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myfictionaldreams · 6 months

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Day 22: Bondage - Poly!Marauders

Summary: Trying something new, you trusted your boyfriends as they restrained you in the middle of an empty classroom

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, bondage, restraints with ropes, eyemask, anonymous sex, mouth gag, dom/sub, edging, nearly caught, free-use (kinda), creampie, subspace, aftercare

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It had taken nearly half an hour to set up. James undressed you slowly, chilling you to the bone as the emptied classroom did little to provide warmth. Remus positioned your body to allow Sirius to begin intricately moving his wand, directing the rope into unique knots he’d been practising for today.

They used a rickety old desk with numerous burn marks from past students' experiments having gone wrong on the top, but this was the base for where you would be leaning your weight. Your chest was pushed over the surface, so you were bent over. Each of your ankles was tied to the floor, giving no space to move from how your legs are spread, giving the boys the perfect view of your intimate areas. Your arms are awkwardly positioned behind your back and then the thick rope slithered and wound around your body, delicately between your breasts so they both are perked until you are utterly and thoroughly strapped to the desk with no means of escape.

Despite the odd angle and the sensation of the rope, it was surprisingly comfortable, especially as your head was left to dangle off the edge of the desk and had free movement.

“How’s this position feeling?” James asked, squatting down so that you could look him in his hazel eyes.

“It’s good, Sirius did a great job”, you respond with a grin and, earning a satisfied whoop from Sirius.

“Good. Now tell me what you need to do if you want to use your safeword”, James asked with caution, lacing his tone.

“Shake my head or tap my fingers three times”.

“Good girl”, Sirius praises from where he stood out of your line of vision, but you could feel the journey his fingers were taking down your spine, between the ropes. “Now, it’s time to say bye-bye”.

This was all part of the plan. First, they placed a ball gag into your mouth, Remus doing so delicately before kissing your temple and easing the silk eye mask to cover your vision. All you were left to depend on was your hearing as you listened to them walking away and out the door.

Alone, you attempted to try and move, testing the restraints, and all it did was tighten around your body, the rough material burning slightly from the friction. Everything seemed to be much louder, from the creaking of the ropes to your own breathing; it was all emphasised as you tried to listen for the door opening again, but you were unsure who it would be. This was the idea for today's antics, somewhat anonymous sex but with your boyfriends, bound and gagged, for them to come and touch and fuck without getting caught.

It was exhilarating, blood pumping with adrenaline, which helped to keep you warm as you waited patiently, a pulse forming between your thighs for what was about to happen.

The door creaking open was your first sign of someone else in the room. You stopped breathing to try and listen more closely to the steps, but you could not decipher who had walked through the door. The ropes strained more as you attempted to shift your position, to prepare for what was to come, and already forgetting how thoroughly you were tied down, so all you managed to do was stay entirely still.

The zipper unfastened was almost deafening with how loudly it echoed around the classroom; all you could tell was that whoever it was was directly behind you. He did not touch you with his hands; the first touch from his body was the tip of whoever's cock had just been released from the confines of his trousers.

Your breath hitched as he swiped his hardness up and down your folds, adding extra pressure onto your clit that had your body tightening in tension and then relaxing with the pleasure that came from the stimulation. The lewd sound of your wetness being rubbed against had the tips of your ears warming, but you couldn’t contemplate the embarrassment as you slowly were penetrated.

You gasped, but it was muffled by the round plastic ball shoved in your mouth, holding your tongue to the bottom of your mouth and making saliva challenging to swallow that it was already beginning to dribble down your chin. It was blissful, that first stretch and burn that came with it, the wider your hole became, clasping around the cock like it was your body's lifeline.

The desk creaks under the weight of the movement of your body, especially as more warmth crowds your lower back as your boyfriend begins to lean their weight over you, pressing their hands into the desk on either side of your hips. Using that as leverage, he began to fuck you with hard, deep strokes.

Your head fell forward, fully dangling off of the edge. The entire experience was disorientating, not knowing which cock was inside of you. Either way, you loved it; even the ache building in your shoulders from the awkward angles of your arms couldn’t fault the overwhelming pleasure through your body.

Your moans increased in pitch, the fire in your abdomen blazing as he kept fucking and fucking until you thought it couldn’t feel any better; the urge to scream out with your orgasm was overwhelming. Until that is, the very thing giving you pleasure decides to vacate its warm home as the cock pulls out completely. Your cunt fluttered as you groaned with agony and frustration as the orgasm disappeared before reaching its full potential.

Only after you had calmed enough to stop whining that the cock fucked into you again, chasing their pleasure until their thrusts halted and warmth filled deep inside your cunt as their cum spurted into you. They stayed inside of you until their cock had softened. You wish you could have seen them, surprised they hadn’t even made a noise through it all, as each of your boyfriends was usually quite vocal as they ejaculated.

Whoever it was, leaves without so much as a ‘thanks for a good fuck’, as all you're left with is the obscene drip of the cum oozing out of your vagina and onto the stone floor. It matches the same noise of the saliva dripping down your chin and onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle.

The door opens and closes again, the similar steps as before, a zipper and then a cock pushing in. You gasped just as lewdly as before, especially as your arms were tugged by whoever was fucking you, using your roped hands as something to hold onto as he fucked.

You were once again lost in pleasure. Anonymous sex with one of your boyfriends, bound, gagged, edged with each orgasm that threatened to become a reality. You were so close to cumming twice, your clit swollen and throbbing, and yet, you had to continue the endurance of not being able to cum. He would simply pull his cock out, take a step back and then continue once you’d calmed down enough.

You were close to begging, not that they would be able to understand what you were moaning about around the gag ball.

Just as the thrusting increased in strength, cock smacking into your cervix with the power behind it, did the door suddenly burst open.

“Someone is coming!” You could not tell who had spoken as you felt dizzy and fuzzy through the edging and bondage play. All you knew was that the pleasure had disappeared, and a hand was cupping your cheek. “I’m going to cover you in the invisibility cloak, but you need to stay quiet for us”.

The weight and warmth of the cloak were welcomed, giving you something to ground you in the moment, bringing you back to what was happening and moving past just throughs of cock and orgasms. Shit, you thought, someone was close to catching you all. Of course, this was all the thrill that came with fucking in a somewhat public space, but the realities of it had dread pooling in your stomach uneasily. Especially as you had no means of escape, thoroughly stuck in the position with no way out, or even seeing where anyone else was.

“Boys? What are you doing here?” came the lovely, soft voice of your best friend, Lily.

“Why are you snooping around, Evans? Can’t three boys be revising without any interruptions?” James responded sarcastically from where he stood in front of you from the sounds of it.

“You revising… in a dusty old classroom… You really make everything sound suspicious without even trying. And anyway, I was just on my rounds as head girl, and I spotted you hiding outside the door; of course, I’m going to follow and-” Lily pauses, taking a moment to think before asking with accusation thick in her voice. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Sirius asks, from bedside James.

“You know who I’m asking about, Sirius. Where you three are, she usually is, so where is she?” Lily asks, obviously referring to your whereabouts.

“I don’t know who you are talking about. Do you know who she’s talking about, Prongs?” Sirius asks James casually with a hint of arrogance.

“Hmm, I’m not sure. Hello? Anyone else in here?” James shouts around the room, obviously not getting a response and earning a very sincere eye-roll from Lily. “Nope, not in here. Maybe whoever it is that you’re looking for is in the common room”.

Lily gives an exacerbated sigh, “Whatever, I won’t ask any more questions. Just make sure whatever it is you’re doing doesn’t lose us any house points”.

“Nothing like that is happening, I promise you that, Lily”, Remus answers, stepping forward and gently easing Lily out of the room. A few dreadful minutes pass before the warmth of the cloak disappears, and you’re nuzzling into a palm cupping your face. “Are you ok?” Remus asks gently, moving both hands to your face and tenderly stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

You nod your head as you answer that you are ok. “Good. Do you want to continue?” Once more, you’re nodding your head, yes. You mewl slightly as Remus’ hands leave the comfort of your face, and then two footsteps are heard leaving the door.

You’re left in the room with one of them, but once more, you’re unsure who it was that was circling around your body. Two fingers then swiped down your pussy, making you jolt in your restraints as they push in. You’re drenched from the side of it, and for once, they don’t stop until you orgasm, curling into that beautiful, sensitive spot within.

You were shivering through the orgasm, eyes clenching tightly closed, even though you were still covered in the eye mask. The waves of pleasure continued as a cock was replacing the fingers; from the size and feel of it, it was the same person as before you’d been interrupted by Lily.

He continued the pace as fiercely as before, your body now humming with pleasure and adrenaline and slipping further into the submissive space you enjoyed so much. Especially as you were restrained and putting your complete trust in your three boyfriends, it was easy to feel more vulnerable and submissive like this.

You came again as your boyfriend also finished, his hot seed joining the previous man as your walls milked him of every single drop in tight, clenching waves of pleasure.

By the third person, your body is past aching and is not hurting. Pins and needles run up and down your limbs, the rough rope is rubbing against your delicate skin, and you're slightly light-headed due to the position your head is hanging.

The cock filled you completely, lubed by your juices and two other men as it entered you to the brim. Your pussy is throbbing and slightly overstimulated from the orgasms and fucking. The moans are hoarse, jaw aching just as badly as your restrained limbs from being kept open with the ball gag. Your eyemask was damp around the yes from where you’d cried in euphoria. It was all so fucking good but verging on being too much.

With the constant stimulation from whoever was fucking your pussy, it felt like the pulses of your orgasm didn’t want to settle, so you were left with that heightened sensation. But, then, a firm hand was holding yours behind your back, which was an odd sensation due to the pins and needles, but it was your only sign that you were able to be full once more as he breathed out a heavy sigh and came.

The hand he’s holding is released as he eases himself out of you carefully, zipping himself up before whistling to notify the others who enter immediately.

The eye mask is removed first by Sirius, who is now kneeling in front of you. Your eyes are closed, but wetness lines the lashes, which he quickly wipes, cradling your face so he can look at you properly.

“Hey, sweetheart, you with us?” The way he talked so gently to you made your heart beating harder with love, helping you draw your tension away from the pain and to him. Nodding your head, he praised you, delicately kissing the tip of your nose. “You did so good for us; we’re so proud of you. We’re just going to remove your gag and the ropes. We’ll be as careful as we can”.

Nodding your head in understanding, Sirius unbuckles the gag from between your lips, spit coating the plastic. He carefully massages your jaw, helping you to shut it, and you now realise just how dry your throat was as you take a second to try and coat your mouth and swallow a few times to relieve the burn. With the back of his sleeve, Sirius cleans your mouth, chin and throat of any spit that had dribbled out.

Remus and James ease the ropes from your body, starting with your arms. You shout out in pain at feeling the material's roughness, and even though it was nice to have movement back, your joints and muscles were aching, so any movement caused pain. Remus thankfully used his significantly warm hands to massage over the soreness.

“Shh, I know it hurts; we’re going to take you to the prefects bathroom and use the bath in there”, Sirius informs you, still cradling your face and talking through the movements.

As the last of the rope from your ankles is unbound, you were scared you’d roll off the desk and onto the floor and for a second, it felt like you were. But, it was actually Remus who had been tilting your body so that he could scoop you into his arms, your head resting tiredly on his shoulders, ignoring the fact that cum was still seeping out of your hole and onto his arm.

“Throw the cloak over us, will you Padfoot?” Remus asks Sirius, who does as instructed.

“I want to sleep”, you whisper, voice breaking with the effort in doing so.

“You can sleep, we’ll look after you”, Remus reassured.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter smut #sirius black x reader #sirius black smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #harry potter smut #mine*#kinktober #kinktober 2023

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hoseokshobagi · 3 months

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† Reborn in Sin ⸸ | Sneak peak | PJM

† Reborn in Sin ⸸ sneak peak

✞PAIRING: demon!jimin x fem!reader

✞ 【SUMMARY】: for years jimin was your constant and loyal companion in the church, a shining example of humility and compassion. but when he was tragically taken from the world before he could experience life, his heart was filled with anger and resentment. and so, in a moment of weakness, he struck a deal with the devil, trading his soul for a second chance at life. but when he returned, he was no longer your kind and devoted boy you once knew.

✞ 『GENRE』: dark ✟ supernatural ✟ fantasy ✟ angst ✟ smut

✞ RATING: 18+ / minors do not interact

✞ WORD COUNT: loading...

✞ [WARNINGS/TAGS] : dead dove, dark, death, manipulation, corruption (kink?), church & religion, blasphemy & desecration, [oral(m) - not with reader, headpusher jimin, face fucking, spit play], dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, dubcon, public fingering, exhibitionism, sexual "nightmares" & hallucinations, mind games, jimin is the worst & the BIGGEST warning!!!!, oral(f), cunt drunk jimin, unprotected sex, rough sex, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, unrealistic amount of cum lmao, cum play, betrayal, mind break

✞ NOTE: hi beautiful people!!! this story was written for the @btsfests writing fest. actually this is the first time i publish my writing and omg ahcbdjs i'm so nervous while writing this note. i always wrote for myself and my closest friends but thanks to bts fests and their never ending encouraging words i decided to show off my writing. this little part is the reason why i started writing this whole story and i hope you'll like it just as much as i enjoyed writing every word. :] this demon jimin is the most cunty & selfish character i've written so far so yall better prepare yourselves ajfnsjxnsjs

english is not my native language, but despite that i'll write and communicate in english. please if you see an error in my writing or grammar lmk!! <3

my dearest beta read: @liveyun 🐢♡

COMING SOON

❗this is the darkest fic i've ever written so please read all the warnings before reading❗

The delicate chimes of the church bell echoed softly through the cavernous rafters, casting an unsettling shadow over Jimin’s mind. Like ghostly whispers emanating from the very walls and pillars of the church, the sounds seemed to taunt him. Whispering to him that he no longer belonged in this sacred space.

He couldn’t believe how he used to devour Father Seokjin’s every word, eagerly drinking up his sermons like it was the finest wine he ever tasted. In this very church, where he had spent countless hours sitting in the pews, Jimin felt like a stranger in the world he once called home.

He looked to his left and gazed upon the sweet, delicate flower — the very reason why he was there. Innocence shining in your eyes, your eyelashes fluttered like the softest butterfly wings. Sitting next to him with hands clasped tightly together in your lap, you looked as pure as new snow, listening to the mass.

Oh, how much he forced himself to resist the urge to reach out and ruin you right then and there. To feel the delicate petals of your innocence as they crumpled beneath his fingers. But he was going to do so slowly, savoring every moment of your fall from grace.

So, he grit his teeth and forced himself to endure the priest’s words and the choir’s music, at least, for a while.

Despite his best efforts, this place was as dull and lifeless as the stones that made up its walls. He spent half of his life trapped within these confines, he knew every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of light, every word and phrase of the Bible that was engraved in his mind, the product of countless wasted years.

Jimin raised a hand to his face, tracing each perfect curve of his newly manicured nails, scrutinizing them from every angle. He raised an eyebrow in anticipation, marveling at Hoseok’s handiwork.

He couldn’t wait to make another deal with the bastard later.

You noticed his attention was drifting and Jimin’s reverie was broken by a gentle tap on his shoulder, causing his thoughts to come crashing down around him like a house of cards. He turned to see your confused eyes peering up at him, your delicate lips murmuring a soft “pray”.

He couldn’t help but mentally roll his eyes. Oh, you were so annoying. He was going to make you pay for all the stress and frustration that he had to go through and endure because of you.

Jimin lowered his head and with a deep breath, closed his eyes, pretending as if he was lost in prayer, his mind far from it. Wandering anywhere but there.

As you finally turned back to offer your own prayers, he couldn’t resist and raised his eyes, glancing back at you.

And he was so fucked.

You were a sight to behold, more divine than the sacred paintings that adorned the walls of this church.

As your eyes drifted shut, your lashes like feathers of a sleeping bird, delicately brushed the curves of your eyes. The soft radiance of the lights danced upon your face, creating a tender veil of shadows that caressed your skin.

Your lips moved in silent devotion as you murmured in such sincerity, clutching the Holy Book tightly in your hands. And he swears, he could feel his dick twitch just at the sight.

You were so breakable, so vulnerable and so fucking beautiful.

Yeah, he was so fucked. So lost in you.

Park’s burning desires had been building to a crescendo in the last few days, a boiling point that seemed to threaten to engulf him whole. He felt like his longing for you was an aching fire that was on the verge of exploding. The mere sight of you at the church was a powerful trigger to him, fanning the flames for this fire.

And he thought it was ridiculous.

He couldn’t believe how he couldn’t control himself, his body yearning for yours, needing to stain the purity of your grace, to spread his sin all around your soul. To corrupt the sacredness of who you were with the foulness of who he had become.

He glanced around and took in the sights and sounds of the church, noticing that everyone was enraptured by the mass. Their focus was solely on the priest at the cathedral, their attention directed nowhere else.

With a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he slipped closer to you and your sweet scent filled his nostrils; making him feel intoxicated. He knew exactly what he had to do; a little play won’t hurt anyone.

Jimin’s touch was like a gentle caress of a summer breeze, soft and tender, caressing your skin like the lightest of kisses. Your eyes flicked open, searching for the source of such unexpected warmth.

And there he was, with his legs crossed, - his gaze fixed on you with such intensity that always made your cheeks warm for some reason – one arm resting comfortably on his elbow on the church pew, the other continuing to idly play with the soft fabric of your long skirt.

You never wore anything revealing; preferring modesty over anything else, however this time, you felt utterly exposed as his eyes roamed over your form like that. Jimin always enjoyed this, stripping away your layers one by one, revealing the true you that lay beneath.

Slowly he drew near, his aura spreading like a thick mist, wrapping around you. The scent of his cologne swirled around as his body pressed against yours, his knee gently nudging yours. His warm breath brushed against your cheeks, like the caress of a dead night.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Keep praying." You looked at his hand, still playing with your skirt, unsure of what to say. Jimin’s voice was calm and soft, yet, there was something about his dark eyes that made you feel uneasy. Like he was biding his time, planning his next move.

It clearly made you uncomfortable, but you were too naive to say anything, too afraid to speak your mind, not to mention that you were sure Jimin would never do anything wrong, so you turned back again and closed your eyes to pray.

But what you didn’t know was that you were already entangled by the snake’s coils; Jimin waited for the moment when you would break. He was so curious, so eager to see just how far you would go, how much you would endure before you finally stepped up and told him to stop.

Would you wrench his hand away? Would you yell at him? Would you make a scene in the middle of the church? He knew you wouldn’t, knew you were just too gentle and too timid to disrespect your favorite little church.

And so, he kept pushing, pushing your boundaries and invading your personal space, inch by inch, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in the wake of his touch.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying desperately to break free from his touch, but he only tightened his grip, making your heart race with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.

"Jimin, can you please stop?" Oh, that was it. Your question was hardly above a whisper, as though afraid of you would be heard by those around you. The snake’s grip finally ensnared his delicate, little flower and he had no intention of stopping.

„Keep it down. You wouldn’t wanna disturb the praying souls now, would you?”

A devilish smirk played on his lips, eyes like black holes bearing down at you. His voice was like honey dripping from his lips; so soft and alluring. A stark contrast to the real meaning behind his words and actions. He continued to run his hand up your thigh, pushing your long skirt higher and higher until it was bunched around your waist.

"Jimin, st—" His other hand slithered around from the back of your neck, forcefully covering your mouth, silencing any words that wanted to escape your lips. Whatever you tried to say it came out muffled by his hand, leaving you feeling panicked and completely helpless.

