#that had me not drawing and wanting to die from not drawing for like half a year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theostrophywife · 3 months

Text

little dove.

pairing: tom riddle x reader.

song inspiration: if u think i'm pretty by artemas.

author's note: can't believe this is my first tom fic, but please know that this man awakens the feral, unhinged side of me. let me slytherin to your chamber of secrets and ride that basilisk tommy 😏

This was a stupid, idiotic, and terrible idea.

Unfortunately for you, those were the conditions in which Harry and Ron worked best under. In your defense, you tried to talk them out of the prank, but the boys were determined to leave their mark. You suppose you could’ve told Hermione, but you didn’t want to interrupt her date with Draco. When it came to talking sense into their thick skulls, you were completely and utterly alone.

After much argument, you finally accepted that you weren’t going to get anywhere with Harry and Ron. The only thing you could do was supervise their reckless pursuits and minimize the damage as much as possible. So here you were, sneaking into the dungeons under the cover of darkness.

“This will be the best seventh year prank yet,” Ron whispered as he trailed close behind. “Fred and George are going to be so jealous.”

“If we don’t die from the cold first,” Harry quipped sarcastically, slightly shivering underneath the invisibility cloak draped over the three of you. “The Slytherins really take the whole cold-blooded thing quite literally, don’t they?”

You huffed in response, trying your best to muffle your steps. “Can we please focus on not getting caught? We need to be in and out of the dungeons before the prefects start their patrols.”

The boys nodded as you inched further into the serpent’s nest. Luckily, the corridor that housed Professor Snape’s office was empty. You held your breath as you began to unravel the wards protecting the entrance. You had to give it to him, Snape was incredibly thorough when it came to his security measures. Good thing you were an expert on unlocking charms.

With a final flick of your wand, the door gave way and creaked open. Ron and Harry wore matching grins as the three of you spilled into the office. Closing the door behind you, Harry’s green eyes crinkled with mischief.

“Let’s get started.”

Surprisingly, Harry and Ron’s half-arsed plan was actually coming together. The three of you worked in silence, the boys handing you paints and supplies at the snap of your fingers. After a few more strokes, you flicked your paintbrush over the wall and cocked your head to examine your work. Nearly every single surface of Professor Snape’s office was covered in your illustrations—technically vandalism according to wizarding law.

The drawings, imbued with the same magic that powered the moving portraits, depicted caricatures of Professor Snape, all of which scurried like rats along the walls, hurtling globs of paint at one another. The head of Slytherin house was going to have a fit when he saw what you’d done to his office. You almost wished you could be there in the morning to witness the look on Snape’s face when he uncovered your masterpiece.

“Bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he packed up the paints and brushes. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Y/N.”

Harry chuckled and nudged your shoulder. “See? You do have a taste for trouble, after all.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me clean up so we can go.”

As you carefully wiped the office of any trace of the three of you, Harry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. You looked up, ready to scold him for idling, but fell silent when you saw the panicked expression on his face.

“What is it?” you asked quietly.

Harry held up his hand and slowly opened the door, peeking out into the darkness. A muffled clicking that sounded an awful lot like footsteps echoed from the corridor. “Do you hear that?”

Ron cursed lowly. “The prefects must’ve started their rounds early.”

You peered over Harry’s shoulder and felt the color drain from your face. “It’s not the prefects,” you said, swallowing thickly. “It’s the Head Boy.”

Both the boys swore under their breaths. You steeled yourself, knowing that panic was not going to get you anywhere. As quietly as possible, you retrieved Harry’s cloak and beckoned the boys underneath it.

“We’re so fucked,” Ron mumbled.

“No, we’re not,” you chided sternly. “Get under the cloak and don’t make a sound.”

Harry scooted in beside you, clutching the invisible fabric over his shoulders. “Do you have a plan?”

You nodded. “Run like hell and don’t get caught.”

“That’s a bloody terrible plan!” said Ron.

With a glare, you tugged the redhead underneath the cloak. “Then please, let us hear your brilliant idea, Ronald.” Ron stayed quiet, his freckled face etched with fear. “That’s what I thought. Now stay close and for Merlin’s sake, try not to stomp around like a damned erumpent.”

Stupid.

Idiotic.

Terrible.

Every ounce of apprehension you felt earlier that night came rushing back as the three of you cowered in the darkness. It was pitch-black in the corridor, but you didn’t dare cast lumos for fear of getting caught. Thankfully, a small light up ahead provided you with a vague sense of direction. You remembered passing the lit emerald sconce on the way down. All you had to do was get back to the entrance without running into the head boy.

The glimmer of hope became clearer and clearer as you neared the stairs that would lead you out of the dungeons. You were so close. Barely a few metres away from freedom.

Just as you thought you were safe, Ron knocked into a table, sending one of the snake sculptures guarding the alcove to the common room tumbling. The marble cracked against the concrete, breaking into a million pieces just like your hope of escaping.

“Run!” you huffed, urging the boys to go on.

A solid plan if you hadn’t been nearly blind in the dark. You could hear the shuffling of footsteps beside you. Three sets belonging to you, Harry, and Ron, while an unknown fourth inched closer and closer. Whoever it was wasn’t running, but they were definitely in pursuit.

You stumbled through the dark, nearly tripping over your own feet. From up ahead, you could hear Harry and Ron urging you on. As you broke into a sprint, paints and brushes came spilling out of your satchel. Under any other circumstance, you would’ve abandoned your art supplies, but leaving them behind would fully incriminate the three of you. In the time it took to pick up the damning evidence, you stopped hearing your friend’s voices.

It would’ve worried you, but in all honesty, you were relieved. If you could no longer hear the boys, then that meant they made it safely out of the serpent’s nest. A feat in itself given their track record. Those two couldn’t be inconspicuous if they tried. Without the need to worry for them, you were confident that you’d be able to slip out undetected.

In hindsight, you were perhaps a tad bit overconfident. You were great at sneaking around, but apparently not good enough to slip the head boy’s notice. As soon as you started to creep past the dormitories, you ran into a wall that hadn’t been there before.

Except it wasn’t a wall.

It was a strong, firm chest. A chest that belonged to none other than Tom Riddle.

Leave it to your terrible luck to run straight into the arms of the scariest boy in the castle.

Determined not to cower, you lifted your chin defiantly and faced Tom head on. “Head Boy,” you greeted in acknowledgment.

Emerald eyes unflinchingly surveyed you, that intense green stare sweeping from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. Beneath the faint glow of the Black Lake pouring in through the stained glass windows, you could’ve easily mistaken Tom Riddle for an angel. He looked like an illustration straight out of the Sistine Chapel. Beautiful, intricate, perfect.

Yet utterly terrifying.

Danger prickled at your skin as Tom’s lips curved into a sinister smirk. “My, my, what do we have here? A little dove out of her cage.”

You bristled as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his voice a seductive caress. It was low, husky, and a little rough around the edges. Just like its speaker. Tom plucked a paintbrush out of your satchel and examined it between his fingers. “I saw what you did to Snape’s office. Quite artistic, aren’t you?”

A part of you considered denying it, but it would’ve been a futile attempt. There was paint splattered all over your skirt and flecks of it were already drying on your skin. Tom had quite literally caught you red handed. The only thing you could do was to own up to it and face whatever consequences came as a result of your foolish actions.

“Are you going to turn me in to the headmaster?”

Tom shook his head, his brown wavy hair falling over one eye. “Not until I catch your two helpers.”

Panic seized your body. It may be too late for you, but Tom hadn’t seen either Harry or Ron. There was a chance they could come out of this unscathed.

“I was alone,” you declared with your chin held high. “There was no one else with me.”

Anger contorted Tom’s handsome features. Those emerald eyes lit up in flames as he backed you into a wall, bracketing each side of your head with his arms as he leaned down. You tried not to cower under the intensity of his stare, but gods was it hard. Tom towered a good foot over you and as if that weren’t intimidating enough, he also blocked every possibility of escape with his body.

“Don’t lie to me, little dove,” Tom growled, tilting your chin up with one hand. “I heard three sets of footsteps running through the corridor.”

You swallowed thickly, praying to Merlin to grant you the ability to flawlessly lie your arse off. “I swear, it was just me. No one else. I did it all by myself.”

Tom hummed as if unconvinced. “Well, you’re certainly on your own now. Your idiotic friends left you down in the dungeons all alone. Don’t you know that dangerous things lurk in the dark around here, Y/N?”

“Like I said, I was alone.”

“So it appears,” Tom said, flashing you a smile that told you he was the most dangerous thing lurking in the dungeons. “Poor little dove wandering the serpent’s nest all on her own. Hasn’t anyone told you that us Slytherins have teeth?”

“Why?” In an idiotic surge of courage, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could pull them back in. “Do you plan on biting me, Tom?”

Tom grabbed your jaw roughly, making you whimper in surprise. “Insolent girl. You’ll learn your lesson soon enough.”

Without warning, he grabbed you by the elbow and started dragging you down the corridor. At first, you were certain that Tom was taking you to Dumbledore’s office, but as the minutes ticked by, you realized that you were going in the opposite direction. If anything, he was leading you right into the heart of the dungeons.

Tom’s grip tightened to the point of pain as he guided you up a set of twin staircases, practically flying up the steps on the right side, which you assumed led to the dormitories. It had a similar layout to the Gryffindor common room, except instead of leading into the towers, the narrow hallway opened into an intricate maze in the lower levels of the castle.

Nestled into the underbelly of Hogwarts was a large, dark room that was surrounded by more stained glass walls that looked out into the Black Lake. A school of fish swam by as Tom ushered you through the door, which he promptly locked behind him with a series of complicated spells you had no hope of deciphering.

You were trapped. Alone in a room. With Tom Riddle.

Upon closer inspection, you surmised that this had to be his private suite. It was twice as large as your dorm back in the towers and extremely private. A luxury that only the Head Boy and Head Girl enjoyed.

“You’ve been very bad, little dove,” Tom reprimanded. "You deserve to be punished, but I’ll tell you what. Give up the names of your accomplices and I might find it in my heart to go easy on you.”

His drawling voice echoed in the bedroom as he leaned back against his desk, twirling his wand between his fingers. The look he leveled at you is enough to awaken your fear. Plus another emotion that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

Merlin, Tom was sizing you up like he was the lion and you were the helpless deer frolicking through the meadow. You steeled yourself and doubled down on your lies.

“There was no one else, Tom.”

He smirked as though you’d given him the answer he’d hoped to hear. Tom stopped twirling his wand, tucking it away in his back pocket as he stalked over to you. “Very well, then. I suppose you’ll just have to endure their punishments too.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. It occurred to you that while you had your wand, you were completely and utterly defenseless against Tom. It should’ve scared you shitless, but instead you felt a strange sort of thrill as he came closer. “What…what sort of punishment?”

A smirk curved at his lips as he fisted your hair between his fingers and tilted your head back to meet his gaze. “I think you know, babydoll.”

Heat ignited in your veins as your tongue darted out to sweep across your bottom lip. “This is crazy,” you whispered. “Shouldn’t you be telling Dumbledore? Snape? Someone in charge?”

“I’m the one in charge,” Tom growled as he shoved you against his bookshelf. Your back hit solid wood, disturbing the neatly organized tomes behind you. “You snuck into my dungeons, under my watch, and defaced my home. I will dole out your punishment as I see fit.”

“And if I refuse?” You asked, hoping that you emulated the bravery that your house was infamous for.

Tom pressed his body against yours, leaving barely a hairsbreadth between you as he flashed you a feral smile. “It’s laughable that you still think you have a choice.”

“I could scream bloody murder. Wake the entire castle up and alert everyone that you're holding a fellow student against her will."

“You could,” Tom mused as amusement flickered in his eyes. “But we both know you won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You’d never risk such a scandalous act to go on your record. First vandalizing Professor Snape’s office, then sneaking into the Head Boy’s dorm after curfew? You’re on a downward spiral, aren’t you, little dove?”

“I didn’t sneak into your dorm. You dragged me in here.”

“Please,” Tom said with a scoff. “Let’s not pretend that you don’t want to be here. I’ve been watching you, you know. The perfect little Gryffindor good girl. You think you have everyone fooled, but not me.” You groaned as he pinned your hips in place, sliding his thigh between your legs.

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me in class? Bending over in that tiny little skirt of yours hoping I’ll glance your way? Leaving the buttons to your blouse undone so you can give me a view of that lacy red bra? Biting your lip when you’re thinking dirty thoughts about me in class?”

You flushed at his spot on assessment. Tom might be right on the mark, but you weren’t about to admit that to him. Not when your pride was on the line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dirty little liar.” Tom whispered against the shell of your ear. “You know, your mental shields are impressive, but it’s like you can’t help yourself when I’m around. You’re practically broadcasting your filthy fantasies every time we’re in the same room.”

Fuck.

This was bad.

This was really fucking bad.

How many times had you sat in class staring at Tom while thinking the filthiest, dirtiest thoughts about him? Tom bending you over a desk. Tom slipping his fingers under your skirt. Tom making you scream with his head between your thighs.

All this time, he had complete access to those dirty daydreams.

“That’s right, doll. You may be a powerful occlumens, but you’re no match for my legilimency.” He chuckled darkly, caressing your jaw.

A heavy pressure weighed down the constraints of your defenses as Tom poked around in your mind, teasing and taunting as a lover would. The act of him prodding around in your subconscious was oddly sensual, mixing pain and pleasure together as he waited for you to yield.

There’s no use hiding now, Tom whispered into your subconscious. I’ve already seen inside your mind, doll. And your thoughts are just as fucking filthy as mine.

Glimpses of your deepest, darkest fantasies flashed through your mind. The images were a never ending rolodex of filth and smut. Tom fucking you like his perfect little slut. Tom panting above you as he spread your legs. Tom working you with his fingers until you were a sobbing, whimpering mess.

He was right. You were shameless.

But so was he. A new image of you on your knees while Tom unbuckled his belt, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you stared up expectantly took center stage. Since it was from his point of view, you could only assume that he was showing you one of his fantasies. It was oddly satisfying. Tom was basking in the depravity with you, sharing his equally fucked up thoughts.

“Tom…” you breathed, leaning into his touch as he continued to pin you against the wooden bookshelf.

“Not Tom,” he grunted gruffly. “You’ll address me properly from now on, little dove.”

This was so fucked up and yet so hot at the same time. You were so turned on you could hardly speak. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s better, doll.” Tom declared with a smirk. “Now that I’ve been inside of your head, I plan on being inside you in every other way as well. Starting with that pretty little mouth of yours. On your knees, little dove.”

A strange sense of deja vu washed over you as you knelt onto the floor. The concrete nipped at your knees, but you welcomed the pain. It kept you centered as your body buzzed with anticipation. You watched as Tom unbuckled his belt, deft fingers slowly sliding his boxers down as he gripped himself with one hand.

With a smirk, Tom brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, looking down at you with lust blown eyes. “Open wide, babydoll.”

Tom pumped himself slowly. The sight of his cock made your mouth water, your head spinning and dizzy with desire as you tried to calculate how you were going to take all of him. The tip of his cock glistened with precum as he rubbed over it. Tom was thick, long, and absolutely delicious. You groaned as he rubbed his head over your lips, the salty taste of his arousal resting on your tongue.

“I won’t ask again,” Tom warned. “Be a good girl and open your mouth. I’ll make you regret it if you don’t.”

“Yes, sir.”

A satisfied smile graced his handsome face before he shoved his way in. Your lips parted for him, opening your mouth wider as you accommodated his size. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You nodded obediently, eyes filling with tears as you took Tom all the way back. He fisted your hair in one hand and rocked against your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. A garbled sound crawled out of your chest, but it was soon silenced with Tom’s impatient thrusts.

“Fuck,” Tom cursed. “So wet and warm. Such a perfect little throat. What a pity that I’m about to ruin it.”

Ruin was an understatement. Tom fucked your throat with precise thrusts, angling deeper and deeper and groaning as you gagged on his cock. He was so deep that you could feel him bruising your tonsils. The more he abused your throat, the wetter your pussy got. You were practically soaked as you moaned on his cock, sucking your cheeks in and bobbing your head up and down to take more of him.

“Such pretty noises,” Tom said, his fingers curling through your hair to the point of pain. He tugged at your scalp, forcing you to meet his eyes as you sucked him off. “If your mouth feels this good around my cock, then I can’t even imagine what your cunt will feel like.”

You groaned in pleasure, making Tom’s eye roll back from the vibrations. Controlled, compulsive, and perfectly composed Tom Riddle was fading before you, replaced by a man driven only by his base desires. He was an animal lost to lust and so were you.

Tom squeezed your throat, groaning when he felt himself moving beneath his grip. “Your throat was made to be fucked, doll. You like that, don’t you? You love it when I’m rough.”

You struggled to nod in acknowledgement, saliva sloppily collecting in the corner of your mouth as you continued to let him use you for his own pleasure. Tom chuckled at your pathetic attempt to respond. “Don’t bother answering, little dove. You won’t be able to speak when I’m done with you anyways.”

The filth flowing effortlessly from his mouth made you clench your thighs together. Tom threw his head back, those pretty curls tousled and plastered against his sweat soaked skin. A moan tore through his chest as he got closer and closer, fucking into your mouth with reckless abandon. He chased after his orgasm, shuddering as he spurted hot ribbons down your throat.

“Fuck. You see what you do to me? Swallow, doll. Every single fucking drop.”

The fantasies that you’ve been harboring for the past few years finally came to fruition, but none of it came close to reality. Tom was a fucking god. A masterpiece coming undone above you. You’ve never seen such a beautiful sight. All the artwork in the world would’ve paled in comparison to witnessing Tom Riddle at his most vulnerable.

In awe and wonder, you looked up at him with mascara streaked eyes, tears and saliva staining your face. Tom hauled you to your feet and claimed you with his mouth. The taste of him was still on your lips, but Tom didn’t seem to mind as he parted your lips with his tongue. The kiss was neither sweet nor innocent. It was dark and dangerous and there was an edge of possessiveness in the way he demanded your submission. Almost like he was marking his territory.

