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hyunniesgirl · 4 months

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Hot n Cold

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: enemies(ish) to fwb to ?, smut, angst(a bit?)

Summary: after going from annoying each other to fuck buddies, Minho took your situationship from granted, always having you on his beck and call. So imagine how surprised he is to hear you have a date with someone else?

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact.

Warnings: Minho is possessive, a bit manipulative, kind of a jerk too(he's a walking red flag let's be for real), hair pulling, rough sex(?), unprotected piv(this is fiction please always use protection irl), creampie, bites/hickeys, I think that's all let me know if I missed something.

I had to write this plot because it has given me brain rot since I first thought about it so I just really wanted to take it out of my head ☠️ as always let me say that I'm not very good with smut but I keep trying so I can get better at it, so I hope you guys like it.

You didn't like him, not at all. Minho is a known fuckboy, the guy you shouldn't get involved in anyway. You were always surprised with how many girls fell for his tricks, until you did too.

You didn't mean to fall in love, it actually was the very last thing you wanted to happen. You and Minho were always fighting, bickering, provoking each other, it was natural. You were not friends, more like you were part of the same group, so you were always together and that ended in arguing every time.

You can't remember why you thought it was a good idea to fuck, maybe it was all the pressure and snarky comments your friends kept making, saying there was too much sexual tension between you two.

You didn't hate each other, you just didn't agree with everything. It always started with you saying something, anything, and Minho making some stupid comment with that damn smirk on his face.

Your first reaction was to feel embarrassed, blush rushing to your cheeks as you think of a good answer to give him. After that, you would pick on anything he said, making him roll his eyes every time you opened your mouth.

That was your thing, annoying each other.

One night, after everyone drank themselves to unconsciousness on the floor of your apartment, you decided to take a shower to sober up and go to sleep too.

You thought everyone was sleeping, clearly you were wrong because you bumped into Minho as soon as you opened the bathroom’s door. He was waiting outside, turning around to look at you the moment he heard the door.

He checked you out, staring at you up and down, biting his bottom lip before showing you that pretentious smile of his. That made you hold onto the towel tightly around you, afraid that he could undress you with only his eyes.

“Looking good”, he says, leaning against the wall. His comment makes your whole face hot and you just pray you were not as red as a tomato.

“You are drunk”, you scoff, trying to recompose yourself, walking past him.

He grabs your wrist, forcing you to turn around to bump right into his chest. He's looking down on you and you can't muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, just staring at his chest.

“I'm very much sober”, he tells you, mockery in his tone.

“Okay”, you mumble. Even though you're avoiding his gaze you can feel the intensity of his stare without having to look at him, “can you let go? I want to go to bed”

“Maybe I could keep you company”, he whispers, bending down to reach your height, making you look into his eyes now.

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes.

“Are you sure? I'm very good company”, he whispers in your ear, he has gotten even more close now.

You gulp, feeling the warmth spreading through your whole body, making the tingling sensation grow in your stomach and that's the moment you knew there was no turning back.

You woke up alone in your bed, so exhausted and sore you couldn't lift an arm. Flashbacks from the prior night came rushing in, making you want to scream. What the hell did you do? How would you look at his face now?

You look around to find a tray with orange juice and pancakes on top of your bedside table. You snatch the note that's glued to the tray so fast it's embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm up.

“Enjoy the food. I had fun last night, let's do it again. - Minho”

An involuntary smile creeps in while you read his simple and nothing romantic sentence, you don't know why you felt so flustered and excited, was it because he was handsome? Was it the remaining feeling of a great night? You just thought it would be okay to have this kind of relationship with Minho, just pure carnal desire.

Minho was always very good at setting his boundaries and crossing them too, so good it often made you confused.

Minho would call you at midnight and talk to you till 4 in the morning, fuck classes the other day.

Minho wouldn't spare you a glance for an entire week until you received a text from him, telling you to meet at janitor's closet nearby so you could fuck before class.

Minho would buy you flowers, take you on a date and hold your hand, whispering sweet nothings in your ear after spending another night together.

Minho wouldn't want to go out with you on valentine's day, saying he was busy.

Minho would introduce you to his mom, he would take you to have dinner with his family and his cats.

Minho wouldn't ask you to be his girlfriend even after months, actually, he would often tell you how good it was that you were friends.

You were already tired of this situation, he would give you so many mixed signals, messing with your head. The last straw was when you were at his house and his phone buzzed while he was in the bathroom, you mistook it for yours and grabbed it instinctively to look at the screen, seeing texts from a girl.

You shouldn't feel jealous, you're nothing more than fuck buddies and you're not exclusive, you know you're not. Then why did that feel like a punch on your stomach?

You wanted to fight with him, yell, make a scene, but you had no right doing that. So you just collected your things and left without saying goodbye.

You spend a week avoiding him, every time he wants to come to you, you tell him you are out. Every time he asks you to go to him, you tell him you are busy. You finally decided to let him go and you are just mustering up the courage to tell him that.

You even downloaded a dating app, thinking that you could maybe distract yourself, maybe you could think about anything other than Lee Minho. But every man reminded you of him, how they were not him, how they didn't stand a chance against him.

After talking for a few days with someone new, you agree to go on a date. While you're getting ready, your phone buzzes, taking your attention out of your reflection on the mirror.

Minho: come over

Minho: I miss your face

You: Can't

Minho: what's your excuse today?

Minho: I can go to yours if that's the problem

You: I'm going out soon

You: I have a date tonight

You throw your phone on the bed, not in the mood to engage in conversation with him. You're actually afraid that he'll tell you to go on, because even though you know he doesn't care, it's different to have him sending you off to a date with someone else. You finish getting ready, grabbing your phone and purse, giving yourself a last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in place.

The date goes well, the guy is so fun and respectful. You go to a beautiful restaurant, he opens the car door for you, pulls the chair for you to sit before dinner and pays the bill. He smiles the entire night and compliments you, asking questions about everything: school, family, friends, he just seems very interested in anything related to you.

You enjoy his company, he makes you believe that you will be able to get over Minho, that maybe he can help you with that.

It's after midnight when he leaves you in your apartment, watching as you get inside the building safely. The night was perfect, you just didn't expect to find Minho at your doorstep.

He turns around quickly when he hears your footsteps, looking you up and down and scowling, noticing your blurred lipstick.

“Did you have fun?” He asks, scoffing.

“Yes, I did”, you say, walking to your door to open it so you can go in.

“Did you fuck?” He asks, shamelessly, making your head snap to look at him.

“That's none of your concern”, you whisper yell, trying not to wake up the neighbors but shocked by his bluntness.

“It is, I don't like people touching what's mine”, he says, through gritted teeth.

He's so close you can feel his breath hitting your skin, making you nervous, trying to find your keys inside your purse.

“I'm not fucking yours, we are nothing”, you glare at him when you have the keys in your hands.

“You should tell yourself that while I fuck you stupid, I'm sure the only person on your mind at that moment is me”, he spits, his anger growing.

“Well, I'll not be doing that anymore”, you inform him. Unlocking your door and walking inside.

“What? Why are you acting like this, Y/N?” He says, walking behind you. “Things were going great until now”

“It was great for you”, you say, throwing your purse on the couch, turning around to look at him and crossing your arms. “Being just your booty call is not enough for me anymore, I want more”

Your voice sounds more weak than you meant to in your last sentence, you want to cry. You didn't plan to end things like this, not right now.

You can almost see the gears turning on Minho's head, he's trying to find a way out.

“You told me you didn't want to date”, he accuses you.

“I really didn't want to”, you sigh, “but we've been doing this for months, Minho. It's impossible for me to not feel anything other than just horny”

“Well, I do like you”, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but your face, “I just don't want to date anyone right now”, he completes.

“Then we are done”, you tell him, shrugging and smiling bitterly.

“No, no”, he takes a step closer, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his mouth, kissing them. “Don't say that”

He places your hands around his neck, sliding his behind your back, wrapping your waist with his arms. You want to tell him off, want to tell him to go away, that you two are really over, but his scent is just so intoxicating, you can't help but take a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” You manage to say, feeling his lips brushing against yours.

“I'm showing you my affection”, he whispers.

You almost melt into his arms, feeling his lips press against yours. He kisses you deeply, his arms holding you tightly.

Minho starts walking, making you take steps back. He leads you to your room, slowly helping you lie down on your bed.

Minho takes his shirt off, looking down on you and leaning to kiss you again, soft lips pressing lightly on yours, his hands traveling through your body, making you shiver to his touch.

He pulls your dress off of you, looking at your chest.

“Didn't wear a bra?” He smirks, “did you want him to touch your tits? Hm?”, he asks condescendingly, leaning closer to your breasts, licking your hard nipples, making goosebumps rise all over your body. One of his hands slide down on your stomach, reaching your covered pussy.

“Oh?” Minho disconnects his mouth from your chest. “Are you sure you two didn't fuck? Why are you so wet? Did you let him play with you?” He's smiling playfully, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He's staring deeply at you, daring you to tell him you wanted your date to fuck you.

“Maybe I should have”, you challenge, he has no right to inquire what you did or didn't do on your date.

“Really?” He scoffs, standing up and you just watch, afraid he'll leave. However, he starts unbuckling his pants. “I guess I've been too nice to you this whole time, y/n. Since you apparently don't know who fucking owns you”

You feel your whole body shudder, you should be mad, not excited about what he said. Then why is there a pool forming on your already wet panties? You never really noticed that Minho was the possessive type, but thinking about it, it was quite strange how he always had his hands on you whenever you were out. Other than holding hands, he often would just wrap his hand around the back of your neck while you walked together, like he wanted to claim you, let people know you were not available.

Minho leans over you again, pulling the soaked piece of fabric down your legs. He grabs your waist, flipping you around effortlessly and positions himself in between your legs, caressing your ass as you get on all fours.

He's not really worried with foreplay since you're plenty wet, he's more preoccupied with putting you in your place. So he drags the head of his cock through your folds, soaking his cock on your arousal before pushing it in.

“Min-Minho”, you gasp at his fast thrust. “Slow down”

“I don't think so”, he bends down a bit, sliding his hand through your back until he reaches your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it all together. “The way you're squeezing my cock, tells me you like it when I treat you like the toy you are”, he tells you, smacking your ass in an unexpected slap.

You shake your head, unable to talk. His cock is reaching everywhere, like he always do. That's the worst part, he always fucks you so well and you always want more.

“Fuck”, you groan when your knees give in but Minho doesn't stop. He forces your legs open, leaning on top of you to keep fucking you from the back. His mouth is so close from your neck now, he starts biting your skin, sucking so hard you're sure you won't be able to cover the hickeys with makeup later. “I'm close”, you cry out when you feel his teeth on your shoulder.

“Tell me you're mine if you want to finish”, he tells you, slowing down his movements. But you shake your head, not giving in that easily. Minho sinks his teeth on your neck once more, sucking and licking the sensitive skin, he knows how much that turns you on even more.

“Come on, babe. I know you want to”, he says one more time but you hold it in, making him huff angrily, changing the pace of his thrusts again to deep strong movements that rip the air out of your lungs, “fucking say it”

You feel the tears brimming and running through your cheeks, the overwhelming feeling of the pending orgasm making your mind hazy.

“I'm yours, I am-”, you struggle to spit the words.

You can feel his smile on your skin while he disconnects his teeth, leaving a kiss on the reddened area.

“Was it that hard?”, he says, sliding his hands to your folds, sinking his fingers on your already full pussy to wet them. Minho brings said fingers to your clit, making circling movements accompanied by your moans, choking on the pleasure.

