#i have been fighting this stupid comic for DAYS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinhaler · 5 months

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DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn’t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you��d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

3K notes · View notes

obscure-imagines · 8 months

Text

what you really want - Mihawk

👹 staring. Dracule Mihawk x afab!Reader

⚔️ preview. Some days you wish he’d settle down, wish he’d just choose an island and stay with you forever, but you know his first love will always be the sea. He’s a pirate, through and through, and you suppose you can’t blame him for that.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, quickie, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Mihawk, begging, dirty talk, breeding kink, fullness kink, slight cum kink, choking, manhandling, roughhousing, using a table hanging from the ceiling as a sex swing, instructed masturbation?, deep penetration, overstimulation crying, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) darling, good girl. (his) Captain.

🔞 rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I wc. 3.2k

⚔️ aus. One Piece Live Action, established relationship, pwp, etc…

🎈 mlist + an. It's the way I haven't been active on this blog in 3 years and then this stupid pirate show comes out and now I'm sinning again- I honestly couldn't help myself with this one

You’re in the kitchen rolling out dough when you feel a body press against your back. There’s only one person with the balls to touch you like this. As a girlfriend to one of the seven warlords of the sea, and the greatest swordsman in the entire world, everyone knows your body is off-limits to anyone but Mihawk.

“When did you get in?” you ask, pressing your ass back against him, enjoying the feeling of his breath on your throat.

“Just now.” His hands trace the curves of your hips, and you have to fight the groan that threatens to slip out of your mouth at his touch.

“Did anyone see you?” It’s definitely interesting being a member of the Strawhats while being involved with Mihawk. He’ll show up out of the blue, completely unannounced, and it’s clear to everyone what he’s here for.

You often feel very sinful any time he leaves, when you exit your cabin or the bathroom or wherever he just fucked your brains out, only to find the crew watching you with unreadable expressions.

“Your cook-”

“Sanji,” you interject, doing your best to teach Mihawk the names of your friends in the hopes that he’ll be more sociable with them.

“Sanji,” your boyfriend repeats with a sigh. “I bumped into him on the deck, he said the kitchen is all ours.”

“This should be fun.” You grin, releasing the dough and wiping your flour covered hands on your apron. “I’m guessing you didn’t show up to talk.”

“Definitely not.”

“So the question is…” you grind your ass back against him, “is that a sword in your pants, or are you just happy to see me, Captain?”

He lets out a small laugh, digging his fingers into your hips to pull you flush to his chest. Mihawk is always amused when you refer to him as Captain. It’s always in a sexual capacity, and even though he’s a crewless pirate, the title feels fitting. On top of everything else, the ‘sword in your pants line’ is somewhat comical, as his sword, Yoru, is absolutely unmistakable when pressed against your body.

“I guess I’m just happy to see you,” Mihawk sighs. He’s not the best with praise or dirty talk, preferring a more silent approach, but it’s always rewarding to work admissions of interest out of him.

“So why are we still talking?” you ask.

It’s as easy as anything for him to turn you in his embrace, one hand reaching up to pinch your chin as he presses his lips to yours. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you press your chests together, enjoying the feeling of your breasts against his muscles.

The kiss is almost gentle at first, but it quickly becomes heated, with his tongue dipping into your mouth. You sigh at the feeling. You’ve missed Mihawk. Some days you wish he’d settle down, wish he’d just choose an island and stay with you forever, but you know his first love will always be the sea. He’s a pirate, through and through, and you suppose you can’t blame him for that.

His hands slip down your body, squeezing your breasts, toying with your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He pulls away from your mouth, staring down at you with Hawk eyes full of lust. “Turn around, and bend over the table, darling.”

You swallow thickly at the command, grabbing his jaw and pressing one final kiss to his lips before following through. The solid cooking table has more than enough space for you to flatten your chest against it without having to worry about messing up the dough or getting flour on your shirt. In fact, it’s probably one of the sturdiest locations for Mihawk to fuck you from behind.

A soft sigh escapes you as his hand trails down your body, then he’s roughly gripping your trousers, tearing them down until they pool at your feet. He’s discarded your panties as well, and your skin tingles at the cool air that brushes over your hot, exposed core.

You hear Mihawk dealing with his own pants, and you wiggle your ass as an invitation, impatience getting the best of you. It’s been over a week since you’ve seen your boyfriend, over a week since anyone has touched you, or kissed you, or filled you up to the brim until you were crying-

“I missed you,” you tell him, relaxing your cheek against the wood of the table as he rubs his cock through your pussy lips, coating himself in the wetness already beginning to drip out of you.

Mihawk doesn’t return your sentiment, he only lets out a small grunt, grabbing your hip roughly as he begins to push into your core.

There’d been hardly any foreplay, so the stretch of his thick cock against your inner walls has you crying out and grabbing the edge of the table. You kind of like the pain though- being with a warlord of the sea is just like that sometimes. It’s quickies, and roughhousing, gasping into each others mouths and stripping naked the moment you get each other alone.

Your boyfriend can be kind though. He doesn’t push all the way into you, doesnt sink balls deep- he thrusts shallowly, and you can feel his gaze fixed on your tight pussy as you swallow more of him up, inch by inch-

“Fuck,” you groan, clawing at the wood.

“Good, darling?”

“So good,” you whimper, feeling your toes curl when he’s finally pushed all the way inside of you, the tip of his cock just kissing your cervix. “Oh my god, you better fuck me stupid-”

“I intend to,” he promises, grabbing your waist with both hands to keep you presses to the table. His first thrust is rough, making you cry out and wiggle in his grasp. Your hips are pushed uncomfortably against the edge of the table, and as Mihawk finds a fast pace, each rut of his hips sends you forward.

It’s not very painful, although, you might bruise tomorrow. Part of you almost wishes you do. You love reminders of him, marks that make you think of him balls deep in your aching core-

“Captain-” you whimper, panting against the wooden surface of the table as he fucks you harder and harder, making you almost dizzy.

“Let me hear you,” he instructs.

His hand finds the back of your neck only for his fingers to slip around the front of your throat and pull- he makes you arch your back, body contorted for him. The sensation makes you gasp, deep groans escaping you. Each smack of his hips against your ass has whimpers leaving your lips. Your eyes are closed, mind entirely focused on the feeling of his perfect cock filling you up and destroying you for any other man.

“Mi-Mihawk,” you stutter, lower lip warbling with effort, your body nearly overwhelmed already.

“Touch yourself. I want you to cum.”

You swallow thickly while he pulls you up from the table, tightening his grip on your throat and giving you the space to slip your hand down to your pussy while he fucks you in a half standing position. You can feel his breath against the nape of your neck, can hear him panting-

Even small sounds are such a turn on for you. You can’t see his face right now, but it’s sexy to know that he might be as effected as you are by all of this.

Your fingers brush by your clit and you cry out at the sensation, clenching your eyes shut while your pussy throbs around his cock. “Oh my god-”

“That’s it, darling. You’re close.”

You can only nod, applying more pressure to the sensitive bud while he continues fucking you stupid. His grip on your throat doesn’t help the situation- it makes you lightheaded in the best possible way, your stomach muscles tensing as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach.

“I’d like to hear you beg for this first one.”

You moan loudly, the throbbing intensifying between your legs. “Please, Captain, please-”

“You can do better than that,” he scoffs, lips finding the side of your throat before his teeth bite at your shoulder.

“I’m so close, please make me cum- only you can make me cum this way, oh my god, your cock- it’s so deep- it’s so good-”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and your core clenches unbelievably tight around him- you’re on the edge, but you can’t cum without permission. Mihawk has trained you well, and by the satisfied sound he lets out, you think he knows it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and it goes straight to your pussy, making your legs quake with effort- “Cum.”

It’s the one word you need to fall over the edge, and as your pussy practically explodes with pleasure, you find yourself being pushed down to the table again. Mihawk’s hand leaves your throat, fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You can feel your juices dripping our around his cock, making a mess of your thighs- all you can do is claw at the wooden surface and take what he gives you, cries of ecstasy leaving you uncensored.

He fucks you until you’re shaking, fucks you until your core stops throbbing around his thick length, then he pushes into you completely, holding you flush to his front. “Take a breather, darling,” Mihawk tells you, “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be pleased if I leave you completely broken.”

You can’t believe he’s bringing up Luffy at a time like this- can’t believe he sounds so nonchalant, as if your pussy didn’t just try to milk him for everything he’s worth. Mihawk is just like this, you suppose. He’s always controlled, and it’s one of the sexiest things about him.

“You’re my Captain,” you whisper, heart still thundering in your rib cage. “You can leave me however you want.”

His hand caresses your ass, squeezing the flesh and making you twitch around him.

“Turn around, I want to see your face.” He pulls out of your pussy and you moan at the loss. Your legs are shaky, you can hardly stand as you move to face him, leaning back against the table.

Mihawk is too handsome for his own good. His facial hair is immaculate, and his eyes are bewitching.

He cups your cheek and you lean against his hand, enjoying the soft moment of reprieve before the next round that you know is coming.

“Beautiful,” he tells you, leaning in to kiss you gently.

You reach for his hat, taking it off his head to place on yours, and it makes his lips stop. He pulls away and looks down at you darkly. You can only grin up at him. “Am I still beautiful?” you prompt.

“Always,” Mihawk responds easily, reaching own to cup your ass and lift you off the ground, prompting you to wrap your legs around his strong hips, trousers now discarded on the ground.

Your lips find each other, and you kiss him deeply while he carries you through the kitchen. When you’re set down, you find yourself on top of a wooden table platform hanging from the ceiling on four chains- you’ve never realized before that this is practically a sex swing.

This wooden platform that Zoro laid on while recovering from wounds your boyfriend gave him, is now going to be the very tool used to fuck you absolutely stupid. You’ll never be able to look at it the same way again, and you don’t want to.

Mihawk pulls away from your lips, and you watch him take off his jacket. He places the duster and his beloved sword on the cooking table just behind you, taking the hat off your head to discard it with the rest of his clothes. You take the opportunity to remove your shirt, leaving you completely bare for your boyfriend, whose gaze takes in every inch of your body now that you’re exposed.

“I missed you too,” he says softly, reaching up a hand to grab at your breast, teasing your nipple between two fingers.

You arch your back, legs quivering around his hips from the stimulus as well as his words. “Then fuck me,” you tell him. “Fuck me full of your cum until I’m dripping. Fuck me so deep that I’ll have a part of you with me even after you leave- I want to feel you inside for a week.”

Mihawk gives you baby fever like no other man you’ve ever met, and staring at him now- knowing he’ll leave you soon after this, it makes you even more desparate. You love him more than you’ll ever be able to say- but maybe if you gave him a baby, you’d be able to show him that he’s the only man that will ever have your heart.

You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort, his hands slipping down to your thighs. He massages your skin, pulling you forward, his aching cock teasing between your pussy lips-

“You’ve always had such a dirty mouth, darling,” he tuts.

“You love it,” you insist, leaning back down against the wooden platform. “You love how dirty you make me. Love it when I’m begging for you.”

The tip of his cock pushes into your core and you both let out sounds of pleasure. You’re so wet, it’s the easiest thing for him to sink into you, and the swinging platform allows him to pull you close, only to push you away a little, using the hanging table to his advantage.

With one hand, he can control the table, and with the other, his thumb can find your clit.

Your legs shake around his hips, the sensitive bud is still trying to recover from your first orgasm, and the stimulation isn’t helping.

“Mihawk,” you moan, already feeling desperate again.

“You’re pretty like this, darling,” he tells you. “If you start to beg, I might just give you what you want.”

He’s not applying enough pressure to your clit to make you cum and you both know it. He’s just teasing you, gently rocking you onto his cock while your toes curl and your body nearly shakes. He’s such a fuck, but you love him so much.

“Please, you know what I want,” you whimper. “It’s the same thing I always want.”

“Go on.”

“I want you to fuck me rough. Want you to feel good. Want you to cum deep inside.”

“There’s more too it though. Don’t deny it, darling. I know what you want. What you really want.”

You blink at him in confusion, and he begins to rock into you harder, faster. His thumb applies more pressure to your clit, working it in tight circles that have your pussy clenching tightly around his cock.

“You want me to fuck a baby into you, don’t you?” he asks, although, the question definitely feels rhetorical. “You want me to give you the one thing I’ve never given anyone. You want me to make you mine, completely. To do the one thing that would show everyone who you really belong to.”

“Mihawk-” you whimper, body tingling with overwhelm from his words alone.

“This is why you’re always begging for my cum like a whore in heat, why you always want me to cum inside since the first time we fucked.” Mihawk lets out a small chuckle, grinning. “Bet you thought I had no idea, but trust me darling, I know your games.”

“They’re not games,” you try to insist, but your words are broken and whimpered as he fucks you more intensely, the wooden platform swinging almost aggressively now with each rough thrusts.

“Tell me what you really want.”

You gasp as he pinches your clit between two fingers, your body contorting against the tabletop. Your eyes clench shut and you feel your skin heating with your impending orgasms. “I want you to give me babies!” you admit, feeling a wave of relief to finally say what’s been on your mind for months. “I want to swell with your cum and have your children- I want to be with you forever-”

Mihawk lets out a sound that’s nearly animalistic, and then he’s hauling you off your back, leaning over your body and forcing his lips against yours while your hands grab at his shoulders.

It’s the most intense kiss you’ve ever shared with him, all tongues and growls-

Your pussy throbs around him, and you eat up his sounds, trailing your fingers through his beautiful dark hair and pulling gently-

Mihawk lets out another groan, fingers unrelenting on your clit.

“Please cum for me,” you mumble desperately, the cord in the pit of your stomach pulled achingly tight. “Please, Mihawk, I need it- I’m so close-”

He pulls his lips away from yours, your foreheads touching while he stares deep into your soul. You can feel tears of pleasure already building against your lashline, and the way he’s panting has your stomach twisting into even tighter knots-

Then he’s smashing his lips against yours again, fingers digging into your hip as he pulls you flush to his front, cock burried as deep as it can possibly go inside of you.

You can feel him cumming, and it triggers your own orgasm, which jitters through you like electric ecstasy, making your hair stand on end and your skin tingle. You’re gasping against his lips, enjoying his moans and returning them with sounds of your own.

Your arms are wrapped tightly around him while your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, your tits pressed against his strong chest. His hand moves from between your bodies to flatten against the small of your back, embracing you tightly.

You’ve never felt closer to him in your entire life.

There’s never been a moment like this one.

You can taste the love he has for you on his tongue as it invades your mouth, tracing your lips and teeth-

Even though he’s still inside of you, hips flush to your own, it’s one of the longest orgasms you’ve ever had. There’s nothing like this type of closeness, nothing like being stretched to nearly your breaking point while he fills you completely with his cum, cock so deep you can feel him painting your cervix.

It feels almost like a promise. As if he’s as dedicated to knocking you up as you are. He’s not said it explicitly, but you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind starting a family with you. In fact, he might even enjoy it.

