his gaze meets yours.

And then a fucking wink.

The same wink he gave you this morning, before dipping his head in between your thighs and proceeding to put your body through two mind-numbing orgasms with just his tongue and fingers—without even finishing himself off. You had offered to get him off, probably slurred your words saying something about his cock being hard still and that you want to take care of it. Instead, he slipped off the bed and planted a kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom in a rush.

You barely remember when you had drifted back to sleep. When you woke up, his text read that his coach needed him early at the stadium so he’ll just meet you there later.

A few minutes later, another text came through but this time with a photo. It’s a mirror selfie, his face half covered by his phone. You barely noticed it anyway because your eyes went straight to the incredibly obvious hard-on straining against his grey sweatpants.

“This is all your fault, babe.”

The sound of giggling girls, broke you out of your lustful reverie, hurtling you back to present time.

Your fiance is too attractive for his own good. He’s hot—anyone with eyes can attest to that. But there’s something different about the way he looks now. Almost as if he’s matured overnight. Especially now that he’s let his hair grow longer than usual.

He’s just so goddamn nice to look at.

It’s almost like watching a car crash; you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, memories flooding in once again. Can’t seem to forget the feeling of his tongue flicking against your clit and the delicious stretch of your pussy when he eases inside you.

What sounded like a whimper escapes your throat, suddenly feeling a little too hot in the otherwise air-conditioned stadium.

From the distance, you notice how his body stiffens when some of the girls begin putting their hands on him. Surely that’s the sign to go and drag your man out of that crowd, right?

But your lust-clouded brain has something else in mind. Something downright sinful, you feel the heat rising to your neck just thinking about it.

Marius' violet eyes bore into your skull, waiting for you to come forward to offer congratulations on his victory. Instead, you observe his growing impatience from a distance as he keeps his focus on you while nodding absently to the crowd swarming him—paying no attention to the women reaching out to touch his arms, men giving him pats on the back, and cameras flashing in his face.

Feeling bold, driven by your arousal, you pull out your phone and start typing. As you glance back up, your eyes lock with his, conveying a silent message that he instantly understood. He immediately makes a move to exit the crowd.

You stifle a giggle as you watch him struggle to push his way through, only to be pulled back in. You take the opportunity to leave the stadium, not before flashing him with a smirk.

—------

It didn’t take him long to find you—knowing exactly which cubicle in the locker room you are in since it’s the only one with big enough space for two people to stand in.

Distracted and briefly fascinated at the phallic-shaped graffiti adorning the wall, you almost didn’t hear him enter the cubicle. You spin around to face him with a gasp, momentarily forgetting that you were expecting him only to be met with his hard body pushing you against the wall before firmly restraining your wrists above your head.

“I got your message.” His breath is hot against your neck, his voice igniting that familiar sensation throughout your body. A small noise escapes your lips, breath hitching as you feel the brush of his lips against your skin.

“Care to repeat what you texted me…” he trails, licking the spot just under your jaw. “...to my face?”

He withdraws, his grip around your wrists tightening as he leans forward to stare into your eyes. His hair, tousled and damp with sweat, partially covering his eyes you can still see through them; how they have darkened with lust.

Your eyes are drawn to the sight of his blood making its course down the side of his face, travelling down his jaw, and finally, dripping onto your skin, settling right between your cleavage. You inhale sharply as you watch the scarlet liquid disappear behind the low neckline of your blouse, making its way down, between the valley of your breasts.

And then his mouth is on you, capturing your lips in a fierce, primal kiss. You can hardly call it a kiss with the way his tongue is invading the hot caverns of your mouth, forcefully pushing past your lips to taste you. You swallow each other’s moans and grunts, greedy, to take and give—while you grind against his thigh, slotted in between your legs.

What began as a kiss has evolved into something more carnal, too erotically charged to be called just a kiss.

There’s something erotic and especially sinful about it too; tasting the metallic tang of his blood when you bite onto his lip, prompting a sharp hiss against your mouth.

“Say it…” he urges, his mouth abandoning yours to lick the skin between your breasts, swiping his tongue over the trail of blood. You let out a gasp when his mouth latches onto your nipple, stiff and protruding against the cotton of your blouse—reminding you that you have intentionally left the house without a bra for this very reason.

His grip on your wrists loosens, giving you momentary relief from the restraint. But as soon as you attempt to pull away, he rises back to his full height to pin you even more firmly against the mirror.

“You’re not going anywhere until you say it…” Your cunt clenches at how deep his voice is laced with that familiar authoritative tone that you normally only hear him use at work. The smirk on his face grows wider when you start arching your hips towards him, desperately chasing for friction.

To say you are aroused is a gross understatement. You need him to take you, right then and there, in this fucking cubicle, and do the most disrespectful, downright filthy bordering on illegal things to you—until you both are left flushed and unable to look at each other in the eyes in the aftermath.

With the way he’s looking at you, that is a promise—only waiting to be fulfilled once you say what he wants to hear.

“Come on, jiejie.”

Your chest heaves, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, overwhelmed with the aching desire for his body to be pressed onto yours, for any form of friction, for anything. You wanted to play the game a little longer, but you failed to anticipate how quickly he could reduce you to becoming this whimpering horny mess. You never stood a chance.

And so with a sigh, finally admitting defeat, you crane your neck to look at him right in the eyes.

“Find me.

So you can finish what you started this morning.

I want you to fuck me until my legs don’t work.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, feeling flustered at the words leaving your mouth—aroused by your own boldness. You hear the sound of laughter reverberating within his chest as he leans forward to nip on your earlobe. “Oh, you have no idea what you’re asking for….”

The buttons on your blouse are sent flying into the air as he savagely rips it open, exposing your bare tits to him, heavy and begging to be touched. His impatience has him grabbing onto your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading them with his calloused hand. Your hands that are now free start roaming his body with equal fervour, craving to feel the heat of his skin and sweat against yours.

The hands that were on your tits have travelled their way down your body, causing your body to tremble against him. “Marius—” His name comes out as a whisper, slightly startled at the hand that has found its way beneath your skirt, fingers brushing against the inside of your thigh.

Marius hums by your ear, amused at the way your body is reacting to his every touch, each igniting fire in its wake. “So watching me beat up a guy does it for you?” He pushes his fingers against the fabric of your panties, feeling it drenched with your arousal. “You’re soaking wet…just like I left you this morning.”

You grind against his fingers, wanting, needing more, silently cursing at the impeding garment—wishing you had left the house without it as well.

“Yes…seeing you so into it…the fight…it’s hot.” You manage to speak despite how fogged your brain is with arousal. “You did so good…congratula—ah!”

Your chest heaves with a sharp intake of breath when he pulls the fabric aside and plunges two fingers inside your cunt. “And seeing me bleed…that does it for you too?”

You whimper pathetically. “Y–yes..f–uck…oh…yes it does—fuck.” Words leave you in broken syllables, your focus locked into the sensation of being fingered with his skilful fingers. “M–arius…pl-ease…”

He pushes in deeper until his knuckles are brushing against your folds, coating his digits with your arousal. The tickling sensation of your fluids dripping the inside of your thighs has you clenching your walls around him, making him groan in satisfaction—relishing in the tightness of your cunt.

Marius wraps his free hand around your neck, his thumb tracing the underside of your jaw—gaze trained on your glassy eyes, tears forming at the edges from sheer pleasure alone. The brief silence is broken by the wet squelching sound of his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, and then hooking them inside you—making your entire body jerk against him.

“Good girl…so tight around my fingers. I can’t wait to put my cock inside you.”

He flicks your clit with his thumb and starts tracing circles, smearing your cream all over your folds before plunging his fingers to new depths, pressing against the spot inside you that only he can reach. “Cum, princess.”

His grip tightens around your neck as you erupt into a powerful orgasm with a choked scream of his name; squirting onto his hand, coating his skin with your scent. Your release exits your body profusely, leaving behind a mess.

Your body shudders against him as you continue to ride your high by grinding into his hand, aching to prolong the pleasure.

Marius steps back, leaving some room for you to move. Still, you remain paralysed with your back against the mirror as you attempt to recover pieces of your sanity, attention gradually snapping back into place as you focus on the rise and fall of your chest.

Keeping his gaze on you, you watch as his hand travels south and then finally rests against the front of his boxer shorts. With a sharp hiss, he wraps his fingers around the outline of his erection, straining behind the polyester.

With a small exhale, you finally push away from the mirror, hand reaching out to him before placing it against the hard planes of his chest. You feel the ripple of his muscles underneath, flexing involuntarily at your touch. He makes a move to pull his top off but you stop him.

“No. Keep it on…please. You—I want you to fuck me…with it on….” You gather your bottom lip with your teeth, both embarrassed and aroused at your own admission.

His pupils widen at your request, and a sly smile plays on his lips, watching your cheeks flush with rosy hues.

Your hand clenches into a fist around the fabric of his tank top, pulling and pressing your body hot against his, mind reeling at how big he is towering over you. His tall height and broad shoulders are covering you almost entirely from the overhead light. Marius wraps his fingers around your wrist, and what sounds like a whisper of your name escapes past his parted lips.

His tongue darts out, swiping subconsciously over the cut on his bottom lip—still fresh with blood, prickling from the side of his mouth.

You crash your lips against his, and he reciprocates the intensity with a groan which quickly turns into growls, hunger coursing through him, greedy to take his fill. When he pulls away for air, he swipes his thumb over your lips, smearing your lipstick messily before inserting it inside your mouth. You moan around his thumb, mouth parting wider to take two more fingers—sucking on them earnestly, savouring the taste of your sex on his digits.

“Knees.”

You barely register his voice, mind hazy from the multitude of sensations coursing through you simultaneously. He leans in next to your ear and repeats it.

“On. Your. Fucking. Knees.”

—------

Tears start forming at the corner of your eyes as you take him deeper. There is something wildly animalistic in the way he’s fucking your mouth. With your hair gripped tightly around his fist, his other hand is braced against the mirror behind you, allowing him to angle his hips to meet your face. There were no gentle swirls around the tip or kitten licks up his shaft—he wouldn’t allow it. He had shoved his entire length into your mouth the moment you parted your lips to receive him, forcing his way in until you gag.

His musky, masculine scent is intoxicating; a delectable fusion of his sweat and expensive cologne. You breathe in the subtle undertones of amber and wood on his skin, its fragrance so familiar to you and yet the effects on you remain consistent. Marius exploits this knowledge, finding amusement in how even a whiff can turn you on almost immediately as if it were a switch.

“Fuck–-fuck—take my cock…just like that. That’s it…breathe, baby. Don’t forget to breathe.” He coos softly as he pushes himself deeper, testing your limits, hips rocking against your face until the tip of your nose brushes against the soft curls of his bush. Whilst everyone was focused on the fight, your eyes were fixated on the happy trail peeking just above the waistband of his shorts. Another knowledge he uses to his advantage, noticing how your eyes would darken with unmistakable lust at the sight of it by deliberately letting his towel hang too low on his hips.

