#my point is he's probably been exposed to the plant before and took a liking to it because...well. why not? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

guilty-pleasures21 · 4 months

Text

Something like coming home

Whilst currently writing out part 2 of Injured, I have decided to post part 1 of this Jason Todd fic first. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 - the turning point

Part 2 - keeping secrets

Part 3 - exposed!

Part 4 - dating

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex including fingering (f receiving), blow jobs (f & m receiving) and penetration (p in v).

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He felt a sharp sting on his wrist and looked down to find an angry red scratch that definitely hadn’t been there before.

“What the hell?” Jason demanded. “What was that?” Ivy’s lips twisted into a wicked grin and he felt his stomach begin to drop in anticipation of her answer.

“My signature creation, of course.” She leaned back, one of her plants unfurling into a throne for her to collapse into. She crossed one leg over the other, relaxing into her seat with the confidence of someone who knew they’d already won. “In a minute, you’ll find yourself mad with desire for me, ready to do anything I ask.” Jason clenched his fists. He’d just have to make sure he took her down before the poison kicked in. He rushed forward, but was immediately pulled back by thick, twisting vines clamping around his arms and legs. He struggled against them, but they just tightened their grip, forcing him to his knees before their queen. She flicked her hair back, the auburn waves cascading over her shoulders. Not a single strand was out of place, no wild, unruly curls that would frizz up at the first touch of a brush or the first hint of rain. What? Jason shook his head, confused by the sudden appearance of the thought. He pulled on one of the vines, snarling at Ivy. But she just gazed down at him with her upturned, heavily-lidded eyes. Light brown, with flecks of green dotting the irises. Not dark. Not large and almond-shaped and studying the world with a constant curiosity. They probably didn’t glow gold in the light of the setting sun either. Jason slowed his breathing, trying to calm the slowly increasing pace of his heart. What the hell was happening to him?

“There’s no use trying to fight it, darling,” Ivy told him. She crossed one leg over the other, treating him to a comprehensive view of her curves. Curves that he’d never wrapped his arms around when she was having a bad day. Curves that would never fit against him like she’d been made especially for him. Curves that he’d never wondered what it would feel like to run his hands, no, his lips, all over-. He froze, realisation dawning upon him.

“F*ck.” Ivy laughed, a delicate laugh that was not full or warm or forced the corners of his lips to turn up at the end against his own will. Misunderstanding his response, she released him from his binds and sauntered over to him.

Etc., Jason defeats her. Sorry! I don't like writing fight scenes. 😭

“What?!” she screeched. “How did it not work?! It always works! You were supposed to fall madly in love with me!” Jason closed his eyes and hung his head.

“It did work, Ivy,” he sighed. “It just turns out that I’m already 'madly in love' with someone else.”

“You know, Jace, maybe you shouldn’t be putting yourself in life-threatening situations every night,” she suggested, her lips pulled tight in a sarcastic smile. He sighed as he slid off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, then turned back to her. His jaw was clenched and his eyes seemed a little glazed over as he wordlessly held his arm out to her. He looked tired and defeated, but also restless and frustrated? She grasped his hand and turned it over, finding the jagged red line on his forearm. It looked rather shallow, already on its way to scabbing over and healing. Not something that required medical attention. Was that all? She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow to convey the question. He met her gaze, but then his eyes began travelling down, lingering on her lips, her neck, her- She squeezed his hand, bringing his attention back up, and staunchly ignored the heat that began to simmer in her chest at his look.

“It was Ivy,” he informed her, prompting her mind to begin racing through all the possibilities. Was it poison? How long had it been since she’d scratched him? Was he already experiencing side effects? Oh god, oh god.

“Do you know what it was?” Her heart thudded in her chest, her eyes wide with panic. For some reason though, he remained calm, retracting his hand from her grasp and waving off her concerns.

“It was nothing. Just something about falling madly in love with her?” He shrugged his shoulders. “You know, the usual.” Oh no. Was that why he looked so distracted? Was he thinking about her? Or, no, had he done something with her? She shuddered at the thought, her stomach churning in horror.

“What happened?” she asked him reluctantly, regretting the question as soon as it fell out of her mouth. She covered her face with her hands, barely taking a breath between sentences. “No, wait. I don’t want to know. Just … just tell me nothing happened. Nothing happened, right? Oh god, please tell me nothing happened.” She peeked up at him from between her fingers, her eyes wide with fear at his anticipated response. Jason stayed silent, the corner of his lips curling into an amused smirk as he gazed down at her. Then, he took a step forward, forcing her to take one back.

“Well, the weirdest thing happened.” His voice was low, throaty, and he continued walking forward slowly, like a predator cornering his prey, knowing it had absolutely no chance of escape. “While her poison was running through my veins, all I could f*cking think about, was you.” He raised his arm, placing his hand on the wall her back was now pressed against, trapping her beneath him. His face was so close to hers that she could feel every breath he took, could see his pupils expanding as they fixed on her mouth, the blacks swallowing his irises whole. He lifted a hand to her cheek.

“I kept thinking,” he began, brushing his thumb over the full curve of her lips, “of all the sounds I could get this pretty little mouth to make.” She closed said mouth quickly, swallowing hard as he moved lower, his fingers leisurely tracing a path down her chest for his eyes to follow.

“Of all the parts of you I have yet to touch.” He tugged on the waistband of her pyjamas, his fingers brushing against her skin as he moved his lips to her ear. “Of what you would taste like, dripping wet in my mouth.”

She gasped as he pressed his lips against her neck and began making his way up to her ear, the warm, masculine scent of him washing over her entirely. She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that this was a really, really bad idea, but then, then his hand was on her, stroking her, teasing her, his long, slender fingers taking their time exploring every inch of her.

“Jason,” she sighed breathlessly, prompting a low moan from him. The sound vibrated against her neck, sinking into her skin and curling around her very core. She bit her lip as her toes curled, and tilted her head involuntarily, giving his mouth even more access to- Wait a minute. Jason?! Her eyes flew open in horror as she came back to her senses. Oh god, oh god, oh god. She ducked out from under him and quickly slipped away, putting some distance between the two of them. Holy shit! Holy shit! And that was the only thing she could think as she looked everywhere but at him. “Okay, um … I think … Maybe you should just … Argh! Shit, Jason! I hate you so much!”

She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling so very exposed. But he didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled that infuriating smirk again, the one that heated up all her insides until she felt like she was on fire. He moved forward.

“That's not what your body's telling me." He lifted his fingers, showing her how they glistened under the light. Then, not breaking her gaze, he lifted them to his mouth, and wrapped his tongue around them, licking off the sticky liquid. Her mouth went dry.

"N-No, I …" She tried to object, tried to tell him that it was a perfectly natural response for someone to have in such a situation, but then he'd backed her into the table, his hands on either side of hers as he leaned over her, his eyes drinking her in hungrily.

"Tell me," he murmured softly, his lips travelling along her jaw now, "do you think of me, when you touch yourself?"

She sucked in a breath, bracing herself against the table as her knees went weak.

"I hate to think that I'd kept you waiting for so long." He pressed a kiss to the base of her ear, then pulled back to look at her, his heavily-lidded eyes fixed on her lips. He leaned forward and brushed them with his own. And finally, he was kissing her, long and deep, his tongue tangling with her own. He slipped a muscular arm around her waist, pulling her hips flush against his, and her hands slid up the hard planes of his chest in response, wrapping tightly around his neck. She reached into his hair, burying her fingers in the soft strands as she moved her mouth in tandem with his. She was so entirely caught up in the feeling of him wrapped around her, in the delicious taste of him, that she didn't even notice him undo the string of her pyjamas until they'd fallen to the floor.

"Jason!" she exclaimed, squeezing her legs together to maintain some semblance of privacy. But he just smiled at her as he slid his hands down her back and squeezed, forcing a whimper out of her. Then he lifted her up, as if she weighed nothing at all, and sat her on the table, spreading her legs apart and wrapping them around his waist.

“Say my name again,” he told her, in between the kisses he pressed to her neck, "like you did the first time." His hands made their way up her bare thighs and slid under her shirt, his fingernails brushing along her back in just the way he knew she liked. She clenched her jaw and cursed him in her head, pressing her lips together tightly to keep his name from falling from them. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, she wouldn’t reward him for being so … so brazen with her! So bold and shameless and, oh god, so very, very good. He pulled back, his eyes travelling over the tension in her face, reading perfectly every single thought going through her mind right now. His jaw tightened as he gripped her chin in his hand gently, bringing their mouths closer together. Her eyelids lowered in anticipation, her lips parting for him of their own volition. But then, just when she thought he was about to kiss her again, just as she felt his warm breath graze her mouth, he grinded his hips into her, drawing a deep moan from her. Her toes curled as he did it again, his grasp on her face keeping her head from falling back in ecstasy, holding her in place so he could keep his gaze fixed on hers. He was going to drive her mad, this man.

“Say my name, X,” he repeated, his voice lazy, like he knew she was going to do it anyway; it was just a matter of when. She remained silent, firm in her resolution. But then, again, the bulk of him, driving into her, sliding against her so perfectly she didn't think she'd be able to resist anymore.

“J-Jason,” she breathed, the desperation in her own voice causing her stomach to flip. Oh god, she was going to kill him. She was going to kill Ivy and then she was going to kill him and bring him back to life and kill him again. He smiled and kissed her again, parting her lips with his tongue before brushing against her own and, oh god, it really was so extremely better than anything she’d ever imagined. He broke their kiss and brought his mouth to her ear, his warm breath blowing the strands of her hair back.

“For that,” he told her softly, “I’m going to lick your p*ssy until you come in my mouth.” She bit her lip, too flustered to respond to the wicked declaration. He took her silence as an invitation to continue, lowering himself to his knees before her. Then, oh god, then, he began licking her, his tongue tracing slow circles along the length of her clit. She closed her eyes and twisted her fingers in his hair, amazed at how intimately he knew her; when to speed up and when to slow down, when to suck and when to lick. She sucked in a breath, the pressure building inside her, washing over all her other senses until finally, it exploded in waves of pleasure that turned her brain numb. He stayed there for a second when it was over, gently cleaning up the mess he’d made of her before rising to stand before her. Her insides tingled as he met her gaze, but she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his pupils weren’t so excessively dilated anymore; the drug must have worn off. She reached up to place a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Jason?” she asked him softly. “Are you okay? Has it worn off? Are we … done?” She didn’t breathe as she awaited his response, her heart beating so loudly she swore he’d be able to hear it in the thick silence that surrounded them. His eyes travelled up and down her body, taking her in like he was seeing her for the first time. Then he looked at her and smiled, a wicked smirk that flipped her stomach over.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he began, wrapping her legs around his waist and lifting her into his arms, “we’re just getting started.”

He'd carried her to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed before taking his shirt off, his smooth, tan skin stretched firmly over his thick muscles, each line of his torso so perfectly defined as he leaned over her. She bit her lip at the sight and he grinned as he lowered himself to kiss her, his hand sliding along her waist and below her shirt as he did so. He squeezed her breast, causing her to pull on his bottom lip with her teeth and arch her back against him in response. He moved his hand to her lower back and pulled her tighter against him, groaning into her mouth as she ran her fingers along his spine, tracing the outlines of the muscles around his shoulder blades. He was so warm and so large and so … home. He was home. Her home. Jason pulled back, flashing her an exhilarated smile before he glided his hands up her torso and slipped off her shirt. And then she was bare before him, every inch of her exposed to his awestruck gaze. He sucked in a breath, speechless, and appraised her slowly, like he was trying to decide where to start. So she reached her hands up to him, gesturing for him to pull her up so she was on his lap, face to face with him. She smiled as she kissed him, a warm feeling filling her chest at the pure delight in his expression. How easy it was, to make him so happy. How wonderful it felt, to be the one to cause it. She kissed him harder, moving her waist against his, teasing him until he couldn't take it anymore and pushed her back onto the bed. He reached down to undo his belt, but she stopped him, a little bit nervous, a little bit excited. Sensing what she was thinking, he rolled over onto his back, giving himself over to her. She crawled on top of him, then took the belt off before removing his pants. She swallowed and paused. He was … wow … She’d never seen anyone before but … she had to assume he was big. The rest of him was, after all. But what should she do? How should she start? She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, messy strands of her hair falling into her eyes as she bit her lip against the blush rising rapidly in her cheeks.

“God,” he sighed as he looked at her. “You’re so f*cking beautiful.” And then she realised: she didn’t need to be sexy or confident or perfect. She just needed to be her. That was all he wanted. She leaned over him, letting the ends of her hair tickle his thighs as she twirled her finger around him. He gasped. Besides, he already knew everything about her; knew that she didn’t really have any experience when it came to this kind of thing. She lowered her face so she could brush her tongue against the tip of him and he let out a moan, low and tormented. But he’d be patient with her. Would let her take her time exploring and learning and make sure she knew that he’d always be right there, ready to spring into action if she ever needed any help. She closed her lips around him, wrapping her tongue around his tip and gliding it down before sucking on him and pulling back.

“X,” he groaned, his breaths coming out short and shallow. She didn’t seem to need help though. No. Because she knew him just as well as he knew her, and she knew exactly how to drive him crazy. She continued licking and sucking, taking her time to familiarise herself with every inch of his anatomy. And even when he began hardening, even when he was begging her, pleading with her, she maintained her pace, slow and steady, delighting in just how much it tortured him. Then she let him go, pushing herself up and away from him before he could go over the edge.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked him. The words came out casual, relaxed, and it pleased him to know that she felt so comfortable with him - especially since it was her first time. But oh god, how could she be so calm when he was literally losing his mind right now?! He’d thought his senses would have diminished slightly once the poison left his system, but holy shit, she was amazing. Every stroke of her tongue, every brush of her fingers, every single thing she did just took his breath away entirely. He inhaled deeply, drawing enough air into his lungs to speak.

“My belt,” he told her as he pushed himself up to gesture at it, his heart finally beginning to calm down. “Third pocket to the right.” She bent over the side of the bed to pick it up and, oh god, she really was so beautiful. Her long lashes, her curly hair, her soft curves. She reached into the pocket, but raised an eyebrow as she pulled out multiple packets.

“Do you just carry these around?” He shook his head immediately, quickly discerning the drop in her mood as she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“No no no no no no,” he reassured her, waving his hand emphatically. “I got them on the way here. Just for you. I just … grabbed whatever I could.” He really had. After he’d called Gordon to pick up Ivy, he’d raced to her flat, stopping only when he saw the neon lights of a pharmacy. Luckily, he’d still had enough sense in him to head in and grab a few condoms for protection. Thank god, or they would have had to stop right here. Her shoulders dropped at his admission and his muscles unclenched in response, relieved that she was at ease once again. But she kept her head lowered as she tore open the packet, preventing him from reading her expression.

“So, you just walked into a pharmacy, in full Red Hood regalia, and just bought a bunch of condoms?” She lifted her head, revealing to him the way her lips were curling at the corners in amusement. She slid the material onto him, her touch featherlight, tantalising in its tenderness. “Did anyone say anything?”

It was a hilarious image, Jason in his featureless red mask, bulky guns in his utility belt, striding into a little pharmacy with mums and teenage girls in his large combat boots, and then just throwing a bunch of condoms at the cashier. She snickered at the thought, unable to decide whether it was more adorable or more hot. But then he pushed himself onto his elbows, the muscles of his arms and torso flexing as he raised an eyebrow and fixed her with a lazy smirk. Her stomach flipped. Definitely more hot.

“Do you think anyone said anything?” Oh god. He was right. He was so, so right. No idiot would dare approach him when he was so confident and so terrifying and so … large. She moved to lie on top of him, kissing the smirk off his face like she’d imagined doing too many times before. Only now, she could actually do it. He slipped his hands around her as she wound her tongue around his and pushed him back down, his fingernails tracing idle circles along her lower back. He continued the gesture even after she pulled away and moved to rest her elbow beside his head, leaning on her hand to look at him.

“I would have,” she told him, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I’d have been so jealous. I’d just be like ‘what? You have a girlfriend? Sigh. There go all my fantasies’.” He smiled again, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and ran his hand down her spine.

“So you do fantasise about me.” His voice was husky as he spoke and she regretted the words almost immediately after they’d left her mouth.

“No! I just …” She pushed herself up into a seat, her cheeks setting aflame as she tried to backtrack on her statement. “Just, like, kissing and stuff. Not like, not anything like this, you know?” But it was too late. He was already looking at her with the most self-satisfied expression she’d ever seen on him. It was even worse than all the times he’d beat her in Battlefront. He flipped them over so he was on top of her again, his eyes roving over her hungrily.

“Like what?” he asked her teasingly, sliding his hands up her forearms and into hers, pinning her against the bed beneath him. “Like … this?” He rolled his hips against hers, drawing a gasp from her as he did so. Then he lowered his head, his lips a hair's breadth from hers.

