#gloves are /hard/ to knit and youre not good at it why would you do this to yourself?

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You were Alastor's weakness. Something about you drew him closer into your orbit. He knew this weakness would be his downfall, but he couldn't pull back. No matter how hard he tried.

☒ Contains: fluff, gender!neutral reader, slightly angsty undertones, affectionate!Alastor, also possessive!Alastor, sleeping together (literally), implied established relationship, cuddles, one forehead kiss, Alastor undresses the reader but it is not sexual

☒ Word Count: 1,374

Alastor was alluring. 

The mystery surrounding the radio demon made the man all the more interesting to you. The moment Alastor showed up at your friend Charlie's Hotel all those months back, his gaze fixated on you.

His crimson gaze was intimidating at first. But as more time passed, Alastor's stare became somewhat of a solace to you. You felt safe around him. Especially because overtime he seemed to become possessive with you.

Any time you would get a little too close to the other patrons at the Hotel, Alastor's eye would twitch. He would be at your side in an instant- ushering you away. Keeping his hand firm at your waist as he shot the poor sinner a death glare. 

It was flattering, really. You just didn't seem to understand why. 

Why you? 

But hey, you weren't complaining. Plus, it was probably best not to question it. 

It had been an overwhelmingly exhausting day at the hotel. Charlie had you working overtime in preparation for the newcomers ready to be redeemed. You couldn't help but yawn as you trailed down the corridor. Sleepily swaying from side to side as your half-lidded eyes got heavier with each step. 

Suddenly, you felt yourself slam face-first into something- or rather, someone. 

"Careful now, my dear! If you don't watch where you're going, you could end up in a rather dangerous predicament!"

The static crackle in his voice was all too familiar; Alastor.

One of his hands came up to your waist; fingers playfully tapping along your side. Alastor's other hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up so he could get a good look at you.

"My, my! You're looking rather worn down, my dearest! Seems like Charlie's working you to the bone, hm?"

His Cheshire-like smile caught your eye before your gaze met his crimson orbs. Alastor's eyebrows were knitted in concern, making your heart flutter in your chest. 

"Ah, sorry for running into you, Al. I'm just really sleepy. It's been a long day," Your yawn cut you off before you could say more. Your arms snaked around his slender neck as you rested your head against his chest.

Alastor and yourself never discussed the gravity of your relationship. He was bad with feelings, and even worse at expressing them. What you two had was an unspoken thing, and you felt honored to be able to embrace him in this way; knowing no one else had the privilege to do so.

Alastor let out a low hum, static grumbling in his chest. The vibrations lulled you further into dreamland. That was until Alastor's hands swiftly pulled your thighs up, and on instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist. Your eyes fluttered open from the swift gesture, and you tilted your head to read Alastor's expression. 

"Al... what are you doing?" You mumbled softly, tightening your hold around the back of his neck as he began his descent down the hall. 

"Why, I'm taking you to our room, my dearest! Seems as though it's way past your bedtime." His radio static voice held a playful undertone as he pulled the bedroom door open. Carefully, Alastor placed you at the edge of your shared bed. 

On most nights, you slept while he worked on his plans for the next broadcast. Alastor rarely slept, but he adored the peaceful sounds of your labored breaths while you rested. Your captivating visage distracted him- only slightly, most nights while he typed up his script. You were just too adorable for your own good, too entrusting. Too tempting.

"Arms up, my dear!" Alastor quipped in a sing-song voice. Sharp gloved fingernails grazed the bare skin of your waist as he tugged your shirt over your head. You shivered slightly from the touch, a coy smile adorning your features as Alastor worked on removing your pants next. 

Alastor hummed along to a tune you couldn't quite put your finger on as he finished undressing you. You couldn't help how your heart pounded against your ribcage from the way his crimson orbs raked over your frame. Strangely, you felt like he was looking at you as if you were his prey. It sent a wave of adrenaline through your entire being.

"No need to feel demure, my darling. You are truly breathtaking! Quite a sight for sore eyes." His voice lowered slightly at the end of his sentence. Alastor made himself comfortable between your parted thighs as he began undressing himself, crimson gaze never once leaving yours. 

He allowed his overcoat and bowtie to cascade to the floor as he unbuttoned his red dress shirt, slumping it off his broad shoulders. "Thank you, Al... you flatter me too much," You chuckled softly, looking at him quizzically as he began looping your arms through his crimson button-up. 

"Nonsense, my dearest! I speak nothing but the truth." Alastor's voice softened as he fastened a couple of buttons of his shirt around your frame, leaving it rather loose-fitting on you. You smiled up at him softly as he lifted you up once more, carrying you to your side of the bed. Slowly, Alastor lifted the sheets, tucking you under them snuggly.

"There, now my darling is ready for bed!" He cooed. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before darting back up. Just as Alastor was about to turn on his heel to begin his work for the night, your hand wrapped around his wrist. Alastor slowly turned his head, gaze fixated on where your delicate fingers held him.

"Al... can you lay with me? Only for a little- just until I doze off, please?" Your pleading eyes struck something deep from within him. Alastor swore you were his biggest weakness of all, though he would never admit it aloud. Let alone allow any lowly wretch to discover his drawback; you. 

"Well, how can I deny such a sweet little request from you? You did say please, after all!" Alastor wasted no time slithering in beside you, pushing you gently toward his side of the bed. His scarred flesh was cold to the touch as your hands came up to his bare chest. Alastor stiffened slightly under your touch before allowing himself to relax into the plush mattress. 

Alastor let out a hum of approval as you drew shapes into his chest with your fingertips. "Thank you, my love," You yawned. Finally, permitting your droopy eyes to close shut for good tonight. Alastor quietly shushed you before bringing his hands to your waist, holding you firmly against him. 

He became accustomed to your touch, something Alastor never believed would be true in his case. But you were just darling; he couldn't get enough. You were his and his alone. He would make sure everyone in Hell who dared to lay a single finger on you would be the next guest on his broadcast. 

Alastor's smile deepened as he played out his little murder fantasy in his head. Your labored breaths began filling the dimly lit space. The crickets chirped quietly from beyond the forest on the other side of the room. Your legs were tangled beneath the sheets as you sleepily weaved your hands in his two-toned locks. Alastor's breath hitched as your fingernails lightly grazed the base of his ears. A crimson color coated his cheeks. 

As Alastor allowed himself to succumb to your touch, his mind wandered. Just how did he get so soft? How did he allow you to sneak your way into his cold dead heart? His feelings were conflicting. Alastor cared for you deeply, but fuck did it frighten him more than anything. He was a prideful man, cool, calm, and collected. But you caused his mask to slip ever so slightly. 

Just what was he to do about this revelation?

A small sigh crackled out of his throat as his smile slipped; a rare sight to be seen. Alastor's eyes closed softly as he rubbed small circles into your hips with the pads of his thumbs. Allowing himself to drift off into a deep slumber. 

The workload would still be there in the morning after all, but this moment with you was fleeting. So he planned on greedily allowing himself to enjoy your embrace to the fullest tonight. 

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fluff

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

💗 she/its

Small bit of suggestive

……Small Bimbo GF with Miguel…

Like her suit has a lil skirt, and its basically a leotard that barely covers her ass so the skirt is what she got..and she has tight latex gloves that go up to her biceps and thigh highs

Shes white and neon hot pink colored, with pastel pink webs..

A lil dumb, but like..shes so cute, so why would her brains matter? Miguel’s jus’ gonna fuck em into mush on his desk in his office.. making a gag with her webs and watch as her pretty makeup gets messed up and running down her face.

……..I WILL MAKE MORE IDEAS………..

this was something to read, and even more of a something to write 🤭 love the way you think. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

pretty in pink

(18+ mdni, fem!reader)

wc || 640

- nsfw under cut -

You were cock drunk, so very cock drunk, and Miguel loved it. You were sprawled over his desk with your ass in the air like his good girl as you took his persistent, deep strokes. Your spidersuit leotard hooked to the side, with your pathetic excuse of a skirt draping over your handprinted ass, merely covering your marked skin as he fucked into you from behind.

"Taking me so well," he murmurs, his voice hoarse between thrusts. "Doing so good, princesa," he praises, his bottom lip clamped under his teeth.

His hands slide from your waist and back down to your ass, yanking the sore skin and pulling your cheeks towards his eager thrusts, sticky thighs slapping together. His fingers squeeze into the doughy flesh as he pokes into you just that bit deeper, kneading you between his palms as he ploughs you into the hard surface. 

Your knees buckle inwards as you claw and grip the edge of the desk for support, latex fingers slipping over the oak table. "Fuck—" you cry out, shying away from Miguel's heavy pounds. 

"Tell me how good I'm making you feel. Tell me how good I'm making your pretty pussy feel— tell me," Miguel gruffs, softly stroking over your goosebumped thighs. "Tell me," he repeats, slamming into you with a little more force.

"So good," you choke out.

"That's right... yeah, that's right," he smirks, smacking each of your ass cheeks. "Now turn over," he instructs, dragging his swollen cock from you. 

You roll over, being his good girl and doing as he says. You hold under your knees, hiking your shaking legs open with your puffy pussy on display for him. 

"So pretty," he grins, brushing his thumb over your dripping cunt, looking at the mess he made of you. "And it's all mine," he adds, piercing his thick cock back into you, stretching you out. "Watch me fuck you," he whispers, snaking his hand behind your neck, pulling you from the desk so you could see. "Look at how good I fuck you. No one fucks you like I do. No one," he mutters, his cadence full of possession. 

"I know," you sob out, watching his cock ram up into your lower stomach, staring at the bulge with teary eyes and knitted brows. 

"That's right," he looks down at you, a pitiful glimmer in his red eyes as he leans forward. He kisses the wet patch under your eye, silently soothing you. "You're making me feel so good... so so good, baby,"

His free hand joins the other around the back of your neck, lightly gripping your throat- his hands holding you up and supporting you as he fucks you in the way he pleases. His gaze lowers down between your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt and watching the way you stretch and accommodate his girth, how you'd adapt to him. 

His strokes grow more precise, more urgent as if he's chasing after his imminent release. "Be a good girl for me and cum around me, cum on my dick," he rasps, his eyebrows tugging together in focus. "That's it— that's it, yeah, let go, baby," he encourages, searching for your eyes as he slams into you, his balls hard and heavy as they slap against your ass. 

You cry out with your release, squeezing into Miguel's forearms for a sense of comfort, holding him tightly as you convulse and clamp around his cock, tightening around him as you came. Your jolting movements trigger his release- spilling his warm thick load deep into your pussy, muttering Spanish curses as he sloppily fucks his arousal into you.  

"My girl," he grins, dragging his cock from you, staring at the way his cum leaks from you and drips down your slit. "Well done." Miguel praises, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

a/n: I just now realised I never mentioned about the gagging/ webbing, im very sorry!! also I found this spidersona on pinterest, I thought it kinda matched the vibe of your description (well it’s as close as I could find anyway😭)

the artwork is not mine: it’s from @bananacatiah on insta/ twitter

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse

[chaotic-orphan]

Hero and the infant part four

Read part one here

TW: suicidal ideation, suicidal ideation implied, mentions of suicidal thoughts, borderline depressed Hero, mentions of death, mentions of hopelessness

*~*~*~*~*

And they popped out again on the ground, next to the police and the reinforcements that were called in. Sidekick gasped in a harsh breath and coughed it out again, wheezing. Hero forgot to tell them about the whole deep breath thing before teleporting. Whoops. Hero groaned as someone helped them to their feet and brought them to the back of an open ambulance.

Paramedic was there waiting, glaring at Hero.

Wonderful.

“Ah. Paramedic. You look radiant today,” said Hero as they sat down on the back of the ambulance, nodding their thanks at the Officer that helped them over.

“Are you going to hospital this time?”

“No.”

“Of course not,” Paramedic grouched, nodding at the officer that assisted Hero to step away. “I’ll just wait here while Villain kills you, shall I? Make sure we get you to the morgue straight away.”

“Villain won’t hurt me, Paramedic,” Hero said and then hissed as Paramedic’s gloved fingers pressed down hard on Hero’s broken fingers. “Fuck!”

Paramedic was deadpan as they said: “Yes. They would never hurt you.”

“Can’t you just wrap them up for me and let me go again?”

Paramedic laughed, a short, derisive sound. “Yes. I can just keep patching you up while you for round two and three and twenty.”

Hero sighed, putting their elbow on their knee and pinched the bridge of their nose with their good fingers, head tilted down. So, they didn’t see the concern knitting Paramedic’s eyebrows together as they bandaged the two fingers together. Then bandaged them to Hero’s pinkie for support.

“Did you bang your head?” Paramedic asked and Hero nodded slightly. Their headache exasperated by the movement. “Show me.”

Paramedic’s cool fingers pressed lightly on Hero’s scalp. “Yeah there,” said Hero as Paramedic hit the sore spot. Paramedic pulled their hand back and said: “okay. There’s no blood. Most likely bruising. Just try to not get hit on the head again, okay?”

“Okay,” said Hero standing. Paramedic pushed a packet of pills into Hero’s hand. Hero popped out two and swallowed them dry before handing Paramedic back the foil packet.

“Keep it. You’re gonna need it.”

Hero nodded and slipped into the packet into one of their coat pockets. “Thank you, Paramedic.”

“See you in five.”

“Ah, come on. At least give me ten,” Hero said with their usual big smile, and Paramedic just shook their head.

Sidekick was speaking with Superhero fervidly when Hero strolled over, languid in their pace. They pulled their packet of smokes out and their lighter, lighting the cigarette as they walked. Superhero was the first to notice Hero stopping beside them, blowing smoke in the big shot’s face with a grin.

“Howdy Superhero,” said Hero with a grin, lapping up Superhero’s disgust. Hero nodded at Sidekick in greeting, taking another slow drag.

“Hero, I don’t have time for your shit right now. Why don’t you go crawl under a bar somewhere?”

“I was trying my best, but your delightful new sidekick here came and ruined all my fun. Why is that Superhero?” Hero asked, turning their head to look at Superhero again. “Is it because you’re too chicken shit to face Villain yourself? Maybe you should tell your new Sidekick that so you don’t kill another kid because of your cowardice, hmm?”

Superhero’s glare would have burned a hole through Hero if it got any more intense. Their lips pursed; nose held high. Hero felt sick as they let the smoke out through their nostrils.

“Oops,” Hero said, voice deadpan. “Looks like I just let the cat out the bag, huh?”

“Villain only wants to talk to you. Word is you haven’t been answering their texts.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice excuse—” Hero grumbled to Sidekick, then tilted their head at Superhero. “Listen, are you gonna help me stop them or are you gonna sit down here, safe and sound and send your Sidekick to do your dirty work?”

“This temper tantrum is your doing Hero. Clean up your own mess,” said Superhero squaring up, stepping closer to Hero’s face. Hero didn’t flinch. They didn’t do anything but follow the movement with their eyes, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Hero exhaled the smoke through their nose, and let their voice drop a tone lower. Something cold and vicious behind it.

“Villain’s a villain because of your doing, Superhero. How ‘bout you clean up yours, before you end up killing another—”

Before Hero could finish the sentence, Superhero wrapped a hand around Hero’s throat and drove them backwards until they were pinned against the front of a fire truck.

“Superhero!” Sidekick cried, running over and trying to take Superhero’s hand off Hero’s throat. Hero’s head was aching, but they didn’t let it show, just glared at Superhero. Sidekick stepped between the pair when they failed to remove Superhero’s hold, and Superhero was forced to let go of Hero. “This isn’t the time. Villain’s still up there!”

Hero stepped forward, fixing their long duster and took the last drag from their cigarette, savouring it before flicking the butt to the ground and twisting the ball of their foot on it to stomp it out.

“I’m going then,” said Hero.

“I’ll come with you,” Sidekick said immediately, but Hero shook their head, letting the smoke out through the corners of their lips.

Hero put a hand on Sidekick’s shoulder, and said: “you’re not coming this time.”

“What!”

“Villain doesn’t like you and you’re just something they can leverage against me if they catch you again. You’re staying put,” Hero ignored their protests and turned their attention to Superhero. “Don’t let them follow me unless you want them dead like the last one.”

Superhero’s hard stare melted away with a pop. Then Hero was on the roof again, facing Villain’s back. A metre or two between them. “Sorry for the delay.”

“Not at all, Hero,” Villain purred, turning to face their favourite reckless hero. Dishevelled, bags under their eyes, hands deep in their signature brown trench coat they wore over their black combat trousers and black sweatshirt. Villain couldn’t help but smile. Hero never changed.

Villain’s eyes searched the empty space behind Hero. “Where’s your friend? Haven’t scared them away already, have I?”

Hero shrugged, easy, blasé. “Nah, I put them in timeout. Left them with their babysitter.”

Clever, violet eyes settled on Hero’s. Oh, so alluring and bright at having Hero’s entire undivided attention. “Good. I always preferred when it was just the two of us. Come closer, I won’t bite.”

“No, but you’ll break,” Hero said, holding up their bandaged hand and tilting their head to the side. A soft, fond smile slipping onto their lips. Hero felt an invisible hand slide around their own. Inspecting at first. Gentle, then guiding Hero, pulling them closer to Villain, bridging the gap between them without Villain moving an inch.

Villain raised their own hand, palm facing up. Hero felt a phantom hand in theirs, guiding them gently towards Villain, closing the gap between them. When they were close enough, Villain took Hero’s hand in theirs and began an inspection of their own. Hero watched Villain’s violet eyes scan over the fingers bandaged together, inspecting the wrapping around their palm and wrist then back up again for support.

Violet eyes meeting theirs was the only warning Hero had before Villain pressed down hard on the injury. Hero hissed, yanking their hand back but Villain kept Hero’s hand locked in their iron grip.

“Does it hurt when I do this?” Villain asked with a sly smile, eyes never leaving Hero’s. Taking in every small twinge of pain, every squirming effort to hide said pain from Villain’s prying eyes. Oh, how they loved Hero’s small reactions.

“If you don’t want me to abscond you could just ask me to stay,” Hero told them honestly. Pained eyes meeting Villain’s, pleading for them to let go. Hero raised their other hand and placed it on Villain’s probing wrist. “It doesn’t always need to be pain that clouds my judgement, Villain.”

Villain smiled, a little genuine, before finally letting go. Their hand went to Hero’s cheek instead. Pads of their fingers digging in, gentle, with the smallest amount of pressure, because pain always came with Villain.

It was in Villain’s nature, Hero told themselves, they couldn’t really help it.

