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#god i have to tag the entire litter
gomzwrites · 10 months
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The taskforce 141’s favourite steamy moments 
Contain smut(18+), minors do not interact
a/n: I wanted to write something that the 141 members like the most whenever they have some spicy moment with the reader >:) so I decided to give smut writing a go! These are arranged based on length, I apologise for writing such a short one for Ghost as I was struggling to make it as gender-neutral as possible(if it still comes out as fem, Im so sorry!), maybe next time I’ll do specific gender one post at a time, but for now enjoy this mess :> Tags: xgn! Reader, dry humping/grinding, eating out(reader receiving), submissive, teasing, riding(implied sorta), biting, slightly possessive behaviour, hand job - let me know if i missed any tags reader's text is in purple PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Simon Ghost Riley - taste
Ghost likes it when you run your fingers along his hair, soft and gentle as he closes his eyes and savour the gesture. But he likes it best when you scratch his hairline and lock your hands in his short blonde curls. 
Ghost has been in between your thighs since he dragged you into his room, he laps on your entrance as he sloppily licks up your sensitive sex, sinful slurping and moans filling the room. He works his tongue expertly, mixing those arousal juices with his saliva as he grunts and groans. You watch with teary, half-lidded eyes as he slowly retracts from your aching sex and trails teasing kisses around your thighs before he bites down as you jolt.
S-simon…! 
You whine out his name as he hums and graze his teeth along your thighs, taking his sweet time as he watches you grow increasingly desperate, turning into a whimpering mess on his bed because of him.
He spread your leg further as he let his tongue dance against you, watching your back arches up as he moan into your sex, causing a shiver to run down your spine as his deep husky voice reverberated through your entire body. He looks up to you with those dark eyes that are blown out and filled with desire, hungrily pinning your hips down with his eyes alone. 
“Be good”, was all he said before he latch onto you again as he devour you like there was no tomorrow. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
John Soap MacTavish - wants
You struggle to breathe properly as your chest is fully pressed on top of your desk, now messy and with papers and reports that are scattered about and long forgotten. 
Grunts and moans filled your room as Soap has your hands pinned on top of your head, his other hand grabbing your hips, fingers digging into your hips that always leave purplish-red marks the next day. 
“Fuck y/n…..” Soap slurs as he buckled his hip at your ass, both of you still have your gears and clothes on, leaving only the bulky vest on the floor as he grinds on you, so desperate, so fucking desperate. 
He leans down to bite on the back of your neck causing you to moan as you feel his tongue lap at the bite marks and suck gently to soothe the flesh, now littered with goosebumps. You can feel how warm and hot he is from your back despite the layers of clothes, and you can hear his heartbeat too when he starts thrusting you faster, harsher, pressing his chest and his hips on you, as if he’s moulding your entire body as both of you are mushed together perfectly. 
‘It's not enough…” he growls as he continues grinding on you, voice getting lower as he frowns and bites down on your neck again, another mark as he lets out pants of frustration, you gasp and moan at his bites as you push your hips back to meet his.
‘Yeah just like that…fuck…..fuck. me.” he lets out a deep sigh as both of you fight to push your hips towards each other to be impossibly close, you can feel it too, you can feel how he angles his hip so that every time he snaps and presses onto you, you can feel his tip poking at your entrance, making you roll your eyes back as you sob softly.
You want him, just as badly as he wants you.  God it’s not enough, it’s never enough at all and yet every single fucking time, he does it still, it's too painfully good to stop, to pause this heating moment to remove some fabric, no, there’s no way he’ll stop, it's as if he’s afraid that doing so will result in these pent-up emotions and arousal slipping away.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Captain John Price - voice
John likes it when you hold back your moans and voices whenever you guys do it in his office, since his room is in the centre of the base, that means there are other rooms besides, and the walls are not exactly the thickest.
Sure, he absolutely loves your moans and the way you scream his name whenever he pounds you hard never fails to make him lost in ecstasy. But nothing riles him up more than hearing the voices you make that only he gets to hear.
He loves it when you suppress your moans, because it makes it so your voice tends to become whinier, and more desperate, reaching a pitch that sometimes has surprised him and yourself. He loves it because when you try to be quiet by squeezing your head into his neck, mouth biting on his collar as he drags his thick cock in and out of you, he gets to hear all those little gasps and pretty little moans that are barely audible.
John loves it, and he absolutely likes to break that resolve of yours, he likes to push all the buttons to see you crumble before him, and he knows when he is on the right track when you start to pant harder, and those whimper escapes more as you shakily grab onto his arm, 
J-John….please…
he smirks as the pleas come spilling out from your mouth whenever you feel like you couldn't hold in your moans more.
“Awwww….too much?” 
He would whisper back into your ears as he draws out each word in his deep honey voice, hands coming down on your waist before he slams it down hard on his hip, causing a startled yelp and a jolt of shiver running down your spine and let out a string of suppressed curses and moans.
He chuckles deeply, hot breath fanning against your neck when he watches your eyes tear up and your mouth opens as you let out a silent scream, still holding on as you shake your head and mutter to him, “N-no…m-my voice-” you didn’t finish your words as he clashes his mouth with yours, swallowing your pitiful pleas before biting down your lower lip as he pulls back, smirking as he bites down your shoulder.
“Let it out”, he challenges you with a raspy voice as he kisses the bite marks around your neck and nibbles softly when he coos at you, watching you squirm around as he gives you a mischievous look, oh he is going to, and will bully you until he has you screaming his name.  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Kyle Gaz Garrick - hands
Kyle loves it whenever you take your time and tease him with your hands, you can feel how his thigh muscle tensed up and how he let out his breath shakily whenever you trail your finger around him. He always likes it when you start slow, gently trailing along his neck first as you kiss and softly nibble his ears, before you slip your hands down lower as you rest it on his chest, and those eyes….those big doe eyes of yours whenever you look up to him and whisper so sweetly, honey tone dripping out from your irresistible mouth absolutely drives him mad every time, and send his head into a spiral heat of want.
You like it, hm?
He gives a nod as he lay back on the sofa, completely melting under you touch as he squeezes his eyes shut when he feels your teasing hand trailing around his chest, sometimes flicking his nipples that cause him to jolt as you giggle,
Mhm, you do like it…
Fuck, you’ve barely done anything and he already feels like his losing his mind, only being able to nod frantically as words fail to come into his mind. As you slowly reach down, resting your palm just shy above his pants, his grip on your hip tightens as he desperately wants you to go lower, to give him what he wants. He loves it because you always manage to rile him up, giving some relief but never enough, it's like you knew exactly how he works. 
Hmmmmm what do you want…pretty boy?
You whisper back teasingly as you brush your lips against his ear, you watch as his boxers get tighter when his arousal increases, even a small stain was visible now the more you tease him with the nickname, his favourite one, among all the other things you call him.
“Ah fuck….please y/n…”
He begs as you slowly pull down his boxers, bit by bit as he lifts his hips up on instinct to help you remove them, then you slowly let him free of these hellish restrictions, and you make sure your hand doesn't touch his hard cock that flings up as you remove the boxers, watching the red angry tip leaking as he lets out a content sigh. Yet as free as he is at the moment, he needs more.
“y/n….god…please….”
He whines softly again as you rest your hand on his V-line, trailing those deep beautiful grooves as you hum idly and press your body against his. You continue moving your hand along the V-line before you lightly ghost his cock with the middle knuckle of your index finger, running it all the way from his tip to the base. 
Please what hm?
He lets out another whimper when you tease him again, trying to be good as he bites his lower lip to stop himself from flinching so much from how sensitive and needy he is, he nuzzles into your neck as he pleaded with a desperate tone, voice crackling at the end as he gulps in between words. 
“Please….fuck….please touch me….touch my cock…need to feel you please….”
You chuckle as you kiss his cheek and snake your hand down to hold the base of his cock, watching him buck his hip up to seek those sweet, sweet friction. Who are you to deny him when he begged so nicely?
Good boy~ 
you whisper back huskily as you wrap your hands around his length, he takes a sharp inhale and lets out a trembling moan as he slung his head back to the top of the couch, his hand holding your hips, to ground himself as you start moving your hands around his cock, sliding upwards as you wipe the precum of the tip, teasing the tip as you slowly pump your hand down and watch another string of precum leak and flow down his length, you run your thumb along that one prominent vein as you press on it slightly, the agonizing slow speed you’re doing makes Kyle gasp as he frown and grab your hips tighter,
“fuck, so good….hmm fuck your hands….ah…”, he lets out a loud moan lightly when you kiss his ear lobe, whispering sweet nothing as you attack his ear with your tongue, moaning and letting sloppy noises consume his head, you take this opportunity to reach out and interlace your finger with his other hand as well to overwhelm him in every sense.
He prays internally as he tries his best not to come right here right now, you just started stroking him but he already feels like he’s about to explode. He can’t help it when he can feel your hands, every crease of your finger swiping along his girth as you pump slowly again, god and your thumb? Whenever you use it to press down on him he swears his vision goes white for a moment.  
“Don't stop….” 
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
a/n: yes yes I know yet another longer section for Gaz, I am, and forever will be biased towards our babygirl, YOU CAN'T STOP ME *runs*
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raitonsfw · 2 months
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𝟸𝟻𝟶 𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ꨄ
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𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Gojo was a big fucking spender, whether you liked it or not. Almost every clothing item he owned ranged well over the price of 150 000 yen, even his shoes; sometimes those were more expensive. Coming home one day from work, there’s a pink gift bag (complete with a lil bow and all) sitting pretty on the ottoman for you. As you opened it, black expensive lace peeked back at you and so did the price, zeros going on for miles on the tiny tag.
warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, boyfriend!gojo, rich!gojo, dirty talk, lingerie (and the tearing of it), grinding (if you squint), fingering, cunnilingus, slight breeding kink, p in v intercourse, creampie, insecurity (about how much gojo spends), corny pick up lines, sayings, & jokes, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, pretty, princess, good girl), lovedrunk, feral, & pussywhipped gojo (man loves you, would hang the moon for you fr), a surprise near the end (i said he loves you goddammit)
a/n: happy february 1st (finally can say it without the queue messing up my schedule) anyway, here's my second valentine for you loves! i hope you enjoy, until next week! 💌 wc: 3.4k. v-day m.list | m.list
a/n pt 2: p.s. i'm such a sucker for writing gojo kinda cringey. alsoo its not my best work but i did what i could!
divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics
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Coming home was the biggest mistake you had made in your entire life, because what the fuck was this? Your fingers held up a piece of lace material, black in color and you puzzled at it as you noticed that the lingerie piece barely looked as though it’d cover anything; thanks to your million dollar boyfriend.
“It’s gorgeous, huh?” You heard his promiscuous voice ring out through the living room at just the right time, when your voice cursed him to the high heavens. You nearly jumped out of your skin, the lingerie falling near your feet and you turned quickly to face him, his hip popped against the doorframe.
“Satoru!” Your face was bright red, the blush spreading down your neck and you hid your face underneath your sweatshirt sleeve with a scowl. Gojo was in his usual sorcerer uniform, complete with the black blindfold covering the vivid blue and you still tried to shy away from him even though you knew you couldn’t. Not when his eyes saw all, saw the way yours glistened at the thoughtful gift.
“Hey sweetheart. Like the gift?” 
“I told you not to buy me any more lingerie…” You huffed, glancing at the tag as you went to put the set back in the bag. There was an infinite amount of zeroes littering the price tag and you almost dropped the lingerie piece again– in utter shock that the fucking price was over 250,000 yen. “Oh my God…”
“Oh, please. I know you, you don’t wear lingerie sets more than twice. And last time I checked, I tore the last one.” He smirked, walking towards you with a tiny skip in his step and your hands trembled as you smoothed the lace over with your delicate fingers. “Besides, your favorite store was having a Valentine’s Day sale and I just had to have you in that.” 
Right, it was Valentine’s Day soon. 
“A sale?! This doesn’t look like a price tag for a sale. More like someone’s monthly rent, -toru.” You frowned, feeling Gojo’s strong arms fold underneath your waist and he took the fabric in his hands. Unfurling it from its tangled confines, he draped it over you with a gentle hum of a tune evading your surroundings.
“Hold it like that for me.” Gojo murmured as he stepped around you, standing in front of you while checking behind him as he backed up slightly. He focused on you, his fingers coming up to ‘snap a picture’ and you blushed profusely when you saw the dopey smile that mustered up on his face. Your blush turned into another scowl though as you remembered the price of it, how could he just spend money so fruitlessly?
Gojo lifted his blindfold for a few seconds to glance at your figure; you could see the gears turning in his head and you wouldn’t be very surprised if he sprouted an erection right then and there. But he also noticed your glowering eyes and his lighthearted demeanor faded away, a worried look washing over his face.
“What’re mad for, baby? I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spoil you.” 
“You spend so much on me, I’m not worth that much.” You muttered, starting to fold the lingerie set to put it back in the bag; away and out of sight from you.
You usually liked Gojo’s sweet gestures, gifts piled at your doorstep like it was Christmas every month normally but this time it just seemed a bit out of place– you knew him to flaunt his wealth alot but this? He’s never gotten you something so expensive. You couldn’t accept such a generous gift that would be soiled within minutes of wearing it.
“Excuse me? Where’d you learn that crazy talk from?” Gojo said with an exasperated gasp, coming to embrace you and you didn’t answer him as he pulled you close. His hands feathered through your hair and honestly you couldn’t breath through the fabric of his jacket, the turtleneck part of it threatening to strangle you as he squeezed himself around you in a tight hug.
“Don’t ever think that! I would buy the world for you if I could manage to fit it inside a gift box.” 
You couldn’t help but laugh into his chest, his words souring after they sat for a minute. “That was so cringey, Satoru.” 
“You still love me though, perks of being me… I think?” Gojo let go of you, holding you by your shoulders now and you reached up to slip his blindfold fully off. He blinked through the dimness of the apartment, his eyes fixating on you once more. 
There was something that just made you feel so in love with him, everytime you managed to zero in on those hypnotic eyes of his– almost every bad thought melted away and yeah, you were definitely overreacting. 
Let the man spoil you, if he so wishes.
“Yes, I still love you.” You fonded, planting a luscious kiss against his lips and he had no qualms, his mouth instantly moving against you eagerly. Gojo softly moaned into the kiss, one of his hands snaking down your back towards your ass and you squeaked out as he gave you a tiny swat against the plushness of it.
“Great, now go try on the lingerie.” Thrusting the bag back into your hands, he grinned at you and there was no way in hell you could deny him– not with the way he looked, so ecstatic to see you in the precious lace garments he bought you.
Putting it on wasn’t much of a struggle, it fit you nicely in all the right places. The full length mirror did you just enough justice, staring back at a body that had devious curves and everything in between the skimpy lace that barely covered your intimates. You weren't all that self conscious, though you weren’t sure what you’d do once you were in front of Gojo. Where would he look first? 
Would his eyes lay against your breasts that bobbed in the lace, perched up prettily or would they drag to your soft thighs, cuffed in the garter belt holding up the thigh highs that accented the set? Would they focus on your mound and in the middle, your drenched pussy staining the thin fabric or would he drool over everything all at once? 
“Baby… Are you done yet? I’m getting lonely.” You heard him mewl outside the door, a soft tap from his knuckle echoing through the bathroom and you nodded to yourself, adjusting little bits and pieces of the thread to make sure it sat perfectly for him. 
You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Why were you so goddamn nervous? 
“You have it on? C’mon, let me see already.” 
As you opened the door, Gojo wasn’t in front of it anymore. Instead, he was seated on the lavish sofa that met in the center of the room, his head lying lazily against the back of it with his arms extended. His thighs were spread apart on the cushions, his legs folding outwards and you could already see a lush bulge in his trousers, peaked with interest as he waited impatiently for you. You wanted to skip the shame of twirling for him and just sit yourself right against it, sit yourself down on it and just–
Gojo’s head snapped up– he must’ve sensed you– and his bright eyes zeroed in on your face first. Then they trailed down towards your body, drinking in the adorned curves of the lingerie on you and his mouth fell open in a quiet sigh. “Y/N…” 
You walked towards him, a small sway to your step and his hands pressed down against the sofa as you neared him. They nearly white knuckled it, his mouth still open and his eyes flickering over every crevice of the threads decorating you– his knees had quickly pressed together and you’ve never seen him so flustered in your entire life. Sure, you’ve modeled for him here and there with other gorgeous sets; but this was different. 
Was this your Satoru? The ego induced maniac who could and would knock you off your feet with a single flirtatious remark? It was refreshing to see him like this– reduced to nothing but boyish clouded lust.
“You going to say something other than my name, baby?” You asked, pureness reining your voice and you purred inwardly when he was still speechless. You eyed at the seam of his trousers, noticing the way it tented up considerably just from a few seconds of gazing you over. “Satoru?” 
“Hi, yes sorry. Come here.” Gojo’s hand faltered slightly as he reached for you and you happily obliged, straddling his lap. A low hum escaped him as you sat flush with his clothed cock against your heat, his legs spreading apart again to let you sink down onto him comfortably. “Holy hell, is this heaven ‘cause you look like–” 
“So help me if you finish that sentence, I’ll take this off.” You interrupted, getting ready to move off of him but his hands grasped your hips greedily. 
“That’s what I’m hoping for, angel.” A naughty grin crept up on his face as he pulled you into a warm kiss. Yeah, it’s definitely your Satoru.
His tongue slid past your lips easily and his eyes slipped shut, drawing you closer to him– faintly aware of the slickness that roughed up his trousers. You bit his lip seductively and a startled moan spilled into your mouth heavily, his hips subtly rocking up into you. It was needy and desperate and everything you ever wanted to hear and feel from him, because of course he was already riled up– just look at you.
His fingers looped inside the lace of your panties, rubbing his fingertips against the seams of it and you hummed as they curved towards the where you needed it most. His other hand fondled your breast, the flesh of it spilling out over the cups and all he wanted to do was press a tender kiss to your nipple, sucking it in between his teeth to nip and tug til it reddened with overstimulation. 
“Are you going to touch me or…” You shook him from his daze, earning a sarcastic snort from him.
You moaned quietly as his hand immediately slipped underneath the fabric, toying with your nipple until it hardened and a gentle finger swiped through the slick that collected inside your panties. He tsked, “Already ruining the lace, so filthy…” 
You let out a tiny huff, intending to apologize when two of his fingers sunk through your arousal and you leaned into him with a whimper. Gojo didn't hesitate to mark up your neck as soon as you moved forward, his teeth grazing alongside the nasty bruises and your hips jutted out as he expertly curled his digits into you. You whined into his ear– a glorious symphony if he must say so himself– and his thumb pressed into the swell of your clit. Sucking a languid hickey against the near front of your neck, he noticed you had started to move against him– fucking your perfect cunt down onto his pliant fingers.
Every roll of your hips, his cock got some action as well; as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock that threatened to burst out of his trousers now. Holy fuck, he was straining too– he knew you could feel it as you sat right against it. He was losing his train of thought more and more by the second as you panted out, he needed more– so much more, his dick was nearly crying as it leaked out tiny droplets of precum in his boxers. If you weren’t so lost in pleasure at the moment, you would’ve noticed the small wet spot forming in the fabric– his jujutsu uniform’s probably going to need to be dry cleaned.
He would finish his pick up line if he could speak, his voice not quite there anymore– you looked like a heaven sent angel veiled in the lingerie of a hell spawned devil. 
From his angle, Gojo could see the swell of your ass lightly jiggling, the lace barely covering it and the flesh of your thighs sat beautifully against his own and honestly he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you, his vision blackening with lust as you worked yourself fully open on his fingers now. His cock ached so fucking badly and he vaguely noted to get you crotchless lingerie next time so he could just slide right in without needing to fumble with the weird straps. 
When your breath hitched in your throat as your clit spasming directly against the frenulum of his cock, his tip desperately trying to dip into the lace through his thick fucking clothing– he lost it.
“Fuck it…” You heard him growl against your laced breast as he popped it out of its cup, the entire bralette tearing on impact. You gasped at the ripping sound, but you were too delirious to scold him as his fingers started fucking faster into you to keep you quiet about the torn lingerie. Gojo snagged your nipple in his mouth with a frantic moan, his fingers coated with slick as he pulled them out quickly to tear off your panties. They shedded easily and you were left with remnants of lace pristine against your body, another gasp coming from you as you realized what he did.
“-toru, what are you–?!” 
Before you could finish your sentence, your entire figure was thrown against the cushions of the sofa and his shirt and trousers were stripped from his body. His eyes were trained on your ripped lingerie and you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on in his head until he yanked the rest of it off, excluding your thigh highs. And now you were exposed in front of him and he was out 250,000 yen; because he just couldn’t keep his composure.
“I’ll buy you another set, I swear– though I can’t guarantee it’ll survive…” Gojo said under his breath, planting kisses down the span of your chest. He trailed them towards your tummy, innate circles rubbing into your hips and he shuddered at how the garter belt sat snug against your waist– and how easy it was to tear off, his teeth latching on it with fervor. You gasped as you felt the band snap, your thigh highs falling  down slightly where they sat as they were no longer held up by the precious lace. 
He grabbed the extra lace from his mouth and threw it somewhere across the room, his tongue immediately delving into your tight heat. A broken whine was coaxed from your throat as he fucked it in and out needily, quiet pants breathing over your cunt. Gojo’s hands grabbed at your thighs, pressing his nose straight into your clit as he lapped at everything he could reach and you couldn’t help the wanton moans that leaked from your mouth, your hands grasping at his snowy hair.
He was downright animalistic at this point. You carved his shoulder blades with your nails, desperate for him to drive you over the edge; your impending orgasm making your legs tremble. “Satoru, shit– c-close…”
“C’mon, cum for me, pretty.” He murmured into your cunt, slightly muffled and you keened up into his mouth– ultimately fucking yourself on his tongue. And God, did he groan at that; his hums of utter satisfaction basically sent you spasming through your climax. Your hands flew to the edge of the sofa, clutching tightly as you rolled your hips into the insane pleasure– into his mouth that lapped up every drool of arousal that leaked out from your convulsions. He was vain with it too, looping out his fucking name against your folds to claim you as you whimpered his name.
“T-Take me with you to shop next time.” You managed out as you sat up on your elbows, looking down at him while you came down from your high. “I’ll decide what you can and can’t rip.” 
Gojo tutted out a laugh, coming up to hover over you– his chin glinted with your juices and you reddened at the sight of how goddamn needy you were. “Fine, baby– now arch your back f’ me.”
His cock prodded your entrance, slender fingers wrapped around the base of it as he guided it into you greedily and you threw your head back against the arm of the sofa with a whine. You did exactly as he said; you arched your back into the intoxicating pleasure, his cock stretching you out and filling every bit of space you could give him. He fit perfectly within you everytime, which made you dizzy with lust as you hooked one hand around the back of his neck.
“Always take me so well, princess.” Gojo purred, not bothering to let you adjust as he started to snap his hips into you. “Fits like a glove, huh?” 
You were so sore already– from the last orgasm wreaking havoc– but you couldn’t get enough of his long cock drilling into you, every thrust kissing your cervix and making your walls clench around him with whimpers drowning out the riveting squelches. You managed to look up at him, his fingertips nudging into the plush of your thighs, against the sleek material of your thigh highs and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long. 
His eyes were already rolling back into his head at every fill of his cock dragging against your walls, his jaw slack and you were surprised at how pussy whipped he was– normally he’d watch you religiously writhe underneath him. His hair was disheveled as he ran his hand through it before frantically gripping your thigh again, panting out curses and you inadvertently squeezed hard around him at the action with a high pitched moan. 
