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#if you live close to water then look at that please
keegansshark · 2 days
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birthday girl cherry here with a wee request about my favorite scot <33 i NEED a little something about birthday sex with soap. preferably nasty, feral fucking 🫣 totally up to you, but i would love it if the piece included face licking, squirting, and elements of a breeding kink :3
love you and your writing!! <333
cw: 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, squirting, dirty talk, spit, face licking, breeding kink, creampie, porn with plot, johnny is very horny (this is a warning in itself)
summary: birthday sex and johnny's a freak
word count: 2.8k
a/n: happy birthday sweet girl <3 love you so much
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“I really don’t kno’ why ye dressed up so nicely anyways.”
“Huh?” You nearly choke on the bite of food in your mouth, staring at Johnny incredulously from across the table. “Of course I’d dress up, it’s my birthday dinner.”
“Ah know it is. You look like an angel. And now I’ll have tae tear that pretty little dress off of ye so I can ruin ye.” Johnny sighs, completely nonchalant as your mouth drops open at the bluntness of his words. 
“Johnny. We’re in public.” you hiss, feeling your face heat up as he flashes that classic MacTavish grin at you. You’re very much in public at a very expensive restaurant that he insisted on taking you to, but that doesn’t deter him from running his mouth. In fact, he might even see it as encouraging.
“And?” he counters, beaming brighter when your glare turns more into a warning. “Dinnae act like it’s a mystery on what we’re gonna do tonight.”
“You’re awful, Johnny.” you mutter, downing the last of your water as you lean back in your chair. “Can’t spend one evening without you thinking with the wrong head.”
He hums contently, pleased at the way he riled you up. That was his plan all along. It’s working. “Never did tell me what ye wanted for yer birthday.” He’s quick to switch the subject, knowing it’ll get you even more flustered.
“What I want is for you to have some manners.” The waiter swings by the table to drop off the bill and you thank whoever is watching out for you that Johnny knows enough to keep his mouth closed for just a few moments.
“You wound me, sweetheart.” He mockingly clutches his chest, chuckling when you kick him under the table. “Not my fault that looking at ye makes me think such dirty thoughts all the time.” 
He tilts his head, clearly weighing the consequences of whatever he’s going to say next.
“It’s also not my fault you look so gorgeous I cannae help but imagine all the ways I’m gonna fuck ye.”
You swallow roughly as he tosses a few bills onto the table, quickly standing up to wrap his arm around your shoulders and direct you out of the restaurant.
He leans in while you make the walk to his car, nipping at the shell of your ear and making you gasp. “And if you keep looking like that, I’ll simply have to take ye right in the backseat, bonnie.”
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You don’t even make it past the living room. You’re lucky you make it past the front door.
Johnny unceremoniously shoves you onto the couch the second both of you step inside your house, hiking your dress over your stomach and gripping the delicate lace of your panties to fully tear it off of you.
“Och, dinnae act like ye aren’t aware I’ve already bought a couple new pairs for ye.” he scoffs when he’s met with your unimpressed glare. “Besides, I think ye look better this way. Don’t need anything covering up what’s mine.”
Any argument you have against that dies the second he grabs onto your thighs, the rough calluses of his fingers digging into your soft skin as he lifts one leg over his shoulder to bury his head right into your pussy. 
“Yer lucky it’s yer birthday,” he huffs, nose bumping against your clit as he practically drools in between your thighs, his saliva mixing with the slickness you can feel is already coating your cunt. “The way you looked back there, if only ye could’ve seen how hard I was. Wanted tae, fuck, wanted tae pull you right into that restroom, bend you over the sink and fuck ye stupid. Only thing stopping me was wanting to be polite on yer special day.”
“You’re an absolute freak, y’know that Johnny?” you laugh breathlessly before it dissolves into a moan, your hand threading through his mohawk as he presses his lips against your clit and latches on, a few simple sucks making your hips jerk involuntarily.
“I can be worse. So much worse.” He has been worse. Will definitely continue to be worse too, but he’s feeling generous today. It’s evident through the way he noisily laps at your cunt, acting like a man starved as he uses his thumbs to spread your folds and flatten his tongue against them.
“Good thing we didnae have cake yet,” he groans against your pussy, his tongue quickly collecting all the slick of your arousal before he lowers it to press inside your entrance, curling it a few times before lifting his head again. “Got the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in yer pussy right here.”
He stares up at you with those delicate baby blue eyes of his, letting out a moan of his own as your fingers in his hair form a fist and you tug him back up to your clit.  “If only ye could see yourself right now. So beautiful when yer getting yer pussy ate.”
You whimper, grinding against his face as he alternates between suckling and nipping at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you as you feel yourself rapidly approaching the first orgasm of the night.
“You’re close, aye? Can feel you clenching on my fingers, so fuckin’ greedy.” He leans directly over your clit, opening his mouth as a fat load of spit covers over the swollen bud and his thumb rubs against it to make a sticky mess out of your pussy.  “It’s yer goddamn right to be greedy, especially today. I’m gonna need ye tae cum for me, sweet girl, need to kno’ I’m making ye feel good.”
The filth coming out of his mouth coupled with the way his fingers are thrusting inside of you perfectly are what sends you over the edge, crying out sharply as your fluids drench his face, leaving your thighs trembling against his head as he eagerly uses his tongue to clean up all of your cum left on your pussy.
“Gonna make ye do that again. Makes me lose my fuckin’ mind when you squirt on me like that.” he sighs, leaning back as he wipes the slick glistening on his chin and licks his fingers clean. You immediately prop yourself up to reach for his belt, letting out a low whine when he gently moves your hands away.
“Quit yer fretting, you’ll get my cock. Just not here. Need tae fuck ye proper, cannae do it on a couch. C’mon, love.” Johnny swiftly hooks his arm around your waist to toss you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and landing a soft smack to your ass when you squirm in his grasp. “Dinnae give me that, I’ll manhandle you any day of the year. Nothing you can do about it.”
You bite back the ‘yes sir’ on the tip of your tongue, not wanting to boost his ego even more as he carries you to your room. “I’m more than capable of walking up some stairs, Johnny.” 
“Won’t be doing any walking once I’m done with ye.” he retorts, kicking open the bedroom door and dropping you onto the bed. “Won’t be doing much of anything if I can help it. If I haven’t fucked ye till yer legs are shaking and yer heads empty then I didnae do my job correctly.”
“Is that a promise?” you ask softly as Johnny moves to unzip your dress, your hands working in tandem to unbutton his shirt, the collar of which is now completely soaked with your juices. 
“It’s a given,” is his short response as he tugs your dress off of you, tossing it to the floor as you finally lose your patience and rip the rest of his buttons open. You let him shrug his shirt off to join your dress on the floor before staring down at the bulge evident in his dress pants.
“Christ, baby,” you mumble, fingers moving swiftly to undo his belt and shove his pants down to his thighs. There’s already a wet patch against his boxers, and you appreciate it as long as you can before you’re pushing them down as well to watch his erection spring up against his stomach. 
His dick is mouthwatering, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. A fat pearl of pre-cum already leaking from his tip, dripping against his abdomen. It must be throbbing, aching at being neglected for so long. 
“I did all that?” you breathe out, wrapping your fingers around the length of his cock to pump up and down slowly. “Just from eating me out?”
“Fuckin’ hell, you do this just from seeing you.” he inhales briskly, staring down at you jerking him off before he softly directs your hand away. “Cannae lie, eating that sweet pussy of yours definitely helped me too.”
He fully tugs down his pants and boxers, kicking them off towards the pile of clothes as he crawls up towards you. 
His mouth is on yours immediately, his middle and ring fingers finding their way back to your pussy and quickly sinking into you. Johnny uses his other hand to guide your head back onto your pillow, allowing his body weight to press you into the mattress as you moan against his mouth. He kisses you sloppily as his lips slot between yours to push his tongue into your mouth and swirl it over yours.
“So pretty, so fuckin’ pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he croons, his lips trailing down to your neck, practically panting as his tongue laps at your pulse point. “Ye drive me crazy. Every time I fuck ye I’m thinking about when I get to make you cum again. Yer always on my mind, I swear tae you.”
His words being both simultaneously dirty and praising make your head spin, and at first it barely registers that his mouth is moving from your neck.  “Johnny, fuck…” you groan, nose scrunching as he drags his tongue across your cheek and leaves a trail of spit in it’s path. “You’re no better than a dog.”
“Can bark if ye want.” he grunts in response, not giving you any warning before spitting against your lips and smearing it around with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry, baby, need my mouth on you. Look so fuckin’ good under me.”
You’d let him do anything to you if he keeps fucking you like this, even if it’s just his fingers for now, and you have to admit that his tongue feels as good against your face as it does against your pussy. His hand that isn’t currently filling out your cunt moves to your shoulder, pinning you down as he licks all over your face, making your skin coated with his saliva.
Johnny pumps his fingers inside you a few more times, the squelching audible before he slowly pulls them out of you. You whimper at the sudden emptiness before throwing your head back against the pillow at the feeling of his cock grinding against your folds, the sensation making your pussy flutter around nothing. 
“Please… please, Johnny.” you cry out, rocking your hips back and forth desperately in an attempt to get any friction possible.
“Please what, sweetheart?” he murmurs as he grips his cock, tapping the head against your clit and slathering your slick all over it. “Birthday girl still has to use her words.” 
“Please fuck me already.” you whine, your nails digging into his biceps as you spread your legs wider around his hips. “Need you to fuck me, please.”
“Never get tired of hearing that.” He drags his cock against your pussy a few more times to gather up as much wetness as he can before finally pressing himself into you. You feel your cunt stretching around his girth to accommodate him, his tongue and his fingers having prepped you well but never enough for how thick he is.
His thrusts start slow and gentle, but Johnny isn’t a patient man, nor does he feel like holding himself back tonight. He lifts his leg up to reposition himself, before completely pounding his cock into you. It’s almost animalistic the way he loses himself in you, making you cling to him as your thoughts are consumed solely by Johnny and the way he’s making you feel. You breathe heavily, forcing your eyes open as you stare up at him.
Johnny looks as ravished as you feel; mohawk tousled from your fingers running through it and damp from sweat, his pupils blown out you almost can’t see the blue behind them. The thick, rough pads of his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you without hesitation, pushing himself as deep as he’s able to he watches the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in.
You feel him everywhere, his cock spearing you open while one of his hands moves to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he uses the opportunity to spit directly into your mouth, feeling it coat your tongue as you make eye contact while you swallow.
That must’ve set something off in him, because you’re instantly rewarded with him fucking you so perfectly it makes you see stars. “Just like that, Johnny! Right there, right-”
He cuts you off as he grips your hips harder to angle himself deeper, the head of his cock hitting the spongy spot inside of you perfectly. “Yeah, yeah, I kno’. Right there. Acting like I don’t kno’ yer pussy inside an’ out, like I haven’t made this pretty pussy my fuckin’ home.”
He leans down, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Think ye forgot I practically molded yer cunt to my liking, bonnie.” he whispers, his hips smacking against your ass with another thrust as if to prove his point. “Believe me, pretty girl, there’s nothing about you I haven’t memorized yet. And that includes all the ways I get tae make ye cum.” 
His hand moves from your breast to your stomach, gently kneading your skin as he continues to pump into you. “Wanna cum inside ye. Figured out what tae get you as yer gift.” He meets your eyes as he rubs soft circles against your stomach, smirking as he feels you clench down on him. “Yeah? Wanna have my baby? I’ll make you a mama, don’t even have tae ask.”
You don’t have it in you to reply, your mind feeling fuzzy as you feel the pressure build up inside you again. “Johnny, I’m so close, so so close, I can’t…” you pant, your senses nearly overwhelmed from all the pleasure Johnny’s making you feel.
“I kno’, love. It’s a lot, aye? S’okay, you can be good for me and cum.” he coos, his hand going from your stomach to above your pussy, his thumbing working roughly against your clit.
You arch your back against the mattress with a mewl, his cock and his thumb on your clit working together to send you over the edge. He holds you steady as you squirt for the second time, your juices soaking over the dark curls trailing up his stomach and at the base of his cock. 
Johnny fucks you through your orgasm, his own following shortly behind yours. He dips his head to the crook of your neck, sighing out your name as his hips stutter and he finishes inside you, hot ropes of semen coating your pussy as his thrusts slowly slow down. He keeps his cock where it is, allowing his cum to be plugged up in your cunt.
He collapses on top of you, panting and trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He wraps his arms around your waist, cuddling you tightly as he looks down at you with love in his eyes.
“So good to me. Happy birthday, my girl.” Johnny murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he cradles you against him, your chests rising and falling in unison. “Love you so much. You have a good time tonight?”
“I love you too.” you smile warmly, catching your breath as your lips meet his. “I’m having a great time, Johnny, all thanks to you.” You try to lift yourself up from under him, before feeling his grip against you tighten ever so slightly.
“Where do ye think yer going, bonnie?”
“Don’t you need to take a breather?” you ask quietly, your confusion evident as he shakes his head and guides you back down against the mattress.
“Dinnae think for a second that I’m done with you.” he grunts, pulling his cock out just enough for you to feel his cum run down your thighs and onto the bed sheets before he thrusts into you again.  “I’ll make this a birthday to remember.”
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yeeterthek33per · 13 hours
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Loved and Landed (Steph Catley x Reader)
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A/n Requested
-------
Steph lives a busy life.
There's her football life. Obviously.
There's her schooling life.
There's the life she lives with her friends and family.
And then there's the life with-
"Steeeeeph, come on, I wanna get there early, I'm not dealing with Katie leaving something for me to find, again."
There's incessant tugging at the sleeve of her red Arsenal hoodie.
Of course, her football life keeps her the most busy.
Especially when she has to drive it to and from home all of the time now that Kyra's living in the house as well.
It had been a hectic process, but the young midfielder had settled in quickly, taking in the familiarity of the Aussie herself and her club teammates' closeness around them.
Quickly becoming a child amongst the older girls on the team, much like a sibling to them, within but a few months.
That being said.
Kyra was a little shit.
And she knew it too.
A demanding one at that.
Hence why Katie had taken to knocking the young brunette down a few pegs.
Her cockiness was starting to show under the protection of the older girls, so the Irish captain had been messing with her enough to take the invincible mindset away from her.
Leaving her ultimately latched onto Steph now.
A lot.
"Seriously, Steph, please, I can't deal with her leaving shaving foam in my boots again."
The older woman raises an eyebrow at the pleading look on Kyra's face.
"You did this to yourself, Ky. Katie's only retaliating because you decided you were king shit enough to put hair dye in her shampoo."
The younger girl whines.
"Don't you think she's retaliated enough? I've had my shoes violated, my shin guards replaced with slightly smaller ones. I mean, the other day, my water bottle was filled with pickle juice. Pickle Juice! For gods sake."
Steph sighs, rolling her eyes slightly, grabbing the last of her stuff to shove into her pack, she gestures to the front door, to which the midfielder eagerly hurries out of and towards the car, waiting impatiently for the defender to unlock it.
"You've seriously gotta apologise to Katie or something. The girl has ten siblings, I can't imagine she hasn't spent her whole life dealing with bratty behaviour from little shits like you."
Kyra scoffs as she hurriedly buckles herself in.
"Rude."
"The truth."
Steph smirks at the small pout that forms on the other girls lips.
"Hurry up and drive."
"So bossy."
-------
As expected, they arrive with hardly any other people around, decidedly much earlier than any of the other girls. Katie wasn't the earliest of player's anyway, so Kyra really shouldn't be worried about her beating them there.
Still, the youngin looks exceptionally nervous as she peaks into the changing room and gingerly makes her way over to her cubby, scanning it with a ridiculous level of detail.
Steph can only shake her head, watching the young girl sheepishly wander around the room, checking for what may well be hidden traps.
Maybe she should talk with Katie about getting her to take it down a notch.
The Irish woman was nothing if not relentless when it came to getting back at someone.
The last thing the team needed was a midfielder with serious trust issues stemming from their infamous yellow card magnet of a winger.
"Ky, relax. She's not even here yet."
"Yeah, but you never know."
"Seriously, it's game day, relax, she won't-"
"Oh, hello, you two. Stephy. Kyra."
The ever so loud and joyful Katie enters the changing room with a bang of the door as it slams open and hits the wall.
Her smirk quirks up a little wider at the sight of the midfielder, who's looking rather sheepishly around her rather than at the Irish woman herself.
"You two extra early today, eh?"
"Ha, something like that."
Steph gives her a look as she nods in Kyra's direction.
"Give the poor girl a break, would ya? I think she's been thoroughly humbled."
Katie snorts in amusement, eyeing her up.
"Eh, she’s fine. I wasn't gonna do anything."
Steph raises a brow at that.
"....Yet."
There it is.
"Of course. Don't mess around too much, though. We still have a game to play, McCabe."
She lets out an unconvincing hum in response, right as some of the other girls start to filter in, Caitlin one of the ones to settle into her cubby beside the defender.
"What's up with the kid?"
Steph snorts.
"Ask your girlfriend. She's been torturing the poor girl."
Caitlin rolls her eyes, turning to Katie, who's now got a cheeky glint in her as she eyes up the younger of the three.
"Katie."
"What? I didn't do any-"
She stops at the look she gets from the Australian, grumbling as she relents and turns back to her cubby.
-------
Kyra's finally able to escape the locker room out of sight of the defender the moment the Irish woman is distracted.
Heading down the hall towards the physio room, she ends up coming face to face with and bumping face first into someone.
She groans when she rubs at her face and her backside from where she landed on it as she stands up again with the help of her assailant.
The person is stood in a royal navy uniform, a patch on her shoulder with three horizontal gold stripes and a small circled loop on the top, hair slicked back and tight into a bun behind her head.
'L/n-Catley' the name badge reads.
Confusion crosses her face which you quickly notice.
"You're Steph's teammate right?"
"Uh yeeaah? Who are you?"
"It's a long story and sorry about the bump there. I uh, I don't know if y'all know yet but I might need your help. The staff were nice enough to let me in but I need an escort here."
"Where are you going?"
"I got told to wait for one of the trainers in the staff room?"
"Can I ask what you're doing?"
"Waiting to see Steph, but don't tell her, it's supposed to be a surprise."
Kyra is extremely sceptical, but she leads you down the hall to where the trainers are situated and one of them recognises you immediately, hugging you and dragging you into the room.
She's even more confused when the staff member is nearly in tears.
Wait.
Navy uniform.
Here to see Steph.
L/n-Catley on the name badge.
There's no way.
"Are you... Are you married to Steph?"
You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck.
"Yes I am. If you can't tell it's been a little while since we've seen each other."
