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caramelcleopatraa · 26 days

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GIANNA'S ROOM

word count: 1.2k

x: heyyoo. I came up with this idea a few weeks ago, and I didn't know where I wanted this to go, so I'm excited to see if y'all like this one or not. causeeee I can make part 2 "Roman's Room" which is already planned out :p. anyways hope you guys enjoy (excuse any errors you see of course) and please leave comments. I love comments.

content: He’s a wrestler. She’s a pornstar. They were never meant to meet, but Gianna wanted to ride, so he let her. Roman Reigns x Gianna, 18+ MDNI, dirty talk, masturbation, exchange of videos and pictures

“Thank you guys so much for watching. I’ll see you guys next stream,” Gianna says seductively, blowing a kiss at her viewers. Another successful day, and a hefty bag gust from two hours of work. She was so glad that her roommate, Amara, was non judgemental when it came to her occupation. There’s such a negative view on sex workers, and she was worried she’d be stuck with a roommate who wouldn't respect her, but she lucked out big time. She even offered to be in multiple videos with Gianna when money was tight, which led to Amara creating a OnlyFans account of her own.

1 Notification from: Anonymous

Normally, she shrugged off private messages because they usually lead to personalized requests, which is something she doesn't do. But she gets intrigued once she reads the message preview.

Anonymous Hi pretty, you take requests? I’ll pay you 1000 for….

‘1000?’ She clicks on the notification and reads the full message.

Hi pretty, you take requests? I’ll pay you 1000 for just a quick video.

‘1000 dollars is a lot for a short video.’

EroticMedusa I don't normally take requests, but that offer is too good to deny.

Anonymous I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll go ahead and send the payment through if you want to do the video.

EroticMedusa Sure! Anything in particular you want me to do? I’m here for your pleasure, sir. :)

Anonymous Whatever makes you feel comfortable sweetheart. Need some inspiration?

EroticMedusa If you don't mind. :)

Anonymous Of course sweetheart. [2 Attachments]

She clicks the first picture and her jaw drops to the floor. Saying that he was attractive was an understatement. He’s big. For fucking sure. His wavy hair dangled down from the top of the picture. Pearly white teeth, salt and pepper beard, broad shoulders, big arms and big hands, a large tattoo that covered his right pec and covered his entire right arm, prominent chest, defined torso, thick thighs, and he was hung. She was practically drooling from the picture alone. What didn’t he have? She exited out of the picture and clicked on the video next. She couldn't take her eyes off the screen.

He held his phone in his hand, keeping the phone at the perfect angle to capture his beautiful body. She could hear chuckling as he slowly stroked himself for her. “Look what you do to me baby.” God, his voice. If his body wouldn't do it, his voice definitely would. She was glad that she had free time today to make the video, because she was already turned on from the picture he sent. “Wish you were here with me sweetheart, I’d make you cum all night” He tightens his fist, fucking up into his hand. “Want you to suck this dick so bad, baby. Need to feel those lips around my dick.” She bit her bottom lip, unconsciously grabbing her breasts and bucking her hips. “Damn, I'm finna cum for you. Ahhh shit!” She watched closely as strings of cum leaked from his tip, his head leaned back and his chest heaving from the intense orgasm he had. He stroked himself a few more times, creating squelching from his release dripping over his hands. What she would give to lick him clean.

EroticMedusa Damn daddy, that was so sexy.

Anonymous I’m glad you like it.

EroticMedusa I loved it! Your body looks soo good! And your voice made me so horny daddy.

Anonymous Ever had a stranger make you feel like that?

EroticMedusa No, only you.

Anonymous Good girl. Making me horny again the way you’re talking to me.

EroticMedusa I wish I could've been there to lick you clean. I’m so wet imagining it. I’m making the video right now! Give me a few minutes.

Anonymous Take your time.

Gianna propped her phone up after sending her last message, making sure she was capturing all of the right angles and pressed record. She grabbed her favorite vibrator from her nightstand drawer and positioned herself in front of the camera. She could see herself glistening from her phone. She waved at the camera and giggled before playing with her breasts. Grabbing and tugging at her nipples, bucking her hips again and moaning softly. She imagines his hands replacing hers. “I’m so horny for you, daddy,” She says, spreading her legs to show him her delectable pussy. She was glistening even more now, if that was possible. The hand that wasn’t focused on her breast, teases her folds, and the hand that was on her breast, reached to grab her vibrator.

“I want that dick daddy,” she says, pressing the button on her vibrator placed on her sensitive clit. The strong vibrations made her gasp, her eyes fluttering shut and enjoying the sensation. She imagined him burying his face between her legs, dragging his tongue along her pussy. How he would lick and suck on her clit. How he would make her come on his tongue, and keep going. All of these fantasies were only making her more excited. “Fuck, I want you so bad daddyy. I wish you were here right now.” Her chest bobbed up and down, her ragged breaths mixed in with whiny and desperate moans. The picture and video that he sent earlier was crystal clear in her mind. His deep moans and dirty talk repeated in her head while the vibrator stayed stationary on her clit. “Shiiit- ugh. Feels so fucking good.”

Her back arched as her moans got louder. She was for sure making a mess on the bed and disturbing her neighbors. She didn’t care though. God she needed to cum. Between the video he sent her and the conversation they had, there was nothing she was more focused on than undoing herself. Her spare hand grabbed at the sheets, eyes rolling to the back of her head in euphoric pleasure of the orgasm that was fastly building. “aaah- i’m gonna cum f’r you,” she says, her slurred words that accompanied the light buzzing of the vibrator. Her thighs shook violently as she screamed out pleas and exclaims of pleasure. She turned off the vibrator, working quick circles on her clit, overstimulating herself. Her legs stayed open, displaying the beautiful mess she made on herself and her silk sheets. She grabs her phone, bringing it closer to her cunt, giving him a front row seat. “Would you lick it up, daddy?” She giggles softly, pressing the red button to stop the recording. She sends the video to him, taking a deep breath.

EroticMedusa Here you go, big guy 😘 [1 Attatchment]

‘Shit, that was amazing.’ If he was willing to stick around, she could pump out content in no time.

She cleans herself up minutes later, wrapping herself in her silk robe that matched her sheets. Her phone vibrated against the nightstand, and she quickly unlocked her phone, anxious for his response. And she got just that.

Anonymous God damn baby [1 Attatchment]

She could make another video just from the picture alone. His head was leaned back, showing off his adam’s apple. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat with droplets dripping down his chest. Streams of cum drip down his shaft, down to his balls. She would have loved to see what he looked like while he stroked himself to her video.

Anonymous Can I see you?

EroticMedusa See me? What are you trying to do, sir? 😏

Anonymous I’m tryna give you the best dick down you’ll ever have.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2

#roman reigns #caramelcleopatraa #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x reader #wwe fiction #wwe smut #roman x reader

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yandere-sins · 6 days

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How would it be if blade's darling had wanted to contact him, though? Maybe to try and talk about things? They probably wouldn't know about the mind reset kafka does, so when they try to contact him to set up a meeting they think he remembers them.

Oh my god, that just gave me the sweetest of images! Some yandere's love is just so pure, I swear ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Blade didn't really know why he reacted so fast to the unknown sound.

He usually didn't get bothered by that thing in his pocket, a device Kafka made him walk around with, telling him to check it regularly. It pling! and dundun! all day long, notifications appeared on its screen that he didn't usually react to unless someone mentioned him by name. Why would he? He knew his mission; there was no need to be in constant contact with the others.

Bing!

And yet, when a new sound rang in his ears, one he hadn't heard before, Blade stopped dead in his tracks. The guy he was hunting hurdled away, crawling through the pools of blood on the floor while the rain washed away the evidence of battle. Holding his bloody stomach, he watched the Hunter reach into his pocket, picking up his phone, unbothered by the massacre in front of him, almost as if he forgot about his target that took the chance to scramble to his feet, running for his dear life.

Blade gazed at the bright screen, his eyes hurting, but he didn't even notice the pain as he read the latest banner that notified him of a message.

we need to talk

The hairs at the back of his neck stood straight as he read those four words. Blade's mouth ran dry while his breathing stopped. As if he had to hear better, every one of his motions ceased, and the sounds of the constant traffic in the distance vanished. He felt fury build up as raindrops landed on his screen, the words vanishing. Yet he didn't understand why.

Bing! Bing!

He flinched. Even a second time and repeated, this sound differed from when Kafka or Silver Wolf tried to contact him. He didn't remember it ever ringing out before. A slight shake of nervousness went through him, followed by a spark of excitement. Before he knew it, he was reading the message—eager, desperate.

[Location sent] meet me here tonight, we really have to talk. i want this to end, you have to...

The message preview stopped there, and Blade snapped out of his trance. Slowly, his eyes trudged to the sender's name, but it was only a culmination of unfamiliar numbers. He looked at the time next, and with a twinge of disappointment, he realized it was early noon at best. A shaky breath escaped him, and for the first time since he got the notifications, he looked up into the dark alleyway before him.

It was quiet, no more breathing of his enemies. Yet, he could hear his own blood pounding in his ears and feel the desperate grip on the sword he still clutched onto. It had not been drenched in the blood of his target completely, yet, he didn't feel the yearning of finishing a job.

Instead, Blade felt compelled to go.

Where to, he didn't know. Somewhere, or precisely, where he should go, but he had never opened the message he received with the location. All he knew was that he had to go there. His legs moved on their own, steps splashing in the wet puddles on the ground. By the time he walked out onto the busy street, his sword had vanished, but not that feeling of urgency pushing him forward.

What were those feelings? Why did they keep aggravating him so? His head hurt as the lights of the cars flashed by him, taking in every moment of his pain. He should stop. He had to call Kafka. Something was wrong, and although he couldn't pinpoint it, it would be dangerous to continue on this unfamiliar path on his own.

Reaching into his pocket, he felt the little device vibrate against his fingers, followed by the now-more familiar Bling! he began to dread yet anticipate at the same time.

don't chicken out this time! just come and let's talk... i know you can see my messages

Staring at the message for a moment, he let the phone sink back into his pocket, never bothering to reply. You knew he was going to come, and he would. He wouldn't miss it for anything in this world.

You?

Who?

His legs carried him onwards into the unknown, but something told him that he knew exactly where he could find you, even if he didn't remember. Something inside him knew, and this feeling grew and grew stronger until it robbed him of any reason. There was a pull on him so strong, he couldn't help but pursue it—hunt it.

You, whoever you are, were his next target, and he had to have you. All to himself. Pressed against his marred body, engulfed by his shadow, never to be seen by anyone else again. Never to be touched unless it were his fingers resting gently against your skin, and never to be tasted unless it was on his lips and tongue. If he must devour you to have you all to himself, he would. And he would tear you down and ruin you to the point that no one would dare to take his prey away from him.

Blade had to have you. Savagely, violently. All to himself.

He didn't know who you were or what you wanted from him. Why you contacted him, or how you even knew about this pitiful creature with a heart beating so fast that he felt real fear for its safety inside of him. But he'd find you, have you, and destroy you.

And he couldn't wait to meet you.

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vhstown · 9 months

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miles away

— 1610!miles morales x gn!reader

summary: Long distance is hard — even more so when your boyfriend's mom is Rio Morales.

warnings: fluff, spanish that is hopefully right??? (pls feel free to correct if not)

word count: 2k

a/n: worst eboy known to man. another miles one-shot i thought of way too late at night lmao my boy miles is STRUGGLING somewhat edited

convention boy is online.

Miles was active: the cute boy you'd met at a Brooklyn science con last year and had been talking to for the past few months — your boyfriend? He might as well be, if it weren't for the absurd distance between you two. You almost missed the call icon with how fast you tapped it, buzzing with anticipation at the thought of speaking to him again; you hadn't talked properly in so long you almost thought he changed numbers.

Riiiiiing... Riiiiiing...

You stared at your own reflection, which was frowning back at you as the call rang for longer than usual. "Convention boy" (you'd definitely have to change that soon) was probably just busy, but your day had been infinitely boring, and you really wanted to talk to him. The both of you had chatted pretty much every day after you left Brooklyn, and despite the time difference, your calls went on for hours, making conversation about school, art, the science convention you were both forced to go to, how you almost got run over for the hundredth time — nothing and everything.

Miles probably knew more about you than your actual friends. You had jokes that nobody would be able to understand even if you tried explaining them, thousands pictures saved of each other, lots of random games you played together (that you always seemed to win somehow) and so many messages where you were flirting like you were in a middle school relationship; embarrassment was a foreign concept in your chat logs. The only thing you didn't have was... Miles himself.

He was in Brooklyn, probably the most exciting place right now. Maybe it was for the fact that Brooklyn had Spider-Man, or you were getting sick of living with your parents. Either way, you were glad you were getting out of here soon; your parents hadn't told you much, but you knew you were going to New York for school. That meant you'd be closer to Miles. Maybe you could even meet up — if Miles picked up, that is.

Beep, beep, beep!

The line went dead, and you were left staring at your own string of messages. They were read, but there was no response; he was ignoring you. Did he just... give up on you, or something? Was he no longer interested? Surely not... Should you try calling again?

He was offline now, and you flopped on your bed with a groan. It had been a whole week since you'd even texted — surely he'd let you know if something was up? It was late in New York right now, but that hadn't stopped him before. Maybe you'd try again tomorrow; he couldn't be available for you all the time.

That didn't stop you from being petty, though.

Missed voice call at 10:29PM

k Read 10:31PM

You gritted your teeth when you saw that it had been read, stopping yourself from typing another text as you rolled on your side, throwing your phone out of sight. Maybe you should ghost him — okay, you were definitely just being petty. He could still have a reason for being radio silent for so long that you just didn't know about.

The lack of his voice or even just a "hey" made you miss him, though, and the pillow you held just made your arms feel more empty than usual. You were being a little unreasonable, but you hadn't exactly had the best week. Maybe you should leave his contact name as it was, because right now it seemed like he didn't want to be anything more than some kid you met at a convention. And you thought he was supposed to be your boyfriend—

Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! You reached for your phone, a preview of your own face coming up on screen. "convention boy" — he was video calling you? That was weird; as much as you did video call, he was always reluctant to turn his camera on, and he never started them. He was always "on a run" or on low battery or something; maybe he wasn't today? You realised you'd been staring at your own face for too long, scrambling to fix yourself up a little and accept the call before you missed it.

Miles' face appeared on screen; he had his headphones on, brows drawn together and eyes fixed somewhere else for a moment, before he looked back at his phone. He gave you the tiniest wave and that wonky smile that always made your stomach flip.

"Hey," you muttered, hating the fact that you probably didn't sound as mad as you wanted to be. "What's up with you? You okay?"

Miles just nodded silently, giving you another smile that looked more like a grimace before glancing off to the side again. Weird.

"...Are you sure?" you asked again, raising an eyebrow at him. Whatever Miles was trying to convince you of was completely thrown out the window, his lips pressing together in debate before he mouthed something. You couldn't make it out.

"Uh, what?" You squinted at the screen, your brows drew together even more in confusion.

"I'm GROUNDED," he mouthed again, his own brows raising to emphasise what he was trying to say. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

"You're GROUNDED?" you mouthed back, trying to keep the teasing smile from spreading across your face.

It didn't help, Miles' eye twitching a little in embarrassment as he mouthed back "YES!"

"So you're like, grounded grounded?" you continued to mouth, making Miles narrow his eyes at you. "Like, actually grounded?"

He didn't seem to entertain your mockery, just crossing his arms at you and moving away on his chair. His phone appeared to be propped up on his desk, and you caught a glimpse of his textbooks in the corner.

You gave up, rolling your eyes. "Fine, fine, but you can't like, speak at all?"

He shook his head, before you heard his door creaking open. The camera immediately went black as he shoved his phone underneath the textbooks before you had a chance to say anything.

"Mijo, what are you still doing up?" You could recognise the voice as his mom's. Oh boy.

"Uh, just studyin', ma." You could tell he was lying by the way he was speaking, but you stayed silent despite his headphones, hoping his mother didn't catch on.

"You better be studying Español, then." Miles laughed awkwardly in response, but you couldn't tell if it was a joke or a threat. He'd only ever referred to you as a "friend" to his mom, so you turned off your camera just in case, hoping Miles had some God to pray to in the mean time.

"Yeah, uh, estoy estudiado—"

"Estudiando", she corrected, with rapid execution. You decided she was scarier in Spanish, and Miles seemed to as well, murmuring something in apology you couldn't catch.

You decided to look through your notifications while Miles was keeping his mom at bay to see that he actually had texted you back after you sent that very creative message.

sry im grounded

i dint mean 2 ingore u

dnt be mad pls :(

He must've resorted to calling you. At least your pettiness had worked.

"Estoy estudiando..." (I'm studying...) you heard Miles continue carefully. "And tired, so I'll go to bed soon."

"That light better be off, niño," (boy) she replied, and you heard the door faintly creak again. A few moments passed before you heard Miles' chair move and the door very quietly shutting all the way before he retrieved his phone and looked down at it from his lap. You had no idea what on Earth Miles had done to get grounded, but the way his mom spoke to him and the worried expression he was wearing right now didn't tell you anything good.

Miles looked back at his door for a second longer before picking up his phone, hesitantly preparing to say something. If it weren't for your own tension, you would've probably laughed at the way his face looked from that angle.

"Why's your camera off?" you heard him whisper, his worried expression still stuck in place.

"Do you really need to see my face?" You decided to tease anyway, despite his predicament, getting a sigh out of him.

"Ba—" He winced as he caught himself, eyes automatically trailing to his door again. Miles was lucky he couldn't see your amused grin. Baby? Babe? Hopefully not basta—

"Please?" he mouthed, almost looking hurt.

You turned your camera on so quickly it was almost embarrassing. You also prayed it was dark enough for him not to see the blush burning away at your cheeks; you just couldn't say no when he looked at you like that.

"Thank you," he nearly whispered. He let out another breath, shaking his head and smiling before mouthing something you couldn't make out.

"Huh?" you asked way too many times as he tried to mumble it a little louder. Both of you were too stubborn to end the call, so it was like playing charades, but with someone who really sucked at charades. He was pointing to his face, and then at you, and then trying to draw it out in the air.

"Just text me," you sighed, letting out a slight chuckle at his defeated expression.

you look cute

Your stomach flipped, cheeks tingling with warmth again as you stared at the text message for far too long, almost forgetting Miles was in the corner of your screen.

"...Thanks, you too," you mumbled out, hoping you didn't sound too weird over the call. "You sure you don't wanna just text...?"

wnt2 see ur face

n hear u speak

A part of you wanted to decline right now out of sheer self respect; you were so hot in the face by his... simple words that the darkness of your room definitely couldn't hide how flustered you were.

"Fine," you murmured, trying to keep your eyes on the screen as he watched you. "Can't you at least try to text properly, though?"

Miles frowned, and you could hear the gentle tap of his fingers on the screen as another text followed.

tryin 2 keep up w u gimme a break

The two of you shared a smile before you talked for a bit through this awkward system. It was good enough for now; at least Miles didn't have to watch his back so often.

ur cute

"You already said that..."

cutie

"Dude." Miles seemed to forget you could see him, sporting the biggest, stupidest smile on his face as he scrambled to keep texting you.

dont call me dude

my pride

thought we were passed that

past*

convention boy is typing...

hol on gank is txting me

"Gank...?"

romm mmate

You decided to let it be, watching Miles' cheeks puff with air as he switched over to text his "romm mmate". It was taking a little long and you didn't want to start missing him when he was right in front of you (albeit just on your screen) so you decided to talk anyway.

"Uh, there's something I wanted to tell you," you started, and Miles' eyes flicked upwards for a second, kind of like if you were actually sat opposite him.