“Oh– fuck, holy shit..! Keep squeezing me like that, we’re g-gonna have to go shopping–” Gojo groaned out, his cock pounding into you harder now, pleasure coursing through your entire body as he hit your sweet spot dead on. 
“F-For more lingerie?” 
“No, for a fucking crib.”
“Fuck, Satoru– faster.” You whined out, completely obsessed with the thought and you felt your second climax tremble through your thighs, straight towards the throbbing of your cunt. ‘Cum in me, -toru…please.”
Gojo didn’t answer you, too wrapped up in your pretty pussy with hefty moans pouring out of him and his fingers slipped down towards your clit. He rubbed circles against it, interchanging his angle to fuck you deeper, faster– and you could feel how close you were.
“Got another surprise for you on Valentine’s Day, baby…” He started babbling, his chest rising and falling as he rutted into you. His eyes slipped from his cock, creamy and wet from your arousal, to your eyes now. “Involves a little jewelry piece, think you’ll love it… Think you’ll love me even more.” 
You didn’t hear him though, too caught up in your release caving in every sense you had and replacing them with pure euphoria. You couldn’t fucking see, hear, even think as it overtook your body. You came so hard around his cock, clenching and unclenching which brought Gojo to his own release rather quickly. He stilled in you with a harsh whine and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in you, white ropes leaking out rather abruptly. 
He repeated soft praises like ‘good girl, take it all…’ and ‘gonna make sure none drools outta you, so good for me’ a few times in a needy tone, collapsing against your chest afterwards. Gojo buried his face into your neck, smoothing his hands over the thigh highs you had on. 
“I’m so sorry about the lingerie, Y/N…” He apologized, his eyes glancing up towards yours as he moved over to litter kisses on your cheek. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, I promise. You’ll pick out your Valentine’s Day lingerie set and I’ll watch you model it for me–”
You interrupt him with a soft kiss, humming against his lips. “It wasn’t my money, it was yours, you idiot.”
Gojo blinked at you, then a mischievous look crossed his face. “How about a nice pink set this time? Frilly, rose hearts covering your perky nipples and–” 
“Satoru.”
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a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!
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The World Ended
Joel Miller x F!Reader
Warnings: Joel Miller is hella manipulative, power imbalance, non descriptive age gap, Dub Con, smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, rough sex, P in V, Dom!Joel Miller, breeding kink adjacent if you squint and read between the lines, mentions of death of child, mentions of suicidal ideation (no more so than the show discusses), mentions of trauma, inspired by '10 Cloverfield Lane'
Word Count: 5,852
Summary: You wake up in an entirely new world, but you find comfort and love in an ally. He saved your life after all. Why wouldn't you trust him? Haunted Hoedown prompt: Stranded AU/Cult AU + "every moment might be our last, let's make the most of it."
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[a/n: my contribution for haunted hoedown b/c i was inspired and couldn't resist (def cheated and ignored the days tho i just picked my fav parts of different prompts lol). 10/10 would recommend surfing that tag b/c people are making WORKS OF ART. This is just my toss it together addition lol]
"manipulation and control can sometimes be disguised as love." -abegail turingan
It was odd to wake up with no memory of going to bed. Disorienting was probably the more accurate word. Enough so that for a brief moment all you could do was stare up at the concrete ceiling above you. There was a headache lingering behind your eyes that no amount of blinking would clear away. Where were the stars? The thought drifted through your foggy mind. Your bedroom had glow in the dark stars plastered to the ceiling. A design choice that a nine year old you chose at the store, and one that your parents were never able to peel away no matter how many years had passed⏤ they were nostalgic in that sense. You must have been just like them considering you admired those cheap, plastic stars while staying in your parents’ home during this visit.
But the stars were gone.
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Everything was gone, and the sharp smell of antiseptic and bleach replaced the floral scent of your mother’s detergent. You turned your head into your pillow in hopes that the comfort of your bed would ease the headache that seemed to worsen the longer you were awake. You found no comfort though because the pillow you laid on was not your own. 
Slowly, you began to sit up and you weren’t sure what was more distracting: the unexplained aching pain of all your muscles or the unfamiliar strange room you found yourself sitting in. The walls were like the ceiling, undecorated concrete, and the only bit of furniture was the metal framed cot you were now lying on. A hospital gown covered your otherwise bare body. 
The clarity that settled in your mind was stark and startling. Any of the fog you initially woke with vanished in a snap, and your breaths came in quick, hyperventilated gasps. Oh, God. Oh, God. You threw your sore legs over the edge of the bed to rise. Your feet only brushed against the cold tile of the ground before you found yourself sprawled on the floor. 
“Help…” The word left your lips in a breathless whisper as you tried to move your weak legs. You could only manage to sit up. “Help.” With every attempt, your voice grew stronger until you were screaming. “Help me! Help!”
A heavy, metal door, one across the room that you hadn’t even noticed in your panicked state, began to creak open. You sucked in a sharp breath, fear palpable, as an unfamiliar man stood in the doorway. He was older than you. Gray littered his brown, messy hair and facial hair, but it suited him. The man wore a dark green flannel that accented his broad shoulders. Everything about his figure exuded strength and intimidation from his build to the large hands that held a box of some kind. However, the moment his dark brown eyes landed on yours they softened. His shoulders hunched marginally, as if he were trying to look smaller than he actually was, and a line of worry formed between his furrowed brow.
“Hey! I need someone in ‘ere!” He barked over his shoulder, never breaking eye contact, in a deeply southern drawl. The man rushed into the room toward you, but when you flinched at his approach he slowed his pace. He took one hand off the box to hold in your direction, palm stretched outward, “It’s alright. You’re safe. Promise.” Coming from a stranger, and in this scenario, his words did nothing to calm your racing heart. You crawled backwards until your back hit the cot. Your name suddenly left his lips. “I’m⏤ My name is Joel.”
“How⏤ How do you know my name?” You gasped.
“Your license. It was in your bag. Didn’ mean to pry but…” Joel said slowly. “Are you⏤”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence as you blurted out, “Where the hell am I? Why am I here? What is going on? I⏤”
“Whoa, whoa.” Joel knelt down in front of you but kept his distance which you appreciated. “One thing at a time, darlin’.” He shook his head. “You were in a car accident… ‘bout two days ago now.”
“A car accident?” As the words left your own lips, there was a flicker of some forgotten memory playing in your head. The sound of a car horn, blinding headlights, the crunch of metal on metal, and the taste of blood. You flinched, “I… Oh, God.” You held your head with a trembling hand but winced as your hand brushed against a tender spot on the left side of your face. “Is this… Is this a hospital then?” The room resembled a prison more than it did a hospital room. Plus, it made no sense to you that your parents weren’t here. The man saw your license which meant they’d know who to contact. “Where is my family?”
Joel hesitated and you saw a look of what almost looked like regret in his eyes. You repeated your question more firmly this time. He sighed, “That’s… tougher to answer.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
A second later, a man and a woman dressed in bright orange HAZMAT suits came storming into the room. It was a blur of yelling and chaos and they descended upon you. Joel argued loudly with them and your head was spinning enough that it was difficult to follow what was happening. Gloved hands wrapped around your arm, ripping you up from the ground, but it was short lived. The man who had grabbed you was shoved away by Joel who gently sat you on the side of the cot before standing in front of you as a barrier.
“Don’ you fuckin’ grab her like that.” Joel snarled. The soft kindness that had been in his tone only moments ago was gone now. “You hear me??”
“Sir, you are not supposed to be in here.” The woman snapped. “Her wounds⏤”
“Her wounds are from the accident. I already told you.”
“We still need to test her⏤”
“Fine, but you don’ jus’ fuckin’ grab ‘er like that!”
There was nothing about this moment that could be called peaceful, but Joel’s defensive stance and his deep voice somehow managed to calm your racing heart. You didn’t know why the man was so protective over you, but you’d take any ally you could in this moment. The argument continued long enough for only a few more verbal jabs at one another. It settled on Joel sitting by your side glaring at the man in the HAZMAT suit as he used two separate swabs on you. One against the wound on your forehead and the other in your mouth.
“By entering without precautionary measures, you have bought yourself another 24 hours of quarantine, Mr. Miller.” The woman announced.
Joel didn’t respond but just glared at the woman instead. The second the two of them disappeared out of the room, Joel’s features softened again. You hugged yourself, trying to keep from shaking, and swallowed the lump that now sat in the middle of your throat. “Thank you. For that.”
“Least I can do.” Joel murmured as his eyes traced your face⏤ examining your wound, you assumed. You weren’t quite sure what he meant by that, but Joel didn’t elaborate. Sitting this close to him, there was something familiar about. You weren’t sure why because you were positive you had never spoken to him before. You’d remember a face this handsome. A voice that distinct and hypnotizing. “How do you feel?”
“Um. Sore. Confused.” You admitted. Recalling how the woman addressed him, you cleared your throat. “Mr. Miller⏤”
“Joel, darlin’. Jus’ Joel.”
“Joel…” You tested the name out. “Please⏤ Please tell me what’s going on. Where am I? Where is my family? Why⏤ Why were they in HAZMAT suits?”
The stranger you were finding comfort in let out a slow sigh. He rose from the bed to pick up the box he had brought with him. You had forgotten about that entirely. Joel sat back down after opening it and offered it to you. There was a simple set of men’s clothes in the box along with a water bottle and bag of chips. He shook his head. 
“All I had were a few of my spare things.” Joel said. “Figured you might be thirsty or⏤ or hungry.”
You appreciated the gesture, but it wasn’t what you wanted right now, “Joel. What happened?”
He let out another long sigh before meeting your gaze with a look of mourning, “The world ended, darlin’.”
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The bunker was large enough to fit thirty or so people. It was an underground, concrete community made by a survivalist who went by the name of Ezra. You had yet to meet this mysterious man which felt odd since the community wasn’t that large, but it wasn’t too shocking since you didn’t do much exploring since your arrival. 
The world had ended. That’s what Joel told you. Hell, that’s what everyone kept telling you, but none of them could tell you concretely how. Every time the discussion came up, there was a new story involved. Aliens had invaded. Zombies had overtaken. A virus wiped out humanity. The theories were endless and since you couldn’t remember your last moments above ground you had no opinion on the matter. The last thing you could recall was leaving the house to meet some old friends who stayed local to your hometown for drinks. You got into the car, and the next thing you remembered was waking up in a concrete room.
You hoped your memory would come back gradually, but two weeks had passed and nothing was any more clear. You mourned a muddled memory. Families and friends ripped away from you in uncertain measures, and it left you reeling. The only pillar you had right now was Joel Miller. He had saved you in more ways than one. When the world went to shit, Joel was on his way to the bunker. All the people here were either friends or they knew this Ezra character in some way and that’s how they bought themselves a ticket into this sanctuary. Joel had been the survivalist’s contractor. Helped build this place and even mocked the man when first given the job. 
But, when the world did end, Joel was offered safety and on his way there he came across your wreck on the side of the road. He scooped you up and fought for your place here with him.
You owed him your life.
The sound of a door opening snapped you out of the daze you had fallen into. Joel stepped into the shared bunk space looking worn out. While your simple duty in this community was currently food prep, Joel’s was more labored. He helped with any repairs and upkeep to ensure everything was working as it should. He dropped his tool belt by the door with a groan.
“Long day?” You asked with a small smile. Joel grunted an affirmative. He crossed the small room to drop down onto the couch. Since you were technically an add on rather than one of the invited, you were forced to share the room with Joel. Though ‘forced’ wasn’t quite the right word. You honestly didn’t mind it at all. Having a familiar face, even if it were one you only just met, brought you comfort. Though you kind of felt bad he was now stuck with you. There was no way he could’ve known saving your life off the side of the street was going to chain your existence to him.
The room was decent though. There was a simple bed in one corner, a couch pushed up against the wall, a table with two chairs, and a mostly empty drawer. Over the last two weeks, you and Joel had collected or traded objects to make the room your own. You traded a set of spare socks that had come with the room for a small, blue vase that you set in the middle of the table. Joel had even managed to find a few books and magazines that he gifted you.
You pushed up from the bed to sit on the couch beside him. You pulled your legs in to tuck under yourself. The shirt you wore was one of his flannels, you still had limited clothing options, but you had managed to scourge up a pair of yoga pants that fit you well enough. 
“You?” Joel asked as he rested his head on the back of the couch.
“Food prep was exciting as always.” You joked. Joel breathed out a small, tired chuckle. You nodded toward the bed. “Lay down. Sleep.” Joel shot you a light glare. From the beginning, Joel was adamant about sleeping on the couch so you could have the bed. Even when you told him it made more sense for him to have the bed since you were smaller. Joel wouldn’t even listen to the suggestion of swapping turns. “Joel.”
“Couch is fine.” Joel replied gruffly and closed his eyes.
“If it’s fine then I should have no issues sleeping on it, right?”
“Ain’t gonna happen.”
You set your hand on his arm and felt him slightly stiffen at your touch. Joel cracked open his eyes to peek at you. “Please take the bed tonight. Please.” He furrowed his brow and you gave his arm a squeeze. “Nothing would make me happier right now. I’m serious.”
Joel didn’t say anything to begin with. He just held your gaze and under the weight of his stare you felt the back of your neck warm. The man was painfully attractive, it couldn’t be argued, but that wasn’t what made your heart skip a beat or your core secretly ache. It was the way Joel looked at you and spoke to you. The way he treated you. If his gaze were to be believed, you must have been a work of art. Joel stared at you like a dying man watching his last sunset. His voice was always deep and honeyed when he spoke to you. The words he chose put the respect and care he had for you on clear display. 
The world ended and everything in your life felt cold, but not Joel. Joel was warmth.
Joel’s other hand settled on top of your smaller one. His thumb traced your knuckles and your throat felt tight at the contact. He gave your hand a quick squeeze and then stood up with a groan. You heard his knees crack, but he made no comment on it. Joel just leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Thank you, baby.”
You watched him kick off his boots and drop into bed. A soft groan left his lips and he fell asleep before the lights were even off.
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 The sky was blue. Your head rested on Joel’s shoulder as the two of you sat on the ground leaning back against the wall. A total of a month had passed now, and you confided in Joel that you missed the sky. In response, he brought you here. It was a restricted space that he only had access to because he would come up here to do repairs on the electrical system. In the entire bunker, it was the closest to above ground that you could be. Only one staircase and a thick, metal door separated you from the world outside. On the door was a small window and from where you sat you could see a patch of sky.
“Do you think the world really ended?” You asked softly.
Joel glanced at you without jostling your position too much, “What’dya mean?”
“The sky is too pretty for the world to have ended, don’t you think?” You mumbled. It wasn’t just the sky that created your doubt. There was a woman who worked with the mysterious Ezra. She said she would type out anything he dictated to her. She didn’t think the world had ended. She thought it was all some conspiracy or ploy. You weren’t sure how much weight you put into her words, but it left the question in your mind. “What if the world is completely normal up there and we’re just rotting away in a tomb?”
Joel shook his head. “You hear the sirens an’ gunfire. The SOS broadcasts on the radio.”
“Couldn’t that be faked?” You asked. Joel hummed in a noncommittal fashion. You shrugged, “You never told me how the world ended. Everyone else has given me their two cents, but you never talk about it.”
“Cause it doesn’ matter.”
“Why wouldn’t it matter?”
Joel was silent for a few moments, but you waited patiently for him to speak. He shifted and with your head still on his shoulder, his hand found yours. “It doesn’ matter ‘cause… my world ended two years ago.” You lifted your head so you could face him, but Joel kept his eyes on the patch of blue sky. “I… I lost my daughter. Sarah.” You squeezed his hand as your heart ached for him. “Wasn’t fair. Should’ve been me. But… But nothin’ has made much sense since.”
“Joel, I am… I am so sorry.” You whispered.
“I lied.” Joel said and your eyebrows furrowed. He swallowed nervously and finally turned to look at you. “When I found ya, I wasn’ headin’ to the bunker.”
“Where… Where were you going then?”
“Home.” Joel shrugged. “The sirens were goin’ off, people were in a frenzy, Ezra texted me some freakish invite, but… I planned on headin’ home to jus’ wait for the end.” It was devastating to hear someone you had come to care so much for admit that truth. Your heart broke for him. Not a single shred of you could ever imagine the pain or horror of losing a child. “On my way, I ran into you. Saw your car flipped on the side of the road. Once I got ya out, it’s not like I could take ya to the hospital with the way all of it was so…”
Joel motioned to the bunker around the both of you. The rest was history. In the silence, you could hear the whirring noise of the motors working the fans and the pounding of your heart in your ears. You let the hand not in his lift to rake your fingertips through the scruff on his jaw as your thumb rubbed back and forth over his cheek. Joel’s eyes fluttered closed at your touch and a soft breath left his lips. He leaned into your hand.
“I… Joel, I don’t know what to say…”
“This is ‘nough.” Joel murmured. There was a tension that had formed the second you caressed Joel’s face and it only built the longer you were in contact with him. It was a long time coming and was only coming to a head just now. You could control yourself, you were sure of it, but when Joel’s sad eyes opened once more the breath was knocked out of your lungs. His lips twitched into a small smile. “You’re the first thing I’ve cared ‘bout in a very long time, baby.”
The world had ended, supposedly. What was the use of wasted time?
You leaned in and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was soft and hesitant. A brush of you against him as Joel breathed in a strangled gasp. He pulled back and your heart dropped. Embarrassment filled your very soul as you let your hand fall away from him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have. I just thought, every moment might be our last, we should make the most of it. Or⏤”
“It’s not that, baby girl.” Joel immediately cupped your face and you felt yourself melt between his warm, coarse hands. “You don’ owe me this. You know that, right? I don’ expect…”
You gave a small shake of your head, your eyes glued to his lips, “I know, Joel. I know. I… This is my choice. I want you.”
Joel took in a slow breath through his nose as his jaw locked. His hands tightened around your face, caressing the skin along your face and neck, and one hand slipped to cup the back of your head as his forehead leaned against yours. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, “Say it again.”
“I want you, Joel.”
Joel initiated the kiss this time, and it was far from hesitant. At your consent, it was like he dropped all semblance of his self control. His lips were bruising against yours and Joel was desperate in getting you closer. He dragged you over so you were straddling his lap. His hands roamed down your body until they found your hips. Joel’s tongue slipped past your parted lips just as he dragged your aching core against his half hard cock⏤ thrusting up against you while swallowing the moan that left your throat.
He wrapped an arm around your middle and suddenly you found yourself on your back. The cool concrete floor was jarring to how hot you felt. Hands sunk into the waistband and with one firm pull both your tights and underwear were down to your ankles. You gasped in surprise, but Joel didn’t pause. 
“Jesus Christ, what a pretty fuckin’ pussy, baby.” Joel groaned and tugged a foot out from your clothes so both articles wrapped around only one of your legs. He roughly grabbed your thighs and dragged you closer so when he dropped to the ground his mouth was immediately buried into your warmth. You yelped at the contact but it was followed by a wanton groan as his tongue ravished you. It was messy and rushed. Joel ate you out like you were his last meal, and the groans and slurping sounds he made were downright sinful.
“Joel! I⏤ Oh, God.” You gasped and your hands buried in his hair. Your hips lifted to chase after his mouth, but Joel dropped his arm across your waist and pinned you to the floor with a chuckle. 
Joel lifted his face and turned to bite down on your thigh. You cried out at the sting of his teeth against your skin, but the drag of his hot tongue against the spot left you whimpering. “C’mon, baby.” You tugged on his hair to try and get his lips back where you wanted them, but he stayed firm. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”
“Want you, Joel. Need you.”
Thick fingers dragged up and down through the mess he’d already made and one began to prod at your entrance without actually sinking in. “Again.”
“Please. Please!” You tried to grind down against him, but his grip on your waist kept you in place. “I want you, Joel. Want you so badly. Please.” Joel had one fingertip circling your hole, but at your desperate pleas he sunk three of his large fingers right in. You screamed, both in alarm and at the sharp sting, “Shit! Joel, too much!”
“Shhh, baby girl. You’re okay.” His lips found your clit and the suction he applied there slowly took away the sting of his rapidly moving fingers. Just as he reassured you, you were okay. More than okay. Pleasure was clouding your mind and you were a squirming, sopping mess under him. Joel’s fingers curled up into you, dragging against your walls, and he made quick work in finding the spot that punched stars into your vision. “There we go, baby. Jus’ like that.” He kept his lips against your clit as he spoke and your wet flesh muffled his praise. “Lemme feel you squeeze ‘round my fingers so I can feel you squeeze ‘round my fat cock. C’mon.”
Teeth nipped at your clit, followed by the smoothing of his tongue, and combined with the pounding of his fingers you came with a shuddering cry. Joel didn’t stop his onslaught and he lowered his lips from your clit so he could drink up every bit of the soaking wet mess he made.
“Joel. Fuck.” You gasped for the air he had somehow managed to punch out of your lungs with his hand alone. “That was…”
“Not done, baby girl.” Joel sat up on his knees but kept his place between your legs. You weakly pushed yourself up onto your elbows and it only dawned on you then that this entire time he had been fully clothed. It was an almost uncomfortable balance between the two of you. “Get up ‘ere.” You began to push up from your elbows and the moment you were close enough his hand wrapped around the back of your neck so he could help you up the rest of the way into the seated position you now sat in. He gazed down at you, pupils blown in lust, and his dark stare soaked in the sight of you. “Say it.”
Knowing exactly what he wanted, you mumbled, “I want you, Joel.”
“Good girl. Open.” Joel grunted. The hand at the back of your neck grabbed you by the hair and he tugged down so your chin was tilted up. Joel shoved the three fingers he had deep in your cunt into your mouth. You closed your lips around him and moaned at the taste of yourself. “Belt, baby. Get my belt.”
You tried to glance down, but Joel kept his grip on you tight so you could only stare up at him as he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth. Blindly, your hands groped for his belt and you struggled to get it undone as you gagged around his fingers.
“Shh. You can multitask, baby, I believe in ya.” Joel cooed and didn’t relent. “Work at it. Be good.” You traced his thick fingers with your tongue and your hands finally managed to get his belt undone. You got your hands into his pants, tugging down his boxers, and Joel groaned loudly as your hands wrapped around his hard, girthy cock. The size of him alone had you tense in surprise. “Hey, it’s alright, baby girl.” Joel’s fingers slipped out of your mouth and you couldn’t help but cough to try and clear the tickle at the back of your throat. He carefully pushed you down, onto your back again, but he followed with you so he was hovering over your body. One hand at the back of your neck, cupping it softly, while his other rested by your head to hold himself up. “You can handle this. I swear, this perfect pussy is made for me, baby.”
Joel lowered himself to capture your lips with his. The kiss was soft and tender. It was a sweet moment as his cock dragged slowly against you. His tongue licked against the curve of your lower lip just as the tip of him notched at your hole. You opened your mouth to ask him to start slow, but Joel shoved his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss, as his painfully large cock shoved into you. You screamed, muffled by his own mouth, as he bottomed out in one single thrust. Tears involuntarily sprung to your eyes at the intrusion and you pulled your lips away from Joel by turned you head. Your fingernails dug into his back.
“Joel, that⏤ that kind of hurt.”
“I know, I’m sorry, baby girl.” Joel buried his face into the crook of your neck. He left open mouth kisses there between reassurances. “Jus’ give it a minute. You’re doin’ so good. So good.” Joel was thankfully staying still inside of you and with the work he put in along the length of your neck you began to feel the sting start to fade. Joel shifted, just a bit, and you shuddered at the slight drag of him. His cock twitched and he moaned against your skin. “Fuck, you feel so good. So perfect. Knew you would.” Joel gave a short, experimental thrust and you gasped at the wave of pleasure you were pulled under. “Gotta move, baby girl.”