"Yeah, I can tell, her house is far too empty for the size of it."
"Ah, so you're the new roommate. Kyra, right?"
"She's been talking about me?"
You nod.
"We would call every two weeks. When she found out you were moving to Arsenal, I couldn't tell if she was happy or mad because you'd already trashed her white towels."
"Hey! That was not my fault, the wine just fell... on it's own."
There's a sheepish look on her face.
You chuckle softly.
"She'll be fine, the pattern was ugly anyway, we needed new towels... Don't tell her I said that."
Kyra smiles at that.
"It's great to meet you, then... How are we planning this out?"
"I'll have my sister here sneak me somewhere I can wait and surprise her at the end of the game."
She nods.
"Alright, I better get going then before the girls come looking for me for pitch inspection."
You nod back and give her a warm smile.
"Oh, I'm Y/n, by the way, Lieutenant Commander Y/n L/n-Catley."
-------
The roar of the almost entirely red and white crowd as the girls enter the pitch is as usual, deafeningly loud.
Home games are always the most adrenaline instilling games, ones where their fans are always the loudest, chanting and screaming every time one of their own touches the ball.
Steph can still hardly believe it.
The growth in the game. Breaking records every single home match so far.
The FA Cup semi-final was no different it seems.
Her eyes subtly scan the crowd as she jogs out behind the others, shifting from clapping fan to clapping fan. There's an air about the crowd.
A massively high inducing air, one that she can feel in every nerve ending in her body as she practically bounces around the pitch in warmups.
She brushes it off as it being a semi final type of high.
Aston Villa would be a difficult opponent and she assumed that was the reasoning.
-------
It seems she's proven wrong in the first ten minutes.
It doesn't take long for Stina to score, the home crowd immediately losing their minds, and they barely have time to recover just two minutes later when the Swede swoops in for the double.
By the fourty-fifth minute, they know they have the game. Four to nil over the Villans thanks to a Stina hattrick and a goal from Frida. Her heartbeat is thumping in her ears as they approach the final minute.
This is the part they're in the dark. How many minutes left of stoppage? How much longer does she have to defend?
The players are taught not to worry about that. To just play until the whistle blows. And she does.
But she can't help the nagging awaiting of the whistle, wondering when it will go.
The moment it does, there's celebration, relief, and a lot of cheering and screams and congratulation from the air around.
A pair of arms and legs wrap around her from behind as Kyra jumps on her back, the young Australian whooping into her ear.
"Onto the finals, Stephy!"
The defender chuckles and celebrates with the team, the announcer shouting out the home teams win to wind up the crowd once more.
As they do the celebration walk around the pitch, the announcer announces player of the match, and then one more announcement catches her ear.
Her head snaps toward the tunnel the moment she hears it, heart stopping at the words of the female announcer.
"And finally, one last round of applause. Let us congratulate and welcome back someone very special to one of our own. Lieutenant Commander Y/N L/n-Catley returning from fifteen months of duty at sea with the Royal Navy."
And truly, there you are, her wife.
Dressed to the nines in your Black, long sleeved uniform, hands clasped behind you, standing with a wide, almost teary smile as you watch Steph bolt across the pitch towards you, catching her with little effort as she jumps into your arms, knocking the cap off your head with the force.
The rest of the Arsenal girls stand shocked, looking between themselves and their left back at the sudden appearance of a totally new member of the Catley family.
Before they can even try to work out who you might be to Steph, the defender has her lips pressed to yours tightly, tears streaming down your face.
The sensation of finally being able to kiss you, her wife. HER wife, has her trembling against you, her stomach twisting and curling as you hold her tight against you, your own hands shaking as they rest on her back.
It had been the longest stint you'd gone without seeing each other, having been on a cramped ship for the majority of that time.
Even having been used to long times apart, the immense relief of being able to hold your person, your love, YOUR wife, after so long. was like nothing else you'd ever experienced.
And you were glad you had all the time in the world to experience it now.
When Steph's finally able to pull back and look you in the eye, hands holding your face, eyes scanning your features, noting a small scar under your right brow, and then returning to make eye contact again with you, albeit very tearily, much like yourself.
Lifting your own hands, your thumbs swipe away the tears on her cheeks, leaning down once more to kiss her, forehead leaning against hers.
You take in the immensity of the screams of the crowd all of a sudden, especially the crowd around the players' tunnel.
With that, she buries herself back into your hold, her nose buried into the crook of your neck.
Your eyes scan the pitch, watching the applauding or shocked expressions of the players.
You'd already known her teammates didn't know she was married, however their shocked expressions still have you chuckling.
All except Kyra's wide smile as she watches the two of you and you give the girl a wink.
"I can't believe it. You're here."
It's half whimpered into your shoulder, and you just barely hear it over the crowd.
"I'm here. I'm home."
"They finally let you on leave?"
She's using a half joking tone beneath the watery chokes and sobs.
"Better than that, Love."
She pulls away shocked.
"You mean.."
You smile down at her teary eyed.
"I'm home for good, not retired but they're giving me an office in London. Full time hours still but I won't be needed for duty anymore."
She frowns softly after a second.
She knew you'd always hated the idea of an office job.
Catching the look on her face, you knew what she'd be thinking about.
"I don't care where it is, or what I'm doing. I'm just glad I'm home, with you. I've had my fill of travelling and front line work for a lifetime."
Leaning your forehead back against hers, you let the moment sink in.
You'd known it was coming for months now, haven spoken to your superiors, and them letting you know there was a position available remotely, you'd taken it in a heartbeat.
If it meant coming home to your girl, you'd have done anything.
A small throat clearing a couple feet from you, the team had moved to stand around the pair of you, eager to ask questions of the brunette in your arms.
You nudge her softly with a small giggle in her ear.
"Babe, I think they have questions."
"They can wait a little longer."
You don't fight her on it just letting her settle into you again, holding you tightly.
The moment she does let go, she's grabbed by the shoulders and interrogated by the team rather swiftly.
Leah stands arms crossed.
"Now Stephy, when did this occur?"
Steph sheepishly smiles around her at her.
"Alright alright, Gunners, meet my beautiful wife, Y/n. She's been in the navy since she turned eighteen, we met five years ago when she was on leave in Australia. We started dating less than a month later and she left on duty about four months later. We got married after three years, bought a house right before she left a year and a bit ago. We haven't seen each other in person since then. Until now, that is."
And just like that, you're immediately dragged into the group rather swiftly, squished into several hugs.
A firm handshake and then a tight hug from their captain, especially. The Scot making firm well you know how quickly she'd bury you should you hurt their defender, despite the fact you'd known Steph longer and you chuckle, nodding in agreement at the stern look turned cracked smile she lets go.
When you're finally free, Steph takes no time tucking herself under your arm and wrapping hers around you, looking up at you slightly with a proud, elated smile, eyes still slightly teary.
Returning the expression, you press a small kiss to her nose.
"Welcome home, Baby."
You shake your head.
"Congrats on the win, Baby, this is your moment right now. Go celebrate for a bit, we've got all the time in the world now."
She pouts but relents with a small peck and nudge.
"KYRA, YOU KNEW?!"
The shouts of the Irish captain make her jump but chuckle a little as a gloating midfielder teases the rest of the girls.
Yeah. She was in for it.
-------
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notmyneighbor · 12 hours
Text
Let Me in ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader
Chapter 3
Word Count ~ 2.5k
Rating ~ Explicit
CW ~ blood and gore, body horror, character death, minor violence, dubious consent, sexual content
Also available on AO3
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You sit on the side of the bed that had once belonged to Francis Mosses.
The comforter and top sheet have already been pulled down. You lean over to slide out of your low heeled pumps, tucking the pair of navy leather shoes neatly under the bed.
There’s a bible on the nightstand. A worn looking copy. Beside it a glass with a shallow amount of water resting in the bottom, the remnant of a late night attempt to quench thirst, perhaps.
The doppelgänger watches your movements. How methodical each action is. Slow and deliberate. You’re stalling.
He settles beside you and the mattress creaks as the springs are compressed. That odd sort of shimmer you’d noticed earlier outside the security booth outlines his frame for a brief moment. A surge of light and color as the skin ripples before settling. They still weren’t completely able to disguise what they were. All hope was not lost.
Your own fate, however, seems sealed. You lie down slowly, carefully. You feel as if you are laying yourself to rest in your own coffin. Turning your face ever so slightly to see if there is any trace of the man that had once slept here, some lingering scent or an indent from his face. Nothing but the fragrance of clean linen. The imposter moves as if to join you but you halt him, your fingers closing over his forearm. Your first time touching him and not the other way around. “Take your shoes off.”
The creature snickers, glancing down at the scuffed oxfords he’s wearing. Overdue for a shine. “What possible difference does that make?”
“It’s respectful. You never put your shoes where someone sleeps.”
“He won’t be sleeping here ever again.”
You inhale sharply, wincing. “Please just do it.” You can’t say why you’re so hung up on this. Only that it seems the right thing to do. A small thing in a sea of wrongs that you’re clinging to like a life preserver.
“Fine.” He acquiesces, bending to unlace them. There is no care in his actions. Just brisk, impatient pulls to undo the knotted ties. Then he is lying beside you. Your heads sharing the same pillow. Francis only used a single one, apparently. Preferring to slumber lying with his head and neck rather flat. You always used two fluffy pillows, minimum.
You can hear the sound of music starting to play, emanating from the resident’s apartment next door.
Mia Stone, perhaps. The blonde teacher who was Dr. Afton’s fiancée. You instantly recognize the musical artist crooning through the walls: Billie Holiday.
I say I'll move the mountains
And I'll move the mountains
If he wants them out of the way
You would have loved to play this record for Francis. You envision trying to dance in the cramped space of the living room, twirling around in his arms. “Did he really like my fragrance?” You know the creature could lie, of course. He’d say anything to manipulate you and get what he wanted. But you have to ask. Your heart won’t let you avoid the query.
The dark eyes of the pretender regard you. You detect no malice or dishonesty there. “Yes,” he says simply.
You close your eyes, sighing. “What else did he like about me?”
“Your smile, gifted once you were certain it was really him. The way you covered your mouth when you laugh, making some little relieved joke when you passed his identification and entry request back to him each day. The strands of hair that came loose around your face as the day wore on into late afternoon when he returned from his route. The—”
“—Stop. Please.” Tears well in your eyes. They didn’t sound like the kind of details the deceiver would create on his own. There was a note of truth to them. Genuine recollections. He truly was all that remained of Francis Mosses. A man that had been fond of you. You could have been with him, if only you’d been a little braver.
“You asked me to tell you.”
“I know. It’s just overwhelming.”
Like the wind that shakes the bough
He moves me with a smile
“Your kind is so fond of music. Your milkman was always humming. I don’t see the use for it.”
The your wrenches your heart. He wasn’t yours. Never would be. “It’s a way to expression emotions. When words alone aren’t enough.”
“Hmmm.” He reaches out and you flinch. “Why are you fighting this so hard? This is what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want Francis to die.” You pause, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Why do you want this?”
”Curiosity. An experiment of sorts. There has never been a union between our kind. Not of this nature. A desire to know what it feels like. To see what might result.”
You shudder. An experiment. Using you like some kind of animal for breeding. A mere whim.
He reaches again and this time you force yourself to hold steady, your chin lifting with a short jerk of defiance. Your hair is his goal. Tucking it back behind one ear. Maybe something the milkman had wanted to do. There’s a sudden softness in the doppelgänger’s eyes. As if the human he’d once been was peeking through at you. You find yourself melting again, your defenses coming down.
I say I'll care forever
And I mean forever
He moves closer to you. Inching over across the white fitted sheet. A thumb strokes away one of the tears that has escaped its prison. He captures the other from the opposite cheek, bringing it to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the droplet. “Salt,” he says, recognizing the mineral.
He kisses you.
You’re not sure if it’s better to think of the man you had loved or not. Was it dishonoring his memory or was it a way to keep him present in some vague capacity? There’s no clumsiness this time. He knows the feel of your mouth. The way to shift against you. Tongue mapping past smooth cheeks and dragging along the carpet of muscle at the base of that maw. Maybe it was better to pretend this was Francis after all. You cup the back of his neck, fingers teasing the edges of his milk chocolate tresses. Curling slightly on the ends. It would be time for a trim soon. Would have been. The illusion you’ve created is crumbling again. Your lips falter, your hand dropping away.
Crazy he calls me
Sure, I'm crazy
Crazy in love am I
“Sweetheart,” the invader murmurs, tasting along your jaw, your neck. “I like the way you smell.” Speaking for himself, not Francis. You hear the sharp intake of air. The hand that had been casually laid across your shoulder slides down until it reaches your breast, gently kneading that globe through the layers of your bra and blouse. “Does this feel good?” His voice is octaves lower than you’d ever heard from the milkman. Slightly raspy and sultry, not unlike the singing voice that permeates through the wood and plaster behind the bed. You don’t dare answer, merely whimpering a little and he seems to take this as an affirmative response.
His hand leaves your breast and finds the top button of your shirt. Always sensible, pure white, part of the uniform standard the company requires. Another threaded plastic disc is pushed through the hole. He works his way down until all those that are exposed have surrendered, the remainder still tucked within your skirt. His fingers part the edges of the fabric encasing your torso, peeling them back to reveal the white satin brassiere beneath. He caresses you briefly through this slick material before tucking inside the cup until he brushes across your areola. Your nipple peaks beneath his ministrations as his lips move back to yours. He is surprisingly gentle, lightly pinching and rolling the aroused tissue. Your body betrays you, responding to the creature’s touch. You should be ashamed, disgusted. Instead you find yourself wanting more.
“Off,” he murmurs impatiently, plucking at your bra before his hand departs your chest. You struggle to sit up and he allows it, watching you pull your blouse free from your skirt and unfastening the cuffs before sliding it off your arms. With a swift gesture borne of long practice you easily pinch and release the hook and eye closures resting along the center of your spine, the cups immediately folding down over the underwire, the straps drooping over your shoulders.
The doppelgänger assists you now, sliding the brassiere off the rest of the way, exposing your chest to him. Your cheeks are pink, flushed like the nipples he’s toying with again, his head bending to suckle at one and a lick of flame sears your core. This is part of the invasive species’ learning process, you think. Taste as important as touch. His mouth moving not with the sole purpose of your pleasure in mind, but as a means to explore flavors and textures. Cataloguing. More of humanity’s secrets unveiled.
There is a song you don’t recognize playing next door now. Muffled voices. You’d had no idea the walls were so thin. Francis had never complained.
You’re shoved back down onto the pillow. His mouth wanders, back up to sample a collar bone, the hollow at the base of your throat, then dips in between your breasts and tastes the skin of your abdomen. You wonder if he can detect the floral soap you’d bathed with that morning, the traces of lotion you’d applied during your hygiene routine.
“I like this,” he says, his breath warm on your body. “You’re so soft. Smooth. Not like…I’ve never taken…” It had often been debated if there were sexes in their species. How they propagated. There was still so much unknown. Was there a reason he’d only chosen men to replicate? Was it simply because he was male himself? You could not explain how you knew it, but there was something distinctly masculine about him. Authoritative. Blunter than a woman would be. A lifetime of being raised to respect decorum had been firmly ingrained in you. Society valuing a woman who knows her place. Taught to be demure, deferring to the wisdom and guidance of their male counterparts. Serving and obeying, like you’re doing now.
The imposter returns his attention to your face. Licking your mouth back open. He likes this, you think. All of what you’d shared thus far, but perhaps the kissing best of all.
The background melody silences and you think you detect the front door opening and closing. You wonder if the couple will be going out to an early dinner. Curious when they find there is no one guarding the building. But not alarmed. Not yet.
Your skirt is being lifted, polyester dragged upward after the copycat’s hasty reach downward to gather the hem. Immediately sliding back down, stroking over your exposed thighs that are clad in nylons that stop midway across each of your upper legs. Nothing fancy, just utilitarian features in a shade of nude slightly more tanned than your own complexion. He nudges against the seal you’ve created by pressing your legs close together. “Let me in, sweet girl.” An echo of what he’d said earlier in an attempt to gain access to the building, now seeking entry into you. You feel your limbs parting for him nearly as promptly as you’d opened the door.
The pretender works his way back up to the fork of your body, teasing along the crotch of the white panties. You gasp and he smiles against your lips. His palm drags over the fabric until his fingers find the elastic waistband and he dips beneath it, running overly the neatly trimmed hair on your pubic mound, following the curve of that padded flesh until your sex is palpated.
Another gasp and a moan escapes you. “So wet,” he remarks, fondling the pink lips, parting the petals with his middle finger to slide through the slick arousal your body is creating, working the lubricant up and down, passing over the hooded nub and then delving back towards your entrance, where more fluid escapes.
It feels good and yet it doesn’t, his fingers too rough and just shy of where you need him. You squirm and wince at the harsh handling of your clitoris and he pauses, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Show me. Show me how you like to be touched.”
You reach down cautiously, guiding his fingers to one side of your sensitive bud, lightly pressing and rolling a fingertip so that your clit is ground slightly against the bone beneath. Alternating now, reaching back down to gather more of your slick before spreading it over that hooded button, a few direct strokes applied before beginning the process again. He replicates your actions and your body responds immediately, a hum of pleasure heating you. You close your eyes and you think of the milkman, the real one, with his kind smile and his tired eyes.
“Francis.” The name escapes your lips and you freeze, the rocking motion of your hips against the imposter’s hand abruptly ceasing. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alarmed by how easily you’d allowed yourself to give in to the desire, accommodating this make believe passion.
“It’s alright, love. It’s me. I’m here.” His tongue laps at your ear, at the sensitive patch of skin behind it. You shiver and resume grinding against his fingers, letting yourself be deluded once more, your hand curling over his forearm.
“Francis,” you say again, hoping he can forgive you, in whatever form he now occupies, if he is saved as his faith professes he would be, finding redemption and peace, somewhere far from your sinning body that writhes in pleasure from his murderer’s touch.
You push against his hand and he allows it, applying force against the hollow cavity that leads to your womb. “Let me in,” he breathes, and you feel a finger invading your body, shoving through the narrow confines of that muscular tunnel. Withdrawing and spearing again, the digit saturated with your arousal. You moan and lift your pelvis to meet him. Curling inside, massaging that dip of spongy tissue. Crooking each time he enters as if he is leading you forward, beckoning, his thumb drawing circles over your clit. You feel as if you’re on the edge of a chasm, teetering on the rim, about to drop forward into heat and darkness. Keening now. Thighs tremoring violently. Your face turns and your teeth sink into the pillow. “There you go, love. Give it to me. Give in to me.”