You can imagine him teaching your child to use a sword, can imagine a three year old running around with the tiny little dagger Mihawk wears around his neck-

“I love you,” you whisper, tightening your grip on the warlord.

He lets out a groan. “I love you too.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I'm honestly considering doing more One Piece stuff on this blog, but I guess we'll see. My main account right now is kpop blog, which you can find here or @smileysuh

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here

#mihawk #mihawk smut #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk smut #one piece #one piece smut #opla #opla smut #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader smut #dracule mihawk x reader smut #one piece live action #one piece live action smut #opla mihawk #mihawk opla #opla mihawk smut #mihawk opla smut

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shares-a-vest · 5 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 16: Angst-Themed (Saturday Sentence Starters)

wc: 1k | Rated: T | cw: Steve’s parents are arguing (he is overhearing it briefly but there are some descriptions of yelling), toxic family dynamics, unstable marriage, cheating

Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unstable Marriage, Toxic Family Dynamics, Cheating

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caroline,” Steve hears his father bellow from downstairs, “Not tonight.”

He snaps his comic closed and tosses it on the floor.

Steve has no idea what his parents are arguing about. Hell, they don’t even need an excuse these days, he thinks. Someone can so much as fart and it will start a goddamn screaming match.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the holidays and his parents are both off work until the beginning of the New Year. It’s snowing heavy out so they can’t go down to the Martens’ house – their best friends-come-buffer zones.

“Oh, John!” his mother chides before there is a lower muffle that he can’t quite make out.

While being hard of hearing allows him not to hear anything below a shout, the broken argument is still frustrating.

His parents might not need an excuse to fight, but he’d still like to know what it’s about. Gain intel for the inevitable coming days of being stuck in the middle.

Steve has a few guesses as to what it could be.

His mother bought a new car with her Christmas bonus finally topping up her bank account and thus justifying an indulgent and expensive purchase. His father always hates that.

Steve smirks.

If his father didn’t like that kind of independence, why did he marry a high-paid lawyer?

But, the more likely scenario considering his father’s apparent insistence he ‘doesn’t want to fight’ is that he is cheating again.

Cindy, his secretary, or someone new – take your pick.

The telltale signs have been there for a month or two. A renewed cheery attitude, longer office hours, a fresh haircut and new clothes.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might be a little bit of a motivator behind his mother’s car purchase too –

“ – Cindy!” his mother shrieks.

Yep, there it is.

Steve rolls off the bed, planting his feet on the carpet right by his shoes.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, scooping up his keys and wallet from the nightstand.

He’s just about halfway to Forest Hills, driving at a snail’s pace because he can’t see for snow, when he begins to regret his decision to leave the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t just barge in on the Munsons unannounced. Like sure, his friendship with Eddie is… teetering on not being entirely platonic. But this might be too much.

He always thought it was too much when he’d walk down to stay at Carol Perkins’ house for an impromptu sleepover. And there was always this awkward, knowing going on with the Wheeler’s when he was dating Nancy and spending a lot of time just hanging about.

Lingering for too long in the kitchen chatting to Karen or watching a game with Ted until the guy started snoring too loud to hear the commentators.

It was all there but largely unspoken.

Only Robin knows the details. And even then, he’s sure that her father’s friendliness towards him was partly due to his daughter telling him all about the trouble at the ‘ol Harrington house. He doesn’t blame his best friend for likely doing so. And he doesn’t consider it blabbing, either. Robin’s parents – her whole family – are amazing.

But some of his parent’s shit is stupid at best, hard to take at worst.

And he is scared to let Eddie in on it.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Being a Harrington is too much.

Wayne answers the door with a cup of cocoa that seems glued to his left hand in winter.

“Steve,” he says, voice gruff as ever despite a warm smile.

“Hi,” he replies, looking down at his snow-covered boots, “Eddie in?”

Of course, he’s in, his van is parked outside.

Steve can feel the warmth from inside the trailer. See the twinkle of lights from the Munson’s small, but heavily-decorated, Christmas tree. The smell of cocoa overpowering the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls over his shoulder, “Steve’s here.”

In a flash, Eddie runs to the front door and practically bumps into his uncle.

“Come in!” he insists, wide-eyed as he looks past his shoulder at the falling snow.

And before Steve can even step in, Eddie is pulling him by his parka sleeve. He only just manages to scrape off his boots on the ‘Home Sweet Home’ adorned welcome mat.

“What some cocoa?” Eddie offers, eliciting a grumble from Wayne.

“I asked if you wanted some,” he chides.

“But Steve might want some,” Eddie grins.

“How about I heat up a pot now, and whoever wants some’s got it?” Wayne suggests, pursing his lips at Eddie and moving to the stove before his nephew can make any more requests.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, grabbing his hand, “I made cookies.”

He wiggles his brows and begins leading Steve to the kitchen.

As he is pulled along, Steve tries not to think about the fact that they are holding hands. Or how he wishes his fifteen-minute-ago Self had thought to bring an overnight bag and allowed himself to assume the Munsons would allow him to stay the night.

But it might be even harder to stop himself from squeezing his friend’s hand and lacing his fingers with Eddie’s.

Eddie lets go of his hand to gesture to the tray of Christmas-themed shapes, all looking a little too dark for gingerbread as they rest on the kitchen island.

“Pick one, Big Boy,” Eddie beams.

Steve reaches for a reindeer, flexing his fingers as he goes and commits the feeling of Eddie’s rings to memory.

“No!” Eddie shrieks, lightly smacking his hand enough that he drops it, leaving the cookie to snap in half as it falls back onto the tray, “His antlers are broken.”

“Christ, boy!” Wayne curses, stirring the pot on the stovetop.

Okay, a tree then…

“The star is missing!”

A bell?

“That was already snapped in half when I got them out of the oven”, Eddie admits with a tight-lipped smile.

Steve places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. To him, they all look at least a little crumbly – some he would even describe as lightly charred.

“How about you pick one for me then, Betty Crocker?” he chuckles.

Eddie giggles, twirling a lock of his hair as he carefully considers the tray of mostly broken, dry cookies.

He watches Eddie for a long enough time that Wayne pushes a mug into his hand, the warmth of Eddie’s hand remaining in place due to the heat of the cocoa. It’s a Chicago Cubs mug, one that he finds himself holding at some point each time he is here as if Wayne considers it Steve’s own.

He smiles for the first time in three days.

#i have a few days i've missed and fell behind finishing so i might go back and post them later #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington angst #steddiemas #wayne munson #steddie #steddie fic #lily writes a fic #harrington family TM

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a-simple-imagine · 5 months

Text

Nothing But Cowards

Requested by anonymous: “I was wondering if you could just write about, having a fight and then make up, fluff and angst? If not that’s totally fine”

“I'd like to request a Jordan Li x fem reader where they're dating in secret from the friend group because of everything going down but one morning they oversleep and one of their friends find them curled up in bed together and it's followed by giggles and fluff?”

Pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader

words: 3.7k+

WARNINGS - mentions of weird hospitals and tortured kids, strong language

GodU had always been your parents' dream. they held such high and heavy hopes for you. their perfect little superhero. a future member of the seven. when you were younger, you hated the idea. you felt... exploited. they forced this life onto you. gave you compound V and for what? so you could become some clog in a corporate machine? help sell merchandise for Vought? but as you got older and realised that you were kinda stuck with your powers, you felt more obligated to follow through with their dream. to actually be a hero. so you applied for Godolkin University. got in. and became a crime-fighting major. that is how you met Jordan Li. They were much stronger than you would ever be. both physically and mentally. the ability to shift between two forms gave them two separate skill sets all wrapped up in one identity. and they were so confident in their identity. not always a boy. not always a girl. just so confidently themselves. and you admired them so much. They were truly the strongest person you knew or at least you thought so.

it was a weird moment shrouded in the darkness of night. you were shaking a little from rage or the cold, you couldn't quite tell. everything was so incredibly fucked. Marie's roommate had gone missing because of some stupid plan of Andre's imagining. you just found out that there was some weird hospital under the school that was experimenting on people; including Sam, Luke's brother who was apparently still alive and in fact did not commit suicide. not to mention Luke was still gone. he used to give some great advice. used to kick your ass in sparring sessions but would occasionally let you win just to keep you on your toes. he was your friend. and you missed him a lot. you could never understand what happened; or why it happened. All these mysteries were piling up like old comic books. so many chapters to one confusing story that if you missed a single issue it became almost impossible to follow. this was impossible to follow. everyone was arguing. people were taking sides. Marie wanted to find Emma, who had infiltrated the woods, to help Andre who was trying to save the kids trapped down there. Jordan was more pissed about rankings than tortured kids. Cate wanted everyone to just back up and not do anything reckless. you wanted to yell at them. you knew rankings were important to Jordan. they wanted to be the best. at least Cate was worried about not dying. your parents' words hang heavy on your shoulders. this was your chance to do some good. to live up to their dreams without becoming just another vought puppet.

"don't you want to be a hero?" your voice is loud. louder than expected. the question was mainly aimed at Jordan. the person who went toe to toe with Golden Boy just to protect Marie; someone they hardly even knew at that point. that was after the club. you wish you could say you don't think about that night. everyone else seemed to just move on but it haunts your dreams. it's a cloudy memory of white powder and thick red liquid. "we almost killed someone."

there is a brief flash of something. Regret, maybe? before the expression turns dark and defensive. "we didn't do shit." and that was partly the problem. you didn't hold the weapon but you still ran. you left a woman to bleed out because you were too high. even sober, you wouldn't have been able to do much but you could have done something. anything. Nobody likes to talk about that day. the same way nobody talks about what went down with Luke. or how, if they had their way, nobody would talk about this weird hospital. If Cate and Jordan got their way, you'd just go back to school where all that mattered was who held that number one spot. currently andre. not Jordan.

"Exactly which is worse, if it wasn't for Marie we would have all been royally fucked." you articulate. irritation bubbling deep in your chest. "we can do some good here- we can help people."

"you're just gonna get yourself killed"

"at least I'm not running away again," you say. Jordan can make all the scooby doo references she wants but you wouldn't entertain the thought of leaving this down to Marie once again. "you wanna know why Andre is number one instead of you?"

"politics."

"because he is the only one person here who is trying to do something." You growl. "you're just a selfish asshole." if all they cared about was their ranking then you had to explain it in terms they'd understand. Their jaw tenses.

"Okay so what does that make you?" they spit. a particular venom dripping from their tone. "I've helped people- actually saved people. can you say the same?" they ask. "you're basically scared of your own shadow."

"Jordan don't."

"no," they interrupt Cate before she can continue. "I may be selfish for not wanting to go on some stupid suicide mission but when you realise what's really at stake here, don't come crying to me." Jordan's words hang heavy in the air, how do you even reply to that? your mouth opens but nothing comes out so you just walk away. Leaving your friends to continue arguing.

a bitter flavour lingers in your mouth. a painful feeling concealed deep inside your chest. you can't control how others perceive you but is that really how Jordan sees you? some coward who ran to them whenever things got tough? maybe they were right. you were no hero. you may have superpowers. you may spend hours studying techniques and training in the gym but that's just school. it didn't mean anything. You had never saved the day. you had never actually done anything. you haven't spoken to Jordan. Not since that night. they had texted a few times but you haven't even opened them. you don't want anything to do with them right now but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss them. you missed them a lot. nobody knew about your situation with Jordan. you had both decided to keep it on the down low while you figured stuff out. and with everything going on, it had just never been the right time.

a knock at the door. you don't bother getting out of the bed you had been rotting in for hours; staring up at the ceiling as the sun went down and darkness enveloped the room. another knock. you bury yourself deeper in your duvet but the knocking doesn't stop. it just gets louder. a loud groan as you roll out of bed. your roommate was always forgetting their key but when the door opens, your stomach sinks. it wasn't your roommate. you instantly close the door.

"Seriously,"

"fuck off," you yell back. they knock again. yanking open the door, you spy Jordan Li once again. femme. sweaty. gym gear. duffel bag hanging off their shoulder. "fuck off," you push on the door again but they slap their hand against it.

"Just give me a chance," they probably just wanted to yell at you some more and you weren't in the mood. you shove harder. "I could stand here all night." your brow creases. Jordan probably would too. they're very persistent. with a heavy sigh, you relinquish pressure on the door and it swings open as they let themselves in.

"what do you want?" your eyes follow her as she drops the gym bag down and begins wandering around your room. they had been here before. They knew what it looked like. their hand slides over the wood of your desk. they pick up the open book, presumably glancing over the content before dropping it back down. "Jordan."

"hm," they look at you almost perplexed. like they had been lost in their own little world.

"what do you want?" you request more firmly. they just stared back like it was a crazy thing to be asking. they drop back to lean against your desk. you're waiting for them to say something. anything. but their gaze just falls to the floor. you sigh softly, still loitering by the door. you would leave if this wasn't your room. "why are you here, Jordan?"

"I wanted to see you," their shoulders rise and fall. "everything is so fucked up. a hospital under the school like what the fuck?"

a secret hospital under the school was very messed up. you can't even imagine the things they get up to down there. also, Luke's brother was down there. that's why Emma went down in the first place before she disappeared. "yeah," you nod a little. "I guess."

"And Luke's brother being alive this whole time?" you wonder where this is going. you knew all this. you were there when everyone was arguing. your brow furrows a little.

"Can you get to the point?"

"well it's a little fucked isn't it?"

"You're being weird," you state. monitoring them carefully. they still wouldn't look at you but they did push up from the desk and towards the mini fridge.

"you got anything to drink?" they question, pulling it open.

"Jordan. leave."

"What?" they ask, still looking in your mostly empty little fridge.

"I said leave," you declare firmly. "I would like you to leave."

"why?"

"you know why." they sighed loudly, thrusting the fridge closed with a loud slap. "you don't get to just pretend nothing happened."

"I don't know why you're angry, you're the one who called me selfish." Jordan insists. "Said Andre was better than me."

"You are selfish. All you care about is your stupid ranking."

"It's not stupid," Jordan fires back. "It is important if I wanna get somewhere,"

"Who fucking cares," you groan "Like I get it, you wanna be a hero but this is way bigger than all that."

"And what are you gonna do exactly?" there's a bite behind her words. She's getting defensive. "Whats your plan to save the day Superman?"

"I don't..." you snap before trailing off to a much quieter tone. "know exactly,”

"It's a death wish,"

"We have to do something.”

“no, we don’t.” Jordan replies. “we don’t have to do anything. This is way above our pay grade.”

“of course, you’d say that,” you groan loudly. “can you leave now.”

"I-" They seem like they're about to bite back but they stop short. a tense jaw. they let it go. "I miss you, okay."

"I don't care," you did care. "leave." you yank open the door. For a beat, they seem taken aback but it rapidly fades. "now."

"just hear me out."

