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mariclerc · 2 months

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Charles jealous and possessive please! SMUT

Thanks for this request, it's the first time I've done something like this, so I hope it's good!!

You belong to me | cl16 (+18)

Summary: Where having dinner with Charles ends up being more than just dinner.

Warning: A little smut, slightly swearing, possessive and dominant Charles, little fluff at the end.

a/n: It's my first full attempt at writing smut I think it's not a harsh smut but I hope you like it!! Let me know if you want part two of this!! (with less smut pls)

You and charles were in a pretty elegant restaurant, both of you had decided to go out to dinner since you hadn't done so in a long time due to your somewhat tight schedules, but every time you two go out it feels very special, as if it were the first time.

“This place is so lovely, Charles.” You say softly.

“Mm-hmm.” He says a little distracted.

You glance up to find him staring intensely across the room, you follow his gaze until you reach a group of men on a nearby table, their eyes occasionally flickering towards you, looking at you like you're a piece of fresh meat on the prowl. You, out of mere courtesy, give them a tiny but uncomfortable smile, but that only seems to intensify their stares on you. You feel a pang of discomfort and quickly look away. Charles notices this and his jaw clenches ever so slightly, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his, his touch grounding you.

“They're staring a lot.” you murmur.

“Is that why you're tense?” he asks with a low voice, you nod. “Just ignore them.”

“Easy there, Charles. They're just looking a bit I think. And besides, I smiled awkwardly at them to get them to stop looking at me, but apparently it didn't work at all.”

“That's not just looking y/n, they look at you like you're fresh meat, like you're easy prey.” he says with his eyes narrowed.

He leans in closer, his voice barely a whisper.

“Besides, they wouldn't look if they knew who you belonged to, petite poupée.” (little doll)

His possessiveness sends a thrill through your body, a mixture of fear and excitement. You feel your cheeks flush once again, unable to meet his gaze. He's not usually this jealous or possessive of you, but when he does it's something that makes your legs weak.

“Wait... Are you jealous of them looking at me, Charles?” You ask him in a whisper.

He smiles flirtatiously as he flicks his tongue over his lip. “That question offends me, little princess... But let's say that I don't like when people look at what's mine.”

You are practically speechless at his words, which have a certain power over you in some way, you are one hundred percent sure that if you were somewhere else he would have already sat you on his lap to show everyone that you are his. The dinner continues in a comfortable silence, only interrupted by the sound of silverware and glasses clinking. His hand remains on yours, caressing your knuckles with such gentleness and dominance.

****

Later, you arrive home, the silence from the car ride spilling into the house. Charles unlocks the door and ushers you inside, he throws his jacket onto a chair and turns to you, his eyes burning with desire. He pulls your body close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“I don't like to sharing you, you know?” he whisper with his husky voice. “I don't like it when you smile at guys, I don't even like it when you talk to your guys friends to be honest.”

He started kissing the skin behind your ear, you felt a shiver go down your spine and you were starting to feel faint from his sexy smell.

“I swear, if you'd let another man kiss you or touch you the way I do... Oh god, I'd probably kill him out of rage.”

Charles grin widened, becoming more predatory as he spoke. “Just the thought of you kissing someone other than me, makes me see red.”

You turned your gaze a little but he spoke again. “Look at me when I'm talking to you. I want you to hear every single fucking word that I say. Don't look away babe.” He placed both his hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back towards him.

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his touch demanding and possessive. You melt into his embrace, the shyness melting away as his passion ignites a fire within you. His kisses trail down your neck, sending shivers down your spine causing you to let out a soft sigh. His kisses become urgent as you both get into the bedroom.

He gently lays you down on the bed, his desiring look never leaving yours. The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows, adding to the intensity of the moment.

He continues to explore your body with his sloppy kisses, his hands trailing down your arms, sending tingles of excitement cascading through you. You respond to his touch, your own desires rising to the surface.

He leans in close, his voice a husky whisper. “Tell me what you need, bella. Show me how much you're mine.”

Your shyness is replaced by a newfound boldness, fueled by the heat of the moment and the possessiveness he exudes. You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you, doing that action in response to his words.

His lips meet yours again in a kiss that speaks volumes, it's a kiss filled with possessive passion, but also a little bit of tenderness and a deep understanding of your unspoken desires. His hands explore every part of your body with a practiced ease, he knows how to make you feel alive, how to unleash the little fire that burns within you. You respond to his touch, your own hands roaming his body, taking in the warmth and strength that makes you feel safe and desired.

He slowly lowers your dress, taking the opportunity to look at you with passion and devotion. “Oh my god, you're so damn perfect.”

You blush at his words. “Thank you.” you say while blushing a little bit.

You stand up and your hands, slowly, unbutton his shirt, revealing his quite defined torso, the sight of you taking off his clothes one by one, in your delicate lingerie drives him completely crazy. He smiles when he sees you and, delicately, he picks you up in his arms and lays you down on the bed again, his hands exploring your body with a passion that sent shivers down your spine. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made your head spin, his hands caressed your sides so gently, getting lost in your delicate and small silhouette, he takes his time, savoring every touch, exploring every inch of your skin with a reverence that ignites a passion within you.

“Why don't we make this interesting, hm?” He says in a low, dangerous voice. He walks over and grabs the tie you had previously taken off and climbs on top of you on the bed, placing his tie over your eyes and tying it from behind, then he gets out of bed to appreciate your silhouette.

You start to feel anxious because the sensation you should have on your skin should not be that of the AC, it should be his hands touching you, kissing you and caressing every part of you. He enjoys seeing you like that, desperate, silently asking, begging for him to touch you.

After what seemed like an eternity, he starts walking towards you again, you gasp when you feel his hands part your legs, he smiles cheekily, starts kissing your ankles, your legs and thighs, he does it very slowly, which makes you desperate but at the same time you love it that way. Until he reaches your core, pushing aside your underwear, he works there with his mouth and tongue, in a slow way which it makes you let out a slight sigh or two.

He separates from your core. “Could you make those little sounds a little bit louder? I want the neighbors to hear you, to know that I make you feel good.” he says in a husky whisper.

Then he inserts two fingers inside while he continues licking and subtly biting your clit, you let out perhaps the loudest moan that has ever come out of your mouth, you feel how he smiles against your clit because of your reaction, which was what he expected from you. He separates from your core once again and rises towards your mouth, he kisses you with fervor while he continues ramming his fingers into you, the sensations are exhilarating and so burning and you feel like you're going to melt into him.

In an unexpected move he places you on his lap as if you were a baby and you feel like a touch between his hand and your ass cheek.

“You're mine... totally mine.” He whispers as he spanks you again.

You let out a hoarse moan as his other hand continues to work on your core, you feel a lot of strange sensations in your body, lust, pleasure, and at the same time a little fear, since this is a version of Charles that you never imagined.

“Say my name dolly.” He asks rigidly.

He spanks once more as you feel in your core a wave of pleasure. “Cha... Charles.” you moan.

“Come for me dolly, I know you can do it.” He whispers while you again feel with much more intensity the wave of pleasure in your core and explodes making you moan again. “Just like that baby, did you see how good I make you feel? Do you think someone will make you feel as good as I do? I don't think so.” He whispered softly as he removed his tie from your eyes. “Lie down, don't think we're done princess.” He orders you and you do it instantly.

He takes off his boxers to reveal his big cock, Your cheeks blush and he moves closer to you to leave wet kisses on your neck. “Do you like what you see little princess?” you nod shyly “Well, it's all yours.” He says against your neck as he sucks on it making you moan. “Raise your arms little princess.” You do it as he says and tie your wrists with the tie.

His kisses go down to your breasts where his mouth enjoys playing with your nipples, licking and biting lightly, making you shiver, his mouth rises to yours again to kiss you while he aligns himself with your entrance, which he enters with a single push, making you let out a very loud moan. His thrusts were fast and at the same time slow, a combination that drove you crazy, but in a good way, his mouth passed between your mouth, your neck and your breasts, adding more arousal to the moment.

Your breaths were hurried and choppy, your moans and grunts the only thing audible in the room, there was something primal about how he made you feel, how he felt inside you.

“God, you're so tight for me baby.” he said in a hushed whisper in your ear, the sound of his voice makes you shiver with pleasure. “God, you'll make me come, shit.”

His thrusts became more constant and faster, his hands caressed your entire body reverently, his grunts and your moans became louder and louder until again, the wave of pleasure returned again to make you tremble under his body, his thrusts were already clumsy while your legs were shaking. One last thrust was enough for you two to come almost at the same time, he lay down next to you while you both caught your breath, he untied the tie from your wrists and, looking at the marks, he left some kisses on the area.

“Oh my god... Did I hurt you darling? Was I too aggressive?” He asks, his voice low and practically whispering.

You deny, shaking your head. “Just enough... I think.” you let out a little giggle. “But it was... Incredible? Yes, that is the word!”

He smiles. “Oh honey, sorry for being an idiot and getting jealous, it's just that...” He started to say but you gave him a small kiss.

“It doesn't matter, I already know that I am yours and that I belong to you, am I right?” you asked and he nods.

“Come little princess, let's clean you up, okay?” He says as he lifts you in his arms and takes you to the bathroom, where he delicately cleans you with a damp cloth and at the same time gives you kisses. “Hmm... “I think I overdid it with the kisses on the neck.” He said, seeing the slight purple hickey that was forming on your neck.

You smile. “At least people will know that I'm yours, or was that not the plan?”

“But of course it was bébé!” (baby)

He carries you again to go back to bed, tucks you in but not before looking for some water and some fruit for you.

“Open wide baby.” He says as you open your mouth to bite into the strawberry he is offering you. “Good girl, my pretty good girl.” After devouring the strawberry, he gives you some water to cool off after all that whirlwind of sensations that he provided you.

After both he and you ate fruit and drank water, you snuggled under the covers, enjoying the remaining warmth your bodies provided. He may not be the very jealous type of boyfriend, but when he is, oh god, he's a Pandora's box... Full of quite pleasant surprises.

#formula one x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut

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astrophileous · 6 months

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ANYTHING with jealous Reid <33333

HI ANON ty for the request! I hope you'll like this one 🥰❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, profanities, jealous spencer, that's it rlly this is mainly just fluff 💞

This blurb has a part two.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Supernovae had always been known for their extremely high temperature. Nearing the end of its life, a mature star would go through an explosion so stupendous, it would eject almost the entirety of its mass. During this stage of a star's life cycle, the core temperature of a star could potentially rise to be in the billions of degrees Fahrenheit, making it appropriate for a supernova to be credited as the hottest object ever known in the vast universe.

But as Spencer sat on the chair behind his desk, his fingers tapping impatiently on the surface, he was certain that not even the temperature of a supernova could rival the heat rising steadily inside his chest.

The flame raged unlike anything he had ever known. It flourished with every second Spencer spent staring at you from across the room. You were laughing at something your present company had said, and Spencer instinctively gripped the arm rest of his chair as the fire in his ribcage roared even wilder.

Spencer was on the edge of his seat, ready to prowl at any second, when a presence unexpectedly slid right next to him.

"What are you doing?" Emily Prentiss asked, perching herself on the edge of Spencer's desk without a care in the world.

"Nothing," the young man answered distractedly. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you still had those ginger candies you shared with me last week?" Emily wondered as she began to rummage through his drawers. "Where do you keep it?"

Silently, Spencer opened his bottom drawer, pulling out a tin box where he stored the sweets Emily was looking for.

"You're an angel on earth, Dr. Reid." Emily grinned, popping a candy into her mouth. "Are you okay, by the way?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've been throwing daggers at (Y/N) and Anderson for the past three minutes."

"I have not."

"Yes, you have."

"You're mistaken. Maybe you were just seeing things."

"Reid, you're literally glaring at them right now as we speak." At Emily's observation, Spencer begrudgingly tore his gaze away from the two people across the room. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. I told you," Spencer insisted, his eyes once again returning towards the pair on the other side of the bullpen. "Hey, do you know how (Y/N) and Anderson became close like that?"

"Haven't they always been friendly?"

"Friendly? Yes. But not like... that." Spencer pressed his lips, trying to contain the scowl when he saw you grip Anderson's forearm as you beamed at the other agent. "Since when does (Y/N) laugh like that with him?"

Emily flicked her eyes repeatedly between yours and Spencer's face. A smirk emerged on her lips when understanding finally dawned on her. "Oh my God, you're jealous."

Spencer didn't think he ever whipped his head so fast in his entire life.

"You're jealous of Anderson. Holy shit, that makes so much sense! You're actually jealous."

"What are you talking about? I'm not—I'm not jealous!"

"Of course you are. Why else would you get so hostile at the mere sight of those two talking?"

"I was just... asking a question. I wanted to know why they suddenly seemed so close, that's all."

"Of course you did."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Right. Of course you are." Emily snickered. She got up from his desk and started walking away, all the while belting out a ridiculously jesty song she obviously just made up, "Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S! Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S!"

The young Doctor frowned at Emily's teasing. He glanced towards where you had been standing only to see you sauntering towards his direction. Spencer automatically busied himself with the random papers on his desk, acting as if he had only noticed your presence as you sat down on your desk right across from his.

"Working hard, Doctor?" you quipped jubilantly, rearranging the case files on your desk as you hummed an unfamiliar tune under your breath.