“I know,” said Villain, “but I do so love to watch you suffer, dear Hero. You make it into an art form.”

Hero pulled Villain’s hand away from their cheek at that, chest tight. “Perhaps you should witness me in my everyday life then. I suffer eternally.”

“Maybe you should start answering your phone when I call.”

Hero scoffed, turning their body half away from Villain, pulling the box of cigarettes from their pocket. Their hand was shaking after Villain’s inspection so they were happy to block Villain’s view of it with their body. Hero took a cigarette between their teeth, dragging it out before flicking the lid closed. The click of the lighter was reassuring, reliable.

Hero cupped their hand around the flame, a delicate thing to coddle especially on a roof where the wind was raging against their hair and their clothes. Hero could control the flame, let it burn enough to light their cigarette or they could smother it, the only thing they could control right now. They flicked the old zippo lighter closed, looking at the small black engraving on the side.

“You’re not special, I don’t answer anyone anymore. I put the stupid thing on silent. It kept incessantly buzzing,” Hero grumbled, looking over the wall of the roof down to the commotion below. Police lights and emergency services below, the street cordoned off from the public. They couldn’t make out Sidekick and Superhero below, but they could see Paramedic in their uniform and maybe pick out police but other than that it was just busy.

Hero heard Villain moving behind them, walking up to Hero and reaching over their shoulder, plucking the cigarette from Hero's hand. Hero grumbled out a half protest, hearing the flame ignite right by their ear, like a soft gasp of air. Villain slid it back between their fingers again.

“Cheers,” said Hero, flicking the ash off onto the wall. Villain exhaled a couple smoke rings then let the rest of the smoke out through their nose, the smell and smoke entrancing Hero. Hero watched the rings dissipate into the sky, as Villain’s hand stretched around Hero’s torso and pulled them both back away from the dangerous edge of the roof. Away from the prying eyes of back up below. Ensuring Hero’s attention could be focused on Villain completely again.

Hero rubbed their temple with the pad of their thumb, irritated. “All this fucking mess for what? Because I wasn’t answering your every whim? I’m getting too old for this, Villain. As are you.”

“Perhaps I should kill you and be done with it then,” said Villain, tightening their hold on Hero, tone cool and cutting. Hero couldn’t deny the chill that ran down their spine at the easy threat.

Villain could just throw them off the rooftop. Granted, it wouldn’t kill them, Hero had learned to quiet the panic when it came to life-or-death situations. Panic they could deal with, pain… well, pain was like Villain; it demanded Hero’s undying attention.

Hero shook their head, slinking out of Villain's hold with ease and popping up to the top of the wall, walking to the edge of the building and standing on the ledge.

“I can’t keep doing this Villain,” Hero repeated, chest tight. Behind them, Villain tilted their head at the Hero, their Hero. “You killed that kid.”

“That kid, was Superhero’s little psychopath. I was doing everyone a favour.”

“You could have saved them, Villain,” Hero said, half turning their body towards Villain, looking down into those violet eyes that used to give them so much comfort. “You could have tried to help them. We were once Superhero’s little psychopaths, no one put a bullet in us.”

“Maybe they should have,” said Villain tightly.

The wind whistled through the area between them on the roof, rustling their clothes and their hair as they let the weight of the words fall over them. Hero held Villain's unflinching eyes and some part of them wanted to scream. In another life, maybe they would be meeting on rooftops for secret midnight rendezvous, or to share a cigarette. The possibility broke Hero's heart, so they buried the thought and looked away from those piercing eyes.

Hero glanced down at all the commotion in the street below. They plunged a hand into their pocket, fist tightening around the cool metal lighter, while their other drew the cigarette to their lips. They nodded as they raised their head to the sky.

“Maybe they should’ve.”

Silence ebbed between them for a moment.

Then: “How are you, Hero?”

Hero laughed at the question. A loud, humourless laugh. It was such an absurd question coming from the Villain who had ruined how many people's day? Worrying about Hero, wanting to know how Hero was.

The worst part was the fact that Villain didn’t sound like Villain when they asked that question. Their voice was softer, quieter, more genuine. It was Hero’s best friend that asked how they were doing, not Villain. Not the scourge of the city, not the name whispered by civilians just in case it summoned the demon to wreck havoc on them.

It was just Villain.

Hero's Villain.

The one they had met in the early days at the Hero academy. The one who created schemes on how best to annoy the Heroes. Always getting them into trouble, always a little too clever for the Professor’s tastes — always questioned them a little too much. The one who took a punch for Hero, and threw a punch for them. The fastest, fiercest friend Hero had ever known. The quiet voice in the night when neither of them could sleep asking if Hero was still awake. The rebellious teenager who somehow managed to drag Hero into everything with them. The quickest study of them all, and it still wasn’t enough.

It was hard to distinguish Hero's friend from Villain these days, the waters were too muddled with Superhero's Sidekick's murder still fresh in their mind.

It tarred any fondness Hero harboured for Villain.

“I’m tired, Vil,” said Hero, their words clogging their throat and coming out thick. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being a Hero. I’m tired of drinking and smoking to keep my head clear and my hands steady. I’m tired of not being able to save everyone. I’m tired that I am the one that is called to your every public beck and call. I’m fucking tired of it all.”

“Maybe if you just picked up the phone, I wouldn’t have to resort to these extreme measures to see you,” Villain snapped.

Hero whirled on their heel, eyes ablaze, cigarette dangling from their lips, feet balanced precariously on the ledge. Villain’s body twitched as if they wanted to step forward, something like protectiveness winding their body on instinct, that Hero refused to notice.

“You know where I live,” said Hero through gritted teeth. “You know where to find me. Don’t you try and justify your actions by blaming me! Don’t you dare!”

“Hero—”

“He was seventeen!” Hero cried, throwing their arm wide just to do something. Fury and guilt were battling for dominance in Hero's bones and blood and left them with this frantic, frenzied energy. Hero's hand went to their cigarette, a shadow crossing their face and molding their features into a stoic expression, hard stare almost startling Villain as Hero took a long drag and then stepped back off the ledge.

Villain's hand shot out and Hero drew the cigarette from between their teeth, grinning wildly as they nodded, as if they understood everything all of a sudden. Hero heard screams below that died down quickly when they didn’t fall, but looked as if they were floating on air above the roof.

"You can control life and death, Vil,” said Hero, voice low and rough. They dropped the cigarette onto the invisible platform Villain constructed for their reckless Hero. Hero’s eyes narrowed when they met Villain’s, before they said: “and you let that kid die.”

Hero sucked in a breath through their nose, chest expanding, and that was all Villain saw before Hero disappeared before their eyes.

Hero popped out beside Villain, whistling as they drew back their good fist, sending a devastating right hook to Villain's jaw. Villain's head whipped to the side from impact, and when they righted themselves they turned on their heel, but Hero was gone again.

A whistle behind them and a kick to the back of their knee and Villain fell to one knee, catching themselves on their hand. The second their hand made contact with the ground, Hero's feet were in front of them and there was a swift boot coming for Villain's chest.

Villain didn't have time to react before they were staring at the sky, lying on their back and Hero popped out on top of them again. Their fists bunched into Villain's sweatshirt, pinning them to the ground while a knee straddled each side of Villain's waist, keeping them trapped beneath a particularly lethal Hero.

"I'm here now," Hero hissed, digging their knuckles in painfully to Villain's chest. "What the fuck was so important and pressing that you wanted me here, Vil, hmm? Did you want to kill another kid? Want to make me watch, again? Fucking break a few of my bones instead, hmm?! WHAT IS IT?!"

Villain, to their credit, didn't flinch at Hero's emotional outburst, they just stared up at Hero, trying not to startle them too much. Villain swallowed before they spoke, Hero could feel the motion in their hands and they waited.

"You were MIA, Hero," said Villain softly. Their voice was calm and soothing, as they reached a gentle hand up to wrap around Hero's wrist. The violet melted from Villain's eyes returning them to their normal light brown, trying to show Hero that they were no threat. "No one could contact you, I hadn't — well, other villains said that you weren't yourself. I was worried about you."

Hero's hands began shaking in their hold, their adrenaline slowly leaving them in shock. "You... you were worried about me so you threaten and disrupt a block of offices to get my attention?!"

Villain tried for a smile. "It worked didn't it?"

Hero tightened their grip on Villain and lifted their torso off the ground before slamming them back against the rooftop, leaning in closer and growling: "You were so worried you nearly killed another kid, is that it Villain?”

"I knew you would reach them in time."

“But you knew I wouldn't reach the other one, right?” Hero asked, the words that haunted them the last few weeks spilling from their lips. Villain relaxed in their hold and Hero let out a scoff, sniffing back the tears that wanted to fall as they narrowed their eyes down at Villain. Villain their best friend. "I— I fucking knew it. You knew I wouldn't—”

"Hero, that was different."

"HOW?!" Hero demanded, lifting Villain up again just to make sure that Villain would look them in the eye when they told them. Tears gathered behind Hero's shining eyes, glazing over just waiting for Villain to release the dam.

“He was going to kill you, Hero,” said Villain softly.

Hero shook their head, “no. No, you did it for a reason.”

“You are enough of a reason for me to kill, Hero.”

“I don’t want to be,” Hero said with a strangled whisper, not trusting their voice enough to speak.

“I know,” Villain cooed. Their hand tightened slightly over Hero’s wrist, not painful. Not yet. “But when there is a rabid dog, it is a mercy to put them down.”

“He was Seventeen,” Hero said again, their grip loosening slightly on Villain as they spoke as if the words were Hero's only defence to Villain's honeyed logic.

“And Superhero sent him after us,” Villain told Hero, like it was the most important thing in the world. “If the blood is on anyone's hand it's Superhero's! Superhero sent him after us, Hero, not just me. Me and you, they wanted that kid to kill us. To kill you.”

Hero tightened their grip in Villain's sweatshirt, twisting their fists further and pulling Villain closer. Hero's eyes were dark, hooded, desperate — they scared Villain.

"Maybe you should have let him," said Hero, voice devoid of all emotion. The words hit Villain like a truck and left a heavy lump in their throat. This was exactly what they were scared of. Hero being so beat up about not being able to save the very person who was ordered to kill them. To kill both of them. Villain did the right thing putting the mongrel down, even if Hero was upset now. They won't be in the future, Villain would make sure of it.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Taglist: @d-cs @somebodytolove31

#The hero and the infant #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #writblr #hero villain writing #hero #villain #writing #orphan writing #whump writing #orphan #emotional whump #hero x villain #villain x hero #villains and heroes #hero and villain #reluctant hero #neglectful superhero #reckless hero #villain whumper #hero whumpee #hero whump #tired hero #tw suicidal ideation #suicidal ideation #tw sui ideation #suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal thoughts #mentions of death #mentions of suicide

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Day 9: Scar reveal / Interrogation / Presumed Dead Characters: Sheegor, Truman Warnings: References to abusive relationships, depictions of anxiety Summary: Sasha, it turns out, was not strictly allowed to hire people on the spot, and Sheegor realizes her employment must be cleared with the Grand Head of the Psychonauts. Which is... fine. She's not worried or anything. Or missing Mr. Pokeylope. It's fine.

Sheegor wished Mr. Pokeylope were here.

She also wished she could have done her hair better.

She hadn't exactly had the luxury of being able to do anything with her hair in a long while—it wasn't like they had a lot of usable hair products in the asylum, and it was a miracle she managed to keep it clean at all. Miss Vodello had offered to style her hair for her, but she'd refused—Miss Vodello had been more than kind enough to take her out shopping before they'd arrived (much too kind, and she didn't want to wear out that kindness so quickly), so she could get a nice, clean outfit and new gloves. (The gloves felt so nice—she loved her mittens, but she could move her hands more freely in these, and they felt so comfortable.)

Suddenly realizing she had been wiggling her fingers in her gloves again, she put her hands down firmly in her lap, sitting up as straight as she was able.

Meanwhile, Mr. Zanotto took a seat on the other side of the table, and straightened up some papers. "Soooo Miss... Delucca, is it?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, only to cover he mouth when Mr. Zanotto leaned back in surprise. "I-I mean, yes, Mr. Zanotto! Um..." She wrung her hands anxiously, her gloves squeaking in the process. "Um... you can call me Penelope if you want, or... or Sheegor."

"Sheegor?" he repeated, brow knitting.

Feeling her stomach beginning to tie into knots, she shook her head. "I mean! You don't have to call me that! I mean—c-call me whatever you want!"

Mr. Zanotto frowned at her, and she winced. But he went on: "Well, Miss Delucca, as you know, Agent Nein is not technically supposed to hire people on the spot."

Sheegor shivered, nodding. Oh yes, Sasha had admitted such to her before they'd left, and she hadn't stopped thinking about it since.

"We're fortunate that I have to be the one conducting this interview rather than Hollis." The man chuckled, and Sheegor wasn't sure what that meant. "I'm sure she'd love this situation if she heard about it first."

"U-um..." Sheegor swallowed. "Wh... what did you need to know?"

Mr. Zanotto chuckled again, shaking his head. "Of course, I'm sure you don't want to waste too much time with this."

Wait—did she hear that right? Did he... think this was a waste of time? That she was a waste of time?

"So, let's get right into it!" Settling back into his chair, Mr. Zanotto held up the short stack of papers in front of him. "Let's see... So you're applying—or, well, Sasha offered you the job—for lab assistant." He looked up at her with a raised brow. "Why do you think you're qualified for this job?"

Sheegor gave a start—was that an interview question, or was he really questioning her? (Why couldn't Mr. Pokeylope be here...?! He would know what to do!) "I-I... I am qualified, sir! I really am!" she replied, gripping the edge of the table. "I can work really, really hard!"

"I'm... certain you can," Mr. Zanotto said, leaning back. "But could you give me some specifics?"

"Um—I—uh... I-I did a lot of work before! I'm really, really good with brains!" She tried to smile at the man, but quickly took note of his shocked look. "I-I mean—I don't have to do anything with brains! I'm not going to steal any! Oh—I mean, not that I've stolen brains before, that was just Dr. Loboto, but I don't work for him anymore, and um—I mean—!" The blood drained from her face, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"It's all right, Miss Delucca.” Though Mr. Zanotto's expression seemed to be very clear that it was not all right. "Perhaps you can tell me about some of your other previous work history?"

"Um... uh..." She wrung her hands, looking left and right as she tried to remember. Work history—she worked for Loboto for so long, but before that she'd worked... at the Asylum? But should she say that? Maybe he wouldn't want to know she'd worked at Thorney Towers—there was a reason it had closed down, after all. And before that she'd... been a patient there, and before that... she... she didn't remember, but she'd worked somewhere, probably, right?

It took her a moment to realize she was staring down at the floor, her hands gripping her head. Frantically she sat back up in her seat, looking Mr. Zanotto in the eyes, but he looked so horrified—of course he was, she couldn't even tell him her work history. This was a disaster—

"...Miss Delucca," Mr. Zanotto said slowly. "You should know that this is just a formality."

Sheegor took a shaky breath, trying to fight back the sobs that choked her throat. "Y-yes..." she squeaked with a little nod. "I understand..."

"There's no need to be—"

"I know, I know!" she cried. "There's no need for this..." Sniffling, she backed away from the table. "I'll tell Mr. Nein that I wasn't hired."

To her surprise, Mr. Zanotto stepped out from around the table, holding up a hand to stop her. "Wait," he said, and she stepped back. "Miss Delucca—or, would you prefer I call you a different name?"

Looking away, Sheegor wrung her hands. "I... um... you can call me whatever you like."

"But is there one you would like to be called?"

She couldn't wrap her head around why he was asking this, and the question itself made her head hurt. "I-I don't know. I think... I like..." Her voice went quiet. "...Sheegor?"

"Then that's what I'll call you." Mr. Zanotto went on: "Sheegor, when I say that this is just a formality, I mean you've already got the job. I trust Sasha's judgment—most of the time, anyway—and I just wanted to make sure we have all the paperwork, and that I can tell Hollis that we've conducted an interview so she'll be happy."

Sheegor blinked, looking back at Mr. Zanotto, who was staring at her with a look that was still definitely not happy—a look of... concern?

He sighed, glancing out the window and down at the atrium. "Sasha told me that you've been working for Dr. Loboto—"

"Not anymore!" she cried, shaking her head. "I never want to work for him ever again! I-I can't, anyway... now that—"

Mr. Zanotto held up his hands. "I know, I know. He told me about the hostage situation and that you'd had... a rough time under his employment."

"Y-yeah..." Sheegor admitted, looking down, only to stomp her foot. "He was so mean to Mr. Pokeylope! And to the patients, and to the brains, and—"

"And to you," Mr. Zanotto finished.

The rage Sheegor felt quickly drained, and she looked down at the floor. "I... um..."

"This will take some getting used to, I know, but here, you won't be treated the same way you were under his employment. We want you to be happy, as well as safe."

She looked at him again, and he looked so... serious. Like he really meant what he was saying. It was like... Mr. Pokeylope.

Were there really that many other people... like that?

Sheegor stared at Mr. Zanotto for another long moment before slowly nodding. "...Okay, Mr. Zanotto. I hope you're right."

He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "Welcome to the Psychonauts, Sheegor."

#sheegor #truman zanotto #psychonauts #my writing #fanfic #have another one of these #(it's an interview rather than an interrogation) #(but poor Sheegor FEELS like it's an interrogation) #i still have like 17 more of these to post #plus multiple more polished oneshots

[saphirered]

Frozen lake, Eris x reader, Eris warms them up, Spicyyyy pls

I had a concept for this one the moment I saw the request. Hope it turned out like you wanted! We got some fluffy spice. 😘

Eris finds himself alone in bed. Blankets on the other side of the bed leave an empty abandoned cocoon. The clothes previously discarded on the floor have been neatly draped over the chair by the window and the wardrobe is creaked open just a little. The crackling wood in the fireplace signs someone placed a new log on to keep the fire going. When he reaches for that empty side of the bed it still feels somewhat warm. You’ve not been gone for too long. Eris sits up and rubs his eyes. All signs point to you not being here. At first he thinks you might be bathing but when he listens closely you’re not in the cottage out here just beyond the Winter Court’s border. He’s not worried in the slightest. He’s simply curious. Only so many places one can go in the middle of nowhere far removed from civilisation. But most of all he simply misses your presence. He might be the bearer of flames but without your presence or the knowledge of your estimated return, he feels eerily cold, and no fire can fill that hollow left within him. He passes the window and there he sees you, sweeping away the freshly fallen snow from the ice covered lake with a large broom and maybe a hint of magic. What in the world are you doing? 