"no Jordan," you huff. "just go. I'm not arguing with you anymore."

they watch you for a second. "I don't want to argue" they clarify. "please?” there’s an unusual desperation in their voice. one you’ve never heard before. it builds a degree of sympathy amongst your anger. you let the door fall closed with a click.

“fine," you cross your arms over your chest "What do you want?"

"you were right," she declares softly. the statement alone takes you by surprise. Jordan? admitting she was wrong? you'd comically gasp if you weren't annoyed with them.

"I don't understand."

"I said you were right."

"No, I heard you," you explain. "look, Jordan-"

"I'm sorry, okay?" they reply sharply "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"why are you making this so difficult?" Jordan asks. "I've apologised so can we just watch a movie or something?" you raise a curious brow. Surely they weren't naive enough to believe you would simply forgive them just like that? There was more to this story that they were avoiding.

"you can't be fucking serious," a humourless laugh. "you don't even really mean it."

"I do though."

"no you don't," you sigh. walking towards them. "look at me and apologise- apologise properly."

"Ugh, I already apologised," they groan loudly, pairing it with a roll of their eyes. It just annoys you even more. "why can't you just forgive me?"

"Because you don't even know why you're apologising," you stress. "it's half-baked. you don't mean it. and I'm tired so-”

"I'm fucking scared" they blurt out. "I'm scared."

A look of surprise; shock. Their very loud confession caught you off guard. Jordan Li wasn't scared of anything. They’d made that bold claim a great many times. "of what?"

"of losing you," they yell back; their hands come up to run slowly over their face. Their hair becomes shorter. They physically grow taller. Shielded by his fingertips, it's pretty apparent that he shouldn't have said that or at least hadn't meant to. You don't know what to say; your head tilts slightly to one side. how do you respond to that? it still wasn't technically an apology. "for fuck sake."

"of losing me?" you recite slowly. "why would you lose me?"

"Because you're an idiot," they urge. "who wants to help people."

"dude."

"Sorry but like it's true. you're a fucking idiot," they repeat. "and I admire that."

"I'm... confused," you mumble softly.

"I admire how much you wanna help people despite knowing it’s stupid and you're probably gonna die" You can't tell if Jordan is just oblivious to what he was saying but it was far from getting him back in your good graces. "I wish I could be like that. naive enough to think I can make a difference."

"I feel like you're just insulting me," you comment.

they shrug a little. "I know this is still kinda new, the whole me and you thing but…” you can tell this is hard for them. expressing their feelings was not their strong suit. Their head hangs low. “it doesn’t matter,” they walk towards you but instead veer off towards their bag. you reach out for them; taking their hand. they were running hot, a sweaty hand.

“you can tell me,” you express, a gentle squeeze. “we’ve been friends for ages…”

“you’re just gonna call me selfish again.” their voice a whisper but they make no effort to pull away. You step closer.

“then you’ve got nothing to lose, right?” it’s a joke. a harmless one but they don’t laugh or even acknowledge it.

“I… I just don’t want you dying before we get a chance to really explore whatever this,” they use their free hand to motion between you. “is. so yeah, I lashed out because I like you or whatever and want you alive. sorry.” you watch them for a moment. their inability to meet your gaze. the light dusting of pink that graced their cheeks. it was really sweet if not a little unexpected. Jordan was so cool most of the time. it was a rarity to see them express such emotions. it makes you smile. you just laugh a little in amusement.

"Jordan," you say warmly. "you're not gonna lose me," you step even closer, reaching for their other hand; running your thumb over their knuckles. "I understand what you're saying but I don't think it's reason enough not to help,"

"I know," the express softly, finally meeting your gaze. there is something unspoken behind those eyes but you choose not to push. “I wish it was.”

you keep your eyes on there’s taking in this tender moment. a moment of vulnerability. a moment of connection. you relish in the way their hands fit so comfortably in yours. you really liked Jordan. liked their attitude. admired their strength. wished for their sense of loyalty. you were so smitten. so lucky to be their chosen person. a smile settles before you slowly lean in. It catches them off guard but they soon settle into it. “I’m scared too,” whispered against their lips. "but I think the bravest thing we can do is try anyway.“ his eyes flutter closed, letting his forehead fall against yours.

"I didn't mean it when I called you a coward," Jordan whispers, his eyes open. Lingering on yours. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

"I am a coward," you express. "I've always wanted to be a hero. it's all my parents want. but I'm scared. terrified. I never could have fought Luke like you did. but I wanna try now. I want you to try too," you ghost their lips. It's subtle; intimate. "if you really wanna protect me, Jordan, you'd help because I'm doing this with or without you."

"do I have to decide right now?" they ask quietly. You're almost disappointed by their reply but you can't really blame them. This wasn't another student hero gone rogue. This was a whole institution willing to do anything to keep its secrets. "do you forgive me?"

"do you forgive me?"

"I was never mad at you,"

"I was mad at you." you declare.

"I know," they nod. "you weren't exactly subtle about it." their expression becomes playful and bright; a strong contrast from the conversation you were just having. You can't help but smile as you pull back.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" there's a shift in the air. all that tension fading away. you're not mad. you're not thrilled either. but you liked Jordan. a lot. and you could understand their desire to protect you. In a way, it was very sweet. You didn't realise how much they liked you. "we could watch that movie? or Property Brothers? whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh?" their hands vacate yours and instead move to your hips. Pulling you close. ever so close. pressing their body ever so slightly into yours "Anything at all?" masc! Jordan was taller than their male counterpart but far less intimidating. firmer. gentler. it’s a rather present contrast.

"you're such a perv,"

"you don't even know what I was gonna say," they insist.

"Anyone with half a brain could figure it out," you tease. their hands slip around to the small of your back pulling you flush against them. playing into your words. "but what Jordan wants. Jordan gets." whispered in their ear, you place a gentle kiss upon their cheek. "right?"

you can feel them practically shudder against you. A heavy sigh left their lips. "oh she wants to play tonight?" all signs of sincerity washed away by something darker. desire. you meet their eyes, lips quirk up into a smirk before they lean in once more. it’s ever so light but you’re quick to deepen the kiss; chasing that warmth that spills through your veins but they pull away instead. mischief laces their expression. their fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. they pull back just enough to murmur, “I’m gonna make you beg for it,” their words hot against your ear. A shiver spills down your spine as you lean into them; wanting to be closer. As close as possible as they guide you back towards your bed.

it's safe to say you're smitten with the infamous Jordan Li. and when it comes down to it you're delighted when you're together. they bring out a more mischievous side of you. and you like to think you bring out a more vulnerable side of them. You shuffle further into their embrace. Basking in the feeling of their arms around you as you hide from the rising sun peeking through the blinds. A content hum as you drift in and out of consciousness. Still so early. You feel them lean more into you.

"what the fuck," a voice drags you to the land of the living. And as your tired eyes flutter open, your friends stare back. Both you and Jordan shoot up, instantly breaking any contact. Pulling the covers up to hide the fact you were both very naked. Marie stands at the end of your bed; wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. Cate and Andre are just by the door. how the fuck did they even get in? "we should- sorry," you watch Marie scramble for the door shoving Andre out just as Cate yanks him.

you both fall back down in unison. If anyone had seen it would almost seem planned. After a moment, you roll back into them. giggling into the crook of their neck. after a moment you nip the skin. "guess we're not a secret anymore," muttered against their skin.

"This isn't funny."

"it kinda is," you shrug "Quite the shock for those three." A giggle before you sink your teeth into her neck earning yourself a satisfied sigh but they're quick to push you away. A stern look on their face

"you agreed it was best we didn't tell everyone until all this craziness was over."

"yeah but don't you feel just a little relieved," you ask. You can practically see the gears turning in their head. It's... Cute. You move so that you're now straddling them, hands drifting delicately over their chest. Their skin is so warm; and soft. Their short bob is a mess against your pillow. they looked so peaceful. so beautiful. A strip of yellow sunlight reflected off their chain. "I'm glad everyone knows now. plus," you smile mischievously. "now I can kiss you whenever I want. " You lean down slowly and place your lips against hers. "and that's all I want," mumbled against their lip.

"I guess it is one less thing to worry about," they muse, bringing their hands up to rest against your hips. her fingers apply just a little bit of pressure. you peck their lips once more before pulling away. a gentle tap on their nose, their face scrunches up.

"you shift in your sleep sometimes did you know that?"

"What?"

"you were definitely a guy when we fell asleep and then suddenly I'm snuggling up to a girl? is it like a conscious choice or?" they hesitate for a moment before playfully shoving you off them.

"shut up,"

"ow!!" you groan dramatically, falling down against the bed. "ow. that hurt so much. I'm in so much pain. how could you be so mean," you groan loudly, shuffling about a little for dramatic effect.

"you’re so dramatic,” Jordan rolls their eyes but a mischievous grin spreads over their lips. “now get up we’re gonna be late.”

“for what?”

“class.” they sit up. a hand coming to settle on your stomach. you don’t move. and neither do they. and in those few seconds, everything feels at peace. “you really are beautiful,” they eventually say before finally getting out of bed.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #the boys #jordan li x you

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 6 months

Text

Enemy

Kinktober day 3

Paring: Spiderwoman!reader x Venom!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, dub-con, fingering, tendril sex, Venom forming a dick, (I’m sorry), degradation, humiliation, public sex, breeding kink, nipple stimulation, orgasm control,

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

A/N: I’m very sorry if you read this Lewis

Masterlist- Kinktober

The rain was purring onto the dirty streets of New York washing away all the grease left by the city however the read dirt stayed; they had to be taken care of by you. You were Spiderwoman since you had turned 17 a few years back and since then the streets were your life. Your mornings, your noons, your evenings even your nights had been spent cleaning this city from its dirt. There was simply no time of a committed relationship, even though you had tried and failed with what you thought would be the love of your life. Unsurprisingly being a superhero barley covered anyones bills not like it had been implied by the comics you had spent your whole youth reading. You couldn’t quit either Spiderwoman was a symbol. A symbol of hope and kindness when every institution failed you had been there protecting those who couldn’t do it themselves.

Sitting alone in your one bedroom apartment you were certain that being a super hero in high school was a lot easier than making it your profession in adulthood. Your head was planted upon your desk your eyes threatening to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. You barely listened to the frequency of the police radio. You were quickly awoken by the news of a black human like monster being sighted by civilians. You were in your suit in record time pulling your mask over your tired eyes before swinging into the cold city. You swung over the busy traffic of the the New York streets.

Arriving at the described location you realised that the object of your attention was no where to be found. Not a trace from it left. Your curiosity got the better of you. In your years of being a superhero and fighting against the green goblin and people made of sand nothing could shock you anymore. Oh how wrong you were. But this was something something, new something exciting which could potentially make your boring life a bit more exciting.

The police was just as clueless as you were so you started to search around the area yourself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until you made out a red headed woman alone in a dark alleyway. You came closer to her this probably wouldn’t help your search but she had a strange aura around her pulling you in. She seemed a bit nervous perhaps her green eyes fixated on your athletic form. She looked older than you maybe in her mid 30s but you weren’t sure.

“Can I help you this is a dangerous neighbourhood.” The woman face changed to a smirk “Well” she started “I’m sure you can help me in a personal way” Flirting and especially sleeping with civilians was off limits but you were desperate. It had been months since the last time you had another woman at your mercy. “I’m sure I can be of great-” you could see the womans eyes widen as she looked over your shoulder in the same moment your spider senses went off. Was something behind you? You turned around to see nothing you were confused for a second until you felt a force wrestling you onto the ground. You managed to turn to onto your back only to face a black slimy creature. You stared into its big white eyes as it slowly opened it mouth to reveal its many white razor sharp teeth. It seemed to have multiple rows of them all tripping in salvia. Its velvet tongue had an impressive size as it hovered above your masked face. Salvia tripped onto your face as you tried to move away.

“You were right Nat… she is stupid” the creature above you remarked in its deep voice. “Hey” you squeaked higher than you had intended to. The goo pulled back to reveal the beautiful red head again. “Oh look V she looks so shocked” she snarled at you pulling her arms from the black slime but your hands remained pinned to the concrete. Her hand gripped onto your mask pulling it up as you shook your head to side violently. Never once did you get unmasked but she did it gripping onto your chin so you couldn’t move. “You are a pretty one spider girl.” “Fuck you” you bit back. She responded in laughter making you blush in humility. “Oh no I’m gonna fuck you sweet girl” she said in between laughter.

***

“Please” you whimpered desperately your face pressed against the hard brick wall. The position you were in was beyond embarrassing. Complete naked bend forward black tendrils running over your naked form with her fingers deep inside of you pressing against you g spot. “Who would’ve guessed the symbol of hope would be such a slut. Look you are dripping down your legs like a penny whore” she slapped your ass making you cry out for more. “More” you whined feeling the tendrils rolling over your nipples.

She moved her fingers at her brutal pace curling and twisting as you clenched down. “I- I’m gonna-” “Should we let her V” she asked her companion. “Cum” you did on command releasing your slick over Nats hand and wrists.

Natasha pulled her hand from your heat making you whine at the lost. “I think she can do another” the goo formed a dick around Nats hips which you only realised once its big head was already pressed against your tight hole. “I can’t” you lied as she pushed in “Your body wants it I know it Spidey” she chuckled pushing in until she bottomed you out. She let you adjust before picking up her pace. She fucked into you hard and fast. “I’m gonna fuck you pregnant you little slut” she bit into your neck the tendrils working magic on your already overstimulated clit. “Fuck I’m gonna cum” she picked up her pace one last time before releasing her with cum inside of you.

The tendrils pulled back from your cum mixing into each other before tripping down your thighs. She pulled her pants back up leaving you panting against the wall. As a last act of affection she helped you back in your suit before leaving.

“Until next time spider girl”

I do not own these characters all rights go to Marvel

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #kinktober 2023

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crustyfloor · 15 days

Text

Till's point of view on his and Ivan's relationship - An (personal) analysis of Till's side of things leading up to Round 7.

As kids, IvanTill's relationship was tulmotious, to say the least.

Ivan would do things to rile Till up as a means of getting closer to Till when they were just starting out, and Till would fall for it.

Ivan would steal Till's things and turn around and give it back like some evil Christmas gift as a means of getting closer to Till, and Till would fall for that too, for some time.

But we all know Till isn't stupid. Till must've noticed after some time that the constant disappearance of his stuff only to be coincidentally found by Ivan every time wasn't actually a coincidence. And Till, being handled roughly his whole life by aliens naturally wouldn't have been so fond of the way Ivan would constantly instigate fights with him. So why did Till keep him around?

Well, I think Till actually considered Ivan a good friend, best friend even (maybe reaching but we ball). Ivan was one of the only people who actually made an effort to get close to him and to have someone in a world like this would mean a lot to a kid like Till. (besides, I don't think the things they did together would be the same things enemies would do.)