The coiling pressure within you snaps and you find release at last, the fabric clenched in your teeth doing little to muffle the sound of your orgasm. You’re drenched in sweat, the aftershocks of your appeased nerves still sizzling through you. The doppelgänger cradles you through all of it, holding you as you ride the waves that exhaust your limbs, making you feel boneless and limp.
“Francis.” It’s a yearning plea, a futile prayer, answered by the thing that is not him, but masquerades as such, crooning to you, whispering false promises, draping you in synthetic affection, a lie you want so desperately to believe.
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mj-iza-writer · 2 days
Text
"Why are you pulling away from me?", Whumper pulled Whumpee's leash harshly making them fall forward, "whatever is going on better stop before you get punished."
Whumpee whimpered as Whumper grabbed their collar and pulled them close.
"Please", Whumpee gulped, "please don't hurt me, I-I'm I'm", Whumpee started to stutter and shake.
"You're what?", Whumper impatiently pulled Whumpee until they were face to face.
"I'm nasty, and-and dirty. I think I smell", Whumpee gasped as the collar tightened.
Whumper looked at Whumpee with disgust, "what did you say?"
"I saw myself in the mirror earlier. How can you be okay with touching me and being near me", Whumpee gasped, "I-I can't breath very well."
Whumper realized and released their grip on the collar.
Whumpee fell down into Whumper's lap and scrambled to the floor to get away.
"Do I own you?", Whumper sat back.
"Huh?", Whumpee looked up in fear.
"Do I own you?", Whumper repeated, "is that not my collar around your neck?"
"Ye-yes master", Whumpee looked down and began fiddling with the dog tag.
"Are you saying I own things that smell and are dirty?", Whumper frowned, "is that a thing you should say about your master? That they own something gross."
"I-I'm sorry", Whumpee bowed, "I didn't mean it like that. I just..."
"It's not a pets place to say that they are dirty, it's their Master's place", Whumper sighed, "you are not allowed to have such human thoughts. Am I clear?"
"Y-yes Master, please forgive me", Whumpee kept their face into the carpet.
"Remember what belongs to me can't be dirty", Whumper lifted their leg and rested their foot on Whumpee's head, "am I clear?"
"Y-yes mas-master, please have mercy on me", Whumpee pleaded, face now shoved into the carpet by Whumper's foot.
A while later Whumper stood from their seat.
Whumpee shyly watched from the corner of their eye as Whumper left the room.
'They're mad at me', Whumpee sighed to themself, 'I'm an idiot.'
Whumpee heard water running, it sounded like it was coming from the bathroom.
'Here comes my punishment', Whumpee groaned, 'I wonder if it will be scolding hot or ice cold', Whumpee almost wanted to run to Whumper to plead for forgiveness, 'will they hose me down, make me sit in it, or hold me under', these thoughts made Whumpee shake.
"Come"
Whumpee shook their head a little to get rid of the thoughts.
"Are you deaf? Come here", came the command again.
Whumpee quickly looked over to where the voice was coming.
Whumper stood with their hands on their hips, making their impatience known.
Whumpee quickly crawled to Whumper.
"About time", Whumper sighed, "you were thinking again, weren't you?"
"Yes Master, I'm sorry. I was just thinking of all the ways you were going to punish me. I hope I may find grace in your eyes, please", Whumpee begged.
"I'm not going to punish you", Whumper sighed, "I considered your feelings, and have decided to let you have a bath."
Whumpee looked at Whumper in shock.
"You mean it Master?", Whumpee couldn't believe what they had heard.
"Follow me", Whumper led the way to the bathroom.
Whumpee looked into the tub and saw a bath had been drawn with bubbles.
"These are for your hair and of course soap. Do you need any help, or can you manage?", Whumper pulled out a towel and wash cloth from a closet, "you can take as much time as you like."
"I can do it Master", Whumpee happily looked at Whumper, "thankyou so much for allowing me to clean up."
"You're welcome. I'll allow you to have a spa day once in a while as a treat that you must earn for good behavior. The better you are, the more I will add for you to enjoy", Whumper frowned, "I will help with your teeth and nails as I normally do, the rest you can do for yourself. I will continue taking care of your hair as well."
Whumpee nodded, "I could hug you right now, this means so much."
"I'd rather you didn't", Whumper frowned, "I'll be in the living room. Come find me when you're all done."
With that, the door was closed and Whumpee was alone.
They reached their arm into the water. It felt so warm, it sent goosebumps down their body.
They climbed into the tub and just sat in the water for a while. The bubbles sizzled on their skin.
A few more minutes passed, and they started to clean themself. They scrubbed every body part they could reach.
"This feels so good", Whumpee sighed in relief.
When the water started to cool, they unplugged the tub and watched the water level go down. They frowned at how much dirt and grime had come off.
Whumpee turned on the shower head and started to clean their hair.
When satisfied they lathered up their body one last time, and did their final rinse.
Whumpee dried themself with the towel, then wrapped the towel around their soaked hair.
They fiddled with their collar for a while. The thing was soaked, but Whumper didn't remove it, and they had no right to remove it on their own.
"Master didn't leave a brush for me", Whumpee looked around, "they did say they wanted to continue taking care of my hair."
Whumpee opened the bathroom door and got down to crawl.
Whumper smiled as Whumpee rounded the corner.
"Feeling better?", Whumper sat up.
"Y-yes master", Whumpee crawled to Whumper's legs and happily nudged their head against Whumper, "thankyou so much."
"Good, go ahead and sit down", Whumper pointed then reached for the brush, "I'll brush out your hair."
Whumper unwrapped the towel from Whumpee's hair and watched it fall to Whumpee's shoulders.
"I will admit you do smell better", Whumper started to run the brush through the damp hair, "I suppose that's nice."
"Did your pet have a good idea Master?" Whumpee looked up at Whumper, "I hope I did."
"Yes I suppose you were due for a wash", Whumper untangled some of the hair, "did you enjoy the bubbles?"
"Yes Master, they felt good", Whumpee looked up at Whumper again, "it all felt good."
"That's good", Whumper continued to brush until they were satisfied, "your hair feels softer as well."
Whumper eyed the collar, "I forgot to take this off, it's wet", they reached for the clasp and removed it, "we'll let this dry for a while."
Whumpee happily nudged their head against Whumper's leg again.
"I guess you are feeling better", Whumper leaned back, "climb up here, come on. I'm sure you would love a nap after that shower. Too much for a dog to do in an afternoon."
Whumpee did as they were told and climbed up onto the furniture. They rested their head on Whumper's lap.
Whumper patted Whumpee's head for a few minutes before resting their hand on Whumpee's back.
"My silly little pet having human thoughts", Whumper chuckled, "that stupid brain of yours should only worry about pleasing me, that's all it's good for."
Whumpee gently nodded, "yes Master, please forgive me", Whumpee whispered, "I will work hard and be a good pet for you Master."
"Very good", Whumper grinned, "now go to sleep."
Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet @thebejeweledwatercat @painfulplots @whumpbump @everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace @whumpanthems
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glittersstuff · 7 hours
Text
tea party - Luke Hughes
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Warnings; mini me part 3! Luke can't say no.
Rie's note; I want to start a series for this, so bad.
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"Can I leave you two alone?", you ask Luke, because your best friend called for help. "Sure", Luke says, nips on his water bottle and eats some cake. He loves cheat days, he doesn't have to workout in the morning and could cuddle with you two and eat whatever he wants. He misses so much of Sunny's life during the season. "Okay, please no sugar for Sunny!", you kiss his temple, ready to leave.
Luke rolls his eyes, as if he could never be able to be strict.
"Daddy?", his little curly girl comes out of her room with a pink sparkling dress after hearing the closed door, afraid they forgot her.
"Oh Hi muffin!", he speaks with a smile to her.
"Can we do make-up?", she asks with her big blue eyes. He's desperate, he just wants to see the hockey game from Michigan and exactly at this moment his little muffin wants to play.
"But Daddy wants to see the game",he tries to convince his girl to let him watch.
"I don't care", she responds, crossed arms and standing in front of him.
"but Daddy played there, do you want to join me?!", he tried again and showed up on the couch next to him.
"You're soo old, you played a lot!", is the stubborn answer. She wants to play with her dad.
He lays his head in his neck, huffs and sits back, "I'm only 27, muffin!".
"you're older than uncle Jack!", she argues. "No, he's older", Luke chuckles because she's cute. Sunny furrows her eyebrows thoughtfully.
"Mommy says you need anti aging creme so that means you're old, daddy", she speaks out her mind.
"hey I am young!"
"When you're older you need make-up!", she smiles, knowing he will say yes. He nips from his water bottle again, trying to ignore her begging.
He huffs, it's hopeless to say no after Sunny stays stubborn in front of him.
"Okay, but I want glitter eyeshadow", he demands.
Sunny runs in her room, ready to make her dad pretty. He is the most patient dad ever, sitting in this small chair, letting her be creative on his face.
"Daddy you look amazing!", his little daughter says, surprised how well she made it. "The pink glitter suits your eyes!".
He does look like a princess for her, he looks magic. (Adults would say he looks like after a wild party weekend with the boys), speaking with a girly voice, "Thanks!".
"Dad I'm thirsty", her angelic voice speaks out, already bored. "I'll bring you a water bottle, muffin", he stands up, groaning because his back hurts.
"Noo daddy! Mommy drinks tea with me when you're gone before I'll go to bed", she requested.
"without sugar!", he warns.
"Why?", she whines with her big blue eyes, "because my back needs a mattress and mommy would let me sleep on the couch if I give you sugar". Sunny acts as if she hadn't heard the no.
"My peppa pig tea with sugar, please!", she walks like a diva back in the living room. He has to laugh, her in a pink dress with her curls and confidence makes him so proud. And maybe he's not the strictest parent.
He makes the tea, one cup for each one, sitting on the couch together. He's just happy to see the end of the Michigan game. Before he could focus on the game, he sleeps in after having a serious conversation with Sunny about a new Disney princess.
"Baby? I'm home", you walk in, confused because no one replies.
You walk in the living room, you have to laugh.
Sunny and Luke cuddled up together under the blanket, highlights of the Michigan game on the television and both are asleep. On the small table are two cups of tea, you can smell her peppa pig tea she always wants. You walk closer and you have to smile really bright, Luke has pink glitter eyeshadow, mascara and lip gloss on his face. What his little girl do to him, she makes him completely weak for her five years. Without waking up these two, you take both cups in the kitchen and grin about what you saw.
You never imagined loving Luke more than seeing him as dad.
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stveharringtn · 2 days
Note
hey love!! you are my favvvv spence writer, i’ve requested from you before and you deliver so beautifully, i truly thank you for that :)
i was wondering if i could request again, a soft comfort fem!reader fic, where she’s had debilitating headaches non stop and spencer relates, and helps her through the pain? i would really appreciate it, thank you in advance 💜
omg?? thank you so so much, especially since i haven’t written for him in a while!! i thank YOU for your kind words! thank you for this request, i hope i do it justice - sorry for the long wait! w; headaches but that’s ab it!
spencer steps into a quiet and dark and cold apartment, eyes squinting together as he tries to fumble for the lightswitch.
flipping on a dim light, he’s slightly worried by how silent it really is. his go bag is placed on the couch as he walks past the living room and towards the small hallway, hand reaching for the knob as he opens the door.
it creaks and he peeks his head in. he notices a lump in his bed, a small smile pulling at his lips. he step in fully, the door being pushed open on the way.
his hand lands on your back as his other reaches for a lamp.
“don’t turn it on.” it’s muffled against and his fingers graze the string as he stops, eyes moving and looking at the back of your head.
“why not?”
“my headache,” it sounds pathetic and small coming from your lips and he frowns, sitting down by you as his hand smooths a line up and down your spine. “it was too hot and i had to get up and turn on the air, lights made it worse.”
he nods in understanding, then realizes you aren’t looking. “i know… im sorry, you just lie here. i’ll be right back.”
you only nod, hair bunching up under you cheek. he walks towards the living room, pulling out a heating pad that had taken up the drawer of the side table by the couch for you in case of cramps.
he walks towards the kitchen, grabbing a glass. he fills it with water, before grabbing some advil - it never helped him, but maybe, and hopefully, it can help you.
he walks back towards the room, stepping inside. there’s enough moonlight shedding into the room that he can see. he places the heating pad down on his side of the bed, the water and advil on your nightstand, before stepping into the bathroom.
he reaches for the spray bottle that you keep there to trim his hair, a brush, and a single rubber band that rests on the sink. he makes his way back, pressing a hand in between your shoulder blades.
“can you sit up? it’ll be quick, i promise.”
you lay there for a moment before slowly moving and sitting up. he presses a kiss to your temple before sitting in behind you. “just keep your eyes closed. i’m sorry.”
you nod. he sprays some water into your hair, wetting it just enough to comb through the tangles. he didn’t know how to braid, but he’s going to try, so your hair isn’t bothering you while you try to get comfortable.
it’s a loose braid and loose strands of hair are still brushing at you cheeks, but it’s good enough. he stands from the bed, dragging the heating pad with him.
his hand rubs at your shoulder, helping you lie back down.
“sorry.” you whisper.
he looks up from where he’s plugging in the heating pad, a frown set on his face. “what for?”
“i know you’re tired and you just got home and now you’re taking care of me.”
“i wouldn’t have it any other way. i want you to feel better. if i didn’t care, i wouldn’t be doing this.”
you nod slightly, talking is even too much. he makes sure it’s on the lowest setting, hand cupping the underside of your head and covering the pillow with the heating pad. he gently places your head back down.
“that should help, if it doesn’t, let me know, okay?”
“mhm.” you hum softly.
“please don’t feel like you’re bothering me, you’re not. i love taking care of you,” you give him a small smile. his thumb traces your forearm. “there’s some advil and water when you feel up to taking anything. it might help. i’m going to change and then i’ll come and lie down with you, okay?”
you nod against the warmth, brows pinching together. he leans down and presses a kiss to the deep crease before walking away.
he’s quick changing and doing his nightly routine. slipping under the cool covers, he lets out a small sigh, eyes closing momentarily, before they open again and look over at you.
he smiles softly at the soft snores that leave your throat. he rolls over and pushes some hair from your cheek.
he’s surprised that you could even fall asleep, but he’s glad that you were able too.
he presses another kiss to your forehead before lying his head down close to yours.
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sparrowrye · 1 day
Text
Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 20
Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.
Previous part
Part 20: fixing
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Reagan and I were alone on the shore. We had spent time alone recovering, physically and mentally, before agreeing to talk. She sat on one of the smooth boulders while I stood in the water, claws sinking in the sand in an effort to help ground myself. I was still buzzing from the skirmish.
"Why didn't you tell me about the blood thing?" she asked after several minutes of silence.
"I didn't want to scare you," I admitted. I was in my Demon form, per her request. She wanted to talk to 'the real me'.
"I'm not fourteen anymore."
"But you liked me. We were close because I wasn't like the 'other Demons'." I pulled my feet out of the sand to allow them to sink again. My tail moved through the water like a fish.
"I thought we told each other everything."
I looked over my shoulder at her. She was a friend and a daughter to me. I was amazed that we had even reached the point we had in less than four years. I was destroying it now. "I'm still trying to be comfortable with the nature of who I am."
We fell silent. She pulled her legs up to wrap her arms around them. The sun was warm and the Fall wind mixed with the ocean breeze. I had yet to actually be warm since...well, everything.
"What did he say to you?" I asked.
"A bunch of random crap."
"Like what?" I pressed, my back still to her.
"Like how Demons always see themselves as more powerful than Humans. That without Humans they would still just be spirits. And that they were the reason I don't know my real parents."
"You don't know them because you're a child of the ring fights," I answered a little too harshly. I quickly dropped it to something more lighter. "Something that Humans and Demons both do."
"I know that."
More silence hung overhead. I took a step further into the water so it reached my shins.
"Why did you call for me?"
"What do you mean?"
I turned around to face her finally. "Why did you call for me? I'm sure he was going to take you with him to wherever those other pure Humans are. So why call for me? Why did you want to come back?"
She didn't answer right away, casting her eyes down at the sand and face still hidden behind her knees. She looked like her fourteen-year-old self who I first met.
"Because I care about you," she admitted, "and because...you aren't...like other Demons." She put her legs down so she was sitting cross legged. "And because I know you care about the haven just as much as I do."
I stepped out of the water and walked over to her. She was at my head level while sitting on the rock. "I'm sorry. For not telling you the truth about myself." I gently placed my hand on top of hers and she flipped it over to hold it. "Thank you for trusting me."
She let out a sigh as I wrapped my arm around her back in an embrace. "No more secrets? Please?"
"No more secrets." I squeezed her once then let go to look at her. "I suppose this is a good time, then, to clear the air and tell the rest of my secrets. I'm uh...I'm not just a Demon. I'm half Angel, too."
She just kinda looked at me, eyes unblinking and body very still. Then she let out a loud, "What!?"
****
Alastor returned later that night in the pouring rain. I was in the living room reading, waiting for him to come back. His shadow sneaked up the stairs into his room where I heard his footsteps walking around. I let out a sigh and put the book I was reading on the side table.
I felt my nerves prickle down my back as I climbed the stairs and came to stand in front of his door. I could hear him pacing, the slight creak of the floor being the only hint. Red seeped out from under the door as I knocked gently on it. There was a moment of silence. Then he opened it. 
A wave of cedar and smoke reached my nose and warmth spilled out of his room into the cold hallway. His towering form blocked the light coming from behind and his red eyes locked with mine. I felt an odd spike of fear and excitement.
"You should be asleep," he said. His face looked like his usual smile but his eyes weren't as sharp. His smile actually looked fake. I noticed his monocle was missing, too.
"Is he dead?" I asked.
He let out a sigh through his smile and averted his eyes. "I'm afraid I failed to find him. Lucifer will send a message to the Overlords to make him their top priority." I nodded my head softly and looked down at my claws, tapping the edges together perfectly. "Was there something you wished to speak to me about?" he prompted.
"Well...yes." I glanced up to see his eyes were back on me. I put one foot claw on top of the other. I had spent the entire day thinking about how I wanted to word it yet failed almost immediately. "I um...thank you for today."
A breath of silence. "Perhaps you should withhold it."
"Why?" I tilted my head back to look at him fully.
"In order to find you, I had to violate our deals. Lucifer undid it so I could reach you through your mind."
My mouth hung open. That strange feeling of something being unwound when I was trapped had been our deals. I had no idea that Lucifer could undo a deal like that. Then again, he was the King of Hell.
I dropped my gaze back to my claws. "I'm glad you did. I don't know how I would've gotten out. I'm sorry."
"What for?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "It seems you always have to save me. I'm sure it's annoying."
"You saved me today."
