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darklordofthesimp · 1 year

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Delirium (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: Being partnered with Ghost was never easy. However, when you find him bleeding out on the kitchen floor and delirious from blood loss, you make a discovery. The L.T loves to talk.

Requested by Anon: #57 You're shaking.

A/N: Some Sunshine to feed you while I work on Anything III.

Category: Mutual Pining

Warnings: Description of injury || Graphic language

You weren't a medic by any means.

There was the combat first aid course that you were all forced to do during basic training, but that had been a century ago. You'd handled your own injuries when an enemy sniper would get a lucky shot. Again, there's not much to do there other than put some pressure on it.

Otherwise, you were fairly inexperienced when it came to handling injured team members. There were shortfalls to being a sniper, hand-to-hand combat wasn't as relevant and having to provide first aid was rare.

You call them shortfalls because now, in a situation where those skills are required, you're fucking struggling.

You'd opened the door to the safe house with a sigh, frowning when you couldn't see Ghost through the windows. You'd assumed he'd be waiting for you to arrive from your nest but clearly, he didn't give enough of a fuck to wait around.

You could have died en route and he'd be sleeping.

For some reason, the thought hurt.

You could think of a million things that he probably thought more important than you; staring at a wall being high on the list. What you hadn’t expected, was to find him collapsed on the kitchen floor.

“Ghost,” you rasped, choking on his name. His eyes flickered open at the sound of your voice, the relief palpable in his gaze. He groaned and let his head fall back against the wall with a strangled noise. You were frozen. You’d never seen him injured and honestly, you thought that you never would.

You’d even told Soap that Ghost was probably just a bootleg Robo-Cop beneath the mask.

But, the blood soaking through his uniform said otherwise.

“You gonna give me hand or not?” His voice was low and rough. It had no edge, though. There was no bite behind his words like there usually was and it scared you. The man hated your guts and if he was too injured to convey that then he was definitely dying.

“Oh God,” you breathed, leaning your rifle against the wall slowly. Your eyes never left his crumpled form and his eyes never left your face. “Oh God.”

You slid to your knees, rushing to his side with frantic curses. You couldn’t see the extent of the wound from beneath his armour and he clearly didn’t have enough strength to take it off himself.

“Stab wound,” Ghost offered the cause of injury through gritted teeth. “Got me good.”

“This shit needs to come off,” you tugged at his armour, reaching for the quick-release cord. The man groaned but he didn’t object. One hard tug of the plastic ligature had the vest falling apart at every seam, the line now loose in your hand.

“Fuck,” the man gave a startled chuckle, taking a large breath with his chest free from pressure. “Feel better already.”

You didn’t reply, eyes narrowed on the wound beneath his ribs. You pulled up his shirt, tucking it beneath his arms as you scanned over the injury. It was clean cut, a clear entry wound that was steadily leaking a shit tonne of blood.

No sounds of air sucking in through the jagged flesh and you thanked whoever was listening that it wasn’t a punctured lung. You didn’t have any seals on you and you didn’t want to slap him with some duct tape instead. He’d never let you live that down.

“How’s it lookin’, Sunshine?” Ghost asked, breathing heavily.

“Unfortunately,” you began, pressing the cotton padding from your kit against the wound, “if you apply pressure, you’ll live.”

“Unfortunately?” He coughed, the sound strained and you could tell he immediately regretted the movement.

“Very fucking unfortunate,” you confirmed with faux seriousness.

You stuck a gauze pad to the wound once you had finished packing it, reaching into your med pouch for a bandage. You’d wrap it around his midriff to keep pressure on the wound, you decided.

“A ray of Sunshine you are, as per fuckin’ usual.”

You clenched your jaw, reminding yourself that he was injured and that you couldn’t stick a finger knuckle-deep in his wound as retaliation. At the very least, he was back to hating you. Meant he wasn’t dying any time soon.

You frowned at the bandage in your hands, desperately trying to remove the plastic wrapping. You couldn’t think straight and your body felt jittery as the adrenline began to settle. You couldn’t believe how vulnerable he was, unable to gather the strength to take off his own body armour.

You hated it.

Why the fuck couldn’t you open this wrapping?

You pulled harder on the plastic, trying to bring your heart rate down. Why were you breathing so hard?

A gloved hand fell over your own.

Your frantic tugging came to an immediate halt and your eyes snapped up to meet his, startled. Ghost's gaze was half lidded but just as intense as always, grazing over your features. Heat flushed through your body at his drunken stare. You knew it was from the blood loss, you knew he could barely see straight, but that kind of look was reserved for someone he was sharing a bed with and you couldn't function at the sight of it.

For a moment he said nothing, blinking slowly- too slowly- as he took in a breath.

"Relax, kid," he murmured eventually. "I'm okay."

You swallowed hard.

His fingers were soft over your own, too weak to apply pressure but curled over your hand just the same.

"I am relaxed." You bit back at him, returning your gaze to the stupid fucking bandage beneath both of your hands. You didn't want him to see how much this affected you, you didn't want him to think you were a cowardly mess.

There was a soft huff as he patted your hand lightly. "You're shaking, Sunshine."

You sucked in a breath.

Your eyes flickered back to meet his, lips trembling at your exposure. He knew. The gentleness in his gaze was otherworldly, so foreign you wondered if it was even Simon Riley beneath the mask. Blood loss was clearly doing a number on him and he was doing a number on you.

“I’m a sniper, Sir.” You coughed, trying to tear yourself from the sudden intimacy of the situation. “I don’t shake.”

Ghost tutted from beneath his mask.

“Haven’t been with the right bloke, then.”

Your jaw dropped.

Ghost blinked at you as though he couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth, either. Jesus fucking Christ. You suddenly realised why Soap had made fun of Ghost for never drinking when you’d all be at the pub. You remembered asking the Sarge why the masked enigma would always bail after an hour or two and his response was simple.

“The L.T can’t hold his tongue when he’s on the piss.”

You thought that implied aggression.

Clearly not.

“There is no right bloke,” you rasped, slowly pulling the bandage from beneath his hand. The loss of contact left you feeling empty but suddenly you could breathe a little easier.

Your fingers shook violently as you tried for the plastic wrapper again and your gaze flickered to Ghost’s face, praying he hadn’t noticed. You should have known better.

His eyes were on your trembling digits, a soft exhale making it’s way to your ears.

“Looks like I’ve proved you wrong, Sunshine.”

The words were low but there was no heat behind them. It didn’t feel lustful, they were murmured like an afterthought, his mind elsewhere. You wondered where Simon Riley disappeared to in his head when he looked at you.

“You crack a lot of jokes for someone who’s a literal shish kebab,” you snapped, tearing at the plastic wrapping with your teeth. Finally, the bandage came loose.

“And you talk a lot of shit for someone who cares more than they let on.” The words were fired back, demanding your attention.

You stared at him for a long moment, resisting the urge to squirm beneath his dark gaze. You’d never seen that expression on him before, as though he were daring you to disagree. As if he were waiting for you to say something.

“Can’t care too much in this business, Sir.” You choked on the words, unravelling the bandage.

“I believed that once,” he tilted his head.

“And now?” You prodded, leaning over him to wrap the bandage around his midriff. You tried to ignore how close your face was to his, how your fingers trailed against the skin of his stomach. The Lieutenant shivered beneath your touch and you kept your gaze downcast.

Fingers gripped your chin softly and you gasped as he tilted your face upward.

You were half on top of him, nose to nose and his stuttered exhale brushed against your lips. Simon’s eyes were half lidded and this close you could see the blue of his eyes, a stormy ocean that swallowed you whole. You were caught in it’s rip tide, drowning in the reverence of his stare.

“Now,” he murmured, lazily examining our features. His eyes lingered on your parted lips, his thumb slowly swiping your bottom lip. “Could say I’ve had a change of heart.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #cod x reader #cod mw2 ghost #cod mw2 x reader

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starrystevie · 4 months

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"what's that?" dustin asks one night, eyes zeroed in on steve's chest.

confused, he glances down to where his button up has opened a bit at the neckline, not seeing anything on his skin other than the chain around his neck and bits of chest hair.

"what's what, henderson?"

the chain is simple silver, and at the bottom hidden under his shirt is a ring. he was gifted one of eddie's when they made whatever they were official. eddie let him pick, let steve trail his fingers feather light over his hands and over heavy silver until he found one he liked.

"you gonna pick one in this century?" eddie teased, looking up at him from under his lashes, smirking in the way that gives steve butterflies.

"this is an important decision," steve murmured out in a low voice, his light touch sending shivers down eddie's spine. "i can't just settle on one."

he ends up with a mood ring, one that eddie swore he only had because he needed something on his otherwise bare hand but steve knows it's because he thought it looked mysterious. sliding it off his finger is easy, placing a kiss on the pale bit of skin left behind is even easier.

it doesn't fit on his finger, not even close. he could barely squeeze it onto his pinkie but even then they had to use strawberry lube to get it off after it gets stuck.

"you don't have to wear it," eddie said, defeated with his big brown eyes breaking steve's heart into pieces.

but the thing is, steve is a little more than head over heels for him. he'd do anything to make eddie happy, make him feel loved, and being offered a ring in the first place had him feeling like he could fly. he wanted to show it off, flaunt it around like it was more than a mood ring because it was.

just because his fingers were too big didn't mean he couldn't keep the ring on him at all times. which is how he ended up with it on the simple silver chain around his neck.

the night he showed eddie for the first time, crawling up the bed shirtless to push him into the pillows with a searing kiss, was a night he wouldn't soon forget. eddie stared up at him with something that looked like love dancing behind his eyes as the ring dangled between them, glinting in the moonlight coming in through the bedroom window.

"you're wearing it?" eddie's voice was soft, reverent, as he took a hand up to cover the ring with his hand, pushing it into steve's chest right above his heart. he bent down to give eddie another kiss, relishing in the quick bite of pain that comes from the pressure of him pushing the metal into his chest.

"of course i'm wearing it, babe," steve said against his lips with a smile. "not gonna be able to get me to take it off now."

true to his word, steve never takes it off unless absolutely necessary. he wears it in his sleep, when he slides in behind eddie and curls around him. he wears it to work under his shirts, the metal warm against his skin as it thumps along with his heartbeat. he wears it around the house, when they go out on dates, when he showers. he wears it when he knows eddie will see the outline of it peeking through a tight shirt, driving him crazy.

it becomes habit for eddie to find it, fiddle with it over steve's clothes while they watch tv on the couch. they'll be pressed up against each other, limbs entwined, with his hand directly over the ring, rising and falling with every breath steve takes.

wearing it at all times, however, seems to be causing a bit of a problem. one that even dustin can see.

"don't be obtuse," he tuts as if he was chastising a child, "who gave you a bruise on your chest?"

"what are you talking about, i don't have a bruise on my-"

steve rolls his eyes and goes to the bathroom, flicking on the overhead light and pushing his chest out to get as close the mirror as possible. sure enough, sitting right above his heart, is a barely there bruise. it's a little green, a little brown, but definitely there.

there's something to be said about having eddie bruised above his heart. something to be said about having the indent of his ring pressed into his skin where he's the most vulnerable. the place where he had to learn how to take his armor off to let eddie see in the first place.

steve looks between the bruise and his face, back and forth and back again and watches as his smile grows wide, grows soft around the edges, grows into something that is vaguely eddie shaped which somehow makes it grow even softer.

he can hear eddie get home, the front door slamming as he shouts a too loud welcome to dustin and drops his toolbox onto the floor. his heart thuds a little bit like it always does when he realizes eddie is nearby, and he thinks if he could look close enough, he'd see his eddie shaped bruise jump along with it.

carefully, steve strokes his fingers over the discoloration, presses down just enough to feel it zing through his nerves like the lightning that eddie himself is. he watches as the skin turns pale before blooming back to life again.

steve thinks there's something there that he can't put his finger on. something thrumming through his veins that he can't give a name to.

"baby, you've got to come see this!" he yells into the living room.

something that he has all the time in the world with eddie to eventually figure out.

crossposted on twitter here

#bee not writing something angsty or smutty wow what a turn of events #my writing #steddie #idk just a lil something while i try to get back into the steddie groove #steddie drabble #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson

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ediewentmissing · 1 year

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“Bull-fucking-shit,” Eddie leans in further towards you from the opposite side of the table, pressing his rings against the wooden surface, “Everyone has a crush on at least someone.”

He’d asked you whether you liked anyone or not many times before, and each time you instantly denied his query. But he was right, it was bullshit. And he could tell. Usually he didn’t push, just changed the subject to something innocent, but today he was impatient, but he’d wondered what you type was for too long, and today, he planned to find out.

Although the chances were that you were into the mainstream, stereotypical, hot guys, Eddie had a tiny ray of hope that maybe he was your type.

“‘Kay, uh…” He thinks for a moment from across the table, then smiles, “How ‘bout a celebrity? Or fictional character?”

You sigh huffily, ignoring him and turning your gaze to the pile of homework you were supposed to be helping him with. He gets up and sits abruptly down next to you.

Eddie grabs your chin and turns your head to his face, and your eyes peel hesitantly away from the incomplete work to his. He’s got his puppy-eyes in action. His melted caramel puppy-eyes.

“Fine,” You give in, and he straightens up, excited, “I’ll compromise; I tell you a celebrity crush of mine, and you have to study,” You press a finger firmly into the pages laid on the table, “otherwise you can say bye-bye to graduation.”

His nods his head eagerly, awaiting your confession. You take a deep breath in, preparing yourself for the inevitable teasing that will come out of this.

“Kirk.”

“I require a last name.”

“Ham-“

He leaps out of his seat and jogs around the bench in a frenzy. “HAMMET? KIRK HAMMET?”

You nod, suppressing a laugh, because he looks as if he just shit himself. Maybe he did.

“HOLY SHIT!” He runs his hands through his hair in bewilderment, “THIS… THIS IS A GROUNDBREAKING DISCOVERY! I- I MEAN… CHECK MY PULSE!”

He grabbed you wrist, placing your palm on this chest. His heart rate was soaring, thumping underneath your hand.

“Christ, Eds! Calm down!” You pull your palm away from his faded Whitesnake shirt, secretly not wanting to, and he plops himself back down next to you. You begin to flick through the pages of the unfinished homework.

“So why Kirk?”

“Huh?” You glance at him, then back down.

“Why Kirk of all people? Most girls are into… What? Like, Tom Cruise? Brad Pitt, Ralph Macchio, Rob Lowe-“

“Hey, stop right there.” You hold up your hand, “Rob is a heartthrob, for sure, but doesn’t matter because Kirk is top-fucking-tier and beats, like, ninety percent of the competition.”

Your answer felt so close to home. Eddie was beaming. Kirk was a certified metalhead, so was Eddie. They had the same style, liked the same music. And they both had rocking personalities. You we’re practically confessing your love to him, and all of a sudden, Eddie felt like he actually had a shot with you. Maybe he bet ninety percent of the competition. It could be why you stuck around, because nobody else did.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb

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itsokbbygrl · 15 days

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Make Me Sweat.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+//MDNI!!!!

WC: 6.8k (whoops)

Summary: Javi can't sleep. You can't keep it in your pants recently. Both of you find yourselves dripping on this sunny Saturday morning.

A/N: This is filth. I mean, it's written by me, so it's soft filth, sweet filth, but like, FILTH nonetheless. ♡ Written for my sweet new friend, Kricket @sugarcoated-lame for the @swiftiscruff friendship exchange, and inspired by P looking fucking delectable post-workout in that giant navy t-shirt. Thanks, bby boy. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tags: SMUT, PWP, reader understands basic spanish, author is requesting the reader to look up the minimal spanish used themselves if they can't figure it out with context clues, established relationship, f masturbation, sex toys, unprotected PIV, fingering, creampie, breeding kink, body hair mention, reader fits into Javi's oversized t-shirts, reader is able bodied and has female anatomy but otherwise pretty physically undescribed. i think that's it, lmk if i missed something egregious.

Javier woke with a start, heart racing, breaths coming quick and heavy. He closed his eyes and tried to slow, slow, slow it down. Concentrating on his breath, deep inhale, long exhale, again, again, until he felt the parasitic tendrils of his subconsciously derived nightmare recede. He sat up on his side of the bed and ran his palm down his face, the body-warm sheets pooling at the bend of his waist, the cool night air of the bedroom causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh. He peeked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. 5:43AM displayed in bright red light, the time taunting him. Too early to do much, too late to get much more sleep. Javi groaned to himself and decided to greet the day earlier than he anticipated. He leaned over to his side, dropping a soft kiss to the shoulder of his bed partner before lifting the sheets from his body and gently scooting out of bed to avoid waking her.

Javi quietly moved around the room in darkness, grabbing a ratty old t-shirt and some athletic shorts out of a dresser drawer before moving to another to grab a pair of socks and clean underwear. He gently opened the door to the bedroom and padded down the hallway to the kitchen. He grabbed the pad of sticky notes and a pen from the junk drawer and left a note. Couldn’t sleep, went to the gym. Be back in a bit, amorcito. Te amo - Javi. He peeled the note from the pad and stuck it to the coffee maker, knowing that was the first place she always stopped in the mornings, sure to be seen, before grabbing his keys and wallet from the bowl on the countertop and heading to his car.

“That’s it, mi amor, there you go. Just like that, cariño. Take it, take it, take it.”

You writhed from your place below him, face buried in the sheets of your shared bed muffling your unabashed sounds of pleasure, hands gripping desperately at anything they could find. Javi’s hips smacked loudly against the flesh of your ass, his cock hitting you exactly how you needed as he pounded into you from behind. You felt your orgasm building, the coil of muscle in your lower belly tightening, cunt tightening and fluttering around him.

“Can feel you, hermosa, she’s so tight, baby. You gonna come for me, hmm? C’mon, baby, come on it, need to feel you squeeze it like I know you can.”

You were right there, just a few more thrusts and you’d be tumbling over the edge. You tip your head to the side, wanting him to really hear it when you come for him. You let yourself be noisy, needy whines leaving your lips unbidden, tears springing to the corners of your eyes, the feeling of his thick cock so wholly overwhelming inside of you. You start to cry out in earnest as you feel your orgasm cresting, tears falling down your cheeks, pussy a tight, tight vice, gripping him so strongly you fear you may be torturing him just as much as he is you.

“Javier! Javier! Don’t stop, don’t stop, please, please, please, ple–”

You wake with a start. Daylight is only just breaking over the horizon, the cool orange and blue glow of the morning shining through your bedroom window. Your brain begins to register where you are, when you are. You groan and reach over, feeling Javi’s side of the bed empty and cool to the touch. You remember your dream and sigh, wishing he was here to finish taking care of you. You look at your nightstand and see the time—just after 6:30AM. You sigh and wonder where he is this early.