Other than that, Till is a high-spirited, compassionate, and emotional character. it's shown in a comic where Ivan and Till spot a crushed flower and Till tells it to cheer up out of sympathy, it's shown in the way Till cares about others around him.

Till kept Ivan around because he cared about him enough to look past those things. Till kept spending time with Ivan because he cared, Till let Ivan continue doing those things thinking he was unaware because he cared enough, even when Ivan had taken Till's most prized possession, the flute Mizi gave him. he didn't question Ivan about it (?). And he cared about Ivan enough to see him for who he really was. Not as some perfect pet, not even as too much of a nuisance. But as a person, just like he is.

And then we have the meteor shower scene. (pain&suffering.exe)

Ivan, motivated by his strong love tries to get Till to escape with him in the meteor shower scene. Keyword tries. Because they couldn't get far before Till stopped in his tracks and went right back to Anakt Garden, why? because Till wouldn't have been able to live with himself knowing he left behind a person he loved to die, Mizi. he couldn't possibly leave her there. He cared too much.

Till probably felt guilty, going back to Anakt garden and missing out on the chance of a lifetime because it was all in wrong timing. But imagine just how much guiltier he felt seeing Ivan the next day. He hadn't left when Till went back. Till knew he was the reason why, and it made him feel worse because he was the reason Ivan was going to continue to subject himself to this torment. And so this was the first thread of their relationship that was frayed and torn.

After this point, Ivan was under the full assumption that he had been wrong about how he thought Till saw him so he gradually started to distance himself too, the antics were dialed up as he fought with Till while intending to put distance by becoming someone Till would hate while remaining in Till’s life and caring for him when Till was unaware because even then he couldn’t force himself to leave Till’s world even if Till wanted to leave his. But Ivan was wrong, Till didn't go back because he didn't like Ivan enough to stay, but rather he cared too much for his own good.

Till noticed what Ivan was doing, and Till thought Ivan hated him for leaving him behind, so as a last effort to pull Ivan back to him and fix his relationship with his best friend, to let Ivan know he wanted him near, he left him a message on graduation.

"You were the one who stole my pencil at that time right?"

That was in response to Ivan's "I hope you'll remember me" message.

Till's response sounds pretty straightforward but it was actually an indirect pointing to a direct message; "I know it was you, I always did, of course I remember you. I see you. Im not even mad at you for all of it...So come back?" unfortunately for Till, Ivan failed to read it like this. Ivan instead saw it as Till finally realizing how bad Ivan really is, he probably even thought Till was mad at him for all of it. So this only motivated him to distance them more until they weren't even talking anymore.

And so after everything, round 7 comes. Till has to compete and win against his best friend.

Till went into round 7 with the full intent to sacrifice himself and let Ivan win because he couldn't continue to live in a world he hated, in a world where he was tormented, was used, and had nothing else to live for. he couldn't continue to live in a world knowing Mizi, his shining light and savior was gone. And that he has to kill his best friend, the last one he has left.

But his plan was ripped to shreds as Ivan realized what he was doing and on instinct went to protect and save Till one more time.

After the kiss scene, Ivan chokes(?) Till after realizing everything else isn't working. and Till still doesn't fight back properly because he doesn't want to, he doesn't have that spirit anymore.. not the one Ivan saw in him when they were kids, he's tired, the thought of Ivan hating him is still in the back of his mind, he probably deserves this, and it's only right if he lets Ivan take it out on him. If Ivan wanted to kill him right now, he would let him because he cared and loved Ivan enough to. He was ready to die at Ivan's hands. (TP)

Only that's not how it goes, as soon as Ivan's hands leave him Till is disoriented. and then he is shocked, worried, confused because he didn't expect this, he realizes what is happening, that Ivan had taken the hit for him, that Ivan had once again tossed himself and his freedom to the side for Till.

And at the end of the day, Ivan is dead, and Till is left knowing he let this happen, and that he is truly alone now.

(I go over pencil.exe a little more in another post of mine if anyone is interested in reading)

#All of this is just my take so keep the rocks at bay if you happen to disagree i already have brain damage :)#alien stage #alnst till #ivantill #alien stage till #alnst #i might do this with ivan too but itll take so much longer cause bro has some baggae #fuk you ivan #ill drag myself in the dirt for this one i almsot hit my thumb with my hammer while anaylizing the meteor scene for the umpteenth time #never doing this again actually #/hj #3/31/24

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augustjustice · 6 months

Text

Pretty in Pink

AO3 Link

I am still firmly on my Stevie Harrington agenda this week, so please enjoy below Eddie's thirsty-turned-sappy thoughts about his favorite girl, inspired by @getlost0p's absolutely delightful art as well @cherrycolasteve's very cute tags.

Eddie taps the pen against his front teeth absently, eyes flitting uncomprehendingly over the various multiple choice options of his practice test. With his brain already feeling fuzzy and unfocused, it’s easy to let his gaze drift away from the page over to the girl currently sprawled out beside him–Stevie Harrington, curled up reading the X-Men comic Dustin had strong-armed her into picking up.

And, look–who could really blame him for getting a little distracted? There's a hot girl in his bed which is, admittedly, a rare enough occurrence–until shit went sideways last spring, at least–to still feel a little notable. Even if she is only there for moral support while he studies, his GED test date circling ever closer.

Stevie's wearing a striped white and pink polo with the buttons undone all the way to the bottom of the neckline and tight stonewash jeans. The absolute preppiest of prep attire, completed by the cherry-flavored chapstick shining red on her lips.

Eddie wants to kiss her stupid.

The jeans are high waisted, pulled up snug over the curve of her ass, and with Stevie rolled onto her stomach reading the comic, Eddie's getting quite the view.

Then she shifts, flopping over onto her back beside him, the movement followed by the sound of pages turning. The new position offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, a further hint of what her clingy polo is doing such a great job of highlighting.

Eddie looks. Of course he looks.

Estrogen has taken to Stevie’s figure like a duck to water. In the plush spread of her hips, making her pert ass even rounder, which Eddie would have thought was damn near impossible. And in the plumpness steadily gathering at her chest, her once defined pecs softening, giving way to the gentle swell of her breasts, which grow fuller by the day.

It’s become something of a problem for him lately–the staring.

That was true, to some extent, even before she started to transition. Stevie's always been gorgeous, and Eddie's always been aware of that fact, harboring a hopeless, from afar crush on her since they landed in the same impossible English class his first senior year and Eddie had become painfully aware of what all the Hawkins High girls were on about. Not that he would have admitted that, at the time, not even under threat of painful, agonizing death–no, the coming terms with it came later, during his spring break from hell spent realizing that Stevie Harrington was not only surprisingly sweet but a totally badass, bonafide hero.

…The whole ripping that bat apart with her teeth thing certainly didn't hurt, either.

The point is, he's always looked at Stevie, flirted with her. Probably been too obvious about it, too.

It's just that since she started to transition, it feels like he's gotten so much worse, like any subtlety he was holding on to by his fingernails has been ripped from his hands. Eddie can’t stop staring at her, the heat of embarrassment prickling his face, tongue-tied like a school boy with a crush each and every time he gets caught.

And that's the worst part of it–he does get caught, far more often than he'd like.

It’d been months, now, since the first time Stevie explicitly called him out for it–a warm Saturday in the summer when they had dragged the kids down to the arcade, trying to beat the heat with the dark, air-conditioned interior of the local nerd haunt.

Stevie had been watching Erica beat her own high score at Duck Hunt, leaned over the machine in her Daisy Duke cutoff shorts and a cropped pink jersey, ponytail swinging against her back and the scars littering her sides unashamedly on display. That’s something they had both been working themselves up to, together–not hiding their war wounds, fighting off the anxiety that came from people’s stares.

But Eddie had been staring for an entirely different reason when Stevie caught him.

As Erica ran off to ‘pummel’ Dustin after his latest Dig Dug win, Stevie propped an elbow on the abandoned game, shooting Eddie a knowing look.

“Like what you see, Munson?” she asked coyly.

Eddie’s entire face flamed with heat.

“I was just–your top!” he blurted. “I was just admiring your top, my lady. It’s…it’s cute. The pink–think that might be your color, Harrington.”

Stevie’s cheeks burned her own pretty pink to match it, then, which Eddie couldn’t help but preen about.

And if he noticed she started wearing a lot more pink around him after that, well…he tried not to read too much into it.

Just like the pretty pale pink she’s wearing today, attracting his eye and forcing Eddie to hold back a twitterpated sigh as he watches her, wrapped up in the bright primary colored pages of the X-Men

…This bullshit of his is definitely gonna get his ass kicked by Robin or Nancy, one of these days, he’s sure of it. Possibly both of them at once–Buck may just hold him down while Wheeler does what she does best.

But the truth is, it's not just about how Stevie’s figure has steadily filled out. He's not gonna lie, that's definitely part of it–but also…she just has this glow about her, now, like she's settling so happily into herself. It’s like that contentment beams out of her, radiant, in every little gesture, every giddy smile. He's drawn in by it, like Icarus with the sun, like a moth to a flame–too entranced to turn away, even if it might end up burning him in the long run.

The thing is, Stevie's beautiful, and she takes his breath away.

She’s become such an intrinsic part of his life, since everything that happened, he’s not entirely sure what he would do without her. Hell, they still share a bed, some nights–fighting back the nightmares together is always easier. And in the intervening months since that started, she's grown steadily softer beside him, curves pressing against his body where there were once hard planes and sharper angles. Her presence is no less warm and comforting than it had been from the beginning, though, her weight and smell familiar, the steady rhythm of her breathing when it finally evens out the same.

Eddie wonders if they were supposed to have stopped doing that, somewhere along the way–the sleeping together part, even though they're only doing it in the most platonic, just-friends sort of way possible. Then again, he's never put all that much stock in it, what he is and isn't supposed to be doing. Besides, how much difference could stopping really have made? Not a whole hell of a lot, in his opinion, considering they've both been bi as fuck the whole damn time.

Sharing a bed all the time doesn't really help his other problem–the staring, the thinking about Stevie's plush curves and soft skin–but that's his own shit to deal with and work out. Stevie shouldn't have to suffer through the nights alone just because Eddie can't keep his hard on for her in check.

So, yeah. He thinks she’s a knockout–of course he does–but the truth is, that’s all secondary to the way he feels about her. She’s steadily grown into one of his best friends, in the time since he’s finally gotten to actually know her. And if all he ever gets to do is look–and better yet, talk to her, bicker and joke and tease, share popcorn at movie nights crammed too close together on the Harrington’s couch and laugh at all the same stupid inside jokes–well, he considers himself honored for the privilege of it.

“What, Munson?” Stevie laughs suddenly, drawing him out of his reverie–during which he had, of course, still been staring–by smacking him lightly on the arm with her comic book.

That had been another secret, shared between them–Stevie liked the X-Men, she’d confessed, even if she couldn’t resist pretending otherwise to Dustin. She said the Mutants made her feel…seen, in a way she really hadn’t ever before.

"I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart," Eddie had agreed easily when she told him.

"Kinda figured you might, Eds,” she had shot him a soft smile, which he returned in kind.

That feeling of being seen–understood–stretched out beyond the pages of the comic book to encompass them both, the way they just fundamentally got each other.

"Mystique's got nothing on you, though," he had added with a wink, falling back on his old routine of borderline flirtation just for the pleasure of seeing her blush yet again, ducking her head as she gave his shoulder an exasperated nudge.

He blinks back to reality, finds himself looking into those same mesmerizing eyes now, big and brown and staring back at him expectantly. A smile plays at the corners of Stevie’s mouth as she puts her comic aside. Scooting closer, she reaches to give one of his test booklet pages a quick shake.

"You're supposed to be studying, you know. Believe me, I get how hard that can be, and I wasn't exactly the best in school…but I'm still like 99% sure you at least have to look at the page before you get it,” she teases. “And I haven’t got the answers to this question secretly penciled somewhere up my sleeve, promise. So, not really sure how staring at me is gonna help you here."

Eddie studies her face–the amused pink curve of her mouth, the cute little moles that dot her cheeks and throat.

That wistful sigh finally escapes him.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies on autopilot, and then, the confession rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, “you’re just so…fucking pretty.”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, he cringes, preparing to blurt out yet another apology–and then Stevie’s finger presses against his lips. When he glances at her, he finds that her whole face has lit up.

Well, fuck. If she’s gonna look at him like that, he can’t even be sorry for his big mouth.

Then, surprise of all surprises–he feels a jolt as she leans in and pecks him once on the cheek, lips smooth from her cherry chapstick.

“Thanks. You’re sweet, Eddie,” Stevie murmurs, quietly, as she pulls back. Then, her smile turns mischievous, pretty eyes giving one of her patented, exasperated eyerolls. “And good of you to finally say something about it.”

Eddie barks out a disbelieving laugh before he can help it, hiding his face for a moment between his fingers.

“Seriously, Harrington, you know you’re a total babe.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stevie agrees, a glimmer of that overconfidence she’d carried herself with in school shining out. Eddie can’t even lie–he loves it. “But a girl still likes to hear it, now and again.”

“Shit, Stevie.” Head still ducked, Eddie reaches out slowly and takes her hand, twiddling with her fingers as he looks up from beneath the fringe of his bangs. “Now that I know you want me, too–I’ll tell you anytime you want.”

Reaching forward, Stevie tucks a tuft of hair behind Eddie’s ear, not letting him hide behind the curtain of it. Then, she leans in, and this time she presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Eddie sucks in another sharp, surprised breath, finally tasting that cherry flavor for himself.

“I’m totally gonna hold you to that one, Eds,” she says, leaving their foreheads pressed gently together even once she pulls back, “so just get ready for it.”

But, then, a mere moment later, Stevie is bouncing backwards on the bed, giggling when Eddie leans in, trying to chase after her lips again. He groans as she picks up his booklet and presses it against his chest.

“You can check me out all you want later, stud,” Stevie shoots him a wink, flipping open to the page he had left off on. “But, for now…you’ve gotta get back to work.”

When she settles down beside him this time, though, she stays close, hooking her chin over his shoulder.

“And, I’ve got an idea. A tried and true method for studying. Works every time.”

“That right?” Eddie tilts his head to face her, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, lay it on me, then, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

He taps a finger lightly against her temple. The playful twinkle in Stevie’s eyes as she grins at him makes Eddie’s heart skip a bit.

“How about…I give you a kiss for every question you get right?” she murmurs, close enough her warm breath ghosts over his skin.

Eddie lets his eyes drop down to the red shine of her lips, and feels giddy, for once, knowing he can look his fill. After a long, loaded pause, he gives a sharp nod, clapping his hands together.

“You know what, Stevie? Studying never sounded so good.” Snatching up his pen again, he settles back with the test now spread across both their laps. “I’m in.”

