#for NEVER PUTTING FUCKING LAMPS WHEN IT MATTERS

[actual-changeling]

-"Everything stays", as part of the Adventure Time soundtrack

#alex edits tlou #tlou #the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and sarah #sarah miller #tlou edit #i love this song so much #if you are looking for me i am in craigs walls #for NEVER PUTTING FUCKING LAMPS WHEN IT MATTERS #munching on his fucking cables #anyway #bed time

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 4,782

Warning: cursing, asshole Toji, mentions of blood, physical altercations—👀

A/N:The long-awaited part five! This was so satisfying to write. I hope you all enjoy it!! I think we have maybe one part left, maybe two. Omg! 🥹💚, If you want to be in the tag list YOU MUST HAVE AGE LISTED! Thank you!!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six

Red. Red was the only color Satoru saw as he dragged his suitcase. He'd never felt so angry! Hurt! Betrayed! The emotions swirled and festered like an infected wound.

He'd let his walls down with you. A mistake he would never make in his life ever fucking again. It didn't matter how desperate a voice would sound on the phone. And it wouldn't matter if he genuinely enjoyed talking to the client or if they gave him the butterflies.

Gojo Satoru would never allow himself to be put into a situation like this again. One where he got hurt. Where he mourned the loss of a girl he barely even knew. A girl that left a scar on him no one would ever see.

The thoughts continued to swell and build up in his mind as he bought himself a hotel room next to the train station. They built up like a typhoon, threatening to destroy everything in its wake, all the way to his room, where he collapsed on the bed. Satoru didn't like feeling this suffocating pain. He needed to distract himself, to talk to one of the only people he trusted in this world.

He needed Suguru.

With a few taps of his finger over his phone screen, Satoru stared at himself, praying his best friend was still up. Which he was. Satoru sighed in relief as Suguru’s face took up the screen. His best friend was propped up in bed, his face dimly illuminated by the lamp on his nightstand. He took one look at Satoru’s face and cocked an eyebrow.

“What happened?”

Satoru chuckled, covering his eyes with his elbow. “Is it that obvious?”

“You just called me three hours ago. You said, and I quote, ‘You’re going to love her. She's got the prettiest eyes. Her skin is fucking flawless. I wanna put her mouth on my mouth.’ end quote.”

“I didn't say that last part!”

“You didn't have to say it, Satoru.” Satoru didn't argue with that. “So, are you going to tell me what happened??”

“I—” he groaned, sitting up, “we, well, ya’ know—”

“Fucked?”

Satoru glared at his only best friend. “No!” Suguru narrowed his eyes. “Well, we didn't go all the way.” God, he wished it had, but he was glad it hadn't.

“Okay? So, did she give you major blue balls? This isn't helping me decipher what happened.”

Although the pain was fresh and stung, Satoru rehashed the night's events. The kiss at the bar, you calling him after Toji showed up, and everything after. From your sudden confidence to the gentle caresses to the intense intimacy between you both. It had been so fierce, raw, and real. Satoru had never experienced kisses and caresses like yours; hell, your touch still lingered as he lay in bed ranting.

All of the chemistry he felt didn’t change the fact that he’d been hurt. He thought you were genuine, that you didn’t want to sleep with him just because of his good looks. Maybe, just maybe, you wanted to sleep with him because you felt the same spark that he did. A spark that would lead to sex, but from there, it might grow into something more! A relationship, the possibility of a future together.

But those stacks of cash changed it all.

The possibilities Satoru had been fantasizing about, wanting, came crashing around him when he counted the bills. You had been so unfazed by it. All you did was check your wallet before pulling out the bag with condoms in it. Your pitiful face when he asked about the money flashed in his mind. You had been incapable of telling him why you had all that money; you just stared blankly at it like you were trying to put two and two together.

Playing around like you didn’t know what was happening had set him off. Why would you have that much money in your purse? Conveniently, it was also the exact amount that he charged for sexual services. Services that Satoru didn’t typically provide. He had been honest with you. He didn’t like having sex with people that he didn’t know, so for him to find all that money, it set him off.

Satoru finished up his story, rubbing his hands through white hair. “So I left, and I missed the last train out. Could you pick me up in the morning? I want to get home as fast as I can.” His blue eyes darted towards his phone screen, where Geto was staring at him like he was an idiot. “What?” Satoru asked, looking at himself on the smaller screen. “Do I have something on my face?” His best friend let out the most extended, most profound sigh in the entire world.

“Are you a fucking idiot?”

“Huh?!”

“I said, are you a fucking idiot?”

Satoru’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows pinching together. “Why the fuck are you asking if I’m an idiot? Are your gauges too big? Did everything I say go through them and not into your ears?” He watched as Suguru rolled his eyes. “I just told you I found all that money in their bag! Right before we did the nasty! I confronted her, she couldn’t explain. That, to me, screams that she’s guilty, Suguru.” He gestured with his hand in front of him as if motioning toward the evidence before his face.

“Did you ever stop and think maybe she couldn’t answer because she was just as confused as you?”

“What?”

Suguru shifted, dark hair falling over his shoulders as he sat up. “Satoru,” he purred, “think about it. She left her bag where anyone could touch it while you two were—preoccupied.” Well, when he put it like that. “And how would you react if you found that much money in your wallet that wasn’t there before?” Satoru remained silent, not saying a word. “You claim she looked guilty because she couldn’t explain it. But what if she truly couldn’t? And you left before even giving her a chance to explain herself.” Yeah, he did; he left you crying at the inn.

Thinking back to how you ran after him, grabbing his arm, stumbling over your feet, would someone guilty do that? Try to explain themselves, beg for him to stop and listen.

“I-I don’t know how it got there, Satoru! Please! Please believe me!”

Your tear-filled eyes, the shuddering tremble in your voice, and the blatant way he’d coldly dismissed your attempts to clear things up had his stomach twisting. The fury that had been fuming deep at his core had blinded him. He didn’t even give you a chance to talk, to explain what had happened.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” He mumbled out, putting his phone down to scrub at his face. “Why didn’t I stop and listen?!”

“Because you like her.” There was something in the tone of Suguru’s voice that had Satoru glancing at his phone. “You genuinely like her Satoru, so when you assumed she just wanted to fuck you just as an escort and not as a potential lover, that broke your heart.” Satoru opened his mouth to argue. “Don’t try to deny it; you just bitched at me for like an hour like some school girl who just got dumped.”

”Fuck you,” Suguru chuckled, knowing Satoru’s words held no heat in them. “So what do I do now? Run back over there, tell her how sorry I am?”

”Well, honestly, if I were in her position, I would slam the door in your face. The whole ‘consider the orgasm, payment for the cancellation of my services’ was fucking harsh.”

”Yeah, not my finest moment.”

“Well, use that Gojo Sator charm and make it up to her.”

After hanging up the phone with Suguru, Satoru plopped down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. That red-hot rage had faded into regret. He should have listened to you; he should have stopped the second you grabbed his arm. Instead, he pulled away, refusing to listen to what you had to say.

He made you cry like you did when you told him about Toji.

Seeing you that upset had made him sick to his stomach. He thought, what kind of dick makes a girl cry like this? He hated people like that, people that were so cruel. Now the tables had turned, and he was the dick.

God, what are you doing right now? Were you still crying? Maybe you were pacing the room, thinking about what you would do since your wedding date just up and left you. How were you going to explain this to your friends and family? Or were you dreading the pathetic, woeful faces that would be on the faces of your friends and family when you told them he left? You had hired him to make this wedding easier to attend, but he had turned it into an even worse experience for you.

Gojo had been right about you crying. You were curled into a ball on the futon that still smelt like him. Your chest heaved as you screamed into his pillow, gripping it as you let the waves of anguish wash over you, pulling you deeper and deeper into the suffocating waters of despair.

You cried yourself to sleep, waking up with a numbness in your chest as the flashbacks from the night before plagued you. It had been perfect, too perfect. The butterflies, Satoru’s kisses, the pleasure. You felt so good about him, about the two of you, about yourself, to have it come crashing down around you in seconds.

It hurt being yelled at and screamed at and blamed for something you hadn’t done. The rage and betrayal in Satoru’s eyes burned into your mind, and his words sliced so deep into your skin that they touched your soul. You hadn’t been hurt like that since Toji broke up with you, and that had nearly destroyed you. You ran away from the pain, refused to talk to anyone, and stayed in bed for days. Your heart had been broken into a million different pieces, and it took you so long to put it back together. To allow yourself to live your life.

Luckily, your heart was stronger now, scarred and rough. The pain that it had undergone a year before had made it more durable and harder to break. This heartache was not going to destroy you this time around.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you exhaled heavily through your nose before pushing your hair out of your face. You could do this. You didn't need a wedding date to survive the next two days. You were fully capable of getting through this by yourself.

You put on a smile and got ready for your day. Everything hurt, but you would be able to get through it like you had done before. This heartache would not hold you down. You headed into the kitchen, greeting your family as they cleaned dishes from the morning breakfasts that had already been delivered to guests and discussed preparations for the next two nights.

Their voices were white noise as you pulled a bowl of peaches from the fridge. They asked if you were okay if Satoru felt okay since he wasn’t with you. Hearing them say his name stung, but it didn’t stop you from moving, washing peaches, and peeling them as you preheated the oven.

”He left.” You told the truth, not the whole truth, but you weren’t ashamed to tell them he left you. Their reactions varied from confusion and anger to stunned silence and disbelief. “I’ll be okay.” You assured all of them, urging them to go about preparations for the wedding. Right now, all you wanted to do was be alone, to bake the anger and sorrow out of your system.

They granted your wish, leaving you alone in the kitchen. The atmosphere was drastically different from the night before. You giggled and smiled as Satoru stood by your side; those beautiful, captivating blue eyes wandered, watching your hands move. The heat from his gaze alone had the kitchen so hot you thought every oven had been on when they hadn’t. Now, the only warmth that flooded the space was from the oven and stove as you cooked down the peaches in syrup.

You moved unthinkingly, cooking butter into three trays, before setting the stew pot of peaches off to the side. Mind and body numb as you focused on mixing your flour, sugar, and milk in a bowl, you never heard the footsteps behind you. It wasn’t until the timer on your phone went off that you turned, running into a firm chest. You knew the smell of fresh linen masked with musk, and it made you want to throw up.

Satoru rubbed at his neck, glancing down at you. Dark circles were under his eyes as he placed his sunglasses on his head. Even when he looked exhausted, he was still handsome, which irked you.

“Hey.” He spoke softly, like his voice alone would shatter you as if you were a porcelain doll. You said nothing, stepping to the side to turn your timer off. “Can we talk?”

You ignored him, taking out the trays of melted butter from the oven. You put cinnamon, baking powder, and salt into your batter before whisking it bitterly. Satoru moved, gently grabbing your elbow and stopping you from running further away.

“Please.”

“No.” You snapped, pulling away so you could continue to construct the dessert for the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Sweetie, please.”

“Oh my god!” You slammed the bowl down, turning to shove at Satoru's chest. “You fucking left! You left when I wanted to talk last night!”

“I know I did.”

His eyes never left your face, and his undivided attention only pissed you off more. “Well, guess what? I don’t want to fucking talk now.” Despite your dismissal, Satoru didn’t move. He stayed near your side, watching as your hands moved, putting the peaches on top of the batter. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

“No, I have a wedding to attend—“

“The fuck you do.”

“You paid for me—“

“And you canceled your services!” Satoru grimaced as you all but threw the trays into the oven. “You paid me with an orgasm, remember?! Because I remember!”

He followed you as you headed to the sink with your dirty dishes. His hand gently grabs your elbow. “Look! Please listen to me.” He took the dishes from your hands, placing them in the sink. “I was an asshole last night, whatever this,” his finger gestures between your bodies, “it’s new and raw and real.” You barked out a laugh. “Stop, please. I messed up; I know I did. And I’m sorry for flipping out on you. But this is worth fighting over; I want to be with you.” His words were regretful; his face matched the panicked pain behind his voice.

That didn’t change the fact he’d hurt you. “Gojo.” The use of his last name had his heart crushed. “You did mess up, you hurt me.” You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest. “Let’s be honest, this.” You mimicked his finger, gesturing between you. “This is never going to work, not after last night. I had my heart broken once after I was intimate with someone, and you knew that. You knew I didn’t want to have sex. I specified that several times. I put myself out there, out of my comfort zone, because I genuinely liked you. Now, well, let’s be honest: my heart has been broken twice now. So I’m going to ask you to leave.” Satoru swallowed hard, removing his glasses and putting them on the counter.

“Please don’t say that, please.”

“Go.” You pointed to the door, fighting back tears. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

He grips the counter before lifting his head to meet your teary eyes. “Okay,” he reached out, gently brushing away a stray tear, “I’m sorry for breaking your heart.” His gesture had your breath hitching as he turned, heading out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets.

The moment you were sure he was far enough that he couldn’t hear you, a shaky cry left your lips. You stumbled, your legs no longer wanting to hold you up. How dare he come back and apologize after breaking your heart the night before. If he didn’t apologize, things would have been so much easier for you. You could have grown to hate him, but seeing how upset he looked hearing the pleading tone in his voice, made you want to throw your resolve away to chase after him.

But would a relationship with him work?

He was an escort. People paid him to go out with him. Could you date him, knowing that’s what he did for a living? To be the woman waiting at home for him to come back?

He said he wanted to fight for this, for you and whatever this strange relationship was turning into. He wanted to be with you. So, did that mean he would give up on being an escort? Would he be okay with that? The questions flowed like a steady river through your mind as you sat on the kitchen floor. These were questions you would never get the answers to, all because you sent him away.

Footsteps entered the kitchen as you stared at the floor. You perked up, clenching your fists tight, digging your nails into the palms of your hands. Did Satoru come back? You tilted your head up, tears streaming down your cheeks, to find Toji smirking down at you. The last person on the planet you wanted to see.

”Why are you on the floor?”

”Why won’t you leave me alone?” You snapped as you pushed yourself off the floor.

Toji hummed, leaning over the counter as you went to the sink to clean your dishes. “Because I want to talk to you. But you keep avoiding me.” You threw the whisk into the sink, whirling around.

“You wanna talk? Fine, let’s fucking talk, Toji!” You shrugged a shoulder. “Not that there’s much to talk about, seeing that you’re the one that broke up with me. And last night, you made it painfully obvious that you didn’t want to be with me. So please tell me! What. The. Fuck. Is. There. To. Discuss?!” You screamed, putting both hands on your hips, glaring daggers at the first man who broke your heart.

“Fuck.” He laughed, his eyes trailing up and down your body. “You got feisty in the year that you’ve been away.” When he saw how you glared at him, he held up a hand. “Right, right, fine, I’ll talk.” He straightened his back. “But first, did you enjoy yourself last night?”

His words had your heart dropping into your stomach. “I-I’m sorry?” You asked, hoping that you heard him wrong.

”I asked how your night was. Finally, get dicked down?”

”What?”

”Oh, right, you didn’t know.” He strode forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefingers, forcing you to look into his dark eyes. “After you left, I got a job. I’m a PI, the best in the business.” You felt goosebumps rise against your skin as he leaned beside your ear. “I did a little research into this Gojo Satoru, heir to the Gojo business. It took a little digging, but I eventually found his profile in Escorts4you.com.”

You were frozen in shock and fear. “You knew?” Of course, he knew; he knew something was up the first night.

“To think my ex-fiancée hired a fucking escort to be her date to a wedding. I had a good laugh over it. But when I saw the prices, oof, I know you,” toji squeezed your cheeks, “a pathetic baker from a cafe could never, ever afford to get fucked by a pretty boy like him.”

“W-Wait—“your head spun, “wait, it was you; you put the money in my bag?”

“Ding-ding-ding,” He reached into his pocket, holding another wad of cash towards you. “¥480,000, the money you used to cover rent when I was out of a job.” He put the money on the counter behind you. “I’ve been wanting to pay you back. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“You put—you put the money—“

“But seeing that you were able to buy a high-end escort for an entire week, I figured that maybe you wanted more. So I figured I’d give you half to get the full escort experience.”

“It was you—-“

Toji smirked, gently patting your cheek. “Yep, I found your bag in the kitchen last night. Put half the money in there.” Your ears started ringing as he pulled back. “So tell me, did he fuck you as good as I did? Did he make you scream and cry like me~?” He pulled back, smirking down at you. “Or have I ruined all other men for you?”

Ruined? The only thing he ruined was what you and Satoru had. He fucked this up! It was all because of him!

“You son of a bitch!” You screamed, slapping him across the face. Toji stumbled back, grunting as he cupped his cheek in shock. “Do you know what you did!?” You slapped him again, harder.

“Ow, what?!”

“You ruined everything!” He took several steps back as you grabbed the plastic flour container, throwing it at him, which he dodged. “Yes! I hired Satoru! But I wasn't going to sleep with him!” You tossed a spatula at him, trying to close the distance so you could hit him some more. “But what was supposed to be a job turned into something more! I liked him! I liked him, you asshole!”

Toji dodged a cookie tray, “Well, tell him that!” You rushed forward, slamming your fists against his chest.

“He found the money! And he assumed I was going to pay him to sleep with me!”

“Stop it!” He snarled, grabbing your wrists, forcing you to cease your assault. “Look, I didn’t know you legitimately liked the guy!”

You snapped, yanking your wrists free before kneeing him in the crotch. Toji gasped out, hands reaching down, cupping himself as he stumbled. Vision blurring with tears, you weakly slapped at his shoulders.

“You’re always ruining everything! You broke my heart! I didn’t get to pastry school, and I lost a nice guy because of you!” A gut-wrenching sob made its way through you. “Did you stop to think that maybe I was happy?!”

Your heart was pounding, thundering in your ears as you cried, and cried, and you kept crying as Toji straightened. “Look, I didn’t know it was serious. But if you keep hitting me, we’re going to have a major fuckin’ problem.”

He hissed his vague threat through his teeth. Hearing that only pissed you off more. So you did what anyone else would to the man who broke your heart and kept butting in your life. You pulled your hand back and slapped him as hard as you could. He winced, bangs shielding his eyes as he growled.

When he snapped in your direction, he received another slap. It was when you went in for a third slap that Toji’s hand flew up, grabbing your wrist and squeezing it. He crowded you against the wall, scowling down at your smaller form.

“I told you to stop fucking hitting me!”

“I hate you! Let me go!”

“Are ya’ going to stop hitting me?!”

“No!”

“Then tough shit!”

You kicked at his shins, but he easily avoided you. You were going to kick his ass, beat him into a bloody pulp—once you freed yourself. But all the fight vanished as you saw two ivory fingers tap Toji on the shoulder. He turned around, only to be knocked back by a powerful punch. You stared at Toji, who spit out blood, his gaze locked on the man standing at six-three. Satoru shook his hand, fingers brushing over his knuckles as he glared.

His lip twitched, revealing sharp canines as he stepped forward. “Oh, you think that hurt? Wait until I get a good hit in.” He clenched his fists into tight balls, continuing to close the distance between them.

“Oh, you don’t wanna fuck with me. I’ll fuck up your face so bad you’ll never get a ‘client’ again.”

“Why you—”

“Wait!” You yelled out, jumping between the two men and holding your arms out. “Stop! Stop it!”

Satoru looked down at you as if you’d lost your mind, his momentum stopping. Toji kept moving until your fingers grazed his chest. With a deep sigh, you looked up at Satoru, giving him a gentle smile, one that had his cheeks flushing.

“I got this.” the softness of your voice was the only convincing he needed. With a curt nod, he crossed his arms over his chest as you turned to look into Toji’s eyes. “You have fucked with my life for the last time.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep!” You grinned wide and warmly before punching him directly in the nose. “Try that shit again! I dare you! I fuckin’ dare you!!”

“Oooh!” Just as you went in for another punch, you were picked up, and Satoru carried you out of the kitchen. “Easy there, I don’t want you getting arrested.”

You flailed in his arms, “I’m serious, Fushiguro!” Your ex groaned, cupping his hands over his bleeding nose as you jammed your finger at him. “That was the last time you’ll ever interfere with my life!” You glanced over your shoulder, watching Satoru grab his forgotten sunglasses off the counter before heading down the hall.

“Oh!” You heard your mother squeak out as Satoru passed them. “What’s going on? I thought you said Satoru left!”

Satoru grinned, turning to face her as he passed. “Me leave her?” He shifts, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’m not making that mistake again.” You squeak as he bounds down the hall.

“W-Wait, the cobblers! Mom, take them out of the oven!”

The halls were a blur as Satoru carried you to the room you both had shared. Only once inside, he gently places you down, taking several steps back, giving you space. You remained silent, nursing the hand you had punched Toji with.

“Do you want some ice?” Satoru said softly, eyes following you as you sat down on the futon, thumb rubbing over your red knuckles.

“No.”

You could hear him wince at your stiff tone. “Are you sure?” He slowly approached you, not moving too fast, as if you would bolt if he did. “It could make baking hard if you don’t take care of it.” Your heart slowly crawled up your throat as he sat before you, crossing his legs.

“You know what I want?” Satoru inhaled slowly, holding it for the briefest of moments before exhaling.

“No, what is it you want?”

You slowly lifted your head, eyes locked on his. He was stiff, pulse visible in his throat as he waited for you. Seeing him like this, like a child waiting to be reprimanded, had you swallowing hard as you opened your mouth, the words leaving Satoru’s eyes wide as he rocked back at your request.

“You want what?”

Tag List/ (AGE MUST BE IN BIO)

@arminloverlol @jamzywiththejam28 @gojoful @maskedpacific @ahseyy @kash77 @sadmonke @ari-maccha @sugurubabe @hyori2 @bluechocolatemint @itsinherited @dellappatca @therealestpussyeater @dead-at-tokyo @nvrgojover @drakenswifeyy @nealeart @yunho-leeknow @fire-child-kira @faeryminnyx @tqd4455 @harmonyflora @volkins181-blog @noukstmblr @lovley212 @stinkinstuffie @desihopelessromantic @witchbybirth @sonicsolos @lilbiguy @supsiii @rentheannihilator @bloopsstuff @pepepepepopopopo @pandoness @sw33cadav3r @rixo-19 19 @meguvmii @sxnkuna @mmeerraa @lemonintrovert01 1 @bunny-lily @kibananya @kamastar39 @rjreins @lzaj19 @tiredflame132 @manyno @oliiper @rengokushair @simp-plague @matchalatte06 @haesify y @majanggeum

#escort!gojo #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk reader smut #jjk #jjk y/n #jjk gojo smut #jjk reader insert #jjk gojo #jjk men #reader jjk #jjk au #jjk gojo x reader #jjk satoru #gojo imagine #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader #satorugojo #reader x satoru #jujutsu satoru

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

BACK TO THE NIGHTMARES

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x Robin!fem!reader

Summary - Even though you go under the alias of Robin whilst fighting crime in Gotham. Your past catches up to you with a certain Doctor that always had a fascination for you.

Warnings - noncon!, violence, dead dove do not eat, rough sex, abuse physical and mentally, bondage.

Word count - 6.3k+

Notes - This was actually the first Cillian fanfic I wrote ages ago and idk highkey just posting it for the lolz.

The name Jonathan Crane was an open wound to you. No matter how much you would try to cover it, it would bleed back open without you noticing. 

You were an orphan at the age of 16. Your family’s tragic death broke you completely, it led to a life of deviance and crime in Gotham City. Your father had you trained in martial arts from an early age, so it benefited your unlawful acts of theft and robbery. However, you would only steal from the greedy. 

You first met Doctor Jonathan Crane when you were hardly an adult. You were arrested for robbing some rich asshole that scammed all of his workers. If only you weren’t so determined to beat the crap out of him you would have gotten away. Your lawyer told you to take the insanity plea, a major reduction of time locked away convinced you to agree with your lawyer. Worst mistake ever. You could tell he wasn’t right in the head as soon as you saw him, despite his charming face. 

When he put on the mask, your worst nightmares came to life. 