With your mouth full of his cock, your moans are muffled—the vibrations causing his knees to buckle, threatening to give out, but he quickly recovers, slamming his fist against the mirror.

“Fuck! Your mouth—I can fuck your mouth all day—” His hips snap forward, releasing his grip around your hair to cradle the back of your head, shielding you from what could have been a concussion. You shut your eyes, concentrating on the sound of his knuckles hitting the mirror to distract yourself from gagging.

Suddenly he withdraws, and his cock is pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop. Your chest heaves as you begin to rapidly breathe through your mouth.

“Get up.”

Not waiting for you to move, he bends down to pull you up from the floor and steers you back until you collide against the cold surface of the mirror with a light thud. He leans forward to lick a stripe down the column of your neck, stopping just above your collarbone to suck onto the skin, leaving his mark. Your eyes flutter close, savouring the lingering sting.

“Please…please—Marius…”

You can feel his mouth curling into a smirk against your skin, amused at your neediness. He swipes his tongue over his mark before straightening his shoulders, looming over you again. He grabs onto your jaw—leans forward to lick your lips, and then gently tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Brace yourself against the mirror, babe. I’m going to fuck you so hard—you’re gonna need to hold on...” he whispers against your lips.

Marius turns you around to face the mirror, his hips pressing against your back, stiff cock nestling between the crack of your ass. You moan at the cold sensation from the mirror against your skin—your cheek and bare tits are pressed against it. His fingers grip your waist, roughly tugging your hips backwards until your forearms are the only thing supporting you against the mirror.

And then he’s kneeling behind you, skirt pushed up around your waist and large hands spreading you apart. He jerks your hips back, and your arms slide down the reflective surface, nearly slipping off entirely, saved only by your skin sticking to the glass.

He drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt, his thumb tracing the seam of your lips, now soaked with cum and saliva. His fingers rub against your folds, paying special attention to the bundle of nerves nestled between them, pinching them between two fingers before inserting the same two digits inside you.

“Please…please fuck me.”

“I am fucking you…” His hot breath brushes against your thighs.

“Need your cock…need…want you inside…please…”

Marius spits into your gaping hole, not that you needed the extra lubricant, and then pushes his fingers in deeper, spreading your walls apart from the inside as he rises from the floor and back onto his feet. Threading his fingers through your hair, he tugs—forcing your body to arch backwards and your eyes to meet his through the mirror.

“Mmm so needy. Aching for my cock.” He pulls his fingers out, half satisfied from not making you come again around him, only because he too wants to have his cock shoved inside you. “Open your mouth.”

You comply, obedient, lips parting just slightly only to be forced open wider by his fingers. “Taste how good that is…that’s all you, baby.” You observe yourself in the mirror, tear tracks and precum staining your cheeks, lipstick and blood smeared at the corner of your mouth, dishevelled hair and ruined mascara.

Despite not getting fucked, yet, you look, in every conceivable manner, thoroughly and utterly fucked.

He teases the entrance of your cunt with the head of his cock, dipping only slightly past your lips before withdrawing, leaving you clenching desperately around nothing. You shoot him a glare through the mirror and he breaks out into laughter, fucking prick.

You bask momentarily at his amusement, only to have your breath knocked out of your lungs when he suddenly shoves his cock all the way in; hips snapping forward until his pelvis meets yours with a resounding smack.

Your eyes flutter close, jaw slack and tongue lolling out—brain reduced to mush, subject to nothing else but the overwhelming pleasure of having every ridge and vein of his dick, gliding against your walls.

“Oh and…try not to be too loud. The reporters…” He palms your tits, feeling them sway in rhythm to his pounding. “…they’re looking for me.”

Your eyes snap open, realisation sinking in, the unmistakable sound of voices and scuffing of shoes just outside the walls of the room—

“I saw him walking down this hallway.”

“Is he in the bathroom?”

“No, pretty sure he turned this corner.”

“Probably in the locker room.”

“It’s locked though.”

Silence.

“Let’s wait—“

“Break down the door—“

“What—“

Eyes wide with panic and anxiety spiking, you push away from the mirror to try and leave or hide or anything from the reporters attempting to break into the room, only to be forcefully shoved back against the surface—Marius’ firm body pinning you from behind.

“Marius…no we have to—they’re going to—.”

“Don’t worry about them. Just focus on me…I want you to come for me…you’re close love, I can feel you.” He plants a kiss on your cheek and then resumes his harsh pace. His cock, heavy and full inside you, reaching new depths at each violent thrust.

“But—oh my go—fuck!” Words die on your lips when the tip of his cock presses against your cervix, hurtling you towards an orgasm, so mind-numbingly good your legs start to give out.

There’s ringing in your ear from having your brain fucked to oblivion—and you almost missed the muffled but familiar voice of Vincent just outside the room.

“...force entry, we will pursue legal actions against you.”

“Step aside. Who even are you?”

“Vincent Kim.”

Marius drives you back towards the mirror, pressing the front of your body flat against the surface, fingers threading through your hair to tilt your head back. “I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day…after leaving you in bed like that in the morning….” He grinds his hips from behind, fucking you slowly, a momentary respite from his merciless pounding. “...is all I could think about. I wanted the match to be over with so I can finally fuck you. Just like this…with your cunt wrapped around my cock…you’re perfect.”

He suddenly lifts you off the floor, hooking your legs over his arms, locking his hands behind your head, settling you into a full nelson before sheathing himself back inside your obscenely dripping cunt. Your eyes snap open, arousal surging through you at the sight of yourself in the mirror—legs spread wide, cunt swollen and impaled by his thick cock.

Both you and Marius’ eyes are fixated on where you are joined—each withdrawal coats his cock with your cream. For a moment, you both just stare at the erotic sight of his penis splitting your cunt open.

“Where do you want me?”

Your head lolls to the side, pleasure overtaking your body and mind causing you to slip back into incoherence.

“Tell me, baby. Where do you want me to cum? In your mouth?” He licks the mark he left at the side of your neck, tantalisingly, tickling your skin. “On your pretty face?” He leans in, breath ghosting against your flushed cheeks.

“Maybe your beautiful tits?” He gives a particularly hard thrust so he can watch your breasts bounce, nipples erect from his teasing earlier.

He kisses your cheek—gently, while his cock splits you open repeatedly.

“Or inside your greedy little cunt?”

Your walls clench around his dick and he hisses against your lips, his brows furrowing as he wills himself not to come just yet. “Anywhere, Marius please just—anywhere you want!” You can’t even discern whether it’s sweat or tears running down your cheeks—and too fucked out to even realise you were practically screaming.

You seem to be getting wetter at each thrust, your juices oozing past your joined flesh and onto his abs. The stench of sex is heavy in the air, especially in such a small space—anyone who decides to occupy it next would no doubt know what went down in there.

“Marius, please…pleaseee…”

He chuckles next to your ear. “You’re so cute when you beg. Let me hear it again.”

You’re going to kill him.

He continues to piston into you, pace faltering and you know he’s close—but his need to tease is greater than his urge for release. It frustrates you to no end and you make a mental note to seek payback when you get home.

“...hate you. Please cum…inside. I need to feel you inside me.”

He abruptly stops, pulling your body tight against him. You whine at being stretched to the limit, both limbs and cunt.

“So you do want me to fill you up?

“Mmmngh…”

“You want to watch yourself getting filled with cum, don’t you?”

“Mmmngh…yes, please. I want to—”

Marius lifts you up, leaving only his tip in. “Then keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to watch me do it.” And then, thrust.

“Fuck oh—fuck!”

“Pump every single drop inside you. You’re going to take it all in like a good girl.” Your eyes, despite threatening to flutter close, try to focus on the erotic view of your used body in the mirror. Your walls clamp tight around him, desperate and begging for his load.

He fucks up into you at a brutal pace, faster and then eventually, it falters—his thrusting falling off rhythm, messy.

“Fuck—I’m…”

“Marius—please it’s so good…it’s so…”

He moans into your ear, and you watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head before doing the same—both succumbing to the pleasure of such powerful orgasms, that you swear you flatlined at some point and came back to life.

You feel his chest heave behind you as he struggles to catch his breath, eyes shut as he continues to ride his release whilst still holding on to you, muscles of his forearms twitching from fatigue. You can still feel his cock jerk against your walls, and now that the wave has passed, you become very aware of how much your body is trembling.

“Fuck, do I love fucking you raw.” He rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs, content from having his balls drained.

You smile, nuzzling against him.

“Filled you up too much?” He says with a grin, nodding at the direction of your reflection in the mirror, particularly your cunt. You blush at the sight of it, still plugged with his cock but now swollen from being thoroughly used and oozing cum. You clench your walls in an attempt to keep it in, pulling out a groan from him. “Shit—still sensitive.”

“Sorry!”

After a few more seconds, he finally places you down and as soon as your feet touch the floor, your knees buckle, sending your body forward. Marius wraps his arms around you, catching you in time before you fall headfirst against the mirror.

After the initial shock, you erupt with a giggle as you find your footing again. Marius shakes his head in amusement.

“You got what you wanted, babe.” He grins, all smug. With a wistful sigh, you lean your weight against him, snuggling into his embrace. He brushes your hair to the side and kisses your shoulder.

He helps you redress, but not before sneaking the chance to slip his fingers in your cunt once again, causing to you to fall forward against him, nails sinking into his biceps to keep your balance. He leans his forehead against yours with his fingers inside you—pushing his load deeper and simultaneously stimulating you into another orgasm.

“Did I mention how much I love seeing you get off on my fingers?” He whispers as if there were people nearby who could hear you. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, bringing his hand to your mouth to lick him clean, eliciting a deep moan from his lips. He grabs onto your chin and kisses you.

And then a knock on the door.

Marius sighs against your lips but refuses to pull away. On the opposite side of the door, a throat clears—a familiar signal you've come to associate with Vincent.

“Taken care of?”

“Yes, Master Marius.”

“Thanks, Vincent. Prepare the car.”

Marius turns his attention back to you, kissing you gently before gathering you into his arms, and hugging you tight. “Told you not to worry, right? Now—”

He exhales dramatically, lips curling into a pout. “Where’s my congratulations? I can’t believe you of all people have not wished me congratula—”

“I literally tried!”

“No, you didn’t.”

You let out a big huff.

“I did—I tried but you cut me off with your fingers inside me!”

“Well, I’m sorry for not noticing because I was too busy trying to make you cum!”

——

a.n posted this at 12 something am on my birthday lmao. my birthday gift from me to me and to all of you. enjoy the food!! i love you all 💜

#brainrotdump #marius von hagen smut #brainrot #tears of themis smut #lu jinghe smut #cn server spoiler

391 notes · View notes

moonflowerdamie · 9 months

Text

all of you, all of me (intertwined)

Word Count: 2.4k

Title from 'Daylight' by Taylor Swift.