“Please, please, don't stop”, you cry out feeling the tightening on your lower stomach, the heat spreading to all your body, making you moan loudly when you finally reach your orgasm.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that.”, Minho groans, thrusts getting sloppy. He puts his hand behind your neck, pressing the side of your face to the pillow. “I love seeing your fucked out face while I cum, kitten”

Minho moans, releasing his load inside of you, making you squirm beneath him, feeling his warm shot. With no energy, you just feel him pulling out of you and throwing himself by your side.

When your high starts subsiding it hits you that you're still at the same place as before, so even though you just want to cuddle with him at that moment, you turn your face to look at him and ask.

“What are we now?”

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A/N: as always, feedback is VERY important to writers, so please leave a comment, reblog or stop by my DM, I love to hear your thoughts on my stories!

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 5 months

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Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

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A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

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The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln’s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

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cutielando · 2 months

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threat ~ max verstappen

Summary: When Red Bull thinks it's a good idea for Max to be in a PR relationship with a model, Max is left to make a choice. Ruin your privacy or ruin your relationship?

Words: 1.0k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Secret relationships were fun.

Sneaking out behind people’s backs, stealing glances at each other when you thought nobody was watching.

But they stopped being fun once management got involved.

Max had a very public life, and a very dangerous job to begin with. He needed to be careful with a lot of things, and that oftentimes included his image. He didn’t care about any of it, he was content with people not knowing about your relationship in order to protect your privacy and have something that was only for himself.

He was okay with it, you were okay with it, everybody was happy.

Except for Red Bull Racing.

They didn’t like the idea of their number 1 driver being seen as unapproachable because he is always without a partner, and since you two didn’t want to showcase the relationship on their terms, they figured out another way to go.

PR relationship with a model.

You couldn’t say that you were surprised. Red Bull was notorious for being willing to do whatever it takes to be on the top, no matter in what field. But you didn’t expect Max to go along with it, certainly.

“We need to talk” he had announced after he came home from a meeting with Red Bull.

You raised your eyebrow, his tone doing little to soothe the worries pitting in your stomach.

“About what?”

“Us” his response made your breath hitch in your throat.

“What about us?” a million thoughts were running through your head, one more sinister than the other.

He sighed, scratching his neck.

“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it. The team doesn’t think that hiding our relationship is beneficial for my reputation, so they are giving us two choices. We either go public in the next few days or they’re gonna hire a model to be my fake girlfriend” to say that the news had come like a punch would be the understatement of the year.

You knew from the very beginning that Red Bull was very vocal and opinionated over your relationship with Max and how it should evolve, but you never thought they would stoop down so low and come up with something like this just because you wouldn’t play by their rules.

“What did you tell them?” you asked, part of you afraid of what the answer would be.

He was silent for a moment, which spoke more about the situation than his words would.

“I told them that I didn’t like being given an ultimatum and that I’m gonna think about it” hearing him brought tears to your eyes.

You didn’t know what you should have expected. Of course he would end up agreeing, you were stupid to think that he would stand up for your relationship and live a secret life forever. You should have known better from the very start.

Who were you even kidding?

“I see” you said, after being silent for a good minute upon hearing him.

“I obviously don’t want to date someone else, regardless if it’s fake or real. But we need to talk about this. You know how the team is, they’re going to make the decision for me and we both know what that decision is going to look like” he said, slowly approaching the bed and sitting down next to you.

You nodded, staring at the folded hands in your lap.

Your brain was struggling to make a decision, struggling to weigh in all the factors that it was supposed to consider.

Were you ready to go public with your relationship? Did you really have what it takes to be Max’s girlfriend? How would his fans react when they found out he was dating someone as ordinary as you? How would it affect his reputation and relationship with the team? Was it even worth the risk?

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours. Wanna tell me what you’re thinking so hard about?” his voice woke you up from your little trance, his joking tone doing little to soothe your worries.

You looked at him, analyzing the features of his face. He was too good for you, you knew that. But damn you and your selfishness, you weren’t about to let him go.

“I don’t want to be the reason you tarnish your relationship with the team. I love you too much to be that person. The decision is up to you” you figured that letting him decide would be your best bet, it was his reputation on the line after all.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you into going public. We’ll do whatever makes you comfortable. I just wanted you to know what the team is planning to do, but I’m not going to let them ruin us” he reassured you, taking your hand in his.

You closed your eyes and savored the feeling of his skin on yours, his touch familiar and safe. Nobody had ever made you feel like Max does, not even close to it. He brought a sense of comfort in your life that nobody else ever could, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You had to take a risk if you wanted to be with him.

No matter how hard it would be.

“I want to go public, believe me, I do. But what are your fans going to say? You see what they do with the other girlfriends, they look for the tiniest reason to just tear them to shreds” you said, worry laced with apprehension in your voice.

Max shook his head and scooted closer to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting hug.

“My fans are the last thing that you should be worried about. If they don’t agree with our relationship, then they aren’t my real fans. All that matters is that we’re happy and in love, nobody else has a say in this” he reassured you, running his hand up and down your back as he spoke.

You listened and then ultimately nodded, knowing that he was right and you were freaking out over nothing.

As long as you had Max, you would be fine.

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loaksbitch · 1 year

Text

jake sully is angry okay? furious from your stupid actions that almost got you killed and he makes sure you won’t do it again by fucking your brains out and teaching you a lesson — wc 1.2k ( this one was requested )

warnings (18+) - angry sex, rough sex, p in v, p penetration, clit stimulation, licking, jake calling you “forever my girl” UGH, doggy-ish, jake is pissed LIKE PISSED, dom!jake, overstimulation if you squint, degrading turns to praising, crying, oc is overwhelmed and sensitive, jake panics that he dicked your soul down. i think that’s it but lmk what i missed

“fück your brains out” — jake sully (⨳)

you’re pressed down to the rocky ground, skin itchy due to the strong and rough grass pressing to your skin.

but that wasn’t the case, the real itch was between your legs where jake has his balls plunged deep into your tight cunt

“jake,” you mewled, knees hurting from being all in fours for half an hour now. jake was squatting behind you while roughly thrusting and knocking your breath out.

“i fuckin’ told you to wait for me in the village, didn’t i?” he was breathing hard, one hand holding onto your tail and pulling your hips to fuck him back. your jaw hurts from being wide open and you scream when jake coils your tail into his palm and pulls you.

“answer me you filthy minx.” he hissed and you only helplessly cried out.

“not gonna talk?” he chuckles, pretty much annoyed with your bratty self. “alright, imma fuck your brains out so you’ll start to talk.”

you feel jakes hand that was holding onto your tail come to your waist instead, then you’re suddenly pulled up from the ground and fully knelt while he grips under your breast tight.

“you almost died not listening to me.” he says, pressing your petite body to his gigantic self. jake huffs in pain just thinking how the sky people almost shot you. “i was trying to hel– ngh!” your words are cut off

pain and pleasure strikes in you when jake fully bottoms out before pulling almost fully out which his tip only ghosts your opening. “help? that’s how you fucking help, princess?”

it’s not surprising how jake is scolding you in the middle of sex, after all it’s jake sully you’re talking about.

you’re too silent with forming words, only hiccups and cries leaving your dry lips. but you’re very thankful when jakes other hand turns your face to his to his and lean to give your dry lips a bold lick

he doesn’t miss how your inside tightens around his fat cock and grits his teeth.

“do it again.” he demands before giving your lips another bold lick, “fuck” he growls when your pussy swallows him and grips onto him tight.

“you haven’t answered me, pretty girl.” his dark voice causes your heart to tremble in fear and excitement.

“you to-told me! you told me!” you gasp when he palms your breast, tweaking your nipple with the ough pads of his long fingers. “and what did you do? disobeyed me.” his hand wrapped under your breast pulls you close to him more

your back pressed to his sweaty chest.

“what happens when you disobey me, baby?” your eyes roll into your head when he bites to your flattened ear, a long moan leaving your lips. jake groans when you don’t answer him.

“are you fuckin’ lagging on me now?”

he is suddenly pulling out from your tight soaked cunt and pushing you down to the ground.

“i get punished, when i don’t obey i get punished.” you quickly say, afraid you’ve pissed your mate but it was already so late. jake sully was beyond pissed.

he doesn’t even give you a second to get comfortable as he drapps himself on you, trapping your body when you’re still laid on your side. “open your legs, put your left on my shoulder.” his cold voice orders.

on eywa, he’s gonna fuck your brains out.

you silently obey, slowly bringing your left leg to his shoulder. “you’re so slow.” he was now tugging your leg to his shoulder while he straddled the other one. there is no way out now.

“JAKE!” you scream as he parts your swollen and sensitive fold with his long fingers before pushing his girth-y tip to your tight opening. “jesus, you’re so tight.”

you try to buckle your knees when the pleasure hits you but jake grips onto your ankle and yanks it back to his shoulder. you’re literally spread for him and he happily looks down where you two are connected and how your cunt openly sucks him in

“you know why you’re getting punished?” you nod before telling him your fault.

“good girl, shit, tighten on me again.” he loves how your pussy clamps on his cock, your gummy walls holding him tight like it’s his original home and cave.

“you’re gonna cum?” he kinda got why you’re not vocal anymore right now. jake literally made you cum three times in a row and he knows how your throat is sore from screaming.

“fuuuuck” he curses when you keep squeezing him.

“you’re gonna cum for me? gonna cum for your jake?” you’re desperately nodding, too tired to even mutter a word. the way your body twitches makes jakes heart swell. “i’ve got you princess.” he leans down, bending your left leg which helps him sink deeper.

the new position helps him stimulate himself as well, one of his strong arm hold you close while the other brushes the strand of your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “my girl, forever my girl.” he was now comforting you

“jake,” you call for him, your hands reaching out for him. “i’m here, right here.” he smiles down at you, “it hurts, i can’t.” you’re shaking your head as tears freely sprang out of your eyes.

“yes you can,” he frowns before sneaking his hand between your bodies and meeting your warm clit with his rough pad of his thumb. “yes you can give me the last one baby, i know you can.”

you whine, pushing him away and crying. “i’m sorry, i won’t do it again.” you apologize for your actions that almost cost you your own life. “i’ll forgive you once you cum for me, yeah?

you gulp down your sob down and winch when your throat hurts.

“you’re so good fr’me, my girl.” his sweet praises while his cock penetrating you and his thumb flicking your clit was your last push to burst and milk your nectar all over him.

“that’s it, give it to me all” your eyes are screwed shut, overstimulation winning and having you whine for a billionth time. “almost there yeah? i’m gon— fuck!” jakes pupil dilated from the sudden sting of pleasure.

he wasn’t expecting it this soon, yes he felt his balls tight, heavy and painfully stimulated. but never once he thought he would be cumming right unexpectedly. “oh fuck, oh fuck.” he laughs when finally back to his sense

his vision gets clear and he looks down at your state, you’re almost gone. your eyelids barely open while your chest heaves up and down fast. “princess, you okay there?” he really did fuck your brains out.

jake panics for a second when you don’t answer him and lean close to you, hand gripping your jaw and turning you to face him. “baby, answer me.” surely jake knew his heart was gonna stop if you hadn’t smiled at him and blinked.

he was almost convinced he fucked your soul out and not your mind.

“what the fuck, you scared me.” your soft giggles make him laugh and he places your leg down to the ground. “don’t ever do that again, i thought i got your soul dicked down.” you burst out laughing with your energy left.

“jake!” you keep laughing when his words keep repeating in your mind. “c’mon let’s get you home and all cleaned, mhm?” he helps you up, both of you smiling foolishly.

“and please don’t ever go against what i tell you, i almost lost you.” you hum, obviously unconvinced.

ok so i love how this turned out, low key becoming a fan of my own works lmfao— thank you for reading! like + reblogs are super appreciated i love each and every one of you sm!