It felt like years, being under him as an experiment (even though it was only a couple of months). You fascinated him. He spent a lot of time with you at Arkham. He would tell you how you were his favorite little experiment and that he treated you so much nicer than the others. As if that was a compliment. It was dehumanizing, how he tortured you with your worst fears. To the point that he was your worst fear. You were able to fight back at him a couple of times, get a few good hits in. Despite the consequences, you didn’t regret it. 

Thankfully, The Batman saved you. Bruce heard of your story and felt sympathy for you. You never knew how ballistic Jonathan went when he got the call that you had escaped. And how he swore one day you would be underneath him again. 

Bruce wanted to help you, he felt your pain and struggles. It took you a while, but you agreed, under the hidden agenda that you would use your training to kill Jonathan. He trained you, physically and logically. Also helped you heal, enough to keep Jonathan out of your mind for most of the day. You eventually became Robin. Suit and all. 

When you thought you were ready, you snuck out of the manor. Your mind set on killing Doctor Jonathan Crane. You waited outside by the outside alleyway of Arkham, ready to pounce as soon as you saw him. When he was descending the stairs, you bolted to him. You swiftly pushed him down to the ground and hell broke loose. Punch after punch, kick after kick. You wanted him to suffer, just as he made you suffer. Jonathan tried to defend himself but couldn’t. You straddled him, the street lamp illuminated Jonathan’s eyes wide with fear, you somehow felt guilt. But you pushed that feeling aside, ready to use the final blow. 

But The Batman interfered. He pulled you off of him, a tight grip around your waist, and in a second, Jonathan was shrinking under you. The both of you landed on an exterior landing staircase and he reattached the batclaw to his belt. You shoved Bruce viciously and hissed. 

Bruce shook his head to you, as if you were a child. “I’m disappointed in you” he scolded. 

“Fuck off Bruce!” you growled. 

“I did not train you to become an executioner” he continued. “You do not decide who lives and dies” Bruce stated, leaning on the railing. 

“We both know I’m not the only person he tortured! It would be a mercy kill for the city of Gotham. You know he doesn’t deserve to live” you scoffed. You both had your points. You huffed and looked back down, he was gone. Bruce placed his hands on your shoulders, comforting you. 

“His day will come, we just need to wait for the right moment. Trust me” he reassured. 

And his day did come. Jonathan was arrested for numerous charges after his toxin exposure into the water system. You were free. Or so you thought. He disappeared after the League of Shadows incident. Bruce said he would never dare to return. You thought the same. 

Over the years, you assisted Bruce on missions, both with an agreeing mindset of making Gotham better. Your name became popular in the public eye, Batman and Robin. The vigilante’s sidekick in Gotham crime. You became obsessed with bringing criminals to justice. Sometimes you’d stay up for hours, listening to police radios waiting for something worth your time. Honestly anything was worth your time. But Bruce told you that you have to draw a line. 

Bruce was out of the country. Something had come up elsewhere, you asked to join but he gave a sly grin and said “someone has to protect Gotham”. 

Here you were again, sitting on the rooftop, the moonlight shining on you. Your feet dangled as you watched the moon, a police radio sitting next to you as you waited. You couldn’t sleep much anyways, the nightmares still couldn’t go away. That’s when it caught your eye, the Bat-Signal in the sky. You stood up immediately. Bruce forbids you from going alone. But he wasn't here, he wasn’t even in the country. This was a gray area in your agreement. Oh well, it’s probably something stupid anyways. 

You were quickly dressed and sped to the building. Adrenaline rushed through your blood. You were up there in no time. But by the time you were sneaking up to the rooftop, the light was turned off. You could hear Commissioner Gordon, yabbering about how some deviant must have snuck up to turn it on as a practical joke. You listened to him close the heavy door and sighed, climbing onto the rooftop regardless. Disappointment filled you as you sat on the ledge, overlooking Gotham. 

“What’s got you down, little one?” that familiar, terrifying voice captured your attention. Chills ran down your spine and your chest tightened. You spun around up onto your feet to see him. Jonathan Crane. Your heart raced. He was wearing his mask, he stood tall with his hands behind his back. He loved to call you little one, even after all of this time. 

“Scarecrow” you snarled, bracing for a fight. But you had to remind yourself what Bruce taught you. You also had to force your nerves to the side. 

He said your name. “You know me better than that” he said enthusiastically. Your face dropped. He couldn’t know it was you. How could he know it was you! He laughed at your frozen state. “Even though you beat me bloody that night, eyes never change” he explained, you could sense the grin on his lips. 

“So this was your plan? You want a repeat then?” you laughed, brushing off your nerves. Fists formed and jaw clenched as you waited for his move. 

“Not exactly, The Batman isn’t here to save you this time. In Prague the news broadcast shows” he mentioned, mocking ‘The Batman’.

It was impossible not to laugh. Who did he think he was?

Your feelings got the better of you. The actions of neutral good left you, your judgment clouded by your locked away anger towards this man. He was to die at your hands at this very moment, he didn’t deserve to live. Pure evil doesn’t get to walk free.  

“I’m going to enjoy this” you gritted your teeth. 

With a flash, you charged towards him and tackled him to the ground. You straddled him, ready to knock his teeth out but noticed his arm raise towards you. With a swift movement, you grab his arm and rip the fear toxic from out of his sleeve. Fuck this guy, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You ripped off his mask and aimed the canister towards his face and released the gas. 

You breathed in the substance instantly and it blurred your sight. He tricked you. You jumped off of him and coughed intensely. The effects from the substance got to work immediately. Jonathan looked terrifying, your heart raced, body shock and anxiety felt heavy on your chest. No, you still had to fight. You yelled in anger and fear as you threw a punch at him, heart pounding in your chest and mouth hanging open. But your reflexes slowed down so much. He dodged you, effortlessly. Another attempt failed, again and again. Jonathan shoved you to the floor and you fell onto your back. His shoe pressed into your chest, keeping you down. 

“Stop, you’re wasting your energy” his voice sounded demonic. You still tried to fight him off. With a huff, Jonathan bent down and mounted you. You screamed at how close he was, there was no hallucination to his appearance. He looked exactly how you remembered and it haunted you. It was pointless trying to hide the fear he brings upon you in this state. His eyes were dark and expression was blank as his hands tugged onto your loose hair. “There, there, little one. You’re safe with me. You have nothing to fear” he cooed at you with a wicked grin as he pressed his crotch into you. 

You were frozen underneath him, you tried to move but couldn’t. Was this a newly developed substance? Or was your body in shock because of him. Your body trembled and you just wanted to call out for Bruce. With all of your strength, you hand slipped to your belt, searching for the distress beacon. Your actions went noticed by Jonathan and he smacked your hand away. He laughed as he picked up the device and threw it to the side. 

“What did I say again? The Batman isn’t here to save you this time” he mocked, his hands feeling up your body animalistically. He ordered you to sleep and for some reason you did. Falling from one nightmare to another. 

You groaned, your head was aching, but your thoughts were softened with the feeling of fuzziness. The fear toxin had worn off. Your lips were cracked dry as your head rolled from side to side. Your eyes peaked open, you lightly hissed at the bright light piercing above you. Slowly, your eyes became fully wide. You took in a deep breath as you analyzed your unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was white. The walls, counter, floor, exam table and the medical bed you laid on. You harshly blinked as you looked down at your body. A loud, uneased breath echoed throughout the silent room as you stared at yourself. You were wearing a white patient gown and your wrists and ankles were restrained to the bed. 

“You’re awake, finally” the dark voice traveled to your ears from behind. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing who it was immediately, Jonathan Crane. You took into note how his appearance has changed a bit. Just his hair cut shorter and he looked a bit older. If you saw him as a stranger on the street you would think him to be charming. He took slow steps towards you, raising the fear on your cold skin with him approaching you. His hand rested on your shoulder, almost as if to comfort you. “Now the fun can begin” the words slithered off of his tongue. You lied there frozen. Completely clueless of what was about to occur. He sat on the stool beside you and watched you like a hawk. “I had to strip you immediately you know, The Batman had a tracking device on your suit. He must really not trust you. You’ve always made dumb decisions, remember?” he chuckled, speaking casually to you. 

Anger consumed you, you struggled against the restraints and then you froze from the realization of how easy your inner thighs rubbed together. You looked down at your body, and saw your hardened nipples from the cool room poke through the thin cotton. You could feel your body prepare itself to hyperventilate. “You’re going to-” you gasped as you couldn’t finish your sentence, tears flooding your eyes. 

“No no no” Jonathan soothed, leaning closer to you. His fingers interlocked with yours. “You’re going to want me to fuck you, sweetheart” he flashed a smile. It looked pure at first glance, but the longer you stared, the quicker the evil painted over. 

“Help!” you screamed over and over again. Jonathan couldn’t help but to roll his eyes. God you were still such a fucking whiny bitch. 

Robin was gone, now you were just the broken girl that fell into his hands all of those years ago. It was shocking to see how easily broken you’ve gotten. All of this training and skills for what? You should stand strong, just take it, show no fear and pain. But you were just a girl. 

“No point in screaming. We’re not at Arkham. We’re very far away from Gotham” he sighed, looking up to the ceiling briefly. He yanked a dry cloth from the exam table and stood up. 

“Please Jonathan-” you yelped as he viciously gripped your chin and pulled your face closer to him. 

“Doctor Crane to you” he spat. But he didn’t loosen his iron grip. Your eyes were wide as he stared at you with anger. How dare you. You were not equals. You tried to nod your head against his iron grip. Once he let go you took a large gasp.

He leaned over you and forcefully shoved the cloth into your mouth. You cried, your eyes pleading with him as if it would actually make a difference. He admired the sight below him. “Look at you my sweet, all bound up” he commented, his hand trailing across your collarbones. “You thought you were fucking better than me, smarter, stronger. You dumb fucking whore. Don’t worry, I’ll show you your place. Right under me, figuratively and literally” he explained, the back of his cold hand raised to your flustered cheek. “I’m going to fix you” he said quietly. 

Your eyes didn’t follow him. You couldn’t dare to look at him. Jonathan sat back on the stool. He looked back up to you, noticing the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Oh don’t cry. You wanted to bring me down too. I just acted sharper than you. You let your emotions cloud your judgment, you only have yourself to blame” he elucidated.

He had a point. You were taught better. But you chose to react the way you did. Nevertheless, you didn’t deserve to be in this situation. 

He’s waited so long for this moment. The patience this man has had for this moment. It was all worth it. Now he has the power to break you down mentally and physically. You muffled into the rag, trying to plead with him. 

“I care about you” he randomly admitted. “Even after all this time” he mumbled slightly. It shocked you, this monster having feelings for someone other than himself? Impossible. “More importantly I care about how you feel about me” he added, leaning closer to your face. “So, I’m going to please you to show you just how much I care about you” he grinned, his hand tapping your cheek. 

You knew exactly what that meant. You aggressively thrashed your body. This couldn’t be happening, you needed to get out of here, out of these restraints. Your muffled cries echoed throughout the room. The breakdown quickly unfolded when you realized it was pointless. Your eyes squinted shut, this had to be a dream, a nightmare. You needed to remain calm, what he said was true. Your judgment was clouded by your emotions. What would Bruce do? Fuck, as if he would ever end up in a situation like this.  

You were too focused on your attempts to control your breathing to realize that your ankle restraints had been uncuffed. Jonathan pushed your ankles up, bringing your knees up closer to your chest. He reattached the restraints to a closer pole, keeping your knees at a 155 degree bend. Your gown rode up to your hips, exposing your bare pussy. That’s when you realized what he had done. Jonathan walked over to the counter, opened a draw and retrieved a pair of silver scissors. He looked back at you and gave you a wicked grin. Your head shook excessively, as if it would change anything. 

“I’ve wanted to do this since I met you. I regret not fucking you in Arkham. I was just such a workaholic I didn’t want my urges to get in the way. I thought of it as unprofessional. But I’ve become open to exploring new methods” he said slowly as he approached you. You resisted, knowing it was pointless but it was natural reflexes regardless. He towered over you, briefly admiring you before cutting the gown straight down the middle. You cried out as the last inch was snipped apart. Jonathan grinned as his large hands traveled all over your heated body. “I jerked off to you after every session” he admitted proudly, playing with your plump tits. He pushed the cut gown to the sides of your body, you were completely exposed to him, mentally and physically. “I’m going to eat your cunt out now baby” he told you with a smirk. The low tone terrified you. 

He stood directly in front of you, his body leaned over onto the end of the bed. He crawled up high enough for his upper body to easily lay on the bed. “God, you’re fucking dripping!” he exclaimed as he examined your wet region. “Is this all because of me, my sweetness?” he taunted. You refused to give him any pleasure by responding. But he was too focused on the sight of your sweet spot anyways. 

Jonathan examined your cunt. His fingers stroked your folds. You whined, shaking your restricted body in an attempt to get him to back off. He harshly smacked your pussy and you cried into the cloth. “Stop resisting” he growled, his long fingers returning to their playful manner. 

You didn’t like this, at all. However, from his touch you couldn’t help but to feel weakened. Your knees felt like jelly. The further his strokes went, the heavier your breathing got. You didn’t notice your hips flex forward to Jonathan, back arching. He grinned at your sexual response to his touch. You liked this, he knew you did. One finger slipped inside of you, causing you to groan painfully. Fuck, you were tight. Pristine tight. You cried as he finger curled inside of you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked up to you, realization glowed in his eyes. 

“Oh my” he breathed out as he analyzed your expression. He slid another finger inside of you to confirm his theory, you were a sobbing mess from this. “Oh my!” he exclaimed as he pulled his fingers out. He climbed on top of you and grabbed onto your jawline. “Did you forget to tell me something very important darling?” he questioned you, a wicked smirk on his cold lips. Your eyes swelled up, this was so humiliating. You kept your eyes low and he harshly tapped his fingers onto your cheek until you looked up to him. “Have you ever been touched? Fucked?” His dark eyes demanded an answer, his hands loosened enough for you to lower your jaw. He forgot about the cloth in your mouth from excitement. 

You could always lie, but he knew when you were lying. You shook your head, still in his grip.

“Not even by yourself?”

Another shake of the head. 

A dark laugh echoed through the room. “Fuck, do you know how arousing that sounds? Too busy fighting crime to get dicked down. No wonder you’re such a stuck up cunt hm?” he chuckled, caressing your heated cheeks.

Jonathan’s words were too overwhelming. So you just cried, face still in his grip. He comforted you by petting your cheeks and brushing your hair to the side. He couldn’t help but to feel irritated by this information as well. A sudden urge to make love to you rather than to fuck you. No, you’ll like the way he fucks you. There is no choice in the matter. When your cries became minimized he slid back down your exposed body.

“You’re going to taste so fucking devine” he commented, stroking your gushing region once more. “Your body will be so delicate to my touch. I can’t wait to explore all of these new experiences with you. If you are good and embrace my touch I’ll take it easy with you. If not, I’ll make you scream. Not in a good way” Jonathan explained as he gripped onto your outer thighs. 

You whined at the first lick, eyes rolling back as your head dug back into the bed. Jonathan quietly moaned at your sweet taste. It was everything he dreamed of and more. His lips attacked your cunt as his tongue slipped inside of you. A scream of pleasure escaped your mouth. It was humiliating, enjoying pleasure from this evil man. You harshly bit onto the cloth to avoid another muffled moan satisfying his ears. It was amazing with how quickly your orgasm was building, it had only been a couple of minutes. Your legs began to tremble and fists formed. Jonathan’s nose pressed against your clit as he viciously ate you out as if he hadden eating all day. 

He pulled his mouth away, but quickly replaced your tender cunt with the touch of his digits. Two fingers easily slipped inside of you. Muffled cries snuck out. But the deeper his fingers went inside of you, the harder it was to hide your moans. 

“You’re so close to coming already. Making me feel a bit pompous honestly” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help yourself when his fingers reached your g-spot. It felt magnificent, your warm walls squeezing around fingers. He slid in four digits, causing an awful cry of pleasure mixed with pain. You were climaxing in the worst way. Jonathan’s expression looked crazed, like he was a wild animal teasing his prey. It was a surprise that he hadn’t creamed in his pants already. You rode out your very first orgasm on his filthy fingers. Your hips naturally rocked on his fingers back and forward as you became undone. 

You felt like you were going to pass out. Nostrils flared as your body fell back into the bed, it was so fucking hard to breathe. It went unpassed as he untied all of your restraints. Your eyes squeezed shut from exhaustion and embarrassment. You rejected the thoughts of you enjoying the assault, enjoying Jonathan’s touch. 

Your bloodshot eyes opened again when you felt Jonathan climb on top of you. His covered erection poked your thigh as he watched your manner. But his eyes locked onto your gagged mouth. He gently pulled the cloth out of your mouth. You gasped for air, chest raised. 

“Hm, I’ve kissed your pussy before your mouth” he grinned. It was a foul joke. It made you physically gag which he didn’t like at all. He ordered you to kiss him. 

You whimpered at the pain of your sore jaw. But he was gentle with you, his tongue slipped in and lower lip massaged yours. It felt nice, relaxing to feel his touch in this manner. He caressed your breasts as his lips nipped your neck. You let out a soft moan and pressed your body against his, arms wrapped around his upper back. It felt like bliss, the comforting touch to your sensitive body. Your bodies molded together, his breathing was by your ear as you felt your soul leave your body. It felt too good to be true. That’s when you realized it was. You were being physically and emotionally vulnerable with your assaulter. Your body tensed and he noticed immediately. 

“What is it?” he questioned, sounding concerned to the slightest. He stared into your teary eyes, the back of his hand softly stroked your cheek. His free hand lowered to your stomach in an attempt to comfort you.

You regretted it immediately. The action went without a thought. You just saw an opportunity and didn’t think of what the consequences would be. The slap echoed throughout the room and it was followed by complete silence. It was a surprise that you even had the strength to land the hit. You laid frozen as his head remained in the position your hand forced it to. If anything, it was your opportunity to escape. But that slap had used all of your strength. Slowly his dark eyes turned to you, his thighs keeping you trapped underneath him. You stared back at him in fear, waiting for his fury. He backhanded you, again and again. A last gasp for breath left your lips as his hands wrapped around your throat. You struggled underneath him, your face quickly turning red in the process. His expression was emotionless as your fingers dug into his hands, forearms, anything to break the grip. 

“Fucking ungrateful bitch” he growled. “You know, I was going to be nice and wait to fuck you until tomorrow. I thought it would have been a kind gesture to give you some recovery time since, being a pure virgin and all. But you’re just a bit of a fucking brat now aren’t you? Unfortunately I’ll just have to show you my rough side as well” he snarled to you. 

It was a lie, he was going to fuck you today regardless. It was just amusing to fuck with your mind. Your vision became blurred and your hands fell to your sides. He let go of his grip and you gasped for air. His hands quickly gripped onto the sides of your head, his fingers tugged roughly at the roots of your hair. 

“Apologize to me” he spat his demand.

“I’m sorry!” you cried. “I didn’t mean to hit you. I wasn’t thinking straight” you cried your explanation. The apology was genuine but that didn’t satisfy him. 

“Show me you’re sorry” he ordered. You blinked as you processed his words. You tried to move your head closer to his but his fingers pulled your hair back. You winced as you figured you had to work harder to kiss him. Jonathan watched your frustrated and distressed look as you tried to press your lips against his.

“Please let me kiss you” you begged. He chuckled, and let go of your hair. You kissed him desperately, your tongue slid into his mouth. He didn’t like it at all. It felt way too forced by you. Jonathan pulled away and slapped you. 

“You’re trying too hard baby. It’s rather embarrassing” he laughed. “Now, don’t make any rash decisions as I fuck you. Despite my pleasure, I think you’d prefer not to be drugged into a state of  paralysis”. 

Jonathan stood up on his knees, you being trapped underneath him. He towered over you as he began to unbutton his shirt. His eyes did not drift away from yours as he dropped the shirt to the ground. Skin as pale as ghost and had little body fat and muscle definition. It was confusing how easily he could overpower you, drugs you’d guess. “Is there any fantasies on how you want to be fucked little one?” Jonathan teased. 

“No” you spat. 

Jonathan hummed as he slid off the bed. Your lower region was still raw from your orgasm. He unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers. He pushed down the clothing enough for him to pull his cock out. A cry left your sore lips. His size was much bigger than you’d imagined. Maybe it was just an illusion, his cock just looked bigger because of his small size. Stroking his cock Jonathan ordered you to turn to your side. You buried your head into the bed as you turned your body away from him. 

He pulled your hips towards him, his cock rested by your entrance. You whimpered at the feeling of him against you. He caressed your ass a little bit as he lined his cock up. “This is going to hurt, a lot” he warned you with zero care. With one forceful thrust, he was completely inside of you. It wasn’t an illusion, he was as big as you thought. The inside walls of you cunt ached as it stretched around him. It was instinct for you to scream and it was diabolical for Jonathan to enjoy your sounds of agony. 

You wanted to thrash out, attack him. But you knew the consequences, how easily he would be able to restrain you. And you didn’t wish to know what torture he would bring upon you. So instead you just laid there crying with him watching you, your fingers curled into the fabric. Jonathan’s grip on your hip tightened as he began to thrust viciously. He popped your cherry quickly, your blood coated his cock and he thought that it was a heavenly sight. He stared at the back of your head as his balls smacked against your core. 

“I want you to look at me while I fuck you” he ordered, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared. You did as he said and turned your head back. His mouth fell open as you two stared at one another. “How does it feel? Losing your virginity in this state? I bet you feel like a dirty little whore. Good, because you like this, I can feel your cunt clench around me. You’re dripping darling” he pointed out, you were. The thrusts became easier because of how wet you were from this. 

His finger drew blood for your hip as his thrusts continued at the same quick, rough pace. He analyzed your expression, noticing your eyes trying not to roll back and jaw lowering open. “Are you about to climax again darling?” he asked with a grin, he could feel it. You shook your head, not wanting to believe it yourself. A harsh smack landed on your bruised hip causing you to yelp. “Don’t lie baby” he warned in a low voice. 

“Yes!” You cried out. Jonathan laughed at how easy it was to unfold you.  

“Don’t let me hold you back. By all means, come!” he commanded, slapping your ass in the process. 

Quickly after that, you followed through with his command. You cried out, eyes completely rolled back, mouth panting for air, chest tightened and body falling numb. Your head fell back as you rode out your orgasm on Jonathan’s cock, hips rocking in rhythm. 

“The little virgin really must love my cock” he noted. 

“Please- stop. I-” you were lost for words. Could he blame you? Two orgasms in a row when you’ve never even attempted it before? Jonathan chuckled darkly at your request. 

“Darling, I’m not even close to finishing. You’re just going to have to hold it out. Maybe we should see if I can get a few more in?” He smirked and you shook your head. 

You couldn’t do this, you’ve had enough. You twisted your body back in an attempt to push him out of you. He reacted quickly and climbed on top of you. His cock slipped out as he grabbed onto your chin. His eyes gave you a warning not to disobey him as he realigned his member. With an easy push, he was back inside of your sweet canal. He bit your neck roughly as he found the right angle to fuck you. You moaned, he felt so fucking good and you hated it. 

Jonathan stared at your expression. Fear mixed with pleasure. It was the ultimate combination. He kissed you passionately, his tongue sliding down to your throat. You tried to fight him off with your own tongue but it was no use. You didn’t notice your arms snaking around his back to hold him close to you, as if he’d leave at any moment. 

“You like this” he taunted. You ignored his words and just focused on him fucking you, feeling yet another orgasm building up inside of you. But then he stopped fucking you all together. His cock slipped out of you and you frowned at him. You almost asked as to why he had stopped. Has he finished? “If you want me to continue fucking you, you’ll ask me nicely” he explained, a sly look on his face. 

You laughed weakly, he wasn’t serious? Why would you want him to continue? But then he rubbed your clit and you knew why you wanted him to continue. Humiliation was such a turn on. You cried, your chaotic thoughts were too much to unpack. Why would you even dare to ask him to continue? But you were already so close again and the discomfort in your core was becoming unbearable as he rubbed you just enough to keep you on edge but not enough to push you over. 

