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struggling-with-drivers · 5 months

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People Watching - Lando Norris

⋗ Pairing - Lando Norris x Reader

⋗ Summary - You've never been in love, at least you don't think you have

⋗ Word count - 2k words, fluff, [Requested by Anon]

⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, this was just a short cute idea I had on my mind after getting a request. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated

You’re enjoying a nice lunch with Lando. He has a lot of things to be doing after, but for now. It’s just the two of you, a set of good friends. Your eyes wander over his face, a soft look of concentration is on his face as he tries to take pictures of you and your lunch. The way his lips are slightly strained, as he keeps fiddling with his camera. Then he rearranges your glasses, and then he puts them back, before rearranging them once more.

“Do you need help?” You ask, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, as he can’t seem to get the shot he wants.

“No no, just keep sitting there, you look good!” He chirps up, quickly dismissing the thought of you moving from the pose he instructed you into.

Your laugh finally makes it way past your lips, at the absurdity of the scene, your eyes close as the flash goes off once more. You don’t notice how Lando mutters, got it, nor how he takes a few more just for his enjoyment.

“Time to dig in.” Lando scrambles to sit down and stuffs his mouth with his slightly cold food.

You stick a bit to your food, but your gaze falls out onto the crowd of people navigating outside. So many couples are spread across the grid as all the fans gather to get a closer look at the cars. Despite your perspective from above, the thing most glaring to you seems to be all the hands clasped into others.

“How long do you think they’ve been together?”

“What?” Lando looks up from his plate of food, trying to follow your gaze, but he gets lost in the crowd of people immediately, not at all being able to figure out where your eyes are looking.

“The elderly couple.” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing, as though there aren’t multiple, as though you and Lando didn’t call Max Verstappen and his girlfriend an elderly couple last weekend, despite Max barely being 2.5 years older than Lando and less than 2 years older than you.

“Three days.” Lando says, voice full of conviction, “They actually met this Tuesday and have had the wildest sex for 3 days straight, before any of their children realise that their parents are missing from the nursery home.”

You snort loudly, accidentally getting soda into your nose, making Lando laugh with you, as you struggle to breathe.

After recovering from your soda mishap, you wipe your nose with a napkin, still chuckling. Lando grins mischievously, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you with amusement.

“Smooth move, right?” he teases, referring to his imaginative tale about the elderly couple. “I mean, who wouldn't want a love story like that? Beats the usual 'met in high school and got married' scenario.”

You both share another round of laughter, the casual banter making the lunch even more enjoyable.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” You sigh wistfully as you glance down at the crowd of people once more. “Not seriously. I mean, I’ve had a fling here and there, and a few you don’t know about.”

“Ouch.” Lando mocks being hurt, as he throws a piece of lettuce in your direction. Missing you completely. He’s an excellent driver, but a terrible thrower. You’re suddenly elated that he never became a handball athlete or a basketball player.

“I just mean, I’ve never had that big grand love moment, you know. Nobody has ever done any big gestures, I’ve never had fireworks go off during a kiss. Never pictured that American suburban picket fence dream, you know?” You rattle off as Lando leans his head to the side. You can see the grin on his face before the words leave his mouth.

“And here I thought you loved me,” he throws another piece of lettuce in your direction. It lands on your plate, and you cock an eyebrow at him, very unimpressed. “I don’t think I know anyone else that would get up at 3 am just to make the world's worst pancakes, all because it’s some pancake holiday, and I had to be out of the door at 5 am.”

The memory of that early morning springs vividly to your mind, and you can't help but chuckle at the recollection.

The night before Pancake Day, you meticulously planned your pancake surprise for Lando. You envisioned a perfect morning: the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting through the air, the joy on Lando's face as he discovered the delightful breakfast you had prepared just for him. However, the universe had other plans.

At 3 am, you tiptoed into the kitchen, trying your best to be as quiet as a ninja. Armed with a box of pancake mix, a whisk, and an optimistic spirit, you were ready to conquer the culinary world for the sake of surprising your friend.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and you moved with caution, not wanting to wake anyone up. As you began mixing the ingredients, you felt a surge of determination. This was going to be the breakfast surprise of the century. You even hummed a little tune as you worked, believing that love and effort could conquer any culinary challenge.

However, in your sleepy stupor, you made a crucial mistake. The sugar and salt containers looked eerily similar in the low light, and without double-checking, you confidently poured what you thought was sugar into the mix. Little did you know, you had just set the stage for a disastrous flavour profile.

Undeterred, you moved on, mistakenly grabbing the baking powder instead of the baking soda. As you mixed the concoction, the batter started to take on an unusual texture, but you pressed on, convinced that your culinary masterpiece was just a few flips away.

With the batter ready, you heated the pan and poured the first pancake, envisioning its perfect golden-brown finish. However, the sizzle that followed was more like a hiss, and the kitchen started to fill with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to fan away the smoke, hoping that the burnt scent wouldn't reach Lando's bedroom.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. As the smoke thickened, a piercing sound echoed through the apartment – the unmistakable wail of the smoke detector. Panic set in, and you rushed to open windows, waving a towel at the alarm, and desperately trying to save the surprise.

Meanwhile, Lando stirred in his sleep, disturbed by the cacophony of the smoke detector. He stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and disoriented, only to find you amid your culinary chaos, smoke billowing around you.

“Ah, Pancake Day,” you say with a grin. “I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you with a breakfast feast before your busy day. On the other hand, I gave you a free day off from having to sit in on a bunch of meetings.”

“Yeah, because my house nearly burnt down, and a bunch of firefighters showed up.” Lando waves his fork at you. “I doubt a lot of other people would have done that.”

“Tried to burn down your flat?” You mock him, as you flick the piece of lettuce back to his plate.

He laughs, shaking his head. You’re missing his point, but he’s also not attempting to make it clearer for you.

“What about when I stay up with you on the phone, because a sale is starting past midnight, but you’re barely holding it together and it’s not even 10 pm? Isn’t that an act of love?” He asks, but he leaves no room for you to answer his question as he goes back to eating.

Lando can’t see the storm that’s slowly brewing behind your eyes, as you go over memories of your friendship. All the small things you do for each other. All the time you spend together.

As the memories flood your mind, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The snippets of shared moments and small gestures between you and Lando become a cherished montage.

There's the time when he surprised you with a playlist of your favourite songs on a day when you were feeling down, the carefully curated mix capturing the essence of your friendship. You remember the genuine joy on his face as he handed over the playlist, completely aware of how much music meant to you.

Then, there are the instances when you stayed up late into the night, listening to his racing stories and sharing in his victories and disappointments. You recall the laughter and camaraderie that transcended the distance, making those late-night conversations a treasured part of your connection.

Lando smirks mischievously as he eyes the last bite of your dessert.

"Mind if I grab that last piece? You know I need the extra energy for my thrilling life as a driver."

You narrow your eyes at him, holding the fork protectively. "Oh, please. The only thrill you get is trying to beat me at Mario Kart."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I'll have you know that being a Mario Kart champion requires skill and precision. It's practically a training regimen for the racetrack."

You scoff, taking a deliberate bite of the dessert. "Skill and precision? Last time I checked, you kept getting stuck in the void on Rainbow Road."

"That was a strategic move. I needed a better view of the stars," he replies with a grin, trying to swipe the fork again.

You playfully slap his hand away. "Nice try, but you're not getting this last piece. I already had to fight off your trainer once this month, because you keep stealing my food."

Lando feigns offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I don't have the physique of a finely tuned athlete?"

"I'm saying you have the physique of someone who eats all the desserts that aren’t meant for finely-tuned athletes," you retort,

He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, at least I can burn it off on the track. What's your excuse?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I burn calories, dodging your attempts to steal my food. It's a full-body workout, really."

"Fair enough. But mark my words, next time we play Mario Kart, you won't stand a chance." Lando laughs, shaking his head.

"Bring it on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting with banana peels and blue shells," you challenge, finishing the dessert triumphantly, savouring the last bite right in front of him. Silence falls as he starts typing on his phone, and your mind gets distracted by what he said earlier.

As Lando mentioned, the nights when he stood by you during stressful sales and business endeavours resurface in your mind. The unwavering support he offered, even when the clock struck midnight and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, painted a picture of love in the small actions.

And of course, there are the countless times when he'd spontaneously pop by with your favourite snacks or the coffee blend you adore, just because he remembered. Those little acts of consideration spoke volumes.

Lost in these memories, you realise that love comes in various forms. It's not always grand gestures or sweeping romantic moments. It's found in the everyday kindness, the shared laughter, and the unwavering support that defines your friendship with Lando.

A thought strikes you down.

Do you love Lando?

Lando glances up from his phone, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He meets your gaze, and there's a silent understanding between you. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of shared laughter, failed pancake attempts, and genuine care, you realise that love, in its purest form, is already present in the beautiful tapestry of your friendship with Lando.

An even more terrifying thought hits you as he looks at you with that soft smile and those shiny eyes.

Does Lando love you?

⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, I had a lot of fun writing this small piece, it was just pure fluff and enjoyment

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #f1 #mclaren #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #mclaren f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #f1 x reader #delias own writing

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cinnnamongrl · 1 year

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pretty when you’re high- ellie williams

pairing: dealer!ellie x fem!reader

summary: you and ellie are best friends despite your differences. ellie gets you high for the first time and the lines of your friendship become blurred

warnings: [18+] mdni, language, use of marijuana, kissing, light smut, some nudity, nipple play, top!ellie, bottom!reader, mutual pining

authors notes: this is possibly part 1 of 2. lmk if anyone would want that? pls send any feedback u may have, would really appreciate it. <3 update: part 2 can be found here

ellie williams was your best friend. you two were as close as friends could be. and despite what people around college thought, you didn’t find anything strange about the fact that the college’s best dealer was best friends with a shy innocent grade A student like you. but it was obvious to everyone that you two, despite being complete opposites, were inseparable.

what you hoped wasn’t obvious to everyone, was the massive crush you were harbouring on your best friend. you couldn’t help it; you thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. the way she laughs, her smile, her voice, the way her hands look as she rolls a joint. sometimes you’d just stare at her while she was doing sometime mundane like talking to someone at a party. you’d watch the way her mouth would move as she talks, how her eyebrows would raise in question, how her toned arms would move as she animated a funny story.

you felt like a lovesick puppy. but your friendship meant too much to risk fucking it up, so you made your peace with this one-sided infatuation.

as best friends do, you two did everything together; went to parties, listened to music, talked until the sun came up, had study/smoke sessions. meaning you studied, and she smoked.

“can you pass me that pen els” you asked, pointing to the biro a few inches from where ellie sat on your dorm floor, joint in her hand.

“what’s the magic word?”

“… abracadabra” you joked.

“wrong. now you don’t get your pen, sorry babe” she teased, picking it up and holding it behind her back.

your face flushed slightly from the pet name despite knowing she meant nothing by it.

“ellie i need to finish this essay. give me that pen” you warned

“why don’t you fuck off the essay and smoke with me instead” she offered hopefully, with a wide smile

you sighed.

“you know i don’t do that stuff” you said rolling your eyes. “and professor druckmann will end me if i don’t get this handed in by monday”

“well i will end you if you don’t stop being a priss and have a smoke with me. just a little bit, see if you like it.”

you frowned but said nothing. you had to admit you were slightly tempted by her offer. you’d always declined at parties, worrying about being in an unsafe environment. but just you and ellie, the person you trusted most in the world, in your dorm room… that’s pretty safe right?

“well.. i- i don’t know how” you said quietly.

“good thing i’m here then” she winked at you and scooched next to where you were sat on the floor, your back against your bed frame.

she held out the joint in front of you.

“just take a drag of mine. inhale and then try to keep it in your lungs okay?”

you looked at her and bit your lip in apprehension. you tried to ignore her eyes wandering down to your mouth as you did so.

“o-okay” you replied, as you took the joint from her fingers and held it up to your mouth, inhaling slowly and letting it ‘stay in your lungs’ whatever that meant, then slowly exhaling.

ellie was watching you with a small smile, feeling a sense of pride at you picking it up so quickly.