And, this time, whenever Stevie distracts Eddie from his studies–well. At least he can tell himself it’s all in the name of a good cause.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #transfem steve harrington #steve harrington #stevie harrington #my writing #my stuff #my things #bi eddie munson #bi steve harrington

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greatooglymooglyyy · 30 days

Text

If We Were Vampires (C.S.)

summary: chris learns to look past his fear of growing up for a future with the girl of his dreams

contains: angst, lots of emotions, chris pov, 3rd person, a bit of fluff, some suggestive content, cussing, 1.5k words

“So what, Chris? You expect me to just sit around waiting for you to man up?”

“I never said you had to. If you feel like you wanna go, then go.”

Chris replays the moment over and over again as he lies in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s been a week, and he still can’t figure out what went so wrong. He doesn’t even know how it started. But then again, he doesn’t know how any of this started.

Everybody knows what he thinks about relationships. Or more accurately how much he never thinks about them. There were just a million other things he found more interesting than chasing after some fairytale of finding the one.

But then he met her. She’d come out of nowhere, like a siren in her flowy white dress, and he’d been stuck in her orbit ever since.

He tries to call her again, but the phone goes straight to voicemail. If it wasn’t for his texts going through, he’d be sure he was blocked. Frustration floods over him and he goes to make another call before realizing she is the one he’d normally call when he felt like this.

“God, I feel so stupid.” He says, sniffling and burying his face in her neck.

“It's not stupid. You’re allowed to be sad.” She replies, her voice soothing as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Over the fucking ninja turtles?” He asks, laughing a bit at himself at how dramatic he feels.

“Over your childhood coming to an end.” She supplies, pulling away so she can look him in the eyes. “You’re allowed to be scared of what comes next.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as his eyes bounce between her kind warm ones. Somehow this girl he never went looking for has become one of the only people who can talk him off the edge.

He rests his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat for a while before he speaks again.

“Come with me to what’s next," he requests quietly, a prickle of fear rising when he realizes how much he means it.

She's silent for a beat before she holds him tighter. “If you let me,” she whispers, the slightest tinge of sadness coating her words.

The only thing in his head now is her face. Her face when she lay next to him, wiping away at his tears. Her face when he’d agree to watch one of her lame shows just to see her smile. Her face before she stormed out of his house, her hand swiping over her eyes to fight back any tears. It makes him sick to think of her like that. But it makes him even sicker to know it was his fault.

He wants to go to his brothers’ room for advice but he knows what they will say and he needs to figure this out for himself. Opening up his notes app, he begins a list of pros and cons, making the title her name and typing until his fingers ache. He stares at the list, his vision going blurry with emotion. One side is so much longer, it’s almost comical and he chokes out a laugh that turns into a sob.

There’s only one thing that haunts both sides of his list and it makes his chest ache. ‘one day, I’ll lose her.’

It’s the truth no matter which way he spins it. They might get months. They might get forty years. But one day one of them will be left behind.

Chris closes his eyes, resolve taking hold of him suddenly. He might lose her eventually. But it doesn’t have to be today.

He picks his phone up to send her a voice memo, hoping against hope that she’ll listen and understand. “Hey…I tried calling but…um…I guess you don’t want to talk to me yet. Which I get.” He sighs, annoyed at himself for how bad he’s rambling.

“Listen, I’ve been an idiot. All that bullshit about labels and dating, I didn’t mean any of it. I was just scared. But I’m way more scared of letting you walk away from me. I’m ready to grow up… or at least I’m ready to try.” He pulls his finger up, letting the memo send as he cringes at his stupid way with words.

Shaking his head and letting go of whatever morsel of ego he has left, he records another message. “Anyway, if you think you can give us another shot, please come tonight. We’re still having our craft night. It will be fun. I know Nick wants to see you… and I.. I need to see you too. Let me know.”

Hours later, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter staring at the nonexistent replies in their thread when Matt walks over.

“You alright, man?” He asks, a hint of concern in his tone. He takes a spot next to his brother, peering over to see what has his attention. Matt sighs when he sees her name and places a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “You gotta stop torturing yourself.”

Chris looks up at his brother, trying and failing to hide the shine in his eyes. “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

Matt can’t quite find the words for a moment, stunned at the hurt on his brother's face. He composes himself quickly, biting his lip and shaking his head. “It’s going to be okay. She’ll come or she won’t. And then we’ll know.”

As their friends start to pile in and crowd around the table, Chris forces himself to stay in the moment. After his third time of running to the door at a knock and it not being her, he stays glued to his chair, trying to focus on his diamond painting.

He tries feebly to be a good host, making small talk and mild quips about Madi’s technique, but he’d like nothing more than to head downstairs and rot in his room.

Nick catches Matt’s eye, the two exchanging a brief “what the fuck do we do” glance before they head over to him. Nick leans over his shoulder, commenting on how hard of a pattern Chris chose but he just gives a disinterested nod in return.

Determined to make him laugh, Nick starts to go big, starting down rants that he knows Chris will love. He considers it a personal win when he hears Chris’ trademark laugh and places his hands on his brother's shoulders.

Chris looks up at his brothers, knowing despite their efforts to be sly exactly what they are doing, and gives them a small weak smile. He places his phone face down and gives his friends his full attention. There will be plenty of other nights to miss her.

“Must be the pizzas,” Nick mutters when he hears a faint knock on the door. He jogs down and swings the door open, stopping in his tracks when he sees her. A smile of relief breaks across his face and he pulls her into a tight hug, whispering a soft “thank god.”

They go up the stairs together, anxiousness taking hold of her when she spots him across the room. “Hi everyone.” She says quietly, the chatter pausing for a second as they look up at her.

They call out greetings but she doesn’t hear a word because Chris meets her eye, blinking slowly as if he’s convincing himself she’s really there. She wants to apologize. For being late, for ignoring his calls. But there are so many people here so she waits.

He wants to go to her and sweep her up in his arms. He wants to kiss her until they run out of air, make her understand exactly how much he wants this. But there are so many people here so he waits.

But it’s okay. For the first time, he’s confident that they’ve got time. For the first time, he’s relieved with how much time left there is to give her.

Tonight he’ll tell her for the first time how much he loves her. Tonight she’ll tell him back in a thousand different ways, her nails leaving small trails down his back as his skin meets hers again and again. And tonight he’ll watch her chest rise and fall until he can make himself believe she’s real.

But for now, he just breathes out a ragged breath and holds out his arms for her. So she goes to him, settling into his lap and starting a painting of her own. And even if he can’t make this last forever, he can have it now. And maybe it will even be enough.

🏷️: @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo

@clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz @luv4kozume

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littledead-ridinghood · 10 months

Note

sorry if this is a weird question to drop on you you were just the first person I thought of who might know but do you know if it's canon/canonically-based evidence that jason is physically stronger than other bats because I always see people say jason is the one with "brute strength" and I can't remember if that's based on anything besides people saying that as a nicer way to call him a brute(maybe it was on lobdells stuff? but I wiped most of those out of my memory)

You thought of me first? <333333 I'm blushing. And it's not weird at all! Even if it was, I love answering weird shit.

Anyway:

So part of Jason being considered "the muscle" of the bats comes from the fact that Jason's currently the biggest of the robins. (Adult!Damian is usually drawn as the tallest of the kids when all is said n' done (that's vague for "age")).

Well, how big then?

I always go with this chart which was released while UtRH was being released:

(I Love this! I wish DC still did little info things like this within their comics. Or maybe they do and I'm just blind. But Look! Canonical Information!)

So canonically speaking, at least when running around pre-crisis, Jason is 6 feet tall and 180 pounds. (Also note criminal mastermind and put a pin in it)

But you've probably heard 200 & 220 thrown around a lot. Those numbers are specifically pulled from two different DC character encyclopedia books which I don't trust at all because there notoriously filled with false information and are dubbed as not canon all the time.

Personally, I use the 6', 180-195 pound range which estimates for fluctuating weight, the passage of time, muscle mass, and minimum bulk & cutting (which I assume is part of most superheroes' training to stay in fighting form, but please recognize that vigilantes are more athlete than bodybuilder) because it's from a canon source (Canon is "king" and all that). No shame to people who use the other numbers or even headcanon something completely different, but again, vigilantes are predominantly running all over cities day after day, not stagnant weight lifters. Cardio vs weights body compositions are quite different even if both are healthy. (And it's not all "swimmer's body illusion" either (they have that body because they swim? No, they swim because they have that body.)

How much muscle mass a person can maximally obtain is up to your genetics. But that max only comes with constant maintainment. It's not feasible for Jason to be doing all that cardio and also have that much muscle mass and fat. Cardio burns "fat" (calories), weights build muscle. We constantly see the former and former-adjacent workouts more than the latter with him. Jason is running across rooftops, flipping off them before falling into a shoulder roll onto the next roof over chasing after bad guys every night. The number of calories he'd have to eat and time put into lifting weights (too many reps a week lead to damage, not growth) to maintain his max (max being what a lot of weights category athletes try to achieve which Jason just hasn't been shown to be (except in his jailbird phase where he could literally only lift weights, read, and avoid being killed to pass the time)) isn't possible.

Using comic art to "prove" how much he weighs doesn't work either. Firstly, because everyone wears weight differently. Two people can be the same height, weight, and sex and look completely different. This is due to different body types, composition, genetics, diet, (what kind of) exercise, and many other factors. Assuming someone thinner is automatically "super light" doesn't factor in different body compositions (fat, muscle, bone percentages). (yes, I know it's stupid to apply science to comics. There's my digression. let me live). Secondly, Jason (just like everything else about him) isn't drawn consistently at all. Sometimes he's pretty damn massive, but we also have Twink and Twunk Jason (DC can't even decide on hair color? Do you think they're gonna decide on his body?).

So, comic book art isn't super reliable as evidence unless we want to theorize if, how, and why he seems to fluctuate between weights all the time (<- Which I have a whole headcanon about if anyone's curious), especially in comparison to the others because, seriously, it's totally a Jason thing. Most characters are pretty consistent in body type. Anyway, someone could argue "See! he is 210!" but it's also not for a long enough period to stick around :/ Again, hard to consistently maintain that much weight as a 6-foot-tall, cardio-based athlete.

Also note: DC is horrible when it comes to weight-to-height lineups. A woman hero can be ~5'7'' and then we're told she's 110 lbs which Fact 1. is considered underweight for this kind of height-to-sex ratio, Fact 2. probably isn't factoring in the fact that muscle is heavier than fat, she just "looks thin", and 3. Usually, totally, absolutely is just blatant sexism.

Really, the numbers don't seriously mean anything of actual substance because their comics, are unreliable, and also usually just...scientifically wrong. But Jason's perception on page, as well as the information we've been told, is one reason he's considered "brute strength first and foremost."

Furthermore, Jason has been shown repeatedly to be on par with Bruce (even when Jason, most of the time, plays defense in their physical fights) but many people chalk this up to him and Bruce having similar physiques making it "easier". Again, counter-productive argument because Bruce and Jason have been drawn very similarly before in stories as well as completely different from each other in others. Also, this purposefully, blatantly ignores Jason's actual skills. No one chalks Dick Grayson or Cassandra Cain beating Bruce up to their body types. Moreover, when Bruce and Jason are drawn similarly in body, no one refers to Bruce as "Brute Strength" either. Bruce gets to be tactical, strategic, clever. (Also Also: In Pre-Crisis, Bruce, Dick, and Jason are deliberately drawn to look similar (height, mass, looks, etc.) to get that Brothers in Blood effect. Still, No one chalks the formers up to all strength. Just Jason)

And that brings us to your question, Anon: Is there canonical evidence for Jason being stronger than the other Bats?

Remember how I told you to put a pin in that "Occupation: Criminal Mastermind" note? Well, first off, Jason creating jobs for his community. Go off, king. Second off, and more importantly so, "Mastermind": a person who supplies the directing or creative intelligence for a project (Merriam-Webster).

When Jason was first re-introduced, what made Jason dangerous was that he was highly skilled and smart. He was playing with both Black Mask and Batman like a cat batting a toy mouse. He orchestrated an entire "slow-growing" takeover of Gotham's underworld (he was actually very quick about it). Jason controlled the situation and planned so well that he had the villains and heroes who were both after him fighting each other so he could slip away and do what he actually needed to do.

Throughout Jason's history, he's always had tools with him when he fights. To the point that Bruce says to Jaybin "You won't always have this" cutting his utility belt, insinuating he relies too much on it, which Jason returns the favor to on his return and fights B hand to hand <3 Love a cocky callback. Furthering this, he knows many, many different fighting styles and techniques both from life experience and from extensive training. Jason's a quick learner by nature and is incredibly adaptive. Guns; knives; swords; pens; sets bombs to specifically implode, not explode; makeshift gadgets; a baseball bat just laying around; a tire jack that one time; brains. I could go on. Jason doesn't just hit things. He uses what he has as a means to an end. He's canonically known as one of the best strategists in-universe and is incredibly creative with his surroundings. Jason isn't just great at extensive, long-term planning either. Bruce himself has remarked on the fact that Jason thinks incredibly quickly on his feet, he's really good at improvisation. Concisely, he has plans A-G and if all those fail, he can pull something out of nothing. Contrast this with Bruce who needs to have a plan for everything. Even if it doesn't look like he's following a plan, Bruce is. Opposed to Jason who can go with the flow and figure it out along the way.

Jason even said this in present-era in TFZ:

And that's the whole point, isn't it? Jason is strong. Incredibly so. He's big and tall and has gorgeous thighs. Not to mention, has a mean right hook. But just because Jason's strong doesn't mean he isn't a bat first and foremost who relies on his brain before anything else. He died 4'6 (on his death certificate, his height varies depending on what source you pull) and famously had to defend himself his entire life ever before being Robin. Being young and small and forced to survive shaped Jason into a quick thinker who could either get away or take enemies 10x his size down. Nowadays, he just has a longer reach.

In Event Levithan when Damian says: "Jason Todd is one of the Great Master fighters of all time" He doesn't say strongest because Damian doesn't mean strongest. Damian means adaptable, smart, capable, and well-rounded in skill.

While I don't doubt that Jason is most definitely one of the strongest Bats due to his size, what makes Jason dangerous is not his body, but the fact that he knows how to use it. It's not "Brute Strength" as many people like to say, it's Strategic Strength. He knows just because he's stronger than someone doesn't mean he'll always win. A la see panels above. Jason knows throwing his body around won't do anything of real, long-term substance. That it's just blindsided and stupid.

I'm sure if I looked I could pull panels where other bats and/or vigilantes refer to Jason as the muscle, brute (strength), all brawn (no brain), other such implications, etc, but whenever people do, it's always to undermine Jason's skill. Because it's not actually about his strength. Jason, with his taller, more built form, makes walking quiet seem easy. And it looks easy because he's good. Jason himself knows his skill set, it's everyone else that undermines him time and time and time again. (Again, Event Levithan, Bruce doesn't agree with Damian's statement even though Jason just outsmarted the six or so people who all just tried to take him down (for something Jason didn't even do, mind you))

But, again from Damian, Jason's not known as "the muscle," he's "the emotional one" also usually used to...degrade Ja--We can't have anything nice apparently is what I'm saying. But yes, when people refer to Jason as "Brute Strength" it's usually them trying to find a nicer way of saying Brute or "thinks with his fists" or "Jason hits first, asks questions later." It's in the same vein as when people say "Jason likes books" as short-hand for "see, he's smart at something" rather than acknowledging that Jason achieved a degree's worth of knowledge in comp-sci by age 13.