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strang3lov3 · 10 months

Text

Troublemaker (Brain Scramblies 2)

Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Summary: Joel is bad at feelings and distances himself from you after your concussion, and faces his feelings on patrol with you.

Warnings: Smut smut smut of all varieties, so like oral m and f receiving, PIV. Ya know the drill!!! 18+ MDNI! Joel is bad at feelings. Kind of slow burn, asshole Joel. Very sweet sex! Age gap oops

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: SURPRISE MOTHAFUCKAS!!!! BRAIN SCRAMBLIES 2 AT 10PM ON WEDNESDAY NIGHT!! My bf recently informed me you’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion so my bad guys sorry for giving you all brain damage that's on me ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON BRAIN SCRAMBLIES! Here’s part two for all who asked!! Like brain scramblies, I don't love this but there was an overwhelming demand for part two and I was concerned for y'alls sanity. Also I changed the title again oops.

Read the first story here! It can be read as a standalone but I highly recommend reading Brain Scramblies first!

Please please please comment and reblog if you enjoy!

Joel ended up falling asleep with you. He woke up early and quietly excused himself from your bed. God, how pretty you looked sound asleep. With your puffy lips and quiet snoring. The way your hair fell across your face. He pushed your hair away from your eyes and left.

Stupid. So fucking stupid.

You didn’t mean any of it, any of what happened last night. Joel was a fool for indulging in your concussed words and letting himself believe any of it was real. He placed too much meaning on last night.

He’d need to work hard to erase the way you made him feel. He needs to forget how he loved taking care of you, how he wants to be the one to make you feel better after a long day or when you’re sick. How he wants to spend all of his time making you smile. He needs to erase all of his love and adoration for you.

In the morning, Tommy took you to the doctor. Your head was still sore and pounding slightly, but the doctor assured you that with a week’s worth of rest, you’d be back to normal. Honestly, you’d be better in a day or two but it’s best to take it easy for a while longer, just in case.

You were in the waiting room while the doctor prepared some medicine for you. Some tea to help with the headaches and nausea, and some pain meds. Tommy was sitting right next to you.

“Feelin’ alright, honey?” he asked you.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Hurting a little but I’ll be fine,” you replied. Your head was still tender, and likely would be for a while.

“Up for dinner on Friday? As long as you’re feeling okay, of course,”

“Yeah, yeah. Only if Maria is cooking, of course,” you teased him. Tommy wasn’t a great cook, unfortunately.

Tommy chuckled. “Well, that’s a given. Joel will be there too. You remember him taking you home last night?”

You shook your head. “I thought you and Maria took me home. It was Joel?” Your memories were fuzzier than you realized.

Tommy’s lips curled in a sly smirk. “Yeah, no. It was Joel. You don’t remember anything you said to him?” You shook your head again. “Well, you were flirtin’ pretty hardcore.”

Your cheeks burned and flushed. “No,” you groaned, burying your face in your palms.

“Oh, yes. Called him handsome left and right. Never seen him so bashful before. He was pink as a flamingo, honey,” he said. “Course, that was only at the bar. He didn’t tell me if you said anything else about your little crush when he took you home.”

“No, no. You’re lying, Tommy,” you whined. This cannot be fucking happening. What did you do?

Tommy shook his head. “It’s the truth, I’m afraid,”

You were embarrassed. Actually, you were way past embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated.

Tommy could see what you were thinking, the excuses you were making up in your head. “Don’t you think about canceling dinner, now. Maria’s making your favorite pot roast, with all those carrots and potatoes,”

Your eyes were pleading with his, his own twinkling with amusement. You opened your mouth to speak, but the doctor interrupted.

“Alright, now. Tea is for the nausea and headaches, it can be a little bitter so I’d suggest adding some honey. These pain meds will help with the throbbing,” he said. He instructed Tommy to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re hanging in there.

You both thanked the doctor and left the infirmary then. Tommy relented his teasing, seeing as how you were so close to combusting in embarrassment.

The week passes slowly. It’s boring, so fucking boring. You do puzzles, read your favorite books, work on your blanket you’ve been knitting. Sip your tea. And each day, all you can think about is Joel. What you said to him, what you don’t know you said to him.

It’s Friday. Tonight’s the night you’ve been dreading all week. As you make your way to Tommy and Maria’s home, you go over your plan in your head. Just be polite, like always. Apologize to Joel and make nice. Then go home, and the next time you’re on patrol with Joel it will all be back to normal. Right?

No. Not right.

“Hi,” you say to Joel. Tommy’s setting the table, Maria is putting the finishing touches on her meal.

Joel only grunts in response, never once meeting your eyes. You might as well have said hi to a brick wall or a houseplant.

“How’s your week been?”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Your head, uh, feelin’ any better?” He speaks like he’s in pain, like each word stings and aches as it rolls off of his tongue.

“Yeah. It’s better, mostly. Tommy said you walked me home, and I guess–”

Joel cut you off. “Dinner’s ready,”

Wow. So it’s like that.

You sit next to Joel at the table, who never once speaks to you the entire meal, save for a “Pass the potatoes, please,” or “I need the gravy,” here and there. You’d never experienced such an awkward dinner before. And Joel was never your biggest fan, but he had never been so rude and short with you before. You felt it was a little undeserved, given you had no control over the situation last week.

Luckily, Tommy and Maria fill the air with conversation to make up for Joel’s shitty and impersonal attitude. Within a few hours, dinner is over. Tommy begins clearing the table as you and Joel get dressed to leave. You bid all of them goodbye, and then leave. Dinner didn’t go the way you planned, but nothing ever does. At least it was finally over.

“Walk her home, Joel,” Maria says sternly, watching you through the window. “Come on. It’s the least you can do after icing her out all evening.” “She’s fine. Concussion healed.”

“Don’t care, brother,” Tommy interjects. “Walk her home, or you’re cleaning the stables for the next six months. Go. Think y’all have some stuff to talk about, anyway.”

“This is ridiculous,” Joel mumbles as Tommy and Maria both hug him goodbye. But he does it anyway.

He meets you a little ways away from their home, the crunch of leaves under his footsteps startling you. “Let’s move. I’m walkin’ you home again,” he says.

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” you reply, surprised. No doubt Tommy and Maria forced him into this.

Joel says nothing. He’s silent the entire walk home, silent as he leaves you on your porch.

You’re in disbelief. You were expecting to maybe laugh a bit over the situation last week, but not this. Who knew Joel hated being flirted with so much? He takes quick steps, never once looking back to make sure you make it inside your home okay.

Fuck it.

“Joel,” you call out. “Come here.”

Joel turns around, eyeing you with a frown. “What do you want now? You’re home.”

“Come here.” your voice is stern and demanding.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, true to dramatic Joel fashion. When he steps up onto your porch and stands in front of you, he stares at you with a blank expression, his eyes are cold. “What,” he says flatly. No trouble at the end of his sentence, like he usually calls you. It stings.

“What happened last week? When you walked me home, after my concussion.”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ happened,”

“Are you sure? Because Tommy said I was flirting with you at the bar, and I don’t know if I said something rude or what but I…” you trail off. “I don’t know. I just want to know what happened.”

Joel sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t say anything rude,”

“Then what? What did I say?”

“It doesn’t matter,”

“Then tell me,”

“I said it doesn’t matter,”

“It matters to me,”

Joel steps away from you, sitting on one of your chairs. He won’t look at your face. “Fine,” he says gruffly. “You called me handsome.”

“Tommy told me,” you say quietly, your voice is small. “Listen-”

“About a million times, actually. It’s all you could say for a minute there,” His tone is beginning to soften, but he’s still grumpy and bothered. “Gave me a nickname, too.” “I did?”

“You did,”

“What was it?” you step closer to him, taking a seat in the chair next to where he’s sitting.

“Joelie,” he says. “You called me Joelie.”

“Joelie, huh?” you mumble, half to Joel, half to yourself. “Was that all?”

Joel is looking off into the distance, the cool air is biting at his ears and nose. “No, there was a little more,”

“Are you gonna tell me?”

“No, I don’t think so. No reason to,” he pauses for a second, remembering. “I’ve got a fuckin’ bone to pick with you, though.”

“Clearly,” you reply with a sarcastic tone. “What’d I do, other than call you handsome?”

“You fuckin’ pinched me. Again,” he turns to face you. “You have a real problem keepin’ your hands to yourself, you know that?” he scolds you angrily.

You can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. “You probably deserved it! You always do, you’re such a dick,”

Joel scoffs, it’s almost a chuckle. “Maybe. I wasn’t actin’ like a dick that night, though. Not enough to warrant you pinchin’ me,”

You’re puzzled. Why else would you pinch Joel, if not as a punishment for acting like an asshole? “Then why did I pinch you?”

Joel turns red then. Like, really blushes. His ears and cheeks are bright and rosy. He’s flamingo pink, just like Tommy said.

“Why, Joel?”

“You said I have an ass like a uh…a peach,” he whispers. “And then you–”

It’s your turn to blush now. “No,” you interrupt. “I didn’t. Joel, tell me I didn’t pinch your ass.”

He nods, silently.

“I am so fucking sorry, Joel,” you apologize frantically. You were a fucking menace!! “Please. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s fine, trouble. Was kinda cute, actually. You said I have eyes like coffee beans too. Never heard that one before,”

Trouble.

“And that’s all?”

“You said you’ve got this great, big, humongous, gigantic crush on me,” he says through a sigh, his tone is defeated. Sarcastic, even. “That was really it, though.”

He doesn’t mention all the times you asked him to fuck you. He’s not a sadist, you’re embarrassed enough already. In fact, you’re so embarrassed and in your own head that you don’t even pick up on the sadness in his voice.

You open your mouth to apologize, to explain. Joel speaks first.

“Don’t worry about it. I know you didn’t mean any of it,”

And then he sits up, making his way to step down off of your porch. He turns to you one more time before leaving, you can’t place his expression. He looks almost sullen, almost heartbroken.

“Goodnight, trouble.”

He leaves. Once again, you weaseled your way too close to his heart.

And that’s the last you really speak to Joel.

You’re not on patrol with Joel very often, but he’s even quieter when you are paired up. Not in the rude kind of way like at dinner, but in a sheepish sort of way. Like he’s embarrassed, or sad, or feels nervous to speak to you. The confident, cocky Joel is long gone. He rejects all of your attempts at conversation, and it leaves you heartbroken and baffled.

If only he knew how you felt about him. If only he’d let you speak.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It’s a chilly and rainy fall day, you and Joel are holed up in an old home on patrol together. It’s been maybe a month, a month and a half since that night on your porch.

He’s not really speaking to you, except to give you instructions here and there. You’re getting sick of his attitude. So standoffish and cold.

You wonder what went wrong that night. He was never all that friendly with you, but he was never like this. He looked right past you, like you were a phantom. Not really there.

You’re knitting your blanket, sitting on a window seat. The rain is pitter pattering against the glass. Joel is stoking the flames in the fireplace. The only sounds are the clicks of your knitting needles and the crackle of the fire. There’s a tupperware of snickerdoodles you brought for him, sitting untouched. It was your olive branch. He didn’t even thank you for them.

“What do you think of my blanket?” You hold the blanket up for him, various shades of green yarn arranged in a rippling pattern.

Joel takes a quick glance, barely even looking, then grumbles something.

“Joel? I didn’t hear you,”

“I said it’s fine,” he snaps at you.

You sigh, knitting your blanket furiously. What a fucking dick. “You know what? You don’t have to be such a fucking asshole all the time, you know that?”

“Fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“I said that you don’t have to be an asshole all the time,” you spit.

“I’m not–”

“You are. And I don’t even know why!” you laugh wryly. “All you do is fucking ignore me. And I don’t get it, Joel. I don’t know why I even try with you.”