“atta girl. knew my smart girl would be a fast learner” she smirked as she playfully nudged your side and you let out a giggle.

~~~~~

a few hits later and your head was starting to feel fuzzy. ellie had taken the joint away insisting you not get ahead of yourself on your first time, missy and her slight condescending tone mixed with the weed had you feeling all tingly.

“feels nice els. ‘s a nice feeling” you spoke

“yeah?” she laughed.

“mhm. feel all fuzzy and tingly” you smiled and looked at the ground through heavy lids.

“i tend to have that effect on women” she joked, mouth turning up into a smirk.

cocky shit

“yeah” you said to yourself, lower than a whisper.

“hm?” she lowered her head to your face.

you snapped your head up.

“nothing” you mumbled.

she laughed and put her hand on your leg, just above your knee.

she was always touchy; often grabbing your hand to lead you somewhere instead of just telling you where to go, hand on your lower back as she stood behind you, or playfully grabbing your arm as she laughed at something you said. she pretended she didn’t notice the way you’d slightly tense up or the way your cheeks would go pink whenever she’d do this. despite the way she felt about you, she didn’t want to assume anything; maybe you blushed when she’d compliment you because you were shy. doesn’t mean you have feelings for her… right?

“you’re pretty when you’re high” she mused as she watched your eyes flutter, a blush creeping up on your face. there it is she thought.

“can’t say stuff to me like that” you said, looking down

“like what, babe?”

“like- like you’re pretty a-and babe. ‘s not fair on me” you uttered, voice small.

“but you are pretty.” a moment passed. “you’re beautiful.”

you looked up at her, searching her face for any hint of mockery or light-heartedness, but you couldn’t find it. your body felt warm and the fuzzy feeling all over felt even more intense.

“i’ve always thought you were beautiful,” she spoke. “the prettiest thing i’d ever seen.”

“ellie” you breathed out, heart beating fast and head swirling.

her hand moved up your leg, resting on your upper thigh and she moved her face closer to yours, eyes landing on your lips.

“can i kiss you?” she asked in a whisper, eyes not leaving your mouth as she spoke.

all you could do was nod, the combination of her words and the high making you unable to form a reply.

ellie grabbed your face with two hands and attached her mouth to yours. her lips were softer than you had imagined and she kissed you with a sweetness that juxtaposed the way her strong hands held your face. you kissed her back eagerly and it didn’t take long for her to take control of the kiss as she slipped her tongue inside your mouth, making you let out a small moan.

“fuck” she uttered against your mouth. “wanted to do this for so long”

she continued kissing you as one of her hands came down to rest on your waist. you felt dizzy with how turned on you were just from her kissing you.

“more.” you choked out. “please el”

“what is it you want baby? tell me” she replied, the hand that was resting on your waist, slowly coming up to stroke your side under your shirt.

“need you to- to touch me”

“i can do that” she smirked and grabbed your waist with both hands and placed you up onto her lap. her eyes sparkled as she looked at you, head titling up slightly from where you were placed on top of her, and you smiled shyly. lightly placing your hands on her shoulders, you kissed her sweetly. she dragged her hands from your waist up to your boobs and cupped them, fingers lightly ghosting over your nipples, then lightly pinching them.

“els” you moaned, head rolling back. you closed your eyes and let yourself focus completely on the blissful feeling of her hands on you.

“arms up” she instructed. you obeyed, lifting your arms up so she could lift your shirt up and over your head. she looked at you, green eyes now darker with lust.

“so fucking pretty" she muttered, almost to herself.

“this why you wanted to get me high?” you let out a small giggle.

“no,” her mouth upturned into a smile “but apparently when you’re high you forget to hide the way you stare at me.”

your eyes went wide and she laughed.

“‘s not a bad thing, it’s got you into my lap, hasn’t it?” she quipped.

“i hate you”

“‘s that right?” she titled her head playfully.

“mhm, i-“

she cut you off, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, bringing her arms around your back and forcing your body to melt into hers.

#ellie willliams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou 2 #ellie x reader #dealer!ellie #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Follow You Anywhere 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting 'part 2?' is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You sit at the dining table with your laptop, hiding behind the screen as you try to figure out what to do. How do you get this man to leave? Better, how do you do that without making him angry?

You stare at the unfinished project in front of you. You're not going to get paid for blurry pixels. Work is the least of your worries.

You peek over the top of the laptop and blanch as the subtle movement catches his eye. He grins and sits up, “need something, sweetie?”

“Uh, nope,” you put your eyes down and the screen goes fuzzy.

“Hm,” he hums into a grunt and heaves himself up, “you haven’t made any videos yet. What about your shopping trip huh? You gonna edit some of that.”

“Erm, maybe later, I have work stuff–”

“You know,” he nears and stands across the round table, looming menacingly with his hands on his hips, “you could probably quit all that if you committed to your streams. Lotsa people wanna watch a sweet girl like you.”

“That’s nice but I don’t even have ten followers,” you chuckle.

“Mm, maybe, but… I could help you,” he offers.

“Really, it’s fine,” your voice trembles, “it’s… it’s just a way to get my thoughts out, that's all.”

He clucks and clears his throat, looking around, “well, I guess I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Um, sure,” you look at him again then peek at the keys hung by the door.

He whistles, “Aika, come, you probably needa go.”

The dog rises from beside the couch and follows him to the door. You get up, heart flipping. You need to just lock the door. As long as he doesn’t–

He grabs the keys and shoves them deep in his pocket. He hooks the leash onto Aika’s collar as she stands obediently before him. He grins over at you, “don’t worry, sweetie, won’t be long at all.”

He turns and unlocks the door, swinging it inward as he lets the German shepherd lead the way. You deflate and fall back onto the chair. Holy shoot! What are you going to do? Nothing you can think of makes sense. He doesn’t make sense. It’s as if he really believes you know each other. That this is his home.

You bend over your lap and hold your head, rocking as you let out a drone. The panic is so bad you can’t hold it in. The noise escaping you is inhuman. You know you’re too weak, too afraid to do anything. So what? You’ll just let him take over your home?

You quiet and stay as you are, hunched over your legs. Are you going to let him do whatever he wants? To you?

Your blood runs cold and you sit up slowly. You’re dizzy as the silence rings in your ears. You stare across the room, only able to see a glimpse of the door frame.

You don’t know what you’re going to do.

You’re paralysed. You hardly believe it yourself, you don’t think anyone else will either. The thought of explaining it is embarrassing on its own.

You’re being stupid. You need to tell someone. Anyone.

You hear him before he enters. He opens the door, pausing as he lets Aika off the leash. She sniffs around as the door shuts heavily.

Sy appears, a large bag of kibble balanced on one shoulder as he carries a military duffle in his other hand. He drops the latter and brings the former into the kitchen. You stand, hollow as you make yourself move. You go to the doorway to the kitchen and watch him search your cupboards.

“Ladybird needs a bowl,” he says, “she’s hungry.”

“Oh,” you utter dumbly and blink. You’re stuck where you are.

His cheek dimples and he returns his attention to his search. He takes out the pink plastic bowl you use for salad and he uses a measuring cup to scoop out the kibble. You just watch as he puts it on the floor for Aika as she sits patiently.

He stands and she does too, eagerly scarfing down the food, flicking slobber all over your salad bowl. Sy faces you and you flinch as he comes near, reaching for you. You back away.

“Sweetie?” He says, “what’re you doing?”

“I… I…” you rub your arm, “how long are you planning on… staying?”

He scoffs, “what? Ah, come on, sweetie, you’re funny. “

“I’m… I’m serious,” you quaver, “I didn’t… we just met.”

His face falls and so does your heart. His expression turns dire and he crosses his arms. Aika seems to notice his shift and quits her loud chomping. She raises her nose, letting out a low growl. You gulp. He has that same glint in his eye as in the truck when he nearly rear-ended that other driver.

“Sweetie, I told you, I've been watching you all this time. You know, I was your first follower,” he takes a step closer and you take one back. “I know you.”

“Right, uh,” you push your hands together and bend your fingers back, “I understand, it’s just…” you can hardly breathe, “I guess I misunderstood. Of course you can stay, but… you know, I only bought enough groceries for me and… and it’s a small place.”

He considers you. He runs his hand over his beard and exhales loudly. He drops his other arm and tilts his head side to side, cracking the bones, “so we can get nice and snuggly, sweetheart.”

He nears you again, quickly, before you can elude him. He catches you around the back of the head and urges you close. He leans in and kisses your hairline. You freeze and let him. He purrs before he draws away.

“Right, I’ll get cleaned up,” he lets you go, “you can finish your work or… get cozy.”

You nod and stare past him. Aika once more chews loudly as your eyes settle on her straight back. You’re trapped. Your home is now a prison.

You stay like that until you hear the pipes whine and the shower buzzes to life. You glance over, the bathroom door slightly ajar. Mortified, you retreat to the table and sit behind the computer. You know the excuse won’t hold up much longer but you can at least pretend to be busy.

Aika’s claws tap on the tile as you hear her lay near the door. You can’t even run. His loyal guard dog isn’t just keeping people out, she’s keeping you in.

You put your hands on the laptop as you hear the faucet crank off. The scented steam seeps out and dampens the air with the scent of your strawberries and cream soap. You shudder and minimize and maximize the window.

You listen to him. He opens and closes the cabinet several times as he lingers in the bathroom. The door opens and your ears tinge as you focus on the laptop. He steps out as you swirl your fingers on the touch pad.

“I feel better,” he sighs, “how about you, sweetie? Maybe you should have a nice long bath?”

“I’m good,” you utter dully.

“Hope you don’t mind, I used your hairbrush,” he crosses the room.

“No, it’s f–” your eyes flick up on instinct. You swallow as your eyes round. He has only a towel around his waist, the rest of him brazenly bare. “Fine.”

You rip your gaze away and accidentally exit out of the editing software. You try to wipe the image of him from your mind. His thick muscles, the dark hair across his chest and stomach, and over his thick thighs. There’s little left to the imagination or doubt. The sight of him confirms his unbeatable strength.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“N-nothing,” you insist.

“You’re being all shy. What’s going on, huh?” You shake your head as he comes around the table. He presses the laptop shut until you retract your hands. You sit back and look at your hands. “You’ve been working long enough. Come on, sweetie.”

“I… I have a project to finish–”

“And that’s more important? How long have I waited to be with you? Over there in the sh– in the chaos?” He says, offering his large hand, “I got you something. I wanna show it to you.”

“I…” you rasp and peer up at his face, too afraid to look anywhere else. “Okay.”

You give in. Your surrender. He’s a soldier and he’s won the battle. You take his hand and stand up.

He takes you into the front room and leads you to the couch. He stops you in front of it and gestures you to wait. You do and he disappears around the other side of you.

He returns with his duffle bag and puts it in the chair. He keeps his back to you as he unzips it. You peek up and your eyes cling to the scars along his burly back. Just beneath his shoulder and another along his side. Through the fear, you feel a pang of sympathy for him. He must have been through a lot.

“I bought you something,” he says, “when I was driving up.”

He turns and shows you a dainty piece of fabric hanging from his index fingers. You gape at the pale pink bodysuit; flowers in a darker shade trim the corset and the tops of the cups are subtly scalloped. You love the colours but you would never dare to wear anything like that.

“Uh, wow,” is all you can get out.

“Just you know for a special occasion,” he smiles, “it’ll look real nice on you. It’s your colour.” He steps closer as he holds it out to you, “I showed the lady your picture and she said it would be nice on your skin tone.”

You feel like you’re going to faint. Is he really giving you a piece of lingerie? You take it and examine the thin material.

“Obviously, not tonight since we’re settling in and all that,” he chuckles, “but you know… if you wanted to…”

“I’m… I’m going to put this away,” you croak.

You move past him, slowly as if wading through water. You go to the bedroom and cross to the dresser. You stand before it as you stare at the fabric. Your chest aches as you hold a breath inside.

“Ah, still pretty tidy in here,” Sy comments from behind you.

You pull open the top drawer and hide the bodysuit. A shiver rolls through you as you shut it and turn to the intruder. You watch helplessly as he invades every inch of your life.

“You did such a good job, sweetie,” he praises as he nears the bed and plops his bag on it, “watching you clean… it’s admirable how determined you are.”

He reaches in his bag and takes out a stack of folded clothing. You blink as he strides over to the dresser and pulls open a drawer. You sway as you resist the urge to ask what the heck he’s doing. He makes room beside your clothes and shoves his inside.

As he stands, he adjusts the towel hanging lower on his waist than before. You turn away. As much as you don’t like him touching all your things, his nakedness is even more off putting. Most disturbing is his lack of self-awareness. Frankly, it’s frightening.

He unpacks, bit by bit, and rolls open the closet to put his empty bag inside. He goes back to the dresser to shut the top drawer he left open but his hand curls around the top. He dips inside and lifts out a pair of your panties; the ones speckled with printed on bows.

“I like these,” he says, “they’re cute, like you.”

“Thanks, I…” you murmur. “I…” Your mouth is dry and chalky, “I need some water.”

“Aw, sweetie, you look faint,” he drops the panties and approaches you. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He urges you onto the edge of the bed, his hands on your shoulders. He looks down on you as you tilt your head to peer back at him. He looks so big. He keeps his hands on you, gripping tighter, and for a moment, you’re not sure what he’s going to do and you think he is even less certain.

He pulls his hands away and shakes them out, “I’ll get you some water,” he says, “you had a long day, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum and lower your chin, your hands shaking in your lap.