My head snapped up. "What?"
"I have relied on my magic for centuries and when it was striped from me, I had next to nothing to defend myself. You, however, tapped into your own skills and saved us both from that situation. So I believe you also deserve a thank you."
My mouth moved but nothing came out of it. He has never said anything like that before, let alone even say thank you to anyone. I felt warmth creep into my chest and up to my cheeks. I felt the urge to run back to my room, to safety, but I didn't want to leave his presence. I didn't want his attention to be anywhere but on me.
His teeth had disappeared to allow a gentle smile on his face. "I will be awake for some time," he started, "perhaps you'd like to accompany me?" He stepped to the side and motioned into his room. His room. I finally had a full view of what it looked like.
On one side was a warm fireplace adjacent to a large window. A table and set of chairs sat in the corner in between them. On the other side of the room that he was partially blocking, I saw a massive bed with red curtains on the edges. A desk was immediately next to it, covered in a mess of papers and books.
Fear prickled in the back of my throat. He must've caught on because he turned on the radio sitting on the mantle to a soft melody and manifested my book on the table. I regretted wanting his attention but didn't dare pass up an opportunity of him being this kind, this open, with me. So I forced my feet to unstick from the floor and walk into the room.
It was warm, almost too warm, and the air felt strangely heavy. The smell of smoke was stronger here but I saw no evidence of a cigarette or anything like it. I watched him walk over to his desk to retrieve a handful of papers and a single book. I sat on one of the chairs and opened my own book, my fingers struggling to fiddle through the pages. I rubbed one of my sweaty palms on my pant leg under the table.
He sat in the other chair, legs crossed, and laid out the papers and book. He reached into his pocket to withdraw a pair of glasses. My mouth dropped open and he smiled at me with his teeth. "I seem to keep surprising you."
"I've never seen you with glasses."
"You've seen me with my monocle." He let the glasses fall lower on his nose so he could look down at the papers.
"That's different."
He let out a soft, deep chuckle. "I suppose." He was writing something on the papers. He looked like he was copying something from the book but I couldn't tell what it was or where it was from. He noticed my staring and I tried to avert my eyes back to my own book. He continued to stare up at me past the rim of his glasses, sending a funny feeling in my stomach.
I finally gave a terse, "What?"
"You're allowed to ask me questions."
"I was just observing. That's all."
His toothless smile reached further up his face. "I've had a love for history since I was a child. Once the Great Collapse started to happen, I began collecting important books or copying them. You'll find most of the books in my office are all history books from before the collapse."
"What exactly are you writing?"
"An abstract version of the book. It helps to solidify the information in my memory and allows me to return the book when I'm done reading it. I think it important for the few libraries we have to keep as many books as possible. Perhaps it'll help society to avoid another Great Collapse."
I wanted to ask when he was born but the question fell silent as he began to write again. I pretended to read but my eyes frequently went back up to watch him. I wasn't used to seeing him so...calm? Still? Normal? The longer I looked, the more relaxed I grew. I noticed Alcine and Alastor's shadow staring at each other on the wall, neither moving very much at all. It wasn't an aggressive stance, as if they too were simply observing each other.
After some time and a few songs later, Alastor began to hum along to the radio. The sound made my ears perk up instantly. I ignored the words on my page as I focused solely on him. He reached up and hooked a red claw on his bowtie. He placed it on the table and let the tail hang off the edge. His eye caught me looking and I pretended to be looking around at his room instead.
I shifted in the chair and brought my foot up to slid it underneath my other leg. I leaned on the armchair and pretended to flip the page. Had our chairs always been this close? I could easily touch his sleeve if I wanted to, but my better judgement prevented that.
After the first two songs, I found myself quickly growing tired. My head began to nod forward as the words on the page began to blur. I was reading the same sentence over and over again. My back was hurting from sitting up for so long but I didn't want to leave. Not yet.
Eventually, I fell asleep completely. The book slide out of my hands and into my lap. My dream felt warm, soft, and safe. I could hear him humming still and it felt like a blanket was being draped over my body. A soft smile tugged at my lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:
We've got a few sweet chapters ahead so if y'all have any ideas or requests, now would be a good time to send them ;)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist:
@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine
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alltheirdamn · 3 days
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Dark!Preacher!Joel x f!reader
Summary: You indulge in the voice of the Devil for one fateful night. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Caution/TW: DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS, no outbreak AU, undisclosed age gap (joel is 56 and reader is in her late 20's), infidelity, religion!kink, degredation!kink, humiliation!kink, praise!kink, choking, slapping, forced oral (m receiving), deepthroating, rough hair pulling, boot licking, light fingering, pain!kink, noncon unprotected piv sex, pet names (little one, good girl), degrading terms (bitch, whore, slut), dirty/filthy language, rough sex, forced orgasm, noncon creampie, no aftercare A/N: this is WAYYY out of my comfort zone to write, but something about the idea of Preacher!Joel just did it for me. I figured I'd test out the waters & see where it gets me... anyway, enjoy and PLEASE READ THE TAGS/WARNINGS
Masterlist
You weren’t oblivious to Preacher Joel's sidelong glances and lingering stares. Every Sunday, you sat in the second row of the church, watching him preach the Lord’s gospel with a baleful smile only meant for you, while your husband, Adam, sat beside you blissfully unaware. So, when you proposed the idea of taking a pie over to his home—alone—Adam didn’t even bat an eye. 
“Are you taking over a cherry pie?” Adam had asked from the living room. 
You were bent over the oven, pulling the hot pie dish onto a trivet with shaky hands. Sunday service that morning had been your breaking point; the communion dish made its rounds through the pews, and you found Joel’s eyes tracking your mouth as you brought the grape wine to your lips. Your resolve snapped, and the desire to feed into temptation blurred any and all judgment you had since maintained. 
“Do you think he’ll like it?” You hollered back at Adam, wrapping the pie in a terrycloth. 
“I’m sure he will, honey.”
Untieing the canvas apron from around your waist, you smoothed down your white church dress and shuffled the pie dish into your arms. Crossing into the living room, you kissed the crown of Adam’s head softly before saying goodbye. He didn’t look up once. 
The benefit of living in a small town was that all the homes were fairly close together, meaning it was a short walk to the preacher’s home, which resided behind the town’s church. It was far past supper time, and most of the town had tucked into bed by now, leaving you alone with the wind between the trees and a man who could be your undoing. The only sounds echoing around you were your feet crunching along the dirt road and the howls of stray dogs in the distance. Clutching the pie closer to your chest, you continued walking toward his home with the Devil on your shoulder. 
Preacher Joel’s home was modest and small; the white paint on the wood structure chipped away from years of weathering. His black pickup truck was parked on the side of the house, the wheels dirty and the paint smeared with mud. The closer you got to his front porch steps, the more rapidly your heart pounded inside your chest. You didn’t know what to expect, but you knew every muscle drawing your body closer to his home was being fueled by the Devil. Under the flickering front porch light, you brushed your knuckles against the door and held your breath. 
Heavy footfall sounded on the other side of the door before it opened, revealing the man that plagued every thought in your mind. Joel stood before you with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing the dark chest hair that spattered across his tan chest. His patchy grey beard was well-trimmed as if he had just refreshed it, and a lascivious grin broke across his face as his eyes raked over you. 
“This is a mighty nice surprise,” he whistled. 
“I—I wanted to bring over a pie,” you stuttered. “As a thank you.”
“For what?” He quirked a thick eyebrow, his piercing brown eyes staring down at you. 
“It was just on my heart to do something nice,” you lied. 
Joel reached out for the pie dish, his warm hands brushing over yours as he took it. You weren’t sure what to do with your empty hands, so you found yourself fidgeting with the gold cross dangling around your neck. 
“Come in,” he said, sidestepping to welcome you in. 
The second your feet walked over the threshold, you knew temptation had sunk its teeth into you. 
“This is a lovely home,” you commented, following him to the kitchen. 
The living room was surrounded by dark wooden walls, with a beige loveseat in the center and a TV box pressed against the opposite wall. There were remnants of him in every corner of the room: a half-drank glass of whiskey, a newspaper folded on the coffee table, and his black leather Bible resting on the arm of the sofa. The kitchen was just as simple, with a gas stove and small white fridge nestled against wooden cabinetry. 
Joel set the pie dish on the granite countertop, turning to the cabinets to retrieve a small plate, a fork, and a knife. You fixated on the way he worked at rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, the veins in his forearms flexing with each fold of the fabric. He let out a small chuckle, forcing your eyes to tear away from his hands and back to his deep brown eyes. 
“Y’make this yourself?” He asked, cutting himself a slice. 
“I did,” you nodded. “It’s cherry.”
“Mmhm, my favorite,” he hummed. 
He dug his fork into the pie, the crust crumbling onto the plate as he lifted it to his mouth. You watched as his mouth wrapped around the utensil, a low groan escaping his throat as he tasted the cherry filling you had made by scratch. Under thick eyebrows, his eyes closed while he savored the taste, and you felt the swell of pride stirring inside you. 
“It’s good?” You asked. 
“S’delicious,” he mumbled, digging into it for a second bite. 
Instead of bringing the next bite to his lips, he offered it to you, urging you to lean over the countertop and meet him halfway. How were you to deny the preacher of something he wanted? Opening your mouth, you welcomed the sweet taste onto your tongue, meeting his eyes as you wrapped your lips around the fork. 
“Delicious, ain’t it?” 
“Yes,” you whispered as he pulled the fork from your mouth. 
Joel’s eyes dilated with a surge of lust. You never saw that look on your husband, but it was unmistakable when you looked into those dark eyes now. A sudden thrum of warmth ran through your body the longer studied you, forcing you to squirm in place. He must have taken notice of it when he decided to round the countertop and swarm you with his broad frame. His finger curled under the chain of your necklace, tugging at it until you lifted your eyes to his. 
“You’re a temptation, little one,” he drawled. “Just look at you.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at me during your sermons,” you confessed.
He cocked his head to the side in amusement; his plush lips quirked up in a smile. His finger coiled around the chain tighter, pulling you a step closer. You inhaled the scent of whiskey and smoke that lingered on his shirt as it brushed against your chest. The thin fabric of your dress wasn’t enough to hide the shiver that ran over your spine. Joel tucked a stray hair behind your ear, bending down to brush his lips over the shell of your ear. 
“Y’sure you ain’t seein’ the Devil?”
His hand released your necklace, only to wrap around your throat in a tight grasp. You struggled for air under his grip, your nails raking down his bare forearms. There was an uncanny wildness lighting up his eyes as he watched you gasping under the forceful pressure of his fingers.
“Just a naughty thing lookin’ for corruption.”
“Please,” you choked.
“Ain’t this what you wanted, little one? Look at you, just drippin’ in sin,” he whispered.
“I—I can’t breathe,” you thrashed against him, tears pooling in your eyes.
He shoved you backward until you were doubled over and heaving for air. There was a deep laugh swirling through your fogged mind, and you blinked back tears before you attempted to make eye contact again. Something about this felt wrong. 
Joel stood with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for you to recompose yourself. You staggered back, your body hitting the wall of the kitchen, and you coughed violently, trying to grasp back onto reality. He curled a finger to beckon you forward, and despite your reluctance, your body moved on its own accord. With a fist full of your hair, he forced you to your knees, making you cry out at the impact of your knees hitting the tile floor. 
“I should make you pray for forgiveness before I ruin you,” he growled. 
You whimpered, humiliated at the way arousal pooled between your legs with every word he said. Adam never spoke to you in such a vile way; he only ever took you in the marital way, with you on your back and him above you. But something told you that the preacher would be far from that familiarity, and it electrified you. You wanted to know how far you could take it and how rough he could be. If the Devil was beckoning you, who were you to deny him the pleasure?
With defiance in your eyes and a proud grin on your face, you started to mouth a prayer to the Lord, knowing He wouldn’t be listening. Whatever you did in this small home was between you and the preacher. 
“Louder,” he ordered. 
You repeated the prayer, never breaking eye contact with him as his jaw clenched with each word you spoke. His hand was still twisted into your hair at the roots, holding you firmly in place. Your eyes traveled down his broad torso, settling on the growing bulge beneath his trousers. You wet your lips, imagining what his cock looked like and how it feel inside of you. Joel must have taken notice of your fixation and brought his other hand down to deliver a sharp slap against your cheek. Your head whipped to the side, the sting of his hand lingering on your face as you gathered your bearings. 
“Filthy lil thing just beggin’ to be fucked, huh?” 
You worked your jaw open and closed, trying to relieve the pain that radiated down your neck. 
“Answer me, little one,” he snapped. 
“Y–Yes,” you muttered.
Another jarring hit came across your face, your ears ringing from the impact. 
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir,” you whispered.
Satisfied with your answer, he worked at undoing his belt buckle, tugging his trousers and underwear down his hips. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his cock; the thickness of it was enough to wrack your already shaking nerves. Adam never asked you to pleasure him this way, but your body reacted differently when you were kneeling at the feet of a corrupt preacher. 
His fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, his hand pumping it slowly as it grazed over your parted lips. You wanted to take the plunge and wrap your lips around it; you wanted to savor every inch of it and watch him fall apart. 
“Droolin’ like a bitch in heat, fucking pathetic,” he taunted. 
He smacked the weeping head of his cock against your lips, precum smearing across your mouth and chin. You obediently opened your mouth for him, the immediate salty taste falling against your tongue. He gave you a moment to stretch your jaw to adjust to the girth of his cock before rocking deeper into your mouth. The tip of his cock tapped the back of your throat, forcing you to sputter around him. Tears soaked your cheeks as he picked up a steady pace, each thrust reaching your soft palate. 
“That’s it, little one,” he groaned. “Takin’ my cock so fuckin’ well. Can’t cry out for God when you're full of me.”
You moaned around him, the vibration sending him into a frenzy as he brutalized your throat. You could only bare your weight against the floor and take every inch he gave, the drool and tears mixing together as they rolled down your chin. Joel’s head tilted back, his eyes fixated on the ceiling as you dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock. Your gag reflex kicked in as he struck the back of your throat before he pulled out and leveled you with a heavy stare. 
“Such a good girl,” he praised, tapping your cheek lightly before unwinding his fingers from your scalp. 
He gathered the drool dripping from your chin and smeared it over your face, the taste of him invading your nostrils with each swipe of his hand. It was dehumanizing and disgusting…but some fucked up part of you loved it. 
“Thank you, sir,” you preened, smiling through the mess he had made of you. 
“Don’t go thankin’ me yet, little one. Better clean your drool off my fuckin’ boots.”
Your smile faded as your eyes flicked between him and his shoes, which were visibly covered in a pool of your saliva. You shook your head in protest, but he was quick to shove you down toward the floor. You thrashed against his grip on the back of your neck, your nose brushing against the worn work boots adorning his feet. 
“Lick,” he demanded. “Clean your fuckin’ mess.”
You swallowed thickly before you allowed your tongue to dart out and lap up the remnants of your saliva. You held back a retch as your tongue grazed over the leather material, the dryness under your mess painful against your throbbing tongue. You peered up at him in hopes that he was satisfied, but you were only met with a cocked brow and an unamused stare. 
“Missed a spot,” he huffed, toeing his boot against your mouth. 
You cringed as you continued working your tongue over his other shoe, the taste of it unbearable. He was shamelessly minimizing you down into the worst version of yourself, and there was no one to blame but you and your naivety. 
Joel slammed his shoe back against the tile with pursed lips, and he tsked at you. 
“Pathetic,” he mumbled.  “Bedroom s’down the hall. I want you in there and spread out on my bed.”
You nodded and wiped away the tears bursting from your eyes. A firm hand gripped your shoulder as you tried to rise to your feet, forcing you back down. You gave him a weary look, waiting for his next command. Crouching down to eye level, Joel took your chin into his hand with a forceful grip. 
“Crawl,” he ordered. “Go on.”
He straightened to his full height and loomed over you as you planted yourself on all fours. Turning toward the walkway of the kitchen, you started crawling, the heat of his stare on your backside enough to ignite another wave of pleasure inside your stomach. You could feel your dress hiking up over your thighs, putting your cotton underwear on display for him with each progressive move you made. The heat of his stare lingered on you as you scrapped your knees across the carpet, the bedroom door at the end of the hallway calling out to you through the voice of the Devil. He reached over your body to open the door, guiding you into the dark room. There was a wooden wardrobe propped against the wall and a matching side table next to the large bed that sat in the center. Flipping on the overhead light, he pointed to the bed, silently instructing you to climb onto the flannel bedspread. 
You laid back on the bed, your white dress pooled around your body as he crawled over you. Caging you between his muscular biceps, he dipped his head into the crook of your neck and dragged his tongue against the pulse throbbing under your skin. The need growing between your legs was becoming too unbearable to handle, but you were afraid to beg him for release. He had made it apparent he controlled every second of this interaction, from how much you breathed to the way you moved. 
“Let’s see how soaked these pretty lil panties are,” he whispered, snaking his hand down your abdomen. 
Flipping your dress up, his fingers delved under the waistband of your cotton underwear, a hum of approval rumbling his chest as he found your thighs slick with arousal. Thick fingers worked their way through your wet folds, teasing your entrance before he plunged two fingers in without warning. You arched into his touch, the curl of his fingers against the soft spot inside you jolting you upwards. 
“Fuck!” You cried, your fingers digging into his arms. 
His free hand shot out to cover your mouth as he pressed his forehead to yours, rage simmering in his brown eyes as he stared you down. 
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, little one,” he warned. “I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ peep, you understand?”
Your response was muffled under his hand, and he shifted his weight so that his fingers dug further inside you. You swallowed back pitiful moans as he worked his fingers in and out of you. A slow-burning sensation rolled through your stomach, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your climax. You were fluttering around him as it bubbled to the surface, only to be met by the absence of his fingers as he pulled them away at the last second. You wailed in protest, feeling a hollowness inside of you without them there. 
Ripping your underwear down your legs, Joel hauled you onto your stomach, positioning your hips upward in the way he desired. You had no choice but to take anything he gave you. The clanking sound of the belt around his pants was the only warning you were granted before wedged between your thinks and sunk into you. Your vision faded out at the blinding pain of him stretching you open, every inch of him tearing you apart beyond compare. 
“It’s too much. I—I can’t. It hurts!” you cried. 
His only response was to grind his hips harder against yours, the pain radiating up your spine. 
“Shut up,” he bit out, pulling out and driving back into you. “You’re gonna take my cock like the filthy lil slut I know you are, and you’re gonna thank me. Understand?”
Your face fell into the pillows as you muffled a scream. His hand wound around your neck, yanking you from the bed and forcing you to bend back and meet his vicious stare. With his teeth barred and cock buried inside you, there was nothing to do but give yourself fully to him. 