Anyway Smart and Strong Jason, my beloved. I wish DC & others loved you as much as Rosenburg and the teams of artists he's been working with do.

#jason todd #jason todd meta #every thought I have has a 2nd secret thought behind it and I've been trying to be better about not rittling my metas w 2nd thought->(...)

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scarletevening · 4 months

Text

STARTERS [ SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY ]

cw: none, strangers to lovers, first meeting, not beta read, might be military inaccuracies because im not in the military, medic! fem!reader. notes: i've worked so hard [exaggeration] to make this look cute but ik its gonna devolve in 0.5 seconds. this is part one of a series. words: 1,065.

"This won't be easy."

A fair warning, a meager one too, from your new, technically, superior, Kate Laswell. You had accepted her offer as a combat medic, seeing as their next mission was supposed to take months. But those months weren't even this year, they were the next.

This year, it was your mission to become familiar with your crew, have a starter and a taste.

Considering you've dealt with plenty of irritable, ill-mannered patients in the E.D. before, it shouldn't feel so stuffy when you enter the base. You I.D. card was scanned, and you were permitted entry past the intimidating security guard who's eyes nailed you like you were his prey. You might've been.

Heels clacking, you rushed to your new office,

MEDICAL WING

A sign read, in red, right above your head. You wanted to feel like you were walking into a new life, but the stares and exhausted attempts at a smile the veteran nurses tossed you made a breath you didn't realize you were holding leave.

Luckily, offices were assigned, and yours was on the first floor.

Empty and quite sad, you tossed your backpack and purse onto your desk, which didn't even have a chair, and put your hands on your hips. Laswell had told you that they wouldn't be back until evening, it was morning.

It felt like walking into your first job, gingerly taking your steps to the staff lounge where you introduced yourself to the nurses who were lounging. They returned the gesture graciously, luckily understanding of your nerves.

Soon enough, your actual superior came to greet you, smiling and laughing with the rest of the staff as she raved about you. As soon as basic information was given, you were tossed out of your nest, bidding you a good flight. The ED never waits for anyone after all.

⚬

As your first day ended and your night began, you sat in your office, which you finally got a chair for, to sift through paperwork. Boring things never really last for long, and as much as you'd like to one-go your work, it definitely wasn't happening. Especially when your sweet nurses and the other doctors bombarded into your office, playfully asking, more like dragging, you to come with them to the mess hall.

It's impolite to say no, isn't it?

It was fun. It was like being in high school again, smiling and giggling before everyone leans into to whisper, bursting back out into laughter. Oh, and it was juicy. Real juicy, juicier when they mentioned him.

"Ghost?"

You ask, tilting your head as you raise a brow, "What kinda' callsign's that?" There was a strange inkling of familiarity of the name, just right under your nose. The nurse who was telling the story went wide-eyed, grinning at you,

"Oh, honey, he's the one with the skull mask."

The mask. The fucking mask.

Everyone could see it, how you face paled like snow, your head dropping as you gawked at them. They all laughed at your reaction, it was quite comical, though they found it funnier for reasons different than yours, teasing, "I haven't even said the story yet!"

Well, Laswell did. God, were you stupid? He was from Task Force 141! They all, allegedly, saw him in the gym, allegedly lifting double his weight, and allegedly you were blushing at the idea of the number, allegedly. And that was essentially the whole story. The nurse beside you poked as he cooed at you,

"Aw, does the doctor have a crush on her first day?" Laughing as you smacked his arm playfully, a stupid grin on all of your faces. The conversation moves on, talking about the soldiers that got into a fight, and how funny it was when one got a rhinoplasty. It felt like you were half-present, like a fever dream as your thoughts swirled together. Maybe your shift was a little too long.

But you couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating?

You couldn't stop thinking about him, your fork spinning the lukewarm pasta as you blandly laughed with your caffeine-high colleagues. Was he really that fascinating? Your mind ran with every though, you hadn’t even seen him today, and yet here you were imagining him, strong, tall, muscular. And of high status? he sure seemed like the pear most imaginative women would like.

But you can't expect him to be a perfect romance lead, especially the more you listened, seeing as he was quite the topic.

Everyone else seemed to just know him, know him in the sense that he was a figure of admiration. The strongest, the fastest, the most intricate, coolest man on one of the greatest task forces affiliated. They knew every little intricate detail of his service. But you didn’t. You don’t even know what they mean by a ‘skull mask’, was it a full skul? does he do face paint like a 3-year-old? You've never seen him, not that you were reluctant to the chance to.

Maybe you were insane, especially since there was the entire rest of the task force for you to get familiar with too. Well, he was one of them so you should go one by one, right—

"Ya' like to talk, dinnea ya?"

You twitched at the voice, "Scottish," You thought to yourself, "John 'Soap' MacTacvish." Laswell had some comments about him, mostly about his inability to speak understandable English, and his refusal to get a military standard haircut, aka he has a mohawk. But it wasn't just the Scot, the devil answered when his name was called.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

It was almost as if he knew who you were the moment your eyes met, like a fuse set off between you. Brown eyes, deep like dark chocolate, and cold like the tundra, and more magnetic than any other man you've ever seen, he stared at you, speaking to his friend,

"Seems like they do, Johnny."

Gravelly and low, almost inaudible if it weren't for your fixated ear, his voice whispered to Soap, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap, or Johnny as Ghost had so endearingly called him, grinned, plopping beside you,

"Aye, yer that new medic Laswell's been talkin' 'bout?"

You blink a couple times before you smile, nodding as you introduce yourself. Soap smiles back, polite yet inked with a bit of his eccentric personality, taking your hand into a firm shake. You smile up at the masked figure,

"You must be Ghost, right?"

He gave a bland grunt, not that you expected much more from a quiet man. Soap grinned, ignoring Ghosts lack of proper manners to introduce himself. With small conversation, they left, almost.

Although he walked away, he never left your mind, and you never left his.

⚬ ☠︎︎ ⚬

i think i'm just gonna set the reader to female bc ik i'm eventually gonna do suggestive bits so it'll be easier in the long run. lmk if you have any ideas for simon. [or the others i wrote about!!] also lmk if i should make a taglist. [part two]

EYES THAT HOLD SECRETS

directory

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anto-pops · 1 year

Text

Inherent Desires - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: After a draining week away from home with his fellow Aurors, the last thing Sebastian wants to do is sit through a damn dinner party with all of them in London. Lucky for him, your presence at the event gives him the perfect opportunity to do more entertaining things, like work you into a frenzy at the table.

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian wanting to go home and roll around in the sheets with you, but since he can't he settles for fucking you downstairs in his boss's house

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, mild voyeurism

I wrote this under the influence of Covid so don't look at it too closely. Full fic can be found here on Ao3!

Sebastian wanted to go the fuck home.

He hadn’t even wanted to attend his boss’s stupid dinner party. Hauling ass all the way to London didn’t sound remotely appealing to him, especially when he’d only just arrived home from Poland the night before. It was well after midnight when he’d apparated into the living room of your shared home, exhausted and craving your familiar embrace like a man denied water. You’d been asleep though, and before he had the chance to reacquaint himself with your body earlier that morning, he’d received the summons for a celebratory feast in his squad’s honor.

Why they needed to further celebrate taking down a dragon fighting ring, he didn’t know. His work was cut out for him despite the completed assignment; it just meant more paperwork, more meetings, and evidently more formalities that he didn’t care to entertain. You had convinced him to attend– if only because the whole soiree was in his honor. Sebastian’s absence would have been apparent and awkward to address later down the line.

You’d told him he could grouse all he wanted, and Merlin— was he succeeding. His arms were crossed loosely across his chest while he sat back in his seat, eagerly awaiting the end of the night with his lips pursed and his brows furrowed. Sebastian’s expression might have come across as focused and domineering to everyone else, but to you it just looked downright irate. His boss had to be getting to him after weeks of working together so closely.

How did the saying go again? Familiarity breeds contempt, or something like that. It seemed to fit the situation to a ‘T’.

No rational thinking could change the fact that Sebastian didn’t want to be here. Especially with you seated beside him looking ten different kinds of seductive.

You were positively ravishing. Donned in the silky, forest green dress that Sebastian had gifted you this morning, the material clung to your feminine frame like a glove and left little to the imagination. He wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over you– to finally satiate the undeniable urge to sheathe himself in your tight core once again. The most he’d been able to do was help you get dressed earlier, and the seductive drag of his fingers up your spine as he zipped you up had been enough to make his intentions clear to you.

There was a time and a place, however, and you’d told him as much with a sultry look before heading outside to the carriage. Since then, he was having a hard time focusing on anything else.

From his seat next to you, he could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and the low hum of your ancient magic charged the air and made his hair stand on end. Sebastian had to dig his nails into the upholstery of his seat to refrain from touching you openly. The smell of your perfume was like an aphrodisiac after seven long, grating days spent away from it. Nevermind the flush on your cheeks from all the wine you’d consumed; it made you look all the more alluring, and the half-chub he’d been sporting was quickly becoming something bigger and more bothersome.

Sebastian considered his next move carefully, glancing around the comically large dinner table fit for a villain before he turned his attention back to you. Your arm was outstretched to accept another generous serving of red wine, your lips curling into a practiced smile as you murmured a low, “Thank you.”

Marlowe Selwyn, the host of the evening, chose that moment to charm away everyone’s dirty plates and replace the picked apart main course with an extravagant looking cake in the center of the table. Your eyes were wider than saucers as you took in the impressive sight, and Sebastian smiled despite his sour mood. Sometimes suffering through these things was worth it to see you so easily pleased. He knew you had a wicked sweet tooth.

He did too, if he was being honest, but the sudden realization that he would rather have you for dessert hit him like a steaming train, and his cock twitched in his trousers enthusiastically.

“Once again, a grand toast to Sallow’s squad for a job well done in Poland,” Marlowe announced, his bald head glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. The wine had to be warming him up thoroughly. “I’ve always had high expectations for you all and you never fail to impress. Here’s to many more successes in the near future, cheers.”

You lifted your glass in solidarity, watching as all the Auror’s around the table did the same as they hooted and hollered their agreements, when you suddenly felt a broad hand plant itself on your thigh.

When you glanced up, Sebastian was staring at you with a blank expression, but there was no way you missed the mischievous glint in his eyes. You shot him a sideways look of your own, biting your tongue to stifle a quip, but the brunet only huffed out an airy laugh under his breath. You brought your wine glass back to your lips to take a generous sip and school the building tension in your shoulders. It was pointless, however, seeing as Sebastian started to drag his fingers up your leg to gather the material of your dress into a balled heap.

You knew exactly what he was trying to do, and the thought made you flush deeper and shudder nervously. While your lower half was concealed by the table, there would be no hiding your reactions to Sebastian’s touch if he continued. Once he’d haphazardly pushed the majority of your dress up your legs to expose his target, you visibly tensed and dropped one of your own hands to grip his, anxiously looking around the room at the slew of tipsy Ministry officials who were none the wiser to Sebastian’s horny antics at the far end of the table.

Sebastian licked his lips in a bid to hide his cheshire-like smile while he watched you, noting your sharp intake of breath when he cautiously ventured closer to your nether region. Your back seemed to go rigid at the sudden attention, and he felt your nails dig into the skin at his wrist when he finally pressed his middle finger against your thin undergarments, sparing a quick glance down the row of seats to ensure he hadn’t been discovered. Marlowe was still talking, and his co-workers were preoccupied with watching him cut the massive cake, which meant he was in the clear for the time being.

Your wine glass shook in your hand when Sebastian trailed his finger down to seek out the tiny bundle of nerves at your center, causing you to whip your head to the side to stare at him unblinkingly. Your voice was low when you hissed out, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He shot back easily with a knowing smirk.

“It looks like you’re being incredibly careless. Knock it off, this isn’t the time–” you were cut off by your own gasp when he finally planted the tip of his finger against your aching core, rubbing firm, teasing circles around your clit through the cotton of your panties. You felt your face heat up as you shifted your hips back in an attempt to pull away from the abrupt pleasure, but Sebastian followed you easily. There was virtually nowhere for you to go to escape his brazen ministrations.

“What about you, Mrs. Sallow?” You heard Marlowe ask from the other side of the table, and you jumped slightly in your seat from having been quickly roped back into the moment at hand. “Have you given any further thought to my offer?”

Sebastian stilled his movements– just barely– so that he could glare fixedly at his boss. You had no idea what the man was even referring to, but clearly your husband did. Swallowing thickly, you released Sebastian’s wrist to gingerly set your wine glass down on the table, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Sorry… what offer?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten! I’m referring to the Auror position– for you to join our ranks in the Ministry. Your abilities are squandered, my dear. Think of all the good work we could accomplish with the help of your ancient magic.”

Oh, right. That offer.

It wasn’t the first time Marlowe had pitched the Auror title to you, and something told you it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your answer had never changed though; becoming an Auror was something you had decided against a long time ago, preferring to maintain your freedom to travel where you wanted, when you wanted. Besides, your exploration of ancient magic sites was far from complete, and with so much left to discover and unearth, you found yourself shaking your head through the lustful fog that clouded your mind.

It was far too difficult to keep your voice steady when Sebastian started pressing down on your clit again. Your voice was tight as you squeezed your knees together under the table, but he didn’t let that stop him. “I apologize, Mr. Selwyn, but I’m afraid my answer is still the same.”

Marlowe’s beady eyes narrowed scrupulously, and his lips pursed with obvious disappointment, but he gave you a firm nod all the same. “I see. Well… should you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were certain he didn’t mean for the statement to come out so suggestive, but you simply gave him a curt nod before turning your attention to your lap. The veins in Sebastian’s hands were swollen and apparent, his irritation with his boss palpable, but he rewarded your indifferent reply with a quick swipe up your dampening folds, and you had to bite your lip to refrain from moaning in earnest. This was a game you were quickly losing, and the growing fire in your gut was as intoxicating as it was sobering.

You were petrified of being discovered.

“Are you alright, dear? You look rather ill,” another one of Sebastian’s squad members asked you from across the table. You were positive you’d met the man before, but his name escaped your memory completely. In fact, your mind was utterly blank of any prudent information– save for the acute placement of Sebastian’s long, cunning fingers.

Dozens of heads swiveled in your direction to scrutinize your seemingly ‘ill’ appearance, and you hastily shoved Sebastian’s hand away from between your legs and tugged your dress down. “Yes, I’m fine. I suppose the wine is starting to get to me– please excuse me for a moment.”