"Something like that," Spencer replied, closing the documents he wasn't even reading as his full attention landed on you. "What did Anderson want?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. He was just asking if I was free this weekend, that's all."

Spencer unwittingly clenched his jaw at your reply. "What's this weekend?"

"A cricket game. Apparently, Grant has always been a big fan, so he was very excited when I told him I used to play back in college. Too bad I can't come to the game, though. I promised my mom I would visit her this weekend."

Spencer could merely nod at your explanation, pretending like his brain hadn't short-circuited when you referred to Agent Anderson with his first name. The fog in his head only started to dissipate when Derek called for the two of you from the bullpen doors, asking if any of you would like to join him for lunch.

"You coming, Doctor Reid?" you asked as you stood up from the chair, pocketing your phone and wallet in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be right there. You guys just go ahead."

You flashed him one last bright smile before skipping all the way towards where Derek was waiting. A sense of calm washed over him when he saw you glancing back, offering a small wave in his direction. Spencer could feel the smile blooming on his face before it was soon chased away by the sight of Anderson standing by the door, holding it open as you laughed gratefully at him.

Fuck it.

It looked like Emily was right after all.

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cursedmoon-doll13 · 9 months

Text

Blackhearted

(Sirius Black x Reader)

Cw: Noncon, Angst, Smut, Afab Reader, Dark!Sirius, PnV Sex, Somnophilia, Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Crying, Forced Orgasm, Tender But Nasty™️, References to Alcohol Abuse, Reader has head + pubic hair, this got kinda bleak and depressing

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: 12 Grimmauld Place is a miserable home.

But for now, it is yours. A lost and vulnerable soul, you find refuge in the owner of the house; a man as troubled as yourself. Unbeknownst to you, he’s sunken his teeth in far deeper; clutching onto you like a lifeline, and the dark, harrowing isolation of winter may drive him to commit acts unforgivable…

Ao3 || Masterlist || Dividers by @/saradika

In mid-February, it’s so cold, so desolate, it reminds him of sharp, icy fingers, clamping down on— His childhood home, decrepit with neglect and age, is the last place Sirius ever hoped to return to. It’s lost, crumbling into undignified ruins, deteriorating into filth. With his pest of a house elf still clinging to the old family values, it’s properly gone to the dogs, and he’d gladly let them pick off the carcass.

But now you’re hiding alongside him - not by choice - you’ve taken it upon yourself to try and ‘fix it up.’ Sirius almost scoffs at the mere thought of it— At you, whose nose wrinkles distastefully at the grime and mould that gracefully adorns his kitchen. You don’t understand that the disease has progressed far beyond the point of recovery. It’s everywhere; it’s in the air you breathe, in the walls, in the carpet. It’s lurking inside the very infrastructure, festering like cancerous growth. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, haunted by its rotting opulence: the decaying decor, the cursed, priceless artefacts, the tattered, hateful portraits, courtesy of mum.

Sirius, who has long since forgotten the luxury of owning his own clothes, wraps himself in the same mothball ridden finery his father died in. Sometimes he feels— He’s eaten alive by the fabric. By vestiges of the past. It still stinks of stale drink, and on nights like these, Orion’s son glares down at the bottom of an empty wine bottle, and thinks that he might be following in his footsteps after all.

On a night like this, the aged floorboards squeak under his heels as he prowls the dilapidated halls. Sirius’ stalking route leads to you, as it usually does, far past midnight. Your bedroom door is sealed tightly shut - probably to keep the heat in - but you never lock it. As if he isn’t dangerous.

Gripping the weathered knob, he twists it, and lets himself in. The dim, yellowy glow of the gaslamp bolted to the corridor wall is his only light, flickering as it pours into the musty guest room he’s lent you. Sirius lingers on the precipice, his fingers still curled around the handle, sobering up rapidly.

Blinking slowly, he looks down at you.

You’re lying on your side, both arms grasping the pillow, dressed in that novelty pyjama set (‘to ward off the draught,’ was the unspoken function of it) Tonks had gifted you for Christmas; a sort of consolation prize. Greatest sympathies, to prepare you for the sordid husk you’ll now inhabit— With him, no less, a man you thought at first to be a killer.

And you, well… You’ve been left skittish from whatever you’re on the run from. He reckons that’s why you’ve latched onto him so powerfully, hoping this unredeemed convict will see fit to protect you from the isolation and the horrors. To help fill the long stretches of time when it’s just been the both of you to keep each other company. Sirius can’t deny his own strong attachment towards you.

Your presence is comforting, and he’s fallen deeply. Too deeply. It’s why he so often finds himself standing here, watching over you. Sirius envies you, the peaceful sleeper. But he also covets you; if only you’d stay and lay beside him, to heal wounds never spoken of… But he doesn’t know how to ask.

Silently, he crosses the boundary.

Rising over your unconscious form, he lifts the quilt, a heavy, lumpy thing, and tentatively rests his knee on the mattress. You sleep peacefully on, even as the rusty old bed-springs squeak underneath him. Sirius slides his exhausted body in behind you, and the dark mass of his own scraggly black hair spills over the cushion. For a moment, he lies there, unmoving and quiet. Even at this safe, chaste distance, your body heat, radiating off you in gradual waves, is enough to soothe the permanent chill that’s seeped into his bones… Sirius can’t resist. He shifts, before placing his forefinger over your throat.

Sirius can feel your pulse, throbbing with blood; you’re a real, flesh and blood human, warm and alive. Merlin, he’s been deprived for so long, a strong vein feels like it’s a lifeline. This is all he’s ached for, but— No... No. He’s already overstepped a line, one he shouldn’t have ever— He needs to stop, he needs to leave, now, before this all goes too far and he ruins it; ruins you, as he knows he inevitably will.

But he doesn’t. Sirius’ breath catches in his throat as he tilts his chin ever-so-slightly, and he presses his cold mouth against your exposed nape. You twitch, but do not stir. Sirius licks his dry lips and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, as he nudges down the fleeced collar of your pyjama shirt with his thumb. The slope of your neck is covered in fine, delicate hairs, and he can’t help but smile affectionately down at you. Your defenceless state is sweetly endearing. To be so close to you like this, almost holding you, tender as lovers.

Sirius hesitates, then, squeezing his eyes shut as he endures the lurch of churning revulsion in his gut (he shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t—), he leans forward and plants a string of wet kisses over your bare flesh. So human, so vulnerable… You twitch again, shivering as the ticklish brush of his whiskers rubs lightly over your naked skin. Shame burns like acid in his stomach; but his need for you burns brighter, hotter than fire now, all-consuming… He heaves a jagged sigh, and, unable to stop himself, drags the starving flat of his tongue over your neck, lapping up hungry stripes of perspiration. Sirius tightens his grip on you and shudders with relief— He’s finally quenched his thirst, if only a little. Your intoxicating scent, your taste…

He’s stolen things, too, before this; he’s not proud of it, but he’s done it. It’s convenient enough to blame it on Kreacher, who hoards all sorts of objects in the first place… What is the difference, really, between the Black family heirlooms and soiled knickers from the wicker basket? No, It hasn’t been so hard to convince you it was Kreacher; to lie and to fib— his old, senile house elf is simply a raging kleptomaniac… You trust him so much… And now Sirius has gone and betrayed that trust entirely.

Merlin, he needs to stop, he needs to… This should be enough… No, it’s not enough… It’s never enough, he’s barely touched you… Sirius groans feebly into the nape of your neck, slipping the palm of his hand under your nightshirt, desperate for your sacred, lifesaving heat, just a little bit— And then he’ll stop, immediately— just a tiny bit more… You shiver once more, twitching repeatedly as the pads of his fingertips skim over your stomach, still asleep… Sirius brushes his lips over your throat again, as he locks you in wiry arms, inching up your shirt, exposing you to the dark and cold. He traces the slats of your ribs, searching further, until he comes to knead coyly at your breast, teasing your nipple. He dips, finding the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, thumping robustly… Proof of life.

And you’re definitely real, aren’t you? Not a hallucination, not some illusion… He’s sleepless for the nightmares, but the dreams are always worse, because they remind Sirius of everything he can’t have, not ever again… But he can have you. This stray thought, forceful and insidious, leaks into the dark recesses of his brain. Yes, He can have you— It’s his house, his rules, isn’t it?

Fuck, he’s disgusting. The realisation of what he’d just conceived of, even momentarily, assaults him with a new stab of remorse. Sirius flinches away, pulling his offending hand out of your pyjamas; but the damage has already been done. By now, he’s pressed flush against you, leeching off your comforting warmth, and his dick is straining tightly against his trousers. Merlin… He’s perverse.

He throws his forearm over his eyes, blinding himself. Sirius intended for this to be a wholesome encounter, to be sweet and innocent. And now… Have all those years of degradation truly rotted him to the core? Is this what he’s become now? A lustful wretch? This has gone too far, too far— He should leave—

But now, Sirius has known your touch, and it’s embedded itself parasitically into his mind. He’s swiftly hurtling into addiction; he can’t settle for mere table scraps— To retreat with his tail between his legs, only to find a cold and lonely bed, would be unbearable... Sirius rattles a breath, grasping onto that frayed rope of inherited entitlement he’d meant to cut off a decade ago— He deserves this one thing, surely, after a life of torment… Right?

You twitch again, mumbling incoherently. Sirius grimaces. He needs to be careful… You might be a heavy sleeper, but he’s already disturbed you too much. If you wake up screaming… He wouldn’t like to think of what he might do. But he’ll stop— He’ll stop after this, he swears it to himself, licking his lips, feeling harder and hungrier than ever.

Sirius’ forearm props up your leg for him to gain enough access, spreading your thighs open. It’s awkward, but he manages. He tugs down the waistband of your pyjama bottoms, just a bit, so he can touch you, feel you so close to him… Sirius’ hand brushes over a soft tuft of your pubic hair, and he twitches a faint smile… So endearingly vulnerable, before dipping his fingers into your pussy.

You’re not aroused, but the heat of your core is enough to satisfy him, if only temporarily. Sirius hasn’t done anything like this for a long time; it feels unfamiliar, like all human contact does. He nudges away the curls, tracing your labia, before recalling the shape and form of it, and gently rubbing your clitoris. Fondness, mixed in with his sickening shame, rushes into him, and he presses his lips to your nape again, pleading and soothing like an apology.

Then, Sirius bites his tongue, justifies himself with the excuse of repaying you with sweet dreams, and pushes his index finger deeper inside your pussy. He hums quietly, indulging in your little twitches, the way your walls flutter around him. It’s not particularly romantic to pleasure you without receiving consent, but lying back-to-chest in the darkness, planting scorching kisses down your neck, he can use his mind to fill in the gaps. Easing out his intruding hand, Sirius tastes the heady flavour of your slick— Merlin. He licks his fingers greedily, drenching them in spit, before plunging them back into your warm cunt, spreading wetness over your folds.

You let out a sleepy whimper at his touch, and he pauses, going completely stiff with alarm. But— But you haven’t woken up… And now he’s uncontrollable, beyond all morality, relishing in your soft, breathless gasps as he toys with your clit, his damp fingers sliding easily in and out of your pussy. You moan faintly, and the noise vibrates straight to his cock. He’s throbbing, now... Groaning, he forces down his guilt and remorse, discarding them as trite, worthless things. You’re enjoying it, aren’t you? Though you’re still fast asleep— Yes, maybe you’ve hoped for this all along… Secretly. Secretly. Of course, you’ve just been too embarrassed to admit it, but that’s fine… Right now, you’re all his.

But that’s still not enough.

Sirius knows what he truly needs; to bury himself inside of you, to merge with you entirely, to steal your warmth for himself— This aching desire, it’s wrong, so revoltingly wrong, but so is he; the entire expanse of flesh covering his body feels like prison, mired in filth, and he’ll never be clean again… He only wishes you could alleviate his pain— Oh, but you can, Sirius will find solace in your heat even if he has to take it from you. He grinds his palm against his temple as he decides. He fights it, but his selfishness wins… Yes, he needs it, needs you— Fuck, he’s about to do something unforgivable, commit a genuine offence; but he’ll make it up to you, of course he will—

Sirius carefully shuffles down your pyjama bottoms until they’re bunched up around your ankles, followed by your moist panties. He shifts, now painfully hard and weeping in his trousers, and allows your thigh to fall momentarily to unbutton them and release his erection. Rigid and leaking precum, his dick falls over your ass. He readjusts his position on the bed and strokes himself roughly, before hooking his forearm around your leg and lifting it. You jerk unceremoniously and mumble, stirring, but he ignores you— He’s too close, he’s gone too far now… Gritting his teeth, Sirius guides his cock into you, finding you elusive and slippery in the dark, but— The slick of your folds sliding along his length feels heavenly. Sirius licks his lips, smearing precum over your inner thighs, and finally enters you.