“Yes, sir!" You wailed. “ Thank you, sir.”
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. 
He set a steady pace, the lewd sound of his hips smacking against yours echoing throughout the room. He was brutalizing you, defiling you, completely ruining you into oblivion. The voice of temptation had led you here, and now you were paying the price for your sins. No amount of prayer or forgiveness could wash you clean. 
“Such a perfect and obedient whore,” he grunted with his fingers bruising your hipbones. “You fuckin’ love havin’ this tight cunt wrecked by the preacher—shit—just dyin’ to have my cum inside you.”
The sobs wracked through your body as the need to climax tore you apart. He yanked your hips even higher, pistoning his cock into you at an angle that set your body alight. You had no control over the pleasure burning deep within you, and suddenly you were tensing around his cock with the name of God falling off your lips. 
“God can’t save you now, little one. This unholy cunt is mine.”
Fizzles of your ebbing climax simmered through your body, carrying you back down to the present, only to be met by another onslaught of violent thrusts from the man behind you. He was relentless as he took…and took…and took. By the time he was done with you, there would be nothing left. 
“Please—stop!” The words left your mouth broken and strained. 
You were clawing at the bedsheets, begging for him to release you. He only laughed at each one of your protests, his pace unrelenting and forceful with every drive of his cock inside you. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you felt the shift in his rhythm, alerting you that he was about to climax. 
“Don’t—God—please don’t!” You begged. 
“Quiet,” he snarled, pulling you by the throat so that you were flush against his chest. 
“Please,” you sobbed, barely choking out the word. 
“Gonna send you back to your husband with my cum leakin’ out of you,” he snarled. 
Before you could even attempt to escape his hold, Joel was slamming into you one final time, a carnal groan deafening your ears as he filled you with his release. He tossed you back onto the bed carelessly, leaving you aching and stretched open on the ruined sheets. You lay there motionless, staring at the chipping paint along the doors of his wardrobe. Joel rolled off the bed, muttering a slew of derogatory words your way, before vanishing into the bathroom down the hall. The silence swirling around you was the only comfort in the aftermath, the pain radiating inside you fading away the longer you sunk into the mattress. 
The sound of footsteps flooded the room, and you flinched away as Joel’s hand roamed up your bare thigh. His fingers prodded against your throbbing entrance, teasing you until you squirmed out of reach. 
“Take yourself home, little one,” he instructed. 
You winced as you rose from the bed, not daring to make eye contact as you gathered your underwear and fled down the hallway. The slap of the cross necklace against your chest was a burning reminder of the sins you had committed. You staggered out the front door, barely making it down the first step of the porch before you burst into tears. Joel’s presence loomed behind you, and you looked back one final time to see him watching you leave with a sinister smile breaking across his face. With scuffed knees and his cum trickling down your thighs, you barreled home, knowing you had just met the Devil.
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leasstories · 11 hours
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I want to be there for you
Eddie x gn!reader
TW: Chronic pains
WC: ≈ 1K words
Dedicated to my big sister who has the courage to live with chronic pains every single day. I love you big sis
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You’ve had chronic pains for a few years now, but a crisis like this never happened in front of your boyfriend, Eddie. You’re currently curled up on the couch your joints and muscles hurting. Every part of your body aches but the most painful ones are your hips, your ankles and your knees as well as your fingers and toes. You’re boyfriend just got back from work, all excited, as usual.
“Baby?” Eddie sing songs.
“Yeah?” you ask, voice weak, trying to hide in how much pain you are.
Eddie rushes to the living room without taking his shoes off.
“Baby, is everything okay?” Eddie asks concerned.
You nod, biting your lip to hide in how much pain you are.
“Baby…” Eddie coos. “I know you’re not well”
“Just hurting a bit.” You say trying to minimize the pain crisis you’re currently experiencing.
Eddie hurries to take his shoes off and slide on the couch, right behind you, holding you close.
“How can I help?” He asks, motivated in helping you as much as he can.
“Eddie… You really don’t have to…” You tell him, scared to be a burden.
“I don’t have to, I want to Sweets, so please just let me help.”
You nod.
“What usually help is warmth…” you didn’t even have time to finish your sentence that Eddie got up and hurried to the kitchen.
Eddie put the water to boil and prepared your hot water bottle.
Eddie screams from your kitchen.
“What else can help?” Eddie asks.
“Soft fabrics, for clothes or like covers” You answer weakly, the pain becoming so unbearable that you’re becoming teary eyed.
While the water is boiling, Eddie runs to your room and take your softest blankets and runs back to the living room, wrapping the blanket around you.
Eddie runs back to the kitchen, turns the stove off and put the boiling water inside the hot water bottle.
“Where do you want the warm bottle?”
“Maybe on my hips.” You answer.
Eddie delicately put the water botthe on your hip and stroke your arm.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Eddie asks.
“Stay here please” you ask Eddie.
“I’m not going anywhere Sweets, I promise” Eddie says sitting next to you.
Eddie starts stroking your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your hear and telling you how much he loves you.
“Did you do anything that might have triggered the pains?” Eddie asks you.
“Maybe it got triggered when I cleaned up the apartment” you tell Eddie.
“Baby… next time tell me and I’ll do it for you…” Eddie suggests.
“Eddie it’s fine…” you say, not wanting Eddie to have to suffer from the consequences of your own chronic pains.
“It’s no big deal, I swear” Eddie tells you.
You sigh “I just couldn’t do the laundry… it was too much for my body…” you reluctantly confess, ashamed.
“Let me do it for you” Eddie says, getting up, careful not to hurt you furthermore.
Eddie does your laundry while you lay down, the warmth does little to calm your ache, you know another thing that could help but you’re afraid to tell Eddie what it is.
Eddie comes back with the clean laundry and starts folding it and putting it in your closet. Eddie never folded clothes as well as he just did.
You get up from the couch and goes to your room even though it hurts every fiber of your body.
“Stop, I’m gonna do it Eddie.” You tell him softly, wincing in pain.
“No Sweets, let me do it.” Eddie insists.
You look at Eddie folding your clothes baffled. “I didn’t know you knew how to do it” you say chuckling.
“’s not cause I don’t do it that I don’t know how to do it” Eddie pouts.
You go closer to Eddie and hug him from behind, pressing your body tight against him as you know pressure points help.
Eddie chuckles. “Hey, ‘s not hurting Sweets?”
You shake your head before saying, “pressure points helps, the tighter you hug me the better.” You tell him.
Eddie put the t-shirt he was folding on a shelf and hugs you as tight as he can. “Better?” he asks.
You nod. Eddie and you stay like this for a while until he asks. “Would a massage help?”
“I don’t know, I never had anyone massaging me” you confess.
“Lay down Sweets” Eddie tells you.
You lay down and Eddie starts massaging your knees, careful of not hurting you.
“Does it hurt?” he asks several times.
Every time you shake your head no.
Then Eddie massages your hips, you hum in content. It doesn’t suppress the pain, but it makes it more bearable.
“It helps.” You confess while Eddie massages your wrist and fingers with his warm hands.
Once Eddie finished massaging you, you look at him, feeling a bit better, “Lay on ly body please, as I said earlier, pressure points help.” You shyly say.
“Are you sure I’m not going to crush you?” Eddie asks, afraid of hurting you.
“You won’t” You say, laying on your back. “We can do it like a hug if it feels less weird for you.”
Eddie nods. He takes his denim and leather jacket off and lay on you, you wrap your arms around Eddie and the two of you stay like that for a little while. It feels good, it makes the pain hurt less and you feel so loved. Eddie is literally crushing you, but not in a negative way, in a way that makes you feel loved.
“Thank you” you mumble in his neck.
“Anything for you Sweets” Eddie says.
You stayed like this, Eddie crushing you for a while and then, Eddie decided that you were on bed rest. He made dinner to you and you both ate in your bed, in front of your comfort movie. Eddie even decided to stay the night and you fell asleep, your body tightly held by Eddie.
It feels good to feel held, firstly, it makes your joint and muscles hurt less and secondly it makes you feel loved and comforted.
Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie
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romione-trope-fest · 3 days
Text
The Girl From The Bar
Title: The Girl From The Bar
Author: Be11atrixthestrange
Trope: Muggle AU
Summary: While studying at a coffee shop, Ron spots a missed connection from years ago. 
Word Count: 2015
Rating: M
-Four Years Ago-
The Leaky Canteen was a total dive. As much as the Weasleys wanted it to be a high-end establishment, it simply wasn’t, and it would never be. Grime and dirt lived on the floor permanently, no matter how hard Ron scrubbed and mopped at bar close. The upholstery on the booth benches ripped and frayed, revealing the discolored foam underneath, the paint peeled from the walls, and there was a permanent smoky stench that permeated the air, even though there were strict rules against smoking indoors. 
That aside, the bar managed to remain a hot spot on Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe it was the centralized location, the event calendar that was always too packed to staff appropriately, or the fact that they offered half-priced cocktails to all hen and stag parties. Scratch that, it was definitely the half-priced drinks. That was the reason that it was always bursting with loud, messy, disrespectful patrons, yet still struggled to profit enough each month to pay the lease. 
“Another Gold Rush please!” 
Ron glanced over his shoulder to see a blonde girl, probably mid-twenties, leaning against the bar. The bartop, which was still wet with a combination of beer, vodka, and water, left a dark mark across her dress, but she didn’t seem to notice. One hand held an empty cocktail glass, while the other clutched the countertop for stability as she teetered to the side. 
“You doing okay?” Ron threw his dish towel over his shoulder and propped his elbows onto the bar to look her in the eye. As he had predicted, her pupils were as wide as saucers. 
“Sogood,” she slurred, flashing him a smile. “Havingsomuchfun.”
“Gotcha,” said Ron, rising to his feet. “One Gold Rush, coming up.”
He reached for a coupe glass and a boston shaker, and filled the shaker with lemon juice, orange juice, and honey syrup. He eyed the bourbon whiskey, which the cocktail would normally call for, but instead traveled to the refrigerator, where a small container of chopped jalapenos was waiting. He used a pair of tongs to plop one into the shaker, and a muddler to smash it up. 
A bit of ice and a few shakes later, the blonde was happily shuffling back to the dance floor, her drink dripping down her hand. 
While rinsing the shaker,  Ron half watched the flock of girls clad in feather boas and sparkly dresses laughing and bouncing in the middle of the bar. It wasn’t technically a dance floor as the Canteen wasn’t a nightclub, but the weekend crew didn’t seem to notice or care that there wasn’t an official DJ. In fact, Ron was just playing a random Spotify playlist, complete with the internet’s favorite early 2000’s dance hits. He didn’t even pay for the premium subscription, and the crowd was too drunk to notice they were dancing to car insurance advertisements between songs. 
“Interesting choice with the jalapeno.”
Ron looked toward the voice to see another girl sitting at the other end of the bar. Her phone was lying on a towel on the counter, screen up, as she scrolled with one hand. 
“Shit, didn’t see you there.”
The girl laughed. Ron took in her appearance. Like the other girls on the dance floor, she was wearing a sparkly dress, but the way she tensed up underneath the fabric suggested she’d be more comfortable in a pair of jeans. Her long brown hair formed tight curls that landed halfway down her back. Her makeup was simple and natural, and her deep brown eyes looked like he could get lost in them. She was beautiful, in an effortless, understated way. 
“When you’re completely smashed, it’s hard to tell the difference between the kick of a jalapeno and the bitterness of bourbon.”
“Ahh.”
“And she was completely smashed.”
The girl nodded. “I agree. I was actually coming over to suggest she drink water for the rest of the night, but it looks like you were on it.”
Ron smiled. “Part of the job.”
The girl turned back to her phone, and Ron felt a flash of disappointment. He frequently craved sober conversation during his long weekend shifts, and the fact that she was beautiful was a plus. 
“So, how’s the hen party?”
She glanced up. “It’s fine. I was actually about to head out soon. We’ve been partying since noon.”
Ron snuck a peek at her phone and recognized the uber app. “They’ll miss you if you leave.”
She laughed. “No they won’t.”
“I take it you’re friends with the bride?” asked Ron.
“Hannah? She’s my roommate.”
“But not your friend?”
The girl shrugged. “Well, both. Since she got engaged I don’t see much of her, to be frank.”
So, she’s single. “I know how you feel. Well, sort of.”
The girl raised an eyebrow. 
“My roommate just proposed to my sister. But now I see too much of them.”
She smiled. “That must be awkward.”
“A little. Part of the reason I take Saturday night shifts so often.”
The girl looked back at her phone, and Ron’s stomach sank, willing her to keep talking. He felt his palms sweat when she closed out her phone, plopped it into her pocket, and looked back up at him. “Rideshare surcharges are insane right now.”
“It happens,” said Ron, trying to sound casual, and not overly excited. “Probably best to wait on the uber.”
“You’re probably right.”
“So, can I make you a drink?” he offered.
Her face brightened. “I’ll try that jalapeno one that you made for Hannah.”
“Coming right up.”
Ron disappeared behind the back door to gather his ingredients, and hoped he had managed to hide the blush creeping up his neck. There was a lightness in his movements that he hadn’t felt in a very long time, and he formed a genuine smile at the thought of spending more time with this girl. 
Frankly, things weren’t going so well in the relationship category as of late. He and Lavender had broken up just a few weeks ago, and she was still in the process of moving out of Grimmauld place. They were only living there temporarily while they searched for their own apartment together, much to Harry’s annoyance. They had been looking for the perfect flat for months, and finally found one close enough to school and work that miraculously fell within their budget. But the day before they were supposed to sign the lease, she left him. 
He honestly didn’t know why, but he assumed she had met someone else. All the talk about it being too big of a step, and her not feeling comfortable living together felt like reasons to postpone apartment-hunting rather than end the relationship entirely. But what was he going to do, beg her to stay? He didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t want him. 
But it didn’t make it hurt any less. 
Now Lavender would get to live in that big apartment by herself, and Ron would still be stuck at Grimmauld Place with Harry. As if to rub salt in the wound, Harry proposed to his sister a few days later Now he found himself third wheeling with the star crossed lovers almost every weekend since then, which only served to remind him how single he suddenly was. 
That was the reason he had taken so many Saturday shifts at The Canteen. 
Fred and George insisted he needed a rebound, and working at the bar was the perfect way to do that. Ron disagreed. He wasn’t one to take a random stranger home with the intention of using her to forget about someone else. He just wanted a distraction. Someone to talk to. 
The non alcoholic Gold Rush nearly made itself as Ron got lost in his thoughts. He garnished the edge of the glass with an orange slice sandwiched between two jalapenos. An added touch for the girl at the bar. 
“Voila,” he said as he emerged from the back. “A gold rush for the lady.”
“Why thank you very much.” She carefully pinched the stem of the glass and took a tentative sip. “Wow. It does taste alcoholic.”
“And I promise you it’s not.”
“Well done, sir. Compliments to the chef.”
Ron felt his cheeks turn pink. “Thank you.”
“I like the garnish.” The girl pulled a jalapeno slice from the edge of the glass and plopped it into her mouth. Her eyes watered under the heat of the spice, but at the same time, she gave a satisfied smile.
“It’s all about presentation.”
She smiled and extended her arm toward him. “I’m Hermione, by the way.”
Ron wiped his hand on the dish towel that was still hanging around his shoulders, and shook hers. “I’m Ron.”
“Nice to meet you, Ron.”
-Present Day-
Saturday mornings were usually busy at Flourish and Pots, the coffeehouse and bookstore where Ron practically lived at the moment, but he didn’t mind. The commotion helped him focus, while also providing a distraction from his tedious economics textbooks when he needed one. The cafe’s close proximity to the airport meant it was frequently visited by tourists and provided the perfect people watching opportunity. And the fact that it was far away from the Leaky Canteen was a plus. No family members would crash his study sessions and insist on burdening him with administrative work that no one else knew how to do. 
His intention behind obtaining his business degree wasn’t necessarily to fix the family bar or turn it into a profit machine, but to hopefully run a better business in the future. Something completely unrelated. But his family didn’t quite understand that. 
Ron reached for his latte and brought it to his lips. He hated to disturb the intricate leaf pattern the barista had formed with the foam, but his second year of graduate school required sufficient caffeine, and his admiration for latte-art would have to come later. 
As he put this mug down, a flash of red caught his eye. A young girl, no older than three had plopped down into an armchair that was way too big for her. Based on her hair alone, she could have been one of Ron’s nieces or nephews, and if Ron wasn’t absolutely sure she was a new face, he’d be looking for Bill or Percy in the bookstore. 
Where are your parents, little girl?
The girl picked up a newspaper from the side table and opened it. The fact that it was upside down made him smile. Her red hair frizzed out at all angles, and her eyebrows furrowed at the newspaper in a way that was strangely familiar. 
“Rose?” came a frantic whisper from across the room. “Rosie, where did you go?”
The voice lingered in Ron’s mind like a once-forgotten song. He’d heard that voice before. 
“Rosie, there you are!” 
A woman came sprinting around the corner and breathed a heavy sigh of relief upon finding the little girl. 
“Mama!” Rosie popped out of the chair and wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg. The newspaper glided gently to the floor as if falling in slow motion. 
“You scared me! Don’t run away from me again.” The woman picked up the newspaper, folded it back up and set it on the side table. “Ready to go sweetheart?”
The little girl nodded and reached for her mother’s hand. The pair turned toward the entrance of the shop and Ron’s stomach felt like it turned to stone as he watched them walk away. 
He didn’t even need to see the woman’s face. Her voice, her hair, the way her hips swayed as she walked away. It was all too familiar. That was the girl from the bar. 
Holy shit. Ron’s whole body immediately tingled, and his heart pounded like a bird trying to escape his chest. He felt like he was observing himself from outside the room. How long ago was that? Three, four years? Give or take a few months? 
Ron lifted a hand from his textbook to find that his palm had stuck to the page, leaving a sweaty handprint behind. He reached for his latte and took a sip, but his hand trembled so much that he nearly spilled it. The timeline matched. And Rosie’s flaming red hair was unmistakable. Unless the girl from the bar shagged one of his brothers too. Or maybe she just had a thing for gingers? 
Who was he kidding? So much had happened in his life since that encounter, and maybe he didn’t even know the half of it. 
But, fuck, he had to find out. 
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maximoffcarter · 2 days
Text
You didn't know?
Pairings: Alex Cabot x reader.
Summary: Y/n and Alex have been dating for a while, but no one in the squad knows about it. Right?