Joel tries to speak, but you don’t let him.

“I get it, okay? I made you uncomfortable when I called you handsome and pinched your ass and everything that night. I’m sorry,”

Joel is still stoking the fire, giving you no attention.

“I’m serious. I had a fucking brain injury, I had no control over my actions or my words. And I’m sorry,”

Joel’s not listening to your words. He’s so in his own head, he’s not absorbing any of it. All he hears you say is “I didn’t mean anything I said, I don’t feel anything towards you,” Rub it in some more, why don’t you? I’m not in love with you and I don’t think you have nice eyes like I said.

“I do have a little crush on you, okay? You do have nice eyes and a nice nose, and you’re the most handsome man I’ve met in my life. But it doesn’t give you the right to act like this,” you snapped. “I know it made you uncomfortable because I’m too young for you or whatever, so I want you to know I am sorry. Genuinely. Can you please drop the dickhead act now?”

Joel freezes, thrown off.

“Joel,” you demand.

“Say that again,” he says. He’s looking at you finally.

“I’m sorry,”

“No, not that,” he waves his hand. “About my nose.”

“I like your nose,”

Joel never liked his nose. But you do. The strong shape, the freckles and scars. It fits him perfectly. “You mean that?”

“Of course. Why else would I say it?” you say bitterly. God, he is so far up his own ass you wonder if he even knows what the sun looks like.

“Why?” he asks you, a smile is threatening to curl his lips upward.

“The shape, I don’t know. Your freckles,” you say through a sigh. “That’s what you’re getting from this? Can you please just let me apologize for harassing you?”

“No,” he responds. “Tell me more. About my eyes, again.” Joel stands up now, looking at you from a few feet away.

You shake your head. Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough for him? “Why? Thought I told you they look like coffee beans,”

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low, stepping toward you now. Your heartbeat picks up its pace as he considers his next move. He sits next to you at the window seat. He’s so in love, melting into a puddle before you. God, the way you’ve ruined him.

“You have nice eyes. Dark and deep. I like the way they shine amber in the sun,” you whisper. You can’t help the growing smile on your face, the same smile when you’re alone and thinking of Joel’s handsome face. “Happy now, asshole?”

There’s a silent moment between you both after you speak, Joel’s looking at you in a way he never has before. The butterflies in your tummy flutter a little faster now, his eyes darting back and forth between your own and your lips.

“Joel,” you sigh, “Quit looking at me like that.” Your words are more desperate than you intend them to be. You wanted to sound more stern, like him.

He doesn’t say anything as he carefully places his hand on your cheek, his thumb swiping back and forth against your skin. Your eyes flutter shut.

He takes the opportunity to pull you close, his lips just millimeters away from yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to you. “I wasn’t bein’ fair to ya. You said all those things to me when you weren’t in your right mind,” he trails off, bowing his head. “I’m no good at this.”

“Try me,” you whisper back, your eyes still closed.

“I don’t know, trouble,”

You pull back, looking into his eyes. They’re big and full of adoration and insecurity, a brutal combination. “Thought it wasn’t real?”

Joel can only nod. The man who always has something to say, suddenly choking on his words. His hand is still on your cheek, holding you steady.

You want to kiss him, so badly. You want to kiss him with every fiber in your being. But you fight it. He’s going to be the one to kiss you, it’s going to be how you always pictured it. This, you’re certain of.

Joel’s eyes are frantic and unsure.

It feels like minutes.

Hours.

Days.

An eternity before he finally does it. And then finally, he kisses you, slowly and gently. It takes you by surprise, sweeps you off your feet. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, he tastes so distinctly Joel. You sigh and moan against his lips as his tongue mingles with your own, you curse yourself for the desperation you exhibit. As if he cares.

You kiss like that for a while, softly. His gentle and loving kisses are a stark contrast to his gruff and domineering personality on patrol. He’s dissolving under your lips, feeling love he’s not felt in a very long time. Everything he can’t say with his voice he says with his kisses.

You break the kiss, trailing your lips down his jaw, the scratchy hairs of his beard feel amazing on your skin. You kiss down his neck, something you’ve fantasized about thousands of times.

“Wait,” he rasps out.

You pull away, noticing the tent in his jeans. “Want me to stop?”

“Yes,” he breathes. Your eyebrows raise and your head tilts slightly. “No. Not like that. I just, I want to do this right. Treat you right.”

“Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” you speak into his neck. “Need you to fuck me.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle as you continue kissing his skin, trailing back up his thick neck and nibbling at his ear. He’s panting and moaning beneath you, you never expected he’d fall apart like this. “You know,” he starts, “You told me you wanted me to fuck you when you had your concussion.” Your face grows red and you stop kissing him for a second. “Did not,”

“Did too,”

You ignore him and pretend like he didn’t just tell you that. You kiss his skin, it’s hot and slightly salty. You feel his pulse under your lips and then, you pull away.

His brows furrow as you smile. He’s so fucking cute like this, way cuter than any fifty-something man should be. “Your turn. Tell me what you think of me, then we can continue,”

Joel’s confidence is back and fully fledged now, it’s a welcome return. “I think you’re nothin’ but trouble. Honestly and truly,”

“Yeah?”

“S’right. Makin’ me fat with your damn cookies. Makin’ me crazy with all your pinches. And you’ve got me fallin’ in love now. You’re a goddamn troublemaker, and I’ve known it since the day I met you,”

It’s everything you ever wanted to hear Joel say. He’s falling for you.

He continues, “And when we get back, I get a redo. Doin’ this the right way with you, baby. Gonna make you dinner and all that. Like a gentleman,”

“You better,” you mumble, kissing him again. Your hands find their way to his jeans, fumbling with his belt. His cock grows harder beneath you, he swats your hands away and helps you free it, his member springing up between you both.

You kneel in front of him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. You lick a long stripe from the bottom all the way to the top of his dick, swirling your tongue around the blushed tip. “Troublemaker,” he sighs. “Don’t tease me now, sweetheart. Please, baby.” His eyes are screwed shut, face contorted in pleasure.

You love the way he calls you baby. And troublemaker. And sweetheart. You’ll be his baby and his sweetheart and his troublemaker for the rest of your life.

You take him into your mouth, tongue paining his cock with swirls of saliva. His cock parts your lips, you love the smoothness of his skin. He tastes like skin and slightly salty, you hum against him as he bucks into your mouth. “Fuck, baby,”

You bob your head up and down, making a sloppy mess of saliva all over his lap. He pulls you off, suddenly.

“My turn,” is all he grumbles when he picks you up and drags you to the couch in front of the fireplace. He makes short work of discarding your clothes, unbuttoning your jeans and your jacket and shirt. You’re naked in front of him, suddenly feeling vulnerable. You cover your breasts and bring your knees to your chest.

He notices and promptly begins removing his own clothing. “I know, I know,” he soothes you. “Evening out the playing field and all. Don’t hide from me now, I’m gonna make it right. You’re fucking beautiful, baby.”

He’s naked now, kneeling in front of you and spreading your thighs apart. Your pussy is wet and glistening for him, you feel his hot breath on your center. He looks at you with wide eyes, his silent way of asking permission. You answer him clearly by carding your fingertips through his scalp, tugging on his head to where you need him most. You thrust your hips towards him, begging him with your body.

“Eager, are we?” he mumbles. “Been dreamin’ of eatin this pussy, baby.”

“Please,” you beg him.

“Since you asked so nicely, trouble,”

He doesn’t tease you, doesn’t spend any time kissing and biting your thighs. He dives right in, his tongue exploring your most intimate parts. It trails up your lips, through your folds. His tongue dips in your wet hole, tasting your slick. You jolt and gasp his name at the feeling. Your thighs clamp around his head, his scratchy beard is abrasive against your flesh. You welcome the feeling.

He parts your thighs again then, a little rougher than the first time. His tongue slides through your wetness once more, then finds home at your clit, swollen and needy. He flicks upward, alternating between long and languid licks and short and quick kitten licks. One of his hands meet your center, his middle two fingers enter your pussy and punch upward until he finds the spot that makes you tick. He hasn’t touched a woman in a long time, but still remembers all the best ways to make her see stars.

“Fuck, like that,” you gasp out. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Joel says nothing as he eats your pussy, sucking and licking at your center. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his tongue, your slickness making a mess of his face. Your moans are breathy and quick, he savors each one. His eyes are wide and dark with lust.

Barely recovered from your high, you grasp and paw at his shoulders, encouraging him to come up and meet you for another kiss. You taste yourself on his lips.

“Need you now, Joelie,” you breathe, breaking the kiss.

His nickname still sounds just as sweet as the first time you whispered it, all those nights ago.

“‘Course, trouble. I’ve got you.” he says against your skin, his tongue darting out to play with your nipples. He’s dragging the tip of his cock through your folds. “How do you want me?”

“Just like this, please. Just fuck me,”

Your wish is his command. He slides the tip into you slowly at first, making sure it’s not too much. It’s not, of course

He pushes into you all the way, you sigh in pleasure at the fullness. He fits inside you perfectly, like he was made for you. His tip presses at that sweet spot inside you with each thrust, almost effortlessly.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans.

“Yeah, Joelie. Just like that, baby. Don’t stop,”

He fucks you like that, not too hard and not too soft. A deliciously and devastatingly pleasant pace, with such care and love.

And then the lightbulb goes off in your head. His butt!!

How you wish you remembered pinching his ass that night.

“Joel?” your voice is clear, not moaning or breathy.

He stills inside you, taking heaving breaths on top of you, like it’s taking everything he’s got not to keep going. He looks at you with concern, afraid that he might have hurt you. “Everything okay? What do you need?”

“Can I squeeze your butt?”

Joel says nothing, just looks at you with a puzzled expression. He furrows his brows and squints at you before rolling his eyes.

Hey, at least you’re asking permission this time.

“Please?”

“Yeah, dummy. It’s all yours, now. Don’t wear it out,” he grumbles, but you hear the playfulness in his tone.

You giggle, reaching down to grasp a handful of his ass. It’s round, plump and fleshy. You dig your nails in slightly, pinching him a little. He winces slightly, shaking his head at your mischievous expression. Your eyes are bright and silly with your bottom lip pinned under your teeth in a grin.

“Hey now, trouble” he scolds you with a smile. “Behave.”

He kisses you, continuing his motions. His thrusts are so fluid and confident, you’re getting closer now, so is he.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants. “Can’t hold off much longer. What do you need?”

You pull one of his hands from above your head and place it at your center. “Circles, please,”

He adjusts his grip on the arm of the couch and moves his fingers to your clit, slick with your wetness and his spit from before. “You got it,”

His thrusts become sloppier, he’s letting out strangled gasps and groans. You’re moaning, crying his name as your orgasm begins to bloom inside of you. It’s intense and hot, it feels like sparks through your blood.

“Joel, Joel,” is all you can say. He fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own. “Fuck, Joelie.”

“I know, I know. I’m right there. Hang on for me baby, doin’ so good,”

With a few more shuttering thrusts he’s spilling inside of you, painting your insides with his hot come. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock, and he slumps on top of you. His skin is hot and sweaty, you don’t mind. You’ve been dreaming of his body pinning your own down for ages.

You stay like that, just catching your breath together. He kisses your neck as your fingertips trail up and down his back. “I love you so much, Joel,” you whisper. “I really do.”

“Love you too, sweet girl,” he says softly. You love the way his voice sounds here, soft and gentle. All for you and no one else.

He pulls out of you then, you whine at the loss. He lunges off the couch to reach for the tupperware container of snickerdoodles you baked for him.

He pulls off the lid, grabbing a handful of cookies and shoving one in his mouth. Apparently Joel was still a typical man, snacking after sex.