"Or maybe like this?" He bent down to lick her breast, his tongue winding languidly around her nipple before he sucked on it. She tried to reach up, to run her fingers through his hair and down his back, to feel every inch of him pressed against her, but his hands were still on hers, holding her down so she was at his complete mercy. "Or what about this?"

He slid her hands together, trapping both her wrists beneath his palm so his other hand was free to roam down, to between her thighs, where his fingers began stroking her with agonising slowness. She whimpered and curled her legs tighter around him, silently pleading with him to go faster, harder. But he'd get his revenge now and, oh god, it would be sweet.

“J-J-Jason,” she breathed, her back arching off the mattress as he drove her closer and closer to her edge. It felt so good, his long, calloused fingers dragging up and down her length, occasionally stopping to circle her clit and press on the sensitive nub. But he was holding back, she could feel - just so he could torture her and regain the upper hand. He was such an idiot. But he was her idiot and no one in the entire world knew him as well as she did. She bit her lip and widened her eyes, fluttering her lashes pleadingly as she looked up at him.

“F*ck,” he groaned, feeling his resolve crumble at the look on her face. “Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” He sped up, increasing the intensity of his movements, his fingers chasing every desperate whine and gasp that fell from her lips as he stroked and pinched and played with her. Finally, with another last raise of her hips, she came, shaking against his hand as he held it firmly against her p*ssy, helping her ride out her orgasm. She looked up at him when she’d finished, her chest heaving with shallow breaths, her face flushed and glowing with pleasure. And he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful. He grinned and bent over to start kissing her again, releasing his grip on her so she could wrap her arms around him and pull him close. God, she felt so soft. He could have fallen asleep right then, cuddling her lush little body in his arms, but only if he wasn’t still so hard for her. He rolled his hips, rubbing his cock up and down her slick folds, lubricating himself with her c*m in preparation.

“J-Jason. Y-You know you’re … n-not going to fit, r-right?” she warned him, forcing the words out through the pleasure clouding her mind at the feeling of his large bulk pressing against her. God, she wanted to ride him, wanted to feel his deliciously thick cock pumping in and out of her as she sat on top of him, her fingers digging into his brawny shoulders as she grinded her hips into his. He chuckled, the sound rumbling through her bones and causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“I don’t have to go in all the way, princess,” he mumbled against the side of her neck, his voice low and husky. “But, don’t you think I deserve a reward too? For working so hard tonight?” He tugged on her earlobe, sucking on it gently as he let his hands wander all over her body. He groaned as he flicked her nipple, then pinched it lightly between his fingers, rolling it before cupping her entire breast in his hand. Another loud moan fell from his lips as he squeezed her appreciatively, the movements of his hips getting faster and harder as his dick begged him for relief.

She sighed, flopping over on the bed as she gave up on trying to tease him. ‘You think you deserve a reward?,’ she’d imagined herself saying as she’d flipped them over once again. ‘What you deserve, Jason Peter Todd, is a punishment.’ But he just felt too effing good, rubbing up against her so needily.

“Just … Please?” She lifted her hips slightly, silently asking him to try, to give her the relief she so painfully needed as well. He ground his teeth together and dug his fingers into her sides, thrilled by the way her body pleaded for his. He sat back and took hold of himself, tracing her entrance with his tip. Then he began easing himself inside of her, slow and careful, even though it physically ached to have to hold himself back, especially when he’d gotten in far enough to feel how f*cking tight and soft she was.

“S-So … You’re so f*cking tight, X,” he breathed, his mind going fuzzy at the delectable feeling of her engulfing him. She squirmed and writhed as he tried to push in more, yelping in pain at the unfamiliar sensation of having him inside of her p*ssy. So he stopped, swearing under his breath when he looked down and saw half of his dick nestled so comfortably inside of her. He braced his arms on either side of her, steadying himself as he pulled out then thrust himself back inside of her, only going as far as she could take him. She yelped every time he pushed in, her breasts bouncing up and down as he worked his way inside of her. F*ck, she was so, so perfect. How the f*ck had he waited so long to f*ck her? Why the f*ck had he waited so long to f*ck her?

“Gonna … Gonna f*ck you … every night, sweetheart,” he told her, her bed creaking with the force of his movements. “Until you can … take my dick into this … this f*cking tight little … p*ssy of yours.” She probably didn’t even hear him given how loudly she kept moaning and whining at the feeling of him brushing against her walls. F*ck, she was cute. But then she shuddered, her p*ssy squeezing him as she came, her walls throbbing and clenching around him desperately. He clenched his teeth, his entire body tensing up at the sensation, and then he came too, his fingers tangling in the bed sheets as the warm liquid gushed out of him. He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath once he’d finished, delighting in the way she’d flopped over beneath him, thoroughly exhausted by his actions. He bent over and pressed a kiss to her cheek, then pulled himself out of her and sank onto the mattress beside her. She sighed and turned to face him, the both of them studying each other with elated grins on their faces as they lay side by side.

“I love you too, X.”

“I love you, Jason.” Normally, the words would flow out of her mouth casually, a consistent reminder that there was at least one person who cared about him, at least one person who kept him in their heart. But now she curled into herself as she said, her lips curling into a shy smile as her eyes flickered to and from his. He grinned even harder, reaching up to cup her cheek in his hand.

Ugh! What time was it? She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, wincing at the bright sunlight filtering in between the curtains. She felt a weight on her side and rolled herself onto her stomach to look at Jason. Where he’d normally have awakened at the smallest of movements, his eyes stayed closed and his breathing remained steady. He looked so peaceful and untroubled and irritatingly cute with the white strands of hair falling over his smooth forehead and the relaxed set of his lips that she now knew the feel of all over her body. She sucked in a breath, her stomach flipping over wildly as the memory of last night - as all the memories of last night - came flooding back to her. She swallowed hard the thought, then turned back around slowly, careful to not disrupt the arm draped lazily over her waist. Maybe, if she could just get up before he did, she could convince him that it had all been one crazy dream. She assessed the open space before her, considering her two options. She could either a) try to wiggle out beneath the grasp of a trained assassin, or b) make a run for it as quickly as possible. She leapt forward without a second thought, throwing herself off the bed and crashing straight into the brick wall that was his arm, immediately pulling her back into his chest. She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose, clenching her teeth as she waited for his response.

“Did you just try to one-night stand me? In your own bedroom?” His incredulous tone was dampened by the sleep still clouding his voice as he mumbled in her ear. She clenched her teeth around the way his warm breath glided over her spine and curled around her stomach. Betrayed by her own body. Again. She huffed and turned over to face him.

“No,” she replied firmly. “I was going to try to convince you that everything that happened last night was just a hallucination because of the poison that Ivy injected you with.” She glared at him and he grinned, only causing her frown to deepen in response. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, admiring how soft and pretty she looked in the morning light.

“In that case, I guess I’d just have to kidnap her and get her to poison me everyday for the rest of my life.” She wrinkled her nose at his declaration, horrified by the very thought. Did he really like her that much? Had he always liked her that much?

“Every day?!” X smacked his arm. “You’re such a creep.” But she snuggled into his chest anyway as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her. And for once in his life, Jason finally understood what it felt like to come home.

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood smut #red hood fanfiction #red hood

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mamawasatesttube · 1 year

Note

I’m back and I have another prompt: “Your heartbeat’s really loud.”

Red Mercy.

Red fucking Mercy.

Kon's been exposed to it once before, so tonight makes a fabulous grand total of twice in his life, and both times? It has fucking sucked. He's not sure literally anything has ever sucked as much as the soul-rending, horrible, awful emptiness of those hallucinations, and yes, that list very much includes literally fucking dying.

He and Kara took care of the ship carrying the damn plants way before it made it into Earth's atmosphere, but he's still feeling jittery and on-edge. Right now, he just... he really wants some comfort, okay? He just... he just wants someone who makes things feel okay. Who makes him feel safe.

He just wants Tim.

Which is why he's here, TTKing open the fancy Bat-locks on Tim's penthouse apartment window so he can slip inside. Tim isn't in his room, and none of the lights in the kitchen or living area are on, and for an instant sheer terror slams through Kon's gut, but he smothers it as best he can. Tim's heartbeat is strong and steady, mixed with the white noise of falling water—oh.

Oh. He's just taking a shower. Probably just got back in from patrol. Now Kon feels kind of stupid for panicking.

But the remnants of that stupid awful horrific nightmare still tug painfully on the edges of his vision; he can still all but smell Tim's charred flesh, can hear the frantic, rapid flutters of his heart beating its last as blood gushed from the wound Kon himself inflicted—he didn't mean to he didn't want to he's never wanted to—and panic still rises too easily.

He just—he just needs to hear Tim's voice. Needs to see him and reassure himself he's okay, that it wasn't real. Needs a hug. Really, really needs a hug.

Kon opens the bathroom door—

—and immediately has to dodge the shampoo bottle that whizzes past his head, colliding with the hallway wall with a thunk. "Hey!"

"What the fuck?!" Tim's sopping-wet head peers around the edge of the curtain, eyes narrowed, hair plastered to the side of his head. He's holding another bottle at the ready, but lowers it in bewilderment when he sees who's there. "Kon?"

Kon twists around to glance at the bottle on the floor, then back at Tim, incredulous. "Did you just throw my shampoo bottle? Dude, mine's the good stuff! Why didn't you use yours as a weapon first?"

"It was the second-heaviest one," Tim answers immediately, then frowns. "Wait. Back up a minute. Why are you in my bathroom, interrupting my shower?"

Well, you see, I got real fucked up by a fucked-up and evil plant, and now I really want a hug? seems like a stupid explanation now that Kon's here. Then again, Tim's from Gotham. He's definitely heard worse.

But god, fuck, it's really good to see him acting normal. To hear his voice, dry and acerbic but warm like it always is when he talks to Kon. Not screaming. Not...

"Um," Kon says, and shrugs a little, helpless. "I, uh..."

Tim narrows his eyes further. He sets down the conditioner in his hand and points at Kon. "Okay. Wait for, like, two minutes, and let me put on some pants. Then we'll talk."

Kon nods numbly. He retreats to Tim's bedroom and perches on the side of his bed, biting his lip.

One-hundred-and-seven seconds later, Tim slips out of the bathroom. His hair is spiky and wet, like he just furiously rubbed it with a towel for about ten of those seconds before he gave up; he's wearing both pants and an old T-shirt, like some kind of overachiever. Kon gazes at him and drinks him in, drinks him in, drinks him in, and wonders if this is how a parched man in the desert feels upon finding an oasis.

"Hey," Tim says gently. He moves closer on silent feet, until he's standing between Kon's knees, and Kon slumps into his arms.

Tim folds him into a fierce hug, resting his chin atop Kon's head. Kon sucks in a shaky breath and swallows hard against the lump rising in his throat; it takes him a moment to bring his arms up around Tim, too, because—because he has too much strength, and he—the last thing he'd ever want to do is hurt him, but—

But he can hear Tim's heartbeat, strong and steady and slow. Relaxed. Not choking out its last desperate gasps, trying to push blood through a body bleeding out. Safe. Whole. Hale.

"Your heartbeat's really loud," he mumbles. His fingers curl desperately into the fabric of Tim's shirt.

"You have superhearing and are laying against my chest," Tim points out. Kon can hear the smile in his voice, tempered by concern. "...Do you wanna talk about it?"

Kon bites his lip again. "...Maybe later." He lets himself hold Tim a teensy bit tighter. Just a little. "Can you... Just, y'know. Hold me a bit?"

Tim's lips brush the top of his head. "Of course," he murmurs, and Kon closes his eyes, content to listen to his heart.

#timkon #answers #this got a little longer than i wanted it to be but... oh well :/#inspired by that quote thats like. ''hey are we--stop screaming its just me--are we out of doritos?''#you know the one right #tim #kon #rimi writes #adjit

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clarks-letterman · 1 year

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it’s always the boyfriend | peter parker x male reader

a/n — i needed to write this omfg gahhh i meant to post this on halloween

summary — Peter devises the perfect plan to spice up sex just in time for the colder season.