You did this. You welcomed this man in. More than letting him drive you home or cross the threshold of your apartment, you put yourself online, exposed yourself to the public. You heard the horror stories before, the true ones, but you just never thought it would happen to you.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sandcastle #follow you anywhere

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mikaleialt · 6 months

Text

Secret Love Song

Bada Lee x Bebe!reader

Angst

"Why can't I hold you in the streets? Why can't I kiss you on the dance floor?"

Synopsis: being in a secret relationship is not easy, especially if you are hiding it to the whole world. — or — the heavy weight of the strained relationship you have with Bada has just become too overwhelming.

cw: major angst, mentions of breaking up, kinda toxic relationship,language, long ass story— i didn't count

When BeBe got invited by Mnet to compete for the second season Street Woman Fighter, all of us were ecstatic, especially our team leader and my girlfriend, Bada Lee.

I know just how much Bada wants to showcase each of her members talents to the whole world, and how important this is for her, especially for her career as a choreographer and dancer.

Before the day of the first filming, Bada and I had come to an agreement to keep our relationship in secret in order to keep a professional image in front of our opponents and to the viewers. I didn't mind it, its not like this the first time we are keeping our relationship a secret after all.

As a matter of fact, our relationship has always been kept private, as we are both professional dancers and choreographers, only a few close people knew about our relationship.

We kept our personal life separated from our work life which let us have a nice private and peaceful life as a couple, just in each others arms with no one trying to pry on our relationship or any personal matters.

Everything is perfect. Everything was perfect.

After the first episode had aired, Bada's popularity blossoms and soon had her own fan base. I was so proud that to see her grow in her career.

But as the team and Bada's popularity grew each day, the pressure to meet the people's expections also rises, and it had affect Bada the most.

After the Kpop Deathmatch Mission, Bada has pushed herself to be better, which means she also pushes the team to be better. She becomes more strict to us, but still kept her bubbly personality when it is appropriate to goof around.

But it all went down when we got the feedback of the other groups for the Mega Crew Mission. When we learned that all of our opponents predicted that our team will be the next to go home, Bada broked down into pieces. The negative feedback had causes her to lose her confident on herself and as her girlfriend, I tried to comfort her.

"Babe, don't mind what they said, they were probably doing this to messed us up, after all we won the last challenge right? We got this, okay? I believe in us." I tried to comfort the crying Bada on my lap that night and although it had seemed to work as Bada was now more determined to prove those people wrong about what they think about her and her team.

But, It just doesn't feel right at all, yes Bada have improved a lot and was now more motivated to do better, but the more she focuses on winning the challenges and mission, the more distant she becomes to me.

After that night, Bada never stopped talking about the routines she can think of for the upcoming missions and how it will be a new step for Bebe.

It was all that she talked about, to the point she even forgets that tonight is your anniversary night.

"...I'm thinking maybe Lusher or Tatter would be the center for the first part and then we will use the..." Bada kept mumbling about the dance choreo and other stuff related to the competition and as a great girlfriend, I tried to be understanding.

I really did try my best.

But it only gets worse from there, with Bada's fame grew more, people can't help but get attracted to her, which is understandable.

It was a typical fan behaviour, and I know that Bada has this charisma in her that just makes her more attractive. But, I drew the line when people starts shipping my girlfriend to other participants like Audrey or Kirsten, heck even Redy who used to have beef with Bada.

It was pathetic, I know. But the fact that Bada was becoming closer to Redy once again after the first battle made me feel insecure.

Maybe it was the additional stress from the already strained relationship I had with Bada that makes me more anxious and jealous when in reality it is just an fantasy fans and shippers had built to satisfy their delusions. But it is starting to get to me slowly and slowly.

And this night is the final straw...

Bada kept staying up late, busying herself with making choreos, too busy to even realize that I'm not even sleeping in the same bed, let alone the same room anymore as I had moved to the spare bedroom in our apartment a week ago.

And the fan edits of Bada with other girls and guys, occupy every single social media I have. Almost like it was taunting me.

I broke down that night. All the stress from the competition and my relationship with Bada is finally having an affect on me. That night I was restless, my eyes are puffy

The next day was Bebe's practice for the New Song Challenge, where we will be choreographing Hwasa's song 'Chile'.

There were cameras set up on the dance studio we were practicing on, documenting the progress of our team. Which also means that Bada and I won't be able to interact once again.

"Ok let's run that part one more time" Bada said as everyone went to their places and the song starts.

During the part of the hook where we are doing the '7' sign with our hands, I was at the wrong position making me bumped into Bada as we danced.

And my blood runs cold when I looked at the taller girl behind me who is glaring at me intensely. I mutter a quick sorry, to which she just ignored and replayed the part again.

I feel like breaking down once again. Everyone in the team Bebe noticed the red, puffy eyes that I tried to hide from the camera by wearing a hat, the dark cloud that looms over me at my sulken face. Everyone noticed that, except Bada.

"Y/n, go back to the first position!" I flinched when Bada raised her voice, she is obviously pissed off at me now.

I am trying so hard not to cry infront of the camera and my crew as I bit my lip hard enough for me to taste a bit of blood.

The practice continues as the tension between me and Bada thickens. Looks like the show found the highlighted drama they want for the next episode.

Once the practice was over and the cameras sre all turned off, I quickly made my way out of the room I was in, not even waiting for Bada as I made my way home, eventhough Bada drove the both of us here.

I stopped by a convenience store to buy an ice cream and some sour candies to shock my system and stop me from breaking down. Before making my way back to our apartment.

And just as I thought, Bada is already there, she has a car whilst I walked home for the most part, so it makes sense.

As soon as I stepped inside, Bada is sitting on the couch, her elbows are pressed on her knees, as her fingers are intertwined.

I can sense she is very angry, but I'm way too mentally and emotionally unstable for any confrontations as I walk passed her figure, attempting to go to my bedroom, which is the stupidest decision I ever think of since it just made Bada even more mad.

"Oh so now you're gonna ignore me? Gonna act like you didn't just walked out after practice and then going home late?" Bada glares at me as I stop on my tracks.

I stare back at her, but all I can see from her is how pissed she is. I can't even recognize her.

Just a few months ago, we were fine, we were happy. But now here we are, acting like we're not even in a relationship.

"Y/n!" I flinch again as Bada raises her voice once again, "What, are you just gonna stare at me like a deer in a headlights? Answer me goddamit? What is your problem? You are so off today, your performance is already way worse than before? Are you trying to sabotage the team—"

Bada's voice faded out in my mind, all I can think of is how we used to be. This is totally different from the secret relationship we had when we are at work.

Bada has become way to obsessed with the competition that I don't she recognize my role in her life anymore. I think she already forgot that I'm her girlfriend, all because of how often we restrain ourselves from showing affection in public.

A lone tear runs down my face as Bada keeps on rambling and nagging me about my performance today.

"Stop fucking crying and answer me. What is your problem—"

"MY FUCKING PROBLEM IS THAT YOU DON'T EVEN TREAT ME LIKE YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND ANYMORE!"

Bada was shocked from my tone and by my answer. She stayed silent, feeling nervous as this is the first I got angry this bad.

"Eversince we kept our kept our relationship a secret from the whole world, you continued the act even when it's just the two of us." Fat tears are now rolling down my cheeks as my legs started to feel weak.

"I'm so sick and tired of hiding everything. I just want to be held by you in public. I mean you did it with Redy, heck you even kissed Kirsten on the cheek after you were both auditioned for the main dancer title on the first mission, why can't you do it to me?" My legs finally give out as I sat on the floor while Bada stood next to me.

"How can you flirt and be affectionate to everyone but your own girlfriend? Am I still even your girlfriend?" I looked up to her as Bada now have a hint of regret on her face.

Bada can't talk back, she was in deep thought as her mind fills with regrets.

"You forgot our anniversary last week, you talk about me leaving you behind earlier while you left me behind on everything you do. You are so obsessed with the competition that you pushed me and our relationship out from your thoughts. Honestly by now I'm justing waiting for you to break up with me." Bada's felt a pang on her chest as she kneels down next to me and hugged me, I let her but I didn't hug her back.

"I just want to stop hiding anymore..." my tone is much more softer now as I hear Bada's sobs. "You even forgot that today’s my birthday..." I tear up again as Bada starts muttering her apologies.

We both cry in silence, as we finally realize how much damage hiding did to our relationship.

"I'm sorry... It hurts me too when I can't hold you in front of many people. I'm sorry I didn't know how much I hurt you until now... I-It was stupid of me." Bada looks in to my eyes as she says those words.

"I'm sorry I forgot about you...I-" Bada chokes on her tears as she just squeeze my hands.

"I wanna get back from all I did the past few months since the competition... please give me a chance... I-I will be better." Bada looks at me desperately.

"Bada, what I want is for to us to stop hiding anymore..." I cup her cheeks. Bada contemplates at the mention of going public and it was very evident at the sudden change in her expression.

My heart breaks even more when I saw that Bada is having second-thoughts about my request.

"...so that's your answer, huh?" I sighed as I tried to stand up once again and walk to my bedroom. “Why is it so hard for you to tell the world that I’m yours?” I said before closing the door. Bada stumbles on her feet as she tries to follow me but I locked the door before she can even enter.

I broke down once again, seeing as there's no hope that Bada will ever agree to making our relationship public...

A/n: this is honestly really weird, I might revised it later but there might be a part two for this... I'm just too tired to finish it right now. Also, here you go, @badasgirlfriend ... anyway hope you enjoyed this—even if it's a bit trashy and incomplete

Requests are open

#Spotify #secret love song au #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x reader #bada lee x y/n #bada x reader #lee bada x reader #street woman fighter x reader #swf2 x reader #bebe #street woman fighter 2 #swf

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miniwheat77 · 3 months

Text

Lipstick. (Dark!Joel Miller x Reader.)

!This is my first fic about Joel, please be gentle ): It's kinda short. (feedback is appreciated.) This contains smut and mature themes. Minors DNI, rough sex, Joel is rough, slight non-con, unprotected p in v sex. This is dark smut. You've been warned.!

(I don't know too much about TLOU, I've only played the game and watched a tiny bit of the show so if you see any story mistakes just let me know (: thank you)

When Joel's eyes crossed her lips, his eyes narrowed. "The hell is on your mouth?" He asks. He and Ellie were getting ready for the day. He had patrol and she needed to go to a couple classes with the rest of the kids her age, which she hated. "What?" She asks. Looking confused. Until her hand raised to touch her lip. "Oh. It's lipstick."

He grits his teeth. "Lipstick? Why do you have lipstick on?" He asks.

"It's... Just lipstick. Y/N makes it using some stuff she finds." She shrugs. The mention of your name has the hair on his body standing up. "That's stupid Ellie. Don't need no damn lipstick in all this. Give it here." He holds his hand out. She sighs. She wants to stand her ground but she knows Joel won't give up. She digs it out of her pocket and passes it to his hand that he's holding out. She sighs as she does it. "No go on. Go to class." She shakes her head. "Have a stupid class but can't have a fucking lipstick." She mumbles under her breath as she walks out the door. He shakes his head at her.

Joel is fuming. He knows the kind of girl you are. He's already told you to stay away from Ellie once before but the fact that you didn't listen and went as far to give her a lipstick gets under his skin. How the fuck were you even making this shit anyways?

He shakes his head as he gathers up everything he'd need for patrol and heads out.

To his surprise, Tommy is waiting by the entrance. "Hey. Hayden is sick so we have a fill in for your patrol partner." He nods.

"Who is it?" He asks.

"Y/N."

Joel has to hide the way he grits his teeth from his brother. "Ain't she a kid?" He asks. "Nah she's in her twenties and I've been on patrol with her a couple times, she knows what she's doin." He laughs. "You'll be alright. Promise." Joel nods his head and heads toward the stable to get his horse. He sees you standing next to a horse and remembers you weren't in class with Ellie, that you helped train the horses. So he told you to stay away from Ellie and not only did you not listen, but went out of your way to disobey him.

It wouldn't go over well for you when he gets you alone, that's for sure. He wasn't going to be nice this time.

He doesn't say a word to you and you don't press him. The last interaction you'd had with Joel didn't go very well and you knew how big of a prick he could be so you kept quiet. You did what you were supposed to do and that was that.

After a couple of hours, he's slowing to a stop. "What are you doing?" You ask.

You're right out front of an outpost for your people on patrol to take breaks and stay if the weather is too bad. A tiny log cabin circled around in wire. "Need a break." He's short. He hops down off of his horse and ties it up to the railing on the porch of the cabin, taking his gloves off as he makes his way inside. You skeptically do the same. Knowing Joel and how impatient he is, this was out of the ordinary for him. He never took breaks. You tie your horse up, taking your time to cover her up with a cover. It's cold this time of year and you don't want her to get too cold.

You might've been stalling as well.