"I'm moving states soon — for school." He raised an eyebrow, the tapping of his fingers slowing down a little. "New York. I don't know where exactly, but I should be getting an email soon? I was thinking maybe we could like... meet."

Miles stopped texting entirely, eyes wide as a grin spread across his face.

"After you get uh, un-grounded."

The smile faded just as fast. His eyes fell in defeat, lips twisting awkwardly as he got back to texting "Gank".

"I haven't checked my emails in a while actually, let me see..."

You scrolled through your email— well, it was a shared email (an email you often deleted a lot of school-related stuff from.) An email you'd missed ages ago caught your eye; you assumed it was from the school you were supposed to go to, the sender titled "Ms. Weber."

"We would like you welcome you with open arms to our academy..." The email bored you with its formalities and packing list and many many flourished attachments. You didn't read through it properly — most likely because you didn't want to face the fact that you might actually miss your home here.

What caught your attention, though, was the school name; it was in Brooklyn. Miles was in Brooklyn.

"Miles — the school's in Brooklyn, that's even better!" You couldn't hide your giddy smile, Miles' eyebrows raising in interest as so many thoughts swirled through your head. You could actually meet up again. Maybe you could even go on dates that weren't to do with science conventions. Maybe you could actually be a couple.

Bzzt! Miles' text appeared at the top of your screen.

what school is it?

"Uh..." You paused, unintentionally dramatically as you checked the name again. "Brooklyn Visions Academy."

"WHAT?!"

Miles' mouth went agape as you saw him roll back on his chair, bringing his face towards the camera to look at you almost hysterically. You were about to ask why he was so taken aback before—

"¡MILES! ¡¿CON QUIÉN ESTÁS HABLANDO TAN TARDE?!" (WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO THIS LATE?!)

Maybe your meet-up would have to wait a little longer.

🕸️🔭🎧

omg this was ... longer than expected anyways i could not get this idea out of my head haha i wrote it partly for myself and my friend chewy (who helped me w the summary ily i suck at em) and now its for u! hope u enjoyed (also if the spanish is weird pls correct i literally take spanish as a subject but i suck)

reblogs appreciated as always i get so happy when ppl reblog lol <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

#miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x gn reader #miles morales 1610 #miles morales #1610 miles morales #1610 miles x reader #miles morales fluff #atsv x you #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #vhstown #self indulgent fanfic #it is . approaching midnight right now!

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chaibewriting · 5 months

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A DOLLAR MAKE 'IM HOLLER (pt. three)

yandere! gang leader! sanemi shinazugawa x chubby! black! fem! reader x yandere! gang leader! katsuki bakugou

masterlist. part one. part two.

-> NOTES: my bad y'all, didn't mean to take so long with this part, but life was happening, however, i'm somewhat pleased with the way that this turned out and I hope that this chapter was worth the wait, the next chapter will be even more of a conundrum. be on the look out for that one soon because I've already started writin' it. -> WARNINGS: threatening messages, unknown numbers, stalking, manipulation. -> WORD COUNT: 5.2k

FALLING asleep after such experiencing such a terrifying chain of events was no easy fret, however, you managed to somehow fall into a dreamless sleep. Perhaps you were outwardly glad to not be back alone at your apartment and your long time best friend sleeping beside you managed to put you at ease. You were grateful for her and Tanjiro, they had come rushing to your aid as soon as you’d called out for them. Asking for assistance or help of any kind was a bit of a struggle for you at times, especially considering how you were raised.

As the sun began to rise, revealing itself through the window of Nezuko’s bedroom, you stirred in your sleep and slowly opened your eyes, lids fluttering as they adjust to your surroundings. To your surprise and sudden realization, Nezuko had scooted closer to you in her sleep and wrapped an arm protectively around your waist with her cheek squished against your back, effectively spooning you from behind. Fortunately, it was a rather cold season so the extra warmth was welcomed, even if it was by surprise. Then again, Nezuko always had a tendency to be a bit of a cuddle bug in her sleep, you had learned to live with it, finding it somewhat endearing.

Carefully, you lifted her arm just a smidge, enough to slip from her hold and sit up, then carefully tucked the pillow you’d been laying your head on under her arm, which she immediately cuddled to her chest.

When your feet touched the floor on the side of the bed, you sighed, reaching up to rub at your temples for a moment of clarity. The memories of the previous day were coming back to you slowly, but still all equally frightening. Suddenly, you look towards the nearby dresser where you recently left your phone and something /told/ you to get up and look at it. Your intuition screamed for you to, and so, you do exactly that, relatively slowly but you still manage to stand up and shuffle towards the dresser. Sharply inhaling, you snatch up your phone, and thanks to oh-so-wonderful technology and its ability to detect motion, your screen flashed on and previews of notifications appeared, one new message waiting to be read. After unlocking your phone you hesitated for a moment's time, but your finger betrayed you as you opened the message to full-screen and nearly vomited after reading what you’d been sent. Squeezing the device in your hand, you were sure that if you were any stronger you would have crushed it in your hands.

Nothing had prepared you when there was a sudden blare of an alarm behind you, causing you to yelp and nearly jump a foot off the ground, dropping your phone in the process.

Fucking Apple alarms…

Rising like a vampire from a coffin, Nezuko sits up straight in her bed and yawns, scratching at the back of her neck and grunting when she realizes some hair had slipped from the bonnet she was wearing (something you had so graciously gifted her last Christmas). You were frozen, still processing the threatening message and calming your racing heartbeat after being frightened by Nezuko’s alarm, and when she finally turned it off, your shoulders drooped, followed by a silent sigh.

Once she finally took note of your standing form, your back still facing her, Nezuko squinted and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands before she said your name, voice laced with worry.

“Y/N…? What are you doing standing up? Did something happen?”

Her question brings you back down to reality enough for you to finally squat down and retrieve your unscathed phone from the floor, silently moving to her side of the bed to hand the device to her.

Fortunately, the screen hadn’t locked and the message in its entirety stayed clearly displayed and allowed for the brunette to read what you were showing her. There was nothing but silence on her end as she stared down at your phone, gripping it nearly as tightly as you had when you’d first read the text. The silence was deafening as she did nothing but stare at your phone for a few minutes, obviously deep in thought seeing how her brows were knitted in the middle of her forehead and her lips were pursued in a focused pout.

When she finally did something, she inhaled sharply and turned your phone screen off, setting it face down on the bed while she pinched and massaged the bridge of her nose.

“You’re staying with me until things blow over, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Y/N. This has just gotten a whole lot creepier.” She finally said, dropping her hand and turning her head to look at you. Staring back at her, you pondered her words, rubbing at your arm in a moment of deep thought. Once again, you didn’t wish to be babied but right now, you were glad that she was offering for you to stay with her. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to step foot in your apartment right now, let alone go back to staying there /alone./

Nezuko promptly waited for you to start putting on a strong front, ready for a debate about your safety, but she was surprised when you slowly nodded your head, no words leaving your mouth. Your reaction caused a frown to appear on her face as she stood up and walked towards you, opening her arms and beckoning you to her. Carefully, you went to snake your arms around her waist and she hugged you back, squeezing you in a gentle way that always had the tendency to make you feel safe.

…

Thanks to this new development, you didn’t feel up to going to work today which led to you having to call your second-in-command at the restaurant— Pony. You didn’t give too much detail, knowing that she would start to worry for your safety, and instead said you just needed a couple days to break. Luckily, she understood and said to take all the time you needed to before the phone call had ended. Now, you were seated at the dining table in the kitchen of Nezuko’s house, slowly consuming the breakfast that she and you had conjured up together. You’d showered, done your hygiene routine, and got dressed before coming out to eat, even if your appetite was nowhere to be found. Nezuko soon joined you and took a seat across from you at the table, eager to start scarfing down the food in front of her, she always did have quite the appetite.

“Wanna come to work with me?”

Your friend suddenly asked, shifting some rice and rolled egg around on her plate. You looked up from your plate and thought about her suggestion. If she were to leave the house, you’d be left alone again. To your thoughts, to your fears, and to everything in-between. Such thoughts caused you to start chewing at your bottom lip, nearly ripping some skin off in doing so. It took a bit of arranging of said thoughts before you were able to exhale before nodding your head, finally speaking up for the first time since you’d woken up.

“Sure… I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here alone all-day, at least if I go to work with you I can help around and keep my mind busy.” It sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than giving reason to her but she simply smiled and nodded at your words. But then a thought came to mind on your end once you realized a bit of an issue that made the hairs stand on the back of your neck. “I think— I’m gonna have to go back to my apartment to pick up some more clothes, I didn’t pack much.”

Such words caused Nezuko to pause and stare down at her plate for a moment, tapping the ends of her chopsticks against the porcelain while she thought. And then she seemed to have a plan come to fruition as she went back to eating nonchalantly.

“We can just call Mirko then, I’m sure she’ll come running if we tell her what’s going on.”

“Ugh, and she’ll probably come with a lecture about me missing her and Mitsuri’s self-defense classes.” You murmured, already hearing what the woman would say to you as soon as she caught wind of what was going on in your life currently.

This caused your best friend to only laugh and shake her head, deciding that she should finish off her breakfast before the day would continue on.

Nezuko was the one to make the call since you didn’t have any desire to touch your phone at the moment, still a bit spooked by the threatening message, rightfully so. The two of you had plopped down onto the couch in the living room as the phone rang, waiting for your enthusiastic friend to answer on her end.

“Nezu? What’s got you callin’ so early? Need me to come and do some heavy lifting at the shop?” Her somewhat raspy voice asked, nothing but energy in her tone, along with the sound of something in the background. It sounded like she was lifting weights. Typical.

“Hey Mir'! No no, there’s no need for that, but I do have another request, or I guess I should say /we/ have a request. Are you busy right now?”

The sound of movement on the other end, as well as a groan was heard before Mirko sighed out a reply. “Nope. Whatcha need?” The brunette then looked at you, silently urging you to go on and say something. With a gulp, you mentally prepared for whatever Mirko would say next, and with a shaky greeting you gave a brief summary of the things that happened and what ‘request’ you were making for her.

…

Once you were done, probably putting in a few more details than necessary, the other line was silent, almost as if the woman’s brain was processing all of what you’d said—- which was more than likely the truth.

And then, with a sharp inhale she spoke up.

“Y/N…” She started by saying your name in a scolding manner, making you freeze up and squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for what was to come next.

“Why did you keep this a secret for so long?! You should have told someone! That’s so goddamn creepy and weird! Of course I’ll come and escort you too! I swear to Bugz Bunny if I get my hands on that stalkery piece of shit I’ll grind 'em into protein power 'n make them into a motherfucking shake. I’m comin’ over right now.” Mirko rambled, you could already hear her moving around swiftly, you could even hear people calling out to her when she shoved them aside to get out of her way.

“Gimme like ten— no, fuck that, give me five minutes.” She stated before ending the call, you could only imagine what kind of laws she would probably break to get there.

Mirko was right, it didn't take her ten minutes to get to Nezuko's place, in fact, it took her a record breaking amount of three..that woman is a terrifying force to be reckoned with. That was something unspoken but her getting here in such a short time frame further solidifies that fact. And before you knew it, she was sitting at the table with you and Nezuko, finishing off whatever the two of you hadn't finished eating. You still don't know how it happened, it was almost like she'd teleported into the dining room, but you knew better not to question it and just go with the flow.

"So, do you think you know the stalker? Maybe it's an old classmate or something." Mirko began, enjoying a spoonful of rice as she glanced between you and Nezuko with curiosity. "Classmate? Huh. That would make a lot of sense, there were a couple of weirdos that used to smell your hair and stuff when you weren't looking." Nezuko added, starting to sip some tea from her mug. You glanced towards her with a baffled look, this was the first time you'd heard of this. "Eh!? Since when?! You never told me that???"

The woman coughed nervously and waved her hand around. "I didn't wanna worry you, plus they only did it once, then I told Tanjiro about what happened and he took care of the rest."

Both you and Mirko stopped everything you were doing and looked at your brunette friend, staring her down as she smiled and continued to nonchalantly enjoy her tea. Then, you looked at one another before giving each other a look that spoke millions of words.

"Scary..."

...

Fortunately, Mirko's presence aided in soothing you both, she was a tiny little thing but had the spitfire of at least one hundred great beasts with a smile that often set your worries aside. And in no time, with her help and Nezuko's, you'd packed up about a week's worth of clothes for your stay at Nezuko's. It'd been a while since you had a roommate, but at least you'd feel a little safer and less at the mercy of whoever was trying to 'sweep you off your feet'.

After dropping your bag off at Nezuko's place, Mirko escorted the two of you to Nezuko's Flower Shop and she was on her way, repeatedly telling you both to call or text her if anything seems out of the ordinary or if either of you feel unsafe about something. Then, she left with as much enthusiasm as usual, leaving you and Nezuko to busy yourselves with the daily tasks of running a flower shop. Nezuko was glad to have you to help her along, making it easier for her to open a little earlier than usual. If there was one thing you knew for sure about Nezuko and her work was that she was very serious about her craft and she was constantly busy, all for good reason. You were glad you had her to keep your mind busy and away from staying back to the immediate danger that was revealing it's ugly head every time you thought about it. You'd even made it a point to tuck your phone away into one of the desk drawer's in the little office Nezuko had in the back of the shop. One thing you hadn't expected was for the shop to be so busy with people, which you usually didn't have a problem with. But you couldn't help the feeling in the back of your mind, what if you're stalker knew where you were right now? What if they were one of the customers coming in today? The idea made you anxious but you tried to keep your nerves under wraps, helping Nezuko wrap bouquets and ringing up customers at the register. Everything would be alright, nothing out of the ordinary.

...

"I can't fucking BELIEVE she's friends with a goddamn cop. You sure we don't have him in our pocket?" The passionate, browless man asked as he paced around the carpeted floor in front of his partner's desk, clearly irritated about the build up of recent events involving their romantic life. His blond counterpart sighed from where he was, looking at him blankly through the lenses of his reading glasses. "How many times do I have to tell you that I already had shittyhair check? Stop gettin' freaked out. This ain't gonna change shit. It just means we gotta put the plan into motion a lil' earlier than we anticipated."

Sanemi stopped his pacing at that, turning to look at Katsuki with his permanent wide-eyed gaze. "And how the fuck are we gonna get the ball rollin'? D'you got some kinda masterplan you haven't told me about, man?"

The short answer was 'yes.' Katsuki made a show of explaining the bare minimum of the first step he decided to take and upon doing so, Sanemi gave his partner the side eye, clearly trying to see who would be the one to start off the man's plan. And since Sanemi's overwhelming presence was guaranteed to make their beloved piggy hightail it away, Katsuki decided upon himself to be the one to set things in motion. It was for the best with all things considered.

When would the plan start? That would depend on the one they currently have watching Y/N's every move at the moment.

If there was one thing you could appreciate about helping Nezuko out, it was the difference in smells; compared to wings and dipping sauces, the smell of flowers was a nice welcome. Alongside the calm and relaxing atmosphere, it seemed to put you at ease, even if just a little bit. It had put you in such a calmer space that when Nezuko suddenly ran out of the specific ribbon she used to tie up her special bouquets, you were quick to offer your services. But of course, Nezuko was a bit skeptical and protective.

"I could just close up for now and we can both head to the crafting store, shouldn't take too long if we speed walk—"

You cut her off with a shake of your head. "The least I can do is do this for you. It'll be fine, store's not even that far from here. Should take me just a few minutes to get there and back here, plus, I don't want to let some stalker make me become a recluse."

Naturally, Nezuko frowned at this, seeming to ponder your words as well as your safety, causing her to twirl a strand of hair around her finger. It was her way of fidgeting when she felt a deep sense of anxiety. Instinctively, you gently grabbed her hand, squeezing it with your own. She stopped fidgeting and looked at you with a pout, before sighing, her shoulders slumping as she accepted your offer. "Okay, okay... you're right, but, I don't want anything to happen to you, y'know?" She then let go of her own hair and huffed, pulling a hand away from yours before making a fist at the sky in a dorky movement. "That bastard's gonna pay when the time comes... Let me go get my purse."

Turning on her heels, she stepped away from you and went into the back of the shop, soon coming back with her wallet and a fistful of bills, as well as the tiniest bit of ribbon she had left to make it easier to find in the crafting store. And with that, you were off.

You almost felt like Dora with Nezuko making sure you had your phone and shit before she let you go out on your adventure. Where was Boots? The thought seemed to cheer you up a little as you stiffled a laugh, unknowing of a pair of electric yellow eyes and another set of onyx ones watching you from across the street over a cup of coffee they were nursing. They'd heard the entirety of you and Nezuko's conversation, thanks to the little bug they planted in the shop when the two of you were busy, and they were already informing their bosses of your movements.

Perhaps, walking to the crafting store was proving to take a little longer than you'd anticipated, but, at least you had a second to just wander around, and you felt a bit safe since the streets were somewhat busy with a sprinkle of traffic here and there, in the street and on the sidewalks. At least if your stalker *was* watching you right now they would be unable to do anything with all the witnesses around you, at least, you hoped that would be the case. Quickly, you shook your head, hoping a bit of physical deterrent would keep you out of falling into a pit in your mind, followed by a deep inhale and exhale.

With the crafting store in your sights, you picked up your pace, and much to your delight you were able to enter the store without any anxiety following in your footsteps. Entering, you chewed on your lip and debated on whether or not you wanted to spend a little time lollygagging in the holiday decorations or just go straight for the ribbons aisle. You chose the former, wandering over to the decorations to have a quick look around. It didn't hurt to start planning for decorating your franchise sometime soon, Halloween was coming up after all.

Perhaps... you got a little lost in the sauce as you were looking, giving a certain man ample time to speed his ass over to the crafting store you were located at and enter with a sense of determination in his stride.

How did you get caught in staring at a faux jack 'o lantern that lit up and sang a song from Night Before Christmas? You weren't sure exactly but it was mesmerizing enough for you to be oblivious to the threat that entered the store, clearly looking for something, looking out of place with his intimidating expression and permanent scowl. He began to slowly step forward, scanning the aisles as discreetly as he possibly could.

In that moment, you had finally tore your gaze away from the singing pumpkin and remembered your goal, you would come for decorations later. Stepping out of the aisle, you mindlessly started marching towards the general area of where the ribbon would most likely be, putting yourself in the sights of the man actively *hunting* you.

You had walked right past Katsuki and he instantly recognized you, his eyes following your every move as you made your way through the store. He soon followed in your strides, not even bothering to hide himself clearly following behind you and even turning to go down the same aisle as you. You'd yet to notice, too focused on getting the ribbon for Nezuko and then taking your leave.

As you headed down the aisle, you came across the section of ribbon and took out the sample Nezuko had given to you, making a quick scan around to try and find it as quickly as possible.

Now that Katsuki has found you, he paused, loitering about two yards away from you, staring at the abundance of yarn in front of him while still keeping you in his peripheral. He wasn't some acting fiend, but he knew how to speak to get things he wanted, usually with a bit of aggression but it always worked. Most times he would just swoop in and sink his claws into his desires, but he knew not to do that with you, he needed to truly think about this and not frighten you away.

After a moment of decision making, he plucked up some random skein of yarn and started casually approaching you, almost as if he was trying to get closer to get a better look at your features. Which wasn't hard to do considering the fact that there weren't many black people in this part of New Japan anyways.

“Knew I recognized ya. Long time no see, Miss /Hooters/.” The man says, standing behind you as you're squatted down and comparing the ribbon sample and another ribbon side by side. You paused what you were doing and narrowed your brows, obviously confused, before you stood up and turned to look at who was speaking to you. Soon, you came face to chest with the blond man who'd disrupted the peace at your restaurant some weeks ago. With a glance up, you were able to better recognize him, studying his striking features. It was difficult to forget his spikey, sharp hair and equally sharp carmine eyes, and you hated to admit it but he was attractive. You quickly raked your eyes over his form, taking note of his t-shirt, sweats, and sneakers. He was dressed casually this time around. Studying him further, you noticed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm, along with the red yarn he had clenched in his hand, causing you to raise an eyebrow. He was watching you watch him, and you couldn't help but be suspicious.