You grasped at the material like a lifeline, desperate to pull it back down, but Jimin’s arm was like a steel barricade, preventing you from covering yourself. You felt trapped, your body burning with the shame of exposure.

"I said keep your mouth shut. We don’t want others to see you like this, do we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to escape as the fear of being discovered and shamed in front of everyone took over. All you could do was fix your gaze on Jimin’s intense, brooding eyes, silently pleading for mercy with your own desperate ones. Ah, so pretty for him.

As you gazed into the depths of his dark eyes, the windows to his no longer existing a soul, you revealed a darkness that engulfed you, and you knew there was no escape.

You were at his mercy, and he had none.

Jimin’s pupils dilated at the sight, your skin was soft and flawless, causing a shiver to run down his spine as he gently touched you. The delicate fabric of your white panties teased him, giving him just a glimpse of what was hidden underneath.

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he lazily played with the tiny, little, pink bow adorning the center of your panties. His actions were a clear taunt, a display of the control he had over you and your vulnerabilities.

It was clear you wanted to push him away, to scold him, yell at him, but he knew the fear of causing a scene in church held you back. You tried to glance around nervously, hoping no one would notice what was happening.

The world seemed to come to a standstill, the only thing that existed was the fast, thumping beat of your heart as Jimin’s hand slithered closer and closer to the place where it had no business being. You felt trapped, your body frozen, unable to break free as if you were held captive by a coiled serpent; its grip tightening with each struggle. The sound of your unsteady breaths filled the air, the only thing grounding you in reality, that, and the heat from his touch, because this serpent was crafted from the finest satin.

„Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, keep praying so God won’t mind, yeah?”

His words made you paralyzed, like a spell, breaking you down. Words like those should never have left the lips of the kind and caring Jimin that you thought you knew. Your mind was reeling with shock and pain, struggling to make sense of how someone you had trusted completely could suddenly become a stranger. Jimin’s actions were like a knife to your heart, a stab that pierced through the trust you had placed in him.

With the grace of a feather dancing on skin, Jimin traced his fingers over your clothed clit, making you tremble beneath his touch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening as you felt the weight of the moment sinking in.

And he chuckled softly, a low rumble that only you could hear, taking your response as a cue, he increased the pressure. His skilled fingers now applied a firm yet tender touch, coaxing your body to new heights of pleasure, and your body tingled in response, betraying you by a throbbing ache that grew stronger with every touch.

As the ripples of pleasure swirled within you, you tried to pull back, to resist the sin that was happening in the very place where you sought solace and salvation. The guilt gnawed at your soul, the snake’s venom that seeped into every crevice, tainting the flower’s beauty.

And yet, Jimin reveled in your pain, basking in the darkness of your suffering as he watched the guilt consume you whole. The venom of your remorse was a feast for his senses; the holy wine, the sweetest elixir to be savored with every devious sip.

"Look, what do we have in here." He pressed his thumb against the dark spot on your panties, causing you to shiver. For him, the sensations of your wetness seeping through the fabric was like an euphoric rush, the sweet nectar of his delicate flower, intoxicating and irresistible.

Heat spread across your cheeks, horror and shame washing over you at his words, you shook your head, tried to move, tried to tell him to stop, but you found yourself lost in his eyes, searching for any sign of the person you once knew. But all you saw was darkness, a void that seemed to swallow you whole.

"Deny it if you want, baby, but aren’t you a nasty girl? You’re fucking soaking."

And it was true. Your body felt like it was betraying you, and you were mortified. He ignited a fire within you that you couldn’t deny. A soft cry slipped from your lips, but you couldn’t bear to face him, knowing that you were powerless in his grasp.

You were unable to believe what was happening. As someone who had always followed the Catholic faith and held its teachings in high regard, there you were, in this sacred place, allowing something so forbidden to take place.

But as his fingers slipped under the fabric of your panties, your mind went blank. The back of Jimin’s hand clung to your sticky panties as his fingers found their way down to your folds, the feeling making him shiver.

„Fuck— you’re so wet, can’t wait to feel you around me.”

You squeezed your lips together under Jimin’s hand to keep from making any noise, your eyes squeezed shut, tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as his wet fingers continued to rub and spread your folds apart, smearing your sticky arousal all over your cunt.

„Shh, this won’t make you a sinner baby, it’s okay. You won’t mind just one finger inside, yeah?” His middle finger probed at your entrance, teasing it, making it wetter still, as he slowly pushed in.

„Y-yeah baby— just one finger?” He teased and removed his finger, making you clench around thin air, and Jimin swears, the feeling made him twitch inside his pants. Teasing you – or himself, it didn’t matter anymore – he plunged back in, tauntingly slow.

Jimin’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his hard dick pressing firmly against his pants, yearning for release. To him this is how true Paradise felt like, the feeling of your silk walls wrapped around his digit.

He was about to lose it.

He bottomed his finger out inside you, knuckle deep, until his small 13 tattoo on his wrist met with your lower abdomen.

But he craved more. Fuck, how much he wanted to slam you against the pew and spread your thighs wide open, stretching your pretty little pussy right out with his dick. And who could blame him with the way your cunt gripped on his one single digit like that, dripping wet and sinfully warm.

But he couldn’t— not now. And it made him crazy.

You sank into the pew, your body trembling as he started to move his finger, his other hand still covering your mouth to keep you quiet. Every part of you was on fire, your mind and body in a constant battle between desire and shame. You were supposed to stop him, to push him away, but all you could manage was tremble and it made your eyes water.

It was a mixture of remorse and the burning desire pounding between your thighs; something you had never experienced before and something you knew you shouldn’t have felt at all in this holy place. And more likely you should’ve never clenched harder around Jimin’s finger when you heard the small shudder in each breath he took.

"Ahh baby—" The faint, breathy little whimper shattered his voice. "fuck.. you’re so perfect… so f-fucking perfect."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath shallow and ragged, mirroring the rhythm of his finger. With his warm breath tickling your ear, his whispered words were barely audible, but they still managed to send shivers down your spine.

"Ooh, h-how I wish to see this perfect fucking pussy."

Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off of you as he watched your face intently, committing every single feature and expression to his memory. The way your brows were furrowed in pleasure, the way you fought to keep your eyes open due to the sensitivity.

He couldn’t help but admire the way your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, the way you tried to stifle your moans under his hand, and the way your juices flowed from your aching cunt.

You were a captivating sight, sinful and alluring, flesh heated and glistening with arousal, and he knew you couldn’t deny it even though you tried. Your trembling body and the slickness on his fingers were evidence of the truth.

He slowly added a second finger, stretching you open further and moving faster, his fingers stroking your sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through you. With every stroke, you felt your body weakening, and your thoughts began to succumb to the corrupting pleasure.

Despite your protests, your body responded eagerly, arching towards him in a desperate plea for more; seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he was giving you.

You never felt so conflicted in your entire life, your mind was a battlefield; torn between your beliefs and the undeniable pleasure that was now coursing through your veins. Every creak of the old wooden pews felt like a judgment, a cruel reminder that you were committing a sin that would send you to the depths of damnation.

But when Jimin serendipitously grazed your swollen clit with his thumb, your mind went blank. You’d lost it.

Your hips involuntarily jerked against his hand, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep your cries of ecstasy at bay, but it was a dead effort as you squirmed and moaned, muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

"Fuck— Don’t moan like that, you’re getting too loud, keep quiet."

But you couldn’t. It was as if your head was spinning, unable to focus on anything except the pleasure. The way he slid his fingers in and out of you, his thumb perfectly stimulating your clit, it was too much.

Despite your efforts, you couldn’t contain the small moans that escaped your lips. The church was now just a blur in the background, the stained glass windows casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor.

"Shit, baby, keep fucking quiet or do you want me to slip those fucking panties off and stuff them in your mouth, hm?" Jimin’s whispered words sent shivers down your spine, making you clasp around his fingers right back in.

"Y-yeah, you want that baby? My nasty girl, s-so good... so fucking perfect." He moved his fingers faster, his thumb circling deliciously on your clit, building up the pace for your climax, your body crying out for release. And oh, how he reveled in it, savoring every moment, every sensation as his little flower finally opened its petals to him.

"You’re so close, baby, f-fuck— just let go, let me take you there."

As Jimin’s fingers brought you closer and closer to the brink, you couldn’t help but give in, feeling all the guilt and shame wash away in the face of the intense pleasure you were feeling.

„Ooh, fuck— Y-yeah, baby, go on. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Just as you were about to reach the peak, a sudden thud broke through the lustful haze. Your tear-filled eyes fluttered open and you glanced up to the top of the church’s gallery, where you saw the organ player, Mr. Min sprawled on the ground at the bottom of the stairs, amidst a sea of fallen notes.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as your eyes met his, and you saw the shock and disbelief on his once serene face.

Your heart plummeted like a falling star, sinking into the depths of your stomach as you realized what you must look like to Mr. Min. Your cheeks burned with the heat of a thousand suns as you met his gaze, his face a canvas of flushed embarrassment, crushing you with shame and guilt.

For in the eyes of Mr. Min, you were no other, but a sinner caught in the act of sin in the house of the divine. And as the notes of the holy music lay scattered at his feet, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were a reflection of your shattered innocence.

Mr. Min quickly ascended the stairs to the organ, his emotions were in disarray, a tumultuous blend of arousal and embarrassment. With each step, he tried to push away the image of what he had just seen, but it lingered like a haunting melody in his mind.

His cheeks burned with shame, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance at you before he reached the top of the stairs, his feline eyes burning you whole.

Exposed and vulnerable, you were unable to look at the organ player in the eyes anymore. You closed your eyes tight in an attempt to block out the intensity of his gaze. But even with your eyes shut, you could feel his feline eyes looking down at you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the image, Jimin’s skillful fingers never faltered to move inside you, your body feeling like it was exploding. A soft whimper escaped your lips, which got silenced by his firm grasp.

With each second you felt yourself surrendering to the overwhelming ecstasy.

As you teetered on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure, you were suddenly jolted back to reality, finding yourself next to Jimin who was kneeling humbly on the wooden pew of the church, praying.

With eyes wide open, heated cheeks and heavy breathing you gazed at your own clasped hands on the pew.

Was this all in your head? How could you have let your mind wander to sinful desires in the sacred walls of the church?

Jimin’s innocent devotion to his God only amplified your own guilt, making you feel like a fallen angel in the presence of his pure soul.

Jimin couldn’t help but smirk, he bit the inside of his cheek, but it didn’t help hiding it. He moved his clasped hands toward his mouth to hide the devilish smirk that appeared on his lips.

For he knew the power he held over you, the power to seduce and corrupt your very being. And with each passing day he was one step closer to claiming your body and soul for his own.

And as you sat there, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, Jimin continued to pray, his facade of innocence masking the devilish intentions that lurked within.

#bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin scenarios #jimin smut #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts x reader #park jimin fanfic #btsfests #park jimin smut

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

Text

college! fratboy!luke situationship

mdni; this is for my fellow ksig!luke truther @starswillow

the idea of staying on campus for the summer almost made you want to reject the research position you were offered by one of the labs in your department, but the stipend, free housing and meals were too good to turn down. you didn’t necessarily want to go back to the middle of nowhere indiana to live with your parents for three months, which was the only other option you had, so you stayed while all your friends said their goodbyes and went off to start their summer travels or internships in big cities.

you had a plan– you were going to go to lab, go eat, and head straight home. you were going to use the summer to recharge from the stress of your first year in college. you didn’t plan to run into luke castellan, who was re-taking a class in the lab next to yours because he fucked up his final experiment so bad, even the professor couldn’t figure out what he managed to do. and you definitely didn’t plan to fall into a situationship with the newly pledged ksig brother, but here you were.

it started out innocently enough. his class ended the same time you took your lunch hour and he’d see you walking out with the rest of the future college drop-outs like him to the dining hall. luke had never seen you around before, after all the school was huge and it seemed like you’d be in classes that he was too dumb to even attempt. for fuck’s sake, he failed chem 101 and you were working in the lab of one of the most respected, tenured professors on campus. it wasn’t fully his fault, at least that’s what he told himself. he’d been sheltered away at a k-12 school in the middle of montauk for all his life and college was his first taste of independence. maybe he went a little overboard sometimes with a party every weekend, joining a fraternity, and serial dating so much that he virtually had no time to do his assignments.

around day four of running into you, luke decided to approach you. his opening line was a simple, hey, were you in my stats class last semester? again, he knew you weren’t in his class, but he needed an opening to talk to you. you turned around, blinking up at him in confusion because you didn’t take a single math class last year, and shook your head. he shrugged and introduced himself anyway.

it became a routine after that. if you got out on your lunch break before he did, you’d wait by the benches next to his lab. if he got dismissed from class before you, he would lean against the outside wall of your lab and play mindless games on his phone until you emerged. lunch hours turned into dinner requests to late-night study sessions when you found out he was struggling with chem. (his assumptions were right– you were too smart for him. you’d skipped the first two introductory chem classes because the placement test all freshmen took showed that you were way ahead of the curve.)

steadily, luke’s grades got better, mostly because of you, the two of you spent more time together than apart, and your original plan of using the summer recharging was turned on its head.

it began as the typical college fling. putting hundreds of hormonal teenagers in a confined space was a recipe for disaster. your summer consisted of fooling around with luke in the quiet of your dorm, the backseat of his car, and on occasion, the bathrooms in the chem building when one of you was feeling needy during the day. you’d heard your friends' stories of their hook-up culture experiences and you’d been sexiled by your roommate one too many times for your liking, but you never saw the appeal of it back then. but luke sauntered into your room for the first time when you invited him, with thoughts of things other than understanding covalent bonds in his mind.

you weren’t blind. you knew there were attractive people on your campus, but you’d never felt physically attracted to any of them, until luke castellan, backpack slung across one shoulder, with a backwards boston red sox cap on, gray sweatpants, and black compression shirt on. the silver chain he always wore around his neck wasn’t tucked under his shirt like usual and the diy beaded bracelet he had on his wrist was a perfect contrast to his tanned, veiny hands-- and you knew you were fucked.

luke fucked you on the uncomfortable university, twin-xl mattress, drinking in the pretty sounds you were making while his cock deliciously pistoned inside of you. all his notes and books were long forgotten on the floor of your dorm while his hips snapped against yours, teeth nipping at the skin of your collarbone while he groaned the filthiest things in your ear that had you blushing and tightening around his cock. my brilliant girl, but so dumb around my cock. you like that, baby? you take me so well, my best girl.

and all you could manage to do was babble out incoherent sentences that usually ended with you panting out his name, the only thing you’d remember through the fog in your mind. luke. luke. luke.

he loved it. he loved hearing his name leave your lips, all raw and hoarse, like how he knew his back would look with all the scratches you clawed into his skin. he’d pull out, against his primal urge to plant his cum so deep inside you, and finish on your sternum. then, he’d take his two fingers, scoop up his cum, and watch your greedy tongue suck around his digits with your big, fucked-out, eyes staring at him as if you worshipped him. luke wasn’t selfish either, in fact he was giving, which came as a shock to you.

he’d spent hours lapping at your aching pussy, eating you out until you were pulling him off with a whine from multiple orgasms, or until his dick was standing at attention again because he couldn’t imagine a hotter thing to watch besides seeing your face contort in absolute pleasure because of him.

the pillow talk and after-care were amazing too. he wouldn’t leave immediately after your long nights together. sometimes, he’d stay in your dorm even when you left to go to the lab for the day. when you came back, your room was pristine. luke would make your bed and clean up the sticky residues from the night before, just to mess it up again a few hours later.

he never shared with you was that he was in a frat that was notorious for having situationships that never amounted to anything but that. so imagine your surprise when you decided to give into your friends’ insistence and attended the first party of the school year at the ksig house and found luke castellan at the dj booth with his ksig shirt on, surrounded by pretty girls with red cups in their hands. he had his arm thrown over the shoulder of another boy, chris rodriguez, as he screamed out the lyrics to love me by lil wayne.

when luke's eyes spotted yours in the crowd, his face broke out into a mischievous smile as he raced down the stage to grab your hand. he led you upstairs to his bedroom, deadbolting the door, and fucked you like it was summer again.

it wasn't bad for your first situationship.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan smut

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celtic-crossbow · 1 month

Note

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

I Might Change Your Life, I Might Save My World

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (pre/early)

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Mentions of canonical character death; Some verbal aggression

A/N: I had them on the run alone. I hope that’s okay!

The run had so far been uneventful. You’d even dare say boring. That was a word that wasn’t used carelessly. Life in the apocalypse was rarely boring and usually consisted of running for your life while scrounging up anything possible to ensure you could just survive. At least you were out with Daryl. He was your best friend and could usually keep you at least mildly entertained whether or not it was intentional.

You were a survivor of the Governor’s insanity at Woodbury. It had seemed safe enough, but he had fooled everyone. Or maybe he had at one point been a kind, reasonable man that was just pushed too far by the cruelty of the end of the world. Regardless, it was there that you had met Merle, the right hand man. You had always teased him about that. Right hand? Get it? To most people, it would have seemed cruel, but not to Merle Dixon. He would ruffle your hair with a gentle shove and tell you to get lost.

You never did.

When Merle left, you had followed and he had allowed it. He even held your arm and dragged you out behind him. That’s when you actually met Daryl. You had seen him in the fight pit, eyes wide as the Governor revealed he was Merle’s younger brother. He had never mentioned having a brother. Maybe he had thought him dead. Most would say Daryl was everything Merle was not, but they just didn’t know the elder Dixon like you did. Merle was crass, sometimes downright unkind, but below that rough exterior, he had a big heart. He was learning, little by little. You would have liked to take some credit for that.

Daryl had left his group that day, following Merle, just as you did. You remained quiet, watching the younger Dixon watching you. He looked almost wary, but there was a naked curiosity there too. When the two butted heads, you trailed behind while Daryl led the way back to the prison. Where he belonged, he had said.

You had fit in easily. Merle, not so much. It made your heart ache for him when you could see the poorly hidden love he had for his little brother. He was absolute shit at showing it, sometimes selfish, but it was there. When he proved it by trying to be better, trying to show Daryl that he could do the right thing, it had cost him his life. You blamed Daryl for the longest time. You knew it wasn’t his fault, deep down, but you needed someone to catch the fury of your grief. The archer had taken it willingly.

When the prison fell, you had tried and failed to save Beth. Grieving yet again, right on the heels of losing Merle and then Hershel and then your home, you found a way out with Daryl, leaving the two of you stuck together on the road, alone and with a dense cloud of animosity billowing between you. It wasn’t until one night in a rundown home that Daryl had said reminded him of where he grew up, moonshine was flowing and then so were the emotions. You had both yelled, thrown things, killed the walkers that the fight attracted while continuing the verbal onslaught. In the end, drained and resigned, the two of you had talked.

And the rest was history.

Alexandria had been a saving grace. It had taken a while to adjust. For Daryl, he had never lived in a community like that. He slept on the porch most nights, fleeing the confined spaces that left his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat. You felt as if it were Woodbury all over again, destined to crash and burn and leave the group nothing but ashes. So, you slept on the porch with him, if for no other reason than to keep a fellow outsider close. You both knew it was more than that.

Months had gone by. You had both finally moved inside a house and were even closer now than you had once been to Merle, which was surprising. Rick was confident in sending the two of you out together. You got shit done. That day in particular, things just weren’t moving in your favor.

For one, it was cold. The seasons were changing and you hadn’t adequately prepared for the chill in the air, especially when on the bike. The two of you were scouting for places that could possibly still have necessary supplies. Daryl had—as always—been quick to notice your discomfort. Though he had usually sewn the sleeves of jackets right onto his sleeveless shirts, that day, he had actually worn a leather jacket.