You make your way inside and sit down on the old dusty sofa. Pulling your sweater off.

Joel paces the room for a minute, and you know something is wrong. He looks pissed.

"Um.. is everything okay?" You ask. He glides his hand over his facial hair. Letting out a laugh. It's not a good one.

He sets down the tiny pot of lipstick you'd made on the coffee table. It's in an old carmex pot. You swallow hard.

Goddamnit Ellie.

"I think you know the answer to that question." He mumbles.

You stay quiet.

Joel can't help but note just how red your lips look, and it's not the cold. You were making red lipstick in an apocalypse. At least you'd given Ellie a light color. "Give me it." He holds his hand out. "What?" You ask. "You have that shit on, now give it to me." He seethes. You swallow hard, feeling like you're being scolded like a small child. You dig in your pocket. This time, it's in an actual lipstick tube. He opens it up and looks at it. It's a bright red.

He shakes his head. "I don't understand what's wrong with it." You mumble. "What's wrong with it, is it's stupid. We're living in the goddamn end of the world and you're makin' fucking lipstick." He shakes his head. "Besides that, you've been talkin to Ellie after I told you to stay the hell away from her. Now she's wearing lipstick like some kind of..." He trails off. Making you narrow your eyes. You stand up, your demeanor is challenging to him. "Some kind of what?" You cross your arms. "Go on Joel. Say it."

He stays quiet.

"Like some kind of.. slut?" You tilt your head.

"Yeah. Like some kind of slut." he shakes his head.

You scoff at him. "Ellie approached me and asked me for it. I didn't seek her out. And I'll wear lipstick if I damn well please. You aren't my dad." You roll your eyes. Reaching for the tube in his hand. He pulls it back before you can grab it. "Nah. You're wasting resources making this shit. It's going in the garbage." He's stern.

"Than I'll just make more."

Before your sentence is even finished, he's reaching for you. He pushes you back onto the sofa. A gasp leaves your lips when you hit the sofa with a thud. He closes the distance, hand gripping a handful of your hair and tugging you flush to his face. Lips right by your ear. "You're a stupid girl, you know that." He growls. "Nd I'm gonna make sure you stay away from Ellie." He pushes you back. Letting go of your hair. You feel tears pricking your eyes. You knew Joel Miller could be an asshole but you didn't think he could be like this.

He reaches for the front of his jeans and your eyes go wide.

"Wait! Wait. I'm sorry Joel. I'll stay away from Ellie I swear. I'm sorry." You breathe. "You're gonna be darlin." His voice is deep.

"Take your jeans off." He nods, moving closer. "Joel-"

"Take. Them off." He draws his buck knife out of it's sheath on his waistband. "Or I'll cut 'em off."

You reach slowly for the button on your jeans. Swallowing hard as you unbutton them, praying someone will come by and he will back off of you. The chances of that happening were slim to none. You were pretty much screwed. You clench your eyes shut as you push them down your thighs. Your hands shake as you do, nervous as to what he was going to do. Was he going to kill you and say that an accident had happened?

All over a lipstick.

"Joel.." You look up at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't think anything would come of it. I was just trying to bring a little bit of humanity back by making them. I swear I won't do it again." You breathe.

He notices now that you had wiped it off with your sleeve.

"No. Put it back on." He throws the tube of lipstick at you and you catch it narrowly.

You gulp, lifting the tube up to your lips. "Why?"

He stays quiet.

He notices the color in the tube is far more red than the color you had on previously. You glide the color onto your lips and Joel thinks about the last time he had seen a woman with red lips like that. She sure as hell wasn't an upstanding citizen, hanging out with Tommy in his younger days. He can feel himself hardening in his jeans, cock pulsing against his thigh where it sat. "Fuck.." He breathes. Reaching down to adjust himself. You take in a deep breath. Realizing what it is that's going on.

He found it attractive.

He closes the distance between the two of you. "Knees. Now." He tugs you forward by your shirt. You run your tongue over your bottom lip. You look up at him.

You wince as your knees hit the ground, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, drinking you in as he tears you apart with his eyes. He glides his fingertips up your throat to the edge of your chin. Tilting you to look up at him further. "You're a bad girl." He breathes, crouching himself down to your level. "If you're good f'me, maybe I'll forget about this. If you're really good... maybe I'll let you keep your fucking lipstick too." He seethes. His breath hot on your face. You wait, seeing if he'll say anymore. "I'll be good." You look up at him. "That's what I thought." He grasps the hem of your shirt. A gasp leaving your lips as he slices right through the fabric with his knife. Once he's got a good cut in the fabric, he grasps it with both hands. He tears it off. "Open your mouth."

You tilt your head up, lips parting slightly. He rests the pad of his thumb on your tongue, gliding it over your tongue and bottom lip. Clearly seeing how it'd feel. He notices the red residue from your lipstick. It eats him alive inside.

He kneels down onto one knee, grasping the lipstick in his hands once more. Making the already small tube look impossibly smaller with his large hands. He pulls the top off. Twisting it up just slightly. Staring at it. Finally, a smile creeps onto his face. He moves forward. "Keep your hands behind your back." He growls. "Don't piss me off." He growls. Lowering his head. He moves closer, and eventually you can feel the tip of the lipstick gliding over your skin. He's clearly writing something on your chest.

You stay completely still. Not wanting to provoke him any further.

Once he finishes, he pulls away. You have a feeling you know what he's written. But your eyes flicker down to see what it is.

'Slut'

You clench your eyes closed. You're humiliated. "This must be embarrassing for ya huh? Must feel pretty fucking stupid that in all of this... you thought a lipstick would make you feel human." He scoffs. "You look like a whore to me. I gotta ask baby, did you do this on purpose cause you knew it'd piss me off? Quick way to get my cock in you?" His lips glide over your cheeks as he says these things, right near your ear. "No." You whisper. "Hm? I don't think I heard you. Speak up."

"No. No I didn't." You look up at him again, eyes watery. "Oh baby. You're not gonna cry are ya?" He taunts. "Save those tears baby, we haven't even gotten fuckin started."

He stands up, knees hurting as he pulls his cock from its confines. Pumping himself. "Get back on the couch. You're not sucking my dick yet." He forces you up. Pushing you onto your back. "Hold your thighs up. I'm not done marking you." He moves forward. You glance to the window, noticing the snow is starting to fall from the sky. He sees what you're looking at, shaking his head with an evil smile on his face. "Looks like you're stuck here with me a while." He laughs.

He uses the lipstick to write more slurs on your body. The bottom of your thighs right before they meet the fat of your ass, your lower stomach just before your mound. Covering you.

Slut. Cumslut. Whore.

Once he feels like he's humiliated you enough, he sets the tube down and moves over you, spreading your legs. "Gonna stretch this pussy out. Gonna show you who owns you, why ya shouldn't run around like a little whore wearing red lipstick."

You cry out as he sinks his cock into the cavern between your legs. Giving you no warning. No time to adjust. It burns as he stretches you. Forcing you up into a mating press. "Maybe I should fill you." He taunts. "Breed this fucking pussy, show Jackson what a slut you've been." He laughs. Seeing tears fill at your water line.

His thrusts are bruising, forcing you back into the couch. You can't stay quiet as he fucks into you. Pounding you. Your thighs shiver under him, and he wants to laugh at how pathetic you are. A slut but can't take a cock? How pathetic.

He moves back, forcing you up onto your knees, moving himself behind you. He forces you back into him, hand on your right shoulder. He slides himself back inside of you again, hearing you cry out. He lifts you up, wrapping his hands around your front, holding you flush against him. His lips are right at your ear, hips still working against yours. He forces your face back, lips connecting with yours. He kisses you hard. He pulls away again and you turn back away from him. "Can feel this little pussy getting so tight on me." He pants. "So fucking good. I need to give ya more credit. Best fuck I've had in a while baby." He hisses. He glides his hands up your front, cupping your breasts with them. He squeezes them lightly, hearing you cry out. "Gonna cum?" He laughs. "You like when I fuck your slutty pussy, hm?" He taunts. "Go on. Cum on my cock darlin." You move forward, a sob leaving your lips as you reach your high. Vision blinding white as he works you through your orgasm.

Your body shakes and you clamp down around him, tighter than he's ever felt anyone on him before, and he almost doesn't pull out.

When he's ridden out your high, he pulls out of you. Forcing you back onto your knees once more. He forces his cock into your mouth. He doesn't let you adjust, starts fucking your throat immediately. You relax your throat, staring up at him. "Fuck.. lookin at me like that. Gonna make me cum." He groans. His eyes widen slightly as you wrap your hands around the backs of his thighs, moving him closer to you. "Fuck." He mumbles, "that's a good girl, good fuckin girl." He pants. His chest heaves hard as he fights off an orgasm. But you don't move away.

"Gonna cum- gonna cum down your fucking throat." He gasps. Wrapping his hands in your hair, holding you down on him. Before he finishes completing, he draws back. Watching the warm ropes of his cum coat your chest where he'd written the first slur. When he's finished, he smiles down at you. The fucking masterpiece he'd created.

He turns back to the window, seeing that the snow had stopped falling. It wasn't going to stick.

"Put your clothes on."

You turn away. Using your ripped shirt to scrub as much lipstick off of your body as possible, his cum too. You return your sweater back on, the one you had taken off when you entered the cabin in the first place. You adjust your jeans and your holster. Hurrying out to your horse before it started snowing again, and you got stuck here for even longer with Joel.

He made sure he had cleaned off all of the lipstick off of himself. He didn't want anyone knowing what had happened.

Joel thought that would be the last he saw of you. He taught you a lesson. To stay away from him and Ellie.

It wasn't until he seen you passing by him as he spoke with Tommy, finding out that you'd be the fill in as his patrol partner a couple weeks later. Making brief eye contact with you. Seeing you stroll past, lips coated in that same red lipstick.

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader

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the-kipsabian · 4 months

Text

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

#wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #i hope this make some sort of coherent sense #despite being a writer im really bad at words lmao #i also dont know what to tag this with without clogging main tags so im going to trust moots to get this going first #just. this is a topic im passionate about. i love writing i love writers and having seen the wrestling fandom as of late really struggling #with this. we need to do something. even a little bit helps. actually get people leaving feedback and commenting again #supporting each other. we can do this together #dont let dreams be dreams lets fucking do this #just be nice and help each other out #im gonna stop now before i get overly emotional. if theres any questions let me know tho i think i got the main parts pretty clear here #again moots. im trusting you to get this started. im not gonna add my own shit here immediately this isnt about me #this is about the community as a whole #i also hope nobody is afraid of adding themselves here. you are all valid and worth the attention no matter what #just remember to also give if you leave something here. look at the previous links. look in the notes to find more people #okay thats it i need to make dinner now #lets just be kind and support one another. promise me that 💜#night is an absolute mess on main

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taocard · 9 months

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Gojo Satoru Dating Head cannons

♡ I grant a wish for whoever summons me and take one thing as a payment ♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧in the mornings, Gojo holds you close to his chest because he doesn't want to get up yet. he'll beg and beg for just 5 more minutes!! which becomes another 45 minutes laying in bed together

✧he usually does this when he has to go to work, so you have to pull him out of bed. he'll really appreciate it if you keep him company while he gets ready

✧Gojo can't cook anything fancy. the best he can do is quick meals like heating up macaroni in the microwave or something simple. This is because whenever he eats he usually goes to fancy restaurants or just eats out.

✧he rarely uses his own house before dating you. he's usually out and about on trips and missions and never had any motivation to go to his house

✧he would love eating your cooking. it'd be delicious to him. eating something you made for breakfast would be a great way to start his day

✧when Gojo does manage to leave the house and goes to work he's texting you during boring meetings and sending many pictures of the stuff he sees. whether its something that reminds him of you or just to keep you posted, he's blowing up your phone

✧expect to get a photo of Megumi with a hand over his face and blood creeping down from his head with a caption that says 'Helping out my students when they're in danger I'm amazing right?? :))'

✧oh yeah he definitely gets you souvenirs!! snacks, decoration for the living room, a charm from him to you, etc.

✧you never feel unloved or forgotten by him

✧not to mention, when he is around his co-workers and students they know about you. because he talks about you. all the time. he doesn't realize it but he finds a way to bring you up in the conversation at least once

✧you have your own little room in his mind<3

✧when he gets back from work he would love to go on a date with you

✧Gojo likes going on dates that require going out into the city. he just likes being able to stretch his legs and explore with you by his side

✧Gojo loves PDA!! he'll hold your hand, have you sit on his lap, and lean down to give your shoulder a kiss

✧he doesn't care what other people think. only you two exist in his bubble more than half the time so why should he care what a bunch of nobodys think

✧he especially enjoys fancy dinner dates because he gets to see you in these gorgeous dresses that show off your hips and chest and that nice smooth back of yours-

✧hes eye fucking you at dinner dates I'm sorry.

✧he would even buy dresses for the dates because he wants you to dress up for him

✧hes doesn't get jealous if people are eyeing you. he trusts you and is confident in his place in your heart. and he knows for a fact all those guys can't love you as well as he can, they're not even worth his time and energy

✧ it's just that he is possessive.