“Jav?” you call out. All that meets you is silence. You sigh and flop onto your back. You can try to get yourself off, but it’s never as good as when he’s there with you. You can be a proverbial teenage boy and take a cold shower to try to kill your arousal. You can try to push it from your mind and go make a pot of coffee and just start your day earlier than you’d planned. “Fuck it,” you say to yourself. You roll over to your nightstand and fish your trusty little vibrator from the drawer, turning to lie back and you shuck your wet panties.

You scoot yourself back, propping yourself up a little, making the angle easier to reach as you turn on your toy and bring it down to your mound, teasing yourself a little, trying to ease your mind back into the place your dream had left off. You part your legs, spreading your folds ever so slightly, and you follow with your hand, touch featherlight, barely gliding the vibrator around the outside of your clit. You whimper and let your imagination wander.

“There you are, cariño. Oh, she’s so wet, look at her drip. You’re getting our sheets so messy. That feel nice, baby?” you hear in his voice. You whine and nod to yourself, answering him. “Drag it lower, hermosa, hear how soaked you are?” You obey him, dragging the toy to your entrance, the vibrations meeting the sloppy mess there and causing an obscene splattering, crackling noise to reverberate through the room. You moan out loud at the sound, at how worked up you are. “Delicious, wish I was there to have a taste. Always so sweet when you wake up. Have one for me, baby, get it nice and wet and have a taste,” he instructs in your mind and you comply, dipping the toy inside and giving yourself a few shallow thrusts before pulling it out, viscous line of your slick still attached, snapping over your stomach and leaving drips of you behind as you bring the toy to your mouth and suck, cleaning it of the remaining stickiness and humming at the sweet sour taste of yourself.

You bring your vibrator back down, placing it back down just next to your clit, not wanting to end things too soon. You let Javier’s voice filter back into your head. “Beautiful, baby. Look at you. Goddess in my bed, making herself feel so nice. Go, baby, put it on your clit like you want. Dámelo.” You use your other hand to pull the little hood back, fully exposing the button of your clit to the air for the first time this morning. The feeling sends zings of pleasure down your spine and you shiver, pussy clenching tight with desire. You move the toy to press directly on your button and you see stars behind your eyes, mouth dropping open, a whiny moan escaping your throat.

“Mierda, cariño. Tan hermosa. Come on, baby, rub her nice and fast for me, want to see my girl come,” you hear him say. You click the button to increase the intensity of the vibrations from the toy and start massaging it in tight, firm circles on your clit, the pleasure almost unbearable. You release the little hood from your hold and use your free hand to push up your sleep shirt, pinching at your nipples. The added stimulation was exactly what you needed and you feel your orgasm crash into you like a tidal wave. You cry out in ecstasy, thighs closing of their own accord as your pussy convulses, waves and waves of creamy slick sliding out of you and down to the sheets below. When the vibrations become overstimulating, you press a long click to turn the toy off and toss it to the side. You lie there for a moment, catching your breath and coming back to reality after so thoroughly rocking your own world. You let out a little giggle, happy hormones flooding your system after such a good orgasm. You snuggle into the pillows for a moment, grabbing Javi’s from his side and inhaling the scent of him that lingers there. The smell of him makes you melancholic for a moment, wishing he had actually been here to experience your morning pleasure with you. You give his pillow a squeeze before putting it back on his side of the bed, throwing your legs over your side and forcing yourself to get up.

You head to your ensuite bathroom first. You strip off your sleep shirt and give your naked body a once over in the mirror, turning to the side and admiring the curvature you find there, a thing you despised for years, but have learned to love through the adoring gaze of your partner. You quickly clean yourself up and brush your teeth before walking to your dresser and grabbing a fresh t-shirt and pair of lounge shorts, throwing them on your body.

Once dressed, you make your way to the kitchen. Daylight has broken over the horizon, bright sun warming the space. You yawn and stretch your arms up high over your head. When you open your eyes, you spot a hot pink square attached to the coffee machine. Curious, you walk over to see what it is and make a pot to share with Javi, wherever he is. You grab the bag of grounds, box of filters, and the measuring spoon from the cabinet above, setting them on the counter, and pull the sticky note away, giving it a read. You release some tension you didn't realize you were holding onto now that you know where Javier is, but you frown knowing he was struggling with sleep, hoping it was just a one-off bout of insomnia and not a symptom of a greater issue.

You dump the requisite amount of coffee grounds into a filter, placing them into the brewing compartment of the machine, filling the water compartment and setting the machine to brew. You grab your favorite mugs—yours a, “World’s Best Grandpa,” joke gift from your little brother, his a vintage speckled cup you found while thrifting that he says reminds him of the mug his dad always used when he was a kid—and set them on the counter next to the brewing pot. You rest your hip against the countertop as the coffee percolates and think about Javier’s note, remembering the last time he dealt with insomnia.

It was early into your relationship. Javier had been home from Colombia for barely a year, still adjusting to the new speed of his life stateside, working the ranch with his papá. He had taken you on a date to the drive-in movie theater and fallen asleep within the first half hour. You’d noticed he had looked tired recently, but weren’t sure if it was your place to pry yet, so you let it be, figuring if it was important, he would tell you. You let him snooze for a few minutes before you gently shook him awake.

“Javier? Javi? Hey,” you softly uttered, rousing him.

“Hmm?” he sleepily replied, smacking his lips and tongue.

“You fell asleep. Is everything ok? Should we reschedule?” You ask, trying to convey nothing but genuine concern with your kind eyes and touch.

“I…what?” Javier starts, confused. “I fell asleep?” He’s visibly embarrassed, cheeks reddening and eyes widening. You can feel his heart rate pick up from where your hand rests on his chest.

“You did. It’s ok, I’m not upset,” you console him. “Just want to make sure you’re ok. Is everything alright? I know this,” you gesture between you, “is still pretty new, but, Javi, I want to know things about you. If something is wrong, I want to know, want you to tell me, want to help if I can. I really,” you trail off momentarily, “I care about you, Jav, a lot.”

Javier sighs and lets his head release, falling towards his chest. He takes a couple deep breaths before he meets your eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping. It’s been, fuck,” he swipes his big palm over his face, “a few weeks now? Can’t get more than a few hours at a time. I’ve been, umm,” he considers his next words. You wait patiently, soothingly rubbing your thumb over his chest. “I’ve been having these dreams. Or memories. I…they feel the same, I don’t know how to describe it. And I can’t, fuck, their faces, I can’t stop seeing their faces, cariño.” You feel something wet drip onto the back of your hand and look up, watching as two more tears fall from Javier’s eyes.

“Oh, Javier, come here, baby,” you coo, wiping his tears with your thumbs before winding your arms around his neck, pulling him bodily to you and holding him tight, allowing him to cry into your shoulder. The movie was all but forgotten that night as you turned down the radio and listened to Javier tell you everything he experienced in Colombia. He told you later on how he was terrified he’d scared you off after that night, but when you asked to see him again the next night, he knew you were something special, someone he didn’t want to lose. You come back to the present, hoping this isn’t his PTSD rearing its ugly head again, but prepared to help him through it, whatever he needs, you’re a team.

You decide to get a head start on breakfast, pulling the carton of eggs, the leftover stir fry veggies from your dinner a couple nights ago, and the cartons of strawberries and blueberries out from the fridge. You bend over to grab your trusty cast iron pan from the lower cabinet and place it on the stovetop, setting the temperature and turning on the oven. You reach for the radio that lives in the kitchen and set it to one of yours and Javier’s favorite stations, swaying to the beat of the music as you crack eight of the eggs into a bowl, using a whisk to whip them into a fluffy scramble before adding the leftover veggies. You season the mixture, dumping it into the pan, and placing it in the oven to bake, setting a timer to check it and fluff the mixture before it fully sets. You turn back to the countertop and grab a cutting board, preparing the strawberries when you hear the garage door open, signaling Javier’s return.

Javier was frustrated. He’d slept like shit, had only a mediocre workout, hit just about every red light on the way home, and then realized he’d left his ear buds on the treadmill after he parked his car back at home. He wished he could start the day over. He took a deep breath and tried to re-center himself before making his way inside, not wanting to drag you into his bad mood.

Javi expected to find you still in bed, the time just past 7:00AM on your day off, but he was pleasantly surprised to find you awake and puttering around the kitchen. He knows you heard him enter the house, but took a minute to admire you from behind while you worked, radio crooning one of your favorite songs, your hips swaying to and fro as you cut fruit for your breakfast. He knew he’d been staring too long already, surprised you hadn’t called him out on it yet, so he moved from his spot in the doorway over to you, gently removing the knife from your hand and winding his strong arms around your waist.

“Morning, hermosa,” he said into your messy bed hair, taking a moment to hold you and reset his day. He felt your body relax in his hold, your hands resting over his own, tilting your head to the side and exposing your neck to him. Javier knew to never look a gift horse in the mouth, tilting his head down, nosing along the tendon there, leaving a soft kiss on your pulse point before continuing their descent lower, down your neck and across your shoulder. You sigh and he smiles.

“You stink,” is the first thing you say to him this morning and it makes him laugh, the two of you long past pulling your punches around each other.

“Went to the gym, did you get my note?” Javier checks.

“Mmhmm, thank you for leaving it. Made me feel better, knowing where you were.”

“Mm good,” Javi replies, giving you a squeeze before releasing you to continue fixing your breakfast. “What’cha got going there, baby?”

He watched you pick up the knife and deftly get back to work. “Have a frittata in the oven, slicing up some strawberries, figured we could throw them in with the blueberries since they’re getting old and need to be finished. Made us some coffee, too. Your mug is out on the counter if you want a cup,” you turn your head and nod in the direction of the mugs. He walks by and kisses you on the cheek before grabbing his mug and the full coffee pot, pouring himself a cup.

“Want me to make you one?” he asks, watching as you shake your head in response.

“That’s ok, thank you though. I’ll fix my own in just a minute, want to finish this first,” and as you finish your sentence the timer beeps. Javi leans his hip on the counter, watching as you bend over, giving him a prime view of your juicy behind. Far too invested to care if he gets staring, he notices your cheeks are bare, loose legs of the shorts doing little to conceal what lies beneath as they ride up just enough while you’re bent over the oven, fluffing the eggy mixture of the frittata. He changes the angle, leaning further to the side and tilts his head to get a better view, fully perving on you now, and he catches a peek of what he’d hoped he’d find. Your sweet, soft, wholly bare pussy greets his eyes. Tan hermosa, Javi thinks, loving the way he can see wetness lingering on your lips. He whistles low and soft, causing you to turn to face him, shutting the oven door and resetting the kitchen timer.

“What?” you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest, inadvertently drawing his eyes to your breasts beneath your shirt.

“Just enjoying the view,” Javi replies, taking a slurp of his coffee, casting his eyes down to your now hidden pussy, before lifting them back to meet your gaze. He watches as your breath hitches ever so slightly in your chest, eyes growing wider. He knows you know you’ve been caught, thinks it’s sweet that you still find it a little scandalous being caught bare around him after how long you’ve been together, everything you’ve been through together. He glances at the timer, 10 minutes remain, he can work with that.

He sets his mug down and moves forward, caging you between his broad chest and the countertop. He’ll never get over the way you look at him, how much want he finds in your eyes. He still can’t believe he gets to call you his, permanently, that you’d wanted to keep him forever just as much as he wanted to keep you. Javier brings a hand up to cup your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone and feels you nuzzle into his palm. “You’re a naughty little thing, aren’t you, cariño? ¿Dónde están tus bragas, hmm?”

He feels you smile against his palm. When you speak, you’re looking directly into his eyes. “Had to take them off, they were all wet.” He anticipated your dirty mouth, but didn’t expect you to say that. He shakes himself out of the stupor.

“Oh?” he starts, softly dragging his hand along your jaw, briefly pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb before they continue their journey down, down, down, over your neck, between your clothed breasts and lower, over your stomach, the muscles jumping at his touch. “Why’s that, baby? Something happen while I was gone?” he asks, touch feathering where he knows you're desperate for him before taking mercy and cupping his wide palm over your heated sex.

“Might’ve,” you sigh, teasing him right back. He loves this about you, you always give just as good as you get, keeping him on his toes.

“Yeah, cariño? What happened? Tell me, baby,” he requests, pushing the heel of his hand up, giving you more of the pressure you’re craving. He feels you tuck your face into his neck, grinding down into his touch, your arms winding around his neck to keep him close, as if he would ever pull away from this, from you.

“I had a sexy dream,” you start. “I, mmm, I—you were railing me, Javier, so fucking good,” you take a second to rub into him, breath hot and damp against his neck. He’s going to get light headed with how fast the blood is rushing to his cock. “You had me face down, ass up. You were, ahhhh, so fucking deep, stretching me so good, had me screaming for you, and I, fuck, I woke up right before I came,” you finish, fully whining now, grinding with his hand in a slow, syrupy rhythm.

“Ángel, mierda,” Javi says. “Need me, baby? Need me to touch that sweet, neglected little cunt?”

“Not that neglected,” he hears you mumble into his neck.

Javi drops his voice to that deep timbre he knows works you up like nothing else. “That so? ‘M I gonna be spoiling her? Giving her this much attention? Sounds like you took care of her already, hmm?”

He feels you shake your head and hum a “uh uh,” sound. You peel your face away from his neck and tilt your head back, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “Made her come once, but she needs you, too. Please, Javier, amor, te necesito.” And how can he ever deny you when you ask so nicely?

“Jump up,” he requests, grabbing you by the waist to help guide you as you hop up to sit on the counter. He reaches to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up your torso. “Lift,” he instructs, and you comply easily, raising your arms overhead as he finishes pulling the garment up and off you, tossing it to the side, using both hands to gently knead at your breasts. You smile and sigh at the feeling and he hums in approval, wanting nothing more than to please you.

Javier grabs your hands, cock twitching in his shorts at the sheer size difference between you, and brings them to pick up where his own left off. “Touch, feel yourself, cariño, there you go,” he encourages, watching as you squeeze and pinch and flick at your own nipples, little quakes traveling through your body at the feeling. He slides his palms beneath your shorts, pushing them down, caressing his hands over the swell of your ass as he goes. You lift yourself up helpfully as he tugs the garment down and off your legs. You’re a vision from his place at your feet, gorgeous tits in your hands, your cheeks heated, breathing heavily, eyelids fighting to remain open. He watches you shiver and he gets an idea.

He reaches behind his neck and tugs his own sweaty t-shirt away from his body. He flips it around and bunches it up in his hands. “Arms up, hermosa,” he commands. You release your breasts from your grip and look at him, eyes glazed over in pleasure. You give him a slightly confused look, but comply, once again raising your arms above your head. Javier carefully guides your arms through the holes before pulling the shirt down over your head.

“Winnie the Poohing it in the kitchen on a Saturday morning. Casual,” you joke, giggling, and it lights his heart on fucking fire. So sexy, so smart, so silly, all rolled into one perfect package for him. He sends a thanks to the heavens, assuming his mamá pulled some strings up there to bring you to him, unable to explain it any other way. He chuckles with you, easing the tension slightly, cooling you both off a little before things get too hot too fast.

“Always so fucking sexy in my clothes,” he remarks, unable to help himself.

“Trying to get me in the shower with you, amor? Could’ve just asked,” you retort cheekily, gently tugging the sweaty t-shirt away from your body.

Javier hums. “No, mi ángel, s’not that…know I’m about to be covered in you—my fingers, my mouth, my cock are going to reek of your sweet pussy, might never be able to get the smell out.” To drive his point home he reaches his hand down to where you’re absolutely weeping for him and drags two of his thick fingers through the wet mess he finds there, coating them thoroughly in your juices before bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale, groaning at the scent of you, before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking and savoring the taste of you. “Wanted you to reek of me, too. Fair is fair.”

Your smaller hands dart out from where they had been holding his shirt, grabbing his face and hauling his mouth to yours. The kiss is feverish, desperate, teeth knocking, tongues aggressively searching each other’s mouth. Javier brings his fingers back to your cunt, gathering your wetness and coating them thoroughly before teasing one at your entrance. The feeling makes you gasp, pulling back from the kiss enough to nod, before he sinks his finger inside you. The tight warmth he finds within your body is incomparable. You both look down to where his finger slides in and out of you, watching the obscenity of it, the beauty of your creamy slick coating the single digit. He gives you a few pumps before adding a second finger. He can feel the stretch of your walls, working to accommodate him so graciously.

“Good girl, baby. There you go, just relax and let yourself feel it. S’nice, so fucking wet, cariño, look how creamy you are today.” He hears you groan at that, your breathing picking up as he explores you from within, curling his fingers to rub against the soft spongy spot he knows makes you see stars.

“Think I’m, shit, think I’m ovulating. Or close, or something. I’ve been so needy, can’t get enough of you. Need you in me, on me, around me all the time,” he hears you say and it almost knocks the wind out of him. You’re not done yet though and you continue, “Honestly, I’m not even mad about the shirt, think the fucking stink of you is making me drip. Pheromones or some shit. Had to shove my face in your pillow this morning after I came,” you finish.

Javi uses his free hand to push his shorts down, finally freeing his hard cock to the warm air of the kitchen. He’s leaking, tip shiny with pearlescent wetness. He uses his free hand to swipe it from his head onto his fingertips, and brings them up to your mouth. “Open for me, hermosa. Taste me, take me inside you like this first, baby.” You’re looking at him like he hung the moon just for you, and maybe he did. He would. He’d do anything for you. You open your mouth for him, so soft and sweet and plush, and he feeds you his own slick at the same time that he removes his soaked fingers from you and brings them to his mouth, getting another taste of you, feeding each other in the most primal way.

Javier grabs his thick cock in hand and gives himself a few strong pumps to take the edge off, loving having your eyes on him like this. He steps back towards you and grabs your right leg first, bending it at the knee, opening your hip wide, and placing the heel on the countertop, messy pussy on full display for him in this position. He swipes his cock through your wet folds, coating himself in your slick again and again. He rubs his head against your clit over and over and over, nerve endings alight, zipping pleasure through both of your centers.

“Javi, baby, fuck, please, please, I need you inside me, please put it inside me,” you beg. And who is he to deny you when you ask like that, his earth angel. He notches his cock at your entrance and starts pressing forward, the wide head of him popping through the tight opening of your sex, both of you moaning aloud at the feeling. He’s overcome with the feeling of being inside you like this. You’re so wet and tight and hot—the temperature of you something he can never replicate on his own.

He presses forward firmly, but gently, knowing he’ll always be a stretch for you to take. “Doing so good, hermosa, keep breathing for me. There you go, let me in, baby,” he praises, having learned his words do wonders to help you focus on the moment and keep your muscles relaxed. He uses his thumb to rub soft circles into your clit, watches as you shiver at his touch, feels you soften further, sweet pussy dripping more slick around him to help him slide forward. Before he presses all the way inside, Javier draws his hips back, cock sluicing out, and presses back in. He repeats his slow, shallow thrusts a few more times, obsessed with how your cunt is coating him in thick creamy wetness, the squishing sound it makes with every movement intoxicating.