Dressed appropriately in knits and wool Eris finds his way downstairs and outside on the front porch. Instantly hit with a wave of cold he summons a flame in his palm if only to keep his fingers from going numb. It’s a stark contrast to the temperatures inside. Not unpleasant necessarily. Just different. Hard at work, currently you’re impervious to that cold, having discarded your coat near the banks of the lake, along with your boots? What? No you’re wearing your boots. Why would you need a second pair of shoes? Confused he approaches. You’ve cleared quite some snow by this point. You work fast but why in the world you’d want to reveal the ice under the snow, is beyond him. You smile widely when you notice him and he feels that bit of warmth within spike when you draw closer. 

“I didn’t think you’d be up this early.” You say when his hands settle on your hips and you wrap your arms around him, pecking his lips but you pull away from him all too soon, sit down on your abandoned coat and begin unlacing your winter boots in favour of the other pair. That’s when he notices the metal blades attached to them, particularly shaped, and held in such a way he’s only really ever seen when diplomatic visits to the High Lord of winter were made and his attendance was mandatory. He’s seen dancers at one such event as part of a performance glide across the ice with such grace. These shoes are similar to theirs though a bit more practical and maybe not as intentionally stylish? Made for comfort and support rather before anything else. They are decently worn. 

“Neither did I. You were gone.” He answers as you move on to the other boot and quickly lace it. 

“You looked peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.” He offers you a hand before you can even move to get up. Clasping your gloved hand in his bare one, still you feel the heat radiate through the knit, warming the wool unintentionally with a single touch. Once you stand you are a good two inches taller than usual. Eris is not complaining, especially not when you once more peck his lips, then his cheek and the tip of his nose. You giggle but step away from his comforts until you’re on the ice. 

You don’t walk. Instead you slide, pushing off the ice, Eris can’t quite explain the movement other than graceful and light, like you’re floating. You stay near the snow covered bank, near him, as you familiarise yourself with the change in movement and take it up little by little. He’s perfectly content watching you as you practice. He lets you know, offering words of encouragement, and they do encourage you because whenever he says something completely outlandish leaving you glad no one else is around to hear, you take it up a notch. A slide stop turns into a spin, into a pirouette, to a full jump and more. You’re dancing, bordering acrobatics. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart in his throat when you did particularly daring tricks and given your expression for a brief second before you land, or fully stabilise, he feels safe to assume you expected yourself to sprawl across the ice a couple of times too. Every time you would land it though, not once did you crash into the cold frozen lake and once your routine is complete you return to his side for a moment, breathing a bit more laboured from the exercise but nothing too bad. 

“So how do you do it?” Eris asks, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Would you like to try? I think we’ll be able to find some skates your size.” By habit in this cold environment Your hands lace together but this time you pull off the wool mitts and relish in the skin to skin contact. Eris does too, signalled by the warmth he allows to radiate over to you, to preserve your own warmth. He knows you need the layers more than him when it comes down to it. That doesn’t mean he never gets cold. He just has a way to get rid of the worst of it. Never had he been more grateful for the fire in his veins when the snow fell with the sun beyond the mountains, and darkness set an ever present shiver in his bones. Never had you been more grateful either. Last night’s activities provided plenty of heat and preserved it too. That was until you left the bed this morning. 

“While I don’t doubt your ability as a teacher, I fear I might be not but a fawn perpetually one mistake away from cracking my skull on the ice.” You pout but Eris knows it’s all for show. Though he feels his self control dwindle. He can’t say no to you. If his family could see him now, they would gut him instantly for this weakness but he couldn’t care less. You’re happy. He’ll allow himself to be happy too, to be himself too. Maybe that does make him a bit soft. Thank the Mother this Winter Court getaway avoids any prying eyes and unwanted guests. No one in their right mind would venture here. No one but you and by default him, that is. Perhaps ha has gone mental but it is worth your smile. 

“How about we try without skates first then.” You compromise and Eris just can’t say no. Not when you step backwards and lead him onto the ice. Eris is about ready for you to turn around but you don’t. You skate backwards. Backwards. He cannot even begin to comprehend how you do not drop, not when he takes a step and stumbles and you’re the one to help him recover his balance before he can turn into the aforementioned fawn. 

Slowly, little by little you show him the correct movements and he’s sliding across the ice with his boots, mimicking you, with more ease and confidence. Then you find the skates and show Eris how to put them on, even though he assures you he is perfectly capable of lacing his own boots, with a wink of course. You help him to his feet and whatever grace and elegance he carries himself with normally certainly saves him from immediately losing his balance but his grip around your arms does tighten. You move back to the ice and whatever practice he had with you just before, has left his mind and became irrelevant. He thought he knew but he certainly does not. While he does not show it, Eris does not feel as confident as he appears to be. His heart is racing and while it’s not actual fear, not like a sword at one’s throat, the inkling of fear of falling is still present, and makes him doubt every move he makes. Even when you tell him he’s doing good, when you guide him through the movements again and again, when you offer your arms only for him to catch himself on. But then you skate a few yards away, and leave him alone, relying only on his own balance. No more safety net in your arms. 

“If you can get over here I’ll give you a reward.” You tease and while encouraged that pressure within him begins to build and boil. Normally when he feels as if he’s in danger he feels the flames under his skin spark to life, to protect him, to comfort him and keep him safe but he doesn’t need them now. He’s not in danger he’s just… a little unsure of his ability to not mess ups royally and make a fool of himself in the process. But he’ll try, for you. He shuffles across the ice and once he’s but a few feet away, you skate backwards with a giggle. A disapproving shake of his head and narrowing of his eyes has you hide that grin beneath your hands. He allows himself to slide more and the distance is covered a little faster but again you skate away. 

“I love you, but I swear if you move away once more you’ll come to regret it.” You get the implication and hold up your hands in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay this time. I promise.” You roll your eyes and grin and Eris, in a brief and fleeting moment of confidence tries to mimic your previous movements when you went for speed in your solo performance. He tries. And he fails miserably. Just a few feet in he pushes too far. The point of his skate catches on the ice and he goes down, sprawling across the ice with an oomph, air knocked from his lungs. Though, the fall didn’t scare him. Nor was it entirely surprising. What does get to him is the echoing cracking sound. It’s not really an echo he realises… 

“Eris, do not move.” The faint tremble in your voice is not exactly giving the confidence and encouragement you offered before. The way your eyes widen in panic and look between him and the bank, calculating his distance to it, he knows he might have fucked up. He doesn't so much as twitch but the cracking continues. You get on your knees and lower yourself on your elbows, crawling over, not once lifting your limbs off the ice. His breath increases and that familiar protective fire within sparks to life. He wills it to calm but the flames disagree and next he knows, there’s not but dark riddled with spots of light and cold, freezing cold. His body goes tense and he swims up before his limbs can lock up, only to find ice above him. He wills the flames to reach out to melt the ice and it grows thinner. He sees it cracking above him, feels the pulse and echo reverberate through the water. The ice cracks and breaks where it had grown weakest and he feels something, or rather someone grasp onto him. 

Quickly he breathes air again, and breaths laboured only through the shock. You begin pulling him along as more cracks sound but the Mother is kind and spares him another dive. He pushes along with you, until you reach the bank. You hold onto him, your hands wandering remind him he’s still capable of sensory response, rubbing at his skin, pulling away his jacket and shirt beneath it. Only when they’re pulled away from him does he realise how heavy and cold those garments had gotten. You quickly drape your dry coat over his shoulders. You clasp his face and brush away the wet hair. 

“I’m fine.” He reassures and repeats when you stutter apology after apology, like you could have done anything about this, or this was somehow your fault. It’s not. When you are sure he’s truly alright only then do you calm down and he notices your shiver. He sees your soaked sleeves, the ice crystals beginning to form on them and he gets it now, looking at his previously soaked garments, seeing how they have frozen over. He notices how there’s a slight tremble to your own limbs that is not stress induced. He rises to his feet, pulls you with and holds you close, brushes over your sleeves and begins to evaporate any liquid from them, frozen or not. You teeth chatter and you feel freezing cold. He nods to the cottage and you have no objections. Suddenly much more stable on skates, very much out of necessity, leaning on each other you make it through the door. There you’re quick to discard your skates, and throw off your sweater. Your skin’s still cold but you’re warming up and when he runs his fingers over your bare skin, feels the warmth return to it he feels confident you too will be fine. 

“I think I was promised a reward when I got you.” Eris jokes like you didn’t just save him from possibly drowning, when finally you’re not all shivers and chattering teeth and instead are curled up in the comforts of that bed with not but some thin layers separating you now. He loves the feeling of you tucked in the crook of his arm, head against his chest. You’ve taken a habit to drawing patterns on his chest and abdomen. When you’re feeling cheeky you’ll wander a bit lower and you’ve set on that path already he knows. He welcomes it. 

“That was before you decided to be dramatic and take a swim instead.” You tease only to receive a pinch to the thigh lifted over his hips. You gasp. The audacity of this male.

“I don’t recall there to be any rules to this challenge. You moved away. It was only fair to get you to move closer. I don’t play games I can’t win.” You snort.

“Oh so it was all intentional. I suppose it was part of some master plan to get me back into bed then too, oh almighty lord of the blazes and cunning.” You flick his nose. It’s exactly these kind of moments where the walls come down and Eris very much feels mundane that will never reach the ears of anyone but you. It makes you value them all the more that he feels safe to be his authentic self with you but that doesn’t mean you don’t want to kiss that cockiness off his face sometimes. You doubt this is an effective way of getting rid of it as all attempts seem to have the opposite effect.

“It worked, didn’t it? Though, I won’t take the credit from your precious lake. That ice cracked right on time. But perhaps you would like to take credit? Perhaps it was you trying to lure me back to bed with your winter woes?” Eris pulls you closer, and you decide to humour this all, allow yourself to just your position and worm away from his hold only to sit on his abdomen. When his hands come to rest on your hips you instead lace your fingers with his, and move them up until they’re on either side of his head. He gives you a look that dares you to keep pushing your luck and see where it gets you. Innocently you squeeze his hands and pout briefly. 

“Unlike you, I’m not impervious to this frigid cold.” You lean in close, lips almost touching but not quite. And then his skin warms up significantly, leaves your own tingling where you touch him. 

“On the contrary. I’ll just freeze a little slower than you, but if you’re cold, I have no objections to helping you warm up a little.” He eases free one hand from yours, a flame lighting in his palm. You feel the heat of it when he lets his knuckles brush along the side of your face, feel sparks ignite under your own skin and your breath staggers. That satisfied grin has you sit back up, pull away from him and Eris groans when you get off him, off the bed entirely to make your way to the fireplace. His eyes follow you when you bend down to add more logs to the fire, and watch the flames grow. His gaze is especially present when you begin to remove the remainder of your clothes and neatly place them near the fire, wether it is to warm them or dry further, he doesn’t even need to know. 

You feel him behind you, not even bothering to listen to the rustle of the blankets nor the footsteps across the dreadfully cold flooring. You play ignorant but you know he’s there. It comes as no surprise to you that when you’re on your feet, watching the flames you feel a presence behind you. You feel arms wrap around you, pulling you infinitely closer. You feel lips dancing along your neck placing mindful kisses along your shoulder until they leave you breathless, lean into that embrace. But then those lovely touches go to another level. Each kiss is but a spark to the flame, each caress lights a fire, and each moan and whimper of pleasure extracted only adds fuel to this blaze. 

“Does this help?” Eris dares dip his gentle touch between your legs leaving you short of breath. His touch is so light, torturously there but not quite enough. You need more. He knows that. That’s why you feel like you have to wipe that undoubted smirk off his face. You pull away his hand, turn in his grasp until you face him. Defiantly you stare up to him and signal you will not dignify his stupid question with a response. At least, not a verbal one. Instead you run your fingers along the waistband of his trousers daring to hook into it. You undo the first button, releasing some tension on the fabric. Never once do you break eye contact with him. Eris’ lips come to part and you can’t help but cup his cheek, place your lips on his as you undo the next button, and the next, and the next until they’re all done. In contrast to his body your hands are a bit cooler to the touch. You use this to your advantage when you trail back up, and ever so lightly trail your fingers along his abdomen, causing him to shiver, even if he tries to repress the effect. To your surprise, a hand wraps around your wrist and the kiss is broken. Confused you look at him but that confusion is quick to fade at his next words. 

“This was about getting you warm.” In a swift movement you’re lifted from the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms coming to rest on his shoulders and linking at the nape of his neck. 

“You say that like it’s a chore.” You tease when he carries you back to the bed, lays you down gently as he settles over top of you, brushing away some stray strands of hair and pecking your lips quick before he begins to trail them down, over your cheek and neck, along your chest, paying some extra attention there and then moves over your abdomen where he breaks to speak words that leave you longing.

“Oh darling, this is as much for you as it is for me.” And with that he settles between your legs, making use of that silver tongue of his until his name is the one you utter and words have forgone your mind in bliss. He did say he’d warm you up and certainly succeeds having you come undone on his tongue like so and he relishes in it, in the sounds you make, how you moan his name, how you beg for more and he happily gives it you, even if it may take a little begging before he gives in sometimes. He makes true on his words, he is enjoying this just as much as you are. He enjoys bringing you to these highs, carrying you through them. It might have taken a quick little swim on his end and the day not going as planned at all but this is not a bad way to end it? It’s still only morning ? All previous plans have been scratched. Neither of you will be leaving this room anytime soon.

Eris both enthusiastically awaits and fears what you might have in store for him to return the favour but he’ll embrace you either way. 

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #eris vanserra #acotar eris #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #acotar x you

[chaoffee]

Sunsets, and smiles

Characters: Aether x gn! reader

Genre: fluff

Au: Canon

Warnings: semi-proofread ; ooc perhaps

Notes: gasp, has Luc finally come out of his hiding place to write something? That's correct ✨️ while drawing, I had this cute idea of Aether caressing your cheek and calling you pretty. Got me weak, this piece has.

°•–

Aether glanced at you every few seconds only in hopes to catch how to setting sun would light on your gentle expression. You and him had been helping a few citizens of Liyue with things they needed or wanted to do the whole day. It was only now that the two of you could finally stand still and enjoy the scenery with its ever gentle breeze. Even after a day of hard work, you still seemed to have a radiance to you. With one last glance he caught you smiling so gently and genuinely.

He couldn't take his eyes off the smile you were sharing so generously with the world. It was a miracle you hadn't caught him staring with how long he stood there only staring at you. You must've been deep in thought not to notice...

He bumps his shoulder gently against yours, getting your attention. "And what might have you smiling at the world like that?" Aether asks, curiously looking at you, fingers twirling a recently plucked Glaze Lily.

You blinked in surprise, "What?"

"Just now, you were smiling," he widens his eyes seemingly having realized something and quickly adds, "Not that there's anything wrong with smiling! I'm just...curious on what could've made you smile."

You looked away from him in embarrassment. "I wasn't even aware I was smiling..." You pause, "I was only thinking about how relaxing this is after being up and about the whole day."

Aether nods, completely understanding where you're coming from. It's rare that the three of you, Paimon included, get to take in a relaxing evening just simply enjoying the moment. It's a welcoming feeling to finally bask in the moment after days or weeks of being to busy to pay anything mind.

A moment of silence fell between you two.

"I hope to see you smile like that again, you looked lovely."

You whipped your head in his direction, cheeks flaring hot in a matter of seconds. "I..." You were left speechless while staring at him.

Aether took this moment to put the glaze lily he was previously fondling with by your ear. He smiled as he placed his gloved hand on your cheek, gently caressing it. "I hope to catch every smile you give to the world," he mutters, causing you to look away from him in embarrassment. "Don't say such sappy things, it's embarrassing..." You mumble.

A light laugh bubbles out from him; he moves his hand to under your chin and gently moves your head to look at him. "I can't be bothered to hide what's only the truth." He says, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. You could've sworn, if it weren't for the lingering that you might've imagined the whole kiss with how soft it was.

Once he pulls away, you couldn't help but look dumbfounded at the goofy expression he has on his face. He has a big grin that reaches his eyes that looked at you with a fondness you couldn't quite place.

Before you could even utter a sentence, the sound of being spawning out of thin air and groaning, caught your attention. "Can we speed up this sunset sight seeing? Paimon think she might just faint from how hungry she is. Paimon can barely stay in the air!"

You and Aether glance at one another before breaking out in laughter. "Paimon, you really have bad timing." Aether states after having calmed down.

"What are you talking about? Why are you laughing?" Paimon asks, her eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"On the contrary, I think Paimon has good timing." You joke, pinching the little faeries cheek, laughing a bit more when she swats your hand away.

"Did you two eat those plants you're not supposed to? Is that what's going on here?" Paimon huffs, crossing her arms as she glares at the two of you.

Aether only shakes his head in amusement, "Let's go get dinner. It's been a long day."

°•–

Like my writing? I'm taking requests to better it! Read my pinned post to know what I'm okay with.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact aether #genshin x gn reader #genshin x reader #aether x reader #chaoffee fics

[burnwater13]

Din Djarin holding Grogu as he walks down the ramp on the Razor Crest. From The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 5, The Jedi

Grogu whined at his dad. 

“What’s wrong buddy?” 

Din Djarin was sitting at the table in their small home on Nevarro. For once he wasn’t polishing his armor. He wasn’t even wearing it. Not even his helmet. Grogu wondered for a moment if he was dreaming and then remembered that his dad had made a bet that he could get through a whole day without wearing the stuff or even touching it. 

Of course, what he and Greef Karga hadn’t put in their silly bet was that the Mandalorian would have the whole set arranged on a manakin not a meter away from him, so he could put it all back on quicker than a jump into hyperspace. 

Grogu pushed a vid over to his dad and sighed. 

“It’s just a vid of you and Pedro walking down the ramp of the Razor Crest. Why is that a problem?”

Of course his dad wouldn’t understand why he was sighing. He wasn’t writing stories about their adventures for everyone or anyone or just one person to read. Nope. He was making silly bets with Greef Karga instead of coming up with some new, unique, novel take on how one moment of their lives went. 

Well, not their actual lives. The lives they ‘lived’ as Jon and Dave and others told their stories. As his dad reminded him frequently when Grogu was writing up his daily stories, they had never told Jon and Dave everything that happened and they certainly hadn’t ‘lived’ through some of the events depicted.

That was true enough. When Din Djarin met with Ahsoka Tano that morning, Grogu was no where to be found. He’d run away. He wasn’t going to let Ahsoka take him anywhere. He’d just gotten the Mandalorian broken in, more or less. He didn’t want to take a break from that and then have to start the work all over again when the tall bounty hunter realized that he missed Grogu more than he missed the original Razor Crest (more on that later).