You giggle, grab a cookie of your own and kiss his cheek. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close to watch the flames in the fireplace dance.

“God, you’re evil,” he says, his voice muffled by the cookies in his mouth. “Force feedin’ me cookies and makin’ me fat.”

“Busted. You got me,” you say, smiling. “Gotta keep your ass nice and squeezable, hm? It was my devious plan all along. You figured it out, Sherlock.”

“Shut up. Fuckin’ troublemaker,”

tags:

@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @guiltgoreglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @harriedandharassed @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @nopealoupe @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @darleneslane @bbyanarchist @@spideysimpossiblegirl

(if you don't see your @, i got rid of the ones tumblr wouldn't let me tag. Leave me a comment if you'd like to be on the taglist!)

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #tlou #brain scramblies

2K notes · View notes

suguru-getos · 6 months

Note

I'm rather new to your blog and on my fucking knees already orz. The sukuna headcanons got the hamster-wheel in my brain doing overtime cuz holy shit. They're not only in character but just so fucking delicious jshshabaua. Plz spare more crumbs if possible 🥹 The newer manga chapters are..... full of fuel to say the least.

Love your writing, literally has me giggling like ans kicking my feet like a school girl.

aww thank you nonnie you just made my day 🩶🥹

warnings -> gore, nsfw, etc etc -,- its yan sukuna this post is a warning in itself

yandere sukuna hcs -> extended

he loves branding, he discovered that when one time he wrote his name in kanji on your lower back, like your very own tramp stamp. and he’s never been more turned on. “might have to make sure that scar.” he chuckles, “you’re my little slave and you need a mark of slavery yeah?”

he is fine with you using new tech gadgets like phones and stuff but of course — you have to be available at every beck and call for sukuna. there was one time you couldn’t hear him calling for you, and you were busy & then he made you record how he spanks you & made you rewatch it. over and over and over until your eyes were strained & your pussy was wet.

cockwarming all the way just because he thinks it’s your ‘training’ to get you used to his massive girth and length. he can feign some indulgence to your stupid netflix shows because there’s nothing you can do except sit pretty for hours so !!

he loves to tongue fuck you with his massive mouth on the tummy so don’t be afraid if he’s caressing your womb like that while his other mouth is busy degrading at how you clamp down on his tongue 😔

he is a mean ass bitch. this one time a conversation came with your exes and he summoned them only to let them watch in horror, how he fucks you and how a bloody demon takes care of his little slave. he cleaves their arms and dicks off but makes sure they’re high on adrenaline so they don’t pass out. yep — crazy motherfucking demon

as i said you can’t really wear clothes so during winters he makes sure the room is heated up enough. because he doesn’t want you to fall sick. why? well — its no fun when you’re frail and sick and some sadistic part of him dislikes the idea of playing with you when you’re not at your best. he tries to use his rct on you from time to time given the damages he does, soo 🤷🏻‍♀️

#yandere sukuna #sukuna imagines #sukuna #jjk sukuna #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #jjk hcs #sukuna hcs #yandere sukuna hcs #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk thirst #sukuna thirst

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

hands off | matt murdock

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (mutual masturbation, mxf intercourse, dirty talk) swearing, established relationship

a/n: okay. OKAY! okay. be gentle with this one because it’s my first matt fic!!! also, i saw this video on tik tok about ppl doing this game thing, but idk who posted it first and i don’t have the videos, but that’s where the dies comes from. also this is literally just smut, don’t even look at me ITS BEEN A LONG WEEK. okay bye. literally posting this and running away to sleep bc i am afraid BYE.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sooo? You like it?” You keep to your side of the couch as Matt brings the glass up to his mouth for a second time. He hums, swallowing and licking his lips, and you have to bite down on your own to control yourself.

Asshole.

“It’s…”

“What?”

“Sweet.” His voice rumbles. You think you should have tied yourself down or something, because there’s no way you can win this stupid bet if he was going to keep teasing you like this. He wasn’t even doing anything, really. Everything he did seemed to turn you on in some way or the other, especially now, as the alcohol starts to kick in, warmth spreading through your face, flowing all the way down.

It was your idea; this whole bet. You and Matt had been together for a while now, and the longer you spent with him you realised how much of a fucking tease he was. So, in your muddied brain, you decided two could play at that game, even though you were almost certain you would fail miserably. You were, however, planning on giving him a run for his money. Or your money, considering how you had both put two hundred dollars on the table for the winner.

The rules were simple. You drink an entire bottle of wine- your favourite brand, hence the taste testing Matt was currently being put through, and sit on opposite ends of the couch. The first one to break - to touch the other in any way, loses. You were notoriously… frisky, when you drank wine, and Matt thought the game was going to be innocent enough until you started popping more bottles.

“Good sweet or bad sweet?” You say, and he empties the glass, holding it out for you to pour him another.

“I’d give it a good 7 out of 10. I’ve tasted better.” He hears the exasperated gasp of shock, and smiles in a way that’s so classically Matthew that your heart skips a beat. He probably hears that too.

“This is the best thing I have ever had. What could possibly taste better than this?!” You pour him another glass that he downs half of quickly, eager to get to the good part.

“I can think of a few things.” Your breath hitches in your throat, and he smirks, taking another sip.

“That feels like cheating.” Your entire body ignites at the shift in mood, and you nearly shiver when his hand trails along the edge of the couch, moving dangerously close to your shoulder, then retreating back.

“Hey, you said no touching. Nothing in the rules about telling you how much I love your-“

“Okay! Okay. I get it. Finish your glass, cheater.” He downs the rest obediently, placing the glass gently on the table, right next to the stack of fifty dollar notes you had pooled. He was smirking - clearly thinking he was already ten moves ahead of you, but you had a couple tricks up your sleeve to win this thing. Well, one trick.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?” You finish your glass and get rid of it, the empty wine bottles clanking together somewhere on the floor.

“Well, obviously you are going to lose, so do you want to just give up now, or do we have to play this whole little game first?” Typical. Complete confidence, right from the start.

“Listen, Murdock. One thing you’ll learn about me tonight, is that no matter how incredibly attractive you look right now, I am very competitive. Very. Competitive. Especially when it comes to money, because I am also very broke.” He laughs again, his head hanging back off the couch. “Besides, who says you won’t break first?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take you apart from right here.” His voice has dropped an octave. You recognise that tone in an instant. He only talks to you like that, all commanding and a little mocking; when he’s fucking you. Or about to fuck you. Your whole body reacts to him - you don’t even have a choice in the matter, it’s like a bell rings and you’re switched into that mode. All he needs to do is talk to you like that, and you want to get on your knees and forget all about this stupid bet and-

“Am I right? You think I can make you all sweet and desperate just talking to you?” Yes. He could. He knew it, because he’d done it before, but you weren’t ready to give him the satisfaction. Not when the game had barely started.

“Who says we’re just gonna talk?” You settle back, letting your legs stretch just this side of your half of the couch.

“Is that a threat, honey?” The endearment mixed with his slightly rough tone has you tightening every muscle in your body, and if you didn’t get a hold of yourself you might as well just shreds your money now.

“Just got a few ideas, that’s all.” You blink innocently, and he scoffs.

“I promise we’ll do all the things I know your pretty little head is thinking about right now. All you have to do is give in to it.” The way he’s sitting is so cocky; if he wasn’t so fucking sexy you think you’d slap him. Arms stretched out, one dangling over the back, the other strung lazily across his stomach, making a perfect line down to where his legs are spread as wide as possible. You don’t miss how easy it would be for you to slot yourself in to that spot, to be surrounded by him.

“Hmm. Tempting.” He shrugs, almost saying ‘I know.’ “Or, you could come over here.”

“Now why would I do that?” He asks, leaning forward. You start as slow as possible. This was really the only idea you had to get him to break. Maybe if you threatened it, alluded to it enough, he would forget all about the money and the bet and jump on you.

“Maybe I’ve got something to sweeten the deal.” You trail a slow fingertip up your leg, past your knee and creeping it along your thigh. The fabric of your skirt scrunches up as you get higher, and Matt’s head straightens when he hears it.

“What are you doing?” Still, his voice is that low, gravelly sound that sends shivers up your spine, and you bite your lip to stop a smile before answering him.

“You know how wine makes me.” He knew very, very well, being the object of all your wine-induced fantasies. “I’m all hot, and if you aren’t going to help me…”

“Don’t.” He practically growls, and you let out a breathy laugh as you use your other hand to pull up your skirt completely. He may not be able to see you - but he knows exactly what your doing and how your doing it. He can hear the way you’re moving, the skips in your heartbeat as your finger trails higher and higher. The smell of you, how it changes as you get closer to the wetness between your thighs. He knows. And he looks like he hates it.

Jaw set, he grinds his teeth as you ignore his simple demand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like you touching yourself - he loved it; encouraged it, even, but he wanted to be there for it. Involved in it. If you ever needed that specific kind of relief, he wanted to be the one to give it to you. Even on the few times he’s been away, he’s sent you videos, called you and made sure he was the only one who pushed you over the edge. His name on your tongue as you came to the thought of him, to his words or his pictures. He always wants to be the one. And he always is.

He also has never not been able to touch you, because if you knew one thing, it’s that Matt Murdock was not a man that shared what was his. Especially not you, even with your own hand.

“Stop.” Matt manages to say, and you hum, relishing in the attention he’s focusing on you. You spread your legs a little wider, making yourself comfortable. “That’s cheating.”

“Nothin’ in the rules about touching myself, Matty.” You breathe, and then gasp as your finger brushes over your most sensitive spot, still covered by your lace underwear. “Unless you want to come over here and make me stop?”

“I know what you’re doing. You’ll have to try a little harder than that, sweetheart.” His face is set so hard, like how you’ve seen him in the court room. Focused, not betraying a single emotion on that sweet face of his. You were going to wipe that stoic look off his face one way or the other.

“I’m gonna take these off.” You narrate, hooking your fingertips under the seam of your underwear, and start to slowly pull them down your legs. As you get about halfway, the fabric bunching over your knees, you sigh sweetly. “Help me out, baby?”

He exhales in a short, sharp laugh. He wasn’t technically touching you, and you both knew it was the closest he could get without forfeiting. Leaning forward, he used one hand to grab the part of your underwear not touching any skin, and starts pulls them down. The soft material slips over your shins and calves, and you know he’s going slow on purpose. You lift your feet up so he can remove them fully, and you watch intently as his thumb brushes over his new prize.

“The purple ones?” He recognises the fabric and you moan out a ‘mhmm’. “My favourite.”

“I know.” You let your legs fall open again, and you could of sworn you heard a small sound come from him at the movement. A crack in the ice. It ignites your confidence, and makes you want to keep going. Keep pushing. “Wore them for you.”

“Such a good girl, all the time. You wouldn’t be this mean. Not to me, right?” The words were sweet as honey. You loved when he spoke to you like that - with praise and a little bit of authority. It made you squirm, but you had to hold it together a bit longer. String him out a little further. You just moan again, your hand finding it’s destination, one finger running up and down in between your legs, brushing over your clit lightly. Just how he teases you. You see his face change. “You’re going to regret this.”

“But it feels so good, Matty.” His grip on the back of the couch tightens.

“Better than me?” You shake your head vehemently, appeasing his ego and moaning a negative incase he can’t figure out your answer from the sound of your movement.

“Nothin’ better than you.”

“I know, baby. Why don’t you let me take care of you? Come just a little closer, and I’ll make it all better.” Your toes curl, and you start to make small, tight circles right over your soft centre, nerves alight and sending shocks up your entire body. His voice is all you’ll need to get there, you just need him to keep talking.