Joel pulled back until just the tip remained then rocked his hips forward hard enough to push you across the concrete floor. He roughly grabbed you by the thigh and pulled your leg up. You followed his lead and hooked your ankles around his back as Joel’s grip on the back of your neck tightened and he quickly fell into an unrelenting pace. 
“Told you, baby girl.” Joel grunted, the only other sound being your breathless moans and the wet sounds of your pussy sucking his cock in with every powerful thrust. “Made for me.” Joel sung praises as that band of want and desire tightened in your core by the second. His hand slipped between your bodies to find your clit once more and your eyes squeezed shut with a gasp. As soon as they shut though, his touch was gone and with that hand he grabbed you by the face. Your eyes snapped back open in surprise. “Nuh uh. Eyes on me. You hear me?” You nodded and he tightened his grip⏤ his fingers digging almost painfully into your cheeks. “Words, baby. Lemme hear you say it.”
“Keep⏤” You gasped. “Keep my eyes on you.”
“Good girl.” Joel’s hand slipped back down and when his fingers reached their goal it took every bit of strength to keep your eyes open. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train and a cry of pleasure slipped past your lips. Joel groaned loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Takin’ me so well, baby girl, just like I knew you would.” 
His pace ramped up but he lost his rhythm and in a brief moment of clarity you gasped, “Joel! Joel, you gotta⏤ fuck! Oh God. You gotta pull out, Joel.” He didn’t slow and for a brief moment sharp fear mingled with the overwhelming pleasure. “Joel!”
At last second, Joel ripped himself off you with a guttural groan and you felt the warmth of his release spurt on your hips. Your entire body went lax as he continued to milk the last bit of him onto your body and you felt the warm, sticky cum drip down the sides of your hip and down into your pussy as well. 
Joel tucked himself back into his pants, without clasping his jeans, and he rubbed a hand up and down your thigh soothingly. You were trying to catch your breath as Joel separated your underwear from where it was tangled with your yoga pants around your ankle. You lifted your head and watched as he used your underwear to wipe away the cum now drying on your skin. 
“C’mon, baby girl.” He tucked your panties, now a damp mess of your spend and his, into his flannel pocket and helped you slide your legs back into the yoga pants. When they were back in place, he pulled you to stand and grinned when your knees nearly buckled. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” You chuckled and clung to his shoulders. “That was… a lot.”
That had felt incredible, and the fact that it was Joel made it even better. But, it had been rougher than you thought it’d be. Not that you really minded. It just… caught you off guard. Your mind was still too drunk on pleasure to fully understand your feelings on it.
Joel leaned in to settle his lips against your temple. He hummed, “From the second I saw you, baby girl, I just knew you’d be my world.”
“The first second?” You teased. “Me bleeding in an upside down car?”
His lips were curled up into a smile you could only describe as boyish. Joel leaned in again to lock his lips with yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck to help hold yourself up.
The world had ended, but you had a new world now and everything would be just fine.
Right?
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BEFORE
Joel stood at the gas pump staring at his phone as his truck was filled. His strange client, the survivalist who asked him to help build a bunker, had shot him a message that made little to no sense. He rambled about the “end of the world”, and invited Joel to join him in the bunker for the “start of something new”. Joel tossed his phone back into his truck with full plans to ignore it. He’d drive to the bar and spend the night drinking. It’d be nothing new. He was a regular at this point.
As he climbed into the driver’s seat his gaze lifted and he spotted you exiting a store across the street.
You from three days ago. You who he met at his usual drinking hole. You who had left him breathless. Joel had been drinking alone, the usual, when you and your friends drifted into the bar as an already half drunk mob. One of your guy friends had gotten rowdy near him, joking with another, and he bumped into Joel and spilled his entire whiskey.
Before he could even begin to lose his temper, you had swept in to save the day. It was obvious you were drunk yourself, but you cleaned him up, apologized for your friends, bought him a new drink, and just sat there and talked. You rambled about being in town to visit your family and catching up with old friends, and Joel found he could listen to you all day.
There was something magnetic about you.
Enough so, that he found himself following you down the road. You were driving toward the edge of town. Maybe to meet with friends at that new bar and drink some more. The roads grew less crowded as you got further out, and Joel thought about following you into the bar. Just to talk. It had been so long since he craved conversation of any kind. He realized though that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him. You were young and beautiful and clever. A ray of sunshine. Your options for company were endless and Joel couldn’t imagine being anywhere but at the bottom of that list. Drunk you had put up with him, but sober you probably wouldn’t spare him a glance.
Joel’s eyes darted to the passenger seat where his phone sat. A second passed, and a decision was made. He flashed his lights and laid on his horn. Your car slowed cautiously and he began to speed past you. He looked out his passenger window and the last thing he saw was your wide, confused and fearful eyes before he swerved into you.
He slammed on the breaks and watched your car flip a few times before coming to a stop at the edge of a ditch. Smoke billowed from the broken remains of your vehicle and Joel stared wide eyed at what he had just done. Guilt gnawed at him and he scrambled out of his truck to race to the driver’s side of the wreckage. You were hanging upside down from your seatbelt and blood dripped from a gash along your temple. A bruise was already forming at your hairline. But you were alive. Thank God. He hadn't even considered how wrong that could've gone. It seemed the universe was on his side for this.
Joel knew what he had done was wrong, but it was too late to go back.
He had made the decision⏤ your world ended and he’d be the one to build you something new.
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[if you're curious the Ezra I mention is the Pedro Pascal character from Prospect (he just screams cult leader, doesn't he?) and i lowkey maybe have plans for a follow up on this but from the POV of a different reader and Ezra]
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amywritesthings · 3 months
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new year, new choso. / choso nye fic
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pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo
welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!
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New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.
Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.
Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.
Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.
It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.
The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.
(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)
You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.
Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.
(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)
“Did you need a refill?”
The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.
When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.
Your first thought? He’s beautiful.
Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.
The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence. 
“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”
“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”
He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.
You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.
God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.
(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)
Right.
You're dissociating.
Back to the guy in front of you.
“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.
The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.
“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”
He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.
“Feels a little crowded here.”
"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.
Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.
You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.
“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.
“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”
“Which one is he?”
Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.
He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.
“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”
Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.
He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.
When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.
“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.
Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”
(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)
“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”
“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”
Choso shakes his head. 
“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”
“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”
“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”
“Really? Your first, ever?”
He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”
The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.
He warms to it, however, and laughs with you. 
“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.
“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”
You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”
It’s the truth: this man is interesting.
Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.
Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.
It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.
“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”
He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.
“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”
Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.
“—I think I screwed that part up.”
“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, suits always look good.”
Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.
“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”
Oh.
He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.
“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”
You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.
“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.
His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”
You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”
Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”
A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.
The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.
Three, to be exact.
Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.
“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”
Wait, he saw you come in?
When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself. 
“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”
No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.
“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”
“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”
One minute remaining.
Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.
“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”
A date.
Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.
“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”
Twenty seconds. 
“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.
For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience. 
If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.
“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.
Ten seconds.
“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.
His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.
You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.
(Maybe next year really will be better.)
248 notes · View notes
sunohws · 2 months
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fuck you - choi yeonjun
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pairing: sub!yeonjun x dom!male!reader
synopsis: You find out Yeonjun has a degradation kink after an argument.
genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni.. degrading, semi-public sex, college au
word count: 0.8k words
a/n: yeonjun. i finally made smth for yeonjun. I CRIED FOR 2 DAYS JUST FOR THIS TO BE LIKE 800 WORDS. IM SO ASHAMED. I WANTED TO MAKE SMTH LONH AND UNFORGETTABLE FOR YEONJUN BUT I CANT CUS I GET FRUSTRATED..
im sorry its so short..
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"You are so annoying, you know that?"
"Maybe you should cry about it."
"I don't know how you're even allowed to walk into this fucking college with that peanut brain."
"No swearing please Mr. Kim!" The teacher piped in, though she knew both students were much too caught up in their argument to listen to anyone.
"Oh my god, did you get any love as a child?"
"Apparently much more than you did."
"What shoes your mom got on?"
"Are you trying to get killed?"
"Try, you fucking lunatic."
"I'm not all bark like you are Babyboy I don't recommend saying shit like that."
"Oh, I'm so scared."
"Mr. Choi and Mr. Kim, would you please sit back down? I'd like to continue my class."
The looks she received was enough to nod her head and sit herself down, letting them continue. The entire class even looked entertained.
"You are just so entirely pathetic it's hard to even look at you."
"Oh really?"
Yeonjun looked a little taken aback, spitting out a "yes? you're so hopeless." You gave him an amused look, challenging almost. You leaned down, face coming terribly close to Yeonjun's ear so that no one else could possibly see what you were saying.
"Then why are you hard?" You whisper, lingering there for a second to watch Yeonjun's face go red. He sat down, faced forward, and told the teacher to continue with class. "Finally." She huffed, carrying out the lesson. Yeonjun put his head down on his desk, realizing he was actually hard. 'What the hell,' he thought.
He heard you laughing quietly, you were way too amused by this situation. Soon class ended, and Yeonjun was too embarrassed to say absolutely anything as he tried to silently leave the class. He checked to make sure you weren't following him, then slipped into an old janitor's closet. 'God I wish there was a lock on this fucker.'
He tried to go behind some buckets and such against the wall so if anyone did enter, he wouldn't automatically be caught. Yeonjun attempted to quietly palm himself, using majority of his brain power to not think about you. Maybe he really liked arguing. Maybe he really liked being littered with insults by a very gorgeous boy with rings and piercings and a soothing voice.
"So, yeonjunie has a degradation kink, hm?" Yeonjun's eyes flew open, seeing you standing tauntingly in front of him. "I don't have a-" You moved forward suddenly, flicking Yeonjun's chin up to meet your eyes. Your knee pressed in between his thighs.
"I really never took you for a slut, you know? You can't even stop yourself from moaning my name." Yeonjun choked on a moan, his head rolling back against the wall. "It just happened, okay? I would never like you like that you fucking creep" Your knee pressed against him more making Yeonjun's eyes roll to the back of his head.
"You seem to be enjoying this a lot." You leaned in further, "Are you okay with this?" He eagerly nodded yes of course, finally admitting he wanted it. "Tell me if i go too far, please." You pulled Yeonjun forward to connect their lips, bringing their bodies as close as possible to each other.
Yeonjun grabbed at your hand to force it onto his own throat, you got the message and lightly gripping his throat. You brought your other hand to palm at Yeonjun's dick that was still hanging out for some reason. Yeonjun whined loudly, his head banging against the wall roughly every time he threw it back.
"You like pain too, hm, whore?" You said against his skin, biting on the soft flesh. Yeonjun couldn't stop shivering and groaning. You slowly lowered yourself onto your knees, starting to pump at the base. "How pathetic, you're so hard for me?"
Yeonjun moaned purely at the words; tears were streaming down his face already from the stimulation. "Do you want me to suck your sad little cock, hm?" He nodded vigorously. "Words, Yeonjun."
"Yes, please! please y/n" He choked out. You slowly put the entire length into his mouth, Yeonjun rendered speechless as the moan was caught in his throat. You started to go faster, bobbing up and down until you could feel the back of your throat being hit. You gripped his thighs harshly, using all your might to bottom out each time.
"Oh my- oh my god, im-" Yeonjun suddenly came into your mouth, feeling embarrassed and scared that you might not have wanted that. Though, you swallowed every drop possible, wiping your chin and licking it off while making eye contact. You liked the bittersweet taste. Yeonjun swore he could get hard purely off of that sight alone, but he was still trying to catch his breath.
You re-did the black-haired boys' pants, making sure he was clean and okay to go back to class. Yeonjun brought their lips together again for a slower kiss once you got up. 
"Fuck you." he spat, though smiling slightly. 
"Name a time and place." you laughed, smiling as he left the closet. 
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I FINALLY WROTE SMTH FOR YEONJUN...
171 notes · View notes
abitohoney · 6 months
Text
Hustle - CH1: Proposition
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AO3 link
CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5
Sevika x female reader
Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW
Tags: Sevika/Reader, Ran & Reader, Established Relationship, assassin reader, Fluff, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, horny idiots in love, Dom/sub, Dom Sevika, sub Reader, Humor, Banter, Choking, Spanking, Teasing, Light Sadism, Begging, Strap-Ons, Lesbian Sex, Aftercare, Gambling, Smoking, lack of understanding card games, totally winging this shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, reader is not the most graceful creature, but Sevika adores reader all the more for it, Jealousy, Marking, Orgasm Delay, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Hurt/Comfort, a Yordle OC that we will likely never see again but I had entirely too much fun writing, 69 (Sex Position)
Word Count: 7.9k
Summary: Looking to make your nights with Sevika a bit more… exciting, you suggest making use of your shared talent for playing cards. Together, the two of you take the Undercity, and even Topside, by storm. And what’s more exciting than the thrill of winning, or watching your opponents whine and gripe in defeat, or earning far more coin than the two of you could possibly spend? The release of pent-up sexual desire that seems to come with each and every win, that’s what.
AN: This is already in process over on AO3.
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Sevika sat at the small table in your shared room, removing the last screw that held the protective plate over her metal shoulder. A thick cigar- one of the fancy ones you’d gifted her a while back- hung from the corner of her mouth. She was apparently too focused on her arm to realize it had gone out some time ago.
You, however, noticed when you approached her, two drinks in hand and clad in only your underwear and one of her old shirts. After placing one glass near her, and the other at the opposite end by your chair, you grabbed her lighter from the table.
“Light?” you offered, opening the lighter with a swift flick of your wrist.
Sevika glanced down her nose at her barely smoldering cigar before bringing the end into the dancing flame. After taking one long drag, her gray eyes met yours. Tendrils of smoke seeped from the corners of her mouth when her lips curled into a crooked grin.
That smirk of hers was the closest thing you’d get to a thank you, but it was good enough for you. You gave her your own lopsided grin in return before bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head.
Moving to the chair opposite her, you took a seat and started working on sharpening your pile of daggers strewn about the table.
That had become somewhat of a weekly ritual for the two of you. An unspoken one, where once a week the two of you would sit at your small, quaint table littered with parts, tools, and cleaning supplies for Sevika’s arm, as well as sharpening tools and cleaning cloths for your daggers. You’d both have a good drink. She’d have one of her usual cigarillos, or occasionally, like tonight, she’d treat herself to a fancy imported cigar. A sign that she’d had a particularly bad day.
“Rough day?” you asked and carefully wiped one of your daggers clean before setting it aside to grab the next.
“Yeah,” she replied gruffly, focus returned to her arm while she loosened something at the elbow.
Your gaze fell to her bicep from where it peeked out from beneath her leather sleeve, watching almost in a trance as it flexed with her movements.
Good god, she’s so fucking buff.
“Jinx?” you asked, knowing that more often than not the blue-haired girl was the cause of Sevika’s bad days. The bane of her existence really. You’d met the girl a few times over your years under Silco’s employ, and although she was quite the little spitfire, unpredictable even, she seemed like a genuinely sweet kid. Everyone in the Undercity had their demons, so why Jinx’s seemed to bother Sevika so much more, you weren’t exactly sure, but you weren’t about to ask. Best not to poke the bear.
“Yeah.”
Realizing she was clearly not interested in divulging any details, you returned to your daggers in silence, occasionally sipping your drink or stealing a glance at Sevika working on her arm.
Once every dagger was finely sharpened and shined, you turned your full attention to Sevika. Her arm at some point had ended up in far more pieces on the table than usual. Must have been a deep clean day, or something got really fucked up. A quick glance at Sevika’s face confirmed the latter.
Her dark brows sat in a deep v-shaped line and her lips pulled into a tight frown. She was clearly not happy. Even less so than usual.
Dragging your chair over to her side, you ignored the sharp look she gave you at the obnoxious sound of it scraping along the floor, echoing through the otherwise quiet room. “What’s wrong?” you asked and leaned closer to look over all the parts.
“Something jammed,” she grumbled and removed her cigar to throw back the last of her drink.
Picking up her metal hand, which although disconnected from her wrist, was still entirely assembled, you turned it over several times to inspect the construction. Even after all the time you’ve been close to Sevika, you still found yourself fascinated with all the intricacies of her mechanical arm. So many moving parts, powered primarily by something that was also used as a drug. Intricate joints that functioned much like the real thing, but better. More precision, more strength, more flexibility. But the moment something malfunctioned, like now, it became almost useless. So of course you understood her frustration. Not only being left without a usable arm, but also being left with the hassle of trying to fix the damn thing.
As you took what would be the index finger between your own fingers and moved the joints, you could feel more resistance than usual. Turning it so the palm faced up, you stretched and bent the joints opposite their intended direction. There was definitely a build-up of… something. Gunk of some kind. No wonder shit was jammed. Probably full of dried blood, or human flesh. Who knows how many necks she broke or guts she impaled since her arm got a good cleaning.
“What are you smiling about?”
Not even realizing you were smiling, your eyes shot up to Sevika’s scowling face in confusion. “What? Oh. Just thinking about how many idiots you must have slaughtered since you last gave this a proper cleaning. There’s all sorts of shit stuck in the joints. Of course you’re having issues.”
“Well maybe if you did your job and took them out with your little knives, I wouldn’t have to use my hand so much,” she sneered, mouth twitching at the corner. She was clearly proud of her snarky comeback.
Ass.
Smile still in place, but now directed at Sevika, you shot back your own snarky retort, “Well maybe if you didn’t fucking announce our presence with your big ass feet stomping around, I could have used my daggers.”
Oh, that got her truly smirking. A challenge. A verbal challenge. Something the two of you have always taken part in, but ever since becoming an... item, it had become downright exhilarating. You both enjoyed the challenge the other provided. Equal wit, snark, and speed. Not to mention it almost always ended with the two of you engaging in other fun activities.
“I don’t need that hand to choke you.”
“I don’t need to ask if you’re bluffing. All talk.” You smiled at her confidently. At least at first.
Sevika’s chair scraped across the floor when she stood suddenly. Your eyes widened and you jumped in your chair, not really expecting her to do anything. Not when her arm was half disassembled, tubes and wires dangling loose and exposed. You quickly schooled your expression, back to that cocky smile to match hers. She wouldn’t really follow through. Tilting your head back, you stared up at her towering form as she stood close enough for her feet to disappear beneath your chair.
“I don’t need to tell you how very wrong you are,” she sneered, her smile curling into a wicked grin. Without breaking her eye contact with you, she removed her cigar from between her teeth and set it in the ashtray you’d made her months ago. Her prized possession. And when she bent down, you could feel your smile start to falter, confidence waning. “I’ll show you,” she said so quietly you almost missed it.
Fuck. She is going to-
And then her hand was on your throat, squeezing with just enough pressure to have you feeling the strain in your airway. But when the air in your lungs escaped through your parted lips, it was not in the form of a complaint, a cry, or a whine. No, it was a deep, quiet moan. Her name.
“Sevika…”
It’s yet another unspoken… dynamic the two of you had developed from the very beginning of your relationship. Despite you offering her a good verbal fight, and sometimes even physical, it always ended with you submitting to her. Completely willing. Because it would always benefit you both. She gets that ego of hers stroked real nice. A good power trip. You swear it almost makes her high. And you get that euphoric feeling of losing control to someone you trust deeply. Someone you know can give you what you want. What you need. She doesn’t even need to ask. She knows. She’ll only ask to make you say it. To watch you squirm while you try to find the words- your voice- to beg her to give you all your filthy desires.
“What do you want?” she husked, and you could smell the intoxicating mix of cigar spices and high-end whiskey on her breath when she leaned in closer.
“You,” you breathed, your desperate eyes pleading with her wild ones. Your hands- one still holding her metal hand, the other resting on your thigh- clenched, fighting urges. But not because you wanted to remove her hand, or fight back. You wanted to put your hands on her. Touch her. Pull her closer. But you knew you couldn't. Not yet.
“What do you want from me,” she sneered, thick fingers squeezing just a little tighter around your neck.
“Kiss me,” you whispered, but when you saw her arch a brow, you knew what else she wanted to hear. “Please, Sevika.”
Her smirk softened, and as she brought her face even closer, your eyes fluttered shut. The moment those full lips of hers pressed against your own, you felt yourself melting into your chair. The way she kissed you, so teasingly soft while she squeezed your throat in her hand- a hand that could easily snap your neck- left your head spinning. She was powerful enough to destroy you without using so much as even half of that power, yet she always gave you pleasure instead.
Moaning against her lips, you finally dropped her metal hand in favor of placing both your hands on the exposed skin at her hips and waist. She allowed it, but not without the cost of her teasing you. Lips parted, you tried to invite her tongue in, but she chose to run that delightful muscle of hers across your upper lip instead. And when you tried to lean in and take it yourself, her fingers wrapped blissfully tighter around you, leaving you seeing stars.
Without realizing it, your nails dug into the skin just above Sevika’s hips, causing her to break away and hiss at you. Gazing up at her through half-lidded eyes, you whispered a soft, “Sorry,” and relaxed your fingers, soothingly running your fingertips over the little crescent moon marks you’d left behind.
“I need to finish fixing my arm before I fuck you,” she husked, slowly loosening her grip on your throat. “Think you can be patient for me?”
No.
You nodded, whimpering when she released you and went back to her seat. Slowly turning back to the table, you picked her metal hand back up, but your mind was too clouded by lust to really focus. Glancing at Sevika from the corner of your eyes, you spotted her smirking at you. Apparently amused by how she got you so fucking riled up only to leave you sitting there stewing in your own… juices.
So fucking mean, but so fucking hot.
It was a deadly combo that kept you on your toes, and kept you coming back for more. Because in the end, with patience, you always got what you wanted. What you both wanted.
Once your head was mostly clear, you grabbed one of your smaller, sharper daggers and started prying out some of the crap stuck in the joints of her prosthetic hand. Disgusting to most, it was- in all honesty- a very satisfying process for you. The little bits of dried bloody flesh and even bone left you itching to get back to your job. Being Silco’s number one assassin had been rewarding beyond anything else you could have done to get by in the Undercity. You’d always had a knack for stealth, speed, and agility. Not to mention a fascination with knives and daggers, or ‘ pointy objects’ as Sevika so lovingly called them. But that feeling of euphoria you got the first time you slid a blade along someone’s skin, watching the blood trickle then pour from the wound. It was your calling. A sick thing to take pleasure in perhaps, but with the rest of Silco’s crew, you fit right in. Sevika included. You’d seen her get that same wild gleam in her eye. That same wicked smile while she strangled her foe or beat the everliving snot out of them.
Peering over at Sevika, you found her scowl was back in place. Seemed that little intermission was not enough for her either.
“Hey, I was thinking,” you started as you continued to meticulously clean one of the metal fingers, “What if you and I teamed up at cards and wiped this whole damned city clean? I mean, you and I are two of the best, if not the best, players down here. If we teamed up, we’d be unstoppable.”
When Sevika didn’t offer a reply, you turned your attention to her. Cigar back between her teeth, she simply raised a single brow, and you weren’t sure if that was in intrigue or disbelief. “What? It could be fun. Get ourselves some good coin while we’re at it.”
Removing her cigar. She tapped it against the ashtray. With an amused grin, she finally replied, smoke billowing from her mouth while she spoke, “Alright, princess, I’ll admit that sounds like a good idea.”
“A great idea,” you corrected her. “If we set up a tournament, we could end up with enough coin to buy some nice things.”
“Like what?” she scoffed, “More pointy objects?”
You narrowed your eyes at her little jab, gaze dropping to her cigar as you retorted, “Or more fancy cancer sticks.” Before she could throw another retort your way, you added, “But I was thinking more like an improved chem tech arm, so you don’t have to fuck around with maintenance so much. Or you could just pay someone else to do it.” Reaching across the table, you grabbed a cloth and a bottle of solvent. Pouring a generous amount into the cloth, you started wiping down one of the metal digits. “Just think about it?”