"Is there a reason why you're talking to me right now? If you're looking for yarn recommendations, I can't help you. Sorry." You weren't really sorry, but you didn't know what this guy was capable of, something about him just screamed 'danger', not that you were the type to run away with your tail between your legs when threatened.

Even so, you looked away from him and glanced back down at the ribbons you were trying to compare. Nope. Wrong one. You huffed out of your nose and continued on your search, taking a few steps away from the man who'd decided to approach you. You plucked up another roll of ribbon and compared it to the sample, hoping to find it as quickly as possible so that you could leave and not be in the presence of this man anymore.

Katsuki continued to watch you, the gears turning in his head for a moment as he thought quickly on his feet. Slowly, he began to approach you again, keeping some needed distance between himself and you before he spoke again. "I know you'd rather continue with– whatever you're doin' but, I'm gonna use this coincidence to apologize on behalf of my friend. Didn't mean to disturb your place of work, he's just a piece of work and can be a little… *intense.*" He gruffly stated, watching as you kept up your search, back still turned towards him. That was one thing you weren't expecting from a man who looked angry all the time, an apology. Your brows furrowed as you looked back at him over your shoulder, thinking about what to do next. Then, you glanced back down at the yarn he was holding, deciding not to answer what he'd said, and instead changed the topic. Turning away, you nearly jumped for joy when you found the identical ribbon Nezuko used just in your sights, you grabbed the entire stock of them and sighed, standing up straight again.

"Do you knit or something?"

The question seemed to surprise him, and then he remembered what he'd grabbed as well as what aisle he was on. With quick thinking he answered.

"Nah, I'm more of a crocheter. Ran out of yarn so I came to stock up a little."

Glancing at him and then the singular skein, you looked back up at him and raised an eyebrow. "You came to buy just one skein? Hm. That's pretty goal-oriented, I respect your self-control."

He snickered at your comment (if only you knew) and then motioned to the numerous spools of ribbon you had in your hand. "Looks like you came to buy them out of their stock. You a ribbon dancer or somethin'?"

"Ha. Ha. No. I'm buying this for my friend's shop— which reminds me, I should probably get going before her hair turns grey from worrying." You'd stated, preparing to depart from the man and go pay for the ribbon. You commented and turned, beginning to head towards the check-out line, he fell in strides with you, not seeming to let you wander too far.

Noticing his presence, you look back at him and raise an eyebrow, with the spools of ribbon still in one hand, you put your free hand on your hip. “Is there a reason why you’re following me around like a puppy?”

“You should let me buy you dinner sometime. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’re both here. Might be fate.” He remarked, staring down at you with a gaze you couldn't read. The thought seemed to make you chuckle, raising an eyebrow at his cheesy words, though you somewhat admired his straightforward attitude. "If I didn't know any better it would sound like you're trying to ask me on a date even *after* you've already apologized. Is this how you usually pick up women?" Now, it was his turn to scoff and he flashed you a smile that regrettably caused your heart to flutter just a tad bit.

"Heh. Ya caught me. So… whaddya say?"

The person in front of you in the line stepped forward to start getting their things rung up and you stepped forward as well, pondering the man's offer before a realization came to mind. You were still on edge about having your apartment broken in, along with the weird messages, and this obvious gangster was flirting with you. Tanjiro was

going to do his job and you were safe for now, but what if… You looked at the unnamed man for a second, observing him a little closer as you thought things out. Maybe if you went on a date with this scary-looking gangster just once, the stalker would take a hint and go the fuck away. Then again, what if the stalker was possessive? That would mean, they would probably try and hurt this gangster guy in revenge, that would be a death sentence but it could work out in your favor, as dark and cold as that sounded. Perhaps the benefits outweigh the cons of going on a singular date with this guy.

"Next."

Snapped out of your whirl of thoughts by the voice of the cashier, you move to place the heap of ribbon onto the counter and the cashier starts ringing everything up. And just as you're about to use Nezuko's cash to pay, Mr. Carmine places his yarn down on the counter as well and holds his hand up to stop you from getting your cash. Instead, he inserts his debit card into the card reader before you can even protest. You could have stopped him, but you didn't, you simply tucked the cash away and gathered the ribbon after it'd been paid for. In silence, the two of you walked out of the crafting store side by side, and once outside, you finally broke the ice.

"Fine. Just one date though, and nothing else. And don't think I'll agree to anything else just because you paid for some ribbon." You shoved the spools into your pocket and then retrieved your phone from your other pocket. To your disdain, you had new messages from your stalker but you ignored them and opted for creating a new contact for him. "Give me your name and number. I'll text you later."

Your attempt to control the situation made Katsuki all the more infatuated with you but he simply agreed, giving you his full name, along with his number. Once you saved his information, you turned and walked away from him, heading back in the direction of Nezuko's shop, tucking your phone back into your pocket.

Katsuki Bakugou… seemed like a fitting name.

Katsuki watched as your figure became more and more distant before he chuckled, it seemed his plan was a success, and you were none the wiser. It was probably for the best that you remained ignorant, for now, that would just make things easier for everyone.

taglist: @simpforerensattackontitan , @mehhhho3o , @onlyk4is , @winterlovessanemi , @darious , @xxdiaqiaoxx , @simpingfor-wakasa , @taesd-urag , @kashxyou , @black-bhabie-2000 , @dawnrose99 , @hudnkl , @walkerofclouds , @mmst4rz , @tinyjeo , @abandonedhhearts , @heaven857 , @sunghoonsblackgf , @thiccpizza ,

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ladamedusoif · 2 months

Text

Long Distance - Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2000

Warnings: SMUT; Established relationship; Reader lives in Europe; No physical description of Reader; Older!Marcus; Marcus with a PhD; FaceTime sex; masturbation (F and M); oral sex (F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; dirty talk; come (cum) play

Summary: Happily settled with you on the other side of the Atlantic and now working primarily in consultancy, Dr Marcus Pike sometimes finds himself travelling back to the US for work. But there’s always video calling, right?

A/N: I got...carried away. Ahem. I'm not really using taglists any more so follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications. Thank you @agentjackdaniels for previewing this smutty little story.

You never really sleep easy when he’s not here. Strange, after all those years on your own, comfortably splayed out across your large mattress. A year of sharing a bed with Marcus, though, and you feel unsettled without him.

The display on your sunrise alarm clock reads 1.30am when your phone lights up with a message.

You still awake? x

Your fingertips tap out a swift response.

Very much so. x

You settle yourself and your phone as the call comes through. A moment of connection, and there he is: Marcus. Your Marcus, looking so very distinguished with his wavy, silver-streaked hair, warm eyes, and mischievous, boyish smile. He breaks into a wide grin as you appear on the screen.

“There you are, baby.”

"Here I am, love. How are you doing?” You cast a glimpse over the schlubby old FBI t-shirt he sometimes wears lounging around the house. “Are you in bed already?”

Marcus groans and rolls his eyes. “Yup, pretty much. I’m so tired, the clients all want to start at the crack of dawn. Why are they all so obsessed with breakfast meetings here?”

You chuckle. “Sweet man, you’ve become Europeanised.”

"I mean, you do have the better coffee.” He props himself up, resting his chin on his hand. “I miss you so fucking much. It’s only been three days and I’m going crazy.”

"I miss you, too. But what is it - tonight, and then two more nights? And then you’re all mine again.”

Marcus’s chocolate-brown eyes soften as he smiles softly, taking you in. “God, I can’t wait. Fuck, you look so good. Is that the, uh… that nightdress?”

You preen a little for the camera, innocently moving your body ever so slightly. You’re confident that he’s now got an even clearer picture of your tits, nestled in the burgundy lace of your - and his - favourite strappy chemise.

“This old thing?”

He shakes his head and bites his lower lip, grinning. “You are a tease. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

"And what am I doing, Dr Pike? Use all that agent training, tell me. Decipher me.”

He licks his lips. “You’re showing off your beautiful tits, knowing perfectly well I can’t stand not being able to touch them right now.”

You keep eye contact but trail a finger along the soft line of your cleavage, slipping it under the lace to flick gently over your nipple. All the way across the Atlantic, Marcus groans on his DC hotel room bed.

"Oh, I see. You liked that, hmmm?”

He nods. “You know I liked it, baby. Fuck, you are gorgeous, you know? Just…perfect.”

You notice his right arm moving a little, working at something off-screen.

“Are you hard, darling? Are you touching your cock?”

"Mmmm. Yeah, just - just through my shorts.” His gaze flits from your tits to your eyes and back, his breath a little laboured. “You turn me on so much, feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Will you jerk off for me, Marcus? Let me see how hard I make you. Please.” With a flutter of your eyelids you slip down the spaghetti straps of your chemise to reveal your breasts, nipples hard and soft flesh spilling over the lace cups.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck. Yes. Hold on -“ He reaches for his phone and angles it just so, so you can see him tugging down the dark grey sweat shorts and his hard, thick cock springing free against his tummy. He wraps his right hand around it, gently pulling back the foreskin to reveal the head already weeping with pre-come.

Now it’s your turn to whine as your pussy clenches around nothing, reacting to the sight of his cock ready and waiting and so far away. Marcus grins as he continues to stroke himself.

"Think you need to play with your pussy, too.”

You nod and slip a hand between your legs, gathering some of your growing wetness and displaying it to him on your fingers. “See how much I miss you, love?”

He speeds up a little, fucking into his fist and never taking his eyes off you. “Fuck, I wish my mouth was on that pretty little cunt of yours. Wish I was eating you out right now, baby.”

"And I wish I had your gorgeous, hard cock in my mouth, darling.” You start to rub harder, insistent circles over your swollen clit and moan as you listen to the sound of your boyfriend jerking off.

He moans and closes his eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me, what would you do?”

“I’d use my tongue - lick the shaft, first, the way you like it.” The sound of your wetness is lewd and arousing. “Then - oh, fuck - take you into my mouth, suck the head, stroke you with my hand…”

Marcus pauses to spit into his hand, a poor substitute for the lubrication offered by your slick. “Keep going. Keep fucking going, love.”

“Fuck, I wish I had that gorgeous cock inside me.” You slip a finger inside your pussy and whine at the sensation as you press on the sensitive spot he knows exactly how to work. “M’finger is nothing, need you.”

Marcus pants as he continues to stroke his cock, and pulls up his t-shirt to expose his belly. He’s getting close. “Wish I was fucking you, too. Feeling - oh, fuck - all of you on my cock, pulling out and…” He screws up his face and groans and your cunt aches for him. “Fuck, I want to come on your tits.”

Your free hand finds your breast as you continue to rut against your hand, fingers pinching the nipple and massaging the flesh. It’s your Marcus. He deserves a show, and you’re only too happy to deliver. He grunts and groans, never taking his eyes off you.

“I’m really close, Marcus.” Your hips buck upward as you near your peak. “I’m gonna come for you - fuck, gonna -“

He strokes himself furiously, desperately, as he watches you reach orgasm - and talks you through it.

"Jesus, look at you. Coming on your own hand - oh, fuck - getting yourself off for me. Good girl. Good - fuck, gonna come - fucking good girl.”

He comes hard, angling his cock so that the white, viscous come hits his bare tummy. Your cunt still aches for him.

“I wish I was there to clean you up, Marcus.”

He chuckles and lies back on the pillows, curls damp with sweat and a huge smile on his face. He grabs his phone so you can see him. “Right back at you. Bet you’re so wet now, huh?”

“Soaked.”

“Fuck. Hope you’re ready for when I come home, baby.”

In the early morning, your sleeping form rests peacefully in your large bed, an arm cuddling a pillow to your torso for comfort. When you’d set your alarm the night before, you reminded yourself that you just had two more nights before he was home again.

Two more nights. Two more sleeps. And then: him. Him. Only him.

A shifting weight on the mattress stirs you, still halfway between waking and slumber. In the hazy half-light, you turn your head and find a beautiful, familiar sight.

“Hi, baby.”

“M-Marcus? What are you - did I get my dates wrong? I thought you were back tomorrow…”

“I was supposed to be,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “and I took an earlier flight because I just missed you so much. Hey - is that my shirt?”

You nod, turning your body wholly towards him and nuzzling against him. “It is. Your Georgetown T-shirt, I just - it feels like you.” He pulls you close and kisses the top of your head. “Marcus - what about the work?”

He hums happily. “The clients were happy, and there isn’t much more to do that I can’t do from here.”

He moves his lips to your neck, softly nipping and licking the delicate skin as his big hands work their way under the T-shirt and up to your breasts.

“I have been thinking about this the whole way home.”

You giggle. “Oh really? And you were able to keep yourself under control?”

Marcus kisses you on the mouth as he nods, fingers kneading your tits. “My self-discipline was tested, I admit, but oh, fuck, baby…”

Your hands are on his crotch, feeling the growing hardness under the grey sweatpants he likes to wear on long-distance flights. You lean into his ear as you tug down the sweats and his boxers, taking his cock in your hand.

“Why don’t you see if I’m still wet from the other night?”

With a groan, Marcus slips his hand between your legs and finds the wetness already pooling at your core. “Pretty fucking wet, baby.” He sucks his fingers clean of your slick before shucking off his sweatshirt and tee.

“Good.” You sit up and quickly straddle him, his thighs between yours as you peel off the old T-shirt so you’re completely bare for him. “I’m going to make you feel so good, darling man.”

You gather some of your own slick across your palm and fingers before taking his cock in your hand, stroking the velvet skin of the shaft and gently bringing your palm over the head in a fluid motion that you know drives him wild. Marcus watches your hands as you pleasure him, little animalistic noises issuing forth from his beautiful mouth as he grows ever harder under your practiced touch.

“Do you want me?”

He nods furiously and you lift yourself up to shift forward, notching the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Tell me, Marcus.”

"Need you so fucking bad, baby. Please.”

You take him inside you in one stroke, your wetness easing his thick cock into the tightness of your pussy. Marcus cries out as you begin to ride him, hands pressed into his broad chest.

“Better than the phone sex, huh?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you hiss, hips rolling in a well-established rhythm as you fuck him. “Liked watching you jerk off to me, though.”

"Me too, baby.” Marcus grips your hips and grins as he admires you: your body, your curves, the way you’re letting yourself go as you ride his cock. You bite your lip and roll back your head, lost in the sensation of how your man stretches and fills you so perfectly.

When you slip a finger against your clit, he practically growls, meeting your rhythm as he starts to fuck up into you.

“‘M not gonna last, baby,” he pants, fingers pressing into the flesh of your hips and ass.

“You want to come on my tits, like you said?”

His desperate nod is your cue to lift yourself off his cock, glistening with your slick and his pre-come, and shuffle down the bed a little. You press your breasts together as Marcus wraps his broad hand around his cock and pumps it quickly.

“Fuck, your tits are pretty. So fucking soft and perfect and -“

He stutters and cries out as he comes, his release hitting your breasts and gathering on the hard peaks of your nipples.

You gather some of it up on your finger and suck it clean.

“Jesus, baby. That’s so fucking hot.”

You release your finger with a pop. “Thank you, love. Can you get me a cloth?”

He wanders off and returns with a washcloth, gently cleaning your body and his cock before returning it to the bathroom. By the time he gets back, you’re tucked under the covers again. He grins as he joins you, pulling your naked body to his.

“Missed you.” You wind an errant, silver-streaked curl around your finger. “It feels like there’s something missing when you’re not here.”

Marcus kisses your forehead and you nuzzle up against his chest. “Don’t I know it? I felt exactly the same in DC, wondering where you were. Missed going to sleep beside you, waking up with you.”

You chuckle against the warm, sweat-damp skin of his chest, pressing your lips to the freckles dusted across his golden body. “And fucking me.”

He laughs, and the sound makes your heart soar. “That, too. But trust me - I’ll make it up to you.”

"Oh you will, huh?”

His coffee-brown eyes are as sincere and honest as ever. “Always and forever. Even with jet lag.”

dividers by @cafekitsune

#long distance fic #ladameecrit #la dame writes #marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedrostories

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

Andy Doesn't Know - Eddie Munson x Reader

WC: 3.3K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie hates seeing you with your dickhead jock boyfriend, Andy. He'd much rather see you where you are now: underneath him. Heavily inspired by / based off of Scotty Doesn't Know

Contents/Warnings: smut (18+, minors dni), p in v, oral sex (both receiving), cheating, slight spit kink, brief choking, eddie calls reader 'princess' and 'his girl'

A/N: i dooo have a part two to this already in progress that's a threesome with chrissy so i hope you look forward to that!! beta read by @gettingrailedbyreid thank you lea for your wonderful feedback because 300 words of this would not exist without you <33

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Andy, you really don’t need to worry! I’ve got enough money,” It takes all of your effort to keep your voice together over the phone, the receiver held so tightly in your hand that you’re surprised it doesn’t shatter, “The dress isn’t that expensive.”

“But I like buying you things.” Andy drawls into the phone, a lazy smirk surely on his lips, “And I wanna see the way you look in it. You know blue’s one of my favorite colors on you.”

Eddie’s long, slender fingers snap the pad of your powder blue panties against your cunt, the fabric stretched to the side while his tongue writhes expertly through your folds.

“Me too.” He murmurs into you, his voice near-inaudible, but the vibrations that come off of it leave your stomach in knots.

“I- I’ll wear it to church,” You promise, “I gotta go! I see a cute pair of shoes.”

“Bye baby,” Andy pipes up, “Just let me know if you want me to pick you up before mass-” But before he can finish you’re spamming the ‘end-call’ button, hanging up before you could reveal your current compromising position.

That position just so happened to be stretched out across the folded-down seats of Eddie Munson’s beat-up van, your bare cunt to the roof as your legs are draped over his shoulders.

He took extra care to work you up for your phone call with Andy, a devilish smirk on his face when he prompted you to answer the call.

“He’s so fucking stupid.” Eddie snickers between lithe licks at your cunt, “Can’t even tell when his girl’s getting fucked.”

“Eddie,” You whimper, torn between scolding him for calling Andy stupid and melting into his ministrations, “I- I should go soon. If I’m here for too long he might come looking for me.”

“You’re not leaving,” Eddie scoffs, spitting lewdly into your cunt and prodding his saliva into you with his tongue, “You could get up and go home right now if you really wanted to. But you aren’t.”

“I- I need to!” You struggle to brace yourself on your elbows, Eddie’s tongue delving deeper into your pussy and making you see stars, “If he finds out-”

“He’ll kill me.” Eddie grumbles, sucking harshly on your clit, “I know.”

You let out a strangled gasp at the waves of pleasure rolling through you, slumping back onto the seat. You don’t have the energy or the need to leave anymore, all that you’re focused on is Eddie and his tongue.

Soon to be his cock, by the looks of it, because his hands stop squeezing the flesh of your inner thighs and they start grappling with his belt buckle.

He manages to slide his jeans down his hips, his boxers peeling away with them. His cock bounces up to stand below his tummy, a sight that pools saliva around your teeth and on your tongue.

“Come on,” Eddie urges, “Sit up, Princess.”

You try, you really do, but you’re clumsy with your limbs and his breath is still hitting your cunt, sending shockwaves through you. All you can do is whine desperately up at him, “Eddie, help.”

He slides your thighs off of his shoulders, and they happily tighten around his waist. His hands slide beneath your shoulder blades and he lifts you effortlessly, tugging you upright to straddle his lap.

“Nice and easy, baby.” He urges you, his hands prying at your hips as you sink slowly onto his cock. He hisses in appreciation at the feeling of your cunt squeezing him, his teeth digging into his plush lower lip.