Tongues, teeth, and lips met with a clash as Tom carried you over to his desk. His books and journals clattered to the ground as his teeth grazed the column of your throat. The taste of him was intoxicating and you licked, sucked, and nipped at every inch of skin he allowed access to. You gasped into his mouth as Tom parted your legs, not bothering to warn you as he palmed your soaked panties.

Your core clenched as he slipped a finger inside of your pussy. A squelching sound filled the room as Tom added another digit, pumping you full and fucking you with his middle and pointer fingers as you begged for more. He knew exactly what he was doing. Tom studied you like one of his books, with meticulous precision and alarming intensity, pouring all of his efforts and attention into making your body sing.

It wasn’t long before that familiar warmth singed your veins, your moans growing louder and more desperate as you clawed at Tom’s back. You were so, so close. You were practically riding his hand as he brought you closer to the precipice. Just when you were about to come, Tom pulled away and denied you the orgasm.

“Don’t be mistaken, doll. This is still a punishment.” Tom said as you whined from the loss. He silenced your complaints by bending you over his desk.

“Tom, please—“ You clawed at the wood as he lined up and filled you with one sharp thrust. “Oh my fucking gods.”

Tom gripped your hips, the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room as he fucked you from behind. He was relentless, thrusting in and out and arching your back while he railed the absolute life out of you. It wasn’t long before you were getting close again. The sharp angles of his thrusts had him hitting all the right spots, making your knees weak and your pussy sensitive from the roughness of his actions. Sensing that you were close, he rutted into you, letting that tension uncoil before ripping the orgasm away from you once more. You whined, fresh tears soaking your cheeks as you chased after that high.

“Like I said, this is still a punishment,” Tom taunted, slowing his thrusts to a snail’s pace. “That’s two orgasms I’ve taken from you, which leaves you with two more. Four for every wall you defaced. It should be twelve, given that you had help, but I’m in a forgiving mood. I think I’ll just spank the other eight out of you instead.”

With your head bowed, you wiped the tears off of your cheeks and braced yourself. You knew that he was telling the truth. To Tom, this was mercy. You should’ve found it sadistic, but you fucking loved it. Maybe you were a masochist. Whatever the case may be, it seemed like the two of you were a match made in heaven.

“I’ll be good,” you whispered hoarsely. Your throat was still raw and sore from earlier. “I’ll happily take the punishment. I promise I’ll be good, sir.”

Tom chuckled darkly, relishing in your submission. His hand came down with a hard smack against your right ass cheek, making you jolt from the contact. Before you could recover, he repeated the action on the left.

“That’s two,” Tom said proudly. “Can you count out the rest, babydoll?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip every time his large hand came down on your ass. His rings bit into the soft flesh of your skin, but it was a delicious sort of pain. One that you could easily become addicted to.

Three. Tom tugged at your hair.

Four. Teeth nipped at your shoulder.

Five. Fingers curled around your throat.

Six. Hips slammed against you.

Seven. Lips trailed down your spine.

Eight. Moans echoed in your ears.

When Tom slipped his fingers down to your clit, your eyes rolled back so hard that you saw fucking heaven. “It’s not a punishment if you’re enjoying yourself so much, little dove. I can feel you creaming my cock. You look so innocent, but you’re just a filthy fucking slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Tom emphasized each word with a thrust and worked your clit faster and faster, bringing you to the edge. This time, he didn’t pull back. Tom let the orgasm build until it threatened to wipe you out entirely. White hot heat coursed through your veins as stars exploded behind your eyes. You whimpered through the intensity of the orgasm. After being denied four times, the pleasure ripped through your body so fiercely that you nearly blacked out.

“Fuck, let me fill you up,” Tom growled. “Take it, doll. I want you dripping with my cum.”

“Yes, yes, oh gods. Please cum inside of me, sir.”

Tom released a guttural grunt, gripping your hips in place as he filled you to the brim. Nothing in the world compared to the sensation of Tom filling you with his warm, wet cum. You glanced behind you and found him staring intently as he slipped out of you, stuffing his cum back into your pussy as it dripped down your folds. You bit your lip, utterly aroused by how fucking sexy this man was.

His gaze met yours, a proud smile curving against his lips as he swept you off your feet and into his arms. “I think I’ll keep you, little dove.”

#i welcome him would open arms and open legs #tom riddle #tom riddle smut #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fic

2K notes · View notes

tojipie · 6 months

Note

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq

#adah’s asks #prison bf! toji #prison bf!toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji hcs #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #toji smut #toji angst #toji x reader angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro

2K notes · View notes

satoruhour · 7 months

Text

POCKET P*SSY!

a/n: idk where this came from. tagging @nc-vb @papersirens @crysugu

wc: 2.8k

warnings: fem!reader, m! masturbation (two scenes), use of fleshlight, unspoken feelings, reader listening in on nanami, f! masturbation, brief clit stimulation & fingering, pet names, ambiguous ending, n*sfw under the cut

nanami kento was an organised, work-oriented man. he submits his sorcerer reports on time, he reports to work right at nine in the morning and clocks out at six o’ clock sharp, his office is prim and proper with all things where they should be and his (various) suits are always pressed and clean, smelling like sandalwood.

so why was the sight of you so compelling and striking that he swears he can hear his heartbeat through the freshly ironed blue button-up shirt? when you’d come to his office in the school to pass him his morning coffee — which wasn’t forced, you did find yourself heading to the café more and more — and the times when you’d engage in simple conversation with him about bread and gojo (negatively).

it was always a breeze to be around you, a fresh air from the intricacies of being a sorcerer. the violence, the bloodshed, the fatigue. but it’s so much of fresh air that sometimes he wonders why he chokes on his words and feels out of breath whenever he talks to you.

nanami has unwillingly checked his phone for the umpteenth time whilst doing his report, glancing over ever so often just to make sure you wouldn’t cancel on that friday drinking outing you proposed to go on with shoko. gojo was undeniably left out of the picture because of his tolerance and the two were the best drinkers in town, but he just wished he could work out the courage to ask you to be alone with you.

but nanami valued his sanity and heart. he wouldn’t know what he would do if he ever lost you to a curse even though you could hold your own, and the amount of sorcerers who are sent out just to die never deserved any of it. but if they didn’t do it, who will?

it’s question after question that’s mixed in with thoughts of you as he stays focused on the blinking cursor of the word document. appear. disappear. appear. disappear. nanami finds that he can’t think of anything else to say in this dumb report, staring blankly yet again at the annoying flickering cursor that reminds him that this was far from done. he glances down to the first drawer of his office table, the brass lock drawing him in. he thinks that he’s not ready.

just as he wants to type his next word with newfound determination, you’re barging through the door with a loud “nanami!”, a big grin plastered on your face with shoko under your arm, trying not to fall under your intoxicating happiness. god knows why you’re so happy, and if he didn’t know better he would think you were already drunk.

“she just got news that her holiday was approved,” shoko nods as she takes a drag from her cig, blowing the smoke into the office.

“please do not blow secondhand smoke into this room, shoko.” nanami’s monotonous voice cuts through the air like a knife and you would think it’s a reprimand, but both of you know the 7:3 sorcerer is just like that.

“why so boring . .” you tsk, a skip to your step when you round the table and peek at the work, and nanami has to ignore the bounce of your breasts under your outfit and the proximity in which you lowered yourself to. he tries to subtly take in your scent, not listening to your question under you wave a hand in front of him and nanami has to break away from his fantasy of you riding him while your tits bounced in his face. filthy.

“nanami? it’s already 6:02, i thought you violently rejected overtime?”

he clears his throat, catching the brief, sly glance of shoko before he turns to you, “y-yes. i do. just give me half n’ hour, ladies, and we can head over to the bar right after.” he didn’t even realise the clock had already striked 6.

shoko puffs out more smoke to nanami’s dismay, “what the hell do you need half n’ hour for?”

“just to clean up this report, promise.” he mutters, pushing up his reading glasses, “i’ll get it done as soon as possible.”

“oh? the great nanami kento doing overtime?” you giggle, reaching over to type a little cheeky “:)” into the word document before waving goodbye a little dazedly as you walk out behind shoko. the pace at which your heart raced matches the man inside at seeing him in his clear, dad glasses.

“you are down bad, girl.”

“shush!” you swat at her arm and all she responds is with smoke in your face that she laughs and you just huff, heading off back to the morgue where she felt most at home.

nanami never did submit the report on time. he was given a reluctant extension. what was he doing? anything but the report, instead locking the door to his office and lying awkwardly on his office sofa, that was cleverly placed behind a partition wall. it took a bit of discipline — he typed a few words, deleted them, typed some more and realised they didn’t make sense and by now it’s 6:15. he takes one glance to the locked door and to the partition and down to his hard-on with that familiar feeling in his stomach. it’s been long since he’s jerked off, and sure, he has done it mindlessly just to calm the morning wood but it’s been long since he’s gotten aroused by someone.

the man palms himself through his pants, imagining it was your dainty hands instead, a soft groan leaving his lips at the feeling. his pants have never felt this tight, throbbing and just begging to be released as he slowly fishes it out. nanami was big, a pretty little curve to his cock with a tip that’s leaking pre-cum, and he strokes at it, a shaky breath leaving his mouth that it sounds pathetic. here he was, in his own office sofa fully clothed, with one leg digging into the floor and the other propped onto the armrest.

“f-fuck . .” he swears lowly and starts setting a pace, conjuring up your face as you bob your head over his length while you play with yourself. “right there—”

nanami whines, unintelligible words muttered out as he pumped his cock. he spits into his palm and continues his ministrations with the most lewd noises that have never graced his office before. so many thoughts of you occupy his mind, you fucking yourself back onto him, how sweet your pussy would taste, the sort of sounds you’d make, how you’d feel around him — nanami cums with a quiet, strained groan, hips lifting off the sofa as he spurts his cum all over his suit, and he doesn’t care, too lost in the feeling as he squeezes his eyes shut. the idea of giving you a creampie sounds too good at the moment, how much cum he’d shoot into you, how he’ll watch it drip out—

“fuck my life.” he simply murmurs when he sees the translucent liquid settle in, and yet nanami doesn’t regret it one bit.

the next week is torment. it was particularly difficult, especially after the moodiness you possessed after getting one worded answers from nanami at the bar. he couldn’t even hold eye contact with you, how rude! he was also gone for quite a bit once, coming out of the bathroom all sweaty and out of breath and you wondered if he found a cursed spirit in the sketchy, dingy restroom of the club.

“relax. a thousand yen he’s just stressed out by . . external factors at the moment.”

“but he’s nanami! if anything, that man is internalising all that’s stressing him out,” you groaned into your hands, “also why are we betting on my love life?”

“it’s fun.” shoko defends herself with two hands when you point a finger at her; you go back to your sulking stage soon enough. she merely settles for a hand on your back. “but you’re not wrong. this is just, a little different.”

you only can sink further into your hands when you recall how nanami pulls uncomfortably at his tie, a distraught expression on his face when you asked if he wanted another round of drinks. the avoided eye contact, the conversation mainly existing between them, it was all you needed to know about his feelings of you. the coffees and hangouts meant nothing, and yet you were so clueless at how you’ve awoken something entirely new for nanami that he’s cumming thrice a day just at the thought of you.

another day, another report to fill in. he had dealt with a first-grade curse this time, the casualties, brutal and infrastructure was severely destroyed. it was going to be a hell of a word count, he notes, but what he doesn’t want happening, or rather, the unavoidable, happens. his mind drifts back to you again and everything that you stood for, of your blinding smile and kind gestures. you knew how he liked the right amount of sugar in his coffees and the right place to massage when his upper back was hurting. there was many times he was sure you both had crossed the line of co-workers and lovers, but it was never spoken or defined.

it was a grey area, he admits. tethering along the lines that he wasn’t even sure was there any more: a gaze held longer than usual, a brush of your hand on his, the not-so-secretive glance at your ass, the quick gaze from his eyes to his crotch when gojo makes a dirty joke. it was already between the lines, yet none of you wanted to act on it.

nanami groans into his hands, taking one more look to that locked drawer, thinking it would magically unlock itself and he wouldn’t have to go though the torture of submitting to his desires and unlocking it like a sex-crazed man in the victorian era after seeing a woman’s ankles. it was humbling. but his mind seems to have a different plan, descending into fantasies that he would rather take to the grave than let gojo pry out of him and he shoots up, fumbling for the key hidden under his documents.

within a second, nanami unlocks it and lets out a breath and takes out a box — a hilarious (at the time) but stupid, stupid thing (it was a fleshlight) he let gojo talk him into buying while they were both drunk. but the more he looks at it, the more he wishes to feel your walls around him and his bulge is not going down. he takes out the fleshlight eagerly, looking at it with wide eyes before he swallows and nanami feels like a teenager again.

his heart pounds when he removes his pants. his laptop, open with his undone report and him standing wide-stanced in front of his desk like a loser and his underwear pulled down just enough for his cock to spring up, you would think he was an alien from another planet. nanami does away with all rationale when he slaps his tip along the pocket pussy, thinking it was yours before his tip slips in and he gasps. the sorcerer stumbles forward and he has to rest a hand on his office chair.

“gojo, you fucking dick,” nanami hates that he’s enjoying it. “haah . . shit—”

he pushes it down his shaft and the instant pleasure is prominent. soon, nanami is moving the fleshlight over his cock, walking with unplanned steps to the sofa. he falls into it easily, hands still pumping the device along his dick and he already wants to cum from the tightness.

“fuuck . . baby,” there are soft pants that leave his mouth, the device already filling up with all of his pre-cum. the slick noises that dominate the room is loud. nanami is too far gone in this, hips thrusting up into the fleshlight with all his might as he imagines it’s you straddling him instead. biting down on his fist does little, sure he was drawing blood from how hard he was sinking his teeth into the skin there. the way he slips inside feels so much better than his hand, and yet there was something missing — your sounds, the sight of your pussy. he needed to know he’s making you feel good. he cums with a cry of your name and mixed in profanities, pelvis basically rutting into the pussy as he shoots his load deep inside.

and it doesn’t end there for nanami — like a deranged man, he’s grabbing his cushions and stuffing the pocket pussy in between it and the sofa, dragging his tip along the silicone clit. this shit was embarrassing, fucking something fake just so he can simulate the fantasy of being in you, but it felt fucking divine, so much so that the soft “nanami?” doesn’t even reach his ears. he reenters the pocket pussy, body hunched over the sofa as he presses down on the couch cushion and wishing it was your lower back.

the long, loud groan nanami lets out sends a straight chill to your core and you hear it before you see it. you think maybe your chances are ruined, he has someone else and the dancing around each other was done just for fun, but you think a little peek wouldn’t help. your self care sessions are getting a little boring anyway.

the gasp doesn’t reach his ears either when you glance around the partition and you get the sight of your life: nanami thrusting into the sofa while still fully clothed, eyes closed and expression pulled into pleasure. you’re torn between arousal, modesty and relief and despite all that you still listen out for how turned on he was, the gross, dirty sounds of him rutting into something and yet you don’t know what. but you decide to play it safe, flipping back around to rest your back against the walled partition, hand reaching up your skirt and into your panties.

“(y/n) . . baby, g’na cum—”

your eyes widen, your jaw drops but your hand on your clit never stops, rubbing in time with his thrusts as your other hand is probably making marks on your face by how hard you were trying to stop your moans from coming out. you’re already so wet that your ministrations are all messy and smeared, drawing haphazard circles just for a taste of that high as you soak and soak your panties.

“baby, baby, baby . . o-oh—” you swear under your breath, because who knew nanami kento could sound so damn good? you’re continuing the assault on your pussy, going past your clit and into your entrance and you wish it was his cock instead, but instead he’s fucking a pocket pussy imagining it’s you. too bad you don’t know that. “gonna cum in y-you—”

there’s a little crack in his voice and you involuntarily let out a soft moan and the movements are halted all of a sudden. in your panic, your foot spreads and the bottom of your shoe grazes against the wooden floor and your presence is fully made known, now.

“hello?” man, what the fuck? now they’re really not going to answer. nanami sifts through the possibilities: it couldn’t be any of the men, they know not to interrupt nanami when he’s working. shoko would only for alcohol . . you? you dig a deeper grave by making an incoherent noise in your throat and that’s when nanami’s fear really settles in. he wasn’t hallucinating anything — there really was someone calling out to him the first time and the gasp and now the little moan? but nanami has anything but luck, not being able to catch the person because you’re booking it out of there immediately, not exactly quiet due to the clicks of your heels and you want to go back into that exact grave to die.

you can hear and feel your heart in your throat, back lined with sweat more than it would be when fighting a curse. whilst, there was only one thing on your mind that slowly induces you into a downward spiral; he called your name, your name, your god-given name, the people address you by, he called—

standing by the little zen garden of the tokyo school, you can feel your clit throb and the breath taken out of you as the vision replays again and again in your head and you think yourself stupid for running out of there. but before you can turn back, gojo’s approaching with a big, shit-eating grin on his face and waves to you (“yaga told me to come get you, you’re not busy, are you?”).

swallowing, all you can do is shake your head, but not before you spare a last glance to nanami’s door which is now closed shut. you hear a click.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami headcanons #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #jjk nanami smut

2K notes · View notes

gangplanksorenji · 3 months

Text

Kinknuary Day 21: Facefucking

Pairing: Billlie Sheon x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,212

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

--------------------------------------

Her semantics was probably not hypocrisy, but rather, sophistication—more so, onto the field of genuine epitomes of everything you can think of and you're not fit for that.

That was disheartening, to say the least because you had the chance but you weren’t proven worthy of it—maybe if you tried a little more you'd draw yourself closer to the promised land. Even with all your might, you might not even succeed and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, because there’s probably more things that you could ever imagine that can even hurt you, and these are two realities: the reality of life and the reality about Sheon herself.

Kim Suyeon, or most probably known as Sheon, is probably the girl you’d really admire and even with the multiple beautiful girls in the university, you just can’t take your eyes off her as she’s something more than what you can think of.