Based on a request from Anonymous.

*****

Losing the World Cup sucks. It really fucking sucks.

The Spanish players deserve it, of course—they were the better team, when it came down to it—and you’re glad to see them celebrate after so many months of turmoil and internal conflict, but it still feels like a punch in the gut when the second place medal is draped around your neck.

The days afterward are full of tears and regret, consolation and half-hearted pep talks that only end up making everyone feel a little worse. Sarina tries her best of course, but even she is struggling with the defeat; it’s evident in her eyes, just a little dimmer than they were before.

Lucy takes it harder than the rest of you. She feels like it was her fault, like the goal (which, admittedly, still stings to think about) could have been prevented if she hadn’t tried to make that run through the middle. She’s completely wrong, of course: it’s nobody’s fault, and it’s everybody’s fault and at the end of the day, it just really does not matter. You lost. Spain won. Nothing to do now but pick up the pieces and move on as best you all can.

Pretty much everyone has a good old cry about it before you leave—Alessia and Mary both come to you separately, sniffling and teary-eyed, looking for a pair of friendly arms to hold them for a while, and you in turn go to Esme for some comfort. It’s nice, the tall blonde defender rubbing your back and murmuring reassurances, but it’s not what you really want.

What you want is Taylor.

Unfortunately for you, your girlfriend is all the way on the other side of the world, starting the international leg of her tour. You couldn’t be prouder of her, truly; you’ve told her as much almost annoyingly often, always met with a bashful smile and a blush from the woman you love.

But, selfishly, you wish she wasn’t so far away. All you want is to curl up in bed with her, have her stroke your hair and sing to you. You wish that she was the one comforting you (no offence to Esme, of course), the one telling you what a great job you’d done. You wish it so much you ache with it.

God, you miss her. It’s been almost 2 months since you saw her in person, the longest you’ve been apart since you started dating 3 years ago, and you miss her so goddamn much it hurts. You miss her eyes and her touch, the way she smiles when you say something silly. You miss the way her nose scrunches when you kiss her forehead, how she laughs, how she looks at you with so much adoration that you feel like melting.

There have been texts exchanged and brief FaceTimes before bed (either for you or for her, time difference is a bitch), but the both of you have been so busy, you with the World Cup and her with the tour, that contact has been sporadic and short. She’d texted you after the final, a quick ‘I’m so sorry darling, you played amazingly and I’m so proud of you’, but you haven’t heard from her since. You understand why: she’s the biggest popstar in the world, performing her record-breaking worldwide tour. She doesn’t have the time to be on her phone 24/7.

You just wish you could see her. Most of all, that’s what you want—to see her, be back in her presence again.

And then it hits you: you can.

*****

You split off from the other Lionesses at the airport, hugging everybody goodbye and wishing them all a safe flight home. Ella gives you a slap on the back as you turn to leave—

“Go get your missus!”

—she yells, and you grin wide and toothy as you start walking to your gate.

*****

Andrea meets you at the airport when you finally land in Mexico. You’re exhausted—losing a World Cup final and then almost 24 hours of travel will do that to a person—so when she hugs you in greeting you can’t help but sink into it a little. She always did give the best hugs.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful that you’re here, dear.” She says quietly, squeezing you once before letting go. You smile. Andrea had been overjoyed when you’d informed her of your plan on the phone a couple days ago, and you can see her excitement shining in her face as you start walking to her car.

“She doesn’t know?” You ask as you exit the terminal and she shakes her head. You hadn’t told Taylor you were coming, wanting to surprise her.

“Not a clue. She’s at the stadium now, so you can drop your things at her hotel and rest a little before the show tonight.” You sigh gratefully—you really are shattered, and a nap sounds like heaven.

Once you reach the hotel, you pretty much immediately collapse onto the bed. Sydney to San Francisco to Mexico City is one hell of a journey, and you can feel the long hours on the plane settling in your body like a stone dropped in water.

The room is nice enough, but it’s the hints of your girlfriend you can see scattered around that make it immediately worth the long journey—a bottle of her nail polish on the bedside table, one of her hoodies slung over the back of a chair, and when you press your face into the pillow, the familiar scent of her shampoo hits you and envelopes you like warm blanket. You smile and close your eyes.

Just a few more hours, my love.

*****

You’ve seen Taylor perform countless times over the years you’ve known each other. On tour, on late night shows, in her living room at 2 AM. Always, you’re astounded at her voice, her stage presence, the force that she is and the space she takes up. It’s a miracle to witness every single time you get the privilege to see her so in her own element.

This time, however, takes your breath away like never before.

She’s radiant on the stage, a shining sun you feel blessed to gaze upon, and the passion she puts into every single song makes you feel like you’re part of something entirely bigger than yourself. She looks gorgeous in every outfit, hits every note and every beat, and more than anything, she looks happy.

And maybe it’s the months apart, or maybe it’s simply her, but you feel like you’re walking amongst the stars watching her, a meteor passing by your wondering eyes. It feels like falling in love all over again, and it feels like flying. She performs ‘Sweet Nothing’ as a surprise song and you feel your breath catch in your chest. You’re mesmerised, and by the end of her set, you sort of feel like crying, in all the best ways.

Andrea takes you to her dressing room once the fans start pouring out of the stadium, assuring you that Taylor will be there once she’s done thanking all the crew, before ducking back out with a wink.

Nerves take over just a little as you wait for her to arrive and it makes you laugh to yourself—3 years of dating and she still makes you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, still gives you butterflies.

Time passes like treacle drops—that is to say, extremely slowly. You’re beyond excited to see her, and every little noise from outside the dressing room door makes your head snap up and your knee shake. You’re full to bursting with wanting and longing and loving that when she finally does open that door, you’re on your feet before she can even blink.

You see the shock in her hanging jaw, her wide eyes and you laugh shakily, tears springing to your eyes at the sight of her, in the flesh, after so long apart.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You say, barely louder than a whisper, and she’s in your arms before you even finish your sentence.

Her embrace feels so strongly like home that you can’t help but let yourself cry a little. Taylor’s crying too, you think, as she buries her face in your neck and you hold her close, shaking as she folds herself into you. It feels like something clicking into place in your chest as she fits herself into your arms, as you sway her back and forth, closing your eyes and thanking a god you don’t even believe in for this moment.

She draws back after a while to look you in the eyes but she stays in the circle of your arms, dropping to rest around her waist. Her hands come up and hold your face as gentle as glass and you grin at her. God, you’d missed those blue eyes of hers.

“When—how—what are you doing here?” She finally settles on, stroking her thumbs over your cheeks. You giggle at her incredulity.

“I flew in from Sydney, got here a few hours before the show. I…” you trail off, still breathless at the sight of her, still taking her in, “I missed you.”

The smile that ruined you for all others spreads across her face and she huffs out a little laugh. She shakes her head, staring at you with amazement sparkling in her eyes before leaning in to press her forehead to yours.

“I missed you too, baby. Missed you so much.”

When she kisses you, you all but melt in her arms. It’s deep and long, her lips capturing yours with a tender vigour that leaves you absolutely starstruck. Her thumb rubs against your jawline, other hand sliding down to rest on your shoulder as she presses in closer and steals the breath from your lungs. Take it, you almost want to say. Take it all. All I have is yours. All I am is yours.

You pull back after a few stretching moments, panting and love-stung and joyously happy. Taylor looks like a goddess, like all your brightest dreams made flesh, and you sigh, nose brushing hers.

“I love you so much.” She murmurs and you smile. She moves her hand to press against your chest, resting above your heart.

“I love you more, superstar.”

*****

Once Taylor is finished in the dressing room (which takes quite a bit of time given that the two of you keep falling back into each other, into long kisses and quiet hugs, drawn by each other’s gravity), the two of you exit the stadium to find her parents waiting by the car. You and Scott exchange warm greetings whilst Andrea hugs her daughter. With pleasantries exchanged, you all buckle in and Scott starts driving to the nearest and most low-key restaurant in the area.

Over some truly exquisite food, the 4 of you talk for hours. You speak about the World Cup defeat, still fresh and painful. Though, you have to admit the sting is lessened when you’re sat next to the woman you love most in this world, her hand rubbing circles into your knee as she presses a kiss to your temple.

Taylor lights up when the conversation shifts to the show, and you can’t help but be transfixed by her as talks, smiling and gesturing and practically spilling over with excitement. She’s loving the tour, you knew she would, but to see the passion and the payoff in her eyes is a gift from above. You listen with a smile the worst of weather couldn’t wash away.

Before you know it, it’s nearly midnight and Andrea starts to yawn. Scott insists on paying the bill—though you fight him on it amicably—and they drive you and Taylor back to the hotel before bidding you goodnight and heading off.

The elevator ride and subsequent walk to Taylor’s room is comfortably silent, the both of you content and peaceful, but you feel the mood shift once the door closes behind you.

She’s on you in seconds, mouth seeking out your own as she presses you back against the wall, hands searching out any bit of skin they can find. You respond in kind, equally as keyed up as she appears to be, gripping at her hips and pulling her into you, biting her bottom lip and smiling when she groans.

Your hands slide up the front of her sweatshirt, fingers skating over her ribs as her tongue slips into your mouth. You’re kissing hot and desperate now, the both of you breathing heavily and pushing against each other like you just can’t get close enough.

“Bed.” She murmurs against your lips, nails scratching deliciously at the back of your neck. “Bed, now.”

You comply almost mindlessly, walking the both of you back towards the bed as you continue to kiss furiously until her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Before she can fall onto it, she pulls away from your lips and turns you around, shoving you backwards so that you topple onto the bed. She follows close behind, climbing onto your lap, legs straddling your hips.

Your stomach drops hotly as she settles on your lap, hands grasping for her waist as she starts a slow grind against you. You feel like you’re on fire, burning up with the need to feel her, to touch her, to claim her again after far too long.

Taylor gasps when you attach your lips to her neck, sucking and kissing at the skin before biting down, hard, the way she likes it. She moans, her hips bucking against your stomach. There’ll be a mark come morning, and a dark little voice in your head cackles with glee—you want to mark her, to sink your teeth in until the skin is red and bruised, to show the world she’s yours.

“Baby…fuck…” she trails off when you bite her again, lower this time, and her hand tangles in your hair, pulling a little, “Fuck, I missed you.” She breathes, pulling you back so she can look you in the eye. You grin up at her, and you must look thoroughly ruined. It’s how you feel, after all. Wreck, ruin, mess. She looks it too, eyes darkened and pupils blown, chest heaving, lips kiss bruised and bitten red.

“I missed you too, love.”

Taylor smirks, hand tightening in your hair to the point of delightful pain as you groan at the feeling.

“Show me how much.” She demands.

And who are you to say no?