You didn’t wait to gauge your husband’s reaction. Instead you swiftly stood from your seat, offering a polite smile to Marlowe and the rest of the attendees before you strode out of the dining room to head for the downstairs restroom. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble stairs filled the foyer– betraying your hurried pace and giving away just how desperate you were for a modicum of privacy. You shouldered the door open and closed it quickly, latching the lock into place before you turned to stare at your reflection.

Shit.

As if wine could make you look so frazzled. You were scarlett from head to toe, and your dress was mildly wrinkled in the areas Sebastian had bunched up and shoved out of the way to play with you. A nagging voice in the back of your mind threatened to brutalize him for nearly humiliating you in front of all his co-workers, but a louder, much needier voice was suddenly demanding that you leave with him to go home and make him finish what he’d started.

Up until now, you’d been fairly surprised with Sebastian’s restraint. You knew he was as eager as you were to fool around after such an abrupt and grating business trip, but he’d seemingly been on his best behavior all evening. You should have known his patience would run out before you even left London. He was way too predictable.

The distinct sound of a lock being charmed open reached your ears, and you stepped further into the dimly lit bathroom to prematurely glare at who you already knew had come searching for you. Sebastian poked his head through the entryway first, grinning diabolically when he caught sight of your unkempt appearance before stepping through the threshold and shutting the door– all without taking his dark eyes off of you.

“You have some gall, you know that?” You immediately started in on him, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction while you raked your other hand through your hair. “Have you gone completely mad? Are you trying to embarrass us both?”

Sebastian adjusted the flared collar of his Auror coat with a smug expression on his face, shrugging nonchalantly as he leaned against the closed door. “I don’t think you realize how good you look tonight.”

“That’s hardly an excuse–”

“Yes it is. You’re distracting me. As soon as I got home last night, all I wanted was to be inside of you– frankly it’s unacceptable that I haven’t been yet. Then you go and wear something like this and expect me to eat Selwyn’s shitty dessert? I’d much rather have you.”

“I– but– you gave me this dress,” you stammered out indignantly, which only served to make Sebastian chuckle.

“I did, and you look radiant, make no mistake. I suppose it’s my own fault for insisting you wear it tonight.” He stepped away from the door, the predatory glint in his eyes deepening as he moved to plant himself directly behind you facing the mirror. “I thought I’d be able to hold off until later, but I don’t see that happening anymore.”

You watched through the reflection as Sebastion wound his strong arms around your midsection, tugging you flush against his chest so he could run his hands up your front. The closer he got to your breasts, the shallower your breathing became, and you reached behind yourself to place your palms against the brunet’s toned legs in an attempt to ground yourself. “S-Sebastian, not here. Merlin– what if Marlowe comes looking and walks in?”

He lowered his head to nuzzle his lips against your thunderous pulse, pressing wet, chaste kisses along the slender column of your neck. Once he found one of your pert nipples through the silky material draped over you and pinched lightly, your restraint started to slip away.

Then again, had it really been there in the first place? Your resolve where Sebastian was concerned was always about as strong as wet tissue paper. He knew exactly what buttons to press to get what he wanted from you, and you rarely had any complaints to voice after the fact– save for when he was acting like a complete prat in the process.

“If he does, then he’ll be the luckiest bastard alive for all of two seconds before I kill him.”

“Sebastian!”

“I’m joking, darling. I do hate the way Selwyn speaks to you, though. He’s too familiar with you for my liking.” He looked up at your flustered self staring wide-eyed at him in the mirror, dropping one of his hands to the space between your legs while the other trailed higher to curl around your throat, and your stomach flipped over on itself from the possessive hold he had on you. Sebastian’s hand tightened a fraction to press your head against his shoulder, leaving you arched deliciously across the front of his torso– and he swore up and down he wouldn’t be able to hold back, even if he wanted to. “Let me fuck you here. I’ll be so good to you, I promise. To hell with the party, we can leave right after.”

Your pulse fluttered beneath Sebastian’s broad hand as you sucked in a shaky breath, watching with rapt interest as his wandering fingers began tugging up the green fabric of your dress once again. The urge to stop him was nowhere to be found despite the circumstances, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you willed your brain to function rationally. “By that logic we could just leave now and spare ourselves the embarrassment of being caught. The carriage is literally waiting outside.”

Sebastian tugged your head back a smidge further to give himself easier access to lave his hot tongue along the shell of your ear, drawing a shiver from you that he felt reverberate through your prone form. “That line of thinking is flawed– I would still have to wait in that case, and if I have to wait any longer I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

Shifting your feet to better support yourself, the tiny movement allowed your backside to rub perfectly against Sebastian’s painfully hard cock. You hadn’t doubted him in the slightest when he said he was impatient, but feeling his arousal pressed against your ass made his predicament all the more apparent, and you couldn’t help the slight smile that broke out across your face when his strained breathing fanned across your temple.

“Gods, do you want me to beg? Because I will, I’ll get on my knees for you here and now. Please darling– please let me– I need you so badly, you have no clue.”

The entire time he was talking, his hips were rocking against you– shamelessly deriving his own pleasure from the friction the movement provided. The entire display really had no business being so attractive, especially considering you were literally locked in Marlowe Selwyn’s downstairs bathroom. Much as you’d expected, however, Sebastian was working you into a tizzy with sorely little effort, and you were as keen to feel him as he was to feel you.

Sebastian hoisted your dress up your legs slowly, taking his time and observing your every reaction in the mirror with an intensity that made your head spin. “You’re certifiably insane, but fine,” you relented, dragging one of your hands in front of you to gingerly grasp Sebastian’s forearm. “We have to be quick though, I really don’t want anyone to come looking.”

With your dress hiked up mostly out of the way, Sebastian had enough leeway to run his palms up your bare stomach, gently scratching his nails along the soft, smooth skin as he went. “The absolute last thing I want to do is rush through this… you know I like to take my time.”

“Then save the rest of your horny fantasies for after we get home. Unless you secretly want someone to walk in on us. Are you that eager for your boss to see your cock?”

You felt Sebastian’s deft hand scale down towards your aching center once more– only this time he slipped the appendage under the thin cotton of your underwear, and his fingers were instantly met with your pooling slick. He practically guffawed at your taunt and flashed you a cunning smirk through the mirror, “Now who’s certifiably insane?”

“Still you. This was your idea, remember?”

He chuckled darkly against your ear as he finally slid one of his slender digits through your sopping wet folds, and the shaky breath you let out was like music to his ears. Your lips parted around a moan as he began working you open on his finger, your grip on his arm tightening just barely to keep yourself upright as you practically melted against his chest. Sebastian set an even rhythm, focusing intently on getting as deep within you as he could given the precarious angle, but he was utterly adoring watching you fall apart in the reflection of the mirror. There was no chance he would risk moving you around and lose his opportunity to witness your pleasure so closely.

Trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your exposed shoulder, Sebastian curled his finger inside your pulsing heat, pressing and twisting expertly inside of your familiar core to prepare you for what you both desperately wanted. Your airy whimpers bounced off the marble walls of the bathroom, imbuing Sebastian with a vigor that had his cock twitching avidly against your ass.

“I’ll make you feel so good, darling,” Sebastian murmured directly in your ear, subtly withdrawing his finger before plunging back in with a second. A keening whine slipped from your throat as you wriggled your hips back onto his fingers, the wet sounds reaching your ears and making you flush impossibly further. “I’ve wanted this since I left last week– you’re so fucking perfect, Merlin, the things you do to me…”

Sebastian’s praises had you sighing loudly, your resolve a thing of the past as you took in the sinful scene playing out in the mirror. His strong arm draped across your front to hold your throat effectively caged you to him, and his imposing stature behind you dwarfed you in comparison. At this point in your adult lives, he towered over you, and some inherent, primal part of you loved that fact.

Everything transpiring was almost enough to lull the two of you into a slower, more sensual pace, until the distinct sound of heavy footsteps from down the hall had you both tensing in place. You let go of Sebastian’s arm to cover your mouth, not trusting yourself to remain quiet without some help– especially because your husband didn’t stop finger fucking you. The conniving bastard flashed you a grin that said it all; he didn’t give a single shit if anyone heard you.

Maybe he really was an exhibitionist.

The footsteps got closer, closer, until they bypassed the bathroom entirely and continued further down the hall to enter a different room. You exhaled a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding and let your hand slide away from your mouth, fixing Sebastian with a sharp look despite your disheveled appearance.

“Please Sebastian, hurry up,” you managed to squeak out through your tight throat. The pressure building in your gut was borderline torturous, and a wanton moan tumbled from your wine stained lips when he scissored his fingers right before he curled them again, fuck–

“Are you that worried about being caught?” He mused, his mouth watering hungrily when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

“Yes,” you whispered against his heated skin. “J-Just– come on–”

Sebastian raised his shoulder to jostle you out of your hiding spot, swiftly capturing your lips in a desperate kiss that made your knees tremble and left your mind blank. His tongue delved deep in your mouth, tangling with your own as he swallowed every tiny mewl his fingers pulled from you. As much as he loved the prospect of teasing you, he was impatient too. Not as a result of being discovered— but because it had already been an entire week since he’d been inside of you— and the phantom feeling had haunted his every waking moment in Poland.

Licking his lips, his dark eyes hot with pure lust, Sebastian pulled his fingers from your throbbing cunt and carefully walked you forward so your hip bones were pressed against the bathroom counter. You felt his hands trail up your waist to tug down your undergarments, letting them fall around your ankles haphazardly. It seemed to pain him to step away, but he did it anyway to undo his belt and release his cock from the confines of his trousers and briefs altogether. It sprung free and he moved directly behind you once more, the lush feeling of his girthy member settling between your cheeks enough to make you twitch your hips back in a silent invitation.

Sebastian’s broad hands found your hips again, hastily moving your dress out of the way so he could grip you with a strength that had your mouth drying out instantly. “Do you think you can keep quiet or should I cast a silencing charm just in case?”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you growled over your shoulder at him. His throaty laugh was his only reply before you felt his weight settle over your back, his lips pressing soothingly against your shoulder as he slowly and carefully spread you open with his thick cock.

“F-Fuck, darling– you’re so warm–” he grit through his clenched teeth, barely restraining himself as he bottomed out and slid his sweaty palms up your body to feel along the sensual curve of your waist. Having the good grace to give you a second to adjust, Sebastian’s labored breathing filled the room, and your head fell forward between your shoulders at the overwhelming fullness you felt. “Is it okay?”

“Gods, yes–” you gasped out as he ground into you slightly. “Were you always this big?”

That was all he needed to hear for his patience to evaporate into thin air.

Sebastian’s hold on you tightened as he abruptly set to filling you in short, quick thrusts, using your hips as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. His eyes damn near crossed at the feeling— instilling you with the willpower to meet him halfway— and you started rocking back into him with stuttering, panting breaths as your eyes fluttered shut. For a few heated moments, all that could be heard were both of your throaty moans echoing off the bathroom walls, coupled with your needy pleas for “More, Sebastian, more,” which in turn had your lover growling as he started fucking you harder and deeper.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was fucking intoxicating. You threw your head back with your eyes clenched shut, biting your lip to stifle a groan, and Sebastian took full advantage of your closer proximity to grab a fistful of your hair and yank you back towards him. His other hand stayed planted firmly on your hip, holding you steady as he railed into you in search of that magic spot that he knew would reduce you to a boneless heap. All you could do was grip the rim of the sink and pray to whatever higher power existed that you would make it through the night without being branded a harlot by your husband’s co-workers.

Leaning down to bite at the side of your neck, you heard and felt Sebastian’s raspy command against your sweat-slick skin, “Open your eyes and watch me fuck you– watch how good you look taking my cock– come on sweetheart, open those pretty eyes for me, please?”

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that?

You cracked open your bleary eyes to find Sebastian’s carnal expression fixed solely on you over your shoulder. The red flush that covered you from head to toe was offset by the dark green coloring of your dress, and your hair was beyond messy gathered in Sebastian’s unrelenting vice grip. In turn, he looked positively animalistic; still decked out in his Auror uniform, his appearance was incredibly striking, and the fire that burned behind his eyes was as commanding as it was reverent. He broke eye contact briefly to look down between you both– enamored with the way you seemed to suck his cock in deeper with every hurried thrust– and when he glanced back at your half-hooded eyes taking in the sight of him, he felt a pang of arousal shoot straight to his core.

“Merlin, you’re gorgeous. You look so pretty with my cock in you, darling,” Sebastian all but purred at your reflection, and the broken moan his comment elicited from you left him grinning like a madman. Your thighs shook with the intensity of your mounting pleasure, and he made a show of releasing your hip to drag his hand sensually down the front of your dress again. “You love it, don’t you? Being filled up by me with dozens of people around? You’re doing so good, I missed this– I missed you.”

The pointed thrust Sebastian bestowed on you did you both a slew of favors. Your eyes went wide and rolled closed as the head of his cock brushed past that hypersensitive spot deep within you, and your mouth fell open as a loud, unconcealed cry snaked its way up your throat. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you heard as Sebastian moaned at the way you squeezed around him, ramming his hips against you faster in a bid to fuck your orgasm out of you in rough, claiming thrusts.

Sebastian’s name fell from your lips again, muffled by your hand, and your legs quaked under you as you were rendered limp against the countertop. Your nails dug into the sides of your cheeks as you frantically looked towards the door– the knowledge that any one of the people here could walk in and find you setting your teeth on edge in ways you’d never anticipated. A deep rooted groan slipped through your fingers as you chanced a look over your shoulder at your husband with desperate eyes.

At this point, Sebastian knew your tells almost better than he knew his own. He released your hair from his fist to plaster himself to you, pounding his cock into your wet heat as he whispered, “Are you close, darling? Want to come?”

Nodding brainlessly, you gasped into your hand before you ripped it away from your face and slapped it against the counter, your nails scrambling to find purchase atop the smooth surface. You were getting close– so close– but you didn’t trust yourself not to wail out for more, so you just trembled beneath Sebastian and hoped that he could feel your looming finish.

His strong fingers flexed and dug into your hip as his other hand crept lower under your bent torso, seeking out your soaked clit expertly, and as soon as he found it, there was little time for you to brace yourself for the tight circles he brutally bestowed upon you.

“F-Fuck, fuck,” you cried out, eternally grateful to be half-laying on the countertop, because there was no fucking way your legs could support you through the blissful haze that clouded your mind. “Sebastian, please–”

It was too much. Your breath caught in your throat as you shivered, whining against the cool marble finish beneath you as Sebastian rammed into you, timing his thrusts with his fingers at your throbbing center. The filthy, wet sounds emanating from between the two of you made his head go completely empty, and he sank his teeth into your shoulder to stifle his own lustful groans as his hand between your legs picked up its pace.

