#this was meant to be crack but he turned out too serious so i had to scribble over it to make it silly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myfictionaldreams · 6 months

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Day 19: Marking - Remus Lupin

Summary: Remus accidentally bites your neck too hard and leaves indents of his teeth, and now it's woken something within him, needing everyone to see the mark he's left on you.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, possessive, biting, thigh riding, keeping quiet, licking, sucking, marking, oral (f receiving), size kink/difference, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, creampie

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“Remus! You've left a mark on my fucking neck!” you huffed in frustration as you bared your neck further, trying to see the damage your boyfriend had left in your reflection in the cracked mission of the girl's bathroom. It was your favourite place to sneak away to have some alone time which, usually meant fucking against the stall as the bathroom on the third floor wasn’t in use due to the resident ghost, moaning Myrtle, who knew to travel elsewhere when you and Remus came to visit.

Your boyfriend was straightening his tie when he looked up at you, “Shit, did I?” To give him some credit, he sounded genuinely concerned as he came closer, turning your body to face him to inspect your neck. The tip of his index finger and thumb tilted your chin away gently, his forest green eyes dancing over the area of your neck that throbbed slightly. “Oh, I really did mark you up,” he acknowledged his warm breath that smelled faintly of your pussy drifting over your cheek, causing the area to warm in embarrassment. The pad of his thumb brushed over the indent of teeth marks, surrounded by irritated skin from where he’d bitten you during the heat of the moment.

“Does that hurt? When I touch it, does it hurt?” he asked, his voice softening with his gaze.

“No, it doesn't hurt, but everyone is going to see it. I can't exactly walk around wearing a scarf during class; it's the middle of summer”. Stepping away from him, you rubbed over the area of your neck that had begun to tickle under his delicate touch. Looking up into his bright eyes, you noticed they were still staring at the spot where your fingers were now caressing.

Even though he appeared to be in somewhat of a serious mood, especially as his hands hurt you, there was something more, and fear crept up your spine that maybe the area had begun to appear worse. Quickly turning back to the mirror, you inspected your neck but found it seemed the same.

Your eyes wandered back up to your boyfriend, asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Remus continued to gaze at your bite mark, his scarred hand lifting to stroke along your jaw. “I don't know”, he admitted, but the deepness of his voice had your eyelids fluttering. “I just like seeing my mark on you. It’ll remind everyone who owns you.” Even though his words were possessive, the smile that peaked on his lips proved he was jesting.

Stepping closer until your neck was aching from a different reason to the mark as you had to tilt back so far to see up into his taller face. “Is that you talking or the possessive wolf?” your smile matched Remus until he was chuckling under his breath as you shoved him against his chest, laughing just as hard. “Asshole, you don’t own me, I am a strong, independent woman”.

Remus dipped his head, laughter still dancing in his eyes, but his words were full of a different type of tease, “Are you sure about that? Weren’t you just saying ‘im yours’ as I fucked you?”

He knew instantly that he’d won when you looked away, body heating in embarrassment. “Not the point”, you huff, returning to looking at your neck in the mirror. “Still doesn’t mean I want to walk around with a giant bite mark on my neck; what am I supposed to do?”

Remus rifles through his school bag until he found the well-used tin he always kept with him as it held a green salve that eased any injuries he’d gain from the full moon. “Come here”, he gently asks, holding out his hand for you to take as he walks into the light a bit more so he can see better. With as much care as he could muster, Remus carefully applied a light layer over the bite mark. You tried not to focus on his fingers' pressure or the intense stare that further warmed your skin. Remus had you wrapped around his little finger, that was for sure, and he could tell by the humming of your pounding heartbeat that he felt as he pressed against your throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a knowing smile spread across Remus’ face, but thankfully, he began to stand up to his full height, declaring, “All done, you’re as good as new”. He kisses your cheek dramatically before letting go so that you can return to the mirror. The bite mark had healed entirely, and a light sheen from the salve remained.

“Thank you!” you say rejoiced and relieved. Grabbing his hand, you begin to pull him towards the exit, “Come on, the others’ class should be finished by now.

The remainder of the day was pleasantly ordinary. However, you could constantly feel Remus’ eyes on your neck, to the point that you were checking in any reflective surfaces to see if the mark had returned, but it hadn’t. You weren’t sure if it was the desire you saw in his eyes or sympathy as he tended to regret accidentally hurting you through the rough, intimate moments, even as you pleaded with him that you loved every second.

The first time the two of you were finally by yourselves was when it was time for bed. “Is everything okay? You keep looking at my neck and making me paranoid”.

You’re both squished together in his bed in the men’s dormitory, facing one another and whispering so that the others couldn’t hear; even though the curtains were drawn closed, you both had to keep the volume entirely as silencing spells weren’t as effective in the beds which were only discovered after a highly embarrassing night.

Remus lifts his head to rest on his fist, staring down at you, “I just keep thinking about that mark on you”. Lowering his face, he gently kisses over the area of your throat where your pulse throbbed the hardest.

