#and catch is already slipping out the back door before anyone can notice | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girlgenius1111 · 3 months

Text

you can face this

barça x reader

r struggles with an eating disorder. her teammates catch on.

this [obviously] contains descriptions of an eating disorder. do not read if this could be triggering to you. please, just don't.

-----

You hadn't really realized that it had gotten bad again. It was one of those things that crept on you, unconscious bad habits making a return until you had fully relapsed. It was 0-100, and it was even more complicated now that you played for Barça. Not just because of the overbearing teammates, but also because your fitness was strictly kept track of- you had to remain at a weight that wouldn't flag with the physios, or affect your strength too much. But another part of you still hated that number on the scale- it was a constant battle between those two parts of you. The rational side, trying to keep it together, and the not so rational side that didn't care what it destroyed on it's quest to be smaller.

You kept up a surprisingly strong façade. It was easier when the team wasn't traveling, and obviously more complicated when you were. You lived alone in Barcelona, in a perfect little apartment, rather close by to the homes of your teammates, namely Alexia. She liked the younger players to live nearby, so she could keep an eye on everyone, she said.

Your teammates could tell you were having a hard time; it was obvious by the way they worked harder to get a laugh out of you, how they'd show up to hangout of the blue, just because they were in the neighborhood. None of them had approached you about what was bothering you yet, and you assumed they didn't have any idea what was really going on. There were clues, though, ones you weren't aware of, that they were most certainly picking up on.

The first clues weren't much; the way you'd pick at your food whenever you ate with the team. For your part, you did well to hide the fact that every bite was painful to choke down. Still, there was just something slightly off.

It was the quieter members of the team that noticed other things, but they didn't bring them up to anyone else, not yet. Not when it was just you changing rather quickly in the locker room, or how you often showed up at team dinners claiming to have already eaten.

-----

The first person to really notice that something wasn't just a little off, that something was wrong, was Pina. The two of you had finally convinced Alexia to allow you to room together; previously, she'd said no, arguing that you two would inevitably get up to trouble left to your own devices. You'd worn Alexia out, though, and both you and Pina were practically giddy when she'd flashed you with a warning look and read off your names together.

You'd managed to put it out of your head, how much of a hard time you were having. Until dinner that night. It was a rough day, rougher than you were used to, and while you normally could pretend pretty well in front of the team, you didn't feel like that was possible this particular evening. You'd gone to dinner, eaten as much as you could bare, before you mumbled something to the table about having a headache, and slipping back off to your room.

You were overwhelmed, really, and feeling incredibly alone. Something deep inside of you ached, and you wanted it to stop, leave you alone, just for one night. You were so frustrated, and pathetically, so sad. You thought you would have more time before Pina came back to the room, so you gave yourself the grace to breakdown, just a little. You could shower, wash away all traces of the tears, and be back to normal by the time your roommate returned.

What you somehow forgot, however, was that Pina was, while silly and mischievous, also one of the kindest people you'd ever met. You should have known that she'd come check on you, but you were slightly preoccupied with trying to keep a handle on your breakdown.

You didn't hear the click of the key card just before the door opened, and you were caught completely off guard when Claudia stepped inside, her face scrunching with worry as she caught sight of you curled up in the cozy chair in the corner of the room, sobbing quietly into your hands.

"Amiga! What is it?" She asked, rushing over to you. "Is it your headache? Should I get a physio?"

"No, I'm fine, Pina," you replied, wiping furiously at the tears that were still insisting on spilling from your eyes.

"Why are you crying if you're fine?" Pina asked in a quieter voice, on of her hands coming to rest on your knee.

“Claudia, seriously, I’m fine.” You insisted. You looked at her, then, and you looked so devastated, Pina knew instantly that you were lying. She felt so out of her league, so unsure what to do.

“Stay here.” She said after a minute, practically sprinting out of the room.

You knew she’d come back with someone, whoever she could find to fix you. This was the a job for an older player, not her. She gave good hugs, and could always make you laugh, but you needed someone older, someone wiser.

You sighed, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop her. You could only wait, and try to calm down.

You'd stopped crying, you really had, by the time Pina returned with Mapi in tow. You were prepared to act as though your friend was being dramatic, and really, you were fine, but then Mapi walked in, looking like she'd run the whole way to your room to check on you. The serious look on her face was such a departure from how she normally acted, that you were rather thrown off. She caught sight of you sitting on the bed, your red face, the slight downturn of your lips. What really got you was the way she didn't even say anything; she simply walked closer and opened her arms.

You were moving before you could even think to remain where you were, falling easily into the older girl's arms. They wrapped tight around you, and you buried your face in her shoulder. Tears ran off your face, collecting on Mapi's sweatshirt, but she held tight to you, one arm around your back, another holding your head close against her.

"It's alright, chica, we've got you." She murmured. You allowed yourself to sink into the comfort. For a moment, pretending that you weren't keeping so much inside, hidden away from the people that cared about you. You pretended that Mapi knew what was going on, and she was holding tight to you as reassurance, an unspoken promise that you'd be alright.

She didn't know what was wrong, though, and you weren't sure you'd be alright, not really. The little bubble of comfort and safety was broken when the defender pulled back, hands on your shoulders as she looked searchingly at you.

"What happened?" She asked. Her grip on you was tight, and you knew she wouldn't let go until you answered her. Pina was visible, just over Mapi’s shoulder, fidgeting with her hands and looking on nervously. Your only possible course of action was to lie, and to lie well.

"I don't know, I think I'm about to get my period or something," you lied. "I was just kind of sad, but it's fine, I'm fine now."

Mapi didn't look convince, nor did Pina.

"Are you sure? If something is bothering me, you can tell me. Or I can get Alexia if you want," Mapi suggested, beginning to turn toward the door.

That, you absolutely could not let happen. Alexia would get the truth out of you in seconds, especially when you were already so upset.

"No, seriously Mapi, I'm fine. Don't bother Alexia." You insisted, catching her arm and spinning her back around.

She eyed you for a minute, completely straight faced, before holding out her pinky to you. "Promise you are okay?" She asked.

You rolled your eyes, but linked your pinky with hers. "I promise."

She seemed satisfied after that, and you felt guilty about lying. It was for the best, though. You didn't need to worry your teammates, not when you were fine. Not when you had everything under control. Obviously, your motivation to lie went much deeper than that; the fear that they'd make you stop was suffocating.

-----

You shouldn't have felt guilty for lying, because Mapi went right to Alexia anyway. The Catalan Captain miraculously had her own room, for the 4th trip that year, although no one felt brave enough to comment on it. She opened the door warily, thinking Mapi was knocking just to chat, which she got enough of during the daytime hours.

"María, I'm really tired," Alexia started, glancing longingly back at her bed, where a nighttime call with her girlfriend and a cozy blanket awaited her.

"It's about y/n. I think something's wrong."

As Mapi had predicted, she didn't need to say more before Alexia was, now wide awake, stepping to the side, motioning for the defender to walk in.

"What is it?" She demanded once the door was shut behind her.

"Pina came to get me, and she said y/n was really upset about something, but she was pretending she was fine. I went back to their room and she had stopped crying, but as soon as I gave her a hug, she started crying again. And then once she'd stopped crying, she tried to tell me she was fine, something about getting her period and being sad for no reason. She pinky promised, but she was lying, Ale, I could tell. She looked so upset, like she was barely holding it together." Mapi's worry was evident in her tone, and, like you, Alexia noted the seriousness that was present on her friend's face. It wasn't normal, and it meant that, likely, there really was something to be worried about.

"Do you have any idea what she could be upset about?"

"No, not really. She's been a little off, I guess, but I can't think of what could be wrong."

Alexia sighed, silently agreeing with Mapi that you had been acting weird, but also that she couldn't think of a reason for it.

"I'll keep an eye on her, and I'll tell a couple of the others to as well. If something else happens, we can talk to her again." Alexia decided, somewhat uneasily. She wanted to figure out what was wrong, and fix it now, but suffocating you while you were already upset probably wasn't the best idea.

-----

In hindsight, maybe Alexia should have done something sooner. Your behavior remained off, but nothing else occurred that would really raise any red flags. That was, until the team had a double training session, and everyone ate lunch together. You had noticed more eyes on you in the last week, and figured that Mapi had probably asked a few of the older girls to keep an eye on you.

In an effort to convince them you were fine, you forced yourself to eat a normal amount of food at lunch, more than the carefully calculated portion you were intending to consume. It was alright, at first. You were able to distract yourself, joking around with your teammates. When you glanced down at your plate, though, finding it empty, you felt a wave of horror wash over you. You had no choice, no other option. It was too much. You couldn't do this.

You slipped away from the table after a couple of minutes of trying to calm yourself down. It felt like everyone was looking at you, judging you. You made it to the bathroom and kneeled in front of the toilet.

In that moment, you hated yourself. For eating too much, for caring about eating too much. For doing this. Tears fell, unrelated to what you were forcing your body to do. You just wanted to be normal, to feel good. You wanted to look in the mirror, and not hate what you saw looking back at you. You wanted to see what everyone else apparently saw; a normal, average looking person. You hated this, hated what you were doing, but you couldn't stop. You wanted to, more than anything.

When the door creaked open, and you realized you hadn't locked the door behind you, you were caught in the worst position possible. You didn't need to look up, see the disgusted faces looking back at you, to know that you wouldn't be able to play this off. It was obvious that you weren't just ill. You were sick.

You didn't look up, couldn't look up, at whoever was at the door. You sat back against the wall, staring numbly at the floor.

"Go get Alexia. Discreetly." You heard Ingrid instruct, and you heard Aitana reply quietly before her footsteps echoed back down the hall.

The resounding emotion was shame; for being so weak, for being caught doing this. You felt so stupid. You were an athlete, you couldn't be behaving like this. At the same time, the need to lie, to not let them make you stop persisted. You were torn, completely at a loss for words. So, instead of saying something you couldn't think through all the way, you remained quiet.

------

Aitana ran like there was a fire to the cafeteria, only slowing to a walk when she neared the doors. Her heart ached for you, truly. You'd looked so destroyed, the hatred you held for yourself clear on your face. She sped walk to where Alexia was sitting, making eye contact as the blonde turned towards her on instinct, as if sensing that something wasn't right. Mapi was on her other side, and she'd known something was wrong the second she saw her girlfriend go after you, but she'd been deep in conversation with Irene, and she hadn't wanted to overreact.

Aitana leaned down, speaking quietly in Alexia's ear. "Come with me, it's y/n."

Alexia nodded once, her expression firm as she stood. As if they were 2 ducklings following their mother, Mapi and Irene rose too, following their captain and Aitana out into the hall. They stopped just outside the doors looking expectantly at the younger player.

Aitana worried her lip in between her teeth, looking intensely at Alexia. She didn't want to say what was going on, not in front of the other girls. Ingrid had told her to get Alexia, and to be discreet. You didn't need a crowd of people.

"What happened?" Alexia asked after a minute, her voice anxious.

"I... Ingrid told me to get you, and to be discreet." Aitana's gaze flickered to the other girls, and the blonde captain caught her meaning.

"Mapi, Irene, go back inside, I'll take care of it."

They both began to protest, but Alexia remained resolute, shaking her head at them. "No, Ingrid said just me. Whatever is going on we don't need to overwhelm her." The other girls turned, sighing dramatically, walking back into the cafeteria.

Alexia fixed her gaze back on Aitana, wordlessly asking for more information.

"Ingrid and I followed her to the bathroom, and we heard her getting sick. Ingrid opened the door, it wasn't locked, and she was... she was making herself..." Aitana trailed off uncomfortably.

The pieces started to fall together for Alexia, and she didn't need the younger woman to say anything else.

"Okay. Okay. Thank you, Tana. I'll make sure she's okay."

Aitana nodded nervously, watching after her captain as the blonde made her way down the hall and towards the bathroom that the brunette had indicated.

-----

To your surprise, Ingrid didn't try to make you talk. Her and Aitana had watched you leave the room, and worried that you were ill or something, with the look on your face. They'd followed you, hovering outside the bathroom door, before trying the handle. Ingrid hadn't expected what she found, and she wasn't exactly sure what to do. All she knew was that you needed help.

She shut the door behind her, locking it this time, before grabbing a paper towel. She got it wet with warm water, before carefully approaching you. Ingrid flushed the toilet, before lifting your chin to face her. You shut your eyes, unable to really look at her. You couldn't see how disgusted with you she was; that would be it. That would shatter you beyond repair.

Ingrid carefully wiped your mouth off, before taking your hand in hers, and wiping your fingers off too. The action made you inhale sharply. She knew, she'd seen. You knew she had, but the silent acknowledgement made you sick to your stomach all over again.

The Norwegian disposed of the paper towel, turning towards the door when a quiet knock sounded. You clenched your jaw, clenched your fists, dreading the conversation you knew your captain was about to force you to have.

You didn't want a lecture. You knew what you were doing wasn't okay, wasn't healthy. You knew, and you did it anyway. Because, despite what you told yourself, it wasn't about being healthy. It was about looking the way you thought you should.

Alexia entered, taking in Ingrid's troubled expression, before her eyes fell to you. You looked hopeless, completely embarrassed, and Alexia wanted to fix it. Make you understand that you didn't have to be embarrassed, not with her. She wanted to promise that everything would be okay, that she'd make sure that you were okay. She wanted you to let her in, finally, admit that you were hurting.

None of these things were conversations to be had in the bathroom, though. Alexia walked forward, holding out a hand down to you. Slowly, you raised your head to look at her. There wasn't any revulsion evident on her face, and even though you wanted to run, hide, pretend that this wasn't happening, you knew you couldn't do that.

You took Alexia's hand, allowing her to pull you to your feet. She was steady where you were shaky, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you out of the bathroom. She stopped briefly, looking down at you.

"Do you want Ingrid to come, or would you rather talk just the two of us?" She asked softly.

Your eyes flickered to Ingrid, not wanting to hurt her feelings when she'd been so kind, but also thinking that you couldn't handle talking to more than one person about what was going on. It was horribly overwhelming enough as it was.

Ingrid caught your hesitance, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "It's alright, elskling. You talk with Ale, okay? And maybe later you can come over and have a movie night with me and María?"

You half smiled at her, as it was all you could manage, a smile she returned, before she headed the opposite way down the hall.

Alexia tightened her grip around you, like she was a little afraid you were going to run. To be fair, you'd considered it, but the tight hold your captain had on you had shut that option down. She led you through the maze of hallways, eventually finding a room that seemed to meet her requirements. It was a little relaxation lounge, one no one ever used as it wasn't very big, and the team kind of stuck together.

Alexia sat down next to you on one of the sofa's, and you appreciated that she didn't sit in the chair across the room; that would have felt terrifying like a therapy session, and you definitely weren't there yet.

"How long has this been going on?" Alexia asked. Her question startled you, having been sure she was going to try to make you talk first. She liked to do that, feeling like important discussions with her teammates were more successful when they steered the conversation. However, Alexia knew you wouldn't steer it anywhere helpful.

"How long has what been going on?" You replied, instantly regretting the words. Why had you said that? Alexia was aware that you knew what she was asking about, and she wouldn't let you get away with playing dumb.

Shaking her head, she spoke firmly. "No, we are not going to do that. Aitana and Ingrid saw, pequeña. We have to talk about this."

"I don't want to." You murmured, resting your head in your hands. You didn't. You would have done practically anything to avoid it.

"I know." Alexia told you sympathetically, rubbing her hand up and down your back. "We have to, though. I care about you way too much to not do anything about this." Ale paused. "When did it start?"

"It was bad when I was younger, a teenager. And I went to therapy, and I was doing well for a while. I'm not really sure what happened, why it started again."

Alexia didn't miss that you didn't answer her question. "When did it start?" She asked again.

You sighed, head still hidden away in your hands. "A few weeks ago. It wasn't that bad at first, I didn't notice. And then it was, and it was too late, I couldn't fix it."

"Why?" Alexia asked next.

You shook your head, even as the words threatened to spill out; the words that harassed you, that tainted every meal.

"Come on, pequeña. I am not going to judge you, just tell me."

Often, Alexia was seen as this intimidating, hardcore player. She'd do anything for her teammates, though, and she was capable of extreme kindness. If you were lucky enough to know Ale, to really know her, you knew how good she was. Maybe it was this, one of the best people you knew begging you to talk to her, that made you relent.

"I... I hate the way that I look. I hate it." Your words were dripping with self loathing. Alexia understood the unspoken words; you hated yourself.

There were a lot of things Alexia wanted to tell you, but didn't, not yet. She'd need them in the future, when the urge returned, and you fought against it. She'd need the reminders then.

Instead, she coaxed your face away from your hands, looking intently at you as she spoke.

"You cannot keep doing this. You know that. As your captain, and as your friend, cariño, you need help. We need to get you help."

Your eyes began to well with tears. Alexia took a shaky breath.

"And I know you do not want it, but you deserve it. Can you let me get you help, pequeña? Please?"

You considered for a couple moments. "What if I can't get better? What if... what if I can't?"

Above all, that was your biggest fear. Not being strong enough to beat it. It was why you resisted help; you didn't want to let everyone down if you failed. You wanted to be strong enough, you just weren't convinced you were. You were weak enough to start this, to fall into the horrible loop, to begin with.

"You will, cariño. You know how I know?"

You looked at her, eyes wide and watery. "How?" Your voice cracked, and Alexia took one of your hands in hers.

"Because you do not give up. You are one of the strongest people I know." You looked doubtful, still. "And I don't give up. I will not give up on you. We will get you better, together. You will not have to do any of it alone."

"Do you promise?" You asked, a few tears sliding down your cheeks as you blinked at the blonde.

Alexia didn't say anything, she just held out her pinky towards you. You linked your pinkie with hers, and knew, somewhere deep within you, that this wasn't a promise she was going to break.

-----

Alexia did end up telling you all of the things she'd thought of, eventually. She wrote them down in a little note on her phone, not wanting to forget what to say, not when you needed her. Your teammates, the ones who knew, who you trusted enough to let know, used them too.

-----

That it didn't matter what you looked like, being so unkind to your body was never acceptable.

Alexia told you this one evening she spent at your house, after you'd had a long therapy session. You'd arrived home, dissolving into tears, and somehow, she had known you'd needed her.

She showed up on your doorstep like some kind of magical being that could sense when her friends were sad, letting you cry into her for at least an hour.

She'd whispered the words into your hair, when you asked her if she thought getting better was worth it, if it was so painful.

You believed her, that day. Just a little.

-----

She loved you, and there was nothing to be embarrassed about, or ashamed of.

She told you this a week later when you slipped up, and you'd called her from your bathroom floor, words unintelligible through your sobs. Alexia dropped everything to come over, and spent a while promising you that relapsing didn't make you a bad person. That you were doing your best, and that was all you could expect from yourself. That relapses were a part of recovering, as much as it sucked.

When she said the words, you believed her, a bit more this time. She'd been at your apartment before you could really even get any words out. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't care, if she was disgusted with you. If she didn't love you like she said she did.

-----

Being healthy, above all else, was what mattered, and what you'd been doing wasn't.

This was Ingrid and Mapi. You'd gone over to their house for dinner, which proved to be challenging. You confessed how guilty you felt for eating enough, and how guilty you felt for not eating enough. It was hard to figure out what the right thing was, when everything felt like the wrong decision.

Mapi spoke these words to you, sounding wiser and more sure than you'd ever heard her. You trusted Mapi, you trusted Ingrid. If they said that what you were doing wasn't healthy, they weren't lying. Another piece of you got better that day, even as it was one of the hardest you faced.

-----

You were beautiful, and strong, and your body allowed you to play the sport you loved.

You lost count of who told you this one. Irene, Lucy, Alexia, Ingrid, Mapi, Pina. It became something of a mantra, something they'd make you repeat when they saw you having a bad day.

Because, above all, you loved football.

You learned to love your body for allowing you to play football.

You learned to love your body just for being itself, regardless of what it looked like.