“Here.” He shoved the article toward you, prompting a raised brow in response.

“What for?” You queried. It was a stupid question, but useless banter always kept things light between the two of you, comfortable even if Daryl would always claim the opposite. The space that lingered was never oppressive, not anymore.

“You’re cold, idiot.”

“Daryl Dixon is being sweet to me. This is one for the record books!” You chuckled while slipping on the jacket. The hunter scowled and bumped you with his elbow.

“Stop.”

“Didn’t hear you disagree.” You would have continued to tease if he hadn’t held up a fist just in front of you, the signal to be still and silent. The telltale groans, snarls, and shuffling feet were growing closer, blocking the two of you from the bike. “Aw, crap.”

“Yup.” He agreed, leaning around the corner of the building just enough to see the sizable herd. “Need a plan.” He mumbled, unclipping the sheath of his knife for a quick draw when needed.

“Got one.”

“What?” When Daryl turned, you were already rounding the opposite corner of the building with a quiet shout of get the bike. “That fuckin’ woman’s gonna be the death’a me.”

There were a great deal more undead than you had anticipated. “Well, hell.” You grumbled. It was too late to turn around, several of the milky yellow eyes already landing on you. As you walked backward, keeping a safe distance but close enough to hold their attention, you could see Daryl peeking out from the corner. You exchanged nods before you began to wave your arms. “Hey! Over here! Keep your eyes on me!!” The noise ensured that Daryl’s already near silent footfalls would go unnoticed. He would get the bike, circle the herd, and you’d jump on. Piece of cake.

Until you bumped right into a walker that led the other half of aforementioned herd.

“Oh, fuck!” Quickly grabbing its throat to hold it back, you pivoted, walking backward toward the open area at the edges of the corpses. Daryl was shouting your name, the bike roaring to life. You just happened to choose the wrong time to glance in his direction in an attempt to gauge the distance between you. The next walker had fallen somehow, levering clumsily to its feet just beside the one you were grappling with, your knife having just sank into that one’s skull. There was no time to react. You could only watch the blade slip free as the teeth came together on your arm. It was painful but nothing like you had expected, more pressure than anything. Still, it was too late. You were bit.

“Y/N!!” Daryl shouted, grabbing you away from the dead man, your arm slipping free from its jaws to throw it off balance. That gave you a chance to climb on behind Daryl, the injured arm cradled to your chest while the other wrapped tightly around his abdomen. “Just a minute, just hang on. We’ll take care’a this.” He was rambling anxiously, the cool wind whipping and stinging as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“I’m bit. I’m bit. I’m bit.” You chanted against Daryl’s back, only barely holding back your sobs. The bike slowed to a stop, the kickstand lowered roughly before Daryl was scrambling off when you should have been the first to move.

“Lemme see.” When your teary eyes met his, he growled through the sting at his waterline. “Lemme fuckin’ see!” He wasn’t as gentle as he could have been but he didn’t hurt you. Pulling your arm away from your chest roughly, he grabbed the shoulder of the jacket and yanked it down, ripping one of the seams in the process. You were both greeted with bruising flesh, the slightest indents of where teeth had vehemently pressed, but no broken skin. No blood. No scratches. While you stared in a shocked relief, Daryl wasn’t so graceful. His legs buckled and he went down hard to his knees. “Goddamn it, Y/N!”

“I’m okay.” You blinked, eyes transfixed on your arm. It hurt but it wasn’t a death sentence. You weren’t going to turn. “I’m okay, Daryl.” You smiled through the tears, now falling for an entirely different reason. “Daryl?” He was trembling fiercely, his shoulders moving in a way that suggested he might have been crying. You started to throw your leg over the seat to comfort him when he drew back his arm and planted his fist into the asphalt with a crunch that made your stomach turn.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid!” He roared, barreling upright to stand with his nose nearly touching yours. You were too shocked to react properly. “Ya couldn’a waited for a actual plan, just had to go balls to the wall an’ run out there like a fuckin’ lunatic!” Your eyes followed anxiously as he started to pace.

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to get us out there in one piece. I didn’t even see the—”

His uninjured hand grabbed your wrist, tight and firm but not without care. He’d never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not physically, at least. “Ya call this one piece? I woulda had to take your arm, ya fuckin’ useless idiot!” That sent you reeling. Daryl had been angry with you before, but for things like keeping the squirrel over the fire for too long or kneeing him in the groin while trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. But that? That was different.

If Merle Dixon had taught you anything, it was to never show how you really felt. When you began to laugh, Daryl dropped your arm and stepped back, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “My god, you’re dramatic. I’m fine, Dixon. Let’s just chalk this up to a shit day and get the fuck out of here.”

“A shit d—are ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

“Stop it. Get on the bike and let’s go.” You pulled the jacket back onto your arm, your red flannel peering through the tear in the shoulder. Now adjusted once again and ready to go, you looked back to find him still staring at you with the same incredulous expression. You chuckled and shook your head. “Stop being ridiculous. Let’s go.”

“Nah.” He was stepping backwards with his own head twisting back and forth. “Take the bike and go home. M’gonna walk.”

“It’s at least fifteen miles and it’s cold. Now who’s being stupid?” When he turned his back, leaving his crossbow strapped to the motorcycle, you actually began to panic. You could drive the bike, sure. He had taught you a few months back, just in case. Still, leaving him behind with nothing but his knife was not something you would do without a fight. “Daryl! Seriously, please, let’s go.” He ignored you, stalking off into the trees until the wings of his vest disappeared.

Chasing him wasn’t a good idea. You knew him well enough to know that much. Or did you? It had been a long time since an argument like that, one where both of you had shut down in one way or another. You started the bike, toeing up the kickstand before propelling it forward, your chest constricting tighter and tighter with every mile.

It had taken him far longer than necessary to make the walk back to Alexandria’s gates. Granted, he’d stopped for several smokes to calm himself down. He’d slide down the nearest tree and sit there—flexing his throbbing fingers—until he had drawn the cigarette down to the filter or he heard the incoming growls of the walkers that had been tailing him. He had to take an extra half hour to put down the ones he could and lose the ones he couldn’t. By the time Sasha pulled open the gates, Daryl was bone weary and more than a little ashamed of how he’d reacted.

“Seen Y/N?” He asked in lieu of answering when she questioned where he’d been.

“She came back a while ago. Haven’t seen her since. Sorry.” She patted his shoulder and returned to her post. You were back, so that anxiety was at least remedied.

Still, he needed to talk to you. The way you had laughed in the face of his anger had unnerved him. It reminded him so much of his brother that it hurt. That type of behavior didn’t suit you. Then again, who was he to tell you how to behave? He had spoken to you so harshly instead of just telling you that you scared the shit out of him. He should have hugged you and been thankful that you didn’t lose your arm, didn’t lose your life. But emotions and Daryl weren’t exactly on speaking terms. When he didn’t understand why or how something made him feel a certain way, he lashed out at it. He was conditioned that way, it was in his blood. He had been trying so hard to be better. He actually thought he was getting better. Boy, he couldn’t have been more wrong. He was still a work in progress. He needed you to know that. He needed to apologize, even if it burned coming out of his mouth to admit he was wrong, to admit to feeling anything at all.

Damn you for wiggling your way into his useless heart. He thought he had crushed and buried the thing years ago. Then you came tagging along on his brother’s heels and challenged everything he thought he knew about himself. He chose not to acknowledge it, even when people like Carol and Rick did. Often.

Sighing, he stopped on the porch of the home he shared with you and Carol, lighting up a cigarette and leaning over the railing on his forearms. He would have assumed that you’d already spilled everything to Carol but when she didn’t barrel out of the house with a rolling pin aimed at his head, it was easy to figure out that you hadn’t. Maybe you hadn’t even been home yet. He trampled that worry down quickly, not willing to let it compound into another wave of anger he’d have to answer for eventually.

The streets were quiet with the sun now completely gone, replaced by the waning crescent moon. There was enough light for him to see, of course. His eyes were trained from years of hunting and surviving out in nature. He could hear frogs close to the pond, even hear the paper of his cigarette sizzling with each drag. But then he heard something else. Something that shattered him to his very core because he knew immediately what and who and why it was.

He didn’t bother to keep his steps light. It wouldn’t do to surprise you. You’d just be even more upset without time to even try and compose yourself. Even so, it was possible you still didn’t hear him approaching. Your sobs and sniffles continued, probably barely audible to anyone who didn’t know how to listen and not just hear.

You were perched on the bench beneath the gazebo, knees drawn up to your chest with your face hidden behind them. Even in the dark, he could see your shoulders shaking. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching you but once it was clear that you hadn’t noticed him, he cleared his throat. Had it been any other day, any other situation, the way you unfolded and nearly climbed over the back of the bench would have been comical. Maybe it still would be when the two of you looked back on this, but that was only if he could make things right.

“Hey.” He rasped, still rooted to the same spot.

You sniffed, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. The leather jacket was nowhere to be seen. “Hi.” All the confidence from earlier was gone, leaving your voice but a tiny echo of the woman that had called him dramatic. “I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“Ya alright?” He chanced a step toward you, pausing after one when your eyes darted down to his boots and back up. God, he felt like an asshole. Were you afraid of him now?

“Mhm. I’m okay.” You sniffed again and settled back onto the seat, pulling your knees against you once again. “I hung your jacket on the doorknob of your room. I fixed the sleeve.”

Great. You fixed the thing he tore. Now he felt like a major asshole. “Listen, Y/N, I—”

“It’s okay, Daryl.” You interjected, offering him a small, feigned smile while your eyes betrayed you. “Carol has dinner ready. I put your plate in the oven.” It was just getting better and better. You had still thought of him enough to make sure he had something to eat when he got back. And the award for Asshole of the Year goes to: Daryl Dixon.

You stood so quickly that he nearly flinched. “I should—I have a new job assignment tomorrow. Need to get some sleep.”

That threw him. “New—ya ain’t goin’ out anymore?” You shook your head.

“I’m gonna work in the pantry, dabble in the armory too. Give Olivia a break sometimes.” Your tone wasn’t cold but bordered on emotionless. You’d asked Rick to take you off the run list, and you’d done it because of him.

“Y/N, don’t do that.” He watched as you approached, your head down. If you hadn’t seen his boots when he stepped into your path, you surely would have slammed into him. “Shouldn’a talked to ya the way I did.” Even while you looked off to the side, he could see the way your face screwed up like you were about to cry again, but after a moment, you settled.

“No, you were right. I should have waited. Things could have gone a lot differently. I didn’t stop to think about how you would have felt if I had been bitten.” Daryl deflated at the utter dejection in your voice. “Anyway, goodnight, Daryl.”

Watching you walk away, your arms wrapped around yourself so tightly, he let himself think about it; allowed himself to think about what he would have felt if you had been bitten. It wasn’t anger then. It was loss, despair, guilt. Whether he’d had to have taken your arm or not, the prospect of possibly losing you was more than he could even think to bear. What was more terrifying was that he realized that your loss would devastate him more than his own brother’s had.

“Y/N, wait!”

He couldn’t let you think he had acted that way out of anger alone. Yes, he had been angry but he had been scared. He couldn’t say you were his closest friend. That spot was taken by Carol. You were something else entirely. Something that he would never get the chance to explore or define, fear and awkwardness be damned, if something happened to you.

His feet were carrying him toward you at a brisk pace, your eyes wide at his approach but you didn’t move. You didn’t flinch or cower, even when he grabbed your shoulder and pulled in against his chest, wrapping both arms around you to hold you there.

“M’sorry.” He whispered into your hair. You weren’t hugging him back but that was most likely because your arms were pinned between the two of you. “Ain’t no reason for me to ever talk to ya like that. Ya ain’t stupid. You’re quick on your feet an’ it ain’t fair’a me to fault ya on that just cause m’too scared to lose ya.” He felt your sharp inhale while his face and neck flushed at the admission. “I—Christ, ain’t no good at this talkin’ an’ shit.” When your shoulders shook, he knew he’d made you cry again and took a step back, his hands sliding up to hold your shoulders. While that was true, the movement was from the laughter bubbling up from your chest instead of the tears falling down your cheeks. “The hell ya laughing at?”

“I like you too, Daryl.” Goddamnit, you had a pretty smile. He’d make a fool of himself ten times over if it meant you’d give him that smile just once.

“Ain’t a thing ‘bout likin’ ya.” He swallowed hard and looked away, the pink hue on his cheeks deepening. “Don’t know what it is, but, uh—well, maybe we can try to figure it out together?” He sounded like a lovesick teenager and was two seconds away from rolling his eyes so hard that they would relocate permanently to the back of his skull.

“I’d like that.”

“Really?” He straightened, expression embarrassingly hopeful.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, not feeling like he’d entirely lost the right to call himself a man. “So, uh—Guess we should tell Rick that Olivia can get Spencer to help her. Maybe he’d stop oglin’ ya all the damn time if he’s cooped up in the pantry.” You reached for his hand and he let you take it. “Maybe I could talk her into lockin’ him in there for a while.” The walk back to the house wasn’t a long one and all too quickly, you were climbing the porch steps just in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t want other guys checking out your girl?”

Daryl almost missed the top step. “My girl?” He didn’t mean for it to come out quite so breathlessly. He was mostly definitely losing his man card that night. You were blinking at him, your smile slowly faltering.

“I—I misunderstood, didn’t I? Jesus, Daryl, I’m—”

“Nah.” He quickly derailed that train of thought. “Just liked hearin’ ya say it s’all.”

“Are you—”

“Yup.” The smile was back and Daryl could breathe again. Somehow, standing there with you on the porch and him on the top step, just staring at one another was more comfortable than he could have ever imagined.

“So,” you began, twisting your upper half back and forth, “you walked me home. Are you gonna say goodnight and kiss me now?”

Daryl’s face contorted in confusion, a dark brow arching. “I, uh—I live here too.”

“Does that really matter?” You asked, stepping a little closer.

“Guess it don’t, really.” When you leaned forward, he didn’t stop you. Found that he didn’t want to. Even as new and undefined as whatever this was, this felt right and he’d be damned if he’d let a chance like that pass him by.

Inside the house, Carol swirled the wine around in her glass, watching the kiss happen with a sigh of relief. “Finally.” Picking up her book, she took a sip and placed the glass down on the table before opening to the dog-eared page. “Now I don’t have to lock them in the pantry together tomorrow.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon #daryl angst #daryl dixon angst

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disillusioneddanny · 5 months

Text

A Place in this world

Danny took a breath and let it out slowly as he started to get ready for the day. It had been six months since his parents lost custody of him since he had been welcomed into the folds of the Wayne Family. Since Batman himself had saved him from his parents’ experimentation table. His parents were now safely locked up in Arkham Asylum where they would spend the next ten years serving their punishment and Danny was safely living within the confines of Wayne Manor.

Things had been going rather well so far. The Bats had been insanely understanding about Danny wanting to live a normal life now that the portals had all been shut down. The most they requested from Danny was the occasional help on their gadgets and Danny was more than happy to help with that. He had more fun working on the Batmobile and Batplane than he ever did being a vigilante.

And they had encouraged his special interests! They even indulged him in it, letting him have his own little study dedicated to just his experiments and inventions. It had been amazing when Bruce had first shown him all of the spaces that were just for him. He had a bedroom that was as big as his parents' old living room and had an entire space dedicated to his inventions. And on top of that, Bruce had encouraged him to build his own portal so that if he wanted to go to the ghost zone he could. He had even made a space in the Batcave that was just for him if he ever decided to build it.

Six months in and he hadn’t decided yet if that was something he wanted to do. He hadn’t gone ghost a single time since he had moved to Gotham. He was starting to miss it if he was going to be honest. There was something about his ghost form that was just truly comforting. It just felt wrong, though, almost like it was taboo to do such a thing. Which he had no real reason to feel that way. Batman or well, Bruce, had assured him multiple times now that he was more than welcome to change into his ghost form whenever he wanted. Had just requested that Danny let him know if he was going out when he was Phantom so that they wouldn’t think he was a new rogue or anything of the such.

He was missing it, though. The longer he went without shifting into his ghost form, the tighter his skin felt. It was starting to feel like he couldn’t fit in his human form anymore. He could feel himself growing more restless as the days went by, and could feel himself fraying at the edges.

Which was why he was letting himself spend the day in his Phantom form even if it was kinda terrifying the more he thought about it. It was the first time since Batman had saved him and none of his new family had ever really seen him in this form before. It was nerve-wracking but he was going to do it.

He let the bright rings wrap around his body and breathed out as he felt himself change into Phantom, it felt like taking a deep breath on a cold winter’s day. He let himself phase through the door, using his powers a little more than he used to dispel some of the pent-up energy.

The Fenton’s had hypothesized that ecto entities relied on ectoplasm to live, that they needed it like humans needed oxygen. But that wasn’t quite right. Ghosts were ectoplasm. Despite the fact that they were sentient and sapient-looking beings, they were more closely aligned with plants. They created their own energy to survive. And Danny had been letting the ecto that his ghost form created build up inside of him and now he was just about ready to burst from all of it.

“It’s fine,” he breathed out before floating out of the room. His feet were mere inches from the ground as he made his way down the stairs and into the breakfast room where he could already hear the rest of his family sitting around talking and preparing for their mornings. The only people who lived in the manor were Alfred, Bruce, Damian, and Duke. So it wasn’t like everyone in the Wayne family was going to be there to see him. Jason lived in Crime Alley, Dick was in Bludhaven, Steph lived on campus, Cass was in Hong Kong and well, no one actually knew where Tim lived now that Danny was thinking about it.

Why did no one know where Tim lived? He shook his head, he was distracting himself from the matter at hand. And that was having breakfast with his new brothers and adoptive father.

Things quieted as he floated through the wall and gave them an awkward smile. “G’morning,” he mumbled, dipping his head down as he took his usual seat beside Damian.

Bruce gave him a small, proud smile. “Good morning, Danny. Or should we call you Phantom when you’re in this form?” He asked and Danny felt his cheeks blush, a bright green color when he was in this form.

“Danny’s fine. Phantom’s just what I went by when I was out as a hero,” he said, stabbing at the pancakes placed in front of him. “Sorry, I just–”

“No need to apologize, Daniel,” Damian said, a small smile on his face. “We are happy that you feel comfortable enough to show us this side of you.”

Danny gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I uh, I realized I’m needing to take better care of my ghost self. And you guys are safe, I don’t have to worry like I did with the Fentons,” he said quietly.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Bruce asked him, arching a brow in curiosity.

Danny let out a quiet hum as he cut up his pancakes, frowning at the slightly strange texture. Dick had warned him that Alfred’s pancakes weren’t the best but he wasn’t expecting them to be like straight-up rubber. Jason had said that no one had the guts to tell him that they were gross and well, Danny had eaten much worse than rubbery pancakes.

“My ghost side has a tendency to create bonds with people I consider family, so it’s wanting to create those bonds with all of you,” he said carefully, staring at his rubbery pancakes rather than at his new family.

“I think that’s completely okay,” Bruce said with a small smile. “Can you explain a bit more about the social aspects of being a ghost? I think that we would all appreciate a quick lesson so that we can better support you.”

Danny blushed again and nodded. “So ghosts are protective creatures,” he said with a snort as he rested his chin on his hand. “It’s like your own personal protector but on top of that, we’re very social creatures who rely on one another, we get power from it actually. A lot of ghosts bond through fighting with one another, it’s a way to bond. But also indulging in activities together is another one. So, going out to hang out, spending time together, that all helps build the fraid bonds. A ghost’s family is its fraid. So the closer I get to you, then you’ll become my fraid which comes with a few perks? I guess you could call them perks.”