“You’re a real expert at this.” Eddie muses, “S’pose it helps you’ve got two guys to practice on.”

“Eddie,” You scold, tucking your face into his shoulder, “Don’t!”

“You do,” Eddie presses forward, tucking your calves beneath your thighs so that you can use them as leverage to bounce on him with, “Does Andy’s dick fill you up this much?”

Eddie is overwhelming. His cock stretches you, his words intoxicate you, his hands leave bruises on your hips.

All you can do is shake your head against his neck, the feeling of Eddie practically splitting you in two with his cock overtaking your brain function.

“Use your words,” One of Eddie’s hands flies from your hip to your chin, tugging your face out of his shoulder, “Open that pretty little mouth of yours and tell me who’s better, sweetheart.”

“You.” You manage to mumble, your tongue heavy in your mouth as heat pools between your thighs, “You are.”

“Say my name.” He commands, holding your jaw tight, “Who’s fuckin’ you dumb right now, princess?”

“Eddie!” You cry out, the word slightly distorted from how firm his grip around your chin is, “N- Not Andy. Never Andy.”

“‘S a shame you gotta stick with that dick,” Eddie croons, a sick grin on his face, “You’d do so much better on mine.”

His words are proven by the searing pleasure that rips through your insides, his cock thick as it prods deeply at your core. You’re bouncing on him, barely helped at all by his hand on your waist, your strength reinvigorated just to fuck him. Your eyes are screwed tightly shut, your tongue hanging limply in your mouth as he holds your jaw.

“Tongue out, baby.” His words pry your eyes open, desperation flickering in your irises as you stick your tongue out obediently for him. His jaw shifts slightly and he spits into your mouth, his saliva spreading over your tongue and pooling around your teeth. Before you can close your mouth, intent on swallowing what he’d given you, he leans in, licking a long stripe up your tongue. You tuck it into his mouth, eagerly meshing it with his own and he closes the kiss, his lips stained with a mixture of the both of your spit as he licks sensually around your mouth. It’s obscene, you can feel drool leaking from the seam of your lips and it lands perfectly on the base of Eddie’s cock, eliciting a guttural groan from the man. He breaks away, his forehead pressed against yours as he peers at the saliva on his cock, slowly dripping down to coat his balls.

“Spit.” He commands hoarsely, and though you long to tuck your tongue into your mouth, swallowing Eddie’s drool, you don’t. You release your mouthful of saliva, aiming for his cock and watching it drip obscenely around the base.

“Fuck,” His breath heaves, your spit probably staining his seat, “That asshole’s gonna taste me on you.”

“Hm?” You’re delirious, humming questioningly up at Eddie with shining eyes.

“Andy,” Eddie spits, the word venomous as it flies off his tongue, “Next time he tastes you, he’ll be tasting me too.”

You whine pathetically, tucking your face into Eddie’s shoulder again. The surge of pleasure through your core at Eddie’s words is embarrassing, and your lips part gently around Eddie’s skin as you pant into his neck.

“Tell him..” Eddie grunts, snapping his hips up into yours, “Tell him to tell me how my dick tastes, baby.”

There’s a surge of pleasure in your gut at his words, but you blurt out what you’re thinking instead of letting it consume you, “He doesn’t..” You breathe, “He.. He doesn’t taste me!”

Eddie’s hips don’t stop, but they slow. You can’t see it from your position in his neck, but he frowns, his front teeth digging viciously into his lower lip as he pondered how the hell Andy was able to resist burying his face in your pretty pussy.

“Fuck him,” Eddie seethes, not a command but an insult as he picks up his previous pace, “That dick doesn’t even pleasure you? No wonder you keep comin’ t’me.” He croons, pressing a kiss to your sweat-beaded hairline, “Does he even make you cum?”

You sniffle miserably against his shoulder, pure ecstasy ravaging you from the inside out, “Not always. I- I have to- to do it myself.”

Eddie groans into the crown of your head, his breath fanning over your scalp hot and heavy, “Poor thing,” His voice is raspy, his words dragged out with sympathy, “‘Gotta touch yourself ‘cause he doesn’t?”

“Mm-hm,” You hum pitifully into his flushed skin, “It- It never feels this good!”

Eddie wants to let a triumphant smirk cross his face, but he’s still fuming about the idea of you having to get yourself off because Andy doesn’t want to. So instead he ducks his head down, pressing a kiss to your heated cheek, “I’ll always make you feel good, sweetheart. If he ever quits early… y’know, doesn’t let you finish? Call me, I’ll help you through it on the phone.”

Phone sex with Eddie sounds filthy. So filthy, in fact, that you’re closer than ever to your orgasm, but you let it linger, not worried that it’ll be ripped away from you just before you can achieve it. Eddie feels safe and secure, and you nuzzle your cheek into his lips.

“On- On the phone?” You murmur, your belly swirling with desire, “What if we get caught?”

“We won’t, baby. Trust me. You promise, though? You’ll give me a call whenever he doesn’t do it for you?”

“Promise,” You nod once, his lips sliding slickly over your cheek.

“That’s my girl.” Eddie praises you, and that does it.

You’re seeing stars, your thighs trembling and your core aching as you cum. Eddie has to hold your hips, your bouncing becoming sloppy as you lose control. Your orgasm is messy, cum oozing out around Eddie’s cock and dripping into the hair there, as well as coating his balls. You can’t tell if you’re squirting, because Eddie’s stuffing you tight enough that there’s no room for it to build momentum, but it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie lets out a choked groan, the sound raspy and low, ducking his head down to nudge at your temple. You lift your head blindly out of his neck, whimpers and whines flowing from your throat in the sweetest song Eddie’s ever heard. He bumps his nose into your cheek, clenching his teeth to keep himself from cumming inside of you. You scramble off of him before he can lose control, the sudden emptiness causing your gaping cunt to contract around nothingness, and Eddie’s eyes track the movements.

“Get on your knees, baby.” Eddie pants, his cock standing stiff near his belly, “Hurry up, I’m gonna lose it!”

“No, no, Eddie, I gotta go!” You plead, “Church starts soon.”

“What does it fucking matter?” Eddie scoffs, “You’ll be on your knees either way.”

“Eddie,” You whine, white hot shame curling up in you like billowing smoke, “Don’t- don’t-”

“Don’t what, babe? You’re really gonna hike up those panties and sit next to Andy in church?” His breathing is labored and his cock is in dire need of attention, the tip flushed red, “I think if you walk in there now, the place’ll go up in flames.”

“What.. what do I tell them?” You linger by the phone, your eyes flickering down to the mouthwatering sight between Eddie’s legs.

“Tell ‘em you’re sick.” Eddie supplies lazily, “That’s what you are, y’know? ‘Bout to gag on my dick instead of going to church with your boyfriend.”

Shame fills your gut once more, but the sight of Eddie’s leaking cock overpowers it. You nod shakily, ringing Andy’s number and waiting with bated breath for him to answer.

“Babe?” His voice bleeds through the speaker, and you can see Eddie mimic him with a disdainful expression from the corner of your eye, “You ready for mass?”

“Actually,” You start, your voice conveniently raspy from the adrenaline of sex, “I went home. I’m really not feeling good, Andy, I think I’m getting sick or something.”

“Oh, sorry baby. You gonna be okay? I guess I can, like, grab soup or something, or-”

“No!” You’re not very good at lying. It’s a wonder he hasn’t figured you out yet, to be honest. “No, I- I don’t want you to get sick, and I’m not very hungry right now.” That’s a lie. You want nothing more than to swallow Eddie’s cum, keep his cock in your mouth for as long as he’ll let you, “Just go to church, hopefully I’ll make next time.”

“Alright,” Andy sounds hesitant to let you go, but he complies anyway, “Feel better, babe.”

You’re barely able to offer a meek ‘thanks’ in return, once more tossing your phone away from you the second you hang up.

“Put that lying little mouth to good use,” Eddie pants, his ring-clad fingers bunched up into fists at his sides, “I’m gonna cum soon, and I want it to be on your tongue.”

As if the sight of his cock isn’t enticing enough, precum already leaking from the flushed, red tip, his words are. Your knees scrape roughly against the seats of his van but you don’t care; no amount of temporary pain is enough to alleviate your carnal urge to drool on Eddie’s cock.

You eagerly take him into your mouth, a wanton whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. He’s musky, sweaty and sex-crazed, but you’re desperate, and it only makes you more needy. Your post-orgasm haze clings to your consciousness, your brain fuzzy as you lick and lave at Eddie’s dick. His eyes are squeezed shut, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. He had been mere seconds away from cumming inside of you, and the urge to blow his load down your throat before you even take him in fully is overwhelming. It takes all of the self control in him not to drown you, not to fill up your throat so lushly with his cum that you’ll be tasting him for weeks.

“Shit babe,” He pants, his voice painfully raspy as he staves off an orgasm, “You’re real messy.”

It’s true. You’re drooling, saliva once more pooling at the base of his cock and dripping lewdly onto his balls. It’s quickly become one of Eddie’s favorite sights, but it gets topped mere seconds later when you grab hold of his saliva-slick balls, massaging them sensually in your palm. His hips jerk and he bottoms out in your throat, his cock triggering a violent gag when it bumps against the back. You hollow your cheeks and tighten your lips around the base of his cock, your tongue curling wetly against the underside. He swears you’re making him explode, the gentle, rolling stroke of your tongue against his cock while your lips brush his base absolutely intoxicating. He knows then and there that he’s never felt anything as good as you, and never will again.

In a desperate effort to get more stimulation, more of your tongue, more of your throat, more of your mouth, more of you, his hand cups the front of your neck, his fingers digging into the sides of your throat as he tugs you closer.

Perhaps it would be more efficient to push on the back of your neck, Eddie muses. But that wouldn’t give him the sinful sight of his veiny hand, fingers ring-clad and nimble, stretched around your throat. He feels it constricting under his palm, feels every shift of your tongue against his cock, and he knows he’s nearing the point of no return.

“Babe I- shit.” He hisses, pressing firmer against your throat and relishing in the choked whimper it tears from you, “You’re good at this. ‘S like,” He cuts himself off with a groan, “‘S like you were made for my dick.”

You whine around him, the vibrations nearly throwing him over the edge. But sudden rage flares through him as he remembers you’re with someone else, that your mouth isn’t just for him, and he squeezes tight at your throat.

You let out an indignant cry, but it melts into a moan as he maintains the pressure. He’s not hurting you, he knows you’d tell him if he was, and he watches your eyelids flutter softly as your tongue presses tight against the bottom of his cock.

“Not Andy’s. You hear me?

You nod vigorously and he grips you tighter, “Say it. Tell me you’re mine, princess.”

“I’m yours,” Your eyes shine as you mewl pathetically around his cock, your words mumbled and strained, “I’m yours, Eddie.”

That does it.

The combination of your sweet gaze locked on his, your lips stretched around his cock, your hands cupping his balls, his hand on your neck; it’s all too much. He longs to throw his head back and let his orgasm consume him, but he wants to see you. He watches as you close off your throat, his cum painting the inside of your mouth and gushing out from between your lips, It’s the filthiest thing he’s ever seen, and he feels your lips tighten around the base of his cock as you slowly pull away, licking him clean as you go.

Once his cock is out of your mouth your cheeks are bulging, probably more full of air than cum but he appreciates the dramatics. There’s a smear that drips lewdly down your chin, and Eddie swipes it off of your skin with his rough thumb.

“Swallow.” He commands, and you obey instantly. The feeling of his cum sliding down your slick throat warms your belly, the perfect cherry on top to the orgasm you’d had only minutes prior. He holds his thumb out in front of you and you eagerly take it into your mouth, your soft cushy tongue sliding over the pad of his finger.

You lick him clean, and yet he’s never felt so dirty. He presses roughly against your tongue, pinning it to the bottom of your mouth, and he feels drool pool around his finger.

“Y’got all of it, baby?” His voice is much softer now that he’s coming down from his high, and you nod eagerly at his gentle tone. You let his thumb slip from between your pursed lips with one last swipe of your tongue over his skin, then a pop as it leaves your mouth. Eddie grins softly at the sound, leaning in to press a kiss to your still-puckered lips. You hum into his mouth, your noses brushing. When he breaks away it’s with a grin, his tongue slipping out from between his lips to glaze over them.

“You taste good.” He hums, and your tummy flutters softly, “You taste like me.”

You’re well aware of the lingering traces of Eddie’s orgasm still sticking to your mouth. The taste isn’t unpleasant, though, and you hum contentedly, “Yeah.”

He laughs at your dreamy sigh, reaching for the panties that were pooled at your ankles.

“C’mon baby,” He urges, gently pulling them up your thighs, “‘Gotta get goin’.”

“I don’t want to,” You whine, pressing your face into his neck and kissing gently at the skin there.

“I thought you had to make church,” He teases lightly, his thumb and pointer finger pinching at your side. You flinch away from the teasing contact, groaning, “Eddie, stop!”

“Oh, please.” Eddie gripes, “They’re gonna figure us out soon if you keep stickin’ around.”

“I know.” You admit resignedly, “I just don’t wanna leave you.”

There’s a momentary sweet silence that falls after your admission, and you’re worried you’ve put too much meaning behind your bizarre hookup. But then Eddie is leaning forwards, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of your lips.

“There’s always next Sunday.” He soothes you, his brown doe eyes flicking between your glum ones, “Same time and place?”

“Same time and place.” You tug your skirt down your thighs, peering timidly out of the grungy windows of Eddie’s van to make sure no one is watching. The coast looks clear and Eddie pops the trunk, something forlorn in his eyes as he watches you slip out of his van and back onto the ground. But it’s gone in an instant when you turn around, your skirt billowing around your thighs, “Bye Eddie, drive safe!”

He grins fondly at your cheery wave, the gesture seeming out of place for someone who'd just been screaming his name minutes earlier. He waves back, offering you a cheeky wink before you turn around, “Send my fondest regards to Andy, babe, and don't forget to call me.”

tags: @rivekel @wh0reformunson @santaatemypuppy @dead-bl0g @twisy123 @kellysimagines @meaganjm @catherinnn @1800-fight-me @theh3aven

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

OMG IF YOU WANT PLS DO WRITE THE FIC ABOUT MIGUEL SEEING OUR THIRST TRAPS 😭 salamat talagaaaa wala na kasi akong maisip maliban kay miguel

HELLOOOOO, OFC I WILL ANON, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS HEHE this is another excuse to make more text fics bc it's starting to feel fun for me LMAO <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

is it not for me? – miguel o'hara x reader (reacting to your thirst traps)

a/n: kind of suggestive shit underneath the cut, sorry if you don't like it, you have every right to scroll away ^^

after getting used to the controls and operations on social media and understanding the basic goal, or lack, of it–miguel had begun scrolling through his feed like you and lyla directed him to do. he scrolled and scrolled through the endless photos, videos, and posts sent his way by the very strange algorithm of the app. he still hadn't found the right thing for him on social media and he honestly wouldn't be here if you and lyla didn't force him to try it out so much, but when he least expected it... he happened upon your account.

he saw a photo of your back, it was you taking a selfie in the mirror with hardly anything covering your back. your behind was in full view but covered up, the lighting was dim, save for the flash of your phone's camera. the caption read: "for m, hoping you'll enjoy this three-course meal 🍓"

...that did something to miguel. it set some sort of feeling off of him, something that urged him to not just click like, but to comment right then and there: "who the shock is 'm'?" but if only he knew how to comment; all he knows how to do is click like and scroll.

he clicked the like button, unsure of how to feel about that very... eye-catching photo of yours. he tried shaking the feeling off, but he just couldn't; he couldn't stop thinking about it. he scrolled back up to see who else liked your photo, it took him a few tries to figure out how to do that. he also saw a few of the preview comments, complimenting your looks and tagging their friends who had 'm' in their names–joking that the photo was for them.

it pissed miguel off that these people could think your photos were for them, when you promised him you were all his. it damaged his ego slightly, but he figured these people were just douches, simple as that.

...but he needed to be doubly sure, so he click on your profile and looked through the posts you made. you really did love showing off your behind, it seemed like you were incredibly proud of it; miguel's totally in love with your ass, don't get him wrong, bur to know other people could see it and get to revisit the sight of your ass? oh, that made him feel a bit of a stinging pain in his chest.

he hated that feeling, where he felt like you were sharing intimate bits of yourself when you kept reminding and telling him you're all his. that, and as he scrolled through your comments, he saw a lot of people who not only loved your photos and sent you many compliments, but many who told you to get off the platform–many also catcalled you in the comments, too, much to his disgust.

"can't even keep this shit in real life, what losers." he muttered under his breath as he felt his anger rise as he kept scrolling through your comment section. he had gone through almost all of your posts, memorizing all the details of your posts and how you looked in them, feeling his face and chest flare up in a fit of heat as he looked through them all one by one. he sighed as he noticed you were a little too bold in these photos, in his opinion. he didn't want you to jeopardize yourself, seeing as how there were a lot of creeps on your account, he wanted to bring it to you attention.

hence, he messaged you all about his concerns.

"for... her mother?" miguel repeated to himself as he reread your message to him. he sighed, not believing your excuse one bit, believing you directed it to someone with an 'm' in their name, like him, but he decided to play along for now to get you to fess up eventually. that, and he doesn't think you'd wish your mom would have a lovely three-course meal with your ass picture, but he did see that you took pictures of food afterwards, so... it was plausible. but you were not off the hook yet.

he sighed as you laughed at his attempt at guessing who that post was for, who 'm' was. he felt a little embarrassed, a little ashamed he thought it was him, but then he thought of who would be closest to you, had 'm' in their name, and would enjoy the three-course meal that was... you already know what. he sighed as he typed and retyped his message after deleting the previous one, trying to get himself together after outing himself as being a little expectant that those thirst traps were for him.

he finally messaged you, trying to sound stern over text, but he was completely ignored by you when you sent him a selfie of your bottom half, with little letters on your bottom that read: "good????? bad????? should i get em....."

fuck, you baited him again.

he felt his cheeks grow hot and his breath hitch in his throat as he stared at your photo for a second, hoping you wouldn't post this, that this could remain as just a little thing between you two. but then again, he couldn't control you, so he'd just try to respond back–seeming unfazed. hopefully.

he was so easy to please sometimes.

moral of the story?

miguel loves your ass and wants to beat up the creeps in your comments section, while making it known to both you and the world that your ass is all for him–nobody else.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @fictarian @yuridopted0 @arachnoia @meeom @ophanimgold @melovetitties @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @popeheywardssecretgf

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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tellmeallaboutit · 2 days

Text

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better.

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm.

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you?

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably.

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters.

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped?

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed.

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together.

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you.

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week).

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way).

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction.

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd.

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin.

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction.

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway.

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael.

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael.

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep.

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote...

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?"

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were.

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee.

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair?

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up.

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look.

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?"

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?"

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement.

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money.

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack. "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition".

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair.

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said.

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me."

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute. Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure.

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm.

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer.

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you.

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away.

You remained seated and stayed.

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman.

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there.

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender.

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting?

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts.

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?"

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone.

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'.

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

#bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x player #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #raphael x you #meta fanfic #knock knock

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daimyosprincess · 16 days

Text

NEW BOBA FIC FRIDAY!!! 🎉

As promised besties here is a preview of my upcoming WIP Worth the Risk! Inspired by the AU queen @maybege's dad's friend and matchmade!Boba thots, this fic's got all your favs: banter, bratting, and getting dicked the f*ck down 🥴

I should have the full story up in the next couple weeks, hope y'all enjoy 💖

—PAIRING: Dad's Friend!Boba Fett x F!Reader

—SUMMARY: Pushing your luck has its rewards.