“I can’t. You know I can’t.” Your jaw falls open, no longer able to hold it together. “Just want you so bad.”

“If you want me so bad, come here.” His tone is a little more demanding. Frustrated. Stubborn. Another crack. You resist the urge to smile.

“Will you- will you tell me? What you’d do if you could touch me?” He sits up, unzipping his pants and shoving them off aggressively. His erection is impossible to ignore, and your mouth waters at the sight of it when he pulls his boxers down and lets himself free.

“That’s what you want? You want me to tell you all the things I’m going to do to you when you break?” You don’t miss the cockiness in his words, but you just moan again, too lost in the feeling of your fingers against your clit. “Fuck. Okay - okay, slow down.”

You listen, obedient even when defiant. He can hear the sounds of your hands against your arousal slow to about half the speed, and the orgasm that was growing in your stomach is now only being stoked, your legs jolting every time you brush against your clit.

“Good fucking girl. I always go slow first, don’t I?”

“Mhmm.” You moan out, and he chuckles. The fucker was laughing at you. Pay back was going to be a bitch. You were really about to give in, then. Not now, though. If he was stubborn, you were going to beat him at that game, too.

“That’s it. Nice and slow for me. Want you all warmed up when you make yourself cum on my cock.” Oh. God - maybe you couldn’t outlast him. It was those kinds of words, sung to you in a voice so low and clear it was impossible to listen to anything else, that was what did it for you. What undid you every time. Fuck being stubborn.

“Oh God, Matt. Please - c-can I go faster?” He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, and you are mesmerised as he pumps his hand just once, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You can go a little faster. Since you asked me so nice. I’d do it for you.” You speed up, the fire in your tummy getting more aggressive as soon as you indulge the feeling. He pumps up and down once more, and his face screws up a little. Not in pleasure entirely, but something a little uncomfortable. At first you think it might be the situation, but then you look down, and recognise his problem. Your submissive side instantly takes over, your brain only knowing to do what you knew he wants. What he needs.

“You want me to help you, baby?” Matt swallows as he feels you get closer, but nods just once, taking his hand off himself. You hover above him, making sure he can feel the heat of your breath kissing the sensitive head of his cock as you angle down closer. God - what you wouldn’t give to wrap your mouth around him right now. You miss the taste of him - the feel of his hand threaded through your hair, how he tangles himself into it to feel the most of you that he possibly can.

Slowly, you let your spit drip down his length, alleviating the uncomfortable feeling of his dry hand. He doesn’t move, just lets you take your time getting him as wet as you are. Matt’s chest rises and falls so fast you think he might pass out, and his head is hung back so far that you can’t see his face from this angle. You bet it’s screwed up, and his mouth is open a little. He always looks so good when he’s strung out.

You start to retreat, careful not to brush against him as you sit back on your half of the couch, satisfied with your work. His hand wraps around his cock as soon as he feels your body heat move away, and the pain once etched on his face is replaced by only pure pleasure. The sight of him has you quickly returning your hand to your pussy, matching the pace he sets.

“Thank you.” He croaks out, and you silently high five yourself for how fucking ruined he sounds.

“Your welcome.” You sound exactly the same.

“God - I want to fuck you so badly right now.” He sighs, moaning your name as he starts pumping his hand harder, hips bucking irregularly. “You know it’d feel so good.”

“It would. You always fuc-“ You cry out as a wave of pleasure suddenly hits your chest, the new rhythm he was setting on himself having you seeing stars. “Always feel so good. Miss having you inside me.”

“Come here. Now.” He says through his teeth, and you just keep moaning out his name. He tries a new approach. “Baby. Baby, please come here. I’ll -I’ll let you cum so many times you won’t remember your fucking name. Just give it up already. I know you want to.” A new crack of determination nuzzles its way through the overwhelming pleasure at his words. Maybe it’s because it’s not actually Matt touching you right now that you are able to form a thought, but his words have you speeding up. Let you come.

Asshole.

“Fuck, Matty. I’m so cl-close - I think I’m gonna-“

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He almost shouts, hand pumping furiously at his cock as he cuts you off. It almost looks like it hurts, and maybe it does a little, but the sounds of his hand moving against himself with your spit is making your brain go fuzzy. Trying your best to keep up with him, your back arches off the couch and you turn your head to the couch cushion.

“Can’t stop, feels too good I just-“ The burn in your arm is secondary to the release you were chasing, and it was so close. You knew what you needed. He had gone silent, because he knew, too. If he spoke, that would be it. He had such a hold on you that all it would take would be a few well placed words and you would crumble in front of him, and for the first time, it was the last thing he wanted.

“Slow down. Right now.” Your back was arching off the couch, and it was an effort not to stretch your legs out. Bunched up on your end, your eyes were glued to Matthew, his abs flexing hard and free hand still fisting the couch, white knuckled. “Do not fucking finish without me.”

The tone of his voice was so low and harsh, he wasn’t meaning to but he was only making it worse. Teetering on the edge, you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from talking.

“I wish you were touching me right now. Your hands feel so rough sometimes and I always think about it, think about how good it feels on me.” Your eyes were squeezed shut, the words flowing out of you from the darkest parts of your tipsy mind.

“Baby just-“ His hand gets faster, you can hear it, his restraint snapping little by little. “You just gotta come over here. Please.” You try to block out how hot he sounds begging for a glimpse of you, so you keep talking yourself through it, thinking of the things he would say if he was fucking you.

“I want you to fuck me through this couch, make me feel you for days like you always do. Want you to…” A gasping breath cuts you off, and it takes you a moment to regain your focus, the pleasure nearly cutting off your air supply making you hiccup.

“Finish your sentence. What do you want?” He was sitting straight up, leaning so close that if you moved and inch you’d feel him. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted him to touch you as badly as you wanted it right now - and that was fucking saying something.

You’d give it one more minute.

You think you can hold out for that long. One single minute of keeping yourself on the edge, one more minute to see if you can break Murdock like he breaks you every time. If you reached a minute and he wasn’t either buried between your legs or inside of you, you think you would implode.

“I- I want you to fuck me like you did when you came home last week. Leave a mark so I could feel it for days and-“

“That’s it. Keep fucking talking.” Your eyes open for a second and he’s kneeling, the hand on the top of the couch right next to your head. You hadn’t even heard him move, but now he was practically hanging over you, almost between your legs. Maybe your words effect him just like his do to you. “You sound so pretty. Keep talking for me, okay?”

“Matty, please just touch me. I need you to mmmmfuck- make me feel good.” He chokes out a desperate sound, and you shut your eyes again, no longer able to bare the sight above you if you couldn’t touch him.

“You need me?” You whine below him, nodding and making sure he knows just how bad he was right. It was a low blow, one you knew would make him even more desperate. Those simple words always got you what you wanted, no matter how long he had been playing with you. “Yeah, you fucking need me. Just need me to touch you so bad. Mark you up. Bet you’d cum as soon as I slid inside you, huh? Already so wet, I can fucking hear it.”

“Need you. Please.” You wheeze, and hear another choked sound leave his mouth. The couch shifts underneath you. Every nerve in your body was begging for him- you were begging for him, a string of pleases mixed with his name. If only either of you was less stubborn this stupid game would have been over long ago.

“You sound good like that. Begging for me. Keep going, tell me how bad you need it.”

“I’ll do whatever you want. Whate- Whatever you want. Just please. Please, please, please…” You sounded like you were having a tantrum, so close on the edge you were almost sobbing his name in ecstasy.

This was it. It probably hadn’t been a minute but you just couldn’t hold out any longer. Fuck the bet, fuck the stupid money. Nothing was worth not feeling him, having him just out of reach, you were so fucking close-

Matt’s hand brushes against your cheek, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, and his thumb wipes away a tear you hadn’t realised had fallen on your cheek. It was soft; gentle.

He kisses you softly, and his hand takes over the work, replacing your own and keeping that hard, tight pace on your clit. The feeling was earth shattering - the difference between your hand and his somehow night and day, and when you kiss him back, you realise he just lost. He lost, not so he could fuck you, but so he could kiss you.

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Hm?” He murmurs, the hot air of his breath fanning over your forehead as his hand works at you, and all you could do what sob his name. “Cum for me. I earnt it.”

With that, he slides himself inside of you, and everything turns white.

“Fuck - yes.” You moan out and your cumming as soon as he hits the deepest part of you. He’s suddenly everywhere - an arm under your arched back pulling you against his chest, his mouth on yours muffling your wrecked moans of pleasure, his cock buried inside of you, hitting you hard and fast and desperate; just how you feel.

He isn’t far behind you, giving you exactly what you wanted and finishing inside, so deep you’d feel him for fucking weeks after this. He was making noises you’d never heard from him before - nearly whining with how much he needed you, his whole body tense as you ran your hands over every part you could feel, while your other hand scrunched into his hair.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Is all he was saying into your mouth, fucking you - using you to get through his high while simultaneously working you through yours. His lips moved to your neck, biting and kissing you all over. It was borderline territorial, and you were a whimpering mess underneath him, pinned to the couch taking whatever he wanted to give you and praying for more.

His hips eventually began to stutter in their pace, then slow to a stop- minutes or hours after he came. Time hardly registered, just him finally surrounding you like you’ve been wanting.

“Matt. Matt-“ His mouth was still attached to your neck, and you couldn’t imagine what you looked like, but it filled you with a sort of pride. You almost wanted him to keep going, but you wanted him to kiss you more, so you tugged on the strands of hair threaded in your hands. “Matt. You-“

“I know, baby. Don’t move.” The words echo through you, the command exactly the one you said to him earlier. He slowly slips out of you, never taking his hands off your body, and in one movement curls you up and pulls you completely to his side of the couch.

Finally, you can stretch out, your muscles like jelly as your legs tangle with his. Your head leans back to rest against his chest, which is still rising and falling too fast for normal. Admittedly, so is yours, as well as the occasional twitch in your legs from the pleasure dissipating through your body. Strong arms wrap around your chest and tummy, holding you tight, and he leans his head down to kiss your cheek.

“We are never doing that again.” He mumbles into the crook of your neck, and you laugh breathlessly.

“You didn’t like it?” He groans at your question.

“Baby, I fucking loved it, but I hated not being able to touch you.” He was whining now, and your hand snaked up, scratching lightly through his hair. You think he would of purred if he could. “You’re mine. Don’t like it when you try to come without me.”

“Mmm. You were too far away.” You agreed.

“Was hot, though.” You laugh again and he switches sides to kiss your other cheek, forcing you to look to the other side, where your eyes catch on the significant stack of money.

“I won.” You whisper into his ear, smiling, and he groans again.

“Stupid game.” He grumbles, teeth scraping lightly along the top of your shoulder, making you shiver. “Still made you cum.”

“We can always have a re-match.” He was still mumbling and groaning against you about how dumb the idea was, but you can feel his grin as you laugh.

“I got a different game in mind.” He whispers into your ear, and in the next moment you are in the air, being swept up and carried towards your shared bedroom.

“And what’s that?”

“How about I show you?” He kicks the door closed behind him, and lays you down on the bed slow and sweet before making true of his promise and destroying you from the inside out, just like he always did.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matthew murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock x oc #daredevil #marvel #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock smut #matthew murdock x y/n #charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox x you #charlie cox fanfiction

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herecomethatboi · 23 days

Text

Dbd killers x gn! Reader pt.2

Part two of MC slamming killers against the wall. Now it's MC who gets slammed lol

(I remembered like... A few days ago that I have a Tumblr account and I have 70+ followers??? Oh my god??? I love you guys, and i'm so sorry for delaying this. School, life and my love life just ✨love✨ to make me suffer🥲)

((LET'S GOOO))

The Ghostface:

The cat and mouse play begun, once you heard him giggle like a kid opening Christmas presents. The chase went on for what seemed like hours.