You, being called as the “university’s heartthrob” can’t even get onto her nerves as she’s one of the few girls that doesn’t even bother to initiate a move or even talk to you, mostly doing the latter if it’s really needed but chances can be even slim to none—note that girls around your university would die just to get to talk to you and you’re probably in their shoes, just with Sheon.

Well, maybe you’re a step closer towards your desired goal: the both of you in a library, probably four seats away from her and just words away from a response from her. Of course, nothing would happen if you would just sit in your chair and skim the pointless texts on the book you’re “reading”, so, wanting to make an acquaintance of a connection to her, you pretended to get another book just behind her as you took a glimpse of what she’s studying, furrowing your eyebrows as you’re piqued on the topic she’s reading.

“Struggling a little bit?”

“Oh god—” Sheon yelps almost inaudibly, silencing herself from screaming as she’s in a tranquil zone, startled from your actions as you almost giggled because of her adorable demeanor. “—don’t scare me l-like that… I’m fine though, thanks…”

You felt a little faux sincerity on Sheon’s tone, masking her stressed demeanor because of all of the activities and assignments she’s probably into and you feigned little concern because of that.

“Why the deep breaths though?”

“You know, I've been pretty stressed lately…” Sheon lets out another deep breath out, her stress pretty evident as she probably just wants this workload to put on a halt, wanting herself to feel relaxed in the best way possible. “You?”

Well, you didn’t expect to go to this moment—you never expected her to even bother conversing with you as she’s not that type of girl as far as you know. On the brighter side of things, Sheon doesn’t ignore someone just because they find them uncanny or even at their point where she could despise them, she will engage in a conversation whenever possible, but not that invested and you can’t blame her for that.

Honestly, you would brush these thoughts off considering how everything’s going according to the path you wanted, and you’ll make this worth your while and seize this opportunity.

“Yeah, pretty much the same as you…” You share the same demeanor as hers: stressed and pretty much done with all of the works being battered out to you—half of it are true, since you wanted to be tethered with being in the same shoes as her is hopes of a better connection—as you let out a deep sigh right after, feigning how that weight of emotions are coursing through you. “So many workloads and shit—”

“Hey, language…” Sheon cuts you off with a cute glare visible on her face, not approving of your vulgar choice of words as you apologized because of it, not wanting you to have an atrocious first impression towards this beautiful girl.

“I’m sorry—stress can really make people the worst version of themselves.”

“Must be having a weak mental, hm?” Sheon muttered a joke about your opinion on how stress can transform people as you laughed a little, feeling the same wavelength of humor as she is and that’s probably another factor on why you’re liking her even more. Of course, as a playful response towards her, you pretended to be offended but addressing those are obviously sarcastic, in a way that Sheon wouldn’t feel any hard feelings that you’re keeping in you and it’s effective, she just silently scoffed, hiding her face a little.

“Don’t be too harsh like that, Sheon.”

“Hah… Anyways, thanks for a little talk. Feels a little bit good chatting with someone for a while…” Sheon mutters as she feels a little lonely after saying those words and you feel the hint of shock and fluster, mixing up those emotions because of what she's been saying. You feign a little concern in a way that it should have feel a little hard having no one to talk to, or to lean to on these procrastinating days but the other side of your doubts it—your claim earlier is maybe taking over her, she’s not being herself when she’s utterly stressed, or maybe even anyone would lead to that.

“Feeling a little lonely? You don’t seem like it, Sheon—you seem like you have multiple connections around the university…”

Even with your speculations, Sheon dismisses the fact that she’s even friendly despite her extroverted persona, and more of an approachable person rather than committing to a deep relation of friendship.

Maybe this is time to probably change those tracks of hers with your own moves.

“No, Sheon—you really look like one. I’d never thought you were like this…”

“Well, it depends—” Sheon closes the book she’s been reading for a while now as she averts all of her attention towards you, looking deep into your eyes as her adorable countenance really puts you into a mode of panic as you can’t maintain that eye contact to her for that amount of period of time. “—I do like, love talking with someone when they seem interesting to me…” Sheon loses her gaze towards you as she feels a little shy because of your endearing stare from time to time, before staring at you again and uttering these words: “And a great example of that would be you.”

Your heart instantly dropped once she let go of those words, making every speculation and your thoughts take a step further, entering reality and off with the imaginative nature it has been. You didn’t let her know about what you’re feeling in order for the atmosphere not to be brushed off on its elevating wholesomeness as you just act like you’re shocked—you’re indeed perplexed as you didn’t expect Sheon to really say that to you, directly, let along her doe, lovely eyes saying all of that with sincerity coming right from her heart.

“M-Me? How am I—”

“Hey…” You completely lost it when Sheon placed her hand onto yours, completely containing all of your emotions inside as you’re flustered because of her affectionate advances towards you. She caresses her fingers onto your hands as she interrupts you from uttering more words, wanting to reassure you about how she’s genuine about it. “I meant it and also, you seem a pretty nice guy, too…”

You don’t know if she’s playing a game with you as you clearly know that this isn’t the Sheon you know—maybe that’s the case, you vaguely even know anything about her so you could never be so sure—but you will take any chances even and this, is a great example of it.

Of course, Sheon is not going to be done as she’s still muttering about you—

“I knew you liked me, and you don’t need to tell me about that, anyways.” Tugging your collar, she inches herself towards you as she whispers in your ear and continues, “This might be the moment we can discover more about ourselves, hm?”

Before you could utter a word, Sheon pulls your collar out where no one could the both of you, the subtle movement of the chair breaking the peaceful ambiance the library has been emanating as Sheon winces, noticing that someone may have noticed but luckily, no one had. Also, before you could hear her talk, you noticed two girls in the distance just on the other side of the library, looking at the both of you and visibly giggling. You’re not oblivious and saw Sheon stealing glances on them too so you know something is fishy out here, and you will break the code whenever possible.

“Who are those girls at the distance, hm?”

“Nothing, they’re just—”

“Maybe stop lying to me, Sheon—” You then grab her wrists gently as she whimpered a little, overpowering her with no effort as your eyes demanded the truth from her and with her soft heart, she wouldn’t afford lying to you in any case.

“Okay, they’re my friends and that’s why I want to pull you here so that they can’t see us.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you feel a strange presence between this and you’re not liking it because your speculations may be true—maybe they just set you up here just for a reason and that alone will break you apart if that’s true. “And why are they laughing at us, hm? What’s happening here, Sheon?”

So many questions, so little time—you won’t brush this off and let them get away with this because you demand a serious answer uttering her lips. A visible gulp can be seen being done by Sheon as she looks directly into your eyes, letting her endearing look make you calm down a little as both your firm grips (mostly from Sheon’s) are still evident against each other.

“Okay, they dared me to go and make you hit up on me—”

“So all of this isn't sincere, then?” You didn’t let her finish as her poor choice of words infuriates you a little bit and with a sympathetical approach from Sheon, she didn’t want this to turn atrociously.

In all honesty, the words she said earlier are all true and you can see the sincerity with her tone or her pretty pupils dilating. It was surprising for a girl like Sheon to like you not because of how you look but how you approach people and make them dearly comfortable and with that element, she likes that about you—if you wonder why, she may have seen you a lot of times with your down-to-earth heart being easy-going and sympathetic, then maybe that’s why she enlightened herself not be that harsh on you and saw the light.

Maybe her soft-hearted personality can melt your heart like butter and starting off with her stare, you would find yourself getting closer to that.

“I waited for this moment too, honestly just to say this.” Sheon knows you’ll throw another pointless banter again and she’s just going to get annoyed with it and to deal with that would take a step further that no one can ever imagine. She shuts your mouth with a kiss that caught you off-guard but with her floral scent and her falling under her spell makes you reciprocate onto her with more aggression, but a gentle approach as you don’t want to hurt her or makes things too fast in any way—maybe you can dismiss that latter part since she’s the one who made everything a step ahead of what you’re thinking. The softness and the sweet, luscious taste of that citrus lip balm makes you indulge onto a deeper kiss as you do so, making Sheon inevitably run her hands onto the back of head, tugging your hair tightly as she’s succumbing to her needs too. Knowing that the both of you are still publicly in a library, you immediately pulled out of her lips’ warm embrace as the both of you exchanged breaths, feeling the pumping rush of adrenaline making the both of you invigorated.

“So, a-all of that—hah, are sincere?”

Sheon’s lips quivers, unable to comprehend the affectionate event that just happened as she nodded and silently responded to you, “Y-Yes it is…”. It didn’t even take a lot of time for her to initiate another move, as she tugs on your collar and with no absolute way of fighting or retaliating her actions, you just simply followed her as she directs you onto an empty space in the library where no one can even bother to see you, or even cameras capturing that place.

“Was this all part of a deal with them, Sheon?”

Sheon scoffs as she places her arms onto your shoulders, staring deeply on your eyes as she’s utterly serious about this. “Maybe—more likely a dare but all of these are sincere because I indeed like you~”

Oh, her soft tone is enough for your ears to melt let alone her stare which could allure you into loving her even more and you’re in the verge of that—you might vent out your frustrations towards her but Sheon’s calm and angelic façade is making it a hindrance for it to be successful and it’s working too well against you. With her touch making your heart skip a beat, you know it wouldn’t take long before you fall in love with her truly as her aura is strongly making you fall under spell, her attractiveness actually making you succumb onto your deepest desires towards her and you’re trying to contain anything you could to have a composed disposition.

“Are you trying to hit on me, Sheon?” Your smirk lets her know how you’re likely to play the game and absolutely love this side of hers and honestly, you’re even in shock at how her demeanor instantly changed—you’re now maybe turned on to the fact that Sheon’s turning the tables against you, and with her captivating smirk, you know things will take on another level.

“Yes, maybe I am and also—I’ve been wanting to do something lately…” Sheon runs her fingers on your chest, her nails tracing circles around your clothed skin as you know how it’s a sign of utter need from her and most of all, persuasion. It’s the building anticipation that needs to kick in to you to further ignite that aspiring wants living within you, waking the hibernating beast inside you and ending its warm slumber and she’ll do everything that takes her and you can see it burning in her eyes—those passionate, ardor-filled eyes in aims to make you feel with the same wavelength as hers: full of inner lust and greed.

“Mind sharing what's that, Sheon?”

With her mischievous and hubristic expressions, it wouldn’t take long before she spills what would be that desire of hers that she’s been longing for and with her fingers gently touching your chin and averting your eyes towards her, Sheon mutters such profanities you wouldn’t know that’ll come out of her mouth. “To suck off a man like you.”

You’re perplexed for another time as you didn’t expect an angelic girl like Sheon such sinful things but here you are, hearing everything loud and crisp and god, it’s always turning you on whenever such a saccharine, soft-toned voice tingles your ear—you’re loving this moment yet you still can’t brush off the fact that it all came out of her mouth and it’s straightforward.

In all honesty, you may or may not succumb to your carnal needs while thinking about her because everytime you feel like it, she’s the perfect girl to fantasize about because she might have everything you really need in a girl—petite frame, little waist with visible abdominal muscles, porcelain skin, plump lips, beautiful face and maybe even more than what you could think of. There’s maybe a hint of possible hesitation with Sheon’s propositions but knowing how sincere and how everything will go on a great pace of things, you wouldn’t consider putting onto wounds of that and rather, succumb onto your desires as much as hers.

“Since when you wanted this, Sheon?”

Sheon just fluttered her eyes at you as she laughed a little as her sinister smirk just ignited the lustful atmosphere that’s starting to emanate and with that, you would like her to do the honors on starting this possibly spectacular show.

“A while ago, honestly and also, I won’t just be going to suck you off…” Her sultry voice tempts you onto her sinful actions as she kneels down in front of you, facing your crotch and then looking up at you with those endearing eyes begging for your approval. “You’re going to fuck my face so, are you good with that?”

You wouldn’t think a girl like Sheon would be this impatient and straightforward towards you, actually the fact that she’s this needy for you is puzzling since the both of you barely knew each other but had the same desires towards each other which fuels the anticipating sin you’re about to engulf into.

“Was this part of the deal or dare you and your friends made up?”

“Not this time…” Knowing how her words are laced with impatience, she tugged the hem of your pants and started to unbutton it, wanting to see what could be the feral bast you are packing. You can see a hint of nervousness from her hands, a little tremble is evident that’s why you came up with that conclusion but it didn’t stop her from discovering you and with your defenses coming down one by one leisurely, you’re just mentally preparing yourself on what she’s about to showcase you, or most likely, what you can showcase her. Now with just your boxers remaining as the last bit of defense on your nether area, you let out small, ragged breaths once she teased her fingers onto your semi-erect length, making sure it’ll be in a full mast before uncovering your wonderful length to her and it wouldn’t take long before it grows gradually fast. Now, knowing how impatient the both of you are at this moment, Sheon won’t tease you more as she brings your boxers down with one, swift motion as gravity did the rest, now resting those clothes onto your ankles. Sheon’s awe lit in excitement and awe as she analyzes every inch of your cock that she’s always been longing for and now that she has the full control of it, maybe it’s time for her to fully unlock the potential of her long-awaited fetish.

“Wow, it’s wonderful to see it like this—ohh…” Sheon circles her tongue all over swollen head, and then lapping the profound liquid coming out of your slit, savoring every drop that you create. She kisses every part of your shaft as she worships it like it’s some kind of god she’s made to be a follower for and maybe, it’s going to be on that way because on how aggressive she’s peppering your shaft with kisses, alongside the needy licks that made you shudder in response because of her incredible oral masterclass between your legs. Her warm hand palming your thighs makes you feel reassured as an addition to the sudden pleasure you’re experiencing and it’s an elevating experience and god, you might just want to further dig in to your deepest, sexual desires on fucking that slutty throat of Sheon’s even more.

“Must’ve practiced a lot, hm?”

Sheon continues slurping onto your succulent shaft as she pulls out after a few more seconds, the glossy texture of it becoming evident with her subsequent drool and the light that has been emanating above. “Y-Yeah… I’m sorry if i-it’s not that good—”

“Not good? No, Sheon—keep doing that because it’s amazing.” You don’t know if it’s the sudden gratification you’re feeling that’s why you can’t formulate a meticulous judgment or just the hint of hypocrisy within you but nonetheless and factually-speaking, Sheon’s doing a great job on your throbbing length yet you can’t brush off the fact of her off-rhythmical bobs and her teeth making your wince in a bit of pain and all you can say is that she’s a natural at this.

“Practiced a little on my toys, that’s why—also, let me just get this wet…” Sheon continues her oral masterclass as she bobs onto almost the entirety of your shaft, lathering it will her saliva and to further taste and inhale that musky scent of yours she’s now loving wholeheartedly. Knowing this may be enough, Sheon pulls out not without strings of saliva adding up to the mess she’s starting to create and with a single sentence, it’s enough for you to prepare yourself on what you can showcase to her.

“You sure you want me to do this to you?”

“I wouldn’t want it unless I said it, right?” Sheon has a valid point and with her further confirmation, you know you should do the unthinkable and probably, this will be the craziest day you’re going to be having for a while. You don’t even know it all escalated this quickly, leading up to this lustful moment but you won’t complain and of course, you need to silence yourself and be swift because you’re risking both your reputations if you get caught. With Sheon’s initiation of your hands making such makeshift pigtails on her hair, it wouldn’t last long before you position yourself in front of her with your length just mere centimeters from touching her plump lips and when you pull the trigger, all let loose and suddenly, you’re in heaven.

All you can just feel is the warmth and the softness of her walls engulfing your cock and hugging it tightly as she hollowed her cheeks with your leisure pace, and with the sweat dripping on her face and her drool seeping out of her mouth, you know you got to up the ante. Sheon encourages you so, and with that green light by hers, it’s time for a ruthless treatment as you brushed off the foreplay and immediately mustered a moderate pace, her face constantly getting rammed by your length as your leverage on her hair was incredibly great that you could adjust at any time you want. With even more than half of your length constantly plunging in her pleasurable mouth, she can’t help but gag uncontrollably as your cock is becoming way too much for her to handle but she would go over the limits and raise the risks for a better reward. You constantly pump your hips onto her mouth like it’s her possibly tight pussy, each thrust aiming to send her limits into the extremes and to further wring out the finest gratification possible.

Maybe she’s getting too ahead of herself as her ego commands her to take more but she can’t and with that, she inevitably pulls out of you and gasps uncontrollably.

“Are y-you alright, Sheon? I mean if you can’t handle it—”

“I c-can take it—continue fucking my mouth, p-please…” Sheon’s tone is full of need and desperation and with her sight of wanting her needs to be fulfilled, you can’t let the opportunity fade away but the other side of you have sympathy, not wanting to continue this if she’s going to struggle but she wanted this, and all of this are in her own accord.

Maybe you just need to fight through that mental battle you’re constantly enemies with, and let your carnal desire win, just in this moment you can’t refuse—

“Come on—glwk—hmmp!!”

The devil inside ascends to its true form, and with the lust blinding you, you succumb to your deepest needs and plunged her mouth with your cock and constantly rammed her mouth like it’s a fleshlight. Maybe Sheon’s throat is built with your cock to be constantly rammed on, like a cocksleeve that will always be attended whenever possible and god, the sight is just getting sinful and hotter—Sheon’s disheveled hair and her sullied face emanates the greatest sin you’ve witnessed, far from her adorable, sophisticated aura earlier as she becomes a victim of her own needs, taking your in fully as that alone makes you delightful, and it’s just the paramount of bliss. Her constant gags didn’t let herself back off to your constantly-ramming length as she even uses this in order to encourage you with a better treatment of roughness towards her slutty mouth and with that, you won’t disappoint her let alone hold back against anything.

You’re not the man you are today, but rather, the primal and the starving one—all hungry for her mouth to be fucked into oblivion and ruin this beautiful girl in front of you until she’s a sullied mess. You try and keep your tone almost deaf to anyone’s ear that could be possible eavesdropping on this suspiciously lustful activity and let Sheon’s gags reverberate around the small spot in the library. The thought of the risk of being caught makes everything a thrill as you hold her hair like it’s your last, ramming into her mouth until she can’t take it anymore and suddenly, she tapped your thigh repeatedly, wanting to give herself a little break from your rough and reckless treatment onto her warm cavern.