“How soon?”
Your gaze shot back up to Sevika. “Really?”
She said nothing, just kept her gaze on you and waited for your answer.
You made no effort to hide the wide smile that put on your face. And though she shook her head in mock disgust, you saw how her own lips pulled up at one corner. “I bet with Ran’s help I could get a tournament set up by this weekend. So you’re game?”
“As long as Ran is involved to make sure you don’t screw it up.”
You ignored her attempt to bait you into another battle of wits, too thrilled that she’d agreed to your idea. Instead, you returned to your task in silence, save for the excited tapping of your foot. That weekend couldn’t come soon enough.
Too caught up in your meticulous cleaning of Sevika’s metal hand, not to mention thinking about how the two of you were going to clean up a bunch of unsuspecting idiots, you hadn’t realized Sevika had finished her own work some time ago. After giving the hand one final wipe down with a clean cloth, you turned to find her leaning back in her chair just watching you while she smoked. “What?” you asked, cheeks flushing under her heated gaze.
Setting the remainder of her cigar in the ashtray, she patted her thigh. “Help me put it back on.”
Suspicious of her intentions with how… oddly she was looking at you, you hesitantly stood from your chair to take a seat across her lap. As you reached across the table to grab the hand, you felt her wrap her human arm around your waist, resting her hand on your thigh. And if that hadn’t been distracting enough while you tried to hook up the tubes and wires of her prosthetic, the feeling of her intense gaze on you sure as hell was.
With everything reconnected, you gave the wrist one final twist to lock the hand back in place. Carefully, you turned it over in your hand, ensuring everything was moving properly. Bending each finger, you could tell the cleaning had definitely made a difference. Satisfied with your work, you lined her hand up with yours, marveling at the contrasting size and material. Bringing it to your face, you placed a kiss on the top of one of the plates that covered the back of it. Releasing her hand, you glanced up at Sevika to find her still staring at you with that odd expression. It was as if she was in disbelief. You searched her eyes for a sign of what she was thinking. And god damn you swore those gray eyes of hers were somehow a softer shade.
“Sevika? Is something wrong?” you asked quietly.
Her gaze fell to her metal hand as she lifted it. She moved each joint, one at a time while she spoke softly, her voice so raspy you swore there was something she was trying to hold back. “I’ve told you this before, but I’ll say it again. You’re too good to me.”
Oh Fuck. That’s so sweet.
She had, in fact, said that before. And your heart both swelled and broke all the same last time. “Sevika,” you whispered breathlessly. You weren’t even sure how to respond to that. Tell her she’s an idiot for thinking she doesn’t deserve your affection and care even after all this time? Tell her everyone deserves someone to treat them right? But you knew neither would help someone like her see the truth. So instead of telling her with words, you decided to show her using her own language. Action. Sliding a hand along her scarred cheek, you pressed your fingers against the back of her neck and slowly guided her lips to yours.
She hesitantly returned the kiss, but it was nothing like her usual more fervent and dominating ones. The kiss was much sweeter, softer, and surprisingly tender.
Her arm around your waist pulled you closer while her metal hand gently grasped your thigh. That delightfully soft nose of hers glided along the side of your own and over your cheek when she cocked her head and pulled you even closer, pressing her lips further into yours.
Though the kiss was far less wild than usual, it still left you equally, if not more, breathless when she pulled away. Resting your forehead against hers, you gazed into beautiful pools of gray. Slowly, that lopsided grin of hers started to reappear.
“Should we head to bed?” you asked softly.
She gave your thigh a gentle squeeze before releasing her hold on you.
The moment you stood up, you no more than turned to head for the bed when you felt a sharp slap to your bottom.
“Hey!” you yelped, spinning on your heel to scowl down- or rather up- at Sevika as she stood from her seat.
“Don’t get too used to that soft shit,” she sneered and stepped closer, toe-to-toe with you.
A challenge?
“Of course,” you replied with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Can’t ruin that tough image of yours.”
And then she was in your space, chest pressing into yours and causing you to take a step away to keep from toppling backward. You furrowed your brows while you peered up at her.
What’s she playing at?
She took another step into your space, a smug smile painting her face.
You took another step away, the backs of your knees connecting with the edge of the bed.
“Now that I’ve got my hand back…” Sevika drawled and lifted her metal hand to inspect it as the gears near her wrist spun and whirred.
You should have taken that as your warning sign, but you were too focused on trying to figure out what she had planned to do with you. A shrill yelp pulled from your throat when the sharp blade sprung from her arm, slicing through the air dangerously close to the side of your face. With nowhere else to go, you fell onto your rear on the edge of the mattress.
Her dark chuckle made your brows draw together.
“Damnit Sevika stop startling me with that fucking thing!” you snarled and shot her a nasty glare.
“Thought you liked pointy objects,” she jeered, her blade retracting back into her arm with a resounding swish.
“ My pointy objects.”
“Hmm. They are pretty nice,” she teased, eyes blatantly honed in on your tits.
Despite your best effort to refrain, you couldn’t help but grin at that lovely combination of joke and compliment.
Sevika stepped forward again, her knees urging you to spread your legs and allow her between them.
Then she slowly leaned over you, forcing you to scoot back on the bed.
“Sevika…” you sighed, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I told you, I’ve got my hand back now…” she sneered, hands planted against the mattress on either side of your hips.
“Now what?” you asked.
Moving farther away, you fell back onto your forearms as she crawled onto the bed and up your body, her strong arms on either side of your chest. Then you recalled what she’d said to you earlier when things were starting to heat up.
‘I need to finish fixing my arm before I fuck you.’
Oh.
Her hands moved to either side of your shoulders and you let your back fall completely against the bed. You beamed up at her while she smiled down at you wolfishly.
Her eyes dropped to your mouth. "That fucking dopey smile."
"You know you always say that, but then you're just smiling at me. Clearly you love it," you pointed out.
Sevika scoffed, but that smirk remained on her face. "It's ridiculous."
"And cute," you added.
"Ridiculous."
"Ridiculously cute. And it's only for you," you said sweetly.
"Damn right."
You raised a brow. "A bit possessive aren't we?"
"Just know what's mine." Her lips curled higher.
Fucking cocky.
But two can play that game.
"Same," you replied with a crooked grin before grabbing Sevika by her leather vest and pulling her down for a kiss.
She willingly kissed you back, but not without the cost of taking your bottom lip between her teeth and tugging- hard. She chuckled at your whine of protest, lips curling against yours before she kissed away the stinging sensation.
Your game wasn’t over yet though.
Sevika pulled back from the kiss, brows furrowed as she peered down at your smiling face. “What's so funny?"
"This," You replied just before flipping her onto her back. You swiftly moved to straddle her waist and pin her wrists above her head.
She simply smirked up at you with a raised brow.
You both knew she could break free with very little effort, but you both tested each other. You tested how far she'd let your hand go as it traveled down her neck toward her chest. She tested just how brave you'd actually be.
The moment your hand rested over a breast she gave you a threatening look.
"Don't you do it," she growled.
"Don't do what?" You asked with feigned innocence.
"You know what."
"Oh, you mean this?" You gave her breast a hard squeeze, twisting her nipple through the thick fabric of her top. That got you the desired effect, or rather effects. The immediate; a groan and strained face of pleasure, and the delayed; you were not only thrown off her, but also lying face down with your ass held up high by her thigh wedged between both of yours. Before you could even think to react, your wrists were scooped up by her metal hand and held together behind your back.
"You're gonna pay for that princess," she sneered.
You opened your mouth to retort, only for a startled yelp to escape when her flesh hand contacted your asscheek with a loud SMACK!
"Learn your lesson?" she asked, rubbing her hand soothingly over your tingling skin.
“No.”
SMACK!
Another sharp cry ripped from your throat.
"How about now?" she sneered, hand running delightful circles over your other abused asscheek.
"I think- I think you're gonna have to drill it into me,” you managed to get out between soft moans.
Janna, you’re so fucking clever.
"Hate to admit it princess, but I think you're right," she husked and continued to rub your bottom, her thumb inching closer to the inside of your thigh and ghosting over your slit through your panties. "Looks like you're nice and ready for it too."
Your cheeks burned. You knew you were already dripping from what little attention she’d already given you. She always had that effect on you.
She gave your ass one more pat before crawling off the bed and leaving you disappointed at the loss of contact. "Now, how big?" She asked as she strode to the dresser where she kept all the harnesses and attachments.
You rolled onto your side to watch her, resting your head on your hand, elbow propped on the mattress.
"So I was thinking," you started while she rummaged through the drawer, "we should come up with signals to communicate with each other during the tournament."
You tilted your head as you continued to speak, trying to catch a glimpse of which toy Sevika had selected while she slipped on the harness.
"I could come up with a series of subtle hand gestures, ways we hold our cards or drinks, or how we blow the smoke from our cigarillos. You know, something that looks unsuspecting."
"Gonna play dirty, huh?" Sevika sneered as she lubed up the faux cock.
With her back to you, you still couldn't quite make out which one she'd put on. Your curiosity- the anticipation- had your body temperature rising by the second, but you still tried to keep your cool. "Damn right. Those fools won't know what hit 'em. You and I are gonna empty the pockets of every poor sucker down here."
Sevika turned to face you, revealing a strap you hadn’t seen before. Not particularly girthy, but long, bright purple, and with a notable curve.
Oh boy. What the hell is that for?
As she stalked toward the bed, you met her gaze– her very lust-filled gaze. “Why- Why are you looking at me like that?” you stammered and moved to lean back on your forearms, eyes nervously following Sevika as she stalked toward you.
She crawled onto the bed, metal hand slowly dragging up the side of one of your legs. “Cause I want to fuck you. Now shut your mouth or I'll give you something to keep it busy."
"You say that like it's supposed to be a threat. Maybe I want you to keep my mouth busy. Ever think about that?" you retorted with a crooked grin, though it came out much less snarky and confident than you’d intended, your anxiousness getting the better of you.
Her hand froze at your thigh. A single brow arched. Then she sat up on her knees and started to undo her harness.
"Wait!"
She paused, smirking. "Thought this was what you wanted."
"Fuck me first.”
“Please," you quickly added.
She said nothing, but bent back down to resume dragging her metal hand up along your leg until she reached your panties. She slipped a sharp claw beneath the waistband, then locked eyes with you and gave you the most evil-looking toothy grin.
“Don’t you do it,” you threatened, eyes narrowed.
“Don’t do what?” she mocked.
“I just bought thOSE!” your words turned into a sharp yelp the moment Sevika ripped your underwear clear off your body. “Fucking hell Sevika! You can’t just keep ripping all my clothes!”
“I’ll buy you more.”
Though she spoke those words with a stoic tone, you could see her mirth plain as day with the damn smirk she wore.
“You’ll just buy something impractical,” you pouted.
“And I’ll rip those off too,” she sneered, backing down the bed to stand on the floor between your dangling legs.
You raised your brows, confused as to why she left the bed. Was she going to fuck you or not?
She leaned over, flesh and metal fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to grasp your hips. Then, without warning, she yanked your body down across the mattress, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed, your shirt up and over your chest when it caught on the sheets, and yet another startled yelp from your throat.
Your mouth hung open to fire another chastising remark, only for it to die in your throat when her hands started slowly gliding up your stomach towards your now fully exposed chest.
“Got something to say, princess?” she husked as she cupped each breast.
You knew she was goading you. Trying to get you to speak so she could provide enough stimulation to make you fumble your words again. So instead you said nothing, just watched her with narrowed eyes. But not even that look stood a chance the moment she started to squeeze and knead your supple flesh.
“Hm. Didn’t think so,” she taunted.
You bit your bottom lip, trying to stifle the moan that you felt building up. Once she added your nipples to her play, you had officially lost the game.
Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting and releasing a soft moan when she rolled metal and flesh fingers across your hardened peaks.
“So easy to shut you up,” she continued to tease. She leaned over your chest, ghosting her lips along the swell of a breast.
The urge to bite back was completely overrun by the natural desire to just submit to her. To just let her take care of you. Like she always did.
“Just a simple touch,” she continued, accenting her words with a drag of those luscious lips right over a nipple.
You keened, arching towards her mouth, silently begging her to wrap her lips around your flesh. But she wouldn’t do that. Not yet. She had to tease you more. Break you down. Leave you begging.
“S-Sevika,” you whined when she merely slid her mouth to the other breast– not nearly enough stimulation. And good god you craved her. You could already feel the ache building in your lower half– a tight heat that radiated from your core straight down through your legs.
“Yea, baby?” she murmured against the swell of your breast. She introduced her tongue into the mix, dragging just the tip around your areola while her hands continued to explore.
“More, please,” you pleaded. You carded your hands through her hair, but you didn’t dare pull her head closer, despite the burning desire to do so.
“More what?” Her tongue left a long, wet trail from the bottom side of one breast clear across the other.
“Your mouth,” you sighed.
“Hmm,” she hummed against the side of your breast, the vibrations only adding to the torment of her light touches. “What do you want me to do with it?” she asked before flicking her tongue across a nipple.
Your fingers and toes curled and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Suck,” you whispered as you released that breath.
Another reverberating hum. “Like this?”
Those delightfully soft, warm, wet lips wrapped around a nipple and sucked, tongue teasing over the tip.
“Fuck, yes,” you groaned. Your back arched again, pressing your chest closer to her mouth.
“Mmm. And what about this?” she purred. Without further warning she bit down on that sensitive nub, pulling a sharp cry from you only for it to dissolve into a soft moan as she soothed it with her tongue.
The sound of her low, throaty laugh only made your body ache for her more. Before you could beg for her to continue, her mouth started to move up your chest, sucking and biting every inch of skin along the way. Her metal hand soon joined the climb, gliding up the other side of your chest while her human hand descended down your stomach.
Her tongue dipped and trailed up along your collarbone while her metal hand crept up the column of your throat. With her flesh hand tightly gripping your waist, she pressed her metal thumb against your chin, forcing you to expose more of your neck.
Your mind was already reeling from all the sensations, but then you felt the cold, wet tip of her faux cock tease over your clit. Her teeth sank into the flesh of your neck, her nails into the soft fat at your waist. There was no hope for holding back your desperate mewls, her name spilling like honey from your lips.
“Sevika.”
You needed her. You needed her so bad.
“Sevika, fuck me. Please.”
The deep, sinister chuckle that you felt just as much as you heard contrasted against how she ran the side of her nose gently along your cheek and nose.
“So desperate for my cock, hm?” she taunted, lips brushing over yours as she spoke.
You swallowed hard, throat bobbing. Even with your eyes still closed, you could feel the heat of her eyes on you, the arrogant curl of her lips just barely pressed to yours.
“Yes,” you breathed and it took every ounce of willpower to remain still. To not pull her lips to yours and take the kiss you so desperately wanted. To not just thrust towards that teasing silicone toy and grind against it. Your fingers curled against her scalp, your toes against the sheets hanging off the edge of the bed.
Patience.
You needed to be patient. The reward she’d give you would be so very worth it.
She slid her thumb from your chin to the pulse point at your neck, teasing over it several times before finally pressing, ever-so-lightly.
Your lips parted in a breathless gasp, body thrumming in bliss. Your subsequent moan became muffled, drowned out by her mouth hungrily devouring yours. Her tongue delved in, swiping along yours as if fighting for dominance. But there was no battle. There was nothing you could do. You were too lost in that delirium she always brought on when she had her hands on your neck, carefully- precisely- applying pressure.
You were too far gone to even realize the hand at your waist had left to move the tip of the strap between your wet folds, lining it up at your entrance.
And then came the abrupt, glorious stretch of your walls as she buried the faux cock clear to the hilt with one powerful thrust. Your cry of pleasure was muffled by her mouth over yours. You sank your nails into her scalp, earning a threatening growl from her that barely registered through the cloud of pleasure overtaking your mind.
She stood upright, your hands sliding off her head and collapsing against the bed at your sides. You gazed up at her through half-lidded eyes, slowly starting to come back to your senses with your airway fully open again.
God you wanted her hand back there.
“Sevika,” you whined, but you were too ashamed to admit what you wanted. She knew anyway, and yet she’d still make you say it.
“Yeah baby?” she teased. She slipped her hands beneath your thighs, lifting them until your heels rested on the edge of the bed, opening you nice and wide for her. Both her hands firmly grasped your waist and she slowly slid back out, her eyes glued between your legs and reveling at the sight of the silicone toy sliding between your wet folds.
You lost the ability to articulate your request as you watched her move her human hand over your lower stomach and press– hard. Her dark lips curled into a crooked smile, eyes glinting in sick satisfaction while she slowly pushed the strap back inside.
“Fuck, baby,” she breathed.
There was no telling if that was truly for your ears. She looked utterly lost in watching- feeling- her sink deeper inside you.
Your fingers curled against the sheets, teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as the added pressure of that wicked curve and press of her hand left an intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure.
She pulled back out again, grabbing one of your wrists and placing your hand flat against your stomach. With her hand encasing yours she pressed down hard, her gaze still locked between your spread legs. Then, torturously slow, she pushed back inside once again.
“You feel that?” she husked. “My cock dragging along your insides? That’s good, isn’t it?”
You could, in fact, feel the tip of the faux cock dragging beneath your hand. That, however, was not what had you reeling with pleasure and arousal. No, it was her expression. She looked utterly enraptured by it. It made your body tremble, visibly shudder against the sheets.
“It’s…” You trailed off, groaning when she bottomed out, her thighs pressing against the backs of yours. “Sevika,” you mewled. Even when you whimpered her name, she couldn’t break away from that state. Instead, she let your hand slip free to grip the sheets again and placed her hand back on your stomach.
She set a slow rhythm, much unlike her typical rough and unhinged pace, more focused on enjoying the show of it than pleasing you, at least until she heard your soft plea.
“Sevika, please,” you forced out between clenched teeth. The pressure against your insides was damn near excruciating. It felt as if you were teetering on the edge of bliss. You needed just a little more.
Sevika’s heavy-lidded gaze drifted up to your face. Though her smirk remained, her gray eyes softened at the sight of your distress. “What do you need, baby?”
“I- I need-” you struggled to speak, distracted by another gradual roll of her hips.
“Hm?”
You felt her press her thumb against the tip of the strap through your stomach and had you been in your right mind you would have vocally accused her of attempting to impede your ability to speak.
“Fuck,” you cursed, closing your eyes shut tight. Her sinister chuckle echoed in your head. She had definitely been fucking with you.
Deep breath in.
“I need more,” you huffed with the release of that breath.
“More what?”
Fucking sadistic cunt.
She knew how much you hated saying the specifics out loud. How fucking hard it was when she was working you up. But she also knew you loved it.
You loved everything about the damn woman smirking down at you while she waited for your answer.
“Fuck me faster,” you groaned, another drag along that sweet spot leaving you seeing stars.
“Forget your manners, princess?”
You peered up at her through narrowed eyes. Whatever malice you had behind that look was lost in how your face contorted in pleasure.
“ Please fuck me faster.”
With a satisfied chuckle, she quickened her pace.
While her hand remained pressed against your stomach, her thumb slid down to tease across your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.
Despite your effort to bite back the sounds your body so desperately wanted to release, you quickly lost that battle, succumbing to the pleasure that radiated through your body with each heavenly swipe of her thumb, each divine drag of her cock.
She must have sensed your approaching climax, her pace suddenly increasing and her metal claws sinking deeper into your hip.
The sound of the headboard smacking violently against the wall was lost to your mewls and moans- her grunts and heavy breaths.
And then- time slowed, your body stilling when all that build-up finally exploded in mind-numbing pleasure. You sobbed her name, barely getting out the last sweet syllable before all your breath left your body in a shuddering gasp.
“That’s it, pretty baby, let it all out.”
Your lover’s voice was merely a low hum in your head, the last waves of your orgasm still wreaking blissful havoc on your body.
Then, just as quick as it came, it was gone, leaving you in a daze. Sevika must have come to a stop at some point, you realized when you peeled your eyes open to gaze up at her.
She wore that damn lopsided grin- the cocky one she always has after she fucks you senseless. And senseless you were, brain damn well useless, empty of any and all thoughts other than how fucking wonderful Sevika was. That, and how badly you wanted to touch her. The only point of contact you had with her was the tops of her thighs pressed against the back of yours, and her hands resting against your hip and stomach. You needed to hold her. To be held by her.
“Sev- please,” you panted softly, hand weakly reaching out for her.
Still smirking, she bent over your limp body, her flesh arm slipping beneath your back to scoop you up and hold you against her. As she carried you further up the bed toward the headboard, the faux cock shifted inside you, pulling whines from you that elicited a chuckle you could feel from where her chest pressed to yours.
She dropped you rather unceremoniously against the pillows, smiling like the sexy fucking sadist she is at how the protest you had ready to fire turned into a sharp gasp when she pulled the strap out without warning.
“You’ve got to warn me when you do that!” you chastised, eyes narrowed on her.
She simply chuckled, slipped out of her harness, and tossed it aside. “I don’t have to do anything, princess,” she sneered.
Before you could fire back, she was over you, mouth pressed to yours in a deep kiss that took your breath and left your head spinning. You pulled your legs up, spreading them to give her room to kneel between them. She rested her metal arm beside your head, the soft whirring of its fan a distant echo in your fuzzy consciousness. Her other hand slid up along one of your thighs, fingertips sinking possessively into the supple flesh.
You tangled your fingers in her soft hair. You felt her knee press against your exposed core and your lips parted to moan softly, allowing her to slip her tongue inside and run along yours.
When she finally released your lips from hers, there was little time to recover as her mouth moved down your jaw and neck, biting and sucking marks into every inch of skin along her path. Lips barely grazing your ear, she whispered, “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”
Had she not already washed away your irritation with her earlier harsh treatment, it certainly would have faded in that instant. Your heart swelled, damn near bursting from your chest.
Your dynamic mostly consisted of witty banter, quips, and jabs. They were typically fairly well-matched, but she had a tendency to win by cheating. She knew what buttons to push, or rather touch, to have you forget any and all coherent thoughts. You both thoroughly enjoy it, and you both knew it was just your odd way of showing your interest in one another, that you both were actually head over heels for the other. However, in rare moments like this, Sevika would say out loud what she was actually thinking. And it left you absolutely floored every single time.
“You know-” you started quietly, pausing to clear your throat, afraid she’d detect that you were getting a bit choked up, “-I could say the same to you.”
She hummed against your neck while pressing more kisses there.
You two really were a gorgeous couple, you thought.
"Imagine what our children would look like."
The moment those words left your mouth you knew it was a fatal mistake, but there was no taking it back. Your heart sank to your stomach and Sevika’s lips paused against your skin.
Oh fuck!
She slowly lifted her head, a single brow raised as she peered down at you.
Oh dear god, say something to fix this!
“I- I mean not that I would have kids with you.” you spat out.
Sevika’s brow raised higher.
“I mean not that I wouldn’t want to- with you. I-”
Oh god, just shut up. You’re just digging a deeper grave.
“Not that I want to either. I- I mean honestly I haven't really thought about it. With you. Or anyone. I mean we couldn't technically...” Your cheeks burned hotter than the fucking sun the more you fumbled your words.
The corner of Sevika’s mouth twitched.
Sensing some sort of snark that would leave you wanting to just bury your head somewhere and never let her see your face again, you tried to further explain. “I just thought, like if we did, not that we would, or wouldn’t, that they’d be really cute and-”
Your nonsensical rambling was finally cut off by the soft press of Sevika’s lips to yours. She kept her mouth there, in a gentle kiss, her hand gently caressing your thigh, until you realized she wasn’t upset or planning to obliterate you with a mocking comment. Your heart rate finally settled and she pulled back from the kiss just far enough to look into your worried eyes.