Sighing gently into the touch, you reciprocated the delicateness by running your fingers through his soft hair. “I kept thinking about how much I liked seeing it on you”. Ever the tease, Remus shifted further over your body, turning you slightly onto your back to allow his thigh to push between yours.

“You…did?” between your legs where Remus’ thigh was pressing on began to warm as he tried to keep his voice hushed, which meant that it sounded even more, hoarser than usual, and each draw of his words sent tingles straight to your core. Remus knew you were becoming more aroused and knew his effect on you. Carefully and without any rush, he cupped both of your hands together from behind his head and pushed them up so they were now above yours on the pillow as he held them in one hand.

He nods in answer to your question as he continues kissing up and down your exposed neck, which you bared fully for him. “I just keep thinking about everyone else seeing it, knowing I gave it to you, that you’re mine, and they can’t have you”.

A smile graces your lips as you say with a hint of tease, “You’re very possessive. Has anyone ever told you that, Mr Lupin?”

He groans deep in his chest whilst being mindful of the volume as his open mouth moves up your chin until he’s hovering over your lips, his breath mixing with yours as he confidently states, “You love it”.

You’re arching to try and kiss him, but he keeps moving away. “I do”, you admit which was all he was waiting for before kissing you deeply, breathing heavily against your cheek as your lips move in synchronised passion. His fingers tightened around your hands, holding you down entirely as your body seemed to react of its own accord, hips rolling and lowering so that your naked pussy could rub against the toned muscle of his thighs. As you ground down harder, your clit was massaged and tweaked against his body.

The kiss was momentarily paused as he dipped his face next to yours so that his lips hovered next to your ear as he asked, “Because I’m such a nice boyfriend, I’ll ask this time. Do I have permission to bite and suck wherever I like?”

You knew that he had more salve left in his tin, so without even thinking about it, you pleaded, “You have permission to do anything you want to me”.

Remus didn’t rush; he’d suffer the consequences of being tired tomorrow, but decided it was worth seeing you all riled up. With every inch of self-restraint, your boyfriend's lips caressed back down your neck, so softly that it tickled and caused your whole body to shiver. Especially as he licked certain areas and blew cool air across them, goosebumps would peak over your skin at the action.

As he reached your collarbones, he teased further but this time with his teeth, nipping sharply before easing the pain with a simple kiss. Lower he moved whilst still holding your hands above your head, his thigh remaining stable between yours so that you could continue to get yourself off. You were breathing heavily, back arched to try and move closer as he hovered about your perked nipple.

Remus licked the very tip of your nipple first to see how you’d react, smiling to himself when you accidentally let an innocent moan out before quickly biting your lower lip to shut up so that the others in the room didn’t hear. Shifting his face so that his mouth was just about your nipple, his mouth lowered and sucked harshly, his chin rubbing against your nipple, adding extra stimulation. Again, he licked over the area that now lightly throbbed from where all the blood had gathered at the surface, knowing it would be tender tomorrow.

He did this to each breast, avoiding your nipples altogether, which only made you feel more desperately turned on, which was evident by the wetness soaking the hair over his thighs. He moved, journeying down your sternum and stomach, leaving a sprinkling of bites and hickeys. The most sensitive area - where he had to hold a hand over your mouth to stop your cries - was the inside of your hips, where he knew you were ticklish, but as he sucked and then bit the area, your thighs trembled as the sensation pulsed desire to your core.

If your hands were free from their restraints, you’d have pushed his face lower, especially as the awkward position meant his thigh had disappeared. Thankfully, Remus knew you were melting in the palm of his hand, so he lowered to where you wished. Keeping one hand still holding your wrists and the other over your mouth, Remus was able to lower his face between your legs, which you spread willingly.

A single kiss against your folds had your eyebrows knitting together and moaning so desperate to be released that for a second, you didn’t care if anyone heard you. Remus wanted to release his groan as his lips were now coated in your juices, and he hadn’t even delved deeper yet.

“Gotta keep quiet for me. Can you do that, Love?” Remus asks so that his breath brushes against your core. You nod your head, deciding to bite your tongue instead of your lip as his hands disappear from both your mouth and hands so that he can grip both of your thighs, pushing them back so that you are spread out wider for him.

With a lick to his lips to taste you fully, he contemplated just getting right into it, but instead, he began to bite and mark your thighs. If he wasn’t biting, he was licking or sucking until you were shaking and grabbing to hold onto his hands that were still holding you. You were thoroughly drenched and begging for him to touch any of your pussy, but you made sure to keep your mouth shut. Even though it was dark in the cramped space of his enclosed bed, Remus could see how much you were losing your mind.

Finally snapping his restraint for holding back, he released his hold on your body and began to crawl up it instead until he crowded around you, all long limbs covering you completely. It wasn’t often that you both fucked in his bed, especially with everyone else in the room, because it was nearly impossible to stay quiet, which is why you both sneak away during the day to shag in a bathroom stool. However, Remus couldn’t deny his best girl from being pleasured how she wanted, now when she was currently coated in his marks.