“Gahh—s-shit, that w-was good… hah, I w-want more, please…” Sheon begs her glistening eyes as her sullied visage is turning you on so much that you wanted to add the mess on her face with your own seed but you’re getting too ambitious, and maybe, it wouldn’t be long before you could even achieve that.

“Mind your language, Sheon.”

“No—please, it d-doesn’t matter right now. Just please…”

Not wasting any time and fulfilling her needs, she takes your cock in her mouth again as you held onto her hair and instantly, you mustered high-paced thrusts as she instantly gagged on the spot, yet takes your whole length like a champ and with that, you continued pounding her mouth in the point of no-return but with all you can give. Copious amounts of drool seeps out of her mouth with your current pace as the constant slapping of your balls at her chin lets her know how wild the pace is and how it arouses her onto the roof and with that sight, she’s loving this even more. Sheon held a tight grip onto your thighs with your ridiculous pace as she maintained her profound eye contact to you, begging you for more as the glint on her eyes even makes that beast inside of you capable of having no mercy against her.

If that’s what she’s been wanting you to treat her, then so be it.

“Look how slutty you look right now, Sheon—god, if you just see yourself right now, then you’ll damn know.”

She can envision what she looks like by the things that’s suddenly happening right now but she wouldn’t bother because all of her attention is towards your ramming cock, drilling the depths of her throat and bound to make it to the point that everything would be precarious to be tolerated—maybe Sheon just wants to get totally ruined and you would treat her as such. Knowing how your cock is constantly throbbing in her mouth and your silenced moans of need, Sheon knows something is going to be near soon and she’ll cherish it ultimately on her capabilities. She fucks her face further in tandem with your thrusts, bobbing her mouth furiously as the trajectory of your actions results in a greater quality of pleasure and you’re absolutely loving every second of this.

Knowing Sheon is helping you to achieve your own high, you admire it as her clever mind made up for that decision as you double your efforts onto your thrusts, chasing something that will elevate you for the rest of your day and it wouldn’t be that long before it comes.

Might count to ten and you know you wouldn’t pass six because it just went all in a state of bliss.

Shockwaves of immense gratification coursed in every vein of your body, resulting in a state of bliss as your frequent release of profanities was enough of an evidence. Your option to further arouse yourself and to elevate the lustful atmosphere of the area, you bury your entire shaft onto her slick, tight throat as she constantly gags on it but nonetheless, wants every spurt of your delectable seed being deposited right into her walls and down to her stomach—most likely, she’ll choke on it and would try to swallow it whole and with that, you’d love see her try. Allowing herself to get a breather and to let herself be free of her constant gags, you pulled your length out as streams of saliva becomes unshackled, staining everything on its vicinity and like what you expected, she choked on your cock as she tries to savor the seed you gave her and with her undeniably surprising skills, she managed to gulp them all as your healthy, creamy load are now in her stomach. She coughed a little because of your harsh actions against her mouth but there’s nothing to be held against you, not even a hint of grudge and for the optimistic part, she even liked her throat getting pounded into oblivion and she thanked you for that.

“That’s n-nothing much, Sheon—wow, your m-mouth, it’s incredible…” There’s nothing much to say when she's clouded your brain to the point that it all became fried, unable to articulate such words and stuttering becoming evident.

“Thanks t-too—for t-the load, hah… that was rough…”

An evident concern feigns your face as you feel the hint of uneasiness with your earlier treatment but as expected, she reassures you about that because she wanted it in the first place and that alone, makes your mind in a clear space of relief. She licks her tongue as she lets you know you are grateful she is with your load and not so long after, you thanked Sheon with her incredible masterclass and an incredible mouth to derive pleasure with.

Helping her stand up with your hands, she thanked you with that hint of a gentlemanly approach and thank god no one saw the both of you yet Sheon is muttering something, and it's clearly making your interest piqued and it’s maybe just going to get better than this.

“Maybe meet me later at the cafeteria at 5 P.M. because we got to talk about something.”

Your eyebrows feign innocence as she deepen her captivating stare towards you, still finding it endearing and cute even with the sullied mess she had indulged herself into. “Maybe something like, starting a better connection between the both of us but that would be for later, gotta see my friends for now, bye!”

Maybe it all went like a flash, and everything escalating too fast wasn’t on your list but you won’t complain.

You wouldn’t know what she would have in store for you later but there’s a single thing you damn know where this will go: Sheon is going to be yours and you’re just living the fantasy you’ve been dreaming on and now, it’s just within your reach and only time will tell about this.

Such a horny freak, but I love it—I love him…

#kinknuary 2024 #billlie smut #sheon smut #billlie x male reader #sheon x male reader

412 notes · View notes

luveline · 8 months

Note

your spencer writing is so beautiful jadey! i was wondering if we could get some hurt comfort where reader really struggles after a case and he comforts her? <3

thank you ♡

Grief for other people can vary in strength. Ever present, occasionally numbing, tonight's case has left you neck deep in it, and the feeling needs to come out. Tears slink down your face in lazy rivers. You keep thinking you'll stop crying. Then you remember her hand, soft with newness and curled in death, and it starts again.

It hurts to cry. You don't attempt to stop; you don't think about it, or the team, or the heat at your side, you just think about the girl's hand. It's not fair. It's too much.

"It's okay," Spencer says. You know it's him without looking, his voice a familiar gentleness that reaches your ears despite the roaring-quiet nothing and your sniffles.

You turn your face away from him to hide.

He puts his hand on your thigh amicably, his tone encouraging as he continues, "If you don't calm down you'll throw up. What can I do?"

You suck in a shaky breath, an attempt to regulate feelings too big for one body, "Sorry, it's– I'm fine. I'll be fine," you wobble. You can't finish the second fine, a cry crushing it down.

Another hand touches you, fingers on your wrist and weaving down. He covers the back of your hand with his palm. It's not like Spencer, but it's not like you to cry like this.

Spencer doesn't tell you to stop crying or try to shush you. He'd told you once that he tries not to stop people when they're talking, because he knows what it feels like to be shut up. I wish people… I wish people would have more patience, I think. Sometimes I can't get things out the way others want me to, and I get that things are time sensitive, but. I don't know. If I have time to listen, I'll listen.

Listen to you cry, listen to your staggering breaths as you catch them. Patient, Spencer pulls your hand to his lap and draws letters into your wrist. You can't make out what he's writing, but you can feel the bumps and curves of Os and Ks. Maybe he's telling you it's okay, maybe he's writing out a recipe. Whatever it is, it calms you down.

"Do you want some water?" he asks as you still. He sounds pitying, sure, but he understands. His thumb rubs down to the middle of your hand.

"Yeah. Please."

He passes you a plastic bottle of water with the seal already broken. You have the wherewithal, then, to see where you are. The conference room is dark, and your teammates have given you the chance to cry alone, though they'd sent Spencer in to keep you company, it seems. You can see Morgan waiting out by the door like your bodyguard, and you're sure you can hear Hotch shouting. Or, not shouting, he doesn't yell much, but his voice is loud and terse. He cannot be argued with.

"I'm sorry you got the short straw."

Spencer puts an arm behind your back. "Actually, I had to fight Emily to be the one who gets to sit with you. And I can't fight, so it was more like begging."

He rubs your back. You forget that he's a man, sometimes, but you can feel the ridges of his arm, smell the woody scent of his deodorant as it stretches around you in a half hug. His awkwardness with women doesn't extend to his friends at any rate, and he hugs you with surety.

"You're one of my favourite people. I'm sorry you didn't know that. Holding your hand when you cry isn't a short straw," he says.

You lean into his shoulder. He murmurs a quiet, "Come here," as you do, his jaw pressed tight to your forehead.

"I'm so sorry," you say. To him and to someone else.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. You can't save everyone." He sounds near choking up with his last sentence. It's a grim and undeniable truth. No matter how hard any of you try, there will be impossible cases with twisting riddles for motivation and terror that fills every corner. There will be young girls who die, because there will always be someone waiting to hurt them.

"I tried–" You bite your cheek until it screams at you to stop.

"I know. There was nothing else we could do."

You turn into him completely, wrapping your arms around his waist in a vice. Spencer doesn't baulk, circling your shoulders, his breath tickling your ear where you squish your face against the collar of his sweater. The fabric bites your skin, a wicked heat returning to line your lashes.

Your back shakes under Spencer's hand.

"I know," he repeats, rubbing your back. "It's okay, Y/N, I promise. He can't hurt anyone else, ever again."

It doesn't make the crime any better. It won't bring back the girl you lost. And it can't erase the agony of knowing you failed her.

Spencer starts to talk. Simple facts, explaining grief. When we cry, it releases oxytocin. You feel better afterwards because of the chemical effects.

When you eventually do calm down, head pounding and chest aching, Spencer helps you clean the tear stains from your cheeks with a pocket pack of tissues, and you know it isn't the oxytocin that made you feel better, just a really caring man.

"Thank you for dealing with me. I know this wasn't even the worst thing we've seen, but I–" You clear your throat, determined not to cry anymore tears until you're back home. "I couldn't stop seeing her hand. I can't remember my hand being that small anymore."

Spencer gives you a smile. It's far from happy, a flat line with the slightest curve at the corners. "Some things are hard to forget. And we shouldn't forget them. But we have to keep going so we can balance it out. Or at least that's what I think."

You hug him quickly. "Thanks, Spence."

His hand twitches against the small of your back.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

731 notes · View notes

yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 5 months

Text

Oh, you wanna play psycho killer? (Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader x Ghostface! Peter B Parker) Part 1

RAAAAA! Excited about this one! Based off this post. Inspired by this drawing from Andalusia_Lu on Tiktok. Not proofread. Tbh I’m kinda nervous about this one but…Enjoy! Also in this story MJ and Peter are just friends. This is probably the darkest think I’ve written.

(Y/N) - Your name.

NSFW!!, Cursing, use of alcohol, death, murder, yandere behavior, Reader has a bf who does die, violence, blood, said reader’s bf calls her derogatory remarks behind her back, religious imagery(I think???), stalking, male masturbation, invasion of privacy, reader being drugged, panty stealing, stalking, implied kidnapping, gore, cameras being placed in readers home without their knowledge, it’s a horror one shot so… you know what you’re walking into. Dead Dove Do not eat, MDNI!

Word count: 2.5k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

October 31st, Halloween night. Also know as the night that gives college students an excuse to get fucked up while in a shit quality costume that cost 50 bucks at spirit Halloween.

That little rule you are not exempt from, that’s how you found yourself in a random college frat party at NYU, a bottle of beer in one hand, and your boyfriend’s in the other as you drag him through the crowd so you both can dance. The alcohol in your system made your whole body relaxed and your cheeks glow with a dash of red over them, your eyes half-lidded and your smile wide as you looked up at Daniel while Promiscuous from Nelly Furtado blasted through the house. You looked like an angel straight from heaven, although that might be due to your customer, being dressed up as Juliet from the 1996 movie, while your boyfriend was clattered in armor as Romeo. The costumes being your idea after having rewatched the movie a few weeks ago.

You both had lost the rest of your group in the crowd, Jess and MJ had said they were going to the kitchen while Miguel and Peter had said they were going outside to get fresh air but you haven’t seen them since, you wouldn't have extremely worried, if it wasn’t for the reason sightings of the ghostface killer that had been popping up on the news though. Sure maybe going to a party wasn’t the best idea either but you figured you would have been fine since you were going in a group, I mean, what wouldn’t you be okay? It’s not like an actual serial killer goes after a group of young adults who are all drunk right? But now you’ve lost 4 out of 6 people in said group. But maybe in the small chance you do get targeted, you should be able to stand a chance since your Daniel was always in the gym with Miguel, so he was pretty jacked (not as jacked as Miguel though but you’ll never say that out loud).

One song turned to two then to three, just like the beers in Daniel’s hand, you had slowed down so you could at least be sober enough to order a Lyft for when the night was over. Eventually you were whisked away from your boyfriend by MJ and Jess, thankful that they were still at the party and nothing happened to them.

“Hey, have you guys seen Peter or Miguel?” You shouted over the music after a while, Jess just shrugged, before MJ answered.

“They texted me that they found Daniel and he’s like, fucked up apparently.”

—

“Please!”

Stab.

“I don’t want to die! Please stop!”

Stab.

“I’ll give anything! Just don’t kill me!”

The begs and pleads become more desperate and sloppy with every second, the words slurring more together from the alcohol and the crimson red liquid dribbling out of Daniel's mouth. The sight was almost enough to make the two men feel pity. Almost.

“Anything?” The shorter one asked with an agonizingly slow head tilt, his voice altered from the voice changer attached to the plastic mask, signaling for the other to stop plugging the knife into their victim’s stomach. Despite not liking being told what to do, he dropped Daniel on the floor with a snarl. Daniel quickly retracted into a small ball, shaking arms going to cover his bloody wound with a groan and whimper.

“We want (Y/N).” If it weren't for him being in excruciating pain and bleeding out, Daniel would have thought they were joking, but the tone in which the words were spoken made his blood that was spilling out from his stomach and mouth run cold.

“W-what?” He asked as he tried to keep his breathing from becoming shallow and his head from becoming too dizzy, but he was failing miserably.

“You heard us. We. Want. (Y/N).” The larger one spoke this time. How badly, he wanted to emphasize each word with another stab, the knife in his hands twitched a bit as he tightened his grip on the black handle. He was itching for an excuse, but he’ll refrain.

For now.

Maybe it was the way he responded to a stressful situation, or maybe it was the lack of blood finally affecting his brain, but Daniel had the nerve to laugh. Fucking laugh. The laugh was breathy, and in between coughs and groans, causing Miguel and Peter to look at their prey like he was the crazy one. Rage filled their bodies when Daniel finally composed himself enough to talk again.

“Y-you can’t be serious? …Right? You-you’re gonna kill-kill me over some bitch?”

How fucking dare he.

How dare he speak about you like you were some random skank, like you were a pile of dirt. You were a fucking goddess, Miguel and Peter knew that, because they worshipped you like one. They didn’t see what you saw in Daniel, he didn’t deserve you, no one did, except Miguel and Peter, they would treat you better than any other man that roamed this stupid planet, and especially far better then the sorry excuse of a boyfriend that they had on the ground like he was a wounded animal.

For someone who was about to die, he sure had a lot of nerve.

He didn’t love you like they did, he didn’t know your every move like they did. They were like your real life guardian angels, always following behind you to make sure no one would harm so much as a hair on your pretty little head, and how lucky were they, that you were juuust oblivious enough that you don’t notice them, just enough to brush of your rummaged trash as raccoons, just enough that you didn’t noticed when a pair or two of your dirty panties go missing, you had too many to keep track of all of them anyways. Never knowing that one of the two would sneak into your apartment while you were asleep to grab them from your hamper, no matter which boy had decided to embark on their mission, both of them had to fight against the struggle to not stay and watch you sleep, fighting the urge to release their painful hard members and stroke while watching you sleep. They’d be lying to themselves if they said they haven’t lost the battle at least once before, biting into their free hand to stop any moans from escaping and waking you up, while they fist fuck their cocks with the other, but can you blame them?

They just loved you so much and you loved them too, you just haven’t realized it yet. How could you when that pest of a boyfriend of yours was pumping your head full of false thoughts? He didn’t love you like Peter and Miguel did. Sure Daniel might seem like he loved you so much, going as far as to get you flowers and gifts from time to time, but Miguel and Peter’s gifts they would give you were so much better, because these gifts were all given to you with the same purpose. To help them watch over you, make sure you were safe, strategically planning to make sure to eventually fill your entire home with cameras right under your adorable nose. The teddy bear that sits on your bed and the light up mirror over your bathroom sink were first of course.

Peter couldn’t help himself, with all of his force, he kicked Daniel right in the balls, causing him to curl up more in pain. Miguel was going to do the same when his phone pinged in his pocket, he quickly took it out and checked it, your name filling his screen made his heart skip a beat.

“It’s (Y/N). She’s asking where we are, and wants us to meet her at her apartment after she drops off Jess and MJ in 15 minutes.” Miguel mumbled as he looked down at his phone, before looking up at Peter then down at their prey on the ground. “She probably thinks we’re still with him, what should we do with him?”

Peter’s eyes followed Miguel’s gaze down to the half- conscious Daniel, silent as if thinking about what to say, or more likely what to do with him.

“We could leave him here for dead?” Peter suggested, but Miguel shook his head at the thought, too risky, they couldn’t have the chance of him being found by someone and taken to the hospital, that could ruin everything.

“You both… ar-are fucking psychotic! Killing me over some-some bitch who doesn’t eve-even give good fucking… fucking head!” Daniel yelled between coughs, more blood falling from his blue-turning lips, he looked like he had seen a ghost due to how pale he was becoming from the blood lost, and now he’s gonna become one. Miguel’s phone buzzed again, this time you only sent a single question mark, looking down at his phone.

“I want you to know that if I wasn’t about to be late to see you, I would beat this guy bloody, for the way he talks about you.” Miguel said out loud as if you could actually hear him, as if you were actually here to hear how true those words were, but instead Miguel raised his knife with one hand and grabbed Daniel’s hair with the other. Enjoying the way the Dani’s eyes widened in fear, his weak arms flailed around as he tried to fight the larger man off of him, but it was no use. “Guess I’ll just have to cut straight to the point.” He said, the smirk evident threw his altered voice before putting his knife against Daniel’s throat and slashing it open. Watching whatever life that was left in him drain from his eyes.

Peter being the skilled photographer he was, took a selfie of the two with their slayed animal, now it’s time to go claim their trophy.

—

Something was off.

Like seriously off, ever since Peter and Miguel disappeared at the party neither of them had answered their phone, and as soon Dani disappeared neither had he. Maybe the party wasn’t the best idea in retrospect, you let out a sigh as you entered your apartment, and collapsed on your couch, wanting to try and calm your racing thoughts a bit before you changed out of your costume. Closing your eyes, and taking in a deep breath.

Your phone started to ring.

Usually, you didn’t answer calls from people who weren’t already in your contacts, so the “blocked number” would normally set off red flags, but maybe the alcohol was still making your brain foggy, because without thinking you answer the call and put your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

No answer.