You learned to love yourself, to not put so much pressure on everything you did.

You healed, slowly. You knew, without a doubt, that you couldn't have done it without the team. You didn't want to conceive of a world where you would have to struggle alone, because you weren't. As long as they were around, you never would be.

-----

it's a good thing i have therapy tomorrow!

i joke, although i do have therapy tomorrow.

getting better is so worth it. i promise.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader

485 notes · View notes

rs-hawk · 4 months

Text

Kinkmas: Day Six

The Father, The Demon and The Church

Slipping into the church wasn’t hard. All he had to do was make up a few documents and dress the part. With a few tweaks thanks to illusions, no one would be able to tell that he wasn’t a priest, except for you. You could feel something was off about the way he smiled at you during mass, or how he always asked you first about confessions, but you just bottled it up. He’s the Father. You don’t have to worry about him, right?

During Christmas Eve Mass, you had wandered outside for a bit of air. It was hot and stuffy inside, and the whole “eating the body of Jesus” thing always made you queasy. You never understood why it had to be phrased the way it was. Just as you had let the cool air cool your hot face, there was the sound of the heavy church doors closing behind you.

“Hello there. Slipping out a little early tonight, aren’t we?” his familiar voice came from behind you.

Your face flushed again as you turned to look at the Father. “Good evening, Father. I just needed a breath of fresh air is all.”

“I’m sure you did,” he mused as he walked over to you, his short black air catching the candlelight pouring from inside. It looked almost oil slicked with a multitude of different colors, but that was gone in an instant.

He sat beside you on the stairs, making you feel a bit self-conscious. Was your skirt too short? Your top too tight? You pulled your jacket closer around you, hoping to rid yourself of those thoughts. You always dressed nicely at church. You were just being paranoid due to the extra attention.

The Father set a hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. He chuckled, leaving it there. “There now, you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No Father,” you says automatically, though you didn’t look at him now. He slid is hand further up your leg, making you flinch away. “What are you-.”

“Shh, I’m just testing something out that you told me during confessional,” he whispered in your ear, finally gripping your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, and your mind flashed back to the confessional where he had encouraged you to be completely open with you. You admitted that you lusted, and had wanted to be taken in public without anyone knowing, but where anyone might find out. Is that what he meant? Why would he be testing that?

“You can’t,” you said with a breathy whine, but he already had pushed your panties aside and was teasing your lips with his finger.

Before you could protest further, he slipped a finger inside of you, making you let out a soft whine.

“I can if you keep quiet,” he insisted, a hissing undertone to his voice.

Before you knew it, your legs were wrapped around his hips as you rocked back and forth on his fingers, him pumping them in and out of you. When someone opened the church doors, you hid your face in his chest, but he remained calm as he continued to play with your pretty little cunt.

“Yes? Can I help you?” he asked, only turning his head slightly.

“Will you be coming back inside soon, Father? I’m just worried about you getting cold. Father Jones is doing an amazing job, of course, but…,” the man trails off awkwardly.

“I’ll be back in soon. I think I just am a little under the weather and the fresh air is helping,” he replied, curling his fingers inside of you. You had to bite the corner of your cheek to keep from crying out.

The man apologized and wished the Father well before heading back inside. As soon as the door was shut, the Father adjusted you, grinding your dripping cunt against the bulge in his pants. That’s when you really noticed the change. His eyes were dark as night, and his skin seemed… off. Too tight fitting. His teeth were unusually sharp when he smiled at you.

As the realization dawned on you, it was too late. He was able to pull down his trousers and bury his enormous cock inside of you in seconds. All you could is cry out in pleasure as he pumped you up and down. You knew you shouldn’t like it as much as you did, and later you’d blame the demon, but no. You wanted this. Maybe more than you’d wanted anything.

You whined and begged for more in his long, pointed ear. Your lips found every inch of his skin you could manage, only nipping him when his claws dug into your soft skin.

It felt like he would split you open with the way he was moving you up and down, like you weighed nothing and were just a toy for his pleasure. He yanked you down roughly, coaxing a loud moan from your lips. That was when he placed a hand over your stomach, a light tease at how deep he was inside of you.

“What a good girl,” he mused as you were painted in the light pouring from the stained glass.

“Thank you, Father,” you panted, barley able to get it out before he went back to using your soft, human body.

460 notes · View notes

mitsies · 5 months

Text

SWEET NOTHINGS - gojo satoru . . this love, he thinks, might just be limitless.

some days are harder than others. today is particularly hard.

it's a cold tuesday night. the sky outside is bluer than blue, like the ocean on a television screen. it's easy for gojo satoru to lose himself on occasions like this.

it's not quiet, but sound is dulled. he hears the traffic outside his all-too-big apartment's window, and he hears the cat next door on the balcony meowing to be let in. but it's all so muffled, like there's water in his ears. the blue skies are suffocating, muting everything that falls under them. the world is underwater. his head feels all wrong.

there's nothing to be done now. he's finished at work, and everything else is covered, too. there is nothing left to distract him from his thoughts tonight. tonight, there are a million things happening in his head, drowning everything else out. tonight, while he is safe at home, he has never felt more at risk. tonight, he is truly, horribly alone.

satoru doesn't remember stepping into the shower. he doesn't remember polishing off the bottle of alcohol that's sitting on the bathroom counter, and thank god he doesn't remember its bitter taste. he doesn't remember the showerhead turning on, either. but at some point, his eyes refocus, and he's sitting on the cold, wet tile of his guest bathroom's shower. it's undecorated. there are no traces of life. not a shampoo bottle or stray hair, or a shaving razor or soap stains. the shower water is freezing. it stings and nips at his skin, a sharp-toothed animal, biting and chilling. if he could focus enough, satoru is sure he'd feel the ice building on his bones, as the water pelts his bareness like a knife into skin.

there are certain things that haunt him. that will always haunt him, it seems. that will be at the back of his mind until he is alone, like they are waiting to catch him. satoru is a man made of sin. he's the epitome of a system made to kill the only people who could even begin to try and understand him. he is the crown jewel of an empire built on blood. and he has seen dozens of people he's loved slip out of his grasp, just like that. oh, of course it's the nights, the nights just like these, where they come back to whisper in his ear. to tell him it's his fault— he already knows. this is redundant. he knows it's all his fault. he can smell the blood on his hands; coppery, metallic, and staining his skin. of course he knows.

satoru, for all his hypervigilance, doesn't notice the footsteps approaching, gently sounding on the bathroom tile. no, he doesn't know you're there until you call his name.

he'd know your voice anywhere. it's a part of him. your voice, saying his name. he likes it when you say it. it makes him feel better, somehow. he thinks you know this too, which is why you say it again. it's less of a question and more of a quiet exclamation. he wonders how this looks to you. a grown man, sitting on the shower floor, trapped in his own head. probably as pathetic as he feels. he should be better. he's 22, and acting like a teenager. he needs to be better. so he plasters on a typical, brazen smile and tips his head to see you. you're difficult to make out through the running water, which runs down the glass. he hopes you don't hear the rasp in his voice when he greets you, "hey."

it's out of character. you know him well enough to know that. maybe satoru would be more embarrassed, and maybe he'd try harder to act like nothing was wrong. but again— you know him. better than anyone else, anymore. you know him and you love him regardless. this much he knows is true, although he questions how much he deserves it. you've seen him through it all before. his good days, his bad ones, too.

his mind is still fuzzy, but you're opening the shower door and turning the water off. you comment about how cold it is, before kneeling down in front of him. your shoes are still on, so he tells you: "your shoes are on."

you give him a look. he knows that look. it's the 'don't question me right now' look. you're so pretty, satoru thinks. you wrinkle your nose when he exhales— he wonders if you smell the drink on his breath. "i was worried."

your hands are warm, so warm, against his cold, damp skin. a gentle touch travels from his shoulder down his arm. you treat him like he's made of glass. it's nice, for a change. he leans into your touch. you frown. "are you drunk?"

"uh.. a few sips."

he likes that you smile. it's a sad smile, but it's still a smile. "such a lightweight, satoru."

there you go, saying his name again. he hopes you touch his arm some more; your hands are so warm. and his wishes are granted, when your gentle touch moves to lift him up off the floor of the shower. he lets himself lean on you, and his face falls to your hair. it still smells the same as it did back in school. kind of floral. he likes your shampoo. maybe he'd steal it later.

you guide him out the shower and he realises just how cold he was. so it's a good thing that you bring him to his bedroom. the pillows smell like your hair. the sheets are soft and warm.

it's by memory, how you navigate his bedroom with ease. you know it like it's your own home. and he supposes that much might be true— you sleep here more than you do your own place. satoru had known you for years now. and he'd loved you years, too. but a couple of years after school, you'd been stationed off in another country to help a struggling community. you were time zones away for far too long. only recently had you returned— half a year ago, now. he hadn't moved house since you left so you'd always have somewhere familiar. he didn't touch the things you'd left, either, anticipating the day you'd come back.

satoru wonders if this is what you'd expected going into a relationship with him. he seems confident, he seems vibrant. you fell in love with his good days. you fell in love with that 99%, who he was 364 days out of the year. did you see the 1%, the 1 day, the bad day, coming? regardless of if you did, you stayed. he feels fuzzy.

you're back by his side now. a towel in hand, you dry his hair with nimble, careful fingers. you treat him like something delicate. like he's important. like he's broken, and like he's allowed to be. you press a kiss to his scalp and say something he doesn't really hear.

"you're so pretty," he mumbles as you pull away. you give him a little smile, and suddenly, satoru is jealous of your bedsheets, and how they can cradle you whilst you sleep. he’s jealous of your nails that get to cling to your fingers. he’s jealous of the scar on your left shoulder, because he wasn’t the one who gave it to you. he is so in love with you it aches. he is so empty, and so full of this love. the paradox makes him sick.

so when your hand trails across his jaw and pulls away, he holds it in place, so you're cradling his face. the pressure of your hand feels nice— he is so drawn to your touch.

"so pretty," he mumbles again, and this time you laugh. with your free hand, you card through his hair, water droplets making your fingers come away wet. "thank you, satoru. thank you."

deftly, you pry his hand off yours so you're free, much to his grumbled protests. you bite your lip to hide the size of the grin that cuts across your cheeks. your lover has always been a funny drunk, when he's not a sad one. usually, the two go hand-in-hand. it makes you sad, seeing him like this. you want nothing but happiness for him forever. you suppose it comes with the territory. you have bad days too. but you're allowed to feel. satoru is the strongest. he's meant to be good always, to protect, to serve, to be everything but not okay forever and ever. so you've come to think of yourself as lucky, to be able to have and hold him through both the good, and the bad.

among the practices you'd picked up in your time abroad, you've learned how to put your love in your touch. grabbing a small jar from the bedside table, a palmful of oil finds itself in your palm. when you'd first shown this to satoru, he'd been delighted— he'd said something along the lines of you being his personal spa treatment, with a gauchely suggestive look. you'd rolled your eyes then. but now, you take your place sitting behind him by the pillows, and he clambers in front of you by instinct. he doesn't move in a straight line and you try not to laugh. his head and shoulders fall into your lap and his eyes flutter up to gaze at you. they're half-lidded, and exhausted. there's a weight behind them that is not visible most days.

hands beginning in his hair, you watch those eyes flutter shut. they squeeze closed for a moment before he lets himself relax into your touch. deftly, with ease, you work through his hair. it's made easy by how much he maintains it— satoru is relentless about his beauty regiments— so it doesn't take long before you shift to his shoulders and upper arms.

his skin is still cold, but you feel it grow warmer beneath your touch. he's tense and rigid, and you take immense pleasure in the way his body loosens like a wire uncoiling. eyes following your hands, you observe him. the freckles on his back and upper arms are like splatters of paint in a canvas. intentionally unintentional, like the speckled on a fawn’s flank. a scar decorates his shoulder blade, from a time before infinity. he is so beautiful, even when he isn't trying. you're sick and full of love.

at some point, his breathing grows even. he's asleep in your lap. you keep rotating between carding through his hair and running your palms across his upper body with the tenderness only a lover could hold. satoru looks peaceful when he sleeps. you wonder what he might be dreaming of. bad dreams, perhaps? you don't think so. not tonight. his brow remains still, and his eyes are shut lightly, not pulled together. you lean down and plant a kiss to his temple.

gojo satoru was only human. and just like any other human, he had his ups and he had his downs. there would always be bad days to chase the good. but he knows, and you know, that there will always be you, too, to help the bad days feel a little better. you are always there to understand, to hold him and help him up, to make everything a little more okay again.

you let him know that it's alright. that tomorrow is a new day. that tomorrow, he can try again. yes, tomorrow will be better, satoru believes, so long as he has you.

this fic is rough, to say the least, but i wanted to celebrate the loml's bday so!! hi!! alternative title: gojo oiled up butt booty naked like the 4th of july

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojou #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojou #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #reader insert

516 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 5 months

Note

This is sooo early Love x Fae!Ghost coded like you bet his ass is crawling out from under the bed to finish the job before Tapping her silly. And if the bf goes missing shortly after…is anyone really gonna notice? (Submitted as screenshots cause it seems like the Instagram link was broken. Clarissa Wild be WILDIN like god damn)

God damn, that's wild. Who in their right mind would want to write something like- Me, I'm going to write it. Thank you Maelstrom.

(the first half of this is lost to tumblr's whims, rip some of the best creepy Ghost I've ever written. I love this man, obsessed with his obsession)

Ghost’s shadows boil with anger, their tendrils licking at the walls of your bedroom from where he stands in the corner. He tips his head, watching you. In bed with someone else already. Your body craves something your mind doesn’t remember, of course you’d seek out whatever pleasure you could, try to supplement the ache that he left you with. Despite being hidden from human perception, squeezing himself into the cut shadows of your home, your eyes keep touching on him. Drifting to the corner your lamp doesn’t touch, to the shadows that seem deeper and darker than the others.

Good.

You still know who you belong to, who sweetened your heart for slaughter and let you go again. You tip your head back, stretch your neck to avoid the seeking kiss your partner catches against your jaw. The soft noises you make are so different from the desperate panting moans that Ghost knows so well. It’s cute, like you’re putting on a show for him. You arch your back, try to force your partner’s cock deeper, desperate to have him hit all the lovely spots that Ghost knows he’s drilled into you. You’re not made for this pathetic display, you’re made for him.

He could scoop you up right then, when you stare into the shadows and give a quiet “please.” Oh, he knows all the noises you make, and that isn’t one of them. He knows you desperate, knows you needy and pleading, knows you with blood in your mouth and gold in your veins. The man you’re with seems to take that as satisfaction, his thrusts growing more frantic, finally pushing a genuine moan out of you, before he stills with a groan. Your hands fall from his shoulders to rest against the bed like they’ve been ejected from him. He pulls out, and mumbles something about disposing of the condom, needing a shower, anything to hide his mediocrity.

You give him a thumbs up. Pathetic.

The bathroom door closes and Ghost swirls his shadows around the lock as he steps from his hide. Your eyes dart to him immediately, wide with fear as you scramble up to push yourself against the headboard. You turn to shout for your partner and Ghost grabs your face, pressing his palm against your mouth to silence you before he taps your forehead.

You go lax in his grip, eyes far off and dreamy, unfocused and affectionate as you stare at him. Ghost releases his hold, dragging his knuckles against your jaw. He watches your soft smile, the way you press into his touch and turn to kiss his glove, and feels something possessive gnaw at his heart.

“You miss me love?” He knows you did, knows it as plainly as he can feel your grip on his wrist, holding his palm to your cheek. Still it twists painfully in his chest to hear your quiet, “yes.”

Ghost grabs your ankle and drags you down the bed, forcing you to lay down again. You spread your legs so eagerly for him. His perfect love, utterly and entirely his, such a well trained pet. He presses his fingers to your lips and you part them just enough to bite the soft leather of his gloves. Ghost slips his hand free to slide his fingers between your legs.

Poor thing, so wet and with no release. He pushes a thick finger into you, thrusting gently to collect your slick before dragging his finger back up to circle your clit. Just on the rough side of gentle, always exactly what you need. You watch him watching you, your lips pouting and your brows drawn together as he rubs his fingers against you.

You whine, your hips jumping, and Ghost pushes his mask up. Well trained.

His tongue licks over your cunt, and Ghost feels some of the tension leave his shoulders at the first taste of you. He’s kept you so well fucked for weeks, of course you’d miss it. That doesn’t mean anyone else can compete with him. Not when he eats you like a man starved, his tongue fluttering against your clit before he closes his lips around it and sucks. He works his fingers into you, the thick digits stroking your walls and pushing up against your soft spongy spot. Ghost knows every weakness in you, knows every string to pull and nerve to work.

You clench on his fingers, your hands pushing against his mask. His shadows twist in your grip, wrap themselves around you covetously as you claw at the monster settled between your legs. He knows every one of your moans, your whines high and tight, dissolve into begging pleas. You can hardly seem to get through one before your voice breaks on another. Ghost has never heard his name sung so sweetly as it does when you gasp it. He drags his tongue up your slit in long lapping licks, drinking down your slick greedily.

He pushes his free hand against your stomach, feels it jump at his touch, you’re so soft. He never should have let you go.

His fingers twist inside of you, and you arch your back to push your hips down against them. Pretty, pretty, pretty. His perfect, perfect, love. When you beg him, “please, please” it’s not his orgasm that he thinks about.

“Come on sweetheart,” He tells you, low and rough, he feels like an animal. His mouth waters at the sight of you, his teeth sharp and itching to bite, you’d be a meal he never forgot. One he’d regret for the rest of his life. “You wanna cum, you know how to ask.”

“Please Simon,” you murmur, your voice so soft it sends a shiver through him. Ghost feels his form shake, the ripples of his name like a shockwave to his shadows. He growls, presses his teeth to the soft skin of your thigh, and wills himself to bite. He can’t. He can’t hurt you, not when you-

Some tether between you snaps, and he feels it like a shock to his system.

“Go on baby,” He hears himself say, desperate to get that golden thread back. He’s giving you this, the only one that can give you this. Even when you don’t remember him, you’ll remember the feeling. It’s empty without him, but it will linger like a dream.

You cum and it shakes you, your thighs press against him with trembling desperation, your back arched and shivering, you moan his name so nicely. Fucking hell what is he supposed to do when he can’t have you all the time?

Ghost snags your unlucky suitor on his way out. You’re tucked nicely into bed, slumbering away the last dredges of magic as his shadows peel the skin off the man that once occupied the space next to you. It’s too bad he’s such a picky eater, this one has good meat on him. Ghost snips his heart out, spearing the organ on his claws to inspect it. Low quality, but what does he expect? No one could compete with you. It still squeezes under his teeth, still shreds and squirts the way it should, still slides down his throat and settles in his stomach.

The liver is decent at least.

414 notes · View notes

averyfromzero · 1 year

Text

"breathe on me"

pairing: na jaemin x male reader summary: you live in a dorm with your best friends jeno, jaemin and jisung - with a friends with benefits deal with the first two. on a sleepless night, jaemin comes to your room looking for some action. notes: canon universe, smut, friends with benefits, reader is also an idol, cockwarming, jaemin is a top! *you can consider this to be placed in the same universe as "lazy sunday"!

words: 1.6k

Living with Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung led to the four of you growing close together until you were all each other's best friends. Despite not being part of the group, you clicked with the NCT Dream members so quickly that soon it did feel like you were all part of the same team. While you shared a room with Jeno, Jaemin and Jisung shared another.

After just a few months living together, you, Jeno and Jaemin ended up building a friends with benefits deal with each other during a period in which your schedules were so stressful that you guys ended up turning to each other for some relief. While Jisung isn't a part of the deal (he's straight!), he knows. (Ok, maybe he only found out about it after catching you guys in a threesome in the living room once... He was traumatized)

This time, you were sleeping peacefully on your bed. Jeno was also quietly snoring away on his own bed on the other side of the room. That was until a certain intruder comes into the room.