✧ you wear a promise ring on your finger. you have a necklace that has a heart locket and when you open it it has his initials on the inside. and not to mention all the hickeys that he gives you in places that everyone will see

✧he'll do dumb things to impress you or make you laugh because he loves seeing your smile and having you praise him :((

✧when you two are relaxing at home after going out together, he'll rest his head on your thighs while he slowly talks about things running around in his brain that may be bothering him

✧and I can not stress enough that when Gojo vents to you, make sure you give him actual feedback and things. he needs to be reassured and wants your opinion, so please be equally communicative with him

✧communication in general is really important to Gojo. if something is going on then talk to him about it, he will listen and help you. it doesn't bother him at all, he wants to know what's going on in your head

✧before going to sleep he likes laying with you in bed while you read a book and play with his hair. he likes talking with you about the day before you fall asleep as well.

✧he never ever forgets to say 'I love you' before falling asleep. I imagine him giving your neck a kiss and saying he loves you before falling asleep

✧and yes. Gojo is the big spoon. but he'll absolutely melt if you rub his knuckles with your hands when they're wrapped around you

✧Gojo secretly wants to be babied. like yes, he takes care of everything for you both. but do little things for him like giving him a hug from behind, playing with his hair, or just holding his hand. he'll feel happy with that

✧he will never say it upfront that he wants to be babied. so you have to just do it without him asking

#jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #fem reader

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naveymoon · 2 years

Text

𖧧 Safe Inside (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3220

Summary: Noticing that the Colonel has been overworking Elvis for some time, you are not surprised when Vernon approaches you for assistance in dragging a lethargic Elvis out of bed to prepare for his concert. However, you are far too worried for your beloved to even consider listening to Vernon or the Colonel, and instead, choose to spend your time caring for him and insuring his safety and well-being.

Note(s): I purely wrote this to comfort myself, I cannot lie, but I hope you all enjoy it, too! Thank you so much for all the love on my stories, I am forever appreciative for all of you!!! <3 As always, all feedback is appreciated, but please be nice! Thank you, El ᵕ̈

Taglist: @captured-memory @flwersgarden @chaoticbilly @callthedarknessdown @xcallmetaniax @jazmin2211 <3333

Click here to be added to my tag list <3

Have a request? Click here or feel free to message me! <3 xxx

*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You'd only been home from work for about five minutes before your phone started buzzing in its holster. When you pick it up, you expect to hear Elvis' silky voice asking you how work was and for advice on his pre-concert anxiousness, but instead you hear Vernon's voice greeting you.

"Y/N? Is that Y/N?"

Sitting against the counter, you wrap the phone cord around your fingers, "Yes, it's me. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything is fine—actually, no. Elvis is…" Vernon stutters his words, seemingly conflicted over something. "He's refusing to get out of bed, regardless of the fact that he has a performance in three hours. I was wondering if you could come over and help us in getting him up. He's not listening to me, let alone the Colonel, and he has a hell of a soft spot for you."

You lean against the counter, evidently anxious about your partner, "What's the matter with him? Why isn't he getting out of bed? Is he sick?"

Vernon sighs down the phone line, as if he is trying not to be heard by people nearby. "I-I'm not sure, Y/N, I'm not sure. The Colonel insists on him performing tonight, and you're our last chance; otherwise, I'm not sure what he'll do to him."

"Alright, alright," you say, straightening your back and running your fingers over your hair. "Tell Elvis I'm coming, okay? And, Vernon?"

In response, he hums.

"Don't let the Colonel touch him while I'm not there."

Vernon exhales a breath of relief, "Of course. Thank you, Y/N, thank you."

You re-holster the phone and reach for the car keys, which you had earlier flung to the table in your elation at being home. You collect your stuff from the floor and head for the door, beginning your descent to Graceland.

☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Vernon is waiting for you as you park your car in front of the house, watching as you race to the porch steps, where he waits nervously with a smile. As you approach him, he extends his hand and says, "Thank you so much for coming, Y/N."

"Vernon, if he's sick, I am not forcing him to get out of bed." You say this right away, knowing how overworked your poor boyfriend is by both his boss and his father. You had expressed your concerns to Elvis weeks earlier, anticipating that something like this might occur, but he had simply assured you that he could manage it and that you should not be worried about him. You clearly did not listen to or believe him. "So, please don't ask or expect me to."

He catches your wrist and glances behind him to make sure no one else is around. "I don't want to, Y/N, but the Colonel…he won't accept no for an answer. He just yells. I'm worried about Elvis; he's never been this bad."

"I would rather he yell at me than Elvis collapse on stage." With a sigh, you reach down to pat Vernon's hand. "I'm going to see him and if he's sick, he is not getting on that stage tonight, alright?"

"Alright," Vernon says reluctantly.

You enter the house, automatically heading for the staircase that would lead you to your lover. As you make your way to the top level, you can hear the Colonel scolding Elvis and telling him how disappointed all of his fans will be. The sound of miserable coughs and groans in response to his superiors' statements fills you with rage, and you are more than ready to confront his so-called boss as you approach Elvis' bedroom door, which is slightly ajar.

When you fully open it, you notice how dark the room is. The Colonel straightens up from his position leaning over a clump of blankets in the middle of the bed to face the door as it creaks open. His expression brightens but also darkens when he sees you, obviously expecting you to account for Elvis's appearance on stage, but not appreciating how he has been seen in such a compromising situation with his alleged son-figure.

"Ah, look at that! It's Y/N!" The Colonel applauds, extending his hands in a joyful gesture. "You don't want your girlfriend to see you acting so childishly now, do you? Come on, now. Up."

He snatches your boyfriend's robe-clad arm, which he uselessly holds in the air before Elvis drags it back under the covers, back in the safety of the blanket barricade.

You rush forward as the Colonel reaches for the blankets, presumably to take them from Elvis and strip him even more of his dignity, "Wait, give us some space for a minute. Let me speak to him."

"You…" The Colonel stares at you disapprovingly, as though you lack the power to move even your littlest finger. He looks between you and the huddle of blankets on the bed, "Yes, you will speak with him and we will get back on track. Don't be long now, boy, we are off schedule as it is."

The Colonel passes by you and pats your shoulder, leaning in and preventing you from getting any closer to Elvis while he has his claws on you. "The only thing that matters is he gets out of that bed and onto that stage tonight. We have whatever drugs are needed, just do your best."

You back away from him, looking at him in disbelief, but he ignores your horror, stepping out of the room and closing the door slightly behind him.

Unable to believe what you've just heard and seen from the man who is meant to be looking after your boyfriend, you're stunned for a little while, unable to imagine what he's been filling Elvis' mind with while the two were alone. You've been standing there for approximately a minute when you hear a hoarse voice call your name.

You walk over to the bed and take a careful seat on the edge, remembering your initial plan, "Elvis, honey? You in there?"

You unwrap the blankets as if they are the most precious Christmas gifts, ultimately finding the man you love hiding beneath. His hair is slicked back, sweat drenching his forehead, and his eyes are sagged down with horrible purple bags. He looks you over pitifully before closing his eyes again, even the smallest amount of light making him feel miserable.

"Baby..."

"Feel like shit, doll." he grimaces, a shudder running down his spine.

"I can see why," you say softly, leaning in to delicately press a palm over his forehead, which he first jerks away from. "Christ, you're like a furnace."

"I gotta perform." Elvis sighs, miserably turning over toward you and shivering.

"Elvis!" You almost exclaim, but then you recall his predicament. "I'm not going to watch you go out there like this, baby. You're barely conscious right now, and I bet you can barely stand. What if you collapse on stage?"

He lacks the strength to argue with you, his eyelashes fluttering every now and then as unconsciousness threatens to overpower him, so you carefully uncover him once more and lean over to kiss his burning forehead "Honey, you're sick, and the Colonel can say whatever he wants, but your true fans, those who genuinely care about you, will understand why you can't perform tonight. I'm not going to force you to stay in bed, but please don't put your body or yourself through anything more until you've recovered. I can't handle the thought of anything worse happening to you knowing I could have prevented it."

"'kay," he mumbles after listening to your emotional speech, reaching out blindly to wrap his arm around you in the hope of drawing you and your body heat closer to him. "Stay."

You sigh as his robe sticks to him as you massage your palm across his back, "I'm just going to talk to your Daddy and the Colonel, okay? Then I'll bring you some medicine and some tea, and I'll lay with you."

As your heat leaves him, he whines faintly, and you softly soothe him, pulling the covers around him again for the time being and stroking your hand through his hair.

As you prepare to rise, he calls out weakly, his voice heavy with sleep, "Promise you'll…you'll come back?"

"I promise, baby."

You stroke his hair a couple more times before light snores emerge from beneath the blankets. You gradually remove your hand, automatically resting it on his forehead again to check on him, the searing heat hitting you once again, before sighing and rising from the bed.

There is no way he is going out there.

As you exit the bedroom, you quietly close the door before proceeding to the Colonel and Vernon, who are clustered at the end of the corridor by the staircase, presumably discussing something thoroughly.

"Y/N!" The Colonel says as he notices you walking over before his expression drops at the absence of presence alongside you. "My boy is just getting showered and dressed, I assume?"

Vernon can tell by the expression on your face what you're about to say, and he tenses up in anticipation.

"He's asleep. 'Your' boy is exhausted, Colonel." You say this while keeping your voice low so as not to wake Elvis. "He can't stay awake for more than a minute, and he has a terrible, terrible fever. You expect him to put on a good show in that state?"

"What are you saying?" asks the Colonel, agitated.

"Colonel, I'm saying he's not going with you tonight. You must cancel the event." You hold your ground, even as he stands over you, giving you the look he wants you to feel intimidated by. "He is not your own performing monkey; he's a human being and a sick one at that. He has to rest or you'll put him in the hospital for far longer than necessary. Just give him some time to rest, damnit!"

Vernon is shocked when you challenge Elvis' superior, but the Colonel appears even more surprised. He never perceived you as a fighter, or as particularly powerful, yet you never faltered in his presence. He would have been impressed if his ego hadn't gotten in the way of everything else.

"You tell that boy when he wakes," he brushes past you, frustration emanating from his body, taking a few steps down the staircase before looking back up in your and Vernon's direction, "that he and I need to have a conversation about his future in show business if he's gonna call off a once in a lifetime opportunity with a god-forsaken cold."

A meaningless argument bubbles up on your tongue, fizzling out as Vernon's hand rests on your arm to stop you, the two of you watching as the Colonel walks away. As he marches out and the house calms down after the front door slams, you cautiously turn to face Vernon, almost expecting him to be as upset with you as the Colonel was.

"Vernon, I-"

He wraps his arms around you, prompting you to tense up in surprise, as you are fully unprepared for the gesture. As he clings to you, his body trembles, and you carefully put your arms around him in return, "Thank you, Y/N, thank you, thank you, thank you. You did something for my son today that I could not. Gladys would be turning in her grave if Elvis performed like that tonight, but I wasn't brave enough to intervene. She would be extremely proud of you and grateful to have you here for our son."

"You called me, you knew what was right for him deep down." You gently remind him, drifting away when you hear Elvis coughing uncomfortably in the room down the hall. "Don't forget that he is your son before he is the Colonel's party trick. We are both here for Elvis, we gotta do right by him like he always does by us."

"He's lucky to have you, Y/N," Vernon says quietly.

You return a smile, shifting your gaze to the creaking bedroom door behind you. Elvis peeks out, still wrapped in dozens of blankets, his eyes squinted, a pale complexion with rosy cheeks making up the rest of his face, "Y/N?"

"Elvis," you gasp, rushing over to him as he staggers slightly and crashes against the wall. Sighing softly, you grasp his arm and wrap it around your shoulders, "C'mon, you can barely stand. Straight back to bed, mister."

*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Waking up the next day, you feel exhausted yourself. The night had been long, very long, with Elvis waking up nearly every hour shivering and on the verge of tears from delirium, lack of sleep, and the intensity of the fever. Of course, you were comfortable being there for him during that, since you had battled for him to have time to rest, and hell if you weren't going to help him get through it given how hard the toll of being overworked had hit him, but how badly it pained you to see him that way.

When you eventually summon the will to look over at the clock on the wall, noting the time as nearing eleven, you let out a low sigh and look down at the weight on your chest, and you have no desire to move. Elvis is nearly completely on top of you, his unusually warm body resting over half of yours, his head snuggled into your neck as he lets out gentle, short breaths from his lips, his arms wrapped around your torso and waist like you're some giant, personal teddy-bear, and a leg crossing yours and keeping you slightly propped up. Regardless of how strange the arrangement seemed, you hadn't ever felt so at home, especially knowing that Elvis was getting the rest and recovery time that he deserved more than anybody or anything.