You left out a huff and tried again.

“Hellooo?”

When you didn’t get an answer again you rolled your eyes.

“I think you got the wrong numb-“

“Wanna play a game?”

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“I said, wanna play a game?”

“Um no thanks. I'm hanging up now.”

“Hang up and you won’t get to see your special surprise though.” Oddly enough, you grew a bit curious.

“Wha..what do I have to do?” You asked.

“It’s simple, We’re gonna play a small game of hot and cold.” You had a feeling this wasn’t a good idea, maybe you shouldn’t answer the call. “Right now you’re cold.”

Without another word, you slowly got up, and made your way down the hall, your floorboard creaking underneath your heels.

“Warmer.”

Your heart begins to beat in your ears, you bring a shaky hand up to the doorknob of your bathroom, you go to open the door when the voice from the other end of the phone spoke again.

“Colder.”

You quickly bring your hand back down to your side and let your heavy footsteps make your way into your bedroom.

“Hotter.”

You swallowed the thick lump of saliva down your throat as you made your way to the left side room, your eyes dead set on your closet.

“Hotter.”

You closed the gap between you and the closet, and brought your hand to the handle, mentally preparing yourself for whatever hides before the wooden doors.

“You're on fucking fire baby.”

Your hand drew back the door, the sight made you let out a blood curdling scream, almost dropping your phone in the process. Your Daniel, dead, sitting on the closet floor, gutted out like a fish. The voice on the other end of the phone let out a sly chuckle before speaking once again.

“Sorry about your boyfriend, guess all those muscles didn’t help much.” He mocked before the call went dead, and you finally released your phone, it falling to the floor, as your body began to shake and your breathing became rapid.

You let out a sob and began to stumble away from the mangled corpse that you once called your boyfriend, only for your back to meet with a what felt like a wall of muscle, you quickly look up over your shoulder, being met with the infamous ghostface mask that has been plastered all over the news.

“What’s the matter (Y/N)? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The altered voice taunted. No, no, no,no. This cannot be happening. You shook your head as another sob left your lips stumbling away from the masked killer and into the hallway, expecting him to follow after you, but instead he just watched you. If you were thinking straight. You’d probably realized that this was a trap, but you weren’t thinking straight, as you finally reached the front door, you went to unlock the door and leave your apartment, but before you even stepped foot out of the door a large hand came and grabbed you around your waist. You take in a deep breath and open your mouth to scream, but instead a white cloth came and covered your nose and mouth, the strong smell of chemicals quickly filling your lungs.

“Surprised (Y/N).” This voice was a bit deeper, then the one from your bedroom, your head became dizzy as you eyes fluttered, your vision was beginning to blacken, before you were fully go under, you saw the man holding you still was a lot larger than the other one, it clicked, there were two of them.

You black out.

—

“She out?” Peter asked Miguel as he slipped off his mask, Miguel following suit.

“Like a light.” Miguel smirks as he goes to pick you up bridal style, your body limply laying in his arms. The two couldn’t help but smile as they watched your sleeping form, so peaceful looking, like an Angel. Their angel. Their plan played out just as they wanted, you were theirs now, and theirs alone. No one could come in the way of you three anymore, all they had to do now was make sure you wouldn’t leave them. But how would you do that if you didn’t know where you were? You couldn’t. That’s why Miguel gently placed you in the backseat of Peter’s car, before getting into the passenger’s seat. They were going to make sure you were far, far away from your old life, so you could start your new one with your lovesick killers.

453 notes · View notes

ginnsbaker · 7 months

Text

empty crib

Summary: “So?” you ask, not lifting your gaze from the crib you've been assembling for the past thirty minutes. Wanda simply shakes her head, discarding the pregnancy test into the trash.

Word count: 5.3K+ | Tags: Smut (18+), Angst, ILGOSS Universe, Slight breeding kink

A/N: Another oneshot in the ILGOSS universe, this time requested by anon who wanted something about Wanda and Reader's struggles with getting pregnant.

Masterlist

You slide slowly inside of Wanda with a groan, starting with steady, shallow thrusts. Your hands find their way to her waist, fingers inching towards the softness of her lower belly. Each movement of your hips against hers is fueled by the tantalizing idea of filling her. The thought is driving you crazy, and you can't help but visualize a future where Wanda carries a piece of both of you inside her.

Ever since the two of you finally decided to get pregnant, and that Wanda would be the one to carry the baby, you've been constantly consumed by the thought of impregnating your wife, fucking her like an obsessed, horny teenager every time you get the chance. Wanda hasn't expressed any complaints either. She seems to want you too, in that desperate, touch-me-or-I’ll-die kind of way. The last time you were both this intoxicated with each other was during your honeymoon, but the difference now is that you're both more comfortable and daring in bed, having had ample time to learn about each other's likes and dislikes.

Now is no different; in fact, the atmosphere feels even more heady since Wanda recently received the embryo implantation. Lifting your wife’s hips slightly off the bed and putting the rest of your weight on your knees, you begin thrusting into her in slow, deep strokes. You make sure to pull out with just the tip of the strap inside, before pushing back in with more force. You repeat the action with rapt attention and soon, the unmistakable sound of wetness fills the room—a rhythmic squelching accompanying every thrust of the strap.

“God, Wanda,” you groan, feeling the wetness of her coating your cock, watching it trickle down her soft thighs, “You're so fucking wet, you’re dripping.”

She lets out a throaty moan, her voice dripping with lust, “Because of you.” Wanda's own hands move to the roundness of your ass cheeks. She grips them tightly, nails digging into the flesh, urging you with a silent plea to drive into her with more force. You struggle to keep your eyes open, even as pleasure begins to stir in the depths of your stomach. They trail over Wanda's body, taking in every exquisite detail. The soft, blue hue cast by the moonlight makes her skin look even more ethereal, highlighting the slight sheen of sweat that has formed on her forehead and neck. The delicate curve of her breasts draws your attention, especially her tight, pink nipples that stand erect in the heat of the moment. You take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling the scent that is distinctly hers, a mix of sweat, arousal, and the lingering fragrance of her perfume.

Her lips, plush and rosy, are half-parted, soft moans escaping them every time you move within her. But it's her eyes that capture you the most. They dart to yours every now and then, holding your gaze, the vulnerability in them enough to make your heart race. As you continue to move, you notice the little details—like the way her face scrunches up in sheer pleasure when you angle yourself to hit that particular spot deep inside her. The way she bites down on her lower lip, trying to muffle a particularly loud moan. You're hopelessly enthralled by her, that sometimes you toy with the idea that you can cum just by looking at her, by filling your senses with everything that is Wanda Maximoff.

In the heat of the moment, you allow yourself to be fully immersed in the experience. You imagine the strap is a part of you, a real extension of your own flesh, and you feel—or at least, you pretend to feel—every ridge, every hot, slick part of her clenching around you.

Wanda whimpers on cue, as if reading your thoughts. “I want all of you. Now.”

Suddenly, you feel her fingers drawing slow circles around your rim, teasing the sensitive skin there. The unexpected sensation makes you gasp, your rhythm faltering momentarily. “What are you—?” you start, only to be silenced by her lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is fiery, desperate, and when you pull away, she whispers, “More.”

You comply, thrusting with renewed fervor, driven wild by her touch and her words. “I'm close,” you gasp, the coil in your belly winding tighter with each thrust. You're slicker, your thrusts becoming deeper, and with a particularly hard drive, you're pushed deeper inside her than you'd imagined possible.

“Do it,” she moans, her middle finger slipping inside your ass, “cum inside me.”

Wanda's inner walls clench tightly around the toy, signaling her own impending release. Her legs lock around your waist, pulling you in even deeper, and you can't hold back any longer. With a strangled cry, you climax, your body shaking with the force of it. You bury your face into the crook of her neck, biting down on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, leaving a mark that will surely be visible tomorrow.

The two of you ride out the waves of pleasure together, your breathing ragged and in sync. But the moment of rest is brief. Sensations still course through you, and with a sense of boldness, you start moving again, this time at a pace that leaves both of you breathless.

“W-wait,” Wanda stammers, her body already trembling from overstimulation. “It's too much.”

Instead of slowing, your fingers deftly find her clit, beginning to circle it with precision. Her protests turn into moans, her body arching up to meet each of your thrusts. And then, with a gasp and a shuddering sigh, she comes undone beneath you once more.

Moments later, her eyes flutter open, and there's a look of sheer astonishment and satisfaction in them. “You... you're incredible,” she breathes. “I've never felt so full, so complete.”

“You did so well, love,” you whisper, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You took everything I gave, and you looked absolutely stunning doing it.” Unable to resist, you lean down to capture her lips in a tender kiss, before your hand moves to caress her belly. “I love the idea of filling you up,” you murmur against her lips.

She chuckles softly, her fingers tracing patterns on your back. “I noticed,” she teases.

Not ready to break the connection just yet, you wrap your arms tightly around her, savoring the closeness. And with a gentle roll, you shift positions, with Wanda now on top of you. The toy remains in place, and you both shiver from the sensation, even as the urgency of earlier has mellowed into a languid post-orgasmic haze.

Wanda nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, her soft breaths tickling your skin. “Let's just stay like this,” she whispers, her fingers lazily drawing circles on your chest.

“You know,” you muse aloud, a dreamy quality to your voice, “I’ve always liked the name ‘Elena’ for a girl. And maybe ‘William’ for a boy. What do you think?”

Wanda giggles, her breath warm against your neck. “Already thinking about baby names, are we?”

You shrug, feeling a bit bashful. “I can't help it. I'm just... excited, you know?”

She pulls back slightly, looking deep into your eyes with her own sparkling ones. “I know, darling. But remember, it's only been a week since I got the implant. We don't even know if I'm pregnant yet.”

You sigh, the reality of the situation sinking in. But then a stubborn grin forms on your face. “How about we make sure you are?” you say as you gently rock your hips upward.

Wanda gasps, her cheeks reddening. “You do realize that's not how it works, right?” But even as she says it, you can notice her gaze already darkening.

“But it doesn't hurt to... practice, right?” you whisper, your movement becoming more deliberate.

Wanda bites her lip, considering, then nods with a smirk. “Alright then. Let's 'practice'.”

It’s the third attempt that ends with Wanda not being pregnant. To be sure you're doing everything right, you and Wanda decide to visit a different reproductive endocrinologist.

The sterile walls of the clinic, coupled with the waiting room's soft music, can't quell the anxiety bubbling up inside both of you. You glance at Wanda, her fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the armrest.

Soon, a nurse calls you into the doctor’s office. It’s more welcoming than the antiseptic hallway outside. A tall, thin woman with a kind face and graying hair greets you both with a warm smile. “Hello, I’m Dr. Adams. Please have a seat.” She gestures to two comfortable chairs opposite her desk. You both take a seat, and she flips through Wanda's medical charts, scanning the numerous notes and test results. After a few more minutes filled with the sound of pages flipping and muffled conversations outside the room, the doctor finally looks up, focusing specifically on Wanda.

“I’ve gone over your charts and the lab results,” she starts evenly. “Everything looks promising. The numbers, hormone levels, all of it—it’s in the range we’d hope for. In clinical terms, you're a great candidate for conception.”

You and Wanda release a synchronized breath; Both of you have been overthinking this, searching for any fault, so it's reassuring to hear that everything is not only normal but also as it should be—perhaps even great.

Dr. Adams continues, “However,” she leans forward, “conception, in my personal belief, isn’t solely a game of numbers. God, or whatever higher power one might believe in, still has a say. There’s a mysterious element, a touch of magic, if you will, in the process.”

Wanda nods, her eyes a bit watery, “We just want to be parents. It's been harder than we imagined.”

The doctor nods, clasping her hands together. “I understand. I always tell my patients, 'Do your part and let the universe handle the rest.' It might sound a bit philosophical, but I've seen countless stories of hope and miracles throughout my career.”

Squeezing Wanda's hand, you're buoyed by the hope in those words. In return, she offers you a tight smile.

“With that said, let’s go over your treatment plan. It says here in your clinical history that you’ve been on COH for a while now, so let’s just retain that as we might need to harvest a new batch of eggs again

“We'll also introduce a GnRH Agonist, probably Lupron, to make sure there's no premature egg release. And as a precaution, we might add a GnRH Antagonist like Ganirelix.”

“And after you retrieve the eggs?” Wanda asks, hoping for something different, something that could easily be the missing piece in all of this.

Dr. Adams smiles gently, “Then, we'll give Progesterone, perhaps in the form of an injectable or a vaginal gel, to prepare the uterus for the embryo implantation. And we may supplement with Estradiol for the uterine lining, especially if we consider a frozen embryo transfer later."

She pauses, completing the prescription as she continues speaking. “Around the embryo transfer, I'd also recommend antibiotics and possibly a low dose of steroids to enhance the chances of implantation.”

You both exchange glances, feeling as though you're back at square one. Dr. Adams catches the look shared between the two of you. “I understand your apprehension,” she says, “and it might feel as though we're taking a step backward or starting all over again. But sometimes, we need a new approach or a minor tweak in the process.”

You rub Wanda's back soothingly, but you can feel her muscles tense beneath your fingers. The medical jargon, the never-ending cycle of hope followed by despair, it all starts to blend into one blurry narrative. You take the prescription from Dr. Adams, thanking her for her time and insight.

At home, you both decide to take a break from the overbearing thoughts and treat yourselves to a quiet, simple dinner.

You’re about to reach for the strap when Wanda stops you.

“Can we maybe... just for tonight—” Wanda's gaze meets yours, her lip caught nervously between her teeth, her eyes searching for your response as if she's made a misstep. “Just... just you. That’s all I need. Please?”

You place the strap aside, focusing solely on her.

“Okay, okay,” you whisper back, fingers delicately skimming the contour of her cheek, absorbing the heat of her flush. “Just us.”

You keep your gazes fixed on each other as you slowly guide her back onto the bed. The look in her eyes tells you she needs more from you—not just the need to come. You desperately want to tell her that whatever it is, she just needs to ask. Or that you wish you could understand her unspoken needs, so she wouldn't have to voice them, and you'd still fulfill them. But somehow, words fail to leave your lips.

Frankly, words have been failing you for quite some time now. And so, you let your mouth and your fingers do the talking.

“So?” you ask, not lifting your gaze from the crib you've been assembling for the past thirty minutes.

Wanda simply shakes her head, discarding the pregnancy test into the trash. For eleven months, you've both been diligently adhering to every guideline—tracking ovulation cycles, maintaining the prescribed diet, optimizing sleep schedules, even monitoring the daily water intake. You've both undergone all necessary tests for IVF, from basic hormone assessments to detailed embryological evaluations. Despite all efforts and precautions, Wanda still isn't pregnant. Of course, there's a pang of disappointment, but giving up isn't an option.

“We just have to keep trying.”

Wanda scoffs as she pours herself a glass of water. Sparky scuttles up to her, hoping for a fallen morsel. “Easy for you to say.”

Distracted by her remark, you shift your focus from the wooden pieces that refuse to align. Your brows knit together, and your lips pull into a slight frown. Meanwhile, Sparky trots over and nudges your leg with his snout. “What do you mean by that?” you ask Wanda, while absentmindedly patting Sparky's head.

Wanda’s silence is a more powerful response than any words could have been, but she quickly sidesteps the tension in the room by changing the subject. “Do you want bacon?” she asks, her eyes focusing on arranging the ingredients on the counter.

Baffled by the sudden shift, you answer, “We don't have bacon. We've been on that strict diet, remember?”

“I picked some up yesterday,” she replies, her voice a tad too casual as she avoids eye contact, focusing instead on cracking an egg into a mixing bowl. You study her for a moment, sensing there's more beneath her words.

“Wanda,” you begin gently, “talk to me.” She remains silent, but her grip on the pan's handle speaks volumes.

With no response from Wanda, you release a resigned sigh and refocus on the crib you’ve been struggling with. An insight strikes and you manage to align the elusive pieces. As you start hammering them together, the sound ricochets across the quiet morning—a rather unpleasant sound.

The clamor clearly irks Wanda, causing her to hurl the turner onto the sink with a resounding clang that captures your attention. The sudden motion startles Sparky, who retreats to a corner with a soft whine.

She spins around, her chest heaving with pent-up emotions. “You want me to talk? Fine, I'll talk. Why did you tell Natasha we were trying to have a baby?”

Your hammering ceases abruptly. Her rage blindsides you. It's true, you had shared your hopes with Natasha as early as a month into trying with Wanda. But that was a long time ago, why was this a problem now?

“You know Nat is like a sister to me, and I didn't think it would be an issue,” you try to explain. “It’s been so long since then, why bring it up now?”

Wanda’s face contorts as she struggles to hold back tears. “Because last night, she looked at me with pity, with sadness... I don’t want people’s pity!” she cries out. You set down the hammer and walk towards her.

“I promise, Nat doesn't pity you,” you say, taking Wanda’s hand. She struggles against your grip for a moment, but you don't let go. Eventually, she gives in, and you pull her into a hug. “But I'm truly sorry for sharing without your consent. That was my mistake.”

When you pull back, she doesn’t meet your gaze, her eyes fixed on the crib behind you. It's a beautiful piece, elegant in its design, something any parent-to-be would cherish. But for now, it only makes Wanda seethe even more.

“Natasha gave us that crib, didn't she?”

You nod, remembering the day when Natasha had surprised you both with the gift, her way of showing support for the new chapter in your lives. “Yes, she did. Out of love, Wanda.”

But Wanda’s eyes blaze, her voice breaking, “While you feel gratitude when you see it, all I feel is pressure. You know what I see when I look at it? The symbol of my failure. I feel like I'm letting you down, and now with Nat knowing, I have another person I feel I’m disappointing.”

You’re heartbroken hearing her express her anxieties. You had no idea she'd been carrying such a burden. Pulling her close, you hold her tightly. “I don't ever want you to feel that way. We're in this together, no matter what. And nobody—not even Nat—can make us feel less than.”