Silently, Jaemin opens your room door and sneaks in, wearing only pajama pants while his toned chest was on display. He tried clicking the door closed silently as to not wake anyone.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bed and leans in close to you, hand on your shoulder. He calls your name in whispers while gently shaking you until you start to awaken.

With sleepy serrated eyes, you turn slightly to look at whoever interrupted your sleep. In the dark, you notice Jaemin's pretty face looking down on you. "Hm?"

"I can't sleep", he whispers. "Can I sleep with you?"

Instead of giving him a response, you move on your bed to make space for your friend to join you. You feel your back against the wall and wait for Jaemin to pull up the covers and crawl into bed.

You watch as he comes close and notice how he's not wearing any shirt. His chest is getting so toned, and his shoulders are already so big. You were loving this new buff era your friend was getting into.

As Jaemin settled on the bed, he moved his right arm around you and motioned you to come closer. You lied your head on his chest and felt as his arm wrapped around you, hand moving under your shirt to caress your back. You hummed in content.

Getting yourself more comfortable, you positioned your leg over your friend's and snuggled closer, using your right hand to draw circles around Jaemin's plump chest.

After a few seconds, you noticed how Jaemin's hand was moving suspiciously down your back, getting closer and closer to your sleeping shorts. Simultaneously, you felt on your leg as something grew bigger and harder under your friend's pants.

Ah, right. That's what he came here for.

"Jaemin."

"Hm?"

"Wanna fuck?"

You look as Jaemin slightly nods and drives his hand under the fabric of your shorts, grabbing a handful of your meaty ass and squeezing.

Mimicking his move, you also slip your hand under his pajama pants, feeling the wiry pubic hair he keeps tidy before feeling the hardening meat and wrapping your fingers around it.

Taking advantage of the fact that you have your face on his bare chest, you start sucking on Jaemin's nipple while you stroke his 7-incher to full hardness. He moans at the wet sound of your lips and tongue around his nipple.

Once Jaemin's cock is fully hard, you decide to slide down his torso until you're facing his tented-up pajama pants. You slide down the fabric to his mid-thigh and sees your friend's rock hard cock spring up in the dark, tip shining with precum.

Wrapping your hand around Jaemin's shaft again, you move your head closer to it and wrap your wet lips around the tip, tasting his salty precum and the taste of his milky skin. Jaemin tasted delicious.

You heard as Jaemin moaned and brought his right hand to the back of your head, motioning you to move on his dick. Giving in, you started to bob your head up and down his hard cock, thoroughly wetting it.

After a few minutes of endless sucking, you felt Jaemin pull you gently off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his member.

You moved on the bed so you were face-to-face with your friend again and leaned in, connecting your spit-covered lips with his. Jaemin was eager and immediately darted his tongue inside your mouth, hand on the back of your head as you two made out intensely.

When you felt the need to pull back to breathe, you promptly adjusted your position so you were laying on your back to let Jaemin know you were ready for the next step.

Jaemin sat up and moved until he was sitting in between yours legs, using his strong hands to part them so he could fit his hips against yours perfectly. Before anything else happened, he leaned in again to make out with your for a few more minutes, still intense from arousal. You loved how eager Jaemin was whenever he was horny, acting all dominant while still being gentle.

While making out heatedly, you felt as Jaemin started to pull down your sleeping shorts along with your boxer briefs until you were naked from the waist down. The cold air-con air in the room hit your crotch and you felt a chill running down your legs.

Breathless once again, Jaemin pulled off and sat up in a way so he could remove his own pajama pants, leaving himself completely bare. Even in the dark, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of your friend's hot body in front of you. Gorgeous face, strong arms, plump chest, defined abs, and a big juicy cock. Your best friend was one sexy motherfucker.

Knowing you had already been fucked by Jeno earlier, Jaemin didn't bother taking out the lube and prepping you too long. All he did was ask for you to suck on two of his fingers and then entered them in your ass for a minute before you were ready.

You watched as he spit on his hand and stroked his cock with it for a few seconds before holding it still and pressing it against your awaiting hole. Didn't take much to go all the way in as you were already used to it. You heard Jaemin groan once he was completely inside.

Worried that you might've woken up your other best friend sleeping on the other side of the room, you and Jaemin turned to check. Jeno was still sound asleep. You didn't care if he watched or not (it already happened multiple times before anyway), but you didn't want to bother him in his sleep and risk your friend waking up grumpy the next morning.

Relieved, you two faced each other again and you felt as Jaemin slowly pulled out before slamming his hips against yours again. He was a pro at it, he knew how to slam you hard enough to make you feel it but not enough to make too much noise. He smirked as you reacted to his strong thirst.

Jaemin had his hands on each side of your head so you had the privileged view of his huge biceps flexing to keep himself up while he thrusted in and out of your hole eagerly (but careful not to make a fuss). His chest and abs were starting to glisten a bit as sweat formed over his milky soft skin. It was a sight to behold.

After a few minutes of continuous thrusting, Jaemin started to feel his arms getting tired from holding himself up in that position. Pulling out of you momentarily, your friend motioned you to lay on your side as he positioned himself behind you and promptly made his way inside you again, continuing to fuck you right away.

You couldn't help but groan in pleasure once Jaemin started to hit your prostate repeatedly, hugging you from behind as he chased his own orgasm as well. You didn't bother stroking yourself to completion and just held onto Jaemin's strong arms that were holding you tight as you waited for him to make you cum untouched as he'd already done several times before.

You could tell Jaemin was getting close to his orgasm once his thrusts became less rhythmic and a bit more sloppy, slamming against your butt with more impact and less worried about not making too much noise.

You felt as he leaned in closer and his face was against your shoulder, heavy breathing blowing on your skin. You could hear his low grunting each time he thrusted in with force and tightened his grip around you.

It didn't take long before you felt your cock twitch and a rush of pleasure run up and down your body as you climaxed. While at it, you involuntarily clenched your hole and drew a long groan out of Jaemin, who reached his high right then and there, cumming inside you as he pressed his nose against your neck as to try holding back a louder moan while his legs trembled slightly at the intense orgasm.

You two stayed still for a couple minutes, breathing heavily as you recovered from your intense climaxes. You felt as Jaemin lazily left a few wet kisses on your neck and muttered out a deep "thanks" before he reached down for the blanket that had been tossed around unknowingly during sex to cover the two of you back again.

Once the room was silent again, you two noticed as Jeno snored softly on his bed on the other side of the room, letting you know he never once woke up while Jaemin pounded into you. Getting comfortable, you two drifted off into a peaceful slumber while Jaemin was still balls deep inside your ass and kept his arms around you.

920 notes · View notes

cherryxblossxms · 1 year

Text

Masturbation May - Day 4a: Dry/Pillow Humping (Mammon)

A/N: Mammon was suggested by an anonymous sender. He was a perfect choice for this prompt, I can see him being very very needy and getting so desperate that he just ruts against whatever he can. This quickly got rough and dirty, definitely highly self indulgent...

Featuring: GN afab reader || Mammon x reader

Warnings: masturbation; no pronouns for reader, reader has uterus and a vagina; mention of ovulation and breeding; use of reader's underwear and a pillow to jack off; panty sniffing; demon form Mammon later; cumshot

Word count: 1666

══════════════════

You knew just how to push Mammon to the edge.

All the past week, Mammon wasn't sure if it was intentional (it was) or just a series of miscommunications (it wasn't), but you'd been repeatedly teasing him and then promptly brushing off his advances when he tried to follow up. It made him feel like he was losing his mind, worrying if he was just too much of a horn dog and reading you all wrong, or if you really were trying to rile him up and he was meant to pursue.

Sometimes you would eat something suggestively in front of him if you two were alone, licking a spoon slowly while making eye contact. Or when he was making conversation with you, you'd respond with a very clear double meaning, something that made his cheeks burn and his mind question if he was supposed to go along with it or if maybe he'd misheard you.

Other times, you wore something that you knew he went crazy for, the way it complimented the shape of your ass, or showed off a good stretch of skin on your thighs, or maybe left your neck and chest wide open for his kisses. Only, he didn't get to leave any kisses, because as soon as he'd lean in to do so, you'd suddenly turn away, saying you had something to do, leaving him standing there like a dope.

Mammon knew he wasn't always the best with communication, and it was definitely coming back to bite him on the ass now as he thought about you nonstop. He could hit himself for not trying to clarify things with you earlier on, if you really were making advances or if it was just innocent flirting. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, assuming the wrong thing and thus making the wrong move.

However, today was the last straw, as the last time Mammon had seen you, you brushed past him in the hallway at R.A.D. and slipped something soft into his hand. It wasn't until you'd rounded the corner that he looked down and realized, after a very long minute, that you'd placed your panties in his hand. He'd scrambled to pocket it, feeling like his face was on fire, and thanked the powers that be that no one had seen what you'd given him.

After that, he immediately rushed home, classes and Lucifer be damned. It was already difficult enough just making that journey back, with the way he'd chubbed up right away. There was no way he'd be able to focus in class, listening to some boring lecture when he has your warm underthings stuffed in his pocket stuck on his mind. He could already pick up the faint scent of your arousal without even taking them out, so he knew he needed to get home NOW. Also, just the thought of someone else catching your scent was also on his mind; he'd kill anyone that noticed it, that scent was for him alone.

He made it to the House of Lamentation and up to his room in record time, slamming the door shut and making sure to lock it. As if his dick knew what was coming, there was now a tent in his pants and an ache in his balls. His body felt like it was burning up, but he couldn't even think of undressing completely, just quickly tossing off his shirt and shoes before he had to move on.

Mammon tugged his pants down, letting his cock bob out, and got onto his bed, kneeling. His precum was already dripping, evidence of how horny you'd made him, and he dug out your underwear from his pocket and unraveled it, taking a quick moment to appreciate the style you'd chosen. It was a tasteful white and gold design, obvious that you'd chosen it for him, and the thought that you'd chosen it with these specific intentions in mind drove him nuts.

He pressed the crotch of your panties to his noise and took a breath, finally getting a deeper smell of your arousal. It was intoxicating, your pheromones soaked into the fabric making his cock twitch and bob with the need to be buried in you. In doing so, he finally realized why you'd been teasing him all week. You were ovulating, the cocktail of pheromones you were putting off telling all of his demonic senses to mount you immediately.

He looked at the clock and knew you were still in class, and anyway, you'd been playing this game with him intentionally to make it harder for him, making him chase you around only to deny at every point. If you weren't so damned good at riling him up, Mammon would maybe be able to hold off until you were back home to indulge in you. But right now, all he could manage to think of was the need to cum.

Ideally, he wanted to save all his seed for you, to give you what your body was seeking, but he would just have to accept the loss for now. And anyway, if he was proud of anything regarding his skills in bed, it was that he had the stamina of a jackrabbit. He'd quick rub one out now, and then once you were back home, he'd easily be up and raring to go again, ready to spend all night satisfying both of your needs.

He quickly grabbed some lube from his bedside table and squirted it on his hand. The cold temperature made him shiver, but it was quick to warm up with friction as he spread it along his cock and started pumping. Pleasure and burning heat filled his veins. He pressed your panties to his nose again, trying to fill his mind with your scent as much as he could as he worked. Although he didn't think he could get any harder, his cock just further stiffened in his hand, almost painful now, wanting release so badly.

It was unfair how you'd been teasing him, playing a dangerous game that you clearly didn't know the rules to. All he could think of now was being buried in your cunt, fucking you all week and against every surface, if you wanted. Your body was crying out to be bred? No worries, he'd gladly fill you up and then some. He'd keep going until you were crying for a break and until he was sure his seed took. He hadn't thought of having kids before, but for you, he'd do anything.

Mammon's hips started moving on their own, trying to increase the pace and the friction, and the obscene sound of wet squelching filled the air. At first, he had tried keeping quiet, just used to not wanting to get caught by anyone else in the house. But as he lost his inhibitions, so too did he lose the control he had on his lips, finally letting out small whimpers that slowly evolved into soft moans. Some tiny conscious part of his mind was just thankful your underwear was muffling him a little bit, even if it wouldn't last.

Eventually, the position he'd settled in wasn't enough. He needed more control, needed to put his hips into it, he just needed to mount something. He quickly grabbed two pillows and straddled them, deciding at the last second to wrap your underwear around his cock with another healthy dose of lube for comfort. Almost instantly, he started humping the pillows, deep groans now coming from his throat as he slowly lost his mind in pleasure.

As he continued, he slowly bent forward until his forearms rested against the bed, letting him put more force into his thrusts and unintentionally squeezing the pillow around his cock. He wasn't aware of his surroundings anymore, focused only on the feel of the fabric of your underwear rubbing just right against his frenulum now. In fact, Mammon easily slipped into his demon form without noticing, his wings faintly flapping in an attempt to give him better leverage.

He pictured you now, folded beneath him in a deep mating press, thighs pressed up against your chest as he pounded into your cunt. Or maybe he'd have you doggy style, instead, thighs spread wide and his balls slapping against your clit, fucking you as hard and as deep as he can to make sure when he cums, its going straight to your womb. He could just hear you now, screaming his name, begging for his cum to fill you up just right, and it made his mind malfunction, everything in his brain melting down into a single word: cum, cum, cum.

It was just seconds later that Mammon's climax hit him like a train, the sensation sneaking up on him and ripping a loud moan out of his mouth as he came. His hips faltered slightly as the first few ropes of cum shot out, arcing across his bedsheets, but he kept going, desperately chasing that delicious feeling of pleasure even as his dick grew sensitive. The remainder of his cum eventually just dribbled on his pillow and your underwear, smearing across his balls and dirtying his pants.

He quickly kicked off the remainder of his clothes, now feeling hot for a different reason and rested back against his bed as he caught his breath. He felt disappointed, not being able to see his cum leak from you instead of being wasted on your underwear, but he knew that was only a matter of time before his desire would come true. Taking a quick glance at the clock, he got to work changing the bed sheets and tossing your underwear in his laundry basket, all the while thinking of the ways he'd take you once you were free.

You wanted to play a dangerous game with a demon like him? Fine, he'd play. But he hoped you were prepared, because he had no intentions of losing now.

#mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #mammon smut #spicy minx 🔥#the minx can write ✍️

750 notes · View notes

sunonyoreface · 1 year

Text

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 14

An: Well, it only took 36,000 words to get here, but here we are! It's a long one and I had so much fun writing this part, so I hope you like it!

*Edit: I will be putting this series on a short pause for a few weeks so I have time to catch up on school. Thanks for understanding :)

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 6100

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, nsfw, angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Image credit: @ave661 (they're amazing!!)

I’ve never shot a gun before, but as I hold Ghost’s in my hand, I try to imagine what it will feel like.

The weapon is like solid lead in my hands. I weigh my options as I click the safety on and off. I feel like a broken scale and I’m indecisive at heart. Tonight is no different.

I twist the weapon around to get a better look at the black coating. It’s well taken care of. Everything Ghost does is so meticulous and thought out. So, to see him leave the cabin in such a haste is cause for concern on its own. Did my words really affect him that much? Or was that all his own doing?

Part of me wonders if he’s watching through the window. Does he think I’d risk attempting to shoot him? I could turn the gun around in my hand. He wouldn’t expect that. None of them would. But then neither of us would get what we want. I’d never see my family again. There’s no satisfaction in the thought.

I also know I couldn’t kill anyone else either. No matter the harm they’ve done. There’s already so much pain in the world. Who am I to add to it? Who am I to decide who gets to live or die? I’m no God.

Yet, I can’t help but wonder if the world would be better off without men like him.

So, I set the gun back down on the table. And then I pick it up again. I slide the magazine out and take each bullet. I slip them into my pillowcase. This is as much power as I take back tonight. Whatever Ghost does if or when he returns is all on him. I am staying as far from this game as possible. I never wanted any part. There are enough men dead because of me.

I sleep with the sound of bullets quietly rubbing and clinking against each other beneath my skull. When I feel his hand cold against my skin, I swear I see Death himself.

The ragged gasp for air feels like my first breath. My heart is racing. I feel the hot, meaty muscle as it climbs its way up my throat and suffocates me as it beats against my windpipe. Thump, thump, thump. My eyes immediately lock on the ominous shadow.

Ghost slowly retracts his hand. He smells like sweat and the outdoors. The cold scent lingers on his clothes and mixes with the smell of burning wood present in the cabin.

Moonlight filters in through the window and mixes with the warm glow of the fire. Between the two, I can just make out the watchful eyes behind the balaclava. He sits on the edge of the bed with both hands now resting on his thighs. I didn’t even feel the dip.

I sit up and pull my knees to my chest and away from him.

“How long were you there?” I don’t expect much of a response. I don’t know if I want one. Once I open this door, there are only so many places it can lead.

“A while,” Ghost’s voice is quiet and strained. He says he’s been here a while, yet his hands are still cold. Or maybe I just imagined they were cold. None of this feels real anymore, only my drumming heart demanding resolve. “Where are the bullets for my handgun?” his question catches me off guard. I didn’t think he’d notice so soon. Maybe he has been here a while? Maybe he already knows. I glance at the table to see the shadows of the weapons in the same spot as before, visibly untouched.

“I hid them,” I say without making eye contact. If I do, he’ll know for certain where they are. There’s something about him that’s almost angelic in the way he reads people. It’s utterly terrifying.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure anymore,”

“Y/n, you know I’m not going to shoot you,” It almost comes out like a question. I know, in theory at least. He can’t shoot me because he needs me, but does that mean he won’t?

Part of me knows he won’t because there are better ways to kill a person. Cleaner ways. More personal ways. They could make it look like an accident. 141 could erase me from existence - make it look like I was never born - if they haven’t already.

“Why are we doing this?” my voice is barely audible. His actions over the last day have left me feeling more confused than ever. First, he says it was all a part of his plan and now he’s saying it wasn’t. Deciphering the truth has become more frustrating than ever.

“Could you recognize the men who did this to you?” I hear the strain in his voice again, like he’s holding back.

“I was blindfolded,”

“Their voices?”

I shake my head. “They all blend together,” A pent-up breath escapes my chest. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does,” he lowly urges. “Y/n, I need you to know what happened to you was unacceptable. That was never the plan. You were to be kept on a low dose of drugs for a limited amount of time, just enough to disorient you. What they did – those marks on your skin – should have never happened. Never,” He insists. I wrap my arms around my knees as he shifts closer. An anxious feeling creeps up the back of my neck. “I can’t punish them if I don’t know who they are.”

“I don’t want more people getting hurt because of me,” I finally look at him. He leans toward me with one hand resting on the bed. There’s a nervousness in the air.

“Not because of you. Actions have consequences,” he says. “Their behaviour will be corrected.”

“Please don’t,” I quietly beg as I shift onto my knees. I take a risk and gingerly grab onto his forearm. “It’s not worth it,” I’m livid it happened in the first place, but their punishment is just spreading the pain around in my name. I don’t want that. I want it to end.

“If I don’t, it’ll happen again,” Ghost says as he looks down at my hand. His words are resolute. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. His strong arm is tense under the henley, but I don’t pull away.

“What about the man behind this one?” I reach to pull my shirt over my shoulder. His soulful eyes latch onto the bruised skin. Ghost’s chest heaves with a deep sigh. He knew this was coming.

“He needs more than just correction,” Ghost’s eyes are glued to the marks.

“Like what?” I risk the question. It’d be so easy for him to shut me out. To turn around and leave. But I need to know. What kind of a person is he? How does he perceive his own cruelty? I silently pray he stays.

“Only Hell can help him,” Simon finally looks up. His eyes are filled to the brim with so many emotions, they’re hard to discern. But what stands out the most is how much pain is evident behind that mask.

“I don’t believe that,” I grip his arm tighter. Part of me is afraid of his answer. I don’t know the truth behind his words. I only have a small idea of the violence he’s capable of. I’ve only glanced through a crack in the window of pain he’s caused and even that was significant.

“You don’t know half the things I’ve done, y/n,” his hands tighten into fists.