He stifles a raspy moan into your neck. The hug of your tight, wet heat is almost overwhelming— Shuddering, he wholly eases himself inside you. Merlin, you feel so perfect around him… Sirius, gasping rapturously, begins to move, savouring every long, torturous drag against your gummy walls. You’re rousing, now, slurring confused murmurs— “What, what’s going on, hm…”

Sirius doesn’t miss the flutter of lashes, a sharp intake of breath— But he continues, regardless, thrusting in slow, tender arcs. Flinching, you let out a strangled, high-pitched noise, and that’s how Sirius knows you’re truly awake— But he’ll make it up to you, he will— he spreads your thighs wide, to penetrate further, sucking affectionate bites into your neck as he ravishes your quivering body. You tremble and shriek, and your panicked struggling fills him with guilty regret. But he needs this now, he needs you now, he’s been alone for too long— And he’s not going to stop until he’s finished taking you… Feverish, Sirius’ other forearm digs underneath the pillow you’re clutching onto, white-knuckled. He tightens his grip on you before he sinks in deeper, spearing into your intimate core

You whimper, spasming involuntarily. Sirius rumbles with approval, his lips still latched onto your throat. He grabs your thigh firmly, bracing himself against the old headboard. He growls and snaps his hips upward, hitting that delicious spot over and over, trying to elicit more of those sweet noises from you. Even if you’re being frustratingly reticent - too shy, he pretends - you’re still unable to muffle your cries, twitching and writhing in his relentless grasp.

The bed creaks noisily as he hastens his pace, showering wet kisses on your rapidly bruising flesh. His movements are heated and urgent now, growing increasingly desperate— Now he’s inside you, he must fill you utterly— He longs to feel alive with you, slipping a hand down towards where you join together and connect, feeling the way his cock effortlessly slides in and out of your pussy. He dips further to rub harshly at your clit, and you whine, arching. Sirius strokes you mercilessly, his wrist cramping from the awkward positioning—

But it doesn’t matter, you’re spurring him on with your ecstatic moans, croaky with tears. He doesn’t let up, teasing in sloppy, frantic circles as he bucks into you, revelling in the stickiness of your skin against his; the lewd, wet sound of flesh-on-flesh is obscene. Sirius groans hoarsely, his hips jerking and stuttering as your cunt squeezes around his dick with his every forceful thrust— You are enjoying this…

Fuck, he is too— Hot pleasure jolts up his spine like the tightening of a knot; and you, crying out with loud whimpers as your spongy insides clench and squeeze around him— Sirius can’t take it anymore. He forgoes gentleness, pounding into your cunt with beastly intensity. You choke out a sob, lurching away from him, but he overpowers and holds you down, still abusing your sensitive clit— He’s going to fuck you until you cum, whether you want it or not— And his hungry mouth returns to sink livid, red marks into your neck, teeth grazing your artery. Something in the wooden bed frame cracks ominously—

But he ignores it, his breathing growing laboured and husky as he slams his hips into you, again and again, forcing you to whine until your voice breaks. You’re shaking violently in his grip— He can sense it, and you’re close, so close— He’s getting sloppier; rapidly approaching orgasm, and your reactions are boiling his blood, whipping up a primal frenzy in his brain— Sirius pinches your clit, and you climax.

Your euphoric moan chokes into a loud sob. Sirius growls at the way you clench around him, and pins you down with his body weight. His hand slips and pushes your leg up high, fucking you harder still through your orgasmic tremors— He’s following right behind you, on the cusp— You’re impossibly tight—

Merlin, you’re so damn tight— Sirius barely remembers to— He pulls himself out with a heavy groan, and his seed spills messily over the inside of your thigh. Hazy static pours over him, smothering the guilt, the emptiness… As it gradually tapers out, he feels the absence of your heat, of your closeness, and it pangs like the pain of starvation. It takes a moment for him to recover, lying beside you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Then, he pushes himself up onto his elbow.

Panting, Sirius’ damp hair clings to his forehead, stinging his eyes. He wipes it, and fog clears, revealing only desecration.

As if murdered, you lie very still— Or try to, but your breathing is ragged and uneven. You’re glistening with orgasmic sweat, chest heaving as he rests your trembling leg back onto the mattress. You jolt, as if hiccuping, still wracked with sobs. Sirius’ heart aches for you— Merlin, no, what has he done?— He wants to take this moment back, but it’s too late now. The only fix he can think of is practical, like ridding a crime scene of evidence…

Sirius pulls out his wand, flicking shakily, evaporating his cum, but the scent of your lovemaking still lingers, thick in the air. With as much dignity as he’s able to grant you, he tugs your pyjamas and knickers up your hips. He tucks himself in and buttons his trousers, swimming in post-climax numbness. For a few minutes, he resumes his vigil behind you, as if he’d never done it at all. But you’re colder and distant; farther away than he’s ever felt you. Sighing, he gently strokes your hair. You don’t flinch or shiver away from his touch, but lie still, perfectly still… Your tear-stained cheek is still stuck to the damp patch on your pillow. Sirius passes over it deliberately. You’ve been asleep this entire time, blissfully unaware… That’s a lie he’ll peddle for both of your sakes, until this all melts safely into a nightmare.

It’s agony to tear himself away from your warmth, but Sirius knows he’s ruined everything by violating you, and lingering will only hurt you more. He presses one final, adoring kiss to your neck, yearning to embrace you, then slips wordlessly out of bed.

To forbid himself, he uses magic to bolt the lock.

Morning brings clarity.

He walks into the kitchen, and the stone tiles clack under his boots, echoing, echoing… You’re there, also, preparing a slow, tedious breakfast.

The silence is heavy. Sirius wants to break it, but the quiet feels impenetrable; a chasm of his own design. For a moment, he frowns, looming uneasily over the dining table, aggravated by the clinking of the jar as you spread jam on your toast, eyes downcast.

Then, he pulls out a rickety chair and sits down.

You don’t smile at him today. You don’t return his probing gaze. You knife up more slimy jam— Too much, now, and the bread has gone soggy.

If you’d only burst into tears, he’d gladly take you in his arms to hold you now. Sirius could be your solitary comfort, as you have been his… Only, your new, withdrawn, gloomy state unnerves him. His face darkens… Your bond has truly been broken.

But there’s something else, too.

Remorse gnawed his flesh until daybreak, and was scarred over by something cruel and hard, burrowing gruesomely inside him like an infection.

He could think of it this way: returning to his old childhood home has done very, very strange things to him. Yes… That’s it. Sirius has never had anything so warm and lovely in this place... And indeed, he’s spent much of his life out of control and powerless… But he does have power over you. It occurs to him abruptly. He does have power over you.

Sirius leans back in his chair with a squeak. His guilt, hot and shameful, broils fiercely in his gut, but it intertwines with a kind of grim satisfaction.

It’s his house, his rules…

So why shouldn’t he have you?

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter smut #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black smut #dark sirius black #dark sirius #post azkaban!sirius #post azkaban sirius x reader #tw noncon #smut #angst #my writing

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anantaru · 1 year

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𝐃𝐎𝐍‘𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋

after you were trying your hardest, over and over again, to make your relationship work yet still failing in the end, you ultimately decided it‘d be better to end it with scaramouche.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 1.7k

୨୧ WARNINGS: angst, gn! reader, mention of past intimacy between each other, break up, slight yan ?? a sprinkle, scara‘s overwhelmed and doesn‘t know how to be normal.

love.

love is kind, patient. As calm as a rural sea on a silent night.

love takes delight in the truth, in mutual understanding and trust. It never takes offense, it is not resentful.

additionally, love is able to forgive, to hope and to endure so why, why did your love fly away, with no strings and a pair of attached, imaginary wings on their back?

how often did you try to see the once shining radiant light in midst the insufferable darkness you called your relationship with scaramouche.

being guided by nothing but sorrow, you remembered that it wasn‘t always like that, was it?

as a strong believer in the saying of ”whatever you held onto about yourself will eventually come true“, you had manipulated yourself into thinking just that, which had later on caused a swell of deep hope to cover the majority of your burning heart.

you manifested for your relationship to take a sharp turn after barely overstepping each hard coming without escaping unscattered.

committing to a relationship was first and foremost, to accept each trait your significant other had, it truly didn't matter if it was good or bad as long as you were well equipped enough to be there for them.

but when does that not apply anymore?

exactly when it seemed as if you were forgetting about your own well being.

you see, you can twist and turn the narrative but in the end it was obvious that scaramouche had to work through more than 'just' a few hardships.

maybe it would be better for his own health to be alone for a while, to find his true nature and gather a newfound feeling of love towards himself before being able to hold love towards another person.

with an aching, deep throb in your heart, you opened the door to the bedroom you once shared as you spotted your boyfriend, well, soon to be ex boyfriend right away, sitting on the edge of the bed, his sight lowered towards the cold floor.

"you‘re here."

with the burn of pain those words caused alone, the idea of holding yourself back was in vein, scaramouche had you already figured out from the start so hiding the blatant truth would only feed into each negative aspect of the conversation that was developing right now.

"you told me to come, why shouldn't i be here?"

it was strange, truly, the immediate change in his usual tone was apparent, scaramouche sounded distant, as if he already knew what was coming next.

breaking away from your frozen stance, you proceeded to close the bedroom door, each small step well thought out until you were as close as necessary, proceeding.

"can you look at me?"

no matter how much you wanted to get this heartfelt decision over with, you still desired to end it properly, without leaving unanswered questions hidden which would sooner or later poke your mind, more so eat you from the inside out until nothing was left to be devoured.

for a short amount of time, he did not speak, his arms were resting on his thighs as he kept his eyes pierced towards the cold wooden floor, never daring to break away.

you gave him the time, as much as he sought after. At the back of your mind ominous darkened thoughts found refuge in, a cold spider like sensation was swarming up and down the entirety of your spine, deepening the restraint in your voice.

you watched in silence, thousands of questions prowling through your cloudy mind as he, in a trice, decided to speak up, "how ungraciously backward you can be, to force me through this."

the inner voice inside you churned through your body, desperately warning you, a dazed look of bewilderment crossing the irritated state your face was trapped in.

"what do you mean by that?"

with an attempt to keep your trembling lip under control, you gathered the soft flesh in between your teeth, only a tiny bit until the self restraint of your body returned to you.

"i mean it exactly how i said it." on a heavy sigh, he continued with a demeaning voice, the epitome of gradient turmoil blistering your heart, you absolutely despised it whenever he got to talk to you in that precise manner.

"you know my past and yet you still persist." at his final word, he at last, lifted his head to meet your glowing eyes, glowing for the wrong reasons that is as they were welling up with warm tears.

"what do you expect me to do kuni?"

scaramouche flinched at the name you decided to use, after all, it was long forgotten yet whenever you said it, whenever you referred to him with it, it sounded all the more familiar and intimate.

"nothing.. nothing."

swarmed with the view of him, your throat seized. Indigo eyes, crystallized mind, his attention on you was heavy as you decided to move forward, cautiously taking a seat next to him.

the mattress shifted of your added weight, there was no point in arguing but for some unexplained, fucked up reason, it always proceeded to end up like this.

"i never intended to hurt you, but i'm at my limit." the tears in you made your eyes glimmer, the previous confidence that was utterly dominant upon approaching the bedroom before, was long gone with your head hung low, but you still desired to finish what you had started.

"it's always the same, it will always end the same."

much to your surprise, scaramouche for once decided to listen to you. You were wary of the sudden change in mannerism but didn't complain, it gave off a pleasant way to articulate what you wanted to say to him.

"and we need to break up in order to get better."

another hesitation in your voice, he immediately noticed, his throat loosening with an approaching laugh, "oh, so that's how it is."

with a tumble forward, he got off the bed to stand tall, his shoulders tugged back in a confident stance, turning around yet again.

"you just want to cast me aside too, don't you?"

this wasn't fair, how could this possibly be fair in any other occasion?

all the preparation to this conversation, thrown aside, the burning, heartbreaking feeling was tearing you apart, as if trapped in a maze, one you couldn't escape, one that got smaller within each minute, one that would squeeze you to death by the very end.

"you don't see my point, can you at least try to understand?" the past was continuously invading the present, it was devastating.

"can i try, what?" he draws one touch on you, only one, forcefully grabbing your chin in between his fingers to make you look at him, but still keeping the contact with your skin light, as to not hurt you.

your throat grew tighter as a natural response to the once cold air becoming thicker as you spoke, each sentence alluring the feature.

silent anger, like true liquid fire but it didn't spill, he kept it to himself while only showing short nuances of the burning ache eating away his blazing core.

mindlessly sitting on the edge of terror, you bristled on the faint independence you had left in yourself.

"i will always love you, but don't you realize that right now, you're literally showing me why it won't work."

scaramouche could no longer see anything but the threat of losing you, he couldn't hear you, not anymore, his mind was at risk to collapse and break, the hand on your chin beginning to tremble.

is it possible to scream without screaming? to cry without crying or to die without dying? because to scaramouche it felt as if those things were happening to him, right this second in front of you.

"what about all those times we made love to each other, hm? does this mean nothing to you anymore?"

a tear, barely to be perceived, danced around the corner of his eye as it spilled, alone and lost, plastering the cold floor.

"or when you told me that you'll never leave like the rest of them?"

scaramouche remembered those distinct feelings within his chest now, how hysterical laughable, he thought he had long since disposed of them entirely.

yet the one you managed to awake in him was still there, like a micro organism feeding on its damaged host, eating away the spirit until death was inevitable.

the first time he had perceived those world-shattering emotions, he was cast aside by his creator, his mother.

the words you intended to say were murdered in your throat, rejected, "i don't know what to say."

each decision had a consequence laced around it, some more gruesome than the other.