“Don’t feel guilty about your pleasures Y/N. Your body betrays your mind, it’s so fascinating isn’t it? The relationship between the mind and body. There’s no point in fighting it. Just embrace it, embrace my touch” 

His words felt like bliss. He was so smooth tongued. It was true, you did enjoy this, well your body did at least. What was the point in fighting? You had already lost to him. 

“Please” you whimpered, keeping your head low.

“No” his reply was blank.

“Please!” you sobbed, head shooting up to look at him. Your eyes screamed desperation and irritation.

“Please what? Please Doctor Crane fuck me? I’m such a pathetic greedy little slut that wants to come again?” His words were a slap to the face. It was as mortifying as you thought. 

“Yes that yes!” your response was quick. “Please- I want, I want your cock inside of me. I want to feel you inside of me” you said overwhelmed. You were whimpering a lot, your hips rocking on his thumb.  

Jonathan watched you rub yourself on him and bit his lip. “Oh, you really are a fucking slut. But you’re my slut. You’re mine. But I think you know that already. You’ve always known. Don’t you?” He grinned. You hummed and nodded your head. You shrieked when he pinched your clit. “Use your words girl!” he growled. 

“Yes! I-I’m yours!” you answered. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your mouth trembled.

“Oh you make me want to come so hard. I want you to hold it out. Can you do that for me baby? Wait for me so we can come together” he grinned as he lined his cock at your entrances, brushing against your wet folds. You nodded your head in agreement. Whatever, whatever he wanted. 

The force of his thrusts was like a jackhammer. For a man his size, he sure had stamina. Your foreheads pressed together, fingers interlocked and your legs weakly wrapped around his waist. It terrified you because you came before him. You just couldn’t help yourself. But he didn’t stop so you rode out your high as best as you could. You knew he was about to come undone. Both of your hips locked forward at the same time. Jonathan groaned loudly as you clenched against his shooting cock. His eyes squeezed shut as he held you tight and head flung back. His thrusts came to a sudden stop, his cock completely inside of you, his load spurting deep inside of you. With a few more softer thrusts, Jonathan pulled his soaked cock out of you. 

He let out a satisfied sigh. “I told you it wouldn’t be considered rape” he reminded you expressionless, not even breathless unlike yourself. 

You broke down, unable to control your emotions. You were a sobbing mess. Surely he’s drugged you with something else, right? But the gut feeling inside of you told you otherwise. Too many conflicting thoughts were fighting with each other. After watching you for a quick moment, he got off of you and fixed himself up, redressing himself and combing back his damp hair from all of the sweat as you laid there helpless. There was the opportunity that you tried to make a run for it, but the success rate was at minimum at this point. 

The Doctor went over the sink and ran a cloth under warm water. Ringing out the water, he walked back over to you and began to clean you up, completely ignoring your state of distress. Aftercare was the least of your expectations. He left your cunt till last. His fingers pressed up against the folds of your entrance. A mixture of your fluids oozed out.

“What a sight” he murmured to himself. 

You whined and hissed as he cleaned your raw, swollen, abused cunt. When he was done, he chucked the cloth into the sink and climbed back onto the bed next to you. You silenced yourself, expecting him to make another attack on you. He watched over you quietly and you weren’t sure what to do. It was like he was a crazed monkey waiting to snap.

“You’re still such a good girl for me” he cooed as he planted soft kisses all over your heated skin. The memories of your history filled his mind. There was a passionate kiss shared between you two, the type that doesn’t show desire but shows romantic intimacy. You kissed him back gently, it felt nice and you hated it. Jonathan pulled away and wiped your tears. “You still know your place. Mhm, you took my cock so well baby. I’m so proud of you little one” he praised as he groped your tits. “God, who knows, I might just fall in love with you” he laughed softly, kissing you once more.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #smut #dark smut #jonathan crane dark #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #the dark knight trilogy

[sluttywonwoo]

color me like you || l.jh

pairing: lee jihoon x f reader

summary: you put your heart into every piece of jewelry you make, so why does it only hurt when they're for him?

warnings: swearing, some jealousy, smidgen of religious imagery, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: oral (f receiving), protected sex

word count: 5.3k

author’s note(s): for @sluttywoozi's birthday <33 ilyyy

this was the hardest fic i've ever written ;-; idk why but it just kept fighting me the whole time // also did not mean to be so heavy-handed with the rubies it just sort of happened

“What would you pick?” 

Every single fucking time. It was like he didn’t know what he was doing by asking you that. And maybe he didn’t. 

Lee Jihoon’s consultations were your least favorite part of (nearly) every month. And it wasn’t because he was a rude customer or a schmuck just looking to blow his money or anything like that- but because month after month he waltzed into your place of work and bought a custom piece for someone who wasn’t you even though he never failed to ask you that god damn question.

It wasn’t like it was uncommon for jewelers to get asked that. In fact, it was rather common. Men tended to view women as a monolith, accepting any opinion from whoever was nearest as a reflection of their partners’ solely based on the other party’s gender. 

But with Jihoon it’s different. It was like Jihoon actually cared what you had to say about it, like it mattered what you thought of his decisions even though you were the one designing the piece and not receiving it. 

It sends you into a mini spiral every time. Every time he walks through the door, eyes automatically searching for you. Every time he sits down in front of you and leans over your desk to get a closer look at your work and you catch a whiff of the expensive cologne dotted at his pulse points. Every time you have to gaze into his deep brown eyes and swallow the jealousy rising in your throat as you bare your soul to him laid out on a satin pillow for him to take and give to someone else. 

You already know who it is once you see that the VIP Room is booked on your schedule. You groan internally, cursing the man as you run through all of your preparations. There isn’t much to do because almost everything is already ready for you but you try to stay busy anyway, finding yourself checking the clock on the wall over and over again until the bell above the door finally chimes to signal his arrival. 

Your back is to the door and you don’t turn around right away even though you know he’s seen you. You can feel his gaze on you. It’s piercing yet magnetic in the way things like glass and icicles are-  deceptively alluring, sharp enough to draw blood. 

When you do finally turn to face him, you note that he’s flanked by a security guard, not unusual for him but unsettling to you nonetheless. You don’t know what he does for work. You’ve never asked. Better not to get attached is what you told yourself, not that you were having much luck with that. 

Jihoon smiles politely at you and you return the nicety, gesturing to the door behind the counter for him to follow you. 

The lights in the showroom are dim as always. The dark, velveted walls seem to be absorbing what little light the decorative lamps are effusing. The walls are lined with built-in display cases, illuminating their contents and nothing else. 

In the middle of the room sits a desk, with a chair on either side. You take your place behind the desk and wait for Jihoon to sit before doing the same. He’s ditched his shadow so the two of you are alone, something you try not to think about as you organize your tools in front of you. 

“How have you been?” Jihoon asks, his voice breaking the silence but doing little to ease the tension between you. 

“I’ve been well,” you answer. It’s an honest answer, for the most part. “And yourself?”

“Busy,” he sighs, “but good.”

You fold your hands on the desktop in front of you, letting its cold surface ground you. You can already feel yourself starting to sweat even though the showroom’s the coldest place in the store. “So, what are we doing today?”

“A bracelet,” Jihoon says. 

“For you or someone else?”

You never ask your clients who their orders are for. In your profession, you’ve learned that being too nosy, even in good conscience, can be dangerous. You’ll ask if the piece is for the client themselves,  if it’s to celebrate a specific occasion, and what the person’s tastes are but little else. If they offer the information voluntarily, so be it. 

“Someone else.”

You grit your teeth as you ask the next question. “Do you have their measurements?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer right away. 

“Not exactly. It doesn’t need to be a perfect fit. They, uh, have about the same size wrist as me.”

“Then I’ll ask you to hold out your wrist for me…”

He extends his arm across the space between you, pale skin almost translucent under your Circline light. 

“Which way,” he turns his hand for you, “palm up or down?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He leaves his palm skyward like he’s waiting for you to take his hand but you wrap the tapeline around his wrist instead, bringing the magnifier closer to get an exact measurement. You make a mental note of the number and definitely not of the way his fingers are long and calloused and-

“That’s really pretty.”

Jihoon’s voice startles you out of your unprofessional thoughts, making you jump a little in your seat. He grins apologetically. 

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you how pretty I think your ring is.”

Your eyes flit down to the piece of jewelry on your finger, a thin gold band looped around a few times like a wiry piece of thread. In between the strands of gold are three gems, diamond, alexandrite, and tourmaline, set in what looks to be random spots. You’ve worn it every day since you finished it but no one had ever commented on it until now. 

“Was it a gift?” Jihoon asks. 

“No, I made it.”

“I should’ve known,” he sighs. 

You want to ask him what he means by that but you know his answer will only make you more delusional. 

You release the end of the measuring tape and roll it back up, replacing it in its spot in your drawer and pulling out a leather bound notebook instead. You flip to a blank page and jot down Jihoon’s measurements along with the few details he’s told you thus far about the piece he wants made. 

“Do you have an idea of what you want your bracelet to look like?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject. “Or should I show you some of my previous designs?”

“I think I have an idea but I don’t know how to describe it.”

“How about I show you some pieces and you tell me if they’re similar to what you had in mind?”

“That sounds perfect.”

You stand from the desk and turn around to face the display cases behind you. There’s an assortment of original jewelry pieces made by you and your colleagues to choose from but you only select ones you’ve made, knowing Jihoon would instantly be able to tell the difference. It’s happened enough times before. 

You walk him through each of your selections, making note of what he points out about each of them. From his musings, you gather that he wants an argentium silver chain— thick enough to be inlaid with stones but not too thick that it would become too heavy or gaudy. 

Listening to him talk about the piece made you smile despite the envy twisted around your heart. He had started to pick up on the terminology after coming here for so many months and seemed so much more confident about his knowledge of it all. It was apparent in the way he held himself now during consultations. 

You get all of the initial details about the body of the piece squared away before moving on to the finer ones. Categorizing the steps like this helps you stay organized.  

“And do you know which stones you want embedded in the bracelet?” you ask. 

Jihoon rubs his thumb across his lips in thought. “I thought I did, but after seeing that,” he pauses to point at a necklace you’d shown him, “I’m having second thoughts.” The necklace he’s referring to is set similarly to the style of the bracelet, only gold and lined with rubies. 

“What was your first choice?” 

“Amethyst. Since it’s a birthday gift, I thought I’d go with their birthstone, but now I’m torn. What would you pick?”

There it was, the dreaded question. It was like he’d been holding a knife to your throat this entire time and finally decided to draw blood. Still, you answer like you always do. 

“I’m partial to amethyst,”  you admit, “and there’s the added significance of it being their birthstone, but the rubies would make more of a statement. It really depends on what kind of person you’re buying for. Are they a sentimental person or a flashy person?”

“They’re both,” Jihoon groans, putting his head in his hands. Then, after a moment, he sits back up. “But I think they’d like the rubies more. I feel like those evoke a more dramatic aura, if that makes sense.”

“It does. Rubies are associated with power and passion.” They’re also associated with romance but you choose not to mention that part. “In some cultures, they were believed to protect the wearers as well.”

“That’s perfect then.”

You clasp your hands together and force a smile. “Great! Do you want them around the entire band of the bracelet? From clasp to clasp?”

“What would two-thirds look like?”

“Let me show you.”

You discuss the size, cut, and spacing of the stones before calculating a price and timeline for the piece. You give Jihoon the receipt that states how much he owes today and how much he’ll owe when he comes to pick it up, circling the pick up date with your pen. 

He pays with his black card, the one you’ve become accustomed to swiping every time you see him. You expect him to leave promptly after the payment, that’s what usually happens, but he doesn’t. He lingers a little awkwardly as you put the jewelry back in their display cases, hesitating by the door like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Jihoon?” you ask him eventually, “is everything okay?”

You refer to most of your clients by their surnames but Jihoon had asked you not to the very first time you met. “It makes me feel old,” he’d explained with a laugh. 

Now, he laughs again. This time, it’s a nervous laugh, one that draws confusion and sets your own nerves on edge. 

He swallows harshly. “I know this may be entirely inappropriate, but I promised myself I wouldn’t leave today without asking if you would go to dinner with me.”

“W-what?”

“Go to dinner with me?” he repeats, this time in the form of an actual question. 

You blink. “For real?”

“Um, yes? Unless your answer is no, then no, not for real.”

You put both hands on your desk to brace yourself, unsure what to make of his request. “I’m sorry, I’m just a little confused. Why would you want to go to dinner with me?”

“Because I want to take you on a date.”

“A date?!”

Jihoon clears his throat a little bashfully. “Yes, I thought that was implied when I invited you to dinner.”

“Dinner could mean a lot of things! Maybe it was a business proposal.”

He chuckles. “I’m a music producer, I don’t know what kind of business I’d have with a jeweler.”

It doesn’t even dawn on you that you’ve finally found out what he does for work because you’re so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s asking you out to comprehend anything else. You can hardly comprehend this. 

“You want to go on a date with me?”

“I- uh, I’ve been coming here for months just to see you. I mean, I was really getting gifts for people but they don’t give a fuck about what I buy them for their birthdays as long as it’s expensive... they don’t really care about the different gems and settings and shit.” You’re still processing his words when Jihoon lifts his head to peek at your reaction. “Are you... upset?”

“Upset? No, I’m relieved!”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?”

“This whole time I thought you were getting gifts for your partner, or partners, I thought you were taken.”

You watch the corners of Jihoon’s mouth quirk up into a smile as he realizes what you’re saying. “And that upset you?”

“Yes,” you mumble. 

“You like me back?” 

“Yes. It’s been terrible.”

“Pardon?” he chokes out. 

“Imagine the roles were reversed,” you explain, “I’m coming to you every month, getting to know you better and you’re learning more and more about me, I’m flirting with you, you’re starting to feel like we’re getting closer-”

“Only for you to buy the jewelry for someone else,” he concludes for you with a grimace, “presumably a romantic partner. Yeah, okay I can see how that would be miserable.”

“But then, who have these even been for this whole time?!” you blurt out, finally breaking your number one rule. 

“I’ll explain everything over dinner,” Jihoon promises. 

“But when is dinner?”

“What time does your shift end?”

-

Jihoon does explain everything over dinner, as promised. He gave you some time after work to get ready for the date and then picked you up from your place in a town car. He’d told you before that he’s never felt the need to get a drivers license, that public transport and ride services were plenty to get him to where he needed to go, and that he seldom left the house anyway. You offered to drive to dinner since you did have both a car and a license but Jihoon astutely refused, saying that while he wasn’t very old fashioned, he was the one who asked you out and he’s always liked the idea of a more traditional first date. 

Dinner is at a restaurant you’ve never even heard of but apparently has a Michelin star. The food and mocktails are delicious, but truthfully the last thing on your mind as you stare across the table at your date. He’s dressed in all black, like usual, but had chosen an outfit that was much more formal than what you were used to seeing him in: pressed slacks and a dress shirt that was buttoned just low enough to show off a hint of collarbone, cleavage, and a chain you recognize as one you’d crafted for him almost a year ago. 

He almost always wore a hat when visiting your store but tonight he’s forgone the baseball cap and swept his long hair back in a half up, half down sort of manner. There’s product in it but a few wisps of his bangs have escaped the hold of the gel and hang in front of his eyes. 

You briefly wonder if he’d let you style his hair, if he’d let you braid it back. He’d look so pretty with french braids-

At the end of the meal, after he’s paid, he asks the question. Not the question, the one you’re always dreading, but a new one that makes your heart beat just as fast. 

“Are you doing anything after this?” 

You take a sip of your drink, ignoring the watered down taste in order to keep the air of suspense. “That depends, what are you doing?”

-

Jihoon’s apartment is closer than yours. It’s in the middle of the city, nestled safely above the bustling crowds and chaos of the streets beneath it. You would call it a penthouse but it isn’t on the top floor of the building nor does it have a terrace- the point is, it’s bigger than the house you grew up in. You can tell just from standing in the doorway with all the lights off. The floor to ceiling windows lined all along the far wall give it away. They let in just enough light from the billboards and neon street signs below to cast shadows in the corners of the room that emphasize its depth. 

There’s music playing softly throughout the apartment when you enter.

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen,” Jihoon insists as he scrambles to turn on some lamps. “I swear, I just always have music playing.”

“Sure,” you tease him, bending down to slip out of your heels. 

You’re still a few inches taller than him without them on but he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. You certainly don’t. “I can turn it off if you’d prefer,” he offers. 

“No, that’s okay. I like having it on when-” you stop yourself mid-sentence, cheeks blooming with heat. You had been about to say, ‘when I’m having sex,’ and Jihoon seems to fill in the blank himself from the way he smirks at you. 

“Really? That’s good to know.”

You’re too flustered to think of a witty response so you just pucker your lips like you do when you don’t know what to say and hope he can’t tell how insane with lust his answer just made you. 

The lapse in his gentlemanly manner is brief and before things can go too far he takes your coat and purse and leads you to the couch in the living room. You sit and watch as he crouches in front of the fireplace, rolling up his sleeves. It’s a gas fireplace so all he has to do is turn the dial to the desired strength, there’s no soot or ash or really anything that would make him dirty, but you appreciate the view of his arms nonetheless. 

You know Jihoon is a big fitness buff. It’s one of the first things he ever told you, apologizing for how sweaty he was as he shook your hand and introduced himself. It’s been hard not to let that knowledge distract you whenever you see him now. You’ve caught yourself ogling his biceps and quads (and ass) an unhealthy amount of times in your consultations. You can let yourself get distracted tonight, though. Now that he’s not your client and you’re the girl he’s brought home. Now that he’s got his forearms out on display specifically for you to ogle. 

He joins you on the couch a moment later, creating a respectful distance between you. 

“Would you like anything to drink?” he asks suddenly. “I don’t have any alcohol in the house because I don’t really drink but I could make you something like we had at dinner. I also have Coke Zero and water and-”

You put your hand out to stop him, relieved to know he’s just as nervous as you are. “Water would be great, thanks.” 

“Ice?”

“If you have it.”

“I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t,” he points out. 

“Right. That’s... right.”

He laughs affectionately and touches your knee as he goes to stand from the sofa. His hand is warmer than you expect, making you suck in a quick breath that makes you both freeze. Your eyes meet his before his gaze shifts to your lips. 

“Do you... still want that water?” 

Your mouth does feel dry but for an entirely different reason. 

“Maybe later.”

-

He’s on top of you as soon as your back hits the mattress, strong thighs straddling your hips. His hair falls into his eyes and subsequently yours as he leans down and gently cups your face. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, kiss me,” you gasp, pulling him into you before he does. 

Jihoon groans the instant your lips touch his, grinding into you almost involuntarily. It isn’t long until you’re moaning too, practically writhing underneath him as he kisses you like he’s found God.

Everything about him is soft, except his hands. His voice, his tongue, his touch. His hands leave your cheeks and start to explore the rest of your body, grazing your chest and hips over your dress. 

His fingers skim the hem of it and dip just below the seam, lifting the fabric from your thighs before letting it float back down.You don’t know if he’s teasing you on purpose but it’s driving you crazy. You’ve wanted him for so long now that his self control feels cruel, like he’s dangling himself just out of reach. 

“I’m sorry, I got carried away,” he says, running a hand through his hair. 

“I honestly wanted you to get more carried away,” you admit.

“Really?”

“I thought I was making it obvious.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” he mumbles through a smug grin, “and I didn’t know how far you wanted to go tonight.”

“I want to go as far as you want to go,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You’re not typically one to sleep with someone on a first date, not for any religious, moral (or internally misogynistic) reason, you just don’t like being that vulnerable with someone you’ve just met. You’ve also found sex to be a lot more enjoyable with someone you feel connected to. 

So even though it’s technically your first date with Jihoon, you’ve known him for what feels like half of an eternity and craved him for every single moment of it. You aren’t going to deny yourself what you’ve longed for for ages. 

“In that case, can I eat you out?” he asks.

“Fuck yeah you can.”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs as he positions himself between your legs and pushes your dress up to your hips.

“Really?” you sigh.

Jihoon kisses the inside of your thigh and then hums against it. “Mhm, every single time we were alone in that dark room I’d just think about crawling under that table and spreading your legs apart...” 

“You should have.”

Jihoon scoffs. “You would have gotten fired.”

“Worth it.”

“But isn’t this much better?” he asks, pressing his tongue over your panties. “I can take my time with you and you can be as loud as you want...”

Jihoon repeats the motion with his tongue and you whimper as if to prove his point. He’s barely done anything and your panties are already soaked through. To be fair, you’ve been wet since dinner but that was his doing too. All he had to do was look pretty and you were melting for him. 

“Want me to take these off?” he asks.

“God, please.”

“Here, lift up for me then, perfect. Now put your legs over my shoulders... good, just like that.”

He drowns himself in you, worshiping your cunt with his lips and his tongue and his entire being. He takes his time tasting all of you before moving on to what he knows you’re actually waiting for. You try to be patient, you know he’s been waiting for this just as long as you have, and it feels good... you just need more. 

He does give you more, eventually. His tongue dips inside of you when you’re least expecting it and your thighs clamp around his head in surprise. He’s completely unfazed by this, and pries them apart with ease, holding your legs open as he continues to drink you in. 

He switches between tongue fucking you and sucking on your clit a few times to figure out which you like more, settling on a pattern that has his name echoing off the walls of his bedroom. 

You can barely hear the music playing over the obscene sounds he’s making as he eats you out but you find you actually prefer them anyway. 

His mumbling is incoherent, muffled by you in every sense of the word. Still, you can tell he’s praising you, encouraging you to surrender to the pleasure. 

It doesn’t take much convincing because he has you on the edge in record time. No man has ever gotten you so close so fast, you don’t even think you’ve made yourself cum this fast and you have that shit down to a science. It’s over for you as soon as he adds his fingers into the mix. You wanted to hold off a little longer just to prove a point but Jihoon has his own point to prove.

You don’t necessarily need penetration to get off but having something to cum around does make orgasms stronger for you. He must know this, or at least have an inkling, because he pushes two fingers inside of you right when your breath catches in your throat and your body locks up and your vision starts to blur…

-

“Baby- is it okay if I call you baby? Are you alright?”

It’s more than okay, you think to yourself and then you realize the disembodied voice that sounds a lot like Jihoon’s is actually expecting an answer.

You open your eyes the tiniest bit to see a very wet, very concerned-looking Jihoon hovering above you. 

“You can call me whatever you want,” you tell him. 

“That wasn’t really the important question out of the two,” he sighs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great!”

He breathes a sigh of relief and collapses against your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” you laugh. “Aren’t we going to keep going?” 

Jihoon lifts his head and gives you a look. “You just came so hard you blacked out, don’t you want to take a break?” 

You shake your head. “No? Why would I?” 

His lips part and he sputters, “because you just-”

“It’s sweet that you’re worried about me, but I promise I’m fine. I’ve never been better.” 

“Never?” 

“Never ever.”

“So… I can kiss you again?” 

“As many times as you want.” 

The power you’ve bestowed on him in that one sentence immediately goes to his head and he spends the next several minutes pressing kisses into your skin as he undresses both you and himself. 

He kisses you in between every piece of clothing that comes off, every button of his shirt that he undoes, dragging out every moment until you’re both completely naked save for your ring and his necklace (and a condom). 

He’s huge, unsurprisingly. What is surprising is how hard he is already. You knew he was turned on, you could feel him through his pants when you were making out and he was grinding into you, but you didn’t realize it was like this. You haven’t even touched him and his cock is rock hard and flushed at the tip. Did he get that worked up just from giving you head? Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter...

He pumps himself a few times before easing into you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he struggles to keep his composure. You aren’t faring any better, hands flying to his biceps when he bottoms out. The stretch is more intense than you’re expecting. It knocks the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your head. All you can do is lay there on the satin sheets and feel as Jihoon makes himself a part of you.     