“I’ve cut, burned, fucking butchered people without a second thought. I kill men. It brings me so much pleasure to watch those animals die, y/n. I’m not someone who can live without violence,” Ghost starts to tremor. ”There are only so many places for a man like me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t…I don-”

“Believe it,” Ghost cuts me off. “Look at what I did to you,” he moves closer as his other hand reaches up to my exposed arm. Ghost’s fingers lightly trace the bruises. His hands are hot, different from how I remembered them moments ago. There’s a warmth to him, even if he refuses to acknowledge it. Part of me wants to make excuses for him: that it was the heat of the moment, or because I knowingly withheld information that put us all at risk. That doesn’t make it okay. None of this is okay. My moral lines have become so blurred within the last several weeks, it’s hard to know when they’ve been crossed.

I don’t know what to say to him. I focus on the feeling of his gentle fingers on my arm.

“It was the only thing that fixed my father,” His voice deepens. I’m not prepared for where this conversation is about to go. I feel my heart racing in my chest, ready to break free. “I used to hate him for the things he did, how he’d hurt my brother and mum. Fuck, would he hurt her. He hated her and took every ounce of hate out on that woman. He left her beaten and bruised for years,” Ghost wraps his hand around my arm, under the dark bruise. “And look at me now. Look what I’ve done to you. You don’t deserve this.”

My throat tightens and I feel tears prick at my eyes. I tilt my head back and force them down. I feel his careful gaze follow down my neck, across my collarbones, then land on the damning marks above his fingers.

“You’re better than he is, Simon,” it’s barely a whisper.

“You don’t know me,” Ghost’s voice cracks.

“Maybe not. But you’re here right now. And that tells me all I need to know,” our eyes lock together. I see the distress behind his mask. How he so badly wants to believe me. “Simon, I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t. You don’t know how this ends, y/n,” he murmurs. I shift closer to him again so that our legs rest against each other. His breathing deepens at our proximity. His hand leaves my arm to wrap around a strand of hair. He examines it quietly, his thumb slowly tracing the length.

I feel the heat and tension radiating from his body, yet find myself strangely at ease in his presence. He cares. He won’t dare say it, but I can feel it in his gentle touches, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. He had my back when his men were making crude jokes in the van. I think of his concern for me when we were at the last safehouse and I didn’t have shoes. How he lingered to make sure I was okay. How he gave me an extra blanket and touched my shoulders when everyone else was sleeping. I remember when he immediately noticed something was off after the prisoner confronted me. The first thing he did was make sure I was okay. He’s always cared.

My heart still races, but not because I’m scared. My fear has morphed into a more dangerous emotion. One I can’t say out loud. One that would put both of our lives in danger.

When I look into his dark eyes, I see them mirroring my own. Shadowy pools of desire lap at his irises.

“Y/n,” he warns as I look up at him. His eyes flicker down to my bottom lip brawn between my teeth.

“Can I lift your mask?” his head starts to shake even before I’ve finished speaking. “Just a little,” my voice is barely audible. The warm glow of the fire bounces off the walls. Ghost is tinted red. He tilts his head down, searching my eyes. Part of him is still reluctant to trust me. There have been so many people in his life who’ve betrayed him, who’s to say I won’t do the same?

“Ok,” he whispers, dropping the strand of hair.

My hands meet the hem of the balaclava, resting just above his sternum. I slowly roll the fabric up, leaving time for him to stop me. This is the first time he’s ever allowed another person to do this. I feel his vulnerability with each shaky breath. The backs of my fingers trace along his neck as I move the fabric. The scruff that lines his neck and jaw brush against my hands. His adam’s apple bobs as he forces down a nervous swallow. “Just a little more.”

I move the mask just above his jaw. Like the rest of him, it’s sharp and strong. Dark hairs fill in the space after missing his daily shave. Ghost’s hands move to my outer thighs and his thumbs rub along my skin with a reassuring pressure. I bring the mask over his lips and rest the excess material over his nose. Ghost presses his full, slightly chapped lips together as he watches my eyes roam his face.

Part of me wonders why hasn’t he stopped me. Does he yearn for the same type of connection? Does he think about me in the dead of night with wandering hands? Is this something we’ll use against each other in the future? Will there be a future? All of this is a bad idea. But I can’t help the longing. The yearning. How badly I want to feel his hands on my bare skin. Tangled in my hair. Reaching the darkest parts of me.

When I look up, his eyes are so incredibly intense, it’s impossible to look away. A large hand cups my cheek and wraps around the back of my head. Neither of us dares to move any further. We stay frozen in a state of almost vulnerability. It’s not too late to turn back.

It’s hard to see where his irises end and pupils begin, they’re so dark. His eyes hold every word he’s too afraid to say. Words are dangerous. They confirm every want and desire. I’m no braver than he is, not by a mile. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying something I’ll regret.

Ghost leans down and rests his masked forehead against mine. The soft fabric presses into my face. His nose tenderly brushes against my own.

“Y/n,” he murmurs as his thumb tenderly traces along my skin. “You have no idea the things you do to me,” I feel goosebumps run down my back at his low, sultry voice. Simon’s cool breath fans against the nape of my neck.

The air between us is charged with tension. I feel a heat start to burn low in my stomach.

Ghost doesn’t move any closer. He has aired his desires. Now it’s my turn. How far do I want this to go? How far am I willing to take it? Nothing happens unless I initiate.

I run my hand along his strong jaw as I lean forward. I hesitantly brush against his lips, providing one last opportunity for us to turn back. Simon ghosts his lips above my own. My muscles tense in anticipation and my breathing is fast and shallow. I loop a finger through his belt loop and pull him closer.

Ghost takes this as permission and gently presses his lips onto mine. The kiss is soft and fearful and longing. After a breath, I pull away ever so slightly to read his eyes. They open slowly and linger on my lips for a moment longer. Ghost swallows thickly before looking up. There’s an insatiable hunger swimming in those dark pools of desire.

I long for those hot August days spent on the poolside almost as much as I long for him to drag me under the surface. I feel Ghost’s calloused hands moving up the side of my body like waves. Shivers run along my spine. My senses feel heightened. My lungs burn as icy water floods every cavity. I want him to hold me under until every breath of air is stolen from my lips.

Ghost shifts onto his knees and slowly stalks above me. His moves are calculated and predatory. There is only one thing he is on the hunt for. Only one thing that can fully satisfy his appetite.

I lean back as he moves closer until I’m fully pressed against the bed. Ghost leans down on his elbows as his knee urges my legs apart. A dull pulse throbs in my lower stomach. A large hand brushes the hair out of my face as he leans closer.

The kiss is harder this time, needier. Simon’s breath is hot against my mouth. My lungs smoulder with each breath, threatening to burst into flames. I run my hand under the back of his mask into his hair. I want more of him.

“Sweetheart,” my heart skips at the name. “How far can I take this?” his hands cup the side of my face. There’s a different type of seriousness in his eyes that I haven’t seen before.

“All the way,” I watch as he licks his lips in anticipation. “I want all of you.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I have to be gentle with you,” but I don’t want him to be gentle. I want every pent-up emotion branded into my skin with an iron rod. He’s held back so much from me. I want everything out in the open.

“All of you,” I repeat, brushing my thumb against his jaw.

“Y/n,” he warns as his lips brush against my ear. There’s an exciting sharpness to his tone.

“Don’t hide from me,” I whisper.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he holds his head up to search my face. There’s genuine fear behind his eyes, but as they flicker down at my lips again there’s an even stronger desire. Once he starts, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. Every part of his life is so disciplined, that once he relinquishes control, all self-restraint is gone.

“I trust you,” I trace my thumb above his full lips, pausing in the center. His brows furrow, waiting for me to take my words back, change my mind, tell him I don’t mean it. But I do. “I trust you, Simon.”

He uses the last of his restraint to search my eyes one last time. There’s no uncertainty, no fear or hesitancy. I want all of him. Need all of him. Desire burns within my core and he is the only one who can satisfy it.

His lips are hot and fervorous. Ghost’s eager fingertips drag across my pliable flesh as his hands skim under the hem of my shirt. I want to feel his touch everywhere, my lips, my neck, arms, and chest. I need him everywhere. I want to be consumed by him.

His sweet tongue slips between my lips. It’s a natural motion I welcome with my own. He’s gentle at first, cautious even. But then the hunger grabs a hold of him. His teeth latch onto my bottom lip and pull. Dark eyes test the waters as he gauges my reaction. How far can he really go? A small gasp escapes my chest and I almost miss the corner of his mouth twitching into a devious grin.

“When I tell you to do something, say yes sir,” his husky voice whispers into my ear as a large hand lightly wraps around my throat.

“Okay,” I respond. He’s not the only one testing the waters. I feel the strong hand tighten ever so slightly. I can’t help a sly smile at his reaction. “Yes sir,” the words noticeably arouse him. Ghost draws in a deep breath as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth. I think of all the times I offhandedly called him that the last several weeks. I wish I knew what a hold it had on him. “Is that better, sir?” I tease.

“You’re trouble,” his tone is suggestive. I love the feeling of his hot breath hitting my neck. I want to feel it drift even lower.

Ghost’s hands are back at the hem of my shirt. He gently tugs at the fabric and I take the signal to sit up and slide it off. I toss it to the side as his eyes take in my figure. I notice how they falter on some of the larger bruises, but in another instant, they’re back on me.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmurs.

His rough hands travel up my torso - taking care to avoid the bruised areas - as his lips find my neck. He starts off slow, deeply kissing me behind the ear, before moving towards the nape as he begins to suck on my tender skin. One hand begins to tenderly massage my breasts. I feel my eyes flutter shut with pleasure, but then a small part of me remembers I don’t want marks left above the hem of my shirt, especially these kinds of marks.

“Your turn,” I tug on the bottom of his henley.

“That’s not how you ask,” he mumbles as his teeth rake against my skin.

“Please, sir?” he thoughtfully hums against my neck.

Ghost sits up as he straddles me to pull his shirt off with one hand. My breathing hitches. He is stunning. Years of relentless work have shaped him into the machine he is today. Ghost is built like a predator. Strong, sturdy, and sharp. Scars from past challengers and victims litter his chest like medals. His tattoo wraps around the entire length of his arm, around his shoulder, and spanning across half his chest. I’m left speechless as he leans down to meet me again.

My hands unapologetically travel across his vast chest. His muscles flex under the pads of my fingers and I’m reminded of just how strong he is. But I don’t get far, Ghost grabs both wrists with one hand and pins them above my head. He enjoys looking down at me, completely under his power. There’s something about our size difference that is thrilling. He is in complete control. He can do whatever he wants.

Ghost’s lips return where they left off, slowly moving down my delicate body. Past my neck, down my sternum, and right to the spot he is looking forward to the most. His other hand wraps around my back, finding the clasp to my bra. His eyes peer up through his mask, looking to me for permission to keep going. I give him a small nod and immediately I feel the release of the band. He slides the bra up my arms, letting go of my wrists only to free us of it once and for all before grabbing them again. Ghost’s other hand returns to my back, urging me to arch my chest to his lips.

Sharp teeth nip at my soft breasts between deep kisses that are certain to leave more bruises. Ghost adds more pressure to my back as he pushes me closer. He takes his tantalizing time teasing me with his tongue as it swirls around my nipple before the abrupt feeling of his teeth pulling on my skin takes over. I can’t help the gasp that escapes my lips. I press my lips together to hide my heavy breathing, but it doesn’t get past him.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he tastes the tender skin. “No one around for miles.”

Both his hands wrap around my waist as he pulls me flush against his chest. I take the opportunity to run a hand along the waistband of his pants, slipping a finger just under the edge of the fabric. Ghost pauses as his chest heaves from the movement. I grab his jaw and guide his lips to mine again, mimicking his previous movements by tugging on his lower lip with my teeth. I can’t help the growing smile on my face.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart,” his hand trails down my stomach, slipping between my pants and underwear. Two thick fingers circle around me above the thin piece of fabric with growing pressure. My head sinks back into the pillow as my breathing becomes more jagged. Sparks fill my vision from the intense pressure.

“Oh fuck,” I whimper from his touch. His eyes are intent on my face as they watch the pleasure wash over me.

“That’s a good girl,” he says eagerly. “Wet for me already?”

My thoughts are too twisted to come up with a smart response. I press harder against him for more traction. If only he knew how much I’ve thought about his hands and all the things his fingers can do.

While slipping a hand under the fabric, he leans down letting his lips press against my neck. Our bare chests brush against each other and his other hand winds through my hair. Ghost fists the strands against the back of my head and slowly pulls back, further exposing my neck for better access. I feel the edge of his teeth take my tender flesh between them. I imagine the marks that will litter down my neck leading across my chest.

A thick finger slips into me while his thumb focuses on my clit. The feeling is so intense I can’t help the moans escaping from deep within my throat. Ghost pulls harder on my hair. A deep chuckle reverberates through his chest. He’s enjoying this.

I wrap a hand around his belt, pushing the leather through the loop, ready to pull it off, but then a large hand clasps over mine.

“So soon?” Ghost teases. The intense pressure of his other hand leaves between my legs as he slides his belt off. The buckle jingles as he twists the leather into itself. When I look down, I realize what he’s created.

There are two spaces for a set of hands to slide through while the belt acts as a pair of handcuffs.

“Simon,” his name is breathy on my tongue.

“Arms up,” he orders.

I raise my hands above my head and feel the leather restraints slip over my fists. “Not tight,” I tell him. His eyes glance down at me and he seems to understand. He pulls the leather band, leaving just enough space that I could escape if I really needed to, before looping the leather back through the buckle.

“Okay?” he whispers and I nod my head in response. “Atta girl,” the side of his mouth quirks up.

I watch Simon trail his thoughtful lips down my torso. He pauses at each bruise, pressing a tender kiss lightly on top of each one. Butterflies swarm inside my stomach. I never thought I’d see such a man be so gentle.

Simon’s thumbs rub in circles over the corner of my hips as he makes his way even lower. There’s a growing anticipation between my legs as I wrap one around his back, pulling him closer.

The black mask lowers between my legs. Swollen lips kiss the inside of my thighs. The edge of his teeth grazes the tender flesh. I draw in a sharp gasp as he bites down. Hard. A full pain throbs along my inner thighs. His previous gentleness slips away. This will leave a bruise lasting for days.

“These are the only marks I want to see on your skin,” his passionate eyes look up from between my legs. The black balaclava covers the rest of his face aside from his lips. How I’d love to run my hands through his hair.

Simon’s arms wrap around my legs to hold me down by my hips. I grasp the belt with whitened knuckles as he moves up, leaving another mark, but not before pressing an apologetic kiss to the area. Small whimpers escape my tight throat as he switches legs and leaves a growing trail of marks closer and closer to the hem of my underwear. I want him to make me feel good again.

“Please Simon,” I feel his lips humorously twitch against my skin.

He pulls away and all of his delicious warmth leaves with him. Simon rests on his knees, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight before him. All I can think about is the heat of his hands as they travel over my skin. Fuck, I need him. I need him everywhere. In the darkest parts of my body and soul.

A rough thumb traces over my lips. “You still want this?” there’s doubt in his voice, like he’s expecting me to change my mind.

“So, fucking bad,” my lips move against his thumb. I take him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the thick digit, lightly starting to suck on him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he mutters under his breath. His other hand slides beneath his jeans as I press my mouth further down on his thumb. But I don’t let him relish in the feeling.

“I need you, Simon,” I murmur. “Please, sir,” my voice is breathy and desperate.

I can feel the need pooling between my thighs. I ache for his touch.

His hands light my skin on fire as he slips my underwear off, pulling them down my legs. Simon wastes no time stepping out of his jeans, his large erection straining against his boxers.

“Of all thing things I’ve wanted to do to you,” he cups himself over the fabric. I wait for him to expand on his thoughts, but he doesn’t, simply leaving them to hang in the thick air.

Simon grasps himself over his boxes, slowly stroking as he watches me. My eyes never leave his. I feel the growing heat of the fire burning within me. With every stroke, he stokes the flames.

He leans down, lips hovering above mine. One hand gently holds my cheek while the other wraps around his tip. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he breathes into my mouth before tenderly meeting my lips. A small vein of nervousness is present at the back of my mind, but I channel all of my attention into my growing desire.

Simon adjusts his position as the boxers slide down. The anticipation is too much. He bites his bottom lip as the head of his cock traces my entrance. My heart is pounding. My hands grasp at the belt.

“Relax,” he glances up at me. “You’re tense.”

A gentle hand massages my inner thighs along the bite marks he left. The length of his shaft glides across my clit, sending tingles up my spine.

“Simon-”

“Look at me y/n. I want to see your face when I stretch you out,” my breathing falters at his words. I dare to look him in the eyes just as he pushes in for the first time. Fucking hell. The feeling is completely unmatched. My breathing is heavy. Simon’s thumbs rub reassuring circles along my inner thighs to ease the sensation between my legs.

“Oh God,” I whimper, tensing around his thick tip. His eyes hungrily watch my expression, burning it to memory. The amount of pleasure he gets from watching is almost equal to that of participating. Simon’s fingers circle my clit with a heavy pressure. I feel the throbbing intensify as he begins to push deeper. I hold back a whimper as he pushes deeper, stretching my tight walls around him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he growls. “You’re doing so good.”

Simon gently moves back before thrusting further in. My walls pulse around his thick cock as he picks up pace. My legs are wrapped around his broad back. One of his hands roughly kneads a breast as he bows his head into the nape of my neck. The metal dog tags hanging around his throat swing in the space between us, bouncing against my skin.

Simon’s breath is hot as it travels down my neck and across my chest. With every clench around him, I’m rewarded with soft needy moans into my ear as he nips at my lobes.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” his breathy voice rumbles against my neck. I feel the tightness in my stomach begin to build as he thrusts harder and his hands press into my clit. The world around me blurs. I’ve never been fucked this hard before. He feels so damn good; it’s like he was made just for me.

His hand drags across my breast, up to my neck as he wraps his strong fingers around the vulnerable area. I should’ve known he wants complete control. For so long he had none, now it rules every aspect of his life.

“You take me so well, y/n,” my name drips sweetly off his tongue like honey. I want to hear him say it over and over again. y/n. y/n. y/n. Fuck, does that sound good.

Every muscle in my body begins to tighten. My breathing quickens. My heart is racing. Every sense feels incredibly heightened. A lucid feeling begins to take over as Ghost’s grip around my throat tightens.

“Don’t go quiet on me now,” his hand moves to my jaw.

“I’m close,” I gasp as the blood rushes back to my face. My cheeks feel hot under his intense gaze. “Simon I-” his name rolls off my tongue, but I lose track of my thoughts. With every thrust, I feel him deeper in my soul. All of the pain. All of the tortures of our diverged pasts are melding together. Right now, I have all of him.

Simon keeps his pace but thrusts his throbbing cock even harder. The sound of skin hitting skin overtakes the crackling fire. The heat is almost too much. Like a flame under a tank of propane. Pressure builds under the heat, ready to combust.

“I, I-” fuck, I can’t think. It’s too much. His hands are tightly woven into my skin. My fingers are white against the leather. My heartbeat is so damn loud. My face twists towards the covers as my body writhes under his touch.

“Don’t look away now sweetheart,” his voice is so incredibly thick with need. “I’ll stop if you look away,”

His dark eyes are a whirlpool pulling me in. Suddenly I forget how to swim. Simon drags me under as his thick fingers wrap around the sensitive bundle of nerves. I gasp as my lungs breathe in water. His lips are heavy against my own. My vision darkens and no other pleasure in the world can match the burning sensations coursing through my veins. My orgasm is the sun’s light from the bottom of the ocean.

I break the surface as Simon’s hot lips hastily press against my forehead. His movements quicken and his grunts deepen. His hands roughly grab onto my waist as he thrusts into me with uneven, jarring movements.

“Fuck, Simon,” the whimper is soft against his skin and the cause of his undoing. His hard cock throbs against my walls once more as he collapses against me from pleasure and exhaustion. Simon’s heavy body lays limp on top of mine. The weight is comforting and safe. No one else in the world can touch me. Only him.