"you don't have to say anything." his innermost self, his being, gathered the last courage to lock his eyes with yours before lastly letting go of your chin, straightening his posture.

you felt the chill in your blood, ice water in your veins, the silence in your ears, the death of your failing relationship. Part of the pain, you could endure.

but could he?

"i should go." with clear, pure agony in your soul, you ultimately rose up from your seat to pass him and reach the door to the exit.

he stood still, not moving an inch of his tensed muscles, letting his thoughts walk out around him, in search of something he knew he couldn't get, at least not now.

"if you think that's the end."

scaramouche didn't intend to finish his sentence to you, nor reveal it, more so did it involuntarily divulge out of him.

what he meant by that was unclear to the both of you, it lingered both unpredictability and uncertainty in the air.

something was not right but you could not decipher the darkened suspicion with your alarm bells pointing right towards them.

it was the end, like a book you closed after reading through it, even if you dared to pick it up again, nothing would change in it.

your relationship was nothing but a broken mirror within a casted ray of sunlight, damaged and split as you left at last, scrambling the final steps out of the apartment you once shared.

to turn around, to watch you go, with the world around him animating death.

passed by limitless silence, he closed his eyes, endlessly consuming the darkness that were his thoughts.

and so, it wasn‘t a tear that slowed out of him, but a hysterical laugh, side splitting and crazy, as he commented for the very last time.

"how foolish you can be, dear."

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billlydear · 1 year

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LIKE WE'LL NEVER HAVE SEX - BILLY HARGROVE X READER (PART ONE)

word count: 1277 // masterlist | inbox (please request) | WIP list

Summary: Billy's not used to getting less attention than the movie playing on the theater screen.

Contents/Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of sex, mentions of making out, light kissing

A/N: i'm sorry i've been MIA for a bit! school and work are very busy lately </3 but i hope you enjoy this! not me posting another part one with two outgoing series already... but this isn't a chapter of anything, it's a one-shot, and the other parts will be their own completed stories as well. it's a collection of stories, not a series, so you're welcome to read any of them without the others, it won't matter.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! your feedback motivates me to write more, so thank you for your support :-)

The first time Billy realizes you're not using him for sex is during your first date. Movie theaters are prime date locations, at least on Billy's list, because it gets entertainment and a makeout session knocked out in the same two-hour window. He doesn't have to make small talk before fingering a girl if he's supposed to be silent watching the movie.

It's a pretty well-worn routine by now; the lights dim, and they're done with each other by the time the credits roll. It's efficient, he likes to think, it's easy.

When you'd expressed your enthusiasm about a sci-fi thriller playing in the little theater he frequented, he'd taken his shot. Five minutes later and your address was scrawled on his notebook paper, a smiley face beside it.

He picks you up at eight, and he even pays for popcorn.

You're resting back against the seat behind you, munching on M&Ms. He's neglected to kiss you thus far because the usher is prowling the aisles, on the lookout for anyone behaving... well, how Billy behaves every time.

When the guy stops flashing his torch at suspicious moviegoers and finally leaves the theater, Billy's eager to get on with his routine. He's sure the chocolate on your tongue will taste better than the popcorn dust on his own, but he's curious to see how they mix.

He reaches over to squeeze your hand first, and you tear your eyes away from the screen to shoot him an easy grin. Then you're back to the movie, eyes tracking the characters intently.

He leans over to butt his nose against your jaw, and you startle. You peer over at him with wide doe eyes, shining softly with the light from the screen. He grins and moves into a lazy kiss, one that he feels you sigh softly against his mouth for. It's sweet, but it's short.

"Wait!" You whisper, eyes wide as you tear yourself away from him to glance at the screen, "They're gonna-!"

An explosion rattles the sound system, and one of the characters gets slammed up against a cluster of rocks from the impact. She's dead on impact, and your mouth hang open.

When you settle back into your seat, a fresh candy in your mouth, he decides to steal it off of your tongue. He grips your cheek this time, tugging your face so that you're turned towards him, and pressing his lips to yours a little more firmly this time.

He manages to crack the melted candy on your tongue, spilling gooey chocolate into your spit. There's leftover popcorn butter residue on his lips, grainy and salty, but you don't seem to mind, sliding your hands against his chest.

But then you push against him, the same hands he'd thought were feeling him up nudging him away instead, and you shoot him a bashful smile.

"Sorry," You whisper, warm-cheeked and plump-lipped, "I... really wanna see this movie."

He sits back against his seat, eyes glazed over at the screen for five minutes. You're choosing to watch this shit movie instead of pay him attention? Shit, he could have rented a flick for you for seventy-five cents. Why did he pay for a ticket?

But then a new character steps on screen, and the theater goes up in cheers. He looks bewilderedly around, peering concernedly at you where you're clapping excitedly. You catch his confused stare, and lean in with chocolate-stained lips to whisper-shout, "He's from the original series! He was captain, and everyone was kind of speculating that they'd bring him back for the movie, but no one was really sure, and-!"

He watches your eyes sparkle with excitement as you fill him in on the series' lore, while also trying to keep up with the dialogue the characters have going. He realizes now that you're interested in the movie, you're not disinterested in him. He even laughs at a particularly clever quip, not that he'll ever admit it. The movie is clearly something more to you than it is to him, and he takes solace in the fact that he's not losing his game, you're just not playing it at the moment.

He fully intends to tongue you in the backseat of his camaro before driving you home, though. A man has needs, after all.

Instead, he nods along to the plot of the third episode of the sixth season of the show that the movie was based on, boots crunching against the gravel of the parking lot as he listens to you ramble. Apparently, that episode set up a villain for the movie, but he can't say he was paying attention enough to even remember what they'd looked like.

"-so they find out these guys are just taking it, but obviously they know they're not gonna stop until someone stops them. So they gear up and prepare for battle, but then they realize that there's a colony not too far from the planet they're trying to target, and they don't want them to think they're being hostile to them, so they have to run a team down to the colony to let them know they mean no harm. But it gives their enemies time to escape, and that's why it was such a big deal in the movie, because they were so close and never got to finish the job. But-"

Billy drives you home in silence, adding a few hums of acknowledgement here and there. He can't say he's interested in what you're talking about, but he likes the way you're saying it. Gushy, like the words have to get out now or you'll explode.

He lets you yammer his ear off all the way to your house, and there's lights on inside, which means he won't get away with a makeout session idling in the driveway. Parents don't like that, he knows.

There's disappointment lingering in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of going home without a proper kiss. One with wandering hands, muffled whimpers, maybe a quickie in the backseat. But when you realize he's not going to walk you to the front door, you rush around to the driver's side, ducking down to pop your face in his window.

He stares amusedly at you, surprised when you lean in to push your lips softly against his.

"Thank you," You hum, cheeks heated, "I had a good time tonight.I'm sorry I kind of talked a lot."

"It's fine," He chuckles, leaning in again to milk another kiss out of your waning time together, "You know a lot about that show."

"I do," Your laugh is bashful, and your hands fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you take a deep breath before speaking again, "I was wondering if... you'd want to come over sometime and watch a few episodes? The first ones are a bit shaky but they're totally worth it once you get to the good stuff."

'No' Is on the tip of Billy's tongue. He is not the kind of guy that sits in a girl's living room to watch nerd shit with her. But your eyes are shining at him just like they'd been shining at the movie screen earlier, and the word 'Sure' tumbles from his lips before he knows it's even there.

"Awesome," You gush, your laugh bright and bubbly, "Does five o'clock next Friday work? We can order a pizza."

"Friday at five," He repeats, leaning in to steal one last kiss, "See you then, honey."

The smile you give him as he drives off is just as sweet and sticky as the pet name he'd coined you.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove headcanons #billy hargrove hcs #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove blurb

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kondensaduhhh · 1 year

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inspired by @dirtytransmasc ‘s Spider Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan AU

where, since because this Spider grew up being fully adopted and loved by the Sully family, the ‘son for a son scene’ where Neytiri holds a knife to Spider doesn’t happen, what happens instead is a ‘if I can’t have him, no one can’ scene with Quaritch, where instead of Quaritch getting a hold of Kiri, it’s Spider.

Everyone is frozen.

Kiri is holding Tuk, Jake being torn between shooting Miles, but risk shooting his son too, and obeying his demands. Lo’ak and Neteyam are there, a few scrapes, cuts, and bruises on them but otherwise whole. Jake holds out his arm in front of his other two sons, knowing his mate’s burning desire to protect pumps in their veins, ready to lunge.

And Neytiri is prowling.

That demon has her son, her firstborn under his sharp knife, already cutting his delicate skin, she sees his blood smear with each struggle, causing a growl deep within her throat. Every bone in her body aches to lunge and attack the monster hurting her baby, but her mate’s arm stops her, she sees the pleading look in his eyes that yells, ‘please, think clearly’. She wants to scream, she needs to do something, but the situation is much too delicate to take such a risk.

“What will it be, kid?” Quaritch says, knife still against Spider neck, “The Sullys, who left you, abandoned you for months?” cries of protest from his siblings at the words spoken, “or me? who took care of you after they left you for dead?”

With no breath of hesitation in his voice, “Them! They’re my family! Not you! Never you!” Spider screams. Irritation pinches Quaritch’s face, he sets his jaw, “Then so be it.” and he cuts.

He cuts through Spider’s jugular, leaving to fall, blood sputtering through his fingers as he tries to add pressure. Everyone screams, scrambling to help Spider. The demon walks away with a limp in his step.

“Lyle, blow this pla-“ short, rapid fire gunshots, cut through everyones eardrums, the Sullys’ attention snapped to the cause of the beast’s death for a second. They were met with the image of Neteyam, gun in his arms, tears in his eyes, he drops it immediately and rushes to Spider’s side.

“Neteyam…” Kiri holds her hand out to him, her voice watery and scared, he takes her hand, and inches closer towards his brother, Tuk tucks herself onto him, wailing onto his chest, Lo’ak has both hands pressing on Spider’s neck, their dad is speaking softly to him, stroking his hair, while their mother is begging for Eywa to keep her son alive, to not take him away from them, from her, no, not yet

Spider is apologizing and they don’t know why, they just hold on to him and their siblings, “im sorry, im sorry… i love you, im sorry,” he coughs, blood splatters on his mask, dripping down the sides of his lips, “i just wanted to sa-…” He closes his eyes. The it’s like the world stopped spinning, everyone is silent, waiting for Spider to keep talking, because he always does, he always has something to say, but Jake has hung his head already.

Kiri was the first to talk Spider, “Monkey boy? Spider? Spider, what is it? Spider! What were gonna say?!” her voice gets shakier as she talks, her voice breaks at the end along it is her, curling into Spider’s chest.

“Spider? Wake up! C’mon, you’re scaring me!” Tuk, oh, little Tuk-tuk, she pleads, “Neteyam, do something!” She sobs. Neteyam can’t fix this one, he can’t lead them on this one, Neteyam doesn’t know what to do, instead her cries, not quietly, like Lo’ak, who is staring at his hands, covered in Spider’s blood, tears just running down his cheeks, but also not loudly, like Kiri, who demanding answers from the Great Mother, he just… cries. Holding the rest of his siblings in his arms.

Jake is on the opposite side of his children on Spider’s body, he wants to wipe away the tears and blood off of his son’s face, to remove the mask and clean his face off, he tries, but his daughters’ panicked screams of ‘Stop! He can’t breath with out it!” broke his heart further. Lo’ak cries like him, quiet, almost catatonic, a contrast to his mate who has screamed and wailed for it to not be true, sobbing for Eywa to not do this to them. With no protest fro Kiri, and little from Tuk, Neytiri holds Spider, sobbing louder when his body that was always warm, especially compared to their na’vi bodies, was starting to cool. Kiri and Tuk held onto their mother as they cried.

Jake neared his mate, gently pulling her towards him, as their remaining sons was held by their father, both boys leaning on Jake.

continuation

#idk what happenedkdkdjdk #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #atwow #avatar twow #spider soccoro #kiri sully #neteyam suly #tuk sully #loak sully #spider socorro #kiri te suli kìreysì'ite #tuktirey te suli neytiri'ite #loak te suli tsyeyk’itan #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #spider te suli tsyeyk'itan

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foxaftershocks · 17 days

Note

First off I wanna say I love your writing!

So basically the read would of had been haunted by the ghost of their childhood best friend after the had accidentally coursed their house to catch on fire (they would been 5 when this happened) and every since they have been trying to find a way to help them move on, especially since the friend does not understand that the fire was an accident. they have by some miracle kept this a secret from everyone but after they get called to a abandoned wearhouse the secret is revealed, the friends ghost tries to hurt the reader after separating them from the group but lars manages to save them and fianlly they come clean about it all.

I hope how I've formatted this makes sense:)

Thank you!!!! It made total sense and I really hope you like what I did with it.

Fog was rolling across the huge expanse of the floor. It didn’t feel real, like a movie set with the shadows and the fog and the swinging chains as you passed. Your heart was hammering in your chest, loud in your ears. Your breaths were unsteady and you could feel yourself tremble in the cold air. Gripping your proton gun harder, you took a hesitant step forward.

“Careful,” Lars said, a large hand closing over your shoulder.

“This isn’t my fist rodeo,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He was staring at something in the distance, squinting behind his glasses. You tried to see what he was looking at but it was all roiling shadows and darkness reaching out. Or maybe that was what he was looking at so intently.

“Alright, you guys take upstairs and we’ll sweep down here,” Callie said, turning her head as she took in the whole abandoned warehouse.