A/n: Another beautiful request but this time...Alex Cabot x reader. I gotta admit I have many of these, both for Casey and Alex, and let me tell you...it's comfort. So, if you have any more reader inserts, lemme know. Enjoy and leave your comments, reblog, hearts, whatever you'd like, will be very much appreciated🫶🏻
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*not my gif*
If there was something about the SVU squad, was that they all had their backs, no matter what. Either they had some issues, they were attacked, they were at risk, whatever they needed, they were there for each other. But something that they didn’t find odd at all was that they really didn’t talk much about their personal lives. Of course, everyone knew Stabler’s kids and wife, they knew about Fin’s son, Much didn’t actually say much but Stabler knew he had a brother, and Olivia, they knew about her mother that had now passed away. Alexandra Cabot learned a thing about everyone every single day, from the day she joined, she learned to study them and get her own conclusions until proven wrong, that’s the way she got to know people. It was no surprise that Alex was a private person, people knew some things about her but nothing too personal, whatever she did after work, it was for her to know and for the rest to wonder. It was even uncommon to see her in normal clothes, always wearing some fancy brand suit with her perfect hair, so if she had a secret life outside work, no one would ever know.
That’s how, no one in the squad or even the DA’s office knew that Alexandra Cabot had a girlfriend. The Ice Queen had a girlfriend. It wasn’t like she wanted to keep it a secret, it was not, she was happy with her girlfriend, and she loved her. Hell, she was crazy about her, she’d do anything for her, she had fallen hard, and she was happier than ever. But she also knew that if she put it out there that she was dating someone, she would be at risk. They dealt with any type of people every day to the point where they didn’t know how dangerous they could be and what they could be capable of, so that’s why Alex decided to keep it between them. And her girlfriend, y/n, didn’t object. She knew the job, she was close to it since she worked as Melinda’s second in command, so basically, she knew the whole squad, she was seen at the precinct whenever Melinda was busy and asked her to go. So they knew her.
That’s how Alex and y/n met; Melinda was normally the one who took the results to the squad, sometimes directly to Alex whenever she requested a copy to prepare her questions, but they had been stuffed with work and Melinda had sent y/n to take a copy of some exams to Alex. Y/n knew who Alex Cabot was, of course she knew, she had seen her before, and she would’ve lied if she said she hadn’t felt butterflies in her stomach. She was beautiful, y/n was sure that wherever she went, everyone stopped and stared at her, how could they not? But this was the very first time that she was going directly to Alex, to say the least, she was very nervous, she knew she’d definitely make a fool out of herself.
Y/n knocked on her door and cleared her throat. “Ms. Cabot?”
Alex looked up and smiled. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Uh-“ Y/n showed her the folder and smiled a little. “Melinda asked me to bring you a copy of the results from the Turner case?”
“Oh! Yes. I thought she’d come. Come on in.” Alex smiled. “Close the door, please.” Y/n gulped as she closed the door, walking to Alex’s desk and handing her the papers. Alex looked up at her and grinned. “You can sit down, you know?”
Y/n chuckled. “Thanks.”
Alex squinted her eyes as she looked at her, raising her brow. “Can I offer you some water?”
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
Alex nodded and started reading the results. “Seems like everything I need is here.” She looked back at y/n and smiled. “Thank you for bringing them to me.”
“Is there anything else you need me to bring?”
“Not for now. I think these results will be enough.” Alex smiled as she tilted her head. “You’ve been to the precinct, haven’t you?”
Y/n nodded, her heart skipping a beat. Alex has noticed her. “I have. I normally go whenever Melinda is busy, I’m…literally her second hand.” She chuckled.
“You must be good at your job then. I know Melinda can be a little strict.” Alex grinned.
Y/n chuckled softly. “She’s alright. She’s been like my mentor ever since I joined.”
Alex nodded. “Well, I won’t take more of your time. Thank you for bringing me these. I hope I get to see you again.” She grinned.
Y/n stared at her for a moment, feeling her legs trembling. “Would you…maybe…like to get  a coffee some time? Maybe lunch?”
Alex tilted her head as she smiled. “I’d like that.” She grabbed a small card and wrote her personal phone number on the back. She looked up again and handed it to y/n. “Here. Call me when you’re off work and we can meet up somewhere.”
“I sure will.” Y/n smiled softly as she grabbed the card and looked at it for a moment and then back at Alex. “I’ll see you around then.” She stood up and walked to the door.
“See you around, y/n.” Alex smirked as she looked back down at her files.
Y/n stopped on her tracks and looked back at Alex. “You…you know my name.”
Alex looked back at y/n. “I might have asked Melinda about you.” She smiled.
And that’s where the relationship started. Y/n loved to remember how Alex used to play this flirtatious woman, almost hard to get. She would lie if she said she had never heard from people how Alex always rejected them when asked on dates, but y/n had acted out of impulse when asking and she got a yes, and Alex later confessed that she had been watching y/n from afar and she had been wanting to run into her to ask her out but never had the pleasure too. After a month or two of dating, Alex was deeply in love with y/n and the ‘hard to play’ persona was completely gone.
********************
“Melinda, I finished the paperwork from the Lopez case. Do you need anything else?” Y/n smiled softly as she stood beside Melinda.
“No, you’re free to go.” Melinda looked up at her and smiled. She raised her brow as she grinned. “Going somewhere in this fine Friday night?”
Y/n chuckled. “To my couch and my cozy blanket.”
“Oh, c’mon, y/l/n. You’re young, why don’t you go out and get yourself a date? I’m pretty sure you’d get anyone you want.” Melinda said as she went back to the computer.
Y/n smiled. “I don’t really want anyone. I’ve already got what I want.” She patted Melinda’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” She grabbed went to grab her stuff before she left.
The moment y/n started working with Melinda, she felt safe and comfortable, something she had been scared about because she first thought she would never be good enough for her job. But Melinda had received her with open arms and had taught her everything she knew so far, and y/n always told her she would forever be grateful. So whenever Melinda made comments like that, she wished so badly she could just tell her that she had everything she always wanted because she was dating Alex, but she knew that their relationship was private and for a good reason. They had been dating for the last 2 years, and the conversation about relationships had never actually showed up until this very moment, which made her realize that for all this time, no one had suspected anything. Maybe because they were not seen together often, or they were not in the same place ever.
Y/n closed the door behind her and placed her coat and bag on the rack beside the door. She made sure the door was locked and she walked to the big living room, finding Alex sitting on the couch with some files on her lap. She loved the times when she came back from work and she found Alex in the apartment already, it wasn’t common since Alex normally always worked until late at night in her office, or if she came back home, she was stuck in her office until early hours. Y/n smiled softly and leaned over the arm of the couch, kissing her cheek softly.
“I’m surprised you’re home.” Y/n whispered softly as she kissed the side of her head.
Alex giggled and threw her head back to look at y/n. “Thought I’d just finish my notes here.”
Y/n chuckled at the angle but leaned down to kiss her lips. “Good. So. Dinner? Do you fancy some chicken and pasta?”
“I’d like that.” Alex smiled. She then moved as y/n walked out of the living room. “Do you need some help?” She put all her files together and then followed y/n into the kitchen.
“You can just sit there and look all pretty as always.” Y/n tilted her head as she smiled.
Alex rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re afraid I’m going to burn down our kitchen?” She went ahead and got some glasses out for wine.
Y/n chuckled and wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist, kissing her shoulder. “I want to spoil you. If you wanna help, you can go ahead and put the pasta to boil while I prepare the chicken.”
Alex turned on her arms to look at y/n and smiled. “Okay, that sounds like a plan.” She pecked her lips softly and then went ahead to get the pasta.
“So…” y/n cleared her throat as she got all the things she needed from the fridge. “Melinda asked me why I wasn’t partying in this fine Friday night.” She walked to the kitchen island and placed all the things there, looking at Alex.
“And what did you say?” Alex turned to look at her with a curious look.
“That my couch and my cozy blanket were waiting for me.” Y/n smirked.
Alex laughed. “Am I the blanket?”
Y/n shrugged. “You could be.” She winked at her.
Alex shook her head as she walked to y/n and kissed her forehead. “We can always tell them, you know?”
“I’m okay with how we are.” Y/n looked at Alex and smiled. “We know the job we do, I know the risks you have with your job. And it’s a relationship for us and no one else. So…” she shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
Alex nodded as she smiled. “Then we just stay as we are.” She leaned in and kissed her lips softly. “You know I love you, right?”
“Mmm…no? I don’t know what you talking about.”
Alex wrapped her arms around her neck as she grinned, pulling y/n for a slow and passionate kiss, y/n’s hands going up to her back to pull her impossibly closer. She tried deepening the kiss, but Alex pulled away, smiling against her lips.
“Say that again?” Alex whispered.
“I love you too.” Y/n smiled as she pulled Alex for another kiss.
********************
“Life without parole.” Alex said as she walked into the room with the squad sitting at their respective desks, everyone looking at Alex.
“We knew you got this, Cabot.” Fin said as he offered a smile.
“Wait, so they didn’t buy the whole crap of being mentally ill?” Elliot grinned.
“His DNA was literally all over her and almost in every part of her apartment. There was no way they’d believe that he was mentally ill when he was fully conscious of what he had done. I defied him and he told me every little thing he did, and he looked proud of it. That was our win.” Alex grinned.
“And we gotta thank or M.E.’s for that.” Olivia said just as Melinda and y/n walked in, looking at everyone with confused looks.
“What happened?” Melinda looked at Alex confused.
“Life without parole. We got the bastard., and Olivia is right. I have to thank you both.” Alex grinned softly as she looked at y/n.
“You’re very much welcome. It wasn’t much. We just needed to test around 15 people to find a match.” Y/n shrugged as she joked.
“Ms. y/l/n complaining here because she was the one who tested them all.”
“Hey, I spent like 2 hrs there, It’s only fair that Ms. Cabot here thanks me.” Y/n smirked as she looked at Alex.
“As I said, thank you for your welcome.” Alex winked at her, turning to check that no one had noticed.
“Well, well. We also worked here, so, what do y’all say we go for some drinks? Melinda? Y/n? Alex, you promised you’d join us next time so it’s only fair you come with us tonight.” Fin got up and grabbed his coat, looking at the squad.
“I second, Fin. We all have to go.” Munch stood up too and grabbed his coat, putting it on.
Olivia looked at the girls and raised her brow. “C’mon, girls. A drink won’t hurt.”
Y/n looked at Alex who was already looking at her and they gave each other a small nod as if to confirm that they were okay with it. It wasn’t their first time joining the squad for drinks, they’ve done it a bunch of times before, but they always preferred to just go home and have their own little celebration in the comfort of their apartment, but tonight, they thought it was no harm to join them, they knew it would be fun and they could always leave after an hour or so. They all walked to the nearest bar that was not that crowded, and the rounds of drinks started. It was maybe the fact that they were laughing hard that they didn’t notice how many drinks they had so far, or maybe it was just them not minding the number of drinks they’d take that night, it could be anything at this point, but Alex definitely wasn’t counting her drinks.
After 2 hrs, y/n had ordered some water and coffee for them, wanting to sober up a bit -not that she didn’t like tipsy Alex, she actually thought she was really cute, and two or three more drinks and she turned into hot Alex, which…was her personal favorite-. She went ahead and picked up their drinks, putting them in front of Alex who looked at her with a confused face at first.
“So you sober up a bit.”
“Ah, c’mon, y/l/n!” Elliot laughed. “You’re no fun. Let Cabot loosen up a bit. Not like we’re drunk.”
“Yeah, y/n. It’s the first time in so long that Alex actually says yes to coming with us for drinks and you wanna stop her.” Melinda raised her brows as she looked at her.
Y/n rolled her eyes playfully as she looked at them. “I’m just looking out for you, you know?” She then looked at Olivia. “Liv? Back me up here?”
“Oh, c’mon, baby. Another drink or two are not gonna hurt me. I’ll drink the coffee after another drink, promise.”
“That’s what you always say, Lex, and then you whine about having another.” Y/n raised her brow at her as she grinned. But then her grin vanished as she looked around them.
At the same time, it seemed like Alex sobered up enough to realize what they had just said, doing the same as Y/n. “Uh. Maybe I should take my coffee now.” She grabbed the cup and took a sip of it.
Olivia raised her brows as she smirked. “Baby? Lex?”
“Is there something you guys wanna share with the group?” Melinda smirked.
Munch furrowed his brows as he looked at everyone. “Wait, you guys really didn’t know that they were dating? They’ve been dating for the last 2 years. I thought you guys were detectives.”
Everyone turned to look at Munch with surprised looks, Alex and y/n’s jaws dropped as they stared at Munch. They were so sure they had been careful enough to keep it private, but it seemed like they had failed.
“How did you know?” Y/n finally said after like 2 minutes of silence.
Munch huffed a chuckle. “If you guys wanted to keep it private, you should’ve avoided standing in front of the precinct and kissing.”
Alex laughed as she shook her head. “Guess it’s out now.” She looked at y/n and shrugged. “Told you sooner or later they’d find out.”
“I mean, Munch is not wrong. You are all detectives and couldn’t figure it out?” Y/n shook her head. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”
“You gotta be kidding me! I was about to get you a date and you’ve been dating Alex for 2 years! Thought we were sisters.” Melinda snapped as she laughed.
“In my defense, it was never brought up. And yes, you’re like my big sister, so I apologize. But now that you guys know, yes. Alex is crazy for me.” Y/n wrapped her arm around Alex as she grinned.
Alex laughed as she shook her head. “Oh, says the one that was a bundle of nervousness whenever I was around.”
Y/n chuckled as she leaned in and kissed her lips, not caring about the squad anymore. No, they were not really trying to hide it, they simply decided the relationship was theirs and theirs only, so there was no need to display it to anyone else, but now that they all knew, they were more than happy to share it with them. Even though they knew the teasing would never end.
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the-monkey-ruler · 2 days
Note
i think it's cute how (to my knowledge) zbj is the only one of the pilgrims who has a spinoff story where swk erases his name from the death ledgers :> i think it pairs well with the semi-common post-canon narrative of zbj going to live on huaguo shan. it's like he's really part of the family now ❤️ (story is 十八罗汉斗悟空:孙悟空两情猪八戒)
I've never heard of this story before but WUKONG starting shit just cause the Arhots were getting more attention PLEASE!
He just drags Bajie with him XD
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I love they immediately go to get Wujing to come help but hate that it was all a trap because this imagine is so cute of the three of them just hanging out.
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THEY ARE SO SWEET TOGETHER! I love stories where after the journey they are still such close friends/family. Drop of a hat would just join each other to beat up some guys no questions asked. But boooo this guy turns out to be the Arhat after their butts.
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But still a lot of great moments of Bajie and Wukong fighting together! Do love that they still continue the trend that Wukong has trouble fighting under water and him asking Bajie for that help makes a lot of sense with him used to be the Marshall of the Heavenly Reeds.
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But still Bajie isn't nearly as immune to elements nor has the same stamina as Wukong does, making him tire out quickly and being more prone to magical attacks.
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八戒想了想,道:“我倒是想起早年学过一门八面玲珑功,此功��头巴脑,对敌全然无用,但今天正用得上,他无影无相,我只求滴水不漏,或许可以破他这路拳。”
说罢他强打精神,分出七个分身,“推窗望月,蛟龙出水,猛虎下山,回首掏……”招式纷繁复杂,虽然没有半分实力,却十分好看。
悟空笑道:“倒也不负这名,果然八面玲珑,世人皆喜这套,纵使无半分力气,却可立于不败之地也。”
Wukong! Is that a genuine compliment?! I never thought I would see the day! I bet that his moves were beautiful!
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This is my first time seeing Bajie with his own clones so that is pretty neat to witness in another story.
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I'm SCREAMING at this page please! Look at Wukong! He has no regrets!
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<3
此刻他以闪电瓶轰击,有制高点优势,已立于不败之地。悟空不怕闪电,但八戒这边就苦了,趴下找路逃命,裤子被炸得稀烂,如芒刺在股,无力再战。
八戒趴在地上,听雷声渐渐小了,仰起头一看,一座巨型金塔正凌空劈来,悟空眼疾手快一把把八戒推开,这才没被罩入塔内。
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Wukong is such a homie, he knows that Bajie doesn't have the same immunities as him and even pushes him out of the way when he is prone.
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八戒虽然惧怕罗汉法宝,但他就盯住过江罗汉,俩人正是对手,拳来耙去,直斗得愁云惨雾,日头偏西。
But also good on Bajie for not backing down either! He is clearly scared and feels outmatched but he refuses to back down. Love that about him, always a coward but he ain't a doormat.
体高罗汉见过江罗汉无法取胜,就拿闪电瓶对准八戒,一连串闪电直刺过来,八戒吓得一哆嗦,压低云头,躲到了流沙河中,找到一片荷叶,把鼻子埋了进去。
这边悟空不再需要顾忌八戒,金箍棒变大变粗,将方寸山棍法解数全部丢出来,形成一张紧密的棍网。虽然被围在核心,他还是哈哈大笑:“任你们罗汉花招再多,谁也进不了俺的棍网!”
Also that even when Bajie does go to hide in the river Wukong sees this as more advantageous than anything as he can finally go all out. He was holding back cause Bajie was in his line of fire but now he is out of friendly-fire range he can do maximum damage without worry!
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悟空战退了四罗汉,再来寻八戒,发现八戒已不在荷花池,连连高叫无人回应。
不知八戒吉凶如何?请看下回分解。
Is Bajie okay? I can't tell in the end if he was passed out or he scampered off completely.... I hope he is okay...
But still this was a great story! Thank you so much for recommending me this I had such a great read! I love seeing stories where the pilgrims still get together and get into trouble at times! Especially when it is still very in character and so much fun!
If someone can tell if Bajie okay thought :'-) please I have to know!
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cu7ie · 8 months
Text
💋 big mouth ☆ ~('▽^人)
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⠀⠀✿`` content warnings : gojo can't shut up. cervix fucking. switch reader and gojo. (gojo gets dommy at the end.) porn w/o plot. dirty talking, throat fucking, handjob, face humping, a lot of cum bc i said so nyeh nyeh, oral (dick-sucking/pussy licking), big dick gojo (and he knows it), reader has experience, gojo a little less so. stamina, gojo has it, you don't. cursing (lots of it). name-calling (both sides), afab reader. raw sex minors do not interact! 3.8k words Y'ALL.
⠀⠀✿`` author note : gojo cock is good. based as fuck please talk to me about gojo cock <3 also i fr think hes so annoying hes never quiet!! in my mind he so blah blah blah blah blah during sex . even if he dont like u he blah blah blah. also if you like my porn, reblog it! oh yeah!!! and leave comments omg... this fic got so away from me, idk how long it is its just so much fucking porn- also! @enchantedforest-network partner! join us hehehe
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Gojo has a bit of a talking problem.