It had taken the Mandalorian and the Jedi all morning to find him hiding in the Crest’s cargo hold, next to the pile of brown blanket/cape things the Mandalorian went through like feed on a chicken farm. It took so long because Grogu had laid a false trail first and they both believed it. Ha! 

Anyhow, when it came time to do that episode Jon and Dave said they didn’t have the time to include the part about Grogu running away. So instead they wrote the scene that the Grogu had the vid of. Din Djarin holds Grogu close and walks down the ramp and tries to hand him off to Ahsoka Tano. Dave said that people would complain that Ahsoka would have know where Grogu was all along and that it gave more angst to the ‘good-bye’ scene. 

At the time, Grogu remembered preparing to argue with them about that, but then Pedro reminded him that their viewers would be crying at the thought of Din Djarin being hard hearted enough to give Grogu away to anyone, let alone Ahsoka Tano. His actor friend had a point and Grogu agreed to do the scene as written. Sure he’ embellished it a little. He held onto Pedro’s glove and made sure that everyone could see that. His fans loved that sort of thing and he was just enough of an actor to give them just what they wanted. Sometimes he threw in ear wiggles for the same reason. 

Grogu turned to look at his dad, who was knitting a scarf because he needed to do something with his hands since he wasn’t polishing the armor he wasn’t wearing and he wasn’t doing any of the things he did while he wore the armor. The scarf he was working on was tiny. Grogu coo’d at him.

“I’m making them for the Anzellan’s. The last time you picked up Jen Clak you cracked three of his ribs. He wanted IG-11-M to charge you with assault. I offered to make them all scarves and hats. The cold weather time will be here soon. But Buddy, I still don’t understand what your problem is. You’ve written a story everyday this year. Is your imagination running out?” 

Ahhh! His dad had to say that! Yes! That’s exactly what he was worried about. He had to write stories all the way to the end of the year. One per day. Those are the rules that he and Peli Motto had set up when they were on Tatooine a year ago and he’d been sending them to her everyday for a year. He didn’t want to disappoint her and miss a day, even if it was for the very good reason that Grogu had run out of funny, insightful, commentary about life as it had been when those vids were taken. 

He’d even heard from Peli that she was sharing them with Fennec and Daimyo Fett and the pit droids! He didn’t want to let the pit droids down. They were his friends. They had been there when the first Razor Crest just fell to pieces after going to Trask with the Frog lady. They’d had to source another Razor Crest and then do all that work to move the carbonite system over and that had been tricky and funny (Peli did not think that testing the system on her was funny at all by the way). He didn’t want to let any of them down. 

“Buddy, instead of telling her a story about that vid, just tell her a different story. Maybe about Ahsoka Tano, or those beetles you found on Corvus, or how you ran away from us. I’m sure Peli will like whatever story you tell her.”

Sure dad, sure. You would say that. He had no idea how annoyed Peli had gotten when he misspelled her name that one time or when he forgot to include all of the contact information for the garage. “The least ya could do kid is make sure that people can find us! Momma needs a new space heater after all that nonsense with the ice cube maker on the Razor Crest.”

Grogu sighed. He supposed that he should just get started and see what happened. Maybe he could tell the story from Ahsoka’s perspective? He hadn’t done that yet. That could fun. At least he could give it a try. 

Then he giggled. Yes, Master Yoda, sometimes we try before we do. 

Ahsoka Tano watches from the right foreground as Din Djarin walks down the ramp to the Razor Crest holding Grogu in his left arm. Corvus is visible in the background. From The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 5, The Jedi.

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #355 days #Pedro

[dearratthey]

Her shoulders heave with each deep breath that enters and exits her lungs. She closes her eyes and slowly leans her head back till her face is parallel to the night sky. Sharing eye contact with the waxing crescent moon as her eyelids pull back apart. In this moment she and the moon are the closest two souls can ever be; forbidden secrets on display like a whorehouse in midday. Her eyelashes flutter as she bathes in the light. Then reality hits.

The ringing in her ears subsides and turns to crickets and cars careening down the nearby dirt road. A little close for comfort this time, she thinks to herself. The first thought after breaking the delusion always stings the most. “I’m not this stupid why did I do this here?” She mutters to the moon under her breath before reluctantly dropping her shaking gaze to the murdered carrion that lay before her. She feels her upper lip tug up into a sneer as she rubs her face with her sleeve. What was once human life is now no more than a deer carcass in the spattered woods; at least to Kimya anyway. She kneels gracefully, in a way only a trained dancer can, and leans her face close to the viscera. Her lips find the corpse’s ear, one gust of wind away from making skin to cold skin contact, and she grins. A whisper falls from her tongue; “I don’t respond well to ‘no’, ya know?” She snaps mockingly and stands back up slowly. Her body is fluid and separate from herself, thoughts and actions now no longer in correlation for the moment. It feels free. It does not last.

Backpack falls from her shoulders as she rummages around for the supplies. She was already wearing gloves but she pulls them off in the way doctors do as to not touch the contaminants on the gloves to your skin; the kind of method they teach you in highschool lab projects. She replaces them eagerly and takes a deep breath, vision tunneling to point out each misstep she’s made. She wasn’t prepared to kill him but sometimes things don’t work out the way you want them too. Kimya’s impulse control has never been very good; she rolls her eyes thinking about what Lincoln would say if he knew. He won’t know. At least not the whole story. Elijah either; he’s a blabber mouth.

Focus.

Right.

Despite not anticipating this kill, Kimya is always prepared. She pulls off her black puma sneakers and places them into a plastic bag, then into her backpack. She feels the dirt under her socks and shivers. Gliding across the dirt in the area, she smudges her footprints leaving no chance anyone could figure out what shoes were at the crime scene other than the victim’s. She places a slow calculated hand onto the grip protruding from the corpse and with one hard pull she dislodges a standard hunter’s knife, a gush of blood spitting from the wound before slowing to a stop. Kimya glances around the area as she places the knife into another plastic bag then the backpack. The air is silent save for the crickets and branches of a nearby tree swaying the the wind. Perfect.

Time passes and Kimya finds a familiar peace in her craft as she finishes doctoring the crime scene. There would be no time nor material to bury him nor chop him up so she left him to rot into the grass or be found. Picked at by the animals. But by the time anyone could come across him there will be no trace of her left, not even her vanilla champagne body spray lingering in the air; and that’s all that matters. No one will miss him anyway, she thinks in the back of her mind. She stands above the sad remains one last time, sharing a cold gaze with it. There’s a certain intimacy suspended in the thick night air; the humidity condensing in her lungs with each calm breath that left her lips. Her eyebrows knit together as her eyes search the corpse and her hands tighten quick to red fists at her sides. A silent scream radiating from her body as if her skin were to come aglow from the rage set deep within her. Yet not a word dare escape from the prison of her teeth.

Eyes closed, she leans her head back to face the moon once more. With unfurling fists her eyes flew back open, a glaze of tears shining in a film over them. The moon stares back without answer and Kimya composes herself, releasing her anger in a breathing exercise burned into her memory from years of dance; the memory of her practicing in her room flutters by… enough. Focus. Her dark eyes distance themselves from their home in her body and she steels her gaze straight ahead, Hello Kitty backpack slung back over her shoulder, and she walks. Miles back. The darkness of the city wrapping her in embrace and adrenaline armoring her skin as if it were stone. She is untouchable on this walk back and she loves it, no, needs it. It fuels her spirit. Any man or woman that passes her by would be gone in a moment if one dirty look flew from them. Hate radiates off of her like a sticky fog that repels even the menial cat callers that usually give her a shout here and there as she travels down the sidewalk. Loose gravel rolls underneath her pink and white polka dot socks as her hands search to pick lint in the pockets of her faded pink zip up jacket, hood half settled over her hair. Her feet ache. She pays no mind.

Eventually she finds herself standing at her front door. She stares straight ahead, summer bugs flying across the door in the porch light, paint cracked and peeling on the doorframe. She blinks, expressionless, hand now grasping the doorknob. Are my hands sweating?, the thought echoes somewhere in her head. They are. Sometimes things feel like they never change. As she turns the knob, she briefly hears the shouts of young kids as she walks in but she snaps back to the present once she opens the door to a quiet, dark house. It’s hard to get used to a quiet home. She drops her bag by the door, turning the lock firmly. Lincoln and Elijah must be in bed. Or also out doing crimes or whatever it is they do…

She rolls her eyes and breathes out, tension releases from her body like a shackle now broken. She brings herself to her shower and lets the sins of the day wash from her freckled and bruised skin. She remembers that water signifies purification and here she is indeed pure. Clean and next to holy. Finally. She dresses.

A small smile cracks her lips as she skips down the hall to her room quietly and embraces her bed once again. Nothing matters anymore, just this feeling.

#oc #my oc #Kimya O’Neill #oc writing #I just want somewhere to put this because I like how it turned out #trying to be braver about sharing my writing #oc stuff #ocs #oc tag

[barrelcrow]

{ ♠️ x @icarusplunged x}‌

KAZ BREKKER CONSTANTLY CONFUSES HER. half the time, it seems as if inej is catching a glimpse of something soft — something real, something belonging to the boy hiding underneath the monster he created. then, the next moment, she’s being blocked out again. the perpetual back-and-forth is exhausting, but it’s worth something, she knows it is; every time, it feels as if inej is getting a little bit farther with him, even when the trap snaps shut around her arm the moment she reaches for his heart. 

it’s progress. all of the ups-and-downs. sometimes, inej has a hard time seeing that, when her goals are normally so clear-cut and easy to follow. when kaz pushes her away, she has to remind herself that it’s part of how he survives — how he has always survived, defended himself. and so she does not allow it to deter her from searching for the good in him.

even if the trap closes, kaz needs her. even if that’s all she is to him, a valuable investment he can’t afford to lose, as long as it keeps her close to him she will wear that identity without objection. 

inej is broken from her train of thought by something being set on the table next to the settee. kaz has gone through a lot of effort that anyone could have gone through — bundling inej up in blankets, laying her to recover on a soft surface, making her something to drink. it’s part of the confusion, but she welcomes it, as she knows is wise. she reaches out to wrap her frigid hands around the mug and sighs softly in relief at the heat that radiates from it. 

❝ the smell… cocoa? ❞ she can’t help the quiet wonder in her voice. inej remembers the scent wafting up from the canalside carts when she first explored ketterdam. her first winter away from the menagerie. it was an entirely new world. as she takes a sip, enjoying the warm sweetness of the drink, she recalls the stiff way kaz sat down at his desk after handing it to her, and her brows knit together in worry. ❝ is your leg okay? carrying me in the snow can’t have been good for it. ❞

"Happened to have some lying around." Kaz wasn't really sure why he kept it on hand at all times. He never drank it, just threw it away when it was obvious it had gone stale. Everything about it reminded him of memories he preferred to keep buried deep down; memories of who he used to be — pathetic and weak, and most of all, naive — and memories of someone he loved and who would never stop haunting him. But he also remembered how it used to bring him warmth on some of the coldest of days. And right now, warmth was what Inej needed, and hot chocolate was the best he could offer. 

Whenever Inej brought attention to his leg, Kaz looked down and realized he had been unconsciously rubbing it in an attempt to stop the dull pounding he'd grown so familiar with over the years. "It's fine." Moving his hand, he instead busied himself by attempting to straighten out the mess of papers he had laying all across his desk. "I hardly feel it at all." There really was no reason to lie, they both knew the truth. Inej more so than anyone else, but.. Admitting weakness, even to her, wasn't something Kaz intended to do. Or could, for that matter. Something always seemed to stop him just in time. 

There were times he thought about it. About letting his walls down. Every time he sat at his desk, and Inej in his window feeding the crows, looking peaceful and content, he got this overwhelming urge to.. to what? To walk up to her? To reach out and place his hand on her shoulder? To pretend, even for a moment, that he was normal enough to do so? A compelling fantasy. But a fantasy was all it was, and it disappeared as quickly as the Wraith did on Ketterdam's rooftops, leaving behind Dirtyhands with his black gloves and crow's head cane. Leaving behind what he really was, what he'd become in order to survive. 

"How are you feeling?"

#{ ♠️ x v; Brick by brick‚ I will destroy you [MAIN] x} #{ ♠️ x dyn; I couldn’t bear to watch you fall. [KAZ&INEJ] x} #icarusplunged

[zukkatrash]

Sokka's favourite sweater isn't actually ugly, but it is really warm and cozy, but still the biggest reason he wears it is that Bato knitted it for him, gifting both him and Katara one for the first [insert atla winter holiday celebrated by the southern water tribe i am shamelessly using as a christmas stand-in, because while i personally cannot stand christmas, it does lend itself for some great interactions when your family isnt a hot mess] they celebrated after the war was over and he had been officially added to the family and Sokka swears that the first time he wore it he could see tears in his Bato's eyes

(his favourite pair of gloves however is absolutely atrocious, ugly and with so many uneven stiches and theres a whole finger missing on one hand but Hakoda tried and Sokka is a good son goddammit!)

(also the sweater Katara got is a very close second place for her, only because nothing compares to the fluffyness of flying bison wool, especially not if its gathered, spun and knitted by your very own boyfriend)

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #bato #hakoda #bakoda #sokka #katara #bato knits #u cant change my mind #ive said it in my bakoda hc posts and i stand by it #he can knit so good and fast and god whyd u think it was a good idea to try to knit gloves hakoda? #gloves are /hard/ to knit and youre not good at it why would you do this to yourself? #why are you doing this to me? im the one having to recount all your rows because you keep getting confused at the pattern #knitting is hard yall #also i really hate christmas and yes i do mention that at every opportunity bc i really cannot stand this holiday #but like tis the season or smth idfk fandom shit is an escape and this way i can redirect all my christmas thoughts to fictional characters #and try to convince myself that i dont wanna have just one fucking christmas with a happy family #no its fine ill just think of Bato finally getting a happy christmas #even tho it wouldnt be christmas but yall know what i mean #okay wow this got kinda personal haha #eh its 5 am tis the hour #eyyy i got bad joke too hehe #alright ill go to sleep now

[opalesense]

oh my god Your 'a sight to behold' work was mhmfmmsmamzx, i love it. im sosososoossosoo curious as to what graphic details you have in mind 😏

lose control

zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya & f!reader (NSFW)

3.5k words • ~22 min. read

summary: a part two to this where the boys are unable to fight their urges when they see you helplessly stuck in a wall.

warnings: slight dubcon, choking, cunnilingus, facefucking, a bit of zhongli favoritism oops!

notes: omg hehehe thank youu i’m so glad you liked it <3 i wrote it at 2AM and was so surprised it turned out decently well for my fuzzy brain HAHA anyway as for the graphic details... i only left them out originally because i wasn’t sure if anon wanted straight up full nsfw or not >////< but since you asked you shall receive... <3

zhongli

 Zhongli effortlessly took the rocks off of you, waiting and watching your slight movements for a few moments before your eyes finally fluttered open. A throbbing pain in your temple sent one of your hands to gently massage it, making you wince quietly in pain. “Zhongli...”

 “This is the result of carelessness and insufficient planning,” he crossed his arms and studied your curves as he calmly scolded you. “Next time, let me take the lead.”

 As you laid there massaging your head, his eyes traced up and down your body, fixating on the way your legs were helplessly spread in front of him, parted in such a way that he knew he would fit perfectly if he sat between them. Following that train of thought, he uncrossed his arms and slowly climbed on the bed of rocks, letting his body hover over you and supporting his weight with a hand planted above your head.

 His free hand crept up your shirt, pulling it up in the process. The way he suddenly exposed your torso made you gasp and simultaneously wince again from the sudden movements. You weakly placed a hand on his forearm, initially in instinctual protest but then relaxing as you knew this was not just some stranger from the outside, but a man you trusted. “Z-Zhongli, what are you-“

 “Checking for injuries, of course,” he lied with a coy smile which made you softly giggle. His hand slowly caressed your bare hips and waist, noticing the way your skin formed goosebumps at his touch. You watched as his gloved fingers hovered over your bruises and scrapes, making their way up your torso then finally pulling your bra up to reveal your breasts. You swore you could hear the hunger in his low growl as his eyes were desperately fixated on your half naked body.

 “Zhongli, at least take me home first–“ you attempted to speak up but he interrupted you by wrapping his hand around your throat, applying pressure while his knee wedged itself in the empty spot between your legs. As you choked, you finally got a good look at his face. The amicable yet stoic expression Zhongli usually had was replaced with something more sinister, more lustful. With heavily breaths and shaky hands, you could sense he was getting needier by the second.

 “Right now?” you managed to whisper as you stared into his glowing amber eyes. Unable to form coherent words now, all he could do was press his forehead against yours and let his lips quiver as he fought the thoughts that flooded his mind. He knew he shouldn’t do this. He knew he should help you get home and ensure that your wellbeing is secured. A war raged on inside his head, the logical side of him trying to fight his urges, but he knew he couldn’t uphold this for long. His body couldn’t help but latch onto yours, grinding against you in desperation. You two didn’t need to say much to each other to know when Zhongli was craving you like this. Looking down at his knee slowly rubbing against you, you already knew what was going to happen. From the sight of you so vulnerable under him, your legs spread out in a perfect position for him to take you, all he wanted to do in this moment was chase his release. And yes, he needed to do it now.

 You tilted your chin up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips, slightly catching him off guard. He let go of your throat as he gave you another short kiss back, letting out what sounded like a whimper once he pulled his face away. You sighed contently as you glanced down at his growing bulge. “Well, make it quick, okay? Then we can continue this at home–“

 Immediately after hearing your approval, Zhongli wasted no time to lean down and wrap his lips on one of your nipples, immediately biting and sucking, causing you to arch your back and gasp at the sensation. He simultaneously freed his already hardened cock from his pants, slowly pumping it with his hand and letting out a low groan, sending vibrations to your nipple. You whimpered in pleasure, instinctively trying to pin your knees together in an attempt at modesty which only squeezed him closer to you.

 He let go of your nipple and lifted himself up, now standing in front of you and slowly pumping his cock as he looked down at the sight of your lewd position. “Please tell me if this is too much,” he managed to tell you before he lifted one hand towards a boulder and crushed it into a peculiar shape with one swift movement.