On quiet footsteps, you and the younger Spenglers made your way up to the upper levels of the warehouse, peering down into the wide expanse below you. The teenagers peeled off, leaving you with Lars to prowl through the offices.

You’d been with the Ghostbusters for a few months now, having shown up on their doorstep one day demanding a job. Your experience with ghosts got you through the door, your refusal to say no keeping you. And yet guilt dogged your every step.

You hadn’t told anyone why you were so desperate to work with them. Your late nights were less about your passion for the Ghostbusters and more about your need to find answers. Answers you thought only they would have.

Lars’ shoulder brushed against yours, walking beside you towards the first door. Maybe there was another reason you wanted to stick around too.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning to the door for you.

“Coward.” You smirked at him.

You pushed the door open, gun raised, sweeping the room. He followed behind, watching your back, calculating gaze investigating the shadows. Checking under the desk, you let out a relieved breath.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Weird noises and ghostly spectres in the warehouse. Loud noises had been scaring the night watchmen in the area, a few even quitting after being chased from the building. Being awoke in the night, groggy and unsure, Callie telling you to gear up, was hardly normal and yet it was hard to hate it. Excitement around every corner and all that.

“Clear,” you said.

You straightened, taking a step back from how close he was. You hadn’t been expecting it, thinking he was on the other side of the room. A hand shot out, grasping your elbow before you could lose your balance.

“Next room?” he asked.

“Sure.”

You only got a few steps before you heard something shifting in the darkness at the end of the hall. A flash of a familiar face faded into the shadows. Your heart stumbled before pounding hard against your ribs. Taking a deep breath, you schooled your features.

“How about you do this room and I’ll do the next one and then we’ll be done in half the time,” you suggested to Lars.

“We’re not meant to split up,” he said, “in case something happens.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Don’t you want to get out of here quicker?” you asked.

He considered you for a moment before he gave a slow nod.

“I’ll only be next door. Scream if you get attacked,” you said.

He rolled his eyes but you could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile. You waited until he’d slipped through into the next room before high tailing it down the hall on tip toes. Gaze darting around the hall, you tried to find her.

“Lizzy,” you hissed, trying to stop any of the other Ghostbusters from hearing you, “I know you’re here.”

An echoing giggle lured you further, chasing a ghost. Darting from shadow to shadow, gun held in your hand, you hoped this would be the time you could finally help her move on. It had taken so long to realise that when you saw Lizzy and no one else could that it was because she wasn’t really there. Your parents had been so worried when you insisted Lizzy wasn’t dead because you could see her, standing at the end of your street or following you around school.

Eventually, after the first time she’d scared you, you realised something wasn’t right. That your parents had been right. That she had died that awful night and you were being haunted by her ghost. That she wouldn’t move until you could help her.

Another giggle drew you further into the shadows. This was your chance. You’d spent months working with the Ghostbusters and this was the first time she was letting you get close again. You could help her. She could move on if she would only get a chance.

At the end of the hall, the familiar figure of Lizzy floated, a few inches above the floor. She looked exactly the same as she had that night, a young girl, caught in amber, nothing but a memory torn from your childhood. You took a shuddering breath in.

“Lizzy,” you breathed.

On hesitant footsteps, you approached. Any time you’d gotten close to her, she’d erupted in anger, always ending with you cowering in a corner, begging her to leave you alone. But you were stronger now. You were better. You could fix this.

“Hi,” she said in that sweet little girl voice that was burned into your brain, “this place is kinda scary.”

“That’s okay. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” you said.

“But something already has happened to me,” she said, so matter of fact.

Your breath froze in your chest, the air growing colder again. You held out a hand to her, wanting her to trust you. Wanting her to believe you.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzy. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

A few more steps towards her and you thought you might freeze. It was so cold and every drag of breath hurt. And yet the hope kept you going.

“How?” she asked, sounding so lost.

“I can help you move on. We just need to figure out what your unfinished business is,” you said.

“I know what it that is,” she said.

You knelt down in front of her.

“What’s your unfinished business?” you asked.

“Making you pay for doing this to me.”

Wind slammed into you from behind. You fell forward, your hands coming up to catch yourself before your face could slam into the floor. Rolling onto your back, you found her floating above you. You scrabbled for the gun you’d dropped but something stopped you. This was Lizzy, your best friend, you couldn’t do something that hurt her. Again.

You scrambled back, scared as her face began to morph into something from your nightmares. Elongating, teeth growing, eyes flickering like fire, no longer was she the sweet little girl caught in your memories. Before your eyes, she was turning into a demon, fuelled by rage and revenge.

Your hand came down, expecting to feel more floor but only finding empty space. Turning, you found broken off railing, the hall hanging over empty space, the concrete floor of the warehouse so far from you. Another gust of wind slammed into you, pushing you closer to the edge. A low moan came from deep within your chest and you found Lizzy floating closer.

She swooped down at you, a scream bursting unbidden from you. Raising your arms to cover your head, you felt yourself teeter on the edge. Another scream. You knew you wouldn’t survive that fall, smashing against the concrete like a broken door.

“I’m going to hurt you like you hurt me,” Lizzy said, her voice high and sweet, such a difference to the words coming from her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babbled, gasping for breath.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. Another crash of wind slamming into you. You teetered, before falling backwards. It felt slow motion in your mind. The knowledge you were about to die was all you could focus on.

Then a hand grasped yours, holding on so tight you thought your blood supply might cut off. You cut off a sob, grasping onto the warmth, almost burning after the chill of the air. Inch by inch you were dragged back up, the metal walkway the greatest thing you’d ever felt.

“What happened?” Lars asked.

He was crouched next to you, still holding on while you panted, gasping for breath, the sobs not abating. You shook your head, not able to answer. The truth too much to spill.

“You’ve made a new friend.” Your eyes squeezed shut at the sweet voice, “that’s not fair.’

Lars was slow to look up, attention shifting from you to your ghost. You whimpered, crawling further from the edge, fingers curling into the back of his uniform, clutching at it hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

“Don’t hurt him. Please,” you begged.

“You mean like you didn’t hurt me?” A high childish giggle, “I don’t think so.”

Lars grasped his gun, pulling it free. Levelling it at Lizzy, he was slow to stand, pulling you with him. Standing close, you wanted to stop him but you were terrified she was going to hurt him.

“Alright, there’s no need to get aggressive,” Lars said, clearly trying to calm the situation.

“She hurt me,” she said, “now I’m going to hurt her. And then she’ll be with me forever just like she promised.”

He raised his gun higher, keeping himself between you and her. She rose higher, then, using the same move, swooped down. He didn’t hesitate, firing the proton stream at her. It wrapped around her, holding her in place. The enraged scream that came from her hurt you, like a brand burned on your inside.

“I need the trap,” he said, glancing back at you.

Sweat was beading at his temples as he held her and you felt frozen. Her anger was so visceral, struggling against the proton stream. Her scream was pure rage.

“Hey.”

He finally caught your attention, his voice softened as he looked at you from behind glass.

“Trap,” he said.

You fumbled with the trap hanging from your belt. Sliding it along the floor, you looked up at Lizzy, knowing this would be it. She wouldn’t move on. She’d be trapped, kept in storage to be studied by people like Lars. And yet you had to, if you wanted to keep her from hurting the people you cared about.

“I’m sorry,” you said to her.

His foot slammed down on the trigger, opening it. Her rage was like a physical thing, her struggle increasing. And she looked like a little girl, scared, terrified, of where she was being forced into. Lars dragged her down until the trap’s vacuum sucked her in.

It closed with a snap and you were left in silence. You fell, knees slamming into the metal walkway, your sobs loud in your own ears. You pressed the heel of your palms to your eyes, trying to stifle it all.

A large hand landed on your shoulder, offering the stability you didn’t have. Lars was kneeling in front of you, ignoring the smoking trap behind him, his eyes focused completely on you. You took a deep shuddering breath in, trying to stop crying. He waited, patient until you were calmer.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you.

“No.” Your voice was so small.

“This ghost seemed to know you,” he said.

You gave a small nod, scared what admitting your past crimes would do. It terrified you.

“You’ve met her before?” he asked.

You gave a wet chuckle. His thumb gently brushed the tears away.

“Lars, I created her,” you said, “I did that to her.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

And just like that the whole sorry story tumbled from your lips, words tripping over themselves in their haste to be told. The fire when you were five, consuming the house, burning it to the ground. Lizzy caught inside, you pulled free, your best friend gone. The fact you caused the fire. Your haunting. Every attempt to help her move on and the anger at your part in her death. The resentment in the assumption you’d done it on purpose. The guilt you carried with you every day. The fear of who you were, if you were a monster, if you were an awful person.

And once the words had run out he did the one thing you couldn’t have expected.

His lips were soft when they pressed to your forehead. You froze, not sure what to do, heart fluttering. Large hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“It was an accident. You’ve been trying to help her move on. You’re not a monster. You’re trying your best to make it up to her,” he said.

You fell forward, sinking into him, face pressed into his shoulder. His arms were hesitant as they came up, circling your body.

“I couldn’t save her,” you said, muffled against his shoulder.

“We’ll help her move on,” he said, “I promise.”

You pressed harder against him, hugging him tight, surprised by how light you felt after your confession. A problem shared was a problem halved. His lips pressed to your temple, soft and comforting and making you feel something addictive.

“I promise,” he whispered.

You turned your head, nose brushing against his. He froze, those beautiful blue eyes looking at you, something in them different. You lent forward, pressing your lips to his for a moment. It might have been the wrong time, but you’d almost died that night and you needed him to know. You drew back, worried about his reaction but the look on his face was like he’d just been let in on all the secrets of the universe. Like he was full of wonder. Like you’d given the greatest gift in the world.

He pulled you closer again, lips brushing yours with a sweetness that made your heart squeeze. You sighed into his mouth, clutching at his uniform. He was so warm under your hands and he was so beautiful and you couldn’t work out why you’d taken so long to kiss him.

“Oi, what’s this?”

You startled, pulling back from him. Trevor was looking less than impressed at the two of you, glaring down the walkway to your bodies curled into one another.

“We’re doing all the work over here and you’ve snuck away to hook up. Typical.” You could just tell he was rolling his eyes.

“I almost died. Give me a break,” you called back at him.

Lars froze in your arms. He pulled away, standing up, offering you a hand to help you to your feel. Your knees still felt unsteady, his arm around your waist helping you along. Plucking the smoking trap from the ground, he attached it to your belt.

“I promise,” he said again, confirming he wasn’t going to be spilling your secrets to the others.

You offered him a small smile, your first since the attack. He pulled you closer, another kiss pressed to your temple. You could have just melted from it.

The extra squeeze he gave you was exactly what you needed.

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield #shadow-tumbler #request

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in1-nutshell · 2 months

Note

Hey so how about a little more old Predacon buddy with The transformers animated team possibly them just interacting with them a bit more

We are here for more Buddy interactions with Team Prime, and here is where we will get them!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon with Team Prime: Slice of Life

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA/TFP

When Buddy crashed back down in a familiar alley, they knew they were back in one of the dimensions they visited before.

Specifically, the universe where everything was tiny, and they nearly chewed out a knock off Prime for disrespecting Optimus.

Lucky for Buddy, they remembered the route back to the Plant and began walking.

They took in the scenery around them, noticing some buildings under reconstruction and new trash bots around the streets. Needed to be careful as to not step on them like last time.

As they approached the Plant Buddy decided to surprise the bots. They would wait on the side of the building where there weren’t many windows and surprise the first bot or human that came outside.

As they waited, they heard some angry voices bouncing around. They couldn’t hear what exactly was being said, but it wasn’t pretty.

They heard some angry footsteps coming towards the door.

Forgetting all about the surprise, Buddy went towards the front door to see what the commotion was all about.

Sari stomping towards the front garage door when a massive pede stops her.

The pede lowers down the giant body until the helm was touching the ground.

Buddy’s worried optics look at Sari.

“What’s going on in there?”--Buddy

Sari stared in shock.

“Buddy?”--Sari

Buddy squints before smiling.

“Sari? Is that you, kiddo? My, my I haven’t been gone that long, have I?”--Buddy

“BUDDY!”--Sari

Sari leaps and hugs Buddy snout.

Buddy just chuckles appreciating the hug.

“Sari? Sari where—Buddy!”--Bumblebee

Bumblebee races over to hug the older Predacon.

The rest of the team hears this and runs over to greet their interdimensional friend.

“My friends, its been too long. And look at you Sari!”--Buddy

Buddy carefully patting Sari’s hair with their digit.

“Your almost as old as some of the kids in my dimension. How log has it been since I’ve been here?”--Buddy

“Its been less than year.”--Ratchet

“… Now I’m no expert in organic lifeform, but I know that humans do not age this fast.”--Buddy

“Oh! About that…”--Sari

Buddy raises an optic now sitting up a bit straighter.

“About what?”--Buddy

Sari deploys her jetpack and flies up to Buddy’s optic level.

Her eyes shining blue.

“It turns out I’m a techno organic. Surprise!”--Sari

“…”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Prowl

THUD!

“BY THE ALLSPARK!”--Optimus

“BUDDY?!”—Sari

“RATCHET GET THE CAR BATERY!”--Bumblebee

“BRING LIKE A DOZEN BATTERIES!”—Bulkhead

After Buddy recovered from the near cardiac arrest, Buddy got to know more about what happened during their time outside this universe.