You searched her face for any sign, any warning of what she might be thinking. All you found was the corner of her mouth curling upward.
Please let that be a good sign.
"IF we had children, they would be beautiful."
Oh gods, the way she looked at you as she said that– even with that damn smirk, those gray eyes sparkling while they watched you- spoke louder than anything. She was complimenting you. A shy smile spread across your face. You reached up to wrap your fingers around her bicep and whispered, “And strong.”
"And cunning."
"And cute." You emphasized the word with a peck to the tip of her nose.
"And great in bed," she added with a cocky smirk.
"Whoa, now that's just weird. We’re talking about our kids here. But are you saying I'm great in bed?!" you laughed.
"I'm saying I'm so damn good it would make up for your lacking." She grinned wider, revealing her tooth gap and making the snarky comment considerably less effective.
“Cute and annoying,” you replied with a barely contained smile as you pressed your hands against her shoulders and attempted to shove her off you.
She was too fast for you though. Not that it should have surprised you. With no effort whatsoever, she grabbed both your wrists into one hand and pinned them above your head. "Very annoying," she sneered.
To your surprise, rather than tease or mock you for your failure, she brought her lips to yours again.
You could feel the wide spread of her lips against yours, and couldn’t help but smile just as wide.
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CH2>>
190 notes · View notes
vera-deville · 10 months
Text
Happily Ever After...Soon Enough, Anyways
05/31/2023 - 06/09/2023
Pairing: Malleus Draconia x Reader
Word Count: 964
Warnings: Nothing that I can think of!
Gender: AFAB
Tags: @rose-the-witch1, @pyroxeene, @moldy-cheeto
In which Malleus and Y/N are in the midst of planning their wedding and shenanigans arise.
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"Do we really have to do a full wedding? Can't we just elope?" Malleus Draconia asked his future wife.
"And where exactly did you learn about elopements?" A teasing voice called out from the room next door. A figure peaked her head through the doorway, amused by the utter exasperation littered in her beloved's voice.
"Lilia told me that some humans have a practice where they just skip all the actual wedding formalities. Apparently it is quite popular these days." Malleus said, fingers tracing the edges of his tea cup. "It'll be just us, and of course, my grandmother to officiate our marriage. Oh, and we can invite just Lilia as our one guest. We won't have to worry about pleasing the nobles, or the elders, or any one else."
Y/N felt that for her sake, Malleus didn't mention not wanting to deal with her self-proclaimed father, Crowley, and much less her actual adoptive father Crewel and her old friend, Vil Schoenheit. She could understand why Malleus simply wished to forgo any and all tradition and skip right to the part where they vow to be the ones for each other, forever and always (not that they hadn't already vowed that).
Setting down her own cup of tea, Y/N studied Malleus' features. Nothing much had really changed from their time in NRC, except his eyes seemed almost...older now. Perhaps it was the maturity of graduating school and becoming the king of an entire realm. Or perhaps it was because planning a wedding was simply too much work for him.
"But Darling, I thought that you were rather excited about planning a wedding with me?" Y/N asked.
"That was until you dragged Schoenheit into helping Dear." Chided the old (but young) fae. Y/N almost laughed, seeing the barely-there pout forming on his face.
"I didn't drag him into helping Mal, he did that himself."
"But you could have stopped him, I thought that we were doing just fine on our own."
"But you can't deny that he has an extremely good eye for these kinds of things. And this was something he genuinely wanted to do for me. Isn't that nice of him?"
"Not when he takes up all your time and runs me down with far too many choices, which, might I add, all look the same."
Ah. So that's what's got him so grumpy in the morning midday. Chuckling to herself, Y/N made her way to Malleus, sitting on his lap, and snaking her arms around his neck, pulling him down so that she could press a chaste kiss to the side of his cheek.
"Let's just run away together." Malleus suggested, eyes practically glowing at the idea.
"But what about the cake? And all the people who are coming to see us? And all the decorations we've already placed orders for?" Y/N asked. "And what about-" a peck to the forehead silenced her.
Looking up at the horned fae, Y/N asked in a gentle whisper, "Do you remember what you told me when you proposed to me?"
"How could I forget, my Beloved?" Malleus smiled as he remembered.
"Yes, oh my god, yes! Of course I'll marry you!" Y/N exclaimed, with her hands over her mouth. Malleus slid the ring (which he'd safeguarded in his hoarde) around Y/N's finger. He brought up her hand, admiring the shiny stone that now adorned it, and delicately kissed her knuckles.
Laughing in joy, Y/N threw her arms around Malleus, as he picked her up and spun her around, with the wind dancing along with them. "I'm going to need a much cheaper ring so that I can use it every day. This ring belongs in a safety deposit box." Joked Y/N.
"What's a safety deposit box?" Malleus asked, head tilted to the side.
"You didn't even know what a safety deposit box was back then~" Y/N teased, booping Malleus' nose. A breathy chuckle escaped Malleus's lips. Truth be told, it just seemed like an over-glorified dragon's hoarde, but Malleus didn't think to tell Y/N that just yet.
"If you really want to turn this into a elopement, I won't stop you. What matters most to me is what you want." Y/N said.
Malleus could feel his heart swell at how thoughtful his significant other was. He truly lucked out with this one. At that moment, a familiar tune began ringing. Y/N sprung up (much to Malleus' dismay) to attend to her phone.
He watched her eyes light up when she read the caller's ID. So definitely not Schoenheit or Leona for that matter. Maybe it was Ace and Deuce. He hadn't seen them in a while. Were they still up to their usual shenanigans from their time in school? Or maybe the caller is...
"WHAT!?" Y/N screamed with all her might. Malleus whipped his head to study her features. What could have possibly gotten her as angry as she was in a matter of seconds? The fae walked over to his beloved, keen on comforting her when the next words that came out of her mouth stopped him in his track.
"Please tell me someone has the rings?" Y/N begged, pinching her forehead. Malleus listened in on the conversation, trying to gain more information about the now (possibly) missing rings. In the mean time, Y/N inhaled a sharp breath, before cutting her call. Before the King of the Valley of Thorns could question his future wife about the news she'd received, said person slowly turned her head to him, now very much seething.
"I'm going to murder Grim." Y/N promised.
It seemed that Ace and Deuce (and Grim apparently) still hadn't let go of their shenanigans...
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Author's Note: Oh my goodness do I not like this fic. I started writing this fanfic feeling so confident about my idea and everything, but then as I was writing it, I just couldn't find myself in the usual headspace I'm in when I write my usual (and better) fics.
This is the first work for the @briarvalleyarchives that I've written. I missed the first month's prompt, and nearly missed this month's prompt (weddings) if it weren't for the lovely @pyroxeene giving us some more time to finish writing.
I honestly really liked the concept I had in mind when I started writing this fic (although it turned out very different), so I may very well end up rewriting this in the future!
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melodygatesauthor · 10 months
Text
Chapter 12: Black Ties, White Lace and Birthday Cake
prof!Steven Grant-Jake Lockley-Marc Spector X f!Reader
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Edited by: @whatthefishh
Mood Boards - Book Cover - Masterlist
Chapter Summary:
Steven is coming back to class, and you're feeling off about the way he presents himself in class versus the evenings you spend together in his car.
Tags/Summary (these are for the ENTIRE fic):
college AU, no powers/not in MCU/no Khonshu (as a deity), talk of mental illness, Marc has DID, forbidden relationship, age gap, reader is 21y/o, Boys are 38y/o, reader attends college in America but isn't necessarily American, smut, sex, masturbation, p in v, creampies galore, reader is on birth control, dubious consent due to identity issues, ANGST, romance, fluff and smut, oral sex, falling in love, reader is not race coded, minor mentions of alcohol addiction and depression.
Word Count: 2.8k
SPECIAL WARNING - DUBIOUS CONSENT. READER DISCRETION ADVISED.
----
It took days before Marc and Jake finally broke through to Steven, and they got to him just in time. It was Sunday afternoon, and Marc was on his ninth, or maybe it was the tenth rerun of Steven’s favorite documentary on Egyptian mythology. He said it was the most accurate one he could find and the corny jokes littered throughout seemed to make him laugh. Marc was eating another bowl of Steven’s favorite cereal, hoping that something would give, when finally…he was there.
“Oh my…” Steven dropped the bowl on the floor with a thud, soy milk and cereal spilling all over the hardwood floor. He stood up from where he was seated fast, touching all over his body as though to make sure he were really there. “I’m…I’m back. What did…what happened?”
“Steven, thank god,” Marc said, sighing in relief.
Steven ran to the three piece mirror and looked at his reflections, Jake on one side and Marc on the other. He looked at himself, hair slicked back the way Marc liked it. How long had he been gone for? It was like he totally blacked out. The pain he’d felt after the breakup pushed him so far back he didn’t recall anything from the past three weeks.
“Tell me what’s happened.”
“There’s nothing to tell, you got upset and then you just…you disappeared,” Marc sounded a little choked up as he continued to feel the warmth of Steven’s return. “I’m really glad you’re back. For a minute there, I wasn’t sure–”
“Not interested in talking to you, or you,” he spat, looking over at Jake. Steven wasn’t the angry type, but if looks could kill, Marc and Jake would cease to exist on the spot. “This is all your fault. All of it. Both of you.”
“Oye, what did you expect us to do hermano?” Jake crossed his arms defensively, as though he weren’t just as guilty as Steven.
“I expected you both to leave me alone like you promised, yeah?” Steven walked away from the mirror but he could still hear them chattering while he started getting clothes together for the day.
“You kinda messed that up when you started sleeping with your student, Steven. Trust me, we don’t wanna be here either, but you left us no choice.” Marc retorted, “you think I don’t feel guilty every damn day for what we put you through? It eats away at me but that doesn’t mean I can just stand by while–”
“Enough!” Steven yelled, looking at the mirror in the bathroom as he stepped inside, “I get it, don’t worry. I’ll behave just the way you want me to yeah? I’ll live my life the way you both want me to. The way I always have.”
There was silence while Steven brushed his teeth and showered. He stepped out of the tub and glared at his reflection in passing, noticing that they were still there despite his wish that they’d disappear. He never thought the day would come that he would be able to say that he hated them, but he felt like he did. They’d ruined everything for him, and even now they were still ruining everything for him.
“Steven I–”
“No, Marc–”
“I’m sorry I know–”
“No, Marc!”
“—if you’d just let me explain I–”
“Fuckin’ HELL!” Steven said, dropping onto the bed and burying his face in his hands, “I don’t care what you say, there’s nothing to say. I’ve spent my entire life takin’ care of you, sitting back watching you and Jake do your thing.” He slumped over and started to feel the tears flow freely, “I finally found somethin’ that made me feel like I was living. Like I was real and not just an accessory to you two.”
“Buddy, you’re not just an accessory, okay? I probably wouldn’t be alive without you.” If Marc could, he’d give Steven a hug. The guilt was killing him.
Jake remained silent, as he often did, afraid to say much in this situation. He was torn, like Steven was, knowing that Marc was making perfect, and logical, sense. It didn’t change the fact that he felt the same way as Steven did though. You reminded Jake that he was alive, and that he mattered. Even if it was wrong, he knew that he was helping you through a tough time and he hoped you appreciated that much at the very least. He had a purpose because of you.
After a long bout of silence, Steven sniffled and sighed, deciding to change the subject,  
“How long has it been?” Steven finally picked his phone up off the nightstand, “it’s been…it’s been nearly three weeks.”
“Yeah, that’s why we’ve been trying so hard to get you back, the head of the history department isn’t exactly happy with a new professor who isn’t showing up to his job.” Marc sounded irritated.
Steven saw your texts…the ones where you were drunk and begging him to come back. He felt a pit in his gut before he put the phone back on the table harshly. He took a deep and shaky breath, feeling himself wanting to disappear again but he knew he couldn’t. He grabbed his chest and walked away from the phone, realizing that he’d left the mess of cereal on the floor from earlier.
“I’ll go back tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to ruin this silly little life you gave me. This meaningless, poor excuse for a life.”
“Steven that’s enough, your life isn’t meaningless, pendejo,” Jake said softly, “this is your life now, we just want to make sure you don’t make it worse than we already have.”
Jake’s words seemed to help calm Steven, despite the fact that they meant nothing. Sure, Steven’s life wasn’t meaningless, of course it wasn’t, but Jake wasn’t going to stop seeing you behind both of their backs. He was going to join Marc in keeping Steven away from you, while still seeing you on the side. He was just as much a disaster for the system as Steven was.
That night, when the other two were out, Jake fronted and picked up Steven’s phone. He had to tell you that he was coming back. He had to make sure that you didn’t say anything stupid that would ruin this little thing the two of you had going in secret.
Steven: Hey love, I’m coming back to school tomorrow. I think it’s time. Make sure not to speak to me or even come near me, alright?
Steven: Can’t even have you asking for help with class. Just pretend you don’t know me at all if you want this to continue.
----
You looked at your messages on Monday morning, shaking as you looked down at your phone. Steven was coming back to school. You didn’t know how to act. 
Normal, you thought to yourself, you have to act normal, just like he said in the text. 
But that was easier said than done. It was simple enough to dress modestly, not wearing anything that might make him, or yourself, too uncomfortable, but walking into his classroom and seeing him there for the first time in weeks made your legs feel weak. He was still so handsome, and he looked just like the Steven you remembered.
His hair was a little disheveled and his eyes were surrounded in dark circles like he hadn’t slept for days. He wore a dark blue button-down with a black tie. He still hadn’t noticed that you walked in. Even his facial expression was back to normal too, not like the man you’d been meeting with at night. It took everything inside of you not to rush to him, and tell him how much you missed him. How much you missed the real him…but you obviously couldn’t do that.
His breath caught in his throat when looked up and he saw you.
‘I can’t do this,’ he thought, ‘one of you has to–’
“Steven,” Marc started, “come on buddy, you gotta pull it together.”
Steven tried, and somehow managed to succeed. He spent most of the class looking at the whiteboard, the floor, and anything else other than you. He tugged on his collar, feeling hot, noticing the damp perspiration under his armpits. He was more nervous now than he’d ever been with you. How was he supposed to go on like this? He was positive that he wouldn’t be able to relax in his class ever again until you were out of it.
When the lecture finished, he glanced up at you for a split second on your way out. You looked back, feeling the sharp stab of his gaze through your gut. He looked so different from the man you’d been meeting in the black car late at night. His eyebrows were turned up and eyes glistening when he looked at you. He was back to the Steven you knew and loved…no…he was just the Steven you thought you knew…
You weren’t even sure if you really loved him anymore. You thought you did, despite everything that had transpired, but part of you knew this was wrong…like something was off. The sneaking around, the undeniable change in behavior, the way he hardly ever spoke to you and refused to face you when you were alone together. You were starting to get fed up with it, but you threw it all out the window when he texted you that night and the following night asking to meet up.
You were an emotional slave for him, letting him hold power over you like no other. You asked yourself what you would say to a friend if they were in that same situation. You’d tell them to cut their losses. No questions asked. Time to move on. Yet, you still found yourself in that same damn car, bent over at the hips the same way being ravaged by the same man night after night until you were a panting, wet mess in his back seat.
Tomorrow was his birthday…at least that’s what the note read on the unmarked package you received at your dorm on Wednesday night.
It’s my birthday tomorrow. I’d be thrilled if you wore this for me. Meet me at the car at 11pm.
S
It was a beautiful white and lacy lingerie set. You gulped, holding it up to yourself in the mirror. It was stunning and must have cost a pretty penny, and you had to admit that it looked good on you the next night when you put it on. You bit your bottom lip, feeling your cheeks flush with excitement as they often did when you knew you were meeting up with Steven. You wondered if he was as excited to see you every time you were supposed to meet up too.
Steven, of course, had no idea that was happening when he thought he was asleep. He’d spent his birthday evening, prior to Jake meeting up with you, messily stuffing his face with a store bought cupcake while watching a bad movie on cable television. Marc made a comment about Steven getting the frosting all over his shirt, and told him to go wipe his mouth, but he ignored him.
It wasn’t abnormal these days for Steven to spend his nights looking like a zombie in front of the tv, just waiting for the time to pass by. Sometimes he even hoped Marc would take over and let him sulk, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. Marc was still trying to take the back seat like he’d promised he would so many times before. Steven, still slumped over, walked to Gus’ tank and gave him a few extra flakes of fish food.
“S’pose you can celebrate with me, yeah? Not like I have a girlfriend to wish me happy birthday.”
“Steven, can you stop makin’ the snide comments already? Hate to break it to you buddy, but not every birthday is going to be a big, special thing,” Marc was truly trying to stay patient with Steven, but the moping was constant, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.
“She would’ve made it special I bet.” His face contorted with sorrow at the thought of you. “Bet she would’ve done something real nice f’me.”
Steven, with heavy sobs, dressed himself for bed and crawled under the blankets. The voices in his head ceased, but they were both right there with him while he drifted off.
Jake felt horrible…worse than he’d ever felt before. There he was, sitting in the car, waiting for you to walk outside to meet with him. When would this end? He knew he couldn’t string you along forever. He also knew he couldn’t possibly continue watching Steven go through the pain of missing you while he bent you over the hood of his car in that delicate little number he’d bought for you.
How was Jake meant to end this though? How was he supposed to convince himself to stop making you whine every time he thrust between your pussy lips, stretching your hole out around him? He was starting to worry that he wouldn’t be able to end the facade. He felt addicted to you, like if this were to end he might never be the same. He needed you, and he was still holding out hope that one day he’d be able to hold you, and cherish you the way he felt deep down in his heart.
He pulled out of you, flipping you onto your back. You let out a sharp gasp in surprise when he did. Steven didn’t look at you when he fucked you, not anymore anyway. There he was though, looking down at you, cock still dripping with a combination of your juices and his precum onto the ground. He grabbed the backs of your thighs, right below the pit of your knees, and he pushed them up. Your wet cunt felt chilled in the crisp night air.
Jake lined himself up with your hole again, plunging his thick cock deep into your wet heat. There was your sweet voice again, whimpering while you adjusted to his size once more. Jake tossed his head back, still trying to avoid your gaze. It was obvious that you were suspicious of him, and he started thinking that turning you on your back was a bad idea, but he wanted to see you. It was his birthday after all, he should allow himself a little something special…right?
You leaned up, grabbing him by the tie, and pulling him close. His head snapped forward, eyes full of surprise at the sudden motion as they met with yours. You hadn’t kissed him in a while, and you missed the way he tasted, so you closed your lips over his quickly before he could pull away from you again. You noticed his movements slowed, hips rolling at a more lazy pace while you stole the gravelly moans from his lips. His pleasured sounds were almost like a growl while he kissed you.
He rutted forward, any regrets he had about flipping you over, or for being there in the first place, dissipated with every pass of your tongue over his. You reached up your hand from his tie and carded your fingers through his curls. His mouth got stuck open, hot breath punching into you while his hips started moving faster again until suddenly they stopped.
Steven’s moans echoed off the trees that kept you both hidden from the street. You felt his cock gushing his hot spend into you, making you feel full of him once more. You kept your mouth on his while you came too, coating his tongue in your sounds while your cunt clamped down over him in waves. To your surprise, he didn’t let go right away to cover himself up with his hat and high collar jacket. Instead he stayed in the embrace, kissing you long after both of your orgasms ended.
Jake decided at that moment that he loved you, of that much he was certain. It was the only explanation for this feeling that he couldn’t shake. He wished he didn’t. He wished that he could just walk away from this and let Steven heal without the residual memories that Marc had mistaken for dreams. He couldn’t though, because while holding you there when he pulled back and looked into your breathtaking eyes, he knew that he couldn’t imagine living a day of his life without you.
----
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Moon Knight Masterlist
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the-unforgivenn · 6 months
Note
If requests are open.. I have one.
If you want, can you do another Gareth x Reader smut?
The plot would be entirely on you, but with some ideas.
Dead of Winter. It's cold and the two were best friends, but as they stay close together for warmth, things get more heated.
Thank you so much for the request ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
What started as a one-shot quickly turned into this…
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Part I of III
CW: Part I is rather tame, plot and some pining. And Gareth sass. Always Gareth sass.
Parts II and III will be more of the Explicit level rating. As always, my blog is 18+ ONLY.
Tags: Friends to Lovers, virgin!Gareth x virgin!fem!reader, Modern AU, Eventual smut, Fluffy as can be
Word count: 6K+
A/N: this is a modern college au, eventual smut, characters are 20/21 years of age. If the content and characters make you uncomfortable, kindly stop here and do not engage with the story.
❄️❄️❄️
“Please, please, please can I borrow that brown Henley? I’m freezing my tits off, G!”
Gareth grunts as he shoves at his apartment door, the way the wind whips the frozen flakes at his face makes it near impossible to shoulder it open.
Still, it doesn’t stop him from muttering in his typical Gareth Emerson grumpy way,
“Stop talking about your tits, woman.”
Your teeth chatter incessantly as he tries again to no avail, the dull thud of his upper body against the entry echoes through the empty outdoor corridor.
Hugging yourself in a futile attempt to keep warm, you shiver again, the icy prickle of Indiana winter shudders down your spine.
“Garethhh!”
“I know, I know — god, fucking — I’m trying to get this goddamned frozen door —” one more well-placed shove has you both toppling through the threshold into the mercifully warm interior of Gareth’s shared apartment.
You elbow him right in the gut, forcefully nudging him out of your way as you clamber into his living room, completely missing the front doormat where he balances his precarious position to not track in the slush from his snow boots.
You don’t even bother with the rug, wanting as much distance between you and the outdoors as possible.
Gareth opens his mouth to chastise you and how you’re tracking in clumps of snow and slush, but he can’t find it in him to do it. Not now, not while he opts to watch you clumsily work your way out of your boots and coveralls rather than practicing better roommate etiquette and have you both shuck your snow-laden gear outside.
His smile grows wider when he sees you stumble, flicking cold little balls of ice around his tiny living room.
At least the University had the foresight to replace all the carpet in their apartments this year; it makes you feel a little bad when the half-melted pellets of snow catch your attention, littering the new barnwood-esque planks in your wake. If it were last semester, Gareth would have undoubtedly grumbled at you for making a mess, griped at you for being such a disaster of a friend, and then bitched as he cleaned it up for you.
You press your lips together and smirk, the familiarity of him warming your insides in a way that only ten-plus years of friendship can.
Gareth tiptoes around the tiny muddy puddles to his room, where you’re already elbow deep in his top drawer, rifling through his clothes.
“Dude,” Gareth groans at how you make quick work through the dresser, “that’s my shit! Don’t go through my shit!”
He strides into his room, hip-checking you out of the way, making you stumble. You put on a pout, making a bigger deal about your predicament than what’s deserved.
“I’m just cold,” you whine, bouncing on the balls of your feet like a petulant child. “That blizzard’s bullshit.”
Gareth snorts through his nose. “I know, hun. Wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Ruined our sledding trip,” you sulk, though there’s no real sadness behind it. An hour or so of dragging that sled up and down the hills at the park in knee-deep powder was more than enough, especially now that you’re here at his and likely will be for the rest of the evening.
His crooked grin tugs at your heart, just like it has daily for the last several years. “Ah, bet we can go tomorrow. See if they guys wanna come.” His head snaps up as his crystalline eyes find yours. “Oooh, or you new bestie Hannah from pottery class.”
A tiny flash of jealousy sears your insides, though you do your best to stamp it down. “You’re thinking of Sarah. Hannah’s the one from psych.”