warnings — smut 18+! mask kink, some light degrading and knife play

words — 2.4k

~~~

When Peter asked you to meet at his house around seven for another tender movie night spent in the vulnerability of his room, you expected him to be on time. Now, you tapped your foot in time with the kernels popping in the microwave. The kitchen was quiet save for the sizzling and eventual pop of each seed. At any second, the billowing brown bag would burst. You took it out before it could and set it on the brown counter by the knife rack to cool.

Faintly, in the moonlight, came a thud on the roof, and then the phone rang. You brushed off the first noise and turned to the phone on the wall. It was a landline—black and spiral-corded, rattling to the point where it would have slipped off if you were not there to catch it. There was a low chance that it could have been Peter calling to tell you about his latest Spider-Man kerfuffle, how it made him late and that he was endlessly sorry for keeping you waiting. You placed the speaker to your ear, taking the greater chance that it was a telemarketer or something else. "Parker residence."

A strange voice, rasped and warped, spoke a single word over the line, "Hello?"

It was a blatant attempt to signal that whoever he was trying to reach was probably off doing something better than waiting around by the phone all day. Of course, you were the exception, waiting for a buzz to come from the phone in your pocket or the now-occupied landline.

"Why would you be home alone on Saturday night?"

The question struck you as an odd retort to your own aversion to the stranger, but you evaded his question with a question of your own, "Why would you call someone on a Saturday night?"

"I call when I feel like having some fun."

"This is fun?" You asked. A new idea started forming in your head, an idea that was a lot less fun than this guy suggested. Maybe this was about Peter's crime-fighting, slowly bleeding into a surreal nightmare—his next spandexed villain finally targeting the thing he cared about the most: you.

"Sure it is! We're about to get to my favorite part. It's almost like a movie."

"Really? What happens next?" You pried and turned to peer past the tilted blinds and recessed windows that left you exposed to the dark, looking for light. The light cast from the kitchen spanned a few inches out into the darkness, letting you see the plant life sway in the breeze and not much else. Your eyes darted upward, praying the windows themselves were, at the very least, locked.

"I would never spoil it. You know me better than that."

"Do I know who you are?" You fired at him, praying that he was some Joe Schmoe who worked for a landscaping company and not some evil supervillain.

"I don't know who you are."

Your panic ceased, your thumping heart slowing its tempo back to the pace of the night you expected to have. He had no idea who you were, so you grew softer, more vulnerable, "You sure you want to? I don't even think my boyfriend likes knowing who I am."

"See? We're learning so much about each other already! Let's play a game. You asked the first question, so I'll go next. What's your boyfriend's name?"

"Peter."

"Peter." He repeated satisfactorily. "I bet you love to moan his name."

You were ready to tear the phone from the wall; if only that were the way to hurt this prank-caller. Instead, you readied to lay the phone on its side after ending the call, "Look, whoever this is, it's been fun. But this is obviously a prank. Go do something with your life, Flash, or whoever you are."

Turning away from it, you heard the phone ring again. Surely that guy couldn't be dense, could he? He had to have known the effects of what he said, and you concluded that it was deliberate. Purposefully, you let it ring until it ran out of motivation to pull your attention.

You planned to shoot a text to Peter, but just as you fished out your phone from your pocket. . .

"Stop calling."

"You hung up on me."

"I had a good reason to. What do you want?"

You were already rounding the house as he took his sweet time answering your question. The front door was still locked from when you initially came over, but the long strip of glass embedded in the door seemed like a vulnerability you didn't have time to fix. If the man on the phone were to break the glass, at least it would be impossible not to draw attention to the noise.

"To finish our game. You asked your second question, so I'll ask mine. Do you watch movies with Peter?"

"Sometimes, why?"

"Because I want to know, what's your favorite scary movie?"

"The one where the creep on the phone dies."

"That's harsh. I'm just biding time."

"For what?"

"The next scene. When the creep on the phone arrives."

There was a knock above you, closer this time, on the second floor instead of the roof. It came from Peter's room; you were sure of it. His bedframe was never the quietest, so you had to get creative with not disturbing anyone in your position. That's how you knew which rooms were above the ones on the ground floor, but it proved too difficult. Eventually, Peter settled on using the ceiling for your more intimate times. Now, you used it to your advantage and bolted up the stairs with the intent of trapping or attacking the intruder, though you weren't sure how. The final step on the set of stairs harshly whined when you reached it.

Loose clothing and stacks of books occupied the space between his messily made twin bed, disorganized desk, and the small, overstuffed bookshelf by the window. Amid all the clutter, you had an eye for the missing things; Peter's backpack, phone, and a few gadgets from his desk—all missing, but none stolen. There was a camera propped on three metal legs to get an angle of his bed. That wasn't there before, so you trusted your suspicion that Peter was responsible for all of this.

"Nice try, asshole. I'm not looking outside for you to get me."

"Who said I was outside?"

Reluctantly, you approached the open window, stepping over anything covering the hardwood floor, and ignored the camera, speaking to the breeze, "Come on, Peter. Just come in and apologize for being late."

The man on the phone refused to let up his game, "This isn't Peter."

Yet, you were ready to give up and leave. "Yeah? And I'm not waiting anymore. Get in, or I'm getting out."

"You don't want to do that! I'm already in the house. If you leave, you won't make it far."

He spoke to no one as you dropped the phone from your ear and hung up, turning to face the doorway. Your stomach dropped, as did the phone in your hand. A figure dressed in all black blocked the entrance. The only other color present on him was the white of his mask, pulled into a long face of anguish. He looked ready to scream—possibly a battle cry, the preparation for a charge toward you with the silvery steel knife in his right hand angled precisely to hit only your most vital arteries. At least, that was what you expected him to do. But he raised his left hand, revealing the tattered ends of his loose robe and drawing attention to the white box receiver he held. It met his long mouth, and the same modulated voice came through.

"Next question. Do you trust me?" His cotton-gloved finger lifted off the trigger, and the pinprick of red light on the modulator disappeared. He kept it to his mouth, waiting for a response. The only noise filling the silent room was the soft collision of his breath to the inside of the mask. You nodded.

"Good. Wouldn't want to make this a horror," he taunted.

"This was your idea of movie night?" You didn't bother to wait for a response, proposing your next question less than a second later, "What kind of movie are we making, Pete?"

The figure dropped his voice modulator to the floor, freeing his hand to reach for a part of the robe at his stomach—the waistband, you guessed. He used the other that carried a knife to motion to the bed. You followed its direction, crawling onto his bed and treating the man as if he were Peter looming behind you, keeping yourself on all fours. The already messy comforter became even more ruined upon first contact, creasing where your elbows and knees held your weight. In a swift moment, you felt the bed shift, Peter's cheap springboard creaking expectedly. You looked back to see the ghost-like man on both knees. His gloves were gone, and the bottom half of his robe was missing, too.

In fact, you noted that his underwear was absent from his body as well, and he passed the favor to you. His hands tore the fabric of your pants and underwear in a way that only Peter could replicate. Everything told you this was him, down to the contour of his thighs and abdomen, but you winced at the brief thought that it wasn't. Or maybe, it was the hard press against your ass that caused the feeling. An abruptly tepid heat burned against your bare skin, and the cold breeze crept where his touch couldn't cover.

It was intimate and you were exposed, but that didn't take away from the fact that he tooled around with the knife in his hand. With deliberate slowness, the marble-like blade scraped up your thigh and rounded one of your fleecy mounds. One cut of the thread and you would come undone, vulnerable, and reliant on the stranger's intent to keep you unharmed. The heavy breathing emitting from behind the mask was the only noise that filled the room and a constant reminder of your possible demise.

His entry was fast but still painfully much more noticeable. The stranger was smooth—no foreskin from what you could tell of it—the rest, indiscernible. It took a good minute before he finally bottomed out, leaving a pit in your stomach at how stretching he was. He had to have been as long as he was wide, hitting all the right places while widening your hole and its tight entrance.

His hips started to swing back and forth in either direction, taking everything with him and pushing himself back in with a loud smack.

The stranger's continuous rut into one end of you urged moans from the other. You struggled to form words, to perform for the camera looking over your exposed body.

"Say it for the camera, babe." The Ghost let out, his hand holding the knife creeping toward your neck to give you a reason to say it.

"Fuck me, please, Mr.Ghostface."

Without any warning, he did the opposite and pulled out of you, and you felt hollow without him.

Then, suddenly, his arms were wrapped around you and twisted you on your back with the impossible strength you knew of all too well. He fetched the camera and returned to his pace, pumping himself inside you. He made sure to keep the action in frame, neither of your heads visible in the shot, only your body and the lower half of his torso as he rocked his hips back and forth so that it would appear as if the viewer was taking your place. Usually, Peter was one for capturing the most intense moment in vivid detail on his digital camera, but he knew that the sound alone would be enough.

You slipped your hand around the rounded end of the mask and pulled. Slowly, the black drape came around his head to reveal tufts of messy, dusky brown hair. The cloth fell into the concave mold of the mask and spilled out to the floor when you threw it.

There was Peter in only a thin veil of dark, tattered ends. His chocolate-brown eyes locked to yours as you stared up at him. His face creased with buried eyebrows and an agape mouth, elation taking form as he struggled to contain his inner feelings. His muffled moans became audible grunts, short awes, and conventions of disbelief slipping under his breath.

You watched his eyes melt at the peak of his travel, his mind spinning around stars in the night. He came, spilling hot white inside you that he was sure had seeped onto his sheets next to your own load. The bed stopped creaking. His arms gave in, and he collapsed on top of you with a few final thrusts coaxing out whatever remained.

You composedly spoke between Peter's deep breaths, "I should've known. It's always the boyfriend."

"Or the best friend," he heaved.

"Or the bitter ex," you retorted.

Peter rolled off you and onto his side, almost failing to stay on his tiny twin bed as he propped an elbow up for support, "Ouch. Are you saying you would break up with me?"

"After a stunt like that? Never," you admitted. The urge to fall into his arms and spend the rest of the night exactly like that tempted you, but the continual red pulse coming from Peter's camera lured you away from him. You managed to escape from your position on the bed and went to retrieve the tape in the camera, teasing Peter along the way, "Let's see if we just made a new hit. . ."

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quoththemaiden · 5 months

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Aziraphale: The Sword that Guards the Tree of Life

Looking where the furniture isn't

This post is dedicated to @meatballlady's excellent insistence that if we want to try to predict where season 3 will go, we need to look at where the furniture isn't. That is, what must have been there but wasn't shown?

For this one, my source material is going to be Genesis. That is, in no small part, because it does in fact fuck severely that Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett took the angel with the flaming sword and the serpent of Eden and made them kiss (@joycrispy, @ouidamforeman). It's also because Genesis, quite simply, exists, and it seems safe to assume that most everyone in Gaiman and Pratchett's intended audience has been exposed to at least its first few chapters dozens of times.

What does Genesis tell us about Aziraphale's purpose?

3:22 Then the Lord God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of Us, knowing good and evil; and now, he might reach out with his hand, and take fruit also from the tree of life, and eat, and live forever”— 23 therefore the Lord God sent him out of the Garden of Eden, to cultivate the ground from which he was taken. 24 So He drove the man out; and at the east of the Garden of Eden He stationed the cherubim and the flaming sword which turned every direction to guard the way to the tree of life.

@joycrispy's analysis above highlights Aziraphale's role as given in the last verse: as the angel chosen to wield the flaming sword, he was sent down after Adam and Eve were expelled to prevent them from returning. Instead, he chose to protect them by giving that sword away. His desire to protect humanity is indeed beautiful (@give-soup-please, @snek-eyes).

But wait, what came right before that? "And take fruit also from the tree of life...?"

2:9 Out of the ground the Lord God caused every tree to grow that is pleasing to the sight and good for food; the tree of life was also in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

That's right: What we see in the show is that Adam and Eve were sent out of Eden so that they'd have to deal with the rain and the animals and have to work for their food, but that was never the primary motivation. God planted two special trees, and after Eve and Adam ate from one of them, God was terrified at the prospect of them turning around and eating from the other. And thus, the Garden of Eden was made off-limits and set to be permanently guarded by an angel with a flaming sword.

So, the flaming sword.

Twice now, Aziraphale's sword has helped humanity survive complete and total destruction (@nottobehornyonthemain). The first time, he handed the sword to the first two humans, which protected not just them but the entirety of the human race via Adam and very pregnant Eve.

The second time, he let it be wielded by The Them, who used it to best the Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse and save the billions of humans already alive as well as unborn generations.

Perhaps the flaming sword was only intended as a plot point in the first season. However, if its purpose were completed, it could have easily been destroyed. As a narrative piece, it could have broken dramatically at the end of the face-off against the Four Horsepeople. Or, Watsonianly, God could have chosen to break it Herself; after all, it was already used against its intended purpose twice, so why let it keep existing?

Instead, it's carefully taken away to... where? Heaven?

The place Aziraphale is now going?

Or at least a place where he could likely find a record showing where it's being stored?

Whether you call it "rule of threes" or "Chekhov's gun," I think it likely that Aziraphale will be getting his sword back in season 3. He probably doesn't want it (@createserenity, @ineffableigh, @doctorscienceknowsfandom), but he'll need it.

The question, then, is what would Aziraphale do with the flaming sword he was given to prevent humans from reaching the tree of life?

If we're looking at where the furniture isn't, the biggest stretch of an interpretation would be to say that the missing furniture is the tree of life. If anyone knows where Eden is, it would be Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate. We know that both Heaven and Hell want to end humanity. The opening credits have humanity walking to their judgment after their deaths; what better way to prevent that than by preventing those deaths?

The most intense version of this theory says that the audience should be familiar with the story of the Garden of Eden and know damn well that there are two special trees there and that Aziraphale was put in place to guard the second one — the one humanity hasn't eaten from yet, the one that grants immortal life. That's where, if I were truly trying to swing for the hills by aiming at where the furniture isn't, I would ideally like to end this post. If that were the case, season 3 could even open with Aziraphale walking towards the Garden of Eden, sword in hand, but this time approaching it from the outside with the intention of tearing the wall down.

But, let's be honest, making individual people immortal doesn't feel like it would fit with the themes of Good Omens, nor with Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett's world views.

So, let's take the tree of life symbolically: Instead of the tree of life granting individual humans immortality, it could instead represent giving humanity immortality. In that case, the thing that's where the furniture isn't is Aziraphale's sword. You know, the sword that's already saved the human race from extinction twice now, with both times being because Aziraphale gave it away.

I suspect that the sword will wind up in Aziraphale's hands again in season 3. I also quite suspect that it won't be staying there. In the end, I expect it will once again be up to humanity to reach out their hand to take the apple from that second tree.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #good omens season 3 #aziraphale #the guardian of the eastern gate #the sword #the tree of life #self post #did i overdo it with the citations?#writing this activated Essay Mode and i went all in on crediting my inspirations #if i could draw this post would definitely include a picture of aziraphale stalking towards eden through the desert with sword in hand #because even though i don't think it's likely it would be one heck of an epic scene #with him tiny and small under that great wall but so so so fierce and determined #alas that i cannot even manage stick figures #anyway i've been kicking this post around in my head for two months now so hopefully someone still finds it interesting!#(feel free to make your own guesses as to what parent of unborn generations might take up the flaming sword in season 3)

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sentient-stove · 7 months

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“Listen, kid.” Hedge’s eyes flashed to look over Jason’s shoulder before he was focused back on their conversation. “I know about as much as you do. Never seen ya in my life.”

Jason felt a weight dip from his shoulders, somehow relieved. That was good, he wasn’t crazy and suddenly amnesiac on his best friends.

And apparently girlfriend of Piper was telling the truth. It’d definitely suck to tell her they weren’t actually dating, but he had bigger problems.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“I know kid.” Hedge clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, so much the opposite of the yelling coach Jason had been exposed to. “I know. You just let me do my job, I already contacted someone to pick up you two demigods so I can help your friend.”

Two demigods? But there were the three of them? He must’ve looked confused enough, because the man sighed and let go.

“Leo’s a dryad. They have to stay close to the plant they’re from or they get lethargic, confused. Basically start to go into a torpor the further they get.”

“Leo’s,, Leo though.” Jason doesn’t know how he understands what Hedge means, but the other teen didn’t seem like a dryad. Weren’t dryads like, super serious? And all nature-y, obsessed with leaves and whatnot?

“Nah, he smells like one, and you see his ears? Pointed. Kid’s a dryad, probably protecting Piper cause he took interest. The older ones tend to get like that, find some demigod to latch to and adopt into a pseudo family.”

#fanfic #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #jason grace #piper mclean #gleeson hedge #the pomegranates weep #hedge: that’s a dryad #jason: idk he’s kinda cute #jason/piper/leo

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scarleteevee1 · 20 days

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Okay Here's some stuff about my Earthspark Ocs that no one asked for!

Let's start with Clementine! The Human of the Group!

Before Clementine meet her Terran Siblings she was alone, and kinda a shut in and doing her online schooling, and Late Night drives and or Street Racing, while her Mom and Dad are constantly working.

Her home is on a Country road and is in-between Witwicky and another small town.

Clementine hasn't meet any Autobot before but always wanted too, meanwhile she had a Bad experience with a Deception (oc) years ago more info on that later in the future