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

Your cheeks heat immediately reading Boba’s message. You can’t see him from your seat but you know wherever he is, he can certainly see you. Crossing your knees, you make sure your hem rides a little higher up your thigh.

Your phone buzzes again and your eyes dart to the new message on your screen.

<I’m not going to ask you twice>

A heated shiver ripples down your spine, pooling in the dampness already forming between your thighs. You know you shouldn’t have riled him up before your family’s cookout but you just couldn’t resist after he’d been gone for a week. Missing his bone deep comfort and lightning touch, you wore a new flirty sundress and rubbed him half hard in the driveway, completely unable to contain your excitement at having him back in your arms. You’d been an absolute angel in his absence, texting him that you remembered to take your meds, drinking enough water everyday, and not touching where you wanted him most just like he asked.

Really, you’ve been a complete saint. You only texted him those two dirty pictures because he asked for them. If anything, Boba should be rewarding you for your restraint instead of making you survive this cookout aching and desperate before he took you home and made good on all his filthy promises.

Yes, it had definitely been time to take matters into your own hands. And you’re not going to stop now. A sly grin sneaks over your face and you tap out a response.

Adrenaline pipes hot as you hit send. Clicking the screen off, you make a show of stretching so your tits press together. You know he’s got a laser focus on you now after that little message.

Feeling rather pleased with yourself, you chuck your phone into the seat you’re saving for your cousin, Ari. You scan the crowd of family, friends, and neighbors searching for their telltale blue hair and catch it over by the drinks table. No surprise there, of course.

“My, my, my, such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl.”

The hot shock of Boba’s sinful voice races across your skin. From the sound of it alone you know you’re in deep shit—maybe he’d finally snap and press you up against a wall in a hidden corner. After all, your “good” deeds never went unpunished with him, especially not when they involved blatant acts of brattery. And especially not when you acted like you could get away with them.

A hot spike fires in your core at the thought of what he might do next.

Putting your most dazzlingly innocent smile, you turn your face up to him, acting like you’re making pleasant conversation. “Oh I assure you, it can get much dirtier… remember that night in your truck?”

The corner of his lips twitch up. “Careful, princess.” The way his dark eyes burn with the unspoken magnitude of his threat almost draws a whimper from your lips. “You already owe me those pink panties of yours, don’t make me add to that list.”

divider by @saradika

taglist 💖

@agirlnamejacq @burningfieldof-clover @marierg @dukeoftheblackstar @imarvelatthestars

@saradika @baufraus @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin

@sleepingsun501 @sgt-morgan @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420

@writingwintermoon @funnyducky666 @acatalystrising @xxladysquishyxx @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

@kimiheartblade @shinyshayminflower @wings-and-beskar @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @wolffegirlsunite

@echocolatt @100lxtters @bobaprint @cw80831 @anticipayosbot

#zwei writes #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x you #boba fett fanfic #boba fett smut #boba fett fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #worth the risk fic

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meowjunie · 2 years

Text

that’s right we twisted (i like it like that) (M)

preview: “where’s jeno?” you tried hard to steady your clearly wavering tone and glanced around to avoid any further awkward stares.

“you’re looking at him.” jeno snorted and knocked back his hood with a veiny hand, revealing golden blonde locks and a pair of black floppy ears.

the world seemed to stop at that moment. how in the hell did you skip over the fact that you were looking after a grown ass man?

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

word count: 4.4k

genre: non idol! jeno, hybridverse au, pwp, crack-ish?, strangers to fucking

warnings: predator/prey dynamics, brief choking, hair pulling, submission, non-sexual and sexual degradation (jeno is mean), coercion/manipulation (jeno tells y/n she’s being overdramatic about him not prepping her & other)

smut warning: m/f, rough sex, unprotected sex (wear! protection!), improper prep, anal (f), creampie

a/n: y/n did consent to everything above! what i write does not reflect jeno in any way. this is purely fiction.

requests: hard hours are closed.

“y/n,” your landlord sighed into his palm,”if i extended your deadline for payment, i’d be showing favoritism. rent is due next month and the overdraw fee at this period is hefty.”

“give me more time — how am i supposed to find a job on such short notice?” you pleaded, vigorously refreshing on your bank account app as if money would appear instantly.

“make it happen or i have no choice but to kick you out. demand is high and time is money.” the older man shook his head apologetically, turning and hopping down the steps without another word.

“fuck this.” you sighed out, hands buried in your hair.

“fuck.”

where the hell were you gonna find quick cash in a non sketchy way?

shutting the door before your neighbors saw you mid-crisis, your thoughts spiraled.

“fucking capitalism! i can’t do indeed without a resume, can’t even fucking do uber because i’d need a car and i use the subway..” you threw your hands up in frustration.

after a few minutes of panic, your mind came to a full stop at the dreadful realization.

your last resort.

you’ve heard all types of horror stories about craigslist, and deep down you were just praying you weren’t about to become another storyteller for a fucked up job all for the sake of keeping a roof over your head.

nonetheless, you found yourself scrolling endlessly on the site through your phone, barbie bandaid clad thumb slowly landing on a job offer that seemed too good to be true. “hell no, this must be a ploy to get kidnapped or some shit. that much to watch a dog?” your eyes widened at the listing.

1 night only dog-sitter needed ASAP!! $150 hourly. (jeno is very playful and curious. *on the territorial side as a rottweiler breed* higher payment can be discussed if this will be an issue, thank you!)

you skimmed over the details for what looked like the fifteenth time, not fully trusting it. you knew you didn’t have much time and needed quick cash, but you didn’t want to take a risk.

“fuck it. i need this.” you sucked in a deep breath and cracked your knuckles, messaging the lister immediately.

if it turned out to be a deranged killer, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about rent!

the prompt ding from your phone nearly sent you flying at the quick response, spiking the anxious feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“damn, this must be urgent..” you mumbled, reading the response with budding apprehension.

65154427: thank you so much for reaching out! finding a last minute sitter has been a nightmare :(

jeno is a bit of a handful and he’s spoiled so those two things alone have cost me a lot of time when it comes to keeping long term sitters.

i hope that you’re able to take care of my puppy!

quizzically, you typed back some words of encouragement, confirming that the services in the dog sitting listing wouldn’t be a problem.

those seemed to be the exact words the owner was looking for because it was then that after a few words of approval later, you found yourself job bound in only a matter of a half hour.

so, not too shabby!

the thought of being kicked out with no way to pick yourself up haunted you for months and there was no way you were gonna let that shit manifest for you so this was a huge pick me up in your eyes.

“i love dogs and i’m good with them. what the hell could go wrong? the damn thing eats, sleeps, and shits! i’m going to be just fine.”

you blew off the brewing feeling of uncertainty in the pit of your stomach, before plopping on your sad couch.

everything will be fine!

—————

everything was not fine.

the pressure of doing a job well done was instantly heightened as soon as you found the place you were going to be staying overnight at.

a modern penthouse with gold outlining and neatly trimmed bushes stood in front of you as you entered, an even more upscaled elevator greeting you upon your entrance with a mocking ding.

who the hell were you dog sitting for? brad pitt?

“do not fuck up.” you whispered to yourself as you boarded the elevator, punching in the floor number with a shaky finger.

you were genuinely starting to become unmotivated at your ability to take care of this seemingly high end dog.

a smooth elevator ride later, you stepped out self consciously and immediately strode down the hall to look for the number of the place, not wasting time.

time is money. you repeated after your landlord internally.

the show of the city lights reflected appealingly on the top floors of the glass vicinities, your breath stilling at the admirable sight. “eat the rich but i could get used to this.”

your unconfident trudges finally came to a stop at a creme door, luxuriously crafted. with that quality? it had to be.

your stomach broiled in suspense as you rang the two way intercom, free hand gripping onto your overnight bag at what would happen next.

“this is the sitter you called for? for jeno?”

a pregnant pause had passed until you heard a small ‘mhm’ being thrown back in return on the intercom, your face dropping immediately at that.

some fucking professional.

the ear-penetrating buzzing blasted out from the intercom as a result of the door being unlocked, alerting the nosy hallow halls of the presence of a new company.

you took a deep breath to calm your nerves before pushing the automatic heavy door open with your hand and strolling into the spacious home, placing your items down on the couch.

first mistake.

“jeno!” you made kissy noises and crouched, expecting to be met with the love of a young and energetic puppy.

“you shouldn’t put your things on other people’s property, miss sitter.” a bass filled tone spoke from behind you, a shrill gasp ripping out of your throat.

“what the hell?” you grabbed onto your chest, heart damn near beating out of it’s cavity while you rose from your bent position and turned to look at the source of noise.

an attractive male stood tall before you, hands tucked into the pockets of his raised hoodie and legs adorned with what looked like balenciaga sweatpants. his sharp eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of you, causing you to curl into yourself at having dared to make eye contact with him.

oh.

“where’s jeno?” you tried hard to steady your clearly wavering tone and glanced around to avoid any further awkward stares.

“you’re looking at him.” jeno snorted and knocked back his hood with a veiny hand, revealing golden blonde locks and a pair of black floppy ears.

the world seemed to stop at that moment. how in the hell> did you skip over the fact that you were looking after a grown ass man?

“no— no i’m supposed to be looking after a puppy with attitude problems and a cute little underbelly. you.. you’re not that!” you refuted, backing away in astonishment.

jeno’s head tilted, soft ears quirking at your remark,”do you not see the ears, dumbass? i am a puppy. didn’t my owner tell you i’m a rottweiler hybrid? or like, anything about me at all?”

your eyebrows furrow in on themselves at his insolent reply, lips suddenly falling agape in realization. “damn. i should’ve known. average dog sitting doesn’t pay that much an hour.”

“i don’t care, just get your shit off of my seat.” he grumbled, waiting expectantly for you to take your bag off of the couch.

an annoyed expression etched its way onto your features, your once confused face dropping quickly at jeno’s rudeness,”listen. i don’t want any problems with you. but we’re about to have a very uncomfortable night if you don’t understand basic fucking respect, asshole.”

jeno’s jaw clenched, your heart rate picking up once more at his mirrored annoyed face. something was 10x more terrifying about his own annoyance than yours.

the taller male slowly made his way over to your small stature until he was mere centimeters apart from being pressed against you,“if i want your stuff off of mine, it comes the fuck off. if i tell you to jump, you ask how fucking high. no questions asked.”

“you’re not listening. you don’t understand how this works—“

knocking you back a few steps with a swift nudge of his chest, his ears stood predatorily. “i understand that you don’t know how things work in my house. catch up.”

you now understood why you were being paid a fortune to look after this horrifying brat.

you rolled your eyes and bumped past him to take your bag off of the couch, his stiffened body instantly relaxing and the uninviting aura around him shifting into one of tranquility.

“so, it looks like the girl has a brain in that thing on her neck.”

you were starting to regret coming over in thin sweat shorts and a cropped long sleeve, feeling embarrassed as you felt your arousal leak through your pants.

he was insulting you and you were getting horny.

jeno stared you down for what seemed like an eternity before snorting and turning to leave up the steps in disinterest, not bothering to look at you,”guest room is up and second to last door on your right, bathroom is under renovation so if you wanna piss or shower you’re stuck with me, princess.”

this was a problem.

you weren’t about to tiptoe around this asshole all night! but you had to make the best of it. after all, this was your ticket to keeping a roof over your head.

sighing dramatically you plopped onto the floor, the spacious couch staring at you jeeringly while your ass began to hurt within seconds of sitting on the hardwood.

dickhead wouldn’t even let you sit.

—————

the clock was nearing eleven when your stomach started to fuss angrily. you already changed into your pajamas and spent hours tapping away on your socials. your last meal was hours before you stepped in the building so you were bound to be starving by then.

unsure what exactly you could touch without getting your head knocked off your shoulders, you just decided to take a chance.

second mistake.

you lightly toed your way into the kitchen and over to the grand fridge, opening it as quietly as possible to not stir the beast in his cave.

“what to eat.” you muttered to yourself, scanning the contents and deciding on making noodles with the ingredients in the full fridge.

the house was filled with a daunting silence as you began preparing the meal for one. you felt like prey in the middle of a forest trying to refeed before the scary predator came and snatched you up.

“hey, you. ugly girl. the fuck are you wearing? you’re barely covered up.” jeno’s daunting voice called out from over the counter.

damn it. you nearly seethed.

“it’s y/n, fucking dork.”

“okay, y/n. the fuck are you wearing?” jeno asked again, nose scrunched and top lip curled in aggravation.

“i was fixing to watch a dog, not babysit a demonic hybrid. and whatever i choose to wear doesn’t have anything to do with you.” you turned back to your food, giving it a good stir before popping open the stainless steel dishwasher next to you.

he watched wolfishly as you bent over without a care in the world to grab a dish and scoffed,”any more and those pair of panties you call shorts are splitting in half. you’re provoking me.”

“i don’t know what you’re into, perv, but the way you’re describing me with so much fire is giving me the impression that you like it. go fuss about the ass you’ll never have somewhere else.” you waved your free hand at him, shooing him away while leveling yourself back up and placing the bowl onto the counter.

“whore.” jeno stalked off towards a different part of the spacious house.

who knew where he’d pop out from next?

—————

midnight quickly approached and your stomach was full, your mood shooting up after that delicious bowl of instant noodles. you’d have to buy those when you got back to your apartment.

jeno hadn’t made an appearance since his harassment earlier and you were thankful, not up to playing his bullshit at this time.

all you had to do was find your room and hope that there would be no more challenges.

how could you fuck that up?

after cleaning up after yourself and grabbing your bag, you made your way up the steep steps and toed down the hall to the provided room.

the large hallway was pitchblack and the only lights guiding you down safely were the ones flashing from under what you assumed was jeno’s room.

getting to your room, you tied your hair back and out of your face and placed your things down by the door. daringly deciding to check up on him, you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet to his door.

suddenly, the world stilled as you mistook one step on the hardwood, a groaning creek shouting out a call from the floorboard alerting jeno and anyone if they were in proximity.

shit!

bolting down the steps, you nearly tumbled down the last few but regained your composure and ran straight for the other side of the house.

you weren’t sure where you were going in the dark but now it dawned on you that the safest place would have been the guest room.

jeno’s footsteps were loud and fast, chasing after you as if he were in the middle of a hunt. “stupid girl. you know i told you to fuck off.”

trying to hold in your pants as you ducked down under what seemed to be a dinner table, your heart beat uncontrollably in your chest.

“i can hear your breaths. can practically smell your fear too.” he grits, pacing around the table.

you just prayed his vision wasn’t good in the dark. it was a roll the dice chance after all, being that he was a hybrid with the characteristics of the most brutal hunting breed there was.

waves of silence washed over the both of you and jeno’s steps couldn’t be heard anymore, neither could your once shaky breaths.

this is the end. you thought. he’s going to maul me.

“this is what you wanted right?” you suddenly heard the low voice in your ear, the hair on your neck standing in surprise.

before you could duck and run, jeno grabbed you by your neck, large hand closing easily around your delicate throat.

“cant— i-i can’t fucking breathe!” you wheezed out, thrashing in the death grip.

“it’s what you asked for, y/n. say it.” you couldn’t make his face out in the pitch blackness but you swore you could see the flash of his canines curved into a taunting grin.

he didn’t wait for a response before crawling out from under the table, your neck still held in place by his unforgiving hold.

puffing out what felt like your last breaths as your kicks grew weaker, jeno finally let go of you, your head dropping onto the cold floor roughly.

hacking and wheezing, you wondered if the money was even worth it now. this hybrid was hell sent.

jeno slicked your hair back with his hand while you hiccuped,”there there.”

“you fu— ow! jeno stop!” you scream out, nails digging into his forearm as he hoists you up into a sitting position by your bun.

“poor you. you’re not too sure how to play this game, am i right?”

“freak! let me go!” your nails dug deeper into his arm, causing him to rip his hand away from your hair and hiss in pain.

“fucking bitch!”

you took this opening to shoot up and lunge across the room, shooting up the steps.

with jeno’s door wide open you could see your room perfectly and it was close within your reach.

so close.

a hand shot out and gripped your wrist, holding you in place, causing you to cry out.

how the hell was he so fast?

“you’re not innocent. if only you could see yourself right now.” jeno laughed.

you must’ve been so caught up in the chase you weren’t aware of the growing patch of arousal staining the entire front of your pajama shorts.

“its— ”

jeno lifted a finger to your lips, shushing you.

“i know all about you. do you like the chase, y/n? do you like it when i’m this rough with you?” his eyes creased with entertainment at your desperate expression.

the finger to your lips dropped as you opened your mouth and he was backing away.

“your call. i won’t show any mercy once you’re in though.”

your mouth definitely played against your brain at that moment,”wait! wait. how are we gonna do this?”

jeno’s head tilted, perked ears dropping,”do what? i thought we were playing a game.”

he’s fucking playing me. you thought outraged.

it wasn’t exactly your gameplan to get your back beat in by this hot puppy hybrid, but now that you were in, there was no way in hell you were backing out.

“i want you to— to… fuck me.” you looked to the side, words falling off your tongue timidly.

“okay.” jeno shrugged casually.

“okay?” your jaw nearly fell to the floor.

after all that?

“do i have to come get you, or are you gonna get over here?” he stuck his hand out, waiting impatiently for you to grab a hold of it.

once you grabbed the large palm, he tugged you into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

you stared in awe at the spacious quarters, letting out a surprised huff at the eager shove jeno gave you towards his bed.

“should we really—”

jeno laughed amused,”what happened to ‘oh my god! please fuck me jeno!’”

your nose scrunched in embarrassment as you took the hint and began sliding your pajama pants down,”don’t look.”

“such a baby, fine i won’t look.”

the taller male turned and slid out of his sweatshirt easily, tugging his shirt off after and walking over to lock his door. “can i turn around now, baby”

you sat on the bed nervously, playing with a loose thread on the duvet and curling your toes. you weren’t sure if this was such a good idea now that you were in his room, but you definitely wanted this.

“yeah, go ahead.”

turning almost too eagerly, jeno took a moment to scan what he was working with before silently making his way over to the bed and crashing his lips against yours needily.

“mmf— jeno!” you froze in place, unaware of what set him off as he attacked your neck next.

“don’t talk.” he murmured out authoritatively, taking a hold of your clenched thighs and lifting you with ease. he dropped you on the middle of the bed restlessly and was quick to slide out of his sweatpants, your eyes widening with every passing second.

“are you fucking crazy? where’s that thing even going?” you scrambled up into a seated position, legs closing together.

“ugh, y/n stop stalling. it’ll fit just fine.” jeno pried your legs open.

“you’re not even gonna prep or anything?” you tried, backed against the headboard at this point.

he settled in between your legs, his hand dragging his leaking tip between your salivating folds,”don’t be such a fucking baby. i know you can take it, y/n. just loosen up.“

a part of you felt scared that you’ve never taken anyone this big before but his endless pressing seemed to get more firm by the minute.

“okay.. please go slow, jeno. i’m being serious.”

jeno scoot up wordlessly, running your slick down the base of his hardened cock and dipping in slowly.

your face twisted in pain, fingers grabbing the sheets tightly. “it hurts— jeno it hurts!”

jeno’s jaw fell slack, hips drawing forward as if there were any room left. “shh, baby. you’re opening up for me so well.”

involuntarily clenching, your entrance slightly burned at the sudden intrusion. jeno bottomed out before lifting a hand to pick the stray strands off of your sweat beaded forehead, lips pulled back into a devilish grin.

your heart began to race once you met his clouded gaze, unsure if that was a good sign,”jen—“

he pistoned forward, heavy length pile driving into you with no end and placed his hands on top of yours, forcing you down and pliant.

“slow, you idiot! i said slow!” you cried, back smashing against the headboard with every thrust. by the entranced look of pleasure on his face, you realized there was no getting through to jeno as he rut into you.