He looks at your face as he presses in deeper, extending each of his next thrusts until he’s fully sheathed. Your eyes are closed, mouth agape, lips bitten and kiss swollen, your eyebrows raised in pleasure. You’re breathing heavily, chest rising and falling visibly as you let out the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard. You’re unreal, a goddess divine, and he will gladly worship at your altar until the day he dies.

“Baby, ángel, mi amorcito, eres toda mi vida, me tienes para siempre,” he lets the words fall from his lips prayerfully, immediately making good on his promise.

“Javier, javier, fuck me, amor, fuck me harder,” you gasp out to him and who is he to defy the will of the divine?

“Hold onto me, amorcito, gonna give you what you need.” Javi feels your hands slide around his sides under his arms as he continues to thrust in hard and slow, wrapping your arms around his back and holding onto his shoulders before wrapping your legs around his hips, locking your ankles in the dip of his lower back. “There you go, baby, so perfect for me. Stop me if it’s too much, ok?” He lifts your chin with his finger, meeting your eyes to make sure you’re both on the same page. You look wrecked and he’s sure he’s no better off. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss far less debauched than the last.

You break away and rest your forehead against his, the gesture releasing a thousand butterflies within him. “Ok, I will, I promise,” you reply sweetly, and Javier lets himself go. He immediately pulls almost completely out of your wet clutch before throwing his hips forward, hard. It punches the air out of your lungs on a scream, so he does it again, and again, speeding up with each thrust until you’re nothing more than an animated moan. Your fingers are clutching at his shoulders, half moon divots of your nails leaving him branded with your pleasure.

Javi knows you’re doing well, that you feel good, but he hasn’t made you make that sound yet, the one he knows so well, the one that makes your eyes roll back and body go limp. He changes the angle, bending his knees and tucking his hips under to get leverage towards the front wall of your soaking cunt.

“JAVI, there, there, there, oh fuck, please, baby, don’t stop, please,” you cry out, your pussy squeezing him so hard he fears he may come right then. You start to whimper, breath hitching over and over and he knows what comes next. You can’t help yourself when it gets like this, he knows, so it doesn’t scare him anymore when he sees you start crying, tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows it’s a way for your body to release, ease the tension that’s been building within you. He moves the hand bracing himself against the cabinets to your cheek, wiping away the tears as they flow, giving you the comfort he knows you need when this happens.

“So beautiful, amorcito, so sweet for me, soft little pussy doing such a good job, baby. She’s holding me so tight, so nicely,” he babbles, listening to the way your pussy absolutely squelches for him. He wonders if you’re right, if you’re ovulating right now. The thought sends a shiver down his spine. The most primal part of his brain ignites, making it hard for him to think about anything other than pumping you full of his spend, his seed, letting it take. You’ve talked about it, you’re both open to the possibility and decided to let nature run its course. If it happens, neither of you will be upset about it, and now, he wants it to happen, wants to be the cause, strut around with his chest puffed out, showing the world that you’re his, his goddess incarnate creating life through nothing but your love and pleasure.

He’s brought back to the present when he feels you rocket through your orgasm. Cunt squeezing him so tightly he thinks you might push him out. He hears you scream his name as he continues to drive hard into your favorite spot, fluttering walls of your pussy massaging him from the inside. “Javi, javi, oh shit, fuck, I’m–Javi, I’m gonna—” he hears you get out before he feels a splash against his lower belly and he looks down just in time to see you squirt all over him and the kitchen floor.

“Cariño, mierda, gorgeous, so fucking amazing, look at you coming for me. You’re unreal, mi diosa, mi cielito,” Javier praises as he slows his thrusts, knowing you need it softer after such an intense experience. He strokes his hand over your hair soothingly, petting you gently before bringing his hand to your cheek, tipping your head to look at him and he smiles when he meets your eyes. “There you are, baby. Did so good. You ok if I keep going? I’m close, promise, I’ll be careful with you.”

You smile back at him and his heart clenches in his chest. Your smaller hand comes up to cup his cheek, mirroring him, stroking your thumb along his cheekbone as he did for you. “Go, baby. Want you to come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you encourage him. Not for the first time this morning, Javier feels time stand still.

“But you said,” he starts.

“I know, I know what I said. Do it. Come inside me, Javi. Dump it deep, make it stick.”

Your words rattle around in his brain on loop, it’s all he can think about as he picks up the pace again. He tucks his arms underneath your knees, lifting them up and pressing them back towards your shoulders, opening your sweet center to him fully. He looks down, watching his big cock disappear and reappear over and over again, shiny wet and covered in your come, the thatch of hair at his base coated in your thick white creaminess. He’s going to do what you asked. He’s going to come so deep inside you that it can’t help but take. He’ll give you whatever you want, would give you his own life if you asked.

You must feel him tensing, knowing he’s close, because he feels you sweetly push his sweaty hair back and lean forward, leaving a soft kiss to his damp forehead before giving the wet beads there a little kitten lick, giggling cutely as you taste the saltiness and curling your tongue back into your mouth. Content little menace, teasing like you didn’t just get fucked within an inch of your life, he thinks. It works for him though, spurs him on as he thinks about more of you, little yous, in the world. He groans and feels his balls pulling up, knows he’s right there.

“Come, Javi, please. Want it, fill me, baby. Come on,” you chant, moving your arms down to grip his ass, pulling him into you. He moans loudly, giving you one, two, three more strong pumps before he releases. He convulses with the force of it, spurt after spurt of thick come coating you from the inside. You hold him tight, stroking your hands gently up and down his back soothingly. He feels cherished here in your arms and he can’t imagine being anywhere else right now.

BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING, BRRRRRRRRING

You laugh and Javier feels it from inside you. “Eggs are finished cooking,” you say nonchalantly.

“Yeah, hopefully,” Javi says under his breath. He grunts softly as he pulls himself from the warmth of your body. He notices you move to get down and get the eggs and he stops you immediately. “No, you stay right there. And keep your hips up, need all the help we can get,” he says as he nods towards the devastating mess of your pussy.

His words send a shiver through you and you whimper quietly, staying in your position as he requested, reaching a hand down to cup your mound and hold in as much of his come as you can. The sight makes him feel feral and he growls. He leans over and kisses your forehead, lingering for a moment before he pulls away to get the breakfast you so kindly prepared for the two of you out of the oven.

“Mmm, smells delicious, cariño. Thank you for cooking for us,” Javier praises.

“It was nothing, really. Easy recipe. It’ll be a good one to use with kids actually, can use it to trick ‘em into eating their veggies, too. Just load it up with cheese,” you chuckle in reply. Javier looks at you with stars in his eyes, the way you’re already making considerations for an expanding family. He can’t help the way he pulls you in, kissing you with everything he’s feeling, how thankful he is for your presence in his life, how deeply in love he is with you, how excited he is for your future together. You give it to him right back and he knows.

“Thank you,” he reiterates, leaning his forehead against your own.

“Of course, Javier. Can’t imagine doing it for anyone else, with anyone else. Now can you please run to the bedroom and grab me a pair of panties from the drawer? I’d like to be able to use this hand at some point today,” you laugh and he laughs in return.

“I’ve got you, hermosa. Un momento.” Javier scampers to your bedroom, grabbing your favorite pair of comfort panties before making his way back to the kitchen. He holds them up and you smile at him in a way that lets him know he made the right choice. He helps slide them up your legs and over your behind, using his fingers to flatten the waistband around your hips. “Here, let me grab your t-shirt,” Javi says, moving to grab your discarded clothes from the floor.

“No, Jav, it’s ok. Want to wear this one,” you reply, nuzzling your face into the shoulder of his dirty, old t-shirt. He swears his cock gives a feeble twitch at the sight.

“Ok, baby, that’s fine. You can keep that one,” he confirms and holds out a hand to help you hop off the counter.

“Good,” you reply, hands dusting off your thighs, the shirt fitting you in your favorite way, as you’ve told him, just covering your panties. “It makes me feel sexy, I can’t really describe why, but I do. You’re just so fucking broad, baby, your shirts hang off me, it’s hot as fuck,” you’d told him once and he never forgot it.

“We’ll have to get you some more, make sure you have plenty of options,” Javier started. “Need you to be comfy while you cook,” he finished, reaching a hand out to casually graze against your lower stomach. He looks up to find your jaw dropped open, eyes getting that faraway, glazed over look, and he knows what’s coming next. “Baby, your breakfast,” he reasons.

“Fuck breakfast, we have a microwave. Can you go again?” you ask, reaching out to palm at his semi-soft cock.

The feeling of your hand against his sensitive skin makes him shiver. “For you, cariño? Always.”

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smut-slut69 · 1 month

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"F*ck your stupid, sexy Miniskirt"

How the Hashira react to your new Mini Skirt. Except Muichiro Ofc, I'm not a weirdo

Modern au, Hashira x fem!Reader

Tengen Uzui

Bro's an ass man and nothing will EVER convince me otherwise

So obviously, when he see's your ass stuck in the tiniest little skirt when you were heading out with your friends for a night.

He couldn't help the way his big hands accidently grazed your ass as he gave you a hug goodbye

And how would he have known his one kiss goodbye would turninto a flurry of sloppy kisses

And he definitely couldn't help the way his member hardened with the need to be deep inside of you

“Fuck baby, m’gonna be late” you moaned when Tengen’s cock slipped past your entrance. You weren’t even sure how you had gotten yourself pressed up against your front door, skirt riding up your ass and nipples rock hard underneath your rhinestoned shirt. Uzui had said he just wanted a kiss goodbye and that was all you ever intedned for it to be, but god it felt so good to get swept up in his big arms, with his equally large hands roaming all over your body. And now you had his thick cock stuffing you full, over and over again, smooshing your face against the wall with every thrust. You let out what was intended to be a sigh but came out a moan as you gripped onto the bigger hand gripping your hips. Guess your friends would have to wait a while.

Giyu Tomioka

I don't know why so many of y'all think this man is a dom

Please, he's never had any sort of sexual interaction in his life until he met you

He's still learning about his own feelings, let alone his sexual attraction

So you can't blame him for his reaction to all the skirts you tried on in front of him after dragging him with you to the mall to help you shop

After all, who wouldn't get bricked up after seeing their girlfriend's fat ass peaking out of miniskirts of every color in the universe

“Aww, my poor baby’s cock is rock hard” you cooed as you settled yourself between your boyfriend's legs. Tomioka just stared at you in awe as your manicured hands grasped his member, pretty glossed lips gliding over his cock. You had done this to him a couple of times before but he swore never got used to the feeling of you taking him in your mouth, sloppily sucking his cock, and bobbing your head up and down so fast he had to bite his hand to handle the stimulation. He honestly thought he was a goner when your tongue came to tease the slit of his tip, but when he peered through his lashes at the mirror across from him in the dressing room. His cock twitched and cum shot out and onto your face when he saw your red miniskirt riding up, giving him the perfect view of your fingering your wet cunt.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro would hoenstly be confused when he felt the overwhelming need to fuck you every time you walked past him in a mini skirt

He believes he has a good sense of self-control

Or at least enough to allow him to look at his girlfriend in a skirt without salivating like a horny teenager

But there was something about you in that damn skirt that made him lose every ounce of control in his body

Stars, that skirt just made him want to fuck the shit out of you

“Fuck~. . .ah” you moaned out, eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure and eyes rolling back in your head as Kyojuro’s cock rammed into you faster and harder than you think it ever has. Usually, your man was loving and kind. He took his time when he said fucked you, no, made love to you. But this was different. Completely different from the normal. “Oh my god K-kyo, slow down” you cried out. Kyojuro could hear all your cries, he could see your legs quivering on the verge of giving out. But he couldn’t find it in him to let go of the death grip he had on your hips. His eyes glued to your creamy entrance and your essence that covered his cock as he pushed himself balls-deep into you. And fuck, that skirt just barely covering the fat of your ass was driving him even crazier. “I’m sorry baby, I-I can’t” he breathed. “I think I’m gonna cum in this pretty cunt again”

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri is never beating the bottom allegtions

I mean, this girl is never on top

But when she saw you chilling at home in one of her skirts that were a little too short for you

Your thighs looking ever so plump underneath the pretty black fabric

Mitsuri felt drawn to the sight, seating herself next to you

Smooth, long fingers tracing over your thighs and farther up your leg

You panted and threw your head back with a moan as your girlfriend's long, slender fingers drilled in and out of your cunt, curling to hit that perfect spot inside you. Mirtusi let out a moan of her own when she felt your cunt flutter around her fingers in a way she hadn’t felt in such a long while. She had almost forgotten how drenched your pussy got, how much you really did love when she took control. Mitsuri drew closer and laid supple kisses along your throat, licking along the flesh there and admiring the way your cunt gushed from the sensation. She couldn't believe she hadn't taken the chance to treat your sweet cunt right. But she would be sure to now, determined to make you finish all over her fingers and maybe . . .just maybe her tongue later.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You make him hard no matter what you do

Like you could breathe and you'd see little Sanemi poking through his pants

So seeing you bent over in the laundry room, wearing one of your old skirts that barely fit you anymore because all your clothes were in the laundry

Had him palming his cock through his sweat pants

He simply was not at blame for what happened next

“Fuck S-Sanemi I gotta put bleach in t-the, Fuck- washing machine”*You gritted out, trying to free your hands from his stronghold. Sanemi strengthened his grip on your wrists, landing a sharp blow on your ass as he plowed his cock into you. You moaned, your legs buckling underneath you from the strength of his thrusts. “You’re wearing this tiny ass skirt and expect me not to pound this fuckin cunt?” he spoke. You roll your eyes, in annoyance. “You’re the worst '' you whined. Sanemi just laughed at you, peering down at where you two were connected. He was always amazed at how sloppy his girl’s pussy was, wet and leaking all over him and your thighs. “You'll like me a lot better if you keep creamin on me like that sweetheart”

Gyomei Himejima

Since Gyomei is blind, one of his biggest love languages with you is physical touch

You all love experiencing each other with your hands

Clinging onto each other while you kiss

Feeling each others bodies are thoroughly

It is definitely one of Gyomei's favorite ways to connect with you

So imagine his excitement when you said you had a surprise for home, that involved physical touch

;)

You giggled as you grasped Gyomei's strong hands, guiding them to feel the mold of your figure under the surprise you were wearing. “Is this a skirt?” he asked when you let his hands explore independently. “Mhmm” you hum, groaning a little when his hands came to squeeze at your ass, “I bought a short one and I thought you’d like it,” you told him. Gyomei leaned farther into you, letting his hands travel under your skirt and onto your pantie-clad slit. He grinned, feeling the fabric already dampened with your juices. Using his middle finger, he rubbed tight circles on your clit and prodded at your entrance gently. You used his shoulders to brace yourself as he picked up his pace. Panties soaking through from how wet he was making you.“I’m gonna cum” you whimpered. Your orgasm was always unbearably quick with him. Gyomei smiled, flicking at your clit just a little faster to push you over the edge. “Go on my love, let me feel you”

Obanai Iguro

Obanai loves your body in everything you wear

He likes to show you off really

Which is why he let you come with him to a club with a few of his friends

the new mini skirt he bought you clinging to your thick curves

He loved the skirt on you

What he didn't love

Was the looks his friends were giving you

Their eyes staying glues to your backside

His jealousy only grew throughout the night

Which is how you ended up bent over in the club's bathroom

Hanging on to the stall walls for dear life

With how many times Obanai had fucked you, you would think you would get used to the sheer size of him. But everytime proved wrong. He was so long that he reached that spongey spot inside of you every time he fucked into you, and he was so fucking thick you didn’t know how you were handling it. Especially now, when his thrusts were mean and jealousy fuelled, leaving you with no choice but to squirt with every thrust. You knew you wouldn’t be able to scramble away if you tried, but you couldn’t help but instinctively push off of his cock. He rolled his eyes at you, almost finding your attempts at getting free humorous. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he pulled you right back on his shaft. Obanai knew he was being far, far rougher than usual, but until he heard a safe word from that pretty little mouth of yours, he’d pound into you as much as he wanted. “Fuck are you running from” he gritted out, “You wanna let my friends stare at what belongs to me” he spoke. “Wanna act like a fucking slut, then i’ll fuck you like the two dollar whore you are” he sneered.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu's a munch

Like, she loves eating you out so much

If She's tired, she'll suck on your clit to lull her to sleep

If She's excited, she'll pour it out while licking your slit

If She's angry, she'll take it out on your poor pussy

Today was one of the days where she was exhausted

Having just come home from work all she could think about was you and your sweet cunt

When she walked into your shared bedroom, she saw you sleeping

You mustv'e come home from hanging out with your friends as your outfit would have only been appropriate for a club setting

Shinobu was going to let you sleep, she truly was

But staring at your thick thighs, spilling out of your tiny little skirt made her drop down onto her knees

Shinobu chuckled as she spread your legs, your bare pussy staring back at her, you had no panties on. “Slut” she mumbled to herself. She let her thumb trace over your cunt, eyes flickering between your most private part and your face to see if you were still asleep. She leaned down to lick a long stripe from your hole to your clit, watching as your face scrunched up in your sleep. As she got lost in the feeling of eating you out, her eyes fluttered shut and her lips sucked at your clit. Not caring if she woke you up or not. It was only when her thin digits slid into your entrance that you jolted awake, instinctively moaning in a sleepy haze. Your moans turned to whines as your hips ground up into her mouth and down onto her fingers. Shinobu barely noticed you were cumming as she continued to lick on your clit until your hand came to tiredly push her head off of you. She looked up, licking her lips, “Shh baby” she said, kissing your thighs, “Go back to sleep and let me keep eating”

#demon slayer smut #kyojuro rengoku x reader #uzui tengen x reader #shinobu x reader #obanai x reader #gyomei x reader #obanai x you #mitsuri x reader #sanemi x reader #rengoku smut #uzui smut #shinobu smut #gyomei smut #obanai smut #sanemi smut #mitsuri smut

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monzamash · 1 year

Text

itch — charles leclerc

charles leclerc x you (femreader) | 2.9k summary – spotting charles' weight session in your home gym. that's it. warnings – 18+ (sex, course language) a//n – had to re-upload because the tags glitched out but here's the second fic in the #monzamash special x

The soft, distant thrum of music playing was the only sound travelling through your otherwise peaceful home. You had set yourself up for a quiet afternoon with a glass of iced tea, catching up on work that you’d missed while travelling to a couple of races, watching your boyfriend do his thing. Charles always gave you the VIP treatment, making sure your time away from your life was worth it and of course it was. But nothing could beat the summer break at home in Monaco, with him by your side for a change.