Clementine is a Huge Bumblebee to the point her Bedroom is filled with a lot of merch, Though she would admit this to anyone except for Bumblebee himself lol.

Clementine has a 1966 Ford Mustang that, She worked on. And always makes sure it's nice and Shiny she can't stand any dirt being left on it. And No one can eat in her car ......except for her when she gets the late Night munchies for fast-food.

And I'll think I'll stop for Clementine as if I don't this post will be only about her lol

Next is Honeylemon!

Honeylemon! Technically the oldest of Terran Siblings, Her Ault form is a Sur Ron Storm Bee Dirt Bike. She picked this form when Clementine was showing her new siblings a place that was used for Dirt bike riding while hiding from the other humans. Honeylemon thought it looked really Fun so she asked Clementine if they could join in the fun which Clementine didn't mind at all and So Honeylemon Alt form was picked.

Honeylemon really loves racing and friendly competition with anyone, which seems to come from Clementine as She's the same.

Honeylemon takes interest in exploring the woods and traveling on trails that are usually hard to travel.

Honeylemon is Friendly but also kinda reserved, Happy to mostly hang out with her family and to any of them when they are in need.

Next is Honeydew!

Honeydew is basically the nerd if the group, He likes to learn about anything he can and to study Nature.

He's been studying about the Autobots and Deceptions history on plant earth and also of Human History

Clementine have provided Him with any book she has, that could help him out with his Studies

Honeydew took his time before choosing a Alt form, he didn't really know what he wanted to be until one day They all went into town sneakily into town to watch a parade which had Planes included and one particular stood out to him. Which Honeydew had picked his Ault form to be a Fleet Flinch Biplane

After this Honeydew likes to go on flights usually around evenings, to look at the view of the forest and of Witwicky though it's a risk of him being noticed..

And Last but not Lest! Swiftback!

He's the youngest of the group and is considered the little kid

He's rambunctious and is always finding himself in trouble which keeps His siblings on his Toes and constantly keeping track on him and one of them always got to keep watch of him.

His alt is a Sliver Fox, the other 3 are unaware on when this happened, But one day he came running back happily in this form.

On top of this His weapon is a Axe, and His always running with it when he Shouldn't

Out of Him and The other two He would probably be the one to vet them Expose to the Autobots, as He wants to meet others badly

Swiftback is also the type if he sees quick movement he will chase it.

He has Sliver/White with Red Eyes

Even though He gets himself in trouble he will always be there to help his siblings, and help them get out of trouble that he accidentally caused.

And I think that's a good bit of Info on them! Leave any questions you have in the comments, and who do you think they all would get along with individually?

#transformers original character #transformers earthspark oc #transformers oc #Earthspark #earthspark oc #transformers earthspark #information #oc info post #oc info #tf earthspark #transformers oc info #my ocs #my oc stuff

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kharti · 2 years

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[ In Over His Head #85 ]

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Ed thought this was going rather well, ignoring the part where Stede ran away at first. He’d have to ask about that later, when this was over and they were themselves again.

( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

Ed thought this was going rather well, ignoring the part where Stede ran away at first. He’d have to ask about that later, when this was over and they were themselves again.

He continued the charade of having a single clue what he was doing with the clippers until he was certain Stede had gone back inside. That was when he relaxed a bit, resting his elbows against his knees and looking up at the sky.

At first, he thought it was cute, adorable even. But then he thought about it.

His own fantasy was rooted in the impossible, the dark corners of his mind that weren’t allowed to see the light of day until he’d met Stede.

That meant, he had to assume, that this simple fantasy of being seduced by a simple gardener lived in those same dark corners of Stede’s mind. It was something he had locked away as a never-to-have, a thing he’d grown ashamed of wanting at some point and tried to forget.

It was heartbreaking, just a bit, that Stede’s forbidden fruit was something so mundane.

He nearly jumped out of his own skin when an unfamiliar voice growled, “You killed Matilda.”

Ed scrambled to his feet, wincing as his joints protested at the sudden movement, and turned to face an old man standing there. How deep had he been in his thoughts that someone could sneak up on him so easily?

“’Scuse me?” he asked. “Who?”

The old man furrowed his brow, his bushy moustache seeming to bristle as he curled his upper lip and shuffled past him. “Matilda.” He reached out to touch his gloved fingers to some of the places where Ed had cut. “She was gonna turn thirty-seven next summer.”

Ed just stared for a moment before he frowned, confused. “Yer talkin’ ‘bout the plant?”

“A plant! A plant. Well, to you she might just be a plant.” He sighed and dropped his head into his hand. “She was my finest rose bush.”

“Oh…” Ed suddenly felt very small and a bit exposed compared to the old man, who was nearly covered head to toe. “’M’sorry. Had no idea y’could kill a plant just by snippin’ it a bit.”

With a tired sigh, the man stood up and turned to him. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t understand what I mean. The sir of the house informed us there’d be some eccentric actors gallivanting about the estate for a week. Thought that’d mean listening to some repetitive rehearsals, not…” He sighed again and put his hands in his pockets. “What’re you doing, exactly, boy?”

Boy. Ed could have laughed, almost did, at the notion of being called a boy.

“It’s, uh—” What was the term Stede used before? “Method acting.”

The man just stared at him.; it meant as much to him as it did to Ed, apparently.

“Pretendin’ t’be the role y’ve got, so ye can learn how t’act it better,” he explained, mostly certain that was correct.

There was a long pause while the man looked at him with eyes that seemed to be looking for something. Seemed to be seeing through him, particularly when they drifted over the tattoos of his exposed arms.

“Well.” His face softened and he huffed a laugh. “For starters, boy, you’re dressed like shit for the job. Let’s get you in the right gear, and then we’ll have a long talk about your terrible pruning.” He took off one of his gloves and extended the hand. “The name’s Rory, and I’m the head groundskeeper for the estate.”

Ed wondered what would happen if he explained that he was supposed to be a sexy gardener. That’d probably raise more questions, so he slipped his own glove off and accepted the handshake. “Ed.”

“Just Ed?” Rory lifted his brow in a playful look of surprise. “Well, makes it easier to remember. Come on, Ed. I think we’ve got some spares that just might fit you.”

Huh. This was an unexpected turn of events.

Rory led him around the back, through a plain door that opened to what appeared to be servant’s quarters. He muttered to himself as he rummaged through a wardrobe, then turned to Ed and handed him a pile of clothing.

“Not sure where you found… that,” Rory said, gesturing at the overalls. “Might be appropriate for farmers. But this is an estate, and even the servants must dress to complement the grounds.”

Ed frowned. “Sounds like bullshit t’make the rich feel better.”

Rory’s brow shot up, then he doubled over with a laugh, slapping a hand to his thigh. “Shit, boy, you can’t say that!”

“’M’not wrong, though,” Ed said with a chuckle. He unbuckled the straps and let the overalls pool at his feet, stepped out of them, and started to fit himself into the new clothes.

( next )

📚 view a list of all my current stories!

#our flag means death #ofmd #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ed x stede #in over his head - blackbonnet ficlets

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mylittlesyn · 2 years

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Demon!Toji x You

𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆𝕟𝕝𝕪, 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝔻ℕ𝕀

CW: Dubcon, noncon creampie, squirting, literal demon fucking, belly bulge, cervix fucking, pussyjob

Premise: You were a semi-successful actress who was dating someone who turned out to be a married man. The wife found out and you were blacklisted. Desperate times call for desperate measure, and you find yourself calling upon a demon to try to get your chance at fame, but it seems it might cost you a fortune.

Long Awaited Part 2

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Event Masterlist

You swallowed hard and lit the last candle needed to complete the ritual. The stupid ritual. You weren’t even sure if it would work. Knowing your shit luck, you know it wouldn’t… But you were desperate. Rent was past due, you had nowhere else to go, no usable skills, the only life you knew was acting. You were good. Damned good. But you slept with one wrong man who turned out to be married, his wife found out, and you were blacklisted from anyone who mattered. You just needed one shot. One shot to redeem yourself. To get the claim to fame you so diligently worked for. So here you were, performing this ritual to summon the demon who was supposed to grant you your wish. You spoke the words your friend wrote on the piece of paper and wind swirled around you, lifting your hair before forming a little whirlwind in front of you that turn off all the candles that you had just turned on. In the flash of an eye, a tall figure stood before you. You would swear he’s a giant as you were left looking at the top of his abdomen, his body shirtless, only wearing black pants. His muscles were glistening under the moonlight that crept into the cleared out studio apartment, and when you tilted your head up you could see his smirk and his horns…

“Why have I been summoned? I was in the middle of things that I’d like to get back to.” He grumbled while moving back to sit on the couch. With a flick of his wrist, he lit all the candles and with you in the center, finally lit, he looked you up and down.

“I need an opportunity… I was wronged… I need an audition for a part.” You tried your best to speak up, but your voice was far too shaky to exert any power.

“Fame…” He hummed with a devilish grin that sent a chill down your spine as he switched his eyes from your lips, to your chest, to your hips. “It’s always fame or fortune. Alright.” He looked dead into your eyes with his grin fading, the serious look somehow more chilling. “I’ll give you what you want. But in exchange…” Your stomach sank as you watched the smirk form back on his scarred mouth.

“What do you want?” You asked, finally growing some courage.

“I want you, to hump my thigh, and squirt for me.” He huffed a dark chuckle, watching as your eyes widened with your gaze falling to the floor. “Oh don’t act all coy now… You’ve been lusting after my body since I first arrived. I can smell it on you.” Your head jolted up, eyes practically bulging out of your head as you processed what he just said, squeezing your thighs together as if it would somehow make it better than worse. “Just a little demon trick.” He tapped his horns and watched the blood drain from your face. You were frozen in place. This was what you had to do to make it. He was so big his hand could probably wrap around your entire thick thigh. With a gulp, you took a step closer, only to have his sharp, pointed tail graze your skin, just at the hem of your pants. “I’m waiting, meek little girl.” He teased with the sharp pointed end scratching your hip that was exposed by your crop top. His tail went to his tongue where he licked your blood off of the tip. Your shaky hands went to undo your pants, slowly wriggling them down your hips. After sliding off your panties, his rough hands grabbed onto your hips, forcing you to straddle him with your knees planted around one of his thighs. Losing your footing, you found your face buried in his neck, and although you couldn’t place the scent… It was alluring. Everything about him was alluring, really. From his piercing green eyes, his touseled black hair, the sexy scar on his lips… The sheer size of him… It felt like he was built to be attractive… Attractive to you. “Why don’t you get started, fuck doll?” He grabbed onto your chin to force you to look at him.

“I… I-I can’t.” You stuttered with your heart beating ten miles a minute as he clicked his tongue.

“Fuck this.” He scowled as he started to lift you off of him by your hips.

“Wait!” You squeaked to have him place you back down on his thigh.

“I can only squirt through penetration.” You spoke all in one breath with your eyes squeezed shut to hear his dark chuckle ringing in your ears. You felt his hands leave your body to hear the sound of pants unzipping.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” He teased with a shit-eating grin that had your stomach turned in knots when you finally opened your eyes again. His hands traced up your thighs as your eyes wandered around his body, admiring the ripples of his muscles before your eyes began to bulge. A sick sadistic chuckle ran in your ears as you stared at his girth. It was thicker and longer than any that you had ever seen, and you were certain there was no way it could fit. “Don’t worry… You can take your time prepping yourself to make it fit.” He whispered into your ear before leaning back into the couch, his arms extended over the top of the backrest, with that same smug grin. With a large gulp, you leaned closer into him, and readjusted yourself to straddle at his hips. His naked length now pressed between his stomach and your heat, you started to rub yourself on it, letting it dip between your folds. Your slick coated his length as you pressed your hands to his chest, letting out a few whimpers. “Come on… Let me hear you my fuck doll.”

“Demon Lord!” You whined as you started to move your hips a bit faster before you felt his chest rumble in satisfaction.

“I like the use of lord.” His hand fisted your hair, tugging it back so he could look at your face. The pointed tail lightly grazed along your exposed stomach before moving up and cutting the fabric of your crop top. The tail continued its way upward, tracing along your neck before almost caressing your cheek. His eyes stared at your lips seemingly locked in place as you continued to move your hips, nearly feeling yourself there as your hands gripped onto his shoulders. “Say it again.” He demanded.

“Demon Lord!” You cried out as you came, your walls squeezing around nothing while you hurriedly tried to reach down at his length. Your hand couldn’t make it around his girth, but yet you lifted your hips and pressed it to your entrance. His mouth latched onto your neck, and you could swear you heard him let out a muffled groan as you added weight, trying to push him into you. Your walls still fluttered and you could feel the tip stretching you almost painfully so. Gripping tighter onto his shoulders, you gritted your teeth, feeling both pain from his length and the pleasure from him sucking on your neck. The tip finally was in and you let yourself still for a moment as his lips unlatched. You let your forehead rest on his shoulder breathing in his musky scent that had a faint wooden air to it.

“You’re doing well fuck doll.” He hummed while moving his hands onto your hips. “Why don’t we sink you further onto my cock.” He gripped tightly and moved your hips lower with you crying out in pain. You felt like you were being split in two with tears pricking at your eyes, trying to keep still as you felt his tip pressing at your cervix.

“Please.” You begged.

“Don’t worry… It’s all up to you now.” He laid back into the couch, angling his hips a bit before placing his arms onto the back rest again. After a deep breath, you slowly started moving, pain still prominent, but mixed with it was pleasure as his girth rubbed that sweet spot within you. Your hands were lightly placed on his shoulders now, slowly moving them along his large pecs that you admired. The pace was slow, trying your best to let the pain within you subside so you could complete the request. His tail tilted your head upwards and your eyes both met. “I’m going to need you to pick up the pace fuck doll, there are others who want to summon me.” You nodded hesitantly, picking up the pace and pushing through the pain, feeling the pleasure that came along with it. Soon enough the pain subsided and pleasure started to consume you. Everything felt hazy and blurry. It was like you were intoxicated, only being able to feel the pleasure that this stretching girth gave you. Your pace grew quicker still, but it wasn’t enough. You needed to pull out more, to really drop down on his length, feel it push into you. Your hands traced up from his shoulders, with you watching his piercing green eyes. “That’s it fuck doll… Give into me… Feel the lust take over.” He grunted with your hands on his cheeks. Your hands continued their journey as you moved up, gripping your hands tightly around his horns. Pulling yourself up, you used his horns, stimulating yourself further. “Fuck…” He muttered under his breath with a groan as you started to move faster and more rhythmically. You clenched your walls around him as you moved, and his hands flew to your waist, gripping tightly as you nuzzled your face into him. With new found confidence as he muttered more curses, you licked up his neck.

“You like that?” You asked with a smirk pressed to his cheek as you continued to pull on his horns. His groan was all you needed to know how good you were making him feel. You were making a literal demon feel good. Nibbling on his ear, you felt your muscles tighten as your pace quickened further. Letting go of his horns, you placed your palms on his thighs behind you, still keeping a decent pace.

“Fuck…” He groaned again as he smoothed a hand over your stomach, and when you looked to his hand, you could see his girth bulging out from within you. He pressed his hand against the bulge and it pushed at your sweet spot within you. As you keened you desperately rode him, trying to reach your high. He left his hand pressed to your stomach, and it was just what you needed to push you over the edge. Liquid covered his abdomen, spewing out of you as your breasts bounced with him staring. You started to slow your pace as you felt yourself coming down from your high, only to have him grip onto your hips. “Shit.” He mumbled before he started to roughly lift you and start ramming himself into you. You felt so dizzy, utterly consumed by lust as you furrowed your brows in confusion. His grip on you was so rough, and his length was pushing into your womb with each jerk of his hips. Each one was making your walls flutter, more liquid gushing out of you until you felt it. Hot ropes shot into you with his girth twitching as his hips started to sputter. A choked groan left his lips as he bottomed out into me, where I felt him in my throat.

“Did you just?!” Your eyes widened as you looked down where you both met. He gripped your chin and leaned in to press a kiss to your lips.

“Relax… If you bear my child, I’ll make you my queen.” He shed a wide toothy grin, his tail caressing your cheek. You breathed in heavily through your nose, but a part deep within you wished it all to be true. “I’ll grant what you want, and I’ll make sure it’s a big part… You’ve entertained me, my doll.” His grin faded to a smirk as he lifted you off of him. You readjusted yourself so that you were now kneeling on the couch with his seed dripping down your thighs as you whimpered from the empty feeling. The sound of a zipper rang in your ears as you watched him walk over to the circle on the floor. “Feel free to call upon me again, pretty thing…” He spun around to flash you a cocky toothy grin. “And come sit on my lap again when you die.” He winked before disappearing, the candles all turning off at once with the studio apartment growing cold.

Taglist: @toshibaby @tojishugetiddies

#toji x you #Toji #toji fushiguro #Toji smut #Toji x reader

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spectaclespencer · 3 years

Text

P.H. // Part 3; Need To Know

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N; Chapter 3!! Yay! I will not lie I got kind of lazy and burnt out when I finally got to the smut scene, and for that I am sorry. I’ll make it up to you guys with a future chapter.

Summary; Reader can’t get her mind off of Spencer, which causes distractions at work. Until one day when he catches on.

Category; Smut (Minors DNI!!!)

Content Warnings; Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of masturbation, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (Male receiving), Drinking, Mentions of being shot, Kinda Sub!Spencer, Virgin!Spencer (but not by the end of it)

Word Count; 7.2k

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‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

Spencer Reid. The object of my attraction, the man I fell harder for with every stolen glance I could manage to throw his way. I was obsessed, and that infatuation only grew stronger every day that I saw him at work.

When we went out to bars after cases we ended up in an inevitable game of Never Have I Ever like a bunch of high school kids. With Emily and Derek in the group it almost always turned sexual. It started with innocent things such as; Never have I ever kicked down a door -- to which Derek drinks. There were some targeted jabs, I got Spencer a few times when I brought up an activity I was certain he had done -- just to keep him involved.