“so fucking tight. can’t believe you didn’t even ask for a condom. little whore wants me to breed her dumb pussy.”

quickly, your body began to take calm to jeno as one particular thrust had you pitifully moaning. “just like that.” you hummed, another shameless moan pouring out in suit regardless of his realization.

“y/n, i’m gonna turn you over.” jeno said lowly, hips slowing down to switch your position.

within a matter of seconds, you quickly found yourself face down into the sheets that reeked of jeno’s scent and your ass up.

jeno’s fingers gripped your waist bruisingly as he picked up, satisfied groans ripping out of his throat.

your face squished into the mattress with every thrust, annoying you to no ends but nonetheless drawing aroused noises out of you at your usage.

squeezing around him as well as you could, jeno’s head fell back and his hips gained momentum. you gasped as you felt his hand leave your hip and onto the back of your head, stuffing it into the bed.

“what are you doing!” you called out, words muffled by the duvet.

you could hear the preen in jeno’s taunting tone,”fuck you here? is that what you said?”

you laid confusedly before you felt him pull out all at once and tap his tip teasingly against your rim.

before you could protest, jeno was sliding into your gaping entrance again and thrusting with vigor, almost as if he wanted to silence you.

his actions were incalculable at this point, forcing you to believe he was just saying things to get you to react.

soon enough, his movements grew sloppy and breath got heavier, signaling to you that he was close until his creamed cock was sliding out and being pried into your rim.

your hips shot up at the intrusion, painful shouts eaten up by the mattress.

i’m going to kill him. you thought.

an animalistic growl ripped its way out of his throat as your hole slowly made way for his throbbing length,“fuck, i’m never pulling out. beg all you want. this hole belongs to me.”

your teeth grit down into themselves as your thighs tensed, you had lost all energy to try and push him off leaving you vulnerable to his thrusts.

jeno paused for a second, stilling inside of you. with the hand he used to push your head down, he was now using it to pull your head up, fingers threaded in your hair near the scalp.

ignoring your cries of pain, jeno leaned in and pressed his spit-licked lips to your ear, your body collapsing from his weight against your own,”was this the ass i’d never have? hm, y/n?” he whispered mockingly.

jeno snuck his free hand underneath you, using two fingers to pry open your drenched folds and using another to rub quick circles onto your clit.

small whines filled the room as he worked his hips into your hole, finger continuing to swipe at your quivering core.

“fuck, that’s it, baby. i knew you could take me here too. feels so fucking good.” he huffed out.

a muffled knock came at the door just then, motivating jeno to snap his hips into your ass and curl up the fingers dragging against your aching clit.

your head snapped over to the door, adrenaline rushing through your system as well as guttural moans spilling out once his brutal pace drove untimely squirts out of you.

your jaw hung slack as your orgasm hit you a pulse later, legs jolting up.

“jeno!”

“jeno, unlock the door! what are you doing in there!” the doorknob jiggled under pressure, frightening you into clenching madly.

“pull out, dumbass! it’s your owner!” you hissed, batting his hand out of your hair as you regained your senses.

“shut up, y/n, i’m gonna cum.” he groaned out throatily, digging his nose into your neck as his hips slowed. you felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin in the crease of your neck.

sighing irritatedly as he released inside of you, you kicked your legs out from under him,”we’re about to be in so much trouble, get the hell off!” you complained, flinching as the knocking on the door got louder.

“get under the covers and pretend you’re asleep.” jeno lazily muttered after rolling off of you and leisurely redressing.

he tossed your clothes at you to hide with you as he made his way to the door and shut the tv off, swinging the door open with annoyance.

“the sitter fell asleep while we were watching a movie, you didn’t have to do that. what are you doing home so early?” you heard jeno mutter.

your eyes were shut delicately, breathing lightly as silence fell over the room. you assumed you were being spectated.

“i got anxious. i know how you get around sitters and i insisted i leave early.” the unfamiliar voice sighed out. “when she wakes up tomorrow, you can tell her i’ve already paid her for the full night.”

“will do. anything else before i go back?” jeno asked impatiently.

“yes actually, there is. you forgot to pick up the girl’s underwear you little shit.”

freezing in his spot, jeno didn’t bother turning to see if it was true or not. “it was an accident.” he whined, shocking you at the soft sound. you were convinced he was incapable of anything remotely pleasant.

“we’ll talk about this in the morning. stay the hell away from the poor girl tonight. get downstairs, go.”

as if you could feel jeno’s icy glare shot towards you, your body tensed until all you heard was the door click shut and footsteps furthering down the hall.

you were positive you’d be quite familiar with this home soon enough. after all, you were good with dogs.

©meowjunie | do not copy to other websites or plagiarize

#jeno x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct dream x reader #jeno smut #nct dream x you #everything jeno

2K notes · View notes

13lov · 1 year

Text

YOU SINK INTO MY CLOTHES — jjk (new fic alret!)

✰ pairing. — guitarist!jk x singer!reader

✰ genre. — fame au, enemies to lovers, smut, angst.

✰ word count. — tbd. [multi-chapter series]

✰ warnings. — swearing, smut, toxic relationships, alcohol & drug usage, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks. [subjected to change as fic continues on but i will always post chapter warnings at the start of each chapter]

✰ release date. — feb. 2023

Had you met in any other lifetime, maybe things could've worked out better. You could've owned the little bakery you've always dreamed of next to his tattoo shop, occasionally stopping by to bring him fresh pastries when he's in-between clients. You could've eloped on a random day in February, and spent your make-shift honeymoon on a roadtrip; traveling with three, though neither of you knew that yet.

Instead, you're a spoiled popstar with a guitarist you can't fucking stand.

SNEAK PEEK [SMUT WARNING...]

"That's an overstatement. I t...to..."

His grip on your waist tightens; short, black-coated fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indents on your bare skin. "What? You tolerate me?" He teases, punctuating his sentence with a forceful slap of his hips.

You nod with shut eyes, letting out a shaky "Uh-huh" as you're pushed forward on the leather couch.

"Then stop fucking running from me."

Jungkook bends, using his freehand to take a fistful of your hair as he presses his chest up against your back. You gasp in response, profanities spilling from your mouth with every animalistic stroke that's pounded into you.

Amused, he loosens his grip on your hair, his hand trailing down towards the waistband of your skirt. "Don't drag this out, Y/N, you have an interview to attend. Remember?"

No, you don't remember. All you can think about is Jungkook, and how he's slipped his hand into your thongs; his calloused fingers circling your clit at a rapid pace.

"Shut up." You groan, attempting to delay your approaching orgasm for even a second longer. There's a part of you that wants to savor this moment, though you're not entirely sure why.

"Say it again." He demands, the tone in his voice suggesting that he enjoys when you talk to him like this.

"Shut — oh fuck." Your orgasm washes over you much too quick for your liking, sending chills throughout your entire body. Jungkook follows suit a few slow strokes later, cursing the entire time.

The two of you remain silent as you regain composure, Jungkook tossing the used condom in a nearby trashcan.

"Just so you know," You start, noticing how Jungkook smirks at the sound of your voice, "I still don't like you, and I still think you're a mediocre, guitar-playing freak."

Jungkook hums nonchalantly, adjusting his belt. "Well I still think you're a spoiled little nepo-baby whose never had to work for anything in her life."

Harsh, but somewhat true.

You roll your eyes, slipping your Demonia boots back on. Jungkook's phone vibrates against the floor, where it had slipped out of his back pocket. Tilting his read to read the text message preview, he lets out a sigh and mumbles something about being late for band rehearsal.

He retrieves his phone and heads for the tour bus' exit, then he stops and turns to you.

"Did you mean it earlier when you said this was only a one-time thing?"

"I dunno, did you mean it when you said you were fine with that?"

Silence falls, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like ages. "We'll talk about it...?" You ask, your voice sounding more gentle than usual.

Jungkook nods, "We'll talk."

That's all the confirmation you need to know that this will definitely be happing again.

#ksmutclub #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop fanfic #bts scenario #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok imagine #hoseok smut #jimin #taehyung

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deancaspinefest · 3 months

Text

One Drop, when What You Need is the Ocean.

Author: Baileys | Artist: sidewinder

Posting on Friday March 15

Cas disappears after leaving once again to help the angels. With God gone, Mary defected to the British men of letters, and the other major players all on their best behaviour, Dean tries to carry on as normal, hunt the things and save the people. But the longer time goes by without so much as a text, the more his worry spirals. Then, just when all hope is lost, like the supernatural yo-yo he is Cas is back. Only something or someone has siphoned off grace he didn’t have to spare. As they embark on yet another case together, it’s a race against time to stop whoever it is from finishing the job and removing Cas from Dean’s life for good.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“I thought you said no one died here?” They both step out of the Impala, grabbing their gear from her trunk. Dean follows Sam down the hill heading for the nearby woods lining the property.

“I said no one’s on record dying here.” Handing Dean a shovel, he has the nerve to wink.

Walking across the wet overgrown grass, Dean decides to spark up less work-related conversation. “So, you speak to Eileen recently?”

“Nope.” Sam charges ahead, “you talk to Cas?”

Dean stops dead in his tracks. It’s not the fact Sam would equate him and Cas as the same as him and Eileen, it’s that Cas has been radio silent for ten straight days now. “That’s not funny, man.” He manages to get out around the lump suddenly clogging his throat.

Something of his panic must come through in his words because Sam stops walking and turns around, lips pulling tight. “Sorry, I know you’re worried.”

“You must be too, right? I mean this isn’t like him.”

Another, more complex expression passes over his brother’s face and suddenly Dean doesn’t want to know what he thinks. “I mean, I talk to Cas, but honestly, unless there’s something major going down, I don’t see a few days without contact as a big deal.”

“Ten!” He shouts. “It’s been ten days Sam and nothing, I- I’ve sent him texts he hasn’t read, left messages he hasn’t picked up, this isn’t like him, he -”

“He’s probably just lost his phone -” Sam shrugs, placating at first but then he cuts himself off mid-sentence and stares pointedly at Dean. “How do you know he’s not picked up his messages?” He pauses for a response, but when Dean starts walking and keeps his head down, he draws his own conclusion. “Oh my god, you hacked his phone!”

“I had to!” Dean cries in outrage, waving the shovel above his head. “Hey, don’t give me that face! I needed to know.”

Sam does indeed give him ‘the face’, adding an eyeroll for good measure as they continue towards their vengeful spirit’s grave. “Next, you’ll be telling me you’ve put a tracker in it too.”

“No,” He looks quickly away, keeping a steady pace, “but you are the second he comes back.”

“Dean, I am not invading Cas’ privacy just because you’re a controlling asshole.”

“What if he agreed?” He asks.

“I’d tell him he doesn’t have to, because I know he’ll say yes to anything you ask.”

“Oh, he would not.”

Reaching the graveyard, Sam tugs on his arm and stops them both, making Dean face him. “Do you know where his phone is now?”

Dean manages to feign obliviousness for all of five seconds before blurting the answer. “Maine. It pinged off a cell tower in Fort Foster three days ago.”

Raising his shovel and making the first indent in the soil, Sam looks over at Dean, “So we heading to Maine as soon as we’re done here?”

Dean smiles, his first real smile in ten days.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Friday March 15)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: Baileys #artist: sidewinder #Alternate Season/Series 12 #Developing Relationship #sharing a bed

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

All Goes South

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe is overworked, tired, exhausted and just... he needs a break. Everyone knows it, too. None of it is really exciting to him anymore. Then, he meets you, and something reignites within him.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader, angst, mentions of smut

Author’s note: Here's part 4! There's girlies who have started to figure some shit out and are leaving me beautiful theories in my askbox - I love it. Also, I am sorry.

Wordcount: 4.7k

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It felt totally dodgy to be waiting by a dirty steel door on the side of the building, one that could only be opened from the inside, and was away from all the hustle and bustle of press and actors and all the crowds of people.

Joe told you to wait for him there.

He'd sneak you in.

"You snuck me out of something, let me sneak you into something," Joe had said.

"Have you got a ticket for me? What if they check?"

Joe laughed, said, "You've never been to a film premier before, have you?"

"Obviously I fucking haven't, Jesus Christ, Joe,"

You didn't know what that meant. Did they not check tickets? Did they only do that at the door? Would Joe wait until the film started to come and get you? You had no clue, but Joe said to wait there and he'd come and get you. Promised you he would.

You checked the time. Any minute now Joe was meant to let you inside.

Realising that you looked a little nervous, you thought perhaps you shouldn't be so jittery and be looking around so much. That made it look like you were being sneaky. Best to act very casual. Just lean against the wall, like you're meant to be there.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Your heart jumped into your throat when you saw it was from Joe.

"They're doing popcorn. Sweet or salty?"

Of course they fucking do popcorn, this was a cinema, wasn't it?

"Can I be annoying and ask for a mix?"

Joe read your message, but didn't reply.

This was so stupid.

Just when you were about to get antsy enough to consider leaving, there was movement. Metal creaked and with a shove, the door opened roughly, revealing Joe, who'd pushed the door open with his shoulders, holding two striped popcorn boxes.

He looked really good. All dapper. Handsome. Fuck.

His eyes were large and he winced at the loud noise the door made, immediately checking behind him. Then he beckoned you with his head and you slipped into the building, now crossing a barrier, definitely breaking rules, illegally trespassing to see a film you had no right to see.

"Most people have gone inside, we should be good. Walk ahead of me, I'll tell you where to go,"

And so like you were some assistant, someone guiding Joe throughout the building, you walked ahead of him and listened as he whispered, "Up the stairs," "Take a left," "Door on the right," and your heart thumped heavily in your throat as you walked past some people in designer outfits who stood together and talked. Celebrities. No one really paid attention to you though, and behind you, you heard Joe say hi to them. You feared maybe someone would stop him, rope him in for a chat because then what would you do? Would you keep walking? Sort of aimlessly keep wandering?

They didn't stop him. Thank fuck.

Joe lead you up another set of stairs to a little balcony that only held 8 red plush cinema chairs, and it was very clear that it wasn't meant to be used on this occasion. On the other side of the theater you saw a the other balcony was empty too, and it made you relax a little. There was no way people were going to see you up there.

This was exciting. Made you whisper, "Oh my God," a lot, which in turn, made Joe grin impossibly wide.

Joe sat down, and you did too - quickly, because being this close to the banister made you feel a little exposed standing up. There were previews playing for upcoming films you'd never heard of, all very exclusive.

"Sweet and salty," Joe whispered and handed you both the boxes of popcorn.

"What?" You were about to say, this isn't what you meant. But then Joe took the top of one of them and lifted it out of an empty box that you were then still holding. Like he knew exactly what he was doing, he tipped a little from one of the full boxes into the empty one. Joe then waited, and when you didn't do anything, he tapped the full box of popcorn in your other hand.

Oh. Yes, of course. You tipped some of that in, and then Joe again, and then you, until there was 1 box of sweet and salty popcorn, just how you liked it. It was sort of dark, and this had every potential to get messy, but you'd been surprisingly steady-handed given the situation you were in.

It was very apparent that this was weird. You'd met Joe the night before, not even 24 fucking hours ago, and under questionable circumstances as well. And now he'd smuggled you into a place you definitely weren't meant to be, and it was exciting but nervewracking.

Joe tipped whatever was left into a box together and discarded the empty one to the side.

You gave each other a look, one that said, this is mad and so so dumb, and you both had to repress giggles. You were about to watch a film with a bunch of celebrities - none of which you could see, the room was dark, and you were up high on a balcony trying to hide from them, but even just knowing that they were down there was thrilling to you.

But then the film started, and about ten minutes in, your mind was elsewhere. Racing. You were going to be sat next to Joe for about two hours. In the dark. Just the two of you. In silence. All sober.

You couldn't focus on the film at all.

Because you were sat next to Joe. And it was just the two of you and you'd had sex.

Twice.

And now... so, um... now what?

It kind of felt like doom overtook you, and you let it all go south. What if someone was to come up here and catch you? How much trouble would you be in? How much trouble would Joe be in?

You were hyperaware of the man next to you, tried your best to relax, but, it just wasn't going to happen, was it?

About 45 minutes into the film, your leg was bouncing, and you and Joe had just silently stared at the screen. Ate popcorn. Hadn't touched each other once. Which, you know, was fine, because your hands were exceptionally clammy.

You didn't know how to be around Joe. How to act. What to say.

You were strangers to each other.

Complete strangers.

At a particular funny bit in the film, Joe laughed and looked at you, but saw you were sort of... staring into space, not even paying attention to whatever was happening on screen at all. Uncomfortable energy radiated from you as you fidgetted with your fingers, and Joe thought he recognised an anxiety attack, so he reached to squeeze one of your hands.

"Hey, you want to get out of here?" he whispered, his face soft but serious. No playing.

You snapped your head and looked at him, a little panicked and definitely awkward. What was he insinuating?

"Um, no, that's okay, we can stay,"

Joe huffed a breath through his nose, and whispered, "I didn't mean let's get out of here wink wink nudge nudge, I meant, you seem anxious, let's leave, get some fresh air."

You blinked at Joe for a moment, thought things over in your mind and then decided, um, yea, you should probably leave.

"Yea, all right," and you were already up on your feet leaving Joe to feel guilty for not having noticed the state of you sooner.

You walked out the main entrance together, unafraid of getting caught, because you were already on your way out anyway. Outside people were packing up large metal barriers and rolling up the red carpets and even though you were in the middle of the city with questionable air quality; breathing in cold air was nice.

You crossed your arms and hugged them tightly to your body as Joe guided you with a hand that hovered behind your lower back towards a road where you could get a cab. You said something about the film, tried to excuse your nervous demeanor and Joe politely engaged in conversation. Made you feel like it wasn't a big deal, said he wanted to get an early night in anyway.

Whilst you waited for a taxi, you stood close to each other, but didn't touch, and it felt a bit strange. You were doing this whole thing backwards and all of it felt wrong.

"I meant what I said you know," Joe suddenly said.

You looked up at him, confused. You didn't know what he was referencing and it made Joe swallow thickly. You were going to make him say it. Sober.

"I don't think we made any mistakes... you're not–" Joe coughed into his hand and you couldn't help repress a smile as you noticed he seemed a little nervous too. "You're not a mistake."

You laughed, loudly. It was all nerves that bubbled up out of you, and then you scrunched your nose up at him.

"Yea, well... we'll see,"

And it was silly, but you felt a little fragile when Joe then grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him on the back of your laughter. He enveloped you into a hug and then just kind of... held you, for a moment. Joe held tight arms behind your back, and then, he moved one up to cradle your head and press it against his chest so he could perch his head upon it.

You didn't even really care about the empty cabs whizzing past. Joe was holding you and it was warm and it was nice and you released all tension in a deep sigh and actually, you kind of regretted not having touched him sooner. Not having kissed him sooner. You could've held hands in the cinema, but you hadn't, and now you felt stupid because, you dumb idiot, this was so nice.

When you felt Joe pull back a little, you moved your head to look up at him and you were embarrased as you smiled at each other. Joe was all kindness, his eyes told you he understood, even if you didn't even fully understand yourself.

God, you just... you just really wanted to kiss him.

You only had to move up onto your tippy-toes a little bit for Joe to naturally dip down for a kiss. And fuck, it was so soft. Joe kissed you with so much feeling, you almost wanted to whine into it. You could've been doing exactly this in the dark, in private, up on a balcony but now, instead, you were stood by the side of a busy street and that was the mistake. Because you kind of wanted to grab Joe by his hair, drag him into a taxi with you and kiss him deeper, and harder, and lick his mouth all over until you were all wet and panting.

But you couldn't.

Because you were out on the street.

And you were going home alone.