The halfa wrinkled his nose as he wracked his brain to figure out how to explain the perks. “Since you’re humans you’ll get access to a few of my powers,” he said slowly. “Sam, Jazz, and Tucker all turned kinda liminal because of our fraid bonds. It gave them some enhanced strength, they were able to see in the dark, and the shadows pulled to them a little more so it was almost like they could turn invisible at night. So you guys would get some of those same benefits.”

“That sounds awesome!” Duke said excitedly, a wide smile on his face.

“What benefits do you receive?” Damian asked with a frown, tilting his head to the side.

“I get the benefit of having stronger bonds which will make me stronger as well. I’ll also know when you’re in danger or not–something that I think will be a bitch considering your night jobs,” he said with a soft laugh. “But family bonds mean I’m healthy. If I have a lack of fraid bonds I’ll get sick and weak and grumpy. It’s why I finally gave in and changed to this form because I could feel it start to happen.”

Bruce frowned as he mulled over the information that Danny had just thrown at him. “What do we need to do to create these bonds with you?”

Danny blushed a bright green. “Spend time with me.”

“Tomorrow we shall go to the park together and take Titus on a walk,” Damian announced. “I shall have the strongest bonds with you, Daniel. Just you wait.”

Duke snickered. “It’s not a competition, Dami. We’re doing this for Danny’s health and to be closer to our brother.”

“And I will be the best at it, I will become Daniel’s favorite brother,” Damian exclaimed.

“You just want super strength so you can fight Jon,” Bruce said with a laugh and Danny giggled into his hand.

“I don’t know if you’ll be as strong as a Kryptonian, Dami. But I did see Jazz pick up the fridge like it weighed nothing one time,” Danny said thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side as he tried to think more about how strong his friends and sister were by the time he had left Amity. “So maybe don’t pick a fight with Superboy, it might just end with you covered in a lot of bruises.”

Damian huffed out a sigh. “I will still be the best brother, regardless,” he said, pushing his lower lip out in a pout. Danny snickered and took another bite of his rubbery pancakes, chewing far longer than he had ever had to chew a pancake before.

Danny just mustered up a small smile for his new family. Hopefully, this would go well.

Did you enjoy? Read the rest on ao3 here

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dis writes #dis dreams #batman #danny fenton #dc x dp crossover

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coryosbaby · 5 months

Text

—ᴇʟᴇᴠᴀᴛᴏʀ.

Dark! Mike Shmidt x fem! family friend! Reader

♡ Content warning . mentions of a custody battle, enemies to lovers with no real explanation, stuck in an elevator trope — hard dom! Mike, oral (m recieving), pnv, doggy, , degradation, rough hate sex, creampie, breeding

“…And that is why, Mr… Shmidt. That is why, as of right now, we are placing Abby in this young lady’s care.”

Mike’s jaw clenches as he watches his own personal hell unfold before him. He watches you sign the custody form for Abby, watches the pink fur hat on top of your head and your dumb revealing sweater and your short skirt and wonders why in the hell the court would ever choose a slut like you over him to care for a child. You have a good job and experience in childcare, sure, but Mike knows you. You don’t know your right from your left (literally). What makes anyone think that you can take care of his little sister?

He clenches his fists at his sides. You have a smug look on your face, as if you’ve won the Cold War. You have a tendency to challenge Mike, but he never thought you’d take it this far. Keeping family out of your quarrels was always an unspoken agreement. Mike clears his throat, shoving down the anger blooming in his chest.

“Understood.” He mutters. “I’ll bring some of her stuff over as soon as possible.”

Smiling, you get up from your seat (one you had asked for after the first one was too hard, or some dumb shit).

“Great! I’m glad we have the matter settled.” And then, with an amused, despicable glint in your eye, “No hard feelings, Mikey.”

Mikey. A name he hasn’t heard from your lips in such a long, long time. He’s so close to doing the same thing that he did to that guy in the fountain to you. Never in his life has he ever been so provoked to hit someone. But he holds back, let’s out a breath of air, and says nothing. The lawyers around the both of you pack up, sensing the tension but not wanting to deal with it. You gather up your purse and pull out a tube of lipstick, reapplying it onto your lips through a compact mirror. Shutting it, you see that Mike is the only one in the room.

“Walk with me?” You ask, and Mike’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What?”

“This whole building is filled with only men,” you infer, frowning. “I don’t like it. You’re the only one I trust.”

His eyes, enraged, look at you as he clenches his jaw.

“I wouldn’t.”

Rolling your eyes, you begin to walk out of the room. Mike trails behind you, ignoring the swaying of your curves as you open the glass door. He catches up to you in an instant, as you head for the elevator.

“This is low, you know. Even for you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This isn’t about me and you, Mike. It’s about Abby.”

He scoffs, as you both approach the big metal elevator at the end of the hallway. “Yeah, right. Because you’ve always had such a desire to be a mother.”

Turning to him as you press the down button in front of the elevator, your gaze is harsh.

“You don’t know me, Mike.”

Mike smiles, not a hint of amusement on his face.

“I know enough.”

And turning towards the elevator, he steps in. You follow him afterwards, rolling your eyes as the door slides shut.

After a few seconds, however, a groaning sound escapes from the confines of the small box. Eyebrows furrowing, your heart beginning to pound, you watch with horror as the emergency light flashes on the elevator wall. The contraption stops completely, and now you’ve come to terms with your worst nightmare.

Your stuck in this fucking elevator.

And as if God is punishing you, he also decides to stick you in this enclosed space with Mike fucking Schmidt.

You want to die.

Anxiety begins to plague you; not necessarily from being alone with Mike. More so of being stuck in a small room such as this. The claustrophobia is really not helping you right now.

“What the fuck?” Mike curses loudly. “Why the hell isn’t it working?”

“How the fuck should I know?” You snap, putting your head in your hands. You lean back against the nearest wall and slide down against it. Your bottom lip wobbles, your foot tapping anxiously, but you refuse to cry. Not here. Not in front of him.

Mike looks closely at you, his mouth forming into a frown.

“Are you crying?”

You quickly shake your head, embarrassment dripping off of you in waves as you conceal yourself. After a moment, you can hear the sound of Mike pulling out his cell phone. He researches the name of the building and types in their number.

“Hey,” he says to the person on the other line. “Yeah, we’re trapped in one of your elevators, man. It just stopped. I don’t know—“

He pauses, listening to the other person reply.

“Oh. Is there anyway that you can get it fixed… quicker? … of course, of course. I understand. Thank you.”

Hanging up the call, he groans, and slides down to the floor across from you.

“They said it’s done this before and it’ll be an hour before they can get it up and running again.”

A few stray tears fall from your face, and you sniffle. “Okay.”

Mike sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Stop.” He mutters. “Stop crying. It’s pathetic.”

Your face crinkles up in anger and you wipe your eyes with your hands.

“Fuck you.”

Mike scoffs, turning his head to the side with a smirk on his face.

“Again?”

You growl, angrily typing on your phone on twitter as a way to ignore him.

Mike watches you with contempt. His eyes trail over your legs, thick thighs wrapped up in fishnet stockings. You’ve changed your hair color since you last saw him.

“Your hair looks nice,” he states, and you’re confused as to why he’s being nice for a moment. Until his mouth is dripping with malice and he says, “Abby likes that color.”

You scoff, flicking your acrylics as you attempt to wipe off the mascara that had run down your face.

“Whatever.” You say snarkily, and Mike’s head snaps towards you, his jaw clenching once again.

“Why are you such a bitch?” He seethes, as if he hasn’t been a complete dickhead for the past ten minutes. You shrug, slipping your coat off your shoulders. It’s become unbearably hot in here.

“Why are you so stupid?” You reply, then smirk. “Your iq must be as low as your height.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Mike growls, throwing his phone down next to him. “You’re so petty. You insult people like a child.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so full of it I wouldn’t have to.”

Mike’s fists clench at his sides, but he says nothing. But of course, you can’t keep your mouth shut.

“How have you been sleeping, by the way? Are you still…” You motion your hands as if you’re popping a pill into your mouth.

Mike’s jaw clenches tightly as he glares at you.

“That’s none of your business.”

“It kind of is, actually,” you press. “A pillhead taking care of a child is definitely a scandal.”

He doesn’t say anything. His fingers tap against the metal floor of the elevator.

“Don’t worry, though.” Smiling, you tilt your head. “Even if you hate me, Abby is going to be so much happier with me then she is with you.”

And with a head that whips around faster than lightening, Mike snaps.

He pushes himself up to his feet and gets down on his knees in front of you to grab your throat with his strong hand. Shaking you, gripping the sides of your neck like he intends to kill, he sneers.

“Say one more thing about it, you fucking slut. I dare you.”

You should be scared. But you’ve always loved a challenge, and right now seems to be a big one. You just smirk at him and peer through hooded lashes.

“Or what?” You mumble out. It’s hard to talk, or even breathe, but it doesn’t matter. Because as fucked up as it is, this is lowkey turning you on— but you aren’t going to admit that.

Leaning in closer to you so he can pierce through your eyes with his burning gaze, Mike chuckles dryly. A dangerous glint flashes through his eyes.

“Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Something clenches in your stomach, and you can’t tell if it’s fear or arousal. Your vision is starting to blur, and with teary eyes you shake your head against his grip. He looks down to your chest before finally releasing you of his grasp. Your doe eyes look up at him with something Mike can’t quite place as you gasp for air and your nimble fingers begin to massage your throat.

And something switches in him, as he looks down at you. Watching you sit on the floor with your skirt riding up, your makeup all messy and smeared, your tits hanging out. He wants to make you hurt.

“Get on your knees.”

It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, and you’re taken aback.

“What?” You say, exasperated.

“Did I fucking stutter?” He reaches down, hands wrapping around your hair as he yanks you towards his handsome face. “Get. On. Your. Knees.”

Gulping, you look at the now prominent tent in his jeans, and back up to him. You move up onto your knees, just like he asked. He begins unbuckling his belt. Soon he slides it out of the belt loops and wraps it around your throat. You squeak when he ties the leather around your neck, and Mike gives it a tug as a way to check the sustainability. It doesn’t budge.

“Just like you need,” he grunts, letting go of the leather and beginning to unbutton his fly. “A leash. Some fucking discipline, for once.”

Watching with your mouth agape, Mike unzips his fly and reveals his underwear.

“Mike—“ you start, but he shuts you up when he hooks his thumbs around the waist of his briefs.

“Shut up.” He snaps. He pulls the fabric down, his thick cock slapping against his lower stomach. Everything is happening so quickly and it has your head spinning. He grabs the leather around your neck and tugs, practically shoving your face against his cock. His precum smears on your cheek and your pussy clenches.

“Suck it.” He says harshly. Your mouth, still open in an O, catches on Mike’s aching tip and he lets out a low hiss. He harshly presses his cockhead deeper into your mouth, grinding his hips as a way to push himself further into you. “I said suck it, bitch.”

You cry against him, but all the while your wetness is beginning to seep down your thighs. Your tongue lolls out against your own will, tasting a sliver of the cock you used to know so well.

“Fuck,” Mike grunts. His tip hits the back of your throat and you gag loudly. “Missed this slut mouth…”

His fingers wrap around the belt again, and he pulls forward. Your throat is already starting to feel sore from his harsh fucking. Your hands land on his thick hairy thighs, gripping the skin as you try your best to take him.

Even when you hate him, you can’t help but do your best to please.

“Always running that fuckin’ mouth,” Mike rants. “Always needing something to shut it the fuck up.”

You mewl around his cock, working your lips up and down against his awaiting thrusts. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, your neck and face incredibly hot. His heavy sack slaps against your chin with each hit. When you make a small, pained sound around him, the pressure on your throat causing a lot of pain, Mike just chuckles.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

Your head is fuzzy, your mind already fucked out. And like god answers your prayers, Mike finally, finally pulls you off of his length. You fall to the floor with a heaving cough as you try to gain oxygen back to your lungs. He grabs your limp body and flips you onto your stomach, his large hands taking hold of your thighs and pulling you up so your ass is in the air. He flips your skirt up, exposing you to the small space of the elevator and snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin.

“Such a little cocktease,” mike rants, his thumb rubbing over one of your asscheeks. “Always tryna’ rile me up. Aching for my attention.”

You whimper when he pulls down your lace underwear in one go, not even bothering to fully take it off and instead keeping it wrapped around your knees. He spreads your asscheeks in his hands, watching your asshole clench and your pussy drip with need.

“Been real quiet since I fucked your throat,” he continues, and you hear rusting behind you. “Guess I finally figured out a way to shut you up.”

And when his pants are down to his thighs and his bare cock presses against your entrance, you drool onto the dirty floor below you. Mike’s cock stretches your tight walls ruthlessly, and he doesn’t hesitate to push fast into you so he can fuck you sooner. His big hand splays across the back of your head and pushes you down onto the floor tiles, your cheek cold from the material touching your skin. His grip is mean, cold, and he begins to pound you with no remorse, no mercy, no sympathy. You cry as his hips slap against your backside, mutters of “Mikey, please, Mikey,” spilling from your cockdrunk lips. His hands wrap around his belt, the one around your neck, and he pulls it taut against your throat. You choke, gasping for breath, and your vision blurs. His breath is hot against your ear as he utters out another set of words.

“Such a good little fuckhole…I missed it, shit.”

Your hand wraps around the belt to loosen his hold. He lets up, but his thrusts do not. Your knees ache and will probably bruise later, but’s it’s worth it. You can feel he’s close by the way he keeps slurring his filthy words, the way his thrusts begin to stutter. Your eyes widen as his cum shoots deep into your womb, filling you up and spilling over the rim of your pussy. He collapses against you, and you yourself have already collapsed against the floor with your body arching at an almost impossible angle. Mike slips out of you, watching the way his cum drips down your thighs, and lets out a chuckle.

“Guess you’ll have another kid to take care of now.”

notes: this is absolutely terrible, take it as u will

#Mike Schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #dark! Mike Schmidt #Mike Schmidt x fem! reader #Mike Schmidt smut #mike shmidt fanfic #Fnaf #Fnaf movie #five nights at Freddy’s #five nights at Freddy’s movie #five nights at Freddy’s fanfic #Fnaf fanfic #josh hutcherson

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cupcakeslushie · 6 months

Note

What condition does donnie have in EW?

Schizophrenia?

Well, it’s a mix of PTSD from his childhood trauma, and hallucinations from being slightly exposed to Empyrean. So, while it’s all partly a cause based off fantasy, I do try and do my research to keep it in the realm of something concrete. Donnie has audio/visual hallucinations, depersonalization/dissociation, memory blanks, etc…. Pile that all, on top of his genius brain fighting a chaotic, disorganized mind that’s constantly in fight or flight mode.

I’ve had a few people say they recognize certain aspects of themselves in my Donnie, and so I think it’s less about assigning a specific name to what Donnie has, and more about the story of how he and the people that love him, help him in figuring out how to live a good life, while handling all the trauma he’s been through!

I’m right there with you, and that’s probably one of those things I gave all the boys to some extent, because damn, if that wasn’t me when I was younger 😅. I’ve since moved on to using less harmful means of stress relief, but it remains something that I just instantly read as an anxious habit lol—it’s just the levels and ways each of the boys exhibit it that vary.

Leo is the one more likely to pick and scratch to harm, because unfortunately, he does his as a type of holdover, self-flagellating from even the tiniest of mistakes. Mikey gets distracted with thinking up ideas, and bites his nails, sometimes a little too deeply. To the point where he’s drawing blood—it also sucks because he loves painting his nails. Raph will chew on his palms and knuckles from anxiety, but his skin is so tough, that he rarely does actual damage. Donnie will pick and scratch at everything—his hands, his arms, his face—especially when he hits a frustrating road-block. It won’t even register that he’s broken skin—his pain tolerance is so fucked up.

Donnie’s worst near death experience was, of course, the vivisection. He didn’t follow any after-care instructions, and infection very nearly killed him. Most of the other stuff was, of course, physically and mentally scarring, but not life-threatening. Thanks to being spaced out, with time for recovery, where Draxum just flat out ignored Three’s existence. As far as testing his endurance in the sleep department. Draxum made Three create a smaller, more refined version of the collars he made for Big Mama. When Draxum was tired of dealing with Three, but still feeling slightly generous, he’d force him to wear the device, rather than just chaining him up to the table. The watch would track Three’s heart rate and keep his path confined to set rooms only. Any time the watch detected Three was falling asleep, or outside of his approved perimeter, it would, you guessed it—shock him!

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blackleatherjacketz · 1 year

Text

Good With All Three

Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Only!, NSFW, Explicit Smut, I horny-watched this movie, so I horny-wrote this story, I make no apologies!, Never Have I Ever, Alcohol, Kissing, Ari’s Magnetizing Gaze, Hands, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink (for him), Multiple Orgasms

Summary: You and Ari play a late night game of Never Have I Ever and things get very hands-on very quickly.

Word Count: 2.6k+

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @letsby

Read more of my stories HERE

“Never have I ever had sex in public.” Ari’s prompt leaves his lips as they curl into a smirk, their rosy color masked by the green beer bottle he nearly empties as he leans back in his seat, patiently awaiting your answer.

His questions continue to grow bolder with each sip he takes, ranging from ‘never have I eaten an insect’ to ‘never have I kissed a man’, and now to this. His eyes linger on yours a little bit longer as he draws the last few drops from his bottle, almost as if he can read your thoughts as soon as they darken. He holds your gaze until it finally breaks, venturing down to the patch of chest hair peeking out through his loosely buttoned collar.

You try your best not to envision him shirtless as you finally relent and take a defeated sip of your beer, giving yourself away.

“No shit?” He grins from ear to ear, setting his bottle down before quickly running his hands through his auburn locks. “I’m surprised.”

“Oh, really? Like you haven’t?” Surely someone as confident and attractive as Ari has ended up in a similar situation with someone in the past.

He shakes his head, sitting back up in his seat. “Too risky.” He grasps onto his bottle, examining its empty contents with a regretful sigh. “Gotta keep a low profile.”

“That makes sense.” You pause and think back on your experience in a JC Penny fitting room with your college boyfriend, remembering it with less fondness than you care to admit. “Mine was a long time ago, anyways.” You spin the base of your bottle between your fingers as one last drink swishes around inside it. “Back before all this.”

“Was it fun, at least?” He leans forward with an elbow on the table, a strand of hair falling in front of his eyes as his bottle nearly touches yours. “The thrill of it?”

You shrug your shoulders. “A little. It wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though.” You pretend not to notice as his knuckles brush against yours.

“Really? Why not?” His eyes have you again, the dim lighting of your fake resort matching them with the light blue denim of his shirt.

“It was a confined space, and even when he didn’t have that as an excuse… like most guys with big dicks, he didn’t really know how to use it.”

Ari gawks at you with genuine surprise, his eyebrows jumping up into his hairline as they wrinkle his forehead. “Has that been your general experience, or just with him?”

“Mostly everyone. They tend to rely on it too much, you know? And they aren’t very good with their hands or mouths, either.” You consider going into more detail about your past lovers but decide against it, the way he’s looking at you right now suggests a desire for more than historical knowledge.

“That’s a real shame.” He leans in close to you, barely whispering as the top two buttons of his shirt openly reveal his perfectly sculpted chest. “Because I’m big, and I’m pretty good with all three.”

Jesus Christ. He just came out and said it, didn’t he?

You blink a few times to properly register his words, a newfound heat brewing in your belly as you try your best to form a coherent thought. “A little cocky, aren’t we?” You manage to tease, your body picking up on his signals before your brain has the time to talk yourself out of it.