*****

A/N: Wow I LOVED writing this! Literally obsessed with Taylor, so glad I could write for her! Hope you all enjoyed it :)

#taylor swift x reader #taylor swift #taylor swift imagine #x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #fluff #engwnt #lionesses

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iamasaddie · 9 months

Text

come take my pulse the pace is on a runaway train

PIMP!JOEL part 1, masterlist paring: Joel Miller x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 6k (I told ya) summary: there's a secret you didn't know you had, and you're forced to tell it to Joel // Joel Miller is still a pimp and you still need money, that's it. .a/n: can't believe it actually fucking happened. i'm drained, see y'all sometime. an honest thanks to my lil beta/guardian angel @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog it's hard to imagine this fic happening without her, and my forever support, my ride or fucking ride @bearsbeetsbeskar . I love y'all! warnings (for the series): dub-con(ish); explicit sexual content; Reader is described as bony and malnurished (hungry, duh); sex work; fingering; both protected and unprotected PinV; 69; FMF; oral sex (for everybody); ass play; unprotected anal sex; sex toys; dirty talking; might be something else who knows; NO USE OF Y/N warnings (for the chapter): female masturbation, inexperienced reader, fingering, voyerism (kind of); praise kink; mild dirty talk ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

It was strange waking up in a warm, nice-smelling room. You’ve spent half the night struggling to fall asleep on the couch that didn't bruise your shoulder blades with its hardness. It was laughable, honestly, any other person in your place would be out like a light, and yet you tossed and turned, your body sinking in the softness of Joel’s couch made you almost uncomfortable. That was until he peeked his head from his room, face wrinkled and sleepy, hair sticking in all the different directions.

"I swear to God, rabbit, if you don't stop spinning like a goddamn rotisserie chicken, I’ll drag this couch outside with you on it."

You pushed the blanket he gave you up to your chin and quickly nodded. Who would've thought the man was such a light sleeper.

It was another half an hour or so until sleep finally took you. Time after time, you replayed the events of the past evening in your head, starting with how Joel approached you on the street and ending with the moment when he literally shoved a set of washed bed linen and a small pillow into your hands. He nodded at the sofa, indicating where you could spend your night, and then towards the closed door - you assumed that his room was hidden behind it - and muttered something resembling "if you need me, knock, but better not, I've had a long day."

You wanted to thank him, but for some reason the words wrapped around your tongue like a spider web, not allowing it to move, so you just nodded and began to make up the sofa. Joel stood there for a couple more moments, and then he himself disappeared behind a wooden door that almost lost its once white color with time.

That was the door you'd been staring at for the last half hour, constantly reminding yourself to blink when your eyes started to water. You had no idea what was ahead of you. It was scary, truly, very fucking scary; but you could also imagine what would happen to you if you hadn't agreed to this fucking adventure.

You were trying to guess what tomorrow would bring you. Would Joel take you to his birdies? Or bring your first client here? Although it was unlikely that he brought unfamiliar men to fuck prostitutes in his apartment ... Nerves gradually overtook all your limbs, icy needles bit the tips of your fingers, cold sweat covered your feet with unpleasant moisture. You turned on your side and curled up in the fetal position, pulling the T-shirt over your knees and hiding your face under the blanket. Tomorrow everything will change. No matter what happens, tomorrow everything would be different. The silence of the apartment was broken by the steady sound of Joel's snoring, which eventually lulled you to sleep.

You were pulled out by a sharp noise and a streaming whisper of Joel's curses from the longest and deepest sleep in the last eternity.

"Fuckin' shit goddamn piece of motherfuckin' crap. Bitch."

You didn't know what elicited such a passionate reaction from the man who seemed more than calm and composed yesterday, but for some reason it made you snicker and you slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the joyful sound.

"Mornin', rabbit. Thought you went into a coma."

He turned to look at you, the open space of the kitchen and living room meant that you were in full view of each other. While you were trying to find a way out of your blanket cocoon, you allowed yourself to look at your host and future boss. Morning Joel was not much different from the one you saw yesterday, except that his hair stuck out in different directions so that the gray strands were more visible, and his shirt was exchanged for a T-shirt. He still wore the same jeans. Barefoot, he moved almost silently around the kitchen opening and closing drawers, taking something from the shelves. You couldn't help but notice how the muscles were obviously moving under his T-shirt, how the dark washed material of his jeans intimately hugged his powerful thighs and buttocks. Whatever he was, he was devilishly handsome. Which ironically suited his reputation.

"Ya gonna keep starin' at my ass or lift yours off the couch and have some breakfast with me?"

You didn't notice that the man looked over his shoulder and noticed your shameless examination of his body a couple of minutes ago. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you felt the familiar heat of shame.

"S-sorry, I wasn't staring."

"'s okay, rabbit. Even nice, considering what we're…" If he said something, you didn't hear, because he mumbled it to himself. You sat up straight, blanket falling off your chest, but still covered your lower half where you currently wore only old cotton panties.

"What we're what?"

"Ehh," he scratched his beard, considering if he should tell you or not and deciding against it. "We'll talk about it after breakfast. And after you take a shower."

"You have a shower here?" You knew that usually, if people or small families were lucky enough to have a separate apartment for themselves, they'd still have to share the shower with other apartments on that floor. It was terrible, but some would rather choose that than have a shower in their home but have to share the place with three assigned roommates like you did.

"Well, I'm definitely not showering in the rain." His attempt at a joke didn't cheer you up, the gears of your brain were still spinning in an attempt to guess what was in store for you. Apart from the obvious. As if hearing your thoughts, Joel once again glanced in your direction, brown eyes ran over your face and body for a couple of seconds, until he shook his head at something he thought about, leaving you in the dark. "C'mon, rabbit, coffee's gettin' cold."

"Coffee?"

When the first jets of scalding hot water flowed over your body, you laughed, letting the water get into your mouth and nose. This feeling was so unfamiliar, but for some reason you missed it like hell. Almost boiling hot, the water like a passionate embrace enveloped your body, every drop was a kiss to your tired skin. For a couple of minutes you just enjoyed the new, yet so familiar feeling, marveling at what comfort such a simple act could bring.

Joel's bathroom was small, bright, and terribly clean. There were no dirty things scattered on the white tile floor, no black mold in the corners, damnit, there were barely any stains on the goddamn mirror. Fucking psychopath. The shower itself wasn’t surrounded by walls, just a small threshold below that did not allow water to spill over the entire bathroom floor, and a simple plastic curtain that protected everything from splashes. A bar of soap and a washcloth found its place on a makeshift shelf on the sidewall. By that time, you wouldn't be surprised if he had twenty-five jars of various products ranging from balm for his slightly curly hair to a cream for his ballsack. You grinned to yourself as you lathered your hands. Your sense of smell was pierced by the odor of pine and something masculine, although you could not name it. This was exactly how Joel should smell. The man was a mystery to you, but every little detail from his slightly manic cleanliness to the smell he chose made total sense to you. You started to wash the soap off your skin, lightly massaging your own shoulders, arms, legs, until your fingers thoughtlessly reached your pussy.

You never actually paid attention to yourself down there, never wondered if you looked wrong or right, didn't find it in yourself to care. Your philosophy was that as long as it didn't hurt, it was just fine.

Your lack of sexual experience never bothered you either. There was nothing you could do about it, not when surviving alone took that much of your strength.

What did Joel say yesterday? Sex is good. Well, you'd be the last to know. The one meaningless encounter you had was so long ago that your partner was already faceless in your mind. How could you find pleasure with someone if you couldn't even do that alone? You had no idea what excited you, what made you feel good. You didn't even know what made you feel bad. With every passing minute you grew more and more desperate. What the fuck were you thinking about when you said yes? One encounter would earn you the name of the worst whore in the neighborhood. If you could just...

Your hands traveled across your body, squeezing your soft tits, caressing your waist, and going lower, where you knew your pleasure had to lie. You closed your eyes in an attempt to find something sexy to think of. Without trying hard, an image of Joel leaning over the sink popped in your mind. As your deft fingers awkwardly tried to play with your soft flesh this and that way, you just continued replaying the way his hips moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the obvious strength in his thick thighs. You bit your lips, trying to shut down the little whimpers and moans your body tried to push out ignoring the calls of morality, or your own reason. You kept circling your buzzing clit, fingers growing tired, arousal seeping from you but release nowhere close. It felt like you were on the verge of sneezing, almost-almost-almost, and then nothing, just the devastating feeling that left your eyes watery and nose running.

You let out a frustrated groan, and then screamed, as you heard a loud banging on the door and then Joel's voice no less loud. "Rabbit, are you boiling alive there or what? Sorry to say, but hot water ain't forever, get outta there."

"Sorry! I'll be out in a sec."

You rushed to turn off the water, surprised that you didn't notice it getting gradually colder. Getting out, you dried yourself off with a big towel Joel gave you after showing you to the bathroom. You reached your hand to the only pair of panties you had on you, frowning at the material still being mostly wet since you only washed them before popping in the shower. Sighing but with no other choice, you put them on, wincing when cold wet material touched your still tensed core. Then there was the matter of clothes. You only had what you wore when you came here, and putting that on now would make the shower you took futile. You should have asked Joel for a t-shirt or something. The thought caught you off guard. You just met the man, and here you were thinking about taking his clothes? But then again, you agreed for this man to practically sell your body, so what's a pair of shared clothing items?

With no other choice, you put a towel around yourself, glad that it was big enough to cover you up to mid-thigh. You were just going to ask Joel for some clothes, and then you'd wash your own.

He was waiting for you in the living room, still dressed the same, but his hair looked as if he combed it. For a few moments you just stood there looking at each other, droplets of water fell from your hair and traced your skin. You wished you could read his mind as you watched him slowly taking in your form - from your bare feet to your wet head - with an emotionless look on his face. You spoke first.

"Can I ask for some clothes? Mine's dirty. Really dirty."

He swallowed, as if thinking over your request. "You won't need it now."

"I'm sorry?" That sounded more like ‘what the fuck’, but you weren't known for the ability to keep a poker face.

"I need you to show me how you get yourself off. I need to know what we're working with." He shrugged his shoulders like it was the most mundane thing you were discussing. His familiarity with sex, the easy relationship he had with something so unknown to you, made you feel like a child. Someone inexperienced, and not important enough to engage with. Someone small. You hated the kinds of people that made you feel that way as much as you hated bulky FEDRA soldiers covered in their armor from head to toe. Their power over you was undeniable and made you feel lesser, transformed you into a bug under a giant's thumb, so easy to pick up and crush.

"What do you mean?" That was obviously the wrong question, but it was the only one you could think of, completely taken aback by his words. You kind of knew what would happen to you in theory, you just didn't know what exactly to expect, whether he'd take you to some shady place full of tired women, or if you'd have a room of your own in a dark basement. The only thing you knew for certain was that soon there'd be a stranger between your legs helping you to earn your living. Not once a thought that you'd have to perform whatever act in front of Joel crossed your mind. It just didn't. "Don't I just... Y’know?"