Buddy is much more concerned with the team’s wellbeing.

As well as Sari’s flying skills.

The girl could hover well, but full flight was something different.

“Why don’t you teach me?”--Sari

“Me?”--Buddy

“I mean you can fly! You can totally teach me!”--Sari

“Well… I don’t see why not. All right then, I’ll teach you.”--Buddy

Sari does a little air fist pump.

“Oh and Optimus can come too.”--Sari

Buddy looked over at the Prime.

“Why?”--Buddy

“He’s got wings too!”--Bulkhead

Bulkhead pats Prime’s back and out shoots out two large wings.

“Bulkhead!”--Optimus

Optimus tries to get them back in.

Buddy just stares blankly at the Prime.

“You should have seen the first time he was trying to fly, Buddy! He nose dived into the river, crashed into that building… oh! And nearly flew straight into Omega Supreme!”--Bumblebee

“…”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Sari

THUD!

“BUDDY!”—Sari and Bumblebee

“NOT AGAIN!”—Ratchet

Once again after getting out of cardiac arrest, Buddy agrees to help the two learn how to fly.

Which was more difficult that either could have imagined.

With Sari…

“Sari, you have to start little by little. You don’t need to go full throttle—SWEET PRIMUS SLOW DOWN!”--Buddy

Buddy catching Sari mid air before she crashes into a billboard.

With Optimus…

Buddy flying near full speed trying to reach the mech fly out of the city ascending at a rapid pace.

“PRIME! YOU NEED TO DESCEND! TRY LOOSENING UP—NOT FULLY LOOSE!”--Buddy

Buddy dives down to catch the exhausted Prime.

“How… How did I do?”--Optimus

Buddy huffs as they slowly descend.

“…You need some extra practice Optimus. That’s all. No one gets this on the first try.”--Buddy

“Really? What about you?”--Optimus

“Prime I was modified to be like this, of course I got it on the first try. But that doesn’t mean everyone I taught ho to fly got it n the first try. Some of them are true rulers of the sky and they had bumps in the road. Don’t count yourself out yet Prime.”--Buddy

“…Thanks…”--Optimus

“You’re welcome Optimus. Now let’s take a break before trying again okay? We’ll go up when you're ready.”--Buddy

A couple days later the portal arrived just like the times before.

It was time to leave.

Buddy made sure to hug everyone goodbye before they left back home.

“Goodbye my friends!”--Buddy

“Bye Buddy!”—Team Prime

Buddy walks into the portal and appears near the main room.

“Hey Buddy!”--Raf

“Hello Raf.”--Buddy

“Dimension hoping again?”--Raf

Buddy nods.

Raf pats down next to him.

“I’ve got the dino movie on the monitor, you want to watch it with me?”--Raf

Buddy is already curling up next to Raf.

“You know me too well Raf.”--Buddy

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader

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itsclydebitches · 4 months

Note

Cinder is a lot more sexualized then the male parts of Salem's inner circle

Like tyrian is shirtless sometimes but that does not feel as...drawn attention to, as say, the lingering shots of Cinder's butt or thighs. Or her wearing short shorts and high boots you know what I mean?

I do, anon. RWBY got a lot of attention back in the day for its anti-upskirt technology, but that doesn't give it a free pass for all the other ways you might (and it does) sexualize the cast. I've never been inclined to give RWBY too much shit in this regard because it is pulling from media with a LONG history of such designs and cinematography - it feels unfair of me to act like RWBY is uniquely responsible for such problems when I'm simultaneously willing to overlook, say, the 90's "gag" of Yusuke flipping up Keiko's skirt - but there's nevertheless a voice in the back of my mind constantly asking things like, "Why are so many of the girls fighting in heels?" and "Why are they dressed like they're going to the club and not the literal TUNDRA??" I'd kill for the whole cast, but the girls in particular, to get a re-design that focuses on fashionably compelling practicality, rather than sexy fanservice. (Though Ice Kingdom did a good job overall, particularly for Ruby.) Sure, RWBY didn't give us panty-shots, but one of the first characters we're introduced to is literally designed like a dominatrix.

If we're talking about outfits though... I'd say Emerald gets hit the worst out of Salem's minions. Yeah, Cinder is definitely sexualized in a more general sense as the tall, white (that's not a coincidence), long-legged beauty who sensually conjures fire as she prowls towards the heroes, camera focused on her hips swaying. But Emerald?

She suffers from the same problem Yang has. AKA, if your woman isn't classically beautiful (like Wiess and to a different extent Blake), or cute / child-like (Ruby, Penny), but is instead going for a sporty, comparatively masculine-esque vibe... then they've got to show a LOT of skin. RWBY makes it sexy by just denying them clothes. You're entering dangerous battles on the daily? You want to protect yourself? Too bad. The audience needs a midriff and cleavage and your whole arms to stare at. Shorten the skin-tight pants so we can see some leg too. Oh, Yang has to have long pants because she's heading into the coldest Kingdom in Remnant? Never mind that, cut a strip out to show her thigh.

"But Clyde, the girls don't need to wear armor because of aura--" then why the hell does Jaune bother wearing that heavy-ass suit? Is it weight training? Does he just think it makes him look cool? ...or does it exist in case his aura breaks and he's allowed to wear more protective gear because there are different gender expectations attached to his design? The aura argument is just a modern rehashing of the Supergirl sun argument: using made up lore to "justify" getting your women characters into skimpy outfits, despite the men rarely being held to the same standards.

Tyrian is actually an interesting exception here and if I were less tired I'd think through this argument more, but something something as the "crazy" character he's allowed more leeway in breaking those expectations. Also the open shirt shows off his scars, which likewise help sell how dangerous he is. With the exception of characters like Cinder and Nora - whose injuries are Important Character Moments the audience gets to see play out - scars are surprisingly uncommon in Remanent. Or, again, they're severely downplayed so as not to interfere with that classic beauty design (like Weiss', or even Yang who gets a perfect cut when losing her arm). So when you see a character with giant scars spanning the length of his chest, an open shirt drawing deliberate attention to them... that makes you go, "Oh shit. What's he been through to scar like that in a world where most people make it out of fights with no permanent damage?"

#rwde #rwby #mymetas #also sorry there's no readmore #tumblr won't bring it up for me :(#thanks tumblr

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theglamorousferal · 10 months

Text

The Cryptid of Smallville Ch. 2

I’m impaitent and the second chap of the fic is already up on AO3 so here we go! I’m almost done with chapter 3 so we’ll see if I manage to finish it before the month is out. I’m going to start posting wips and prompt ideas and rambles in the next week.

Here’s chapter 2! Danny makes some new friends (:

______________________________________________________________

One thing about living in a town where the primary source of income is farming is that you hear a lot of superstitions about what happens in the fields at night. Farmer’s from every generation will tell you not to look into the fields at night. Don’t go runnin’ through the fields at dusk and definitely not after dark. There are things out there that don’t like it when folks poke around.

This, of course, led to Danny poking around.

He figured he’s probably scarier than any of the “things” out there and maybe he can find someone spooky to commiserate about death with.

He’s been here around three months now, and the Kent’s finally started taking him out in public more often and so while Martha or Jon or Clark are doing errands, Danny hears things and can’t help but feel fascinated. Are most of these stories just feral dogs or foxes or something out in the fields hunting for the night? Probably. Does that mean he’s not going to bother to go out there? No.

This leads to Danny’s current predicament. The problem with having someone else with powers in the house is that they usually can tell when someone else is getting up to mischief. This is especially irritating when said other superpowered individual has super hearing and is a stickler for rules. Clark is holding Danny by the ankle right outside of Danny’s second story window, because of course, he also can fly.

“Oh come on Clark! I just want to see if there’s any other people like me out there, and they only come out at night. I swear I won’t complain about homework or going to school again for a week if you let me go!”

Clark just raised an eyebrow, somehow giving the effect of crossing his arms without doing so. Clark may only be twelve, but he also knows to not go out into the fields at night.

Danny goes limp when he realizes his offer isn’t getting him anywhere. He sighs really big and then gets an idea. “If you let me go, I’ll help you with that astronomy assignment for your science class and I’ll teach you all of the constellations?” he offers. Clark seems to debate this for a moment. Danny gives him puppy dog eyes. Clark’s expression softens.

“Fine, but I’m keeping an ear out and if I hear anything like you being in trouble, I’ll come out there and grab you, got it?” He tried to put on his most serious face. Clark was used to having to be the strict one among his friend group, but he also had a soft spot for Danny. The kid seemed pretty chill all the time and didn’t have an issue with using his powers at all, but also seemed a bit melancholy, staring off into space or turning to say something to someone who wasn’t there. There are names he would mutter in his sleep, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Ellie and of course Mom and Dad. If he thought there might be people from his dimension, why not let him go talk to them.

Danny frantically nodded his head and swiftly righted himself and took off towards the fields.

Clark sighed, crossed his arms and sat on the roof facing the fields. He may let him go talk to the things, but he’s gonna keep an ear out for the kid that’s getting to be a bit like a younger brother to him.

*****

Danny prowled through the fields invisible and intangible until he heard rustling. Making his way towards the sound, he caught sight of a rabbit with it’s foot caught in twine. He sighed, letting his ghostliness drop as he went to help the poor creature.

As he knelt down, he gasped out some light blue fog and heard chuckling from right behind him.

“Don’t you know not to come out at night little boy?” a voice that sounded like the earth rumbling sneered out behind him.

Danny smirked. “Eh, I don’t think I’m your average meal though.” He stood and turned around, looking up at the creature. It appeared to be an emaciated werewolf with glowing red eyes, moss green fur and the exposed skin was deep red and stretched across the bones. “Weird, you reek of death, but also don’t seem to be made entirely of ectoplasm. Maybe you’re existing on something besides just ectoplasm? Let’s see, what’s your normal meal? Is it flesh or just fear?” Danny let his eyes glow as he floated up to be eye level with the creature. “What are you called by the way? Do you even have a name, or are you just called ‘Thing’? I think I’ll call you Jeff, you look like a Jeff.”

The creature froze when his eyes started glowing green and tilted it’s head to the side like a confused dog. “You smell dead child. Are you a new Thing? You obviously aren’t like the meat bags who live around here.”

“Oh, Hi, I’m Danny! I’m half ghost, so I’m half dead. What other Things are out here? Are they all like you, or are there different kinds? I’m assuming different kinds because you implied that I’d just be another one. Do you know any others? Can you take me to them?” Danny got excited and floated up close to the creature’s face.

“Hello Danny, I suppose I could tell you. I have no name, but there are others who have chosen names for themselves. There are banshees, shriekers, the Corn Children, more like me that are various animals, we have no name, but are the combined fear of animals in their dying moments. I survive from flesh and fear, though it can sustain me for ages. I eat when opportunity presents itself. Come child, I shall introduce you to those within the bounds of this place.”

Danny cheered and jumped onto Jeff’s back as they made their way through the fields.

*****

Later, Clark found Danny sitting around the hole he landed in talking to things that are from nightmares. He hovered closer and cleared his throat. The creatures froze and started to fade into the corn.

“Oh hi Clark! See my new friends?” Danny smiled from where he was curled under a creature that looked like a huge zombie dog with horrifically elongated limbs. Next to them was what appeared to be humanoid wrapped in rags with long black hair and a pair of identical pale toddlers holding each other’s hands in matching overalls. Some scaly thing that looked like a lizard turtle with tusks and a mane had vanished into the dirt.

“Child, I believe it is time for us to go. We will meet you when you wish, just appear here and one of us will find you. Thank you for making your presence known, it was nice to meet an Other. Now you must do as the meat bag children do and rest for you also must stay among them. Farewell child.” With that Jeff stood, nodded to Clark, and disappeared into the corn, the banshee and the children following.

Clark flew down to Danny and picked him up. “So, that was more terrifying than I expected. I thought you were just going to come across some foxes or a stray dog or something. I’m not sure how I feel knowing that the stories are true and there really are Things out here.” Clark moved to hold Danny bridal style as the kid curled into his shoulder and yawned. He flew them back to the house, it was well after midnight by now.

“I like Jeff, and Tony, and Bess, and Tim and Tom. They’re nice and they said they’d keep the fields safe for me.” Danny yawned huge as Clark set him down in his bed. “Don’t worry, they won’t let anyone else bother the Kent farm or your family. They like me.” Danny rolled over and almost immediately started snoring. Clark sighed and tucked Danny in, then made his way to his room, wondering if he could get to sleep after seeing those creatures.

_____________________________________________________________

I know the creatures here are not exactly real cryptids, but I wasn’t sure which ones are okay to use without accidentally hurting people so I kinda made my own! What hijinks do you think Danny will get up no next? Will he drag Clark into it? Who knows! I’m writing this as it comes to me!