“More than a little.” He bites his lip and touches your knee with his fingertips, his thumb sliding swiftly beneath it. He grins as you try to stifle a gasp, the sudden act of intimacy shocking your touch-starved skin to the core as he gently encases your knee with his palm. He watches intently as you allow him to touch you, silently granting him permission to continue onward as you spread your legs even further apart.

“You don’t think women have lied to spare your feelings just because you’re hot?” You swallow hard and try to focus on the conversation as his hand ventures even further up your thigh, taking his time to close the gap between you.

“You think I’m hot?” He pushes the pads of his fingers toward your center, pressing them into your muscles as his thumb tickles the fine hair on the underside of your thigh.

“Maybe,” you whisper, just now noticing the rings of olive green that surround his pupils.

“Maybe?” He smiles, squeezing the bulk of your thigh as his thumb reaches the hem of your swimsuit. “I’m gonna need you to tell me the truth.” His tone shifts from playful to stern in a matter of seconds, tightening the muscles in your abdomen as he smooths his hand up your pelvis. “You think you can do that for me?” He brushes his thumb underneath the polyester just long enough to skim over your sensitive area.

“Uh huh,” you nod.

“I don’t want you to lie to me like all the other guys you’ve fucked.” He finds the tie on the side of your bikini bottom, pulling on the string that holds it together.

“Okay,” you start, trying your best not to hold your breath as his fingers warm your skin. “I definitely think you’re hot.”

“That’s good.” He unfastens the bow on your hip, his other hand pushing a strand of hair behind your ear as the back of your swimsuit falls onto the seat of your chair. “I think you’re hot, too.” He moves his hand across your hips to the opposite bow, unfastening it in nearly half the time. “Now if only there was a way we could solve both of our problems.”

“If only,” you whisper. You look down and watch him pull the unfastened swimwear off your body, instinctively scooting to the edge of your seat as his skilled fingers find themselves between your folds before you even have a chance to ask.

“Can you be honest?” He curls a finger under your chin and forces you to look up at him, spreading your other lips apart before teasing your clit with his index finger.

“Yes,” you nod your head as he deepens his touch, rubbing it up and down as your moisture begins to collect beneath it.

“Promise me you won’t fake it?” He looks down at his hand for a split second as he sends tiny little pulses of pleasure into your skin, smirking as your breath stills in your chest.

“I promise.” You can barely speak, his intense eye contact and skilled fingers quickly proving your theory wrong as each upward motion intensifies the bliss shooting up into your core.

“I don’t want you to worry about hurting my feelings.” He moves his fingers down the length of your folds, gliding them easily inside your walls as he cradles the back of your head, his lips merely inches from yours. “I can take it.”

“Okay,” you moan into the space between you, grasping onto the loose denim of his shirt as he pushes his digits in even deeper, his knuckles now flush against your skin.

“Tell me what you want.” He reiterates, curling his fingers up and toward him, pressing against that bundle of nerves in order to pull you in closer like a fish on a hook. The legs of your chair screech across the tile floor, almost deafening the both of you as he draws you near, your entire body taking the bait as he repeats the motion over again. “Tell me.”

“I need you to touch me here.” You reach your hand down and grab his thumb, lifting it up and placing it on your clit.

He smiles at your instruction, doing as he’s told before finally leaning in to close the gap between your lips. That stale, faint flavor of beer mixes in with the sea salt still on his skin as you breathe him in, savoring his lips and tongue as they explore your mouth with more fervor than any other lover you could bother to remember. That moan of yours turns into a needy whine as he presses on that special spot from both ends, massaging you from the inside out as his thumb sends signals of immeasurable ecstasy up through your spine and into your brain.

He kisses his way down your lips and chin, his beard scratching your jawline as he moans in return against you, reacting to your silky walls clenching down around his fingers. His mouth leaves a trail of fire down your neck and shoulders, his tongue and lips marking nearly every inch of your chest and stomach with his saliva until he pushes his own chair backward while getting onto his knees.

Instead of pulling his fingers out of you, he keeps his steady rhythm going inside your slick. He looks up at you with intermittent glances of salacious pride as he presses his lips against your inner thighs, sucking scattered bruises into both of them as you softly moan his name. “I don’t want you to say my name again until you come, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, running your hands through his hair as he lifts your leg over his shoulder before diving in completely.

Every bold claim he's made up until now proves to be more than true as he licks a tantalizing stripe up each side of your dripping wet length. He slows his fingers’ pace inside of you, removing his thumb from that special spot only to quickly replace it with his hungry mouth. You try not to sigh too loudly as he laps you up, those eyes of his glancing up from time to time through strands of hair that fall in front of his face as his tongue flicks up and down in a delicately delicious pattern. A mixture of short and long strokes sends signals of euphoria throughout your body, like dots and dashes on the telegraph sending a complete and layered message into your brain until it reaches every inch of your fingers and toes, curling them in on themselves in sheer delight.

You grab a fistful of his hair as you feel yourself shudder, locking onto his eyes as he doubles down, tasting every bit of your flesh as your inner walls clamp down around his knuckles like a vice. You tug on his scalp, holding his head in place as you ride out your orgasm with his name on your lips, gyrating your hips against the tip of his nose as he continues to devour you like a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days.

“Ari!” You finally cry out as the pleasure nearly encompasses you entirely, wreaking so much havoc on your nerves and skin that you’re unsure if you can physically tolerate any more of it. Without thinking, you lift your leg up even further as he refuses to relent, planting it on his shoulder before kicking him off of you and onto the floor.

“How am I doing so far?” He laughs, smirking as he lands backward onto his elbows, the light reflecting off of the clear coat of your arousal on his lips and beard.

“Jesus,” you start, unable to stop your body from shivering in the aftershock as he looks at you like that. “I mean… good, you’re doing good.”

“You’re not lying, are you?” He stands up from his spot on the floor and runs a hand through his hair, his erection more than prominent in his jeans as he approaches you.

Good god, you almost forgot about that part.

“No,” you admit, catching your breath as your muscles continue to shake. “Not after that.”

“I believe you.” He takes your hand and helps you up onto your wobbly feet, walking with you almost as if the two of you are dancing before picking you up and setting you down onto the dinner table in one fluid motion. Your weight pulls against the tablecloth, clinking the dishes together before Ari pushes them out of the way to make room for what he’s about to do.

You can’t help but keep your legs spread apart as he steps in between them, your palm finding its way down his chest and over his clothed cock before unfastening his jeans to finally reveal what’s underneath. “Holy shit.” Your mouth falls open as his dick springs up from the denim you pull down around his thighs, its length and girth more than matching the level of confidence he always seems to have.

“I told you.” He raises his eyebrows before leaning down to kiss your lips again, the tangy flavor of your cunt spreading to each and every one of your taste buds as he brushes his tongue against yours. You savor your own personal zest until you feel him smile and pull away, looking down and spitting on his palm to stroke himself. He grins as you watch him work on himself, cupping his head a few times before noticing your jaw dropping on the floor. “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make it fit.”

You laugh in utter disbelief as he lines himself up with your opening, gliding the head of his cock over your clit a few more times just to watch you squirm as a deep, guttural moan brews in his chest. He finally decides to push himself in, that moan leaving his lips in little more than a whisper as he begins to fill you up, stretching your velvety walls to capacity. His breath hitches as he disappears between your folds, guiding himself in deeper with more ease than you thought was humanly possible before he eventually bottoms out.

You whine as he holds himself there for a minute, glancing up at you to make sure you’re okay before taking his time to pull out and thrust back into you, giving your muscles room to adjust before he starts chasing his own pleasure. He lets go of himself as he rocks into you, cradling the back of your head as the wooden table beneath you creaks louder with each consecutive movement of his hips. He keeps his other hand on your hip, holding you in place as he drills himself into you, breathing heavily into your kiss as trails of sweat drip down his chest, soaking little droplets onto the fabric of his shirt.

He growls against your lips as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as possible as he feeds your body with a visceral pleasure you weren’t entirely sure existed until now. Keening against him as he continues to fill you up, your overstimulated flesh tightens around him in a rapturous wave that seems to flood your senses even more than it had before. You can feel it rush its way through you, seizing every muscle in your entire body as it squeezes the release right out of him, forcing him to twitch and spasm into your blissful heat. He grunts with his last push inside of you, grabbing onto your ass to get as deep as he can, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix as he coats your inner walls with his orgasm.

He kisses your lips and forehead as he sputters inside of you, keeping himself between your legs as he memorizes how good the sensation of your muscles feels around him before slowly pulling out. “Did I…,” he runs a hand through your hair as he catches his breath, all the blood rushing up to his lips and cheeks. “Did I change your mind?”

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper, continuing to hold him close. “Yeah, you did.”

#Chris Evans #Ari Levinson #Ari levinson x reader #Ari Levinson Imagine #Ari Levinson x You #The Red Dea Diving Resort #chris evans fan fiction #ari levinson fanfiction

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argentnoelle · 3 months

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The Impact of Light Yagami's Time in Confinement

This meta draws from the Washington University Journal of Law and Policy paper Psychiatric Effects of Solitary Confinement by Stuart Grassian.

While solitary confinement is generally used in TV shows as a less extreme method of torture or interrogation, since it does not involve physical violence, it is actually quite brutal. People who undergo solitary confinement may experience perceptual distortions up to and including hallucinations involving multiple senses, as well as paranoia and obsessional thoughts, and difficulties thinking and concentrating, along with violent outbursts and self harm. "Prisoners confined in solitary confinement for no longer than one week were oftentimes found to have acute psychotic breaks," and there is a group of symptoms that tend to show up in cases of solitary confinement that are quite distinct, and some of the hallucinatory symptoms are ones that commonly show up in neurological illnesses.

Solitary confinement was first popularized in the American prison system, with the idea that it would allow criminals to think and repent—however, what was instead found was a baffling pattern of mental illness that correlated with the people who were put into such sensory restrictive states. After this was realized, the extreme measures of solitary confinement in prisons were scaled back, but solitary confinement continued to be used as a method of torture.

Not every person who undergoes solitary confinement will have the full range of symptoms. Some people deal better with it than others, and there are a few underlying reasons why that is. Firstly, "an individual who receives clues which cause him to experience the isolation situation as potentially threatening is far more likely to develop adverse psychiatric reactions." How does this apply to Light?

For the first seven days Light spends in confinement, he still has all his Kira memories and knows that he is locked up because he wants to be, as part of his grand plan. He seems quite in control and generally even-keeled. Then, he loses his memories. Instantly, he panics, because he suddenly believes he's been framed and unjustly imprisoned for the crimes of Kira, and he has no clue if he'll ever be freed. Light's isolation immediately becomes a threatening experience. Canon glosses over the full fifty-three days of his confinement, but we can see a little bit of how it wears on him in the few panels it cuts to him, as he progresses little by little over the days to increasingly apathetic postures.

Going into more detail on the symptoms of solitary confinement, adjustment to isolation tends to take one to three weeks. This will include anxiety and hyperactivity. But gradually, the prisoner "gives up all spontaneous activity within his cell and ceases to care about personal appearance and actions. Finally, he sits and stares with a vacant expression, perhaps endlessly twisting a button on his coat." This is something we canonically observe in Light's time in confinement, as the Light at the end of his confinement spends his days apparently lying on the floor and staring into space, when L isn't interrogating him.

There is another reason that doesn't bode well for Light's time in solitary confinement, and that is his personality. The people who do the worst in solitary confinement include psychopathic individuals and people with ADHD. The reason, the study surmises, is that solitary confinement is in effect extreme sensory deprivation, and these personalities already suffer from being chronically understimulated. Without diagnosing Light, I think it's possible to surmise that he would do badly in solitary confinement, as he is canonically "unable to tolerate routine and boredom" similar to those who suffer the most in solitary confinement. The quoted paper makes this remark: "Individuals with high needs for novelty and new sensations, ... who are emotionally unstable, or who are unconcerned with social approval seem unsuited for ... such environments ... The opposite [traits are found in] those who adjust well." Bad news for Light all around.

On the plus side, Light is educated and functioned quite well in day to day life before confinement, which are some of the traits found in those who do the best in such a situation. Even so, although individuals who do the best in this situation don't suffer the same psychotic states, they still experience perceptual disturbances, anxiety, panic attacks, and difficulties in cognition and memory with frequent mental fog.

Fortunately, the acute symptoms of solitary confinement quickly disappear the moment a person has been released from the situation. Unfortunately, there are also many long-term effects such as PTSD including pervasive feelings of hopelessness and depression, hypervigilance, withdrawal, and personality changes including intolerance with social interaction.

I would argue that Light canonically shows evidence of some of these long-term effects, as the Light we see in part 1 is social, friendly, and outgoing to all appearances (despite his inner thoughts) and even while being suspected of murder, is a generally optimistic and happy person. Yotsuba arc Light is rarely the focal character, and is mostly seen "performing" for the rest of the task force and L, but in part 3, after the time skip, where Light is again the main character, we can see that he lives a remarkably different life.

Despite quickly rising through the ranks of the police and growing the scope of his Kira activities, Light spends most of his days in one single apartment, interacting with the same five people. He does not seem to have any social life outside of this. He is markedly less social than his younger self, and frequently blindsided by events that one can assume his younger self would have taken in stride. He spends plenty of time gloating about his superiority over Near, yet Near is able to easily undermine him again and again—and I argue that it's not that Near is so much smarter than L, or even that Light is in a worse-off position now than he was back then. At least not to start.

The real difference is in the way Light reacts to threats and the fact that he spends so much less time cultivating his social image and disregarding his allies.

There are many possible reasons for the difference in Light's character pre- and post- timeskip, but one I've never seen brought up is the potential effect of the solitary confinement he underwent.

#death note #meta #my meta

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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 13.

Summary: As you promised, you spend the morning with Farleigh as moral support for Oliver's upcoming visit. Perhaps getting reasonably high and discussing your sex life wasn't the best move, all things considered, but it definitely seemed like a good idea at the time.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, kind of explicit discussions about sex, reader gets high and is high for the second half of the chapter (based on my experiences & understanding of weed)

A/N: 6673 words. OH WE ARE SO BACK. we get to spend more time with farleigh this chapter, i love him so very much omg. also the reader's experiences/behaviour while stoned is definitely reflective of my experience, and everyone experiences these things differently so that's that. also felix being down So Bad for the reader when they're high because of how fucking adorable he thinks they are??? man is In Love. but please, leave a comment letting me know how we're feeling about getting back into it after a break for some AU and oneshot shenanigans! next chapter will be from oliver's POV and im THRILLED about it.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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On your first morning back at Saltburn, you wake to the smell of cigarette smoke. Felix is beside you, sitting up against his headboard, cigarette in one hand and book in the other. Groggily you lean over, bumping your forehead to his lowered elbow, and he smiles down at you. In the morning light, Felix is ethereal; at Saltburn, in his element, completely relaxed and at home, he glows.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up next to him, it feels like hundreds, possibly thousands at this point, but something about this, the thousand and first, is different. Is better. Soon enough this dream-space will be broken by the idea of breakfast, and the anticipation of Oliver arriving, but right now you bask in this one, tiny piece of perfect.

Your room.

"My Felix," you mumble mostly to yourself in the morning light. It's more like a sigh, like a dreamy reminder of the Summer to come. Felix goes pink, which you don't even see, eyes closed and wearing a blissful, sleepy expression, half pressed to the pillow by his side.

You'll never be entirely privy to the ongoing thoughts of Felix Catton, no matter how well it may seem that you can read them. But you've always wondered. Sometimes you ask, and you know he wouldn't lie to you, but you always find yourself curious about the things he leaves unsaid. Not now, of course, now you're falling back asleep, but it's moments like this, moments you wonder about how he perceives the vague, offhand possessiveness - or overt possessiveness, if that afternoon you'd spent meticulously marking him said anything - you so frequently display. It's not always intentional. You wonder if he's ever found it off-putting.

It's never been a conversation the two of you have outright had; why not me? Why not only me? It's never had to be asked; beautiful, fanciful people should not be confined. What a shallow answer. Because you are the home I will always come back to, I promise, I promise, I promise. But there's no way to say that out loud. There never has been, even if you've both known it for years.

But none of that plagues you now; the bed and the early morning are both pleasantly warm. The heat from Felix sitting beside you is as comforting and familiar as is the smell of his cigarette amongst the fresh air from the open window. You're drifting back off for what little more sleep you could capture before the day begins, and you don't see the way Felix is watching you in this moment.

There are no eyes on Felix now, no-one to watch, no-one to judge. No-one else who knows how you smile when you sleep next to him.

Breakfast has everyone else in the house buzzing. Venetia's hungry-eyed across the table from Farleigh, her food practically untouched as she demanded as much information from him as possible after complaining about you and Felix being stubbornly tight-lipped. As you hear them gossip, you and Felix share an exasperated look at the edge of the room, you with two plates of food and him with two steaming mugs, before you both head back to the table.

"Y/N, dear," Elspeth cuts over Farleigh's sarcastic remarks about Oliver's fashion choices the minute you settle yourself down. Looking to her with a polite smile, as was custom, she smiles back, "Duncan has put together our Summer event schedule for you, would you still like it to be left in the lilac study?" You nod, quiet and grateful, trying to start on your breakfast before she adds, "as always we've made particular note of the events which your parents have been included as part of the guest list for, so please do just let us know ahead of time whether you plan to be in attendance also -"

"Mum," Felix hissed, to which Elspeth looked rather confused and startled, as if she couldn't understand what she'd done wrong. Pamela, as ginger as you'd ever seen her, and clearly having come back to the house despite not having been here over Christmas, looks to you with that doe-eyed softness that she always seem to have.

"Darling, I didn't know you had parents," she mused with her trademark far-away tone of voice. Her words, however, set off both Farleigh and Venetia, who couldn't help but laugh, and even Felix was grinning behind his mug.

"Of course they have parents, Pamela," Elspeth whispered loudly to her, clearly embarrassed on the woman's behalf, while you just tried to enjoy breakfast, and the absurdity of it all.

"No, I always thought-" Pamela frowned for a minute, looking between Elspeth and Sir James, "aren't they one of yours?" Her gaze turning back upon you, then to Felix next to you, "I recall something about you two being twins, isn't that right?"

"No, dear, that's not -" Elspeth is desperately trying to salvage the conversation despite Venetia all but crying with laughter. Both yourself and Felix, after sharing a vaguely horrified look about the whole situation, try to focus on your breakfasts, even as Elspeth continues, "Pamela please don't say something so crass at the table."

"What's crass about the idea of Y/N and Felix being twins, Auntie Elspeth?" Farleigh asks, wearing a smile that's all teeth as his Aunt freezes momentarily. Venetia's laughing has gone past the point of being audible.

Felix chokes on the coffee he's been trying to hide behind, right as your eggs go down your windpipe and send you into a coughing fit.

"When was Oliver set to arrive again?" Sir James asks like he's absolutely oblivious to the situation that has arisen at his breakfast table, instead lowering his paper to smile brightly at his son.

"Um," Felix takes half a moment to compose himself once more, before levelling a weak smile at his father, "I believe his train gets in at three."

"Wonderful," ever enthusiastic, James nods, "we'll have a car sent out and waiting for him." As if the Cattons have ever made anyone catch a taxi if they didn't have a town car of their own. Forever eager to be the perfect hosts.

"Do you think he even knows what a town car is?" Farleigh asks disdainfully, which sets Elspeth off and cooing about the sorry state of their upcoming guest, while you attempted to swat Farleigh's arm for his comment.

"Hey, no," he leans out of your reach, all but oozing contempt at the reminder of Oliver's impending arrival, "you're my ally in this today, you promised; no being bitchy about my opinions just because I don't want to save a horse, ride a pauper like you do -" even as you snap at him, the eyes of most of the table are on you in an instant.