Wanda buries her face in your chest, allowing herself to release the pain she's been holding back. She clings onto you, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt as she seeks comfort in your reassurances. “Don’t you ever leave me,” she murmurs amidst her tears. “I just want to make you happy.”

Your lips press tightly together. Of course, you'd never consider leaving Wanda. The thought wouldn't even cross your mind. Where is all this coming from?

“You do make me happy, every single day,” you reply, your words soaked in the truth of your love for her, “with or without a baby, our happiness is crafted by the love we share, not by the expectations of others or the gifts they give.”

“And you love me?” Wanda asks.

Gently cupping her face in your hands, you make sure she’s looking directly into your eyes when you say, “Every inch, every fiber, every moment.”

Her eyes search yours, a shadow flickering within them that you can't quite pin down. After a long beat of silence, she whispers, “Okay. Then return that crib to Natasha.”

Natasha's apartment is a study in minimalist elegance with clean lines and straight forward colors. You ring the bell, adjusting the large box you're holding, and rehearse the speech in your head. After all, you've never returned anything Natasha has given you before.

The door swings open, revealing your best friend in a tattered shirt, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail. She eyes the box, then shifts her gaze up to meet yours, arching an eyebrow. “That's...a large box.”

“It's the crib,” you state simply, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.

Her eyes flash with understanding and perhaps a hint of curiosity. “Come in.”

You push the box through the door with some considerable effort and take a seat on her plush sofa, noting how her living room has changed since your last visit. New artwork on the walls, a couple of throw pillows that weren’t there before.

Natasha takes a seat opposite you. “How's Wanda?”

“She's... coping,” you reply with a bit of hesitation. “Some days are better than others.”

After Wanda confronted you about sharing the private details of your married life with your best friend, you've been extra cautious about what to share and what not to. With people like your boss Scott or your colleagues at work, it's easy. But with your best friend, it's hard to hold back, especially when she's the only other person you turn to for advice and confide in.

Natasha nods in understanding, her sharp eyes analyzing you. “You look...fit. More so than the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, been on a restrictive diet to help Wanda keep hers. Thought it'd help her with food temptation if I joined in.”

She smirks, “That's sweet. But is that the only reason?”

You smile sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Well, initially, yes. But I've started enjoying my time at the gym. It makes me feel... more confident, I guess. And it's been a good distraction, especially with all the stress at work.”

“That’s good to hear,” she says, her gaze flitting towards the box. “But what’s up with the crib?”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the rehearsed explanation about your mother wanting to gift you a crib, how it seemed redundant to have two, and how—but Natasha cuts you off with an amused chuckle.

“Come on, Y/N,” she grins, shaking her head. “I’m not buying that crap. Just tell me the truth. I won't be offended.”

“Alright,” you start, dropping the facade. “Wanda's been finding it hard. The crib... it’s like this looming symbol of expectation and pressure for her. We’ve been trying for months and it's been weighing on her. And, honestly, on me too.”

Natasha’s eyes soften at your admission. “I can’t even begin to imagine how tough this must be for both of you,” she says. “But let me ask you something, Y/N. How do you feel about all of this? Not just the crib, but Wanda not being able to get pregnant?”

For a moment, you appear deeply engrossed in thought, gazing at the box and the unfinished crib, then your eyes shift back to meet Natasha's. “It's difficult. Every month, there’s this hope, this expectation. And when it doesn’t happen, it’s... crushing. Not just for Wanda, but for me too. I watch her go through it every time and it kills me that I can't do more to help. That being said, I don’t blame her, nor do I see her any differently. I love her, no matter what. But it's hard to watch her go through this pain.”

“Does she know that?”

You’re about to say yes but then your most recent argument with Wanda stops you.

Don’t you ever leave me. I just want to make you happy.

It’s clear that you haven’t been telling her enough. Maybe a part of you doesn't want to admit that there's a twinge of disappointment, or that you've started to believe you could be the one to try in her stead. But you haven't shared any of this with Wanda. In keeping silent, you mistakenly thought you were reassuring her. Wrapped up in your career, you've been blind to the emotional strain it's placed on your wife, how it's shaken her self-esteem and her trust in your love.

Maybe you'd been too caught up in your own head, too busy trying to protect her, and in doing so, inadvertently pushed her away.

“I mean, I thought she knew,” you say with a shaky sigh. “But maybe I haven't been clear enough. I've been trying to maintain a positive outlook, you know? But I think I messed up.”

After a pause, Natasha rises and offers, “Want a beer?”

You nod, then lean back, exhaling audibly. “I'm even thinking about... you know, maybe I should be the one to try. But I'm scared it'll seem like I've given up on her.”

Natasha's eyes widen slightly as she hands you a cold can of beer. “Whoa, that's big. But just, when you talk to her about it, make sure she knows it's 'cause you two are in this together. Not 'cause you think she can't. And is…that what you want?”

“We want kids, Nat.”

“But does it have to happen now?”

You pop open the beer and take a deep sip before responding. “I mean, I don't think either of us envisioned it would be this hard. It's just... We both felt ready, you know? And after all the effort and disappointment, it's not easy to just push pause.”

“I don’t know, Y/N… Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we've got to decide if we want to swing or wait for the next pitch.”

“You've been hanging around Clint too much.”

Natasha grins. “Maybe. But seriously, what's the rush? If the universe is telling you something, maybe it's worth listening.”

You look down at the beer can, condensation slipping down its side. “I just hate seeing her hurt. Every negative test, every failed attempt, I can see how much it's breaking her.”

“Then talk to Wanda,” Natasha says. “Ask her what she wants. Stop making assumptions and trying to fix everything.”

The thing is, you don't want to give up. That's probably why you're so nervous about mentioning to Wanda the idea of pausing and rethinking things. You've been self-centered for too long, and as much as Wanda wants to make you happy, you need her to be happy too.

“Thanks, Nat. It means a lot,” you say, rising from your seat. Just as you're about to reach the door, Natasha's voice stops you.

“I'll hold onto the crib for when the time's right, okay?”

You are startled awake from a light slumber by the sound of soft moans beside you. As your eyes flutter open, you see Wanda, her hand moving frantically under the sheets. The sight sends a warm thrill down your spine, but you notice her face turning a shade redder as she realizes you've woken up.

“Oh, I-I didn't mean to wake you,” she stammers, trying to pull the sheet over her actions, but you catch her wrist gently. It hurts a bit to realize that Wanda tried to hide her actions from you. It's in this moment you recognize you've been neglecting her physical needs as well, and you can't remember the last time you made love to her in earnest.

“Hey, it's okay,” you whisper reassuringly, your sleepy eyes now more alert and focused on her flushed face.

You reach over to the nightstand and turn on the lamp. Now, with better visibility, you can see the sheen of sweat on her forehead, her lips slightly parted as she bites down on her lower lip to stifle any further sounds.

“Sorry,” she mutters again, looking away shyly. “I didn't think I'd wake you.”

“No need to apologize,” you respond softly, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “Can I... can I help?”

Wanda nods her head bashfully, her breath quickening. You smile inwardly; you've lost track of how many times you've done this to her, to each other, yet there’s still this little dance you do even though you both know what it’s going to look like within the next hour.

You can tell she's probably expecting your fingers, which is why when you maneuver yourself down to the foot of the bed, her eyes widen with a blend of surprise and arousal.

You settle between her legs, taking a moment to admire the goddess before you. As you slowly slide off her panties, you take the opportunity to press tender kisses along her trembling thighs.

“You're so beautiful,” you murmur against her skin, feeling her shiver under your touch. “You smell so good, so delectable.” She whimpers softly as you continue, “You've been such a wonderful partner, Wanda. You complete me in every way.”

Wanda is enough. Whether the path to pregnancy is smooth or rocky, what matters most is this—the life you share together, the bond you’ve formed over the years. You'd rather have her happy and content, than stressed and miserable over what might not be.

Without further ado, you delve into the act of worshiping her with your tongue, making her gasp and clutch the sheets beside her. Her name falls from your lips like a prayer as you navigate through her soft folds, each stroke of your tongue eliciting a beautiful melody of moans and sighs from her.

You don't consider yourself particularly religious, but you send a silent thanks to whoever might be up there, that you get to experience everything with this woman—for better or for worse.

“Branch manager? But I thought—”

“You need the experience, Y/N, so I can properly recommend you for an AVP position,” Scott says, adjusting his tie—a habit you've observed he resorts to in awkward moments.

You blink in surprise, trying to process the unexpected turn. “Scott, that's... I'm honored, truly, but I was under the impression that the AVP position was nearly within my grasp.”

He exhales, avoiding direct eye contact. “Look, Y/N, you're incredibly talented, and everyone knows it. But there are some procedural checkboxes we need to tick, and having branch managerial experience is one of them.”

“But there must be some catch to this 'promotion', right?” you ask.

Scott shifts uneasily in his chair before replying, “Well, there is a trade-off. You'll be temporarily relocated to Westview, New Jersey.”

“Westview?”

He nods, “The branch there needs significant improvement, and the higher-ups believe you're the best person for the job. They would be immensely grateful for your expertise.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you inquire, “How long do I have before the move?”

“Less than a month,” he admits, sounding apologetic.

The prospect of relocating, even temporarily, is daunting, especially given the current circumstances at home. You haven't even touched on the idea of perhaps pumping the brakes on conceiving with Wanda, and now this added responsibility looms ahead.

You push open the front door of the apartment, immediately hearing Sparky's playful barks. Wanda is lounging on the living room couch, a bowl of green salad in her lap. She's back on her restrictive diet, you note, and she looks more refreshed than she has in weeks.

Attempting to be discreet, you try to slide the platter of sushi behind a cushion, but Wanda's observant eyes catch the movement. “Is that...sushi?”

Ah, there it goes—your surprise. “Um, yeah,” you mutter, bringing the platter around, “I thought maybe we could enjoy something different tonight.”

Her eyes dart between the sushi and your face, the question clear in her eyes. You sigh, deciding to cut to the chase. “I think maybe we should...take a break from trying. Just for a little while.”

Wanda looks stunned, and before she can say anything, you continue, “It’s taking a toll. On both of us, but especially on you. And with this new opportunity at work, which requires me to relocate temporarily…”

She’s silent for a beat, and then you see her eyes well up with tears, the dam breaking as she cries softly. It's a quiet cry, one of acceptance and understanding, but it still breaks your heart.

You pull her into a hug, letting her tears soak through your shirt. “Hey, it’s just a pause. And it’s a chance for us to enjoy things we’ve missed,” you say, holding out the platter of sushi toward her.

She looks at the platter and then at you, her tears mingling with a soft smile. “I've missed sashimi,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

You smile back, wiping away her tears. “And I've missed seeing you enjoy it,” you reply tenderly.

With a small sigh, she picks up a piece, enjoying the flavor that she's missed for so long. You both know that this pause doesn’t mean giving up—it's just a small detour. You’re looking forward to a new chapter with the move to New Jersey. Who knows, maybe if things in your career stabilize, you can discuss with Wanda the possibility of you being the one to carry. It's a delicate suggestion, for sure, but deep down, it kind of feels like that might be the way things should go.

But still, you can't help but ask—

“Hey, we're okay, right?”

Wanda seems to search for words for a moment before answering. Her eyes, now clear, meet yours with a fondness that's always been there.

Her hand reaches out to hold yours, and you latch onto it, feeling your need for her to stay grounded.

“We’re okay.”

A/N: Yeah, we all know what happens next...

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #oneshots #wanda maximoff au #fic request #natasha romanoff #ilgoss oneshot

626 notes · View notes

soft-mafia · 7 months

Note

Can we have where the S/O was sketching Captain Buggy in secret, because she has a thing for him and she didn't want him and the crew to know about it. Until she lost it until the crew took a glimpse while laughing; they figured that she had a crush on the captain. She hid in the Crow's Nest in shame until Buggy finds her, after hearing what she's been doing in secret

Crush [Buggy x Reader]

warning: fem reader, nude drawing descriptions

a/n: this is such a cute idea😭😭 also this is me coded bc I low key draw Buggy half naked sometimes

part 2

Y/n was sitting in one of the crow’s nests on the Big Top, hunched over her sketchbook, scribbling out another fantasy she had of Buggy.

Yeah, it was weird drawing her own captain half naked with a visible happy trail but— was she hurting anybody? No, of course not, besides nobody had to see these drawings except her. Y/n was beginning to get a little flustered sketching out the muscles, defining them.

She had a little smile on her face, but it was all interrupted by Buggy calling everybody down to the deck. Y/n left her sketchbook up there without thinking and quickly climbed down.

A while later after they had to make a pit stop somewhere to stock up on food, Y/n was carrying crates of meat when she heard some other crew mates snickering and giggling. She wondered what the hell was so funny, so she glanced over— but then a look of horror washed over her face.

“What a pervert!!” One of the men said, flipping through the pages, “Do you think she joined the crew just to get a piece of Captain Buggy?” Another man laughed. “Awww she has a little crush on him.” Another one said before they all burst into laughter.

Oh my god?! Is that my sketch book?! She nearly dropped the crate, so she quickly set it down and ran back onto the ship, panicking and feeling humiliated. Oh god.. this was awful, what if they show the captain?! He’s gonna kick me out of the crew!! This is so embarrassing I’m gonna throw myself off the ship, I can’t do this!!

Y/n hid in the crows nest, curled up in a ball, crying into her knees from embarrassment.

“Hey Captain!! Take a look at this!!”

Buggy’s attention was directed over to the group of men with Y/n’s sketch book, “Huh? What is it?” Buggy grunted and snatched it out of the man’s hands. His eyes went wide and nearly popped out of his skull when he saw the sketches.

Why was he such a hunk?! Damn he wish he looked like this, is this how people saw him? If it was then this was an absolute win. “WHO DID THIS?!” Buggy shouted, “WHO’S SICK JOKE WAS THIS?!” There were so many pages!! Who even had time to do all of this?!

“That girl, Y/n. I think she has a little crush on you, captain.” One of the pirates jokingly cooed, which made Buggy’s face go even redder.

Y/n could hear Buggy screaming from where she was, it made her curl up and want to die even more, “Ugghh!! Why did I have to leave that fucking book up here?!” She cried to herself. “Y/N!!! WHAT IS THIS?!” Buggy said once he got back onto the ship. Y/n sniffled, peeking over the side of the crow’s nest as she looked down at Buggy, “I’m sorry captain! I-I didn’t mean to..” oh god how could this situation get any worse.

“DIDN’T MEAN TO?!” Buggy took another look at the drawings. Damn he was hot, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘DIDN’T MEAN TO’?!”

Y/n hid in the crow’s nest again, crying harder. He was going to kick her off the crew.. she knew it.

Upon her cries, Buggy sighed and decided to climb up to where she was. “Cmon-.. don’t- don’t cry.” He kneeled down and gently patted her head, he looked back at the sketchbook, still amazed with how handsome he was.. “These are really good..!” He flipped to another page which was just him.. completely naked, his eyes went wide again. That fucking penis was bigger than his, why was it was so vascular!! He cleared his throat and closed the book, handing it back to Y/n, “You really captured my likeness.” He giggled, his cheeks redder than a tomato, “Maybe you can.. draw me.. maybe a bit more buffer, taller? Just a suggestion..” he coughed again.

Y/n took her book back and sniffled, “Y-You’re not gonna kick me off the crew? You’re not mad?” She couldn’t even look up at him.

“What? Why would I do that? It’s kind of a stupid reason to kick someone off..” Buggy laughed and sat beside of her, “Of course I’m not mad. But.. am I really that hot?” He chuckled softly, making Y/n even more flustered. “Maybe I can model for you sometime eh?” He joked, but then kind of regretted it.. no way did he look as hunky as those drawings.

Y/n hid her face into her sketch book, “This is so embarrassing..” she whined, “They’re never gonna let me live this down.” She could still hear the sounds of those crew mates laughing.. it made her internally recoil.

“Yeah.. not a chance.” Buggy laughed, then patted her back, “But hey, if you ever want the real thing, you can come to me whenever you want.” He grinned, winking at her.

Her face went red again and she hid it further into her book.

#one piece #one piece buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy x you #op buggy #buggy op #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla #opla buggy #one piece live action

463 notes · View notes

sanctus-ingenium · 6 months

Note

Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.

hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai

because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out

sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.

the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:

the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.

I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...

first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.

Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.

Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.

The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.

I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.

And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think

what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.

Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.

finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.

#fr you will never catch me trying to mystify my process i will explain literally everything #brushes

455 notes · View notes

wh3nturtlesfly · 10 months

Text

It was early morning by the time someone had found Hero. They had been left to die, blood caked in their wounds and clothing soaked with dew. Left along the riverbank, Hero was curled up tightly, shivering against the morning waves that lapped at their ankles. They were barely conscious when Villain had stumbled upon them.

Hero’s first response had been to fight back. The moment Villain reached out a hand, they sprung forward, raking their nails down the Villain’s cheek. They kicked and cried out, though their voice had been worn from their throat long ago. Soon Hero could do nothing but whimper, drawing back just before they slumped into the soil.

When Hero did wake they were feverish. Villain’s attention had been drawn over the moment they heard splashing, turning to find the crime fighter thrashing in the tub. They rushed over, readying a towel as if they could dry all the puddles that now doused the tile.

“Hey, hey,” Villain placed a hand on the small Hero’s shoulder and they whirled around, eyes wide. Like a spooked animal, Hero flinched back.

“It’s alright,” Villain placed their words carefully. Surely Hero knew that they were nothing short of enemies, and any wrong move could send the crimefighter into a frenzy. Villain couldn’t risk them getting injured worse. Their history meant nothing now. Not until they fixed this. “Breathe for me okay? It’s just a bath, I’ve got to clean your wounds or they’re going to get infected.”

Once the words had sunk in, Hero settled a little. The crease in their brow had faded, though the frown didn’t leave their face. Eyes drifting down to the bath, beneath the suds, their voice shook, “You-”

“Your old clothes were in tatters. Unsalvageable.” Villain saw the way Hero tensed and was quick to reassure them, “I didn’t look- you were wrapped in a blanket up until the tub, I swear it.” They looked away, opting for the cloth they had brought along with them rather than gazing into Hero’s tired eyes.