However he never drank past that. He never took a sip when Emily made a sexual innuendo, or when she brought up one night stands, number of partners, most bizarre location to engage in intercourse. Nothing of the sort got him to break. I figured he was a private guy, never one to boast about his sexual experiences.

It was frustrating, to say the least. It got to the point where I couldn’t think about anyone but him. I couldn’t engage in any sexual activity without my mind shifting to him, the way he might slip his fingers in and out of me, or how skilled he was with his mouth instead of the person I dragged home. No other person could even begin to compare to the remedy I concocted in my mind. I didn’t have any information to base my fantasies on, either.

I had it bad. So bad, that at one point I spilled hot coffee all over myself in the breakroom over the littlest interaction.

Spencer came in just after me, mumbling a small hello before reaching to grab a mug for himself. In the process of doing so his shirt rode up, exposing a small expanse of his lower stomach that had me sputtering as I clumsily missed my cup and instead poured the coffee all over the counter. It ran down and soaked through my pants; yet it wasn’t nearly as hot as the way I felt on the inside.

I couldn’t help but wonder the noises he’d make if I were to suck dark purple marks across that plain of skin...or if anyone ever had before.

The small burn was a fine price to pay for my inappropriate thoughts.

Him being the sweet guy that he is, offered to help me clean up. This proposal ended up with him taking paper towels and patting down my thighs -- not realizing just how suggestive the action looked to me.

“Sorry,” He whispered, looking up at my face from his position below me. He was kneeling on one knee, with a hand planted firmly on the outside of my thigh. His voice was soft yet raspy, and oh how I let my mind wander.

“Not your fault,” I said quickly, and borderline ran out the door before he could protest or add anything on.

I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face, try and stop the effect he had on me from becoming too physical.

If I got that worked up over a small piece of skin showing, nothing could have prepared me for the first night we shared a hotel room.

I was in shambles all night, ever since the moment Hotch handed me a room card and explained we needed to double up.

Emily usually roomed with JJ, Hotch and Rossi got their own, and Derek refuses to bunk with Spencer -- if he could avoid it. Much to my luck, this time he did because Garcia was needed for this case, meaning she and Derek would be sharing.

Leaving me with Spencer.

I stood there helpless, eyes burning a hole into the place that Hotch was previously standing. I was panicking on the inside, my body going into fight or flight mode as I went through scenarios in my head.

I was 99% sure I would be embarrassing myself tonight.

“Hey,” Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I jumped and shrieked a little bit, and slapped a hand over my heart. “Oh my god, Reid. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, eventually realizing that he was still indeed touching my shoulder. He dropped his arm, only to bring his hand back up to rub over his chin.

My eyes darted down to it, watching at the way his veins stood out. It wasn’t the first time I admired them, there were moments when he was going over maps with two fingers where I wondered what they would feel like on my-

“____?”

“What?” I asked, a little too loud for the setting.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry.”

“I said we should go inside,” he laughed softly, trying to sooth the tension.

I agreed, stepping past him to start walking to our room. I opened the door with trembling hands, wondering just how hard the following nights at the hotel would be.

“I’m gonna go see Emily and JJ. Ask if they wanna go to the bar,” I said quickly, throwing my bag down just inside the door.

“Oh. Okay. Have fun! Don’t stay out too late. You should get a full night’s sleep.”

“I won’t be long. Don’t wait up!” I called, not looking back to see him before half jogging out of the room.

-----

“I cannot go back in there.”

“Oh, because of your little crush,” Emily laughed, much too loud for the early hours of the morning.

Clearly Spencer’s advice about coming back early didn’t plant itself in my head.

“Yes, because of that,” I confirmed. I was staring down at my drink, wallowing in self pity. It was too awkward to even step foot in there, I’m sure just by the sight of him I’d explode.

“What is it about him that gets you hot and heavy?” JJ teased. “No shame, just curious.”

I fake laughed, ignoring her question.

Everything he did was so intoxicating. Even the most mundane things got my blood pumping hard. Each time he let a small gasp through his lips or when he would whisper to himself, a shockwave went through me, igniting a fire deep inside that was near impossible to put out.

But he was so oblivious. He hadn’t a single idea of the effect he had on me. And that was the most frustrating part.

The first time I noticed my extreme attraction to him was shortly after I joined the team, it was only the third or fourth case I’d had with them. Spencer and I walked to a coffee shop to grab some for everyone, and on the way back he was infodumping.

About what, I can’t remember, for I was too fixated on the way his hands wrapped around his cup as he talked. He’d wave it around, and in doing so his fingers would trace little patterns onto the outside of it. I didn't mean to stare, I just got distracted.

I started noticing more little things after that.

Like the way he licked his lips while deep in thought, his mind consuming him to the point where he looked so concentrated and determined. It was hot, to put it simply. I wanted nothing more for him to be licking my lips, to feel him take such care with my body.

He had always been attractive in my eyes, the young boy was nothing but pretty. Even when his hair was shorter and he gelled it back, pairing the look with his glasses -- that he unfortunately wore less often nowadays.

It was nearly painful to be around him all day every day. My head would constantly be spinning with anxiety, only causing more and more headaches to present themselves. It was like a punishment, one I certainly deserved for the tasteful thoughts I had during work hours.

My crush went from an innocent little thing, to full fledged fascination.

‘I just been fantasizin' (size)

And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

Avoiding him as much as I could seemed like a decent plan at the time. If I kept my interactions low, I could distract myself with other things, and not focus on the way his lips pursed as I conversed with him. I raced up more time staring at his mouth rather than completing actual work by my six month stay at the BAU.

“I’m so fucked,” I nodded, coming to a bit of peace with my downfall.

“Well, you could be. If you told him how you feel,” JJ encouraged.

“No way in hell,” I protested, shooting my head up to make eye contact with her.

“____, there is a very, very high chance he feels the same. And if he doesn’t -- which he does -- he’s too sweet to let that impact your friendship.”

“We hardly even have a friendship. Whenever he tries to talk to me I end up running away. He probably thinks I hate him or something. He probably wants nothing to do with me.”

No objection from Emily or JJ there.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Emily asked, changing the pace of the conversation.

“He never speaks to me again. I die of embarrassment.”

“You’re both adults, ____.”

“We are 27!” I shook my head, exasperated. “I hardly even feel like one sometimes.”

“27, exactly. I’m sure by now Reid has gained some experience with talking to women. You’ll be fine.”

“I have absolutely no way of knowing how things will go.”

“Just give him little tests,” JJ suggested. “Like touch him. On the shoulders, compliment him more, really go up to him and make a move. That way if he doesn’t feel the same you can play it off as being platonic.”

I groaned and rested my head on the table dramatically. “You both kinda suck at advice. What am I supposed to do? Waltz into our shared room and confess my love for him? Ask him desperately to dick me down?”

Even though I definitely wanted to.

They laughed at that, saying they were going to bed and wished me luck. Emily advised I should try and ‘get some’ from somebody else, and maybe that would take my mind off of things.

After stalling some more I eventually made my way back to the hotel room, hoping that Spencer was already asleep so I wouldn’t have to face him. But once again, luck wasn’t in my favour.

“Hi,” he spoke softly from his bed.

“Why are you still awake?” I asked, trying my best to stifle a yawn. I threw my sweater down on my bed, before grabbing my go-bag and retrieving my pyjamas from it. “It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay.”

“I told you not to wait up. Naughty boy,” I joked, finally turning my attention fully over to him.

Which could've been a mistake, based on the way you saw it.

He was dressed in flannel pants and a black t-shirt, along with his hair tied up that I’d failed to notice earlier. I froze at the sight, seeing the way his cheeks were dusted a slight red, and lips pink as ever.

His hair was tied up, and I almost dropped dead at the sight. I’d never seen it before. Sure, he sometimes wore an elastic band on his wrist during the work days but never have I seen him actually use one.

“I’m gonna shower and then head to bed,” I said in an effort to keep my voice steady.

He didn’t respond, only turning his head back to the book that was in his hand.

Thankfully when I returned he was asleep, meaning I didn’t have to see him before bed.

The next day was torturous. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my head. The view of him so relaxed on his bed was ethereal, the soft glow of the lamp hand illuminated his skin in all the right places. Did he pull his hair back often? Did he casually sit at home with it up? How did he look in different angles or positions? Are there other things he wears or does that I haven’t seen?

The image was just so domestic that I couldn't stop thinking about it even if I wanted to.

I was afraid to fall asleep, in fear that my dream may turn adventurous. Quitting my job and moving to a new city seems more preferable than having a sex dream about your coworker while they were in the room.

I was hyper aware of every move he made, always keeping tabs on him in the back of my mind so we wouldn’t accidentally run into each other.

Apparently when I was paying attention on how not to see him, I failed to notice how he had filled out recently. He wore looser pants in the past, ones that didn’t allow much shape to show through.

The next day at the precinct I was in for a surprise though, one that was sure to make me fall to my knees.

And I would have, if it wasn’t for the fact I was already seated in a chair.

Spencer walked in clad in pants that were far too tight to be appropriate for work. Or maybe I was overreacting.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered under my breath, soaking in his appearance of the day.

It was hot outside, so he decided not to wear his usual vest and tie combo, choosing instead just a white pattern button up and grey tie.

I heard Emily snicker beside me, which earned her a light kick in the calf to shut her up. She got up then, winking at me dramatically before leaving the room to presumably go check in with Derek.

“Hey ____, can you come here for a sec?”

I got up without a word, and walked over to the other side of the room where he was standing at the map hung up.

He went off about the unsub’s possible comfort zone -- things that I’d need him to repeat later because I wasn’t fully listening,

I stayed leaning against the table, just two feet behind him which gave me a perfect view of just how tight those pants really were. They hugged his hips deliciously, I wanted nothing more than to rip them off in that moment. I nodded along dumbly, changing my sight from his ass to his back, to his toned arms that were shown off from him rolling up his sleeves.

It was a fair sight, I don’t really think I could be blamed for staring.

A few weeks after that he got a haircut. His longer curls were gone -- yet not forgotten -- and were replaced with a mop of messy waves that framed his face perfectly.

It was like a new blow to my stomach every time I got used to the change.

“New haircut?” I asked the obvious on the first day back from a long weekend.

“Yeah...thought I should change it up,” Spencer replied, picking up his coffee mug to make himself a cup.

I nodded, the room settling in a short silence.

“Do you not like it?”

“No!” I exclaimed, Spencer furrowing his brows in response. “I mean, yes. I do like it. Sorry.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You could pull off any hairstyle, trust me,” I said, before walking back to my desk.

People that we met seemed to feel the same, because he got stopped more often at bars and at shops that were needed to visit. People would give him their numbers, leaving him a blushing mess. It got obnoxious, to the point where I was at my breaking point. My shoulders were always slumped, and my forehead creased with jealousy.

I stayed closer to him when the team went out, in an effort to get other girls to stop making moves on him.

They hadn’t noticed his beauty before, why should they get the privilege to advance on him now?

It was selfish, really. It may have been good for his self-confidence, but not so good for my own feelings.

I made sure to compliment him more often, telling him I liked his sweater vests, and ‘oh my Doctor Reid, is that a new tie?’ It was a win-win really, for both of us. I was building up my comfort level with him, and he knew that I did not, in fact, despise him.

When Spencer got shot on a case a few weeks later, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to show him that I care about him.

It was an easy job, since the bullet only semi-grazed his shoulder blade. Only needed deep cleaning once a night, for a few weeks so it wouldn’t get infected.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a groan, one that sent shivers throughout my veins.

“Sorry,” I answered quickly, keeping my gaze on the task at hand and not on his face that was just so close to mine.

Here I was in Spencer’s apartment, in his bathroom, helping him clean off his wound.

“I’m sorry but you need to stop moving, it’s just making things worse,” I explained.

“It hurts!”

“I’m sure it does! But I can’t do an effective job in cleaning it if you keep thrashing around like that.”

I saw him pout, and lower his head. The gears in his brain were turning, trying to come up with a possible solution.

“You’re going to need to hold me down.”

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna be able to stop moving,” he said, looking over his shoulder to where I was sitting behind him on the floor. “Come on.”

He stood up and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. And I did, collecting the supplies I’d need as he led me over to his living room.

Before I could protest he removed his shirt fully -- not like how it was bunched up by his neck previously.

I stopped in my tracks, eyes taking in every inch of skin that he freed. He was lean, as I predicted, but still toned in areas.

Spencer laid on his stomach down on the couch, motioning for me to come beside him.

“Get on my back.”

“Are you insane?”

“____,” he pleaded, looking up at me. His arms were crossed by his head, he was using them as a makeshift pillow. “I just want this to be over as fast as it can be.”

Right.

“Okay,” I agreed, and began to place my materials down on the coffee table to my right. I then swung a leg over his lower back, straddling him just how I’d imagine doing so before -- only the other way around. “Is this okay?”

He hummed, digging his face as far into the fabric of the couch as he could.

‘I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby

Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will)’

I took that as a yes, and poured some of the disinfectant onto a swab. Bracing myself with a hand on his other shoulder to pin him down firmly he shivered, breath shaking ever so slightly. I tried to catch him off guard with the swab, choosing a random time to press it into his wound.

He was definitely surprised, because he whined loudly into his hands and clenched all of the muscles in his back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he made similar noises during other activities…

“Just a minute more,” I soothed him, running my free hand over the smooth skin of his back, doing my best to calm him down.

His breathing only became heavier, and was nearly shaking from the burn. I felt bad, having to see him go through this but I’d be lying if it wasn’t doing things to me. I couldn’t help but get a little bit excited when I got the chance to be near him, to be closer than we had ever been before.

It was intense, I was almost sure he could feel my arousal through the fabric of my pants and underwear.

I was an awful person.

Going home that night to sleep was a struggle. I felt guilty, for using his pain for my perverse temptations. Yet as soon as my fingers were buried inside myself I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him above me. The way he might sound, spewing out similar noises that I’d experienced earlier that were still fresh in my brain.

I wasn’t proud of it, and I thought every one of our interactions after that would be even harder.

Going back to work seemed fully impossible, I didn’t have any hope in myself to stay useful while he was parading around, completely oblivious to the effect he had on me. I became more sexually frustrated every day. It was nearly infuriating to see a look of innocence plastered on his face, meanwhile he would do things that made me go crazy.

‘Wanna know what it's like (like)

Baby, show me what it's like (like)

I don't really got no type (type)

I just wanna fuck all night’

“Penelope, I think I might die soon if I don’t get laid,” I said, rapidly opening the door to her cave.

“____-”

“No, I’m serious. I can’t get my mind off of-”

I stopped in my tracks, finally noticing the presence I hadn’t already accounted for.

Spencer sat in a chair to my left, just out of view that you couldn’t see him if you didn’t turn your head. He was in the middle of bringing a chip up to his mouth, but was stopped mid-air with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry,” he said, scrambling up fast, bumping into things as he collected his satchel with shaky hands. “Sorry I’ll go.”

The door shut with a slam, and left Penelope and I in silence.

“Well, fuck,” I whispered, earning a booming laugh from her. “It’s not funny.”

“It is funny. It’s hilarious,” she giggled, doing a little spin on her chair.

I groaned, and sat down beside her on the edge of her desk.

“Maybe now he’ll make a move on you.”

“Oh shut up,” I slapped her arm, beginning to laugh along with her. “If he was avoiding me before, I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”

Ever since I helped Spencer with his injury the first time he’d been semi ignoring me, not trying to actively partake in conversation. We only talked when necessary, but didn’t exchange any extra words when I came over for an hour to help him with his wound.

I was almost happy about that, it meant I didn’t have to embarrassingly throw myself at him all day long.

I was perfectly fine admiring him from a distance, just how I’d done so for years.

However, there was a part of me that was rightfully sad. Did I cross a line, or make him feel uncomfortable? Maybe from spending so much time together recently he gathered I really wasn’t that interesting.

“Don’t say that,” Penelope frowned.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

“How I feel?”

“Don’t even try and wedge your way out of it. Emily told me, don’t be mad,” she said, with the sweetest look on her face that I couldn’t be upset.

“Bitch,” I playfully mumbled.

“Besides you literally were about to say that you can’t get your mind off of him.”

“Uh, no, I was not. I was going to say someone. A general someone. Not Reid.”

She hummed, turning back to her screen to finish up some work Hotch had sent her to do.

“Okay fine. Pen, I’m gonna die. It’s insufferable. I can’t handle it anymore.”

“That’s exactly why you should tell him!” She encouraged excitedly, always a swooner for young love.

“I would scare him. He’s probably scared of me, actually.”

“Oh come on, I’m sure his little virgin heart can take it.”

“What?” I asked, suddenly giving her all my attention. “Virgin? Is he seriously a virgin?”

“I don’t know, truly. I just kinda figured. He doesn’t talk about anyone or anything to do with sex.”

I nodded. That makes sense. With him radiating pure sex appeal in my eyes, the thought never even crossed my mind that he might be a virgin.

But that just made it all the more exciting.

“But hey, if he’s really a 27 year old virgin I’m sure he’s extremely horny,” she laughed.

“We are at work. Let’s calm it down before I actually combust,” I shook my head.

My palms were sweating at the very thought of him doing anything remotely sexual -- which I thought about a lot. Surely he’s had to at least...taken care of himself. I’m sure it was a gorgeous sight, his hand wrapped firmly around his dick and face contorted in nothing but pleasure.

My thoughts were interrupted by none other than the man himself, who barged into the room to say we were taking off for a case in 30.

The flight there was quiet and boring, we left at night so there wasn’t so much we could do when we got there besides head up to our hotel.

“We’re sharing a room,” Spencer said, walking over to me from where he was previously with Derek.