Simon reaches up to undo the belt and free my hands which find their way to his broad back. I trace invisible pictures across the vast space, skimming across old scars and the edge of his tattoo. His hand gently runs down the length of my hair, petting the top of my head. I feel my eyes begin to droop as sleep creeps up from behind me. I want him to hold me forever.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, arms caging me in as his dark eyes peer down at me. The emotions behind Simon’s eyes are too conflicted to decipher. A cautious thumb brushes along the side of my face. For a moment, he simply stares at me, trying to memorize everything that’s just happened and the gravity of it.

“Y/n, I need you to listen very closely,” he murmurs, pulling the balaclava back over his jaw. I feel my brows furrow as a different type of tension takes over.

“Okay,” my voice is barely audible.

“No one can ever know about this,” Ghost’s tone is soft, but I don’t miss the significance that is present. I pause to think about his words. Really think about them. What are the consequences of what we’ve just done? Our actions have just irreversibly complicated 141’s entire mission. Possibly even damaged it.

“What happens if they find out?”

Simon doesn’t respond. I feel a growing, hollow, cavity within me as I consider what happens to the people who interfere with their missions.

This was a mistake. A consequential mistake.

Pt 15:

#cod ghost imagine #cod imagine #cod ghost #cod #mw2 fanfic #mw2 imagine #call of duty mwii #mw2 #ghost mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley angst #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #he knows

2K notes · View notes

slow-motionlovepotion · 11 months

Text

𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 | 𝒋𝒐𝒆𝒍 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Joel Miller x f!Reader x Tess Servopoulos

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.3K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ - smut, boston-era, age gap (reader fucks two people old enough to be her parents), girl on girl action, a touch of voyerism (joel likes to watch), threesome, bisexual reader, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it kids), squirting, creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, manhandling, breeding kink, slight cum play, lil' bit of fluff at the end.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: what happens when Joel comes home early from a run to find Tess fucking you on his bed.

𝒂/𝒏: throws this like a grenade and runs away fast as fucking possible. i can't actually believe i wrote this, it's disgusting i'm sorry. happy pride to my fellow bisexuals. the mommy and daddy issues are strong with this one ~ no beta, we die like men

You’re not sure how this thing with Tess has started. You’re not even sure what this thing is but it’s become a routine, on nights Joel is away, sharing his bed with Tess, her soft lips pressed to your neck as your rut against her fingers.

You’ve noticed her softening in the months you’ve been doing this. There’s a brightness in her eyes that wasn’t there before and her smile is wider, and a little more genuine. To outsiders she’s still the same hardened, take-no-shit Tess but with you, you get to see her, really see her, glimpses of who she might’ve been before.

Slipping into her building under the cover of darkness, Tess is always up waiting for you and she takes no time pulling you to join her in bed, stripping you out of your clothes and making your breath catch in your throat as you whine her name.

It’s not cheating, not really, since Tess and Joel haven’t really discussed their relationship, that’s what she tells you, that Joel isn't the jealous type anyway. You don’t believe her, you’d seen Joel threaten men for far less.

He isn’t meant to be back for another day or so, that explains why Tess has your spread on the bed she and Joel share. It smells like him, you notice it every time you’re here and sometimes it’s overwhelming, the woodsy spiced scent of Joel. You’ve wondered, once or twice, if Joel can smell you when he returns, sometimes you’d spend a few nights, once a whole two weeks, sleeping in his bed, your sweat soaking the sheets while Tess buries her mouth between your legs.

With your back pressed to her chest and her legs wrapped around yours keeping them spread, Tess rubs soft circles over your clit. Your head rolls back, supported by her shoulder as you whine and squirm, desperate for a bit more friction. Joel hasn’t been on any runs for a while so it’s been weeks since you’ve felt someone else's hands on your body.

“More, please Tess more” you pant, turning your head to mumble into her neck, already half gone. Tess slides her hand further, slipping her fingers through the wetness gathering at your entrance.

“All for me?” Tess teases, she loves you like this. All pliant and pretty for her. You nod and she feels it against her throat. “So pretty sweetheart. All for me” It’s possessive, all for her, she knows you don’t do this with anyone else, not anymore.

Tess pushes two fingers into you, long fingers that reach that spot inside better than your own can

“Oh, yes” you hiss, your orgasm approaching rapidly. She swipes her thumb over your clit as she crooks her fingers sinfully, rubbing that soft spongy spot that makes you see stars, coaxing your orgasm closer and closer.

You hear a faint jangle of keys from the hallway outside, it can’t be Joel, probably just a neighbour, you think, Tess wouldn’t risk having you here if there was even a possibility Joel would be returning, would she?

The front door is thrown open and you hear heavy footsteps crossing the small apartment before the impossibly large body of Joel fills the bedroom entrance, dropping his bag heavily when he’s greeted by the sight of you and Tess on his bed.

Your impending orgasm is lost with the interruption and you whine pathetically at the loss and at the embarrassment of being caught like this. You try to bring your legs together, hide your glistening cunt from Joel’s view but Tess keeps you pinned in place, doesn’t even falter, she slows but does’t completely stop the gentle prod of your g-spot.

“Shit” you mutter under your breath, burying your face further into Tess’ neck, unable to even look at Joel, heat creeping up your cheeks, making you feel hot all over.

You feel Tess’ hand grip into the back of your hair, turning your face to look at Joel. You try to resist but you know when she means business, your eyes meet Joel’s face and you see something unspoken pass between the two of them as his features darken before he makes eye contact with you.

“Don’t stop on my account, finish her off” Joel’s gravely voice sounds tight, like you’re in trouble.

You bring your hand down between your legs, trying to push Tess’ fingers from your cunt, shaking your head as much as her grip on your hair allows

“C’mon sweetheart, be a good girl. Show Joel how pretty you look when you come” Tess’ fingers speed up their motions, withdrawing from your heat before slipping back in, the pads of her fingers hitting that spot every time.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, watching with interest as he props himself up against the divider, thick arms crossing over his broad chest. The sight makes you clench around Tess and she laughs softly in your ear “You like it when he watches?” nudging at your jaw with her nose, prompting you to answer

“Yes” it’s breathy and quiet, barely audible over the sound of the wet slick of your cunt around Tess’ fingers

You’re unable to tear your eyes from Joel because, fuck, he looks good. You’ve always thought he was attractive, in a rugged old-enough-to-be-your-dad kinda way. Your eyes trail from his arms, down the softness of his belly until your eyes land between his legs, even in the dim light the obvious stretch of his jeans over a more than generous hardness is evident. You feel Tess release her grip on your hair, hand finding yours to push it back down your body, your fingers joining hers between your legs. You take the silent instruction, tracing the tips of your fingers over your throbbing clit, eyes closing at the feeling.

“Mm-mm, eyes here” You hear from Joel, opening your eyes to find him tracing the thick line of his cock with his thumb, gripping the head through the denim of his jeans, a hard breath leaving him.

Your eyes track the movement of his hand and you imagine what he might look like with that hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in time with Tess’ fingers. Fuck, the image sends a throb through your walls and you hear Tess’ breath hitch behind you

“Close” you whisper, hooking your free hand back around Tess’ neck, bringing her closer.

“I know sweetheart” Tess speeds up her thrusts, fucking into you as you roll your hips down onto her hand, your own fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your back is sweaty against her chest, your hair sticking to the back of your neck.

“C’mon sweetheart, you’re right there I can feel it” and you are, your release sparking, flickering with each invasion of Tess’ digits, you need something more, something to ignite the burn settled low in your abdomen.

“Come for us” Joel commands you at the same time you feel Tess sink her teeth into the flesh of your shoulder and you’re not sure which of them lights the match but you’re coming. Heat spreads down your thighs, your back arching in a way that’s pornographic and the groan you let out rattles deep in your chest. You flood around Tess’ fingers as she continues pushing you through your orgasm and when she wrenches her fingers from your cunt something inside you bursts, a scream torn from you as you soak Joel’s bedsheets.

Fuck, you’ve never done that before, you roll your face into the crook of your arm, hiding yourself away from Joel’s intense stare, shame tightening a knot in your stomach. You’re barely able to support your own head with the energy your orgasm ripped from you. Your whole body trembles as Tess soothes you, trailing her damp fingers up and down the skin of your thigh.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Tess murmurs from behind you as calloused fingers cup your jaw, turning your head to meet Joel’s gaze and he’s so close, one knee on the bed, right in the middle of the wet spot you’d made and he obviously doesn’t care about your cum soaking through the fabric of his jeans.

“So pretty, could watch that all day” Joel all but growls, it’s low and deep and there’s a tinge of desperation that sounds good on him.

He roams his eyes down your body, releasing your jaw and bringing his hands to slide two thick fingers through your soaked folds, meeting your eyes again as he slips them gently into your cunt “You always cum like that or was that all for me?”

There it is again. All for me. Possessive. You’re a possession, you belong to Tess, and apparently by extension, Joel.

“For you” you moan. Not all for him, for Tess as well, it was her fingers after all. Although with the way he’s stretching you around his fingers and pumping slowly you might come again, this time all for him. You reach for Tess, clutching at her as she continues the ghosting trail up and down your thighs. Joel notices how your fingers entwine with hers and he turns his attention to her.

You hear the wet sounds of a kiss and a soft breath leave Tess’ chest, you can’t see, squeezed between them as Joel fingers continue their pleasure. When they separate you sense Joel whispering something in Tess’ ear but you don’t catch it. Then Tess brings her lips down, brushing your sweaty hair out the way and what she says makes you melt

“What do you say sweetheart, you want Joel to fuck you?” You whine and buck your hips, almost frantic at the prospect

“Yes, yes please” you feel Tess nod against your ear and see something glint in Joel’s eyes.

You think about reaching for him, slipping your fingers under the buckle of his belt and dragging him to you but you quickly accept you’re not in charge here. Maybe next time. Or not, there’s not going to be a next time, Jesus you’re not entirely convinced Joel isn’t going to kill you after this. Tess may be in charge but you’ve seen Joel go off the rails more than once, he’s a dangerous man.

Joel reaches for his buckle, making quick work of the leather and denim, and boxers you notice, when he comes back to the bed wearing nothing but his faded blue shirt. You do reach for him then, working the buttons much faster than you expected with your shaky hands, eventually his shirt hangs open, greying hair hiding the scars littering his body.

Tess keeps your legs spread, lifting them higher to allow Joel to settle between them. You’re surrounded, Tess behind you, Joel in front of you and you don’t know how you feel but you do know that being shared by them feels right.

“You ready for him sweetheart?” Tess whispers against your ear. When you nod your head Tess tsks “Ask him”

“Joel please, want you” Joel brushes the thick head of his cock over your entrance, letting it rest heavily against your clit

“Again” Tess orders

“Please, fuck please fuck me, want your cock Joel. Need it, wanna feel you-” Joel silences your begging with a sharp thrust, sheathing his length into your wet heat. The sound you make is filthy, and fuck, he’s big.

“Breath sweetheart, it’s a lot, I know, but you can take it” Tess presses soft kisses down your neck and along your shoulder. You blindly reach behind you, desperate for another anchor, something familiar and grounding and when you feel Tess' hair running through your fingers you pull gently.

“So good, taking me so well” Joel moans above you “so fucking tight for me”

For me. You tug lightly on Tess’ hair, stretching your neck up to meet her lips in a soft kiss.

Joel starts moving when your lips meet, jostling you slightly, pushing you further into her and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth when you gasp as Joel forces himself back into you.

“Feel good sweetheart?” Tess questions between quick kisses and you nod, whining a barely coherent answer. Joel sets a ruthless pace, thrusting himself in and out harshly, pressing your sweaty body between Tess and his own.

You want more, need more, from them both. You make the split second decision to move, pushing him off you. Rolling yourself over and settling yourself between Tess’s thighs you push your knees up underneath you, raising yourself up for Joel.

You waste no time, peppering soft kisses on the inside of her thighs. You can feel Joel’s knees settling around yours, his hand resting on your hip but he moves no further, watching the back of your head work between his lover's legs. You reach her core, immediately licking into her, nosing at her clit. His eyes flick to Tess when she gasps, he can hear a soft hum come from you and feels you nudge your hips back into his.

Gripping his cock, he pushes the head between your lips, and god, you’re so wet, there’s little resistance as he sinks in.

Joel pulls your knees out from underneath you until you’re flat, straddling your thighs and thrusting himself back in. You whine and he stutters, dropping his forehead to your shoulder, “Fuck darlin’, so fuckin’ tight” you squeeze tighter around him that it’s almost painful, “Christ” Joel moves, almost by instinct, ploughing himself into you roughly, he’s little restraint, watching Tess writhe beneath you, your tongue flicking repeatedly at her clit.

Joel’s pace rocks through your entire body and you start to lose focus, panting around Tess’ clit as you try to control your moans. You can’t, can’t focus on anything other than the burn of Joel’s cock splitting you open. You pull back from Tess, bumping your forehead against Joel’s, getting his attention. When he raises his head you kiss him, you know he can taste Tess on your lips and you realise this is the first time you’re kissing the man currently buried in your cunt.

Joel chases your lips when you pull away but you guide him gently where you really want him, arousal flooding through you when Joel lowers his mouth to Tess’ cunt, flicking his tongue in lazy, sloppy circles. Resting your head against her thighs you can feel her twitch with every pass of his tongue. You force yourself to keep your eyes open, to watch, as Joel continues to drive into you, never even faltering in his thrusts.

A soft plea of your name pulls you from a bubble of bliss, when it’s repeated you realise it’s Tess, you stroke your hand down her thigh, letting her know you hear her

“Fingers, please sweetheart, your fingers” Joel hears her too, shifting his attention to her clit, allowing you to slip your fingers into the wet heat of her cunt. The muscles in her thigh tense against your cheek and you know her tells, you know that means she’s close.

You can feel your own orgasm building steadily, each thrust of Joel pushing you closer to the waves that threaten to crash over you. You suppress it as much as you can, heavy eyes watching as Joel feasts. You glance up at Tess, expecting to see her head thrown back, what you don’t expect is to find her watching. Watching the way Joel is buried between both her thighs and yours, the way he works at her clit, eyes closed, the lines permanently etched on his face softened as he enjoys it.

“Fuck” Tess mutters as both you and Joel work her to release, her hands fist into his hair and her hips rock onto your fingers “like that, yeah like that, Joel fuc-” and Tess whines, a gasp of your name leaving her lips as well. Joel doesn’t let up, continuing his assault on her clit and when you remove your fingers he laps at the wetness leaking from her. Her legs fall slack against the bed, the soft curve of her stomach rising and falling with her panting breaths.

“Your turn darlin’, wanna feel you come round my cock” Joel grumbles into your ear and before you can respond his hands are under your arms, hauling you up Tess’ body, propping you up on your knees between her spread legs as he slides back into your heat. Tess’ lips find yours, catching your gasp when she slips her fingers between your legs. She avoids your clit, instead just resting her fingers at your entrance, feeling how you stretch around him.

It’s overwhelming, two sets of hands on your body, the feel of Joel’s hips meeting yours, and the new angle of his cock hitting just right. You can feel something building, it’s a different kind of pressure, each time Joel withdraws you feel like you could burst and every time he thrusts back in the pressure tightens.

The constant cycle of almost release is punishing, your whines pitching higher and higher with every thrust. Your legs are shaking and you’ve given up kissing Tess, choosing instead to rest your sweaty forehead against hers.

Joel doubles his efforts at your sounds, a firm hand pushing your lower back into an arch, tilting your hips to allow you to take him even deeper.

“Fuck Joel, fuck, I-” you what? You don’t even know, it’s too much but you want more and you don’t know how to tell him that. The sound coming from your coupling is dirty, slapping skin and wet, so wet.

“Wa’s goin on huh?” Joel pants from behind you “Gonna come darlin’?”

“I- I don’t know” you pant, panic rising in your chest at the unfamiliar feeling.

Joel hums behind you and you can hear his smirk. He fucks into you three more times before withdrawing completely and you go into shock, legs trembling violently, hips raising and you’re gushing, your wet release drenching the mattress between your knees

“Shit darlin’” Joel groans as you squirt, eyes locked on your pulsing cunt “Makin such a mess” He slips back into you, thrusting hard and fast and you’re on a high, each thrust pushing you even higher and higher. This time Joel doesn’t pull out, instead the pressure of your release forcing him out against his will.

You hear him growl behind you, fingers gripping your hips, holding your boneless body as he fucks back into you. You can feel Tess whispering praise in your ear but you can’t actually hear what she’s saying over the ringing in your ears.

Her hands gently hold you up, her breath hot against your neck as you clutch at her arms, nails digging into her flesh so hard that if you were more conscious you’d be concerned about drawing blood.

“One more darlin’, one more f’me c’mon” Joel’s slurring above you, thrusts faltering. You shake your head, feeling thoroughly fucked out despite the heat of a more familiar orgasm building. You don’t have the energy to fight it and you relax into it, cunt pulling him deeper, tightening around him. Tess nudges your jaw and you lift your head to meet her eyes.

“You can do it sweetheart” she pushes your damp hair out of your face, bringing your mouth to meet hers and it’s sweet, a stark contrast to the way Joel’s pounding into you from behind.

Joel’s grip on your hip tightens in warning and he starts babbling

“Look at ya, takin it so fuckin well. Such a pretty little cunt. So fuckin tight, don’t understand how you can still be so fuckin tight. Gonna be good for me, need you to come one more time, one more time darlin and I’ll fill you up” You don’t know who his babbling is for but you tighten further at his words, your orgasm sparking.

“Yes yes, fuck yes Joel please” you know you’ve never wanted anything more

“Yeah, y’gonna take it? Lemme fill you up n’ fuck a baby into you?” That’s it, that’s what breaks you, pleasure ripping through your body so hard it’s painful and you sob, tears flowing and chest heaving, mumbling incoherent nonsense as Joel continues to fuck into you.

“Good girl tha’s it. Gonna fill you up, leave you leaking” you can hear how tight his voice is, deep and gravelly and desperate. With a final thrust he buries himself as deep as possible, nudging at your cervix and it’s just the right side painful. “Fuck” You feel him swell as he comes, your abused cunt stretched around him, his fingers digging into your hips already leaving bruises.

Keeping his grip firm on your hips he kneels back, pulling you with him until you're pressed against him. He slips a hand between your thighs, brushing your oversensitive clit and you whine in protest. “No more, please”

“Okay, no more” He chuckles darkly “You did good, didn’t she do good?” he directs his question at Tess and she nods with a smirk

“She did” Warmth blooms in your chest at her praise and the tired smile she has on her face.

You can feel Joel soften inside you and you already miss the feeling, that is until you feel him slip out, followed by the wet heat of his release. You gasp at the feeling, you’ve never had anyone finish inside you before and it’s not entirely unpleasant. You kneel up, cum still leaking from you, adding to the mess on the bed sheets between your legs.

Tess is watching, eyes glazed as she sits up to run her finger through the sticky mess of your cunt before bringing it to her mouth, sucking with an obscene moan and a roll of her eyes. She pulls your lips to hers, licking into your mouth, you can taste yourself and Tess and something unfamiliar that must be Joel. Joel’s cock twitches against your backside and you’re both surprised and concerned, you can’t go again, your body is absolutely done, and thankfully Tess pulls away, a final chaste kiss before she addresses Joel

“Bill have what you went for?” she asks, her eyes dropping to damp curls between your legs

“Yeah” Joel breathes.

You don’t know what they’re talking about but you’re tired and your head feels fuzzy, ears still ringing and you need to lie down. Your knee brushes the wet spot as you move and you freeze “Shouldn’t we change th-”

“‘ll do it t’morrow” Tess mumbles, eyes flicking to the empty bed next to her expectedly and you join her without question. Joel moves then, coming to lay on your other side as Tess pulls you into her, wrapping her arm around your waist, always the big spoon.