 Before you could process why he was now hovering the large rock over your body, you felt the earth rumble below you and push you upwards, straightening your spine as if you were laying on a table. Your legs began to dangle off the edge of the newly made platform as he locked you in place with the boulder he had shaped, which you noticed had a space carved into it only large enough for your waist to be pinned down. It was all adding up now as he grabbed both of your legs and pulled you closer to him, ensuring that you couldn’t escape his cleverly built trap.

 Lifting your knees over his shoulders and pulling your underwear to the side, you felt his erection prod your slick entrance before he slowly pushed himself inside of your cunt, groaning in pleasure as he grabbed ahold of your thighs for stability. He began to rock his hips back and forth immediately, leaving you breathlessly moaning at the little time you had to adjust to his size.

 “Only you make me feel this way,” he muttered as his grip on your thighs tightened. He leaned forward to pound into you at a better angle, his hips slamming into yours with each powerful thrust. “Only you can make me lose control of myself so easily...”

childe

 “...I’m sure I can make all the pain go away and replace it with pleasure instead.”

Childe’s words echoed in your head as he yanked your underwear down and firmly gripped your ass, spreading your folds apart and making you shiver at the sudden exposure. You tried to wiggle your way out of the pile of rocks in protest, but that only pushed you further into his grasp, making him laugh at your pathetic attempt to escape. You didn’t want to admit that this was slowly turning you on, but looking down at the damp stain in your underwear, Childe knew regardless.

 “You make it so easy for me,” he traced a finger over your already wet folds, eliciting a whimper from your throat. “You make it so easy for me to conquer you and remind you that you’re mine to play with.”

 Even though you weren’t eager to get toyed around with, given the current circumstances of being completely locked in with nowhere to go, you weren’t completely opposed either. You couldn’t help but mewl at the feeling of Childe suddenly pushing one gloved finger inside of your trembling cunt, slowly curling his digit to massage your walls. “At least... take me home first...” you whined cutely, he thought.

 “Why should I when you’re already enjoying yourself here?” he pulled his finger out momentarily only to push back in with two fingers, “Look how wet you are when we’ve only just begun...”

 Childe could hardly contain himself either, but he didn’t want to verbally admit it. If only you could see how hard he was getting by the second just by staring at your vulnerable holes and the way your underwear hung around your knees, or the tiny squirming of your legs when he pushed the right spots inside you. If only you could see the way his eyebrows knitted together, breath stuttering as he fantasized about railing you into next year in this position, fucking you into the wall for hours until you cried for him to stop.

 But for now, he decided he’d show you some mercy and make it quick. As he used his free hand to unbuckle his pants and unsheath his cock, he was determined to hear your screams echo around the walls of the cavern first before letting you go. “Hold still for me, okay? It’s not like you can go anywhere, anyway,” he chuckled then pulled his fingers out to grip your ass and position himself behind you, “I’ll make you feel so good...”

 “Childe, wait–!” was all you could say before moaning in ecstacy as he began to drive his cock into your aching hole, each inch pushing apart your walls so deliciously that he couldn’t help but moan too. He stayed still for a moment, bottomed out inside of you, head pressed up against the rocks as he relished in the feeling of you clamping around his cock. But before you could relax and bask in the delightful feeling of being stuffed full, he squeezed your ass with both hands and began pounding into you with no second thought.

 Whatever pain you might have had before was surely gone by his penetration alone. He knew how good he was screwing you by the way you whimpered out his name in between moans, or the way you subtly pressed up against him with the limited movement you had, matching his rhythm. “You better pray that I don’t lose control and fuck you here until the sun rises,” he said with a dubious smirk that you wish you could’ve seen, “But I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

diluc

 To say Diluc was nervous as his eyes were pinned on your thighs rubbing together was an understatement. He could feel himself getting more aroused by the second, staring at your underwear and noticing a subtle wet stain that had developed beforehand. Your words were completely drowned out in his mind. All he could focus on was resisting his urges and maintaining his composure like a true gentleman.

 But surely a gentleman could be a little self indulgent now and then, right? Especially since you were tempting him so badly wiggling around like that, he couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing this to him on purpose.

 He took a few steps closer to the wall and adjusted his gloves before reaching into his coat pocket for a hair tie. “Could you repeat that again for me, dear?” he tilted his head as he gathered his long strands into a ponytail, never taking his eyes off of your glistening skin.

 You happily obliged, listening to him kneel down behind you, assuming he was just picking up another rock. “I was just saying how – Diluc?”

 Your assumption couldn’t possibly be more wrong. He interrupted you by pulling your underwear down to your thighs, licking his lips as his hungry gaze traced your wet folds, imagining what your face must look like by how he took you by surprise. His grip on your thighs tightened as he fantasized about you, the straps of your underwear still wrapped around his fingers to keep his hands on you no matter how much you squirmed underneath him.

 He leaned down to press a sweet kiss on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you in response. Smirking, he stuck out his tongue and began slowly tracing the wet muscle around your folds, savoring your taste and savoring the sweet moans you gave him at the same time. “Keep making those pretty sounds, my love,” he whispered, his hot breath against your cunt driving you crazy.

 His slow and sensual kisses on your cunt was only the start of his feast. Each kiss was accompanied with small circles he rubbed into your thighs with his thumbs and low periodic groans that sent vibrations through his tongue, making you whimper in ecstacy. But as much as he loved taking things slow and steady, he wanted to hear you cry out his name. He wanted to see how far he could take you to the edge by his control alone. He wanted to make those pretty legs tremble violently under his touch.

 In one swift motion, he began to prod his tongue against your entrance, stretching your folds by drawing circles with his eager muscle. If only the rocks weren’t holding you down along with his hands pressing your thighs into place, you surely would have been thrashing around at the way he teased you with his tongue alone. Slowly, he began to extend his tongue into you more, inching his face closer to your aching hole and stopping once his nose met your skin. The sensation of his tongue gently quivering inside you made you melt, even more so when he started to fuck you at a steady pace with his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in your taste.

 Soon, his movements started to reflect how hungry he really was for you. He bobbed his head steadily, stifling his moans so he could listen to yours. He took one hand off of your thigh to gently rub your clit with his thumb, still fucking you with his tongue and making you subtly rock your hips back and forth to match his rhythm. It hadn’t even been very long since he laid his hands on you, but your body couldn’t help but react to how worked up he was making you.

 And of course, he would notice these reactions. Your shaky rhythm against his was an indicator to hold you down firmly and quicken his pace, and surely enough, the heat in your core was starting to build up. You buried your head in the rocks, flustered and blushing more than you ever had before. “D-Diluc...! More... more, please!”

 When he pulled his tongue out, you figured he was just going to be mean to you and deny your orgasm but you were pleasantly mistaken. To your surprise, after a moment of rustling as he took one of his gloves off, he pushed two fingers inside of your needy hole and began to hit your sweet spot immediately as he fingered you, almost as if he had memorized what makes you cry out in pleasure. His eager lips began to suck on your clit as well, his heart set on making you cum on his fingers.

 Soon enough, you couldn’t contain it anymore. Your legs quivered as you reached your peak, your mewling and whining sadly muffled by the rocks but loud enough for him to hear you clearly enough. The sound of his name being echoed throughout the cavern as your orgasm exploded on his bare fingers was enough to make his cock throb. With heavy, warm breaths, he pulled his face and fingers away from you to let you calm down from your climax, his face flushed red and nose shining from your wetness. “So beautiful... I can never get enough of you, [Y/N].”

 You whined as he slowly let go of your thigh after giving you one last kiss on your sensitive clit. He licked his lips once more, lapping up all your wetness and wiping the excess that had dribbled down on his chin with his sleeve. With a chuckle, he stood up and placed his hands back on your ass, squeezing your curves and pressing his hips against yours. His clothed bulge fit so perfectly between your cheeks, snuggling comfortably in your wetness to leave a stain on his pants. He grinded himself into you even more at the sight of this, teasing you just for the fun of it. “Don’t worry love, we’re not going anywhere just yet...”

kaeya

 “Now that I think about it, I do deserve a prize for saving you, don’t I?”

 Kaeya’s hands travelled from massaging your scalp to scaling up your jaw, one thumb tracing your bottom lip gently asking to let him in. You pouted stubbornly, losing your patience – you had been stuck here for a while and wanted to get out, after all. “Quit running–“

 But alas, he used this moment to stick his thumb inside your mouth, letting the pad of his finger massage your tongue. He let out a hum of satisfaction as your eyes softened, slowly submitting to his touch. “You’re being awfully defiant to the one person who can get you out of here. I ought to teach that naughty mouth of yours a lesson while I claim my prize, hm?”

 This man never knows when to shut up, a voice in your head complained. But admittedly, the way he stared at your mouth so longingly had your core light up a tiny bit. You whined in response at first, looking down (or up?) at his thumb disappearing inside your mouth then deciding it would be best to comply. With a small hum you opened your mouth wider, letting your tongue stick out as your eyes darted to meet his. He grinned contently, pulling his thumb out of your mouth to pull his cock out of his pants. No matter how many times you’ve seen his length, you never understood how he managed to fit himself inside you.

 “Good girl,” he tucked his hand under your neck to offer support as he pressed his tip against your awaiting tongue. He started rocking his hips slightly just to tease you, grinning evilly as he stared down at your eyes. “You’re so cute like this. So vulnerable and eager to please whenever I want you...”

 He began to slowly push himself into your mouth, letting out a groan of relief as he buried himself inch by inch. You sputtered a bit at first, not completely used to his length just yet, but secretly he loved whenever you choked on his cock. He let you ride out your choking a bit more as he nearly bottomed out, watching as your throat slowly relaxed around his bulge.

 His other free hand found its way on your cheek, caressing it as he started to rock his hips back and forth very slowly, basking in the feeling of your throat clamped around his cock. “Such a good girl, making me feel so good whenever I want... You’re doing very well, sweetheart,” he quietly praised, opting to listen to your muffled whimpering whenever he pushed in.

 A bit of restlessness started to kick in after awhile of fucking your mouth so slowly, and with a naughty smirk, Kaeya took both hands to grip both sides of your head. He started to thrust into your mouth at a quicker pace, occasionally pulling out to give you a breath of air only to bury himself in your throat again. He found himself unable to contain his moans at this point, letting his sweet, raspy praises for you ring through your ears. Your legs started to twitch in excitement the more he praised you for being so obedient and good for him that despite your initial defiance, you hoped he would take care of your needs later.

 Your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers running across your scalp then suddenly taking a tight grip on your head as he fucked your brains out quite literally. He began to get lost in the feeling, ignoring your pleas for air as you tapped his thigh repeatedly through tears. Even when he snapped back to his senses for a moment to pull out, he whined desperately as he quickly pushed himself back in, wanting to chase his orgasm so badly using your mouth.

 “S-So good for me... I’m gonna...! F-Fuck, no..!” Kaeya quickly and quite nervously pulled himself out of you, leaving you immediately coughing and gagging in your own spit and his precum. He grunted in frustration, leaving you confused and concerned as you continued to choke for air. He suddenly tucked his cock back into his pants haphazardly and went straight back to work on getting the rocks off of you.

 “W-What was that all about? Are you waiting until we get home or something?” your voice was clearly defeated as you watched him work. He only glanced back at you for a moment before chuckling and pulling one specific rock out of the pile to send the rest tumbling down, finally revealing your trembling body, exposed in all of its glory. You gasped in a mixture of relief and excitement as he hungrily climbed on top of you and pulled you towards him so your head wouldn’t hang off the edge anymore. You giggled at how disheveled and horny he evidently was, his movements ragged and needy. Who could blame him for looking so desperate when he was staring up and down your vulnerable body, waiting to devour you like a hungry beast?

 His hands worked with urgency as he ripped your underwear off and unsheathed his cock again, manhandling your hips to meet his. You gasped as he quickly pushed himself inside of your cunt and began pounding into you mercilessly, not letting you adjust to his size since you were already so aroused for him anyway. Your cute whimpers and gasps made him even more feral, and it was at this point that he decided to lean down and whisper the answer to your question earlier.

 “Sorry, sweetheart. I can’t just wait until we get home, I need to be inside you right now...”

#zhongli #childe #ajax #tartaglia #diluc #kaeya #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #mine #bang #requested

[bluexiao]

#are you giving me a gift?

—what gift would they buy you for Christmas/the holidays?

CHARACTERS. women edition. Ayaka, Beidou, Ei, Eula, Ganyu, Hu Tao, Jean, Keqing, Lisa, Mona, Ningguang, Yae; gn! Reader

THEMES. more chara analysis but they’re fluffy tho!

NOTES. these are quite shorter than i originally do the other multi-hc’s but it’s going to be like this for the other version as well hehe. enjoy enjoy!

AYAKA would give you a sword—a katana, specifically, one that is intricately made and also has a hilt that resembles you a lot. A flower if you liked them, or maybe a symbol for your own Vision. Whatever it was, she wants you to know that her gift is custom-made, just for you.

BEIDOU would give you a matching eye-patch—yes, even if you didn’t need it. She noticed that you sometimes kept on staring at her own so she brought you one also! That’s her reasoning, anyway. To be quite honest, she just wanted to see you with one as well and ingrain the image in her memory.

EI would give you a cake, or maybe your favorite food. It’s a bought item, however. She cannot bake or cook one herself so she probably asked for someone else’s help or she bought it at the finest shop there is in Inazuma.

EULA would give you a glove, especially if you insist on joining her in her journeys, most specifically if they involved Dragonspine. However, it is also proven useful if it’s during the cold seasons in Monstadt. The thing is, she probably brought one herself, she’s just too shy to bring it out that it remained in her pocket or room.

GANYU would give you a perfume, concocted personally by Ying’er. She actually got the idea from Baishi, Baiwen and Baixiao, saying that whatever is made by Ying’er will definitely be something the receiver would like.

HU TAO would give you a wind chime (can be a *feng-ling as well). Wind chimes are used to ward off evil spirits and also to maximize the flow of *chi. She thinks this is a good opportunity to give you one since you always join her in her expeditions and stuff, so it’s better to be sure than not! Either way, she’s still there to protect you so no need to worry~

JEAN would give you jewelry from Marjorie, and also a bouquet of flowers that are freshly shipped as well! Lucky for her, Marjorie gave them with a low price as well since JEAN had been helping everyone out that they’re grateful for her being around. Not just that, Sara probably offered her to take you on a date the day she’ll give you her gift! So get ready to go out because you two will probably walk around the city with the vendors offering you many stuff when you pass by them.

KEQING would give you a ticket—one for her, one for you. The ticket would grant you to a theater show from Yunjin, or maybe Xinyan’s music concert, whichever you liked! She doesn’t have that much time to spend with you but whenever she could, she does. That’s why this holiday season, she’d certainly give her all just to bond with you and spend the time that was lost.

LISA would give you a book. Quite ironic, is it? But it’s not just any book. It’s probably something she had felt sentimental with when she read it as well, or you were the one who pointed that out to her. She’d give you something she reminds you of, and that’s that book.

MONA would give you a knitted scarf for the cold season. The sews are clearly not perfect, but you could tell that it was hand-made with care. She also probably did not have much Mora to get more yarn because it’s quite short, but she really did work hard for them! She even had to go to the Library to study how to knit as well…

NINGGUANG would give you something really expensive, something that you definitely deserve for always being there for her despite her busy schedule. She’s grateful for you, thus an expensive item would be her way of thanks. It really depends on whether her secretaries found a way to know what you want or she already knew, or if they didn’t since it’s either she will purchase the item beforehand or have you choose it yourself on the day she’ll give it to you. Either way works well with her but she’ll surely create plans A to C or D, just to make it all perfect.

YAE would give you a trinket that would be able to call her. Well, it’s probably in the form of an accessory, or maybe a small item that you could keep wherever, or maybe like an Omamori that she gave to the traveler. This way, she’d be able to come to you when you need her to. Quite useful, isn’t it?

*feng-ling is a type of wind chime created before the modern wind chimes in China. I’m not too sure if they still exist nowadays since I can’t find any more sources but I felt compelled to do a bit of research hehe.

*chi is energy or life’s energy

Reblogs are very appreciated~

TAGLIST ( send an ask to be added !! )

@softlybeloved @icecappa @sushiyay @scaraslover @beastielevi @cursedraiden @thesatanofpizza @izayanna @stellumi @coco-goat-milk @nonniechan @m3gitsune @thispenguinrocks @chuubear @kiyoobi @catisnerd @ventislatte @weakestpoint @pinkfei @aweebstuff @zhongchi14 @windwheel-aster @irethepotato @squiddaloo @scaramunch @cruxdou @favonius-captain @aqualesha @kazuhas-alphabet @astreankitsune @crapimahuman @itsghostgirlyo @his-simp @meumorio @tkooooop

#genshin x reader #ayaka x reader #beidou x reader #ganyu x reader #genshin fluff #hutao x reader #keqing x reader #ningguang x reader #mona x reader #yae x reader #ei x reader #raiden x reader

[imtooscaredforthis]

Unknown Caller

Ghostface x Reader Smut

Summary: Late at night, you start getting texts from the serial killer and your stalker, Ghostface.

Mentions of: Threats, Death, Stabbing, Sexting, Phone sex, Knife play, Oral Sex, Voyeurism, Recording w/out Consent and Danny being super horny

Word Count: 2.4K

With an exhausted groan, you collapsed back onto your bed, letting the mattress suck you in. It had been yet another long, shitty work day, leaving you mentally drained and wanting to sleep.

The only thing that kept you from sleeping was how gross, sticky, and sweaty you felt from walking around in that shitty waitress uniform. It was a summer day in Florida, after all. Of course you would be burning your ass off. And somehow, the urge to take a shower overpowered your fatigue.

So after an extra moment or two of laying down, you got up, grabbing your phone and a towel, heading into the bathroom and locking the door behind you, just in case any unwelcome visitors came in. You knew exactly who that visitor was.

You tried to shake the thought of the masked murderer, not even daring to think his name. The last thing you needed tonight was having him come around. Maybe he would just give you a break for once and leave you alone. Maybe…

Sighing, you tapped at your phone, playing some music and stripping down. Stepping into the shower, you turned the heat all the way up, letting the hot water pour down onto your skin until it turned red. You washed off all the stress and trouble from the day, finally being able to relax.

Once you got out of the shower, you slipped on a black lacy bra with matching panties, using a robe to cover it up. You had grown used to spending the nights alone, with no one to take home, no friends to speak with.

You lost them all, since they all thought you were being crazy and paranoid about being stalked by Ghostface. Even after one of your dear friends died, (the only one who believed you) they still thought you were crazy. In fact, they thought you killed him. And the cops were no help either, thinking all the threats were just some prankster or copycat.