Gareth’s always been observant, his penchant for remembering details astounding. But when it comes to your stunningly gorgeous and stunningly single friends? Is he just telling you to invite them so you’ll feel more comfortable? Have more fun? Or… does he wanna make a move, or is he like, being a wingman for Eddie, maybe?
It shouldn’t matter – Gareth and you? Just friends. Have been just friends for the better part of ten years. There’s comfort in that kind of stability, his incessant ribbing makes you feel right at home, like one of the guys.
It’s just… sometimes you wish he would care instead of bantering with you like siblings do.
“Whatever,” he grumbles as he dives back into his drawer, “bring your new besties. They’re fun.” Gareth shoves his nose into a balled-up mess of comfy clothes, grimacing as he hands it over. “I think these are clean.”
“Such a gentleman,” you deadpan, snatching the sweats that you know will be fine before retreating to Jeff’s room to change.
The half-folded mass of clothes gets tossed on the bed as you shimmy out of your leggings that are soaked from the knee down. You’re quick to remove and replace your snow-drenched outerwear for Gareth’s, smiling to yourself as you inhale his scent that’s taken up residence in the collar of his Henley.
Your favorite Henley.
You fold your underwear and shove it in the deep pocket of his sweats, knowing he’ll probably have an aneurysm if he finds them in his laundry.
Not that he would really care. But, there’s something about underwear that just crosses a line for you, and probably for him. Like you’d be suggesting something untoward…
Even though you’d be more than okay if he took it that way. Moments like this make you ache for what could possibly be on the other side of the line of friendship, the one you’ve spent the better part of ten years drawing in the sand with Gareth. Yeah, that line.
So now, the soft, black bikini briefs get shoved to the bottom of the deep pocket of his joggers; out of sight, out of mind.
With a sigh, you pad out of Jeff’s room, bundled head-to-toe in Gareth’s clothes, and as you lean into the bathroom to toss yours in the laundry hamper, he looks up from his phone from where he sits on the couch, monitoring your every move with intention as you amble to the couch.
You pause, catching his stare with a raised brow. “What?”
His hat-matted ringlets bounce around head as he shakes and denies. “Nothing.”
“Okay, weirdo.”
“Not weird,” he chuffs, baby blues flicking over your frame before focusing back on his screen, “just unfair you look better in those sweats than I do.”
It’s not unusual for you and Gareth to flirt – on occasion. Okay, on the rare occasion. It’s just typically done under the protection of a buffer. Namely, Eddie. Or cheap beer.
So, today’s little quippy compliment takes you by surprise — and you do your best to play it off.
Despite the heat that rushes to your cheeks, you peel yourself away from that line and innocently flutter your eyelashes as you inquire with a spin on your feet,
“Oh, I do?”
Gareth rolls his eyes. “Don’t be – don’t rub it in, you ass.” He flicks his chin toward the kitchen. “Make me some coffee.”
You’re tempted to make a comment about your ass, because yeah, it looks phenomenal in these. The thick cotton is loose enough that it doesn’t cling, but you fill it out just right so all of your curves are rounded in a way that has it decided: he’s not getting these sweatpants back.
Bolstered a bit by your plans for petty theft, you slip him a sarcastic yes, dear as you make your way around his and Jeff’s tiny, boxed-in kitchenette.
An idea hits you when you open the pantry door and find a box of Swiss Miss next to the coffee grounds.
“Hey,” you call over your shoulder, “want hot chocolate instead?”
“Nah,” Gareth replies distractedly, no doubt he’s nose-deep in his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You suppress a grin as warmth blooms in your chest at the thought of how inundated with videos your inbox is about to be. “Want coffee.”
You roll your eyes. “I don’t need all that extra caffeine. It’s like five o’clock, you’ll be up all night.”
“You sound like you’re thirty,” he snarks, and you can hear as much as see that little curl of his upper lip in his retort. “What if I wanna be up all night?”
“Doing what?” you mutter out of earshot, but dutifully pull out both. His funeral, you suppose.
You’re no further in the preparation of sweet, chocolatey warm relief and your favorite weirdo’s coffee when the lights flicker once before the gentle thrum of the fluorescent light above you goes out. The heat from the vent above the kitchen table ceases, and the apartment is abruptly thrust into darkness.
Your head lolls back on your shoulders, and you match Gareth’s groan from the den.
“Well, fuck,” you murmur as you blindly gather up your mess and with wide eyes still unadjusted to the black space in front of you, shuffle forward to find the handle on the cabinet.
Gareth’s phone light comes bouncing into your space, the blue hue illuminates his features scrunched in concern.
“You ok?”
The phone provides enough brightness to find the pantry. “Yeah, of course,” you chuff with a shrug, shoving the coffee canister back in its place. “Just a power outage.”
“You should probably stay,” Gareth blurts, sucking in a breath when he sees the bewildered look on your face. “I mean, Jeff just texted and said he’s staying at Vanessa’s until the storm passes. So, it’s um, bad enough that – that you should just stay.”
You nod slowly, eyebrows high on your forehead. “Yeah, Gare. I’d planned on it.” You regard him curiously. “Even before the power went out.” You add a, “That okay?” for good measure, just in case.
Shoot. Maybe he wasn’t planning on having you stay. Maybe he has plans already —
“Yeah, ‘course I want you to stay,” he shrugs, unbothered. “Didja make coffee, or…?”
He leans around you to glance at the stove, his sudden proximity shocking to you. “N-no,” you stammer, swallowing before recovering with a shove to his shoulder. Gareth groans dramatically, and slumps limply into your arms.
“Jesus,” you grunt, struggling to hold up his deadweight with a grin. “G’off me, you lug.”
He stumbles, regaining his balance, and even in the low light you can see he’s beaming. “C’mon, it’s gonna get fucking frigid in here.”
Gareth grabs your hand and leads you to the couch, there’s no hiding the thrill that rakes down your spine at his touch.
“S-so,” you cut through your nerves with a neutral topic as you stumble over your feet, “Jeff’s at Vanessa’s, huh?”
“Yeah.” Gareth flops on the couch, tugging your hand to pull you under in his arm. “He’s spent like every night there this week.”
“You’re kidding.” Gareth shrugs as he yanks the blanket over both sets of legs propped on the flimsy coffee table. “Things really seem to be going well with her.”
“Yeah, he’s happy about it.”
“How did they meet?”
Mischief flashes in his blue eyes. “You know, that’s the thing! Any time I ask he’s all dodgy about it. Changes the subject and shit.”
“That’s interesting,” you muse with a quirk of an eyebrow. “She better not be married or something.”
Gareth tosses his head back and laughs. “That’s not it. I have a feeling they met over mutual interests.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
He snickers. “Yeah, it’s nice all right.” The stocky arm slung over your shoulder tightens fractionally before Gareth’s off the couch, the warm press of his body gone, leaving you chilled and exposed. “Gonna go grab some candles. I know we have at least one in the bathroom.”
“Setting the mood?” you tease with a suggestive inflection of your tone.
Curls rattle around his head in a definitive shake, punctuated by a soft snort. He tosses you a very sarcastic you wish over his shoulder, the beam of light from his phone fading as he pads across the room.
“Yeah,” you mutter to yourself, eyes adjusting to the darkness with a sullen press of your lips. “Maybe I do.”
Gareth’s only gone for a minute before he returns with full hands and a huge, lopsided grin – all of the extra tea candles from pumpkin carving at Halloween were left to live another day in the very back of his tiny bathroom closet. He’s proud of his find, you can tell – it takes just a few minutes of working in tandem to light the wicks and provide you two with a comfortable amount of light. To you, the mood is set, the tiny goldenrod flames cast very flattering shadows over Gareth’s squared jawline that’s only sharpened with age, much to your chagrin.
The opposite end of the couch seems like an appropriate place to settle, and so you do, burrowing yourself in the stiff cushions with a rather racy novel you just started reading as recommended by your girlfriends.
You can feel his eyes on you, watching as your tongue darts between your lips to wet the pad of your finger and turn to the next page. He clears his throat before asking,
“You’re gonna read by candlelight?”
Your eyes keep to the page as you murmur a sound that implies, yes indeed – you plan to do just that.
Gareth snickers as he digs a socked toe into your calf. “How very Little House on the Prairie of you.”
A giggly groan bubbles over your lips. “Shut up. You could stand to read a book.”
He’s completely affronted by your accusation. “I read!”
“Playboy doesn't count.”
“Oh give me a break,” he barks, “I don’t read fucking Playboy.”
You have to bite your bottom lip to hide the tiny snorts of laughter that escape through your nose. “Fine, fine. Playgirl doesn’t— ahh!”
Gareth snatches your ankle from where it’s tucked under in at your bum and yanks you towards him on the couch. “You’re being a menace,” he accuses as he tugs again, spurred on by your yelps of surprise, “and I’m one-hundred percent sure those books you read are absolutely filthy and offer no better substance than —”
Your incredulous gasp interrupts his sentence mid-stride. You can tell his brain finally catches up to what his mouth was saying. What he was insinuating, and given the way his eyes go round infers he did not mean to divulge that information.
Gareth absolutely knows what kinds of books you read — he rifled through one called Fourth Wing not too long ago and dropped it like it had burned his hand.
And that was just one of them. You have a whole-ass bookcase in your room that is full. Packed. Top to bottom.
You. His sweet, innocent, platonic girl that’s a friend and absolutely nothing more reads books that have sex scenes in them. And by the looks of it, a lot of sex scenes. For some unknown reason, that’s just too much for him. He can’t handle knowing what he does about you and those books and continue this conversation like he hasn’t imagined how you touch yourself after reading some of that seedier content.
The look on his face plainly advertises his humiliation with how he basically just called himself out, and you pounce. “No better substance than what?”
Another shake of his head. “Nothing.”
Your mouth swings open as you guffaw at how his cheeks pink under the scrutiny of your gaze. “No, G. If you’re gonna make fun of me for what I read, you’re gonna have to say it.” You punctuate your statement with a sharp kick to his thigh. “To my face.”
“I was just kidding, I don’t really –”
“Oh, the way your ears are turning red absolutely means that you know.”
Gareth slides down the couch as if he’s trying to melt into his mortification. “Oh, fuck off, okay?” The way he drags his hand down his reddened face makes you cackle, a belly-laugh so deep that it crinkles the corners of your eyes and sponsors a smile of his own.
And maybe a flash of confidence.
“Yeah, fine,” he grumbles through a grin, “I opened up one of your books and thumbed through it because Eddie told me it was a fantasy novel. Christ.”
You belt another jovial groan that melts into more laughter. “You believed Eddie?!”
“Well, yeah I did!” he defends like Eddie isn’t the biggest pest there is, gesturing to the coffee table in front of him as if the book will materialize and prove his point. “When we were over at yours for movie night and it was just out –”
Your head cocks to the side as a single eyebrow lifts in a challenge. “You’re making it sound like I need to have it under lock and key.”
Gareth rights himself on the cushions and gives you a good-natured shove to your shoulder. “Will you stop interrupting?! Jesus. I’m trying to tell a very humiliating story, thank you.” He blows an exaggerated breath through his nose, side-eyeing you with a smirk as he continues. “So yeah. Eddie told me it was a fantasy novel and obviously even stupid Grant knew because he was giggling like a fucking schoolgirl –”
That makes you snort, Gareth’s eyes snap to yours in surprise before darting to where your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth. “I absolutely believe Grant’s read it.”
He blinks several times, like the idea is just bonkers to him. “What?” the innocent inflection in your tone tinkles like a bell. “It has dragons in it.”
A slow, ironic smile crawls across Gareth’s face. “Well, great,” he grouses, “everyone knew that you were reading fucking porn except for me.” The faux consternation that drips from his mouth has you giggling again. “There. I said it. You happy?”
“Immensely,” you chide, “that one was good, but this is way better.” The upper hand you have has you feeling high as you scoot closer to his cowering frame. Your eyebrows waggle for good measure as you drop the timbre of your voice to ask, “Y’wanna read it with me?”
Gareth grunts, grimacing as he frowns. “No.”
You try to ignore how much that stings, and instead, mask your disappointment in theatrical bewilderment. “You’re turning down porn?!”
His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “No! I’m turning down what could be a very awkward – uh, awkward th-thing –” his finger oscillates between the two of you, trying to rectify how he fumbles over his words. “I – ah, you – at least you can hide it better when you get all…” his hand spins in the air, effectively finishing his sentence.
You ignore it and finish it for him. “Turned on?”
That had slaps against his forehead. “Oh my god.”
Mouth twisting in a wry smile, you watch your best friend squirm, shifting his hips away from you as he settles against the arms of the couch. Your own cheeks are dusted with the heat of your sudden, out-of-character bravery, and as your eyes fall back to your lap, you realize you don’t want the conversation to end. You want to keep going.
You want to push closer to the line, just a little. Just to see how far you can go.
Pages of the offensive literature in your hand flutter spectacularly as you thumb their edges. “You know,” you begin conversationally, “it’s like an instruction manual. A guide for dudes.”
“What?” Gareth barks, spine straightening with curiosity. “Seriously?”
He looks genuinely intrigued. Even though the room is dim, you can see the interest flash in his baby blues. “Yeah,” you grin, sitting up to match his position. You shrug nonchalantly, intent on being as casual and forthcoming as possible. The more he knows, right?
“I mean, the porn that you see on the internet is so dramatized –”
There’s such a thing as saying too much, and you’ve done it. “You watch porn on the internet?!” he screeches, mouth hanging agape as his interest burns away, melts into something you’ve not seen before – much more intense. He’s not mad, but shit. Shit. You’ve probably embarassed the fuck out of him.
“I mean, yeah – don’t you?”
“I –”
“It’s cool if you do.” Your assurance flies out of your mouth before you give him a chance to reply. “I mean, everyone does, right? Fuck,” you huff a nervous laugh, pressing your lips together to hide your smirk, “the way Eddie talks about it –”
Gareth waves a hand in front of his face. “Yeah, we’re talking about Eddie’s –” a shudder rakes down his spine, stilling his thoughts. “Just no.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, pushing past the breathlessness from the thundering of your heart. “I’m just saying… the content is different.” You meet his eyes and tip him a little smile. “Better.”
All of that falls on deaf ears, or so it seems. Gareth stares at you, dumbfounded and unblinking.
It makes that cinching feeling in your chest tighten, and you fear you’ve crossed the line. “W-what?”
You could kick yourself for the nervous wobble in your tone. Gareth opens and closes his mouth several times, like he can’t decide on which words to scold you for discussing such a taboo topic.
Friends just don’t do this, it’s clear from his reaction. Or lack thereof.
His fingers dig into his scalp as he runs them through his curls. “I just can’t…” he trails off with an imperceptible shake of his head, “I did not expect this conversation to go where it has.”
“Is that bad?” you whisper thickly, almost afraid of the answer.
“No!” he practically shouts, making you jolt where you sit. “Oh, god no. Y-you can talk to me about anything.”
You stop yourself from heaving a sigh of relief, opting instead to inject some gentle ribbing back into what you’ve made impossibly awkward. You dig a socked set of toes into his calf. “Even if it’s about porn?”
It works. Gareth snorts a laugh as he scowls through a wrinkled nose. “Ugh. Gross.”
“It’s not gross,” you infer confidently, thrilled to be back on level ground with him. “First of all, smut in these novels? Fucking amazing.” The book flies from your hand as you toss it into his lap. “I swear, if you wanna know how to be an absolute god in bed, just read this.”
Gareth stares at the offensive lump of bound paper in his lap, palms out at his sides, untouching. “Umm…”
Your face falls as you read his stony expression. “I’m not trashing your skills, G,” the confidence in your tone falters as you feel yourself slipping over that line again, “I’m sure you have ‘em.”
His sandy ringlets, more auburn in the yellow-orange candlelight, curtain around his face and veils his expression. He gingerly picks your book up at a corner and sets it back in your hands as he gets up from the couch.
His voice is like gravel, the way it rattles dry in his throat. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” he husks before shaking his head once more and retreating to his room.
Your eyebrows no longer reside on your head as you watch him go. Instinctively, you lean forward to follow, to apologize, to do something – but mortification has you sewn to the couch. Maybe he’s right – maybe you have lost your goddamn mind. Maybe that was just a bit too flirty without the usual buffers in place. You swallow thickly, cringing as you replay the conversation over and over again the next several minutes, sitting in silence and watching (but not really seeing) as the flames dance above the melted wax as your thoughts run amok in your head.
It’s several long moments before Gareth stomps back into the den, snapping you back into reality. His jaw is set as he sits down in a huff at your side and grabs your novel.
“Give me this shit.”
“What?!”
He whips the pages open to your earmarked spot. “If I need to improve my skills so badly –”
You’re a broken record, apparently – but louder this time as you shout, “What?!”
“You said,” he sighs angrily, “that I need to improve my skills –”
You choke on a gasp, feverishly shaking your head, stammering over your excuses. “No – god, I never – Gareth, all I meant to say was that it’s really hot and like, so many women like w-what happens, or something.” You fight the trembling in your lower lip as you promise, “I never once said you had shit skills.” Blushing furiously, you force yourself to admit, “I actually said you probably h-have great skills, and –”
The muscles in Gareth’s jaw tick as he softens the hard lines of his face with a scoff. “Come on. You know I have like, no… um, like no…”
Uh, false – you figured he had ample experience in his almost five month situationship with that girl that prided herself on working her way through various members of local dive bar bands. “Y’mean, you and what’s-her-face didn’t…?”
Gareth narrows his eyes at the flippant way you skim over saying her name. “I mean, we did stuff, yeah. But not like, all of it.”
It’s been months since he’d last seen or talked with her, but thinking about how morose he’d been after she just up and ghosted him has you gritting your molars in ire. You haven’t had to do that in awhile, and the stale jealousy leaves a sour taste in your mouth.
“Oh,” you hum softly, playing with the edges of the blanket on your lap. “I just assumed.”
Gareth's retort is caustic in a self-depreciating way. “That I’m not a goddamn 20-year-old virgin?”
The way he says it pulls the corners of your mouth into a frown. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?” he barks like he’s been cornered. “Like it’s not fucking embarrassing that I’ve yet to man up and finally h-have sex with someone?” His downcast stare falls to the candles as he mutters, “Because it is.”
He doesn’t notice how you shake your head, silently but firmly disagreeing. “I don’t think it is.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
Your eyes practically cross with how hard you roll them into your groan. “Oh my god, you’re not hearing me, you idiot. I don’t think it’s embarrassing.” He shifts in his seat, muttering how he doesn’t believe you under his breath, and it only serves to irritate you further.
“You’re acting like it’s something to lose just so you can have it done. It’s not,” Gareth’s eyes round at the intensity of your tone. You press your lips together as you stammer, “O-or, um… it doesn't have to be.” You’re much more meek as you state, “I’ve always thought it’s something you cherish and you’re proud of until you find someone else that cares about it just as much as you do.”
You punctuate your rant with a nervous exhale as Gareth stares at you, open-mouthed. Clearing your throat, you swallow and tip him a timid grin. “Bonus points if they’re hot.”
There’s a beat of stunned silence before Gareth throws his head back and laughs. “You are such a dork.”
You shrug, as if to say, I know, before looking at him through your lashes. “You realize what I’m telling you, right?”
Your best friend’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Huh?”
Oh, for Christ’s sake. How does he still not know? You push a heavy sigh through your nose before admitting, “I’m a virgin too, you moron.”
Well, apparently, that is not was he was expecting you to say. His body flails, knocking the blanket from his lap. “What?!” he gestures wildly in the space between you, “he – you were with Chr –”
“Hey,” your chin dips, punctuating the formidable glare that shoots like ice and bores into his form. “You know the rules.”
A slow smirk creeps across his face, scrunching his cheek into the pinchable apple you love so much. “You were with Voldemort,” he drawals as you utter a soft thank you, “for like, a year.”
That’s a bit of a stretch. “Ohhkay, just barely six months, but yeah,” you shrug, your tone drops to a whisper, “we never…”
“Oh.”
“Part of the reason why he broke up with me.”
“Oh,” he says with more vehemence, his hand finds the top of your foot to give you a supportive squeeze. “That’s shitty.”
You wave a dismissive hand in front of your face, but it doesn’t lessen the sting of that whole sorry excuse for a relationship. “Yeah, well. Didn’t mean as much to him as it does to me,” you murmur, the real, more important reason for the breakup is on the tip of your tongue – and now seems as good a time as any to finally tell him. “Plus, he hated you. I uh, I couldn’t handle that.”
“Ha, yeah. I know.” There’s an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone. “Hated Eddie, too.”
“It was like I wasn’t even allowed to have dude friends.”
“‘Course you are.” Gareth chews on his lower lip for a long moment before tipping you a sardonic grin. “And he wasn’t even that hot.”
What a relief it is to hear him joke like this. “No, he was not,” you agree in between airy giggles.
He studies your face as they fade, running his tongue over his bottom lip before turning his attention back to the book and awkwardly flipping through the pages. “Well, look at us,” he chuffs weakly, “couple of clueless virgins.”
A virgin? Yes. But clueless? No. He’s wrong – you can’t have him thinking that. Not now… not when something feels like it’s shifting in the candlelit air of his apartment. It may just be the lack of electricity, but something stirs deep inside you – whispers in your ear that no, electricity where you and Gareth are concerned? It’s never lacking.
“I’m not clueless, Gare.” Mustering up whatever courage you have left, you add, “And you don’t have to be. Turn to page fifteen.”
“Fifteen?!” he squawks. “Boy they just start right off, don’t they?”
“Oh, my god,” you mutter fondly, watching as he flips to the beginning of the book. You’re up swiftly, crossing the room with barely a glance back. “I’m gonna go make us some PB&J for dinner. Read it. I think it goes through page forty-five –”
“That long?!” He plays up the theatrics with a disingenuous scoff as he slumps against the couch.
The familiar flush of deeply-seeded feelings for your sandy-haired friend comes creeping up from your chest, heating your neck and cheeks, forcing you to skitter out from under the scrutiny of his gaze.
“I promise you won’t be clueless,” you vow softly, slipping into the kitchen before you can catch his reaction.
Trembling hands pluck your phone from the depths of your pocket, thumbing the button on the home screen to utilize the last of your battery for the overly simple task of constructing dinner. You need to start, to busy yourself, but you can’t. Your heart is pounding, your brain fuzzy and lightheaded; desperation seizes your insides, palms are fixed flat against the counter as you bring your breathing down to an acceptable rate.
Did you really just tell your best friend to read probably one of the more damning scenes of the book? Your mind races with possibilities – how in the hell will he react when he’s clued in on what you like? What you actually want? Gareth’s no dummy – you know it will be obvious what you desire. What you hadn’t considered is what the fuck to do if he doesn’t take the hint.
Or, shit. If he does.
After robotically assembling the PB&J and cutting both into a diagonal (you briefly consider cutting his with a vertical just to fuck with him), you tap the screen to shut off the LED, giving your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness before rounding the corner of the kitchen and colliding directly into Gareth’s stocky frame.
A muttered explicative is shocked out of your mouth, and his hands tangle with yours to prevent almost dropping the sandwiches. He pulls the plates from your grasp and they clatter uselessly against the formica countertop.
His lips are parted, eyebrows scrunched in contemplation above his nose. Broad palms find your shoulders in the dark, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he opens his mouth to speak. A nervous shudder of air puffs out of his gaping lips, and it closes with a snap, daring eyes searching yours with a stare so blazing it sends a thrill down your spine.
Your heart leaps into your throat, strangling the questions that beg for release on your tongue. Ardent blue eyes flood black as his pupils expand, darting between your bewildered gaze and your lips that hang ajar in shock, the intensity from his steely stare heating your mouth so much it feels like it’s tingling.