“Are you okay?” you hear him ask distantly, voice trembling. 

“I’m perfect,” you manage to respond. 

“You are,” he agrees.

Your brows wrinkle in confusion as you try to blink him back into focus. Hm?”

He just smiles and pets your hair gently. “Don’t worry about it.”

“O-okay.”

“Am I good to start moving?” 

“Yes, yes please fuck me.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull his body even closer just in case he needs further convincing, gasping in relief when he finally does start to move. It’s slow at first, experimental. You’re still sensitive from cumming so every sensation is heightened. Every stroke feels better than the last and you can only hope it feels just as good for Jihoon. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, “how are you so fucking wet?”

“I really like you,” you laugh, “and you’re so good at, like, everything! It’s unfair and it’s, fuck, not my fault.”

“I really like you too,” he confesses, starting to fuck you harder. You expect him to elaborate but he doesn’t, not right away. Instead, he lets his body do the talking for him while he busies his mouth with yours. You can still taste yourself on his lips along with traces of your lipgloss and chapstick that he’d long since kissed off. It’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating.

When he raises his head and puts a hand on the headboard to steady himself, the necklace you’d made him dangles right in front of your face, the cross pendant just inches from your nose. He grabs it with his free hand and puts the charm between his teeth so that it won’t hit you, smirking at the way your eyes roll back.

“You like that?” 

 “Fuck you.”

He laughs, then mumbles, “God, you’re so hot. I’m so fucking close already.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, down into another kiss. The chain still in his mouth presses into your lips, the cold metal a striking difference from the heat of your bodies. 

“Please tell me you’re close too,” he whispers.  

“So fucking close.”

You just need a little more to get you over that edge again. You release one of your arms from around his neck and snake it in between yourselves to rub your clit but Jihoon pushes it away and replaces it with his own. He repeats the same motions with his fingers that he’d done with his tongue, begging you to cum with him. 

“Let go for me, baby,” he urges, “wanna cum together. Please let me feel you.”

You don’t black out this time but you do cry, fingernails digging into his back as you fall apart under him. Jihoon fucks you through it, helping you both ride it out. He’s shaking by the time the aftershocks pass and carefully lays himself on top of you like a blanket so that you can both catch your breath. 

“S-sorry, I thought I’d last a lot longer,” he apologizes sheepishly. “Next time I will. Maybe. Your pussy is crazy though so you can’t hold me to that.”

“You’ve got such a way with words,” you scoff. 

“What can I say, I’m a songwriter. It’s in my blood.” 

You snort and push him off you, searching your phone. Your best friend had probably alerted you missing to the authorities by now after not hearing from you for however many hours it’d been since you last updated her. You find your phone under one of the pillows and see a barrage of texts from her and the groupchat just like you predicted. Snitch. You would have to grovel later, though, because Jihoon had gotten up to start the shower and returned to get you now that the water was warm. 

He helps you step into the basin and shows you how to adjust the temperature in case it isn’t to your liking before asking if you want him to stay. You do, and you point out that he needs to shower too so it would be more efficient if you showered together anyway. 

He joins you without a second’s hesitation, kissing your shoulder from behind as he begins to gently lather your body with soap. You return the favor after he’s done with you and soon enough he’s wrapping you and himself up in plush white towels he’d grabbed from the warmer next to the shower.  

“Stay the night?” he asks as he dries you off.

You don’t have anything you need with you because you hadn’t planned on spending the night. It’s usually impossible to sleep without your overnight essentials but you’re honestly so exhausted you think you could fall asleep standing up. 

“Don’t feel like you have to,” he adds when he senses your hesitation. 

“No, I want to,” you assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting to have a sleepover so I don’t have any of my things.”

“I have an extra toothbrush,” he supplies helpfully, like that’s the only thing that could have been preventing you from making a decision. 

You smile, trying not to laugh. “Thank you, that’d be great.”

He smiles back. “Anything for you.”

this was something kind of different but i hope you liked it bestie <3 can't wait to hear your thoughts i love youuuu

#color me like you #woozi smut #jihoon smut #lee jihoon smut #lee woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #woozi x female reader #svt x reader #seventeen x female reader

[lecl3rcw]

MAGIC IN YOUR VEINS

pairings: Charles Leclerc x sister!reader

summary: Charles comforts his favorite sibling.

warnings: badly translated French, sibling fights, Arthur being a lil mean, just a little tho.

author’s note: this is a lil disappointing, also Thankyou guys so much for 50 followers💗

song recs: none:(

————————————————————————

She didn’t know how a small comment of hers escalated to a full blown argument between her and Arthur.

“Arthur you know I didn’t mean it like that!” She tries to defend herself, “Oh cut the bullshit Y/N, you know how I feel when anyone compares me to Charles, you off all people should know” he yells really upset with his sister’s comment.

“I was just joking! I didn’t Intentionally compare you to him” she sighs out, putting her hand on her face, a little distressed. “No you always have to bring this up, and it’s funny because you’re probably the biggest failure out of all 4 of us, Enzo is starting his own business, Charles is a F1 driver, I’m an F2 driver, meanwhile you can’t even pass a grade 11 exam” he says, finally finishing his rant getting the anger and frustration of his stressful week out.

Her mouth was wide open as tears were visible in his eyes, sure her and Arthur exchanged insults but never had they fought this seriously. “Why are you crying? Cant handle it when it’s directed at you?” He says, “I’m sorry Arthur” she whispered before running to her room and locking the door.

She felt guilty, she wasn’t upset at him because he gave her a taste of her own medicine but it did sting, hearing someone she genuinely looked up to call her a failure was a statement she could never shake off. Although it hurt, it also made her realize that he was right. Once Arthur was cooled down, he did apologize to the girl and she did as well, but despite saying sorry, his words rang in her head. She vowed to herself that she was going to pass this test without anyone’s help no matter what.

“Do you guys know what’s been up with your sister?” Pascale asks placing food on the table, “What do you mean Maman?” Charles asks looking up from his phone, his next race was 3 weeks away so he was happy to spend time with his family, “I don’t know, she seems really distant” their mutters, “I heard she has a big test tomorrow , maybe she’s stressed out?” Lorenzo said, “yeah perhaps, but I would appreciate if you guys could talk to her and make her feel better” she says, the two sibling nodded their heads.

Charles was walking up to his bedroom but he noticed soft music coming from his sister’s room, curiously, he walked in only to find his sister’s head resting on the desk, the dim light of the lamp was the only thing lighting her room up, her papers scattered across her desk. He softly smiled at her, he placed a sweet kiss on her head before turning the light off and letting his sister sleep.

The next morning the girl jerked up in panic, she wasn’t supposed to be sleeping, she was supposed to be preparing for her test. “I’m so fucked” she says her hands on her head. She checks the time and she quickly gets ready to go to school.

“Hey Chérie” Pascale says, “Goodmorning maman” she says rubbing her eyes tiredly, “you alright?” Pascale asks the girl in concern, “I’m good ma, I was supposed to study but I fell asleep” she says, “Oh you’ll do great my love” she says as she goes to give her daughter a tight hug, being in her mother’s arms bright the younger girl a lot of comfort, “I love you Maman, I should be leaving” she says breaking the hug, she gave her a smile before heading out the door.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, after giving her test she actually felt confident, the smile that the past few weeks stole from her made its way back on her face, now all she had to do was wait till 5:00 pm for her results. Charles texted her saying that he could pick her up to which she happily responded.

“Hi Chérie! How was your day” Charles asks, “it was alright” she responds, the siblings talked about irrelevant things the rest of the way, jamming to music, Charles even bought Y/N some food as the two shared the meal. She felt really happy that Charles wanted to spend time with her as he was such a busy man. Unfortunately for her tho, her interactions with Arthur had died down since he was never home, either with his friends or with Carla, which made her really sad.

It was 5:03 when the siblings made it home, “I’m gonna go check my score Charles, I’ll be right back!” She says, “wait! Bring your laptop here, we will check it together” Charles says wanting to be as supportive as ever to which she was more than thankful for.

“Ok…so what did you get” He asks her, the minute she looks her heart drops to her stomach, she felt nauseous, the exhaustion of so many weeks of not sleeping and eating properly catching up to her, she was upset beyond repair, and Arthur’s voice calling her a failure started echoing In her mind.

“I’m a failure” she says mindlessly, before burrying her face in her hands. “What? No you’re not” He says grabbing the laptop. “Oh my god. I’m a screwup” she says as sobs start racking her body, Charles immediately wraps his arms around the girl tightly, her face still in her hands. “I’m so dumb, I studied for nothing” she says as places her head against his shoulder.

“Y/N you’re not a failure, who told you that” Charles says caressing her hair, “It dosent matter Charles, the test results tell me everything I need to know” she says tears still running down her face, “why can’t I be more like you, or Arthur, or Enzo” she wails out, “You’re not a failure Y/N, everyone has ups and downs, you can’t base your worth on test scores, or people’s opinions” he says tightening his hold on her, she stayed quiet wanting him to continue. “You can’t be perfect all the time Chérie, and whoever told you that you’re a failure is probably a failure themselves” Charles says getting a little mad that someone (Arthur) called his sister a failure.

“But-” “no buts, You tried Y/N and that’s what matters, you didn’t give up, everyone has bad days, but you can’t let a test score hold this much power over you” he finishes, she sniffles wiping her nose, “you’re right, I’m sorry, maybe this was a bit of an overreaction” she says, feeling a bit embarrassed, “No never apologize for showing emotions, you were disappointed and that’s ok, use this disappointment as motivation, you’re going to kick that next test’s ass” he says shaking her shoulders as she lets out a laugh. “ I love you Charlie” she mumbled giving him a final hug that he reciprocated, “I love you more” he says. “Now tell me, who said you were a failure? I’ll give them a piece of my mind, I’ll get Arthur on them too” he says confidently,

“………”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x female reader

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

#jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #bimbo's one shots #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #bimbo’s one shots; jjk #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen one shot #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso #choso jjk #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso #choso x gn reader #choso fluff

[wordsinhaled]

dream overworking himself and sulking and stressing everyone out in the dreaming until he basically gets sent on an enforced vacation, so he's all, well, i suppose i must go to the waking then. who do i know in the waking?

which of course results in dream showing up on hob's doorstep entirely unannounced, probably in the middle of the night too in true dream fashion, like, "i will be here a fortnight." and hob is all, okay, on the one hand, it is 3 in the morning and what the fuck, but on the other hand—delighted! this is lovely! this is amazing! because dream, who, miracle of miracles, just came back to him, is now back again and it hasn't been a hundred years, it's been a month. hob hadn't thought "come back anytime" would be taken with any sort of seriousness at all, and of course he's happy to open his home to dream (and also his heart, but he's very resolutely not thinking about that. at all)

so hob is all, "of course, love. my home is your home," totally also not dwelling on the fact that he's never actually called dream "love" before except in his head, and he ushers dream inside, and shows him around, and laments the fact that it's getting to be the middle of term so his flat is a bit of a mess. he gallantly offers dream his bed, no matter that his back is going to be protesting something fierce after two weeks of sleeping on the couch, it's dream, he should have the bed

and then hob remembers it's the middle of term and he actually has to work... he explains this to dream and assures him he'll try to be there as much as he can, and dream momentarily looks like hob's job had not occurred to him at all, but then adopts a look of utmost unaffectedness

hob told him my home is your home so dream just... hangs about in hob's flat while hob is at work. going through his refrigerator and trying all the random bits of things hob has in there, not because he actually needs to eat but because no one has offered him this type of hospitality before, their space, their home, and all the things in it. reading books from hob's bookshelves. talking to hob's plants. flicking through hob's vinyl collection; putting on random records. (incidentally, this is how he discovers glass animals...). drinking all the sparkling water hob has. feeling the dream-history of hob's presence in the space and in his possessions, and it feels almost like... being held by hob, even though that's never been something they've done

on the first night when hob wanders into his bedroom to use the bathroom at 1 am he learns that dream doesn't even sleep; he just sits up against the headboard and reads with the bedside lamp on or he literally... sits in the dark... and stares off into space, eyes glimmering faintly, like he can see things in the shadows that hob can't see

dream sticking his head out from beneath the blankets of hob's bed in the mornings, watching as hob meanders into the ensuite to shower before work and swears when he realizes that he's running very late for his first lecture. hob rushing out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist and a hair-tie in his teeth. hob forgetting entirely in his haste that dream of the fucking endless is in his bed and is not actually averting his eyes. dream watching hob pick out his work clothes and making dry commentary; hob most assuredly not blushing about the fact that dream is unashamedly watching him get dressed from their bed like they're some kind of lovers when they're most definitely not that

hob comes home from work each day and his flat is slightly rearranged, but also marginally tidier than it was before, and he's a little taken off guard but also... he'd meant it that his home was dream's home and it warms a part of hob that's ached for far too long to mention to just... have dream here, to have evidence that dream has been here, even if it's temporary

hob also has to contend with the fact that apparently dream of the endless likes to go around barefoot in just skinny jeans and a t-shirt when he's neither centennial nor a stranger anymore, which is... a whole thing, a whole situation, dream's apparently got arms and a clavicle and ankles and lord... hob still remembers when dream had been buttoned up all the way to the throat centuries ago and looking at hob like hob was a fascinating specimen of insect pinned to a board, but now dream is here asking him about his workday and he has to focus on making dinner for them to regain some of his sanity about all of this

they watch a film together one evening a few days into dream's stay and at first dream is stiff on the couch but over the course of the movie he gradually relaxes into the cushions and the next time hob looks over dream's got his legs crossed and a throw pillow tucked against his chin resting on it and hob has a litany of i'm fucked i'm fucked i'm fucked just playing in his head because seeing dream for a few hours every century is one thing, but having dream in his home? having him just there? the first time dream laughs??? to have dream's coat hung up in his hall closet and his boots at the foot of the bed??? fucked

the two of them talking late into the night after the movie is over, until hob falls asleep and tips over onto dream, and he wakes himself up on the jarring boniness of dream's shoulder and the soft brush of dream's t-shirt against his cheek. hob opens his eyes to see dream's hand hovering over his head as though he'd been about to touch hob's hair, and he smiles before he can think better of it, and dream smiles, and it's so disarming... because now he knows what dream's smile looks like not just in the warm light of the new inn but also in the bluish light cast by the DVD pause screen in this small gentle moment - a tiny angular smile, so fleeting that looks like it exists just for this moment alone, but hob will remember it long after it's gone

hob also realizing dream said he would be here two weeks only so his time with dream is Finite, and reminding himself he should absolutely not get used to making breakfast for two people or to being able to just come home and tell dream things instead of jotting them in his commonplace book

dream realizing he likes being made breakfast, and he likes hob's little flat full of plants and books and music and old things lovingly preserved and curated. he likes hob's big bed covered in blankets and quilts and pillows. he likes the way the sunshine streams in through the windows of the flat. he likes the way hob makes his tea for him and the way the heat of the mug feels. he likes feeling not-alone even when he's by himself at hob's place because traces of hob are everywhere

dream realizing he likes hearing all the little things that happened in hob's day, even the things hob hesitates to tell him because he worries they're boring compared to the broad strokes highlights he used to give dream during their meetings every hundred years. he... likes... the way hob looks in the mornings, sleep tousled and yawning; and the way he looks focused and thoughtful when he's rehearsing a powerpoint presentation for a staff meeting; and he likes the way his voice sounds when he teaches zoom class; and he likes... a surprising number of things about hob gadling, really

to his immense surprise dream likes feeling like part of the human life hob gadling has built for himself

dream and hob both feeling like Something is Happening Here and not wanting to name what it is but also not wanting it to end. feeling like... something has happened but nothing even has happened, they've just been sort of... listing towards each other... and it's been no time at all but also feels like it's been all the time in the world

hob feeling upset with himself because once, he would have given anything to have two entire weeks with his stranger and now he feels like it wasn't enough. dream feeling reluctant to return to his responsibilities and unsure how such a short time around hob has unspooled him like this. it was supposed to be something that would ground and center him so that he could return to the dreaming and be his usual collected kingly self, and it has grounded him but perhaps... it has grounded him a little too much

I JUST NEED THEM TO BE DOMESTIC AND FALL IN LOVE .....glfkjlh AUGHHGHGHG

#I'M NORMAL ABOUT THEM COMPLETELY NORMAL #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling domestic vacation

[zurizex]

could u pls do a clay smut??

Basically the reader was being a brat and clay teaches them a lesson :3

I’d be so happy if you wrote it ! ^^

❝ 𝓨OU'RE SO NEEDY! ❞

▐ clay behaving his bratty gf — nsfw

warnings. degradation, dom!clay, edging, mentions of overstimulation, size kink??, hair pulling, no use of y/n, cock warming

request. yes

✧˖*°🌱 　｡ﾟ･　☆ 🌴࿐

𝓒lay was a busy troll, always doing something no matter if he's in it or not. Though the man was always busy, he never have not made time for his girlfriend. Until today.

Clay didn't even have time to say good morning to his girlfriend before he left to finish his duties. And you were not having it. You understood why Clay was always busy. But not saying any sort of greeting to you in the morning was cruel.

You sat in bed, squirming as you awaited for your boyfriend to arrive back late. It was 10pm and he still wasn't around. He was probably making changes and notes with that Viva girl again, like always. Your blood boiled as you imagine Clay hanging around that life sucking troll. When Clay would arrive home, you were gonna pounce on him for you to have your way finally.

When you heard the door open, you didn't move a muscle. You would usually get up and hug your boyfriend for a while, but today was different. Clay called out for you. But you never responded. Clay opened the door to your shared bedroom to find you with your arms crossed on the bed. He could only raise an eyebrow at your attitude.

"What's up with you, honey?" He would ask. Only earning a scoff from you. Clay furrowed his eyebrows at this discovered attitude you had displayed to him.

"What's up is that you forgot to say 'Good morning.' " You sassily quipped back. Clay blinked a few times, rendering what you had said to him. He would lightly chuckle at your childish antics.

"Baby, I was in a hurry. Wasn't on purpose.." Clay smirked, crossing his arms. He found your grumpiness quite amusing as you didn't act like this often. You grumbled in response, not wanting to talk to him for any longer. Clay placed his clipboard on the desk before sitting in his office chair. He's spun it to face you still refusing to look at him.

"Come here.." Clay would motion his fingers, only earning a rolling eyes expression from you. His seductive face ran cold. He squinted his eyes at how frustrating you were being at the fact he was preparing to give you attention now.

"Baby...Don't be like that, hm?" He tried once more. You faced your head away from him and towards the wall. He couldn't handle it anymore. Clay scoffed, rising from his chair and walking towards you.

"Yeah, we're not doing this." He spat. Clay would pick you up from under your armpits to sling you over his shoulder. You yelped before lightly hitting his back, yelling to be put back down. He would sit back in his office chair, placing you in his lap. You could hear his pants unzip as he kept a firm grip on your side. You gulped as you felt his hard cock bump against your crotch, you hitched your breath.

Panties were being slipped off since that was all you were wearing underneath. A slick line from your pussy to your panties glistened in the dim lamp light. Clay lifted you up before slamming you right back down on his dick. A surprised gasp mixed moan escaped her lips as you felt all of him suddenly fill your hole. You hung your head low, ashamed at the sound that left your mouth.

"Since you wanted to be sooo rude. You're sitting here until I finish paperwork." He gripped the back of your hair to pull your ear next to his lips, groaning lowly. The need to move was desperate, you starting to grind your hips back and forth. Though Clay loved the feeling he would grip his hands on your hips to hold you in place. You whimpered lowly, desperately begging to be fucked as your pretty pussy sucked his cock in.

Clay grabbed his glasses case to open them. He would place the black colored glasses on his face as he started to pull out mountains of paper work to fill out. Your eyes widened as you started to wonder how you were gonna make it through this.

"Please, Clay..I'm sor—"

"Shh, i'm trying to finish work, hmm?" Clay shushed you. His right hand slithered down to softly graze your clit. The feeling hit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. Clay chuckled at this reaction as he barely had done anything major yet.

"God...The slut doesn't know how to act correctly." He spat. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, looking over your shoulder at his papers. His fingers gently circled your pink bud, whimpers leaving your lips constantly.

—

This was torture. It had only been 10 minutes and you have been close to cumming 2 times. The only thing stopping you was how Clay could easily read your body language before you were, forcing you to not fucking cum, he dared you.

After all the begging and pleading you did, Clay was also torturing himself as he wanted to move desperately. You could tell by the soft groans that he refused to let release from his mouth. The sticky sweat starting to stick you closer together, soft moans from you filling his ears, the feeling. He couldn't take it anymore. You know what, fuck it.

He yanked the glasses off his face and slammed them on the table. He grabbed your hips to lift you off of his dick. The empty feeling made you whimper before he grabbed a fist full of your hair and harshly pushed your face onto the desk. You couldn't choke a word out before he'd slam his dick back into your desperate hole, not giving you time to adjust before he repeatedly slammed himself into you rapidly.

He never let go of your hair, giving it soft yanks as he kept ramming into your needy pussy. Choked moans left your lips as you couldn't take the roughness of his thrusts.

"P-Please Cl-aayyy. Slow doowwnnn!" You sobbed desperately. Earning no sort of remorse whatsoever. He pulled your hair for your head to be close to his ear again, hearing his breathy groans clearer.

"Aww— fuucckk~ Can you not take it..Is it too big for you, slut?" Clay teased breathlessly. His words made you only whine as all the pain and pleasure mixed. You started to feel your pleasure edge closed to your breaking point. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, your tongue sticking out mindlessly.

"G-gonna..C-cumm..." You somehow managed to let escape your voice, it being very breathy and chopped. Clay only pulled your hair harder, his grip tightened.

"Poor baby...You must be soo full..Come on, go a-aheeaadd.." Clay huskily whispered in your ear. The words caused you to snap, releasing your juices all over his veiny dick. An almost scream came out your mouth as you gripped the back of Clay's neck in pleasure. But he didn't stop in the slightest, he only went faster.

You tried to pry yourself off of Clay, only making him let go of your hair and grip your hips to stay in place. Filthy sounds filled the room as the sweet smell of sex filled both of their noses.

"N-Nooo, you gotta wait till I finishh. That's no fair, h-mmm.." Clay mocked in your ear. You only squirmed in his grip, feeling his cock starting to twitch. His pace grew faster as his groans grew louder.

"I-I'm gonna cum..You can take it, can't y-youuu.." Clay whined. He placed your head back on the desk, leaning above you. Clay almost crushed you as he kept thrusting into you like some sort of animal. You didn't receive another warning before he moaned loudly, his thrust growing sloppy.

Soon enough his sticky seed began to spill inside you. You both moaned and whimpered lewdly as Clay gripped your sides. It took you a minute for both of you to catch your breath, Clay's hips still against yours. He would only chuckle as he sat down in the office chair again, not letting you be lifted from his dick. You squirmed as you felt his warm seed not leaving you whatsoever, his dick plunged in your hole.

"I still have to finish my work, honey..."

an. AHHH ILY CLAY ILYILYILY

#trolls x reader #trolls x reader smut #trolls smut #clay x reader smut #clay smut #clay trolls #clay trolls smut #troll smut #trolls clay smut #smut #x reader smut #trolls band together x reader #trolls band together smut #brozone x reader #brozone x reader smut #brozone smut

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: dark! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, gaslighting, drugging, kidnapping. This is only fiction! Never tolerate creepy behavior

A/n: so this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I decided to finish it as a part of writing event. I’m so proud of this one, like omg, look at me being a writer😆

Your head hurt. That was the first thing you registered as you started to slowly regain consciousness. Your face scrunched up in a grimace of pain as you let out a soft groan, your throat sore, only increasing your discomfort.

You tried to raise your hands to rub on your eyes in attempt to soothe the stinginess - point word - tried. You very soon found that your movements had been restricted by something that felt very much like rope. And not only your hands - your legs were bound tightly together at your knees and ankles, not allowing you to move.