"What? Get your first client for your pretty face and then leave him unsatisfied, and me with a bad reputation?" Joel raised his eyebrows and shook his head, something he'd been doing a lot recently. "No, rabbit, that’s not how it works here."

A bucket of ice-cold water thrown over a sun-licked body would have felt warmer than a single tear of sweat that dripped down your clean back at that moment. "So you, what, fuckin' test every girl you’ve got?" The slight anger that started boiling in you, but it wasn't pointed at Joel per se, you were irritated with yourself for making the man in front of you into something he wasn't. Into something more human, someone who might have some respect for you, when he clearly was just another man that looked at you as if you were a cunt that occasionally talked.

"I don't test, I make sure they're ready for what's to come and they know what they do. Most of my girls, they have more experience than apparently you do," you internally scolded yourself for the embarrassment that ran through you when his words settled in, there was nothing wrong with not sleeping around, you thought. There was nothing wrong with you. Joel, seemingly oblivious to your turmoil, continued, "so they just show me some stuff, and then I'm content that they can do the job."

You cracked your knuckles, freshly cut fingernails unable to leave the bloody crescents on your palms, something that would help distract yourself from an upcoming panic attack. Your stomach made a summersault as you tried to even out your breathing.

"What?" Joel came closer to you, his broad frame in a simple t-shirt and jeans was towering above you, and that feeling of being too small, too unimportant and weak flooded your lungs again. "You're ready to fuck a stranger, but can't show me how you fuck your pussy? Not sure you can stay, then."

Your head snapped and you met his eyes. They were too curious for a person who was ready to let you go, but you were too deep in your nervous breakdown to notice.

"No, I can, it's just… " He's gonna know and he's gonna throw you out, you thought. No way he wouldn't. He's gonna laugh at you and you're gonna die of hunger in the streets. And then the rats will eat your face. A constant fear that settled in your brain the moment you saw a guy in the streets who met that same fate.

"It's just what?" His voice brought you back from the image of different pests feasting on your lifeless body.

"I know how sex works, okay?" You could still try, maybe he'd be forgiving for your honesty. "But I didn't spend that much time doing this." You threw your hands pointing around in a vague gesture that clarified nothing.

His face was all colors of surprise and he didn't even try to hide it. Brown pools filled with merriment rather than disappointment. "This? Masturbating? You spent over twenty years not getting off?"

"Well, I'm sorry that wasn't my fucking top priority when I was barely conscious to get my body to the bed after working for 17 hours, okay? To an apartment that I shared with three other people!" You felt anger surpassing your shame on the surface and boiling over. You knew snapping at him wasn't the best way to get in the man's good graces, most likely he'd just think you too difficult, and being inexperienced on top of that? Well, that's a one way ticket to the streets. But you couldn't help yourself. Did he actually think that you, what, lived in lavish? Coming home to the silk sheets, having a glass of wine before spending hours on end learning of the pleasure of your body? Was that the kind of girls he had up there? If that was the case, you couldn't hold a candle up to them.

Your days were long, painful and dirty. You'd been lucky enough if you had enough energy to wipe yourself with a semi-clean rag that was once your t-shirt, as you tried to leave the pitiful excuse for the bathroom and hide in your room. Sometimes you were so hungry and exhausted that you didn't even take your dirty boots off, climbing on your bed, stuffing your hands under your head and praying for the sleep to come sooner and relieve you from the pain of your empty stomach and bloodied blisters.

"Okay, okay, don't get so fuckin' aggressive." He raised his hands in defense, "It's okay. At least I know what we have here."

"So, what... I don't qualify? Should I let myself out?"

"No, you should drop the attitude and sit your ass on the couch." He surprised you again, maybe you should have stopped thinking about the man being the Devil's son and right hand. "Lose the towel and underwear and I'm gonna guide you through it, okay?"

Or maybe not.

"You gonna…?"

"No," Joel didn't let you mind stray too far, "I'm gonna watch and tell you what to do, okay? I've got more than enough experience to be able not to touch you and still help you cum."

You huffed, the arrogance this man had must've been bigger than his dick. "Cocky much?"

"That, too." He smiled knowingly and passed your question as a joke, but his face quickly turned serious - professional? - as he gave you another way out. "So, you're in or out?"

You didn't bother to reply, turning to walk towards the couch. Your barely cooperative fingers trembled and you forced yourself to relax as you lifted the towel and sat your ass on the couch, hissing when the cold leather met your asscheeks. Did he make your bed? Joel's eyes were on your covered mound and he smirked.

"That's adorable." His index finger - you thought it was at least as thick as both of yours - pointed at your pussy that was now covered in simple cotton panties with a print that said "Thursday" and a sleepy cartoon cat above it. "Today's Monday, though."

Your face heated, all blood from your body traveling to your cheeks and you mumbled, cursing another sign of your poor sexual experience, "I didn't have rations to s - -"

"It doesn't matter," Joel sounded like he meant it, and moved a chair for himself to sit opposite of you. "Some will find it endearing, and others don't care what you wear as long as they know you'll take it off."

You nodded. It wasn't exactly the encouragement you've been hoping for, but then again, it wasn't Joel's job to encourage you. He got comfortable in the chair, spreading his legs wide in what looked like a power move but he seemed to do it unconsciously, and looked at you expectantly, "Take 'em off."

You nodded, mostly to yourself, and hooked your fingers on the still wet material, tugging it down and hearing a wet slap sound as they ungracefully landed at your feet. Unconsciously, your legs pried together, thighs trying to hide what's laying between them.

Joel was sitting across from a big window, gloomy day's light dancing on his face. He kept looking at you, not hurrying, but visibly losing his patience as his nostrils flared when you just continued pressing your thighs together.

He closed his eyes, rubbing his eyelids, and then focusing back at you.

"Do you want a drink?"

"What?"

"I'm going to pour you a drink, but only this once. I don't allow my girls to be under any kind of substance, understand?"

He got up from the chair and went back to the kitchen, leaving you dumbfounded and half naked alone on the couch. Soon he came back with a glass half filled with amber liquid and handed it to you.

"It's not the best, so better drink it fast, okay?"

You nodded, holding your breath and downing the burning liquid. It wasn't the first time you drank, but you were never a fan of alcohol, usually it only led to an hour of good time followed by at least eight hours of suffering. Joel took the glass from your hand as you coughed, and returned to his seat.

"To make your sexual experience more pleasurable, you need to be excited. You have to be anticipating the pleasure." His voice became more honeyed, or did alcohol already kick in? Whatever it was, you found yourself leaning back on the couch, and relaxing your thighs, though still not spreading them apart. "You need to love your body, you need to be wet and needy. If you don't need anything, you won't get anything. It works like that with everything, including pleasure."

You couldn't take your eyes off his face, furrowed eyebrows cast a shadow over darkening eyes, plump lips that were periodically caressed by his tongue, curved under his words that vibrated under your skin.

"Love your body, rabbit. Caress it, kiss it, excite it. Make yourself needy for your touch, and only then, when you feel like you will cry if you don't do it, can you touch that sweet part of you."

Thoughtlessly, with his words as your accompaniment, with his eyes as your witnesses, you let your hands start caressing your body. Face, neck, hands, with every light touch you grew hotter, with every light touch you wanted more.

"That's it, rabbit, good girl." His voice was barely louder than a whisper, it intertwined with your breathing and you no longer cared how many people were looking at you - a hundred, or him alone. Your hands pulled at the knot holding the towel on your chest, completely exposing you in front of a virtual stranger. As if possessed, you continued stroking yourself, concentrating on the tense nipples, pinching and immediately caressing them with the soft pads of your fingers. Your moan drowned out the quiet "fuck" that Joel gritted through his clenched teeth, and your tightly closed eyes didn't allow you to see him leaning closer, as if he was trying to sniff your arousal in the air.

Your movements grew bolder, greedier. You continued to caress your body, squeezing, pinching and immediately soothing the sensitive skin with gentle touches. Your neck was covered with beads of sweat, and your tongue was constantly moistening your dried lips. Your body was buzzing, you felt like every nerve under your skin was raising to attention, every pore seeking the pleasure your touches promised. Your pussy throbbed, and you clenched your thighs together but now for a completely different reason.

"Touch your clit, rabbit, go on."

His voice was low, like a growl, it also sounded like a beast that was trying to break out of you. Forcing yourself to move slower with all your might, through the hollow between your breasts, diving into the pool of your navel, you soon brought the fingers of your right hand to your almost vibrating clit. Trying not to lose touch with your pleasure, you continued to pull at your swollen nipples followed by Joel's pleased hums. As if forgetting to report to your brain, your thighs parted, exposing your thirsty, wet core where your fingers were reaching. Not wanting to torture yourself anymore, you traced your middle and ring finger through your slit to your sopping entrance to gather some slick and brought them back to your twitching clit.

Your body shattered, as you let out a broken cry when your fingers started playing with your pussy. It was still tense, remembering the pleasure you failed to get mere moments - or was it hours - ago. Up, down, circle. Up, down, circle. Faster, faster, faster still. Your fingers felt cramped, your release nowhere close. Tears sprung to your face and you let out helpless cries and moans, knowing full well that you're failing. Again.

Was there something so wrong with you? Were your settings so fucked up, that even though you wanted the pleasure, you felt your orgasm mocking you so so close, you still couldn't grab it.

Your movements became more frustrated, frantic, almost painful at this point, as your left hand proceeded to practically torture your raw nipples.

"Stop, rabbit." You ignored the voice of the only witness of your most intimate failure and continued flaying your sensitive pussy with rough strokes, almost like you were trying to get revenge at her for failing you. "I said stop, dammit." A large, slightly damp palm wrapped around the wrist of your possessed hand and only then did you abruptly open your eyes, realizing how close Joel was. Your face was hurting from the strain with which you wrinkled it, your teeth almost began to crumble right in your mouth.

"I told you to love your body, not to take revenge on it for all the sins of humanity. What the hell, rabbit?"

"I was almost there," you sobbed pathetically. Your once again lost pleasure made your whole body ache, like you were twisted in the wrong way, bones broken, skin bruised.

"Yes, you were, and what happened then? Why the fuck did you go serial killer on your poor pussy?"

"I couldn't."

"You couldn't?" His eyebrows shot up as he waited for you to continue.

"I get to this point where I feel like it's right there, like I might cum any second, and then I don't." You dropped your head, eyes raking over your naked body, filling your head with embarrassment as Joel, on his knees in front of you and way too close to your still aching pussy, acted as if it was the most normal situation ever. Maybe it was, you couldn't understand anything anymore. "I think I'm broken," your whisper was defeated, just as your spirit.