Gareth sucks in a breath through his teeth; you’re vaguely aware how his hands tighten their grip on your shoulders before he’s pulling you close. The swiftness in which he moves takes you by surprise, you’ve barely a breath of a moment to gasp before his lips hover above yours, the blunt edge of his nose nudges feather-soft along the lines of yours.
Searching. Waiting. Hanging in a limbo, in midair as you both leap over that figurative line in the sand…
And land solidly upright — together, on the other side.
If his mouth wasn’t so close to yours, you wouldn’t have heard it. But it is, and so you did. You heard that whispered declaration, felt his breath fan over your lips when he willed those words to life.
“Fuck it.”
Gareth closes the negligible distance between and presses his lips to yours.
❄️❄️❄️
Part II ⚡️
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Text
Just to Love and Be Loved in Return
Fandom: Victorious
Pairing: Beck Oliver x Reader (she/her)
Type: Angst with a happy ending
Warnings: Swearing, Jade is a bitch (I love her though), theater kids being theater kids, Jade calls someone a whore, I didn’t fully proofread, and a few Moulin Rouge references
Summary: You and Beck broke up two weeks before a Halloween party. You're still deeply in love with each other, but after being put through that pain, you don't want to listen to him. So what do you do?
Word Count: 5,422 (I got carried away...)
Notes: This has a song in it (I don't own the rights or anything), but I recommend listening before reading (It's linked below). All characters are 18+.
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It was one of the best times of the year: Halloween. Everyone was getting ready to dress up and tick-or-treat (even if they were too old), going to parties, or just hanging out at home watching scary movies. It’s the night to be scared and eat so much candy to the point of tooth decay, and it is always one of the best holidays.
You, however, were not entirely excited.
Your friend, Tori, and her sister were hosting a Halloween party to participate in tonight's festivities, and you had decided to help with the set-up. It wasn’t like you were nervous to hang out with Tori while setting up; she wasn’t the issue. Some of the other people, who made an offer to help, were the issue.
You knew that this could be a bad idea considering your recent breakup with one of the helpers, Beck. It had been maybe two weeks, but your feelings for him still lingered; hope keeping them there.
You had left for Tori’s house around 10:30 a.m. and had gone to get coffee for the two of you. You debated on asking if anyone else wanted some, but when Tori told you no one was there yet, you didn’t bother.
You got to Tori’s house, and texted her so that you could get some help with taking stuff inside. There were a few decorations she wanted but couldn’t find, and since you hosted a Halloween party last year, you brought them.
“Hey, Y/n!” Tori said as she opened the car door and took the two coffee cups. “You’re a lifesaver; I am so tired.” You grabbed a few bags and followed her inside. “Thank you for coming to help with the setup, by the way. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s really not a problem, I didn’t have anything better to do anyways,” you said with a smile. That was a lie. You had plenty of better things to do. For example, not seeing Beck or Jade today sounded like a great idea.
You had left your makeup and costume in the trunk of your car, so you left to go grab them, Tori tagging along just for the hell of it.
You got to your car and had set your coffee and costume on the top of your car when you heard another car pull up. Looking to see who the driver, and apparently passenger, was. You held your breath. Jade drove Beck. Of course she did.
You tried to quickly grab your things, but fate had many other things in store. Your coffee fell, spilling everywhere, and as you tried to pick it up, you felt your costume fall on your head. “Good god, does anything else want to fall and make this day worse?” Tori had your makeup bag in hand, and you watched as it slowly unzipped, the contents spilling everywhere. “The universe is out to get me,” you complained, picking up your costume to keep it from getting in the coffee, and making attempts to grab the makeup.
Tori apologized, and grabbed your costume to take inside so that you could grab the makeup. It wasn’t her fault, you didn’t properly close the bag, so you couldn’t be upset with her. Thankfully there wasn’t too much damage to any of the more expensive things. You could tell that an eyeshadow pallet had busted considering the amounts of shiny pigments now littering the concrete.
You almost had everything back in the bag as Beck walked up to you. “Need some help?” He offered. You didn’t answer, but he grabbed the remaining lipsticks and a few other things that were still out of the bag. “Here.” He put the rest of your things back in your bag, and you zipped it up. You muttered a quick thank you, and quickly went inside.
“Hey, wait,” Beck called as he walked up to the door, Jade following close behind, but you just decided to shove past Tori and make your way to drop the stuff off in her room, knowing that any conversation with him would lead to you in tears. You knew they would both have to come upstairs, but you just needed a minute, so you threw your stuff on Tori’s bed, and walked into the bathroom right across the hall.
“Just let her go, she obviously doesn’t want to talk to you,” you heard Jade tell him as they made their way upstairs. You always assumed there was some sort of jealousy behind her actions. You knew that she used to have a crush on Beck, but he never reciprocated those feelings.
You knew that you were being childish about the whole situation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The relationship ended kind of poorly. He decided that he wanted to take a break, but he wasn’t communicating why, and he just suddenly broke it off with no explanation.
It took a week to do anything other than get out of bed and go to school, where all feelings were just worsened because as soon as Jade found out, she had taken advantage of the situation. Even though you two had become really good friends, she was being a bitch, to put it simply. You knew Jade would try to say something about it, that’s all she has been doing, and you really didn’t want to hear it today.
“I don’t see why you’re so upset about it, you just need to drop it,” you heard Beck say from the other side of the door.
“Well she doesn’t have to act like a bitch. You broke up with her, and she needs to accept that,” Jade responded. You knew she was just jealous, but there is no reason for her to act like this over something that she shouldn’t even be involved with.
“This isn’t your thing, though. You need to accept that.”
“I’m just saying that you could use someone who will actually be good for you. Y/n isn’t that person anymore,” she continued. You knew she wouldn’t stop until she was given a ‘good enough’ reason, but you didn’t have the energy to give her a reason. You opened the door to the bathroom as they walked into Tori’s room, and you looked behind you to see Beck freeze in the door.
He turned around and opened his mouth, but you just turned the other way and went downstairs.
Shortly after the little interaction, Cat and Robbie joined, and the decorating could finally commence. 
“Okay so I need Jade and Cat to go put out the stuff for the lawn. Beck and Robbie, if you could get the stuff that needs to be hung up in tall places put up, that would be great. Y/n and I can work on the inside stuff.” Tori gave out lists of things that she wanted in each area, with a diagram of suggestions (that weren’t really suggestions) telling people where things should go.
You watched as everyone quickly went over to where the decorations were and got started. It hopefully wouldn’t be a long process as long as everyone was helping out.
It had been about an hour and as the decorating continued, you noticed that you and Tori were the only ones in the room. Setting down the garland you were holding, you walked over to her. “Tori, can I talk to you about something?”
She put the bats that were in her hands down. “Of course. What’s up?”
You sighed. You didn’t want to be the girl who constantly talked about her ex, but you needed to talk to someone, and she was the closest. “It’s about Beck,” you paused, waiting for her to say something, and you continued when she kept quiet. “I went upstairs earlier and hid in the bathroom, but I could hear Jade and Beck talking. Jade was being rude, talking about how Beck needed to forget about me. Beck didn’t really respond because I walked out, but he looked like he wanted to. I know I’m just being silly, and I’m probably overthinking, but it got me wondering about me and him. He’s been trying to talk to me whenever he gets the chance.”
“Maybe he just needs to explain himself and give you closure. Whether you want to talk to him about it or not is up to you, but I would say wait until you’re ready.” You weren’t sure if that’s what you wanted to hear or not.
“I don’t really want to talk to him. I honestly don’t even want to look at him,” you explained. She gave you a look of pity, placing a hand on your shoulder, and you just sighed. “I don’t know. I probably should just forget it for now. We have a party to get ready for.”
The decorating was coming together nicely. The party wasn’t for another few hours, and everyone was getting pretty hungry. You decided to go pick something up for everyone because it was an easier choice, and you needed to get out of there. Calling Andre, you got in the car and started driving. You didn’t want to be alone right now, and he was your best source of comfort.
“So from what I’m hearing, you should talk to Beck,” he said.
“I wouldn’t even know what to say. ‘Hey, I’m still desperately in love with you, and Jade sucks, so come back and date me because I’m the best person for you?’”
“I think that sounds perfect. See, you’ve got this. No reason to stress,” he joked.
“Thanks, Andre,” you huffed. “I don’t know what to do. A part of me doesn’t want to be with him at all because he was the one who broke it off, and left me without reason, but the other part of me is still very much in love with him. I honestly don’t want to even go to this party…I’m just so tempted to drop off the food and ditch.”
“I don’t think you should do that. Maybe you’ll find someone to hook up with, it might make you forget about Beck.”
Rolling your eyes you responded, “You know, you’re really not helping.”
He laughed before yelling something, most likely to his grandma. “Hey, so I have to go, but I can call you later if you absolutely need me to.”
“I think I’ll be okay. I hope your grandma is okay.”
“She’s fine, she’s just being her.”
“Have fun with that,” you said.
“I’ll try.” And then he was gone.
You made it to the takeout place, and got everyone’s orders, checked to make sure everything was right, and went back to Tori’s house.
“I think that’s it!” Tori said, admiring the work done around the house. The whole atmosphere had changed and the decorations looked great. Fake spiders and bats were strung up everywhere, there was a zombie in a wheelbarrow with a party hat, sunglasses, and a coconut that Jade stole from Sikowitz, a fog machine, and definitely more that really made the room come to life. “If you guys wanna go on ahead and get changed people will start arriving in around an hour give or take.”
You looked over to Beck who had already gotten up to go do whatever, and couldn’t help but feel regret. Everything he did made you feel something. He was what you thought to be your perfect match, and it pained you to know that he no longer was. You looked away and tried to just focus on the party, hoping that it would make you feel better.
You had just gone upstairs to get ready when he walked in. You watched as he grabbed his bag and began to walk out, not saying a word until he stopped before grabbing the door handle. “Y/n?” He turned around. You didn’t know if you could handle him talking to you right now.
Trying to settle on a response, “Yeah?” was all that would come out. You didn’t want to have this conversation before the party.
“I wanted to talk to you. I haven’t-”
“Beck, I’m sorry, but I really just want to enjoy this party. I’m not interested in hearing anything about us tonight. You said it was over – we were over, and I…” you paused, not entirely sure whether or not you wanted to say something you didn’t really mean. “I’m okay with it.”
The look he gave you was that of pure pain. You thought that those words were the ones he wanted to hear, but from the looks of it, that was far from the truth. All you heard from him was a sad sigh, “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” and then he grabbed his bag and he was gone.
You didn’t entirely understand what he was sorry about, and you didn’t even know if you should care. Except you do, and it just hurts so much.
You ran a hand through your hair as you picked up your bag. You started with makeup, which for the costume, was fairly simple. You and Beck decided that you would go as Christian and Satine from the Broadway version of Moulin Rouge as soon as you heard of Tori’s party. You didn’t know if he was still planning on being Christian, but you spent too much money not to use your costume.
You kind of just sat in Tori’s room while everyone else was getting ready, the only other person who actually used the room was Tori, and she didn’t mind. She needed help getting her eyelashes on anyway.
“So are you excited about tonight?” She asked as you held a set of teezers dangerously close to her eye.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” you responded, setting the eyelash perfectly.
“Why not? It’s going to be fun,” she insisted.
You blew on the other eyelash to get the glue tacky before also applying that one. “I just can’t help but get the feeling that Jade has it out for me, or that something is going to go wrong tonight.”
“I don’t think you should worry. There’s going to be a ton of people, and who knows, maybe you’ll find someone cute to take your mind off Beck,” she said with a smile.
“That’s almost exactly what Andre said,” you said with a small chuckle as you walk over to your bag. You pulled your black and tan bodysuit, robe, and fishnets out of your bag, and grabbed your boots. The outfit was almost an exact replica of the one Satine wears when she first meets the Duke. “I’m going to go change in the bathroom, I’ll be back in just a minute.”
It was an easy costume to get into, the biggest struggle was zipping it up, but it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t handle. You looked in the mirror and pushed your hair being your ears. So maybe it wasn’t that the costume was too expensive to not wear, it was returnable, but maybe you just wanted to make a statement. Wearing the other half to a couples costume after a breakup? Almost a power move.
You turned the handle to the door and walked out, hearing the floor creak from the room next to you. Jade was standing at the door. “You look amazing, Y/n,” she said, with a smile and tone that was almost definitely fake.
“Oh…thank you, I like your costume too,” you tried returning the compliment, feeling that danger was ahead and trying to defuse it in advance. She was wearing a costume that resembled Janis from Mean Girls.
She huffed out a laugh and you could feel embarrassment creeping up your face. “I just don’t understand why you’re being such a bitch to Beck. He hasn’t done anything wrong.” 
“What?” Her statements took you off guard.
“I mean I get that he broke up with you, but he was probably just trying to save his reputation.”
“Jade-” you started before she cut you off.
“I mean look at you! You look so cheap. No wonder he left. Did you just put this on to try and impress him? Trying to win him back?” She put on a mocking tone, and gave a little pout.
“Why are you being so rude? Why are you always so rude?” you asked, trying to figure out a way to get her to stop. You knew she was just trying to get a rise out of you, but the words hurt either way.
“You’re pathetic,” she said, ignoring what you said entirely. “You think he would want to be with someone as disgusting as you? He doesn’t love you, he never loved you, and he never will. But by all means, continue to try, that way we all can enjoy the show when you inevitably embarrass yourself.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? All you’re doing is being an attention seeker, and it’s not cute.”
“Just leave me alone. There is no reason for you to be acting like this,” you thought you had raised your voice, but it was just a whisper. Tears began threatening to fall.
You heard Tori’s door creak open and watched as she walked out, trying to come to your rescue. “Jade? What the hell?”
“All you are is trash, just some leftovers Beck threw out.” She paused, and you began to walk away. “Stop being such a whore, and go home.” And then she was gone.
“Y/n?” Tori put her hand on your shoulder, but you just shrugged it off.
You watched as she went back down the stairs, and then the tears started to fall. They weren’t sad tears, they were angry. Angry because of Jade, angry because of Beck, and angry because of the party. “I’m going home,” you stated, not listening to the pleas from your friend. You grabbed your phone, which you didn’t realize you left in the bathroom and raced down the hall, not caring about the clothes and makeup you left in Tori’s room, you’d get them later.
“You shouldn’t listen to her, she’s just jealous. Please, don’t leave, it’s going to be a fun night,” Tori tried to bargain. 
“If she wants me gone, then I’m gone.” You couldn’t quite hear what she said after that, you were trying to block everything out.
“Y/n?” Beck called as you ran down the stairs, angry tears flooding your vision.
“Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk to you.” You didn’t know whether that was a lie or not.
“Y/n, please,” he begged, trying to grab your hand, but you slipped from his grasp, walking a little faster. The music had already started, but you could hardly hear it over your heart beating. Or maybe it was your head pounding.
You made it out the front door, not realizing he was still chasing you until he grabbed your arm tight enough so that you couldn’t escape this time. “Beck, please just let me go. You are the last person I want to see or talk to right now,” you said struggling against his grasp, trying to rip your arm away.
He gently cupped your face so that you would look at him, and you did, until it was too painful. “Look at me.” It didn’t sound like a demand, more like a request. You looked at him, and he began to wipe away your tears. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” you stated. His mouth dropped to a frown. “Just please leave me alone.” His hand left your face and dropped onto your shoulder.
“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Coming here was a mistake. I just want to go back home.” You tried yanking your arm again, but to no avail he wasn’t letting you go. He tried pulling you over to lean on the wall, but you weren’t budging. “Beck, please,” you were pleading, metaphorically down on your knees, begging. “I just want to go home.”
“No you don’t. I know you too well. What is wrong?” He emphasized the last sentence.
“Everything is wrong. This party, me, you, this costume, us. Everything except for Jade. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Really?” He scoffed and you glared at him. “What did she tell you?” He demanded, but you remained silent. “I can guarantee you that it’s wrong.”
“Does it matter? We aren’t together anymore, in case you forgot. Now let me go, you’re going to bruise my arm.”
“It does matter because it’s obviously hurting you-”
“Why do you care?” you snapped. “You hurt me first, and you’re hurting me now. Now let go of my arm.” He dropped your arm at this, and just stood there, but you didn’t move. “You don’t get to try and make it better when you made it bad to begin with,” and then you walked away.
You made it home, but just sat in your living room while you texted Tori that you would come over tomorrow to get your stuff and help clean up. It was only 8:00 p.m. The party had started about an hour ago, and you couldn’t help but regret your decision. You really wanted to go, but you just felt so unwanted. There was too much going through your mind, but the genuine contemplation of whether you should go back still lingered. It could help you get your mind off of things, but you didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself anymore.
So you sat there, still in your Satine costume, sipping on a cup of hot tea. You fixed your makeup after the crying stopped so that you could still take pictures because you were pretty proud of how your costume turned out, even if some people didn’t. You took a few photos and posted them with the caption “the unique, the indomitable, the one and only: Satine <3” and checked to see how the party was going. You scrolled through stories and posts until you got bored, so you set your phone on the table, turned on the T.V. and drank your tea.
Your phone lit up, so you went to check it when you saw Beck’s username pop up, saying he liked your post. You rolled your eyes and turned ‘do not disturb’ on, and decided to get some better clothes on.
Before you went upstairs to take off your costume and get ready for bed, you heard a knock at the door. You didn’t think any trick-or-treaters would come by since it was later and there was an empty candy bowl by your door with the sign saying to “only take one,” but you still wrapped your sheer robe to conceal something, trying not to scar a child.
But it wasn’t a child, it was Andre. “Hey pretty lady,” he smiled. He’d come dressed as a Grim Reaper, and you had to hand it to him, it was a good costume.
“What are you doing here? There’s a party going on.”
“I’ve come to collect the Sparkling Diamond so that she can have some fun,” he said, his smile growing a bit wider.
“I have had my share of that party, Andre.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun! There’s karaoke, some pretty good food, and you look stunning in that outfit, and you should show yourself off.” You laughed at this.
“I just…I don’t want to talk to Beck right now. I can’t face him because I said things I regret and I don’t want to think about it,” you explained.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything, you won’t even see him tonight,” he offered. You contemplated the decision, wondering if it really was worth it.
“It could be fun…”
“It will be fun,” he corrected. You smiled at this. “So is that a yes?”
“Fine, I’ll go, I guess.”
He grabbed your arm and began walking before he froze and said, “Before we go…if I may…a bit more rouge? Yes?”
You let out a laugh at the reference. “Always.”
“Y/n! You’re back!” Cat was the first to greet you, giving you a hug. Her hair was pulled into two pigtails with black extensions spread throughout.
“I love the Daculaura costume, it's very cute.”
“Thanks! Come on, let's go dance, or sing some karaoke!” She did a little shimmy and grabbed your arm so you followed her to the dance floor. 
Some kid was already on the stage, singing some song that you didn’t quite recognize. But you didn’t care and you danced, your mood beginning to life. It felt good to just throw away all of your cares and just dance.
“Oh my god, Y/n, welcome back!” Tori gave you a hug and paused. “There’s no karaoke line! You should sing something,” she said, putting an arm around your shoulder and walking you towards the booth.
“I don’t know…I wouldn’t even know what to sing,” you stopped, looking for them in the crowd, with no luck. Thank god. “Actually…I might.” You walked up to the booth, ready to request your song.
“Ay look, it’s the Sparkling Diamond!” The DJ called. “Whatcha thinking of singing?” He needed to shout over the crowd because it was so loud.
“Can you play-” A hand fell on your shoulder. You knew this hand because it has held your hands millions of times, cupped your face millions of times, landed on your shoulders millions of times. You knew this hand.
“‘Crazy Rolling’ from Moulin Rouge, please.”
“Ooh Christian is joining the party now! The stage is all yours!” He’s Christian. He wore the costume. You knew that he knew your feelings for this song. You two would sing it together all the time with no reasoning, but it became your song in the strangest of ways.
“What are you doing?” You asked, slightly shouting so he could hear over the people.
“Apologizing,” he got on the stage and held one hand out for you to take, and the other to give you a microphone. You hesitantly accepted both.
“This isn’t really the song to apologize to-” but it was too late. The music started. You looked out at the crowd of people. The song started out slow, so the dancing stopped and they were all just staring at the two of you. You didn’t know how you felt about it.
“I remember when, I remember…I remember when I lost my mind…” You stared at him as he started. He used the costume, and damn did he look good. He wasn’t using the coat, which is understandable because it was pretty hot. The sleeves were rolled up perfectly, the first button undone, exposing the top of his chest, his ascot loosely hanging around his neck. The blue was the perfect color on him. He was staring at you the whole time, but once he started to get caught in the song, you noticed the little things he does when singing. “See how I leave with every piece of you. Don’t underestimate the things that I will do.” The way his nose scrunched at certain notes, his hands waved in the air, how he would stomp when he said a line that was intense enough, all of it was perfect. 
He continued the song, glancing up on the occasion, probably to make sure you weren’t running for the hills. “Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Probably…” His voice was enchanting. If someone told you that he was putting a spell on you, you would probably believe them, but you wouldn’t be complaining. 
You listened for your entrance, knowing it was coming up soon, and when it came up, you let every emotion out. “Baby I have no story to be told, but I’ve heard one for you, and I’m gonna make your head burn.” You walked towards him, unsure of why, and placed your hand on his chest, pushing him back ever so slightly, a smirk crossing his face. He was watching your every move so intensely that you could feel every cell in your body light on fire. “Think of me in the depths of your despair. Making a home down there ‘cause mine sure won’t be shared.”
It had come to the part where you were both singing, and you were staring each other in the eyes. Focusing on your words rather than his, you sang. “The scars of your love remind me of us. They keep me thinking that we almost had it all. The scars of your love they leave me breathless…I can’t help feeling-”
“-We could’ve had it all.” You both sang, and you grabbed his arm as he grabbed your waist.  “Rolling in the deep. You had my heart inside of your hand, and you played it to the beat.” You knew this couldn’t be acting because your emotions were running wild. Both of you were lost with each other, every person in the room vanished.
The song rolled back to just him singing and you let him go, watching his mannerisms as he put his heart into it.
A few more verses passed and you were nearing the end, unsure of what direction you were heading in together, but you were prepared for whatever happened. “Maybe I’m crazy.” His hand snaked around your back. “Maybe I’m crazy.” You looked in his eyes. “You had my heart inside your hand.” His hand went to the back of your neck. “And you played it, you played it, you played it.” His hand now under your chin, tilting your head up. Your heart was racing at this point. “You played it. To the beat.” The song finished, and neither of you could hold it in anymore. Your lips collided and you could tell everything he was feeling at the moment. The kiss was full of passion and love, anger and pain. Everything you felt was the same for him. You let each other go, and you could hear the applause from everyone, giving an awkward bow.
“Give it up for Christian and Satine!” The DJ yelled through the microphone and another round of applause burst out. Grabbing your hand, he led you off the stage. His hand was on your back again, he wasn’t letting you go. He wasn’t risking that again. You made eye contact with Tori, who gave you a thumbs up, and went back to talking to whoever she was talking with.
“I think we should go somewhere a bit more quiet,” Beck shouted over the speakers. You agreed and made your way out the front door.
As soon as he shut the door to muffle the noise, you were ready with your questions. “What was that?”
“I…I don’t know. I knew you wouldn’t talk to me without something giving you a nudge. I know how you are, and I know that I hurt you without any explanation, but I didn’t want to.”
“I don’t understand. You didn’t want to break up with me, but you did it anyway? That makes no sense,” you said, crossing your arms. This is the part you were dreading: the conversation. You wanted to talk about it, but it was terrifying. Communication is key, and you two always were great with communicating, but this is different.