“Come for me, love– come on my cock, please, I need you to,” Sebastian fucking whimpered against the spit-slick imprint of his teeth, and the tenor to his voice told you he was right there on the cusp with you.

The pressure from his fingers and his rough pace was more than enough to send you spiraling, and when you finally came, it took everything in you not to scream Sebastian’s name at the top of your lungs. You rode out the pulses of ecstasy with your tongue clamped between your teeth to fight the noises that threatened to give you both away, but the brunet had no such qualms and pumped into your tightening walls once, twice, then came with a guttural moan that echoed off the walls of the bathroom.

Sebastian muttered your name softly as he sucked in shaky breaths after a moment, rocking his hips into you until he’d emptied himself completely and you were nothing more than a frail, twitching heap under him. Your overstimulated walls seemingly clamped around him even more when he leaned forward to pepper featherlight kisses against your temple, wringing mind-bending waves of pure rapture from him until it started to hurt from how sensitive he was.

Sliding out of you with a contented sigh, Sebastian dotingly ran his hands down your sides to stir you from your post-coital stupor. You lifted your head to blearily stare at him through the mirror, doing your best to commit his fucked-out appearance to memory– and ironically, he seemed to be doing the same.

“What do you think?” He asked you after a few heated seconds. “Do you think anyone heard?”

He may as well have doused you with a bucket of ice water. You didn’t even want to consider the possibility.

Miraculously, you found the strength to push yourself off the counter with quivering arms, grateful that Sebastian was there to steady you on your near boneless legs. “I’d rather not stay and find out, to be honest,” you murmured under your breath, and he chuckled as he brought his hands up to rake through his curly, mused hair.

“Fine by me,” he acquiesced quickly. “What do you say we bail and continue this at home? Preferably horizontally.”

This man and his one-track mind… you had to fight your smile with everything in you. “Don’t you think you should say something to Marlowe first?”

Sebastian scoffed as he stuffed his softening cock back in his trousers, then bent down to gently tug your underwear up your shaky legs. “Say what? ‘Thanks for holding us hostage for another day after practically living together for a week’ or ‘Sorry for fucking my wife in your downstairs bathroom, have a great night’? Doesn’t sound very appealing to me.”

“Fair enough… Irish goodbye then?”

Sebastian’s grin split his face as he cocked his head to the side, affectionately working to fix up your hair. He let his fingers trail smoothly along your jaw until they were under your chin, tilting your head up towards him so he could kiss you with zeal that left you excited to return home. The way his lips molded to yours was tantamount to perfection, and you knew then and there that you would agree to anything he asked of you. You’d missed him far too much to deny him a damn thing.

“Irish goodbye,” he agreed coyly.

You let Sebastian clean you up a bit more before he led you out of the bathroom and through the foyer, ignoring the direction of the dining room entirely in favor of the front door. Quieter than mice, the two of you escaped into the chilly night, laughing at the sheer absurdity of your antics the entire ride home. Sebastian’s wandering hands distracted you brilliantly for the bulk of the journey, and by the time you made it home, your earlier concerns had dissipated fully from your mind.

You never did find out if Mr. Selwyn or his party-goers were privy to your escapades after that, and quite truthfully, you didn’t think you ever wanted to find out.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female! reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow oneshot #my writing #you're married to Sebastian in this cause fuck it we ball #if you see any inconsistencies in this no you don't okay I had the brain power of a walnut while writing this

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happy74827 · 5 months

Text

Happy Accidents

[Todd Ingram x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You might've broken your leg due to Todd, but that didn't mean you couldn't still have quality time together.

WC: 2672

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

This was such a random plot I came up with, but I’m actually in love with it. I feel that this little one-shot is 100% Todd accurate (I say little but it’s literally 2k words lol).

Also, please don’t send the vegan police after me for my inaccuracies (lmao). Google was my only option 😭😭

『••✎••』

Spending time at the hospital wasn’t the plan you had in mind for your Friday night. You expected it with you curled up on your couch watching whatever crappy reality show that was airing with Todd by your side.

He was always the perfect person to binge with; his reactions were an endless source of sarcastic commentary. It actually made it funnier.

But you couldn't be too upset. You still had Todd, and you had… some television. Sure, it wasn’t 90 Day Fiancé, but it was better than nothing.

Usually, when it came to broken legs, you were at the hospital for two hours. Two. Hours. Not you, of course. Your boyfriend had to be a vegan and have those whacked-out powers. It was a given that there’d be an accident.

Who knew a flying amp could be so hard to catch?

At least you didn't have a concussion. The only injury was your leg, but your leg was completely messed up. Three different fractures in your femur and a torn ligament. It was the most you had ever been injured in your life, including all those times you fell off your bike or when you broke your arm in third grade.

The doctors at the hospital said that they couldn't let you leave until Monday. Surgery was also still on the table and could happen as early as tomorrow, which you definitely weren’t paying for

So, you were stuck in the hospital, eating the terrible hospital food and watching stupid television.

And the worst part about all of this was that it was slowly taking your mind off of Todd.

It was only the last couple months when the two of you started dating. Neither of you were exactly serious or anything, but you had feelings.

He was a big guy and a real sweetheart, not to mention a badass with those powers of his. It was obvious that he had a good heart, and he didn't take shit from anybody. That included you.

You had to admit that it was cute when he got jealous. He never had to worry, though. You were never interested in guys like him. You had your eye on Todd, and now you were stuck in a hospital bed because of him.

Now that it was just a memory, the moment you broke your leg was pretty comical. Envy needed a rehearsal before their band went out on tour the following week, and since you and Todd planned the night out together, you attended their quick practice.

As usual, they were awesome. You were like a little fangirl when Envy started singing. You kept your cool, though, sitting on the couch while they ran tempo and entrances. You weren't paying too much attention either, until you heard a voice and turned your head.

Lynette, the drummer, apparently had a very salty day and decided to pick fights with Envy’s ideas. She even suggested that she should learn how to write songs. That was a big no-no when it came to Envy, and it was made very clear that it would be her last comment for the day.

It was a blur, really. Envy and Lynette were throwing insults at each other, and Todd was caught in the middle of it. He was pretty bad at confrontation when it didn’t technically involve him and so he usually let it slide, but something about Lynette had pissed him off this time.

You could still remember the words he said.

"You know what I hate about you? Your hair."

You giggled, and that was your mistake. Lynette absolutely loved her hair. That haircut was her pride and joy. Todd could never understand what it was about it, but it was Lynette's favorite feature.

So, when he insulted her favorite thing in the world, she immediately started attacking your boyfriend, causing you to go over and try to stop this before it escalated.

Well, it escalated. Todd subconsciously went into “vegan mode” when he was mad. It was a defense mechanism or something like that. In any case, an accidental movement of his hand had an expensive amplifier aimed right at your leg.

Envy saw it coming and screamed his name to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear her over Lynette, and you couldn't move out of the way fast enough.

And then, everything stopped. All you felt was the excruciating pain that was apparently your broken bone, multiple places, as you later found out. Your mind went blank for a moment as all the horrified expressions of each band member turned towards you.

Todd threw the amplifier aside with his powers, profusely apologizing to you. His hair settled back down to normal as he took you in his arms.

"Oh, god, am I an idiot." He said. "I didn't mean to… oh, man, you’re okay, right?"

You were on the verge of tears when you nodded your head. The adrenaline of the moment had taken over your pain as you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

Envy most definitely cursed him out on your behalf. Lynette was still pissed as she stood off to the side, crossing her arms with a huff. She didn’t really know you, so she didn’t really care that you got hurt.

But Todd knew you, and he cared a whole hell of a lot about you. He was going to be making up to you for a while. You were going to get the apology of a lifetime and probably an entire chocolate cake with strawberries. You loved strawberries.

You did not care about your injury at that moment, though. The scene of Todd apologizing to you, Envy yelling derogatory words at him that were obviously unknown to him, and Lynette's head turning in the other direction was probably one of the best sights you had ever witnessed in your life.

“How’re you feeling?” Todd’s voice snapped you out of your memory. He was in the chair beside you with a hospital pillow on his lap. He had a bag of Doritos in his hand, which he was munching on.

You turned your head over to him and couldn't help but smile. It was a smile full of love and adoration, one that made Todd raise an eyebrow.

"I'm alright," you replied, reaching for the water that was by your bedside. You failed miserably, but Todd noticed it and hovered it over to your hands.

He took the opportunity to grab another chip and take a bite before looking back at you.

"You sure you're okay? I mean, you got hurt 'cause of me.”

"That's what I get for dating a badass, I guess." You laughed, shaking your head.

Todd scoffed, "That's not funny."

"It kinda is."

"Whatever." He crossed his arms and pouted a little bit. "I'll have to watch my back more now. I could have killed you."

“It’s okay. Envy would’ve reunited us if you had. She would’ve torn you a new one. I'd say you dodged a bullet there.”

As Todd munched on his Doritos, nodding along to your words, you knew there was nothing in his brain that connected what you’d just said. He was most definitely agreeing, just to agree.

And just because of that, you couldn't help but admire him. He was sitting there with his messy hair and those brown eyes of his. His clothes were wrinkled, and you could see the tiredness in his eyes, but none of it mattered to you because he was still so beautiful.

Todd being a vegan was also a blessing because it gave him such an amazing physique. He was lean but toned, his abs always visible even under his baggy shirts. Not that you cared if they were showing or not.

"Can I have a chip?” You asked him.

He turned towards you with a look of horror on his face. "You don’t like these. You like the non-vegan Doritos.”

“Aren’t they all… not vegan?”

Todd let out a sigh, his eyes rolling back.

"Not these. Spicy Sweet Chili. I got these from the vending machine. They're for me."

He sounded like a little child, which you couldn't help but laugh at. He always was so serious about these things, even though they were snacks that were meant to be shared with people.

"That's not what I asked." You said.

"Yeah, but-"

You made grabby hands at him. You were starting to feel that pain again as your muscles were getting tired. You needed those chips.

"Todd, please."

He let out a sigh, trying to hold back a smile. He was always such a big softie for you.

He handed over a bag of chips, and you wasted no time in taking one. Immediate regret as you took a bite out of the spicy snack, choking as you did so. You managed to swallow it down before taking in a drink of water to wash it all down.

"Told you that you wouldn't like them." He said with a grin.

"I… like them. I just don't like how I feel after I eat them."

"Mhmm.”

You glared at him, narrowing your eyes. "Stop being smug."

"I can't help it if I'm so cool." He winked.

He wasn't wrong, though. Todd had a very good self-esteem about himself and was never shy to tell you so. But it was the way he said it, that smug look of his and his stupid wink, that made you want to punch him and kiss him.

It was those little things.

"You know," you said as you crossed your arms, "this isn't how I planned on spending my Friday night."

"I know, babe. I know."

"I mean, I thought we were going to have some quality time. The two of us and the TV, I really wanted to catch up on that old Ed and Rose storyline.”

"I know, I know.”

"And instead, I'm here with and because of you." You glared at him as you finished your sentence.

He was ready for your attack, crossing his arms to match yours. You two were in the middle of a staring contest when Todd opened his mouth to say something, but the nurse came in at the worst possible moment to interrupt him.

"Ah, you're awake. How're you feeling?”

Unfortunately, this made Todd win the battle as you were forced to look at the nurse. She had a smile on her face, one that made you feel relaxed. Todd turned to look at her as well.

"I'm feeling better now." You said. "Thank you for asking."

The nurse nodded her head, writing down your words before turning to Todd with a smile. "Since your friend—”

“Girlfriend.” He corrected her, pointing a finger at you.

You couldn't help but laugh, turning your head to the side as you did so. Your laughter got the nurse to smile.

"I apologize. Since your girlfriend is doing better, you’re welcome to visit back in the morning. Visitation hours are from eight to twelve and one to three. After that, only family will be allowed in.”

Todd turned to look at you, and you could see that he wanted to say something, but with a simple nod from you, he leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed, giving the nurse his attention.

She gave him another smile as she looked back at you. "I’ll come back in about an hour for a checkup. Press the button if you need anything in the meantime."

"Thank you." You replied.

She left the room smiling, leaving the two of you to look at each other.

You let out a sigh as you leaned your head back on the bed, closing your eyes. Todd's eyes never left you, staring at you as you did so.

“Should've said we were married. I would've been able to stay the night here." He said.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep because of your snoring. You know, that's why I get up so early in the mornings. I have no choice but to leave the bed when you're snoozing away."

Todd had the audacity to smile at that, shaking his head.

"Whatever, I don't snore. Besides, you love the way my arms feel around you."

You opened one eye, staring at him. "Are you trying to make me feel bad?"

"No. I'm just stating the facts. I have great arms if you hadn't noticed."

You scoffed at him and his bragging. You closed your eyes again.

"I hate you so much."

"I know." He said with a smirk on his face. “Can I have my chips back now? You ate almost all of them."

You handed the bag back to him without another word, sighing deeply. You could feel Todd's stare at you as he opened up the bag again.

You heard him take another chip into his mouth as he stared at you, but he was too quiet, so you knew he had something else to say.

"What?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know that I meant it when I said sorry, right?"

"Of course I know, Todd. You always apologize."

He swallowed down his chips. "Yeah, but this time I really meant it. I was so scared when you got hurt. I didn’t mean to; I just got pissed at Lynette, and that all happened."

"Todd, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. You would never hurt me."

"You're sure?" He asked.

You opened up your eyes again, looking at him. He was staring down at his lap as he said those words, biting his lip. You could tell that he was genuinely worried about this, so you reached over and made grabby hands again, but instead of the chips, you were looking for him.

Todd looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. He placed the bag of chips aside and got out of his chair, going over to the side of the bed to look at you. You placed both of your hands on either side of his neck, smiling at him.

"I'm positive. I know how much I mean to you, Todd. You don't need to worry. I'm not mad at you."

He was looking right into your eyes as you said that and nodded his head, moving closer toward you as he placed his hands on the side of the bed. You didn't want him to be too far away from you, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear."

"I know." You replied. "It's not your fault."

You stared at each other for a few more moments before he leaned down and kissed you. He placed both of his hands on either side of the bed as he deepened the kiss. He didn't do this often, but when he did, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was also extremely careful now that you had broken your leg, making sure that he wasn't putting any pressure on your side. He placed one hand on your face to hold you in place as he kissed you while his other hand supported his body.

It felt like a few minutes had passed before he broke the kiss. He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too."

It wasn't the first time he said it, and it definitely wasn't the first time you had said it to him, but it was the first time you heard those words without any fear in his voice. There was no worry, no hesitation, only love.

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face. His brown eyes always captivated you, especially when he smiled.

You felt your own smile spread as you looked into those beautiful eyes of his, kissing him on the cheek before snuggling up to him.

You felt his hands wrap around your body and sighed contently. Eventually, he’d have to leave, but until then, you were going to enjoy this.

And if it came with spicy chips, then even better.

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