You realise, pressing a kiss to his head, that you should probably make him some food and tea to both fill his stomach and ease his throat after coughing all night; but, as you begin to move out of his clutches, he merely tightens his grip, nuzzling in deeper.

"I have to get up a second, honey." You mumble, carefully combing your fingers through his hair to soothe him back to sleep so you may escape his grasp. He makes a disagreeable noise, which you acknowledge with a smile. "We can cuddle more soon, baby, just let me go for a minute."

He huffs groggily, withdrawing his arms and allowing you to slip out of his embrace just long enough for him to reach for your hand in the spur of the moment. He leans over to kiss your fingers before slipping back under the blankets, drowsily muttering before falling back asleep, "Never leave me."

You frown and whisper, "I would never," before you walk out of the bedroom with your bare feet padding along the carpet.

When you walk into the kitchen a few moments later, your gaze is drawn to Vernon, who is sitting at the counter reading a newspaper. He is sipping on a mug of coffee and appears to be well rested. He senses your presence and turns to greet you, smiling, "Morning, Y/N."

"Morning," You yawn and make your way to the coffee jug on the counter, reaching into one of the cabinets for a mug. As you pour, you look around to see if there is anything you can make for Elvis, but your selections are rather limited.

"How is he doing?" Vernon asks, clearing his throat.

"He's not as hot today," you say, sipping the coffee from your mug. "He just needs lots of rest today, and some sort of food."

"Thank you for all this, Y/N, we are all truly grateful you're here." Vernon says as he rises from his chair.

You watch as he opens a cabinet and pulls out some canned soup, muttering softly, "You're welcome."

"Would this work?" he asks, holding out a can of chicken soup.

"Perfect." You grin, gladly accepting the tin and instinctively making your way to the stove. "Thank you."

As you begin to prepare the soup for your lover, you can't help but feel glad for the opportunity to care for him; out of everyone in the world, here you are doting on the Elvis Presley, and loving him is the finest thing you have in your life. Of course, you hated seeing him unwell, but having him in your arms and nursing him back to health is an opportunity you would not pass up. You loved and cared for him more than anything else in the world, and you would battle for his health and happiness at any cost.

*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A few hours later, around four o'clock in the afternoon, you and Elvis are tangled up in bed again, a movie playing on the television in front of his bed, merely relieving the silence as the two of you lie sleepily in the sheets. A damp flannel is draped across his forehead and part of your stomach, wetting your shirt and causing you to tremble, but you battle through it since that is what he requires.

You're on the verge of falling asleep, ready to drift away, but the practical side of you is aware that your lover might need you in some manner if you do. You glance down at the boy who is holding you, his head resting on your stomach, and watch as he dreams away his illness.

You move slightly to make yourself more comfortable, and he grumbles softly beneath you, "Stop movin' so much, doll."

"Sorry, honey," you giggle, leaning back against the pillow and transferring your gaze to the television screen, knowing you won't fall asleep while Elvis is still unwell.

As he settles back down, he raises his head, turning it to face you and looking up at you with sleepy, sparkling eyes. The flannel falls to the sheets below, and you reach down to grab it to prevent it from soaking the linens more. You look down at Elvis as you place the flannel on the bedside table, your hand on his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. "You feel okay, sweetheart? Need me to get you anything?"

"I'm good, baby," he mumbles, his eyelids falling shut once again.

You nod, laying your head against the king-sized bed's headboard and resting your own eyes in tiredness. "I love y'so much," Elvis says as he removes your hand from his cheek and pulls it down to his lips, pressing sleepy kisses to your skin and each of your fingers.

"You do?" you ask, a smirk spreading over your lips. "I love you too, baby."

"Mm," he nuzzles higher along your body, his head now just below your chest, "y're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. Don't deserve you."

"That's your fever talking, baby, you deserve the whole world and more," you say, rubbing your fingertips across his sweat-splattered brow.

He hums in dissent before two fingers brush across your face, prompting you to open your eyes lazily and glance down at your lover, who is considerably closer than you expected. You laugh as he puckers his lips pitifully, leaning down and kissing his chapped lips, feeling him smile against you.

"Now get some more rest, mister, the world is missing you already."

#austin butler elvis #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis film #elvis presley #elvis x reader #baz luhrmann elvis #elvis movie

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changbunnies · 11 months

Text

Outlaw (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, dubcon, strangers to... something? basically just filth with a little plot thrown in

♡ Word Count: 4.9k

♡ Summary: Y/N, after being displaced from her home due to outlaws, returns a year later in the hopes to reclaim some lost belongings. But the outlaw Changbin, who has claimed her old home for himself, won't let her take her things without getting something in return.

Update! this now has a part 2 you can read here! <3

♡ Warnings: strong language, changbin is mean in a way that he disguises as 'nice' ??? very insincere and condescending :'), minor mention of someone being dead, changbin also remains nameless for a bulk of the fic because he is a stranger. that's about it for general warnings since this is mostly smut lmao but let me know if i missed something that should be here!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon!! (please read responsibily and with your own discretion for what you can handle!), petnames (sugar, darlin, sweetheart, good girl, he uses "little lady" exactly once, he also calls reader dumb once), manhandling, nipple play, biting/marking, unprotected piv, some slapping and choking, a lil dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything!

♡ Notes: i originally wasn't going to post something again this soon but i was possesed to write this after repeatedly seeing cowboy concepts from my faves :') as usual, if you're interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Get in, grab the stuff you need, and get out before the sun starts to set- that’s all you have to do. You are in the remnants of your childhood home, nestled within the ghost town that is the place you grew up in. Abandoned over a year ago, when a band of cowboys came stirring trouble and driving out the locals with their exuberant drinking and penchant for violence.

Your parents, the owners of what was once the town’s largest and most successful saloon, had unfortunate run-ins with the vile men on a daily basis, having to turn away regulars for their own safety and clean up the abundant mess left behind from the nightly roughhousing.

It was with a heavy heart that your family left everything behind, with the hopes they could rebuild somewhere safer, out of the radius of all the outlaws and their gun fights. Your family hasn’t had the easiest go of things since then, having expended nearly all of their tucked away savings in the process of relocating and building a new home and business.

And now here you are, searching your hold home for anything that could help. You’d heard news of dust settling in the area as the infighting between local gangs were dying down, and thought now would be your best chance to return for things that had to be left behind. You knew there was no physical money to be found, but if you were lucky there could still be trinkets left behind that would fetch a good price. Something that maybe the cowboys wouldn’t recognize as overtly valuable, but would be to a trained eye.

"Ya lost, sugar?" a gruff voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Shit- how did you not hear him approach? You quickly stand and turn around, the image of a burly man in the doorway, with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. There was no way this man approached silently- you must have just been too absorbed in your task to pay attention to outward noise.

"Not lost," you say, voice firm now that you are past the initial surprise of being discovered. You are not nearly as alarmed as one might expect you to be; you were born and raised in the saloon, helped your parents keep it running smoothly as a barmaid once you were old enough. You handled your fair share of unruly drunks and trigger happy outlaws, learning from an early age how to get men to abide by your rules. So surely you could handle this man too.

"Sure 'bout that? This ain't the kinda place a little lady like yourself goes wanderin',” the man says, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. Despite the relaxed way he does it, it's clear he doesn't intend on letting you past him. If anything, he almost challenges you to- with a look that says you can certainly try to get past me, but you won’t.

"This is my house. At least it was, until people like you drove us out," you spit out against your better judgment. You normally know better than to instigate a fight with a lawless man, usually using a disgustingly sweet tone and batting your lashes to get them to listen to you. You should know to bite down the resentment that runs through you, even if the feeling is justified. But the way that he’s treating your home as his property makes your blood boil. "Just let me get my things, and then I'll never see you again.”

The man hums, as if considering your words, before the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. "I don't much care about that darlin'. It belongs to me now." The minute townsfolk like you left, this town was up for grabs for anyone who wanted it, and he and his gang gladly claimed it. Whatever you left behind, every little thing no matter how small, it’s all his now- it’s as simple as that. And you can’t take from him without paying a price.

You glare at him, eyes full of scorn. What pisses you off the most about him is that he knows it’s his fault you lost everything you held dear, and he doesn’t care- he holds it over your head, using your belongings like a bargaining chip. As if you’re a dog waiting to be fed a treat or a fish on his hook, completely at his mercy, unable to get what you want or need unless he’s kind enough to grant it to you. And you hate that it makes his eyes light up with a twisted delight, the upturned smirk making you want to slap it off his face (though he’d probably just find that amusing too.)

‘Fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. What do you do now? Grovel? Does he want you to get on your hands and knees, beg him with a desperate voice and teary eyes? ‘Oh please, mister cowboy sir, please give me my things back!’ As fucking if- you would never do that. The man lets out a laugh, as if he can read your mind and knows exactly what you think of him.

But the thing is, he does know what you’re thinking, knows that you absolutely hate him right now. He's seen that expression on countless faces before- a fire burning in the eyes, red hot rage burning through your blood. But if there's anything he's good at, one thing he loves doing more than anything else, it's extinguishing the flames of pretty young things like you who think they can talk back to him.

"If it makes you this upset, you can always take it up with the leader of my gang. He’s the one who ‘forced’ you out, not me," he says, a devilish smirk plastered on his face before he continues, "Oh, but he's 6 feet under now. Guess you're outta luck, huh? You're stuck with me darlin'. So let's figure this out together, hmm?"

He steps out of the doorway, letting the previously open door slam closed behind him. You want to stand your ground, but unconsciously you take a step back, and then another, and another, until he has you cornered. Back pressed against the wall, his palm planted firmly on the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in.

His other hand reaches for the bag hanging off your shoulder, full of your old personal effects. Valuable trinkets buried under old journals, black and white family photos and letters penned from distant relatives; all items that scream of sentimentality. How sweet. It's too bad he's not a nicer person; maybe then he'd let you walk away with all this useless junk that he has no need for. But what would be the fun in that?

"I can't let you just take what's mine, we both know that wouldn't be right," he says while gripping your bag tightly in his fist, as if he gives a single fuck about what's right or wrong. All this stuff belonged to you before he and his stupid outlaw buddies effectively stole it anyways! He’s blatantly playing with you, stirring up your emotions just to revel in the reaction it grants him. "Ya gotta pay for it, sweetheart. I know you’re a good girl who knows better than that," he continues, feigning sweetness and care with his tone.

"I don't have any money to give you," you glare, though the aggression in your eyes doesn’t match the timid way you speak. And that's the crux of why you're here- sure, you've been picking up sentimental items as you move through your old home, but you desperately need money and you came back in the hopes there'd still be something of use to you that hasn't been pilfered yet.

"Oh, don’t you worry 'bout that. I'm not interested in money darlin'," he says as he tosses your bag to the side, no care at all for any breakables inside. His face moves an inch closer, hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He watches with amused delight as the cogs turn in your head, a realization that makes your eyes widen and face flush.

"Y-You- I-" You hate yourself for stumbling over your words, and giving more entertainment to the man in front of you. You can tell he likes the way you begin to crumble, breaking down your resolve to be resolute bit by bit. His words are accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye that you would acquaint with playfulness if you weren’t currently being trapped against a wall by an incredibly strong, intimidating man.

"Don't worry, sugar, I'm not a monster. I won't force you," he smiles, knowing very well what he's doing. He frames it as if it's your choice- as if he can be free of blame if you give in, as if he isn't taking advantage of your desperation to get your things back. He takes a step back, freeing you from your caged position against the wall, giving you the opportunity to flee right this second if you so choose.

But he knows you won’t. Because you’re brave, or maybe just foolishly stubborn, and you refuse to leave without what you came for. The illusion of choice he’s giving you- it’s almost sickening in its cruelty. And that stupid fucking smirk on his face should make you feel disgusted, resentful, furious, but you feel none of those things- you feel… butterflies?

Fuck. Are you attracted to him? How fucking stupid can you get? To be attracted to a man who has such little regard for other people, who looks at you like a plaything he can discard the moment he’s bored. His words might be framed sweetly, but the message underneath is clear- you are going to give him what he wants. "Well, what do ya say, sweetheart? Wanna have some fun with me?"