Part 1 Part 3

#Danny Phantom #danny is a cryptid #danny fenton #dpxdc #dp x dc #cryptids #superman #clark kent #my writing #good god I'm actually posting stuff and people are reading it oh my god

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forensic420 · 10 months

Text

141 + könig w/ a goth gn!reader ✰

hi currently suffering from psychological warfare so please send requests i am highly in need of a distraction thx

ghost

ghost totally understands your love for the gloomy and morbid. he admires your knowledge on anything from edgar allen poe to 1800’s embalming techniques, he truly does think it’s fascinating.

when you’re alone together he enjoys letting you do gothic makeup on him with grease face paint and baby powder. ghost also enjoys you showing him photos of when you were younger and would be dressed in dark velvet and silk, heavy jewelry, dark makeup, and with your hair teased to the max.

back in manchester he heard stories about underground gothic clubs, which was always filled with drugs and bdsm kinksters. he was always intrigued to find out what all the hype was about, but when he experienced his first burlesque show he immediately was hooked.

soap

soap loves your gothic lifestyle and appearance so much it’s insane, he feels like he could bust at the seams. soap especially loves how you present your inclination towards the dark and macabre. you can find him always in your dorm room just looking at how you did so much with so little, that by being in a secluded base miles away from civilization.

he loves finding or buying items he thinks you’d love: tapestries he found at street markets, little trinkets in abandoned houses from missions, jewelry he bought from random venues, etc etc etc.

soap is also very fond of your music, he values spending alone time with you and listening to your playlists. some of his favorites include boy harsher, scary bitches, and molchat doma. (he’s also obsessed with the cure because robert smith just does something to him and his teenage self)

gaz

gaz doesn’t fully understand your infatuation with gothic things. but that absolutely does not mean he won’t indulge with your hobbies and interests. he listens to you whenever you read a passage from some random gothic literature, analyzing and explaining the meaning behind the words.

he loves when you show him your poetry, he thinks that really sets in stone that you trust him. “you’re so talented..” he would whisper and look at you in the eyes with such warmth and passion.

gaz doesn’t question you when he discovers you watching old gothic movies such as eyes without a face, bride of frankenstein, and carnival of souls at 2am in the pitch black common room. he’d listen and hear you quietly recite the dialogue from the films, your tender voice making him swoon even more.

price

he remembers when the gothic subculture first appeared in the united kingdom, he never understood why people were so pressed over it. he admits that as a young man he and his friends would sneak into gothic clubs (as mentioned with simon) and get fucked up.

he likes knowing the goth subculture isn’t dead, he appreciates your deep fondness for it. price loves showing you gothic music he would listen to, often making a playlist so that you and him can listen to them while on course to a mission. “yeah, but have you ever listened to the southern death cult?” he’d ask and play it for you.

and when you are on break from deployment he’s on the prowl to find photos of him from his youth. he would point to himself in group photos and would tell stories about his rebellion. price will absolutely kiss the ground you walk on, he adores you dearly.

könig

könig thinks your style and way of expressing yourself is his favorite thing about you. he so deeply admires your confident and carefree attitude about it, he wishes he had that ability. observing you from across the conference room he mentally lists all things he loves about you: how you’re always reading some form of gothic literature, when you always leave smudged black lipstick stains on his neck and clothes, and when you mutter random quotes from poets.

always calling you “kürbis”, he adores watching you get all excited over fall and halloween. he’d tell you about austrian halloween traditions and what his family commonly did. könig will often ask questions about gothic things such as movies, music, style, and if vampires are real.

most of all, könig loves hearing you listen to german gothic music. you introduced him to xmal deutschland and he fell in love with the song and with you even more. “umarme das gruselige.” he would say.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

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luckycharms1701 · 4 months

Note

*crawls carefully over to a deep and foreboding gaping hole and peeks my head over the edge to look inside. There I see three feral tumblrs prowling around and laughing maniacally (y’all know who you are)

I pull back a little to glance at the warning sign written in bold lettering “Mikey Well: DO NOT ENGAGE IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO FALL IN AND SUFFER THE SAME FATE”

I let out a little hum and tilt my head curiously, inching back towards the mouth of the hole. “They look hungry though…And it is the holidays…I wouldn’t want them to feel lonely…”

Turn slightly and grabs something out of my pocket. I glance at the random ask request sitting in my palm, considering for a moment. Then I shrug nonchalantly and with a sheepish grin, cautiously drop the ask into the Mikey Well*

Just wondering on your take on how Bayverse Mikey would handle having a friend/SO who’s exTrEmElY touch starved, to the point that most touches become super overwhelming. I think it would be interesting to see how he would handle that being the most physically affectionate of the turtle brothers 🤔

And then also how would Mikey respond to said individual finally feeling secure enough to request affection? AnYhOo, Hope you have a wonderful New Year and may all the good come back to you in the coming days. May you always feel inspired and never experience creative blocks! Here’s a little request for y’all to gnaw on for a while and once again please know how appreciated you are!🧡✨

ooooooo, a new request to gnaw on, i love those!!!!

and honestly, anon-chan, i wouldn't call it **maniacal** laughter! just a little, you know, crazed

we're certainly not reaching out to bodily pull you in the well with us

anyway, thank you very much for the new year's wishes! may you have a year that you've only ever dreamed of!

oh man what a request too thank you!! as someone who is seriously touch starved myself i have Thoughts

Mikey has so many feelings the first time you flinch away from his touch. He is sad that what he sees as an overture of friendship is apparently rebuffed. He is upset that you, who has been so kind to them, must still somehow see them as monsters. Why else would you shy away from his touch? He is angry, because he once again has been denied something because of who he is. Because of something he can't help, something that honestly, deep down, he doesn't really want to change.

It takes him some time, and a lot of pushing down his natural instinct to reach out, to realize that you don't let anyone touch you, not even other humans. To be fair, he's not really in a position to witness you interacting with other humans a lot. But April, Casey, and Vern all receive the same flinch that he did, so it must be a universal thing.

He feels the same things all over again. Sad, because he can't imagine going through life without the healing power of another's touch. Upset, because he should have realized sooner. Angry, because you are the one going through this.

Mikey's not the type to let this stand. But it's not like he can really do anything without your agreement. And he can't talk to you about it, it's not like you're Raph. Besides, he's still feeling a little... cagey? No, a little cautious around you. He really, really doesn't want to be proven wrong.

So he opts for the agonizing option of waiting. It's so hard, but it's for you, so he does it. He takes every opportunity to subtly (like a brick wall, but no one has the heart to tell him that) let you know that he's available to be touched. He hopes that with time you will reach out yourself and give him the permission he desperately wants.

When you reach out and touch him for the first time? Well, sunshine boy earns his name. He is so happy, even if he can't pick you up and spin you around the way he wants to. So he tucks that feeling away, for a time when that will be possible. He hopes that time is soon.

And when that time does come? When you finally come to him and ask for the affection he longs to give you? Mikey can hardly believe it. He starts small, though this too is hard for him. A press of his hand to your arm. A brief one-armed hug. A ruffle of your hair. Even those small touches are enough to give him joy. He's so happy that you're letting someone in, and he's especially happy that you chose to let him in, of all people.

When he gets to pick you up and spin you around the way it feels like he's always wanted to, it's only natural for it to end with a kiss.

#talking tag #writing tag #tmnt #bayverse mikey #i did Not intend for this to become a fic #it was supposed to be headcanon style #but i am still in fic writing mode i guess #so have this #`11111 #<- that was my cat #i'm leaving it because i love her a lot #hey hey spoon #yorsh #anything to add??

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Teasing Kisses - Stiles Stilinski (NSFW)

Summary: Seeing Stiles handcuffed does something to the were fox in you

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: Smut; blowjobs

Y/N's POV:

"Mmmmm, what do we have here?" I lean against the door to Noah's office, watching as Stiles is trying to uncuff himself.

"Y/N! Thank god! Can you get me out of this!" He begs, bambi's eyes widening, "Dad wouldn't let me go with him, Jordan and Scott."

"I have a better idea." I prowl towards him, grinning at the smell of arousal slowly filling the office. He swallows as his cognac eyes flicker down to my lips before he licks his own, taking a step towards me before being stopped by the handcuffs. I stay just out of reach, watching as he squirms and struggles before saying, "Sit."

He looks around before pushing some of Noah's papers aside and settling himself on the desk before I slot myself between his legs. His legs wind around my neck, pulling me so close that a beautiful friction is created, causing both of us to groan. He goes to kiss me but I pull back, liking the frustrated whine he lets out because I'm in charge and I barely ever like to take charge but the were-fox in me reacts to seeing Stiles tied up and helpless.

I lean forwards, pretending to go kiss Stiles but I duck last minute, nipping at his neck and lapping at the moles across his pale skin which causes his hips to buck forwards. It presses his growing erection into my thigh and I growl, grabbing his chin and slamming my lips to his in a heated and dirty kiss. He goes to rut his hips against mine but I grip them almost painfully tight while our tongues fight for dominance, his moans being swallowed. I whine, my hips jerking when his free hand slips into the small space between our bodies and he squeezes my hard dick. I bite his bottom lip almost too hard as I grab his wrist, pinning it to the table.

"You left Y/N to go get Stiles?" I hear Scott ask Noah as footsteps get closer outside the station.

"Yes why?"

"They're probably fucking on your desk."

"Language young man." Noah speaks to Scott as if he were his own son. Stiles groans but pulls me into another bruising kiss as we both hear the door to the police station open. I comply, pulling Stiles' hips against mine because this is getting good and I don't want to stop but a clearing of a throat has Stiles reluctantly pulling back, "So you two...?" Noah asks as my eyes focus on the trail of spit still connecting mine and Stiles' lips. I ignore Noah and follow the trail as Stiles starts to talk, drawing his lips back to mine and cutting off his words. He lets out a squeak but does kiss me back because I know he feels it, the growing want for each other - more than a human want.

"Y/N." I shriek as Derek appears, using his alpha voice that has me yanking myself away from the emissary. The suddenness of it pulls Stiles from the desk and we both flail until we're standing shoulder to shoulder with heads bowed.

"We'll have a conversation about this later," Noah tells us sternly but Derek touches the sheriff's arm and whispers something to low for me to hear, even with my inhuman hearing, "Home now, both of you."

"I'm so blowing you when we get back." I whisper so Noah doesn't hear, but Scott groans and Derek growls. Noah glances at them then at us but I ignore him as I use a claw to undo the handcuff, grabbing Stiles hand and beginning to drag him away.

"I... I don't even want to know." Noah sighs, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

"Just don't go home for a few hours." Scott pats Noah's shoulder with a grimace. It's Stiles dragging me towards his jeep, the arousal drifting from him still filling my sense of smell and turning me on even more than possible. The ride home is almost unbearable and I have to keep shifting myself in my jeans which causes Stiles' gaze to burn through me and his arousal to heighten.

As soon as we're back both of us are out of the car nearly before Stiles parks it, racing upstairs to his room before I'm shoving him into his desk chair. He glances at the bed, mouth open to ask but he shuts it when I kneel between his legs, pushing them apart. His hips buck in anticipation but I hold them down while sucking the tent of his erection through his jeans. He whines, hands gripping the arms of his chair tight as I continue to tease him until he's begging.

Finally taking pity on him I pull back to unzip his jeans, rumbling happily when he obediently lift his hips for me to pull his jeans and boxers down in one go. Before he can do anything I swallow as much of him down as I can, looking up at him between my lashes as I suck him. He lets out the hottest moan I've ever heard, making my hips rut against his leg as I suck, groaning around his length. My eyes flutter shut when he places a hand between my shoulder blades, thumb stroking over the back of my neck where the mating bite is traditionally given. It turns me in even more and in approval I drag my teeth lightly down his length, making his hips jerk and me gag.

I have to pull off him after a while and I growl out, "If you keep rubbing that spot with your thumb I will have to pin you down and ride you raw," I continue to get him off with my hand as I lean up, bringing my lips closer to his, "I'll make you fill me up so much it'll leak out around your dick and I'll mark you so good everyone will know you belong to me."

"Oh fuck," He drags me up into a dirty kiss that has his back arching up for more than just my hand but also because he's close, I can tell by the way his dick is twitching in my hand so I pull away from the kiss. Keeping my eyes locked on his cognac ones as I lower my mouth back onto his dick, finding I can all of the nine inches now which has him tugging at my hair almost painfully as I begin to rut against his leg, "Y/N..." He throws his head back, mouth falling open in a broken moan of my name and eyes slipping shut as he comes, the sweetly salty liquid hitting the back of my throat. It makes me gag a little and some runs out the corner of my mouth, dribbling down my chin as I swallow what I can. I suck him dry, only pulling away when he taps at my shoulder, whining about being too sensitive.

I bury my nose in the side of his hip as I get off against his hip, wanting so badly to come.

"Y/N..." He tugs on me, pulling me into his lap and undoing my jeans, pulling me out and licking his hand before wrapping it around my dick. I move my hips with his hand, my hands gripping his shoulder and he swallows every single moan in a kiss, nibbling at my bottom lip. He moves his lips down to my neck, licking at my pulse point which has me purring because he's scenting me. I feel my toes curling when he rubs his thumb over the head of my dick, digging it into the slit a little, before he bites hard at my pulse point. That's all it takes for my back to arch into his hand, crying out and my nails digging into his shoulders probably hard enough to leave bruises.

It takes a few minutes for me to come back to myself and immediately I'm groaning because Stiles is licking my come from his hand, leaving the streaks on his face there as he asks breathlessly, "Id let you do all of that to me any day."

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles-x-male-reader #stiles stilinski x male reader #stiles stilinski smut #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x oc #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf smut #teen wolf x male reader

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

Text

Spit-Shine

Summary: A surprise visit to Andy's office leads to an impromptu game of show and tell.