I was standing in front of the vending machine, doing my very best to not eavesdrop on the mens’ conversation, which was only taking place about 20 feet away. Spencer was speaking in a hushed yet agitated tone, and Derek was matching his energy. It seemed they were bickering, but about what I didn’t know.

“Says who?” I panicked.

“Uhh...Hotch did.”

Great.

“Oh. Alright,” I followed him down the hallway, our room was the last one at the end.

I waited for him to open the door, and when he stepped out of the way to let me inside I brushed past him.

When I turned around Spencer was standing there blocking my path, causing me to bump into his chest.

“Hello...” I said confused, taking a step back.

“I…”

“What?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows. “Spencer what are you doing?”

He didn’t answer with words, instead reaching up to push a piece of hair out of my face. My breath hitched at the contact, sending me into a short frenzy on the inside. He was inching closer, now his body was getting just close enough so that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. He was glancing back and forth between my eyes, searching my face for an expression of discomfort.

He didn’t find any.

“I was talking with Derek. About you,” he whispered. “He said you’ve been coming on to me.”

My heart nearly missed a beat at his words.

“I've noticed your odd behaviour, you don’t act the way you do with anyone else on the team. You run away from me, and at first I thought you just didn’t like me, but now...I think it’s the opposite. I see the way you look at me, you know.”

“And how do I look at you?” I questioned nervously.

“Like you want me. Tell me. Who were you talking about earlier today? Who exactly can’t get your mind off of?”

I paused, eyes almost bulging out of my head at the implication.

“If I'm reading this wrong, let me know. We can pretend this never happened.”

“Get on the bed and take your clothes off.”

He did just that, moving beside me to shove his pants down his legs, followed by ripping off his shirt, as I did the same. We couldn’t take our eyes off of each other, too busy drinking in our appearances to think straight. He sat down on the edge of the bed in just his underwear, and spread his legs just wide enough to give me space to stand between them.

“Tell me what you want.” he breathed, watching me as I walked towards him.

“You,” I answered simply, climbing into his lap and connecting my mouth was his. “All of you.”

He didn’t protest, only doing quite the opposite. He moaned greedily into my mouth, sucking every last bit of life out of me. He was hungry in his movements, not allowing for a single beat of fresh air for either of us. I was more than happy to return the energy, for I’ve dreamt for too long about what he might taste like. And it wasn’t disappointing, the sensation was far better than I could have ever cooked up in my head.

After a minute he became impatient, and started bucking his hips up to meet mine. I did the same, grinding down on his hardening dick that felt...impressive to say the least.

“I’ve thought about you for so long,” I spoke against his lips, taking a break between kisses.

He groaned back at me, moving his hands from my cheeks down to my hips to hold me flush against himself. He whimpered when I was fully against him, he had to break away to keep his breathing somewhat managed.

“Please, I need you so bad. I’ve thought about you too.”

“What exactly did you think about?” I asked quietly, trailing kisses all across his face, and then started heading down his jaw and neck.

“L-lots of stuff.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, looking up at him from my new position kneeling on the floor. “Please, tell me.”

I brought a hand up to his boxers, ghosting just over his bulge while remaining eye contact.

“Everything. All of you. ____, Please.”

‘You're exciting, boy, come find me

Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me"’

“Let me do something first,” I said, pushing against his stomach to encourage him to lie back on the bed. He did so, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at me.

He watched my every move, not a second was missed by his eyes that stayed locked onto my form. I dropped my head down to kiss across his left thigh, and toyed with the waistband of his underwear with my right hand.

He was so vocal, and I hadn’t even done anything yet. I knew we had all night, but I’d waited too long for this to take my time.

‘And we got a lotta time (time)

Baby, come throw the pipe (pipe)’

I pulled his underwear down just enough to reveal his dick hard and red as it stood up against his stomach.

“You don’t...have to,” Spencer stopped me before I could carry on.

“Do you not want me to?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” He stopped, and bit his lip while staring off to one of the walls.

“Has anyone ever done this with you before?” I asked, almost unsure of whether or not I wanted the answer.

“Done what...exactly?” he asked, refusing to look back at me. His cheeks were red in embarrassment, and he was too focused on the distance to see the wave of excitement that flashed over my face.

“Spencer,” I said sharply, prompting him to turn his attention back to me. “Are you a virgin?”

His lack of answer told me enough. He blushed impossibly deeper, and started squirming in place. Just as he was about to speak up for himself I stopped him with, “That’s so fucking hot.”

“What?”

I climbed back up his body, just far enough so that I could grab his jaw in my hand and pull him down to meet my lips. It was even more hungry and passionate than the previous ones we shared, full of such fire I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to kiss anyone else ever again.

“You’re so sexy,” I moaned, hot and needy into his mouth.

He was good, which wasn’t unexpected from my end. His lips were always so plump and pink, they just had to be semi skilled.

“Thank you,” he replied, in a typical Spencer Reid fashion.

“Do you want to stop? Or keep going? Take a minute and think about it. I don’t want to pressure you,” I reassured him, but on the inside I was begging for him to want to continue.

He pulled back for a second, running a hand over the back of my head to keep me from going too far. His eyes were closed, focusing only on his breathing as he thought about his answer.

“I want to keep going. Please,” he decided on, nodding his head. “I just, I dunno, didn’t expect to get this far tonight.”

“Believe me, neither did I,” I smirked, smashing my lips back against his and returning to my spot kneeling between his legs. I pushed him back harder than before, sending a small oof sound from his chest as his back hit the mattress.

“Has anyone ever touched you here?” I asked, finally wrapping my hand around his dick,

It only made sense that a pretty boy like him would have a pretty cock, too.

“O-only once,” he breathed, with his head thrown back. He was staring at the ceiling, staring at the dots to distract himself from the feeling and to not come too soon. “Long time ago.”

“If you need me to stop, tell me,” I said, before licking a broad strip up the underside of his dick.

I paused at the head, swirling my tongue around before continuing my mission back down around the other side. I kissed his base, leaving more near his hips. He whined positively -- probably feeling a little ticklish -- and I took that as a good sign to suck a deep purple mark there.

Just like I’d thought about doing months ago.

I left a few more just up to his belly button, marking him up with the intent to claim him as my own. He’d see those marks for the next few days, and every time he would think of me on my knees for him. I kept pumping him in my hand as I did so, and every time I groaned into his skin his dick twitched with appreciation.

“Oh god,” Spencer moaned as I took him into my mouth unexpectedly, bunching up the sheets in his hands beside his hips.

I looked up to see him now staring down at me, jaw slacked and panting heavily. The sight was enough to elicit a moan from my own mouth, which led to him fluttering his eyes shut at the vibrations that shot through his body.

“Stop, stop!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, immediately pulling up.

“Nothing, I just really want to feel you and I don’t think I can last much longer.”

Understandable.

I wasn’t expecting him to last long anyways, I just simply wanted him inside me.

“Do you happen to have a condom?” He shook his head. “I’m clean and on the pill. We should be fine. Is that okay?”

He mumbled an ‘uh huh’ as he watched me stand up, as I pushed my underwear down my legs. He immediately reached out to me, bringing me back in and starting placing kisses across my stomach and hips, mirroring what I was doing to him earlier.

“Good, because if you don’t fuck me right now I think I might die.”

‘Yeah-yeah, oh-whoa-whoa (oh, ooh, mmm)

Baby, I need to know, mmm (yeah, need to know)’

He laughed lightheartedly, fixing himself to be sitting up near the headboard. In the process he kicked off his boxers fully, along with his socks.

I followed after him, not letting him stray too far from my reach.

“I heard that women take longer to, erm, get ready,” he muttered into my skin, hiding his face in my neck. “Let me help you?”

“Please,” I whimpered, though I knew I was far from unprepared. I reached behind myself to unclasp my bra, and as soon as it fell down my shoulders Spencer attached his mouth to my left nipple. “Please touch me.”

He moaned into me, bringing his hand down to my core to run his fingers through my folds. He let his middle breach me, moving so agonizingly slow before curling his finger up. I moaned loudly, letting my eyes shut and body fall slack against him. His free arm wrapped around my waist, giving me the support I needed to stay upright.

“So that’s your g-spot?” He grinned against my skin, and I’d be damned to admit it affected me way more than it should have. He sounded so innocent, so eager to learn.

“Uh-huh.”

He explored my skin greedily, brushing over every inch of my chest he could reach. His thrusts became faster every time he re-entered me, encouraged by the grunt that fell from my lips with each one.

“Have you ever done this with a girl before?”

“No,” he replied, moving from my breasts to my collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark in his path.

“Could've fooled me,” I felt him smile against my neck at the praise -- duly noted.

He flipped us over swiftly -- much to my surprise -- and continued with his actions on both my clit and entrance. I did my best to stay quiet, biting down on his shoulder to prevent any noises from leaking out to stop him from getting too cocky.

“Spencer,” I moaned, raking my fingernails up and down his back. “Stop. Please fuck me now, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure you want to? We can stop,” he reassured me in a voice that seemed far too innocent for the activities taking place.

“Spencer, I’m sure. I’m so fucking sure you have no idea.”

I was so turned on I could cry, the pure want running through my veins was starting to send panic signals throughout my whole body. Before I could beg him any further he replaced his fingers with his dick, catching me off guard. He ran the tip over me for a few seconds before gliding in easily, with little to no restriction at all.

“Ah!” I called, gripping onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’m so sorry, oh my god did I hurt you?” Spencer asked frantically, removing his weight from me and tried sitting up.

“No. God please move, I need you so bad,” I pleaded, pulling him back down before he could get too far away.

He nodded. He started slow. So slowly that I wanted to scream and beg at the top of my lungs for more. However I was above giving him the satisfaction of that -- at least for now.

“You feel so good,” Spencer panted, hips shaking as he slid in and out at a torturous pace.

I pulled his lips back to mine for another kiss, drinking in everything he was willing to offer. I whined every time his body rubbed against my clit in a way that had my toes curling and eyes rolling back.

“This is so much better than I’ve imagined,” I moaned, breaking free from his mouth to lay back against the pillows. I wrapped my legs around his waist, aiding him with the speed of his thrusts. “Please, Spence, oh my god go harder.”

He moaned loudly, and lowered his head to my collarbone in an effort to muffle some of the noises he was letting out.

He followed my directions well -- and I took notes for the future.

The sounds of him bouncing off the walls was amplifying my pleasure to a new degree, it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. His hips snapped forward impossibly faster, leaving him a whimpering mess above me. Our chests were pressed together, the sound of skin slapping and gliding over each other filled the dimly lit room.

“You’re doing so good for me,” I whispered into his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses here and there.

He moaned freely at all of the praise, and every time I urged him on he’d pick up his speed a little bit. He was now moving faster than I thought I could handle, slamming into me at the perfect angle.

I felt him everywhere. In my stomach, insides of my thighs, chest -- where he was now palming at one of my breasts -- and the crook of my neck. I hugged my arms around his middle to keep him locked against me, preventing his hips from heavily backing out.

“I’m really close,” He groaned, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “S-should I pull out now?”

“No,” I demanded, tightening my legs to keep him trapped. “Come inside me.”

He nodded with a particularly loud moan, and snaked one hand down my body to meet my clit. When I gave a sound of approval he quickened his wrist, rubbing me with just the right amount of pressure to send me closer to the edge.

He came with a final shout in my name, resting his full body weight against me as I rocked my him against him to help him through it. I finished soon after, at the feeling of him releasing himself in me. It was so warm, like a comforting blanket that overtook all of my senses.

It was possibly the best orgasm I’d ever had, it was so profound that I couldn’t see, or focus on anything else.

We laid there for a few minutes, my hand running through his hair and his ghosting up the side of my hip. It took a while for us both to catch our breaths, we were too immersed in the moment to break apart from one another.

“That was literally the best sex I’ve had in my life,” I breathed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Same, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” Spencer replied, and we both laughed weakly.

“That was okay for you? Your first time? Not really the traditional approach.”

“It was perfect. I wouldn’t have asked for anything different,” he pulled himself up with a smile, before pulling out and flopping down beside me.

“But seriously,” I sat up, resting my head on my palm to get a better view of him. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone as I am with you.”

“____,” he blushed. “I-”

“No! No, let me finish. Please.”

He nodded for me to go ahead.

“Not only are you just insanely sweet and so charming, you’re so handsome. Like I can hardly even look at you half the time. You drive me insane, Spencer you have no idea. Holy fuck I’ve never wanted someone so bad before I met you. You’re intoxicating. I can’t get enough. I’ll cringe about this later but I just need you to know.”

“This may not be the most common way...but do you want to go out with me? L-like on a date?” Spencer asked. He was blushing so heavily, his chest was painted pink and ears were turned red.

“You just came inside of me and you’re nervous about asking me on a date.”

“____!” Spencer exclaimed, facepalming himself.

“Yes,” I grinned. “I’d love to go out with you.”

-----

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moeyy-writes · 3 years

Text

Interrupted

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: mention of sex (in the past), adorable fluff. That’s really it.

Word Count: 563

A/N: This is a cute little snippet of fluff. It’s kind of pointless, but I thought I’d share it anyway. :)

My Master List

There was nothing soft about James Buchanan Barnes… Or so everyone thought. But, they didn’t know the man like you did, haven’t seen the sides of him he exposed only to you. Not even Steve quite knew the gentle, loving person Bucky was capable of being.

But, as that very man held you in his arms, cradling you against his chest, you relished in the tender moment. The two of you had shared countless moments like this throughout the ten months you had been in a romantic relationship with each other. Sinking into the strength of his embrace was all you needed to melt away your worries.

Bucky lifted his head slightly to glance down at you, his heart-stopping smile painting his soft lips.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I have you all to myself,” he whispered, curling a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Your stomach flipped at his words. He was slowly learning that it was safe to express his feelings openly, especially when it came to you. He was even getting better about his timing, at least compared to how he first admitted his feelings for you… in front of the entire group. You partially blamed Steve, who literally told him to “spit it out”. So, he did. And, well, it got the point across.

You smiled up at the gorgeous man. “You deserve much more than you think, Bucky.” His smile grew at your words, and he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss onto your lips.

A knock at the door nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Buck? Y/N? Are you in there? We’re all leaving in a few minutes.” Nat softly announced through the door, forcing a groan from your boyfriend. You squeezed his shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a second,” you answered, your eyes locking on a very disappointed Bucky.

“Huh, yeah, when they get their clothes back on,” you heard Steve mutter loudly. You rolled your eyes and flicked your wrist, unlocking the door and forcing it open with your powers. Steve and Nat stood there, staring at you as you remained in Bucky’s arms, causing the three of them to blush.

“We’re clothed, smartass.” You smirked at Steve, who scoffed.

“Well, it’s just a matter of time before someone else walks in on you two—”

“Can it, Rogers. We’re responsible adults. The door was locked,” you teased, remembering a time not to long ago when that very situation became a reality. Poor Steve was probably still having nightmares.

“Right, adults. Well, the rest of the adults are leaving in five. You know Tony doesn’t like to wait for people.” You rolled your eyes as you watched Steve and Nat finally exit from the doorframe, leaving you alone with Bucky once again.

“I don’t want to get up,” you whined, plopping your head back into the pillow. Bucky grunted in agreement beside you.

“I know, doll. But, we’ll be back before we know it.” He kissed your forehead before rolling off the side of the bed. He extended his hand, which you took, and hoisted you off the large mattress.

“Promise?” you sang, fluttering your eyelashes. Bucky chuckled and nodded.

“Yes, you goofball, I promise.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, then led you to the hall to join the others.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. <3

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #bucky barnes fanfiction

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skeezsbbygirl · 4 years

Text

kiss it better + bang chan

hello lovelies! (づ￣ ³￣)づ

im back with another bang chan scenario <3 hope you guys enjoy this one!! (oh and tmt hit 1k+ notes ahhh thank you so much >.<, also i might be uploading a prince!chan fic soon, stay tuned sunshines)

STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD.

"Chris, baby, please."

It's been two hours, nearing three, since Chris decided to give you the silent treatment. The cause of your current suffering rooted from the events that took place last night.

A college friend of yours happened to be visiting the city, and what better way to celebrate a rare occasion than dressing up and going for a girl's night out with a bunch of your other friends. Chris happily agreed to let you go, he didn't need much convincing since he trusted you with everything and that included you getting home in one piece.

As the late hours of the night passed and shifted over to the wee hours of the morning, Chris grew worried, checking his phone for the nth time as he expected a call or text from you to reassure him that you were fine, or that you were at least still alive somewhere.

Fortunately, he managed to get a hold of your situation through one of your friends, credits to Jisung for grabbing her number that one time you guys set them up for a date.

"Hyung, she said that (y/n) got into a cab ten minutes ago," Jisung explained over the phone. "Her phone also died, so that's probably the reason why you haven't heard from her," he added.

"Alright, got it. Thanks, Ji."

Strike one.

Your drunk self thought that it was a good idea to call for a cab, even declining your girlfriend's offer to drive you home. You insisted that you were fine and that you would only derail their way home since your apartment's route leads to the opposite direction. So, in your semi-intoxicated state, you hopped into a cab and made your way home.

Strike two.

You came home last night, struggling to keep a certain level of sobriety. Heels in one hand and your clutch in the other. You weren't completely hammered, but it was still enough to piss Chris off as he took in your drunken state.

Strike three.

Nevertheless, Chris patiently took care of you. He helped you out of your clothes, took your makeup off for you, and tucked you in bed with him.

You could've gotten away with what happened, until your hungover self decided to betray you.