Joel pulls the duvet that had fallen to the floor during your activities, throwing it over you all, immediately closing his eyes. You’re so tired, eyes feeling heavy but you don’t want to sleep yet. You want to soak this up, still unconvinced it’s not just a one time thing.

“What are you doing?” Joel mumbles, eyes closed but definitely still awake

“Nothin’” you lie, you’re watching him, basking in this sleepy-guard-down Joel, for only the second time since you’ve known him he doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of killing someone.

“Then go to sleep” he groans but turns his head towards you, his hand finding your knee, bringing it up to hook over his thigh, a silent acknowledgment of affection.

This, this playfulness with Joel, has seemingly come out of nowhere and the realisation has your jaw dropping.

“You knew” you state and Joel fucking smiles. You feel Tess’ smirk through the kisses to you shoulder and all of a sudden you feel incredibly thick

“You told him?” you ask

“He’s known the whole time” she confirms

“You spent two weeks living in my apartment, wearing my clothes and fucking on my bed, the whole place smelt like you when I got back” you bury your face into the pillow at his observation, you’d hoped he wouldn’t notice one of his T-shirts was missing but you feel the heat rising for a different reason when you wonder if he fucked Tess on bedsheets that smelt like you.

“You planned this?” you ask over your shoulder and Tess just hums with a smile “You could’ve just asked me”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she laughs, and you don’t think you know a more lovely sound than Tess laughing. Joel’s hand squeezes your knee under the covers and you know he thinks the same too.

Tess mumbles something like ‘going the fuck sleep’ into your hair and it’s not even a minute before her breathing slows and her arm around your middle becomes a dead weight.

As if the night wasn’t full of enough surprises, Joel’s fingers brush your jaw and when you open your eyes he’s watching you.

“This was a big deal for her. She didn’t wanna scare you off.”

You hum quietly, “Didn’t scare me off, could never” your speech is slurred, exhaustion quickly taking over

“I said no, at first, you make her happy and I didn’t wanna screw this up” that’s unexpected, honesty and vulnerability from Joel.

“Wait, we could’ve been doin’ this for longer?” Joel huffs a laugh in response, it’s genuine and the sound makes you feel fuzzy. “Guess we’ve got some catchin’ up to do” you mumble, you don’t register what Joel says in response, far too focused on what he’d said before.

‘You make her happy’

Happy is something you hadn’t been in a long time and you suspect, something Tess and Joel have been missing too. You make her happy, you’ve renewed her, pulling laughs and smiles with ease.

What’s that Fireflies saying ‘when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light’

That’s you. You’re the light. Tess started a fire within you and she’s been basking in the glow and now she wants to share your light with Joel and you’ll gladly let her.

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tess servopoulos fanfiction #tess servopoulos smut #joel miller x reader #tess servopoulos x reader #joel miller x you #tess servopoulos x you #joel x reader x tess #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #light | joel x reader x tess #love potions writing #love potion writes #han writes

539 notes · View notes

s0dium · 2 years

Text

If its not rough it isn't fun

Bully!Sukuna x Reader

A/n: Its been five months, about 20 requests, 4 thousand followers later, all asking for more sukuna..... so here you guys are

Synopsis: In which Sukuna, the class TA, tricks you into thinking there is class today

Warnings: Dub-con, mating press, slight vouyerism, breeding kink, fingering, groping/fondling, Sukuna is very very mean, bullying, slut shaming

You dont know why, but ever since the beginning of the year, the TA for your ancient japanese history class, Sukuna Ryomen, had it out for you.

It started off small. His eyes rolling whenever you made a comment, scoffs here and there. Until that turned into rude notes on your essay, leaving you out when some of the class went out for drinks and spreading nasty rumors that you were a whore, or even worse failing you when he graded papers.

You didnt know what you did, what exactly about you set Sukuna off. You raked through your memories of him, your first interaction to your most recent. There was nothing, nothing you did that could cause anyone to treat you this way.

So why? Why did Sukuna hate you so?

You never got the email.

You never got the email telling you that there was no class today. Maybe there was a malfunction on your end, some technical difficulties, or maybe your professor typed your email wrong. What ever it was, here you where, in an empty lecture room, only in a flimsy white tanktop, shorts, and a mess of hair due to rushing out of your bed after your alarm clock had already gone off.

"Shit..." You curse, walking to a seat to catch your breath from uselessly running all the way here.

"You kiss your mom with that mouth?"

You jolt up upon hearing the familiar condescending voice, only to be met with the face of a pink haired man wearing a shit eating grin. You immediately grimace as a deep red engulfs your face and bit your lip in annoyance.

"What are you doing here sukuna."

Your voice comes out more shaky then you intend it too, and he must've picked up on in because Sukuna's grin only widens.

"I think a better question is, what are you doing here y/n."

“Well I-“

Something was wrong. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably and eyed the closed door past Sukuna. You felt like prey being eyed by a predator, vulnerable, exposed. Maybe it was what you where wearing; the thin white cloth of your tank top that outlined your breasts or the blue pair of shorts that covered just above the crease of where your ass met your thigh.

“What? Forgot to check your email? Or maybe…” He places both hands on the desk you where sitting behind, leaning in so your inches away from nose touching.

“Someone special forgot to put you on the email chain.”

It takes you a minute to register what he’s saying because it’s then you realize just how truly handsome Sukuna is. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed before. You must be some sort of masochist or something because even through out the relentless torment you still find your self slipping a hand under your panties late at night, squirming to the thought of him over you.

“Wait you-“ you stammer, face turning a deep red out of anger and pure embarrassment. “You absolute ASS!” You immediately stand up, grabbing your bag and walking away. But when you attempt to open the door to leave, it doesn’t budge.

“What the hell….” You mutter to yourself before turning back to Sukuna. “D-d-did you what-“

“Cat got your tongue?“

He’s walking to you now, backing you against the door.

“Please don’t come closer” your voice comes out as a whimper, shakier then you expect. You mentally curse his long legs, because he’s right up in front in you in seconds. “P-please” you put your hands up to push him away but he catches both of your wrists making you gasp.

“You know….” His voice his just above a whisper and due to how close he is you can see things you haven’t noticed before; like how his eyes where closer to black then brown, or his hair was more of a deep strawberry blonde then out right pink. “I can see your fucking nipples through your shirt”

Your about to say something when he presses your lips against yours and for a couple seconds hour too stunned to do anything, you even try to move away but one of his hands grabs your jaw and keeps you still, deepening the kiss. You let out a whimper, following a moan when he wedges his thigh between your legs. You can’t help but grind on it when you start to reciprocate the kiss causing Sukuna to chuckle.

“Knew you wanted this, fucking slut”

You want to say something, tell him that wrong and you never had any sexual experience really. But it’s all to much to even think, the scent of pine and all spice shampoo is already invading your senses and his lips are relentless against yours; spit smearing on either side of your mouth, lips clashing against each other hungrily.

“Jump.” He commands, catching both of your thighs and letting you wrap them around his waist. Your too engrossed in the kiss to realize he is walking until your feel your self being put down on a wooden surface.

“Is this-“ you pull away from Sukuna, eyes widening when you realize what your sitting. “Wait no we shouldn’t-“ You cut yourself off with a squeal when he slips a hand under your shorts and rubs a finger up and down your slit of your closed crotch.

"What? Scared someones gonna walk in while we fuck on the professors desk?" Sukuna chuckles darkly.

You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna grin.

“Needy, arent you?”

You can only whine in response as he pulls off your shorts and hooks a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your gushing cunt.

Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the jucies before pushing the digit into your tight hole.A hand flew down to hold his arm but it was hardly to pull him away, no this was just you needing to feel any part of him under your fingers.Next he felt you clench and he almost grinned, knowing full well that, that squeeze around his cock was going to feel so amazingly good later on.

The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.

“Hah~ I cant-” You whine and whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You’re high strung, drool slipping from your mouth more and more onto the hard wooden deal as you cry out when the pressure in your gut builds and builds.

He rolls is eyes "So fucking whiney, you always like this when someone is about to fuck you?" He scoffs, making tears well up in your eyes.

"No I- I dont, this doesnt usually-" You stammer. You cant help but push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sent tendrils of electricity through your body.

Sukuna raises his eye brows, the manical grin on his face widening. "Shit when was the last time you had sex?" When you dont answer and as if you could'nt be more embarrsed enough Sukuna lets out a laugh.

Shivers rack your spine when he leans into your ear "Well thats just fucking fantastic isnt it." He whispers.

You don’t even notice that he had raised your tank top until he latches a mouth onto your hardened nipple and begins to suck. The added stimulation has you clenching around his digits and digging your nails into the fabric of his suit for some sort of stability.

“K-kuna I’m gonna-” your attempts to warn the pink haired man in front of you falls upon deaf ears as he continues his prodding and curling of his fingers in your cunny. Suddenly the tension inside your stomach snapped and you were tumbling faster toward and orgasm then you could put a stop to it. You open you mouth to scream but no words come out. Moaning and rolling your eyes back you almost melt then and there on the desk as you soak his fingers in sheets of sticky liquid. Boneless and limp you can only bob your head when you feel yourself being manhandled; bigs hands grabbing the underside of your plush thighs and pressing them to your chest.

You watch through the haze of your orgasm and Sukuna pulls off his shirt and lowers his grey sweat pants, licking his lips as he does so.

Shit

Is this a dream? This had to be a dream. He was like something straight out of a magazine. You already knew about the two tattoo lines that wrapped around his wrist but you had no idea there was more on his chest. There where similar on his upper arms, circles on both his shoulders with a dot in each and two-segmented curve lines on his chest that accentuated his sculpted body. You don’t even notice that he had pulled out his dick until you feel something pressing against your entrance, making you look down and eyes widening as you do so.

“M’wont fit there’s no way it won-” your babbling is cut off when Sukuna attaches his lips to yours and you practically melt. It’s messy, and hot, and your by no means as experienced as him and it’s obvious. Spit smears on other side of your lips as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, whines and sweet moans escaping your throat as he does so. The kiss makes you dizzy and you can’t even remember what you were so worried about, you can only think of one thing.

Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna

“Don’t worry sweet cheeks, it will, cause if it doesn’t fit,” he hums, his voice just above a whisper “we’ll make it.”

You’re about to open your mouth to say something but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like your being split in too, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.

“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.

“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.

The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the desk; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. Every vein on his cock dragged against your velvety walls, catching on your entrance as he pulled back before thrusting back in. his thrusts were deep, the tip of his cock reaching spots you could only dream of hitting with your fingers. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. His pace is brutal, unforgiving.

“Mm’so good- don’t stop, please don’t stop!” your babbling strung out of your lips without much of a thought other than how good he was fucking you, his thick cock driving in and out of your velvet walls. It was as if you were made for each other, your cunt sucking him in with each push and shove that hit at just the right spots. The desk creaked and groaned with every thrust and if anybody walked by and heard the sounds they would immediately know what was going on.

“Not gonna stop,” his grunted through barred teeth, canines brushing at the delicate skin of your neck, “not gonna stop fucki-” He cuts himself off with a loud groan of his own before grabbing your ass and bring you upwards. Instinctively you wrap your legs around his waist as you sit fully seated on his cock, strong arms lifting you up and down his dick; picking you up them slamming you back down.

“M’love you! Love you so much!” The pleasure was muddling your brain, making you boarderline incoherent.

“Oh?” Sukuna chuckles, delivering a particularly harsh thrust into your gushing cunt which makes you jump, “Knew you’d come around, want me to breed you dont ya’? Stuff you with cum till its spills out?”

You dumbly nod, drool slipping out the side of your mouth as you do your best to raise your self and drop your self back onto his dick,

Your ankles lock around his lower back and you cry out when the head of his cock kisses your womb, your legs shaking as you feel your self start to be thrown into an intense orgasm. You want to say something about the weird feeling in your stomach, how your skin is buzzing but its all to much and before you know it your tumbling toward the edge. It feels like your whole body was shot with electricity and color dance in your eyes as you float in ecstasy.

"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny. You babbled and puled as it built and built and built, like there was a dam of his seed spurting into you. You unintentionally, probably instinctually, squeezed around him, drawing more out and he whined and murmured his praise. "Good girl, get as much as you can." You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

#sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #toji smut

8K notes · View notes

writeroutoftime · 10 months

Note

i can’t get the idea of carmy x butcher reader out of my mind for some reason

words: 0.7k

warnings: none, I mean carmy's a bit of jerk for a minute, but what's new lol

a/n: honestly, I love this idea, anon so here's a little blurb! not sure if I went in the direction you were anticipating, but I really enjoyed writing this! (also, this is my first time writing for carmy so please forgive me while I'm learning his character!)

p.s. I would totally be opening to write more little blurbs for this specific pairing if anyone is interested!

oOoOo

It took four blocks to walk from The Beef to the butcher Mikey had used for the past few years. Six blocks for Carmen's fists to repeatedly clench and unclench and for his jaw to tightened as he stormed down the street, not caring who got in his way.

When he reached the butchers, Carmen threw the door open. The bell attached nearly flew off in protest, immediately catching your attention.

"How can I help?" you asked, dusting off your hands to give your newest customer your full attention. Though, by his heavy breaths, you mentally prepared yourself for the difficult conversation you expected to follow.

"You can start by getting your fucking orders right for delivery. This is the second time in a month that your shop dropped the ball and it's impacting my kitchen." he all but shouted, jabbing an accusatory finger in your direction.

Your hands gripped the counter, subtly, as you forced yourself to take a deep breath. It was early in the morning. You weren't exactly keen to start your day by dealing with angry customers - even if his intense, blue eyes were rather attractive.

"Okay," you spoke slowly. "What's the name on the order? We can figure this out."

Unfortunately, this did little to placate the seething man. "The name is Berzatto for The Beef. And I don't want to work anything out, I just want you to deliver the orders you're fucking supposed to. We need twenty pounds of meat, and you only delivered two. What good does two pounds do me?"

By that point, your own jaw clicked as you turned to look through your files. You recognized the name Berzatto and deep down you knew the delivery was correct on your end. After years of shadowing your family before taking over, you knew how to run this business.

Rather aggressively, you pulled out the order sheet and slammed it down on the counter in front of Berzatto. He snatched the sheet, eyes quickly scanning the text. You saw the moment his face fell, and couldn't help but feel rather smug.

"Do you wanna walk outside, come back in, and try again?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, eyes narrowed.

A few moments of silence and Berzatto finally looked back up at you, his chest heaving as he came down from his rush of adrenaline. "I," he began, then quickly shut his mouth, and turned from the counter running his hand down his face in frustration.

"Okay, how can I order the rest of the meat to be delivered, ASAP?" he asked suddenly, turning around and running a hand through his already mussed hair only to end up on the back of his neck as he looked at you.

It wasn't an apology, but his tone was noticeably calmer. You figured that would be the closest you'd get for a while. One glance at him and you could tell he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The name Berzatto rung a bell in your mind, and you remembered hearing there was a new owner after the previous one passed away.

With a soft sigh, you grabbed a pen and pad of paper and began to write down his order. "What's the name for the order?"

"Uh, Carm-Carmen Berzatto." he stuttered out, taken aback by your suddenly soft demeanor.

"Alright, Carmen. Here's what we're going to do. I can get you the rest of your order by this evening, and payment can be due at the end of this month. That sound okay to you?" you questioned, holding out the order slip.

Carmen reached out to grab the paper, slightly brushing his fingers against yours. Both of you pulled back quickly ignoring any sort of spark you might have felt.

He looked down at the slip, back up to you, and nodded in agreement. With a tightlipped smile, Carmen nodded his thanks and moved to leave your shop and head back to the Beef.

"And Berzatto?" you called out, quietly laughing at the way he stumbled over his feet in the doorway to turn back. "Next time try the civil approach first." you teased, leaving Carmen a blushing mess.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear imagine #fx the bear imagine #carmy berzatto x reader

477 notes · View notes

leiswxrld · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒... “Are you going to come for me pretty boy…make a huge fucking mess inside of me”

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Bill Kaulitz x Black fem reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Smut, P in V sex, doggystyle, Submissive bill, toilet sex, no condom, strangers to lovers, oral (m receiving), Bill is 18+, plane sex, reader is very horny.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1556 Words

𝐀/𝐍: Hey guys I’ve missed you all, busy with starting college but I’m back for all of you I haven’t forgotten don’t worry but enjoy this rq, more to come 😉

𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐒: @cafekitsune

Fuck you were horny again. You sat near the back of the plane n and had already gone through 2 movies in the span of 2 hours and you couldn’t help but feel the aching sensation between your legs increase as you tried to ignore it, drinking more of your apple juice and eating a few more snacks but it was too irresistible to ignore.

You had only completed 3 hours of your 12 hour flight and you were debating going to the bathroom and fucking a potential person in there or waiting until you landed and the first option was the one you were leaning towards more.

Your eyes scanned the plane for a potential hook up, lewdly checking off every guy in your head until your eyes landed on a guy, three rows in front of you. His black hair covered most of his face but you only catched a glimpse of it when he turned to face you.

He was cute in a type of way and looked as if he belonged in some rock band and you decided that he was going to be yours at the end of this flight. You kept staring at him as if your life depended on it and he seemed to feel your lustful eyes on him as he turned around subtly to only turn back around at the shame of being caught.

He seemed to return to the conversation with the boy sat next to him that seemed to be his brother but gradually gravitated back to your perverted gaze, watching as you slowly lifted up the black cropped shirt you were wearing and flashing him a glimpse of your full perky tits. His eyes widen as he searches the plane to see if anyone had caught you before returning his eyes on you.

He let out a cough, his face turning a bright red turning back to his brother that seemed to not notice his reaction. You could tell he was fighting the urge to look back as he was drawn back to your face. You nodded your head toward the toilet behind you and his face reddens at the bold invitation as you look around before discreetly getting up and entering the toilet.

You stood their impatiently waiting and began to feel anxious that he decided to not take you on your offer but before you about to leave he opens the door and locks it behind him.

He stands in front of you, face red as a cherry as he refused to meet your intimidating glare, “Get over here” you drag him over and lock lips with him, desperately trying to get his clothes off. He pulls off, heavily breathing as he takes in your naked body, “I’m uh- Bill”

“Y/N, let’s skip formalities and get straight to it” You bring him into another kiss, slipping your tongue into his as your nails dig into his nape, feeling the moist feeling of his sweat against your fingertips. You pull away, the saliva from your mouth breaking away from him.

You point to his joggers, signalling him to take them off. Poor thing looked like a deer in headlights as his eyes were dazed, quickly and messily fumbling with the two strings and pulling them down along with his boxers.

Your eyes widen like a kid in a candy store at his length, stalking closer towards him, “For someone who acts timid and shy I didn’t take you for someone who carried a size that big” he blushes as he watches you go onto your knees.

“I wonder if you can keep quiet whilst i suck you off” you give his tip a kiss before slipping his girth into your mouth all the way till you could feel it poking the back of your throat.

You watch his face contort as his hand slaps around his mouth as he involuntarily emits a low whimper and you begin bobbing your head up and down his cock as he moaned and whimpered. His eyes nearly roll back, hazily watching you sloppily suck him off with hunger.

“Shit-please” he pleaded, his hand shakily dragging down towards your hair and gripping it as he guided you faster on his length.

“I’m gonna- fuck- I’m gonna cum”

You pull off before he could release and he whimpers as his eyes open up again. “Why’d you stop”

“I want you to come inside me pretty boy” you say walking towards the toilet sink and bending yourself over it as you teased him. “Come and Fuck me bill you want to please mommy don’t you”

he blushes once again, "M-mommy" he stutters in response, "Yes mommy do have a problem with it" he shakes his head no as settles behind you.

He's star struck, shakily aligning his tip with your entrance and slowly sinking himself into you as he let out a sigh before letting you adjust for a bit, "M-move"

He gently rock's himself into you at a set pace, making sure to hit that spot that made you moan and cry as your hand gripped the edge of the sink. He remains eye contact with you in the mirror as he gripped your love handles and praised you.