“I know, and I know there’s no excuse for what I did. I just got scared, I guess. You are practically perfect, and I felt…unworthy. Like I just didn’t deserve you. I got scared, and I ran. I should’ve just talked to you about it, and now that I’m talking it over I’m realizing just how foolish I was. I love you, Y/n. I love you so much that I can’t even comprehend it, and it’s terrifying. You’re the one that I want, forever and always. I…I can’t lose you, but I felt as though I had to.”
“Beck…you didn’t have to lose me. I never would have left you because you are who I love. The only one I love, and the only one that I want to love for the rest of my life. I know we’re young, but it’s the truth.”
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, and I don’t know if there’s a way to make it up to you, but I guarantee I will not stop trying-”
“You coming back to me is enough,” you stated, softly stroking his arm. You brought a hand up to his cheek and he leaned into the touch.
“I’m back. We are back.”
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evanesdust · 6 months
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i think i dreamed you into life
written for - @sterekfests prompt: haunted house @sterekweekly word: veil
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Established Relationship, Alpha Derek Hale, Haunted Houses
Summary:
...the one where Derek enjoyed a clingy Stiles (thanks to a haunted house).
"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Derek asked a visibly apprehensive Stiles, who clung to Derek's arm, his breath hitching every time the wind howled. Just because it was close to Halloween didn't mean they had to visit any haunted attractions, but Stiles had insisted they come here ever since Erica mentioned going with Boyd last weekend. She'd said it was spooky 'in all the best ways.'
Derek had difficulty believing that as he looked up at the massive, ominous structure better known as the infamous haunted house of Beacon Hills. It was neither infamous nor haunted at any other time of year, but whoever ran this place definitely went all out for Halloween with a distinct taste for the macabre. Cobwebs hung heavy from the pointed roof and jack-o-lanterns with grotesque faces leered from each window. Tombstones littered the front yard, eerily glowing in the dark. Sinister (and slightly over-the-top) sound effects are playing in the background. The air reeked of candy corn and a peculiar, damp smell that permeated the entire area—a scent Derek attributed somewhat dubiously to the atmosphere.
"Are you sure?" he asked again, ready to turn around if Stiles said no.
But Stiles nodded, so Derek straightened his jacket and stepped forward. The crunch of fallen leaves under his boots amplified the eeriness around them. As they entered the house, the atmosphere intensified. Stiles's grip on Derek's arm tightened as a ghostly fog rolled in, shrouding the haunted house in an ethereal mystery.
"God, the music just makes everything so much worse," Stiles muttered, jumping when a sudden shriek pierced the air. It was quickly followed by a round of eerie laughter. Meanwhile, ghoulish figures darted in and out of sight, their movements deliberately swift and unpredictable to maintain a sense of dread.
Derek would hate it, except it made Stiles cling to him even tighter. An unexpected thrill coursed through him; there was something strangely reassuring about being the one Stiles relied on for comfort. Even amidst the staged horror and low ambient lighting, Derek could see the trust in Stiles's eyes intertwined with the fear.
"Focus on me, not the house, alright?" Derek whispered just before another frightful scream echoed through the corridors, followed by hasty footsteps, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from Stiles.
If he didn't have his keen werewolf senses, Derek would probably be scared too. The chilling whispers of the wind, the ominous creaking of the wooden floors, and the distant sound of rattling chains...every element was perfectly designed to instill a deep-seated fear. But thanks to his supernatural abilities, he could hear the whir of mechanics from the animatronics set up in the house, the muttered instructions of workers hidden from sight, and the giggles of other visitors not too far ahead of them.
"Remember, it's all fake. None of this can hurt you," Derek reassured Stiles, even as a headless figure suddenly lunged towards them, causing Stiles to yelp and bury his face in Derek's jacket.
"I know it's all fake, but I feel like my heart's going to beat right out of my chest." Stiles's words were muffled into Derek's jacket. His heart was pounding fast, his pulse seeping through Derek's shirt.
With a smirk, Derek gently patted Stiles's back as they advanced deeper into the heart of the haunted house—past the spider webs and blood-smeared walls.
"Maybe next year we stick to corn mazes and pumpkin patches," he suggested, his voice echoed hauntingly by the eerie soundtrack playing in the house.
Stiles shook his head despite clinging to Derek all the tighter. "Where's the fun in that?"
"This is fun?" he asked, but Stiles silenced him with a vigorous nod.
"Best adrenaline rush ever." Then Stiles screamed as a vampire animatronic jumped out of a coffin.
If Stiles wanted an adrenaline rush, Derek could think of a few better things they could do than visit a haunted house. Something that would benefit both of them, like a night in the woods, under the moon and the starlit sky, with Derek chasing Stiles as if he were the most delicious prey.
Derek's pulse pounded just thinking about it, his every instinct responding to the thought. Unlike the artificial thrill of fear from these dubious props and jump scares, this was a thrill of genuine, primal excitement.
Stiles's eyes snapped to his, a curious look in his gaze. "Well, something's got you all worked up…"
Derek told him the idea and smiled at the rush of anticipation that radiated through their bond, the sudden expectancy evident in Stiles's widened eyes and the excited pounding of his heartbeat.
"But only if you're up for it," Derek added, raising a brow challengingly at Stiles, a daring glint in his eyes.
"I don't know… A scary, haunted house or being chased by a real-life werewolf…" Stiles's words were teasing, and it looked as if he were going to say more, but then a skeleton fell from the ceiling, and he screamed. "Okay, definitely being chased by you. At least that would be more like foreplay."
Fuck.
And now all Derek could think about was this game of their own, a primal chase between predator and prey. Catching Stiles and having his way with him. The wild images played out in Derek's mind—Stiles sprawled out on a bed of leaves, panting and flushed under the veil of moonlight while Derek prowled over him. No haunted house or fabricated horror could compete with the thrill that came from that anticipation, the genuine adrenalin surge.
After all, werewolves loved a good hunt.
"You're already thinking about it, aren't you?" Stiles asked, breaking Derek from his reverie. The knowing smirk on his face somehow looked even more appealing in the gloom of the haunted house.
"Maybe..." Derek allowed the word to hang in the air, raising a brow in response to the anticipation sparking in Stiles's eyes. Even though they were surrounded by artificial horror, it was drowned out by the real, tangible excitement growing between them.
Before either of them could say anything else, another animatronic figure abruptly jumped out of a coffin beside them, its hollow screams echoing through the haunted corridors.
Stiles responded with another loud yelp, clenching Derek's jacket even tighter. "Okay, let's just get through the house, then we'll negotiate terms for this werewolf chase of yours."
"Deal," Derek answered fervently, pulling Stiles closer as they ventured onward.
They spent the rest of the night navigating the labyrinth of chilling rooms and corridors, emerging victorious at the end of the night, Stiles clinging to Derek as if his life depended on it.
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wanderingblindly · 7 months
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Thank you Ella @epylonia for tagging me to share a snippet of a current WIP!!!! I've had such a hard time making progress on anything as of late, but here's something I've been toying with lately!
Welcome to my ✧・゚: *✧idiots in love✧・゚: *✧ blind date AU!
“That’s actually, um. It’s part of why I invited you out. To lunch.” Charles restarts their conversation inelegantly, butchering the natural transition. Alex just quirks a brow in response, still half focused on his lunch options. “I’m going to be around a lot more, and I’m getting to an age. You know, where I might want to, ah.” He can feel a flush steadily climbing up his neck, the still-full glass of wine before him not at all to blame.  Sensing Charles’s unusual hesitation, Alex folds his menu and leans in closer.  “Um. Settle down?” It comes out as more of a question, his voice tight as he tries to simultaneously swallow and finish his sentence.  “You’re kidding,” Alex nearly squawks, eyes wide as he takes in Charles’s increasingly red face – impressively red, really. He looks like he wants to fall through his seat, like he’s hoping the upholstered leather will somehow turn into a blackhole and pull him out of existence. Permanently. “You, Charles Leclerc, want to settle down?” “Remember when you said you’d set me up with someone? A few months ago, at George’s wedding?” Charles’s voice is still pinched, as if his throat is trying to suffocate him and put him out of his misery. “Maybe you could do that? If the offer is still standing.”  Alex just stares at him with his mouth agape, eyes wide as if he’d seen the second coming of Christ himself. Or the apocalypse. Charles can’t quite tell if he’s stunned in awe or terror, or maybe some secret third emotion that’s even worse.  Because calling him a flight risk actually may have been generous.  Charles is, according to his friends, a total man eater.   — Lando sprawls across Max’s couch, back bent around a pile of unfolded laundry and feet propped up on a crumpled up duvet. The entire living room is in disarray, and not that Lando is typically one to judge someone’s housekeeping, but Max is rapidly approaching mole rat levels of recluse. Like, he can’t even remember the last time the man saw the sun. In Monaco? A sin. The floor is littered with clothes, takeaway bags, and crumpled up cans of Red Bull. And Max. It’s also littered with Max, who’s currently mimicking Lando’s pose on the floor between the coffee table and TV – staring up at the ceiling.  “So,” Lando tries to break the silence, drawing out the syllable noncommittally. “How did you know you liked guys?” Max’s tone is flat, as it usually is when he tries to come off as unusually disinterested, but Lando knows his tricks. He shoots upright, looking down at Max with wide eyes before exclaiming, arguably, one of the worst possible responses: “Oh my god, Max, are you fucking gay?”
This tag has been going around for a hot minute, so idk who hasn't done it yet! If you want to, take this as your excuse :) I'd love to see it!!!!!!!!
Edit: formally tagging @likepilotlights now that she’s back from holiday 🥰💖
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spider-bren · 8 months
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Shot in the mouth | Clement Mansell x Male Reader
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Pairing: Clement Mansell x Male Reader
Tags/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Play, Cumming on hands, Hand jobs, Gun in mouth, Licking cum off fingers
Summary: Clement enticed you by playing with his gun. He asks to play a game with you which you can't resist.
Author's Notes: Bro I got possessed so idk myself with this prompt. @bawdabaw asked for Clem x M!reader and I just kinda got the brainrot. God, if you have me the chance I'd write 25k for this man. I NEED him. I could write entire plots for reader/oc x clem. But this is the first I wrote for him and I had to cut it short bc I didn't expect to write this much. It's more than I usually write for prompts that's for sure. Might turn into a full fic if you'd let me lmao enjoy!! :)
Clement sat cross legged on the couch flipping through the news channels. He was still in just his underwear, a gun placed loosely in his hand resting on his bare thigh. You eyed the gun as Clement lazily brought it against his underwear and absently rubbed it there. It wasn't meant to arouse surely, but you felt it flare heat into your gut all the same. The end of the gun massaged his apparently itchy balls and you tried extremely hard not to want to drop to your knees to fix the problem Clement was having. 
You could remember it so well. The weight of Clement heavy on your tongue. The pulse and throb as Clement dragged his cock in and out of your mouth. You enjoyed the ache in your jaw and the way the head of his cock scraped the back of your throat. You loved it–got hard for it. You wanted Clement to bruise your insides. You wanted to choke until you passed out. Wanted Clement to rip into your hair so hard it pulled at the roots as you swallowed down. Desperate to hear him moan how good you were and how you were his beautiful boy. 
Clement liked rough play. He liked to play and tease you all day. He arrived at your work unannounced and complimented you, sprewing charm until you ducked into the bathroom to fuck you agaisnt the cubible door. You didn't mind too much about his reputation. The darker side of Clement enticed you all the same. Whether he had killed with the gun currently in his hand didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had you. Right here and now. 
"You staring, baby?" He drawled. He lifted up the gun pretending to shoot you. He made a sound like a gun going off and then twirled it like a seasoned cowboy. "Why don't you come over here?" 
You shakily walked to sit on the couch next to him. Anticipation flooded heat into you, your cock already getting hard again. Not two hours ago he had fucked you in all positions on the bed. Now you needed him again. Was even ready to beg for it. He circled his arm around you on the back of the couch. His scent was intoxicating, sweat and cologne mingled together. You couldn't help yourself from kissing his neck. You licked a strip down his neck to his gleaming collarbones. He hummed appreciatively. 
"What do you wanna do?" He asked. "You wanna play a game?" 
You nodded. "Yeah. Let's do that. What type of game?" 
"I will use my gun to trail down your body and you have to try not to make a sound. Alright?" 
You agreed, head dizzy. Clement used the barrel of the gun to run down your bare shoulders. You were just in a pair of plain shorts, your chest exposed for him to play with. He ran the flat of the gun over your collarbones making you shiver. The metal was cool on your heated skin. The blue of his eyes were intense as he tracked every little response to him. 
He dropped further down your body over your pectoral muscles and pressed the tip end of the gun over your already pebbled nipples. You gasped, hating how you were so sensitive. He pulled his mouth into a smirk, his eyes ablaze. 
"Didn't know you were interested in this?" He remarked, moving towards your stomach now. He pushed the gun over the patch of the hairs that littered your abdomen. It tickled but felt incredibly erotic. 
"I'm not," you said back. "I just…I dunno. I like it when you do this." 
"I can tell," he teased, eyeing the bulge in your pants. 
The end of the gun dipped into your shorts, running along the band of it. You gasped. Your hips automatically sought more and lifted up. He laughed at you. 
"My little boy is all worked up." He tsked. "All for me and this here gun." He pulled the gun out from your pants and placed it straight over your dick, massaging and rubbing. "I want you to rut against the gun and get yourself off like the little whore you are." 
A moan slipped past your lips. "Bu–but–" 
"Ah, ah. Do it. You know you want to. How about you take your shorts off. I wanna see how wet you are." 
You obediently did as he asked, impossible not to. This was Clement Mansell. He always got what he wanted in the end. 
You peeled off your sticky shorts and saw how you had messed in your underwear. Your underwear was nearly soaked through. A large wet patch was there in the front. Clement pressed the barrel over your underwear, putting pressure right on the head that was leaking profusely now. You shuddered all over. Your hips rolled on their own accord up into his hand which held the gun firmly in place. 
"Such a good boy doing this filthy deed with me. What would your co-workers say? Do they know how slutty you are?" You whimpered. "Don't worry, baby. Clement's got you." 
Clement switched hands. The hand holding the gun was suddenly pushing open your mouth, sliding onto your tongue. You bit down on metal and swallowed around the barrel. His other hand massaged your cock, your cum messing all over him. You moaned and arched off the couch. 
"Sshhh," he hushed. "I did say you shouldn't make a sound." 
You never thought having a gun in your mouth was arousing but Clement proved a lot of things were hot as long as he was the one doing it. You could barely focus, eyes shut and body spasming. It was the hottest thing you ever experienced. His hand was perfect on you. It slipped inside and circled your cock, stroking it as he coaxed you to climax with his words. Drool dribbled down your chin as he kept the gun inside your mouth. 
"There you go. Cum for me." 
You tried hard not to choke on the gun as you came in white hot ribbons into Clement's hand. He pulled the gun from mouth, wiping it on his leg. His fingers were wet and gleamed with your cum. He smiled and cooed at you to lick his fingers clean. You sucked his fingers into your mouth, licking all of your spunk off of him. He praised you for doing a good job then turned back to watching the TV. 
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jerrsterrr · 5 months
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hey guyssshahgahgahaaaaaaahhaaaa
obligatory silly posting about my ocs/sonas!!!!!!! and. me
and the amongus crewmates because i made a joke on insta that my followers were little guys and it was a silly "where do u wanna be on the drawing" w my mutuals over there :3
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those characters are like my sort of sonas in my little oc world, the mind, body and heart!! i have this lil goober with headphones to more accurately represent me ^___^
(LMAO THIS WAS THE ONLY PIC I COULD FIND)
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Theres like a big biiiigg storyline as these three being main characters thats going on here with several different characters that i wish to update more accurately on my Toyhouse and i have several posts on my instagram but i decided to use tumblr as to rant and ykno fanboy about my own ocs aswell!!!!!!!!! lol
okay long infodump that probably makes little sense my bad
The way it goes is themed after infinite realities, death,, living and basically heaven? Which i came up with after having like several years of haunting dreams LOL
For the longest time since i was little ive had dreams of being in some sort of messed up apocalypse so thats what the mind is from!! His name is Xiety and he looks like me when i had those dreams, or like some fucked up bird thing heheh
After all that though i started having dreams where i was,, different people sort of?? Dreams with different povs or dreams where i lived entire different lives. Thats Jerri! the body.
The last little guy is called matthew and isnt based off any dreams but more based off the feeling i get when i realize im dreaming. Ive never lucid dreamed but ive always had like a moment to realize "this isnt my life" and im just like viewing whats happeining o_0
All together i made a story for when they get sort of seperated, Xiety, the mind is seperated from the two in a apocalyptic world they have control over and hides the heart (matthew). The body being basically a carbon copy of itself just wanders around this world. Jerri cant remember how they got there or where they are from, but they die, over and over and over. Until eventually, they find the heart, in some rubble, and they sort of gain concious enough to realize "um im stuck in infinite zombie reality hell and this is NOT my reality" they take the plush and try to survive, but xiety kinda catches on and feels betrayed by this. He cant comprehend why on earth the body would want to live knowing what he knows (news flash only the mind knows what he knows of their og reality) HENCE the breaking out and being stuck in a infinite inbetween of constant realities woooo. Jerri and Matthew try to find to find the og reality, going through different bodies, meeting different minds and dying in ALOT of them. It becomes kinda clear that in most realities NONE of them do they live or are happy LMAO
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that was like a shitty simplification BUT BESIDES ALLAT they litterally stumble into heaven and meet gods and Reapers and souls BUT they cant stay which SUCKS cuz imagine losing it it and one day people see you for yourself and you cant STAY cuz ur technically not dead just abstracted into peices and yaddah yaddah more ocs hehehe
(ALSO BASED ON A DREAM I HAD)
anyways heres a silly video i made with all of em:
ALSO ALSO OBLIGATORY TAG @moenmomentsthemoe-en
:333333
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angelsdevils · 9 months
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Draken x Reader
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Title: Hungover in a Hotel Room Song: Hungover in a Hotel Room by Luke Bryan Warning: Suggestive themes, fluff A/N: Uh... hi I am sorta maybe kinda back. But I figured to give you guys this <3
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Tag List: @omakeomuomu @thisbicc @chuuberrysworld @todorokistoya @penguinlovestowrite @bontensbabygirl @ddeadcalm @obeymesimp11 @pinksilk @leilalago @reiners-milkbiddies @winterv-black @bobateasilverpearl @jcrml @abellaheart-blog @supernaturaldreamergirl1130 @kittimacataclysm @sapphire-gemm
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Draken has made a lot of bad decisions in his life and would probably continue to make them. But right now, he was confused and nauseous. A warm body was tangled in his arms. He was completely naked, and the person in his arms was wearing his shirt. He tried to get the memories back, but he could put a face to the body that was in his arms.
He rubbed his face with his free hand, as the person began to stir. He glanced down, removing his hand to get a better look at the person.
You sat up looking around confused before turning your head to Draken. It took you both a few minutes but both of your eyes widened at the shock realization.
“(Y/N)~”
“Draken…”
It was silent as you removed your hand from his chest. He let his arms fall from your waist and he couldn’t process anything. 
Your neck was covered in hickies and your lower half was extremely sore. You let a small whimper out.
That sound made Draken shoot up from the bed and wrapped his arms around you.
“Hold on, you need to lay down. You look in pain.”
“Because I am, my entire lower half hurts,” you mumbled. 
He rubbed your sides and gently laid you down. He trailed his eyes over your partially nude body, before looking away.
This has to be one of the worst mistakes or blessings he ever had.
“Do you remember anything from last night?” You asked.
“No, which is why I’m confused about how we ended up in bed together and did not realize it.”
You buried your face into your hands.
You just had sex with your childhood friend. How does that even happen? 
“I need to go to the restroom.”
You attempted to get up again, but Draken picked you up with ease.
“Let me carry you.” 
You fought back a blush and leaned against his chest. 
He sighed softly as he set you on the floor so you could do your business. He closed the door behind him.
You did your business before flushing and washing your hands. That's when you could see the number of damage he did. There were purple marks all over your nose. Your neck and chest were covered. 
No amount of makeup would cover this up. You opened the door, and Draken picked you up carrying you to the bed. 
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to go overboard last night,” he said.
 He traced the hickies that littered your neck. 
“I would say it’s fine, but no makeup is gonna cover this up,” you said.
“Let’s stay in bed all day, you need to rest. And I need to take care of you.”
“You would do that for me?” You asked surprised and Draken smiled and laid you in bed. He stroked your hair out of your face. 
“I am not a douchebag to leave you hanging… plus I do love you.” 
“Draken…” 
“What? Anything I said last night, no… everything I said last night was true. I have always loved you.” 
You smiled warmly and kissed him, cupping his cheeks gently. He smiled and you leaned up pressing your lips to his.
“I never thought I would say this, but thank god we got drunk last night and made questionable decisions,” you said. 
“So, I am guessing you feel the same way?” 
“Absolutely.” 
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caramel----comforter · 14 hours
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Running Blind (i)
Word count: ~500 words
Warnings: Serious Injury, Blindness, Aftermath of Torture, Non-consensual Body Modification, Dehumanization, Possible Child Death Tags: POV Slade Wilson, Angst, Choose the Ending
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The kid's clinging to his leg, the kid's clinging to his leg. He's bawling his eyes out from under the crusted domino mask that's still stuck to his face after God-knows-how-long in the damn Asylum. "Sir, please, please, I'll be good, please don't hurt me, please" This was not a part of the deal-it was supposed to be simple. In and Out. Kill the prisoner in the bowels of the Asylum, easy two mil, In and Out. He was supposed to be at his safe house, sleeping his ass off. "Please, not again-please-I've learned my lesson-please" That was before he'd found out that the prisoner was a kid-Robin of all people- the nosy bastard that mouthed off at any given opportunity and had broken his leg in three places. The kid that's clinging to his healed leg now, begging for mercy as if he's gotten it before. "Please-", his hoarse voice is grating on his already worn-out nerves, still high and bordering on puberty, hoarse from abuse, scraping against his eardrums like steel wool. The kid's clinging to his leg, and not letting go. And he can't move, as if the entire atmosphere is weighing him down, the smell of rot and piss and vomit, and the sheer amount of misery in the air. "Kid, I'm not going to hurt you, you need to let go", he grits out for the umpteenth time, he's lost count of how many times he's said it, but the fever seems to have cooked all the kid's higher functions because he's latched onto him, deep in delirium and calling out for the Bat, then Alfred, then Nightwing, then Batgirl. At least he's stopped begging for the man who left him in there to rot. He should be glad he supposes, that he finally knows each of their identities now, but the revelation tastes of acid and makes nausea roll in his gut. "Sir, please, I can't see- S-Sir, please", his voice cracks halfway, he's just a teen, still so small from malnutrition and abuse. His crooked fingers are digging bruises into his leg, the skin around his eyes is reddened and peeling from infection, half of his face is swollen from bruises and distinct hand-prints, and the brand- the damned brand-blistering and black and leaking pus-pink, rotting flesh peaking through it. At the lack of a reaction, the kid lets out a desperate keen that echoes through the halls littered with bodies and vermin- anguished and damning the ghosts into the deepest hell. Slade doesn't believe in God, but he believes in Hell. And the kid has been in it, for months. "Bruce-Bruce please-I'm sorry, I tried to stop him-please-I'll be better-I can be useful-please don't leave me here-please-please Dad-", He's started going off about his shitty father again, it's going to be Alfred after this-then- The boy looks so small-in his battered Robin uniform, that sits around his wasted body like a filthy, oversized shroud. So breakable-as if a stray wind is going to make him fall into a hundred grief-stricken pieces. "Dad-I'm sorry-Please-P-please don't leave-please-" The feeble thread holding his patience together finally snaps, and he digs out a sedative on auto-pilot.
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