Joel was still holding your wrist, his thumb thoughtlessly drawing circles on your skin when he shook his head and tried to look into your salt-soaked eyes.

"You're not broken, rabbit. You just think too much with that pretty head'a yours. Y'see," his hand let go of yours, and he brought his index finger to your thigh, tracing abstract lines on your damp skin. You didn't shy away or tell him to stop, so he continued, "pleasure ain't in your head. You need to learn to turn it off."

Easier said than done, you huffed. You were overthinking your whole life, every decision, every movement, every fucking breath. If having an orgasm meant to stop doing that, you were fucked.

"And what if I can't?"

"Then you'll have to learn, and while you do that, you can try giving off your control." You met his eyes, curiosity pooling in yours, determination in his. "Will you let me help you out a little?"

You were either too tired, or too scared to ask him to elaborate what he meant by that. Your body was tired and needy, wanting something you couldn’t give it. Maybe he could. He brought you to this point without even touching. You nodded once, not wanting to appear too eager. Joel nodded in return, sealing the deal.

His hot palms wrapped around your thighs, spreading them wider and allowing him to fit between. He didn't look up at you anymore, all his attention was turned to the center of your womanhood, to the place where you were burning with hellfire. He must have felt at home.

“Look at her, so pretty, so needy. She just needs the right kind of attention.”

It was on the verge of ridiculous to hear him speak about your pussy like that, but you were far from laughing when his thick fingers pried your drenched lips open, exposing your clit to his eyes. His face was too close, and for a moment you could swear you saw him lick his lips, an action that made you both excited and uneasy. There was no way he would…No, as his thumb connected to the burning skin to the right of your clit, somewhere where you rubbed yourself raw, you gave yourself a smack for your passing thought. He’s a man, he wouldn’t. He started circling your clitoris with the rougher tip of his thumb, without directly touching it. Joel’s movements were slow, patient. He listened to your breath hiking up, little puffs of air roughly leaving your lungs when he circled too close to the pinnacle of your pleasure. Your eyes went glassy, looking at him staring directly at your cunt and whispering little praises did something to your body. It elicited a reaction you weren’t ready for.

“Pussy so obedient, she takes everything and asks for more. Hear how wet she is?” Proving his words he dipped lower, gathering a gush of slick that never stopped streaming from your entrance. The sounds were vulgar, you never heard them. You were never this wet before, and you’d start worrying if the physical joy he brought to you wasn’t so overwhelming.

You felt yourself climbing on that familiar ladder of pleasure, for the third time today your body started thrumming, begging you for release. Sending to hell all the thoughts holding you back, you let the music of sex pour out of your very gut. Quiet moans, desperate cries - all of it only raised the level of your pleasure. “Good girl, don’t hold it. Let me hear you sing.”

Joel continued building sensation stroking diagonally across your clit. His surprisingly soft, light touch gradually became more intense as he exchanged stroking to playing with pressure. He let his thumb and pointer finger squeeze your sensitive bud, gently gripping your swollen skin.

You felt like you were about to be torn apart, you just lacked something… You couldn't understand what and almost sobbed in despair. Joel noticed that your melody was becoming minor. “What do you need, rabbit? What does your beautiful pussy want? Listen to her.”

“I don’t know,” your body thrashed like you were possessed, but Joel pressed his left hand into your navel steadying you.

“Yes, you do. Listen to your body, baby, come on.”

“Fingers, please, put your fingers in me!”

“Good girl,” he whispered victoriously. His thumb returned to stroking your puffy, tortured clit just in time as two of his thick fingers entered your begging body.

No matter how much you studied yourself, no matter how many fingers you shoved into your inexperienced hole, nothing could compare to how Joel's fingers stretched you. Just two, they brought a burning sensation, which with its sole existence pushed you beyond the limits of pleasure known to man. His pace, which started out slow and gentle, steadily increased, bringing a new level of intensity. You felt your body gravitating towards the much needed release as the blood rushed to your core. Joel never stopped paying attention to your clit, drawing tight circles around the tense bud as he kept exploring your insides with his fingers. Your mind was blank as the arousal overtook all of your senses, goosebumps danced on your skin and the salty taste of your sweat gave your lips a new flavor. As if he was possessing your body, without mistake Joel kept zoning in on the areas your body responded to the most, his touch more rhythmic and consistent as he went. Every moan and tiny gasp that left you he used as the roadmap to your inevitable pleasure. You let yourself get lost in his movements, the pleasure he elicited from your body, and the heavy breathing that you both shared. Your cunt enveloped his digits perfectly, tight entrance drooling around thick fingers that shallowly thrusted in and out of you in a steady motion, curling at the very end and touching a spot you didn’t know you owned. You were exhausted with all of the sensation as you finally cried out, your own hands squeezed your tits enough to leave bruises.

The feeling that enslaved your body was all-consuming, and you were too consumed by euphoria to notice the hungry, almost possessed look Joel sported on his face as your juices gushed all over his hand.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, rabbit?"

Joel got off the floor and threw himself on the couch beside you. With a quick and efficient motion he tugged the slightly wet towel from under you and cowered your naked front as much as he could. Your lips curved in a tight-lipped smile as you wordlessly thanked him.

"It was hard, doing this." As soon as your brain cleared from the post-orgasming fog, you started thinking again. Bees of rationality stinging your still soft and barely functioning body, making you doubt everything. "And I could only cum when you helped me. Don't think the clients will be up for that."

"Do you think you could masturbate and make yourself cum on your own now?" He leaned his head against the back of the sofa, but turned slightly to you, watching how the familiar sense of doubt twisted your face.

"I think so, yeah. You... you showed me and... Why?" You copied his pose, and now your heads were turned to each other ten centimeters apart. You didn't find it awkward.

"I can show you everything else, too. If you're afraid or not sure. I mean it's not hard to find a man who'll get off on your innocence," you wrinkled your nose imagining a pervert that would ask you to put on bows and white stockings. "Or I can guide you through, teach you anything you'll need before you start workin'."

"Why would you do that?"

"Why not?" He shrugged his shoulders, trying to find a more convincing response. "It's in my best interest, isn't it?"

You shrugged your shoulders back, your nakedness becoming mundane to you, even though you started feeling chills creeping up your body as the towel failed to keep you warm.

"So?"

"Yeah, I think it'd be best," the pleasure Joel gave to you still thrummed through your veins, making your decision easier than it should've been. "For the both of us."

thank you for reading, leave a comment if you liked it!

#joel miller x reader #iamasaddie fic #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #tlou fic

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zanarkandskylines · 2 months

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₊✩‧₊◜ a special morning hike

『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — inspired by the one and only Sharmeleon/Sharla in Japan’s beautiful sunrise from Ibaraki, Japan clip at the Oarai Isosaki Shrine’s seaside torii gate! couldn’t help but think about how much a hiking fanatic like Katsuki would adore the sight. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist ｡‧˚ʚ ao3 version | word count; ~1.7k ɞ˚‧｡

April 15th: 4 years, 6 months and 18 days you’ve been entangled in Katsuki’s web.

But who’s counting?

The two of you met at the start of your twenties, interning at the same hero agency for pro-hero training. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to stay late at the office to catch up on paperwork, often keeping one another company into the night. One thing led to another, and here you are!

He’d just moved up a few ranks on the hero charts this past season - number three! - which was more than enough reason to celebrate this weekend. It just so happened to be a few days before his 25th birthday, too. He was none the wiser to your little plan, the aforementioned accomplishments hiding the real celebration.

Traveling four and a half hours from home was not as bad as you thought it would be, but exhausting nonetheless. The two of you are winding down in the resort’s hot spring together after dinner, the leftover sun rays peaking through the fence and reflecting off the steamy water.

“Never thought I’d be one ‘ta like shit like this,” Katsuki sighs, sinking lower into the oasis’ warmth. “ ‘s nice.”

You can’t help but smile, relaxing deeper into the water yourself. “Worth every penny to spoil you, handsome.”

He playfully splashes water in your direction, flustered by your praise. “Yeah, yeah.”

By the time eight rolls around, you’re drained from the long travel day and relaxing back in your hotel suite. You can tell Katsuki is too with the way his eyes are struggling to stay open while lounging on the couch.

“We’ve got an early day tomorrow, let’s turn in. We gotta be up at five!” You say as you nudge his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ five?!” He groans, slumping against the couch. Even though he always went to bed early, somehow Katsuki was never a morning person after all these years.

“Yep! Breakfast and then the sunrise is at six. We can come back and rest after that for as long as you want.”

“Better be the best goddamn sunrise for all that effort.”

You were hellbent on making it memorable for him, nerves be damned. You only had one shot at this and it had to be perfect.

He deserves nothing but the best in your eyes.

The alarm sounds in the darkness at five the next morning, earning dual groans from under the covers of your bed.

“Morning sunshine,” you croak as you’re rolling over to kiss Katsuki good morning. He ruffles your hair and accepts your kiss with a huff.

“Mornin’ baby. C’mon, get up before ya trap us in bed by snugglin’ up to me. This was your idea.”

Still in the process of waking up, the two of you successfully get dressed for the chilly spring morning and head to the resort lobby for breakfast. A stack of pancakes and plate of eggs later, you take Katsuki’s hand and lead him outside the resort to the nearby trail.

“It’s a five minute walk this way!” You exclaim, a little too chipper for his liking this early in the day.

“What’s got ya so…peppy?” He asks quizzically, weirded out by your burst of energy. “You’re usually still dead to th’ world at this hour.”

You say nothing in response and continue tugging him along the trail, grin growing wider as you approach the shoreline. Shockingly, no one else is on the beach and you end up having the area to yourselves.

Yes! That’s one hurdle out of the way!

Right on time, the sun begins peaking out over the horizon as the waves crash around the torii gate in the distance. The scene is breathtaking - the way the water flows fills you with a sense of serenity and helps calms your shaking hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you can spot Katsuki gazing in awe as well at the scenery, taking in the moment with you. His eyes are glistening in the sunlight, ruby irises flickering in the sorbet glow.

Alright, now or never! You got this!

“Katsuki,” you start, taking his hands in your own and turning to face him. You’re hoping that the trembling in your fingers isn’t as noticeable as it feels. You could blame it on the cold, if anything.

“I love you, more than anyone in the world. I wanted to bring you out here to show you that-”

You’re interrupted by him…laughing. Cackling, even. It catches you off guard, making you want to go crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. Was he really laughing at your attempt to ask him one of the most important questions in your life?

Realizing how he could be coming off as the world’s biggest asshole, Katsuki stops laughing and squeezes your hands. “ ‘m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, sweets.”

“Then why are you laughing?” You pull your hands away from his, crossing your arms and casting your eyes to the dirt.

He grabs your shoulders, tracing down your arms and taking your hands once more. “Cause the timin’ is comical.”

He fidgets with one of the pockets in his coat, pulling out a red velvet box. That’s when you start laughing.