When Chris sat you down for breakfast, he managed to ease in the happenings of last night, carefully bringing it up as to not agitate you or make you feel like he's blaming you for going out and having fun.

He was just worried, especially having known that you went home all by yourself without even contacting him.

"Baby, you could've borrowed one of your friends' phone and asked me to come pick you up," Chris sighed as he reached out for your hand, placing his on top of yours, his fingers tracing circles on your skin.

"I know and I'm sorry, but can you just scold me later?" you said, your tone a little harsher than you intended it to be, probably due to the lingering headache and side effects of your drinks last night. You felt like your skull was being split into two and you just wanted to eat and recover in silence.

"Babe, I'm not scolding you. I was just-"

You cut Chris off. "Alright, I get it, you were worried but I took care of myself. So let's just argue later, yeah?" you snapped.

And you're out.

Upon hearing your reply, Chris' jaw clenched, visibly appearing offended and irritated. He retracted his hand from yours, opting to cross his arms over his chest.

You bit your tongue when the words you spat out finally settled in. It sounded wrong and you definitely shouldn't have said that. You readied yourself for the argument that was about to ensue, but nothing came.

"Okay."

That was all he said before he stood up and left.

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization that slapped you back into reality, the ugly outcome of your sudden outburst.

You were about to get up and follow Chris to apologize, however, the sudden throbbing pain in your head disabled you from getting out of your seat. Instead, you were forced to sit back down and wallow in guilt.

And that's how you ended up getting the silent treatment.

You left your boyfriend alone for a few hours, hoping that his anger would dissipate by the time that your hungover got better. But much to your dismay, he wasn't having it with you.

"Baby, can I come in?" you knocked on the door of Chris' home studio.

Silence.

"Chris, baby, please," you tried again, but you were still met with silence. You let out a sigh as you ambled back towards the living room, deciding to just give him space and talk it out whenever he's ready.

Chris was naturally a forgiving person, a little tougher on his members, but a complete sweetheart when it comes to you. So when he gave you the silent treatment for the very first time that day, you didn't know what to do.

So, you waited.

A couple of hours passed, three and a half, now, to be exact, you heard Chris' door unlock. You immediately perked up at the sound, quickly scurrying on your feet to meet him.

"Chris, I'm sorry," you apologized with your head hung low, eyes on the ground, and fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

Nothing. Nothing, but the cold breeze of Chris passing by, giving you no due attention. He sauntered towards the kitchen and opened the fridge, paying more attention to the cold food items that were displayed in front of him.

How you wish you were the half-eaten cheesecake now, huh?

Having enough with his torturous act, you were set on using the two tricks you had up your sleeves -- 1) faking an injury, as petty as that sounds, you were desperate, and 2) luring him with something he likes, be it an innocent gesture or a daring one, you would practically do anything at this point.

With your first plan in mind, you crept up behind him and positioned yourself near the edge of the marble kitchen island, placing your hip at the sharp corner so that it would appear as if you bumped against it.

From a third person's point of view, you probably looked stupid, scratch that, you did look stupid, but you were set on breaking Chris' silent streak.

"Ah!" you yelped in pain, hands quickly coming up to clutch your right side. You dropped on the ground, still maintaining your hold on your "injured" torso.

As soon as you cried out in pain, Chris hurried to your side.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked with a worried expression plastered on his face. His cold demeanor immediately melting once he saw you clutching your side. "What happened, babygirl?" he crouched down to meet your level.

"I accidentally hit the edge of the counter," you said. "Come here, baby," Chris placed your arms around his neck as he scooped you up from the ground, carrying you bridal style towards the living room.

"Show me where it hurts, love," Chris ordered as he sat you down with him. He carefully moved you on his lap, making you straddle him.

"Right here," you pointed towards a random patch of skin on your right side. Chris placed his hand over the supposedly injured area, gently soothing it with the warmth that radiated from his palm.

Adding the icing on the cake, you hissed in pain as his hand came in contact with your skin. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I got you," Chris cooed as he planted a kiss on your cheek, in hopes of making you feel better.

He lifted your shirt up a bit, allowing him to inspect for any cuts or damage to your skin. "Do you want me to go get an ice pack?" Chris offered. "No, it's fine," you replied.

"Alright, just tell me if need anything," Chris responded as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your exposed skin, tugging your shirt back down as he pulled away.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, in an attempt to conceal the grin that was forming on your lips. Completely fooled by your actions, Chris continued rubbing your side as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"Does it hurt anywhere else, baby?" Chris asked and you nodded. "Here," you pulled away from him and pointed towards your chest. He shot you a puzzled look, confused as to why your chest would hurt when you claimed that you bumped your side.

"Because I was trying to apologize to my boyfriend a couple of hours ago, but instead, he gave me the silent treatment," you pouted.

Chris bursted out in laughter as he heard your response.

"It's true. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he locked himself inside his studio. Totally unfair and uncalled for," you continued and Chris shook his head in disbelief, his laughter coming to a stop as he calmed down.

"I could say the same thing about what happened last night," Chris challenged, raising one eyebrow at you.

"I'm sorry. I know I was being stupid. I should've called you or at least shot you a message from my friend's phone to let you know that I was coming home late. I just thought that if I called, I was going to end up bothering you, considering that it was such an ungodly hour," you explained, fiddling with the string of his hoodie.

"(Y/n), you could never be a bother to me," Chris said, "And did you honestly think that I could sleep knowing that you were out there?"

"I was so worried about you. Thank Jisung for having one of your friend's number because I was this close to losing it," Chris stated.

"I know. I'm really sorry," you pressed a kiss to his lips. "I promise I won't do it again, forgive me?" you added, pecking his lips once more.

"I can't stay mad at you," Chris let out a defeated sigh. "Of course. I forgive you, babygirl," he gave you a small smile.

You cheered and pulled him in for a hug, momentarily forgetting about your said injury.

"Do you feel better now?" Chris teased as he poked your sides, making you jolt in surprise. "Christopher!" you squealed, bursting in a fit of giggles as you realized that you've been caught red-handed.

Well, at least the intentions of your plan worked.

"You know what they say, desperate times call for desperate measures," you shrugged and Chris chuckled in amusement. He leaned in and gave you a kiss.

"You're lucky you're cute."

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riddikulus-writings · 3 years

Text

Take A Nap

A/N: So yeah. I have a long, in depth fic for these two that's chock full of secrets and fluff and Actual Backstory but for some reason all I can write is smut. This is part two to Escapades and takes place just after the police van rolled down that hill. Also, can someone let me know if that link I tried doesn’t work? I’m still new to writing on this blue hellsite

Word Count: 1734

Pairing: Rick Flag x Female Reader [Codename Nyx, after the Greek Goddess]

Warnings: Still not really any plot, sorry guys. The plot for this is hidden elsewhere. Vaginal fingering. Semi-public sex. Dirty talk. Rick still won't shut up but he really should, though, people are trying to sleep. Choking. Uh, nothing makes sense, really? Movie innacuracies due to the fact this is now a bigger vehicle than the hippie van they were cruising around in, but the same concept still applies.

Apparently, the van was on fire. One by one they stepped from the wreckage, walking out into the road, weapons in hand. Nyx wished she could’ve taken a picture, because she was positive they probably looked pretty cool.

Disoriented. Possibly concust. But cool.

And suddenly, rolling to a stop, was the small dusty van they'd rode to town in. Abner was in the open slider door, waving them in. DuBois puffed out his chest, "Alright. To Jotunheim."

"Not yet," Rick stopped him, "There's something else we need to do first."

"Stop standing like you have an American Flag waving behind you and get in the fucking mini bus, Flag."

Nyx's voice shook him out of his reverie; he was the last one outside. He jogged to catch the bus before it began moving faster, piling in the door and sliding it shut behind him. His eyes immediately found Nyx, seated in the very back. Rick beelined for her through the others and took up the space on her right. Peacemaker called to him from a seat up, "So, where are we going, now?"

"The Mayor's mansion in town," Rick told him, "We need to get Harley."

"Oh, I miss her," Nyx mused quietly.

Oh yeah. Rick cringed to himself, remembering the three missions he, Nyx and Harley had been on before he’d requested to Waller that Harley be benched more often than not. The first had gone by fine, minimal issues. The second was better. No deaths, no infighting amongst the Squad. Nyx had loosened up around other people by then and banter even happened. And the third--

Ain’t it normally the gal makin’ heart eyes at the guy and not the other way around, Ricky?

He’d shaken his head and given Harley a stern glare for assuming things. Harley had simply given him her smuggest million dollar grin and continued about her own business and not his.

“Suicide Squad to Mr. Flag,” a hand was waving in his eyes, slowly coming into focus. It was Nyx’s hand, but Cleo’s heavily accented voice, “What’s the plan?”

Rick cleared his throat, looking among his teammates, “Peacemaker high up, across the street. Sniper for any possible danger. Cleo,” he pointed at her, “Abner and, uh… Sebastian… are around back. Take out any guards back there. DuBois scales the wall to the top, Nyx and I keep watch.”

“Question,” Nyx raised her hand up, “Why can’t we just walk in the front door?”

"That would give us away," Peacemaker told her blatantly, "Instant capture. Dumb idea."

"You're a dumb idea," she retorted, "Actually, a bad idea was bringing you along."

Whoa. Everyone's eyebrows shot up, "Nyx, what the fuck? No infighting. Knock it off," Rick's voice was low but firm with authority.

"He's-- he's got bad vibes about him," Nyx's words slurred, "I-I just don't like him."

"No one does," DuBois told her, patting the very quiet Peacemaker on the shoulder, "Everyone try to get some rest before we get to town. It's going to be a while."

The rest of the team hunkered down in their seats, leaning against their respective windows or leaning forward with their heads against the seat ahead of them. Cleo snuggled into Nanaue's side, and Peacemaker went as far as laying completely flat on his back, his thick splayed legs hanging in the aisle.

Rick reached over and tugged Nyx across the bench seat they were seated on, sliding her into his side, "What’s up between you and Peacemaker?" His voice was quiet, muffled against the hair at her temple.

She ducked away from him a little, tucking her head under his chin, "I've been with him a bit longer than you have. I just… can't explain it but I don't like him. He makes me uneasy."

Rick's thumb started rubbing circles in her hip, "So many trust issues."

"I have my reasonings," she yawned up at him, "Secret reasonings."

"Oh, I'm sure you do," he whispered, grabbing her chin with his free hand so he could look her in the eye. The dim moonlight through the window made her eyes seem almost black, "Extra secret reasonings, huh?"

Nyx leaned closer, staring at his mouth instead of his eyes, "Top secret."

Rick hummed in agreement and closed the gap, sealing his mouth over hers. He wasted no time dipping his tongue into her mouth, drinking in her moans before they could get too loud. He gently pushed on her, laying her down across the length of the seat. Rick followed her down, nestling himself between her legs. Nyx planted a foot on the seat beside Rick’s thigh as he hitched the other into the crook of his elbow, “Gonna be quiet?” he asked quietly, lightly peppering kisses down her neck. Sucking on her now-exposed collarbone.

She whined, a breathless whisper as she nodded desperately, trying to grind her hips against something. Rick moved back up, his free hand moving around her neck, “Quiet.”

He slowly lowered her leg, her boot softly hitting the floor. Rick sent a sidelong glance through the rest of the dark bus, and so far no one had moved from their previous positions. Thank God for that. What a sight they’d wake up to; Nyx spread over the only bench seat here, Rick looming over her, a hand around her throat. They’d either think he was trying to kill her, or get very uncomfortable very fast and ask him to stop.

Which, he wasn’t about to do whether someone woke up or not.

He turned his attention back to the panting woman beneath him, raising an eyebrow at the grin spread over her face. The more pressure he applied to her throat, the wider her lips spread. His right hand worked at the buttons of her black pants, “Filthy little thing,” he muttered, “There’s other people on this bus.” Rick snaked his hand down the front of her pants, stroking down her dripping sex, “All for me?”

“That is you,” she panted out, grabbing the back of his head to pull him down for another searing kiss. When he scooped his cum back up with two fingers and pushed them inside, Nyx bit his bottom lip so hard he was sure she’d drawn blood. He leaned into it, pushing his tongue on her mouth again as he worked his fingers and scissored her open.

“Quiet,” he admonished, again, pressing his free hand against her throat once more. He pinned her to the seat, squeezing his hand as tight as he’d let himself, “Gonna wake everyone up,” he breathed out, his nose brushing against hers.

Again, Nyx’s grin grew, her pearly teeth glowing in the shards of moonlight passing through the windows, “Good.”

Rick almost growled but couldn’t without fear of waking someone up. Instead he buried his face in her shoulder, “Fuckin’ filthy little thing,” he repeated, curling his fingers against that certain spongy spot he’d found that made her grind hard into the palm of his hand, “Gonna be a good girl and keep me in there?” She whined out a high pitched yes but otherwise stayed breathless, quiet pants crawling up her throat and Rick wanted nothing more than to shove his cock in her open mouth. He pulled up from her neck, almost sneering with the strain of trying to stay quiet as he worked his thumb up to the peak of her cunt, “Want you to cum all over my hand, sweetheart. Gonna do that for me? See if you can stay quiet.”

“Bastard,” was the whimper he got.

“That’s not very nice,” he told her, pressing his thumb hard on her clit. Her arm suddenly flew up to cover her face, Nyx burying her face in the crook of her elbow as Rick buried a third finger deep in her cunt, his thumb rubbing fast circles. He moved his hand from her throat, sliding it instead to her hip to hold her down as she bucked into his hand, “C’mon, almost there. I got you,” he muttered.

Her hips stuttered, low whines coming muffled by her elbow. She was choking his fingers and he had to remove one so he could keep them moving, working her through her orgasm. Rick’s hand got soaked suddenly and she went limp, her only movement coming from her chest that moved with rapid breaths, “Bitch.”

Rick tugged her arm from her face as he slid his hand from her pants, “What’s the matter, Nyx?”

“I--” she panted out, “hate being-- quiet.”

He flashed her a bright grin and tugged her pants back into place, giving her stomach a gentle pat, “You didn’t have to,” a quick peck on the lips, “But it would’ve been a bit awkward for the others. Especially when I wouldn’t stop.” Another whimper, and he raised an eyebrow at her, but simply stuck his fingers in his mouth.

“I’m going to sleep,” she whispered, dropping her hand off the side of the seat. Her knuckles brushed the floor. The other arm folded behind her head.

“I sure fuckin’ hope so,” DuBois grumbled from somewhere up front. “You two are disgusting.”

"No one told you to listen," Rick shot back, his whisper loud enough for DuBois to hear over Nyx's stifled giggles. Rick was grinning, though; thankfully Bloodsport couldn't see it.

"Someone needs to nap," Nyx murmured, a small smirk plastered over her mouth, "He sounds cranky."

“You ain't laying down there,” Rick suddenly tugged her back up to snuggle into his side, his arm draped over her shoulders as he scooted them both to the end of the seat, “Leanin’ or layin’?”

“Lay,” she yawned.

He turned and pressed his back to the window, head lolling to the side to lean on the seat. After some shuffling, she was between his legs, back to his chest. HIs arms wrapped around her, one leg from each of them on the seat and the other leg on the floor. They looked like they had the same boots on. Nyx nuzzled her head into his shoulder, “Y’smell nice…”

“I smell like jungle and sweat,” he chuckled, his laugh vibrating through her, “And blood. Go to sleep.”

And they both dozed off like that, just as they had several times before on Nyx’s couch. Their breathing evened, Nyx drooling a little onto Rick’s bicep. Rick shifted in his sleep and snugged her closer to his chest.

#Rick Flag #Rick Flag x reader #Rick Flag x female reader #rick flag smut #the suicide squad #Rick Flag The Suicide Squad #dc #dceu #suicide squad fan fiction #suicide squad fanfiction #rick flag imagine #rick flag one shot #dceu fan fiction

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yinses · 3 years

Text

B R A N D E D

| he would make sure that everyone knew who you belonged to |

tattoo artist! sukuna ryomen

rating: t

a/n: this is going to be a three part series. it got too long because i couldn’t shut up. thank you to @teoran for beta reading !!

you should have never informed yuuji that you were thinking about getting a tattoo, because of course his first response would be hey, sukuna owns a shop. why don’t you stop there. as if you didn’t already known that. your other friend, unfortunately had not known how to be subtle about it.

its when you go to hand off your card that they gasp audibly, drawing the attention of both yourself and the woman behind the counter.

“you’re not going to ask for a discount? i mean you know the owner, right?”

she jumps back quick enough to dodge the errant elbow you throw her way.

you knew you would regret telling her.

the woman is undeterred as she take your card, looking bored with the news. “so you know sukuna, huh?” the way she said it implied that it wasn’t the first time it had been made known to her.

you had known the man long enough to know where her thoughts were going with that assumption. sukuna wasn’t only popular for his art. a shudder rolled through your body at the idea of being categorized as one of his flings.

it wasn’t as though you were intentionally shaming the women. but it was sukuna. the same guy who locked you and his younger brother out on the patio whenever he was meant to keep an eye on you. and then blamed you for hiding from him when the responsible adults got home.

in hindsight, maybe you should have chosen another location. but now your card has been charged.

you scribbled your signature on the receipt, “uh yeah, awhile now. im not requesting him or anything.”

“his appointment book is full anyway. he doesn’t take walk ins.” its not said snidely, just matter of fact. as if she was seasoned with dealing with these kind of customers.

the man of topic strides in then, carrying a few bags of take-out that he drops carelessly onto the counter. he doesn’t m look unlike any other day, a loose white sleeveless shirt with a low hanging v-neck that just invited attention to his skin. the swirls of black ink made permanent by his hand only. though that was the advantage of this field and owning your own business on top of it.

sukuna was prepared to ignore the clientele planted at front desk, until he did a double take. those vermilion eyes took you in, morphing from speculation, to shock, a pinch of awe, then back to postulation.

“what are you doing here?”

a small frown mars you face. you didn’t actually consider that perhaps sukuna wouldn’t want you here. it was one thing to know the guy, but whether you wanted to accept it or not, you weren’t just another customer. so you unsurely respond with, “getting a tattoo?”

the snort he gives isn't one of annoyance. in fact its almost comforting to see the minuscule curl of his lips until they start to part, “yeah, missing something aren’t you?”

you realize with a frown that he’s referring to his brother.

“i have other friends.”

that slow smile wides as he gives your friend a brief look of appreciation. suddenly all those years of witnessing him cart his flings around rise to the forefront of your mind. really nothing rarely changed. “ i can see that.”