- You’re awake now? - soft voice droned on, making you tense up impossibly more. The most terrifying thing was that you knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

You squinted into direction from which the sound came, your vision still blurry and hazy from the drug. Thankfully, the room was dark, small lamp on the bedside table was the only source of soft yellow light. You could only perceive a bulky figure sitting on a chair not too far from you, piercing blue eyes gazed at you unblinking.

- König..? What’s going on? - you asked, your voice was hoarse and weak from long lack of usage.

Suddenly, memories flashed before your eyes; it was late evening - about 11 pm - as you were walking towards convenience store not so far from your apartment.

You had been in a state of constant desolation lately - days were bleak and boring, blurring into one with their unchanging routine, sending you in deeper state of depression.

Breakup with your boyfriend took a toll on you. You loved König, you really did. Considered spending your life with him, even. But the longer your relationship lasted, the more of real him you saw - controlling, obsessive, manipulative.

It all started out small - constant checking in, questions about your whereabouts and your company, him following accompanying you wherever possible. Surely, it restricted your freedom, but König didn’t mean anything bad! He was just worried for you, concerned about your safety! Is that so bad?

So you let it slip. You overlooked his more controlling tendencies, agreed to giving him passwords to all your social media even, so König could make sure that “no freaks were texting you”. It unnerved you, but he didn’t mean anything bad, did he? He was just being a good caring boyfriend!

And it was like an avalanche. Constant calls and messages, controlling what you were wearing, unwillingness to leave you alone even for a few minutes - that and many other things made a list of what your boyfriend did, only adding to your anxiety. But you tolerated it all, because you loved him. Once, digging through your phone you found something that looked very much like a tracking app. You were outraged. But when you asked König about it - rather aggressively - he just blinked at you with wide innocent blue eyes, saying that maybe you installed it on accident? You know all these bots nowadays, you can never be safe online now. But you know that he would never do something like that, right? How could you even think of something like that?! König was genuinely offended, and you naturally hastened to apologize for your unwise accusations, trying to make it up to him. Deleting this app seemed to be impossible, though, no matter how many times you tried.

Last drop was, however, when König nearly blew out your best friend’s front door, threatening them to keep away from you. “This bitch is putting some fucked up ideas about me into your head” - was his reasoning. And that was it - hell was set free. You had an ugly shouting marathon for hours to no end, with lots of tears and profanities, ending up with a harsh breakup and you blocking König everywhere, cutting him off completely.

And since then you haven’t spoken a word to him. Of course, he came to your apartment countless times, sent numerous gifts and bouquets of your favorite flowers, practically begging for forgiveness. But you knew better than that - it happened before, and even if you forgave him this time, in a few months time everything would be just as it was before.

At present, you were walking down a sidewalk, asphalt damp under your shoes from recent rain. You needed to get some groceries, since your fridge was just as empty as your stomach; and this late of an hour promised as little people around as possible, saving you from unfavorable company of men.

Just as you rounded a corner - a pair of huge strong arms - obviously male - seized your sensibly smaller body; a weird-smelling cloth was pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. In your panicked state you tried to fight back, not registering your own breathing, inhaling lungfuls of drug. Darkness filled your vision rapidly as dizziness overcame all your senses. You felt consciousness quickly slipping away from you, neon lights of convenience store shone brightly before your eyes still.

Panic seized your throat and it was becoming harder to breathe - you tugged and pulled on rough ropes around your limbs, trying to either snap them or slip out of tight confines, thrashing around the mattress relentlessly. König didn’t do anything, just watching you silently with his icy orbs from his spot, not exactly amused not impressed by your behavior. Very soon fatigue took over your already exhausted body, you lay motionless once again, panting heavily as you glared at König’s dark form, vision still unfocused from the drug.

- Drop that. I made sure knots are tight, - he said coldly, continuing to observe you with a sharp stare of a hawk.

You just glared silently, trying to catch your breath. Your body felt heavy - extremely so, as if every limb was made out of lead and not flesh and bone; moving as much as one finger seemed harder than anything and you wondered how you managed to thrash around in the first place. Your head was aching irritably, not allowing you to think clearly - it had to be the side effect of whatever that was König made you inhale previously.

- König, do you realize what you did? - you managed to choke out, panic crashing over you in waves as realization of your current situation finally hit you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you tried to breathe evenly, but it did little to calm you down.

König just leaned in, cupping the side of your face with one of his huge hands, his thumb swiped under your eye, wiping salty tears away with calloused fingertip. You closed your eyes, averting your face from his touch. And oh, he didn’t like it.

König gripped bottom part of your face, force of his grip squeezed your cheeks together as he turned your head forcibly towards himself, making you squeal quietly as you faced him.

- You tried to leave me. And you are very dear to me. I can’t let this happen, - König explained, his voice calm, alarmingly calm. His scarred lips were pressed into a thin pale line, giving a little clue of his rage.

It was another side of him, completely different from what you used to see - a calm, ruthless and collected one; one that you could only imagine, based off some rumors you’ve heard about him and small cracks in his friendly mask König was too careless to hide from you during your relationship. You got glimpses of it a few times - when some drunk dude tried to hit on you when you and König were in the bar together, or when you mentioned how nice one of your male coworkers was. You always made one brutal mistake of brushing it all off, blaming it on König’s tiredness or fierce personality. And that’s where it led you.

- So what are you gonna do now? Keep me here forever? - you tried to scoff, but your trembling voice was way too weak to do so.

König cocked his eyebrow at your brave words, ghost of a smile played on his pursed lips. He shrugged lightly, grip of his fingers on your cheeks eased as he caressed them endearingly with rough fingertips, tickling you slightly.

- If that’s what it takes to keep you with me - then yes, - he shrugged slightly, propping his chin on his free hand, not a single emotion could be deciphered in his voice. These words made your blood turn cold.

He heaved a deep sigh at your frightened expression and trembling body, letting go of your face and reclining into his chair.

- Schatzi, you know I hate this just as much as you do. You think I’m enjoying this? - he asked, his tone was somehow sad and exhausted. But yes, you indeed thought, knew he enjoyed this. You kept silent, choking on your silent sobs, now being extremely aware of thick ropes digging painfully into your soft skin. Panic attack was full on taking over you, suffocating you with numerous sobs, body tensing and shaking incessantly, tears blurring your thus poor vision.

- Now, this all may end if you stop being a little bitch and start acting like an actual adult. We didn’t finish our conversation that last time, and you blocking me everywhere doesn’t make things any easier, - König said, his ice-blue eyes boring holes in your head. But you couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind his words, your brain short-circuited with fear and panic, turning you into a weeping shaking mess.

König heaved another sigh. He got up from his chair, taking a few steps towards your bed and dropping to his knees in front of it, so that his head was right against yours. His hand once again came to caress the side of your face affectionately, tangling into your messy hair and massaging your scalp, cooing soothingly at you.

- I know baby, I know. You need to rest. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. And then, once you’re strong and rested, we’ll talk again. And we’ll sort everything out and be happy again, just like we used to be, hmm? - König murmured softly as he always did to calm you down during hard times. But it only made you weep harder.

König pressed his lips against your cold forehead, leaving a chaste kiss as he inhaled lungfuls of your scent. He then nuzzled his forehead against yours, mumbling quietly:

- You can’t imagine how much I missed you. How could you do this to me? Hurt me so much even though I only want the bestest for you?

He peppered your face with small kisses, whispering small nothings and caressing your shuddering back. This made you feel nauseous. Your consciousness started to slip away again, your vision darkening rapidly. And just before blacking out, you heard König’s voice, one you loved so dearly once, utter:

- You’re mine, always will be. I’ll make sure of that.

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#writing event #könig fanfiction #könig #cod könig #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x you #könig modern warfare #dark! könig #yandere könig #call of duty writing #call of duty #cod #cod mwf2 #cod x you #cod x reader #yandere cod #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere call of duty

[newluvrs]

1:32 a.m. Anton ₊ ⊹₍ᐢᐢ₎  mdni!! 18+ currently listening to: JUNO - CHOKER word count: 1.8k

“is this okay?”  

The room is hazy from the glow of your bedside lamp, the smell of weed perforating your room as a result of your shitty roommate hotboxing your apartment last night.  Your hoody is pushed up over your hips at present, everything feels sticky and hot from too much body contact with too many layers of clothing on.  The sheets are kicked down by your feet, your legs at present hanging over Anton’s shoulders.  His lips are all swollen, having spent the last half an hour lip locked with you.  At this point in your relationship(?) neither of you had gone past make outs coupled with grinding and feeling each other up.  When he started to kiss down your body you felt nervous, but your need to be touched screamed louder than any doubt in your brain.  

“Please.”  

You know Anton asked for reassurance more for himself rather than you, his own nerves and excitement getting to him.  It was one of the first things you had noticed about him, and something you adored, how he could be simultaneously awkward and self-assured.  Like he didn’t need validation from anyone, but he so badly wanted yours.  

“please what?”  

Okay now he was just fucking with you.  

“Anton.”

“I was only joking..”  

He flashes you his boyish half-smile, pulling your sweats off as he does so.  His hair is all fucked up from his beanie and the amount of times you’ve ran your hands through it in the last half-hour.  You can only imagine your own hair looking mussed as well.  But none of this matters when he settles between your legs at the end of your bed, face to face with your boy shorts.  He glances at them, then at you, half-amused half extremely turned on.  

“Sorry if you were expecting lace.”  You let out a scoff, trying to hide how vulnerable you feel right now.  Now you really were thinking to yourself maybe you should have dug out your nice underwear, the ones reserved specifically for situations like this.  

When he doesn’t answer, you look away from him, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling.  It’s quiet for what feels like too long to you.  Neither of you making a sound, the only thing playing in the room being your playlist accurately titled “music to kiss boys too.”  You’re starting to feel really fucking awkward, even with the heavy bass of the current song thrumming through your body. 

“Anton-“ 

Your cut off by your own gasp when you feel him lick you through your shorts.  His arms are wrapped around your legs, helping you hold them up.  He bites the inside of your thigh, making you buck your hips towards his face.  

“you’re so pretty, and you don’t even have to do anything.”  

He stares at you now, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

“you could wear a trashbag and I would still think you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”  

You turn away from him again, a blush taking over you.  You can’t remember the last time you felt shy, it’s always you who makes him feel flustered.   Showering him in compliments endlessly about how cute you think he is.  How hot you think he looks doing simple everyday things.  You liked watching the way he stumbled over his words after, his face turning a pretty shade of pink.  You didn’t ever feel like you needed compliments, or at least you never voiced your need for them.  But now, laying here under him, it’s all you want to hear.  

His fingers dip under your shorts, groaning when he comes into contact with your wet heat.  Your hips shift in his hold, trying to move closer to that single touch.  He giggles at this, pulling his hand from your boxers. 

When you open your mouth to complain he finally gives you what you want, putting his mouth back on your cunt.  The material thin enough for you to feel his tongue prodding at you.  It’s taking you everything to restrain yourself from fucking up into his face.  Especially when he starts sucking on your clit.  Your hips jerk up, your hands balled into fists and coming up to grab at your pillows, resisting the urge to pull his hair.  

“Fuck, Anton please.”  

Your voice is so whiney, a breathless edge to it.  He pulls off of you briefly, bringing one of his hands to thumb at your clit as he speaks.  

“What is it baby?”  

When you look back down at him, you realize his hoody is also still on, making this whole thing look hotter but also making you wonder why you’re the only one half-naked.  

“I- fuck, please.”

He’s still rubbing at your clit, making it hard for you to talk, upping the speed when you open your mouth to speak.  You know that he knows this, and you know that he thinks this whole thing is fucking hilarious but god you just want more so bad right now you don’t even care.  He decides to throw you a bone.  

“Want me to pull your shorts off?”

You’re so embarrassed right now, all you can do is whine, covering your face as you nod your head.  

“Sorry, what was that?”  

He mumbles this into the side of your thigh, trying to hide the shit-eating grin adorning his face right now.  You feel like you’re going crazy.  

“Anton, I swear to god-“

“I’ll pull them off if you admit you look sexy in them.” 

His request throws you off-guard, he speaks up again as he takes in the confused look on your face.  

“All you have to do is say that you think you’re sexy.” 

“you can’t be serious.”  

When he stares back at you incredulously you realize he is in fact serious.  

“okay i’m sexy, now pull them off.”  

He tsks, rolling his eyes as he moves to pull his hand away from you.  You could scream you’re so frustrated.

“please just take them off.”  

“not until you give me what I want.”

Before you can protest he goes back to lapping at your clit through your panties, the fabric starting to turn obscenely wet from the combination of his spit and your juices.  You toss your head back, hands scrambling against the sheets now, the sudden stimulation overwhelming.  You look down at him again, noticing for the first time how he humps against the mattress as he goes down on you.  You whine out his name again, pleading with him to give you what you want already.  

“Sorry baby, I can’t hear you.”  He mumbles into your pussy.  

It’s just not enough, its everything and its so much but its not enough.  Your hands fly to his hair now, unable to stop yourself from humping his face.  In between your whines you could swear you hear him let out a ‘cute’.  Desperation overtakes you, fueled by the need to get off. 

“’m sexy.”  

You say it so quietly he can barely hear over the obscene sounds of his mouth sucking on wet fabric.  

“baby?”  

He glances up at you, and he nearly cums in his sweats right there.  Your eyes are half lidded, cheeks pink with your hair all fucked up, whimpering as you still have a grip on him, trying to fuck your hips up into his face as he pulls off of you.  

“I look so sexy….”  

You sound embarrassed as you say it still, but it’s good enough for him, just happy to have you look so fucked out and shy just because of him. 

He sits up briefly to pull his sweats down to his knees before he finally, finally, pulls off your boy shorts.  It’s obscene the way they stick to your cunt, completely drenched from the previous activities.  For the second time tonight, Anton nearly cums again just from finally seeing your pussy.  He spares a glance at your face and you just look dazed and breathless, too needy to be touched to think of anything else.  

He settles back between your legs, letting out a groan at the way his cock feels through the thinner material against the mattress.  He runs a thumb against your clit once, just to see the way it throbs when he pulls away.  

“s’cute.”  

He plants an opened mouth kiss to your cunt, not even complaining when you move your hands back to rest in his hair, gently guiding his mouth back to your pussy.  You could cry when you finally feel his tongue come into direct contact with your clit, letting out an obscene moan into the thick air.  From there the two of you fall into a steady rhythm, you humping against his face as he humps against your sheets, both dazed and mesmerized by the other, just watching.  When he brings two fingers to your entrance, you’re so wet theres hardly any resistance when he slides them in.  You cry out as he crooks them up, pushing and pulling them slowly in and out of you.  He’s gentle as he does it, just petting your insides, feeling the way you squeeze around him.  He pulls away from your clit to rest a cheek on the inside of your thigh, just watching his fingers stroke in and out, watching the way you cling to them not wanting to let him go.  

“anton.”

“mm.” 

“m’gonna cum.”  

He smiles at this, moving to suck on your clit again with an “okay baby.”  

You cum exactly like that, watching your boyfriend fuck your mattress as he presses against that gummy spot inside you, lapping at your clit.  When the stimulation becomes too much for your tired body you push his head away from between your legs.  He moves away from your cunt to rest his head on your thigh, just staring up at you with starry eyes as he speeds up his movement against the mattress.  You reach to bring his hand up to your face, sticking your tongue out to suck on the fingers that were previously inside you.  He lets out a full body shiver, groaning and cumming as soon as you wrap your lips around his fingers.  

“so sexy y/n,  pretty baby.”  

When his hips still, you both lie there, catching your breath.  In the midst of your panting you notice your playlist keeps looping on a single song, you wonder to yourself how many times its played before you noticed.  Quietly, so quietly you can barely hear yourself, you ask.

“you really think I’m pretty?”  

You’re looking away again, trying to come off as nonchalant to ward off the vulnerability.  You hear shuffling from the edge of your bed.  Then his hands are gentle on your chin, pulling you in for a kiss.  This one is sweeter than any of the ones before, his mouth gentle against yours, fingers delicately placed on the sides of your face to keep you in place.  When he pulls away, he leaves one more kiss on your forehead.  

“the prettiest.”  

#riize smut #riize x reader #anton lee #anton smut #anton x reader

[siempre-bucky]

Take Me to Bed

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Summary: you swore off sleeping with Navy men, not wanting to be the subject of their locker room talk. Harvard opens his mouth about you and Jake's ready to take him to an early grave.

warnings: brief mentions of smut

wc: 1.4k

a/n: soft defensive boyfriend Jake? Yess. Sorry to Harvard my baby boi

The sounds of the waves were like music tonight, or you thought they were. All you could hear was the muffled jukebox from inside and the low groans Jake emitted as his lips attacked the side of your neck. His strong hands firmly held you in place by your hips, his knee slotted in between your legs. “Jake,” you whined as he dragged his teeth over a sensitive spot. 

He slowly pulled away and looked at you with lust in his dark green eyes. You loved this look, you’d never tell him or it’d go straight to his head. “Let me take you home tonight, darlin’,” he flirted, his voice low and accent thick. His tanned face was inches from yours, the mint on his lips faintly entering your airways. Still didn’t hold a candle to his cologne that was simply intoxicating. 

“Jake,” you sighed as if you were scolding him like a child. He frowned, his dimples no longer in sight. “No.” 

The aviator bit down on his lower lip, rejection over these past few months had been becoming easier but it still stung. “I could show you a good time,” he chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. 

Your lovesick expression faded, looking up at the sky solemnly before pushing him away. He retreated and put his hands on his hips in annoyance. “Jake we do this every time, you know I’m going to tell you no.” You lurched off the wall and started to make your way back inside the Hard Deck, thinking that you’d once again successfully managed to keep Jake out of your pants. 

“You know I don’t want to just sleep with you, Y/N,” he huffed. You stopped walking as you sensed the irritation in his tone. “That’s not my intention—” 

“I know,” you interrupt, turning back around to look at him standing in the golden light of the lamp. “I know what your intentions are, and uncharacteristically I actually believe you,” you pouted, looking down at the sandy floor that divided you. 

This all happened months ago when you and Jake were assigned to the uranium mission. He was still the same cocky pilot from your first squadron, but somehow he became more of that southern gentleman he always claimed he was over the years. Sweet dates that ended with kisses on cheeks and late-night drives along the coast with his fingers intertwined with yours that rested in your lap. He respected your space, never pushing or questioning why you didn’t want to have sex with him—until now. 

“Why won’t you let me have sex with you? Make love, fuck, or whatever you want to call it?” Jake swallowed hard, clenching his jaw so he wouldn’t lash out. 

You took in a deep breath, the salt air helping calm you as you walked up to him, crossing your arms over your chest as a means of protection. “I don’t sleep with guys in the Navy,” you confessed. 

“You- you what? Why?” He raised his eyebrows in confusion, cocking his head. 

“The walls are extremely thin in those locker rooms, Jake. I hear all you guys talk about the girl you had in bed the previous night and the disgusting things you say about them. How they felt around your cock, what you rated their performance, judging them when you finally got their clothes off,” you spat. Jake knew you weren’t directly talking to him, in his distant past he joined in the locker room talk, but he grew up a little unlike some of the guys walking around Top Gun. 

He bobbed his head as he listened, allowing you to finish. Your face had softened, your lower lip quivering as you desperately tried to remain stone-faced, “I won’t be the subject of that—I won’t- I won’t do it no matter how much I like you.” 

You liked him, but you didn’t trust him, he noted. That was fair, you knew him more than most people; his reputation preceded him, it still hung over him. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing it. “I wouldn’t do that to you, whatever happens behind closed doors stays there,” he tried to reassure you. You looked away again, you wouldn’t succumb to the glimmering green eyes of Jake Seresin. 

“I wanna believe you,” you said weakly, pulling out of his grasp. 

He stood by your side, taking your hand, “Let me drive you home, kiss you on the front porch, and I’ll go to my home where I’ll fall asleep dreaming of you,” he offered charmingly, his cocky smirk returning to his handsome face. You could ignore the eyes, but you couldn’t ignore the charm. 

“Take me home, Bagman.” 

— 

Jake tiredly sat on the wooden bench of the locker room after the day's training session, his clean t-shirt sticking to his still damp skin. He sat there with a towel over his hair, trying to get rid of the beads of water that clung to the blond ends. Fritz and Harvard were loudly talking about their time at the bar last night behind him. “Did you take that chick home?” Fritz egged on, wagging his eyebrows. 

“Her ass was a solid nine out of ten, of course the fuck I did,” Harvard snickered from his locker. “Should’a seen the way she rode me.” 

Jake stood up abruptly, silently walking over to his locker trying to avoid their conversation. 

“Hangman,” Fritz hummed with a smirk. Jake looked at him through the reflection of the small mirror that hung on the door of his green locker, and he knew Fritz could see the annoyed look he wore.  “What’s the deal with you and Circe?” He stilled at the mention of your call sign, his eyebrows beginning to furrow. 

Don’t entertain him, he thought angrily to himself. He decided on shrugging as he put his dog tags around his neck. 

“You fuck her yet?” Yale chimed in from the showers. 

The tall man scowled, “Doesn’t matter,” he answered shortly. 

Harvard smirked and sauntered over, his frame becoming closer in the mirror. “That’s a shame man, she looks like she puts out. You gotta tell us what her tits loo-” 

Jake slammed the locker shut and whipped around, the room falling to a quick silence, eyes locked on the two men. The blood roared in his ears, a burning red flush rose to his cheeks.  Harvard remained ‘chill’ as Hangman angrily got in his face. He understood why you didn’t want to sleep with him, he didn’t want your name mixed in with a bunch of assholes  “You say one more fucking thing about her and I will put you in a grave,” he threatened lowly, the rasp in his voice sent a chill through Harvard’s spine. 

“She’s just a girl man, we all talk about them. If she’s a prude you can just tell us,” he chuckled. Jake’s fist rose and sudden shouts of the men rang out. Rooster, bless him, walked out of the shower just in time to catch Jake’s wrist with the hand that wasn’t holding up his towel. 

“I’ll break your fucking nose!” Jake shouted among the other voices. 

“Alright! Alright! Calm the fuck down!” Rooster shouted, pushing back Harvard by his puffed-out chest. 

“Jesus. Relax,” Harvard laughed, rolling his eyes at Jake.

The two men were locked in a bitter stare-down as they were separated. Jake grabbed his stuff hastily and looked at Harvard one more time, “If I hear her call sign, her name, or anything about her out of you, son, I will rip your lips off,” he warned before opening the door and exiting. 

He stormed out of the room, barreling down the hallway with his sights on the doors. “Jake!” your sweet voice called, echoing through the empty hall. He turned and his stiff muscles relaxed, his lips turning up into a smile as you hurried over. You had that power over him, no matter how angry he was, you managed to make him smile. 

“You’re still here, sweetheart? Thought you were already done for the day,” he smiled, eyeing you up and down in your flight suit. You stood there for a moment, looking up at him with an unreadable look on your face, your fingers fidgeting at your side. 

You shook your head and lunged forward, gripping the sides of his face and pulling him down for a searing kiss that rivaled any kiss you two have had before. “Y/N-” he breathed as you pulled away.  

“I heard you and Harvard,” you broke out into a wide grin, “you defended me, Hangman.” you giggled as you punched him in the arm. He winced and grabbed his bicep to protect it from your fist. 

“The walls are thin,” he whispered, remembering what you had said the night before. You nodded and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist, his duffle bag falling to the floor with a soft thud. 

“I can’t believe you did that,” you marveled, trying to suppress happy giggles from escaping. 

“No one talks about my girl that way, I’ll put them all in an early grave before they disrespect you,” he told you firmly, his eyes staring into yours in hopes that you would believe him, trust in him. 

You ran your hands up his arms and stopped at the base of his neck, your thumbs swiping along the light-colored stubble that was growing in. “Take me to bed, Jake,” you said to him, your eyes falling to his lips. You had the rule of no Navy men for far too long… and Jake? He was the perfect person to break it with. A man that defended your honor instead of fluffing his own ego in front of his friends. You liked this Jake, maybe you loved him. 