“No way, are you serious?!” Reaching into your jacket pocket, you fish out a black velvet box of your own.

The air suddenly feels much lighter, the sound of the ocean filling the silence as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I had a whole speech,” Katsuki whispers, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “And I wrote ya a letter back in the room.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. “So did I!”

You’re not sure what to do next - do you just…give it to him? Do you go through the speech anyways?

“What are ya waitin’ for? Ask me already, dammit,” he demands, taking a step back and placing his hands on his hips as a blush creeps over his features.

You giggle before composing yourself.

“Katsuki, I love you more than anyone in the world. I know you’re not one for cliches, but I wanted to show you this sunrise as a way to bring in a new dawn of our lives. You’re a flame in the dark that I can look to for warmth and always leads me back home. You’re the armor I wear everyday into battle, knowing you’ll always protect me from harm and keep me safe.”

At this point, you’re getting choked up on your own words as you hear them aloud. Carefully, you kneel to the ground in front of him, your legs threatening to give way from the nerves. When you look up at Katsuki, you can see a singular tear dripping from his jawline - the sight makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“I’ll sound like a broken record if I keep listing all the cliches I had in my head. That leaves me with just one question,” you pause to present the black box, opening to reveal a beautiful rose gold band with a golden stripe through the middle. “Katsuki Bakugo, will you marry me?”

Katsuki exhales the breath he was holding, eyes glassy as he narrows his focus on the ring in the box. He lets out a ‘tch’, grimacing playfully as he holds out his left hand.

His voice cracks as he answers with a simple, “Of course I will, idiot.”

Cautiously, you take his ring out of the box and slide it onto his left ring finger, praying you don’t drop it and ruin the moment. You stand to your feet, his left hand holding your own. He’s about to pull you in for a kiss when you stop him, placing your hand gently on his chest.

“Your turn now!” you beam, taking a step back and clutching your jacket. Katsuki’s face snaps from joy to fear, forgetting that he told you he was also planning to propose to you here moments ago. He places a hand on the back of his neck and sighs anxiously, his breath visible in the frigid air.

“R-right.” He clears his throat before taking hold of your left hand. “I…you know ‘m not a poet or whatever. ‘S why I wrote ya a letter cause I know I’d forget somethin’ important to say in the moment. I’ve been carrying around this box for weeks, not knowin’ just when I was gonna ask you. I’ve known for awhile now that I wanted…” he pauses, taking a shaky breath.

“…wanted you to be my wife. Is that weird to say?”

You nod your head, chuckling at his nervous rambling. “Not at all.”

“G-good. Cause there isn’t anyone else I wanna be beside and grow old with. It’s you, sweetheart…it’s always been you. Never thought I’d be lucky enough ‘ta find someone like you. But, I wouldn’t change it for anything. So,” Katsuki stops to crouch down on one knee, re-revealing the red velvet box from his pocket. The ring inside is absolutely gorgeous - a golden band intertwined with smaller gems and a pear-shaped diamond in the center.

“Y/N…will you marry me?”

You can’t help but choke back a sob when he drops the question, overwhelmed by the situation. The tears are forcibly streaming down your cheeks as you yell, “Yes!”

Katsuki doesn’t hesitate to grab your left hand and place the ring on your finger. Not surprising, it fits perfectly. You’ll have to grill him later on who he asked to snoop to get the right size - probably Uraraka or Jiro. Or maybe he took one of your decorative rings to the jeweler to mimic the size.

He rockets to his feet, hands shooting to cradle your cheeks immediately and places his forehead against yours.

“ ‘s just you an’ me, peach. I love you,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. Your arms lace around his neck as he picks you up, swinging you in his arms gracefully. When you part, he wipes a stray tear from your cheek and smiles from ear to ear.

The sun casts the last of its pastel hues and paints the scene of a new beginning - it’s the two of you, now and forever.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — Women proposing to men always make me sob, it’s so sweet and you know Kat would be a mess once you’re back in the hotel room. like “how dare you beat me to that!” while simultaneously sobbing over the fact you asked him first ✨

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader fluff #my hero academia fluff #bnha bakugou #bakugo imagine #☆.rei writes

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ravencincaide · 4 months

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Blurred lines

Summary: Having grown up together there were few lines you and Chuuya hadn’t crossed. But maybe that was a naive way of thinking OR the time your familiar banter was replaced with a ‘caring’ threat, which hid an almost carnal need.

Pairing: Best friends! Fem reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by sweetober prompt 21: Bathing

Warnings: Cursing & alcohol, nudity, banter, inappropriate behavior/ very light sexual content.

Enjoy?

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

You held back a smirk as you studied the glass of wine in your hand and purposefully twirled the red liquid an extra time to bring out more of its sweet notes. Satisfied that you aerated it enough, you finally raised it to your lips. Then; “ haven’t you heard of never entering a lady’s bathroom, especially when she’s taking a bath?” you asked, obviously faking anger. As if to hammer your point across you half-heartedly shifted the thick sea of bubbles over yourself. In reality neither shy nor bothered by being naked in front of him, but you did need to keep appearances if you intended to get away with your scolding.

This time it was Chuuya who rolled his eyes at you.“ I see no lady, just a goddamn brat who made me freeze in soaked, icy clothes while she leisured about in a hot bath sipping on wine” he snapped, stormy blue eyes narrowed dangerously at you.

Clearly, you did not get away with your scolding.

“ Hey! I said you can shower in the spare bathroom.” You defended yourself. Neither of you bothered to point out that said shower was shoe-sized, with broken tiles and barely any water pressure. Good enough for cleaning off blood and gore without dragging it everywhere, but that was about all it was good for.

Definitely far below a sophisticated creature like Chuuya.

“ Whatever, move over so I can have some space” Chuuya sighed as he began prying off the wet clothes which stuck to him like second skin. He managed to get his coat, hat and vest off in one go before the struggle began. After a few moments he let out a curse as his frozen fingers couldn’t quite get the buttons of his dress-shirt off.

“ You know it might go better if you take your drenched gloves off, right?” you suggested, earning yourself a dark glare.

“ A Lady should avert her eyes when a man is stripping” Chuuya’s voice was something between teasing and annoyed; typical banter that made up the majority of your conversations. Still he threw off his gloves to the side, clearly following your advice.

Unsurprisingly, stripping went much better for him after that.

“ Please, I've seen your micro penis already. There’s not much else to see” you waved your hand dismissively. Despite your words you leaned against the bathtub, your gaze on the wall as you took another large sip of wine. You were going to give him privacy; but only for the sake of your sanity.

“ We were children!” Chuuya growled as he finally wrestled out of the shirt. “ Anyway look at yourself, idiot”

“ I don’t have a penis, dumbass!” you scoffed.

“ No, thank fuck for that or you’d ruin it somehow with your idiocy; you’ve got any mans and womans dream- big boobs, and you still manage to make them look like deflated baloons!”

You gaped at him, eyes wide. “ How fucking dare you?!” you growled before you slapped your arm against the water, splashing him with warmth and bubbles. Effectively soaking his socks before he managed to move out of the way of the soap-water attack.

“ Hey stop that” Chuuya pointed a warning finger at you. “ These pants cost more than your yearly wages and they don’t do well with bath-water”

You rolled your eyes and slapped your arm down into the water once more, this time you made sure to drench at least one of the pant legs: “ Well what do they say? The uglier you are, the more expensive clothes you need to hide that?”

“ No one says that besides you, you dimwit,” Chuuya stated as he came over and flickered your forehead with a little too much force.

You wailed, dropping your head into your hand. You clutched it in pain; eyes tightly shut. You waited until the stars in your eyes subsided before you fixed him with a dark glare; “ Ow what the fuck? That hurt!”

By then Chuuya had slipped into the bathtub and leaned against the opposite side, one arm laid against the edge, the second one twirled the bottle in his hand, salvaging the fragrance for a moment. He deemed it satisfactory and flashed you the look.“ Hey, give me that!” Chuuya stretched his hand out towards you, clearly expecting you to hand over your wine glass. After all, he wasn’t a barbarian who’d drink straight from a wine bottle.

“ I’m still drinking from that glass, Hey–!” you called out as he yoinked the glass right out of your grasp, filled it up as he flashed you a grin as if to say ‘which glass? This one?’ before he took a sip from it. You noticed that his lips landed on the same spot you drank from- the place where the reminisce of your lipgloss stained the rim.

You could have sworn something shifted in his gaze as he stared at you; something which matched the soft pinkness of his cheeks. The pinkness which came from the heat of the bathroom and bathwater- right? You shook your head at your own pathetic thoughts. This was Chuuya of all people; of course he’d do something like that just to spite you. To get a rise out of you for his own amusement. The fact that you thought something else even for a second indicated that you must be more tipsy than you first thought. Especially if you even toyed with the idea that there may be a hidden meaning in his stare besides a threat of payback for his ruined pants.

You rolled your eyes then looked away from him, breaking eye contact first.

“Whatever, you’re still just a stupid jerk” You sighed before you turned your back to him and pressed yourself up against the corner of the bathtub. You rested your arms on the edge, and leaned your head on top of them. You closed your eyes, salvaging the warmth of the water against your skin and the natural lull in the conversation. With no wine, and no banter, just resting was the best way to prevent overthinking.

“ Oj don’t fall asleep on me; I’m not saving you if you drown out of your own stupidity” Chuuya said, as he was finally finished with your wine glass. You heard the gentle cling of it against the bathtub as he set it on the edge on his side instead of giving it back to you. Jerk.

You showed exactly what you thought of him by reaching up and flipping him the bird.

This earned you a heavy sigh; “ God you’re unbearable at times, you know that?” his voice sounded different in your ears, a tone you didn’t quite recognize. You shrugged it off, no doubt it was your drunken mind playing tricks on you again. Or maybe he was just trying to coax a reaction out of you which he could hold over your head for later teasing. You were not gonna fall for that old trick. Even as you heard the shift of water and sensed him come closer, you remained calm, relaxed, eyes firmly shut.

Until you felt his chest hit your back, his arms caged you on either side, hot breath in your ear. You froze at the proximity; was it his leg that brushed against yours beneath the surface of the water or..? If possible Chuuya came closer, his breath a hot whisper in your ear; “ You’re still so naive, leaving yourself all defenseless and vulnerable, letting a man into the bathtub with you; Don’t do it again- or next time things might not end so innocently.”

You gaped, then shook your head not believing what you just heard. “ W-What are you–?!” you spun around to face him but by then Chuuya had already stepped out of the bathtub, wrapped a towel around his waist and was half way out of the door. He did not spare you a second glance.

“ Chuu?” You called out carefully, still in shock.

Instead of answering, Chuuya took the last step out of the bathroom and closed the door firmly yet gently behind himself. He left you completely alone in the half cold bath waters. The action made you wonder if all that had actually happened, or if this was another one of those times when your drunk mind decided to play tricks on you, when it tempted you with something you knew would never be..