So now, here you sat on your bed, scrolling through social media, when you got a text.

Unknown: Evening, gorgeous

You stared at the message blankly, feeling your heart drop in your stomach. It was him.

You cast a protective glance over at your bedroom window, which had the curtains drawn and the blinds shut, as an attempt of giving yourself some sort of privacy from the stalker. Was he out there? Waiting outside the window to peek, or behind your door to jump out at you. Even though he’s been doing this for a while, you’d still never get used to it.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you began to type up a message to respond to him. You learned the hard way to answer his texts and calls.

(Y/N): What do you want to torture me with now?

Even though you were still quite afraid of the killer, there were times where you found him a complete nuisance, and got the guts to told him. This was one of those times.

Unknown: C’mon, don’t be like that. I have fun with the games we play. But I want to try something different tonight.

(Y/N): Like what?

Unknown: Like how I can see what you’re wearing and can’t help but wonder if you put all of that on just for me

You felt your face go a bright red, looking around and grabbing the hem over your robe, moving it over, attempting to cover up your body.

Unknown: There’s no use in covering it up now, I’ve already seen everything and it’s gotten me so hard

Looking at the text, you blinked a few times, making sure this was real. Maybe it was just some weird sex dream. You pinched yourself. Nope. This was real. The feared serial killer of Roseville was sexting you.

Unknown: You look so cute like that, all surprised and scared, it makes me want to cut you up and fuck you until you can’t walk.

Unknown: You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Your mouth went dry as you tried to think of something to text him back with, your body running hot with arousal. You can’t believe this is turning you on. It really shouldn’t be.

Unknown: There’s no need to be so shy, (y/n). You know we can be honest with each other.

(Y/N): Yes I would

Unknown: Good girl

Unknown: My cock is just throbbing thinking about how nice and tight you would be, how good you would squeeze me, how I’d love to fill you up with my cum. And you’d love every second of it, wouldn’t you, baby?

(Y/N): Fuck yes

You rubbed your thighs together, feeling how drenched you were getting, a silent moan leaving your lips, not even realizing he was paying attention to every little detail.

Unknown: Shit, that was so hot. I’m really turning you on, aren’t I?

Unknown: You want to touch yourself don’t you? Want to get off on the dirty things I’m telling you? Well you can’t. Not unless you beg for it like a good girl.

You would object, but you knew you were too far in to stop yourself. It had been quite a long time since you had done something like this, and a part of you felt desperate. So, you did it. You begged.

(Y/N): Please, Ghostface. Please let me touch myself.

Unknown: Good. Go ahead, but take off that robe. You won’t be needing it.

Moving your arm out, you shrugged the robe off your shoulders, spreading your legs ever so slightly. Might as well give him a show.

You ran your hand down your stomach, moving it down to your hips, and then your thigh, while your other hand stayed high on your chest, running your finger over your clothed nipple. After a moment or two, you dipped your finger under the fabric, running it up and down your drenched slit. You played with your clit, leaning back and moaning softly.

Unknown: Fuck, I just want to run my knife all over the curves of your body

Unknown: Put two fingers in

You did as told, pushing two fingers into your opening, thrusting them in slowly. You didn’t even notice the distant flash of a camera recording you peeking out from behind your window.

You shut your eyes, biting your lip and arching your back, as you began to pick up the pace. The sound of your phone chiming managed to make you open your eyes, and snap out of your little fantasy, looking down at your phone.

Unknown: You look so fucking hot right now, I want to come in there and ruin you

(Y/N): Why don’t you?

Unknown: It’s tempting, but I need to do one thing first.

Unknown Number is calling…

You picked up, slowing your fingers. “Why’d you- why’d you stop?” He questioned between groans, his voice strained. So he was touching himself too.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to-”

“Keep on going. Don’t stop. Add a finger.” He instructed.

An image of Ghostface stroking himself popped into your mind, making you pick up the pace. A string of mewls and whimpers left your mouth as you went even faster, feeling yourself grow close.

“You sound- shit, so nice babe. Makes me want to- even more-”

“Fuck, I’m g-going to- ah” Your body froze up, feeling yourself clench around your fingers.

It seemed like he was close too, considering how much he was panting, low groans and grunts. There was a brief silence on the other line, and you wondered if he hung up on you. But then, he spoke. “I’m coming in.”

He ended the call and you felt your heart leap in excitement, calming down from your high, and preparing for him to come in. You looked from the window to the door, wondering where he’d be entering.

A few minutes went by, and he still hadn’t shown up. A part of you wondered if this was some sort of sick game to humiliate you. If he was just going to leave you all alone.

“Miss me?” A familiar voice whispered into your ear, making you jump.

“Jesus don’t scare me like that.” You muttered, turning to face him.

“Why so grumpy? Is it because I kept you waiting? So impatient, so needy. I love it.” He grasped your chin, tilting your head and making you look up at him. He ran a gloved finger over your lips, tracing your cupid’s bow.

You felt your body grow hot at the contact, your thighs clenching together. He noticed, moving his hand away to finally give you what you so desperately craved. Grabbing your shoulders, he pushed you down on the bed, straddling you.

Slowly, he ran his knife over your skin, tracing it from your throat, down to your collar bones, and to your chest. It seemed he was being merciful tonight, because you could barely feel the blade against your skin, only a light tickle.

Moving his weapon to the middle of your chest, Ghostface sliced open your brassiere, splitting it in half and revealing your breasts. Well, there went your good underwear.

He ran his finger over your nipple, watching it harden under his touch, pinching it softly. The killer studied your expressions closely, taking in every single detail. The way your lips parted slightly, the way your cheeks heated up, and the way your eyebrows knitted together. God, you were so adorable.

Ghostface shifted his attention to your panties, cutting them off on the side, and pulling them down to your ankles slowly. He moved his hand back up to your opening, running his finger up your wet slit, feeling how soaked it was.

“So wet, all for me? I must’ve really left you waiting. Guess I better get to it then, huh?” His voice was smug, low, and full of mischief. You knew he was playing with you.

He rutted against his hips against you, making you whimper slightly. You knew he wouldn’t do anything, until you said it. “Please, fuck me, Ghostface.”

“Danny.”

You felt your eyes widen at his words. “What?”

“Call me Danny.” In all the time that you had known him, you never got a name out of him. But he was telling you it now. Why? Why was he doing this?

You were too busy processing what just happened to notice the sound of his buckle clicking, and his knife dropping onto the floor, while he was now holding his phone instead. The flash of a camera burned into your eyes, making you look up at him and snap out of your thoughts.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, squinting at the light and covering your eyes with one hand trying to hide the glare.

“Makin a little movie.” He grabbed your hands with his free one, moving them from your face and pinning them above your head. “And you’re the star. Aren’t you excited?”

“I- shit-” Before you could even respond to what he was saying, you felt his cock press up against your soaked folds.

He moved his camera down to your breasts, watching your chest heave, before moving it back up to your face. “Now what’s the magic word? C’mon, you know what to say. You’ve been saying it all night.”

“Please, Danny.” You begged, bucking your hips up against his hardened member. “Please what?”

“Please just fuck me.” You rolled your head against the pillow. He was driving you crazy at this point with how much he was teasing you and making you beg.

Finally, he gave you what you had grown desperate for, entering you with a rough thrust. It was painful at first, the killer not showing any mercy, but you forced yourself to grow used to it.

You moaned out, the feeling of fulfillment overcoming your already sensitive hole. You arched your back, grabbing onto his forearm, digging your nails into his muscle under his robe.

Tears began to stream down your face as you babbled, incoherent words slipping from your lips. It was too good, and you couldn’t think of something, anything, to say to describe it. He was fucking you stupid.

He zoomed in on your tears, watching as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Damn, baby. Is it really that good? Do you love getting fucked by my cock that much?”

You didn’t speak, not even sure if you could. He pinched your nipple, making you yelp. “Y-yes! Its- it’s so g-good.”

Danny moved his free hand to your clit, thrusting even deeper, until he hit just at the right spot. You cried out, clenching around him. Moaning out for him to please never stop, to keep going.

“Oh baby, you think I could stop? Not with the way you’re clenching around and calling out my name, begging for- shit.” He grunted, feeling your walls begin to massage him, you were getting close. And so was he.

He nestled his head into the crook of your neck and shoulder, pulling his mask up his face, and biting down, breaking your skin and drawing your blood, his movements growing even harsher. While you dug your nails into his back, reaching your orgasm, Danny not too far behind.

The half-masked killer wiped the blood from his lips, grinning down at you. “There, I marked you as mine. You’re my little slut, got it? Say it.”

You nodded, eyes still shut, your mouth open with only moans and gasps escaping. You forced yourself to speak, voice all hoarse and raw. “I’m your slut, Ghostface- Danny- whatever, I’m all yours.”

“That’s it. Such a good girl. Fuck-” His thrusts grew sloppy, and he rubbed at your clit even harder, making you climax once again with him. He pulled out, releasing on your stomach, and ending the video.

He pressed a rough kiss to your lips, before readjusting his mask, cleaning himself off, and fixing his clothes up. All the while you laid there, nude, panting, and coming down from the intense high you just had. You felt another flash blind your eyes, and the sound of a camera clicking, knowing he just took another picture.

Moving aside your curtains and blinds, Ghostface unlocked your window, pulling it up and stepping through. “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime. See you soon.”

#dbd #dead by deadlight #dbd x reader #dbd killer #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface #ghostface #ghostface x reader #dbd jed olsen #jed olsen #danny johnson dbd #dbd danny #danny johnson #smut tag

[metalbuckaroo]

🍒Be Good🍒

💋 SUMMARY// At 3am, every Sunday, Bucky locks his bedroom door to watch his favorite camgirl. What's to happen when he finds out he's much closer to her than leaving generous tips on her videos?

🍒 WARNINGS// Smut, cursing, oral (m receiving), bucky being nervous and cocky all at once, a smidgen of subby bucky, big dick bucky, i think that's it.

💋 AU// Roommate!Bucky x Camgirl!Reader

🍒 NOTE// OK, finally it's done 😅

💋Ronly Friends Masterlist💋

🍒Main Masterlist🍒

Moodboard by// @commonintrest

"Why are we here, exactly?" Bucky asked as the two of you walked into the shop that was filled with different sets of lingerie, sex toys and other things meant for sexual pleasure.

"If you're still serious about doing the video, we gotta get stuff to hide who you are." You shrugged, wandering towards a rack that held masks. "Well, I'm not very sure how many people have metal arms. It'll be kinda obvious."

"Nothing a jacket and some gloves won't fix."

You had expected Bucky to change his mind the next day, but so far he hadn't. He wouldn't say it outloud, but the thought excited him.

Even though you had told him there wasn't any actual sex involved, he just thought about the way your lips were going to feel around him and the glossy red lipstick you had worn in the videos would smudge against his skin and off of your lips.

"How about this one?" He pulled his gaze away from your lips to look at the black mask you held in your hand. "Would I be able to breathe in that thing?" He chuckled, taking it from you. "Well, yeah. There's holes."

Bucky lifted the mask to his face, holding it in place as he looked at you. The rubbery plastic covering from his nose down, leaving his denim blues visible.

Your lips curled up in a smile, raising your eyebrows. "You have really beautiful eyes." Bucky laughed lightly at the compliment, tossing the mask into the basket you were holding. "Thanks, cherry."

🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒

Bucky's head was swarming with thoughts as he sat on your bed that had been covered with a large throw blanket, the backdrop blocking the off white color of the walls and your headboard.

You stood in front of him, one of his t-shirts covering the lingerie set you wore as you set up a tripod. "Okay, stand up." You said with a soft smile, clipping the garter belt to the stockings and looking to him.

Dropping to your knees one at a time once he stood, Bucky sucked in a sharp breath when your fingers worked at the button of his jeans. "I thought you said that pictures were first?" He said, exhaling slowly. "They are, but pants aren't required."

He nodded, his cock already stirring in his jeans at the sight of you on your knees in front of him- tugging the tight fabric down his legs so he could kick them off. "Just one last thing-"

Goosebumps raised on his skin when your lips pressed to his hip bone just above the band of his briefs. A bright red lipstick print gracing the skin when you pulled away and stood with a proud smile.

Sitting back down on the bed, Bucky cleared his throat. "Now what?"

Your foot pushed his apart, trying to keep your eyes away from the bulge in his underwear as he leaned back on his forearms. "Just relax." You shrugged, adjusting the leather jacket to show more of his bare stomach and making sure the metal of his left shoulder wasn't visible, before handing him the mask to put on.

He heard a few shutter clicks after you went back behind the camera, watching as you pressed a few buttons then took the few steps back to him.

"Get 'em?" Bucky said, swallowing thickly when you moved to straddle his lap. "Hands here." You moved his gloved hands to hold your backside, his fingers pushing the hem of the shirt up a little. "You sure?"

Bucky hated that he was showing how nervous he was to be in such close quarters, he'd wanted this since the day you moved in.

"Bucky, if you're not sure about doing this we can stop." You said, leaning away a little to look at him. "It's not that-" he shook his head, words slightly muffled by the rubbery plastic covering the lower half of his face. "I wanna do this."

He cleared his throat and gathered all of the confidence he had as he shifted under you slightly. Your hands resting on his shoulders as his gave a soft squeeze to the supple flesh of your ass, biting back a groan when you brushed the erection straining against his briefs.

A few more shutter clicks and you stood, Bucky finally taking a deep breath to calm the pounding in his chest.

"This seems a little unfair." He said, watching you lean to get your mask from the dresser. "How's that?" You mused, cocking an eyebrow at him

Bucky leaned forward to toy with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. "Take it off." His husky tone sent a shiver down your spine. Thought you tried to hide it by gripping the bottom of the shirt, lifting it up and over your head before dropping it to the floor.

You could feel his slate blue eyes piercing through you, his breathing uneven as his gaze raked over the way the two piece, lacy and white lingerie fit your body as you stood behind the camera again.

"Ready?" Bucky swallowed thickly and nodded, not looking from you as you sunk down to your knees again. Reciting the rules you told him yesterday in his head.

'No kissing, it's too intimate, and be good.'

He lifted his hips enough for you to pull his briefs down his thighs, your breath catching in your throat when his erection sprung out. Long and thick, the tip red and swollen, like it was aching to be touched.

More confidence washed through Bucky at your expression, lips parted as you pumped your hand along his shaft a few times. Eyes flicking up to meet his as your tongue poked out to catch a bead of precum leaking down from the slit, eliciting a low groan from him.

Moaning softly at the salty taste tainting your tastebuds, your lips wrapped around the bulbous head. Glossy red lipstick smudging to the skin just like Bucky had pictured it would.

It didn't take much for Bucky to fall into the rhythm and completely forget about the camera pointed at the two of you. Wanton moans and pants leaving his lips, muffled by the mask but still very audible.

His hand holding the back of your head as you swallowed him down to his base, drool leaking around your lips and down your chin as you squeezed the thick muscles on his thigh- moaning around him

Bucky was already so close from the feeling of your throat constricting around him, he wasn't sure how he fit but he didn't care, it felt amazing.

His body relaxed when you pulled away to take a few gasps of air as you fisted over him. "C'mon, cherry..." he panted, stroking the back of your head, knowing he couldn't tug the hair due to it being a wig.

He was trying to listen to your rule about being good, resisting the urge to fuck up into the warmth of your mouth or rut his hips onto your hand.

But, the manicured hand he had thought so much about was finally wrapped around his cock and he didn't know how much control he had left.

"Remember, you gotta be a good boy." You teased when you leaned up to talk in his ear, smirking when his cock twitched in your hand.

"Fuck-" Bucky said in a low, drawn out moan when you took him in your mouth again, moving your hand to gently roll his balls in your palm as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

His eyebrows knitted together, hair fallen forward and partially shielded his face as his hooded eyes watched your every move.

You felt his balls and muscles in his thigh start to tight in your hands, his hand slipping down to hold the back of your neck when your cheeks hollowed to take more of him.

"Oh- fucking shit-" he hissed before a string of Russian curses poured out of his mouth, his release shooting down your throat.

The wicked smirk that plastered across your face when you pulled off of him made Bucky shudder, the grip on the back of your neck loosening. Watching you with a dazed look as you stood.

Bucky stood from the bed once he got his bearings again, pulling the mask off and cupping over himself as if you hadn't just swallowed his spend. "What about you?"

Lifting your head to look at him as you started to put the stuff away, you shrugged. "That wasn't part of the agreement."

He felt bad that he wasn't going to return the favor, noticing how your slick had soaked through the fabric of your lingerie. "But, you-"

You pecked a kiss to his cheek and patted his red tinted chest. "Just take the win, Buck."

As much as you wanted to, you were ready to cross that line yet. Maybe another day, but for now- the sated look on Bucky's face was enough for you.

Bucky cleared his throat and nodded, leaving your room and making his way to the bathroom for a shower.

He glanced down at the red lipstick smears when he shut the bathroom door, letting out a heavy sigh as he pulled the velcro straps of the leather gloves and tugged them off.

🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒

After both of you had showers and changed, Bucky stood in the kitchen with you as you cooked dinner. Trying not to think too hard about what happened less than an hour ago.

"Y'know, I didn't know you can speak Russian." You grinned, leaning back against the counter across from him. "Now you do." He said, lifting the beer bottle to his lips.

He knew what you were about to say from the teasing smirk that tugged you lips. "You liked being called a good boy, didn't you, James?" You cooed, stepping closer. "Shut the hell up." He muttered, looking to the floor.

Your arms went around his neck loosely, smiling up at him as your fingers messed with some of his long hair. "Awe, you did." You giggled, Bucky rolling his eyes at you. "You're gonna burn the food."

Bucky looked over his shoulder when the front door opened, Sam walking in. "Oh, fuck me." He groaned, turning so Sam couldn't see the strain in his briefs you caused from such a small amount of touch. "What are you two up to?"

"Dinner- stop barging in." Bucky snapped, eyes following his friend as he walked towards the fridge. "Yeah, not gonna happen. Steve is still whining about Peggy." Sam said the name in a mocking tone, holding a beer out towards Bucky. "I'm in my underwear and I'm not your personal bottle opener."

Raising his eyebrows, Sam nodded his head towards the bottle in his hand. Bucky taking it to pop the lid off with his silvery hand.

"Didn't they end it like- a month ago?" You asked, not looking from the pan on the stove. "Mhm, I don't think it will ever stop."

"Give him time, heartbreak isn't easy." You shrugged, a chuckle coming from both Sam and Bucky. "Someone break your heart? Please, cherry, they'd be stupid." Bucky mused, making your heart flutter in your chest.