His eyes grew wide, his expression brightening as you spoke, “Really? Are you sure? Y/N, we don't have to, you don’t have to,” he wheezed. 

“I mean it, Seresin,” you grinned, “don’t make me regret it.” 

He kissed you swiftly before taking your hand and guiding you back towards the locker room, “Hurry and get your things, you can shower at my place,” he commanded playfully, kissing your hand before letting you go. He blushed, looking at you softly as you looked at him happily one last time before retreating behind the doors.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin oneshot #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x fem!reader #hangman imagine #hangman oneshot #top gun #top gun maverick

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 3

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

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

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: Couldn't help myself.

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

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Lloyd shrugs away the large hand on his shoulder. He crosses his arms then drops them, hands going to his hips as he tries to contain his irritation. You know this look, the one that often comes right before he strangles someone.

“Let's,” he agrees curtly and strides forward.

Valhalla smirks and falls into step as his eyes flit over to you. You watch frozen from the top of the steps as they near. Rico sniffs and wipes his face as he scrambles forward, “sir, I didn't know you were on your way–”

“Fuck off,” Lloyd snarls as he elbows past his crony, “you,” he points in your face as he passes, “coffee.”

You stiffen at his order. He's never the type for etiquette but it's not exactly a pleasant homecoming. You back up and wait for them to go inside before you trail after them. Rico barely drags his hungover feet through the door.

As they head upstairs, you diverge and go to the kitchen. The cleaners are still there, tidying up the aftermath of the invasion. You claim your coffee from the machine, content to take your time and enjoy the first few sips before taking orders. If Lloyd didn't miss you on the road, he shouldn't care now. He never really does.

You put on a pot of dark roast as you gulp down the blonde roast. When the grinding halts, you pour the dark brew into a silver ewer and load up a tray with stout porcelain mugs, a small milk jug, and a sugar bowl, along with ridiculously tiny silver spoons.

You balance it all in a treacherous journey up the staircase and down the hall to Lloyd's office. You knock with your toe and he hollers tersely for you to enter. As you try to figure out the handle with no hands, the door opens from the other side.

Valhalla stands before you and seizes the tray before you can react. He turns and carries it much easier than you. He puts it on the desk and pours a cup.

“What do you take?” He looks at Lloyd who sits tilted in his chair with his feet on the desk.

“Milk, just a bit,” he answers begrudgingly then flicks his fingers in your direction, “go.”

“Stay,” Valhalla puts the mug near Lloyd's feet, “I like her. I want her here. Such a loyal little chipmunk.”

“It's fine, I should–”

“Shut up and get in here,” Lloyd snarls, pulling his feet down so his chair snaps forward. 

He takes the mug and inhales the scent before tasting. His blue eyes roll up towards the still shirtless man across from him. He pops his lips off the brim wetly.

“No coffee for me,” Valhalla declares, “all that caffeine. I keep a clean diet.”

He smacks his hard stomach and flexes his chest. Your lips curve just a little as you bashfully look down, sidling in as you softly close the door. Lloyd simmers as he takes a large gulp, almost as if challenging the bigger man with the act. Instead, he chokes and spits the coffee onto his white pants. 

You sit in the corner, between the standing lamp and bookshelf. A stiff straight backed chair placed more for aesthetic than comfort. You fold your hands as Lloyd curses and looks around for anything to mop up his mess.

Valhalla rumbles with laughter, “slow down, old man.”

“We're the same age,” Lloyd frowns.

“Are we?” Valhalla shrugs, “I don't think about years so much.”

You can see the agitation needly between Lloyd's brows. If it was anyone else, he'd be hollering and howling. If it was someone smaller, he'd have them by the scruff.

Valhalla paces around, without much purpose. He goes to the window and peers out, another thoughtful hum. He clicks his tongue as he turns, leaning on the window frame as he scratches his beard.

“Quaint,” he muses, “really. Reminds me of my first compound. I still have it of course but I've converted it to a vacation home.”

Lloyd raises his brows, his eyes fiery as his cheek twitches. You don't know if he's so unused to being spoken to this way or has the sense not to take on the giant before him. Either way, he stays seated with a sneer on his lips.

The other man strolls around, taking in every inch, musing at the bookshelf then turning the Roman bust of Caesar on the next. Finally, he stops not far from you.

“Yes, I don't have one of these,” he points at you, “truly the only feature to impress me so far.”

You try not to smile as you look at Lloyd. You gulp as he grimaces even deeper. He tilts his head and scoffs.

“Take her, see if I give a fuck,” he stands and looks down at his stained pants, “I got enough ugly chicks hanging off my balls.”

“Yes, but none so loyal, I'm certain,” Valhalla preens, “or welcoming. Had it not been for her graciousness, I don't think I'd still be here.”

“Then why the fuck did you come?” Lloyd barks as he leans on the desk to remove his loafer and shake off even more coffee.

Valhalla puts his hand on the back of your chair. You smell his sweat and cologne mingling nicely. You sit still as you can as the tension roils through the air. He laughs and pushes away.

“Ah, don't pretend with me, Hansen, you're happy to see me. And I brought my wallet so you'll be hanging off my balls, huh?”

Lloyd sputters. You nearly choke. You've never heard anyone speak to him this way. Not anyone who lived to laugh about and Valhalla is laughing; a lot.

“Money talks,” Lloyd snips, “so sure, I can give ya a reach around if it gets me a new jet.”

“That's what I like to hear,” Valhalla claps his hands, “I like you. You're funny.”

Lloyd doesn't break. He glowers as the large man bounds towards him and grabs his face, slapping his cheeks as he pulls him into a forehead kiss. He holds Lloyd at arm's length, “time for a shower and a tug.”

He taps Lloyd's cheek one last time before he lets go. As you catch the meaning of the last word, you look down at your lap and hold your breath. Don't laugh. He struts out, leaving both you and your boss speechless. 

You feel yourself shake as you can barely hold in your giggles. You cover your mouth and turn your head, fighting for your life. Lloyd growls and spins to kick the desk. Be yelps a d lets out a wispy ‘fuck’. You bite your cheek as a squeak breaks free.

“And what the fuck are you giggling about?” Lloyd blusters as he turns on you, “get your shit together and bring me my fucking breakfast.” He stops before you and tears you out of the chair by your collar, bringing you to your toes, “back to work.”

He shoves you towards the door and whips around, muttering under his breath as he stomps around. He's been bested at his own game but he'll never admit it. Like he says, words don't mean shit, fists get your point across.

❤️‍🩹

You scrounge enough for Lloyd's breakfast before you drive into town. Your shopping trip is determined and precise. You have a list and you stick to it, a full cart in less than twenty minutes. 

The road back is longer but not long enough. You can't help the uneasiness that boils in you at the thought of both men. Lloyd's foul mood is like a dark cloud yet Valhalla's bright shine easily cuts through. Two indomitable forces coming together to stir the perfect storm.

You drive through the gate and unload the bags, two at a time, walking in and out as the activity in the house courses around you. Just as always, no one notices you. Even Lloyd only thinks of you when he needs something. 

You unpack your lot in the kitchen and start replenishing the containers ravaged by your insatiable visitors. You don’t think the labels will do much to deter them but you can only hope. The only person worse than Lloyd is a hungry Lloyd.

You start on your prep; you have rice steaming, jasmine with a touch of lime juice and shallots. For protein, you have chicken and steak to alternate, with bacon and sausage for breakfast. Then you work on a pot of stew just in case. Every burner, every inch of space, is consumed by your multitasking.

That’s your life. Every part of it is planned around him. Every thought revolves around him. Not the only man you’ll never have, there’s many of those, but the only man you’ve ever wanted. 

Stupid! You know it, you tell yourself that every night, you repeat it alone in your bed as you lay in the afterglow lit by your vibrator. It can never be real but maybe it’s better that way.

You huff and rub your forehead. Forget it. You’ve been over this a million times. It’s never going to happen. You accepted that. The truth hurts but it’s still the fucking truth. Another brilliant Lloydism.

And self-pity is more often self-awareness. That’s what your father would tell you. There is no lie worth telling, even to oneself.

“Mmmm,” the hum draws you around like a roll of thunder. Valhalla stands in the doorway, his nose turned up as he sniffs the air, “something smells delicious. I should’ve known it was you.”

You can’t help but smile, cheeks tinged with tingling fire. You pull a knife from the wooden block as he peers over the medley of ingredients before him. As you take the bunch of carrots, he watches you, leaning on the other side of the island.

“I didn’t think you were a chef? I thought you handled the emails,” he remarks.

“I do both,” you affirm as you start chopping, “I do whatever Mr. Hansen needs.”

“Whatever he needs…” he toys with that statement, “and what does that entail beyond sorting through junk mail and steaming vegetables?”

“Well…” you pause to think, rubbing your lips together. As you nibble your lower one, you notice how he observes the gesture. You clear your throat and sweep the chopped carrots into a strainer, “send his clothes for dry cleaning, arrange transport, inventory…”

“Ah, so you are his mother,” he declares, “how adorable.”

“I’m not–” you hover the blade upright and lower it as you notice the gleam, “no, I…”

“What would you call yourself?” He prompts as he crosses his arms, bending to lean his elbows on the granite.

“Well, I… uh,” you set the knife down and take the strainer to the sink. You flip on the faucet, grasping at an answer as you use the noise to delay your response. You shut it off, nothing. “I don’t… know.”

“Definitely not his wife,” he says.

You shrug. He’s right. That thought makes you both bubbly and ashamed. The mere suggestion of that is flattering.

“He isn’t the marrying type,” you snort.

“I’d never let a woman I wasn’t fucking do that much for me. And I can tell, you two aren’t like that.”

Your mouth falls open as you peek over your shoulder at him, shaking the excess water from the strainer. You snap your teeth shut and face the sink again. It’s not his crassness, you’re used to that, it’s his honesty. He’s right but he didn’t have to say it aloud.

“So…” he stands and comes around the island, looming closer, “you aren’t taken then?”

You turn and go to the island, putting the strainer beside the cutting board. You grab the knife then put it back. You don’t know what to do with yourself. His questions have your whole body alight.

“Not by Lloyd,” you assure him glumly.

“By anyone?” He prompts.

You look him in the eye. You blink and shake your head. You wouldn’t want any man in this place, aside from one. 

“Pity. For them, not you.”

“Is it?” You scoff.

“Truly,” he affirms, “any man would be lucky to have you taking care of them. Or woman…” he pauses to think on that last part, “and to take care of you.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes. Not at him really, but the idea. Romance? That doesn’t exist. It’s only ever been girlish fantasies of your boss kicking down your door so he could fuck you into a mattress. Even in your head, it was never rose petals and diamond rings.

“It’s a nice thought,” you concede.

He’s quiet as he considers you. His eyes drift down, roving to your feet and pack up, a careful, intense venture up and down your figure.  He clucks and stretches his hand across his throat, rubbing his adam’s apple before pressing against his chest. He’s taken your measure and you doubt he’s any less disappointed than anyone else ever was.

“I’ve decided,” he slaps his hand off the counter, making you jump, “I want to fuck you” He raises his finger, jabbing it in the air, “And I will.”

You choke on your own spit. You cough and cover your mouth as you take a step back. Did he really just say that? Like that? So matter-of-fact. A promise, not a proposition.

“I–” you barely eke out, “Valhalla,” you gasp and press your palms to your scalding cheeks, “I… no, you– it—”

He booms with laughter as he watches you struggle. You squirm and cross your arms, looking anywhere but at him. He steps closer and you shrink down, even smaller than you already are, next to him, smaller than you’ve ever felt. 

He reaches to cradle your head, holding you in place as he bends and nuzzles your hair. He inhales your scent into a sigh, “Thor. That is what you can scream when I do.”

He places a kiss on your forehead and draws away. Your eyes meet and he winks, a crooked grin on his lips. You gape at him, blinking blankly as he turns to pluck up a carrot and chomps down on it.

“Mmph, delicious,” he chimes, though you can’t be sure whether he means the food or you. That question sends a thrill up your spine.

#lloyd hansen #thor #dark lloyd hansen #dark thor #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!thor #thor x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #mcu #marvel #avengers #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #old scars new blood #au #multifandom

[lincolndjarin]

fine art

javi gutierrez x moviestar!reader - installment #1 of sparrow's spectacles

main masterlist - other spectacles - kofi

summary : you were an up and coming actress, javi is your biggest fan, he'd do anything to have meet you.

word count : 3.9k

warnings, tags : dead dove do not eat, !! dark fic !! mdni 18+, noncon, stalker!javi, kidnapping, capture, stockholm syndrome, m&f masturbation, sex toys, briefly mentioned periods, exhibitionism, voyurism, so much internal thought processing regarding readers situation, briefly referenced suicide, reader is undescribed other than briefly being mentioned as young in her acting career, in my head she's late twenties, probs other tags i missed sorry. tldr: you have spent so much time with javi against your will that you unwillingly start fantasizing about him and give in to destructive urges in an attempt to escape him, everything is bad here.

a/n : is this stupid and probably bad? who knows, i have a terrible sense of self judgement lately so i'm just gonna post this and hope it's good. also can you tell that i blatantly stole the set from You LMAO. anyhow this is the first installment of my little 'horror' series. but it's less horror and more just odd little stories i wanted to write tbh

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, door, chair.

On days where you’re feeling particularly bored you list the things you can see. Unfortunately for you, your surroundings rarely change. Of course you could change that, if you asked him for something he’d give it to you, anything you wanted. Unless of course it was something he thought you could hurt yourself with or contact the outside world with. 

You didn’t often ask. 

Whenever you can have a conversation with him he always says the same thing. 

“If you stopped being so stubborn you might actually be happy.” 

“I would do anything for you.” “Then let me out.” “Anything but that.” 

“It’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. It isn’t an actual cage, it isn’t so bad.” 

So you don’t talk to him unless you have to. 

But some days you’re just so painfully, agonizingly, bored and you can’t help yourself. So you scream at him, or you pound on the unyielding plexiglass, or you hold your hand up against it, hoping he’ll touch the other side and you can briefly imagine yourself having physical contact with another human being. 

Sometimes you’ll even play his games. 

You’ll read the scripts he slides through the small square opening in the cage that can’t be more than a foot wide, and act out scenes with him simply because it gives you something to do and for fucks sake you’re desperate for something to do. It’s so easy to get caught up in him, if it wasn’t so easy you’d probably let yourself do it more often, thankfully, it’s so fucking scary. If you spend too much time in the box you’re worried that eventually you’ll forget that you aren’t a doll and you'll grow to like your box. So you do your damndest to maintain a wall between the two of you, but when that wall is glass it is destined to break eventually. So you scream and you fight until you get tired, and then you let the walls down as you rest, before returning to your struggle. And everytime you let the walls down they take longer to put back up. 

At the end of the day it never matters how you treat him, he loves you all the same. 

Even on days where you scream your throat raw and throw your furniture against the walls, if you ask him to get you takeout from your favorite restaurant, or watch a movie with you, he always will. You asked him about it once. Why didn't he just make you do what he wanted? Why didn’t he just make you obey? He had looked genuinely offended, as if he couldn’t believe you thought him capable of such a thing. 

And he told you that he loved you.

More than anything. 

That you were his most prized possession. 

That he would never do anything to hurt you, it would be like if he were angry and he threw a priceless vase, the only person it would hurt is himself. 

You had nodded as if he was making any sense and you’d turned back to the movie he’d picked out. 

You were a vase. 

You were a collectible. 

A priceless, collectable. He kept you in perfect condition and never took you out of the box. Not even to play with you himself. A small, rather demented part of you, is starting to wish that he would. Of course you don’t want him to force himself upon you, you aren’t that far gone. (Yet.) But it’s been so long since you’ve touched another person. You would give your left arm just to be held. If your calendar serves you well, it’s been just over two years since you last saw someone who wasn’t Javi. 

And Javi wouldn’t touch you. 

Not ever. You were too perfect to be defiled in such a way. He would sometimes hold his hand against the glass when you held up your own, he even kissed you through it once. (Although it had been rather awkward and neither one of you ever talked about it again.) But he never touched you. 

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you’d met Javi in a social setting. He is rather handsome, and though you hate to admit it, when he isn’t leering he’s almost charming. 

Almost.

Everyday you slip further into the fantasy where Javi does something to break up the monotony. Is that his goal? To make you so desperate for human connection that you eventually snap and beg him to touch you? You shudder as you wonder how long that would take. After the first year you stopped wondering what would happen when he got bored of you. You know deep down that that will never happen. If anything his devotion  for you only continues to grow with each passing day. If it’s possible he probably loves you more now then he did at the start of your stay here. Despite everything he takes care of you, in his own strange sort of way. 

Like how he tracks your cycle, always making sure you have anything you need on those days. Sometimes he even knows it’s starting before you do, he’ll bring you baskets with blankets and candy and any other little trinket or gift he saw that made him think of you. 

Jewelry, little plush toys, and books. Anything to try and make you feel anything other than the misery that constantly loomed over you as you waited for his next visit. He never goes more than a few days without seeing you and he always apologizes when he does. He returns with your favorite shampoo or lotion to make it up to you, but it never really changes how you feel about him. It’s nice to fantasize a world in which you enjoy your only source of company but you’re careful to never let that fantasy bleed into reality. 

If he were actually your partner you’d have locked him down ages ago. A part of you knows that he doesn’t want that kind of relationship with you though. He doesn’t want a girlfriend, you’re much more than that. You’re more like a goddess in a cage to him than an actual human being. A beloved pet bird. It’s clear he feels something more than simple love for you. It’s a devotion, a conscious effort to worship you. 

You are to be kept in pristine condition. 

Of course that doesn’t mean he can’t look. 

Two and a half years. 

That’s how long it took for the looking to escalate into something more. You were watching a movie. 

50 First Dates

You had picked it out, Javi liked action movies but would never complain when you wanted to watch a rom-com. You were on your bed, curled up under the blankets in a hoodie and sweatpants. You haven’t worn makeup since he took you, you rarely brushed your hair, you never put much thought into your appearance, and Javi wouldn’t give you a mirror. 

You had one, a long time ago. Within the first week you’d smashed it, threatening to slit your own throat if he didn’t let you out. All that resulted in was you no longer being allowed to have breakables. Plastic cutlery and paper plates were wordlessly passed to you from that point forward.

You had been watching in silence, he sat on the couch outside the cage like he always did and it wasn’t until you heard a shuddering groan that you turned around to see him kneeling beside the cage, one hand pressed up against the glass, steadying himself, the other wrapped around his cock.  

You were frozen in place. 

What are you supposed to do in that situation? 

You watched, slack jawed as he took his time. His gaze made you feel naked, like he could see through the layers of blankets and baggy clothing. 

He had looked you in the eye when he finished. Briefly staring wide eyed before his eyes squeezed shut and with a long, drawn out moan and a strained cry of your name. His cum painted the glass and before you could form any sort of response he was already stuffing himself back into his pants and standing. You want to say something, anything. Something to hold him accountable for what he just did, but you can’t think of anything, and he’s already leaving. 

Before you can even blink he’s gone, without so much as a glance in your direction. And you’re left alone, in the lamp light, unable to escape the sight of his filth on the glass. Covering your head with a blanket as you waited for it to be late enough for the power to cut out and leave you in a safe, and comfortable darkness. 

A part of you hoped that the white speckles would be gone when you woke up but you weren’t that lucky. 

You faced away from that wall, with your head buried in a book until you looked at the clock and knew it was almost time to face him again. When he returned he had an aura of shame around himself, his arms were full of grocery bags and his eyes were red rimmed and teary. 

“I’m so sorry- I just- I love you so much, I don’t know what came over me.” If this was a normal relationship and the two of you had maybe gotten into an argument or something you would have forgiven him. After all he looked genuinely remorseful as he stared at you, going through the bags before setting down several takeout containers with labels you recognized. He had gone out and gotten all your favorites. Your favorite fast food place, as well as a high end chinese restaurant you loved for special occasions, and a clear plastic case with a slice of your favorite flavored cake from a small bakery near your apartment that you frequented. (You’d never asked him to get you anything from there before, you’d never even mentioned the place to him.) 

Through his mumbled apologies he set down your favorite bubble tea flavor and a water bottle. 

He had passed everything to you through the opening in the cage with trembling hands as he sniffled. Once you had everything he sprayed the drying remnants of his release with Windex, pulling several paper towels off the roll and wiping it until it was as if it never happened. By the time he was finished his cheeks were red and big tears rolled down his face. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Before you can stop yourself you’re comforting him, as if he’s the victim in this situation. 

“It’s not okay, I don’t want you to think that that’s why you’re here.” He mumbles sadly, letting his forehead hit the glass. Through your disgust for your own words you sense something else.

Opportunity. 

The only chance you’re going to get for escape involves him unlocking the door. Something he hasn’t done since he put you in here in the first place. You’ve tried in the past. Not often, there weren’t very many chances, you had everything you needed here, running water and a bathroom, any other sustenance was provided by him through the little opening. There was so rarely an opportunity, and when there were he always anticipated your plans before you got to put them into motion. But you’ve never tried deception. You think you would have, considering you’re an actress but it had never crossed your mind until just now. You can’t half ass this though. If you decide to do this you will get one chance to do it right. 

Go big or go home. 

“No really, it’s okay. It’s sort of… flattering.” His face drops the second you say it and regret starts creeping in. You’re going to die here. He’s going to keep you here until the day you die and no one will ever know what happened to you. A young starlight, taken out in her prime. 

“It’s not, it’s disgusting.” He tosses the paper towels away, sniffling to himself as he stands with his hands clasped in front of him, swaying anxiously back and forth. You take a seat on your bed across from him, fighting the urge to put your hand on the glass. You don’t want to lay it on too thick, he’ll see right through that. 

“It’s fine, it’s- it’s natural.” You’re struggling to find the right words that make it feel real. At one point you were a rather talented actress but you’re out of practice. “Seriously. Especially from you. It’s really sweet.” Fuck, are you doing too much?

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he chews his lip as he stares at you, you can tell he’s skeptical. He should be. You so rarely speak to him and when you do it’s never to be kind. 

“Actions speak louder than words.” 

Someone said that in a movie Javi picked, you had sat and let him read the scene to you afterwards. 

He wants an actress, you can give him that. You can perform, as long as that’s all it is. If it’s a performance you can keep your wall up. You stumble off the bed, your legs feeling like jelly as you pull open the drawer on your nightstand. 

This plan feels stupider by the minute but you need to commit.

He didn’t gift you sex toys the way he did with other little things to make you happier. But they were always just sort of there. In their original packaging, shoved in your nightstand drawer with a few batteries he’d left as well, they’d been here when you woke up in the cage. You doubt you’ll be able to relax enough to do this without a little help, and you have to be convincing. If you aren’t believable he’s unlikely to trust you in the future. If you fuck this up now you’ll never get another chance. 

It’s a pale pink rabbit. You’d probably never buy something like it for yourself, it looks… expensive. The silicone is smooth against your fingers as you rip open the packaging, twisting the base open to pop in two batteries. Rushing in an attempt to not lose your nerve. When you gather your courage you risk a glance up at him, just fast enough to watch his tongue dart out and wet his lips.

So he does want this. 

Good. 

Pressing the button on the toy makes it buzz to life.  

Okay. 

This isn’t so bad. It’s just masturbating, if you do this for him you can take advantage of the obvious attraction he has for you. Even if it doesn’t work immediately, eventually this ends with him letting you out, or at the very least letting himself in, which is all you need. 

So you get back into bed, and you lean on a stack of pillows before really focusing on him. 

And you ask him the question he didn’t bother to ask you.

“Is this okay?” You hope the trembling in your voice comes off as endearing. 

His throat bobs as he nods. Maybe he doesn’t mind that you’ve been laying it on a little thick. Maybe you’ve denied him your affections for so long that he doesn’t want to risk rejecting any advance from you. No matter how out of the blue it seems/.