Just as you settled into the couch, an almost finished lemon popsicle in hand and your laptop steadied on your lap, you heard your name being called from the other end of the house. The voice echoing through the hallway belonged to Charles and there was a part of you that wanted to pretend like you hadn't heard him, feeling way too comfy and in the zone to get up again if it wasn’t important.

That was until you heard your name again, a little louder this time and you knew that you couldn’t ignore him. Your man was persistent and even though you loved your time with him during the break and over the off-season, it did become apparent that when he was home, he always wanted you close by to talk to. Like he was trying to make up for lost time but he forgot that even though he had time off, your work life continued much to your dismay.

But you were both working on finding the right balance.

"Where are you?" You shouted back and pulled yourself out of your spot on the couch, on a mission to track down your needy but ridiculously cute boyfriend.

You followed the music, figuring that he must’ve been in the home gym he’d set up a couple of winters ago. The new Coldplay album was playing on the sound system, echoing off the mirrors that lined the otherwise blank walls. It was a messy sight as you walked in – yoga mats that you’d left behind sprawled out on the ground while Charles sat hunched over, scrolling on his phone with his legs hanging over each side of the bench press that was sitting in the middle of the naturally lit room.

He was quick to notice your presence in the door way and chucked his phone onto one of the many towels neatly folded up on the shelf behind him, "Could you spot me, please? Because I nearly killed myself with this weight."

You swear you were listening but you couldn’t help but take a second to drink in his appearance, suddenly feeling a hot flush wash over your chest. He was sans shirt and glistening with sweat, which would’ve been enough to fuel your desires but the tight short shorts and the hair sticking to his forehead was what really got the endorphins running. And as much as you could’ve stared at him for the rest of your days, the last thing you wanted was for Charles to notice how flustered you were by his appearance.

"If that thing is going to fall on your face, there's no way my twig arms are going to stop it," You scoffed, eyeing at the weights behind his head with concern.

"You just have to push it off me so it doesn't crush my chest," He shrugged with a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, far too nonchalantly for your liking.

"Oh right – just casually save my boyfriend from being crushed to death. Cool…" You sarcastically retorted while Charles wiped his hands on his shorts and scooted underneath the bar, back squeaking as it stuck to the faux leather.

"Just come and stand behind my head, baby," He sweetly directed and you sighed softly, knowing that he was going to keep lifting the stupid thing anyway and you would much rather be there if anything did happen.

So you shuffled around to where he’d settled himself on the bench, feet and shoulders with the part, ready to save the day if you needed to. Well, kind of ready because the view from where you were standing was not only magnificent but wildly distracting.

“Atta girl.”

Charles’ strong hands gripped the bar and lifted it carefully off the stand, flickering his eyes to each side and making sure they were securely off before bringing it down towards his tensed chest. The grunts that left his throat as the muscles and veins in his arms bulged under his taut skin sounded exactly like the noises he was breathing in your ear last night as he fucked you into the next dimension, the sound immediately transporting you back to the way his hands felt on your supple skin.

His tight chest puffed out in time with his sharp hips that bucked off the bench with each rep and the groans leaving his lips were making it difficult to keep an eye on the job, even though a part of you wondered whether this was all a ploy to get you in here and see this glorified soft core in session. Knowing Charles, it was almost definitely the latter.

"Okay two more," He huffed out, lifting the bar up and down a couple more times, concentration stitched into his sticky forehead.

The grunts got louder the closer he was to finishing the set, again casting your mind back to your night between the sheets, before he slowly pushed it up towards the stand and let your fingers hook around the bar, just in case it slipped out of his slick hands. Because every part of his body was perspiring – his biceps, thighs, neck, chest, the bridge of his nose that was achingly close to your core was glistening and so were you, from doing absolutely nothing. Dripping.

Charles sat up with a groan and took a couple of deep breaths, blood pumping through his veins as you watched the muscles on his rippling back contract, “You’re soaked – let me grab you a towel.”

This was your chance to try and shake the daze you were in. It was pathetic the way he wound you up without even knowing, hypnotising you with something as innocent as a workout. Maybe it was because you had been blissfully enjoying each other’s touch the second he dropped his luggage in the doorway, jumping into bed and hardly leaving it ever since.

Or because he was the sexiest creature you’d ever seen and seeing him gleaming with sweat and groaning like an animal was a massive turn on for you. Either way you were soaking after his performance, desperate to have those sounds breathing down your neck as soon as humanely possible.

He graciously took the towel you were offering with a wicked smile, wiping his flushed face and roughly drying his hair before spinning around 90 degrees on the bench, gazing up at you with the same smile but now with that devious sparkle in his eye that always had you hook, line and sinker.

"Merci."

It rolled off his tongue too perfectly and you couldn’t control the eye roll, knowing how much he loved teasing you in French. He also loved how quickly he could get you naked when he spoke in his native tongue, the mischievous smirk and his Monegasque charm leaving you spellbound.

"Any time," You sang in reply, attempting to leave the room before you combusted on sight but you were stopped by a fistful of fingers grasping the hem of your black cotton shorts.

Charles gently pulled you back, a hole already burnt into the material from his eyes zeroing in on your curves. He loved every inch of you, worshipped the air you breathed and pinched himself daily that you’d stuck around with his crazy stupid schedule and maniacal whims. God, he adored you and ached at how effortlessly beautiful you looked in your matching crop top and shorts, waltzing around the home you had built together.

And he couldn’t hide the way he felt when you looked around, bottom lip clamped loosely between his front teeth, chewing the inside of his cheek and admiring how fucking lucky he was to have such a beautiful creature in his grasp. Heaven sent.

"You look very cute today."

He was smitten; holding your hips in place as you slung your arms around his shoulders. His hands subconsciously trailed down to the back of your thighs and teased the thin hem on your shorts, fingertips melting into the skin like butter as he watched your gorgeously bright eyes narrow.

"I'm not wearing a bra just for you," You flirted, nudging closer to his chest and needing more than just the heat from his hands on your skin.

"I can see that," He hummed matter-of-factly as he gazed over the sheer top that had been driving him crazy all day, adoring the way your nipples hardened at his stare before pressing a peck to the bottom of your sternum.

Charles continued trailing soft kisses across your stomach as you brought your hands to his tousled brown hair, trawling your fingertips through the damp locks and massaging his scalp. A soft, barely audible whimper slipped from his lips as he tilted his head back and caught your eyes, succumbing to the drowsiness and closing them for a quiet moment.

"That feels so nice."

He practically whispered before opening his eyes and pulling you closer with his hands that were now hidden under your loose top, fingertips following the arch of your spine as you leaned down and captured his soft lips. He tasted salty, tongue deliciously warm as you explored his mouth with your own. You loved the way he inhaled you and swallowed the moans he was causing. The intimacy you shared with him never seized to make you weak in the knees, putty in his hands.

"I wanna watch you fuck me in this mirror."

Your words were muttered against his pursed lips and Charles’ eyes were wider than a flying saucer when you pulled back ever so slightly, noses bumping together from how close you still were. He huffed out a soft laugh as you nodded towards the mirrors lining the walls around you both, eyeing your reflection beside him.

"Really?" He asked incredulously, a humorous expression ascending onto his blushing cheeks as you returned the raised brow, confused by his question.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" You scoffed, the deadpan look never faltering from your face and causing his goofy smile to fall; finally realising you were being serious.

"Well... no you don't but... Do you want me to do you against the mirror or on here?" Charles asked frowning down at the bench before bouncing up and down on it to make sure it was sturdy enough for your spontaneous demand.

"I don't really care," You almost moaned, smoothing your hands across his strong chest and over his tense shoulders, leaning down and pressing your lips to his damp neck again.

"I don't wanna risk breaking this because it was the last one at the shop so I guess we could do it against the mirrors…”

The hesitation in his voice caused your brows to furrow in disappointment and your hands to drop from his shoulders as you stood up straight, looking down at your boyfriend with a frown.

"Jeez, don't get too excited about it."

The sarcasm was dripping from your tone as Charles shook his head fervently, quickly reaching out to pull you back. All he could think about daily was making love to you in different places in the house and shockingly, the home gym hadn’t been ticked off the list but god, did he want to. He was already twitching thinking about it, the tightness of his shorts already cutting off circulation to his legs.

"No, no. Baby, look at you – I am so excited but you caught me off guard and I was just trying to think… what’s the word? Logically… Logistically…”

"It’s logistically but honey – you called me in here and made me watch you gyrating and make sex noises, and then you told me I look cute and now you're caught off guard that I want to have sex with you?... Are you okay?" You joked, pressing the back of your hand against Charles’ sticky forehead, pretending to check if he had a temperature or if he even had a pulse at all.

He laughed, borderline giggled and shook his head, "Well, when you say it like that, it makes sense. I just didn't think you'd get turned on over that."

You couldn't help but laugh in his face at his assumption, "You're shirtless and sweaty and wearing shorts that are so tight that I can see your dick... There's no way you didn't think this would get me going."

You wagged your finger up and down his body and Charles simply shrugged, hardening by the second, "It didn't even cross my mind but if it's getting your going then let's fucking go!"

Charles slapped his hands down on his lap and immediately reached for the drawstring on your shorts. “These are definitely coming off…” He murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as he slid them down your legs.

"I promise if we break the bench, I will personally call every single shop in Monaco and replace it.”

You stepped out of the cotton material around your ankles, grasping Charles’ shoulders for balance as he tugged on his own shorts; finally liberating himself of the constriction caused by his own unadulterated arousal. He had no control when it came to you.

"Jeez, you are horny," Charles teased as you climbed on top of him; his tactile hands guiding your knees to each side of his thighs with a devilish grin.

He was in his element with you on top of him; he had the perfect view of his girl and he could feel how ready you were for him when you rested on his thigh, your slickness cool against his soft skin. He loved how dialled in you were to his touch, every little wince or mumble making his heart pound harder in his chest – blood rushing to his dick every time you whispered in his ear.

But he knew that you knew how much he craved having you like this so of course he teased you in spirited retaliation, like any man desperately in love does to the one he adores the most.

“You know that if you ever need to get some inspiration, you can always come in and watch me work out, baby. You like it a lot, huh?”

"I do and I intend to enjoy this so shut up."

Now he was really hard, worked up beyond his limits.

As a distraction from his edge, he went back to what he did best – kissing you. You were both as pent up as each other, embarrassingly desperate for two people who had been going at it hammer and tong all weekend but you couldn’t get enough. It wasn’t until the firm grip on your hips tightened even more that you finally felt how enthusiastic he was about fucking you in his gym.

"You taste like lemons," Charles mumbled as your tongues collided.

You couldn’t mask the smirk on your lips as he kissed you again, reaching down and massaging him over his boxer briefs. You pulled away slightly from the kiss, ghosting his swollen lips as you softly stroked him in your hand.

"I bet if you'd seen me eating that popsicle, you would've felt the same way as I did watching you lift those stupid weights," and Charles chuckled at your annoyingly accurate theory, his warm breath fanning over my face before seizing your lips again, wiping that smirk on your sweet lips.

"I probably wouldn’t have lasted, let's be absolutely honest, ma belle," He whispered back with a knowing smile, completely unashamed to be enamoured by the woman slowly stoking him, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure surging through his body.

“Maybe next time, sweetheart.”

Charles simply smiled, eyes barely open as he watched your bodies connecting in the most intimate way, tongue quickly swiping across his bottom lip in preparation for your kiss. As you gripped him tight in your hand and bottomed out on his achingly hard cock, you pressed your lips to his, forced to swallow the loud moan falling from your lips.

l' attente, you whimpered before a sharp inhale caused Charles’ eyes to shoot up to your closed ones, searching your face for any pain.

"You good?" He asked softly but swiftly with his hands firmly placed on the outside of your thighs, gently holding you in place until you have him the okay to move his hips.

"So good," You breathed, tilting your neck back and arching your spine to change the angle a little, feeling that sweet spot deep inside you being brushed ever so gently, “You feel amazing right there.”

Once you both hit that toe curling, achingly good rhythm that you had perfected together, Charles rested his chin on your shoulder and watched how mind-numbingly hot you looked riding him in the mirror, his hands firmly grabbing your ass and spreading you out like a meal he was desperate to devour.

"My god..." He growled as you looked down and followed his eye line, biting your puffy bottom lip when you realised he was watching himself disappear inside you, every inch taken care of. And you too, were groaning at the sight.

“You look gorgeous riding my dick, baby.”

"We look sexy," You were quick to correct, breathless from both the sight of Charles’ large, veiny hands leaving prints on your backside and his relentlessness to have you losing your goddamned mind on his dick.

Both had you twisted in knots, the pit in your stomach tightening with every thrust and all you could do was thank whoever had invented weight training because boy, were you reaping the benefits now. Sex in your home gym – tick.

+ + +

parlez-vous français? (the sequel to itch)

a//n – i had so many asks for 'you're soaked' with baby boy charles so i hope you liked this quick, mostly naughty piece x next on the schedule is danny ric, i believe and i'm horny just thinking about the idea i have for him so stay tuned x masterlist | askbox

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #formula 1 #monzamashmasterlist #the monzamash special #charles leclerc x reader #f1 one shot

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risuola · 7 days

Text

▶ COCOONED — one of those lazy mornings when you wake up trapped in a tangle of hands and legs.

contents: college!au, roommates — 0,6k words

a/n: very short one, i'm still painting a little background to the friendship dynamics of our trio, but I wanna take this opportunity to thank you guys for supporting this little story I'm building here and also I wanna encourage you to help me out with it! if you have any ideas for entries, please let me know through ask box!

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

Taking care of your friends came easy for you. You were always like this, affectionate and protective. It was a way of showing love, through those subtle acts of tenderness and both Satoru and Suguru always thanked you for it, despite occasional teasing from their side. They were grateful for your selfless and kindhearted nature, just as you were grateful for the boundless protection you were granted ever since you got to know them. Any bully you ever stumbled upon quickly turned tail when met with the sight of your two guardians – always taller than others, always stronger and very ready to resolve issues (in more or less civilized ways).

It wasn’t a surprise that living together brought you even closer than before. It became a routine for you to help Satoru with his eyedrops first thing in the morning – because the boy has eyes of an angel but needs to protect them from harsh sunlight and environment. Then, you always make sure that a jar of Suguru’s favorite candy is full for him, so that he can pop one right after he takes his daily medicine – the one that he swears tastes like a rug somebody used to wipe up shit and vomit. They, on the other hand, never fail to help you at home or bring you sweets from the store.

One thing you were slightly uncertain about at the beginning of the one-bedroom journey was sleeping with them. You wondered if one day you’ll wake up to a black eye because of some random muscle twitch of either of them or they’ll squish you in the middle of the bed because of course you slept between them, but none of those things happened and it’s been months already. What took place, on the other hand, was evolvement of your friendship to a much more touchy one. It always came natural to you three to cuddle; you never minded their hands on your waist or legs and they never complained about you draping over them, but in one bed, it became much more intense. A progression of friendly intimacy that all three of you grew to love. A comfortable tangle of bodies that became a safe space to you and the boys, something that happened naturally and you wouldn’t have it any other way. And they wouldn’t change it either, but–

“Satoruu–! Suguuu–”

–but there were mornings like this one. You woke up trapped in a death grip of both boys, stuck against Suguru’s muscular chest and with Satoru’s strong arm wrapped around you. The white-haired head was nuzzled against your shoulder blades and as you tried to loosen up the cocoon, you ended up twisting your upper body unnaturally while your legs stayed lodged between four, much larger male ones. Your butt was pressed against Gojo’s stomach and his hand was resting below your ribs, long gone underneath the fabric of your stolen t-shirt. Long, black hair was tickling your face whenever you tried to move away from brunette’s bare pecks. Immobilized and resigned, you let out a deep exhale.

Thanks god it’s Sunday and you have nowhere to be – otherwise you’d be very late, as none of your friends seemed to be bothered by the sound of your voice calling them.

“Get back to sleep,” Toru mumbled sleepily against your back and somehow pulled you even closer to his chest and you could tell that as soon as he finished speaking, he was back in his slumber. His muffled voice did something to Suguru though, because the man hummed lowly, a sound akin to a purr. You felt his lips pressing to the top of your head and he was gone too, with his large hand resting on your hip and his bicep underneath your cheek. Helpless and surrendered, you tweaked your position to get comfortable and allowed your eyelids to drop, slowly succumbing back into the dreamland.

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu

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littlerequiem · 1 month

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— a lesson in dancing ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

Levi doesn't think you should be with an old man like him. You show him otherwise. Or: in a post-war life, Levi learns to dance again.

content — Post-war, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Some internalized ableism from Levi but Reader helps him get through it, Reader is younger than Levi, Slow dancing, Basically a whole lot of comforting Levi in this one (wc: 2.3k). For reference - I headcanon that Levi uses a wheelchair most of the time, but that at home, he'll opt for a cane.

Crossposted on AO3.

“You should find someone younger to be with.”

At first, you aren’t sure if you heard Levi correctly. It’s still early; the sunrise barely reaches the town's tiled roofs. Sparrows nibble around you, scavenging for breakfast. Everything is at a complete standstill.

Then you glance up from this morning’s newspaper. Levi is staring at the youth gathered around the city square.

“What did you say?” you ask.

Levi’s attention settles onto you, a half-lidded stare that’s no less charged than in his prime as the Captain.

“You’re still young," he mutters. "You’re still whole."

Well, if he didn't have your attention before, he certainly has it now.

You place your reading onto the café table, right next to the cup of coffee the waiter just brought. Your fingers linger on the edges of the newspaper, bending the corners with your thumb.

“Levi, I don’t want to be with someone else," you say, slow like you were carefully weighing each syllable with care. "I want to be with you.”

"You say that, but I can’t give you that.”

You frown, following his changing line of sight, back to the youth. In the distance, couples dance, following music coming from an accordion. They step and twirl, a resounding cheer (“ha!”) echoing with every count of twelve.

It brings you straight back to Paradis, to life within the Walls, to evenings spent in dingy taverns. Hange and Miche used to love dancing; they loved to drag you along. You wonder if Levi is thinking about those nights too.

"Are you talking about us dancing?”

The knot in Levi's throat bobs. He swallows it down with an almost bitter expression. “That, and more. Just look at me.”

“I’m looking, Levi.”

If only he knew—you’ve been looking all along.

All these years of fighting side by side, of fighting against titans and humans, of trying to bring peace to the world.

Just to arrive at a time and place where you could look at him.

And the sight grounds you.

Levi's eyes—one milky white and shuttered, the other a deep gray that reminds you of muted skies. His hair, silky black, embellished from the passage of time with strands of silver (like starlight, you think). A pearl-colored scar that twists below his lash line, running across the left side of his face, currently glowing from the dewy morning sun.

Everything about Levi has always been beautiful.

Despite that, you watch Levi retreats in his shell. His expression hardens and his knuckles tighten. It's the same old reaction you've grown accustomed to seeing. Levi did it Then, in Paradis, and he's doing it Now, in this new life.