He's a blabbermouth at the best of times, and maybe in any other situation would you appreciate his insight. He's good at making mountains out of molehills, take your nothing and make it something; even when it's as mundane as the weather, he'll draw up his own storyboard and play all the different actors - reporter, news anchor, cameraman and "Satoru, coming to us live with the forecast,"
and at first it's charming, right? It's what endears most people to him; what attracted you in some respects. Bordering on bit of a god complex, Gojo's always been effortlessly confident; disarmingly charming; handsome to the point of aggravation. He's never a dull moment, always gives it his all, extra even when he's lazy.
But you thought maybe, just maybe,
if you shunt his pants down till they bunch around his ankles, and licked his cock from shaft to tip,
would he shut up then? Would he allow you a moment of silence (relative, because the sound of you sucking all up on his dick is decidedly extremely loud) to let your hair down, let your head bob back and forth, tongue slurping on the underside of his cock while your lips are wrapped firmly round the middle of his shaft?
"You really like sucking my dick, don't you?"
No. The answer is no.
His face has broken out into a smile, and you don't know if he's giggling out of incredulousness or nervousness - but you are surprised that all his blood hasn't gone to his dick, cause his cheeks are red. His hand cradles the back of your head graciously, sweat sliding down his nose because he has to crane his neck to ogle you.
"C'mon. You can take more of it inta your mouth - suck. Fucking suck." His hips shifty as you work your way towards the base of his shaft, and you chose to ignore the comment, what with cock in your mouth and all. He's gotten mouthy before, not like this, but it's nothing you can't handle.
See, Gojo's kinda ... easy. He can act all hard to get - er, mysterious and what not, but he's like any other aloof man with a pretty face. Afraid of gettin' close and not knowin' what to do with it. It, you know, -
And you do, but he keeps fucking up your rhythm by trying to fuck your hand. You give full strokes, rotating your wrist and pumping steady and quick, trying to look Gojo in his eyes as you're doing it, where as his gaze is dead set on your point of contact. "You're just a dog aren'tcha? Hump, hump, humpin', away." Your smile curling at the corners, at how easily he's giving himself to you. He's dripping pre,
His fat fucking cock. Thigh clenching, pussy watering, eye-widening kind of fat. Shit is so big can't even hold itself up, so you tell him "I can hold that for you," and he pants out as he nods rapidly, "Yes, please do." You get to jerking his cock and he's a whiny little bitch. "Faster" this, "More" that, moving your hand up and down his cock like you don't know what you're doing.
"Back up Satoru, I got this."
"Look at you - you're fucking panting."
And you think you'll get away with it. Get just grunt or a sigh in response. But of course his motorboat mouth starts going on...
"Yuh ... you're good, but, " He attempts nonchalance in a cherry tomato cosplay. Red red red all over. "You're holding out on me..." His tongue lolls at you playfully, and you decide anything not singing your praises wasn't worth hearing. He opens his mouth to say something else.
Your stutter your stroke (effectively cutting him off,) working your way to the head and massaging it between your thumb and forefinger. Sweat is pouring from Gojo's forehead. He's hiking his leg further apart on the couch so you have more space to touch him, your body snaking over his thigh, getting close enough for him to be able to feel your steady breaths on his cock. "Fuck! Stop - haah.." He groans like you're working him. You most definitely are. "Stop teasing.."
"A blowjob?" You purse your lips, ponder it over. "Think you'll be able to make it to the fucking?" Your breathing gets closer, and you feel him throb in your hand. "You sure seem excited! Just don't blow your load down my throat, save it for my pussy." You're teasing, licking your lips and pressing a sloppy kiss to his mushroom head. You could swear it'd gotten a little harder than before.
Only in those moments could you have recognized you gave the man a little too much power. When your pillowy, spit slicked lips wrapped around his throbbing cockhead, licking up the pre on your eager tongue, looking down and breathing deeply through your nose. He can hardly keep himself from lifting his hips and trying to pop through the other side of your throat with the damn thing!
Now, he's just a boy too big for his damn britches. He knows you give good head because of the way you move your tongue and jerk off whatever you can't reach, but it's not good enough head. He's big, sure, but for someone who talks like they fuck n' suck on the regular, something about the performance is feeling a wee bit lackluster...
And while you're busy thinking about how you got here, he's impatiently jutting his hips against your face.
"You listening to me?" His finger teasingly taps at your forehead, getting you out of your train of thought. "Don't tell me - I've already fucked your brains out? Maybe you're just a lil' cock-drunk. Got a remedy for that..."
He thrusts his hips and the rest of his dick tucks itself snugly into your wet warm mouth, head brushing past your uvula and nestling comfortably in your throat. You can't see the way your throat bulged a little, but you most definitely feel it. You make a noise, half-choke-half-whine, and he laughs gaily at the way his balls pap your chin. "Ah? You said something?" He peers down curious, your nose mingling well with the fluffy little hairs at the base of his cock.
You don't forget to breathe, although your eyes tear a little from his size. Your jaw and throat are being stretched to capacity, but you remind yourself 'through your nose'. It's fine for a bit longer - you bob up and down in relatively uninterrupted peace, til Gojo's hand on the back of your head gets a little too comfortable. "Just a little more... suck a little harder..."
Your face burns and you clutch at it, staring at him your the gaps in your fingers as he tucks into your pussy like it's supper. He's alright at it. He doesn't do it like all he's seen is shitty porn - he's really ... getting in there, actually. Oooh.... Ohh..
He starts trying to take over your flow, his grip firm enough to start bobbing your head up and down all on his own. Like your throat is just some fleshy, tight hole to fuck. Kinda makes your pussy drool, but that's besides the point. "Oh fuck.."
You moan and take it. Let him hump up into your mouth as his musk sorta clogs your nose. He's moaning so loud it drowns out most other cohesive thoughts in your mind, the plumpness of his balls cushioning your chin a little every time he tugs your head down. He's muttering stuff you can barely hear over the sound of sucking.
"Pretty baby. Here's to hoping you'll never suck anyone else's dick this good again.... holy shit..."
Eventually his grip lets up a little. It allows you more freedom in your movement for a bit. Though your jaw starts hurting sooner than later, so you give his balls a little pinch and he finally lets you up to take in a big good gulp of air.
His voice is a little shaky. "That was ... fuck ... that was nice." Your voice is a little raw, more croaky when you respond, "Just nice?" flicking his balls in irritation as you take huffing breaths. His cock twitches, shiny and coated in saliva, your drool dripping down over his sack - altogether one of your prettier pictures. "Y'know... what'd make that blowjob just a bit better?" He breathes like he missed oxygen, his sigh half content and mostly wheedling as one hand creeps towards the base of his cock, and his other gets comfy on your ass.
"You wanna fuck, Satoru?" He feigns a gasp, his mouth popping into a little surprised 'o' shape. His face can't belie his excitement, his palms clasping together almost comically before he realizes what he's doing and stops.
"Where could you have ever got that idea from...?" He says, jerking his cock a little and pointing it up to the sky. "Get over here." He pats your cheek with it. You're not against the idea, but Gojo hasn't impressed you enough yet. You poke it away with your finger, sitting up and shuffling out of your underwear. There's enough space on the couch that you can flop onto your back, looking at Gojo from between your legs, pussy pretty and glistening with your arousal.
The way he looks at you makes you squeeze down on absolutely nothing. Flustered yet wild like an animal, apprehensive like he's never sucked a clit before.
"Head first, then we fuck."
"Oh?" Gojo starts fighting to get his shirt off his head, scampering forward so fast he nearly falls into your pussy lips. "Easy boy! Down, down..." You mutter, his fingers digging into your thighs and spreading them clumsily. The aforementioned effortless confidence of Gojo seems to break away into something more sincere and somber when he lowers himself down to kiss your clit. The way he chooses to maintain eye contact throughout makes your heart flutter, and you get a bit of slick on his lips on accident.
His tongue darts over it. "Itadakimasu."
"Oh my fucking god..." Your chest almost deflates at how serious he is, nodding like he's bowing before going in with his tongue.
"Mmf..." Your sigh flutters out of you, becoming a full blown moan as his mouth firmly suctions over your clit and little labia, licking firmly and decisively. Like all of a sudden he knows what he's doing. His attention is most often directed towards your clit, suckling on it and making your thighs twitch. You push them against the side of his head but he forces you to spread them wider again, just to fuck a finger or two into you first.
Your pussy makes a little schlick noise, readily accepting him in the hot warmth of your cunt. "That's a good sign.." He meanderingly strokes his chin. "Take dick that well too?" Your head perks up, teasing underlined with irritation.
"Course. Now suck please, I liked you more with a mouth full." You smile shakily and Gojo seems to laugh in kind. Your smile is cut off by a gasp and shudder as Satoru firmly presses his finger into your wall, lifting his mouth to get a better look at your pussy as he's stretching it open. "M'sorry, did I cut you off?"
He licks the remnants of you from his damp lips, two fingers slowly thrusting in and out. All you can do is sigh, one legs flopped off the couch and the other slung over the back of it. He's alright at this. Not as good as him giving head, but it's not terrible either. Maybe you just like seeing him be quiet for more than a second.
His fingers feel like they're looking for something. First he's pushing down, and when you only grunt in response, he starts gently feeling around for that little pocket of sunshine...
"Up." You whimper, aroused but irritated with his finagling. Your hand slides down the front of your stomach, pressing softly on a spot right before your lips start and where your hair would begin to grow. "Around th-there... You got thaat?-" If his grin is anything to go by, he most certainly does. First he presses up into it like it's a button, which makes you squeak and yelp and clutch the couch, bracing for impact. Then he slowly opts you into the pleasure, trying to apply the right kind of pressure to massage a couple moans out of you, your juices coating his hand and dripping to his wrist.
"Oh, oh.." He winks cheekily as you sling your leg over his lap, positioning his cock till it's brushing up against your pretty lips, pre-cum dripping from the head of his cock as your warmth beckons him further. "...save a horse..." He sighs happily as you sink down onto him.
"Hey - don't turn my couch into a slip n' slide now." You groan, clenching down on his fingers like you mean to squeeze the life out of them. "Need - I need more." You snort when he tries to go for a third finger. He clues in quick.
"Dick? I gotchu, don't even worry about that." He tries to slide atop you to complete this jigsaw, but you got a different idea in making these pieces all fit. You push him backwards with your foot a little, getting up off your back in one motion. He backs up to allow you space, clocked in to your movements just a tad.
"Oh my God Satoru." You groan out as the tip of his cock stretches you out, your pussy sucking him up so so greedily, like you'd been waiting all night. "What... don't like my banter babe?" Gojo grunts and your brows furrow, his hand jumping to your hips and steading you when you swoon.
"N-no... Just ... aaaah .." You squeeze his shaft and he actually honest to god chokes on air. "Just - oh fuck - just shut up for a sec. Let me have thissss..." You're halfway down now, Gojo gently coaxing you further and starting to rock his hips.
Pulling up with ease and sliding down further on his fat shaft with effort, Gojo stretches you open so good your legs keep trembling, your breathing hurried even after a couple minutes - and while Gojo seems to be enjoying himself (very, very much so), he's smiling up at you and your effort, very plainly amused. Sweat starting to trickle down your forehead, you're sat wondering what's so funny.
"Yeah yeah yeah. Go on - I'm definitely not stopping you." He sighs deep, his head lolling over the couch as you start lifting yourself up and down, your hand reaching up and going for your nipples. He's too focused on your wet pussy to pay you mind for a bit, but then he's drawn to them, hypnotized. He pulls on your left with his fingers, nibbles on your right with his teeth.
"Oh!" Gojo's blue eyes flick up, wrinkled at the corners. "Mno teef?" He says, still attached to your nipple. The vibration makes you laugh, more of his cock pressing into you as your muscles relax. "Teeth is ... teeth is fine." Gojo resumes his plucking. He lets you use his cock a little like a dildo. In fact, he kind of reminds you of a perfect Ken doll. Smooth muscles you can run your hands over, nice built shoulders, pornstar dick...
"Nuffin..." He mumbles around your areola, going back to sucking and scheming. Whatever. You focus on bouncing on this cock.
...
Opting to do most of the work probably wasn't the best decision. Your legs are championing through, but you're pretty tired, and after figuring out Gojo's dick is big enough to meet your cervix you've been having the time of your life. Sometimes you get too tired to lift yourself, so Gojo is oh-so-very helpful in grinding up into you, smearing his little pre-cum kisses up against your cervix.
"I'll even do all the work." His grin was smarmy, but you didn't clock it at the time. It's cute and still makes your pussy throb, so "Go," you say. "Go off, babe."
You're gonna cum soon. Gojo notices how tight you get when it's about to happen. His take over is a little subtle, but you're so interested in reaching that stiff peak, that tightening in your stomach, just chasing, chasing, chasing,
Gojo thinks, "like a dog." He smirks into your chest. Your cursing abruptly cuts into his thoughts, however -
"Shit! - fuck fuck fuck - ugh!" Every word is punctuated by a last effort of raising and falling, raising and falling, raising, and then being pulled. Gojo tugs your hips down and your pussy spasms as your body jerks.
"Satoru!" You yelp reflexively before something like a whimper weasels itself from your lips. You tighten around Gojo and it hurts a little because he's so thick, but you moan into his shoulder unbothered. A little broken, voice horse, but mostly unbothered. Til he starts moving his hips again.
"The fuck?" You stutter, a little caught off guard as you're suddenly shifted, up and down not from your own movement, but Gojo's rabid humping. "I'm almost there - soo close - can we keep goin', pretty please?" He grinds his hips into your orgasm terribly slowly, trying to get your brain to clock into overtime.
He carefully saws himself in, making your back arch at the sensation. He slides your knees apart and holds the back of them firmly, tugging you the rest of the way onto him. The meandering pace of sex before is tossed to the side.
And regret isn't quite the right word, but you'll feel something a little like it in a second.
"Whatever you say."
Your body is boneless, so it's pretty easy for Gojo to scoop you up, though it doesn't surprise you any less. Says there's not enough space on the couch for him to spread his wings, so he lugs you back to his cozy little room, and plops you onto his bed. Towards the edge of it, so your legs dangle off as he positions himself in front of you, holding his cock at the base - which now looks angrier than before. Instead of the blushy pink dusting it at the tip, it's a deeper, aggravated red now - slapping against your cunt like this motherfucker has places to be. "Open uppp~"
You were fucking Gojo before. Now he's fucking you. Any apprehension, slow-to-start bashfulness, gone with the wind. Once the head pushes past your entrance, a good five inches of cock go alongside it immediately after. Gojo's hiking your legs onto his shoulder's as he watches your eyes suddenly blow wider than saucers, laughing genuinely at the break in your nonchalance and worn facade.
"I should have answered you properly earlier." He says, brushing a stand of sweat slicked hair away from your forehead. He leans down so close, lips a little touch and go, the intention in his eye serious and cutting. With the movement, the last couple inches of cock fill you out, making you eep! But not breaking his focus in the slightest. "I want to fuck." He drags his hips molasses like, till the head is back at your entrance. He slides it back in smoothly, earnest chuckle overshadowed by your pitchy whimper.
"But I assume you got the memo - so," The sound of skin slapping against skin resumes, his pace almost breakneck. His balls slap against your ass with such ferocity it makes you yelp the first time, whimper the second, moan the third. Gojo seems more serious now, the balls in his court and the way you squeal and reach out for anything to hold only spurs him on further.
And are promptly cut off by a vigorous pounding, the sounds of your own moans, and an downright visceral embarrassment when you realize this is the second time you're cumming and in spite of all your fucking and sucking, Satoru hasn't even came once. And as if hearing your thoughts, Gojo's playful expression closes in - his brow furrows as each roll of his hips gets more decisive.
"Pussy tryna close up shop?" He mutters near your ear when you clench on him a little too tight. "You tryna break my dick or something? I know it's good, but you can't keep it -" You don't know if your sigh is from pleasure or exasperation.
"Gojo, please." He tweaks your nipple and makes you squirm.
"Ohhhh, I see how it issss. It's Gojo now?" With every drag of his words he slows down dramatically, dragging his cock along your walls so painstakingly sensual it makes you want to scream. "What happened to Satoru?"
You start placatingly. "Satoru, I-"
After a moment, his hand comes over yours, your fingers weakly folding over his. His pumps grow harder, but slow down, his eyes clamped shut as he looks up, and -
"I'll try to make this one a two-fer." He speaks with that same smile in his voice, and you're two far gone to offer a groan or snap in response. "Y-yeah. Cum, Satoru - I wanna, I wanna cum," His eyes dart up to yours, and it's a little hard to hold his stare, but you manage.
"Yes yes pretty baby. You'll - we'll cum. Soon... real s-soon."
Your muscles feel tired, used from your last orgasm and forced to prolong operation just to take more dick. It's harder to take the full length of his shaft, your tummy flipping and your mind beyond fuzzy and fucked out. But you hold out. Just a little bit ... longer.
His thrusts start getting sloppy. The bruising piston of his hips edge off their intensity, and -
You're cumming again. Your legs are shaking and your ass feels a little numb and you're clenching so so so hard, for dear fucking life-
"Fucking hell!" Gojo bites his tongue, and pumps into you for the last time.
"Good." You gasp. "That was good." Satoru runs a thumb over your clit, teasing.
He heaves sighs like he's moved mountains, but really he's just offloading hot cum from his throbbing nuts, pressed into you very closely before going entirely still. You thought you were full before? Now you're kind of... bursting. Is that the right word? Feels that way. Gojo does a full body shudder and stretches his back out, trying to fuck his load you before he's even came it all out.
There's so much that it spurts around the sides of his dick and you can feel some of it slip out, run down your thighs, and you quiver one last time before feeling strength leave your body. Satisfaction blankets over you, a nice, full-bodied comfort. When Gojo slides out, he spurts a little cum on your tummy, the rest of it oozing out of you slow.
"Haha," His voice is a little raspy, like yours now. He arches a brow before he bends down, planting a loving kiss on your lips.
"Just good?"
8K notes · View notes
confessedlyfannish · 6 months
Text
DP x DC Writing Prompt #5
Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.
After a moment, the door opens.
"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.
"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.
"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."
Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.
"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"
"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.
For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.
Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.
Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"
"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.
"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.
"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.
"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.
"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.
"He did," Jazz says.
Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.
Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.
A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.
This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.
Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.
In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.
"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.
Damian stops dead in his tracks.
"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.
Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.
"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.
Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"
Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.
"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.
"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.
Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.
"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.
"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.
Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.
Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.
Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.
They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.
"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.
"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.
Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."
"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."
"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.
"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."
Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.
"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"
"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.
"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."
"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."
"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."
Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.
"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."
Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.
Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.
Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.
Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.
A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.
His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.
"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"
"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.
He never stopped practicing, after all.
"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."
"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."
Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.
"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.
"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."
"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."
Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.
"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."
"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."
"Mr. Wayne-"
"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."
Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."
"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."
For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.
"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."
"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.
He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.
Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."
Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."
Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."
"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."
Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."
"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."
"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.
"Even then."
Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.
"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.
"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.
But for his brother, Danny will wake up.
"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."
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kissxcore · 2 months
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thinking about idol!gojo, who has a knack for making his managers quit.
"satoru, you need to drink water."
"don't wanna," he mumbles against your shoulder, "'s for losers."
"satoru, you need it to live."
"did you know that water has a 100% death rate?" you can feel the hint of a smile that pulls at his lips against your collarbone, "do you want me dead already?"
"satoru, for the last time—"
the man lifts his head up, leaving your skin naked against the chilly air that accompanies the night sky.
he looks up, and he gives you that playful smile again—the one that sends audiences screaming his name, the one that dazzles reality stars and late-night show hosts alike, "as much as i love it when you say my name, and trust me, i do, i'm doing some very important things here."
and just like that, his head reaches its rightful place again, his nose burying itself in the dip between your collarbones as his fingers nudge into the flesh on your hips; your mind spins with a dizzy pink as he lets out a sigh of content, melting against your skin as he leans you back on the brick wall behind you.
it was a simple celebration, really, to commemorate the end of his world tour as an innocent night out with the rest of the crew paid by the company, and it's only far later in the night that he pulls you into the back alley of the barbecue building with an intoxicated blush accompanying his half-lidded eyes.
you stay there, frozen, with his arms around your body and your hands at his waist. you can smell the perfume on his hair waft, even through the alcohol and oil that come with australia's street life.
"satoru," your voice comes out barely above a whisper—he flinches, peeking up at you like a child with those blue eyes again. blue like a summer's day, blue like the tides of the ocean, blue like the pools of lapis that sit at the bottom of dark caves, "satoru, we should get inside. someone could see us and...misunderstand."
blue, like the feeling.
the storm that was forecasted in tokyo couldn't dare to compare to the one that rages in his eyes, muddled with tumultuous heat and frenzied passion.
"what is there to misunderstand?" his voice is muffled and hoarse, his arms hugging you tighter. the brick digs into your skin, cold against your shoulders; his lips brush tentatively against your shirt, ghosting your skin and leaving behind lava that solidifies as shuttering breaths. he knows he's drunk, but you lower his guard down further than a bottle of alcohol ever could. "i love you and you love me too, don't you?"
it's hard to think when he's this close and you're this buzzed, but you manage to protest. "i'm serious, you'll lose fans if we—"
"fuck 'em." his mumble is flustered, but harsh. his eyes look to yours for assurance, and he finally purses his lips, brushing a single kiss against your shoulder.
his first kiss, to you, his first love.
his fingertips tease at the loose fabric at your waist as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head against the crook of your neck. "i've made enough money for yaga already," his hands move to a more professional place—your shoulders—gripping them tightly, clinging onto you like he might die if he lets go, "so, please. i'm begging you."
"you love music."
"i love you."
"the company—"
"the company will survive my next comeback being pushed back a month or two."
"you don't get to decide that."
"but you do. it's always been you."
"satoru," you keep your voice gentle, professional even, as you tenderly tug at his hair. he lifts his head up ever so slightly, the water in his eyes matching the bright blues that shine in his iris. you smile sadly, your hand at the nape of your neck as your fingers thread through his hair, "that won't nearly be enough to make up for lost sales. you could get fired if they decide you're not worth it anymore, don't you understand? this is your dream we're talking about."
a beat passes.
for once, you think satoru's brain might finally be clicking on. slowly, he swallows, his hands moving from your shoulders to your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek. you feel your cheeks instantly heat up, the soft pads of his fingertips brushing a loose hair from your forehead. his eyes never leave yours, and his tone is bitter, however gentle it is.
"if you really cared about my dreams, you'd shut up and let me kiss you."
being the idol that he was, satoru was always able to get whatever he wanted, unless it was you. he tilts his head slightly, closing his eyes as his nose brushes against yours—there's a moment of hesitation, between his shaky breaths and anxious thoughts, that flood his mind before he leans in. it's barely a kiss on his side, just his lips against yours and the fast beating of his heart against his ribcage.
and slowly, he disconnects his lips from yours, staring nervously at the brick wall behind you, and he hears you sigh.
"satoru, if we're gonna do this, we have to be careful."
he lets out a sigh of relief, a snort escaping his lips before he gives you a real smile—not the kind that inspires his fans or impress his antis—it's a smile for you. he'll continue smiling for you as long as you'll let him.
"i knew you loved saying my name."
"oh my god, shut up!" you huff, rolling your eyes as you gently shove him away from you. he laughs, kissing the top of your head, his hands rubbing at your shoulder blades.
"you really hit the jackpot y'know, people say my stage presence is amazing." he gives you a shameless wink.
"your earth presence is horrific."
"yeah? it's about to be a lot more horrifying if you don't kiss me right now."
you sigh, your arms wrapping his own torso, pulling him into a tight hug. what upper management doesn't know won't hurt them.
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this is all i got 💔 this is all i got 💔 ill post a #real gojo fic soon pls accept my silly blurbs for now
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lqvesoph · 3 days
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She’s WHOSE daughter??? || LN4
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gif by @quadrantslandonorris
lando norris x webber!reader
summary: During a trip to Daniel’s farm house, you find an unexpected visitor standing in your best friend’s backyard
part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
masterlist | taglist
Part 2
"So glad you could make it!", Danny called and wrapped you into a hug as soon as he opened the front door. "You know I love it here!", you laughed and stepped into his home in Perth, Australia.
It was Monday before the Australian Grand Prix and Daniel had invited you to spend a few days at his farm before flying across the country to Melbourne.
You spotted an unfamiliar pair of shoes next to Daniel‘s million others but didn’t think much of it. Maybe he bought another pair.
"Daniel, tell me again where the- oh hi", you heard a familiar british accent, one that you have missed over the last three long weeks since Bahrain and turned around to find a dripping wet and shirtless Lando in the glass door that led out to the backyard. His curls were dripping shining droplets of water onto his defined and tanned chest from which you couldn’t teat your eyes away.
"The towels are in the drawer, mate", Daniel spoke, snapping you out of your trance. "Thanks", Lando mumbled but didn’t move from his place.
You all stood there in silence for a few seconds before you cleared your throat. "I… uh- I-I‘ll go to my room", you stuttered, taking the suitcase and quickly making your way up the marble stairs.
"Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?", you heard Lando hiss. "Why would you have wanted me to?", Daniel asked nonchalant, and you knew you shouldn’t eavesdrop but you couldn’t help it, wanting to know Lando‘s response. "I- I don’t know", he stuttered defensively before tapping over to the drawer to get himself a towel.
Truth was, his small crush on you grew over the last couple of weeks. He followed your every move on Instagram and Twitter, even scrolling down to pictures from 2016, finding a few of you and baby Oscar during his Formula 3 career or little you in Daniel‘s Red Bull from 2017. He‘s probably memorized your highlights at this point.
Adding to that he asked Pietra for her advice on your best songs and your discography has been on repeat for three weeks straight.
You put your suitcase next to your bed and plopped down on it, only now noticing your racing heart.
During your deep dive through Lando’s Instagram account, you obviously had seen a few pictures of him shirtless, the one from Bahrain being the set of pictures you were hung up on the most, even saving one of them. But jeez… none of those pictures did the live picture justice!
You opened your eyes and took a deep breath before rummaging around your suitcase to find the black bikini you had packed for your trip.
You put it on and took your towel, phone and sunglasses and made your way downstairs. Lando and Daniel sat by the pool on two sun beds, playing some sort of card game. Both were shirtless and had matching bucket hats on their curls. You chuckled at the sight and placed your towel on the third sun bed.
Lando looked up from the game and subtly looked you over, his eyes lingering at your pushed up breast, that were barely covered by the tight black bikini top, a little longer than appropriate but you couldn’t find yourself caring. The opposite actually, the little hesitation brought a smirk to your face.
You lay down on your stomach on the sun bed and closed your eyes. "If I fall asleep, please put some sunscreen on my back in an hour or two", you mumbled, getting a hum from both boys next to you.
You couldn’t even begin to explain how much you have missed the Australian sun.
*~**~*
You didn’t even notice you fell asleep until you were woken up by a pair of warm hands rubbing your back. Guess the flight has been more exhausting than you thought.
You lifted your head up slightly, still a little dazed from the sleep. "Heyy, good morning", a soft british accent spoke over you.
Lando.
Then you started noticing a few other things around you. For example your hair that was wrapped in a loose bun, one that you definitely didn’t do yourself.
"I put your hair up so it wouldn’t stick on the sunscreen", he said, almost as if he had read your thoughts. "Thanks", you mumbled, then you frowned. "How did you-"
"I have two younger sisters, so I know a little about hair styles", Lando chuckled and kneaded your shoulders while rubbing in the sunscreen. The small action made you groan a little. "Feels good", you muttered.
"I can tell", he spoke and you could hear the smirk on his face, so you kicked your leg up to hit his back. "Owh", he let out and broke out in laughter after. You couldn’t help but join in as well and pushed yourself up on your elbows to look around you.
You noticed the missing sunglasses on your face when squinting to see against the setting sun but quickly found them on the table next to you.
"Daniel is getting the grill ready and Heidi has just arrived a few minutes ago", Lando told you and you turned your head to meet his eyes. But got quickly distracted by his tanned chest. Your eyes flickering down and stayed there for a second longer than necessary, before looking back up into his green eyes and only now realizing how close your faces were to each other.
His gaze flickered down to your lips before finding your eyes again.
"Hey dipshit, dinner is almost ready!", Daniel called from the path between the pool section and the little hut with a fire place. "We’ll be there in a second!", Lando called back, not tearing his eyes away from yours.
Your eyes darted down to his plumb lips. "We probably should…", you whispered, letting your sentence uncompleted. Lando nodded but still kept his gaze you. "Yeah, we probably should", he agreed.
The two of you kept each other gaze for a few seconds longer before looking down at the same time and clearing your throats. You grabbed your black shorts and quickly put them over your bikini bottoms, feeling your heart beating fast in your chest and a small throbbing in your lower region. A quick stolen glance at Lando told you, your interaction also left its mark on him.
He cleared his throat another time before standing up and grabbing a baby blue loose dress shirt to put over his shoulders, leaving the buttons undone.
Together you made your way over to the fireplace, where you found Heidi and Daniel next to a bluetooth box that played relaxing music.
"Hey, honey!!", Heidi called and immediately came over to hug you. You smiled and wrapped your arms around the girl who has been like an older sister to you for the longest time.
"It’s so good to see you again!", she smiled and pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. "Your hair has gotten so long!" You laughed and sat down at the set table.
Daniel looked at Lando with a knowing smirk, whereupon Lando rammed his elbow into the older guy’s ribs.
*~**~*
As the night came, the temperatures got chilly, even in Australia. You shivered a little even if the fire spent a little warmth.
"You cold?", Lando muttered, leaning over the armrest of his chair. You looked over at him, getting lost for a second in the way half of his face was light up by the fire light.
You hummed and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself.
"Take my hoodie", he suggested, pulling the lavender colored hoodie from his chair. "Thanks", you smiled.
From the corner of your eyes you saw how Daniel gave you a rather knowing glance but you chose to ignore it.
That was until he didn’t give you another option.
"Y/n, you wanna come and help me inside?", he asked but it sounded more like a demand. You nodded and stood up from your seat before following Daniel inside.
All while Lando’s eyes never left you.
Daniel was waiting for you by the kitchen counter. "What are you doing?", he wanted to know. You shrugged, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
"He’s cute", you simply replied.
"You know I love you like my little sister but Lando’s one of my best mates. And I already know that he’s got quite the crush on you, it’s fairly obvious so I gotta make sure that this is coming from your side as well and isn’t some sort of joke flirting", the australian explained.
You crossed your arms in front of your chest. "It’s not, I really do think he’s cute", you nodded.
"Does he know who your dad is?", Daniel pressed further, knowing this was some sort of make-or-break question to you.
Given the history of boyfriends you’ve had and loads of your early ones, always dating you for your father, you’ve started to not tell people about your father. Not until you were sure, they were here for you.
Your silence gave Daniel his answer.
"If you like him, why didn’t you then?", he wanted to know. "Because I want to get to know him before! I met him once three weeks ago, do you expect me to just go like "Hi, I’m Y/n, nice to meet you. By the way I’m Mark Webber’s daughter"?? I haven’t exactly spent a lot of time with him", you muttered.
"Just… don’t lead him on. I haven’t seen him this nervous over a girl in a long time", Daniel sighed and opened his arms. "C’mere."
*~**~*
Even though the night got very late, you were up incredibly early the next day, still having to adjust to the eastern australian timezone.
As quietly as possible you walked down the stairs to the kitchen, wearing a pair of jogging shorts and Lando’s hoodie from the previous night which was incredibly comfortable and even smelled like him.
You grabbed yourself a glass of water and sat down crisscrossed on a patio chair.
The morning was still a little fresh, the sun just barely leaking out from the horizon.
"Bit early, isn’t it?", a british accent spoke from behind you. You smiled before turning around to meet Lando’s sleepy eyes.
He stood in the doorway, long gray joggers and a black hoodie, similar to the one you were wearing. His curls were a mess on top of his head as he ruffled through them.
"I could say the same to you", you countered, making the boy smile. "I couldn’t sleep, still adjusting to the timezone", he told you, sitting down on the chair next to you.
You nodded in agreement. "Me too."
For a moment you sat in silence, both looking at the sunrise in front of you.
"You wanna go for a walk at the beach?", Lando suggested after a few minutes, looking over at you.
You considered your options for a second but didn’t see a reason not to, so you nodded and stood up.
You put your glass on the table and your phone in the hoodie pocket.
Together you took the small path that directly led from Daniel’s backyard to the beach.
"Nice hoodie by the way", Lando smirked, tugging at your sleeves. "Thanks, some random guy gave it to me last night", you replied with a giggle. "And you just take stuff from random dudes?", Lando faked a shocked tone. "Nah, only if they are cute", you smiled, making Lando go a little shy as he looked down with a smile.
When the you reached the beach, you stopped in your tracks. Closing your eyes and enjoying the breeze of the ocean.
"I’ve missed this", you muttered, taking a deep breath before opening your eyes to find Lando looking at you. "Los Angeles just isn’t quite the same."
"You said you grew up between LA and Canberra", Lando stated, whereupon you nodded. "How did you meet Oscar then? Because as far as I know he’s spent most of his teens in England. Or Daniel, who’s from the other side of the country", he asked.
"Well, Daniel I met through Red Bull. My dad used to work for them", you replied, careful as not to reveal too much. "At base?"
"Something like this, yeah."
"He’s been like an older brother to me for the longest time but Oscar being closer to me in age, resulted in us turning out like twins", you chuckled.
Lando felt a sting of jealousy when you talked about his teammate like that, knowing he had close to zero rights to feel this way but still.
"Anyway, I met him in the paddock a few years ago and we’ve been friends ever since", you concluded.
"And you’ve been into racing because of your dad?", he asked. You nodded but didn’t clarify further but instead grabbed his hand and dragged him to the ocean.
"Cmon, let’s go in", you called. "Go in??", Lando protested but let you drag him closer to the water. "It’s Australia, it’s warm", you giggled and kicked off your shoes off your feet. You let go of Lando’s hand and entered the water ankle-deep.
You looked back to see Lando taking off his shoes as well as his hoodie, leaving him in a white shirt. Then he carefully tapped the water before walking to you.
"Nice, huh?", you smiled against the rising sun, closing your eyes for a second.
Cold water splashing your back made you scream and open them again. You turned around to find Lando with a devilish grin looking at you. "Lando!!", you called and splashed the water back at him.
In only a few seconds it turned into a water war, both your clothes turning darker from the water splashes on them. Your eyes stopped at Lando’s torso, the water turning his white shirt see through. And you weren’t ashamed to admit that his defined abs distracted you just more than a little bit.
Lando used your little moment of distraction to launch himself at you and throw both of you down into the water completely. You gasped for air, his arms still wrapped around your body and you hair falling in wet strands on your face.
"Idiot!", you called, pushing your hair back to see Lando grin at you. His adorable smile, paired with the wetness of his curls made you smile as well. You put your hand on his neck, slowly pulling him closer to you.
A drop of water falling from his opened lips, mesmerizing you completely. Lando’s eyes searched yours, asking for permission to go ahead. You glance back down to his lips before nodding slightly.
Only seconds later, his lips touched yours in a gentle kiss. Your fingers went through his wet hair and pulled at the end.
His lips on yours felt like fire, and you wanted more.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, his hand holding your thigh as his other squeezed your waist. His lips slowly traveled along your jaw, making you lean your head to the side to give him more space.
You let out a little moan when he gently sucked on the spot under your ear and felt his lips curl into a smirk. Lando pulled back to look at you, your fingers stroking his neck.
You giggled slightly and leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a second.
This is what happiness feels like, you thought.
📍Perth, Australia
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tagged: landonorris, danielricciardo, heidiberger
yn.adams: Perth for the week
comments:
landonorris: Oh, what a pretty sunrise
> yn.adams: U think?
danielricciardo: When was that first picture taken???
> yn.adams: Today morning at about 5:30am while u were peacefully sleeping
> fan: Wait so if Daniel didn’t take that picture does that mean it was Lando???
oscarpiastri: 🤨
> fan: Oscar’s NOT a fan of this new friendship LMAO
fan: The boyfriend vibes are MAJOR on that last picture
fan: Since when are her and Lando friends???
fan: Okay but Yn and Lando would be crazy!!
> fan: I ship it, 100%
load more comments…
📍Perth, Australia
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tagged: yn.adams
landonorris: She can sing and drive
comments:
yn.adams: 2:1 for me, u can only drive
> landonorris: 🥲
> fan: LMAOOO Yn roasting Lando hahahahh
oscarpiastri: yn.adams TEXT ME NOW!!
> fan: Poor guy’s feeling left out fr
fan: Is this a soft launch mr. norriz?
> fan: wdym "soft" HE TAGGED HER!!!
fan: The sunrise…
> fan: Nah u guys don’t understand the significance of that sunrise!!
fan: Lando and Yn posting pictures of sunrises… A picture of Yn that Daniel didn’t take…
> fan: New paddock couple alert??
fan: Lando letting someone else drive and playing passenger princess???
fan: Who even is she?
fan: Does she even know what F1 is?
> fan: LMAOO
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