Villain raised the cloth and Hero immediately flinched away. They remained still like that for a moment. Two gazes locked in a silent conversation. One carried fear and mistrust, while the other held a determination to heal even though they could never understand why. Villain spoke before they could think.

“I’ll be gentle. You can tell me to stop at any time, but I figured you wouldn’t want to be covered in grime forever.”

Their hand remained poised in the air while Hero met their gaze. There was something hidden within all the fear. Relief? Maybe.

Slowly, Hero nodded, scooting closer so the Villain could reach them.

While Villain wiped the blood from their wounds they were careful not to disturb any inch of the Hero’s skin. The two were caught in a deep silence, but despite everything it was comfortable. Dipping the rag into the suds of the bath, Villain came up to the Hero’s shoulders and brushed away layers of mud. Beneath the skin was pale, though not as light as it had been when they had first found the Hero. Then it had been nearly translucent, veins the same deep shade of the bruises that no soap could wash from the Hero’s skin.

With the upper half of their body clean, Villain handed off the rag to Hero. A glance passed between the two. Hero would tend to the rest of themselves while Villain fancied themself with another task.

Hero squeaked when they felt fingers along the back of their head and nearly jumped out of the tub altogether. It took Villain’s quick explanation to reassure them. “Your hair is matted,” they said. “If you leave it now, it’ll only get worse.”

They waited a moment, still. Then, in the smallest mumble.

“Okay.”

Despite their earlier shock, it was an effort not to sigh from the feeling of Villain’s hand in their hair. They were careful, gentle in ways they had never been during battle. Hero found their eyes fluttering shut, the soft pressure on their scalp a heavenly feeling. Villain worked diligently to undo every knot. They brushed through each tangle and plucked away stray leaves and mud. Hero was about to protest when Villain had stopped, before catching onto a sweet scent.

The fizzing sensation of shampoo overtook Hero, mind filling with the smell of citrus. They leaned back into Villain’s touch without thinking, humming softly in contentment.

“It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

Hero’s eyes fluttered open, “Hm?”

“Since you’ve been cared for- you’ve melted into every touch.”

That broke Hero from their stupor. They pulled away on instinct and a pink flush made its way across their cheeks. Villain however didn’t appear to care. In fact, they even looked a little disappointed to see the Hero shrink back. “I-” Hero stuttered, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize love.” Villain ran their nails along the Hero’s scalp, “You deserve to be cared for. When I found you-” they broke off. The soft smile on Villain’s face slipped away as their mind was filled with the picture of Hero. Bleeding. Shivering. Nearly dead along the river bank. Despite everything, Villain’s hands curled into fists.

“I’ll never let someone hurt you like that again.”

And again they fell into silence, Villain’s promise revealed and Hero left to contemplate the idea. The hushed pop of soap bubbles filled the space. Hero could feel the suds in their hair. It was nice, clean. Safe.

Deep breath in, Hero leaned back again. They felt Villain’s hand come to support the back of their head and their eyes slipped closed on instinct. Soon they felt the pressure return and with a whisper, they turned to their savior and offered a gentle smile.

“Thank you.”

#turtlewrites #hero x villain #villain x hero #whump aftermath #villain caretaker #hero whumpee #heroes and villains #heroxvillain prompt #prompts #writing prompts #hurt/comfort

950 notes · View notes

beenoeila · 2 months

Text

A list of underrated fics I adore.

▪️this don’t feel anything like sinking by

@dontcallmebree

A little over six weeks and his knee heals only for his breathing to act up. It may have been a handful of decades—coming up on a century, even—but he never did forget how it felt to wheeze through the night.

Steve sees it coming when Dr. Youssef tells him his lungs are taking a turn.

The year 2032 brings about the Summer Olympics, the coldest winter of the decade, and an end to Project Rebirth.

🔹 Learning to want by @luna-rainbow

Bucky is still trying to piece together his memories, but at least he now had Steve with him.

When Steve asks him if he wanted to meet with his sister, Becca, his response was, "I don't know about wants...I'll start with the shoulds."

Steve and Bucky goes for lunch with Becca. Steve and Bucky dealing with memory loss. Steve and Bucky being mutually pining idiots.

▪️better to speak or die by emilywithoutY (@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place)

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable.

But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

🔹The weapon remembers by pushdragon

The Winter Soldier finds old fantasies of Steve in his memory, and takes them for reality.

He's got two days to sort out all his mixed-up history, before he puts himself back in cryo freeze. Harder still, he's got to convince Steve to let him do it.

▪️Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter (@hipsterdiva)

Bucky takes his time, ignoring his comrades’ cheering and Gaiswinkler and Mariandl’s teasing. From his position, Steve only has an oblique view of Bucky’s face, which is mostly in the dark anyway – the strong line of his jaw, a smudge of grease on his cheekbone, a sweaty lock of hair curling on his forehead, his mouth pouting in concentration. Steve itches to draw him, to take out his battered sketchbook and reproduce that instant of perfect imperfection. Steve itches to touch him, push back his unruly curls, wipe away the smudge on his cheekbone, cup his face in his hands and…

Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye.

The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

🔹Till there were no more wolves in the West

by @dharmasharks

“I��m afraid of a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“But this thing sticking in my heart—the part of me that’s yours? It is the best part of me. Maybe the only good part.” His rueful smile wavers. He makes a pained expression.

“What if it’s the only good part?” he asks.

Two Brooklyn boys find themselves aboard an orphan train headed west in 1854. Across farmland, war, and the lawless frontier, a childhood promise helps them find each other again.

(A Western SteveBucky retelling.)

▪️Hiraeth by ixalit

Hiraeth

noun /ˈhɪraɨ̯θ/

[Welsh] A homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was.

🔹Undone by justanotherStonyfan

You’d think, given everything, that if one of them were going to regress, that if one of them were going to break down, it would be Bucky.

(Set mostly after Endgame - canon deaths remain but Steve doesn't leave)

▪️But You Can Hold Me (Only 'Cause It's a Cold Night in Brooklyn) by Voylitscope_speed (@voylitscope)

This should just be two friends getting off after the burlesque show. This should just be two pals both thinking about the girl. That would probably be okay, Bucky thinks.

But then he ruins it all when he says,

"Come here," and puts a hand out to tug on Steve's shoulder.

(Or: Sometimes, Bucky and Steve lend each other a hand, literally. Bucky tries not to be weird about it, but he's always been bad at controlling his thoughts about Steve.)

🔹Midlife Crisis by profoundalpacakitten

Steve isn’t expecting much of anything from life, he’s content to coast by, letting life flow past. Get up, get dressed, get to work, get home, get to sleep, rinse and repeat.

▪️ The Magic Touch by @broodybuck

The soldier is finally free but he has one big problem, he can't finish. Until he meets a man called Steve who apparently has the magic touch.

#stucky #stevebucky #fic recs #stucky fic

196 notes · View notes

room-surprise · 2 months

Text

Addendum to Dungeon Meshi Age Calculations, and Thistle's age estimate...

This is sort of a sequel to two posts of mine, How to Calculate Comparative Ages of DM Characters and How Old Is Thistle?

I've seen some people claim that the age scale between elves and tall-men where elves age 5 times slower than tall-men can't be used accurately for elves that are very young or very old. I've also seen people claim that the half-foot age modifier is wrong.

I'm not a mathematician, but so far I have not seen any actual evidence that the 5:1 scale doesn't work, and a good amount of proof that it does, and I think the confusion about half-foot aging is a translation issue.

Please keep in mind, information about Marcille's age does not apply to any of this, because [SPOILERS].

WHAT ABOUT VERY YOUNG ELVES?

Here's something we know about the babies from the different races, which comes from Ryoko Kui's blog:

1 year old elven, dwarven and gnomish babies can only lay on their backs. Tall-man and half-foot 1 year olds can both stand, though the tall-man is not as good at it as the half-foot.

This lines up with real-world development milestones, human children can usually stand on their own somewhere between 9 to 12 months. Half-foots age faster than tall-men, so it makes sense that the half-foot would look more balanced and steady while standing.

A 2 year old elven baby has just gained the ability to sit up, while the babies of other races are walking or running. Normal human babies can sit up with help at around 5 months.

2 divided by 5 equals 0.4, that's 40%, and 40% of one year equals 4.8666666 months. That's 5 months.

I think it's very likely Kui herself is using the 5:1 ratio in order to calculate her elven ages in order to get this very specific 5 month developmental milestone to line up this way. So we can confirm that any elf over the age of 2 years old should have an age that is calculable with the 5:1 ratio. I also think it's not crazy to assume Kui may be using the numbers I calculated in my age post to work out other character's ages as well, since she's clearly doing it for the elves.

LET'S TEST IT WITH HALF-FOOTS

Human children learn to run between 18 and 24 months, so around 2 years old, like the chart shows us. 2 years divided by the half-foot age ratio (1.1428571429) equals 175% because they grow faster than tall-men.

175% of 2 years is 1277.5 days... Which is 3.5 years. So a 2 year old half-foot has the maturity of a 3.5 years old human child. 3 years old is when human children are expected to run and jump easily, and climb stairs without help.

That sounds about right to me, since the half-foot child in the drawing looks like they can confidently run around without balance issues. One foot is off the ground, and their arms are pulled in closer to the body than the tall-man child's arms.

Meanwhile the tall-man child is more unsteady, both feet firmly planted, standing with their arms held out as far as they can go to help with balance.

DOESN'T 29=50 FOR HALF-FOOTS?

Kui says that Chilchuck would be about 50 if he were a modern day human (which he isn't, he's a medieval half-foot), and then she says that half-foots in the time of Dungeon Meshi only live to be about 50 years old on average.

I'm pretty sure she's telling us that if Chilchuck were a human in our world, he'd be past middle-aged, and then for contrast, she tells us that most half-foots in Chilchuck's world die by age 50. Not that Chilchuck's 29 years is equivalent to a 50 year old modern human.

Chilchuck is 29 years old, and he had his first child at age 13. The average age of death for half-foots is 50, then that means middle-aged for a half-foot is 25.

Chilchuck is 4 years older than that, which makes Chilchuck past middle-aged. It does not make him developmentally the same as a 50 year old modern human though.

Using the numbers I've worked out, a half-foot would be developmentally 50 years old when they're 44.

Kui says that although Chilchuck wants to retire from going into the dungeons, if he did, it would be premature... Just like it would be premature for a 33 year old to retire.

In the real world retirement ages are connected to the average age of death. As that number goes up, so does retirement age. Because modern humans live until around 72, as a global average, retirement age is somewhere in their 60s.

So since half-foots average lifespan is 50, a normal age for Chilchuck to retire would be in his 40s.

WHAT ABOUT OLD ELVES?

The average age of death for tall-men is 60, however we know that tall-men can live into their 80s because Marcille's father did.

The average age of death for elves is 400, but they can live up to 500 years.

There's no reason to think that DM tall-men aren't like real world humans, and can't live into their 100's if they are lucky and wealthy enough. Even in the real medieval period, some people lived into their early 100's.

The thing that makes average death ages low in real life is usually issues like high infant mortality, starvation, war, lack of medical care, and lack of sanitation.

In the real medieval period, the average age of death was 30 not because people dropped dead at 30, but because SO MANY children died young that it pulled down the average. In medieval times, if you managed to live to 25, you had an average of 23 more years of life ahead of you, which is 48 years old.

I think Kui raised the average death age to 60 for tall-men to account for the fact that even tall-men have access to more advanced medicine and healing magic in DM, so infant mortality isn't as high and the adults live more than a decade longer.

The elves naturally have a longer lifespan since they live 5 times slower than tall-men. However they also probably have a far more advanced society than any of the other races in Dungeon Meshi. Fleki calls the Eastern Continent a "primitive land", and it's mostly populated by dwarves, gnomes and tall-men.

If elven culture was developmentally the same as tall-man culture, I bet elves would only live to about 300, which would be 60 for them, maturity wise.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

80x5 is 400. That seems correct to me, a 400 year old elf would be considered elderly and getting close to the end of their life. An 80 year old tall-man would be considered VERY old, having lived past average expectations... But those expectations, as I said before, are based on poor living conditions, not biological certainty. 100x5 is 500, so the two maximum ages (100 and 500) also line up when you use the 5:1 ratio.

POSSIBLE MAXIMUM AGES FOR OTHER RACES

Using the same math, if gnomes and dwarves had the same culture as tall-men, they'd only live to be 150-ish instead of 240/200...

This is only a theory, but dwarvish and gnomish maximum possible ages should probably be around 250, if you multiply their age modifier (2.5) x100 like I did with the elves.

The current difference between their average age of death is probably attributable to lifestyle and cultural differences (gnomes use a lot more magic, and so they live longer).

Then, just to do the rest of the races:

Half-foots and orcs theoretical maximum age is 88. Ogres theoretical maximum age is 94. Kobold theoretical maximum age is 81.

Keep in mind, these numbers are based on the idea that "around 100 years old" is the oldest a human being can get. The oldest human to ever live survived until they were 122 years old... But obviously that is rare, and happened in the modern era.

Point is, there's wiggle room at the top end of the age limit, for some of the races that may be a matter of extra days or months, for others it could be an extra decade or two. But I'm using 100 for simplicity's sake.

Sorry for the long post! I hope this answers people's questions, and if I messed something up let me know!

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #theories #dungeon meshi and aging part 2 #chilchuck #chilchuck tims

262 notes · View notes

reythenerdypisces · 2 months

Text

things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 3: The Titan's Curse

The truth was I was kind of disappointed to hear that she liked her new school so much. It was the first time she'd gone to school in New York. I'd been hoping to see her more often.

I tried to concentrate on little things, like the crepe-paper streamers and the punch bowl - anything but that fact that Annabeth was taller than me, and my hands were sweaty and probably gross, and I kept stepping on her toes.

"The General?" I asked. Then I realised I'd said it in a French accent. "I mean... who's the General?" I want this part to be in the show

"Sweet! Let's go! [to CHB]" said Nico. this breaks my heart. he was so excited in this book

Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter (and he seriously loved peanut butter).

"How would you kidnap an immortal goddess? Is that even possible?" "Well, yeah. I mean, it happened to Persephone." "But she was like, the goddess of flowers." Grover looked offended. "Springtime." you tell him grover

"That's some serious danger you're facing." Connor Stoll said. (I liked how he said you and not we.) I'm just imagining the rest of the campers not bothering to go on quests cause it's always the same few demigods and they don't care, they're just chilling safe at CHB while Percy and Annabeth do their things

The creature looked at me sadly. "Moooo!" But I couldn't understand his thoughts. I only speak horse. Percy Jackson speaks two languages: English and Horse

With a shiver, I realised that five hundred or a thousand years from now, Bianca di Angelo would look exactly the same as she did today. She might be having a conversation like this with some other half blood long after I was dead but Bianca would still look twelve years old. ouch

"It wants to kill us!" Thalia said. "Of course." Grover said. "It's wild!" "So how is that a blessing?" Bianca asked.

"That's us," he said. "Those five nuts right there." "Which one is me?" I asked. "The little deformed one," Zoe suggested.

When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. I know everyone talks about this part but I can't help but bring it up again, they are so cute

"Woah, first of all, I never said anything about love. And second, what's up with tragic!" little does he know. also, Percy is so incredibly insightful in this book but he's also so jealous of Annabeth and Luke and so upset about the idea of her joining the hunters yet still can't figure out that he likes her

"Seven hundred feet tall," I said. "Built in the 1930s." "Five million cubic acres of water," Thalia said. Grover sighed. "Largest construction project in the United States." Zoe stared at us. "How do you know all that?" "Annabeth," I said. "She liked architecture." I cannot explain how much this little bit means to me.

The girl I'd just tried to slice in half yelped and dropped her Kleenex. "Oh my god." she shouted. "Do you always kill people when they blow their nose?" Rachel's here!!! I love her

Five minutes later, Zoe had me outfitted in a ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big, bright red sneakers, and a floppy rainbow hat. someone draw this and tag me. what an outfit

Suddenly it occurred to me: this had happened to her before. She had been cornered on Half-Blood Hill. She'd willingly given her life for her friends. But this time, she couldn't save us. How could I let that happen to her? he is the most empathetic, wholesome guy, I love Percy

"Can't this go any faster?" Thalia demanded. Zoe glared at her. "I cannot control traffic." You both sound like my mother." I said. "Shut up!" they said in unison. I kind of wish we got more Thalia and Zoe interactions... they would've made such a great enemies to lovers dynamic, if Zoe didn't die

"Get away from my daughter!" Dr Chase called down, and his machine gun burst to life, peppering the ground with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering. "Dad?" yelled Annabeth in disbelief.

Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about our strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within an hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.

"No," I said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me." "Why are you saying that?" she cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?" It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger." I said. might I remind you this boy is 13/14 and has the whole world on his shoulders (both literally at some point and figuratively)

I feel like these are just getting longer and longer but again, I will be back for part 4!

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #pjo disney+#the titans curse #rick riordan #perseus jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #rachel dare #thalia grace #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo

155 notes · View notes

hecateslore · 2 months

Text

💌

supervisor!simon

“Yeah that would be great!”

You hand him the keys, and with so much ease, the door opens. “There you are.” He steps out of the way for you to walk through. “Thanks.” you say quietly. Your house was dim, the only light was the small pink lamp your mom bought you as a housewarming gift.

“You can make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna change really quick.” You say and scurry to your bedroom. Ridding of the dress you wore. You couldn’t help but to frown at the beautiful fabric, what a waste it went.

Simon looked around the living room, he noticed the small little rose bottle left on the coffee table, small knick knacks sitting on top of the stack of magazines. We moved over to the wall with paintings and pictures. Some look like a toddler drew them.

Your house was so, you. It was kind of small. But it suits you. Simon smiled and the pictures of what he presumed to be you and family. He could hear you humming from down the hall. He looked around the room once more. Plants. Some on the dining table, some on the floor, he can even see the ones outside on your balcony.

He chose to sit on your couch. It was comfy, not better than his, but it was good. It smelled like you. Clean, like orchids and sweet.