You push your sweats down to your ankles before kicking them off the bed. No time for embarrassment or regret now, if he senses hesitation none of this will be worth it. He’s moved to be sitting on the couch directly outside the cage now. His knees pressed together as he sits with his hands in his lap, looking almost comically polite. 

No sense putting off the inevitable. 

It’s been a while, there’s a camera in the corner of the cage so you don’t masturbate often, and when you do it’s late at night, once the lights are off and you can hide under your blanket. You can’t do that now though, that would defeat the purpose. 

You leave the toy off as you shove it down the front of your panties. Pressing the soft head of it against your slit, finding it surprisingly easy to tease your entrance with it. 

Are you wet? 

It’s been a while, that’s why. 

Javi certainly hasn’t wasted any time. If he were sitting any closer he’d be fogging up the glass, his hand is shoved down his pants, his face already flushed red. His usual rigid posture is lost as he leans back into the couch cushions, refusing to tear his eyes off of you. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you push the toy into you, holding back a gasp as you swallow. At least it feels sort of good. Good enough to make you wish you’d swallowed your pride and used this before today. 

Your body moves instinctually as your free hand reaches forward to push your panties down and turn the vibe on in one motion, the silicone attachment pressing against your clit as you press the toy deeper into your pussy. It’s a little too easy to relax suddenly. Javi now slowly strokes himself, his cock in his hand, looking painfully hard as he squeezes the base of his shaft, almost as if he’s scared of blowing his load too soon. 

Good. 

The less time it takes the better. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you angle the toy, letting the tip of it brush against your g-spot and drawing an authentic moan from you. Fighting the urge to cover your mouth in surprise, you repeat the motion. The combination of sensations making your toes curl and your back arch into the mattress. 

“Fuck-” Your voice catches in your throat, your fingers twitch against the button to turn the vibrations up a level. 

Once you find your rhythm it’s easy to forget about the nerves and what’s at stake. It’s easy to get lost in the sensation and the sight of Javi shuddering as he gasps. It’s easy to focus on the attractive parts of him for a brief moment, to make things easier. And it’s easy to wonder if his cock would feel better than the toy that hums and makes your body tense up deliciously. 

It’s actually terrifying how easy it is. 

It’s enough to make you horrified for just a split second. He wasn’t lying when he said you could be happy if you stopped fighting. Twisted into the pleasure you’re feeling is something else. Relief. Relief for the peace you find when you stop fighting him. You could feel this good all the time if you wanted, you and Javi could have your favorite food for dinner, you could watch your favorite movies, and act out your favorite scenes. 

You could feel good. 

You could have nights like these where you watch him jerk off his pretty, thick cock and know that someone loves you enough to take care of you like this. You could let him buy you pretty things and toys that make you feel so so so good. 

And that thought terrifies you. 

If you stayed in this cage you would eventually become entirely complacent. 

It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or next year, but eventually.

You will be happy to flutter about your cage once you’ve forgotten how to fly. 

His pretty little bird. 

It’s your orgasm that snaps you out of that living nightmare. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been fucking the toy, pleasuring yourself to that little daydream. This wasn’t a good idea and you shouldn’t have done it but it’s too late for that now especially when you’re groaning out his name as you remove the still buzzing toy, now slick with your wetness. Javi’s eyes are wide as he clearly can’t hold back any longer as he dirties his shirt and pants with his own release. 

As you quickly reach for the toy, turning it off, you pull your panties up in a hurry. Maybe you should push your luck and ask him to come into the cage now. A sense of dread is settling in your stomach as you realize that you can’t be here much longer, who knows how quickly you’ll crumble if you keep letting yourself do this. It’s best to make this a swift process where you don’t have any more time to sink into the hell that is acceptance of these four glass walls. 

You’re about to do it. About to tell him that he should join you, that it would feel better for the both of you if he was in the cage as well but you don’t get a chance to as he zips his pants back up.

“Go to bed, when you’re asleep I’m gonna leave you a gift.” He stands abruptly, giving you a reassuring smile before pressing his hand up to the glass. You don’t hesitate to crawl up the length of the bed and press your own to his, it’s brief but you can feel the connection here. 

This is just the beginning. 

After today you’ll put more effort in. You’ll make it happen and you’ll make it happen fast. You can put the time and effort in, it’s not like you have anything better to do. You’ll convince him that it’s real before you lose yourself entirely and when the day finally comes where he opens the door you won’t waste the opportunity. 

You’ll leave your room. 

You can figure out the logistics of it later but for now you take the sleeping pill he slides through the opening every night he visits. You don’t usually take it but you need sleep and this will be easier if he thinks you’re compliant. With a sip of your drink the little pill goes down and your eyes close. 

And you dream that you’re a bird, flying through a blue sky.  

You sleep better than you ever have before in the cage. 

Until you wake, the lamp being on is the only indicator you have that it’s daytime. Your hair stands on end as you sit up. He was here. Things have been moved, little things, noticeable things. Your empty drink is tossed in the bin and it smells of cleaning supplies. He doesn’t ever come inside the cage, that goes against everything he tells you. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out what’s different. How long were you out? The pills have never made you feel this fuzzy before on the rare occasions that you’ve taken them, you do your best to focus but it’s difficult when everything’s so muddled. So you do the one thing you know will clear your head and you list the things you see. 

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Something’s wrong, different. 

He said he was going to give you a gift. What the fuck did he do? Did he leave it in here? Was it too big to fit through the opening? Is that why he came into the cage? 

You don’t catch it immediately, but there is a note taped to the inside of the glass. 

I knew you’d learn to be happy : ) 

See you tonight.

Love, Javi 

You look back around the room, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Desk, bed, lamp, television, chair.

Oh. 

i no longer have a tag list, follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on my writing!!

#lincolndjarin #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #javi g x you #javier gutierrez #javi g fanfiction #pedro pascal #dead dove do not eat #tw noncon

[botnasty]

Part Four: No More Theory

Roommate!Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Summary: Gone are the theories...

Words: 1,2K words

Warnings: ANGST, THIS IS ANGST CITY, then fluffy cheesiness :)

Note: All mistakes are mine and please tell me if I’m missing any warnings. Also sorry on the wait for this part, completely had a writers block.

Not proofread

Series Masterlist

Laying in bed, you never felt more defeated in your life. Your mind was screaming at you for being stupid for thinking what you and Bucky had was exclusive. You couldn’t be mad at him for going after someone else tonight, you two never talked and made what you had/did more than what it really was: two friends having fun without any feelings. You didn’t want to believe it, but what happened today at the Halloween party made you open your eyes. You were just his friend with benefits. 

You whipped the tears falling on your damp cheeks and pulled the duvet closer to you. You didn’t know how tomorrow was going to be fairing, but one thing for sure is, you were going to stop whatever that was happening between you two before you got hurt. Never once had you let a man hurt you before, it won’t start now.

You picked up your phone from the bedside table and you could see so many texts. 25 from Natasha, 3 from Sam, but none from the person that mattered the most. Whatever, he was probably busy with that girl. In your mind, you hoped she was taking good care of him, but your hurt was aching. Why did you have to screw your friendship with that “Theory” bullshit? 

You closed your lamp and purged you into the peaceful darkness that is sleep - when the door opened. Only one other person other than you had the keys to the apartment and - because you didn’t want to deal with it right now - you fastly put your head on your pillow and closed your eyes, trying your hardest to regulate your breathing as you could hear footsteps coming closer. 

“Toots?” Bucky whispered. “Are you awake?” The footsteps stopped. Why was it so hard to breathe normally in his presence?

You felt a slight touch on your cheeks. “My beautiful, beautiful, toots.” You could feel his breath on your forehead and the slight touch of his lips on your nose. “Wake up.” He  said softly. You didn’t want to. You feared what you were going to say or do if you did. A kiss on your forehead. “Wake up, beautiful.” On your eyelid - which you couldn’t help but move. “Come back to me, toots.” And lastly on your lips before you couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes felt like burning from holding your tears.

You slowly opened them. He was kneeled down right at the side of the bed. Just his smile alone made you want to just forget it happened and continue whatever it is you had. You waked and pulled yourself into a sitting position, pulling your cover closer to you like it was some sort of shield for your emotions. You almost jumped when he cupped your jaw and kissed your forehead. “I missed you, toots.” You looked at the clock, it hadn’t even been 2h since you left the party.

“I’ve only been gone for 2 hours, Bucky. I’m sure you would’ve been able to find more important people to spend your night with.” You rubbed your eyes to remove any trace that you were about to cry. Not in front of him. Never. 

“Toots, look at me.” You placed your hand down your lap and looked at him, his eyes were still bloodshot from all the weed he had taken during the party. “I love you.” Your heart exploded. It was not what you expected and you were mad. How dare him.

How dare him!

Fucking flirting and using the same technic he did on you with someone else not even a few hours before he said those words to you. What a fucking fraud of a man you were living with. You fought yourself to scoff at his words. 

He placed his forehead on yours. “I love you a whole lot. That’s why I can’t bear not being in the same room as you. You make everything so much better, you know.” Now that was just high person talk. 

You let out a small smile. “Come sleep, Bucky. You are high right now and are saying a bunch of bullshit. It’s time for you to sleep.” You went from your bed to drag him to your room. You wouldn’t let him sleep in yours when you barely could stand him right now. 

But Bucky didn’t move one bit.

“You don’t believe me…” Is what he said almost to yourself. 

Now the scoff escaped your mouth. “No I do not, Bucky. For so many reasons.”

He got up and tried to get close to you, but you stopped him with your hand.” First, you are high. And you know how you get when you are high. You ramble about things over and over, tell everyone you love them and you hug them. So, this certainly doesn't make me special.”

“You know—”

“Second, we never established what we had. All we do is fuck. Sure, you sometimes kiss me, we cuddle, but we never specify what’s going on between us.”

“I thought it was—”

“And last, you were literally flirting and using that ‘theory’ bullshit on someone else two hours ago. How can I believe that you love me when all this tells me otherwise, Bucky?” He stayed silent, looking down. His eyebrows frowning. “Do you see where I am coming from?”

“What girl?”

“The girl at the party! The one wearing a nurse costume. After you went to the bathroom, I tried to look for you and I found you being all cozy with her.”

“Oh, her.”

You placed your hands on your hips. “Yes, her.” Anger was bubbling inside of you wanting to come out like a volcano. 

“I thought she was you. You know I am not wearing my glasses.”

You shook your head. “So you were wearing contacts, what does it have to do with anything right now, Bucky.” You said desperately.

“Yes, I was wearing contacts, but those that make your iris look red, for my costume. So, I could barely see.” Your arms falling beside your body. Bucky placed his hands on your cheek, your eyes directly looking in his and he was right, his eyes were completely red, not from the weed, but because of the contacts. All anger vanished and all you could feel was shame. Shame for thinking he was playing you, for thinking he was just like the others that had hurt you. “I thought she was you, toots. I genuinely thought she was. I love you and I don’t see myself with anyone but you. Do you seriously think that, after years of trying to get your attention, I would mess it up for a random fuck?” You shook your head. “Exactly, my love. So please, believe me when I say this : I love you. I have loved you since I met you and I will love you until you let me.” 

You placed both hands on his wrist and looked deep into his eyes. “I love you too. Maybe not as long as you did, but I love you and I want no one else but you.”

And you kissed as the moonlight shines upon the two of you.

Thank you so much for waiting and reading:)

#The Theory of It All #Bucky Barnes #Bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #roommate!bucky barnes #roommate!bucky x reader #roommate!bucky #roommate!au #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky angst #angst fic #angst #sebastian stan angst #fluff

[cowboyfromh3ll]

So, hypothetically speaking,

If the reader gets so drunk, maybe at Sean's welcome home party, or when jack is rescued

And this is hypothetical...

She's in a relationship with arthur... and he's away from camp, or sleeping.

And hypothetically,

John as feelings for her, and she stumbles into John's room thinking that its Arthur's.

Again, this is hypothetical.

AND HYPOTHETICALLY, john takes a chance and pretends to be Arthur because he's just SO jealous of their relationship, and they end up having sex.

Taking What’s Not Yours

(John Marston x Fem!Reader Smut)

THIS WAS SO GODDAMN FUN RAHHH. John is a fucked up individual in this, I put a lot of thought into how I wrote his line of thinking.

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, noncon, dubcon, drunk sex, smut, infidelity

  Your first thought was that Shady Belle had never looked so bright. 

From a distance, the camp might have appeared as a glowing orb of orange light in the woods; an inviting incandescent illumination. A large, brightly lit campfire served as the heart of a celebration, and here and there was the blurry green blinking of fireflies. The occasional oil lamp littered around camp to unveil the darkness, acting as checkpoints in the path towards the doors of the house. But for every bit of light there was the accompanying joy and laughter and bliss. 

The alcohol coursing and spreading warmth through your body eased you into a state of content relaxedness. Your consciousness was heavily veiled, a cotton like feeling resulting in a comfortable haziness. Every nerve and chemical in your body telling you to relax, and every movement felt somnambulant. The lively chatter and inebriated song of the gang seemed so close yet so far, as if you had just stepped out on the front porch of a house party and the music continued to boom from inside. Dimly, you remembered the reason for the celebration was Jack’s safe return to camp; you had planted a maternal kiss to his forehead in welcome before he was thrummed away at the center of the celebration. Life was good, and all your other troubles didn’t matter right now. Though the cool condensation of the bottle collecting in a small ring of water around your thumb and pointer as you firmly grasped it seemed to matter. And it mattered more with every swig you took. Your lover blithely wrapped an arm around your lower waist, an invitation to release most of your weight onto him. Your crown felt as though it had a weight tied to it, your head falling nearly supine on your sternum before lolling to its side and onto Arthur’s broad shoulder.  

“You enjoying yourself, darling?” Arthur asked, planting a kiss on your temple. You smelled the familiar bitters of alcohol on his breath, and it was almost as comforting as the deep drawl of his voice. You hummed out a yes, every movement feeling slowed down. Your mouth felt glued shut by the sour film of alcohol, your mouth opening in a wet click as your dense saliva smacked against your tongue and palate. In a delayed response, you said, “Yeah, honey. I’m having a real good time.” Your words slurred together like smeared paint on a canvas; a feeble attempt at forming something coherent. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had too much to drink?” He chastised playfully. You scrunched up your nose jokingly. 

“It’s just one night. I don’t usually drink like this.”

“Yeah exactly, you don’t. I’m scared you won’t be able to handle yourself.” You waved your arm dismissively at his concerns. “I’ll be fine. I have the gang here to take care of me. And most importantly I have you.” You reassured him, stumbling forward and giving him a kiss. 

“I was thinking of turning in for the night.” Arthur told you, wrapping both his arms around your waist and turning him to face you. You pouted your bottom lip, whining petulantly. “Awww, hon, come on. Keep celebrating.” 

“No, no… I’m drunk enough. And I’ve had a long day. Plus, I ain’t going anywhere else but my room. Don’t you wanna come up with me?” 

You shook your head profusely. “I’ll be fine down here. Like I said, I wanna keep celebrating. I also ain’t going nowhere.” You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. Arthur’s nerves in leaving you downstairs seemed to calm significantly when he looked around the campfire at all the welcoming faces, especially the women, who were more than likely going to keep an eye on eachother. He gave it a thought for a moment longer before nodding in acceptance. 

“Alright. Just be careful. I’ll stay awake just in case.” Arthur’s lithe hands began to smooth down your back and over the curve of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh in a nascent squeeze. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He smirked before leaning forward and kissing you once more, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You sloppily accepted the kiss, the exchange lasting only seconds before he bid you farewell by slapping your ass. You giggled in anticipation for what your lover was suggesting at once you got upstairs to him, your red face turning even redder. You watched Arthur’s back as he walked off towards the front entrance of the house, smiling warmly when you saw him say goodnight to John and Abigail, who were sitting together by the foyer. 

Time seemed insubstantial the longer you celebrated, passing by in warped increments the more you drank. You had decided it was finally time to up and leave when the only way you evaded vomiting everywhere was from staring at the flickering embers of the fire. When you stood, the world spun around you, and you remained stationary as you tried to figure out which way you were supposed to walk to get to the house. Your body lagged behind your mind, each movement slowed and blundered in confusion as if your body was deliberately working against itself. Several of the women and men offered to walk you up towards your shared room with Arthur, but you refused, insisting in your mind that you wanted to walk into the room, alluringness turned on in your best attempt at seducing Arthur. The gracefulness of that action would be mere afterthought, not taking into consideration the possibility of you embarrassing yourself. 

You lugged your body towards the double doors, feet stomping up the steps of the front porch. You caught sight of Abigail sitting alone in your peripheral, who was seemingly startled by the loudness of your steps. 

“Hey, (Name). You okay? You seem real drunk.” She gave you a look of concern, making a movement to stand up from her seat. You waved off her concern dismissively as well.

“I’m fine Abigail. Just had too much to drink. I’m headed up to my room.” You reassured. You wiped your mouth with the back of your arm, cleaning off the frothing drool forming at the corners of your mouth. She gave you one last look of concern before planting herself on her seat again. 

“Alright then, I suppose all you have to do is go upstairs anyways. Goodnight, (Name).”

“Goodnight.”

It was an arduous task to push open the expansive mahogany doors of the building, your footsteps echoing as you trudged across the floor and up the creaky, wooden steps. You leaned against the railing at the top of the stairs, threatening to retch but resulting in nothing but excess saliva. You bordered on sickness but that would not stop you in your pursuit of copulation with Arthur. Your vision tunneled, and you let your body take the lead ahead of your mind. It felt as though you were dragging your body along the floor to safety from some unknown threat you were too hammered to classify. You swallowed hard, finding amenity in the cool, metallic feeling of a door knob as you clumsily turned it, only to find the door was already ajar. You practically stumbled inside, trying your best not to trip on your own feet. You heaved your body up against the door frame, beginning in a series of sultry laughter. 

Unbeknownst to you, you hadn’t actually crawled into the room of your lover. You hadn’t made it down the hall completely, instead stumbling into another room. You hadn’t even paid any mind to the soft snores that were scarcely audible from behind Arthur’s door.

“Heyyy, Arthur.” You cooed, followed by more giggles. 

John sat up from where he lay in his bed, his eyes registering a sense of bewilderment for who was at his door. Only moments ago he had been deep in thought, contemplating what it was he wanted in life, and moments before that he had engaged in an argument with his wife downstairs before storming up on his own; and now, before him, stood the object of his desire. 

“Are you surprised to see me so soon?” You said playfully. 

John felt a strange duality to the question. How even though the question was meant for Arthur, he felt equally as entitled to answer it. John looked down at himself in near disbelief, as if he had somehow embodied Arthur and his own body was replaced. He asked himself if you were really that drunk, to mistake his frame and face for your lover. 

“(Name)?” He said hesitantly, looking around the room as if he were expecting a group of the girls to jump out and announce a prank. 

“Well you shouldn’t be that surprised, you saw how drunk I was.” 

That seemed to confirm John’s suspicions. Obviously, you didn’t mean to walk in here. You were supposed to be down the hall, at Arthur’s door. His mind blanked when he saw you begin to saunter over towards him. He sucked in a breath and held it, straightening and stiffening his body as if he were preparing his body for some sort of grand, painful impact. 

“Well, I’m here now. You said you’d be awake for me…” You giggled darkly, swaying your body. You settled down onto John’s lap, wrapping two arms around his neck and leaning forward to put your lips to his ear. You felt John’s rigidity as you sat on him, still under the belief that it was Arthur; so your confusion was palpable when he didn’t automatically wrap his arms around you. 

“Relax, Arthur… Why are you so tense?” You ran your tongue along the shell of John’s ear before planting a kiss on his lobe, nipping it with your teeth before sucking on it slightly. The crescendo of John’s shame reached its peak when you cupped his crotch, delivering a squeeze before rubbing your palm back and forth on it, again and again. He bit his lip, clenching and unclenching his fists in an act of contemplation. 

John put his hands on your shoulders, nudging you off and moving you to sit next to him on the bed. He moved your body effortlessly, your whole being pliable and docile as he settled you on the mattress. You furrowed your brows and pouted your lip in confusion, not used to this level of resistance from Arthur. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, the words slurring together sloppily. It only served as another reminder for how drunk you were to John. He continued to hold on your shoulders, his hands digging into the supple skin, grounding himself in the feeling of your bones. He studied your face: flushed red and sclera tinged pink from the excessive drinking you had done that night, your hair was wild and messy and all over the place, and there was a line of drool that had gone down the side of your cheek, beginning to dry. Part of him was tempted to stick his thumb in your mouth and run it over the dried spots to clean them off. Your eyes held a sort of puppy-eyed look of confusion and sadness, as if he had dangled a treat over your head and he promptly put it away in his pocket. Though in the same vein, your eyes were glazed over and unfocused, glassy the same way a person who was fighting off unconsciousness would look. He noticed the way your torso continued to sway uneasily despite him holding you up. 

“I”m not…” John began, but he did not continue. His mouth hung open in anticipation of what he may say next, as if he were expecting some force to conjure up the words for him. But unlike you, he was in full control of what he might say, or what he might decide to do next. His mouth closed, his face hardening. He felt a strange concoction of emotions spread inside him, like a bottle of several intoxicating alcohols mixed together in one glass had just been knocked over accidentally. It made him feel cold and warm all at the same time, and at once, his body began in an unexplainable tremble. Whether it was made up of excitement, shame, or paranoia, John couldn’t place his finger on it. You looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Your patience wasn’t exactly part of the equation, partially preoccupied with clinging onto any semblance of comprehension skills you were left with; realistically, John could’ve spent hours sitting there thinking and you would’ve kept sitting there, waiting. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so anxious, darling. I was just scared someone might hear us.” John said. John felt that same sense of duality, that foreign feeling of embodying something or someone he wasn’t, taking their place when it wasn’t rightfully his to take. He buried any feelings of shame he might’ve felt from his conclusion, ignoring the morbid implications and possible grave impacts it would have on his relationships and life. He tied all those thoughts and feelings up like an ornately wrapped parcel and tossed it out the window; the possibility of those feelings being discovered once more was a question for a later time.

“No one’s gonna hear us, everyone’s outside celebrating.” You reassured, a smile returning to your face. John felt like an imposter in his own room, his own body. Like he walked into an intimate scene and surreptitiously took the place of Arthur while you weren’t looking. It was a moment of sick exultation for John. The knowledge that in his bed, he had something so near and dear to Arthur. Likewise, he also had something near and dear to him in his bed. His jealousy for Arthur’s relationship with you became a point of one sided contention in John’s head. It was something he’d never voice, not to anyone, and especially not to Arthur or you. But now that the opportunity presented itself to him, seemingly serving itself on a silver platter, he discovered a new variation of what it felt like to be in control. 

For one night, he’d be able to forget the envy he felt in seeing Arthur kiss or hold you; to forget the way his chest panged whenever he watched the two of you run off upstairs or into the woods, hand in hand, giggling while he was left to imagine all the lascivious scenes between you two; to forget the crushing shame he felt after having touched himself to the thought of you, so unbearably roused by watching you run off to engage in those aforementioned carnal acts, imagining himself in Arthur’s place. And he’d be able to entomb the feeling of remorse he felt when he thought of pillaging you while Abigail lay beneath him, who was left to wonder where all the passion he was exerting was coming from; oblivious to the fact that he was pretending she was you. 

“Yeah… You’re right…” John whispered, swallowing hard. He managed a shaky smile, letting his hands slide down your shoulders and rubbing soothing circles; with the amount of rubbing he did, it appeared as though he were doing it to calm himself down. 

“Now c’mon! Before someone does walk into the house!” Your playful remark nearly cemented a feeling of paranoia inside John, egging him on to act fast; lest he be forced to come up with some shoddy excuse as to why you were half naked in his bed. 

He looked at your hands as they made quick work of your button up shirt, part of him wanting to help but the other part of him remaining persistent in the thought that it wasn’t his place to. To calm his own nerves, he began fiddling with the buckle of his belt, halfway between undoing it and keeping it in place. You were hardly in the right state of mind to be paying his dallying movements any thought, tasked with the complicated act of undoing the final buttons of your shirt which was made harder tenfold by your clumsiness. 