But of course, by the rules of the Entity's Realm, he caught up.

The breath was knocked out of you as you were thrown on your front and you tried to buck him off, although now he remembered he actually has his supernatural strengh to pin you down.

He was huffing, you were out of breath and he turned you -rather harshly- on your back making you grunt. He sat on your stomach, then he raised his knife.

You thought he will stab you in the skull, so you winced and closed you eyes while shielding your face with your arms.

With a swift motion he stabbed it into the ground next to you. You lowered your arms and opened your eyes to see his...face.

The mask was thrown somewhere else.

He had a grin on his face. An arogant, stupid grin on his face.

"Caught you now..." His voice was raspy, like he hasnt used it in a while. "Thought you could run away from me?"

"No, I-"

"I think I should return the favour, no?" He cut you off with a grin. At your lack of response his grin grew. "Not so bold now, hmm?"

You glared up at him and tried to push him off, which made him grab your wrists in his hands and pin them above your head.

"Awh, last time you were rougher, i'm almost disappointed." He giggled again.

That was the last straw, and whatever adrenaline you had in your system came in the form of pushing against him and switching positions.

"I can be rough, just like last time." You grinned down at his stupid face with that stupid grin.

"Oh, please, do go on." He... Pleaded? It sounded like teasing, but the honest begging undertone was so obvious.

So, you kissed him. Pinned his arms down by his wrists, and did the knee thing, which made him shiver.

He pulled back, not expecting you to ACTUALLY do something with him.

"Oh God..." He breathed out. His cheeks were pink, highlighting some of his freckles.

"My name should be what you call." You said as you applied pressure between his legs, which made him arch up just a tiny bit.

"Oh...God..." He moved against your knee, trying to find some release.

"Good boy."

The Entity watched with pop-corn as the scene unfolded.

The Legion, Frank:

You were repairing a gen when he randomly appeared next to you. You jumped back, let out a tiny scream (and had a mini heartattack) making the generator explode, which he laughed at.

"Am I that scary? Come on now." He laughed, you glared at him.

"Oh, should I start listing why a SURVIVOR should be afraid of a KILLER?!?" You asked rather harshly. His laughing turned into snickering.

"Yeah, well, this killer has to remind you where your place is after the last time we met." You were pinned against the gen when he finished that sentence. "After all, i'm a big, scary, merciless killer. Am I not?"

You stared at him with widenes eyes for a moment, then your expression turned blank and you clicked your tongue.

"Says the guy who whimpers like a girl." That did the trick, since he started stuttering non-sense that wasn't helping his case.

"WELL FUCK YOU- you... uh- you- uhm- FUCK- uhmmmm-" You chuckled and waited for him to form a sentence.

He stabbed you angrily and ran away, like the baby he is.

Then, when he got back, he started ranting about you to the Legion, who collectively told him to fuck your brains out or you will.

Frank didn't like that, but kept it in mind.

Michael Myers:

You were alas the last one yet again. You found the hatch, but decided to just sit down next to it and wait.

Michael was nearby, you could feel it.

Ever since... THAT, he's been focusing his attention on you, even in the camp where supposedly, no killer can come too close or enter, you felt that piercing gaze on the back of your head.

It wasn't pleasant, to say the least.

So, you decided to finally have a one-sided conversation with the Shape.

If, he lets you, of course.

It took some time, but he came forward, staring at you then the hatch, then back at you, pointing his knife slightly to your only escape.

"I know, I know, I just... Wanted to talk. If it's okay?" You stood up slowly, he lowered his knife to his usual resting position. "I'm sorry. I know it was shitty of me to do that, and I wanted to know if we could just... Go back to the usual trials?" You asked, unsure of his response.

You certainly didn't expect him to slam you against the wall behind you with a hand around your throat. He wasn't choking you, just holding it, as if you were made out of porcelain.

(Which, to be honest, compared to his strengh, your neck could be considered delecate)

You froze. His breathing was deep, but calculated and slow. He then dropped his knife (which was a surprise) and lifted his mask above his lips.

Then with the same fashion you did, he kissed you forcefully.

You stopped breathing for a moment and tensed up.

The kiss ended just as quick as the last one. Then he pulled his mask back down, let go of your neck and left, leaving his knife behind.

You returned to the camp with his knife hidden away, and shocked.

+Pyramid Head: (Ya'll, he has long tongue🤭)

He's been having bad trials lately. Something was wrong, but he didn't know what it was.

Everything just felt... Off.

Then the trial with you happened.

You were new, a complete stranger, and yet, nothing indicated that you were a bad person who deserved to be punished.

Pyramid had this dawning feeling about some survivors, and you were just the same.

Wrong place, wrong time.

He didn't find it in his soul to make people like you suffer. But sometimes. People like you just piss him off.

He finished off Ada, leaving you injured somewhere on the map. He found the hatch before you, but he ignored it and went after the smell of blood.

Then he found you and with a swift motion you were against the wall.

You tried to fight, which pissed him off some more, making him let out some grunts, but nothing made you stop.

So, he had an idea.

On the front of his head, there's a little opening for his tongue to escape.

So, he did just that and stuck it into your mouth.

It was gross, sure, it didn't feel like a normal tongue, but it was an interesting experience (for him too).

When you stopped, he took out his tongue, tossed you on his shoulder and walked back to the hatch, then he dropped you and left.

He started at his reflection for hours, not knowing WHY he just... Did what he did. But kept that in mind to do it again.

Pyramid could smell the sweet sweet arousal from you, which gave him images he never did and a new hard problem to deal with.

Screw you. (Affectionatelly)

+Evan MacMillan:

Evan had a feeling someone was down in the basement, and he was right. You were there, with your newly found flashlight, frozen in place as he took up the place in the only way for you to escape.

He knew it was over for you, so he took a step toward you, but was met with something hitting his square in the forehead, harshly.

Trapper was stunned the moment you threw a flashlight at him, hitting him on his mask and cracking the top layer off of it.

He almost dropped his weapon at the impact.

He just stood there at the stairs of the basement while you looked between the flashlight on the floor and him, mortified.

Evan huffed and marched to you, which made you let out a panicked noot noot and tried to avoid his reach, which was useless.

He grabbed you, but he didn't expect to be met with the sheer force of adrenaline from you and be slammed against the hooks pillar (is it a pillar???).

You grabbed his mask, threw it away, grabbed his face and kissed him.

He just froze up, not knowing what in the nine Hells he's suppose to do.

Then, you were running away.

The kiss was... Something else for him. Which made him hide in the basement, and just rethink his life decissions.

#dbd x gn reader #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #dbd ghostface x reader #the legion x reader #michael myers x reader #pyramid head x reader #the trapper x reader

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hiraeth-sonder · 19 days

Text

Maladroit Admirer - Rongguo

Danheng x Reader - University AU

Becoming entranced with the most plain looking guy in your tutorial classes leads to a series of very bad, not good fumbles

//So so so so enamoured with the idea of just NPC looking Danheng, short little thingy that I had to get out. Poem is 寄人 by 张泌.

别梦依依到谢家，小廊回合曲阑斜。

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You don’t think there’s a difference between a crush and love at this point because being in university and adamantly staring at what might be the most boring looking man in this entire sea of people certainly can’t just be a momentary attraction. Short dark hair, dark eyes, decent fashion style and in a business unit, he wasn’t anything special, and yet you just couldn’t, for the life of you couldn’t, take your damned eyes off him.

It was ridiculous, you’ve never even spoken to him, looked at him in the eyes even, but here your heart was, pounding against your ribs begging for more. Every time you walk into that horrifically cold room, freezing your shoulders off because if you brought a jacket you’d be sweating from the journey, you see him already there at some table you won’t sit at because you’re afraid of him. Because you’re a nervous wreck and you know that if you had to talk to him during discussion, all you’d do is hum and agree and have no opinion on your own. Which, you’d like to keep some part of your dignity still, so no thank you.

There has been no man, woman even, that has rendered you so stupid. It must be some kind of witchcraft, there was no other explanation for the grip this man had on you.

You try your best, your absolute best, to focus on the question ahead of you, not like it was actually hard. However, seeing as you were in a small table of three, had an ethics question and you were hyper-aware of every action you made because of that damned man, you certainly weren’t at your peak performance today.

With your table’s assigned question out of the way, the two of them went on to discuss the rest, or rather you and the person next to you since you two were the only ones who attempted the exercise. The discussion didn’t go bad, merely boring and strained seeing as you’ve never actually talked to anyone in this class, so when the exact same person asked to see your graphs. You, of course, took that as a very bad chance to make a joke.

“Just to warn you, I bullshitted my graphs, so if they’re wrong don’t blame me,” You joked, raising your hands in mock-guile.

Somehow, some-god-forsaken-how, despite being in a room speaking at a normal conversational level surrounded by other people talking, everyone heard you. And everyone is staring at you. Great, absolutely great. Ducking your head, you pretend to type something else on your computer. You can only pray that you never see anyone in this class ever again, or have to talk to them (which wasn’t going to happen but you could pretend).

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his eyes glancing between you and the rest of his table, a kind of vacant stare if you will. Your ears grow hot at this revelation, he must think you’re a total idiot, or a buffoon, whichever one because you might as well be all the ways you could refer to someone as stupid. How you longed to return to the cold dark earth, maybe you wouldn’t say things that made you sound like some brainless highschooler.

By the time the tutorial ends, you’ve already debated ending it all at least three times. With your computer and singular pencil packed up, you absentmindedly head towards the exit, weaving through strewn chairs and the awkwardly placed tables. It is then you notice a familiar someone’s form standing at the door.

Your eyes slowly shift up and who else could it be but the very man who rendered your brain mush, holding the door open and gesturing for you to go.

You barely meet his eyes, bowing your head and quickly scurrying off, at least not before blurting out a quick “Thank you.”

With the speed of a falcon, your footsteps scamper off, hefting your heavy tote bag you now wonder why you brought. Tucking your earphones in, you try your best at nonchalance and it works, for about six steps until the tip of your shoe catches against some crack in the path and you have to walk off the even more public embarrassment.

In the distance, he watches you trip on your own feet and your shoe almost gets stuck on the carpeted pathway. An amused breath escapes him and he wonders what exactly about you is so endearing to him. Danheng swears he has never met someone as oddly appealing even with your little fumbles, and by now he’s given up trying to figure it out.

He’ll find some way to approach you later, when his palms aren’t trying to sweat the skin off of them and his head isn’t going at a thousand thoughts per second. He only hopes you didn’t notice his continuous staring, or the fact that his hand slipped and missed the first time he tried to grab the door handle.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

多情只有春庭月，犹为离人照落花。

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr danheng #dan heng #dan heng x reader #danheng x reader

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sixosix · 1 year

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Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae fluff

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deadsnothere · 8 months

Text

Gunslinger Girl!

Synopsis - After getting a call from Garp, Alias made her way to the Baratie for a nice bite to eat and a long needed reunion.

Part 2

WARNINGS!! - READER HAS A NAME!!

Request - no, not taking them sorry.

Word count - 2.8k

Speak Ali! - Both parts together make 5,340 words, this Fic has literally taken up my brain.

Monkey D. Luffy.

Garp was a cheeky bastard.

I, Alias Foreman, Swore to be on Monkey D. Luffy's pirate crew when we both turned sixteen and fled to the sea together. I had a dream of becoming one of the most versatile people known to man. I want to learn as much as I can, to cook, to clean, to navigate boats and ships, anything you can teach me I will try my hardest to understand and learn. Now I'm not saying that I want to be the best at everything, there will always be people better. But I want to at least understand the basics of as much as possible. But for all of my life I've been known as a Gunslinger.