You swallow, looking at him with shaky fists and red cheeks. Are you really going to do this? Give yourself up to a stranger for things that rightfully belong to you in the first place? It goes against everything you stand for, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to just leave. What would your family say if they found out how far you degraded yourself for something so objectively small?

But fuck it. Against your better judgment, you agree to ‘have some fun’ with the frustratingly attractive outlaw in front of you. The man smirks once more before he grabs your face under the chin with a rough hand, directing your head up towards his, kissing you with a roughness you've never experienced before.

There’s a noise of surprise that leaves you, the moment happening so fast it makes your head spin. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth to open for him, his tongue wasting no time on entering. Unconsciously you reach out for him, desperately grasping for something to hold. You're impossibly dizzy from the feeling of his tongue making circles around yours, and you need to ground yourself, doing so by tightly clutching his shirt in your hands.

His teeth snatch your bottom lip, tugging harshly before soothing the bite with a lick, and repeating. A whimper escapes you, though you can't tell if it's from the sting in his bites or excitement welling in your gut. You've always been treated delicately by men before now- like you were made from porcelain, like even the smallest of bends could result in a break. And that's what you always thought you liked, so why..? Why is his treatment making your entire body shiver in delight?

He grins when he pulls away, satisfied with the dazed look in your eyes, the swollen red of your lips, the way your breathing has substantially quickened. He wants to ruin you even more- make you delirious with need for him.

He reaches for the top of your dress now, pulling it down just enough to expose your chest to him. "Pretty," he says with a grin so attractive that it makes your stomach twist. What the fuck is this guy doing to you? You should be ashamed of yourself for finding any semblance of enjoyment from this.

Rough, calloused hands waste no time groping the newly exposed skin. You suck in a breath, trying desperately not to let out any sounds that would grant him satisfaction. He tuts in disapproval, though he actually loves seeing you try so hard to keep the tough act going- it’s the fight to remain in control that makes it so fun, after all.

He tweaks your nipples without remorse, pinching and pulling between his fingers, causing a yelp to escape you before you could even hope to stop it. His face lowers, and for a moment you think he’s going to resume the messy, wet kisses, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips meet your neck, teeth grazing the skin before he decides on a spot to bite down on.

Over and over, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck, creating a constellation of bruises in their wake. It’s a reminder, you realize- a reminder of what you chose to do with the nameless outlaw, evidence of what you allowed him to do to your body, an imprint of shame and desire that will follow you for the days to come.

The noises that leave you are his absolute favorite- pretty sounds of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hands have moved from gripping his shirt to his arms, nails breaking the surface of his skin and a pleasant sting accompanying it. He pulls away once satisfied with his work, another pleased, devious grin on his face as he admires what he’s done to your previously unmarred skin.

He snakes his hand under your dress next, chuckling when he feels the wetness drenching your panties. "I knew I liked you," he says, tone low but smirk ever-present. Pulling away from you, he walks to the nearby sofa and sits comfortably, raising an eyebrow when you just stare instead of following him over. "C’mon over, sugar. Don’t make me wait."

You step over slowly, doing your best to swallow down your nerves as you reapproach him. He pulls you to his lap when you’re in his reach, not wasting any time in getting you where he wants you. He lifts the bottom of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing you to his view. He takes a moment to admire the way your panties cling to your skin before he swiftly pulls them to the side.

There’s a gasp from you that follows, not just because of the sudden exposure, but the distinct sound of tearing that fills the space. Did he seriously just rip your underwear? “Oops,” he says with absolutely no sincerity in his voice, “what a shame. They were so pretty, too.” He laughs when you mutter ‘asshole’ under your breath and glare at him, endlessly amused by the way you react to him. There’s part of him that even considers making it up to you later- once he’s done with his own fun, of course.

He moves his hand to his pants next, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with ease, pulling his (notably large) cock out so nonchalantly that it nearly leaves you stunned. He watches you, reveling in the way your expression changes, the annoyance you held just moments ago melting into a timid desire.

You stare at him, shy and apprehensive, but still wanting, craving him. He makes a show out of spreading the accumulated pre-cum along his length, indulging in the way your eyes follow every move his hand makes, as if completely and utterly enraptured by him. And in a way, you are; you’ve never been so captivated by a stranger in your entire life the way you are now, intoxicated by the view of the man pumping his cock in front of you.

"Ride it,” he says when he finishes preparing himself for you, “Show me how desperate you are." His light, almost playful tone frames it as a request, but you can tell it isn’t- he’s telling you to do it. And if there’s anything you’ve learned so far, it’s that you can’t resist him, even if you wanted to; you’re under his charismatic spell, with no hope of escaping.

You take a breath, steadying yourself for what's to come before you travel further up his lap. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck, in a gesture that doesn’t at all help with your nerves. How does his hand on you suddenly feel so heavy? A trembling hand reaches for his cock, lining him up with your entrance, but you pause before you lower yourself on it, looking at him with clear apprehension in your eyes.

He raises his brow when you initially pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to scold you for making him wait, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, expression softening ever so slightly. “You can do it, darlin’. I know you can make it fit,” he leans closer to you as he speaks, his breath fanning your ear as he draws you in by the neck to meet him halfway, “because you’re a good girl who does everything she’s told, aren’t ya?”

Fuck. If you weren’t positively dripping before, you definitely are now. How does he keep managing to say things that make your stomach twist and a shiver run down your spine? He leans back when you finally begin to sink down on him, hands resting behind his head as he takes in the sight of your scrunched brows and flushed cheeks.

He's so fucking thick, easily the biggest you've ever taken, but the sting is the most delicious thing you’ve ever felt. Your breathing is ragged by the time you are fully sat on him, your thighs completely flush with his. He allows you a moment of respite, letting you adjust to the feeling of being so full of him, though you aren’t entirely sure you can get used to it. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch- so much so, that it makes your entire body tremble.

And if the outlaw underneath you is being honest, he’s just as equally affected. You’re squeezing him so tight, and if this were any other time he would completely forgo watching you ride him and instead pound straight up into you. But he wants to see how much more obedient you can be, how well you’ll take his orders, how well you’ll listen to him. He wants to see you lose yourself for him, become brainless in the pursuit of pleasure.

You’re moving again before he even has to tell you to do it, whimpers and moans freely leaving your lips now, much too far gone to care anymore about keeping them held back. The man’s cool exterior cracks for just a moment, head falling back as a low groan escapes his throat. He won’t say it aloud, but you’re driving him crazy- the push and pull he had with you being the most fun he’s had in ages.

"Open your mouth," he commands when he lifts his head back up and you oblige easily, much to the stranger's satisfaction and amusement. Look at you, so full of fight when he first laid eyes on you, now reduced to a cock hungry mess. Listening to him without an ounce of hesitation, completely at his mercy- he loves it.

He rests two of his fingers on your tongue, letting them linger there for just a moment before he pushes them down your throat. You sputter and gag around them, eyes immediately watering from the intrusion. "You can take it," he tells you when he notices the tears welling in your eyes threatening to fall, "C'mon sweetheart, take what I give you."

Saliva drips down your chin from the corners of your mouth as he effectively chokes you on his fingers, slapping you on the thigh with his other hand when you show any sign of slowing down. You just barely register his voice praising you in your ears, tears openly falling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, forced to keep up the pace he set for you without faltering.

He can’t help but let out a groan when he admires the view- you’re so fucking pretty when you’re crying, so breathless and ruined, all for him. He’ll give you a gift, he decides; reward you for playing your part for him so perfectly. He pulls his fingers out from your mouth, but there’s no time for you to catch your breath because he immediately brings them to your swollen clit.

His touch is both harsh and fast, sparing you no time to allow oxygen into your lungs. A loud moan leaves you, your head falling forward and onto his chest from the combined feeling of his wet fingers on your clit and his cock reaching the deepest parts of you. "F-Fuck, please, please-" You're so close, your entire body tingling with pleasure as the knot in your stomach grows incredibly taut.

"Aww, poor thing," he coos mockingly, another slap landing on your thigh when your pace stutters, "need to cum so bad, don't you? Dumb little thing needs my help?" You nod frantically, watery eyes pleading with him. You don’t know when you became so desperate, but it’s all you can think about now. You want it, need it, more than you’ve ever needed anything.

"Mm, beg for it," he says, the wicked grin returns in full effect and drives you completely crazy. "If you do a good job, I might help." You whine, pace once again faltering as you’re driven to the brink of release, but not quite reaching it on your own. Your thighs burn from the exertion, knees aching and body impossibly tired.

And so, you do the one thing you said you would never do- beg for him. “P-Please, please help me, wanna cum so bad,” your voice quivers, and he grins, evidently pleased by the display of desperation. He won’t give it to you that easily, though. Because who would he be if he wasn’t at least a little mean?

"Oh, you can do better than that, I know ya can. Try again, darlin', show me you mean it," he says, hands grabbing your hips and forcing you still now, unable to do a single thing until you tell him what he wants to hear. He smirks when you let out a frustrated cry, your hips being held firmly in place and unable to seek any sort of stimulation. “Go on, sugar. Tell me how bad you need me.”

“Please, I’ve been so good, gave you everything you wanted, so please, please, need you so bad, please-” you’re babbling now, words leaving you shamelessly, eyes once again watering as the desperation builds overwhelmingly high. You’re clearly no longer in your right mind, because if you were you would never do this.

The satisfaction he feels from reducing you to this is indescribable, and he’ll be sure to reward you for indulging him so sweetly. He pulls you off his lap with ease, tossing you to the side of the sofa as if you're nothing but a doll. He grabs your arm after he stands, pulling you up and subsequently bending you over the arm of the sofa as he stands behind you.

He sinks back inside you easily, hand reaching under you and fingers playing with your clit as he pounds into you from behind. Fuck, fuck, fuck- You're vision blurs, eyes rolling back as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. His other hand holds your hip roughly, his nails digging into your skin, not slowing his pace even as you cum around him.

Your hands claw in vain at the sofa cushions, finding no purchase. Your legs quiver, eyes squeezed shut as your left with no choice to accept the overwhelming pleasure that takes over senses. Reaching his hand to your neck now, he pulls you up to him by the throat, your back now flush against his chest. Your breath hitches when he squeezes, the pressure on your neck alarmingly good.

"Tell me your name, sugar. Who is being so good for me, hmm? Need to know," his words tickle the shell of your ear, making your brain feel impossibly muddled. It takes you a few tries to get your name out given his unrelentingly fast pace, but you manage to stammer it out for him to hear.

Your body shudders when he repeats it in your ear, the sound of your name falling from his lips making you clench around him. “Oh, you like that, hmm?” he teases you with a short laugh, though you are too far gone to be embarrassed by it.

“Y-Yours, want to know yours too,” you manage to say, though it’s practically a beg. For better or worse, you want to put a name to the face of the person that made a mess of you. He hums in response, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll even tell you, but he does.

Changbin. It sounds vaguely familiar, but your brain doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on it at the moment- not with the way his cock is currently drilling into you. And in the same way that your name leaving him had an affect on you, the opposite does the same for him.

It makes him almost feral- an overwhelming desire to make you forget everything but his name, for nothing to remain in your mind but him. He loses his composure for the first time all evening, driven purely by his need to cum, with you being the sole reason for it.

He releases his hold on your neck, letting you fall forward against the sofa. Noises no longer leave you, a pleasure so intense that all that escapes you are sharp, quick breaths. “So good, fuck, you’re so good, ‘m gonna cum-” you hear him pant out from behind you, his pace faltering for the first time as he chases his orgasm, his hold on your hips so intense it’s sure to bruise.

You reach your high first, voice coming out in short, broken moans as your toes curl and body convulses under his hold. He pulls out at the last possible second, his cum spilling between your thighs and dripping between your legs. Your legs collapse when he lets you go, the armrest of the sofa being the only thing keeping you off the floor. You close your eyes, chest heaving as you try to regain control of your harsh breathing.

Changbin picks you up after tucking his softening length back in his pants, adjusting your position so you are now laying on the sofa properly, back comfortably nestled against the cushions. He lets your legs rest on his lap when he sits down, a subtle grin plastered on his face while he waits for you to finally open your eyes.