"That's sweet, but everyone gets their heartbroken at some point." You pointed the spatula at him and he out his hands up in defense. "Ok, ok. Don't spank me." He laughed, the playful look in his eyes making you smile.

"Don't tempt me, I will."

🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒

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[certifiedskywalker]

How to Make the Right Decision in Five Simple Steps - Bucky Barnes

On the daily, people are thrust into situations that force them to make a choice, sometimes a series of choices. Since meeting each other, you and Bucky have struggled to decide when to speak up, when to tell your truths to the other.

WARNINGS: implied sexual intimacy

PART ONE: How to Make Small Talk in Five Simple Steps

I. Identify your end goal.

“Alright, James,” you drawled as you walked towards your home. The streets were no longer as busy, bathed in an orange sunset glow. “Tell me-”

“Not James.”

“Not James?”

Bucky shook his head, but you saw the barely-there hints of a smile on his lips. It made him look softer, as did the golden hour light. “My full name...it makes me feel...old.”

“Old!? You’re what, one hundred and ten?”

“One hundred and six,” he corrected, his blue eyes meeting your gaze for only a moment before he focused back on the path you both walked. “Plus, it’s what Raynor calls me.”

“Not Mr. Barnes?”

As you asked, teasingly bumping your shoulder into his. Though, you quickly found that to be a mistake as your right arm collided with his left. Immovable and metal, the impact knocked you to the side. Before you could even yelp in fear of falling, Bucky’s hand shot out, fingers gleaming with their dark alloy, and held you in place. When you found your footing and a degree of stability, you looked up into Bucky’s blue eyes.

They were wide with concern as he asked, “are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, just,” you warily glanced to his gloved left hand, “I forgot.”

“Oh,” he pulled his hand away, “already?”

“It’s not every day a handsome man reveals he has a Vibratium arm.”

“Vibranium.”

“I was close,” you sighed, holding out your hand. Bucky’s brow furrowed at your waiting, open palm. As if to convey a secret message, you waggled your fingers at him.

“What is it?”

“Give me your hand,” you said sheepishly, as warmth spread across your cheeks. His face lifted with the clarity you supplied, yet he hesitated to give you his left hand. It remained fixed at his side until you pressed. “So I don’t forget, again.”

Wordlessly, Bucky nodded and relented. His gloved hand reached out to your bare one and, now knowing the limb was metal, you were not surprised by the strength of his grip. Though, as if he could sense your thoughts, Bucky’s hand went lax in yours, almost limp. That was until you gripped it tighter and pulled him along to walk again.

“So, Mr. Barnes, what-”

“Not that either,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the briefest of seconds.

“You’re no fun,” you teased before you felt a pang of regret strike in your chest like a shock. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be joking, after all you’ve told me.”

“No, I...I’m not...who I told you about, that’s who I was but he wasn’t even really me. The Winter Soldier,” Bucky’s voice dropped as he said the name and he eyed distracted passersby, “is...he’s my history. I’m trying to make up for that.”

“Reparations. The court ordered therapy.”

“It’s a start,” Bucky agreed.

His tone was serious, lined with a cold edge that made you frown. Only when you glanced up at him did you feel your worry ebb. You caught his side profile perfectly as sunlight shone between two skyscrapers. His visage was cast so wonderfully, he looked nearly ethereal. Then, as you continued to walk side by side, the light was blocked behind more grey buildings. Their shadows fell across your shoulders and the sidewalk. In that same moment, Bucky looked down at you.

“And I like that you joke, that you forgot,” he said as your breath caught. Even in the shade of the city, Bucky looked lighter. Perhaps it was the lingering bits of a smile that played on his lips. You weren’t sure. “But, uh, sorry. I keep cutting you off.”

“Oh! It’s alright,” you swallowed hard, “now I just gotta figure out what to call you.”

“By my name? Bucky?”

“I mean like a nickname,” you clarified, but Bucky’s brows were knitted once more.

“It’s kinda already my nickname.”

“But my nickname, for you,” you stressed, instinctively squeezing the hand of his that you held. You frowned when you realized he might not have felt it.

“Why do you need a special one?”

“You know, now since we’re,” you paused then, as you felt your tongue may trip on the next word and because you weren’t sure if it was even the right word. “Friends.”

A moment of silence passed between you and it took all you had to tear your eyes from Buckys. When you did, your gaze fell upon a nearby building facade that looked familiar. At the sight, your heart sank. Mid-stride you stopped and turned to face Bucky, ready to give him the news. Though, before you could, he spoke up.

“Friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” you echoed, though, in your head, your words sounded more like a question. Bucky’s expression was unreadable, only adding to your hesitation.

“Friends,” he repeated slowly as if testing the word out.

His lips curved into what you could only describe as a forced half-smile as the other half of his mouth remained fixed in a frown. It was almost as if he could not decide how he felt about the word, its power in defining whatever your joined hands and the way you looked at each other meant. You couldn’t decide either. Now that you knew Bucky, you wanted to know more, to know why he let you hold his hand and why he looked at you with such softness that you stomach fluttered so. You wanted him, or did you want the idea of him that you had in your head, the idea of Bucky that you created when you met in the waiting room?

But rather than face that indecision, you glanced to the apartment complex doors that stood still to your right. “Um, well, this is me.”

“Oh,” immediately, his hand dropped from yours. “Alright.”

You lingered a moment on the bottom step leading up to the porch. Bucky’s eyes were trained on you as if waiting for something, longing for something. Though, Bucky was too much of a gentleman to ask, to feed it. You felt it too, heard it whispered in a little voice in your head. Invite him upstairs, you fool!

“I’ll see you, same time next week?” There was a teasing tilt in his voice as he asked like he knew how much it sounded like Dr. Raynor or Dr. Briam. You, now broken out of your thoughts, smiled.

“I’ll mark the appointment in my calendar,” you said, playing along. “Or, you could text me. You do have my number, after all.”

“Maybe. I still don’t know how I feel about smartphones.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re proving that ‘old dog, new tricks’ saying right when you say that, you know.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N,” Bucky said, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned as he turned around to walk back the way you came.

You watched him go before you climbed up the stairs to your apartment building door. As you fiddled in your pocket for the keys, you looked back in his direction. You swore that your mind was playing tricks on you. You swore that this day was long and emotionally taxing and it must have been your brain’s way of telling you it was time to rest.

But you could not shake the sight, the look in his face when you saw that Bucky Barnes had looked back too.

II. Gather information to best weigh your options.

“What’s that?”

Bucky looked up from the small notebook in his hands as you sat in the seat, your chair, beside his. “Good afternoon to you too.”

“Is it your diary?” You feigned a dramatic gasp and pressed a hand to your chest. “Are you writing about me?”

A small, breathy laugh, almost true, fell from his lips. “I wish.”

Then, it was your turn to chuckle. “I think the proper response is ‘you wish’.”

“No,” he held your gaze and you felt that Bucky was seeing through you. No, not through you but into you, into your heart and soul. “I meant I wish.”

“Well then,” you took a quick breath to replace the one Bucky’s words knocked from your lungs. “What are you writing about, Buckaroo?”

“No.”

You grinned. “What?”

“No to ‘Buckaroo’ or whatever the Hell you just said. That can’t be my nickname.”

“Worth a shot,” you sighed as you leaned back in the chair. Bucky let out an amused huff and you savored the lightness of the sound. Comfortable that the almost new nickname diffused the tension, you let your body curl into your seat. Though, your eyes quickly landed on his hands, how they rested in his lap and held tight to the small notebook. Bucky let out a trembling breath and looked back at you.

Your eyes snapped to his and you saw only a heavy glaze of seriousness in the blue. “It’s my...it’s how I’m making amends.”

“Dr. Raynor has you journaling?”

“It’s more of a list.”

“A list,” you leaned towards him, intrigued. “Of good deeds?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked from yours to your lips and back again. It was a momentary slip of his gaze, but it did not ease the trembling of your next breath.

“No,” he replied, letting his attention fall to his notebook. “A list of names...”

He trailed off and raised his head, fixing his eyes on the too-high windows of the waiting room. And, just like that, Bucky was out of your reach again. His mind was towards the glass a dozen feet above from where you both sat, lost in some fogged memory. The other day, when he told you his name, his past, and about the Winter Soldier, you asked him if he remembered what he did in his ‘living weapon’ state.

All of them, he told you; though, in that moment, you weren’t sure to who or what ‘them’ referred to. Now, you had a sinking heaviness in your gut. You did not want it to be true. You did not want this heft of knowing more if it hurt Bucky. Them, the victims. His victims.

“People that you-no, not you. People that he hurt in the past when-”

Before you could finish, Bucky looked at you. Sadness carved lines in his face like scars, all around his mouth and eyes. He suddenly appeared older and your resolve broke. You had a feeling that knowing more about the real Bucky would melt your heart, but this felt more like an ache. It was clear he felt the same pain.

“Hey,” you reached your hand out and wrapped your fingers around his forearm. “You can’t change the past, only the now. And you’re trying to do that, right?”

“I’m trying, but...it’s not...better.”

“The guilt?”

Bucky only nodded in reply, his eyes never once leaving yours.

“I mean, I don’t know what Raynor is having you do but, if this way,” you tipped your head towards his notebook, “if it isn’t working, maybe it’s time to try something else. Try to make them feel better than you do.”

“How?” You frowned at the croaking desperation in his voice. Instinctively, hoping to comfort and console, your grip tightened around Bucky’s metal wrist.

“Give closure if you can, hope to others,” you shrugged, “just be there.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up slightly as he looked at you. “I would have never thought you’d be so wise.”

A forced laugh spilled from your lips. “It’s the therapy and the trauma.”

“We both have baggage,” Bucky sighed, letting his eyes fall to the carpeted floor of the waiting room. You let your gaze follow his and saw how near you two were to each other. Your foot was close to his and smaller in comparison.

“It’s what makes us human, right?” You nudged his foot with yours as you asked and, when you looked back at Bucky’s face, you saw his eyes on you.

“Right.”

For a moment, you saw him as you did last week: walking away from your apartment building, eyes fixed on you as he looked over his shoulder. Was he thinking of that same second glance back? Was he too overcome by the desire to know more about you as you were about him? Or was he thinking that you knew too much, that it was only a matter of time before he scared you away for good?

You wanted to ask. You wanted to know. The way he was looked at you was tortuous. Yet, all that you managed to get out was: “you didn’t text me.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to pull them back in. Bucky’s face fell and his brow furrowed, and you wanted to scream. Or cry, or both. Both would do the trick.

“I didn’t mean to-” you began but stopped when Bucky started to speak.

“I was going to but I thought-”

“James.”

In turn, you and Bucky shifted your attention to Dr. Raynor. The woman poked her head out from behind the door of her office. Her displeased expression only grew more pointed when her dark eyes fell on your hand on Bucky’s wrist. Immediately, you pulled your fingers away, as if her sharp gaze stung your skin.

“I’m ready for you,” she grumbled, before retreating into the dark of her room. You glanced back at Bucky, whose eyes remained fixed on the now open door.

“You should go,” you murmured, and your voice proved to be enough to coax Bucky’s attention towards you. “Best not to keep the Grinch waiting.”

“I wanted to, I,” Bucky let out a sharp exhale through his nose. “I will text you.”

“Sure you will,” you said, hoping that your teasing tone outshone the hurt that lingered in your chest. “I’m sure you will, Buckaroo.”

“Still no.” Bucky stood up and looked down at you. “And I will. I’ll…”

You waved a hand at him. “Just go. I was kidding anyway.”

Bucky frowned but didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he started towards the door to Raynor’s office and, this time, as he walked away, he didn’t look back.

III. Consider the consequences.

“Can I walk you home again?”

At the sound of his voice, you jumped as you walked out of Raynor and Briam’s offices. With eyes wide and mouth agape, you stared at Bucky, who you hadn’t seen in weeks. At your shocked expression, he reached up and scratched the back of his head. He was nervous.

And he should be. “Bucky?! What...where have you been?!”

“It’s a long story,” he sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. You eyed him, unwilling to let him talk his way out of his sudden, frightening absence. It was difficult to do: Bucky was still as handsome as ever. His hair looked softer in the light of day, outside of the grey of the waiting room, and his blue eyes were brighter than the last time you saw him.

“Well, I’ve got time for you to tell it,” you said, breaking from the trance his features put you in. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to stay stern.

“Y/N, it was a matter of national importance,” Bucky assured, a small quirk pulling up at the corner of his mouth. Though, you were unamused.

“I’ve been waiting alone...I was worried. You just...disappeared. Without a word!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to worry.” Bucky nodded and a bitter laugh slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

“You didn’t text me,” you whimpered, your sternness melting under the heated pain of missing him. “And I’m not kidding this time.”

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes falling to the sidewalk before he continued. “I know and I want to explain.”

A long, strained pause fell over you both as you loitered before the doorway, staring at each other. Before you could speak up or try to tear your eyes from Bucky’s, a man, a new client of Dr. Raynor, started up the steps. To avoid being bumped into, you stepped forwards and nearly collided with Bucky. His hand reflexively reached out, shining under the sun, and held you still, secure.

“Sorry,” you murmured, as the new client disappeared inside the office. Your eyes flicked from Buckys to his hand that lingered on your upper arm. A shock of surprise rushed through you when you fully realized he was without his gloves. You turned your gaze back to Bucky’s and studied his somber expression. “No gloves?”

“Like I said, I want to explain.”

“You wanna tell me your long story in the doorway like it’s small talk?”

“No,” Bucky soothed, sensing your anger, “I want to walk you home if you’ll let me.”

You took a long, debating breath and glanced over Bucky’s face. There was nothing but sincerity in his eyes. You had not seen them so clear before. No longer were they as fogged and distant as the windows in the waiting room. Originally, you thought learning more about him would make Bucky feel less far away, but then he left. Now that he was back, he was closer than ever.

You weren’t about to push him away.

“Okay. Tell me your story, Jimmy.”

Bucky scoffed, “Jimmy?”

“I don’t know,” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air. “James, Jimmy. It works, sort of. You being away threw me off my game.” You started down the stonework stairs and Bucky followed suit. As you both began to walk in the direction of your apartment, you felt as if everything was back as it should be again.

“I missed you too.”

At his words, you pressed you lips together to keep from smiling too broadly. Heat spread along your cheeks as you snuck a glance up to Bucky. His eyes were fixed on you still, watching, reading, and smiling. Really, truly smiling.

You swallowed hard and turned your eyes back to the sidewalk. “As much as I would love to hear about how much you missed me, you have a story?”

He sighed, “yes, and I have this friend…”

“Sam?” You asked, hoping you remembered the man’s name from when Bucky told you about the Falcon so long ago.

“Yeah, Sam.”

Then, he told you everything. He told you about John Walker, the shield, and the serum. He told you about a baron named Zemo and Wakanda’s Dora Milaje. He told you about the Flag Smashers and fighting for what’s right. He told you about the Wilson’s boat in Louisiana. He told you about how he didn’t want to put you in harm’s way.

“That’s why I didn’t text you,” he explained, “the Flag Smashers were using an app and their phones. They called Sarah, Sam’s sister, threatened her and her kids.”

“But they’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bucky said with a fond glint in his eyes. “Played with the kids at the party.”

“Party?” You asked, a grin spreading along your lips. “I see how it is. You didn’t text me because I wasn’t invited to the after-party, huh?”

“No, actually, Sam wanted to fly you out.”

“What?!” You glanced at Bucky and stopped mid-stride. “He knows about me?”

“Of course. I told him about you,” Bucky smiled softly as he stopped. His hands were shoved in his jacket pockets, shoulders back and relaxed. He looked so wonderfully put together, more confident than before. “How could I not?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, bashfully flicking your eyes around the sidewalk. It was only then you realized you were outside your apartment building. It felt too soon.

“Well, I did.” Bucky stepped towards you, hands slipping out from his pockets. You eyed the hand that was his flesh, the rough skin of his palm before you met his gaze.

“Then, why didn’t you ask me? Fly me out?”

“Would you have wanted to come?”

“I…”

At your hesitance, Bucky leaned in closer. You could smell the leather of his jacket and notes of smoke. His blue eyes were searching your face and you felt another rush of warmth rise up and spread like gentle fires across your skin. The feeling stole your breath away, dulled your every thought until only Bucky remained.

“Would you have come?”

His second ask conjured an image in your mind: one of smiles and his arm around your waist, holding you to his side as party-goers danced. You saw kids and Bucky smiling as they threw fake punches at him and laughed when he played along. Then you saw his hands, both flesh and metal, cupping your face at the end of the evening. An evening like the one that surrounded you both.

In the soft light, you saw only Bucky, what you knew and didn’t know about him; but not a single regret. Not a single consequence.

“Yes,” you finally replied. “I would’ve.”

You were so close that you felt Bucky’s gentle sigh of relief against your skin. “Then I should’ve asked. Should’ve texted.”

“You said that you would,” you pointed out.

“You’re right. So, I guess I owe you one.”

“One text?” You smiled and Bucky shook his head.

“One text, one invitation,” Bucky’s eyes flicked to your lips then back up to meet your gaze. A lump formed in your throat at the sight. You glanced to the door of your apartment complex and then back to Bucky.

“So, if I invite you up, you’re obliged to accept?”

IV. Make your decision.

You made the choice to invite Bucky Barnes up to your apartment, but you did not remember how you led him to the door. Adrenaline dulled the proposal in your memory. For that, you were glad because, otherwise, you would have panicked as you and Bucky rode up to your floor in the elevator. Tension would have swallowed you whole, drowned you.

Before you knew it, you were inside your apartment.

“It’s nice in here,” Bucky mused, glancing around your small studio.

You mirrored his movements, eyed the exposed brick walls and scattered posters. What furniture you had was older and a small TV was precariously sat on a coffee table with a mess of wires behind it. Your kitchenette was untouched, but your garbage can nearly overflowed with trash from prepackaged meals.

“It’s not much to look at.”

“It’s cozier than my place,” Bucky said, turning to look at you from over his shoulder, “it looks like the guys’ apartment from that one show. Amigos?”

“Amigos?” You raised a brow at him as you shed your coat and draped it over the back of your favorite chair. “Never heard of it.”

“No, that’s not the name,” Bucky snapped his fingers, trying to magically summon the proper title. “It’s about friends, in New York. They live across the hall and go to some coffee shop all the time. And they’re all white.”

You laughed, “you mean F.R.I.E.N.D.S?”

“That’s it,” Bucky groaned, “it was on Steve’s list.”