But you? You rip through it, cut the distance apart. The feet of your chair rattles against the cobblestone of the street as you draw near. By the time you're settled at his side, you’re close enough to count the freckles splattered on the tip of nose.

“Levi, listen to me. You’re enough just the way you are. We can go through life as we please. Isn’t that enough?”

Levi remains silent, setting his posture like iron.

You tug at the hems of his shirt, twirling the fabric around your index. “Hey, c'mon now. Have I ever told you how handsome you are in the early morning?”

“Tch, don’t patronize me. You must want more than to be stuck with an old man like me.”

“What if I like my old man?”

“You should be with someone younger.“

“Who says?”

“I’m saying.”

Levi’s deadpan expression doesn’t falter under your even gaze, but his lower lip opens up slightly, as if he were trying to even out his breathing. A blue vein tenses down his neck. You have the urge to smooth it with the back of your hands.

But you focus on his words instead.

“Levi, where’s all of this coming from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, of course, it matters. If it's making you have these thoughts, it matters.”

Levi's eyes narrow. You sigh.

“Fine, you stubborn man. You wanna know what I see?” you say under your breath.

There’s something vulnerable tied to Levi’s gaze. You hold onto it, sliding your fingers through his hair to brush care into his scalp. Your thumbs linger over the crow’s feet permeating the corner of his eyes. A constellation of wrinkles and spots dust Levi's skin, an aftermath of time and sun exposure. You run a delicate digit over all of it, ending along his scarred lash line.

Levi swallows loudly.

“When I look at you, Levi, I see the pain of someone who was asked to grow up much too fast. I see the face of a man who had to shoulder the weight of survival all by himself. I see the life of a soldier who has fought for peace so that all of them,” your head bobs in the youth’s direction, “now get to enjoy a quiet Saturday morning where they can dance without a care in the world.”

Levi glances over your shoulders, fixing a point like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You bring your hands along the sides of his jaw, directing his attention back to you. “Levi, you’re everything I want. We fought for a decade to be here. Why can’t you recognize that?”

He attempts to shake his head. “You deserve more.”

“That's for me to decide."

"I disagree."

"You always trusted my judgment as a soldier, so please extend me that same courtesy in this life here. Trust me to know what I want.”

“S’not the same.”

“It is. I dedicated my heart to the Scouts back then, didn’t I? And now I’m dedicating it to you.”

Levi’s ears turn pink, his lips tightening into a pout that cannot be described as anything else but coy. “Tch, don't say shit like this in public.” He attempts to lean away from your touch, but you teasingly play with strands of his hair, coxing him to utter stillness.

You lift a brow.

Levi stays quiet. Your knees bump with his, and you remain close while you watch him think your words over. Somehow, though, you can tell he’s grateful to have you here with him. You’re the one still by his side after all these years of death and pain and misery.

The one who stayed.

And Levi conveys his gratitude by reaching to you at last, slow like he were afraid to be stung. He loops his fingers around your own, his thumb gliding against the pulse point on your wrist. Once he has his hold on you, he doesn't let go, slowly stroking your skin with his thumbs.

You exhale in solace.

“So, what's the verdict?" you murmur. "Should I continue praising you?”

He releases your hands. “Please don’t.”

You chuckle, moving to grab the newspaper once more. Today’s headline talks of peace negotiations, negotiations that are to be handled by Commander Armin Arlert.

“Listen, I meant what I said, Captain," you tell Levi as you smooth over the article, ready to pour your attention onto it. "Like it or not, you’re stuck with me now.”

Levi clears his throat as he takes a sip of tea. “Careful, soldier, that almost sounded like a marriage proposal.”

This time, it’s your turn to get flustered. You hide behind your wall of reading and when you peer over the newspaper, you swear there’s a ghost of a smirk tugging at Levi’s lips.

The evening is setting. Outside, waves crash against the cliffs while seagulls croak in swarms. You don’t pay attention to the noise; you’re inside the little cottage you and Levi share, too busy tweaking the machine Onkyankopon gifted you. It's a vinyl player—a machine which lets you play music records. Admittedly, you aren’t well-versed with these modern inventions, but this one you’re excited to use.

The record you’ve placed into the vinyl player comes from Onkyankopon’s home town. It promises a soothing journey filled with emotional highs—just what you need. With a grin plastered on your face, you press the play button. The tonearm hits the record and a lovely crack sounds across the living room. You lower the volume, and turn around.

“Levi, you coming?”

You hear a grunt in response, echoing across the narrow corridor of the house. “There’s no fire under my ass, is there?”

“Just a very excited me is all.”

Several moments later, Levi walks in, cane in hand. He’s fresh out of the shower. His hair is still wet, bangs clinging to the sides of his forehead, and his cheeks still have that rosy hue that comes from him washing it thoroughly. He’s wearing a freshly ironed shirt, and what Marleyans call jeans (which, incidentally, make his ass look great).

Your stomach flutters.

Levi raises a brow. “What did you want to show me?”

“Oh.” You blink, remembering your plan. “Right. Please, c'mon here.”

He does, walking towards you, something cautiously guarded on his face.

You roll your eyes and shoot him a playful smile. “It’s not a trap, I promise.” Your fingers move to the collar of his gray shirt, feeling the rough fabric of cotton between your fingertips. The color matches his gaze, it brings out the smoothness of his pale skin.

He really is pretty.

You tell him as such.

He scoffs, a lovely pink hue dusting the tips of his ears. “Don’t say shit like that.”

You shrug. “We’re not in public anymore, are we?”

“Spare me.”

“But I like to compliment you."

"That's not my problem."

"Fine, old man. Then I suppose I should show you.”

His eyes narrow, not unkindly or in an annoyed manner, but with the regard of someone who dislikes surprises, who knows you’re up to something.

You detach yourself from him for a moment, striding over to reach for the volume button and turning it up. As soon as the slow violin and piano tug through the air, you turn towards him with a grin.

“Let’s dance,” you announce.

To Levi’s credit, he doesn’t appear all that surprised by this turn of events. Well, he’s known you over a decade, so you suppose he’s learned a thing or two about you.

You take his wooden cane out of his hands, carefully placing it against the wall. For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other from across the small room, admiring one and another. Moonlight trickles into the room, gracing Levi with its touch. His gray stare is aglow, his hair like silver. Like starlight, indeed.

Taking a slow step in his direction, you slide into his arms, and he welcomes you like you were made to belong there all along. You take his invitation with a smile, offering him support for his leg while you bask in the comfort of his embrace. Levi places his left hand over your shoulder, the other finding a home along your ribs, fingers slotting along every bone. Safety. His touch sparks warmth across your body, and you bring your hands to the back of his neck, delicately smoothing his undercut.

“The music is starting,” you murmur into the shell of his ear. Tingles spread through your veins.

“Yeah, it is.”

The music isn’t anything like the one you heard on the square today. This track is slow and intimate, and so, your dancing adapts to it. At first, you take the lead, only taking occasional small steps back, hips swaying with the soft melody. Levi follow closely, so close that you listen to his heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

Half a minute later, Levi surprises you by carefully taking one of your hands between his own, dragging his thumb over your knuckles. He guides you back into a slow spin, and you feel the air expand in your lungs as you take several steps away from him, watching your two shadows ripple over the silver spotlight. When he tugs you back and your vision spins, you think how perfectly your bodies align together.

“Levi, why are you so good at this?” you chastise playfully.

“Erwin used to make me attend these fancy balls in the Interior,” he says in your ear, the tenor of his voice rumbling against your skin. “I learned there.”

“Huh, that’s true. I remember the tuxedos you and Erwin wore now that you mention it." You chuckle. "You both looked devilishly handsome.”

“We looked like two pretentious snobs, you mean.”

"You say that, but I think Erwin took you along for a reason. We always did get the funding for every expedition.”

“Yeah.” There’s a note of fondness for Erwin and past memories, things you aren't exactly privy to, but that you're glad he gets to cherish all the same.

You come to rest a cheek close to his neck, submerging yourself with the warmth of his skin. “I guess this little dance doesn’t measure up to the lavish balls you’ve attended, right?”

His hand tightens around your own. “No, this is better.”

You smile at his words.

It isn’t until a moment later that you realize the music has stopped, that you’re both still slow dancing to silence. Outside, the sound of waves remains.

Slowly, you untangle yourself from Levi, looking at him like he were the lighthouse guiding you back to shore. Levi’s attention is already fixed on you, his face filled with quiet fondness. There's starlight in his gaze.

“You see," you say. "We can dance, you and I.”

Levi raises a hand towards you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “If we can teach your clumsy ass some rhythm, sure.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.”

Levi snorts, and before you can say anything else, he surprises you by leaning over to press a kiss over your forehead.

And under the moonlight, you watch him at peace, and all feels right.

— Masterlist / Join my taglist / Heart divider by saradika-graphics - the rest is by me.

Tag list: @l3visthighs, @bejewelledd, @nube55, @loyal2rin, @leviisgf, @thephantomtheory, @levilxvr, @halloweenmedic, @notgoodforlife, @sixpennydame, @youre-ackermine, @starrylevi

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cdbabymp3 · 1 month

Text

𐙚chris' girl chp. 2 ― matt sturniolo

summary: y/n confides in matt on the drive home

notes/warnings: chris x influencer!reader x matt, some suggestive mentions (talk of sex & virginity) , y/n and chris have a toxic relationship, dialogue heavy/filler and i HATE it lol+ this song is so matt it hurts

thank you all for waiting, ily asf !! :*

(edited, but definitely not my best i fear)

matt's blood went cold. his muscles tensed so much from sheer embarrassment that he felt sore sitting up in bed.

shit. shit. shit. shit.

tucking his boner into the waistband of his boxers, he hopped out of bed and threw some pajama pants and a random shirt on. about to knock again, matt opened the door to reveal y/n, a light sheen of sweat across her chest and forehead. most of her makeup had faded or been smeared off and her hair wasn't as smooth as it was at the beginning of the night. small flakes of mascara stuck to the skin under eyes and flushed cheeks. had she been crying? or was it from fucking? or both? he couldn't tell.

she flashed a weak smile, holding both her high heels in her hand, "sorry, i didn't mean to wake you."

"no, you're good. i was barely asleep," matt lied assuringly, scanning her face for a clear expression.

she fidgeted with the straps of her shoes, struggling with what to say.

"do you want me to take you home?" matt provided quietly, unsure whether or not chris was awake or if he'd even care.

y/n's eyes lit up at matt's offer, nodding. "yes please. if that's okay?"

this never happened. y/n always spent the night with chris. and now matt was about to be in the car with her. just her. he didn't allow himself too much excitement, though. not until he knew what was going on with her.

"of course," matt whispered, leaving the doorway for a moment to grab his car keys and a jacket.

"oh, wait. one sec," y/n set down her shoes in the hallway, carefully opening chris' door. chris laid on his side, fast asleep. y/n pulled a hoodie from his dresser and put it on over her dress, the thick fabric draping over her thighs completely. tip toeing to the bed, she leaned over chris, whispering, "matt's gonna take me home, okay?" lowering her face to his, she pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek, "love you."

matt felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. it almost made him sad, y/n talking to chris as if he could hear anything she's saying. surely, she knows he can't hear her and that's what makes it even more sad.

matt zipped up his jacket, the noise causing y/n to end her moment with chris and leave his room. she shut his door with a little creak, but chris remained in a deep state of sleep. matt gestured to outside the hallway to leave, y/n leading the way through the living room and back down the stairs.

she stayed uncharacteristically quiet as matt drove. he wasn't sure what to do or say - or if she even wanted him to. he could sense some kind of apprehension from her, like she wanted to tell him something but couldn't find a way to articulate it. suddenly, in the weighted silence, y/n's stomach growled loudly. she gasped, giggling a bit at the abrupt noise. finally, her smile.

matt joined her laughter, turning into the second to last intersection before her house, "you wanna get something to eat real quick?"

y/n looked at him again with bright eyes, like a little kid. "can we? i didn't eat at the party."

matt tapped the gps on his console screen, ending the route, "yeah, me neither. i'm starving."

"what's gonna be open this late, though?"

matt cracked a knowing smile, putting his blinker on and turning into a shopping plaza. at nearly 1 am, only two of three cars took up the otherwise empty parking lot. however, at the end of the plaza, a long line of cars wrapped around the in n out drive-thru.

"oh, thank god." y/n exhaled deeply in relief, making praying hands, "i'm gonna pass out."

matt chuckles, maneuvering the car to the back of the line, "please don't do that. not on my watch, chris will kill me."

y/n's smile fades, her body language turning demure.

shit. way to go, idiot.

"not so sure about that." her voice is small as stares at the car in front of them

hesitantly matt asks, "okay, i know it's none of my business and you totally don't have to answer, but...is everything okay? like with you and him?", he inches the car further in line.

she's conflicted, it's all over her face. she runs a hand through her scalp and leaves it there, propping her elbow up against the car door to lean on.

she shakes her head, "you're gonna think i'm crazy." the car ahead's red tail lights cast across her face, making her eyes glisten.

matt lets the wheels roll an inch or two, then stops to catch her gaze. her big eyes meet his and, without fail, his heart flutters.

"no, seriously, i won't judge. i promise." and he means it.

she knows he means it too, which is why she continues.

"okay, um-you know kenzie coy?"

"uh, the blonde girl that does the fitness tiktoks?" matt confirms, even though he knew exactly who she was, unfortunately.

kenzie coy; widely known for her viral workout videos and lingerie pictures on instagram, caught the attention of most young guys in l.a. and if they weren't in l.a. to see her in person, they were probably jerking off to her pictures in the lonely confinement of their bedrooms.

"yeah, her." y/n says, slouching more into the seat, "i think chris and her are hooking up. they were talking at the party and she kept putting her hand on his shoulder like they'd known each other for years. plus, he laughed at every little thing she was saying, even the shit that wasn't funny. it was so weird, matt. i don't know, something just feels off and i can't let it go."

god, what are you doing, chris?

"no, there's no way." matt refutes with certainty, "he's with you. he likes you, y/n. always has, simple as that."

"me," huffing, "and kenzie." she adds, attempting to prove a point, but matt's unsure.

he quirks an eyebrow in disbelief, having to do a double-take before driving forward a bit more. "what? like at the same time?"

she shrugs, "it's possible is all i'm saying," now turning to face matt, "to like two people... simultaneously."

matt's face goes warm, grateful that the red car lights mask the vivid blush probably forming. he can feel her eyes on him as he rolls down his window to order their food. though he admittedly knows y/n's order by heart, his speech is jumbled. a stutter persistent throughout the entire order, but the employee doesn't seem to have trouble taking it and telling them to pull forward. matt fumbles around his jacket pocket for his wallet with shaky hands, retrieving his credit card from the sleeve and almost dropping it.

does she know what she's doing? how her words sound?

"i-i mean, yeah. technically that's possible, but-" matt's interrupted by another employee as he pulls up to the window to pay. quick, but politely, matt thanks the employee and grabs the bag of food. "do you wanna eat on the way home or-"

"actually, can you park for a sec?" y/n asks, taking the bag of food from his lap and placing it on hers.

her question nearly makes matt run over the drive-thru curb, maneuvering the car into the nearest parking spot. "yeah, are you good?"

"yeah, no, i'm fine. this night's just been a lot. i kinda wanna chill out for a bit." she explains, hand diving into the white bag for her burger and fries. she sets her food on her lap, then goes back to the bag for matt's, handing it to him with a smile.

"thanks." he can barely choke out, the atmosphere suddenly feeling incredibly intimate as he turns the car's ignition off. now it was really just him and her, no background noise, no distractions, no chris.

"what were you saying earlier, before you ordered?" y/n tosses a fry into her mouth

"oh nothing. i was just saying that it's possible, but you guys made up, right? so i wouldn't worry about it."

y/n let out a breathy laugh, in between chewing, " 'made up' isn't what i would call it."

he's not sure what's gotten into him, but matt takes advantage of this surge of confidence. "okay, then what would you call it?" matt furthered. there was no going back now.

a little surprised by his boldness, y/n raises her eyebrows, putting her fries down on her lap and shifting to face him again. "i'd say we put a bandaid on it. something temporary, like we always do," she looks down shyly at the space between them, "but sex doesn't fix everything, y'know?"

flustered, matt chokes on a fry, patting his chest for air.

y/n rapidly back-pedals at his reaction, "oh my god, sorry. he's your brother, you don't wanna hear about that."

matt takes a sip of water from the center console, and regains his breath. "no, no, it's okay." clearing his throat, "i'd imagine it doesn't."

she frowns at this, a little smirk forming in the corner of her lips. "'imagine'?"

oh god. just shut up, matt.

"i mean, like-it's-y'know?" he tries, but can't save himself whatsoever, "fuck." embarrassed, he gives up with a defeated laugh, taking a giant bite of his burger to silence himself.

y/n giggles, licking some salt off her finger, "you've never...?"

she wants me dead.

chewing down the bite, matt swallows with a loud 'gulp', making her giggle more. "uh, no, i haven't...it's really embarrassing."

y/n shakes her head, "no, it's not," carefully she asks, "is there a reason why?"

her tone is sweet and genuine. he could tell, for some reason, she really cared about what he'd say next.

"honestly, yeah." matt avoided her gaze, "i have a hard time, like...getting to that point i guess?"

he wasn't sure why he was spilling his guts to her like this. he's never told anyone this and he swore he never would.

but it's y/n. everyone told y/n their secrets. she was just that kind of person.

she tilts her head teasingly, humming in denial, "mhm"

matt's heart skips a beat, his brain going blank. "what?"

"i think you know what you want, matt," her voice is like velvet saying his name, "and you know how to get it. the only thing holding you back is yourself." she speaks so matter-of-factly, so innocent, it drives him fucking insane.

the tension in the car was so thick, it clouded his usual rationality. for a split second, he was convinced she was trying to tell him something. an innuendo of sorts.

but that thought is soon dismissed when she continues, "regardless, you're smart for waiting. your first time is better when it's with someone you genuinely care about." she didn't have to say it. matt knew who she was talking about. but just to twist the knife, she adds, "but it does make you get attached... i think that's my problem right now with chris."

and just like that, the moment was over.

only able to nod in agreement, matt turns the car back on, discarding his burger wrapper into the white bag along with some used napkins."it's getting late. i should probably take you home."

y/n sits back up in her seat, gathering her trash and tossing it as well. "yeah, good idea." she says, blinking a couple times back into reality. for those 30 minutes they spent together, time seemed to pause.

the drive to y/n's house is silent, but not like before when they were leaving the party. the silence is comfortable. y/n admires the city lights that flash and flicker by, illuminating the area surrounding her. she looked at everything with such awe, appreciating little details in arbitrary things. it's something that matt loved most about her, something that chris would bring up to their mom when describing her. such a double-edged sword, the whole thing was. and yet, matt kept coming back for more.

he pulled up to her driveway, parking the car and turning to her. she smiles at him sincerely. "thank you," she grabs her high heels from the floor and opens the door, "for the food, for everything, really."

matt internally melts,"no problem, any time."