I'm ‘The Cheshire Cat’. Cool name with a stupid job. I hate being a Warlord of the Sea, it's the stupidest job on this side of the east blue, and they wouldn't even give me a proper crew. Just a few bumbling idiots who don't know what being a pirate really means.

Luffy always understood what being a pirate meant. I remember watching Garp train him day in and day out. Parts of me understand why Garp was so hard on him, I mean people say he takes after Gold Roger. Imagine your grandson taking after someone you helped execute. I don't think I'd be fond of it either. I’ve never thought Garp nor Luffy were wrong for what they want but, I think one knows what he's doing and the other doesn't.

It's always quite bothersome when halfway through my delicious dinner, I get interrupted by a soggy mean fishman running in here and trying to take my table for dinner. If he had waited a few minutes I would've gladly given it up, I just wanted to finish my meal. But the inpatient idiot just had to have it now.

“I'm afraid there are no more tables.” Arlong and two of his crew members were walking down the stairs of the Baratie. They’re bodies are still wet and leaving water as they walk, which is just plain disrespectful. “I see a bunch of tables.” I couldn't help but roll my eyes, to think I would have a peaceful dinner, just hopeful dreaming. People started to whisper and get up from their tables but I stayed in my seat, intending to finish the nice meal served to me. Plus it's not as if they got far, Arlong was yelling at them as soon as he got to the middle of the staircase. “Sit down!” he yelled in his degrading, chalkboard scratching voice. I continued to cut my steak in pieces to eat, they over cooked it a bit but a fine job was done anyways. Seasoned almost perfectly. A little too much oregano, but I'm just too picky with my food. Arlong went around as if he owned the place. “No one leaves.”

He looked at me with malice in his smile. “Except you.” His webbed hand went to grab the collar of my shirt but I stopped it with my own, barely even looking back. “I only have a bite or two left, I'll give it up when I'm done.” I took another drink from my wine and let go of his hand, continuing on with my meal. I could tell it pissed him off from the way he growled close to my ear. A stupid amount of spit landing on my dinner plate and shoulder. I shivered in disgust and stood up from my table. “You know what- take it.” I grabbed my plate and wine and stood up, leaving the small round table for the fishmen to sit at. I felt bad not eating the steak so I got a to-go box from the reservations desk and put it in there to give to someone later. Deciding that maybe i'll get a nice drink from the bar instead.

I was a wine kind of gal so I got a nice glass of Merlot, it was tasty. Had lots of flavor, some of which I enjoyed and some I didn't. I was enjoying the peace. I always knew it wouldn't last long but god was i sad when it was over. “Which one of you is Arlong?” Oh shit. I knew his voice anywhere, the voice I was sent for by his grandfather, the voice of a new age. I got a refill on my wine, and bought the whole bottle while I was at it, due to the lingering feeling that this wasn't going to look pretty.

When I got back into the restaurant I decided to just rest a little under the staircase, hidden by the shadows hopefully. Seeing Luffy again made me nervous. Something about it..something about how he’d be even a little bit different. When I assessed the situation in front of me it confused me a bit. I could hear that Arlong was yelling from the bar but he's an idiot so I tuned it out and tried to enjoy the bit of ‘quiet’ I had. Arlong has an older gentleman by his shirt collar, while Luffy was halfway down the main staircase. He had two men behind him, one named Usopp the other Sanji. I heard about them both, one from a customer here and the other, from a bartender. “So this is the pirate I've heard so much about.” Arlong was starting to circle around some of the tables, pacing I guess. “You know, I was expecting someone… bigger.”

Sounds like my cue. I came out of the shady area setting the wine glass and bottle on the table and grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a pocket in my shorts, picking the lucky one and placing it in my mouth delicately. “Tell me about it..I've had someone in my ear all day. ‘Find that dumbass.’ I have a headache at this point.” I laughed and leant on the chair. Luffy looks away from Arlong for a millisecond, to look at me but I don't think it registered in his brain. He couldn't have forgotten me. Luffy spoke, in his normal, nonchalant, Luffy way. “So was I.” I was puffing from my cigarette as I laughed. The snicker making smoke pour out of my nose. That got Luffy's attention. His head snapped to look at me, his eyes didn’t leave me, it looked like he was inspecting every part of my body. Probably looking for the one sign it was me. The small skull shaped scar just above my left knee. I wore shorts today just so he would see it.

His eyes were as wide as the plates they were using to serve that delicious soup I had for an appetizer. “ALIAS?!-” internally I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Externally, all I could do was smile. Luffy had a bright smile on his cheeks and I couldn't help but smile back. It was a smile I yearned for, for so long. I knew with even a bit of it, I was going to be addicted again.

I could see how excited luffy was that I was here (which made me VERY happy), but Arlong being himself did not like that attention wasn't on him for those few seconds so he cleared his throat obnoxiously. “Do you know who I am, boy?” Luffy's attention went to him but came right back when I spoke up. “Arlong the Saw.” There was a moment of silence, I taped the ash away from my cigarette into an empty glass off the table of people in front of me, and took another drag from it. “And just who are you-” - “I’m The Cheshire Cat.” I undid two of the buttons on my button up shirt with one hand, letting my collar fall back to show off the cat like scratches that laid on my collar bone (If those cats were lions that scratched almost all the way down my torso and arm). I did a stupid little bow. A few people reacted but I enjoyed the way Luffy looked so wowed. Arlongs eyes widened but they just went right back to a dumb smug smile. “You, Arlong, go for 20 million berrys.” I took another drag, exhaling calmly. “Which is impressive for the east blue but..Not so much other places.” He laughed from his chest, his friends going along with it. “What does the sell out have to say about it?” I sighed softly.

A part of me wished I was a sell out, instead of a kidnapped child forced to do the government's dirty work. The other part knew I would never do that, knew I would never betray my own crew like that. “Oh nothing honestly, I don't care about you.” I looked over to Luffy who still had a smile on his face. When we made eye contact he started to beam. I've only visited him once since I became a warlord, it makes me happy to see him so full of joy just from a moment of eye contact with me. “I'm here for him.” Luffy's hands started to shake, it was something small he always did around me. Blurted it out one day, said when I was excited sometimes I gave him a look, a glint in my eye that made him so happy his entire body shook. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to me. Arlong growled once again, leaving spit in someone's food. Those poor people.

He was circling the tables to get to me, circling around me slowly as if I was fish bait he was waiting to snap on. “Well I was here first.” I thought about correcting him, telling him that I was in fact here first. But Luffy interrupted the thought anyway. “How’d you find me anyway?” Luffy sounded completely confident in himself, Arlong just let out another horrid chuckle and made his way back to where he originally stood. “Old friend helped me track you down.” At first Luffy looked over to me, but I was drinking a sip of wine, just listening to what was happening in front of me. Arlong clicked his tongue and one of the other fish men grabbed the clown pirate's head out of a bag. “Heya, Straw hat. Did you miss me?” Luffy looked extremely confused, Sanji looked exhausted and Usopp looked terrified. “Burpy?” The name he called him almost made me spit out my wine from laughter (Which made Luffy happy, I could tell because he glanced at me. Even just for a second.) “What are you doing here?”

The fact that there was only a clown head confused and disturbed me, but I looked past it. “Believe me, it wasn't my first choice either.” He looked a bit nervous as he spoke. “But these fine fishy folk persuaded me to point them in the right direction, which ain't easy when you don't have any hands!” The joke made me raise my eyebrows and laugh a bit, it was funny i'll give him that. But Luffy still looked confused. “How’d you even know where to find me?” Suddenly the clown had the most serious expression I've ever seen him in. “I told you, I've got eyes and ears everywhere.” I noticed an ear start to climb out of the red band of Luffys hat. It was quite strange. The ear went back to the clown and popped right back in place, laughing. Luffy took the hat off his head inspecting it, while the two men behind him shared a look. “Stereo!” Luffy looked shocked. “You were listening all along? You heard everything?” The clown was quite happy. “Everything! and that old quick. 'Cause you shi-diots have no idea what you're doing.” The mashup word made me giggle a bit, it sounded so stupid, but it was kinda funny. (But luffy frowned a bit when he saw I laughed so i stopped as quick as i started).

The clown's head jumped towards the fishman with the huge lips. “Hey lips? How about a scratch behind the old ear, huh?” That made me roll my eyes, he was stupid enough to ask his captors that? The fishmen put him back in the bag. Buggy complaining about how sandy and wet it was.

“Listen here. I want my map.” It was so stupid. Watching them fight over the map to the entrance to the grand line, I understand why Luffy wanted it, but Arlong has a giant crew of thieves who could easily take it from another marine base. “Along with half of whatever you plunder as tribute.” Tribute? for getting a map, does he want tribute for his own existence now? “And if you bow down to me, I might even let you serve in my kingdom.” Stupid men. All of them were the same. Well not all, but most were extremely similar. “I don't bow down to any man.” Luffy stood tall, his head held up high as usual. That's my boy. “I'm no man.” Luffy continued. “Or fish.” That made Arlong growl and made me laugh. “And you’re no king.” There was a certain feeling in the air, the aggression that at any moment, one or the other would attack. Everyone was on high alert, my wine made that hard. It was just so delicate. Hard to enjoy in this environment but perfect in others.

“I will be, when I get my grand line map.” Luffy just smiled, which was a little bit attractive. “Then” He placed his hat back on his head. “You’re gonna have to fight me for it.” I take the attractive comment back, he's stupid. “Then let the fighting begin.” A bullet bounced off the fishmans skin. My hands almost drew closer to my own guns but instead I decided to pour another glass of wine. The old man that cooked my food was standing with a gun in his hand, the trigger pulled in his fingers clutches.

The thing about fishmen (I had learned the hard way) is that regular bullets don't affect them. I have very special bullets, made from some weird unmeltable ice, something about them coming from a town inside the grand line called drum town, from the deepest parts of frozen lakes. They're so sharp they even pierce fishman skin but don't go as deep as I would like.

Arlong turned to the old man, one of his crew members kicking him away and down before punching him into a pillar. Sanji called out his name and ran over, jumping on the table and kicking the fishman in the face. Which just pissed him off more. He got a few good kicks to the face and arms, even the legs but Luffy distracted him. “Really good fighter.” By the time he went to do a quite nice spinning kick to the face again, he caught his foot in his arm. I reached for both guns in my holsters, Checking that they had the correct bullets and shot multiple rounds from Alice, all of them making a trail up his arm and letting Sanji get away. The fishman looked back at me, anger and confusion in his eyes. “These bullets are made of ice, so sharp they even pierce fishman skin. I got them specially made.” There was a delicate smile on my lips, blowing the smoke out of my mouth and away from my guns. Normally i wouldn't touch these but i had a feeling about bringing them today, i'm glad i did. they may be expensive but Luffy was worth it anyways.

Everything was happening so quickly, Luffy's gum gum pistol, Arlong grabbing and pulling him closer. “Uh-” I could tell there was panic in his voice, but I couldn't tell if helping would really be helping at all. He was thrown at a pillar, landing on the floor with a thud. “Get up!” Arlong yelled, if i was him i would've stayed on the floor in spite, but he got up regardless. He kept stretching his arms three punches, one to each shoulder and one to the face. “Not bad for a human.”

I lifted my pistol to shoot Arlong but luffy put his hand up, his middle and ring finger were intertwined and the other three fingers touched. That was our sign when we were kids to stay out of it. It was our secret signal, not even Ace or Sabo or Dadan knew what it meant. I lowered my pistol, spinning it and putting it back in its holster. I grabbed the wine bottle taking a nice big gulp. Glad i’d gotten the entire bottle because this in fact, was not going to be pretty.

Part 2!!

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