his gaze cuts back to you, “what are you getting? your boyfriends name?”

you cant tell if he’s teasing, fishing or a combination of them both.

he turns to lean over the counter, arms flexing at the action and pinches the fresh design still hot from the printer. you resist the urge to shuffle in place as he inspects the image with more interest than there were lines. it was hardly all that complex, just as you intended.

sukuna finally voices his opinion, to no surprise of your own. “yeah? kind of small isn’t it?”

“its my first sukuna,” you drawl.

you realize too late that the wording isnt best around him.

“no kidding.”

he tugs a styrofoam box free from the plastic bag before gesturing to you with a tilt of his head.

“alright, lets knock it out.”

you look to the woman expecting her to complain about his pending appointments but she only returns it with a pointed look. when it came down to it, what the boss wanted goes.

right then.

turning, you address your friend who seemed more invested in watching sukuna’s departure. “are you coming?”

her gaze snaps to you and she doesn’t even bother to pretend. she shrugs, “you may not be squeamish about needles but i am.” her hand waves vaguely towards the lounge area near the coffee station and stack of assorted snacks. “i’ll come running if you scream though,” she teases as you turn down the hall.

sukuna’s voice carries from the right in guidance where you find him setting his food off to the side. the room is neat. though you don’t know what you were expecting given the health expectations lining his work. then again, you’d spent the better part of the decade watching him cart week old pizza boxes out of his room so it was hardly a baseless assumption.

aside from the desk of tools and variety of inks the only other defining feature was the wall at the back. there was no rhyme or direction to the madness. the once white wall was littered with varying penmanships and messages. almost like an autograph book. some derogatory, others genuinely thankful for his work - you think you see a few numbers too.

the cushion of the seat protests under his weight as he rolls to the center of the room. he has the stencil of your chosen art held up in expectation.

“where is this pretty little thing going?”

“oh my rib- here on the right.” you think nothing of bringing up the hem of your shirt to expose the skin just under the curve of your breast.

he almost looks impressed, though there is some doubt. he wheels closer and gives no warning as his hand palpates the area. “over the bone? that’s daring for your first tattoo, princess.”

the name was nothing new, an accompaniment to yuuji’s ‘brat’.

part of you actually grateful that its sukuna. the entire shop had good reviews but it was best known for his talent. besides, the charge was already sitting on your card.

“i can handle it.”

he’s still squinting at your side, fingers tickling at your skin.

“yeah?” he answers absently. nimble digits you didn't think had any taste for delicacy carefully peel the plastic from the stencil. he doesn’t second guess himself in the slightest before pressing it to your skin.

when he pulls away, the chair follows him as he collects a hand mirror from his desk to reflect the design back to you.

“double sure?” he’s still rallying your resolve, but there is a hint of warning to his voice as professionalism seeps in.

with a firm nod you seal the deal,” yeah.”

“aright, pin up your shirt out of the way. tuck it into your bra if you want.”

you were expecting this already, given the location you’d decided on. with sukuna that action comes effortlessly without thought. it was no different than the times he’d seen you in your bathing suit, your brain reasoned. at least you still had your pants this time.

sukuna rests back into a lean against his small desk. absently you note that his eyes haven't left you once since you’d entered the room.

“eager little thing aren't you?”

but its sukuna.

you shrug.“ i guess. kind of been saving up for this one.”

the noise he makes is non-committal as he nods to the angled chair.

without your shirt there was no barrier between yourself and the leather. you expected the cold chill but the lack of stickiness kind of surprised you. once again you were reminded of the indisputable list of reviews at your fingertips.

sukuna goes about collecting the materials to disinfect your skin, angling the bottle and cotton over the trash can to catch the excess drops. satisfied with the saturation, he slides back.

you try to absorb the brief shock you feel when he applies the alcohol to your skin. it was hardly a substitute for actual bracing to come but it was good practice. when you look up, you catch his gaze again.

he’d been more observant in these last few minutes than you could ever recall sukuna caring before. maybe it was the job. though the thought of him excelling at customer service has you fighting a snort.

“cold,” you supply and he gives another grunt.

he chucks the cotton ball into the trash with all the efficiency of a man who has made a sport out of it and probably keeps score.

deciding on a solid color eliminated the need for him to break away to change shades, eliminating any surplus time keeping you in this chair.

a gloved hand braces your side, pinching the skin, while the other holding the gun rests against your sternum. when the motor starts you take a careful breath in. sukuna’s eyes raise at the sound.

“not nervous?”

you blink, expecting him to just get to it.

“uh, not really? i’ve never really been afraid of needles.”

he pauses. just when you part your lips to ask what wrong the buzzing starts.

its impossible not to tense at the first bite of the needle. but you fight the urge to jerk. it stings. the vibration of the motor is uncomfortable against your ribcage but it's not unbearable. you certainly wouldn't cry.

sukuna seems to notice it as well.

“not going to lie thought you’d be more of a cry baby? weren't you the one sobbing after you stubbed your toe.”

you latch onto the idle chatter even if it's a jibe.

“i was eleven and i sprained that toe.”

he gives you a quick glance. “sure, princess. completely called for the waterworks.”

you snort. “yeah well it made me stronger. im barely affected today.”

your words are followed by a shift of his hand as it turns to follow a line, the movement pressing firmly against the underside of your breast. you're too attentive to the needle pinching at your skin to take notice.

but sukuna does, eyes narrowing without your awareness.

“yeah, i can see that.”

rather than closing your eyes to block out the pain, you find a more comforting distraction in tracing the lines of his tattoos with your gaze. you can hardly make out the first tattoo he’d gotten at the age of seventeen after forging his parents signature.

the abstract design had now branched out, interlocking with new styles to map out the formation of a sleeve. it was almost like his own branded language. a dialect of bold shapes and bands. you’d never thought to actually ask what his tattoos meant. nor did you expect an honest answer.

sukuna works rather quickly and efficiently while your mind wandered. even if he hadn’t squeezed you in during his lunch break this felt like the usual pace for him. he looked so in the zone as he followed the pre-made lines to perfection.

you weren’t the model customer, still having your brief moments of weakness but he rolled with the interruptions better than you expected. sukuna was brash growing up and didn’t tolerate nonsensical people. you’d had your fair share of opportunities to be chewed out by him.

and earned a reasonable amount of them, though your returning attitude said otherwise.

but this sukuna was softer, if you could put it like that. he knew the right time to give you breaks but didn’t let your nerves settle too much. when he wasn’t adding a layer to permanency to your skin, an errant finger would smooth over the swelling flesh.

more than once you heard him throw out a quiet good girl. that you knew was meant to be encouraging but it came with additional implications that tickled your skin.

he tells you that you should be grateful that the artwork doesn’t need any shading. that it was never a good fit for beginners.

your chest expands the furthest it had in the last half hour when he finally rolls back.

“alright, princess, go ahead and take a look.”

you take the offered mirror again and angle it to take in the fresh piece. the reflection you get back is- amazing. you’d been so concentrated?? on micromanaging the pain that you failed to take in the little details he’d added along with the original design.

as if reading your thoughts, he snorts. “it's not my art if i don't leave my mark. you can tell me it looks good you know.”

if you didn't know any better, you’d say he was authentic in his attempt to bait your approval.

and you had no reason not to provide.

your legs are a little shaky but you manage to balance yourself before brining the eldest itadori into a hug. sukuna goes stiff for a moment before returning the embrace and doesn’t resist when you press your face into his shoulder. there’s an awkward pat before they release each other from the hold.

sukuna .. before he’s shrugging you off.

“god, what a noob. at least let me cover it up. you’re going to irritate the skin.”

when he turns back to rummage through his desk you note the hint of a flush creeping up his nape. you know better than to mention it, instead just smiling at his back.

there is a scowl on his face as he applies the cotton square to your skin and tapes it in place.

“please do not itch this shit. i don’t care if you feel like your skin is going to fall off.”

he presses a small tube of antibiotic into your hand.

“and apply this daily. you don't need it drying out. “

you’re grateful for the little slip of printed instructions that follow. you were able to remember the sensible directions but it couldn't hurt to have additional guidance when you started to question the progress.

“oh and no sex.”

that was definitely not on the list.

sukuna raises a brow in all seriousness. “what? if you get your blood pumping too much.”

you call him on his bullshit,” this small? hardly. “

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, try it yourself if you want. i charge for touch ups though.”

the two of you size each other up. just like old times.

with a sigh you relent, “fine, no sex.”

“good, see me in two weeks.”

his words stop you short. it wasn’t as if you needed anything added and he wasn’t a physician checking on your progress. if anything, you would only revisit your artist if there was a problem.

“what for?”

the dawning grin would follow you for the next fourteen days.

“to make sure you didn’t have sex.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna blessings #sukuna ryomen

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h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

🍀 hello! I have a suggestion

How would the class 1 a boys react to you both getting recognized in public as "the secret class 1 a couple?!" And seeing it on the news or social media, Before yous are dating. Hope this makes sense 💖

a/n: hi!! this is super cute! i decided to do a bunch of the boys from 1-a, i didn’t get to do all of them, but this is certainly a cute idea!!

headcanon: them reacting to news of being a couple before they’re actually a couple

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

katsuki bakugou

»»————-　★　————-««

It happens during a training battle with class 1-B.

It’s just a little get together, the two classes joining for some competitive training.

You’re working with Bakugou since he tolerates you the most, which he would gladly chose you over Beavis and Butt-Head Kirishima and Kaminari.

He also has a crush on you but that’s a secret teehee.

You got one on him too so don’t act all innocent.

But of course, Monoma happens to be one of the members of the group you face off with.

He’s just messing with you, teasing you. Calling you pet names like Angel or Honey.

He’s doing it ‘cause it clearly pisses Bakugou off.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners, flirting with your significant other.” Monoma apologizes as he slaps Bakugou’s shoulder, activating his quirk.

“We’re not dating!?” You yell as you charge at the blonde that isn’t your crush.

“So you mean the entire class has been lying to me?” Monoma pouts.

After training, Bakugou asks you out, stating he’d been thinking of doing it sooner but he had been caught up with staying top of the class-

He was most certainly jealous.

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

HIS MOM. PLEASE. IT’S HIS MOM AND ALL MIGHT THAT ARE LIKE YOOO CONGRATS ON yOU TWO GETTING TOGETHER.

Like legit, Deku’s in some parent-teacher conference and All Might is like ‘many things are blossoming, such as young love.’

And his mom is just like ‘finally you and y/n got together, about damn time.’

And Deku’s just like ????? IM SORRY????////

Literally races over to you and is like

“They think we’re together-”

And you’re just like

“Well damn we should be” *lip bite*

Deku blushes but asks you out on the spot so he doesn’t have to explain to his mom that it wasn’t like that.

Lowkey he had the biggest crush on you and was just really nervous that you were too occupied with studies to even notice him.

His mom is so proud of him, probably throws him a party or something for your first official date- please i love her

»»————-　★　————-««

shoto todoroki

»»————-　★　————-««

Tell me why I think this fool finds out about the whole ‘secret couple’ thing from Dabi-

It’s just so bad that it’s absolutely perfect.

Tell me that this crispy ass patchwork villain would not take every opportunity to tease Shoto.

“So you came here to fight me with your true love? Perhaps romance isn’t dead.”

Literally about to light his ass on fire and Shoto’s just frozen-yeah go on laugh I know you want too-and just stares at this dude like???

come again? pardon?

Deadass looks over at you and just raises an eyebrow.

“I think he thinks we’re a couple.” You fill in the blanks and Todoroki eventually nods.

“Well yes, they are indeed my true love, but I think this might be a bit extreme for a first date. Perhaps when we’re done beating your ass, I can take them out for dinner.”

chivalry isn’t dead *heart eye emojis*

»»————-　★　————-««

denki kaminari

»»————-　★　————-««

Honestly with the flirty comments you litter under each other’s social media posts, google probably be recommended y’all relationship stuff, those little heart lamp message things, matching necklaces, technology was dropping all the hints.

No but Kirishima probably just assumes you’re together when Kaminari brings you along to one of the mall trips they usually go on.

“Dude you finally asked them out, sick, took you long enough.”

Cue red Kaminari. Man is a tomato. Like he just turns to you shaking throwing a thumbs up.

“Awe, you like me?” You give him a hug and kiss his cheek, shoving your hand in his.

“Yeah, totally, I mean who wouldn’t.” Kaminari is back to being smug, he’s got a pretty person’s hand in his own he is now taken JSFSJFJ

He will literally be in debt to Kirishima for getting the two of you together. Like he’s deadset on somehow repaying Kirishima.

»»————-　★　————-««

eijiro kirishima

»»————-　★　————-««

Two words. Katsuki Bakugou.

Kirishima is super sweet, like I just see him doing a bunch of really nice stuff for you, helping you carry things to your dorm, or like maybe doing your hair if you asked.

Bakugou is extremely observant and will just watch how y’all act but like he’s finally so tired of watching you act like a couple. He knows you two have to be a thing so why hasn’t Kirishima mentioned it.

WHY IS BKAUOGU MAD THAT KIRISHIMA IS LIKE NOT SAYING HE”S TAKEN DUDE FKSFKSJI JUST KNOW HE WOULD BE SJFSKFSJK

“We get it you’re together! Just cut the sappy shit already!” Bakugou snaps randomly one day because you’re just sitting in his lap because all the couch seats are taken.

Your cheeks burn and Kirishima’s face turns the same crimson color as his hair.

“Dude we’re-”

“Friends.” You finish, but there’s a hint of sadness.

“You certainly don’t act like. Fucking ask each other out already goddamn.”

Do what he boss says.

Kirishima brings you pretty flowers and asks you out, literally taking you on a date when you say yes, god he’s so sweet love him kiss kiss.

»»————-　★　————-««

tenya iida

»»————-　★　————-««

Honestly, I think Aizawa’s gonna just have to lecture Iida on social cues. ‘Cause Iida may seem like he’s just being a good class rep, but walking you to and from class, carrying your bag, and tucking hair behind your ear are most certainly beyond what classifies as ‘class rep behavior.’

A bunch of students from class 1-a are gonna be really suspicious, whispering around, making plans to try and catch it happening.

Sure enough, Iida’s carrying your bag as you walk back toward the dorm building, your pinkies just barely touching, before you finally heave a sigh and interlock yours with his.

Kaminari can’t hold in his excitement, congratulating the navy-haired class rep on scoring such a hottie.

“I’m confused, you’re congratulating me-”

“Because you finally asked (y/n) out!” Iida just turns red and stares at you.

“No no, I think you may have misinterpreted!”

“Really? On god? Just like that?” You pout, lowering your head.

“No! I...”

Iida quite literally has to prove he likes you by kissing you in front of the class. Guess it’s not really a secret anymore.

»»————-　★　————-««

hanta sero

»»————-　★　————-««

Much like Kirishima, Bakugou and/or Kaminari and/or Kirishima play a big role in ‘exposing’ the two of you.

Late nights in each other’s dorm playing video games?

Wearing each other’s sweaters?

Picnics and walks together?

Yeah try convincing off-brand pikachu, red robin, and the fitness gram pacer test you’re not together.

the fitness gram pacer test bit sounded much better in my head but i didn’t really have any other funny nickname for bakugou other than johnny test which made about as much sense as the fitness gram pacer test.

“Yo we’re going to the mall!” Kaminari is the first to spill the plans for the weekend.

“Oh shoot alright-”

“I meant us. Don’t you have a date with (Y/n)?” Kaminari points to the rest of the group, excluding you and Sero who sat side by side, under a knitted blanket.

“Uhm, Kaminari we’re-”

“Oh no, I know you like them.” Kaminari leans in really close to Sero’s face before squishing his cheeks and turning him to face you.

“I’m so sorry.” Sero whispers to you.

You roll your eyes and lean over, planting a kiss on his cheek, earning a few cheers from Mina and Kaminari who pretty much played matchmaker.

Sero takes you out on a date when they plan to go to the mall, but it was really all a ruse to spy on you on your date.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

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elizabeethan · 3 years

Text

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal.

Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense.

Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch.

“She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.

First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit.

Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for.

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag.

He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile.

“We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.”

Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.

“You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays.

He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?”

“Not yet,” the dumbass admits.

The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.”

I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him.

“There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?”

She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting.

“She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes.

“She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.”

“We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke.

“That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard.

He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse.

One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers.

“You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.”

Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets.

“What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep.

She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?”

In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.”

She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea.

“Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?”

She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time.

“I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head.

Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly.

She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

“Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves.

“You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.”

“What the fuck?”

“You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her.

“I did what now?”

“I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?”

He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully.

“Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.”

“So you… you fell in love… with me…?”

“Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

“I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.”

“Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.”

“Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

“Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before.

“Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.”

“Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

#Captain Swan #Captain swan fanfic #cs fanfic #the swan and her handler #cs ff #the swan ff #cs crack #crack fic

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