“Steve’s list?” You walked into your small living room as you asked, settling on your couch. With practiced ease, the cushions gave in to your weight and you felt a rush of comfort soothe over your slight nervousness.

“That notebook, the one I used for my amends. It was Steve’s before,” Bucky wandered further into your apartment until he stood in your living room, stood before where you sat on the couch. “He made a list of all the things he missed. Movies, types of food, music, and TV shows. A lot of pop-culture things that I still don’t know.”

“Clearly,” you teased. Your light tone caught Bucky’s attention back to you. His blue eyes were darker in the limited sunset light that shone through your windows.

“I’d like to know more,” he pressed, “more about you.”

Your mouth went dry at his words but you managed to squeak out: “then ask.”

Bucky nodded and took a seat on the couch cushion beside you. You turned to face him, waiting for his questions and found yourself dumbstruck by the softness in his face.

“How would you describe yourself?”

A laugh slipped past your lips. It was laced with the sweet memory of the second time you and Bucky Barnes ever spoke to each other. That stupid magazine quiz. When you managed to collect yourself, you saw that Bucky wore a closed-lipped smile.

“In lifestyle quiz terms or in my own terms?”

“Up to you,” Bucky replied, throwing his left arm over the back of your couch.

“Hmm, I don’t know...maybe like a well-read owl?”

Bucky let out an amused huff. “You like to you read?”

“Sometimes. There are a few books I like,” you gestured to the somewhat sparse bookcase in the corner, “but it’s mostly just stuff online now.”

“Ever read The Hobbit?”

“That’s an oddly specific title,” you observed, unable to help the slight grin that pulled at your lips. “Why The Hobbit?”

“I know there are movies out now, a few years ago. But I read it,” Bucky took a breath, “when it first came out.”

“Wow,” you exclaimed, “that’s very hipster of you to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“There really is so much you don’t know,” you jested at his question.

“You mock me, but at least I’m not addicted to my phone.”

“Careful, you’re showing your age,” you laughed. When he failed to return your expression, your chest tightened. “What’s wrong?”

“Does that...does that make you nervous?”

“Your age? No,” you shook your head. “How good you look at a century old? Yes.”

Bucky smiled and his cheeks pinked, but his eyes fell to his lap. “But everything I told you, about me, my past, you’re not nervous? You’re not...scared?”

“No,” you replied quickly, “no, Buck, I’m not scared of you.”

Bucky didn’t respond and, for a moment, you feared that he hated that nickname too. Yet, rather than say so, he stared into your eyes with his lips slightly parted, waiting. At the sight, you felt a wonderful twisting in your gut as Bucky leaned in.

V. Assess the outcome(s).

You made the choice to invite Bucky Barnes up to your apartment, but you had no choice to make when it came to wanting him. You were stupid in believing there was any choice before. There was no decision to make. Not when Bucky already felt right.

Not when his hand, when the rough skin of his palm pressed ever-so-gently against your cheek. His thumb traced across the apple of your cheek as his fingers moved to hold your jaw. Just as they did so many tantalizing times before, Bucky’s eyes danced along your lips before he met your gaze once more. It was a silent question.

“Bucky,” you murmured, tone dripping with want.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The one word is all he needed to hear. Bucky leaned in further, tilted your face up with his thumb and forefinger, and pressed his lips to yours. It was a careful kiss. As if he is scared that you lied, that you were scared and would pull away swiftly. When you lingered, Bucky tipped his lips away from yours and took a breath. You did the same and smiled.

“Was that your first kiss since before World War two?”

Bucky blinked and lifted his slightly hooded eyes to meet your gaze. His pupils were blown and his breathing incredibly slow as he drank in your pleased expression. He had lovely eyelashes, you noticed. They framed the lightness of his eyes so perfectly.

“Any complaints?” His voice was low and sent a shivering shudder down your spine.

“No,” you replied in a desperate breath.

Bucky smiled and leaned in again, captured your lips with his. His hand remained against your jaw with his fingertips kissing your neck. Your own hands traveled up along his broad chest to his neck. His skin was deliciously warm, a sharp contrast to the cool metal of his left hand when it found rest on your waist.

A gasp slipped out of your mouth at the sudden cold, but Bucky was quick to swallow the sound. He trailed searing, no longer careful kisses from your lips to your jaw to your neck. You were a wire made live by his touch. To keep the current, you moved your hands from his neck to his soft, short brown hair. You tugged on the strands, eliciting a muffled moan from his lips.

“Buck,” you mewled as he dragged both of his hands down to your hips and pulled you into his lap. At the sound of the nickname, his wandering touch paused and he let his lips brush along your skin. A barely-there touch.

You looked down at him, saw his kiss-swollen lips, and met his want-filled eyes. Despite the clear desire in his expression and the lust that pooled in your stomach, he seemed suddenly restrained. Worried that maybe he felt this was all too much too fast, you let your hands fall to his shoulders. He did not seem distant but his silence made you wary to continue.

“What is it?”

“I should’ve texted you sooner, doll,” he whispered, pressing his thumbs into your hips. “Wanted to the day I got your number but…”

He trailed off and, to keep him in the moment, to keep his eyes on you, you moved a hand up to Bucky’s face. “Stay out of your head and I’ll stay out of mine. Just be with me now, okay?”

He stayed quiet, watching you as you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. As you did, Bucky’s hands tightened on your hips and pulled you flush against him. You didn’t moan then, but when his fingers, both of metal and flesh, slipped under the hem of your shirt, an involuntary whine escaped you. Bucky smiled into the kiss before you trailed more down his jaw.

“Okay,” he murmured, far too smug for your liking. You pulled your lips from his skin and eyed him vexedly.

Before you could tease or provoke, Bucky craned his neck and kissed you hard. You felt his thighs shift beneath your own and, in a flash, your back was laid against the couch cushions. Bucky’s weight slightly rested on you, pressing against your body marvelously. Heat lingered in the paths of his hands as they explored still covered tracks of your skin. His lips followed suit and you melted completely into bliss.

VI. Daybreak.

Light slipped through the window and cast your bedroom in an orange sunrise glow. You weren’t entirely sure how you and Bucky ended up in your bed. Well, you did, but you were still lost in the haze that surrounded the actions of the night before. Parts of your body still tingled, electrified by Bucky’s lingering touch.

You could feel it still, a tickling that emanated from where Bucky’s skin remained pressed against yours. His arm was slung around your bare waist, warm and snug. With your head on the pillow, you turned to study Bucky’s face. Sleep looked good on him.

His eyelashes fanned out against the peaks of his cheeks, which made him look angelic. You tried to remember if you had ever seen him so at peace before. Images of the waiting room danced before your eyes. You could only recall the relief that flashed across his face when he told you about his nightmares. Though, compared to the relaxed brow and softness laid before you, that expression was far from peaceful.

Unable to help yourself, you trailed your fingertips along the length of Bucky’s forearm that was wrapped around you. Under your touch, you saw the muscles beneath the skin flex and his hold on you tightened. When you glanced back at Bucky’s face, you were met with a pair of sleepy blue eyes.

“Mornin’,” he greeted, his voice gravelly from disuse.

“Morning. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.” As he spoke, his arm around your waist squeezed once more. Now, your side was pressed to his chest and the scruff on Bucky’s chin prickled against your skin.

“You sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” he beamed, lifting his head from your pillow. “Better than okay.”

You smiled right back at him. “No nightmares or anything?”

“Not last night,” he said lowly as he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Didn’t have a chance to.”

You reached a hand up to his hair as Bucky trailed gentle pecks along your jaw. A hum of contentment rose up your throat as he moved against you. You trailed your fingers through his messed hair and sighed. Bucky pulled away at the sound and peered down at you.

“What?”

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, gently brushing your hair back with his left hand. The coolness of the Vibranium woke you up fully and you reached a hand out to grab his wrist.

“And you’re intolerable, James Buchanan Barnes.” You intertwined your fingers with his metal ones and grinned. He returned the expression as he pinned your hand against the space beside your head.

“No jokes, no teasing,” he persisted, “you’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to the column of your throat and you sighed a thank you.

“You are too.” Bucky pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. “I mean, why else do you think I talked to you in the waiting room?”

A laugh rumbled up in Bucky’s chest and you felt the vibration of the sound against your own. “I thought it was because I was new.”

“Well yeah, and handsome,” you grinned. Bucky’s eyes drank in your expression and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to that first meeting. “You looked lonely.”

“Until you,” he murmured, echoing your words from long ago.

You nodded under his softening gaze. “Until you.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james barnes fanfiction #james barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu

[angry-geese]

Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Warnings: nsfw/mdni. oral (fem recieving), face riding, fingering, pet names, thinly veiled praise kink, biting/marking, body worship (???), tender sex. not the healthiest relationship dynamic. toji kinda needs his own warning. afab reader, fem pronouns.

Word Count: 2.3k

The last little beam of goldening sunlight fills the room as the sun sets. The movie—which you’ve long since stopped paying attention to—has turned to credits. Toji lays with his head in your lap, hands folded on his chest. The scarred corner of his mouth twitches as you card your fingers through his hair.

He’s not sure why he keeps coming back. But he keeps doing so. Toji doesn't quite know how to put it in words. It's not love—or so he’d say—because there's only two things he loves in life; gambling, and killing. If there was a third, it would be you, so you take this with a grain of salt. He looks forward to coming around, even if he groans and complains when you call him over. He sees something in you, even if he can't put it into words. In the beginning you were just a quick fling. A warm mouth, and a wet cunt. Sometimes you’d cook too. Which was nice. He’d kill someone just for the gyoza you make.

When he fell for you, he fell hard.

It was obvious to seemingly everyone but him. His gaze lingered a little longer than normal, he found his thoughts turning to you more often, he’d mention you even without provocation. He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes spending time with you. You know that, even if it would be nice to have him say it. The man is a mess, there’s only so much shit you can give him for it.

You let out a squeak as he hauls you into his arms, letting your body hover just over his chest. His gaze drifts down your figure, studying every dip and curve of your barely-clothed body.

“Stop! Wait!” You playfully claw at his chest, but there's some sense of urgency behind it. “I'm too heavy!”

He notices you trying to scramble away and sits up, pulling you into his lap. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands; they ghost up your sides, coming to rest on your hips.

“What do you mean you’re too heavy?” He asks. “Sweetheart, I could lift you with one arm.”

He’s not lying. He can—and has—thrown you around. He’s not the best with words, but it’s oddly comforting. Being so open with his affection is a foreign feeling to him. Love in a traditional sense is a bit new to him. Toji deserves more credit than he’s given. You’re so many things to him: strong, sturdy, beautiful.

He tilts your chin up, your gaze meeting his. There’s a look in his eyes that you can't quite read.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks.

You don't.

His fingers ghost across your skin; there but barely. You’d be lying if you said you hadn't tried to recreate the way he touches you; the way his long, skilled fingers make you writhe. Every past lover of yours pales in comparison to him. Your hands don't feel the same. It almost makes up for his fleeting nature. Almost.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, the scarred side of his mouth twitching. His calloused hands cup your face. The warmth of his skin is inviting, and makes you lean in even closer. You feel yourself slowly giving in to him.

He leans back. You wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the evil sounding chuckle that leaves him. He watches as your eyes widen. Your brows knit in frustration.

“You stopped breathing there,” he says, “did you want me to kiss you?”

“No teasing,” you say, your voice weak.

Toji presses a quick peck to your forehead. Then your nose. Then the curve of your jaw.

“It’s my job to tease you,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze, “I like watching you writhe.”

Toji smooths a hand over your hair, brushing it back from your eyes. The gentle touch makes goosebumps raise along your shoulders. You visibly sulk when he pulls his hand away.

“Please,” you say.

The kiss he pulls you into is rough and needy. Toji nibbles at your bottom lip until you allow his tongue to explore the wet cavern of your mouth. He tastes faintly of alcohol. He doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands. They wander up your sides, kneading the soft flesh of your hips and breasts, tugging your skirt up your hips to reveal your already wet pussy.

When he pulls away, an audible smack echoes through the room.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his large, calloused fingers tracing circles around your clit. You practically melt against his touch. You fit so perfectly against him, your chest pressed against his, your knees planted on either side of his thighs. Each moan and gasp that threatens to spill past your lips, choked by his tongue, spurs him on further. Your face buries in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. He doesn't smell like much of anything; laundry soap and shampoo he stole from you.

You whine as he pulls his hand away, aching for his touch. So close yet so far from your own release. He offers his hand to you. Obediently, you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits.

“Strip.” He orders. You comply.

Your—his—shirt comes off first. Slowly you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. The corner of his lip twitches when he realizes you have no bra on underneath. His hands come up to palm at your breasts, gently tugging and pinching at the sensitive flesh of your nipples. Calloused hands squeeze eagerly at them, admiring their roundness.

Next goes your skirt. Momentarily you have to shift off his lap to slide it down your legs. One of his hands gropes appreciatively at your ass. He lands a quick slap, admiring the way your ass jiggles, chuckling at the soft gasp that leaves you. It stings, but you wouldn't consider it painful. His hand smooths over the red mark he’s left.

"Look at you," he says, "my good girl.” His laugh comes from low in his chest. The heat that rises to your face is undeniable. Out of embarrassment your hands raise to cover your face. Instinctively your arms cross over your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen you like this before.

“Don't hide yourself,” he gently tugs your arms down, admiring the way the moonlight reflects off your skin, “I want to see you.”

You straddle his thigh. The way you grind down against him is far from subtle. He notices the way your face contorts with need- and the small wet patch your cunt leaves on his thigh.

He’s ready to show his affections with his tongue. Rather unceremoniously he lays back, guiding your hips to settle over his chest. His dark hair pools around his head.

“Be a good girl and ride my face,” he says.

There's no hiding the way you blush. From chest to forehead you’re bright red. Even the tips of your ears take on a pink color. His hands trail down your sides, squeezing your ass and hips. You settle over his face, thighs on either side of his head. The warmth of your skin spreads to him.

His tongue dips in your folds, swirling around your clit. He presses kitten licks to your clit. Toji’s touches are always achingly close to where you need them, but not quite. His touch is fleeting in nature; just like him. Your fingers bury in his hair, guiding him to where you want him most.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t tease!” You whine.

His grip on your thighs tightens, pulling you down against his face. Your needy clit is lavished with affections from a hot tongue. His skilled tongue traces circles around your clit, gently sucking and nipping at the sensitive bud. Aside from your own moans are the sounds of a man very content with what he’s doing. He could die happy with his head between your thighs.

You grind down against his face, content to chase your own release. Heat pools low in your stomach, building with each skilled flick of his tongue. You’re reduced to a moaning, babbling mess, crying out his name like it’s a prayer.

The knot in your stomach snaps.

Toji lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, holding your hips down. It takes a moment for the overstimulation to register in your lust-addled mind. His tongue still works eager circles around your clit, seemingly unaware of your writhing form. The lower half of Toji’s face glints in the dim light. His hair is a mess, sticking out in all sorts of directions from your desperate grip. A sleepy, mischievous grin spreads across his face. It's not often you see him so relaxed.

Your post-orgasm haze leaves you sensitive, and shaky. His hands run over your flushed skin, his eyes hungrily taking in your form. Though he’s not the most verbal with his affections, his eyes can’t hide what goes on in his head. He takes you in all at once, yet piece by piece too. His eyes say what his mouth won't.

“Did you think you could get away that easily?” He asks.

You swallow hard.

He guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle one of his large thighs, palming his growing erection. With the change of position, his bulge grinds right against your leg. Toji’s eyes darken in warning. He lifts his hips just enough to shove his pants down. His cock springs free from his boxers, the tip glistening with precum. It's built like the rest of him, long and thick, the hairs towards the base are dark and a bit unruly. The head takes on an angry red color. His size is a bit intimidating, but he always makes sure you’re prepared enough to take him.

You lower yourself onto him slowly. You fit around him like a glove; the warm, velvety walls of your cunt clenching around him. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, though you show none.

“You can take more than that, can't you?” He asks.

You nod.

He still gives you a moment to get used to his size. His hands find your hips, giving them a tender squeeze. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breath hot against his skin. The intimacy of the situation doesn't go over his head. He leans to nip at your earlobe, cooing in your ear how good you’re doing, how well you fit around him. Toji trails wet, open mouth kisses down your neck. The gasps and moans that leave you as you shift to get more comfortable makes his cock twitch.

“My good girl,” he coos, “taking all of me like this.”

He guides your hips as you bounce on his cock, his nails digging into your plush thighs. Toji can't pry his eyes away from the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. Greedy, calloused hands palm at your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. Sweat beads in his hairline. You don't think you’ve ever seen him so focused.

One of his hands moves down to toy with your clit, working circles against the bundle of nerves. He notices how your breath hitches, how your lips have been bitten pink, how your pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks. You don't.

His hands find your hips, momentarily lifting you off his lap, laying you down on your back. He fucks into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. His pace is brutal.

Toji grunts as your nails rake across his back, leaving angry red marks. His lips latch onto the fleshy part of your neck, sucking and nipping in a way that makes you whimper. A collar of dark marks nearly circles your neck. It brings him an odd joy seeing you marked up in such a way. People know you’re his.

There’s not one specific thing that sends you over the edge, but a mixture of everything. From the way his skilled fingers toy with your clit to the way his cock leaves none of your sweet spots unstroked.

Your legs clamp around his waist as you cum, crying out his name. With the way you clench around him, pulling him back in, he isn't far behind.

His thrusts grow sloppier as he nears his own release. Toji’s praise turns to broken sentence fragments about how good you’re doing, and how beautiful your body is underneath him. For just this moment his stoic nature fails, and he lets his affections pour fourth.

“You’re gonna take all of it.” He says. “You’re gonna take all of my cum.”

And you do.

Hot, thick ropes of his cum spill into your unprotected womb, spilling out and running down your thighs in streams. To stifle his grunt, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. A small, pained whimper escapes you.

As he pulls out, he’s hit with a pang of regret for not using a condom. Aside from the mess, he doesn't want to knock you up. That doesn't stop him from shamelessly leaning back and admiring the mess he’s made. Any bit of worry he has is quickly forgotten.The sight of your fucked-out form leaking his cum lights a whole new need within him.

He pulls you to lay on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to him. Your bed would probably be more comfortable, but he doesn't want to risk moving you. A sleepy, content smile spreads across your face. His quiet heartbeat acts as a lullaby. You find yourself nuzzling into his chest,

“You better stop that, sweetheart,” he says, “unless you want a round two.”

#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #not sfw