Authors note: Don't ask me what the hell this is and I'll not ask you why you're reading such questionable Chuuya content, deal? And for those of you wondering how the hell this could even begin to be "normal behaviour", mixed onsen is all I'm going to say..

#chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #sweetober #chuuya x you #Best friend Chuuya #bathing together #Chuuya fluff #bsd x reader #BSD fluff

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whump-kia · 9 months

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whump bloopers

based on this post by whumpkinpie!

Whumper, struggling with a line: I'll wipe that--that sly--fuck!

Whumpee: [cackling] C'mon, try it again.

Whumper: I'll wipe that sly little grin--from your--stop laughing!

Whumpee: I'm sorry! You just look so constipated!

Whumper: [Laughing, huffs in frustration] I swear to God, I'll wipe that smug look from your face if it takes me all goddamn night--

Director: And cut, that's the take!

Whumper&Whumpee: [dissolving into laugher]

Caretaker: Here, stay still, I'll apply pressure--

Whumpee: [wheezes] Less pressure! Less pressure, we're actors, I'm not actually dying!

Caretaker: Oh God, I'm so sorry, I'm-- [cackling]

Whumper: That's what happens when you don't listen, Caretaker. I'll do this to your precious Whumpee. [kicks an "unconcious" Whumpee with their foot]

Whumpee: [makes a small 'oof' sound]

Caretaker&Whumper: [bursts out laughing]

Director, also laughing: Cut, cut, Whumper, be gentle!

Whumpee: Get off me, you freak-- [Whumpee's hand gets free and slams Whumper right in the face]

Whumper: [Lets go, cradles nose] Oh my fuck--

Whumpee: I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, are you okay? Oh, no, I'm sorry--

Whumper: [Starts laughing] I mean, that's one way to get someone to let go of you!

[The scene starts, and Whumpee wakes up handcuffed to a chair with a start]

Whumper: Welcome back to the world of the living, Whumpee.

Whumpee: Who--where am I, who are you--

Whumper: Don't try to struggle, just stay still for me, okay?

Whumpee: [Tugs against the handcuffs, which immediately break in half]

Whumpee:

Whumper:

Director:

Whumpee: I'm free! [Takes off running]

Whumper: No!! My nefarious plot!!! [Cackling]

Whumper: [Grabs Whumpee by the collar and shoves them up against the wall, and immediately forgets their line]

Whumpee: Are we about to kiss?

Whumper: [Cackles wildly] I'm sorry, I lost the line!

Whumpee, also laughing: You just stopped dead! No light behind the eyes!

enjoy some random whump blooper prompts I have rattling in my brain thanks to whumpkinpie and her hilarious post a while back :D

#whump #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #whump bloopers #kidnapping tw

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robinwinged · 5 months

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escapism in "the boy and the heron"

Interrupting my regularly scheduled programming of Good Omens brainrot for this attempt to process the wonderful, fantastical, and distinctly discombobulating experience of watching Hayao Miyazaki’s “The Boy and the Heron.”

Miyazaki’s films, at least to me, have never been straightforward to follow. Spirited Away, for example, is a beautiful masterpiece whose meaning is difficult to decipher on a first watch, and is only fully unveiled when you dive headfirst into research of Japan’s context and the movie’s many symbolic themes. The Boy and the Heron takes this typical Miyazaki complexity and ineffability and turns it up to eleven. There are so many elements that seem random, so many narrative arcs and characters all warring for attention (what is the tower? why are the parakeets so goddamn bloodthirsty? why is the blue heron such a creepy old man?), that combine to create a whimsical but overall also very strange landscape.

I know that art in general does not have to have “meaning” or “a message” to be deserving of our love and attention. Art can be touching, affecting, disturbing, provoking - any number of things that would give it credit - and damn it if The Boy and the Heron isn’t all of these combined. But.

But.

This is also a Miyazaki movie, and he has proven once and time again why he is the master of hidden meaning, and so here, in no particular order, are my half-formed rambles on what I have personally think each movie detail that I struggled to puzzle out initially is about.

(spoilers below, so proceed with caution!)

The tower, time, and escapism

The tower is the central mystery point of the movie - a literal mystical rock that crashed down from the heavens and later lured Mahito’s grand-grand uncle (let’s call him the Tower Master for convenience’s sake) into its depths. Within the tower is a mirage world filled with magic but no real living beings, controlled by the whims of the Tower Master and nothing else that remotely resembles logic or reality. The tower also contains a series of doors that seem to lead to different points in time, if the ending is to go by and how the 13 blocks are meant to be pieces of worlds the Tower Master has visited. So what is this strange and fantastic realm, and what role does it play in the overarching narrative?

My hypothesis is that the Tower is a pocket free from the influence of time (think like the TVA in Loki) - a separate island running parallel to the fabric of the universe that contains portals to different points of past, present, and future. By itself, the pocket has no life or substance; it must be filled by the imagination - pure imagination, untethered to reality - of its main (human) inhabitant. This is why most of the ships are illusions rather than real objects, why the parakeets are so ridiculously odd and behave nothing like real

birds, why the fish is the size of Kiriko’s damn ship. Anything that is real, has to be brought in from the real world (see: the pelicans, Himi, and Kiriko). This is also why the parakeet king immediately topples the tower: yes, he is not the Tower Master’s descendant, but he is also not inherently a real sentient being, and an imaginary object cannot in itself sustain a further imagination.

So why does the Tower Master choose to sequester himself in this alternate space, where he can only exist alone with his own mysterious creations? I think the Tower Master represents those of us who wish to escape from reality, to inhabit worlds which we can control, where pain doesn’t have to touch us if we don’t wish for it (whether I’m projecting reallyyyyy hard at this point does not matter ok). He is an insanely avid reader, with books literally piled in small mountains throughout his living quarters, and don’t we readers (i.e me, again) always wish for escapism? The Tower Master, then, is an example of those who would rather become entrapped in our own minds rather than deal with the world beyond us - maybe, even in a way, a little like Miyazaki himself, whose imagination is so powerful but is also extremely singular and all-consuming, anchoring him to his creative work without reprieve of retirement until his reserves run dry (not to imply that the man is a hermit or that I want him to retire, quite the opposite in fact, but parallels, no matter how shaky, can still be drawn).

This, too, explains why the Tower Master needs Mahito to control the world for him. It is not because he’s grown old, since he cannot be affected by time in the Tower, but it is because his imagination is stagnating - he is no longer capable of finding new ways to balance the tower, he cannot sustain the fantasy any longer. In itself, this can already serve as a message from Miyazaki - we cannot hope to live only within the confines of our minds if we do not interact at all with the real world, because then at some point we will run out of material, of lived experiences to build on top of, and threaten to crumble the fragile imaginary world we have created.

Himi and her fire powers

Himi is a strange hiccup in the system - a rare occurrence of a living person in this fantasy playland that wasn’t brought into it during Mahito’s own entrance, like Kiriko. This theory is a little bit out there, I can totally appreciate that myself, but remember that one year in which Mahiko disappeared from the real world and then came back completely unchanged? I think she chose to stay there for much longer than a year, knowing that time didn’t work the same in this pocket world and she always had the chance to return to her original timeline through the handy door-portals. I think Himi has stayed there essentially until she met Mahito - so long that she actually grew into a part of the fantasy, developing impossible pyrokinetic powers and becoming a set part of the landscape in exchange for extended youth. But this stay didn’t come without consequences. In the real world, Mahiko passes away in a fire, at a younger age than would be expected. Perhaps this, in itself, is a punishment for cheating time - the universe reclaiming the years that Himi spent in the Tower. It’s also definitely not a coincidence that Himi can control fire in the Tower, and dies by fire in the real world; a form of lethal poetic justice, if you will. Seeing Mahito was the trigger for Himi to leave, to embrace her own destiny, because she could now see and be proud of the outcomes of her life and not have regrets about missing out on the life passing her by. (This interpretation would then necessarily imply a deterministic version of life and time, so it’s probably not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it makes sense in this version because you see doors way farther down than the present which Mahito steps into.)

The starving pelicans

The pelicans are another anomaly because they, too, are not figments of the Tower Master’s imagination, but instead have been brought into this fantasy world, for one reason or another, likely against their will. And this is where the Tower Master’s escape from reality cracks and burns at the foundation - he creates harm rather than good when he brings in the pelicans, because he does not account for the fact that they cannot exist without a source of food, and they then are forced to eat the Warawara to survive. The movie states that the Warawara are like baby souls, who ascend to become new lives, but I think it’s a little more metaphorical than literal rebirth. For me the Warawara are metaphorical ideas or seedlings of inspiration, the only parts of the Tower Master’s creations which aren’t fully formed, but allowed to grow by themselves and escape into the world - like passing the spark of creation to others outside the Tower. And the pelicans, involuntary prisoners of the Tower Master’s fantasy world, must prey on the Warawara before they have the chance to become real. This can be seen (if you squint real hard and do some violent spins so your vision is hella blurry) as the beginning of the end of the Tower Master’s reign - the forceful inclusion of other sentient beings inside his imagination doesn’t help him enrich his internal realm, but rather snuffs out the genuine inspiration that he could be passing onto others, creating pain where the Tower Master hoped to be spared from it.

Mahito’s rejection of the Tower

So with this central “Tower as escapism” theory, what does Mahito’s rejection to take over for the Tower Master mean? There is a moment that was so subtly powerful in that final exchange between the two, when Mahito stops denying the truth by telling everyone that he got his scar from falling, and instead admits that self-harm was the actual cause. At the beginning of the movie, I viewed that moment of very painful self-harm as Mahito’s wish to withdraw from the challenges of life - to live in isolation away from the grief over losing his mother, the challenges of being the rich new kid in town, the overwhelming discomfort of seeing his father shack up with his aunt. His reality is agonizing for him, and the fantasy land is so beautiful in its strange way that it could become a safe haven away from his trauma. But when Mahito says “no”, he is choosing reality; he is choosing to do the hard work, to face all the hardships life can throw at him, because he feels finally strong enough to not need to use imagination as an escapist crutch. In those final moments, Mahito is choosing to live in a world that he cannot control, because no matter how tough things get, he doesn’t have to do it alone - and that’s what I think Miyazaki is telling us too.

Of course, the movie also deals with themes of class conflict and war profiteering; grief and acceptance; continuing your ancestors’ legacies versus paving your own path, which many have already discussed and I don’t particularly have anything new to add to. Regardless, these themes are masterfully woven into the plot, as per usual, and serve to elevate the movie’s emotional impact into something heart-twisting and truly unforgettable.

Alright, ramble over - back to fandom lurking!

#the boy and the heron #studio ghibli #hayao miyazaki #the boy and the heron spoilers #robin rambles #the kind of movie that makes you think #or perhaps overthink??#the boy and the heron meta

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