Your pants became harsher as he rocked himself into you deeper and longer, every stroke making you see stars as you moan out "Good boy" and "Doing so well for mommy", your hand press's against the mirror trying to hold yourself before you found yourself being fucked into the sink.

“Fuck bill doing so well for me" you moan, your voice going hoarse as Bill let out moans and whines.

The room was filled with skin slapping and the mixtures of your sweaty bodies that filled the toilet air as he fucked you like he was in heat. The sweat dripped down both your bodies as the excessive amount of moans and groans filled the room. "Shit, just like that"

At this point you knew he wasn’t trying his best to be quiet as he let loose not caring for the audience that may be hearing from outside the door. "Shhh sweet boy, you don't want them hearing how much of a slut you are for me do you" You hush out and he opens his eyes, letting a hand go around his mouth to shut himself up.

You arched your back more, bouncing yourself back onto him as you watched in the mirror as he made lewd faces, his hand gripping the side of your hip with forcefulness.

"Are you going to come for me pretty boy…make a huge fucking mess inside of me” you say and he’s too flushed out to say anything, his eyes threatening backwards and his moans getting louder.

"Shit mommy please let me come" he pleads as he increases speed,

“Do it for me sweet boy, come inside me”

"W-wait are you on the pill"

"Y-yes just do it come inside me"

Bill chases his release before finally coming inside you and releasing, the feeling of his warm seed seeping into you and before you know it you convulse all over his cock with a moan and slump over onto the sink. Your pants were loud and frantic as he pulls out, his release dripping down onto the floor. “You were so good for me, sweet boy”

You shakily get up and press a gentle kiss on his lips, “T-thank you”he mutters and you smile. “You're still shy after fucking the shit out of me” he blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly still avoiding eye contact with you.“You can’t blame me your very intimidating”

“Only when I’m very horny….anyway we should probably get dressed before they come knocking” you say and you both quickly get dressed and you clean yourself up before looking in the mirror to see the damage.

"Your hair" you say fixing his hair that seemed to be all over the place and made sure to leave one at a time, You leaving first and Bill going after.

You ignored plenty of the dirty stares you got from the passengers on the plane as you sat in your assigned seat and watched as bill walked back to his seat and you both didn’t talk or look at each other for the rest of flight.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Eventually you touch down in England and make it back to your apartment after 2 hour journey from the airport. You hop in the shower and take a quick one as you make it back to your bedroom and jump onto your bed, phone in hand.

You're scrolling on your twitter feed when a video piques your interest and your eyes widen when your moans of desperation and hunger are emitted through your phone speakers, not only was there a video online going viral of you getting fucked in a toilet in the plane

You were also number 1 trending on twitter and not for the right reasons,

‘Group leader Bill Kaulitz from Tokio Hotel was caught having sexual relations with an unknown women on the flight to England for their world tour in the planes toilet, could it be a girlfriend or potential lover?’

How did a 10 minute hookup become a world wide scandal ?

#bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x black fem reader #black reader smut #black reader #tokio hotel #x black fem reader #bill kaulitz smut #smut #leiswxrld #leiscoven

274 notes · View notes

hypostatic-oath · 4 months

Text

Hydro Archon, Hydro Archon, Don't Cry

I've noticed a pattern with 5star characters in my game - they only come home after I've done their story quest or at least the Archon Quest where they appear. From an in-game perspective it's obviously because it takes me a while to finish the quest and I raise the pity in the meantime, however... from a SAGAU perspective, it's adorable that they only come around after I've spent the time to get to know them better.

Content Warnings: Angst, Furina desperately needs a hug.

SPOILERS FOR 4.2 BELOW

Imagine Furina before the Archon Quest. She's holding it together, like she has been for five hundred years. She's been performing her role so well for so long, yet she feels like she's already gone beyond her limit. She doesn't know how long she can handle doing this for, but she knows she must.

Late at night, she takes a break to catch some air. She's aware that she's still performing - she's alone, but she cannot risk lowering her mask, even before an invisible audience. She takes a deep breath and looks up, and doesn't even feel the tears flowing down her face.

A shimmering light crosses the sky.

Foçalors, it beckons. Come home.

Oh no. Not this. She's not ready, she's not ready! Not tonight. She tells herself she'll answer your summons tomorrow. In truth, she doesn't feel worthy of answering. What if she's not what you expect?

That isn't even a question. She knows she's not what you expect.

She knows you have other Archons - real Archons - among your Vessels. She panics - she doesn't even have a Vision, much less an Archon's authority. There's only so much she can achieve with acting. What would she do when you took her out on the battlefield and she inevitably failed?

Come on... Another shooting star crosses the sky, your voice a faint, ethereal whisper in her ears. I need an Archon team...

It fills her with dread. She can't answer your summons! She absolutely can't! Not only would she disappoint you - because there's no way she wouldn't, surely, she can't imagine a world in which you are not disappointed once you figure out just what she is, a fraud who can't even use Hydro much less be the literal Archon - she'd also jeopardize her only purpose.

She rushes inside, back to her room, closes the shutters and the window and the curtains and almost leaps into bed, placing the covers over herself as if to shield herself from the world.

She can still hear you calling.

The next day, Poisson is struck. The prophecy is in full swing. She's frantic, searching for something, anything that could possibly help. All the while maintaining the façade. At least you seem to have given up.

It's both relieving and heartbreaking.

At night, she doesn't even risk it - her windows are kept shut. She analises every report, and locks her door when she notices that she's crying, the papers she's holding becoming dotted with tears that fall despite her best efforts. She can hear the rain hitting her window, and the downpour has her feeling even more hopeless.

Neuvillette speaks with her in the following morning. If the pressure from you wasn't enough, she now also has to manage to assure the Hydro Dragon Sovereign that she has everything under control. It's funny, how those eyes capable of such gentleness seem to gaze into her without a shred of mercy. Just speaking to him now feels like she's been put on trial, and Furina knows, deep down in her soul, that she is guilty.

He presses. Poisson has fallen. She knows. She also knows she's likely crying, the mask is slipping, but she can't give up. She has no right - no right at all, to sacrifice the lives of every person in Fontaine for the sake of her comfort. She cannot afford to slip up. And that means she cannot trust anyone - not you, and not Neuvillette. So she gathers the little control she can at this time, tells him she knows exactly what she's doing, and dashes out the door.

Wait, Furina!

She barely hears your voice as she runs. "I'm sorry, but I can't answer!" She thinks, as she rushes to the top floor of the Palais Mermonia. She knows she gas no time to lose. She needs to get herself in check, to wipe away her tears, to figure something out. Where had she gone wrong? Five hundred years, searching for a solution. Five hundred years of observing every trial, hoping it'll finally be the one she needs. But nothing.

She has nothing, and Poisson has fallen.

She thought the Traveler - and you, by extension - would be the key. That by judgding them she'd have the "most magnificent trial" that her mirror self spoke of. And yet, at every turn, the blonde outlander had managed to evade being sentenced, or even making the trial as grand as she'd expected. She paces around in her room as she mulls it over. Should she had judged you directly? Could she have done so? That would've been a trial for the ages - the Overseer, brought to justice by the Hydro Archon of Fontaine, for the crime of... what could she even accuse you of? Posessing people's bodies? That had to be illegal - or at least immoral enough to warrant a trial...

She lets her body flop onto the bed, covering her eyes with one arm as she lets out a sigh that despite its overdramatic appearance, is in fact incredibly genuine. She's tired. So tired.

Foçalors, come home.

Furina buries her face beneath one of the pillows. She hopes it'll drown out the sound of your voice. She can't distinguish whether that ache in her chest is from your summons growing more insistent or from how much she needs to cry.

The shooting star turns golden outside the window, and Furina wonders if the fact that someone else intercepted it will be enough to dissuade you. She hopes it is, otherwise, her days are numbered.

No more stars cross the sky that night, and relief washes over her body, in a wave so intense that she once again doesn't notice the tears. She falls asleep like that, and dreams of rising waters.

Furina heads to the Opera Epiclese in the morning. She's not looking forward to seeing Neuvillette, but she prays that there'll be a trial. "Please," she thinks, as she sits down in the throne reserved for the Hydro Archon, observing the stage from on high, "let it be today."

It isn't. Instead of a trial, there is a performance... and though she usually loves them, now is not the time. Worse yet, she's spotted by the crowd as she's getting ready to leave. They're angry, of course they are. The prophecy is true, and what is their Archon doing? Furina performs as best as she can, but this time the audience is completely unreceptive. She doesn't blame them. She'd be angry, too, in their shoes. She knows they're terrified. She's terrified, too.

But what can she do? Her search has turned up empty. She has no powers, not really, none besides the power of persuasion and even that seems to be slipping more and more these days. She cannot reassure her people. Neuvillette no longer trusts her, if he ever did. The water rises every day with no signs of stopping.

"Why, mirror-me? Where am I failing?"

The crowd chases her out of the theater. Neuvillette is nowhere in sight, and even if he were, Furina isn't sure she could call upon him now. The time in which he acted as her shield if gone. Neuvillette is now just another of the many she's disappointed.

It hurts.

With no other choice, she runs - as far as her legs will take her, she dashes away from the crowd, and guilt tells her she's being a coward. That she needs to stand up and reassure the masses, that she needs to do what an Archon would at that time.

The notion feels almost ridiculous. She cannot command her element freely like Barbatos, or raise protections over her city like Morax. She cannot threaten to strike down the unruly like the Shogun, nor does she have Lesser Lord (Lesser Lord! Hah! Even someone known as 'Lesser' is leagues beyond Furina's ability) Kusanali's foresight and wisdom.

So she does what she can do.

Whether it is fate or simply her own feelings of guilt, she finds herself in Poisson, at the base of the Spina di Rosula. The place where all those people - her people - had lost their lives to a disaster she was supposed to prevent.

When the Traveler extends their hand, she doesn't know whether it is a blessing or a curse. She wants to run again - what else can she do? But her pursuers are apparently still giving chase, and the outlander offers her aid. She can feel your presence from within them - every time she's crossed paths with them, as brief as those moments were, you were there. She can tell that the longing in the blonde's eyes is, at least in part, yours.

She's sorry.

She follows the Traveler to the hiding place - someone's home? It seems irrelevant. For a moment, she wonders if she could sue you for invasion of private property. "Oh, what am I thinking? The time for the grand trial is over... and even if it weren't, suing the Overseer for something so trivial would warrant the same result as the first time I challenged the Traveler..."

The Traveler. The outlander whose presence preceeded disaster. They were known for solving it, sure, but she knew that the moment they set foot in Fontaine the prophecy would have already started. Was it their fault, or yours?

Furina still feels like it might be hers.

The Traveler offers help once again. They extend their hand, and the look in their eyes as they ask her to confide in them is so earnest, so genuine. She swars she can hear two sets of voices saying the words - the Traveler's, and yours. It's faint, and gentle, and pained, and carries a yearning she knows she cannot fix.

Through them, you reach for her and she almost breaks. She knows you'll stop reaching once you know the truth.

Furina, please. You can trust us, love. Let me- let us help. People from your world cannot know, but neither of us fit that criteria. Your people will not dissolve, I promise you. I've seen enough worlds to know.

She considers it.

She hears your voice, and considers it. But there is uncertainty in your tone. You're gambling, and she's a good enough actress to know you're not sure yourself. They wouldn't do it, that's your reasoning. Furina doesn't know who 'they' are, but you're placing all your bets on the fact that 'they' would not erase an entire Nation. Who are 'they'? Celestia? If so, she knows for certain that your wager is more optimistic than based on facts. It's not enough - blind optimism is not enough for her to risk it, not even from a being like you. Besides, that is not her choice to make.

She cannot give up. She cannot lower her guard. Not with Neuvillette, not with the Traveler, not with you. The Traveler urges her for a response, reaches out, and she's about to deny them, when the house's walls fall.

Damn it, we needed more time! Furina, I'm so sorry.

She feels your sorrow about at the same time that she feels the spotlight on her.

Neuvillette looks down from his seat as the Chief Justice, and somehow the sliver of pity in his eyes hurts more than the coldness of a few days prior.

She's on trial.

________

She's crying.

She's not even making an effort to conceal it anymore. It's over. The curtains have closed and everything she worked so hard for has crumbled. The people know. Neuvillette knows. You know. Furina makes no effort to hear your voice. She knows you're disappointed.

If she did, perhaps she'd hear how you're screaming at the Traveler to go check on her. If she did, perhaps she'd hear how despite everything, you're reaching out, still. How you wish to hold her tight, as she deserves. She'd perhaps hear your outrage at the thought of her being subjected to the death sentence, she'd hear you trying to tear Neuvillette apart for allowing it, she'd hear you slowly realising that the fact that the sentence is addressed to the Hydro Archon means it's not her who dies.

She doesn't witness your relief.

Instead, it is you who gain an understanding of her thoughts. The Traveler reaches for her, and she can feel you pushing through, but she can't stop performing. Even now, she's still holding it, as much as she can.

You tear through her defenses with more ease than she expected. Furina had, until now, thought of you as detached. She knew you saw the world as a stage, a story for your amusement. Sure, you liked them, but only to the extent that one likes characters in a play, right? You were, as far as she knew, exactly the type of god - or, er, entity? - she emulated. Fickle. Boastful. Using lives as entertainment, watching trials and tribulations like a performance and solving the Nations' troubles like nothing more than a game. She had not expected you to care.

Not about her.

Not after knowing the truth.

You push forward. She knows it's you, and not the Traveler, who's in control. She can feel it, the intensity with which you reach out is the same she felt tugging at her very being every time a star crossed the sky. She knows it's you who's still trying to reach her. Even if she's failed.

Even if she's not capable of being in your Archon Team.

So she sighs, and lets you witness. That is your role, after all, isn't it? An audience of one, watching an interactive play. You haven't given up on her character, even though it's not what you expected. You're not what she expected, either. Funny, she finds herself thinking, you're both more human than anyone realised.

You witness her life. She lets it play out like a film before your eyes, the endless stream of memories of growing hopelessness as she realised that the prophecy was slowly setting itself up and she was not any closer to finding out how to stop it. Now you know - the truth, the whole truth. She has nothing left to lose now, anyway. Everything is lost. She was unmasked. She failed.

You're pushed out of her thoughts after she invites you to take your place on stage. You act in her memory, but this time the Traveler doesn't speak. You barely have time to state your piece - all you manage is an I'm sorry before being forced away. She has nothing more to share. That is enough, she figures, and far more than she ever thought she'd share. She still feels the urge to cry, but part of it is from relief.

After that, she doesn't feel your presence until after the flood.

The prophecy comes and goes and Fontaine is unharmed. The flood lasts no more than minutes, and no one is dissolved. Furina remembers your words - 'they' wouldn't do that. Though she is unsure as to 'their' identity, she is thankful that you were right. The sunlight feels like bliss upon her skin as she steps out of the Opera Epiclese, gentle rays drying the remaining water from the streets and the tears on her cheeks, and for the first time in five hundred years she breathes easy.

"They're still hoping you'll come." A familiar voice pulls her out of her trance. The Traveler, alone, stands behind her. Your presence is nowhere near. They look the same, yet different, without you within. Furina can't quite explain it, but it feels odd after being so used to seeing you within the outlander.

"I'm not an Archon." She answers, a certain bitterness in her voice as she looks down, defeated.

"I don't think they care. I know you need to rest for now, and they don't have enough primos for a ten pull anyways, but... just so you know. They'll keep trying."

Furina doesn't quite know whether that is meant as a warning or as an opportunity presenting itself. They're gone before she can ask. Either way, they're right - she is tired, and she does need rest. Out of instinct, she heads to the Palais Mermonia, but stops herself as she reaches for the door.

"Lady Furina." The gentle, deep voice she knows as belonging to the Iudex pulls her from her thoughts. She doesn't dare look him in the eye. He opens the door for her, but she simply turns away. She cannot face him, not after that trial, not after everything she'd done.

"Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. But I... I think I'll be going, now."

The now fully restored Hydro Dragon can only watch as Furina walks away. He knows she needs her space right now, but that doesn't stop him from worrying for her. He'll arrange the best apartment he can get for her, and make sure she never lacks for anything. In the meantime, though, he'll just try not to let his emotions get the best of him, lest he causes a downpour to fall upon poor Furina, who definitely does not need rain right now. If there is one thing he knows about humans is that rain does not, for the most part, cheer them up. So he holds it in, promising himself that he'll take a small break for a walk after the aftermath of everything is over, and heads to his office.

There is so much to do...

_________

Three weeks pass. Furina lays on her bed, her window open, the soft breeze bringing the smell of a night that promises rain into the apartment. She is busy, not with work, or with renovations, but with the azure glass sphere that she holds up to the light, examining it under her lamp. A Vision... during all those years, she had never thought she'd receive such a thing, much less after being pushed away from her role as the Archon. She is thankful, yes, for her newfound freedom, and, she supposes, for the fact that she'd gotten to act again. But it still remains that this bauble was completely unexpected.

Power. This little thing can give her power. She's still unsure on how to use it, and it crosses her mind that the Traveler - or you - might know. You owe her, after all, after what she did to help you out with the play... she could feel you trying to strangle the Traveler and Paimon on the astral plane and that was perhaps why she wasn't entirely offended by their remarks. Still, she had made a great effort for that play. It was only fair that at least one of you repays the favor, no?

Furina smiles softly, sighing. She'll have to put up a commission at the Guild tomorrow.

She examines the light reflecting within, and it reminds her of the surface of the sea as seen from underwater. The holder, a silvery ornament not unlike those she's seen worn by Vision-bearers, has a distinct characteristic - four fang-like details that seem to secure the glass in place. Before she can give it more thought, the first pitter patter of raindrops reaches her ears, and she rushes to retrieve the clothes hanging on the line she has in the small balcony of her apartment before they get too wet. She rushes outside, hearing as the rain and wind pick up.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..." She mutters to herself, quickly shoving the clothes onto a basket, trying to pick them off the line as fast as she can. Behind her, a flash of light illuminates the night sky. "Oh, I am so not in the mood for thunder..."

Furina cringes, hoping the storm is not directly above. Maybe she'll be able to sleep if it's just a faraway rumbling. What she hears, however, is not the booming sound of a storm.

Furina. Come home.

You're still trying. For a moment, she forgets about the heavy rain, and the clothes, and simply looks up at the sky. Blue flashes, one after the other, cross the clouds in rapid succession. Even after everything, you hadn't given up. The Traveler had warned her, but at the time she hadn't been in a stable enough state of mins to even care, still shaken from everything that had happened.

Now, she simply looks up.

"Overseer." She answers. You won't be able to add her to the 'Archon Team'. She knows she's not as powerful as most of your Vessels - hell, she doesn't even know how to use her Vision yet. But you still want her.

You know the truth - the whole truth - and you still want her.

The next star that crosses the sky turns gold, and glows brighter and brighter until it lands in front of her, hovering above the railing on her balcony. It emits a soft, warm light, and Furina reaches for it like she'd reached for her Vision.

Warmth spreads over her body, and it feels like every time she'd looked at the Traveler with you in them, except everything feels more... intense. It's not like she's seeing the filtered bits of you that shine through the cracks in someone else, no. She can feel you directly, and she understands why they call it 'coming home'. It's warm. It's comfortable. And for the first time she can truly, honestly say she doesn't feel alone.

You're happy she's there. Time seems to stop around her, and she finds herself dry and in a field full of stars. If she squints, she can barely make out a form, a swirling swarm of stardust in the vague shape of a person. She reaches a hand out.

You place the cursor over her outstretched hand.

Welcome home, Furina.

#heavy self indulgent vibes on this one y'all #FINALLY this one was in the drafts for so long istg #also you will pry neuvillette caring about furina from my cold dead hands udc what sort of relationship they have HE CARES ABOUT HER #furina deserves sm better #PLEASE let yourself be taken care of furina we love you #yes i hc it rained after furina moved away from the palais mermonia #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin au #genshin impact sagau #sagau overseer #sagau furina #man i really need to write happier stuff. theres always someone sad i wonder if this says smth about me

333 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 5 months

Text

SSR Ace Trappola - Playful Dress Vignette

"I can take my chances as they come"

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Ace's Room]

Ace: UGHHHHHH～～～ THAT PISSED ME OFF!!