“C’mon, help me out, Arthur!” You urged. John looked behind his shoulder to check for anyone, then around the room as if that aforementioned prank was still on the table. He reminded himself of the time crunch he was under, and skillfully undid your buttons before hastily sliding off your shirt.

John’s own refusal to shed his clothing was rooted in the feeling of vulnerability. Despite the fact he planned to have you barren before him, he did not want to risk being caught naked with you. The feeling of exposure would cause him to imagine all the painfully cringeworthy scenarios where someone would walk up the stairs and see his naked body above yours through the gaping hole in his wall. It allowed him some sense of security in knowing he would only have to scramble to dress you and not himself. 

With John’s assistance, you shimmied out of your skirt, the fabric pooling on the floor close to the bed. Only your heavy breaths and the rustling of your clothing was heard, and before long, you crossed your arms over your front and tugged the chemise over your torso and head. John was taken aback by your quickness to shed the garment, but remembered this must’ve been a routine act between you and Arthur; the thought left a sour feeling of jealousy in him. Though that jealousy was sweeped under the bed when he saw your breasts bounce before him hypnotically with each movement. You ran your hands up your sides before stopping to cup your breasts, teasing your own nipples to put on a show for John. 

John felt his cock jump in his pants, instinctively licking his lips at the sight. In the first forward act of the night, he confidently moved himself to sit closer before and squeezed your breasts, toying with the flesh with such fascination it was as if he was studying them to keep a permanent mental picture of them. His touches felt like he was trying to memorize what they felt like for the future with the knowledge that he may never get the opportunity to touch them again. He slapped your breasts slightly and reveled in the way the skin rippled with movement, before pushing them together and leaning his head down. He ran his tongue between the valley of your breasts, snaking his tongue between your cleavage and enjoying the sweaty warmth of your skin pressed up against itself. 

The sound of your breathy gasp as your body reacted in a full body shudder was the perfect kick in the center of John’s loins—here he was, with you in his bed and perfectly in control. You watched as the pink of John’s tongue flickered out to lick at your nipple before enveloping it fully between his lips. The scratchy roughness of his stubble made you giggle, only furthering your belief that this was Arthur. John lapped at your nipple and teased it with his incisors in an effort to get more whiny moans out of you, each sound a reminder that he was the one doing this to you and not Arthur. 

John traced open-mouthed kisses down your torso, every kiss that got closer to the down tuft of hair hidden away under your drawers exciting him the same way a kid would be excited from opening a gift in secret the night before christmas. Your body tipped back slowly, as if someone had nudged an unstable tower of building blocks, and crashed into the mattress, your head landing on John’s pillow. Your hands rested limply on your sides, but your sudden fall did not distract John from hooking his fingers into the cotton hem of your drawers, before pulling them down feverishly. 

A bush of hair concealed the squishy skin of your pelvis; the hair littered around your inner thighs and continued inward to your pubis. John wasted no time in nudging your legs apart, revealing the swollen wet rose that was your pussy. He raked two thumbs through the hair on either side, spreading your lips and further displaying your wetness to him. The sight of the shiny, soaked flesh made John’s cock throb, and he began grinding his hips into the mattress as he settled his body between your legs. He bathed your pussy in his warm breath before spitting on it, using his tongue to spread the glob of saliva. He moaned loudly as the taste of your cunt, releasing your lips from the hold of his tongue and allowing it to close around his tongue, effectively sandwiching it. He shuddered in ecstasy at the feeling alone, before he quickly got to work and lapped at you like a dog. You let out the occasional soft moan, going through bouts of silence before starting up again in small sounds. John sucked and ate you out with unmatched ferocity, unleashing years of desire of wistfulness with his tongue and mouth. You feebly bent your knee and lifted it, allowing John better access. But he quickly assisted you, hooking his hand below your knee and pushing your thigh to your chest. 

Your moans grew in volume as he sucked your clit skillfully, the small bud throbbing wildly in pleasure as he treated it like some sort of hard candy. The sloppy wet sounds of the act alone were enough to cause a full body blush, and you squirmed your heavy limbs as he continued. John abruptly shoved two fingers inside you, his movements irregular and drawn out, poking and prodding your insides as he ran his fingers along your gummy walls. His fingering was less like fingering and more like being examined by a doctor, like he was trying to memorize how your insides felt with his fingers alone. He retracted his fingers slowly, groaning at the sight of them slowly emerging from your wet hole. 

John stood from where he laid and stood next to the bed, peeking outside the hole in his wall before looking back at your body. You appeared spent despite the minimal actions of that night. Your limbs were splayed around the bed, your head resting limply to the left as you faced him. Despite your spinning head, the still moment allowed you to squint your eyes at John. Has Arthur’s hair always been this dark? Or was it a trick of the lighting? Was it the lighting that also made him appear less bulky? These were all questions you asked yourself as you laid there. The stationary moment of silence between you two as John stood over your naked body forced him to butt heads with his worst fear in the moment; a prospect so alarming he had refused to acknowledge it earlier; the possibility that you might recognize him. 

In an attempt to push that thought out of your heads, he began unbuckling his belt. The throbbing of his cock was nearly painful as he pulled it out from in between his zipper. John raked his fingers through your hair gently, gripping your roots softly and pushing your head towards the edge of the bed. He got some sort of comfort out of the idea that by shoving his cock in your mouth, it would temporarily disallow you to voice any queries of his identity. He prodded his tip against your lips, watching the pink on pink contact as you opened your mouth and allowed him to slide inside. He slid in slowly, throwing his head back at the feeling of your warm wet mouth hugging his cock. He kept going until his cock clicked past your tonsils and his balls met your chin. You kept your eyes trained on his naval, feeling that by not looking up you might be able to suppress your rising sense of panic. 

You continued your ministrations like you usually would, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you tried your best to move your head in the position you were in. You fluttered your tongue on his underside, laying it flat against his head and teasing his frenulum with the tip of your tongue. John began thrusting into your throat, shoving a thumb in through the corner of your mouth to allow his cock more space to move. You made an effort to squeeze your thumbs and curl your toes, having to alternate your focus between pleasuring him and not vomiting all over his cock. You used your excess salivation as lube, the in and out motion of his cock becoming effortlessly easy with the smooth wetness. 

John let out a string of curses as you sucked him off, able to tell that this was a skill born out of practice. Though he couldn’t even be angry at the thought of you gaining this much skill from sucking Arthur off, especially when he got to enjoy it. 

John slid his cock out your mouth slowly, looking back down at your face to see if you had any resolve. Your eyes were fluttering open and closed, copious amounts of saliva running down the side of your mouth and pooling on his bed. You looked as though you were barely clinging onto consciousness. A fresh sense of guilt that John had previously been harboring came crashing through as he kneeled before you on the bed. He cupped your face and held it up, watching your glassy eyes as you tried to blink yourself awake. 

“C’mon…” You croaked. “Just do it already.” 

John swallowed hard at the words. The ambiguity of them left him feeling an uncomfortable sense of dread. Your eyes did not focus on his face, instead looking past him; you weren’t all there. He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your lips to his, kissing you feverishly as you struggled to keep up. There was hesitance in your kiss, but you did so nonetheless. You had to admit, your mouths fit perfectly against one another, and despite the unfamiliar feeling of his lips as you tried to decipher whether or not this was Arthur, the one thing keeping you on the Arthur side of the fence was that the kiss felt so correct. You opened your mouth more, allowing John to shove his tongue inside your mouth and to memorize your mouth through that method as well. As much as John wanted to, he resisted biting your lip in the possibility that he might bust it and call forth questions from Arthur at a later time. 

John settled your head back onto the pillow before turning his sights down between your legs. His cock, still glistening with your saliva, bobbed with each movement mere inches from your pussy. He gripped the back of your knees again and pushed them to your chest, watching the way your core spread like a splitting heart. He released one knee and used that same hand to grip the base of his cock before guiding it to your molting hole. John barely noticed the way your body went limp as he slid inside, too entranced with the tight feeling of your pussy to realize you were bereft of any and all resistance. His eyes remained shut as he began to thrust, trying his best not to move too hard or fast to avoid the loud slapping of skin. 

His thrusts were careful and calculated, and his eyes trained on the movement of your body as he fucked you. You would occasionally come alive with a moan or twitch of your limb before dozing off again, but John was far too deep in his own world of pleasure. In your bouts of consciousness, you tried your best to pick your head up and look at John’s face, trying to make his face out in the darkness. Was this even your bed?

Though the realization couldn’t have been any more in your face, as when he brought his sweaty forehead to yours, his heavy labored breaths sounding like he was running from something, you realized your mistake. The recognition was almost sobering, as your eyes flickered around the room wildly without him noticing. You looked back at John’s face, your panic reaching its boiling point when you saw the striking scars across his face. 

A particularly hard thrust caused you to moan, A gasp that turned into a whiny wail. “John…!” 

There was a cold fear that spread through John’s shoulders, his thrusts slowing but never stopping. John questioned whether or not he had heard you correctly, too afraid to stop and ask you what you had said in fear that if you hadn’t already realized, you would then. Your clammy hands came up to grip his biceps, squeezing softly before nodding. John wasn’t sure what the nod meant, but he convinced himself it was a green light to keep going. He was roused to thrust harder, watching the way your breasts bounced hypnotically. 

It was your turn to feel a sense of shame and remorse, thinking to yourself how you could yell at John to stop but opting not to. You held onto a sense of curiosity as John fucked you, not helping the way you compared him and Arthur. John’s touches had been so hesitant initially, but grew in passion. And his skill was undeniable. Your proximity to both men allowed for a comparison between their bodies and highlighted miniscule physical differences that you might’ve not noticed or savored otherwise; the light smattering of freckles on Arthur’s nose and the nearly imperceptible scar on John’s forehead, Arthur’s deep collar bones and the fatty ripeness of John’s detached earlobes. 

Your box felt gaping and tender as John continued, wholly aware that you would not cum but enjoying any pleasure you felt nonetheless. Eventually, John pulled his cock out of you, and it was followed by the small slapping sound of hand on skin, the act of John squeezing out the rest of his desires for the night. You watched the way his cock shone in the moonlight as he fisted it, eventually spurting out copious ropes of cum on your belly and naval. His only form of marking you without leaving semi permanent evidence. You continued to lay there, watching John catch his breath in a full body heave. You made no movements to get dressed or even leave, being in no rush yourself. 

The only sounds in the room was John’s breath evening out, eventually calming down enough to breath through his nose. Your eyes followed his every movement, and he eventually settled into a sitting position next to you as he tucked himself back inside. 

You knew in the sidelong glances of John’s eyes that things would not be the same. He could not pretend that he didn’t know better.

Your last thought was that Shady Belle had never looked so dark.

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Taking What’s Not Yours - TV Girl

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[orcasoul]

Oh Mama! A continuation of Oh Baby

Summery: As the birth draws closer you reflect on all the ways Pedro has been there for you throughout your pregnancy.

Warnings: Swearing, verbal abuse (not by our sweet man), protective Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

Italics indicate in ward thinking and flashbacks.

This is a continuation of Oh Baby which was meant to be a one shot but after a request for a part 2 I've decided to write this and a part 3 which will be called Oh Daddy, which will focus on Pedro being the amazing dad and partner we all know he would be :)

Miserable! that's how you feel. Miserable, bloated, heavy. No matter how much you shift or turn, finding a good sleeping position is next to impossible. It also doesn't help that you're in the middle of a sweltering heatwave. The aircon is on but it might as well be non existent with the hot flashes that keep plaguing your body.

You look to your left and feel a little twinge of jealousy as you watch Pedro sleep soundly in the dim lamp light. Why the fuck should he get to sleep while I can't! You know it's just the hormones making you feel irritable and bitter but right now you want nothing more than to shake him awake and tell him to stay awake with you.

But no matter how irritable your last month of pregnancy is making you there's no way you be that spiteful. As you watch Pedro sleep, his plush lips slightly parted, letting slow, rhythmic breathes escape, you begin to reminisce all the ways he's been there for you, supporting you and caring for you since you'd told him you're pregnant.

Neither one of you had planned for this baby, but life doesn't always go according to our own plans. It has it's own agenda and all you can do is follow the path it lays before you and do your very best. After your initial fear of telling Pedro about the baby- and that awful resulting anxiety induced nightmare - you both seemed to easily slip into your natural roles. You; the nurturing and tender mother and Pedro; the protective and comforting father and partner.

For someone who once said he's never gonna be a dad, he sure seemed happy and content these past 7 months and that happiness has bubbled over into excitement now that the birth will be any day. Pedro stirs in his sleep a little, causing a couple of stray curls to fall onto his forehead. You gently brush them back up off his face, taking care not to wake him.

You guess he could actually do with the rest after weeks of being at your every beck and call, sometimes even going out at stupid 'o' clock to buy whatever your insatiable cravings demanded. You shift for the thousandth time, onto your side and put a pillow between your knees to provide some - but not much - relief. You continue to watch him sleep, feeling his breath fan your face, his shoulders slowly rising and falling and you feel the baby kick you again.

The little Bun - as you both lovingly refer to it since you've both agreed to not find out the sex and be surprised - has been quite active today. Tears fill your eyes and suddenly you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, as you place your hand tenderly on your bump and stare at the face of the man you love. This is what it's all about, you perceive, growing a beautiful new life with the perfect man. And boy, has he been just that for the past several months.

Your mind starts to wander back to all the moments where Pedro has gone above and beyond for you both....

The third month of your pregnancy is when your morning sickness really ramped up. Until that point you had only felt slightly nauseous but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. The first time you threw up actually startled Pedro. The poor guy almost had a heart attack when you leapt up from bed, accidentally dragging the quilt and him across the bed. You would have felt bad about waking him if you weren't too busy spewing your guts up into the toilet.

"What the fuck?!" is what you heard from the bedroom as you heaved and retched. "Baby?... You Okay?" Pedro asked quietly from behind you in the doorway to the on suite. "Yeah I'm-" blargh!- "I'm... good," you finally reply in a shaky voice as you wipe your mouth with one hand while the other holds your hair back. And so it went on for months. Pedro was always beside you (when he wasn't away filming or doing interviews) rubbing soothing strokes along your back, whispering comforting words and waiting with a glass of water in hand.

The more frequent the episodes became, the more he started to worry about you. You hated seeing him so worried as much as he hated seeing you be sick, so one time you'd decided to make light of the situation. After chucking up for what felt like the millionth time you called Pedro to the bathroom. He came rushing to you but before he could say a word you cried "Hold my hairrrrr!!" in your best whiny Dieter voice. Pedro burst out laughing as he clearly hadn't been expecting that of all things.

"That's a good one," he chuckled as he did indeed hold your hair. "How long have you been waiting to do that?" You look up at him and giggle but it's cut short by another bought of retching, which of course Pedro helped you through with words of encouragement. "Just be glad I don't have to shit, too," you mumble into the toilet bowl causing another burst of laughter to erupt from him.

You smile quietly to yourself at the memory while smoothing over the arc of your bump. You can't believe that a woman can naturally grow so big and not burst, which takes you back to the time you'd gotten upset over your sudden weight gain....

After coming home from a much needed shopping trip for maternity clothes and larger everyday clothes you slump onto the settee to rest your aching feet while Pedro puts the kettle on. You miss coffee but it's better for the baby if you stick to tea for a while. It was just as good and definitely helped to relax you. Once the drinks were finished Pedro took the cups to the kitchen and started to prepare for dinner. "I'm gonna go put the clothes away," you called to him in the kitchen, to which he replied, "Don't be too long. Food will be ready soon."

Staring into your wardrobe, a lump forms in your throat and tears burn behind your eyes as you take in the sight of some of your favourite and much smaller clothes. The more items you remove, to be replaced with the new and larger (two sizes larger to be precise) clothes, the more you feel the dam about to burst. Fighting it is no good, what with the hormones and all, and in a matter of seconds you're a blubbering mess on the bedroom floor.

"Y/N...," Pedro calls up the stairs, "Food's ready." You quickly choke back your sobs as best you can and try not to sound like someone who's just been in the middle of a complete breakdown. "O-kay," you faltered unintentionally. Great, maybe he didn't notice. Oh, but he did notice. His hasty footsteps were a dead giveaway of that fact. Pedro appeared in the bedroom moments later, his brows pinched and deep chestnut eyes full of compassion. "Sweetheart? What's wrong?" he asked dolefully as he slowly lowered himself to the floor next to you, both of you surrounded by your old clothes.

You look up at him through red, puffy eyes. "I'm so f... fat!," you bawled while gripping one of your favourite tops. "I feel like a whale!" Pedro lets out an endearing huff. "What?... It's true!" Bwahhaha!... "Shhh..." Pedro coos into your ear as he takes you in his strong arms. "That's the most ridiculous thing you've ever said. You're not fat and you certainly don't look like a whale," he asserted as he holds your flushed and tear streaked face in his hands and looks directly into your eyes. "You're growing a brand new life in there," he says as he places a hand on your belly. "Of course your body will change and it's a good change."

"I just... can't see how you co...could be attracted to me right now," you wept while looking down. "What?!" Pedro asked incredulously. "Do you have any idea what it does to me seeing you carry and care for my baby?" Pedro wipes your tears away and you look up to meet his eyes once more. "You've never been more beautiful than you are right now, darling. Don't you forget that, okay?" Through calmer breathes you whisper "Okay."

Just as you got semi comfortable you realise you're now quite thirsty. With an annoyed eye roll and a huff, you roll onto your back and push yourself up to reach over for the glass of water on your nightstand. Maybe you moved a little too fast because as you put the glass down you suddenly feel a little light headed. It passed in literally a few seconds. This is nothing compared to the dizzy spells you had to endure a few months ago....

You woke with a start when your phone rang. It might as well have been a bloody foghorn with how it pierced the peace and quiet of the living room. It's Pedro. You haven't seen each other for a few weeks due to his filming commitments but you talk everyday. Swiping the answer button you groggily mumble, "Hello." Hey sweetheart," Pedro began cheerfully, "Thought I'd call you on your lunch break... You okay? You sound funny." "Yeah..." you answer sluggishly, "I'm fine." You know he'll never buy it. "What's wrong?" Pedro asks in an assertive but gentle tone. "Nothing...," you try to placate him.

"...They just sent me home from work because I was having dizzy spells." "Did you call the doctor?" Pedro interjects quickly, his voice laced with concern. You can almost feel his anxiety through the phone. "Not yet. I just needed to lay down for a bit. I'm actually feeling a bit better." Okay, that may have been a white lie but the last thing you want is to cause Pedro any unnecessary worry. But of course he's worried. "Why didn't you call me straight away?" Pedro pressed perturbedly. "I just didn't want to worry you," You answer with a hint of guilt.

"I'm coming home-" "Ped, you can't. You have an interview today-" "They'll understand," he insisted, firmly. "I'm on the next flight home." You know when he speaks in such a final tone that his mind is made up. "Okay," you relent, feeling like a burden, but you know he'd worry like hell if he didn't come back to you right now. Turns out you had low iron levels and low blood pressure. Pedro made you stay off work and re-scheduled his interview with Vanity Fair. He never left your side for the next couple of weeks while you recovered.

Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead but sleep still eludes you. Silently pushing up on your elbows, you peer over Pedro's shoulder at the alarm clock. 2:38 am. You lay back down on your side and your shuffling must have disturbed Pedro because now his arm has found it's way across your side, hand splayed on your back slowly pulling you into his broad body, tucking your head under his chin. He sighs in his sleep and his breathing evens out again as he settles back into slumber. Being wrapped up in the arms of the man you love is absolute heaven for you.

You lay a hand against his chest feeling the calm and slow movements of his thorax. With his arm draped over you it's impossible to not feel safe and protected. It feels like nothing in the world can ever hurt you and your child. Pedro's action's assured you of that when an overly enthusiastic fan verbally abused you one evening....

"The black Audi A6, please." Pedro handed the ticket to the valet as you both stepped out of the restaurant. After two weeks apart this date night is just what you both needed. The morning sickness had finally stopped by your seventh month and you'd been looking forward to this night all week. The clingy, thigh length, black maternity dress you'd bought especially for tonight hugged your bump and the curve of your hips perfectly. You actually felt attractive for the first time in months.

While waiting for the car you slip your hand into Pedro's and place a soft kiss on his shoulder. "Thank you for tonight. It's been perfect," you smiled warmly. Pedro let go of your hand to place his own at your waist, pulling you closer into his chest. "You deserve it, baby," he whispered as his lips brush your hairline. "And by the way," he adds while looking up and down your body, "You look incredible!" Even after all this time together he's still able to make you blush like a teenager. Before you can reply an excited squeal ruptures the still night air. "On my god! Pedro Pascal!" A young woman cries, unable to contain her elation.

She rushes over to you both with two more companions who are equally excited to meet Hollywood's hottest celebrity. The two girls and man couldn't have been older than their mid twenties. "Hi," Pedro smiled and tightened his grip on your waist. He's always been protective of you and now that you're having his baby that protective side has increased exponentially. "Can we have a photo, please!" The other girl asked with a huge grin. "Of course you can," Pedro chirped but didn't release his hold on you. You gently squeeze his hand while peeling it off your hip, a silent 'it's okay' and you excuse yourself to stand several feet away.

You're used to fans approaching, and you love to see how much Pedro's supporters adore him, and that his mere presence whips people up into a frenzy. You smile proudly in adoration, stroking your baby bump as you watch how much of a natural he is with his fans. "Thank you!" "We're huge fans!" "You're amazing!" "We love you!" The words are spilling out of their mouths at the same time, all talking over one another. "Aw, thank you so much, guys. That means a lot," Pedro replies, his beaming smile stretching from one cheek to the other.

While the women are still fussing, the man looks your way and then down to your rounded stomach. "Aww, baby Pascal," he burst vehemently. Suddenly he rushed at you, hands outstretched and a determined look on his face, "Can I feel?" The intensity from this stranger sent you into automatic defence mode for your baby. You step back, instinctively covering your belly just as he's about to grab you, permission or not! "Don't touch me!" you cautioned him, nervously. Pedro's head snapped from the women to your direction at the sound of your alarmed voice.

"Gee's Okay!" the man snapped at you irately. "I only wanted to feel. No need to be such a bitch about it!" He spat the word bitch out like he had a bad taste in his mouth causing your eyes to widen. "The fuck did you just say to her?!!" Pedro exploded as he stood between you and this entitled piece of shit. "Whoa... easy man-" the man stuttered in defence but Pedro cut him off. "You have no right to touch anyone against their will, especially a pregnant woman. And who the fuck do you think you are calling her a bitch because she said no?!" The man stared dumfounded. Pedro leaned in to the man's personal space, seething, "You'd better walk away while you still can!"

You've never seen Pedro this angry, literally shaking with rage, chest to chest with the guy, who looks like he's about to piss himself. His friends pull him away, scolding him in hushed tones and offering apologies to you both. "Baby?..." you soothed while stroking up and down Pedro's arm. He turns to you, chest heaving and still shaking but the moment he locks eyes with you his gaze softens, frown lines un-creasing and muscles relaxing. He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head, languidly. "You're okay, darling. I won't ever let anything happen to you two." And he means that. You can feel the conviction of his declaration as if it were a physical manifestation.

You hadn't even realised you had fallen asleep until you were being jostled awake by a deep, concerned voice. "Y/N... Y/N, wake up." "Hmmm?" you groaned sleepily as you came to, feeling like you could smother Pedro with his pillow for waking you now! "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" annoyance and exhaustion seeped through your words. "Baby, I literally just dropped off!" "The bed's wet!" Pedro quickly replied. "What the?..." It was more of a realisation than a question as you looked down to see your shorts and the mattress completely soaked. "My water's have broken!" you gasp, looking wide eyed into Pedro's equally wide eyes. It's time....

Oh Daddy A Conclusion

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