"goodnight, get home safe." she whispers, closing the door and walking to her front door

fuck it, matt. just say it.

he rolls down his window and raises his voice so she can hear him from the car, "oh, hey, for the record,"

"yeah?" she steps forwards a little, amused.

"fuck kenzie coy."

y/n erupts with laughter, putting a hand over her mouth as to not wake her neighbors.

"you're miles prettier than she'll ever be, i mean it."

she shakes her head bashfully. for the first time ever, he was seeing her get flustered by a compliment. "you're sweet." she reaches for her front door, "goodnight, matt."

"goodnight, y/n." matt rolls up his window, reversing back onto the street and driving away. once he was fully off her block, he silently cheered, gripping the steering wheel and rocking in celebration. if nick or chris were there, they would never let him hear of the end of how corny he was being. but he didn't care. they weren't there. truthfully, if the night had gone differently, he would've got out with her and talked more. but he was exhausted and so was she. the moment didn't call for it yet. he had time, he just had to bide it.

໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @forevergirlposts , @soimightlikeoldmen69 , @sl0t4matt , @st7rnioioss , @sturn3ol0 , @vickyzloserz , @@mayhem-72 , @imsosillygoofylol , @scofposts , @st7rnioioss , @iloveneilperry , @sukiipjs , @junnniiieee07 , @remussbitch , @tatumrileyslover , @imfromthediningtable , @mattsgirlsblog , @obsessededwithyou , @mctties , @divanaspiteri , @lustfulslxt , @flowerxbunnie , @m4ttslvr , @streamermattsgf , @asturniolos , @tubl-mc , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniol0s , @pleasantlycrazyworld , @sillysillygyal , @evanpeterslvr , @chrizznmetswife , @seahorsie11 , @braindead4l , @iloveapplejacks , @enyaslover , @thvvluvr , @stur-ni-o-lo , @domaniquessidehoe

lmk if u wanna be added, hotties !! if i hit the tag limit, i'll tag in the comments :))

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #cdbabymp3

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Hi love! Hope you’re well. I had a request for a reader who is always having nosebleeds, no matter the season, and one of the marauders (doesn’t matter who, could be all of them, I don’t have a preference) has to take care of her and she’s always feeling bad about it cuz it’s gross and lots of fluff. (Definitely not what happens to me almost weekly lol. I wish I had one of these boys when it happens😭) If not that’s totally okay!

Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

cw: mention of blood

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 617 words

“It really was terrible,” you tell James, the two of you bent over a table in the library with your books forgotten in front of you. “I should know better than to get my hopes up about adaptations, but I just loved the book so much, and it was so suited for the screen…”

James tuts, shaking his head. “They played you for a fool.”

“They did! I have no idea how they messed it up that badly, the script was practically written for them. And I was so excited for the—”

“Oh, oh.” The syllables fall from James’ lips as if dropped, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “Sweetheart, your nose—”

You startle at the endearment, then again at the tenderness behind it, before you think to put a hand under your nose. Your fingertips come away red.

“Oh, shit.” You groan, going to dig in your bag for your tissues. “Sorry, this happens.”

“I’ve got it, just—here.” Before you know what’s happening, James has leaned across the table and is holding a cloth to your nose, his touch careful. “There we go. Almost got your shirt there.”

You’re quick to replace his hand with your own, horrified. “Thanks. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, you can hardly help it.” He starts going through his own bag, frowny but notably less flustered than is the standard reaction to your spontaneous bleeding. “Do you have any tissues?”

“Yeah, in my bag. The small pocket.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with your other hand, feeling the nature of the cloth stuck beneath your nostrils. “James, is this a handkerchief?”

“Yeah,” he says with a sheepish sort of smile. “My mum likes them better than tissues, has it spelled to come back to my pocket every time I lose it. It’s been washed, though, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you mumble, but if James hears you he doesn’t comment, too busy going through your bag.

He finds your tissue stash and leans his thighs against the library table to face you in your chair. He picks up your tie, dabbing at it.

“Oh, you really don’t have to do that,” you say hastily. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“Stop that,” he chides lightly, “you’ve nothing to apologize for. I don’t mind helping.”

“But it’s—” you can’t help the fluster in your tone, somewhat disturbed by his lack of disturbance. “It’s gross! Anyway, it’s my blood, I should be the one cleaning it.”

James smiles down at your tie, eyes flitting up to you like you’re the strange one. “It’s not gross. And unless you have some blood-transmitted disease I don’t know about, I’m not worried about it. Your hands are occupied anyway.” He seems satisfied with your tie, folding the tissue to a clean side. “Tilt your chin up for me, just for a second? Thanks, love.”

He sets his hand on the side of your jaw to steady himself, the touch seemingly thoughtless, and swipes gently at the blood on your chin. You’ve got nothing to do but look at him, his lips and brow pinched slightly in concentration as he works.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

The way his thumb strokes briefly at your cheek is far from thoughtless, twin dimples appearing on either side of his smile. “Don’t worry about it.” There’s a teasing firmness to the words, like he’s daring you to do otherwise. “Do you need anything? Water?”

You shake your head slowly, a smile creeping onto your face despite how you’re still pinching your nose shut with your hand.

“Alright then.” He sits on the table, leaning back on his hands. “Tell me more about your horrible movie.”

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caramelberzatto · 7 months

Text

sleepless in chicago // c. berzatto

HI!! here is my first ever dad!carm fic because i simply couldn't get him out of my head. i just love this sweet, little fic so much?? because it just felt so cosy for me when i was writing. i hope you guys love it, too :) and also, i'd like everyone to welcome little riley michael berzatto <3 - clarke pairing: carmy x fem!reader (no description, use of fem pronouns)

The streetlights glowed like stars as you drove home, humming along to the radio. After a long lecture, you were ready to take a long, hot shower and collapse into bed with Carmy.

In the cup holder, your phone began to ring, Carmy's name popping up on the screen. Flicking the Bluetooth toggle on your steering wheel, you answered the call.

"Hi, Bear, I'm almost home."

“Hey, honey,” his voice was low, quiet, and you could hear Riley’s soft coos and babbles in the background. “How was class?”

“Good, yeah. Long, though. Is everything okay? Did Riley lose his paci again? Why isn’t he asleep?”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, mommy’s coming home, alright?” Carmy cleared his throat, glancing at his son in the bassinet, unable to fight his smile as he watched Riley squirm, reaching his little hands up toward the mobile, sea creatures swimming through the air. “He was asleep, but I was folding laundry in our room and I just heard him start babbling, just saying ‘mom’ over and over. He’s not upset, he’s just, like, awake. And no matter what I do, he won’t settle.”

You smiled to yourself, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel as a red light gleamed at you.

“Try taking him out of his sleepsack, he probably just wants to snuggle.”

“I think he misses you,” he said, voice moving away from the phone with each word. “Isn’t that right, Bug? We miss mommy, huh? But she’s learning, Buggy, she’s so smart. Yes, she is.”

Grinning, you turned onto your street, able to see the lamplight from your bedroom already. One window lit up, a beacon against the otherwise dark house.

At first, when you’d found out you were pregnant, Carmen had been worried. The two of you had agreed to start actively trying to have a child, but when it came to fruition, there was a tumultuous night spent with him, clinging to you, worked up into a state of panic.

‘What if I can’t do it, what if I fucking suck and I fuck it all up, and our baby-’

‘Stop it. Stop. Carm, look at me. Look at me and just shut up for a second.’ You pulled him close, his head resting in the crook of your neck. ‘We will figure it all out together. We’re going to be fine.’

He’d been so worried that he’d grow to create a fucked up family, just like the one he’d escaped from. But seeing him now… He never gave himself enough credit.

Toeing off your shoes by the door, you crept down the hall and into the bedroom. Kicking off your jeans in exchange for a pair of sweatpants, you were lifting your shirt over your head when the bedroom door creaked softly. You glanced over your shoulder and there they were; Carmen stood in the doorway, shirtless, gold chain gleaming, in a pair of boxers. With Riley on his hip, sleepy eyes bright. Your son babbled, reaching for you with soft, chubby fingers.

“Hi, mama,” Carmy smirked, gaze darting over you. You wandered over to them, dropping your shirt on the floor, swatting your husband playfully. Carmen pulled you in, his hand cradled the back of your head as he pressed an almost desperate kiss to your lips.

With Riley sandwiched between you, his warm little body like a heater, his curious hands playing with the strap of your bra, you rested your forehead against Carmy’s, just relishing the moment with him.

Your little family.

And you’re struck, all at once, by the memory of every moment you’d spent wishing for something like this. It had all seemed so unattainable, so out of reach; but you’d just been a lonely teenager, stuck in your hometown. The world hadn’t opened up to you yet.

But now?

If your younger self could’ve seen this, this little moment between the love of your life and the joint result of it, your son…

Well, they’d be proud that you never gave up searching for that comfort, that peace, you’d always craved.

#the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you

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yuri-is-online · 8 months

Text

Plead the Fifth (Riddle, Floyd, Azul, Jack, Lilia, and Ace x Yuu)

Summer vacation is all fun and games until someone asks you to be honest with yourself. Unfortunately for Yuu, they got dragged to the beach by some "friends" and are getting a big old dose of heat stroke, just not from a source they want to confess to outside of a court.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, no spoilers for Lost in the Book with Stitch this is just about their summer outfits. Vague tsundere vibes from Yuu, Yuu is implied to be physically strong, Floyd knows he's hot and has a bone to pick from Portfest, also he's a red flag have I mentioned that before? Azul is only mildly possessive don't worry about it ♡. Mild suggestiveness all around, but I don't think it's too much. Feel free to check out my more serious work on my masterlist.

Riddle

"Seriously!" Riddle's cheeks are puffed in annoyance, and you have an uncomfortably close view. Not that you don't like looking at Riddle, quite the opposite, it's just hard to look at him... properly when he's fussing over your injured hand. "You would think that such a highly recommended resort would have better quality glasses." You don't know if you should be relieved or insulted Riddle believes it's cheap glass and not your raw strength responsible for the glass shards stuck in your hand. You flex it uncertainly, and he stares you into stillness. It's hard to focus with him so close, hard to breathe even. How Riddle hasn't noticed how beautiful he is normally is beyond you, but with how carefree he's been, staring out at the ocean and happily bringing you to see every unique shell he can identify, there is no way he can't at least sense how you look at him. It's just too much, and you find yourself pulling away worried he will find you disgusting.

But that's not what Riddle sees. He sees someone he cares for refusing to let him help. He certainly does not see someone who is nervously infatuated with him attempting to soothe their heart rate, otherwise he wouldn't have the nerve to continue being strict.

"Just where do you think you're going?" If he could collar you, he would, but instead he has to satisfy himself with yanking your shirt to keep you from struggling away. "Don't move, that's a direct order, prefect." You wheeze and Riddle decides to politely ignore your struggles, instead focusing on the weight of your hand in his with a smug sense of satisfaction. He is useful to you isn't he? So let him monopolize your attention for just a little longer.

Floyd

"Oooh Little Shrimpy~" You want to die. You probably are going to, Floyd has never been so close to your face without pinning your back to a wall, you would be stupid not to see it as a threat to squeeze. "You better not be thinkin' about callin' me adorable that'd really piss me off." You swallow. Or at least try to, you are horribly painfully aware that he has chosen to pick this fight just off the boardwalk meaning everyone can see your little spat and how little you have been looking at his eyes. Floyd can too, it's been sending a vaguely exciting shudder up and down his spine all day. He knows every dip and curve along his chest your eyes have followed, every lingering stare at his flexing shoulders, it's like you want to eat him for a change. He found that electrifying.

Or at least he had, but this little dance was starting to get boring.

What sort of predator never makes a move after setting the mood? He had tried telling himself he should be patient, shrimps aren't predators. Maybe Yuu needed extra time to set up their attack, he could work with that, maybe leave a few openings. But he was starting to run out of buttons to undo on his shirt and he really didn't want to ditch the sunglasses or beads just yet. He had been such a good patient eel, so why weren't you jumping on him already?

"I don't think-" You force yourself to look up at Floyd's eyes instead of his chest and your brain immediately fries. "I mean that isn't to say-" He glares at you and you try to wrack your brain for what compliment he could possibly want out of you. There is no way Floyd Leech is going to these lengths to try and get you to call him cool.

"Y'know, it's really rude to not answer your seniors shrimpy." Floyd draws himself up to his full height, with an oddly solemn look. "You're usually such a well-behaved little shrimp, is somethin wrong? You know if somethings wrong you had probably better tell me or Azul's gonna have to call the Headmage."

"It's because you're too hot ok! I cant focus on what you're saying because I keep looking at your fucking chest! Happ-" You can't get your compliment out before he's squeezed you into his chest and started shaking you around like a rag doll, squealing something about how hunting isn't that hard and he knew you could do it.

There's no way you were ever the one on the prowl here.

Azul

This isn't a date. Nothing about this is meant to be romantic, you are having a "purely platonic at best but lets be real this is probably for business" drink with Azul at the tacky (his words not yours) poolside bar. "I wouldn't have thought about putting a water park next to a beach." He murmers to himself, carefully photographing every angle of his float before sitting down to drink it. "It just sounds redundant." You shrug, idly stirring your own drink.

"You'd be surprised. Some humans really don't like swimming in the ocean." You're the one saying it, so he has no real choice to belive it but it's hard to wrap his head around.

"How is one of these parks safer? They aren't nearly as clean." He thinks that if he ran a place like this, that would be the biggest problem, humans are messy creatures already, but the level of mess he has just casually observed while sitting here with you really makes him wonder just what the actual appeal of this place is. Well, at least just what the appeal was to paying customers, he knew why he wanted to bring you here. Usually, when Azul turns to look at you, you immediately look away from him. But as long as you've been on this little vacation, no matter how many times he's looked your gaze has remained exactly where it should be. He's puffing with pride, looking you over wondering exactly what angle he can press to get you to say what it is you actually are thinking and not whatever cheap jab you have prepared to protect yourself.

You remain none the wiser, stuck staring at Azul and his shirt simultaneously drowning in how attractive you find him and how much it reminds you of a man in his mid fifties who relies on his bank account to make up for his miserable personality.

"See something you like, prefect?" Azul is unbelievably happy, you are tempted to say smug but then he sort of always does. It's the glasses you think as you bite on your straw and hope he doesn't notice how hard it is for you to maintain eye contact. But he does, oh he does, taking advantage of your flustered state to move closer to your side.

"You- you..." Azul is stupidly attractive he has to know that, but you also know he is desperately insecure and don't want to send him into a spiral with your stupid tongue. "You look like a middle-aged dad on his third divorce on vacation trying to doge the tax man." You mutter, trying really hard to sound threatening. It doesn't work, Azul just gives his best put upon sigh as he clucks his tongue in disappointment.

To your great surprise, he moves his hand to tilt your head to look him directly in his bright blue eyes, a similar smile to the one he has while trying to sell you on something directly kicking your heart rate up. He is trying to sell you on himself, you realize...

"How insulting, my dear. You should know better than anyone that no one gets out of a contract with me so easily they'd be able to do it three times." ... and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer. Not that it was the answer you intended to give him in the first place, and oh how happy he is to know that.

Jack

"Honestly! You would think you'd know to be more careful by now." You might as well be talking to a brick wall, Jack's certainly solid enough to pass for one. He still seems to be under the impression that he's fine despite how much of his weight you are supporting. You think he is trying to talk, but the heat has him only babbling nonsense. Reluctantly, he lets you guide him over to a shady patch of trees close to a water fountain before he is well and truly gone.

"This is nothing. I handled the Savana I can take a stupid beach." He mutters as if he his extremely visible chest isn't heaving or rolling with droplets of sweat that other, lesser people have been watching drip from his abs with extreme disrespect.

Not you, though! No, your eyes have been firmly on the spicket on the fountain, determined to soak one of the smaller towels you brought and gently press it to Jack's forehead. Despite his insistence that he's fine, he leans desperately into your cooling touch, tension leaving his shoulders in one deep breath.

Just as all strength leaves yours as he decides to collapse into your lap.

"J-Jack!" You don't know what you want to ask next. Your back is pinned to one of the trees, Jack's head is resting firmly in your lap, but the arm that had been around your shoulder has decided to move around your waist. He growls (growls!) when you gently try to push him off you to try and get him set up in a more comfortable position. "Bad dog." It's all you can think to say and he doesn't seem fazed, if anything you swear he starts holding you closer. There is no way this could get any more embarrassing.

"Mommy, what is that guy doing to his partner? It looks like he's trying to eat them." Never mind yes it could. You make awkward eye contact with a very young mother as you try to silently plead with her that "no, this isn't what it looks like, I swear" as you desperately try to revive Jack with the damp cloth. The young woman looks at you then to her child, clearly trying to hold back her laughter and not doing it very well. She manages to usher him off before he can ask any more pointed questions and you glare down at Jack.

"You're setting such a bad example." You mutter and he lets go of your waist only to cross his arms over his chest and start to snore. Oh he is going to be so embarrassed when he wakes up, assuming he believes half of what you'll have to say.

Lilia

Love and Lilia are old strangers. He knows he can feel it, no matter what ancient denials he might have made, but he finds no matter how long he lives he is no better at recognizing it, no better at knowing what to do with it. There's something ironic about how much of an outlier this chance meeting between you both that makes him feel something akin to apathy. He doesn't think that's quite the right word, but he struggles to better find an explanation for the little knots it ties itself in sometimes.

So Lilia may not know just what this emotion is no, but he knows he likes the way it looks on you.

"Well, prefect? It's rude to stare you know." He says that as if he is not trying to make you, winking just over his sunglasses and striking a pose Cater had shown him on magicam in just a silly enough way that he can pass it off as one of his usual jokes. Your usual denial flutters up on your face, but your heart seems to be beating your brain to your tongue today.

"You look very cute, Lilia." That strange pit is filling with nervous flutters again, but his brain beats his soul to his mouth.

"That's good! I was worried I'd have to spend this vacation in the shadows out of shame." He says, fully aware that you are both currently sat in the shade of a particularly large umbrella precisely because he can't be out in the sun for long, even if that's the purpose of a beach vacation. Speaking of which... "Why don't you go join the others out on the beach, prefect? You helped me with my little errand, you deserve to take a break." He says it much more gently than he'd intended, if it wasn't pointless, he'd keep you here and needle you for more cute reactions. Maybe he would ask you to try on his shirt and demand yours as payment. But that's not fair, that's not life, this connection is destined to be as fleeting as it is precious. The way disappointment and confusion mingle in your eyes tells him you know that too, on some level.