“You look like a creep sitting in the dark.” you chuckle from the middle of the hallway. Simon smiles, not that you could see it, but he did.

“Couldn’t find the light switch.” He says, rubbing his hands over his thighs. The sight of you in your lounge wear. A t-shirt and some pajama pants. What was left of your makeup was gone. “Nice pajamas.” He laughs at the pink pants with clouds on them. “My mom bought me these, they were half off.” You note. “Stylish.” He assures you and you roll your eyes at him. Walking around the room, turning on the lights around your living area. “Want a drink?” you ask, walking towards your kitchen. “Uh sure.”

Simon liked this, how calm and in your element you were. He got up from his seat on the sofa and moved to the dinner table. “I only have canned beer.” you say holding up the very vibrant red cans. “That’ll do.”

“I drank my last little wine bottle,” you frown, placing the beers on the tile coasters. “I noticed the paintings and photos.” he smiles, “The drawings are my nieces,” you grin to yourself, “Do you want a glass?”

“Please.” Simon looks over at the paintings again. Nieces. He nods, “All of those?” he looks at you, “They’re good huh? She’s only three but they look better than any other three year olds.” You shrug, placing the glass before him. “That was my dads, don’t break it. It’s my favorite”

Simon’s eyes widened, “He’s not dead,” you laugh, “the glass has a lot of sentimental value.” You finally take a seat and crack open your can. “No glass?” he says while pouring the beer in. “I like to live on the edge.” you take a sip, “You’re a cool girl.” Simon winks, and you groan in response.

“I’ll die of alcohol poisoning right now.” You joke. Simon only laughs at you. “It’s been such a weird day.” You put your head down on the table. You lift it again and look at Simon, who was sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed, “On valentines day, I really had fun talking to you.” you admit, resting your chin in your palm. “And I’m having fun now.” You say taking a swig.

He hums and you quiet down, His glass was barely empty. He took light sips, letting you blabber on and on. “This was a waste of time wasn’t it?” you chuckle sadly, “Sorry I asked this, I mean you’re clearly uncomfortable.” You get up and start cleaning up, throwing your can and you reach for his glass.

“No it’s not that, I’m just not that much of a drinker.” he smiles apologetically, “This is fun, talking is fun.” he clarifies. “Oh.” you say dumping the beer down your drain, “Well I should’ve asked instead of forcing it down your throat.” You joke, trying to close the pit in your stomach.He pulls his phone out from his pocket and checks the time, “Maybe I should get going.” he sighs, “Yeah, it’s getting late.” You nod. “We could do this some other time, yes?”

“Uh sure.” You try to hide the awkwardness behind a grin. “I’ll see you monday?” He asks while getting up, “Yeah, yeah.” You say. You walk him to the door, your feet feeling heavy with shame, guilt, embarrassment, your buzz wearing off. “I’ll see you?” he says one more time, his large frame in the door frame. “You sure will!” he Smiles, and that dimple appears. “Bye.” he says tapping the door frame. “Bye, Simon.” You smile and wave.

You shut the door, Smile immediately fading. You overstepped, you overshared, and you brought him in! As if the date wasn’t enough, You made Simon feel uncomfortable.

You walk into your room, get into bed and stare at the ceiling. God, he looked so good tonight. He looked so good today. He always looks good. You wanted to text him, calling him tonight was bad. It was a reckless bad Idea, now work’s going to be awkward. All because you had a little too much to drink.

You pull the cover over your head and shut your eyes hoping to fall asleep, quickly.

Monday you come in early, like always. Johnny wasn’t at work yet, but Simon was. He was on his computer, his shoulder brace was on again. You wanted to walk up to his office, maybe say hey or ask if he wanted to grab breakfast, but Saturday's shenanigans stopped you before you could.

You hated how much he was making you stare. His brows were furrowed and he was so focused. The way he held his hand over his mouth while he clicked away. It was so pathetic how much you were staring, practically drooling after him. You were snapped out of your thoughts by Linda, who had a plastic bag full of sweet candy. “ I bought way too much over the weekend, My grandson's birthday party, and you know how much candy you have to buy for little kids.”

You said your Mhm’s watching Simon walk around his office, getting paper from his printer, and checking his bag. “And that’s when I was like I need to give some of this away.” Linda laughed, and you did too, it was fake of course and probably way over the top. When you looked at Linda she had a concerned look on her face, “do you want the candy or?”

“Yeah just leave it on my desk I’ll be right back.” You say quickly.

You enter his room tapping lightly on the wall next to you, he looks up from his computer screen. “Hello there.” He smiles softly, and you almost melt, “Hi.” you say back, “need something?” he asks, moving paperwork around. “Uh no, I just wanted to say hey, or hi, or whatever.” you stumble, “Hey or Hi, to you too. ” he chuckles and You grin at his casualness, “How was your Sunday?” You question, “Busy,” he lets out a breath, “It was pretty busy.” He finishes. “How was yours?” “Mine was good,” You clear your throat.

It wasn’t good, You were hungover all day. The red ,The yeast and the greasy diner food came up the second you woke up. Also you went to sleep sexually frustrated. Everytime you closed your eyes, you felt the light tap on your knee from Simon. Maybe this was your limbo.

“I felt a little crappy but, It was good.” You answer finally, “That’s good to hear.” he chuckles, “Uh oh.” He says a bit louder, you turn your head and see Johnny pass his door. You hear him cackle to himself, “You’re so annoying.” you playfully roll your eyes.

Which wasn’t true. You liked it all too much.

taglist: @darkravenqueen98 @shunoodles @lovely-giggles @imjustmes @definitelynotaclown @oreo-cream @whos-fran @Ilovehyperfixating @w00lgathering @idkbbyx3 @pieckyghost @mareiasereia

#supervisor!simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mw3

314 notes · View notes

razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

Note

Excuse me, I hope you have a good day! If your requests are open I would like to request Blitzo with an enemies to lovers trope kind of with perhaps the reader being a concubus (gn succubus) with Verosika's posse, and the two have a competitive streak with each other. They both are supposed to be enemies (because they are loyal to Veroskia) but they don't realize how hard they are falling until they accidentally save Blitzo/IMP one time... Which turns into them saving them other times all by mere "coincidence" but it's really because they started looking out for him crushing hard and wanting to keep him safe. Even if they feel like they can never admit it because of Verosika. Happy ending or not, Blitzy requesting! <3

ᯓ★ "Lust, not Love . . . Love, not Lust?" Biltzo / concubus! Reader | Drabble Warning! - not proof read (we die like Adam), implied sex, hate-make out but not really hate-make out scenes, light gore, name calling

ᯓ How the fuck did you even manage to get here? Being pushed onto Blitzo's desk was the dusk of the night was settling through the drawn window. On either side of you laid his hands, pinning you in place as though he thought you would make some cheap shot and move away; Which, you were half tempted to do. Yet, instead, you would wrap your legs around his waist and draw the Imp closer, harshly cupping his cheeks so he could shove his tongue further down your mouth. Fuck, it felt so nice! Your eyes would flutter as you felt Blitzo groan, his clawed hands reaching up to squeeze and kneed your thighs needlingly. "You're fucking gross," He would groan, not even being able to wait until you both broke for a quick puff of air, causing you to snicker into the heated kiss. "Oh, shut it, you know you like it!" You would bite back, reaching to tug on one of Blitzo's horns. You knew it would rile him up; Verosika talked all the time about how Blitzo was a slut for his horns to be pulled, tugged, played with. And was it a sweet sound that escaped his mouth, a flustered gasp for air paired with a growl, making him all worked up and pretty. The glare he gave you sent shivers down your spine.

ᯓ And shit you kind of needed him too. Even if logically you know you should be pushing him off, running far away from the Imp out of loyalty to Verosika, there was something that just made you stay. Something that tickled your stomach and your heart all at once, that drove you insane, that had you crawling back to the pathetic Imp, Verosika's ex, on all fours.

ᯓ Gladly you never publicly did that, only in your mind . . . sometimes. And yet you could never tell anyone what happened here, that night under the cover of the shadows and in the arms of an Imp. That would be a secret you had to keep to the grave; Even if he did give you the best time you've had in a while.

ᯓ But how the hell did you even end up in the Imp's arms in the first place?

ᯓ Well, it started when Verosika had moved her headquarters to the same building that I.M.P. was in; gaining the same floor, stealing their parking spot, and well just being a bitch. You had a hunch she did all this in spite of Blitzo, hating his guts so much that she wanted to torture him after they broke up. Which, before you met or saw him, made you think he was some sort of sexy Imp who could turn anyone's heads. Then you saw him and was, well, disappointed. Verosika was getting her panties into a twist over some short Imp who couldn't even stand up to her at first. He had to send one of his workers in before he even stepped foot into the studio! To you, he was a waste of time. A nobody who got a shot with a popstar and blew it for not being able to love properly, or something like that.

ᯓ So, you no attention to him at first; why should you? He was someone who, when the competition was a complete, would be a no body to you! Just another bad decision from Verosika you would have to hear about every so often just because you worked for her . . . and sometimes it made you question whether or not you should have accepted that job offer from her.

ᯓ Your interest for Blitzo first began at that very competition, or demon duel, which you had little interest in yet participated in because 1) it was good way to gain more magic and fulfill your hunger and 2) Verosika told you to. Persuading humans to fuck you, along with the others, was easy enough to do, even easier when it's a bunch of horny teenager son spring break; A simple look and or a flirty wink and you had them hook and sinker. Even if it left you feeling dirty by the end of being banged by 3 different people in a row, not being given a chance to properly breath as Verosika seemed oh-so-determined to win that bet. You were a concubus, sure, but fucking people you didn't know wasn't exactly your style; Which was always pointed out as weird, but you gained more power by fucking someone you knew or wanted . . . desperately.

ᯓ So all this was doing was both wearing you out and making you feel like a whore, which in turn made you feel like absolute shit! Can't exactly fucking people if you're feeling yourself or your body. Which led you to wondering away from the crowd, shoving past the tangled mess of naked or half-naked bodies attempting to fuck into each other, to get some air away from the scent of sweat and sea water and booze. "Fuck me. . ." The mumble left your lips as you trailed along the beach, dragging your aching legs. Wanting nothing more than to go home and shower, maybe take some pain killers and go to sleep, never brought you closer to relief. It only lead to you sitting on a barrel under the bridge that was over the beach. And, you know, you weren't trying to attract attention. You really weren't. Yet, it seems like everything you wanted never went your way anyways, "Oh, look! I knew I smelled something fishy." Blitzo's voice drawled out, his words instantly as sharp and thrashing as his tail behind him. And if you hadn't just been fucked by three guys, two at once, you would have probably gave him the anger he wanted out of your reaction. Yet you couldn't, "Oh fuck off, Blitzo! Go bash someone's brains in and jack off, I know it's your kink." You could already feel the way his eyes narrowed at you, the hostility basically seeping out of his pores to drown everyone around him. "Can't exactly fucking do that when you're stinking up the whole place! Shouldn't you go be getting your holes filled, Whore?"

ᯓ People often say that first impressions are always the most important, but you choose to say different. While they can be important to judge people off of, you've heard too much about Blitzo before you even got to know him! So, you never did get a proper first impression. Instead you got the pleasure to know how long his dick was before you even got to know his face! Thanks, Verosika. And yet, even if that did technically count as your first impression, or first meeting, with Blitzo it didn't change much about your impression on him. At least, not in that moment. He was still the dick bag cunt ex of your boss and you had no intention of sticking around and talking to him. So, as he turned to talk to some hellhound that was by his side, you snuck off and walked down the opposite side of the beach. No need to stick around if he already ended the conversation on a sour 'Whore'.

ᯓ You know, you never really understood the concept of 'love' before Blitzo. That was something you realized when you had woken up after your fuck session on his desk after that . . . strange dream of the first time you spoke to him. You would groan as you shrugged yourself to sit up, feeling a weight on your chest that caused your eyes to drift down and meet with an all too familar jacket, and yet no Blitzo. It caused you to blink once more, maybe again for good measure before you rubbed your eyes just to make sure they were squeaky clean before taking in the sight below you. Oh fuck. . . I just fucked my boss's ex. Was the thought that ran through your head, panicked and crazed, as you quickly glanced around frantically. You had to make sure no one saw you and that you could still wear your clothes!- Fuuck. What were you going to tell Verosika? Hey, I slept with your ex sorry about that, didn't mean it, it was hate fucking, you know how it is! No, you couldn't!- Ugh, shit. The fact that you had been abandoned on Blitzo's desk, with no Blitzo in sight, hadn't even crossed your mind. Even as you raised your hands, drawing his jacket up to your face to hide in, hoping that some freak accident would happen and just kill you.

ᯓ That would, sadly, be better than facing Verosika's wrath.

ᯓ Love! Such a crazy concept and you defiantly shouldn't know it or even feel it! You were a concubus, you were a demon made out of the pure essence of Lust and Craving; You got your magic by fucking people, your body, hip curves and plush thighs were made to be admired and fucked. You were like a sex toy, you were a sex toy to most, and yet. . . there was this weird feeling that had began to fester in your chest. A feeling that grew the more of Blitzo's scent wafted into your nose.

ᯓ Shit, when had this even started? Was it that day on the beach? You doubted it. You felt nothing but tire and ire from talking to Blitzo while trying to hide from your duties. Was it the days after? No, you never got much of a chance to dwell on the thought of him nor did you get much of a chance to talk to him. So when did it start? No, not when you had noticed it, you remembered that day well enough, especially since you almost died trying to save that Imp and his team. But, when had the feeling started to festered in your chest, implanting it's way into your heart and igniting itself in a way you've never felt before? In a way that had started to make you crave him in a way you never experienced? Should you talk to Ozzie about this, you were relatively good friends, yet . . . would he even understand? You doubted it; He dealt with Lust, not Love. Love; shit! No, no, you can't name it Love even . . . even when it felt so right.

ᯓ Rescue day was as clear in your mind as though it had happened yesterday; It was around the time you had been watching I.M.P. for a good month or so, just 'curious' about what they were doing, where they where going, who they were going to go kill, and who they were doing it for. It was all in pure curiosity, you had reassured everyone else in the office, and yet you think you had just been lying to yourself; Trying to shove down the prodding and poking feeling, shove it deep, deep down until it couldn't be felt anymore. But what kind of bitch who isn't a psychopathic maniac in love with the thrill of dying would go to such lengths you had to save I.M.P. from uncertain doom?

ᯓ "What the fuck? How did you even manage to do this shit, fucktard!" You would yell, your body flushed with the flesh of your human disguise which made it so much more uncomfortable to run. Though you still hand onto Blitzo's wrist as he used his free hand to shoot back, trying to kill anyone who was daring to follow the group. "What-" Moxxiewould mumble, quickly jumping over a trash can that had been thrown carelessly on the sidewalk. He stumbled before regaining his footing, "Aren't you like- working for Verosika?! Shouldn't you be helping them get us, not . . . saving us? Is this even saving us? We're just running!" Though his confusion would fall onto death ears as Blitzo shot another bullet out of his gun, watching as it pierced through an officer's head and gushed out brains and guts on those behind him. You would shutter as Blitzo yelled, "I don't know, maybe someone," He would cough, obviously fibbed, "MOXXIE!" Again that fibbed cough, "shot the wrong target! And then the human police were called and they're on our ass because we KILLED SOMEONE, GENIUS! How else did you think we got here?" "Oh, I don't know, I thought you may have tried to FUCK a police officer!" You quipped back, "Oh, sorry, you fucking can't because you're scared of sexual relationships, my bad. I forgot!" "Oh please, you can't fucking forget because I know Verosika shit talks me to you every day! DON'T BE FUCKING PLAYING THE INNOCENT CARE ON ME." Blitzo would shoot back, not noticing as Moxxie had tripped over his own foot and almost fell; Though thankfully Millie had been there to catch him, lifting him up into her own arms so they could keep pace with the others. Loona, who was tired of having to hear the gunshots and the bickering betewen Blitzo and you, snapped; "Can we stop hate flirting for a second and fucking get out of here before one of us get shot?!"

ᯓ "WE'RE NOT HATE FLIRTING."

ᯓ "Yeah, because it's so much more convincing when you both say it at the same FUCKING time." Sarcasm dripped out of Loona's tongue as she slung her bag over her shoulders, bringing it in front of her. She began to rustle around for something as you feel a sudden coldness in your hand; Blitzo had drew his own wrist away from your touch. Cold, that's all you felt; and it stung sharp and harsh. Pitiless.

ᯓ You really had to stick out your neck for someone like that? Someone who now left you up and dry on his desk after 'hate-fucking' you? Why would you ever fuck someone as pathetic as that, had desperate had you been? . . . Had you even been desperate? You couldn't remember feeling desperate, like you usually forced yourself to feel when you fuck someone for power, or a purpose other than the alternative which isn't important. It couldn't be important when you were clearly the only one who felt the same and Blitzo just wanted some- "Oh good, you're awake." The sound of the door opening and closing jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to scurry and cover yourself. "I thought I was about to have to drag your ass to sleep on my couch, and that would have been a whole 'nother fucking problem." Blitzo would mumble, coming up behind you. You felt him linger, you wondered if he wanted to do something yet was too scared to do so; Which, you guessed was true because he walked around the desk without doing anything and sat down on his chair, sat down in front of you. Which was weird. This was all weird, you didn't know how to react seeing Blitzo, who was dressed, sitting in front of you drinking his coffee like you weren't literally butt ass naked on his desk. "What?" Blitzo muttered, noticing your staring. You would simply point at him and then the desk, trying to formulate the words that didn't want to stick together: "Are . . . we going to fucking pretend that you didn't just fuck me on your desk last night?"

ᯓ "Do you want me to pretend like I didn't just fuck you on my desk last night?" The question lingered in the air, bringing with it silence. Your eyes were kept on Blitzo's before they faltered away, looking down at the ground. Did you want him to pretend that he wasn't grunting and groaning your name last night, that you hadn't been clawing at his back and screaming his?

ᯓ Was that really what you wanted?

Home | Masterlist tag list | @lily-ann-b

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

184 notes · View notes