"Farleigh," you snarled under your breath, feeling yourself growing flustered.

"You're a dreadful fucking pest," Felix frowns at his cousin around you, but Farleigh merely shrugged without even a shred of remorse. Several pairs of newly intrigued eyes are still fixed on you.

"Felix had mentioned that you were fond of Oliver, pet, isn't that right?" Elspeth began tentatively. You kind of wished your chair would spontaneously collapse beneath you, if only to give everyone something else to talk about. Alas, it remained sturdy, and you remained pinned like a butterfly beneath Elspeth and Venetia's gazes, "I never really thought to ask what you thought of the boy, which is foolish of me, he's your friend too, is he not?"

"Clearly," Venetia said, smile surprisingly wolfish.

Oliver's constantly searching eyes shine blue as the sky in your mind. Everything Oliver Quick says, does, and is, seems so deliberate; he's constantly a man with more thoughts than words, so you know that what he chooses to say always has meaning. You love that he's capable of directness that so many others will shy away from, but is able to chatter through small talk if it's to be had. He can read a room and let it affect his approach without feeling the need to change himself; that's why so many of your friends back at Oxford found him so off-putting. It's one of the things you loved about him.

Oliver is Oliver at the club, at the pub, walking to class, in the grocery store listening to you and Felix argue about pasta sauce, in your bed, smiling at you and kissing you and murmuring the kinds of things to you that none's ever taken the time to say, the kinds of things that makes your heart beat hard against your ribs and in your throat in a way that you don't get from people who aren't Felix anymore -

"Uh, yeah, he's a good friend," you shrug and try to seem as nonplussed about the discussion as you're able to, while your eyes are all but burning holes into your plate, "he's really quite lovely, and he's got such a beautiful, unique face; I think you'll be very charmed by him, Elspeth." Beside you, Felix coughs very deliberately to cover a laugh.

Chancing a glance at him, you're both pleased and vaguely mortified to see, not the jealousy you would have seen perhaps a week ago during a discussion like this where he is privy to far too much information about your feelings regarding Oliver. Instead, you see your best friend trying not to laugh at your casual act knowing your casual 'he's a good friend' and 'he's really quite lovely' actual means 'I've been absolutely railed by the young gentleman coming to stay at our house, so yes you could say I adore him'. This is much better than the jealousy. This is one of the many reasons you love having Felix as a best friend. You also desperately wished you weren't at the breakfast table with the entire rest of his family.

Elspeth, however, seems pleased enough by the answer to let you finish your breakfast in peace. Felix does too, but he's wearing this amused little knowing smile the entire time. Okay, if it means Felix isn't being weird and jealous about it, you'll take it.

After breakfast, you allow Farleigh to pull you outside to the picnic table you'd had installed in the middle of your favourite flower garden. He'd asked you to paint his nails, promising to return the favour, claiming to desperately want to spend his last hours of freedom surrounded by beauty while he could.

"You're mad at me," he says bluntly as you're concentrating on painting the nails on his left hand black. Like Freddy Mercury used to, he'd told you.

"No..." you murmured distractedly, trying to wipe carefully at where you'd gotten a bit on his skin.

"You don't have to be here," Farleigh could be heard rolling his eyes, and as you dipped the brush back into the bottle, you paused for a moment, looking up at him in genuine confusion.

"You asked me to spend time with you today," like it's the simplest thing in the world.

"You are aware that you're not actually a robot, right?" It surprises you how genuinely concerned he looks in this moment, leaning forwards, as if proximity would better impart the importance of his words, "you don't have to do just what everyone says; you have free will."

Looking down at the bottle, as if to continue your work and not to hide your expression, you once again tell him that you know. You move onto the next nail, and Farleigh falls silent.

It is beautiful out here. The garden itself that you found yourselves in was actually considered to be yours. It had been a birthday gift from James and Elspeth after hearing some of your idle musings as a late teen. It was an overwhelming offer, one you'd tried to turn down countless times; there were books about the Saltburn Estate as it was, they shouldn't allow you to alter it in any way! But they'd been terribly insistent. Our home is your home. You won't even lie; you started crying on the spot at that.

They'd asked you if you wanted to hire people to get it all taken care of, and while you'd accepted in part, the actual planting and initial maintaining of the garden itself was something you put an entire Summer into.

A circular design with a beautiful vine-covered arch as it's entrance, two thick rows of flowers in various shades of pinks, blues, purples, and whites bordering the outside, with a bubbling stream separating them. Smooth stones lead through the arch to a circular opening of lush, green grass, itself encircled by another small stream. The picnic bench sat at the back of the inner circle, while several small white chairs and benches with ornate tables between them sat either side, still leaving a generous patch of grass that you'd often had picnics on in the years since it's creation.

When you had come back over the following break after the garden had been completed, you see that a single statue had been placed flush against the back of the picnic table, between it and the edge of the stream, fitting perfectly. Far more understated than most of the other statues littering the Saltburn estate, it was of a young woman, her hair tied back and looking even to be quite short if you looked at it the right way, in a surprisingly shapeless toga, arm raised, hand poise to her mouth as if she's about to eat whatever's in her hand. Four large seeds. The figure looks gleeful at the prospect of eating them. The figure kind of almost looks like you. But you've always brushed it off; you're not that vain.

The Cattons have always had loved their mythology.

The family called it the Fairy Ring Garden, and Elspeth especially enjoyed hosting gatherings there.

Now, it was peaceful, just as Farleigh had hoped, smelling sweet even when the flowers weren't all in their full bloom. You cap the bottle, reaching for the top coat.

"They're not going to kick you out," Farleigh breaks the silence as you're shaking up the formula and waiting for his nails to dry. But his words have you stopping dead.

"I never said I thought they would..." you say slowly, while something uncomfortable begins to gnaw at your stomach. Farleigh's expression, while unimpressed at what he knows is a lie, is still full of that concern.

"But you do think it."

Logically, rationally, you know they won't. But you also know that you can't even bring yourself to say it in a way that was believable. Farleigh's looking at you like you're a puzzle he can't even being to solve, a friend with a problem he doesn't know how to talk through. So you ignore the comment altogether.

"I am mad at you," you say instead, looking up at him with a humourless smile.

"About... this?" He frowns.

"About implying that I have the hots for Oliver at the breakfast table, you dick," and you got back to shaking the nail polish as Farleigh laughs in that sharp and familiar way that breaks all the rest of the tension.

"I was not expecting breakfast to be such a shitshow," he wheezes with laughter, his free hand coming to rest on his chest as he kept his hand with it's black nails still on the table for you, "Pamela is a riot, God I love her."

"Where did she get the impression that Fi and I were twins?" You crows with amusement, which just set Farleigh off again, "and Elspeth's horror at the thought - did you see her face?!"

"I'm not even lying to you, I didn't realise she like, actually knew you and Felix were boning until she made that comment to Pamela -" Farleigh grinned with a scandalous little gasp.

"I hardly did either, except yesterday she got all weird about Fi and I officially sharing a room while Oliver was here, and it was clearly because she knew we sleep together; I have no idea how much she knows, or how long she's known, but she definitely knows," you offered with a smirk, while Farleigh ate up the gossip with glee.

As your focus returned to your work on the final layer of polish on his fingers, the conversation died down for several, serene minutes.

"Felix is going to show Oliver to his room when he arrives -" Farleigh's voice was unfortunately once more laced with disdain.

"Can I ask what your genuine problem is with him?"

It's quiet, but there's a distinct, irate hum from across the table after half a minute. Farleigh, when you glance up at him, is frowning down at his fingers, at you painting the final one, carefully cultivating his thoughts.

"There is an inherent unwillingness to engage in the stylistic aspects of, well, everything, despite how he is a constant, lurking watcher of the world, and must still see the value that is placed on it, that I find... off-putting," he says very carefully, and the minutes you've finished his nails, he picks up the base coat from the table and starts shaking it, waiting for you to present your hands for him to return the favour. "He acts like this weak, little mouse, but he's the cat, always watching every fucking thing, judging all of us but pretending like he's not and he's innocent. He's like you, but at least you're upfront about it," it's not a surprise when he finishes your first hand and looks up to gauge your reaction.

It's the second time someone's compared you to Oliver. Somehow you think you like this comparison better. Still, it feels strange to hear. Farleigh only waits for half a second, however, before he starts on the next hand.

"You..." you too carefully pick your next words, "have clearly put some thought into this."

"Adriana is going to hear a lot about Oliver tomorrow in our session; I'm trying to put some of the work in before I get there," he says flatly, though you can't help but genuinely smile.

"Adriana?"

"Therapist; phone session scheduled for tomorrow. Organised it before I knew about yours and Felix's little coup of my Summer, but I'm more than glad for it now."

"You're still going to those sessions? Good for you, man."

"Yeah, mom and Uncle James thought it might help me stick it out at Oxford," he sucks his teeth loudly for a second, "guess they were right." Then, without even looking up, "she still think you need therapy too," he practically sings, and you hum noncommittally. Farleigh's mentioned once or twice that the few times he'd brought you up in his own sessions, his therapist had seemed reasonably concerned about you. You had chosen to ignore it before, and you would continue ignoring it now.

"You brought weed, right?" That was the other thing about the Fairy Circle Garden, it was tradition to get high if it was any combination of the four of you children. Farleigh grins as he finishes off your left hand, both because your obvious attempt to dodge his statement, and because yeah, obviously.

"Let me finish your nails first; did you bring your iPod?"

"Of course."

You'd chosen a pale, gold polish, something almost close to a cream colour, that sparkled in the light, and spent the entire time Farleigh was furiously searching his pockets for his lighter admiring them.

In the afternoon sun, you and Farleigh lay in the grass of the Fairy Circle Garden, sharing a joint and listen to a shuffled mix of Queen songs. Elspeth had put one of their albums on after dinner, which the whole family let themselves enjoy, and it had been on all your minds ever since.

"Can I ask you something?" Farleigh mumbles, holding his hand up to the sky to admire the shiny, black polish adorning his nails.

"My dearest Fars," you grinned widely at him, "you can ask me anything ever in the world; it's me, you know this, but -" you turn faux serious, though only for a second, taking back the almost finished joint, "now you can ask me anything." And you breathe deeply, letting the smoke sit in your lungs, passing the last of it back to Farleigh. He takes his time, however, and your head swirls the longer you let the smoke settle in your lungs.

"I genuinely cannot picture Oliver being any fucking good in bed," he blurts out, and turns to you; unfortunately there's a look in his eyes that's genuine rather than disdainful, "granted," he amends, seemingly actually reasonable about this, "sometimes my mind does replace him with the puppet version of Pinocchio, from the cartoon - I'm actually not trying to be mean here, my brain just does that -" while you're actually rolling on the grass with laughter, both from his apparent situation, but also because the weed has definitely already hit you.

"Farleigh, oh my god -"

"Stop it," he's starting to sound genuinely distressed, "I've had sex with you, I know what you've got going on down there; I can't stop vividly imagining you getting puppet dick!" Your attempts to comfort him aren't particularly successful when you're still cackling even as you try and hug him. At least he accepts it, returns your hug despite sulking at your continued laughter. Then, and you can actually hear him getting over his distressed bit as he adds, "it's wooden, right? And it grows like his nose?"

It takes you a full five minutes to calm down from your laughter once more, but at least this time Farleigh's laughing too.

"Christ, Fars -" you're wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, sitting up, your legs crossed. Farleigh is still stretched out, lounging on his side and propped up on his elbow, "I'm never going to be able to watch Pinocchio again."

"Now you know how I feel," he shrugs, "and that was before I knew you'd -"

"Whatever weird, possible puppet-based euphemism -"

"Oh, you know me so well," he smirked, though the look in his eyes is warm.

"- I'll pass on," a lull comes in the conversation, and you lay yourself back once more. Checking your watch, you're surprised that there's still quite some time before lunch, "why would I lie?" You lower your arm, and prop your hands behind your head. Farleigh makes a confused noise, "about Oliver; do you think I'm lying?"

"My dearest Y/N," he echoes your tone and affection from minutes earlier, before sliding to his more familiar cadence, "you can, will, and have gotten in bed with every person who's caught your fancy. I have watched you transcend sexuality literally all over the globe, and I know from countless personal experiences - thank you by the way - that you rate sex by how good you can make your partner feel," he looks up at you for just a moment where he's laying on his back like he's remembering those countless personal experiences and you do not have the self restraint to not roll onto your side to face him, to watch him. Farleigh both knows what you're doing, while also finally making his point; "I don't think Oliver Quick is good in bed, I think you just made that man find God."

It's quite the compliment, and if it were anyone else, he'd probably be right.

"Fars-" your smile widens bashfully, and he has to close his eyes for a moment, shaking his head.

"Don't say my name like that, you're derailing the conversation," he mumbles, sounding rather bashful.

"Like what?"

"The way you do when you're high," he huffs an embarrassed breath, cracking an eye open to look at you. You hadn't realised that there was any special way that you would say it, but you apologise faintly, shifting yourself to lay at an angle, your head on his chest, facing him. Farleigh closes his eyes again, wearing a faint smile as he runs his fingertips up and down your arm in a soothing, repetitive gesture. Which does nothing but feel like teasing in your current state.

"Why do you care so much about Oliver's dick-game?" You try and focus. It catches Farleigh off guard, judging by his bark of laughter.

"As you have so thoroughly pointed out at least twice by now, the man has a limited number of features that would be arguably hot on someone with a better personality -"

"Oh, right," you nodded, "your repressed crush on my poor friend who you hate," tone flat, you brace for whatever response you know you will get, but still yelp when you receive a hard pinch on the arm. "Those are some big words, by the way; Adriana should give you a gold star - ow! Fine!" You pout, doing your best to cross your arms despite not actually moving yourself from Farleigh. It takes a few beats, but you hear the faintest laugh echo in Farleigh's chest, and moments later he returns to idly running his fingers up and down your arm.

The moment settles around you both, and you let your eyes fall closed. This moment of contentment almost mirrors the one from this morning, but your head swirls too much for it to be entirely perfect.

"I'm not lying," you finally say. Farleigh makes a noise of interest. Eyes still closed, you're kind of willing to bet his are too, "you said so yourself; Oliver's like me, he... watches," you wet your lips, hesitating for a moment, "he listens."

"But you listen," Farleigh says like the equation isn't adding up in his mind. God why did you have to talk about this in the first place, now all you can think about is Oliver, Oliver, Oliver -

Harder, he'd actually listened. Hold me here. Listened. This angle. You can bend me like this. Pull. Bite. Move. Fuck.

You had to open your eyes; Farleigh is watching you, half seemingly aroused by whatever picture he has in his head, half still relatively confused. Every sensation in your mind feels tenfold right now, you could have said any number of things to prove your point, but there's one that sticks. Slowly, you sit up, half bracing yourself over Farleigh, hands planted in the grass either side of him as your silhouette blocks the sun from his face.

"Fars," you've already forgotten that there's something about that nickname that always gets him, even soft and serious like this, "Ollie's the first person outside of Felix who's made me cum before they've gotten the chance to finish in my entire memory."

Farleigh, who'd been grinning up at you, gently running his fingertips across your cheek and down your jaw, actually looks a little stunned.

"That can't be right." He mutters faintly. Your answering expression is grim and telling, "oh my god," with the exact tone of someone discovering shocking, world altering news about situations far less trivial, but the apology in his eyes and faint horror in his voice is rather amusing.

"Doomed to the life of a - what did you call me that one time?" You grinned despite yourself, sitting back a little, "a service bottom?"

"Oh my god I definitely did!" Farleigh lights up at the memory, glad too for the breaking of tension once more, and you rather eagerly add.

"So it was nice to be, you know, be listened to, taken care of the way I kind of take care of people?" You try to put it to words, "but I still- uh, I think I was just a regular- um -"

"Oliver Quick; service top," Farleigh muses like it's of great importance, which is enough to make you laugh once more. But your arms are getting tired of holding you up, and your self restraint is worn past the point of no return, so finally you lean down to kiss him. Farleigh grins against your lips, "hey."

"Hi," you murmur, everything about you radiating a syrupy kind of fondness, "I'm not mad at you."

"Clearly," Farleigh chuckles faintly, pulling you back in. The second day of Summer and it feels like freedom already, and of Summers long passed. Getting high and making out in the Fairy Circle Garden is not an unfamiliar experience, and you'd always considered it a good way to pass the time. In your mind, it seems like a great idea at the time to share another joint together; you end up with Farleigh's knee between your thighs by the time you realise that you're almost late for lunch.

"Oh my god, Fars, they're going to kill us," you couldn't contain your laughter as you briskly made your way back to the house.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Farleigh called out from a few feet behind, and you stopped, looking at him with concern for his urgent tone. Instead, he swooped in with a grin to give you one more kiss before passing you, "they're not going to care," he adds.

"They're so going to care!" You hissed, voice a guilty mix of concerned and amused as you stepped into the house. Then, after a moment, "I care if they know!"

"That is not something I can help you with, pet," Farleigh shrugged, "but I think they might care about the grass stains on our clothes." And with that he swans away, radiating a bright confidence that you can't help but be endeared by in this moment, that distracts you, if only for a second, from your nerves.

Back in your room, the nerves set in tenfold when you find Felix to be there as well.

"How's Farleigh coping?" He asks with a pleasant smile.

Be totally cool and stealthy and not high right before Oliver's meant to arrive. You can do this.

"Surprisingly well," you responded cheerfully, raising your hands to show off your nails, "we listened to Queen," maybe a non sequitur, but not an incriminating one, you tell yourself, "and..." frowning for a moment, you pull at the shoulder of your shirt, trying to examine it for the grassy faux par Farleigh had been accusing you of. As you're trying to figure out if you really do need to change, it appears that your mouth takes on a mind of it's own, adding, distractedly, "... grass stains. Fi-" you look to him with sudden intensity, not having realised that in your attempt to see the back of your shirt, you'd tried to turn to get a better look, like a dog chasing it's own tail, "Fi, is there grass on me?"

Felix, taking you by the shoulders to steady you, is giving you a truly bemused look. It's enough for you to already be pulling away from him, stripping off your shirt to look in your drawers.

"I'm going to kill Farleigh," but you can hear his exasperation is highly coloured with amusement. He chuckles faintly, "and you, probably."

"Ooh~" you mused mostly to yourself, "see, I told Farleigh this would happen," you clicked your tongue as you squinted into the drawer for the perfect replacement. Then, very suddenly, you processed all of what Felix had said; "and boo, don't kill me," you pout, pulling out a button down and taking a few moments to check the size on the tag to see if it was yours or Felix's, "I'm capable of a great many things, Felix," you tell him matter-of-factly as you pull the shirt on. Satisfied with your change in wardrobe, you look to see him sitting on the end of the bed, looking thankfully endeared by your antics, "and we're late to lunch, almost," despite how you strode over to him with purpose, standing yourself between his legs, arms draped around his neck, "poor form showing up late, covered in blood, and with a dead friend in the other room;" he can't help himself, he laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist, looking up at you with the most loving exasperation in his eyes. However the sound of his laughter is absolutely what you would consider a victory, "see, don't kill me I'm occasionally funny."

"You're so fucking high." He laughed a little helplessly. Drat. At least he seemed to find it funny, leaning forward to press his face against your chest for a long moment as he let out a faint sigh. Felix is warm, his breath on your skin through the fibres of your shirt, his arms around you, knees pressed against your legs; Summer is sweltering, and if he were anyone else you'd be extracting yourself in an instant, but you want to melt into him in this moment.