"Calling you cute isn't a chore, but sure, I guess." You tell him something about calling for you if he decides to go somewhere else, and he thinks he promises you only if you do the same, but he doesn't know. He's too focused on the way the sun takes you into it's embrace, taunting everyone but certainly him specifically with just how much you look like you belong out there in the daylight.

But the moon can still observe can't it? In a way that's all he knows how to do.

Ace

You really hate how low your standards are. Who the hell gets all jittery and flustered over a guy in a boater hat? You apparently, Ace has the worst dad on vacation fit you have ever seen, assuming you are politely ignoring Azul. Something that's unfortunately easy for you to do and has led to you paying just that much more attention to Ace.

Or at least that's what you've been trying to tell him while pointedly staring out at the shore. You wish he was too lazy to put things together, but as usual, when there is an inch to tease you over, Ace Trappola will take a mile.

"Admit it, you think I'm hot." He sounds so infuriatingly smug. It makes you want to kiss him but only to shut him up! Not because you like him!

"The only thing hot about you is how full you are of hot air! Seriously, what's up with that bunch of fruit on your shoulder? Why would I find that attractive?" You know it only sounds like you are asking yourself, begging more like, because you really do think he's attractive. It's written all over your face, you might as well scream it with just how flustered you become when finally you decide to look back at him.

"It's ok to admit. It might be self-centered to say, but I really am a catch. Really prefect how did you get so lucky?" Oh he is never going to let you live this down.

"Please, you look like a dead beat dad on his third divorce!" Your voice is unnaturally high, and Ace just laughs off your insult. "Who would be attracted to you!"

"You, duh." He takes your hand and pulls you back towards the beach. "Besides, if I convinced you to marry me twice, I can do it a third time." He winks at you over his shoulder and you stop dead in your tracks, so overwhelmed with annoyed affection and embarrassment it's all you can do to grasp for a come back.

"Was it Duece."

"What?" Ace is momentarily thrown, extremely confused by what he perceives as a change of subject.

"You said you could convince me to marry you a third time, but you're on your third divorce. So when did you leave me for Deuce ?"

"Wait I didn't- you know that's not what I meant!" And yes, technically, you do know that's not what he meant, but you refuse to be the only one embarrassed here. You hope he chokes.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #floyd leech x reader #jack howl x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #ace trappola x reader

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 2 months

Text

ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - PART 2

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary - When you were attacked in your own home, you confined yourself with Jonathan to help you heal. Until you learn a sickening truth that changes everything.

Warnings - extreme NON-CON, dub con, rough sex, drugging, physical abuse, dead dove do not eat, manipulation, controlling, just really bad.

Word count - 7.8k +

Notes - Andddddddddd here it is. Posting it before I regret my decision. I've never written something so mentally dark so I don't know how I feel. So please listen to the warnings! And unfortunately I wrote too much so there will be a third and hopefully last part...

When you woke up in the morning, your skull felt like a nail and your throbbing migraine was the massive hammer banging against it. But it was nothing compared to the weight of regret and dubiety on your chest. Despite your intoxicated state, you could remember the details all too perfectly, the two of you, together. As your eyes fluttered open, you hesitantly looked beside you to find the bed empty. A slight sensation of relief ran through you as you regained full consciousness.

It was just past nine in the morning and you were desperately hoping that Jonathan had work. But even though the silence was loud, the anxious pit in your stomach was telling you otherwise. Jonathan would be lurking around somewhere, waiting for your arrival. After what felt like an eternity of beating yourself up inside your head, regretting the night, regretting how much you seemed to enjoy yourself, you realized that you had to face him. You looked down to your body under the sheets and saw that you were in his shirt and your underwear. Dried fluids painted over the skin of your thighs.

Crawling out of the bed, you looked around for your clothes but couldn’t find them anywhere. They were probably in the wash, he was such a clean freak. Your fingers were like brushes as you combed through your hair. Daring to look at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but to feel like a cheap whore. Quickly, you looked away from your frame and blinked hard. Tiptoeing to the door and down the hallway, you could hear the frypan sizzle and smell the fresh eggs and bacon cooking. Perhaps you could creep out the door before he could even notice your woke.

You didn’t want to see him. Your mind was a thunderstorm in the making. Everything felt so confusing, you couldn’t get a grasp on your thoughts, you needed time to think. It was frightening, seeing how infatuated he truly was by you. But at the same time, you felt wanted, you secured. You felt the power running through your blood. How easily you could make him bend for you. No, that’s what you wanted to believe.

You brought out the best in Jonathan. His generosity, kindness, preserveness. But you also brought out the worst in him, his jealousy, possessiveness, demands, ownership. That was all confirmed last night. No matter how he projected it to look, they were the elements in his hands.

Jonathan’s head turned back at the creak underneath your foot. He was already fully dressed. Jonathan always dressed so proper, his trousers snatched his waist and sleeves of his white button up were rolled to his elbows. A wide smile instantly grew on his lips as he approached you without hesitation. It was like the sight of an innocent child, the look on his face as he was closing into the distance. “Oh, you’re awake darling” Jonathan greeted, wrapping his arms around you before you could even comprehend his behavior.

Jonathan’s state of happiness couldn’t notice your stiffness underneath him. Breathing in your scent, he pressed his lips by your earlobe. “Forgive me, you know that my brilliance does not major in culinary, but I thought I’d just whip something up for you. To help with the hangover” Jonathan continued with a chuckle, a great look of contentment as his hand stroked your hair.

It’s bewildering with how it already felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. “Johnny” you whispered very faintly, his nose now pressed against your hair as he continually breathed in your scent deeply. This was pure torture, would someone put an end to your misery?

“Did you want coffee? Juice? Water would be a safe option” he murmured, guiding you deep into the kitchen so he could lower the heat on the stovetop.

“Johnny” You repeated more forcefully but still nothing. He was so caught up in his thoughts that for once he didn’t even bother to read your body language. Jonathan opened up the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. “Jonathan!” You shouted, your nostrils flaring from frustration as your arms trembled.

Jonathan froze momentarily, back stiff and jaw clenched, as if he had already seen what was going to occur. He put the juice back into the fridge and shut the door before turning back to you with a stern expression as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Yes darling?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you as his eyes stared you up and down, examining your expression and body language. “Oh, yes, a great hangover indeed. Migraine? I’m sure I would be able to find something to help with that” he attempted to switch the conversation, flashing a smug smirk.

A beat.

“I’m sorry” you whimpered, looking down in guilt.

“I don’t follow” Jonathan spoke emotionlessly. His expression was firm, quickly refusing to show you any more vulnerability. His jawline was as sharp as a sword as he leant back against the counter.

Another beat.

“What we did was wrong” you shuddered, you could already feel your eyes swell up, pins poking at your orbs. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t make eye contact with him, too afraid of seeing his demeaning glare.

“What are you going on about, sweetheart?” Jonathan frowned, crossing his arms across his chest as he stepped towards you, leaving the sizzling pan unattended. “What’s wrong?” He asked innocently, but Jonathan Crane was never known to be naive.

“Last night was a mistake, we both drank too much and acted thoughtlessly” you explained through a few chortled sounds, shaking your head at the memory of you two in bed together.

Jonathan laughed obnoxiously and shook his head at the idea of that. “No, you’re wrong” he objected sternly, taking another step towards you. Backing you up to the other direction of the counter, he firmly placed both hands on either side of the bench, trapping you in. “I enjoyed myself. You enjoyed yourself, twice. There was nothing wrong with two people finally finding each other, sweetheart. You don’t need to feel guilty about anything” Jonathan argued calmly as the back of his hand stroked your cheek, but his eyes looked like they wanted to strangle you. All you could do was stand there in silence, the edge digging into your lower back, unable to form a proper counter-argument, your mouth ajar open.

Jonathan waited patiently for you to make up a response as he hummed to calm you. You found your chest feeling more at ease as the airflow went at a better pace. See, you can see it right? How he’s calming your emotions, sending signals to your brain that everything is going to be okay. But this isn’t what you want, it isn’t what you need right now.

“I think it’s best if I leave… I need to think over things” you finally replied, your expression slightly cringing at your honest words.

The way his eyes went soft felt like a stab to the gut, his hand slowly brushed down your forearm as he stared at you. “You can think over them here with me darling” Jonathan whispered his plea, his fingers sending tingles up your skin. The silence was loud as you kept your head low. It was hurting him, you were hurting him. The words that next left his lips were the ones you were dreading the most. “Do you regret making love to me?” Jonathan asked flatly.

“I don’t know” you answered, whimpering at this conversation.

“It’s a yes or no answer” Jonathan swiftly responded blankly, clicking his tongue as his strokes became firmer, his nail lightly scratching your skin.

“Jonathan please, I was drunk, I was upset, I was lonely. I wasn’t thinking straight!” You cried out your argument, but it was falling on deaf eyes as Jonathan blinked.

But you wanted him. You know you did, despite how much you were regretting it. His touch was like electricity, it sent your nerves on ecstatic fire and it terrified you. Yet, you don’t want him completely.

“Did I not make you feel good? Forgive me but I got a different impression from you last night” Jonathan grunted, his hands now caressing up and down your bare thighs. It made your knees feel weak and you had to bite back your moan.

It felt good, he felt good. Why were you denying the two of you from this? It was wrong, this isn’t what your relationship was meant to turn into. He was never meant to catch you, you were always meant to be one step ahead. Your mind was hurricane right now. There was no idea that you could catch, hold onto.

As you blinked, you realized he was still talking. “But you already knew that I love you” Jonathan continued on, his fingers slipping underneath the band of your underwear, massaging your hips.

“Jonathan…” You warned, or begged? You couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. Your mind wanted to run away yet your body wanted to embrace him. A slow sigh escaped your lips.

“No, you know that I love you, you know that I’ve always loved you. Tell me I’m wrong” Jonathan demanded calmly, pressing himself up against you, his nose brushing against your cheek. A shudder echoed through your chest as your hands rested against his chest.

The bacon and eggs were burning, the smoke rapidly building over the stovetop but Jonathan was oblivious to it, or ignoring it. A moan choked out of your throat as he abruptly pressed his thumb against your clit. Your knees buckled and you held onto his shoulders for support. You want this, stop denying it.

“Jonathan, I’m really confused right now. I want to go home” you squeaked. Blinking hard, you wanted to wake up from this nightmare but the pleasure his thumb brought to you by merely rotating over your sensitive bud was too strong to fight.

“No, we will sort this out right now” Jonathan snapped back, his patience running thin as he gritted his teeth together, his fingers brushing over your wet folds.

“Jonathan I need-” he cut you off but gripping onto your chin.

“You need to listen to me, please” Jonathan hissed, his eyes sharp and nostrils flaring as he slipped a finger inside of your core. “Your thoughts are disordered, I understand how big of a change this is for our relationship but you don’t need to get scared so easily!” Jonathan argued, his breath heavy on your skin as his digit pumped in and out of your canal.

Moaning out lightly, your head fell onto his shoulder as you felt your nerves spark against each other. It was spine chilling, the satisfaction he seemed to manipulate over your body. Even though this side of Jonathan perturbed you, you couldn’t help but to feel a rush of adrenaline from it. With him being the puppeteer, his strings tangled around your limbs.

No.

Snapping back to your proper thoughts, a wave of anger rushed over you. You shoved him away from you, quickly rushing over to take the pan off the flame and flicking the heat off. The smoke stung against your eyes as you stepped away from Jonathan, but he strided back over to you.

“I don’t want to be here” you admitted, wrapping your arms across your chest, a single tear slipping down your heated cheek.

“Please just listen to me!” Jonathan roared, smacking his palm on the counter beside you.

Naturally you flinched at the action as Jonathan tried to keep his composure. Never have you seen Jonathan look so unhinged, his stability with his emotions have flown out the window as he was panting from anger. The gnashing of teeth frightened you as his nostrils were flaring like a bull.

The egotistical Jonathan Crane was meeting his match, the rejection of you. He was able to handle it once, but not this time. Not after he had done everything for you, to have you.

“You’re not thinking of Anthony are you? He left you, remember! And who was the person you came running to? Who’s here now?” Jonathan snarled the questions, his tone dripping of irritation as he lent closer to you, daring you to make the next move. “Tell me darling, who did you call?” He begged sarcastically.

“Stop it. You’re being mean” you whimpered lightly, gulping to yourself when you saw his left eye twitch.

“Oh, I’m being mean now? I’m merely being honest” he chuckled, but you failed to find humor in it. “It’s time to be real sweetheart, I am the man that knows you fully. I am the only one that is able to take care of you. I’m the one that would do anything for you, has done everything for you! No one else has gone to the lengths I have, you have to understand that!” Jonathan bellowed, his chest rising and falling as all of his muscles were tensing, his arms waving around in match to his emotions.

His ocean blue eyes turned into a tsunami with the rage of his feelings at peak. A trembling lower lip as a result of his frustrations. The usual pale skin was replaced with a shade of red from his blood boiling.

“What are you going on about!” You cried back, your shoulders turning inwards.

The fear in your eyes conflicted with Jonathan's thoughts. It was fuel to his rage of fire, it turned him on, but it also made his body feel weak. Merely wanting to whisper soft words into your ear, promise you that everything is going to be okay, apologize deeply for scaring you. But his unleashed fury clouded his judgments, purely focused on groundless actions.

“What don’t I have that you need!” Jonathan yelled, his face red beat from his lack of control over himself and the situation.

He was confusing you, he was doing it on purpose to gaslight you, he had to have been. The idea to leave you defenseless and at his whim, because only he would be able to make you feel better. This is how it always happened, Jonathan was always the one that made you feel at ease. There had to be no other possibility besides a ploy to make you beg for him.

“Johnny…” You begged, your lips trembling as you lightly pressed your hand against his forearm.

Slowly, he looked down to your touch, feeling it all too intensely. Jonathan huffed and closed the distance, his hands gripped onto the sides of your face as he leant in to kiss you. You mumbled against his mouth, lips glued shut as his tongue tried to push through. He smacked you rear surprisingly, your mouth naturally opening in shock. Your hands pushed against his chest but he wouldn’t budge, his tongue deep down your throat. Caressing your back with his smooth hands, you felt your body weaken underneath him, a blocked moan vibrating against his mouth.

It felt good, too good. Naturally, your tongue danced with his. Your body turning into jelly simultaneously to your mind dissolving into mush. Both of your sensations were heightened, as you could feel the wet patch in your underwear and his heat press firmly against your waist.

Stop it!

With a sudden forceful shove, you successfully pushed him away from you. Following up with a slap that echoed throughout the house. When Jonathan tried to lean towards you again, you repeated your assault until he backed off.

“I don’t fucking love you so just get over me!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. “You’re such a fucking creep!” you continued your rage, your vision blurry, body shaking like a tree in the wind.

A very long beat. With Jonathan standing still, his hand pressed against his stinging cheek.

By the look in his eyes, you were dead meat. It was as if he was debating on the perfect way to kill you, painfully, slowly. But it also looked like betrayal, as if he couldn’t believe your actions.

Within a blink of the eye, your face is caught in between his hands. It’s hard to tell if he wanted to snap your neck or kiss you passionately, roughly again. There was a moment of him purely huffing and puffing as his grip on your jaw remained like an iron grip. Your hands wrapped around his.

“I-I’m sorry” you whimpered, a sudden wave of realization crashing over you. You’ve never hit him, you’ve never hit anyone before. What was wrong with you? Jonathan sighed, closing his eyes to hide his glistering sea orbs.

It was the perfect example of heartbreak. The emotional distress was as visible as daylight over his face. Your unreciprocated love has broken him down.

“If you don’t wish to be worshiped, that’s on you. I will love you no more” Jonathan concluded, finally letting go of you and stepping back. “I wish you all the best, darling” he farewelled before turning his heel and leaving you all alone.

“Jonathan, wait!” You called out, your arms wrapped around your chest as he disappeared down the hallway. “Johnny!” You continued, but he didn’t come back.

You wanted to follow after him, apologize, beg for forgiveness. Yet you were stuck on your feet. Quietly sobbing to yourself, you shamefully picked up your bag from the coffee table and wandered towards the front door.

Was this the right decision? Regardless, his actions were inexcusable, weren’t they? You never wanted to be with him. But you knew that he loved you. You’ve shamelessly led him on for years, keep him by your side for your own selfish reasons. He was your shoulder to lean on. It was like a timebomb, ticking down until this moment happened, your fuck up. You’ve ruined it with him. Your words felt like a massive lie. You didn’t love him, right? It felt like you didn’t know anything anymore.

Sitting in your car, you considered going back in, dropping onto your knees to say how sorry you were. But you found yourself driving far away from him. Driving aimlessly for a while, until you eventually returned home, locking yourself in with nothing but your own thoughts on what has occurred in such a short period of time.

Weeks went by with no contact with Jonathan. Everytime you called, it rang out to voicemail. Every message you sent him, remained unanswered. He was sticking to his word, he would love you no more, and it was breaking your heart.

The sensation of his hot lips on your skin felt fictitious. It should have been painful, the way your nails were digging into the flesh of his back, but there was this euphoric yet menacing smile on his lips as he thrusted completely inside of you. It sounded like a melody, you moaning his name in ecstasy repetitively. He would return the melody with grumbles and groans as you felt his cock twitch deep within you.

“Oh Jonathan!” you cried out, holding onto him for dear life, nails digging into his skin like you were going to fall to your death. Swiftly, he pinned your hands onto the bed, pounding into your canal as if all human life depended on it. Panting your name back to you, the pair of you molded as one as you reached your climaxes.

“I love you baby” he cried out, his hands locking yours to the bed as if you were going to slip away from his grasp, his sight.

“I love you more” you returned the confession, smiling widely through the pleasure and ecstasy that his presence gave you. Jonathan’s mouth was wide open in elation, it looked as if he could eat you whole.

Your eyes snapped open, your upper body shooting up into a sitting position on your mattress just as quick. It took a long time to get your panting under control in the cold darkness. There was this grumble in your throat, as your hand slipped down your heated, sweaty skin. The feeling of the slippery, moist fluid wetted your fingertips underneath your clothing made you moan.

As you fell back onto the bed, you stared at the ceiling, replaying your dream like you were in a cinema. It felt so real, it felt so out of this world. You took in a deep breath, your dry hand feeling your jaw, traveling down your chest as you tried to scrutinize your dream.

Saying that you missed Jonathan was an understatement. Expressing how sorry you were and guilty you felt just didn’t have enough words in the english vocabulary. You wanted him, but in what way? Confusement clouded your judgment, mind and emotions. Maybe you were wrong, about him being the wrong man for you, you really didn't know. All you knew was that his anger was justified and his look of heartbreak managed to have a large ripple effect onto your own heart, perhaps even larger than his.

There was nothing more that you wanted to do besides hold him. Possibly you were just lonely, knowing that your safe bet was gone now made you feel unloved. But you deserved to be exactly that, alone, forsaken, outcasted by the one that would do anything for you. You never thought about Anthony anymore, it was like he never even existed. Jonathan was the one that was always on your mind, and it made you feel nervous.