When you finally broke your kiss, because honestly, it was getting a bit much, Joe looked past you, waved a high arm, and a cab pulled up.

"All right, well, let me know if you need sneaking out of something again," you joked as Joe opened the door for you.

"You sure?" Joe challenged with a smile. "You're gonna be busy then, because I've got a lot coming up,"

And you smiled at each other as you sat down and Joe closed the door for you.

You gave the driver your address and Joe bent over outside your window, pressed a kiss against his fingers and then pressed his hand against the glass. You did the same, and it was all sorts of adorable, until the taxi pulled up and drove off.

Ugh.

Yea, all right. You liked Joe. You liked Joe a lot.

Maybe you should've just gotten drunk again before you'd gone to meet Joe outside that steel door on the side of cinema. Everything would've been easier and maybe would've felt more natural if you'd been drunk together.

It was only seconds later when you received a text message.

From Joe.

"I've got a TV recording on Thursday"

It was quickly followed by another.

"Want me to sneak you in so you can sneak me out?"

Over two weeks passed where Joe snuck you into TV recordings, award shows, film premiers and other industry events.

Two weeks of nerves and anxiety but also fun and actual butterflies.

There was no denying, there were actual butterflies and you were trying your very bestest best to ignore them, but sometimes, Joe would text you and say he was making dinner and you should come over and then you would.

And then you'd have dinner together at Joe's house, and would maybe play footsie under the table, and maybe, if you were lucky, you'd kiss in the kitchen after you'd loaded up the dishwasher together.

You'd not said it in so many words, but it felt like you agreed to take things slow. Slower, at least.

You'd only had sex one more time after that first night, and it was in Joe's shower.

Thinking back to it, it almost felt impossible to explain to yourself how you'd gotten there, and it was easy to pretend it hadn't happened. All of it had just... washed down the drain. Had disappeared. Wasn't really there anymore.

Except obviously, it was very there.

And Joe was very handsy.

Always so very handsy.

You kind of loved it.

Joe took you to all things Joe didn't really want to go to, didn't really want to do at all, but your giddy little face whenever you'd set foot on a set, or in a green room, or got to meet someone you admired was so fun to witness. He just wanted to show you everything. Have you experience everything. Make you see how fun things could be, even if he'd kind of forgotten himself since he'd grown kind of tired of it all.

That was why you also never stayed long. The second Joe felt like he could leave, you'd sneak out together. Sometimes Joe would see you grow anxious past the point of it just being a bouncy leg, and he'd leave before he was allowed to. Most of the time unseen.

He'd gotten used to the habit of turning his phone off just before he'd run off to avoid any and all contact from his team.

You never felt okay about that, always felt a bit guilty. Never wanted Joe to get in actual trouble.

But Joe didn't care. Joe just wanted to make sure that you were okay.

And thanks to him, you always were, but there was always a thought that lingered. What if this time, it wasn't going to be okay? What if this time, it was going to change everything?

You thought everything was going to change when Joe texted you, "Are you busy tonight?" and you looked around your small, dingy flat before answering,

"Other than falling asleep to bad TV and sleeping off this splitting headache, not really"

You'd just finished doing dishes and were quite literally excited to lay down on your sofa and not move for the rest of the evening.

"Sounds lush, come do that here"

Joe hadn't yet been over to your place, and you'd been weird about it that first night, so Joe had never asked to come over again. You were glad; your place was a filthy shoebox compared to Joe's home. A really grimy one, all sorts of drab, with a messy flatmate, because who the fuck could afford a flat in central London as an undergrad?

You sent Joe a pic from your position on the sofa, your legs spread out with your ankles crossed on the coffee table.

"Don't wanna move"

"Text your address again?"

Joe made that sound all kinds of casual. You'd never texted Joe your address before, and him coming over to your place was definitely not what you had planned for. You probably would've hoovered had you known earlier in the day. Now? Not a chance.

Joe'd dropped you off after a photoshoot once, so he vaguely knew whereabouts your lived, but he'd never been over.

You knew you'd hate yourself for it later. Joe had no business being in your dirty little flat. But you didn't reply with a joke, or a sly comment, or even something flirty. You just texted your address, because, actually, you really fucking wanted to snuggle up to Joe, even if that meant Joe was going to see your unhoovered flat, and maybe meet your flatmate.

When Joe entered, it was obvious to him why you needed a proper job. He didn't comment, but you could see him look, which was fine - you'd looked around his place the first time you'd seen it too. Different reasons, of course, but, whatever.

He joined you on the sofa, and tried to make polite conversation. Said he brought gin, because he knew it was your favourite, but you hardly reacted. You weren't joking before when you said you had a headache. And so Joe dropped it. Just sat next to you and was happy he got to be close.

That was all he wanted anyway. To be close.

It didn't take long before you found yourself nodding off, head bobbing, jerking itself back up every time it fell forward. You were fighting off yawns and kept rubbing your face in a weak attempt to stay awake. It was hard work, and your headache started getting worse, but you had a guest over, and it was rude to just fall asleep next to them, so you fought against all insticts until you heard a soft chuckle from Joe.

"You're allowed to sleep, you know? Come, lay down,"

And then he offered you his lap.

So much for taking things slow. Sure, you weren't about to deep throat him, but that was some close penis-to-face interaction you were about to get involved in.

But you were so tired.

And you really liked Joe.

So you moved, and scooted, and your head found Joe's lap. Four arms worked together to cover you with the throw blanket, and before you knew it, Joe's hand was patting your hair, and then a kiss got pressed into it before he sat back up.

His hand remained, and fingers raked, brushed and softly played and all of it made you fully relax. Turned you into putty. Made you melt into Joe's touch. Nothing was going to beat this. Ever.

It only took you a few seconds to drift away. To float. To hover in flight, the wind keeping you stationary. Somehow you felt yourself slipping away from Joe whilst simultatiously moving towards him more.

Joe made small comments about whatever you were watching, but his voice was a faraway thing that melted over you a little. You drifted and floated and hovered until you found yourself in this bubble where it was just warmth, comfortability and tingles from scalp scratches. Your thoughts went fuzzy, and you didn't think about how you always seemed to self-sabotage everything in your life. How you always pushed away whoever was trying to get close. In your bubble it was safe, and Joe was allowed inside, and nothing could hurt you in there, in Joe's hands.

Teetering on the edge of falling asleep, Joe noticed your breathing had become steady and slow, so he pulled his hand away, afraid that his touch would wake you back up. But the second his fingers stopped playing, you stirred, hummed, and then blindly reached behind your head to find it and place it back. It made Joe's chest swell. Made him think things, like he wanted this forever, like he wanted to kiss you. Cuddle you. Inhale you. Be close. Forever be close.

Joe was in trouble.

Trouble had found him in the form of a pretty girl and Joe was absolutely fucking gone for you.

You thought everything was going to change then, but it hadn't. Not at all, actually.

Then, you were convinced everything was going to change when, after a long day at the office, you really wanted to have a long bath. Just sit in a tub for an hour, submerged in hot bubbles that smelled like a Lush store. Except your flat didn't have a tub. Obviously, it didn't. So, you texted Joe.

"Am I allowed to come over and just sit in your bath for an hour?"

Joe read the message fast enough, but didn't reply quite as fast. So you followed up with,

"Nothing weird, just had a long day and want a bath but I don't have one 🥺"

And then Joe texted back, "Hurry up" along with a picture of his bathtub with the taps already running.

Joe pretended to be so normal about having you naked in his bath upstairs, all covered in bubbles, but it was so obvious that he absolutely wasn't normal about it, because he kept walking in with a different excuse each time.

The first time, he brought in a mug of tea and asked if you wanted music on.

The second time, he walked in with a handful of tealights which he placed around, lit, and then turned the big light off.

The third time, he walked in with a screwdriver in his hand, and he looked up at the ceiling. Like he was checking something that needed fixing.

"Joe,"

There wasn't anything that needed fixing.

"Nah, I think... I think it's fine," Joe concluded and he walked out again.

The fourth time, he did an insanely theatrical tip-toe walk over to one of the cabinets that he then started rummaging through.

"Joe, if you want to be in here, just, be in here, but be quiet, I'm trying to relax," you said with your eyes still closed.

Joe didn't need telling twice and immediately stepped closer and sat down next to the tub. When silence returned, you sighed deeply. This was nice. Baths were nice. So relaxing. The second you'd get a real job, you decided you'd start looking for a flat that had one.

You quickly grew uncomfortable, and when you opened one eye to peek, you saw it was because Joe had perched his chin on the ledge and was just, sort of staring at you all dreamily with an impossibly wide grin plastered on his face.

"What you thinking 'bout, Joey?" you closed your eye again and shifted a little to get more comfortable.

"Just," Joe sighed, "Just thinking about what I want,"

You had to fight off a smile.

"Oh yeah? Well... what do you want?"

You opened your eyes a smidge, just enough to see Joe's face, eyes half-lidded, biting both his lips into his mouth. You had an inkling where this was going, but Joe took his sweet time answering, so you raised your eyebrows in question to nudge him on.

He needed to say it.

"You."

Oh my God, he said it.

You thought everything was going to change then, when you grabbed Joe by his collar and pulled him into the bath, fully clothed, because you needed to kiss him. But it hadn't. It changed nothing at all.

And nothing changed when you noticed an impossibly long eyebrow hair, and straddled Joe on the sofa to pluck it. You groomed Joe, brushed his eyebrows up to check if there were more hairs that needed plucking, and Joe loved your focused little face all up close. He didn't love the plucking, but he loved how afterwards you kissed it better and he got to tickle you until you were under him and he got to kiss you on the sofa for a little bit.

And nothing changed when you slept over again, and Joe had woken up before you did and he was so stupidly in love, he could just stare at you for hours. He would trail fingers across your skin, down your arms, around your fingers, down your face and across your lips. Everything about you was so gorgeous, it gave him cute aggression, like he needed to sink his teeth into you.

And then, nothing changed when Joe watched you get ready to go to work after he had stayed over at yours for the first time. You were darting around the flat, from the bathroom to the kitchen, back into the bedroom where you did your make-up on the floor in front of your full length mirror and Joe was in bed still, perched up on an elbow, leaning to the side as he watched you.

"What?" you asked when you noticed he'd been looking at you apply your mascara.

"Where did you even come from?" Joe sighed, and you turned around to look at him a moment.

"The kitchen," you said dryly, and it made Joe laugh because, you had. You had come from the kitchen the first time Joe'd seen you.

Joe would sometimes still skip things. Call in with dumb excuses and his team had given up on asking him any further questions. They were glad he was attending more things than he had in a while, and let him have his moments of wanting to rest. Have nights in. Nights he spent with you.

And it was all good. Joe wasn't in trouble, and neither were you.

But then, everything changed when, on a Wednesday, Joe called you around lunch time and said, "Hey, you busy today?"

"I mean... am I ever?"

You both chuckled a little.

"Let me take you to this amazing cocktail place. You ever been to Savage Garden?"

"Oh, um... I don't know,"

"Their rooftop terrace is called the Pink Gin terrace, you're going to love it."

"Daytime drinking, Joe?" you sounded unsure.

"The view is amazing, it's right by the Tower of London. I'll pick you up in a bit!"

"Oh, but–"

You didn't get to finish your sentence and your face flushed with anxiety. Joe wasn't meant to be out daytime drinking. Joe wasn't meant to suggest you to go to a cocktail bar with you. Joe wasn't supposed to just... throw away his day like that.

But you couldn't come up with a good excuse to text him. Couldn't think of anything to get out of it. Couldn't tell him actually, no, you did have work to do, and maybe you could just... go drinking another time.

You couldn't go for drinks with Joe because Joe couldn't go for drinks with you.

You knew everything was about to change.

Everything changed when Joe picked you up.

Everything changed when you shared a cab.

Everything changed when Joe took up to the 12th floor.

And everything changed when Joe was about to have his first sip of his drink, but then, before he could, he lowered his glass as he looked over your shoulder and his face dropped.

Everything changed right in that moment, and it all changed for the worse.

"I'm so sorry," you started.

What was his fucking manager doing at the Pink Gin Terrace?

"What?"

"Joe, you need to know I never meant– it was all, it happened too fast, and then, you... I'm sorry, you need to know I'm so sorry," you rambled, and because you were pathetic like that, you started welling up.

"Alex?" Joe frowned.

"I had to let him know, you've got– ...it's your own film premier, Joe. You can't skip out on your own film premier... I–"

"Come on, Joe," Alex interupted, and he looked like a teacher who was about to give detention to a student he really liked. Didn't want to, but had to.

Joe moved his eyes from his manager over to you. From stern sort of sad eyes to apologetic guilty even sadder eyes.

"I'm sorry," you said again, wanted that ingrained into his head. Joe had to know you were so very sorry.

You tried to reach a hand, but Joe moved it out of your reach before he got up. He looked confused, but refused to make eyecontact before he started moving towards the exit.

"Thanks for your text," Alex then said to you. "I'll see you back at the office on Monday."

Then Joe snapped his head back to look at you.

Hurt.

It all imploded.

Everything changed.

The whole lot went south.

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #all goes south #icallhimjoey #part 4

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daydreamvalley · 5 months

Text

October Sunsets (2) - nanami kento

𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧Summary: You accidentally stole Nanami’s phone, unaware about the dire situation he is occupied with in Shibuya.

Contents: Anime-only safe. Angst + mentions of extreme bodily injury & death.

Read part 1

11:36 pm. Way to go. Nanami must think I’m an obsessed freak. One that forces situations to happen, so he’d think about me. You thought to yourself if he didn’t think you were clumsy before, he should now. For the past twenty-two minutes you’ve been goggling at his phone, that had already lost power. Yours, however, could be a saving grace right now. Taking it out of your tote bag you texted Shoko, the only colleague at Jujutsu Tech you were acquainted with. The message was split into multiple inane short texts: Hello. I know you guys are busy right now, but please let Nanami know I’m sorry I took his phone! I promise I only realized, like, right now and-

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

Your mother’s contact appeared on your screen, previewing messages that contained videos. She called right before departing to wish you safe travels and the promise of funny videos to help you stay entertained, so you swipe away her texts assuming they were just unfunny skits from somewhere.

Continuing your imploring to Shoko: Please just say that first. That I’m sorry. Also, he can meet me on Monday, November 5th. I’ll return it then fly back to Denmark. Tell him he’ll get lots of pastries and souvenirs! After hitting send, it did register that the last bit of the message was unnecessary, but the nerves of the situation got to you. Going into your mother’s chats, you see an influx of exclamations. “Shibuya is being destroyed!”, “Are you still in the plane?”, “Answer me!!”, “Your uncle sent me this one”, “Please be safe out there, love you”. You watch a low-quality video, hearing your family member’s voice in the background crying out in fear. A plane was being set ablaze mid-air, hurling a loud roar as it dropped from the sky into Shibuya. The tragedy was clear as day, even though the video is taken at night. Highlighting the combusted object. Your hands tremble. Were you safe? Unable to hold the phone upright, you felt like this was wrong to watch. He’s on call, but where? No. stop thinking like that, he’s obviously saving civilians right now. Nanami’s far too competent to be a victim to that destruction. Thumping tortured your head as you catastrophized.

“Miss. Are you feeling ill?” The flight attendant sounded like she was under a body of water. “Hold my hand and follow my breathing.”

The video continued playing, showing a city turning into hell. The lens turned to reveal the shocked faces of people witnessing the horror. It never stopped playing until a pair of hands whisked your device away from a weak grip, then lightly turned your head so you could meet a calm women’s face.

8:00 am, November 5th, Monday, Tokyo. You hug Nanami’s blazer tighter against your layered outfit, when then the breeze enters the cafe. A cold gust sings alongside the crackling sounds of an old espresso machine. Elevating the emptiness and lack of conversation in the room. How could anyone start a conversation? It feels like the moment anyone utters a word; we all expect the events of Shibuya to pour out. No one wants to talk about. At least for a little while. Not while the wound is still fresh. In your peripheral you see the screen of a phone turn on, next to you on the leather couch. The red dusk of the sunset on your friends lock screen includes a notification, telling you its fully charged. You unplug and bring it to your face to have a closer at the photo, but the phone unlocks from facial recognition. Taken aback you immediately turn it off, shutting your eyes. You hold a tighter grip on it, because it’s a reminder of how you aren’t ready.

Not yet.

You decide to lean into the couch, to stay longer at the establishment. The jetlag is kicking in and it doesn’t help that you ran into an unwanted conversation with a coworker when you walked in. The one-sided chat consisting of the only depressing topic everyone is taking part in. It left your coffee cold, and now you needed to rest for a bit. If not, you could walk out of the café without a clear mind. Looking either drunk or sleep deprived. Most likely the latter. The insurance company was next door and the possibility of running into more people is a headache. To call your flight back to the city a miracle, would be an understatement. From October 31st, flights coming in and out of Japan were prohibited, just when you desperately needed to come back home. Only five days have passed since the incident.

For four days, you found yourself alternating between locking yourself up in a Denmark-airport hotel, then running around pleading with the airport’s many front desk’s about when you could leave. Not caring if you’d get fired for abandoning your work trip. Your mothers’ yells across the phone would be a comforting reoccurrence, in which she is begging you to stay in Denmark, since the situation was getting worse back home. For four days, only your mother would call, while you unfortunately entertained the thought of your loved one’s death once you came back. Even as you arrive back, the chaos resumes. No warm hugs from a worried family greeted you.

You colleagues were radio silent, dealing with their own grief. Your mother and uncle were evacuated to a different city. Leaving you with one more fear. No sign of Nanami. Shoko didn’t answer your calls from Wednesday to the early mornings of today, until the dreadful call. The call you had with her just one hour ago, which somehow led you to instinctively catch a taxi to this very café.

Just as you settle into drifting asleep, a ring awakens you. It’s coming from your phone. “Shoko”, displayed on the lock screen, and hesitantly you pick up.

“I can see you from here. I’m crossing the light pole to the café entrance.” Shoko says, as you see her tall figure approach, dressed in a lab coat. She stops outside the door to throw her cigarette into a bin. Chimes can be heard as she walks in. You stiffen. Staying seated on the coach, you can’t help but feel nauseous as she walks up to you. She stops above you, striving her best smile. “So quiet in here. Wish it were like this outside.” She gets comfortable next you on the couch. Making sure to observe the blazer as she continues, “You must have been in disarray; your luggage is here.”

You face her in silence, nodding your head in acknowledgement. The two of you stare at each other, competing to see who will address the matter. Inhaling deeply, you try, “Thanks for meeting me here. Why’d- ‘’

You clear your throat to not get choked up. “No.” You straighten your back to speak clearer, “What were you doing when you called me?”

“Sorry?” Shoko inquires, and you stay silent, reading her eyes. “I was…sitting at the park.” She says pointing in the direction behind her, confused.

“So, you weren’t occupied with something urgent or intense?”

“Not really.”

“You didn’t think to wait for my arrival or ask us to meet somewhere. You were just going to causally call me and tell me that “I’m sorry. Nanami didn’t make it”, hang up on me, then leave me to go with the rest of my day!” You shakily burst out.

Shoko looks at you with widened eyes and observes around the room self-consciously. You two were the only customers in the café, now filling the silence. She places her palm on your shoulder, to ease the tension, but you non-aggressively remove it.

“I admit, you didn’t have to hear it that way. I just didn’t know who to call. Everyone was pestering me. They still are and I couldn’t handle it. I only saw your messages yesterday and the burden of telling you the news was too much. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just…a lot.” Shoko was now tearing up. The pressures of her position were breaking her, as each day passed by, with more wounding alerts of her dying colleagues.

You stand up from your spot. “Let’s talk outside, I’m getting dizzy in here.” You respond half-heartedly.

Shoko follows you into the chill winds hoping for a smoother flowing discussion.