"Shh," you stage whispered, petting his head, "don't tell Felix, we've got an important guest arriving today," and he looks up to see the apologetic smile you wear as you run your fingers through his hair. You drop the bit, "it seemed like a good idea at the time, then I..." you hummed for a moment, frowning, "lost track of... it. Time."

Felix's gaze softens as he looks at you, eyes shiny and pupils blown wide, holding him so tenderly. Does he even know that he looks at you like that? Does he know how much it means to you?

"You make it frustratingly difficult to - we have lunch-" he has to firmly remind you, even though he is grinning and endeared by your antics, as you bring one leg up over his, knee settling beside him on the bed. Your smile is only guilty because you know it should be, not because you feel any kind of actual guilt. You bring your knee off the bed, but are now straddling his thigh.

"We have lunch," you parrot back with a nod. But Felix's hands are still on you, still wrapped around you and holding you to him, watching you with this look like he's endeared, like he's almost mesmerised by you in this moment; you, who keeps echoing 'we have lunch' until it starts to lose all meaning, and you kind of forget that you're still just standing in your room with Felix, until you're chanting those three words under your breath like a little song that you're bopping along to. Any real thoughts had absolutely left your head about a minute ago.

Felix is watching you with that look in his eyes like he's never loved anyone more in his life.

"I am so hungry," you finally broke out of your little, strange trace, before lighting up, "oh my god we have lunch!" Suddenly enthused, as if you'd forgotten the entire few minutes that had just passed, you step back. Taking Felix's hands, you pull him to his feet as he laughs sweetly, "come on," tugging him through the halls, he lets you lead him by the hand, "once we finish lunch it means its almost time to see Ollie, and we love Ollie!"

Very suddenly three rooms away from the dining hall, you stop. The pace you'd set was eager, so Felix practically crashes into you without a warning, and has to catch you both on a doorframe. You've got your hands flat on his chest, the airy, pale linen shirt he'd chosen for the warm day, staring at them as he's braced over you. Then, very suddenly, your focused expression breaks into a smile like the sun from behind a cloud, looking up at him with absolute joy.

"We match."

He looks down; your nails, his shirt, almost identical shades, though your nails still sparkle faintly.

"I should have said I was stopping," you added, though neither of you had moved. You were still looking at your hands; "I should say more of the things that I think in my head out loud." Then, after a long few moments, and Felix continuing to indulge you, he hears you mutter, "I can feel your heartbeat in my hands."

You should definitely move and go to lunch and not stand here and be close to Felix for an infinite amount of time even if you know that Felix loves you and would definitely indulge you and would let you stay in this space and this moment and this close to him forever and ever if you asked. None of which you say out loud. Instead, what comes out is -

"I like that we match," and you drag your hands down his chest to take the hem of his shirt between your fingers, momentarily tugging on it as Felix finally stepped back.

"You're an absolute terror," he says fondly, taking your hand.

"Yes, but I'm your terror, fuck-o," you tell him with a childish kind of glee, and Felix was rather glad you couldn't see the way the silly little sentiment had made him melt.

As much as he adored the way you became overwhelmingly talkative, loving, and bold whilst high, he still had to stop you both outside of the dining hall to remind you to tone it down.

"Mum and dad can't know," Felix insisted, and you nodded very seriously.

"Mum and dad can't know," you agreed in a whisper, collecting your composure as best you could. For the record, you did pretty good; you didn't serve yourself an ungodly amount of food despite how hungry you were, you used the correct knives and forks even if it took you about twenty seconds of squinting to identify which would be best, and you made a point to be pretty much monosyllabic in conversation. It was working. For the most part.

"It's such a wonderful day, such a lovely omen," Sir James cheerfully gazed through the large windows in the dining hall, clearly glad for the sun.

"Yes, I forgot how beautiful it is to see you all taking advantage of the grounds on days like today," Elspeth added, "I think I saw you two heading out there," looking up, you see her gesturing to yourself and Farleigh with a polite smile, "how was it?"

"A beautiful place to cope with Oliver's impending arrival," Farleigh says through a humourless smile. Venetia leaned over her plate to leer at you both.

"Fucking in the Fairy Garden again?"

"No," you replied arguably too forcefully, mouth half full of food and gaze focused on your plate, terrified of giving away your state right now. Pamela, across the table, spluttered into her tea.

"Venetia," Elspeth admonished, scandalised. However, as much as you were trying to act normal, considering your relationship with three of the individuals at the table, it didn't register until it was too late that your normal may not be everyone's normal at the table -

"It's the middle of the day, Ven, I have a sense of propriety when the sun can see me," then, clearly losing your grip on self restraint while Venetia grins upon seeing her mother's exasperated face momentarily in her hands, you leaned a touch closer to Farleigh, "oh, and Felix is going to kill you."

"I'll add it to my calendar," Farleigh rolls his eyes with a smirk.

"I'm going to kill you both," Felix himself chimes in blithely.

"See, I told you so," you again leaned in to Farleigh, who just gave you a fond, amused smile in response.

"What?" Comes Elspeth in the lull, unsurprisingly befuddled, "Felix, darling, why are you killing your cousin and Y/N?"

"No reason!" You respond jauntily with a sincere, sweet smile. It seems like Elspeth's trying to decide if she should be concerned or not. After a long moment, she decides to accept that it's a joke.

"Well don't do it where I can see," she sits back primly, "or if you must, I request it not be bloody."

"I'll exsanguinate myself in preparation," Farleigh says flatly without missing a beat. No-one at the table had been expecting anything like that, and the mood breaks, turning as light as the sky outside, with the sound of everyone's laughter.

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start imagine #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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jinwoosungs · 3 months

Text

{ 119 }

daisy.

yuta okkotsu x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; mentions of s-icidal thoughts; this is a self indulgent mess...

{ let me show you how a kiss should taste | trust me, i won't give your heart away | why you running, running when you've got it right here? | oh i would love you if you let me }

there was something missing in your life; something that was so intangible, yet was still prominent enough that it left a gaping hole within your heart.

love.

back when you were younger, a mere teenager with bright eyes and a hopeful future, you surrounded yourself with close friends. your bubbly personality and little quirks that made you who you were allowed you to experience the joys of first love (and the inevitable heartbreak that came from such a young love).

you had dreams for your future self; dreams that pertained to having a successful career, then settling down to marry the love of your life while building a family of your own.

yet, with each day that passed, your dreams of finding love was quickly becoming stale.

while your friends and peers have all settled down and built a family of their own, you found yourself quickly falling behind. each time you would scroll through your various social media accounts, you were bombarded with your friends' smiling faces with their arms wrapped around their own soulmates.

the sight of witnessing so much love falling all around you left a bitter taste in your mouth and a deep void in your heart. each time you look away from your phone, you would scan the wide expanse of your apartment. you realize how much colder it felt, living alone in such a space.

during the times where your heartache was dialed up to nearly unbearable levels, you swore that such deep loneliness was felt choking you- consuming you whole as you found it was getting harder to breathe sometimes.

perhaps you should just end it all, since it's clear that no one in this world could ever love you.

that raspy voice was whispering in your ear again, bringing forth the innermost darkness of your thoughts. each time you tried to fight it, reminding yourself of the family and friends who did love you-

yet it would all circle back to the gaping hole in your chest.

but no one loves you in the way you desire to be loved.

so give yourself to me. end it all so that i may devour what's left of you whole.

only i can love you as the way you are.

as if hypnotized by the voice, you stiffly stand, moving away from the confines of your bedroom as your phone fell to the ground. it was as though you were running on autopilot; your body now controlled by something else as you opened the door of your apartment and shut it close with almost a robotic movement.

you took a long walk away from your apartment complex, feeling your eyes gloss over at the thought of your pain disappearing for good. that same, raspy voice continues to urge you on, not allowing you to stop until you reached a bridge that held you over the incoming traffic from below.

your eyes take in the railing of the bridge, and you had the sudden urge to climb it, to stand at the very top of the railing whilst on the tip of your toes. an image of you standing with your arms outstretched, barely balancing on the railing was all that took over your mind-

but a sudden force yanking your wrist away, making you nearly fall back against the concrete was what ultimately stops you.

your eyes met with a furious, stormy gaze when you see a flash of a slender metal from your periphery, with your brain registering that it was a blade a mere seconds before it was thrust violently down on you.

with your eyes clenched shut, you wait for the shattering pain of being stabbed to course through you-

but when all you heard was a guttural scream and the sudden sensation of feeling much lighter, you opened your eyes and let out an audible gasp.

although you couldn't see anything, you could feel a heavy weight dissipating from behind you, leaving you alone with the strange man as he continued to hold you in his arms. the fire in his eyes slowly began to dim, leaving behind a deep sapphire gaze that you couldn't look away from.

he smiles while standing back to his full height, still holding you gently within his embrace while apologizing, "sorry for scaring you, miss. are you alright?"

your mind was still hazy, leaving you speechless as you finally took in your surroundings, seeing the bridge and hearing the sounds of traffic coming from below. a sudden memory flashes through you, giving you the image of your form making its descent from the bridge-

tears fill your vision as you looked away from the man you now knew was your savior. "i-i'm sorry, i didn't know what got over me. i d-didn't think i could ever- th-that i ever wanted to-"

a gentle touch against your chin stops you from voicing your thoughts out loud. the same ferocity was seen in his gaze, but somehow, you knew that it wasn't directed at you. "no, that curse was growing stronger, feeding off your feelings of loneliness. none of your actions were your own, so please, don't feel bad."

your expression was filled with confusion, uncertain to what he was talking about. the man seems to sense your bewilderment and simply smile while letting you go.

"my name's okkotsu yuta." he introduces himself with the hopes of distracting you, and you manage to tell him your own name in return.

yuta repeats the syllables that make up your name, the gentle smile was all you could see on his uniquely beautiful features, and you take a step back to admire him. he was donned in a regular hoodie and jeans as he returns his blade within the confines of its sheath that was settled on his left shoulder.

his lips were suddenly pressed into a thin line as he ran a hand through his ebony locks of hair, appearing shy all of a sudden.

"i don't feel comfortable leaving you alone right now so... would you like to grab some coffee with me?"

"oh, i... y-yes?" you stammer out your reply, truly not expecting him to take you anywhere. you could feel the heat painting your cheeks as you take a shaky step forward, only to be caught by your savior.

"here, hold on to me, and i'll take you somewhere nice."

the man ends up interlocking your fingertips together with his, filling you with a warmth that you had not felt in a long time. as you continued to walk by his side, a sudden chill was felt running up and down your spine.

something powerful was lurking behind you, and you felt as though it wanted you deaddeaddead because yuta was all mine and you were just getting in the way.

"yuta?"

he hears the fear in your voice and simply looks behind him, wrapping his arms around you so that you were now pressed against him. his gaze was filled with amusement, yet his words rang clear as you heard him whisper into the night air.

"there's no need for you to feel jealous, rika. you're still my first love, no matter what."

your heart was aching upon hearing his words. so it must be true, all of the best guys in the world were already taken.

the oppressive presence suddenly disappears, and you allowed yourself to relax against him. the walk to the closest coffee shop only lasted a few minutes, with yuta holding the door open for you as you were greeted by the warm and comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla.

yuta gently leads you to the far corner of the café and kindly asks what you wanted him to order. "it's okay, i'll just have whatever you're having."

he nods and tells you, "i'll be right back." before heading towards the register.

despite how you were still shaken up from the events that transpired just moments ago, you couldn't deny that yuta okkotsu had greatly intrigued you. with his talk about curses and the sheer amount of power he displayed, it was clear that he lived in a world that was much different from your own-

a world that made you wish to get to know it better-

to get to know him better.

so caught up in your thoughts, you actually felt yourself jolt back in response when a steaming hot cup of coffee was settled in front of you, with the cream settled on top of it shaped in a cute heart. the sight of it was enough to make you giggle, "okkotsu, this is too cute to drink."

"yuta, call me yuta." was his simple reply as he sat across from you with his own coffee in hand. he continues to give you that same, sweet smile before sliding over some pastries towards you. "go ahead and eat. you need something after what happened."

you could feel your cheeks heat up once more at his sudden request for you to refer him by his first name, wishing to distract yourself from feeling so strange and giddy while sitting beside him. "so do you already have a girlfriend? who's rika?"

you wanted to ask him directly, to crush any form of hope from forming within the depths of your heart as you bit into a chocolate croissant, not quite tasting just how delicious it was as your heart continued to pound with anticipation.

what ends up surprising you was how a sheepish expression paints his features, a light pink blush was settled against his cheeks when he slowly begins to explain everything.

like how he was actually a sorcerer who could see the physical manifestation of negative human emotions- the curses.

and how when he was a little boy, his childhood friend and first love had died in an accident, and his will for her to live was so strong that it bound her to him in a form of a powerful curse that still loved him to this day.

and how he continues his work as a sorcerer, now as a young adult-

and how he had followed you because the heartache and loneliness that exuded from you made you so so lovely in his eyes that he became captivated by you.

and the moment you passed by him was when he could see the wisps of darkness wrapped around your form as your curse nearly drove you to your own demise; the way he knew he had to destroy that curse before your life would be taken in an instance.

"i-it's strange, but i never told anyone all of this upon first meeting before." yuta's voice was shaky, and it was clear that he was trying to hide just how vulnerable he was behind an all too wide smile. "but, something about you makes me feel like...like i don't wanna lie or hide anything from you."

his sudden confession had you reeling, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed with an emotion you had never felt before the more you held his gaze.

but he simply smiles, taking a hold of your hand that was currently resting against the table. yuta opens his mouth a few times, as if wanting to say something else, but ends up sighing, "i'm glad i was able to save you."

your smile mirrors his own, and you could feel something taking root within your heart, slowly filling up that void when you tell him, "me too."

{ ... }

you couldn't describe what your relationship was with yuta, all you knew was that you never wanted him to leave your side.

roughly 3 months had passed since that incident with what you now knew was your curse, and yuta became the most stable presence within your life. after work, you would go back home to your apartment and meet up with yuta as he filled your once lonely nights with happiness.

today was your day off, and you decided to sleep in and treat yourself with a full night's rest. in your arms were a few of your favorite plushies, with their achingly cute features and soft forms taking up a good portion of your queen-sized mattress. yuta would chuckle and tease you about your stuffed animals, but you would simply pout shove him away from you, telling him that these were your babies and that you would always love them.

you were in a deep sleep when a series of harsh ringing and knocks were heard at your door, breaking you away from your pleasant dreams as a plushie fell out of your arms and into the floor. you groan and stumble out of bed, grumbling out an apology to your precious plush while pressing a kiss against its soft face before going to answer the door.

your plush was still in your hand when you opened the door, coming face to face with yuta himself. he chuckles once more, seeing you holding the cute stuffie while fondly ruffling up your bed hair. "hey sleepyhead, i heard that it's your day off and was wondering if you wanted to go out?"

a playful groan escapes from your parted lips, "but i wanted to sleep in some more...!"

cue yuta letting out a scoff, "sleep in? it's already 12 in the afternoon!" he ushers you back into your apartment, "hurry up and get ready. come on, i know you must be starving."

you sigh in agreement, "okay okay, i'll be back in 30 minutes." and despite how you had a look of annoyance on your face, you couldn't deny how excited you felt at the thought of spending the day with yuta.

with your bed made and your babies all in place, ready to welcome you the moment you came home, you got dressed and grabbed your phone and bag. yuta was still waiting for you on the couch, and when he sees you stepping out of your room, he smiles, "are you ready?"

"yes, now let's go, you were right. i am starving."

as always, yuta takes a hold of your hand, interlocking your fingers together as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

what am i to you?

you wanted desperately for yuta to feel the same about you, but ever since the night he has saved you, his true feelings remained unclear. it seemed like he was keeping you at an arms length away, yet his kindness and never-ending patience was what made your heart sing for him.

for all the times yuta has showed up at your apartment, he had succeeded in pushing those feelings of loneliness away. yuta filled your days with light, and you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

but, you were so afraid of ruining what you already had with him; of scaring him away with the intensity of your emotions. you had never loved nor wanted someone so deeply before; the feelings coursing through you becoming so palatable that you had thoughts of chaining yuta to you-

and he did not deserve such a suffocating love.

"we're here."

yuta's voice was heard, and you finally break away from your intrusive thoughts to see that he had taken you to your favorite restaurant, a place where you only ate on celebratory occasions because it was a bit pricey.

"w-wait, are you sure? this place isn't at all cheap-"

"i know that, but i don't care, and you deserve something nice."

by now, your heart was singing, basking in the sheer amount of love that you held for him as your gaze softened. you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, feeling him do the same in return.

"thank you, yuta."

he simply gives you a smile in return, but you could see something shining brightly within his deep blue gaze. before you could question it, yuta was already leading you into the restaurant.

you spent the next couple of hours enjoying your lunch with yuta, eating your favorite meal while talking about work and the plans you had for the rest of the week. it was just so easy to be with yuta like this that you found yourself not minding it if he truly didn't return your feelings.

because why would you ever wish to ruin something that was already so perfect within your eyes?

so, you fight back those selfish thoughts of wanting yuta's heart, going along with your day filled with smiles as you basked in the sounds of yuta's laughter. even though you had finished lunch, you still wanted to spend the day together, with the afternoon sun at its peak as it painted the world in brighter hues.

you were just walking around the city when the sight of something bright blue and yellow settled behind a glass window catches your attention. with a gasp, you ran towards the quaint little gift shop, seeing a large, blue penguin settled against the glass as your heart melted at the sight.

"oh yuta, look! look how cute he is!" you hear yuta's soft chuckle as he stands directly behind you.

you were cooing, heart absolutely stolen by such a cute plush as you made a mental note to come back here and get him. you spend a few more seconds admiring the cute penguin before reluctantly turning away from the window display.

"sorry about that, yu, let's go back home- eh?"

you look behind you to see that yuta was already gone, leaving you in a panicked state. "yuta?! yu-"

the sounds of bells chiming alerts you to the door opening from the gift shop, revealing yuta with a large bag in his hand. he was silent, still smiling at you when he stands by your side, beckoning you to take the bag.

"yuta, you didn't..."

yuta shrugs in response, still not saying anything.

"b-but you paid for our lunch, and it was expensive, too."

again, he shrugs, "what can i say? i'll do anything to make you happy."

his voice takes on a hoarser tone, looking away from you as you took the precious penguin out of the bag. you see its cute features looking up at you and hold it tightly against your chest.

"thank you..."

your heart was beating wildly now, feeling yuta silently taking a hold of your hand as you made your way back home. you kept repeating his words over and over again, but decided to distract yourself in hopes of keeping your sanity intact.

"i'm so happy i've got a new baby today."

you hear the sounds of yuta's light laughter, "why do you call them your babies?"

"h-huh, what do you mean?"

you and yuta had stopped walking, with yuta scrunching up his nose a bit. he gently pinches at the penguin's chubby face, "these plush dolls, whenever i tease you about them, you sometimes get defensive and call them your babies... why is that?"

you felt your heart ache once again as you hid your face within the penguin's soft body. "i don't wanna tell you."

"huh? why not?"

"because it's embarrassing, and you're gonna laugh at me." you whine to him, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of telling him.

yuta begins to chuckle even more, attempting to hide his smile beneath the palm of his hand. "i'm not gonna laugh at you."

"you're laughing at me now...!"

"not true, i'm laughing with you."

letting out a groan, you continue to hold your penguin within your embrace. "i guess you're not willing to let this one slide, are you?"

"nope." yuta's smile was so carefree, and you knew that he wouldn't judge you for telling him.

with a sigh, you continue to hold on to your penguin tightly, "i like to think of them as my babies because i know... no one will love me enough to truly have kids."