Did you love him? Though you knew his love for you wasn’t in perfect good health. But it was flourishing, passionate, blooming and warm. Maybe you were incorrect, read it all from the wrong point of you. Or you were just up yourself, eager for the heart of a heartless man.

But those words he said to you. Those controlling, obsessive, possessive words he growled, like a beast. Yet, at the end of the day, Jonathan Crane was just a boy, hopelessly wanting the returned affection of you. You’ve helped fix people before, what difference would he be?

You were the one that was quick to jump, to slam that door without seeing it through. You reacted without thinking. You chose this. There was no sympathy for you, it was the consequences of your own actions.

If you could build up the courage, in the morning you’d call him again, and if he didn’t answer you’d go to him for the first time. To apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to confess that you loved him, in the odd yet truthful way. Then you’d pray that he would forgive you, take you back, have you completely.

You slipped out of your bed, and wandered down the dark hallway to your kitchen, flicking on the light as you yawned. Looking out the floor length windows, you saw the wind dance rapidly through the tree leafs, the vibrations echoing over the glass.

12:37 the clock read.

On your tippy toes, you reached into the cupboard for a glass, it clinked as you placed it on the bench. Opening the fridge you grabbed onto the glass water jug when you heard a faint footstep behind you. The next event all happened too quickly, your body reacted before your mind could deconstruct what was occurring.

The glass shattered across the tiled floor as you gasped out. Fight or flight kicked in. You dodged the hands, shoving the masked man away from you in a desperate plea to bolt for freedom. His body crashed into the counter, echoing a large groan from him. Scattering on your bare feet, your foot slipped on the slippery tiles as you cried out at the pain on your knee smacking on the tile. Then you were suddenly pulled back up by his arm around your waist, your arms flung over the counter top, wiping out everything on display as you tried to grab onto anything to pull away from him.

Before you could scan your next possibility to safety, you gasped heavily, inhaling the drug he jetted at your mouth. You wheezed, your body immediately freezing like stone into place, your heart pounding against your ribcage like a dog begging to be released out of its kennel, your skin crawling from the inside as if it’s suffocating. All you wanted to do was cry out, but you were even too fearful to do that.

The masked man stood in front of you as he straightened his posture, patting down his black crew neck shirt, your vision was dark and blurred as you looked down to the ground. His hand tapped your cheek harshly a couple of times and you slowly looked up to him in terror.

The scream that ran up your throat was piercing. It echoed through the walls, cut at your throat like razor blades. You wanted to run for your life, but your feet were glued to the floor in horror. You saw a demon and his hideous face with eyes as dark as coal.

The man pressed his body up against yours, pushing your back into the counter, you cried out in pain and fear before his hand roughly slapped over your mouth. His groans sound demonic, as his paws run up and down your skin, his claws looped into the fabrics of your clothes and ripped them. Muffling your cries, you trembled underneath him.

Flipping your body around, he pushed your chest into the cold benchtop, your hands shot above your head and latched onto the opposing edge of the bench. His fingers ran up your covered region, quickly following through by yanking down your shorts and underwear together. Your sticky folds are fondled by his cold fingers.

“You cannot possibly be this wet” His diabolic voice spoke. It was uncertain if he had a voice modifier underneath his mask or if it was effects of the drugs you had ingested, potentially both. “Am I fulfilling a fantasy of yours, little one?” He condescended, rubbing your right cheek slowly.

You wanted to snap back, hiss at him for getting the wrong interpretation. It felt so humiliating to have your attacker believe that he made you this wet. But all you could do was lay there in fear, unable to comprehend for the hell he was going to unleash on you.

“Oh, little one” he sighed, unbuckling his belt. It was torture, how he was taking his time, purely admiring you, enjoying this moment as you sobbed silently. His covered erection pressed against your gushing entrance and you mewled as he slowly humped against you. Then he slid down his covers, the tip of his member kissed against your core and you weep out loud.

“Hey…” He grunted, his fingernails digging into your bare ass. “Don’t be afraid, I’m going to take care of you, okay?” He vowed, if his voice didn’t sound so sinister, you’d notice that he was concerned for your wellbeing. Yet it seemed that you had different ideologies on what taking care meant. After a few moments of him watching you sob, he began to push himself inside of your canal. His growl echoed down your eardrums as you gasped at the sensation. “That’s it, that’s a good little whore, taking me fully” he spoke slowly, burying himself deep inside of you.

It was traumatizing, the way that your cunt was naturally squeezing around him, the arousal that vibrated over your skin, how there was this pit of pleasure building up in your core. There was no control from you, no matter how badly you wanted to keep your mouth shut, you were echoing your moans throughout the room.

He moaned out in return as he began to pick up his speed. “Oh yes, I’m positive I am fulfilling a fantasy of yours… Am I doing a good job?” He toyed, slapping your ass with one hand and holding your hip in place with the other.

Taking care of you was a lie, he was hurting you. The sensation of your skin felt like it was on fire, his cock felt like a dagger. So how were you so aroused right now? It was the drug. It had to be the drug, This was not a guilty fantasy of yours and this certainly wasn’t fulfilling your enjoyment. Yet, you were enjoying it technically, the physical response to erotic stimulus. That’s all it was, reflexes. The intoxication has messed with your cognitive response, your mind was currently relying on your physical reactions.

The first wave felt like a tsunami over your body, it ached with how strong your orgasm was. Your nerves jabbing viciously at you. Crying out, the man grunted, refusing to slow down his pace as you shamefully rode out your high on him. Smugly, he praised you for being such a good obedient whore. Shortly after that, the second wave came crashing down on your body. Making him smirk underneath the mask.

“I wish I could know what was going on in that little mind of yours, would you please tell me?” He coyed, pounding in you like a rabbit. How did he sound so content? You were hardly able to breathe the way his balls were slapping against your clit.

“N-no” you whimpered out, shutting your eyes tight.

“Oh come on! Tell me how it feels, or I’ll give you a reason not to fucking talk” He growled, hitting your cervix, over and over again.

“Uhhh! How-how” you stuttered out your cries.

“Talk little one, spit out those lovely words” He ordered, grunting at the sensation of your canal.

“How good you feel inside of me” you sobbed. The embarrassment and humiliation felt like a tidal wave over your emotions. His hand rubbed against your flushed rear skin to praise you.

“Really? Want me to come back again tomorrow night? Or you want me to just stay the night? Maybe you want me to steal you away” he toyed, still thrusting in and out of you at a brutal pace.

“No! No! No!” you begged, shaking your head at the idea.

Jonathan. He came to your mind, you wanted him to save you, to protect you. Just like how you knew he always would. Oh how you wanted him to come for you!

“Jo-Johnny” you mewled, eyes stinging in pain as you silently begged for Jonathan to come for you.

The man paused for a moment, deep inside of you. You gasped out in relief. “What was that little one?” He asked softly, holding your hips in place as you clenched around him.

“Johnny” you repeat yourself, sobbing at the thought of him.

Sobbing at the thought of how you hurt him, of how he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. From how you broke his heart, ruined everything between you two.

“Johnny, huh?” He snorted as he started to pick up his speed again.

“Jonathan!” You cried, but he wasn’t going to save you, no matter how hard you wanted to believe otherwise.

“Who’s Jonathan baby? Your little boyfriend?” He laughed, his nails lightly scratching up and down your outer thigh. By the way your cunt was pulsing against him, he knew you were close again. “Does Jonathan make you feel this good?” He mocked, forcefully flexing his hips to make you choke out. Your whimper sounded like a mix between yes and no. “Speak clearly!” He ordered.

“Yes!” You answered, your body trembling against the freezing countertop.

“Maybe we could share you then” He grinned underneath the mask.

“No!” You begged.

“Alright, then cry out for him. Cry out for Jonathan to save you!” He commanded, hitting your bundle of nerves over and over again. His balls were slapping against your clit as your moans and cries were garbled together.

“Jonathan!” you whined, holding onto the counter for dear life as your climax rushed over you.

It was pure horror, how good your orgasm felt, it was like you were flying. But at the same time it felt like your body was chained to the ground. Your sensitive skin felt like it was being poked at with a million pins as your orgasm flooded out from your core. You wanted it to continue on, but it came to a sudden stop.

It left your mind in a blur. He pulled out of you, his seed shot all over your heated skin between your thighs. The growl rumbled out of his chest as he roughly kneaded your hip with his free hand, his other hand stroking up and down his length viciously. The both of you remained still for a moment, then he rubbed his hand all over your thighs, coating your flesh with your mixed fluids. Pulling up your bottoms, he leant over you and caressed your cheek from behind with his wet hand, his crotch pressing back against your ass as he inhaled you.

Your fragile body shook underneath him. Silently begging for him to end you of this misery. His words were muffled as his hands trailed all over your body.

The last thing he said to you sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll see you soon, little one” It felt like he vanished into thin air, his friction against you disappeared, you heard no footsteps nor the door open or close. It was as if he was never there.

Life felt like a trance, as if it was back to normal. Well, whatever normal could be considered anymore. Being an expert in the field of psychology, you never thought you’d be deeply stabbed in the back by the knives of trauma. It was common for psychiatrists to have their own personal issues, to have a line of support. But you couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed, because you knew exactly why these things occurred, yet you couldn’t get rid of the pitch black thoughts and emotions that blinded your vision. The ones that blinded your happiness and confidence.

It was easier to heal and move on from it, you knew that holding onto it would only do you more harm. There was nothing that could fix it besides yourself, well, and Johnny. That mind of his was truly something else. Jonathan’s alleviation of providing enough treatment for you to mend your trauma worked at ease. It was like he was your lucky charm.

He talked you through it, his voice sounding like a harmony which consoled that nothing was ever your fault. The mediation he gave you helped with your anxiety and panic all too easily. Whenever you were overwhelmed or upset, he held you tightly and reassured you that you would never go through that ever again.

Gotham City Police Department was as useless as a glass hammer. Not to mention that if someone leaked your name to the public, it would highly likely humiliate your career. So it went unsaid in how the authorities would not be contacted over the incident. Not to mention the process would be so draining, all for another cold case in Gotham City.

It was easier just to forget it, you had to keep on telling yourself that. Be the strong independent woman you have always strived to be. Countless victims have the same story, you need to stop having so much pity for yourself when you’ve had Jonathan by your side through it all.

You don’t know how he got in without it triggering. The alarm should have gone off. Maybe one day you could move away from Gotham City, to somewhere free of crime. But like Jonathan would ever agree to you leaving him like that, especially for what he has done for you. You owed him your life, that was a distressing thought of yours whenever it flew over your mind.

You took personal leave from work for a few weeks, residing at Jonathan’s home where he also tended to work from home a lot more frequently. Doctor Jonathan Crane was a workaholic, but in order to keep your anxiety at bay and yourself comfortable, Jonathan flipped his whole schedule around to suit your needs. A lot of the time you’d be lying on his couch in his home office as he typed away rapidly on his computer. His gaze would frequently lay on you, as you struggled to keep your eyes open, your mind often wandering elsewhere.

Slowly, you exposed yourself into public settings. At first, you felt like all eyes were on you, your heart was like a drum. Anxiety made you feel like you had cement in your shoes. But Jonathan was right there, by your side for you to hold onto. To support you, to remind you that everything was going to be okay.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.

Life with Jonathan felt dreamy. It seemed unrealistic, for you to heal as quickly as you have. There have been cases where people took years to heal, cases where they never healed. But here you were, sipping on your tea as you lounged carelessly on the couch. You blinked in a dazy state, as you looked at the clock. Jonathan would be arriving home any minute.

Jonathan declared it would be better if you fully move in with him, you contentedly agreed. He’d empty out his office, turn it into a bedroom for you if you ever insisted. Your home would be a major trigger, and living by yourself would be dangerous to the sake of your mentality. But you were still happy with sleeping in the same bed as Jonathan, just as he was.

It grew to be the favorite part of your day. Crawling into bed, right straight into his arms. Like a dog running to his master. Sometimes he would read to you. Sometimes he would tell you of potential plans for your future together, little one’s though, like going to see the current ballet production. Sometimes he would just hum a melody until you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Yes, you had fallen hopelessly over for Jonathan. There was nothing holding you back anymore, he has shown you time and time again that he would do anything for you. He has done everything for you. It was time to stop being inconsiderate, he showed you how much he adored you and it was time for you to show it back.

Jonathan smiled lightly at you as he walked into the lounge room, he dropped his briefcase beside the couch and fell onto the spot next to you. “Hi” you smiled softly, blinking slowly as you repositioned your body on the soft fabric.

“Hi darling” Jonathan smiled back at you. “Good tea?” He asked, his eyes looking down at the mug and then back up at you. Your head nodded softly as you lifted the mug to your lips.

“I can make you a cup if you want” you offered, looking over to the kettle in the kitchen.

He took off his glasses and put them on the coffee table. A part of you wished he got contacts instead, he always looked so much more charming without them on.

“I’m okay, I still need to look over a few reports. I faxed them to myself so I could do it here instead. I know I told you we’d do something tonight but I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m so behind in my work, I’ll have to make it up to you another night” Jonathan apologized, leaning forward and capturing his head in his hands as he propped his elbows on his thighs.

Mentally chuckling to yourself, you put the mug down on the coffee table. Leaning over to Jonathan, your arm wrapped around his back as you rested your head on his shoulder. It felt perfect, being with him. It always felt perfect holding onto him. How were you so stupid? To not realize that Jonathan was indeed the perfect match for you?

He looked so tired, so worn out from the overloading factors in his life.

“Your body feels so tense Johnny” you pointed out. He hummed, slightly looking over to you. Your hands began to knead into his back and he let out a soft moan. It went on like that for a short time, slowly increasing your kneads. When you said his name almost like you were singing, he straightened his back and completely turned to you.

Time froze, but yet it all occurred in a snap.

“I love you” you admitted, a shy smile on your lips. The purest look on your face, there was no deception. This was all real yet it felt like a hallucination.

It felt right, felt like you were holding it in for so long that you’ve even forgotten about the cage that the truth was locked in. But you stumbled across the lost key and set it free. It soared through the blue sky, nothing could ever latch onto it again.

“I love you too” Jonathan answered back, turning his lower body so his arms could easily wrap around your back.

“No… I love you” you repeat yourself, looking him sternly in the eye as you leant closer to him, but not too close. Jonathan chuckled lightly and leant closer to you, your lips inches apart.

“I know” he replied quietly.

He waited for you to give him the green light. Sighing softly, you lightly pressed your lips against his, closing his eyes, returning to this dream of yours.

You stirred in your sleep. Whimpering and gasping at the vision of your attacker. The sight of that barbarian. Your eyes shot open as you gasped for air. It felt like you were in space, your head was going to expand twice its size. This still happens sometimes, the nightmares Jonathan and yourself could only control so much. Desperately looking around for Jonathan, you quickly realized the room was empty. “Johnny!” You called out, holding the sheets close to you, the wind howling against the shaking windows. Your body was trembling, eyes stinging in pain. The door was wide open, the hallway light illuminating the entrance as you heard heavy footsteps quickly approaching, you were afraid of who was going to appear.

Jonathan came into sight in the open door frame only in his pajama pants, Leaning against the wooden frame with a cup of black coffee in his hand. You could still see the steam lingering above the ceramic. But Jonathan scanned your figure immediately and strided towards you.

“Sorry darling, I couldn’t sleep with all of the wind outside so I just thought I’d do some work” Jonathan explained, approaching you. “Another nightmare?” Jonathan inquired. His question was answered with a small nod. Placing the mug on the bedside table, Jonathan sat next to you, you fell into his arms at the drop of a hat. Gently urging you to tell him off your dream, you took a deep breath.

“It was just the same dream” you whimpered your answer.

“You’re safe darling. He won’t get you” He promised, his hand gently resting above yours.

You knew his words to be true. But it was still so terrifying.

“Why do I still dream of him?” you whined faintly.

It was a silly question to ask. But you couldn’t help but to feel so frustrated and stressed when these moments still happened. It made you feel like all of your progress was crashing down onto you.

“It could be a number of reactions. Your mind is still distressed by it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of from it. PTSD can cause an exaggerated fear response in your dreams. Which makes them feel real, which gets your heart racing and nerves on edge” Jonathan explained, gently petting your hair. “Remember, these moments can still occur, it’s just how you deal with them afterwards that matters. Don’t let these negative thoughts win sweetheart. Do not fret, I am here to take care of you” Jonathan assured, a gentle smile on his lips.

“Can you stay with me?” You asked softly, staring at him with doe eyes.

“Of course darling” Jonathan consoled as he laid comfortably into the bed with you.

His arms pulled you up to his chest, you breathed in his scent, he always smelt like a rich scent of musk and it relaxed you. Jonathan hummed to you, to keep your mind distracted from getting into its thoughts again. Surprisingly, Jonathan drifted off into a deep sleep before you. He rarely fell asleep first, and was always the first one awake.

Even though you felt safe, secure, protected in his arms. It was difficult not to think back into that night. The fright your attacker gave you when he grabbed you. How quick you ingested the drug. As the toxin rapidly took over, you found yourself frozen in fear. Your body was in shock, trembling excessively, your mind was in a horrific state yet you could hardly murmur out your pleas. How he forced his large size inside of you, making you grumble out as loud as you physically could.

It all made you feel sick to your stomach. The humiliation of orgasming around his size disgusted you. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you just couldn’t control yourself. You tried to remind yourself about it being a natural response, but how could your body be so turned on in that horrifying situation? The pet name he called you, little one. The way he moaned, a rough fabric covering his face brushing over your flustered skin, praising you for how good you felt through his demonic voice. His hands were awfully smooth, they fondled your skin to make up with how hard he was thrusting inside of you. It felt like an eternity, all you could do was lay there on the cold counter top and pray for him to finish sooner rather than later, yet disgracefully you wanted him to keep on going. You couldn’t tell anyone that. No, you couldn’t wish for that. Don’t let these tricks bring you down again.

When he did finish, you don’t know how long he stayed there against you, holding onto your body as if he caressed you like you were a lover. It felt like it was everlasting, but also felt like he was never there. When you knew you were alone, you fell to the floor immediately as hyperventilation took control of yourself. You curled up into a ball, too afraid to move, afraid he was going to come back. You sat there for what felt like hours, however it was much shorter than that.

Jonathan was the only person on your mind. Your hero, your protector, oh how you wanted him to save you! To take you away from this life. Free your mind from this nightmare. Your life depended on him, that much you knew. He was the only one that would ever be able to fix you, to mend you, to cure you from this torment.

Oh how you wanted to kill this savage, how you wanted Jonathan to kill him for you. But one thing was for sure. The man wearing a burlap sack with a noose around his neck has scarred you for life.

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