“How ya feelin’, sugar? Did ya have fun?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face to match the cocky tone in his voice. Asshole. He knows what the answer is, and he just wants to hear you admit it. “I’m not answering that,” you scoff, and he laughs, the amused glint returning to his eyes. Back to the cat and mouse, huh? That’s perfectly fine with him; he’ll play this game with you for as long as you let him.

Changbin stands now, grabbing the bag he tossed aside earlier from off the floor and returning it to you. If you’re being honest, you’re surprised he’s keeping his word- you hoped he would, of course, but there was no guarantee. “What’s that look for, darlin’? I told you, I’m not a monster,” he says and you roll your eyes. He may not be a monster, as he puts it, but he’s definitely still an arrogant asshole.

“I’m headin’ up for a bath, but you’re welcome to join me if ya like,” Changbin says, and once again going against your better judgment, you find yourself genuinely considering it. You should definitely leave- get your belongings back to your family, ride far away from him and never look back, and yet..

“I want in first,” you say as you stand, leaving your bag behind on the sofa as you walk towards where you know the bathroom to be. “Whatever ya say, darlin’,” he grins as you once again take control back in your own hands; you won’t have it for long, but if he wants the game to be fun, he needs to let the ball be in your court sometimes.

The game of cat and mouse can’t exist without a little give and take, so for right now, he’ll give; so that when he takes, and takes, and takes, it’ll be that much more enjoyable. Watching as you strip yourself naked to enter the tub, smiling when you fight him on whether or not he should help you wash up and find you new clothes to wear, laughing when you grumble about deciding to stay for the night. Oh, he’s really looking forward to the fun he’ll have with you from now on.

if you see this then thank you for reading til the end !! <3 while i've read a lot of fics containing it, this is my first time actually writing a dubcon fic so i was a lil nervous about releasing this but i hope that wasn't too obvious and you enjoyed it fsgsfg thanks again !!

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz smut #changbin smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune

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itwasthereaminuteago · 10 months

Text

|| Engagement ||

Matt Murdock x gn reader

Tags/warnings: mild angst, mild smut, meta, sorry not sorry I had to!!! 😂

As always, I adore and appreciate any comments, reblogs, etc and I'm extremely thankful to you for reading my fics!

Matt's arms tighten around you as you lie snuggled up together in bed. He can pick up on your disconnected mood from your elevated heart rate and the way he hears your breathing change every time you think about saying something and then stop yourself.

"You know you can talk to me, if something's wrong." He says quietly.

You take a deep inhale, sighing it out as you nuzzle into his t-shirt at his shoulder. "I know," you reply, choosing to ignore the invitation to unload.

He pushes a little harder in response. "Sweetie, you've been off for a while now, you think I hadn't noticed?"

"Urgh. It's stupid."

He turns his head to kiss you on the top of your head, giving you another squeeze. "I'm sure it's not, and talking about might help? If you want."

You huff out another sigh. "I dunno, I've kind of talked it over with others but it doesn't seem to make any difference. I'm not sure it's something I can fix."

Concern washes over Matt's features. "Is– is it something I've done? Or not done?" He gently takes your face in his hands. "Sweetheart, you'd tell me if it was me wouldn't you? I'd want you to."

You smile, bringing your hand up to stroke through his soft, messy hair. "Of course I would, and no it's nothing you've done, so don't fret."

The worry melts from his brow. "Alright, but c'mon, try me. I'm sure we can do something about whatever it is that's got you down."

"Well… it's work related. I'm not getting anywhere near as much feedback on my stuff as I used to. You know how in the creative sector we kinda thrive on others sharing our work to bring it to the attention of others? I've been feeling for a while now that the sense of community that we had has just sort of disappeared. People don't seem to want to interact that much with what we make."

Matt groans. "Baby, is this about the lack of reblogs on Tumblr again? "

You can't help frowning. "It is." You admit.

He smiles and rolls over to cage you underneath him. "I could make you forget about it, for a while at least?"

"Matty!" You push him off with a frustrated sigh. "Are you honestly trying to distract me with sex? You know how important this is to me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I don't mean to trivialise the issue, I just thought I could take your mind off it, maybe make you feel better."

"So kind and selfless of you…" you smirk as he starts to kiss along the column of your neck.

"I try." He smiles. "Anyway, you were saying? And I'm gonna keep kissing you."

"Fine. Okay, so I know that I should create for myself and not for other people…"

"But it's nice to get some recognition, right?" You nod as Matt holds himself over you again continuing to make his way down your neck towards your collarbones.

"Right. I really do appreciate the likes, but if people are just 'liking' my work without sharing it, that means it just ends up dead in the water. No-one else really gets the chance to enjoy it."

"Any idea why they are not sharing?" Matt asks, lightly stroking your side.

"I dunno, maybe they're not familiar with how the site works, that it doesn't have an algorithm? Maybe they're embarrassed to let other people see what they're looking at? Especially if it's something a bit risqué."

Matt hums. "Yeah but didn't you tell me before that they could just create a sideblog that's not associated with their main account, and reblog things they like using that and no one would be any wiser?'

"Exactly! And anyway, it's not like everyone doesn't enjoy looking at and reading porn…"

Matt lifts his head up, a slight sly smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. "Mm true. So what else are you sad about?"

You sigh again. You can't seem to stop yourself.

"Well, people aren't commenting on works either. There's rarely any discussion, I mean even just a manic keyboard smash would be amazing for an artist to see in their notifications, but there's barely even that anymore. Commenting on a stranger's fan works is so much fun, it can really bring people together!"

"That's how a great community grows isn't it?" Matt asks you.

"Yep, and you end up making so many friends you would never have thought. I miss that aspect of it a lot."

Matt's swiftly moving down to lavish attention over your chest, and you momentarily lose your train of thought as his lips brush over your nipple. "And have you brought people's attention to this problem?"

"Of course! Many other creators have explained why reblogs and sharing are so important in eloquently written PSAs, but I guess that the target audience must not see them because they're perhaps only looking at the stories and fanart from tags and they maybe don't see the other dashboard posts. I dunno."

Matt starts to lick an achingly slow intimate path down your stomach and you feel heat spreading throughout your body, your heart rate now elevated for quite a different reason. Then suddenly, he stops.

"Have you thought about maybe incorporating the message into one of your creations? Maybe that might reach the intended audience better."

You close your eyes as you consider the idea. He shifts further down the bed and you allow him to spread your thighs apart and slot his shoulders inbetween.

"Mm, well… that's- actually that's a good idea. I mean, it can't hurt to try, can it? You're the devil on my shoulder Matty."

"Exactly. But leave it till tomorrow sweetheart. Right now this devil wants to make you feel good."

You bite down on your lip as he flashes you a smoldering look before ducking down to make good on his promise.

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock smut #reblog fics and art!!!#comment on stuff!#make friends and keep the community going! 😊#thank you thank you!

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sillyunknownkitkat · 5 months

Text

𝓣𝓸𝓴𝓪𝔂𝓪𝓶𝓲 𝓕𝓾𝓶𝓲𝓴𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝔁 𝓫𝓾𝓫𝓫𝓵𝔂!𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓱! 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

Tw : fem!reader, piercings, makeup, very vague description of gore, just fluff tbh

This was requested, but tumblr decided to screw my drafts up :( But hey, the staff is working on it!

When if first sees you, he's quite curious.

For the sake of this, we're going to say that UA allows piercings and makeup.

I definitely think Mina would talk to you! Like this girl probably loves fashion and alternative style

She'd probably ask you how you do your makeup, what products you use, is it easy to take it off,...

And he wasn't doing it on purpose but he listened to your conversation with her

And when he hears you talk, he feels his heart skip a beat. How could you have such a dark aesthetic but still be so bubbly?

Naturally, he's drawn out by your style but your personality?????? bonus points bby

You have to take the first step because this boy is quite reserved.

After a while, you both become close friends. Not only do you guys share the same aesthetic (well he doesn't really dress up goth but yk) but you guys have the perfect releshionship

Like moon and sun, black cat and golden retriever, ....

He can't help but slowly fall in love with you, I mean you treat him like a normal human being, heck you're so nice to him

Look at him and try to tell me he wasn't bullied of something because of his head. Kids are fucking mean man.

So when you're actually willing to spend time with him and listen to everything he has to say? He melts.

From personal experience, when you don't talk about the stuff you like because people don't care, when you find someone you can't stop talking about it.

He was really embarrassed the first time it happened and kept apologizing. Of course, you told him that he didn't need to apologize and that you were actually really enjoying hearing him talk. Give him some feedback on what he said and he's (a bit shyly) continuing the conversation.

I think that he would tell you that he loves you by accident.

Like picture this :

You're both sitting on his bed, sharing goth music that you like, and he just looks at you lovingly before muttering under his breath. "You're amazing ____, I love you so much..."

So you stop in the middle of your sentence and look at him with a big smile and say "I love you too Tokoyami."

He doesn't move for a while, not believing what just happened. When he gains back his composure, he just smiles a bit, tears of happiness forming in his eyes, and takes your hands in his before asking you out on a date.

Now, let's get to the actual relationship headcanons :)

HE. IS. A. GENTLEMAN.

Always offers you help when you seem like you might need it, praises your work, listens to everything you have to say, ....

He also writes poems for you. At first, he would just leave them on your bed for you to find them, but after a while, he reads them to you.

So, while I know he's not an actual bird, I think he has some instincts.

Like he brings you shiny things as gifts. Please don't point it out because he will get embarrassed about it.

He also coos when you guys hug, cuddle, ...

Loves when you pet Dark Shadow, I feel like some people are scared of them/it, but seeing you so happy and relaxed makes him really happy :)

He's a sucker for physical affection. I don't think he ever got a lot, so he does take steps by steps but truly adores every moment of it.

Once he's got comfortable, he is a bit clingy. Not in a bad way at all!

I think he'd prefer if you're releshionship stays secret. It's not that he's embarrassed or anything but 1A is really noisy

Love to go on dates with you. While he prefers to be In calmer places, with less people, he's open to whatever you want to do

May or May not try ritual with you :3 but that's only for my crazy girlies lol

He's a simple man, as long as he's with you he's happy

That's it :) sorry if I didn't really go onto the bubbly aspects, since I'm not like that at all I had a bit of a hard time writing it 😅

I love Tokoyami, he's so under rated :(

have a great day/night and be safe everyone <3

#mha fanfiction #mha #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #tokoyami fumikage headcanons #tokoyami fumikage x reader #fumikage tokoyami #tokoyami Fumikage fluff

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ohdeerfully · 1 month

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OhDeerfully's Discord

I already have a post like this, but since it's been some time and the server has been flashed out a bit, I wanted to make a new post with more details!

Click to Join!!!

All About It

first of all, if you like my writing, the discord is a great place to get in touch with me! i love chatting with everybody. plus, i have my own little corner where i post sneak peaks to my fics and links to new posts as soon as they come out

we also accept all citizens of alastor nation

also just a general place to chat with other writers, get feedback for writing, request writing, etc. etc. all about writing!

the server has come a long way in just a week (or two i dont really know tbh), and still growing!! help me build this empire >:)

everybodys welcome! you dont have to write your own fanfiction to join or anything; just connect with other hellaverse fans!

also i may plan a hazbin hotel (or something else) watchparty later on, so u should totally join for that it would be awesome

Contents

as stated above, there are a handful of writing related channels from self-promotion, requests, feedback, etc.

share your art too! and OCs if you have them. we eat those up like crazy. theres a "share your OC" tax to joining the server btw (im joking)

fresh baked roles. standard color, gender, and interests roles but also choose which of the seven deadly sins you are, and where you are in the hellaverse hierarchy! fun stuff. we are overrun with overlords and its awesome

honestly just a fun, little growing community of real nice people who all share a passion for hazbin hotel, helluva boss, and fanfiction!!

^also we have this emoji specifically which i think is neat I JUST LOOKED AT THIS ON MOBILE AND REALIZED HOW HORRIBLE IT LOOKS IM SO SORRY

Really Simple Rules

rule #1 be awesome B)

also please be respectful. considering my blog is an 'x reader' type blog, there's no shortage of that! if that makes you uncomfortable (especially alastor x reader), this server may not be for you. if you still join, just be polite!

minors are welcome. i know hazbin is pretty NSFW, but please don't post anything explicitly nsfw. i can make an 18+ restricted channel if needed

tbh i trust yall to behave so i dont need to be more strict

Click to Join!!!

still not sure? no worries! you can easily access the link later on all of my fanfic posts! or, you can find this post under the '#ohdeerfully discord' tag

if you have any questions, feel free to DM me!

#ohdeerfully discord #ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel discord #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #alastor x you #pls join we dont bite

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her.

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched.

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go.

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command.

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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