"it's always been my dream to find the love of my life and build a family with them, but here i am, getting older with each day that passes, a-and still, no one wishes to share their life with me."

you could feel the familiar sensation of tear welling up in your eyes, and you didn't wish for yuta to see them. "s-sorry, that got a little too deep without me meaning to do it! i'm gonna head home first...!"

not even bothering to acknowledge yuta's cry of your name, you held on tightly to your penguin plush and weave across the streets. the tears were already streaming down your face, and you truly did not wish for yuta to see you in this state.

you were so close to telling yuta how much you wanted him to fill that void and become the man of your dreams. when you thought that you could live with just being his friend alone, he ends up messing up your heart and making you yearn for him once more with his kindness-

and you couldn't take it anymore.

your legs were trembling when you managed to return back to your apartment, the tears not stopping as you held your plush close to you with your door within reach. as you rummaged through your bag for your keys, your shakiness makes you drop them on the ground.

the way your tears blurred your vision made it hard for you to see, but you didn't have to worry for long when a familiar pale hand was seen picking it up. the sounds of your door unlocking was heard, and you felt a hand pressed against your back, coaxing you inside.

mortification was coursing through your veins, but you allowed yuta inside of your apartment. the tears were still streaming from your eyes, falling like droplets of rain against your hardwood floors. you refused to look at him, feeling him take your penguin away from the vicegrip you had on it.

he says your name, the syllables breaking ever so slightly as the pain in his voice catches your attention, finally making you face him when yuta dives in and seals your lips in a kiss.

a broken gasp was all you could manage, and yuta takes advantage of the sound when he slides his tongue in to get a taste of you, swallowing your moans of his name as you eagerly kissed him back. your hands were automatically in his hair, and you eagerly basked in the heat of his body, never once moving away from him with your lips still locked with his.

when the need for air proved to be too much was when yuta pulled away from you, but just barely. "i can't hold back anymore." yuta's hot breath was felt against your skin, his lips clearly aching to kiss you once more as he continued to breathe heavily against you, "i wanted to talk this slow- god, i wanted to take this so slow, but you being so damn cute just makes me want to tie you to me as i scream my devotion to you to the heavens."

your knees became weak as you slumped against him, allowing yuta to hold you in his arms as he takes you to your couch. he settles back against the seat, placing you on his lap as you were straddling his waist. he keeps repeating your name over and over again, like a reverent prayer while tracing his lips against the skin of your neck.

"you have no idea how much i want you- how much i have loved you from the start. from the moment i saved you, you have always been on my mind." he takes a hold of your hair, moving them away to press lingering kisses against the side of your neck. "i love you, there isn't anything i wouldn't do for you, so if it's a future you wish to build, why not build it with me?"

when he was satisfied with peppering your skin with kisses, yuta meets your gaze with a smile, holding you within his embrace as his hands drew circles against your back, "if you wish to find someone to share your life with you, then why run away when i'm right here?"

"oh yuta...!" filled with such a raw love for the man that held you in his arms, you kiss him once more, unable to help yourself as you began to smile against his lips, "i-i have always loved you, too... ever since the moment i first laid eyes on you, i knew that i never wanted to be with anyone else. b-but, those feelings, i have never felt them before. and truly, i-i was afraid of suffocating you with the love i felt for you."

yuta's sweet laughter fills your ears once more, and you allow your pliant form to lean back when he captures you in his embrace, allowing the tip of his nose to meet with yours in a sweet gesture, "you don't need to worry about me, because i crave for that type of love. you don't need to hold back, so feel free to suffocate me all you want."

as you basked in yuta's promises of forever, you continued to laugh with him throughout the night, already looking forward to whatever the future may hold-

with him by your side.

{ and i would take the light out of the stars to help you see... anything to guide you straight to me. }

a.n. - i have missed writing for yuta so much, and felt so inspired seeing him carry jjk both in the anime and manga. i'm sorry if this isn't my best work, but i hope you readers enjoy it all the same 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu fluff #yuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x you #yuta okkotsu x y/n #.stories

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izelascendant · 3 months

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Creaking bed, injured head.

Din Djarin x Original Female Character

words: 1,385

summary: She earns her first sex injury.

tags: Smut, Sex in the Razor Crest | Din Djarin's ST-70 Assault Ship, Size difference, Helmetless Din Djarin, Lights off during sex, Cowgirl position, Awkward sexual situations

author’s note: I’m rarely on tumblr so I’m not sure how this will be received. Most of my work is on AO3, if this performs well enough here, I’ll link it.

There was a reason why their sexual relations exclusively took place in her ship. While the Razor Crest didn't pose any problems, it wasn't particularly suitable for such activities.

She couldn’t help but laugh the first time she saw where Din slept on the Crest. His bunk, given his size, appeared comically small. She playfully teased him, suggesting it was better suited for an Ewok, but he seemed unfazed by her jokes.

Consequently, they opted for the considerably roomier bunk on her ship to engage in their private endeavors. Little was exchanged in conversation before or after, and in fact, their intercourses were marked by a scarcity of words. The lights would be extinguished, armor shed, allowing them to exist in complete darkness and connect through touch. Afterwards, in the darkness, they would frequently fumble for their discarded clothes around the bunk. As she would slip into the refresher, giving him space to equip his armor again, she would sometimes discover remnants of his release in her hair or other unexpected places, marked by white streaks.

The situation shifted when her beloved freighter ship experienced a breakdown beyond her ability to diagnose, compelling her to entrust it to a technician's care for the time being.

That afternoon, when she sensed his hand gently resting on her waist, his demeanor subtly sheepish, she understood his unspoken request. Having completely disrobed, Din maneuvered into the snug space, lying on his back. He gently rested his large hand on her hip, while the other tenderly held her wrist, guiding her atop him within the confines of the cramped bunk. Despite the slightly stuffy and confined space, it didn't deter her from savoring the moment and finding enjoyment in it. She positioned herself over him, hands pressed against his bare chest for leverage, initiating a rhythmic movement of her hips, beginning with a deliberate and slow pace.

Amidst the darkness of their surroundings, they relied on their senses — the warmth of each other's touch and the soft sounds escaping from their lips. However, another sound intruded — the creaking of the bunk with every movement she made. Initially, she experimented with altering their rhythm to reduce the noise, but it proved unsuccessful.

Squeak, squeak, crack.

Her soft moans gradually shifted into subtle groans, yet she endeavored to keep any trace of frustration from infiltrating her tone. "Has your bunk always been this creaky?" she chuckled breathily, not ceasing her movements.

“No, it doesn't seem to have had this problem before, a new development by the sounds of it.” he breathed out in response, relishing the sensation of her soft, warm body against his and the sound of her voice. Shifting slightly, he brought their bodies closer together, his free hand gently caressing the small of her back.

"Right," she murmured softly, relishing the new position he had orchestrated. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fully immerse in the sensation, refocusing on the task at hand.

He aided her efforts, his large fingers grasping the flesh beneath her hips, near her bottom, guiding her movements. Their rhythm synchronized into a more compatible pace, eliciting deliciously low groans from him.

She released a satisfied breath of her own, momentarily losing awareness of her spatial surroundings. Arching her back straight, she accidentally collided her head against the metal bar on the wall, emitting a small grunt of pain as she instinctively held onto the back of her head. Neither of them could discern what had occurred in the absence of light. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, she lost her balance, sliding out of the front of the bunk and landing onto the rough, cold floor with a tiny squeal.

Instinctively, he tried to prevent her inevitable fall from the tightly packed space, but couldn't reach her in time. A brief grunt of dissatisfaction accompanied her collision with the hard ground, though he swiftly regained his composure. "You okay?" he asked, a hint of genuine concern in his words. From his supine position, he reached an arm out to her, attempting to feel around in the dark.

"Ouch," she groaned after a moment of silence, still on the ground and holding the back of her head. Despite his current state of undress, Din sat up in the confines of the relatively small space in order to help his passenger. Gently lifting her up by her armpits he brought her back into the bunk with him, so effortlessly, as if she were a feather. Although the creaky bunk had been a source of irritation moments earlier, it was at least a sort of comfort to have him wrap his big arms around her.

“The bunk seems to be a bit more unforgiving than I would have anticipated. Are you hurt?” He inquired as he helped her sit back down somewhat comfortably. She emitted another gentle groan, releasing a deep breath. Everything had transpired so swiftly that she hadn't even had the time to feel the embarrassment of the situation creeping up on her. They had never encountered such a disastrous interruption during intercourse. "I'm fine," she reassured him with a slightly unconvincing murmur.

Not entirely convinced by her claim, he thought it wise to take a moment and check for any potential injuries. Placing one hand gently on the back of her head, he ensured that no significant trauma had occurred. A second hand was placed upon her ankle, checking her feet and knees for any evidence of injury.

“Are you still hard?” she inquired quietly, her focus remained on a singular thought. The fall was no longer a concern, despite the momentary irritation it caused. Her hand moved up to explore his body in the darkness, sensing the persistent warmth radiating from his skin, coupled with the thin layer of sweat. She hoped the minor mishap hadn't diverted his attention from continuing.

The momentary pause caused by her fall did nothing to diminish his desire to continue, a fact evident in his response to her query. "I still am, yes," he told her quietly, his voice low and calm. Upon hearing his words, she felt a sense of relief, and her heartbeat quickened. "I just want to come," she confessed with a sweet sigh, "I was so close."

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice a barely audible rasp as his body shifted slightly underneath her, guiding her back into position. Moving his hands to guide her on top of him, his eyes closed as he focused entirely on making her feel good in the cramped space. Once satisfied with their position, he started to guide her with a slow and rhythmic motion, his hands keeping her steady and grounded. He allowed her no time for further contemplation, not wanting the mood to be interrupted any further.

She let out a moan of satisfaction, relishing the control he was assuming, enabling her to relax a bit more. He held her in place, taking charge of the rhythmic movements, thrusting his hips up into her. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut. Fortunately, she managed to blur her mind away, focusing solely on the sensations she was experiencing. Her moans escalated into higher-pitched whimpers as she approached her peak.

It didn’t take much longer for Din to reach his, panting heavily before blindly covering them both with his warm release. To her, it seemed like a reward for enduring both Din’s absurdly cramped and noisy bunk and, naturally, the head injury as well. His movements were slow and gentle as he withdrew slightly. He stayed in the bunk, his arms tightly wrapped around her. After a moment, he rested his head against her torso, breathing out slowly. Another contented hum escaped him as he rested his chin against her chest. “Now that that’s resolved, how is your head?”

Exhaling deeply into the crook of his neck, she spoke softly, "I'm genuinely fine." Shuffling slightly with a deep breath, she added, "But can we both agree to not do it again here, not in this cursed bunk?" He chuckled in response to her concerns, his voice now slightly lower and calmer after their moment of passion. “That would be wise.” Having encountered her first sex injury, she harbored only one desire — to reclaim her beloved ship from the technician and relish the spaciousness of her own bunk.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x original character #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #din djarin smut #star wars fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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dolcettamagica · 26 days

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ch.6

rick x reader x prime

tags: masturbation, lewd language, rick being kind of possessive/obsessed, pet names (baby, slut, sweetheart, baby girl), flashbacks of pussyjob, imagining face-fucking + degrading sex notes: kisses go out to those ten rickfuckers who read my shit on here wc: 1.7k

Rick Sanchez sat amidst the chaotic clutter of his garage, surrounded by an array of bizarre gadgets, half-finished experiments, and stacks of crumpled blueprints. His eyes, concealed behind thick-lensed spectacles, stared into the void as if peering through the fabric of reality itself. In this moment, the genius scientist is lost in the labyrinth of his own mind, where the boundaries between brilliance and madness blur with each passing thought. The faint hum of a nearby portal generator served as the only reminder of the extraordinary adventures that await beyond the confines of his makeshift laboratory.

With each exhale, Rick's mind drifted further into the abyss of contemplation. He lost control over himself in his family’s presence all over some girl he tried to fuck. Rick didn’t understand why you held so much power over him. Why he felt so drawn to you, desperate to claim you. Yet, he wanted to fingerfuck your small cunt at the dining table even though his family was present. He told you to be quiet and not make a sound but when he saw your flushed face, teary eyes and trembling legs he pulled his head back and acted as if he was pranking you. Yes, Rick was a dirty motherfucker, he loved sex and loved having sex – with men, women, aliens, planets. Why did he want you that badly?

As the hours slip away unnoticed, Rick remained ensconced in his sanctuary of solitude, oblivious to the passage of time. The faint glow of fluorescent lights cast elongated shadows across the cluttered space, adding to the surreal ambiance of introspection. He turned in his chair, facing your bed. The bed where you were squirming under him yesterday. His cock rubbing between your slit. He remembered how wet you were, your sweet moans, the way “sir” fell from your lips. You were so wet, needy, desperate for his cock.

“Fuck–fucking hell…”, Rick lowered his head, his eyes meeting a growing bulge in his pants. Just the memory of playing with your slutty pussy drove him crazy. Hungry. He had to do something now or he would devour you the next time his cock goes hard. Sighing he pulled his cock out, which sprung up, rock solid hard. He spread his legs wider, imagining you between his legs – tongue out, big eyes staring into his – as he wrapped his hand around his tip and started to jerk off.

His calloused hand felt rough against his length. He asked himself how soft yours would feel, how you would suck his cock in general. Would you jerk him off while putting his balls inside your mouth? Would you just cutely wrap your lips around his tip and bob your head a little? Or do you like it rough and want him to cockslap your face before he fucks your face like you’re his personal fucktoy? Drool dripping down your chin while tears stream down your face?

His hand moved faster. Fuck, he wanted you. At least once. Rick jerked his hips up, starting to thrust into his hand, wishing it was your cute mouth instead. He was close – so close. Drunk on excitement and pure lust. Rick wanted to bend you, chain you, tame you and fuck you in different ways, he wanted to make you cry. Rick wanted to see tears trickle down that beautiful, beautifully crafted face of yours.

Rick hips moved against his tightly closed fist, enveloped in immense pleasure. What was playing in his head was beyond degenerate. There are no rules in one's fantasy after all. Sneaking into your room late at night, licking your pussy to wake you up before using his fingers to stretch you out. Flipping you over on your stomach, ramming his cock inside your soaking cunt and fingering your ass to prep your other hole to be stuffed with his cock. You would beg for him to go slower and tell him how much you love his big cock at the same time. He would pull your hair, wrap his belt around your throat and pull on that too, he wanted to destroy you, ruin you, make you his little slut.

Rick lifted his backside up off of the chair, hand jerking rigidly as he spilt out onto the floor. He gave his cock a squeeze, imagining that it was your walls squeezing around him.

“Oh shit,” Rick hitched, eyes squeezing closed as all the images of you raced through his head.

“Good night, guys”, he could hear your voice.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit”, Rick grabbed the next best thing on his desk – which happened to be a map of some sort – to cover his cum on the floor and stuffed his cock back into his pants before zipping them back up.

“…Can you please leave?”

You never quite understood why Rick had always found amusement in teasing and taunting you. His snide remarks and mocking gestures had become an unwelcome backdrop to your life. Your guard was up, your skepticism palpable as you prepared yourself for yet another round of ridicule. However, to your utter surprise…

“Nah, I want to make it up to you.”

Caught off guard by his unexpected sincerity, you felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling within you. You couldn't quite comprehend why Rick, the very person who had made your stay miserable, was now extending an olive branch.

“How?”, you found yourself grappling with a myriad of emotions ranging from disbelief to cautious optimism.

Ignoring your incredulous stare, Rick started a conversation with practiced ease, his confidence unwavering as he took a seat on the bed without invitation. Your irritation grew as you watched him, his presumptuousness grating on your nerves. His dominant posture seemed to dare you to challenge him, his smug expression daring you to defy him. Despite your growing frustration, you couldn't help but feel a begrudging fascination with his brazenness.

“Ever heard of interdimensional cable?”, he grinned and a beamer started since there was no tv in the garage.

As Rick continued to speak, your initial anger began to give way to a reluctant curiosity. There was something undeniably captivating about his commanding presence, a magnetic allure that you couldn't quite shake. Despite yourself, you found your attention drawn to him, his confident demeanor holding you captive.

“Interdimensional cable? Like tv?”, you slowly made your way over to Rick and sat down next to him, leaving a little bit of space between you two.

Rick's eyes were glued to your face. Those innocent eyes full of curiosity that looked up at him. How would your gaze change when he rammed his cock into your mouth? If you knew what he had done here just seconds before? What he was imagining while he fucked his hand. Would you be disgusted or would you surrender to him?

“Interdimensional cable, y/n, it's like regular cable, but with an infinite number of channels from an infinite number of dimensions. You see, every conceivable possibility, every bizarre scenario, every outrageous show you can imagine exists out there in the vast multiverse”, Rick began his rant, “It's a cosmic smorgasbord of entertainment, where the laws of physics take a backseat to pure, unadulterated creativity. Want to watch a sitcom where intelligent hamsters rule the world? Done. How about a cooking show hosted by a sentient toaster? Easy. Interdimensional cable offers a window into the infinite possibilities of existence, baby, and let me tell you, it's one wild ride you won't want to miss.”

A soft blush crept across your cheeks as you heard him call you baby but you didn’t interrupt him. It was kind of cute, his rambling about alien cable, how happy he was to explain it to you. He seemed nothing like the Rick who was rubbing his hard cock between your soaked lips.

“Hm, alright, I’m intrigued.”

“I promise you won't regret it.”

As you settle in side by side, Rick can't help but notice the subtle shift in your demeanor. Your initial skepticism gives way to genuine interest as you delve into the mind-bending array of shows and channels. With each bizarre program you watch, you find yourselves inching closer, your bodies unconsciously gravitating towards one another. In the dim glow of the beamer, Rick can feel the heat radiating off your skin, a palpable tension hanging in the air between you. As you share laughs and gasps at the absurdity unfolding before you, Rick can't shake the feeling of desire that courses through him.

Sheepishly he reaches out, his arm now resting on your back, his hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer. Silently you rest your head on his chest. Absolute Silence. Neither one of you dared to talk. You were simply enjoying those weird channels and each other's presence. Something in your mind suddenly switched.

“I know this channel…”, it was a mere whisper yet Rick’s eyes grew wide, “I watched this channel before?”

“What–?! Wait– Don’t fall asleep now!”

Before you knew it, exhaustion caught up to you, your eyelids growing heavy as you lean against Rick's chest. In the hazy warmth of the garage, you feel a sense of peace wash over you as you surrender to sleep. Even though you weren’t even a tiny bit sleepy before you realized that you knew the channel which was currently playing. You could hear Rick calling after you faintly.

As your eyelids flutter open, you find yourself engulfed in a sea of blinding white. Confusion clouded your mind as you struggle to make sense of your surroundings. This pristine, sterile space seems to stretch endlessly in every direction, devoid of any discernible features. Panic begins to rise within your chest as you questioned whether you’re trapped within the confines of a dream. Every surface is a blank canvas, reflecting an ethereal glow that seems to emanate from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Your senses reel as you tentatively reached out, your fingertips grazing the smooth, featureless walls that enclosed you. With each passing moment, the disorienting realization sinks in that this is no ordinary dream.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

Warm hands grabbing your shoulders forced you to turn around and there he is, Rick, but not really Rick. He looked younger – way younger – more grayish skin than other version of Rick, as well as more dull-colored hair in a "nondescript" haircut.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m your Rick, baby, and we need to talk.”

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 #rick and morty #rnm #r&m #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x y/n #rick sanchez x you #rick sanchez x reader #rick x y/n #rick x reader #rick x you #rickfucker

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