Warnings: Smut, Andrew Barber, Oral (fem rec), Daddy Kink, Pussy Slapping, Semi-Public Sex, Naughty Office Shenanigans, Butt Plugs (mentioned), Role Play (mentioned), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This drabble is part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. Likes, comments, and Reblogs are all welcomed and encouraged. I love hearing from you, so please let me know your thoughts! All mistakes are my own. I'm tired so I'll do a better job of proofreading tomorrow.

___

"Show me."

Eyes wide, you sit there in shock staring back at your fiance. Had he really just uttered those words out loud? "Andrew!" You hiss as you feel your cheeks heat. "No!"

Andy leans back in his chair, his chin casually resting between his thumb and index finger. "Why do you look so scandalized, baby?" He asks, letting his deep baritone wash over you, sending pleasurable pinpricks straight to your core.

"Because we're in your office right now, and there are - there are people outside!"

Granted, most of them were out for lunch. But still!

"Guess that just means you'll have to be quiet." Your Big Man then rises from his seat and heads towards the door. A small shiver courses through you when you hear the snick of the lock clicking into place.

Now, you were well and truly trapped.

"This is hi-highly inappropriate." You stammer out as he prowls even closer. Seemingly of their own accord, your eyes can’t help but stray to the impressive bulge forming in his pants.

"Baby girl,” he sighs, picking you up and depositing you on his desk as if you weigh nothing. “You can't just come prancing into my office rocking that tight little skirt and those fuck-me-heels, drop that delicious little bomb, and then expect me to let you walk out the door." He pokes out his bottom lip in a delectable pout, silently urging you to give in.

“You asked me what I did today and I told you!” You quietly squeal, pushing at his chest as he leans in for a kiss. “I’ll - I’ll let you look all you want when you get home, okay?”

Undeterred, your man chooses instead to sit down in the seat you used to occupy. “But I want to see it now,” Andy rasps as he brushes his soft lips against the smooth skin of your calf. “So, be my good girl and fucking show me.”

Pulse thrumming in your ears, you finally do as he asks. Biting your lip, you slowly spread your thighs, baring yourself to your man’s hungry gaze.

“Mmm. There she is.” He purrs, taking in the sight of your freshly waxed pussy. “And would you look at that...no panties.”

“You know how sensitive I can be sometimes.” You whisper, feeling more than a little dirty. “Especially after my, ah, appointments.”

Your man didn't really give a fuck about your particular grooming habits. As long as you didn't try to keep your his cunt from him, the two of you got along just fine.

“So, my baby’s feeling a little sensitive, huh? Poor thing.” He tuts, his tone coming off just shy of teasing.

"Yes," you whisper, hoping that your Andy Bear was about to kiss it better.

Resting his hands on your parted knees, he leans in and buries his face between your sensitive folds. Maintaining his grip, he inhales your sweet, earthy scent into his lungs before letting out a strangled groan. And then he does it again, this time pulling you even closer.

Sometimes your man could be so fucking filthy.

“You know,” Andy mumbles as he nibbles at your damp flesh. “Sometimes I’ll just be sitting in my office, minding my own business, and I’ll think about her.” A quiet whimper escapes when you feel the tip of his tongue begin to lightly tease your clit. “The way you taste, your smell, those little sounds you make just before you cum. Fuck!” He slams his palm down on the flat surface beneath you. “Swear to god, you have no idea just how crazy you make me.”

“Oh!” Without warning, your man presses a hand to your abdomen, forcing you back so that you’re resting your elbows on his desk.

“You know what this pretty cunt needs, baby girl?” Using his thick fingers, he delicately parts your lips as his eyes darken with pure, unadulterated lust.

“Wh-what?” You breathe, feeling incredibly exposed sitting here on display like this in the middle of the workday.

“A little spit-shine.” He gazes up at you, his beard already glistening with your arousal. “You gonna let me clean you up, baby girl? Give Daddy a little taste to get him through the rest of his afternoon?”

You feel your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your blouse as you process his words. If your man was this desperate to have you here and now, then who were you to deny him?

Blowing out a shaky breath, you nod. That’s all the encouragement Andy needs. Wordlessly, he drapes your leg over his shoulder, opening you up to him even more.

“Mine.” He purrs, pressing an intimate kiss to the inside of your thigh. But it quickly becomes clear that that that isn’t enough to satisfy him. Wrapping his brawny arms around your hips, he lowers his eager mouth to your dripping pussy.

“Oh, fuck!” You hiss, slapping a hand over your mouth as he swirls his expert tongue through your messy folds. He moans deep and low in his throat, openly reveling in the sweet flavor that was all uniquely you.

Andy then moves to pay special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves. He sucks the nub into his mouth, humming in pleasure as he does. Drunk on your taste, he repeats the action, enjoying the way your thighs begin to tremble. Releasing you with a slight pop, he continues his sensual assault, allowing his tongue to rhythmically flick and stroke over your responsive clit with sinful precision.

“That’s it, baby girl.” Comes his harsh growl as you buck and writhe from your place beneath him. “Ride my face, just like that. Wanna drown in all this sweet honey.”

“Ungh!” You mewl, desperately seeking relief when you feel two thick, long fingers enter you. Andy pumps them in and out of you, twisting them just so as they seek out that special spot inside of you.

You try your best to be quiet as your big bear of a man unapologetically makes a meal out of your drenched pussy. He brazenly slurps at your core, losing himself in every breathy moan. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin as you feel yourself hurtling towards your impending orgasm.

“Daddy, I’m close!” You whine as you squirm in his grasp. “So so so close!”

You let out a sharp cry when Andy’s big hand comes down hard on your slit. The unexpected roughness has you clenching down his fingers as your eyes roll back in your head.

“Hush, baby.” He grunts, his teeth lightly grazing your pulsing nub. “Don’t want anyone interrupting our special time.” And then he goes back to greedily sucking and tongue fucking your needy pussy.

Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!

One of your hands dives into his hair, yanking at the dark strands as you urge him on. You felt so fucking dirty letting him have you like this, taking pleasure in the filthy fucking sounds your man makes while he frantically enjoys his midday treat.

“Gonna wear you for the rest of the day.” He whispers, his words coming out slightly muffled. “Fucking love you.” You’re so caught up in your own bliss that you almost don’t hear him.

Taking advantage of your position, you grind your pelvis against his bearded face. If he wanted to drown in you, then damn it, then your man was about to fucking drown.

“Andy!” You sob, biting your fist. You feel your control slipping when your pussy gushes for him once again. “Oh, Daddy, I feel it!”

“Then give fucking give it to me!” He commands, the authority in his voice making your inner muscles convulses around him. “Don’t make me wait, little girl.”

“Fuuuuck!” You cry as you continue to ride his face, letting him milk your orgasm from you for all it’s worth as you crest over the edge. Lights and colors explode behind your eyes as white-hot pleasure surges through your veins.

Andy continues to lap at you while you slowly come down from your high, ensuring that you enjoy the descent.

When you finally come back to reality, both of you are still breathing hard. His hair is disheveled and his navy blue tie is askew. And you know without even having to look that your gray skirt is wrinkled as fuck.

But try as you might, you just can’t seem to give a shit.

“Woah.” You whisper as your man places one last, delicate kiss against the sensitive skin behind your knee.

“Thank you, baby.” Andy hums. You watch through lidded eyes as he wipes his mouth with his hand before lewdly licking his palm. “That should be enough to get me through the rest of the day.”

Casting one last, long look at your pussy, he can’t help but smile as he takes in the sight of your puffy, slightly reddened flesh.

“Looks like you’ve got a little beard burn.” He quips, his tone dripping with male satisfaction.

“Comes with the territory.” You murmur as you weakly slap his greedy hand away. “Fix me up and walk me out?”

Grinning, your man helps you stand up before straightening your clothes. Once he’s done, he leans down to take your lips, letting you taste yourself. You keep the kiss deep and playful, with both of you taking your time as you happily explore every inch of each other’s mouths.

“I love you, Andy.” You breathe when you both come up for air.

“Love you too, baby girl.” Andy’s hands tenderly grip your ass, giving your globes a tender squeeze. "So damn much."

Knowing you both have to get back to your day, you finally allow him to lead you out of his office. Keeping your head down, you struggle to keep yourself from blushing as you wave to a few of his staff members.

"Bye, Y/N!" One of his interns calls out at your retreating form. "It was good seeing you today. Hope you come back soon!"

"Definitely." You murmur as you feel your core spasm.

___

“You wanna play tonight?” Your man whispers when you’re both convinced that you are out of earshot.

“Uh huh.” You nod, unconsciously tucking your smaller body into his side.

“You in the mood to play with Nice Daddy or Mean Daddy, sweetheart?” He presses a loving kiss to your wild curls while he waits for your answer.

“Um…” You pause, weighing your options. “I’m thinkin’ I might want you to be a little mean.”

“Oh yeah?” Having reached the lobby, your Big Man sweetly cups your cheek. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You tell him with a shy smile. “In fact, I’m thinking that I might want to try my new present.” You bat your eyelashes up at him, enjoying the way his sinful blue eyes flare at the prospect of using the toy he’d recently purchased for you.

“Really? You want me to do that to you?”

Standing on your tiptoes, you force him to lean down so that you can whisper in his ear. After all, just because you were in the mood to be naughty didn't mean that you needed to broadcast it to everyone.

“Please plug my ass tonight, Daddy.” You purr, loving how he tenses beneath your hands. “I want to know what it’s like to have both my holes stuffed full.”

“O-okay.” He coughs, more than a little surprised by your racy admission.

Giving your man one last kiss, you sashay your way out the door, leaving a stunned Andy Barber in your wake.

Oh well. You knew he would recover.

Eventually.

END

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darkk-academic · 2 years

Text

Smitten

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : The fact of the matter is you're smitten. Five is not. Or is he?

Warning : None.

"Will you leave me the hell alone!?"

"No."

It was stupid of him to ask you that question. And by the way he runs his hand through his hair— pulling at the ends a bit, you can tell he knows that as well.

"Can't you, for once, say yes to anything I ask?" he speaks through gritted teeth.

There are many people who would say that they can never say no to their lovers—not that you and Five Hargreeves are lovers in any way, yet—but no is the only answer you can give to Five.

You have to, when all his questions are like—

Can't you stop following me around?

I will kill you, will that make you leave?

So, obviously, this time won't be any different. Still, you try your best not to cringe as you reply, "No."

Jaw clenching as he exhales sharply, turning around, his piercing eyes narrow down on you— pinning you in place.

Your heartbeat surges, pulsating against your neck. His gaze falls down, tracking the moment.

That is not helping at all.

He looks up, peering in your eyes. A brow rising. "Are you afraid?"

You aren't. His presence just has this effect on you, on most of the people in general.

When Five Hargreeves stalks inside a room, he does it in a way that shows that not only does he own the place, he knows it. The lion prowls the jungle, and instinctively, it puts every other animal on guard, unless it's one oblivious doe that does not heed the very blatant warning—it's you, you are that doe.

"No," you affirm. My vocabulary sure is short today, you think.

His lips curl into an almost cruel smirk. "Your heartbeat says otherwise," he mocks. Stepping towards you, closing the space.

It's involuntary that his every step forward is a step back for you. Until there's nowhere left to back away to. Your back hits the wall.

Languidly, he places his hands on either side of your head, blocking you. Tilting his head, he leans in. "What about now?"

Now…

Now you can hardly think straight, let alone string a coherent sentence. If his presence is enough to increase your pulse, his proximity is something else entirely. Your mind has gone foggy, so heady you might as well have been intoxicated.

You scarcely breathe, afraid you will get high on him. But your breath betrays you, nonetheless, hitching ever so softly.

He hears it. Because, of course, he does. Ever so attentive about every detail.

His eyes scan your face, seeking and searching. His brows furrow as he settles his gaze on yours— you stare right back, not cowering, not backing down.

Letting him see it all. The raw, unfiltered feelings that demand his acknowledgement.

In the silence between you two, dwells the whispers of your breaths. His and yours. Intermingling, confessing what you know he won't.

You hear it all the same.

His lips part, a myriad of emotions flashing through his eyes. He shuts them down. A mask falling in place. Clenching his jaw, he backs away. "Just go."

But it's him that leaves. It's always him who leaves.

But no.

You won't let this bring you down. No.

Because now that you had the courage to look in his eyes, hold his gaze. Read him as he reads you. You know.

You don't trample down the hope that blooms within, letting it grow.

Smiling because you know. You twirl in place, huffing a chuckle.

You know. You know. Oh, how you know.

Remembering his words, you stop. Looking around, your gaze spots him a short-distance away.

You chase after him. And once you catch up—he heaves out an exasperated sigh—you answer, smile all but glued on your face.

"No."

..................................................................................

A/N :

Me : Let me write a new chapter instead of another oneshot.

My mind : No❤

Why— 😭😭

Anways, to be honest this just happened, kinda inspired from this fanfiction I have planned. Yeah another Five Hargreeves fic.

I thought about writing that one because of Klaus and Caroline. I thought— Hey! a fic based on that dynamic would be so fun. And yeah...

Hope you enjoyed this adventure!

Thankyou! ❤

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #tua five #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves oneshot #tua #the umbrella academy #tua season 3 #tua3 #oneshot #x reader

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