Ace: I thought Riddle-ryōchō had gotten a bit more lenient, but obviously not.

Ace: "A student's main duty is his schoolwork! To abandon that is completely inexcusable!"

Ace: …Can't believe he'd say something like that, he's more stubborn than anything!

Ace: Man, after I got all excited with planning the outing. Thanks to someone it all went sour.

Deuce: When you say someone… Are you talking about me?

Ace: Who else? What kind of complete bonehead goes and snitches to the Housewarden like that?

Deuce: But- but, we're supposed to tell either the Housewarden or a Professor if we have to be absent…

Deuce: And besides, now that you mention it, it's definitely not a good thing to skip class.

Ace: What do you mean, "now that you mention it"…? Did you think up 'til getting yelled at by the Housewarden that skipping class was okay!?

Ace: So that's, why you just ran to the Housewarden so brazenly… Ugh.

Ace: Why'd I even try to invite someone this stupid in the first place…?

Deuce: WHAT DO YOU MEAN, STUPID!?

Deuce: Ah!! …Not very honor student of me to shout like that. …I'm gonna go cool off outside.

[door clicks open… slams shut]

Ace: Wh… What's with that guy, why's he the one getting upset!? That really grinds my gears.

Ace: Ughh, I can't deal with this anymore. I gotta finish packing before he gets back.

Ace: I have my phone charger, tissues, breath mints…

Ace: And I guess… I don't need my wallet. They said it's all free, so.

Ace: Last but not least, I definitely can't forget my Playful Land ticket!

Ace: …This should be enough. If I bring too much stuff, it'll just get in the way when I'm trying to have fun.

Ace: All that's left to do is to wake up before the sun rises and get to where we're all meeting, but…

Ace: Now that the Housewarden knows that I'm planning on skipping class, he'll definitely be on the lookout.

Ace: I thought it'd be pretty easy to slip out if I had spent the night at Ramshackle…

Ace: But if I do anything stupid now, it'll be off with all our heads, even [Yuu] and Grim's.

Ace: I already told [Yuu] and Grim not to invite anyone… I can't be the one to screw this up.

Ace: I've finished packing for tomorrow, so… Guess I'll check out possible escape routes!

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Hallway]

Heartslabyul Student A: Hey man, did you hear? Sounds like the Housewarden's in a rage because of Ace.

Heartslabyul Student B: Again～? That first year never learns, huh. So, what's it about this time?

Heartslabyul Student C: I mean… I don't really know all the details. But let's make sure not to set him off any further…

[rabble, rabble]

Ace: Looks like my upperclassmen heard what happened. At least they don't know about Playful Land…

Ace: I bet there'd be a few guys that would turn me in on a dime just to save their own skin, too.

Ace: It'd be bad if they see I'm missing in the morning, so I think I'll treat my roommates to some juice to keep them quiet.

Ace: Man… It's not something I usually notice, but it looks like a bunch of the guys in the dorm use this corridor a lot.

Ace: There's a slim chance that someone might wake up early and see me, so… I guess I'll try to find another route.

[Heartslabyul Dorm – Kitchen]

Ace: Hmmm. Looks like the kitchen doesn’t get much traffic…

Ace: Nice. Looks like this is the best way out!

Ace: If I go outside from that door there… I don't think anyone will notice right?

Ace: It's just dumb just following orders because the Housewarden said no, or just letting him chew me out just for skipping one day of class.

Ace: I ain't a blockhead like some people. I'm way better.

Ace: There's no point to anything if you miss out just 'cause you're trying to follow the rules. I'm gonna make sure I can take my chances as they come.

[Playful Land - Catch The Star]

―After the Playful Stage Show

Fellow: See now, it's on the horizon: the ride that Grim-kun has been so excited for!!

Grim: MYAH!? WHERE IS IT WHERE IS IT!? I WANNA RIDE IT ALREADY!!

Vil: Even after all that dancing in the show… This little potato is still rife with energy.

Ace: Huh, you tired already, Vil-senpai?

Vil: Who do you think you're talking to? Seems to me like this little potato has no manners.

Ace: It's not as bad as Expedition Whale, but looks like it's pretty popular regardless. There's a really long line.

Jack: Hm…? But that's…

Grim: Yo, Fellow. I said I wanted to ride on a trapeze swing.

1. This is a bit different… 2. Rather than a swing, it looks more like an umbrella

Fellow: Oh no, this is it, without a doubt. This is our very popular attraction, The "Parasol Swing."

Ace: The swing portion looks like an umbrella, but it's definitely flying through the sky. But why's it shaped like an umbrella?

Jack: Wasn't there that one scene in Wish Upon a Star where the wooden puppet's teacher hung onto a carriage with an umbrella?

Jack: In the book I read, that teacher was a cricket with enough guts to weather both the swaying of the carriage and the dust it kicked up.

Fellow: What vast knowledge you possess! Did you hear, Gidel, his quick and easy explanation!

Gidel: … [nods]

Vil: Ah yes, I do recall seeing some gentlemanly-looking cricket plushes in the shop.

Vil: That must have been the wooden puppet's teacher you mentioned.

Jack: Huh, so they had some plushes of the wooden puppet's teacher? My younger brother and sister both read the book too, so maybe that'd be a good souvenir for them.

Ace: Cool. They got plushes of the cricket from Wish Upon a Star here too, huh～

1. I'm curious what kind of cricket it is. 2. I want to see the plushes.

Ace: Same. Looks like we still got time before it's our turn, so let's go check it out.

Jack: What do you mean, check it out…? If we jump out of line, we'll lose our spot.

Ace: Well yeah, that's if we all go… But as long as one person stays in line, we should be fine, right?

Ace: Soooo… Please and thank you, Vil-senpai! Can you hold the line for us!?

Jack: What!? You're seriously just asking an upperclassman to wait in line for you?

Ace: But like, Vil-senpai sounded like he was tired after that stage show.

Ace: We're still at the back of the line, and it's pretty shady here, so you won't have to worry about sunburn, and it looks like the flower beds have a lip that you can sit on, too…

Ace: Looks like it's the perfect place to take a break, don'tcha think? I'll make sure to grab you something to drink while we go check out the shops, too!

Fellow: Fahaha! What a thoughtful little student.

Vil: You really are a smooth-talker.

Vil: You're quick on your feet only in specific situations, or rather, you don't show your hand. It's good that you follow your convictions, but…

Vil: Although Trey followed after you in the end, the fact that you still went to slip out of your dorm even after Riddle was on high alert shows just how duplicitous you are.

Vil: I'm so thankful that Pomefiore didn't get anyone as rambunctious as you.

[Playful Land – Gentle Square]

Grim: That trapeze swing was so fuuun～!

Ace: Yeah, it was a little more thrilling than it looked. And we were able to figure out why it looked like umbrellas by checking out the shop beforehand, too, so that was good.

Ace: Jack and Vil-senpai went off to look at something else, so what should we do?

Grim: Hey, that's the Friendly Fox and the Gentle Cat over there!

Ace: Oh, you're right. They didn't show up to the stage show earlier, so I thought they didn't have live mascots here.

1. I want to see them up close! 2. I want to take a picture with them.

Ace: Ehhh～ Seriously? I got no interest in that whatsoever. You don't care about mascots either, right, Grim?

Grim: I read somewhere that when ya come to an amusement park, ya gotta take a picture with the mascots! I'll do it too!

Ace: Pass. I'm gonna go get in line for the roller coaster again. You guys can do it yourselves.

Guest A: I never thought I'd be able to take a picture with the Friendly Fox and Gentle Cat. This'll make a great memory.

Guest B: Hey, let's upload it to Magicam right away. It's proof that we came to Playful Land!

Ace: Hold on, wait a moment…

Ace: It might be better to upload a picture with those specific mascots to brag to everyone about how I got to come to this amusement park!

1. So that means… 2. Does that mean…?

Ace: Change of plans. It won't take too long to just take one photo, so let's get to it.

Ace: Woah, the Fox and Cat are coming our way. Eh!?

Friendly Fox: ～♪

Ace: Why's he spreading his arms out wide…? Feels like he's tryin' to be real welcoming.

Gentle Cat: !!

Ace: He's pointing at us, shaking his hips, and swinging his arms left and right… Ah.

Ace: Wait, did you see the stage show earlier? You tryin' to let us know how good we did?

Grim: The Fox and Cat are both nodding their heads. Guess they got an eye for awesomeness!

Ace: Looks like. Up close, this Fox's got real round eyes. He's got a super sincere face, like he could never tell a lie.

Ace: The Cat's real fluffy looking and is constantly smiling. He looks completely harmless and kind.

Ace: Basically, both look like real cool dudes!

Ace: …Hm? Now the Fox and Cat are dancing.

Grim: Oh hey, that's the dance we did earlier on the Playful Stage! Rave-up, up, dum-dee-dum… ♪

Ace: Those too look happy now that Grim started dancing, now… What, they want us to do it too!?

1. Rave-up! Up! ♪ 2. That's a little embarrassing…

Puppet: Dear Guests, You Look Spectacular! I'll Take A Picture Of You In A Rave-Up Pose!

Ace: Hrrrm, at this point, it'd be lame to act embarrassed, so… Guess I just gotta strike that pose, then.

Ace: Mmkay, can you take a pic with my phone?

Puppet: Understood, I Shall Take Your Phone. Alright, Everyone, Strike A Pose… Here We Go. Say Cheese!

[Playful Land – Bazaar]

Ace: WHEW, WE'RE FINALLY ALMOST AT SAGE'S ISLAND～!

Ace: Playful Land's exploding everywhere, and I've been hearing a lot of super sketch noises for a while now…

Ace: But at this rate, we should be able to make it to Crane Port somehow, right?

Ace: Even a boring island like this feels like a sight for sore eyes after a terrifying ordeal like that.

Trey: Seriously, yeah. We're all back home safe thanks to you guys, Ace.

Cater: Yup, yup. Although guess it's a bit uncool of Cay-kun to have to be saves by our juniors～

Ace: Heheh. But c'mon, the only reason we were even able to last that long is all thanks to you guys～

Ace: Oh, yeah. Get a load of this, guys. Something amazing happened a bit ago…

Ace: I even got some praise from Leona-senpai.

Trey: From Leona? Wow, that's unbelievable. Never thought I'd see the say where he'd praise someone so sincerely.

Ace: Right!? Well, I'm a little hesitant to say his praise was sincere, but…

Ace: When I told him how I magically tossed my foxtail souvenir so the puppets would go after it,

Ace: He said… "Sounds like those puppets were more like puppies, huh. How kind of you to toss 'em a bone."

Ace: That's basically his way of showing appreciation, right? …But now that I'm putting it in words, I'm starting to doubt it.

Cater: Yeah, yeah, I totes think he was praising you ☆ You got Floyd-kun saying good things about you, too.

Ace: Huh, Floyd-senpai!?

Trey: Yeah, he said something like… "I didn't have a lick of hope in 'em, but they actually took much longer to get turned into puppets than I thought."

Ace: That doesn't sound like praise to me at all? But I guess that's better than him saying he'd squeeze me…

Ace: Uh, so～ There's something I want to ask…

Ace: If we told him about how I totally had a hand in helping dismantle the evil Playful Land…

Ace: Do you think even Riddle-ryōchō would praise me and say I did a good job…?

Trey/Cater: Nope. / No way.

Ace: Tch, didn't think that'd work.

Trey: Maybe if we had been able to get back before dark, we would have been able to figure out some kid of excuse, but…

Trey: We've been gone pretty much all the night without any kind of notice. I can definitely already see Riddle's face red with rage.

Cater: Yup. I think we all gotta make sure to prepare for the worst…

Ace: Siiigh… I'm way too exhausted from putting in all that work, so it's gonna be a pain to deal with the Housewarden's anger, too...

???: How can you sound so miserable when we're finally able to make it back to campus?

Ace: Ah, Vil-senpai! Did you come here to praise me, too?

Vil: Absolutely not. It looked like the silver-tongued Ace might actually be in distress, so I came to impart some advice.

Ace: Wait, does that mean… You know some way to calm Riddle-ryōchō down!? Please, tell me!

Vil: It's nothing too difficult. The proper solution in these sorts of situations is to…

Vil: FACE HIM STRAIGHT ON AND APOLOGIZE EARNESTLY!

Vil: Your penchant for making excuses will only irritate Riddle further.

Vil: The best way to receive his forgiveness is to take his ire directly.

Ace: EEEHH!?

Trey: True, Ace has a quick wit and is pretty clever… But I'm pretty sure our best bet this time would be to be honestly apologetic.

Cater: I bet Riddle-kun was super worried about us too～ When we get back, we should all three of us apologize to him together.

Vil: See, third years are fully capable of understanding. Ace, you should also gracefully accept defeat.

Ace: NO WAAAY～!

Trey: When you deflate like that, it's like all that energy you were bouncing around with since last night was a mirage or something.

Ace: Urgh… But we went through so much. I ain't gonna let it end on a sour note.

Ace: If that's the case, then I'm gonna totally brag about how much fun I had on the attractions and on the stage!

Cater: Ace-chan is really...

Trey: Yeah, he really is stubborn.

Requested by Anonymous.

256 notes · View notes

suppose-i-was-worm · 1 year

Text

Iceberg Siren pt 2

**I know, I know, it's fast, but I finished writing it and I'm super happy with how it turned out soooooo y'all have to deal with it.There is a mention of nightmares near the end, and a small bit of harassment at the beginning, but nothing happens and it's not graphic, so. Let me know if I need to tag those things, though! again, I'm not going to start a tag list, but the link for the AO3 version will be in a reblog, and you're welcome to follow that.**

Jason cursed himself for not getting Danny Nightingale’s number, days later when the bats were having a conference about why the Joker had been so quiet lately. B was chastising Steph for being flippant, and Jason was tired and ready to go home. He was also considering trying to find Danny and asking him out.

Something about the young man had seemed familiar- something in the way he moved, the way Jason’s heart thundered loudly in his ears when looking at his wide blue eyes.

“-son. Jason!”

He looked up- the entire batclan was looking at him. It was Dick who had spoken, who had stepped forward with his hand held out towards Jason.

“What?”

“How are you- uh- doing, with the Joker so quiet?”

Jason waited for the familiar green rising in his vision, but instead, he only saw Danny’s eyes, looking at him with understanding as he reeled from the death of the man who killed him.

“Fine. Can I go now? I’ve got some leads to follow up on.”

B grunted from his place at the batcomputer, and Jason took that as an affirmative, slamming his hood down onto his head and mounting his bike.

Roaring out of the cave, Jason headed toward Crime Alley. His recent partnership with Penguin had curtailed some more of the drug trade in his territory, but he still needed to keep an eye out.

As he rode, he felt a stirring in his gut, leading him to take a sharp turn and drive the wrong direction. He slid to a stop in an alley behind The Iceberg, and what he saw there made green boil up in his vision.

The new singer, Siren, was being crowded up against the dingy back wall of the club.

“I said no, sir.”

“C’mon, Siren, I know you were looking at me tonight.”

“Sir, do not put your hands on me.”

“If you weren’t such a whore, you-“

Jason cocked his gun.

“You’d better leave the Siren alone, asshole.”

The asshole turned, and Jason recognized him as a frequenter of one of the brothels in his territory.

“This isn’t your turf, Hood.”

Siren slipped out from under asshole’s arm, silky smooth and seemingly unencumbered by the tight dress he wore.

“He and boss have an arrangement.”

The asshole scowled, but as Jason dismounted his bike and stood straight, he ran away, shooting one last poisonous look at Siren before the darkness of Gotham swallowed him.

“Thank you. I didn’t want him to know I’m a meta.”

Jason turned to Siren, who was looking up at him with khol-lined eyes. Blue eyes.

“Danny?”

Danny winked.

“Hi, Mr. Hood.”

The door to the Iceberg backstage opened with a slam, and a man in a black uniform stormed out.

“Siren! You- Is this man bothering you?”

“Hey Matt.” Danny stuck out a hip, placing a hand on it. “You think anyone could truly mess with me around here?”

Matt glared suspiciously at Jason.

“If you wanted them to, maybe.”

Danny laughed and then headed towards the door.

“Thanks for your help, Hood! I’ll catch you later.”

He threw a wink over his shoulder, patting Matt’s arm as he passed.

“Let’s go in, Mattie, I’ve got to ask Boss about getting better security set up back here.”

The door to the club closed behind them, and Jason meandered back to his bike, a little dazed from the interaction. If he hadn’t already come to grips with his bisexuality, he was sure he’d be having trouble coming to terms with how good Danny looked all dressed up.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed Siren the first time- it’s just he had better things to think about, and pretty boys with even prettier voices were not one of those things.

But now- now that he’d met Danny, had seen vengeance for his own death paid in full, well.

Getting a date with the singer was number one on his list.

Penguin had Matt give Danny ‘the talk’. No, not about sex. About fraternizing with bats and birds.

“Red Hood’s the best of them,’ Matt said. ‘But he’s still got a bat splayed on his chest.”

Danny- well. Danny wasn’t really bothered. He had enough money saved up from his gig as the Siren, he could probably bounce from the Iceberg and find a place to live in comfort. Red Hood was hot, Danny was not blind, and he deserved a personal life.

There was also the matter of Red Hood’s half-formed core.

“Consider this though, Matt- I don’t care.”

Matt sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

Danny leaned back on the couch in his dressing room, glitter still clinging to his neck and arms even after a shower.

“I just want you to stay safe, Danny. The boss and I both. You’re the best attraction we’ve got, and you’re a good kid too.”

Danny sat up, schooling his face into the picture of innocence.

“Thank you, Mattie, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re not going to stop seeing Hood, are you.”

With a shrug, Danny stood to pull his hoodie on and head out for the night.

“I’ll see who I want to see, Matt. Penguin doesn’t pay me to be lonely.”

Matt sighed, and Danny slipped out the door, pulling his hood over his head.

It was raining out in Gotham, so Danny took the long route back to his little apartment, deliberately jumping in puddles when there was no one looking. He was slowly coming to love the city, even though it might never truly become his haunt, his home.

The gargoyles and grotesques throughout the city made him ache for Sam, and the technology available in this world reminded him that Tucker was probably still using his old, souped up PDA.

He wondered what Tucker would do with a top-of-the-line WayneTech device. Probably marry it.

It was fine, though. He was safe, and they were safe without him. Jazz was happy in college, and Dani was content to roam the infinite realms while she stabilized.

Everything would be fine.

Ibrahim Yinsen didn’t particularly like living so near Crime Alley, but this complex was fairly nice for where it was, and his upstairs and only neighbor was nice enough. The young man worked for some club, probably as a busboy, but he worked hard from what Yinsen could tell, and he always had a smile and an inquiry about Yinsen’s cat.

Even this evening, when he ran into him at the mailboxes, his neighbor soaking wet, the boy didn’t hesitate to ask after Misha. They exchanged pleasantries, and the sopping young man handed Yinsen a cat treat before he headed up the stairs.

Ibrahim didn’t ask about the screaming during the night, even if he wanted to. He had his own nightmares, and he wouldn’t begrudge a traumatized kid. The first few nights, it had startled him awake, but after he realized what it was that his neighbor was screaming?

He got up and made cookies to leave at the young man’s door.

No one should cry out for their parents to stop- no one should try so desperately to convince their parents that they were alive, that they were really their child.

The Meta protection laws were supposed to help kids in that situation.

Unfortunately, Yinsen was with the rest of them knowing that not every case could be caught, not every child could be saved.

Danny Nightingale was one of the luckier ones.

#dp x batman #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dead on main #Arctic Siren AU #OC #Jason Todd #danny phantom

744 notes · View notes