“Please, Shoko. Where is he? I know I’m a non-sorcerer so I can’t even enter your facility, but at least tell me-“

“Even if I could. I can’t let you see that- him I mean.”

“That? Shoko help me out here, please! It’s the least you could do. God, this is so unfair.” You lament to her.

“There’s nothing I can do. He’s- its bad. His lower body is the only remaining part we can recover from Shibuya.” Shoko winces and covers her mouth, shocked by her own blunt words.

You bit your lip as tears marked your face. His lower body. Her mechanical way of describing things made sense in her occupational context, but this was too harsh. With staggered breaths you ask, “Where is he?” You ache as you reiterate. You now know the answer. He was still in there. That hell. It was never a possibility in your mind. Nanami not making it back home. While the world just begun to know about sorcery after the massacre, it wasn’t unfamiliar to you. In detail, he’d go over his workday like it were any other mundane job. The stories of the students he so greatly cared for, the loss of his dearest friend in high school, and all the dangers of the mystique of this world he was in. Never, did you imagine you’d have to worry about his potential death. In his eyes, he is someone who simply strives to do the best he can. You wish he could see himself in your eyes.

Jujutsu Sorcerers are shit. He’d boldly reaffirm that to you with sunken eyebags, every time you two would talk about your workday in the café. Yet, he never left sorcery. Everyday you’d be reassured of how hard-working he really is. That same attitude that you admire in him, is one of the many traits that made you want to be a permanent part of his life. Whether he accepted your affections or not, wasn’t the point, everyone deserves to have such a dependable force in their life. Now, you cannot accept that this is happening.

“I understand him now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hate how the higher-ups do things. What’s happening right now is showing their true colors.”

“You can do unimaginable things compared to most doctors. The ability to reserve techniques, right? That’s what Nanami told me.” You ask her, not expecting a response. Maybe this was a way for you to cope with the fact that even people as powerful as her can’t fix everything.

“Yes. I know there’s nothing I can do to make you feel better. I can’t even begin to tell you why we can’t save the rest of his body right now. I don’t want to hurt you more. I know how much you mean to him, it’s only right that I informed you.”

You chuckle at her words, “The damage has already been done. No?”

She looks to the ground in defeat. Agreeing that nothing was going to assist the emotional affliction.

“You want to know what hurts more? Is that I’ll never know why. You could try to explain it to me, though I doubt you would. Still, I’m too far removed from it all. I don’t want to know who did it, or what.” Wiping your face, you make your back the door, “I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. Take care.” Not looking back, you head straight for the bathroom. Hiding yourself in one of the stalls, you drop down to your knees. One hand on the stall wall, as the other to opens the toilet seat while you begin to hurl. His lower body is still there. It’s an unsettling scene. You hurl and cry simultaneously. The chronic exhaustion was making a physical appearance, yet the object of your sorrow was thinking about how tired he must have been. Meeting his end, without getting to grow old, but the pressures of his sorcery.

7:00 pm, November 12th, 2018, Kuantan, Malaysia. The ocean sends shimmering beams of light into your bedroom. You sit on your bed in a daze, taking in your flat’s perfect view of the ocean’s peaking sunset across the horizon. Now it’s been twelve days since the Shibuya massacre and the beginning of a new era of havoc. Other than frequent check-ins with family, you haven’t spoken to anyone else since your last conversation with Shoko. Most of all, you won’t bother yourself with the current events taking place in Shibuya. This isn’t a retreat. You were abandoning your duties to escape, with the illusion of closure. It made you worse. Your way of grieving is running away to the place Nanami raved on about. Where is the closure?

“Jujutsu Sorcerers are shit.”

His words echo when you think about home, but not in a negative way. You just can’t help but recollect these words because they represent your overall memory of him. Nanami always had this weird way of saying bold and sometimes controversial statements but in a well-informed or manner. You miss his politeness. How much of a gentleman he was to you and all women around him. You miss the safety. You loved knowing that your coworkers thought he was boring and uptight, because with you the formalities would drop, and you’d be left breathless from his jokes. You would give anything to hear his dry jokes again. You loved knowing that you saw that side of him. When he was not burnt out by work and had the energy to send you two out and about in town to shop, try food, or take aimless walks in the city. You love him, and he will never know.

I think I’m ready.

You grab Nanami’s cream-white blazer from next to you, to take out his phone. He trusted you enough to be another recognizable face on his device. Claiming he had nothing to hide and whatever he had on it most likely was cleaner than yours. You only used this privilege to take pictures of yourself and make it his wallpaper. Every now and then, those same pictures of you would remain on this lock screen. You think back to when you asked him if he wasn’t worried his sorcerer friends would ask who you are, then he’d reply that they wouldn’t ask, because they already know you. Such memories now cross your mind. That comfortability is missing.

You used to doubt your importance to him. Having each other’s extra apartment keys and phone passwords was not enough for you. When his reason for these two instances was to ensure you both have someone to depend on in case of emergencies, your mind was clouded with romance. You face the front camera to unlock the phone, revealing a typical home screen. Organized and easy to navigate. Since you’ve been in possession of it you never opened it. Where would you even begin. What was the point. Would you forget him that quickly without his phone? His camera roll consisted of you, screenshots of songs, meals and a substantial number of sunsets. Chime. A reminder displays on his screen. It has two exclamation marks indicating it is high priority. Deciding you didn’t want to go into his apps anyway, you read the reminder:

Send the birthday message on notes tomorrow!!

Tomorrow is your birthday. Without thinking you navigate to the notes. You scroll down completed grocery lists and to-do lists to reach one note titled, “Her birthday plans”. In bullet points he writes: Returns from work trip November 12th. Haneda Airport. Plan A, surprise flowers? Cook dinner for her at my place (might seem be pushy if she doesn’t feel that way)?

If Plan A fails, aquarium. Obsessed with stingrays. Early Christmas presents! Christmas plans?

Weeps escape your mouth as you read the notes. These notes started to make you feel less insignificant to him than you thought you before. You didn’t just lose Nanami. You lost a potential future of longer city walks, Christmas dinners, and more nonsense-bred conversations. His relatives probably don’t know what has happened. You may have felt unimportant in the midst of his complex and action-filled life, but this circumstance would force you to introduce yourself to his family in the worst way. You aren’t merely an ex-coworker. You are his dependable companion and friend during an emergency. Those emergencies may be mundane compared to the danger he faced daily, but he still trusted you to follow through.

How would you introduce him to your mother? If he was also merely the ex-coworker her daughter hangs out with, can she understand this profound grief?

You hang around the note app, noticing one more titled, “For her.”

There is no one else more deserving of delighting in this day than you. You tell me you do not care much for today, which I understand the reasons, but I am grateful for another year of you. Every time you feel like abandoning it all because you’re so tired I want you to remember your birthday. Yes, a reminder of the gift of time. When it all becomes too exhausting for you, there is my door. Waiting for its only other owner to arrive when she’s ready.

We are becoming so much more. I sometimes wonder if I carry this desire of wanting to become more with you, a bit more than you. With the gift of time, I will try to express my feelings better.

You bring ease to those of us around you. You are lovelier and more perfect than tranquil seas. A calming force which the drifting autumn leaves cannot try to compete with.

I love you. Wholeheartedly.

You hug at the blazer on your lap. Staining it with tears. Picking up your cellphone to walk to your bedroom balcony, opening the camera app, you hope. As you take an image of the rosy horizon, you hope. You hope that these memories won’t become such a painful occurrence in the future. With every passing day, signs of a day turning into evening would make it difficult for you to forget him.

The end! I'm sorry like really sorry. I wanted to see a realistic story depicting the aftermath of his death but I couldn’t find any. So I wrote it??

I have a happy story in mind if anyone is up to read it<3

Taglist for the sweethearts who were looking forward to to this: @akstormm @rain-moto @salimahbicharara-comun 💕

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teddyeyeseddie · 9 months

Text

To Hell I Go

Open the Gate

Bull Rider!Steve X Reader

masterlist

warnings: reader calls steve cowboy a lot, a party, drunk reader, steve smokes some party darts, he also drinks budweiser, and chews gum like a cow, injury to main character, use of a belt for punishment, minimal understanding of how bull riding works

(a/n: poor baby stevie :( thank you @lofaewrites for looking this over!! Love you eternally)

Now Playing: Open The Gate

Monday comes faster than Steve would have preferred. The dawn creeps into his room as he sits up in his bed, groaning at the way the sun perfectly breaks through his curtains. He grabs his phone off of the end table, bringing it in front of his face in order to unlock it. He smiles when he sees a goodnight text from you. The timestamp reads 2:17 so Steve prides himself when he realizes you probably went to bed thinking about him.

Good Morning, Dandelion

He gets up from bed, sitting on the edge in order to stretch out his limbs. He’s about to make his way to the bathroom when his phone buzzes in its place on the end table.

Good Morning, Cowboy

He smiles to himself, quickly picking up the phone as soon as he sees the preview of the message.

What are you doing up so early, summoning all the ranchers?

Steve abandons his phone, heading to his closet in order to put on his work clothes. He settles for a pair of wranglers and an old competition shirt. He shrugs on his denim jacket before grabbing his hat and heading out for the morning.

While he waits for his coffee to brew, he pulls out his phone.

Girls have ranching duties too

Steve has to bite his lip, because the idea of you doing ranch chores has his mind whirring. He pours his coffee into his yeti, mindful to shake the images of you away before doing so as to not spill and scald himself.

He pushes his way out the front door, hopping into his truck and heading over to where the cattle are kept. When he gets there, Jamie and Richard are already at work.

Steve spends his day riding between the main house and the barn all day, finally giving up driving his K10 and begging Eddie to take one of the horses or his beloved razor. Eddie relents, giving him the keys to the razor since the horse Steve usually rides was being used for the lesson Eddie was giving.

Steve smells like shit by the time he is done working for the day. He called it quits at around 3, leaving Richard and Jamie to tie up some loose ends.

He heads up to his bedroom, shucking off his clothes before hopping into the shower. He rinses the day from his body, careful to wash under his nails and behind his ears. He wallows in the rinse for a while, the ache in his bones washing away in the warmth of the water.

Once Steve decides it's been enough, he gets out. He wraps a towel around his waist, fetching his phone out of his pants.

Having friends over at my place tonight, care to come?

Steve makes his decision rather quickly as he gets dressed without any hesitation.

Steve’s boots crunch on the gravel as he makes his way down the driveway. He had to park almost on the main road given how many people were at this party? Hangout? Steve didn’t know what it was.

He pushes his way through the gate he had seen people going in and out of, rounding the corner to reveal a gorgeous backyard. There are people swimming, enjoying the summer sunset in the water. Some are around a fire, and some are mingling on the deck. Steve feels very overwhelmed as he stands at the edge of the yard, unable to find you. He’s about to duck inside in order to track down a beer, but your voice stops him.

“Steve!” you exclaim, smiling up at him as you wrap your towel around your body.

“Dandy,” Steve tips his hat, smiling down at her as he chews the gum in his mouth.

“So glad you could make it,” you grab his hand, leading him to the deck before bending over to dig in a cooler. Steve looks away in respect to you, you take notice and blush at what a gentleman he is.

He stays with you for the duration of the night, sipping on a budweiser and smoking the occasional party dart. He keeps his hand on your lower back when you push through crowds of people, your cheeks flushing each time he does so.

You begin to sway in your spot when you make it to the back garden, Steve settles you down once you reach a set of patio furniture that is tucked away.

“You okay, darlin?”

“M’ ok cowbo- hic,”

“You’re real drunk, ain’t cha?” he questions, you offering a small giggle. You pinch your fingers together and hold it up to your eye.

“Just a teensy bit,”

“Come on, Dandelion. Let’s get you where you need to be, yeah?”

Steve hunts down someone to help get you to your room, finally giving up when the beat of the music becomes too much for him. He comes back to where he left you, groaning when he sees you’ve fallen asleep, he gently nudges you awake, startling you as he does so.

He helps you up from your seat, hand finding its way back to your lower back, his other hand holding yours to keep you steady. You direct him to your room when he oh so politely asks you where it is at.

“Darling not for any other reason than getting you to bed safe, where is your bedroom?”

You simply giggle and attempt to lead the way.

You finally make it to your room at the back of the hall, Steve opening the door and smiling at the decor that litters the walls. There’s horse decals peeling away from your old bookshelf, stuffed animals are strewn across your mattress, he even has the privilege of seeing your award from your 4th grade spelling bee.

“Please stop looking, it's embarrassing,” you mumble from your spot on the bed. Steve grabs a sweater that is hanging on the back of your chair and hands it to you before turning towards your drawers.

“Where can I find pajama bottoms?” he questions softly, his voice gravely and smooth.

“Third- hic drawer,”

He fishes out a rather childish pair. They’re a soft yellow with little owls littering the pant legs. You blush as you reach your hand out to take them from him.

“Listen um, I’m gonna get goin’...” he backs away from your bed and towards the door, tipping his hat to you as he is about to dip out of your door.

“Wait- Steve,” you say quietly.

“Yeah, Dandy?”

“You won’t tell your daddy I threw a party at the ranch right? Mine will have my behind if he found out,”

“I don’t kiss and tell, darlin,”

“And I’ll see you again, even though I embarrassed myself?”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself, just got a little too drunk is all. Of course you’ll see me again,”

He doesn’t call, you don’t see him again.

He knows why he didn’t call, he couldn’t get out of his own head. His dad’s voice echoed in his mind, “I made you,”

Normally, Steve did a good job at keeping his dad’s words in the back of his mind, but in times like this when self hatred was such an easy pill to swallow, the ammunition was there. Steve knew deep down he was right, his dad made him. Through hard work and enough times at the end of his father’s belt, Steve Harrington would always be just like his father, made in his image.

He sees his mother, Steve knows she wants a better relationship with his father. He knows she aches and yearns for a man who is present and loving. Steve knows his father takes his mother for granted. Steve saw all of this and knew he loved just like his father. All or nothing.

When he looked at you and saw all your potential and grace, Steve decided he wasn’t going to be like his father and ruin you.

Not only was he equipped with daddy issues, but he had his lifestyle to take into consideration as well. It had him hopping from location to location, so he told himself it wouldn't work. Steve knew you’d find yourself a cowboy, no matter how much he wished it would be him, he told himself it couldn’t be.

But now, here he is, telling himself that that’s not how things have to be. He has a string of hope tied to his heart, willing that this won't go belly up. He fiddles with his phone, thumb hovering over your number as he lays his head on his pillow. He finally decides fuck it and calls you.

“Steve?” you’re confused as you answer the phone, the two weeks of radio silence having broken your heart. You spent every waking moment waiting for his phone call, finally giving up after a week had passed.

“Hey, Dandelion,” Steve rasps, sucking in a breath when he shifts on the bed.

“It’s been awhile, cowboy,” you say, a little bit of irritation lacing your tone.

“Sorry about that, darling. Had important cowboy stuff to do,” Steve lies. “Just a few things to settle away before I could get to ya, darlin,” He wishes he could tell her the whole truth but he knows that would be grounds to scare anyone away. He figures he will save the boo hoo my daddy doesn’t love me mess for when they make it to third base.

“Watched you while you were in Cheyenne,” you say, getting up from your place on the bed as you begin to pace.

Steve's mind plays back to his weekend, nerves flowing through his body, making its way up his neck, flushing his face. He was in the chute, ready to take his ride in Cheyenne. He grabs the braided strap, holding on tight as the chute is opened. The bull he is riding, Tank, begins to buck. Steve’s body ebbs and flows as the bull erratically attempts to get Steve off of it.

The bull gets exceptionally high after Steve has been at it for several seconds, the bull bucking him off, Steve falling to the ground. The next two days were filled with endless bull rides, broken ribs and dirt. He rode hard and stayed on long, his score on his final ride coming out to a 93.4, winning him the competition in Cheyenne.

He comes home days later on a red eye flight, his mom picking him up in the city. His bones ache when he gets into his bed, his torso bruised by the falls he had taken throughout the weekend.

The two of you talk about it for a while, the casual conversation flowing easily between you two.

“I really am sorry I went MIA, Dandelion,” he says with a small sigh, angry at himself for letting his own insecurities cloud his ability to be normal with a woman. He was a gentleman through and through but daddy issues coupled with his irrational fear of abandonment made for a concoction that was too dangerous for anyone to swallow, let alone you.

“It’s okay, just don't let it happen again,”

And he doesn't, every morning you wake up a “Good Morning Dandelion” text was always waiting on your phone. He would send you pictures of every dandelion he would find while on his ranching duties, he even sent a selfie with one tucked into his hat. He kept it there all day.

And it’s still there when he takes you out to dinner the night before he leaves for regionals, which is luckily a few towns over.

“Are you nervous?” she questions. He Oshrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of his coke.

“Not really? I mean kind of? I have to ride this bull. His name is “To Hell I Go” so that is intimidating in and of itself,” he says with a chuckle, rolling a straw wrapper between his fingers and twisting it around his finger.

“Sounds scary,”

“Yeah, but I’ve got it, I’m the best out there right now, at least that’s what I gotta tell myself to not- pardon my french- shit my pants,” he states as he begins to twist the ends of the straw wrapper together.

“You’re good at what you do, it’s good to be confident,” he shrugs his shoulders at your words before reaching his hand across the table to take yours. He slips a paper ring around your finger and smiles widely at you.

“Something to remember me by,”

“You’re only gonna be gone 3 days cowboy, plus it’s only a few towns over. Maybe I can make it out to a ride or two,”

“Don’t sweat it if you can’t, I’ll be sweaty and dirty anyways,”

“Just how I like em, cowboy,”

Steve has ridden in 3 of his 5 rides, avoiding going up with To Hell I Go. His coach pulls him aside after his last go and tells him what to expect next.

“The next one is it, kid. To Hell I Go, you last at least 8 on him you have this in the bag,” he says as he pats Steve on the shoulder.

Steve spends the next hour settling his nerves, he knows he’s got this. He can handle Ajax no problem back home, what's 2,000 more pounds gonna do, right?

Sweat slips down his temples as he gets situated on To Hell I Go. His hands grip the braided leather tightly, clammy hands making it hard to hold on.

You’re up in the stands watching, you were able to beg your boss to let you cut out of work early to come see Steve ride. You watch him make his way to the chute, shoulders pushed back and confident as he walks towards his enemy of the night.

He keeps his head down, focused on going the required 8 seconds. He’s got this, he’s always got this.

The chute opens.

To Hell I Go comes out of the gate much like a bat out of hell, strong, ferocious and fast.

Steve holds on the best he can. 3 seconds. He’s found a rhythm. Four seconds. His grip is tight. Five seconds. He’s got this. Six Seconds. He’s totally got this. Seven seconds. He totally does not have this.

To Hell I Go delivers one off rhythm buck that sends Steve flying. He got so comfortable and it all happened so fast, Steve didn’t have time to tuck and roll. He lands to the floor of the corral with a loud dense thud.

The next thing Steve can remember is white hot pain radiating throughout his shoulder and arm. He writhes on the gorund as others distract To Hell I Go. His coach and the medical team flood the corral and are next to him in seconds. Steve knows it’s his shoulder, it has to be. He knew he felt it break, the loud crack resonated in his ears despite the crowd.

They’re able to assess the situation rather quickly and get his shoulder stable enough to get him off the ground. They offer him a stretcher but he politely declines, walking off the dirt and back behind the chutes. The ambulance is waiting for him, Steve hating the theatrics of it all as he loads up into the vehicle. Before they can close the doors, he remembers you.

“Fuck, we can’t leave without Dandelion,” Steve shouts to his coach.

“Dandelion this, Dandelion that! Boy, your shoulder is broken.”

“I’m not goin til we find her,”

“Well, too bad,” The paramedic slams the door shut at the request of his coach, driving away and to the hospital.

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