“Silenco”, Remus waved his wand that had been hidden beneath the pillow, causing the atmosphere to sound as if cotton was in your ears, but even with the spell, the bed would creak, and the gaps in the curtains would leak out noise, but it was better than nothing.

You were soaked enough that he didn’t need lube or even spit as he reached between your bodies to swipe his cock between your folds, parting them to gather as much fluids as he could over his impressively sized cock. As he positioned himself at your entrance, he kept one hand over your mouth and then muffled himself by dipping his head between your neck and pressing his lips against your skin.

Your jaw trembled with the desperation to open it and let out the more pathetic of moans as he slowly thrust in, taking his sweet time to allow you to adjust. Your hands settled over his back, careful of his sensitive scars, before digging your nails into the surrounding areas to pull him closer.

In the random areas across Hogwarts that he was able to pull you into supply cupboards or bathroom stalls, Remus fucked you relentlessly hard and fast until his pelvis was a blur. But, in the dormitory, on the rare occasions that you both did have sex, it was slow, with deep penetrations that filled you up to the very brim.

Every single drag of his cock had your eyes shut, with the overwhelming sensations dispersing through your nerves. It felt like he was touching every single part of you at the same time. Your walls fluttered around him as he moved deeper until the tip kissed your cervix, a sweet touch compared to his grip on your throat. It was almost like he was trying to hold you down like a dog in heat, and it did cross your mind to check whether the full moon was any time soon with how possessive he was being.

You’d cum twice by the time his thighs began to tremble, and he was no longer able to hold his tongue anymore.

“Look so good with my marks on your body, so fucking pretty and desperate for me. Gonna make you mine, so full up and covered in my bites”. His hand rested over your abdomen as he spoke, caressing the area over your womb. “You gonna take it? Like you’ve taken my marks?”

You nod, your hands over your mouth now as you knew it would have been a blubbering sob that would wake everyone in the room if they hadn’t already awakened from Remus's demands. With a powerful thrust that nearly shoved you entirely up the bed, Remus stilled, but you could feel the pulse of his shaft and the way he trembled as his hot seed soaked into your hole.

Thankfully, you were already on a potion for birth control; otherwise, Remus probably would have made his breeding wish come true. After a couple of seconds of catching his breath, sweat coating both of your bodies from the humidity in the enclosed bed space, Remus finally collapsed next to you, turning your body onto its side so he could spoon around you.

You were exhausted and falling asleep before you could nuzzle into the feeling of his lips kissing the marks over your shoulder and neck soothingly. Thankfully there was no noise from any of the other bunks in the room so you assumed everyone had not been woken by the fucking.

The following day, you wake bleary-eyed, and Remus is kissing underneath your ear from where he still lay wrapped around you from behind. Stretching your body and groaning at the sensation of your muscles and joints waking for the day, you giggled as he nipped your ear lobe, “Morning”.

His voice was always so low and husky when he first woke up, but it only made you want to lean into him further, finding his voice soothing and comforting. However, your stomach grumbled to life, alerting both of you to your hunger, which made him chuckle. “I’m hungry too”, he declares, moving further down the bed to open the curtain, shuffling through the clothes on the floor before handing yours over and closing the curtain. From the sounds of it, the other boys were beginning to wake up as Remus changed in the dormitory and you in the curtained-off bed, giving you some privacy from everyone else.

Your muscles ached from the night's activities, but you didn’t think much of it, and it was too dark to notice the darkened areas on your body, which you, too, had forgotten about. Shuffling awkwardly, you eased back the curtain with a sing-song voice shouting, “Morning boys! The sun is shining; what a beautiful day!”

Sirius’ bunk was opposite yours; his curtains were pulled back as he sat up in bed with a soft smile at your morning antics. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he did a double take, looking over your body with wide eyes before it slowly shifted to a deep-set smirk.

Whistling lowly, he glanced between you and Remus. “Merlin Moony, did you try and chew your girlfriend to death last night?”

Your entire body burned with embarrassment as you looked at your knees, which were bare as you’d dressed in a skirt, seeing the apparent marks on the sensitive inner flesh. “Shit!” you cursed before grabbing your neck, remembering how much Remus had enjoyed playing there last night and shouting, “Shit!” again before rushing to the bathroom, thankful no one else was there.

The mirror in the bathroom gave you the perfect view of the thoroughly marked column of your throat. How could you have forgotten? You were mortified, to say the least. Remus casually leans against the door frame, tying his school time as you hide your embarrassed face in your hands.

“I’m never leaving this room ever again, Sirius is going to tell everyone!”

Remus’ warm body slides up behind yours as he eases your hands away from your face, “I’ll tell him not to, don’t worry. Anyway, I told you I like people seeing these marks on you; it makes me want to do more”. He begins to kiss along your jaw, your body instantly melting into the embrace before you snap out of it and elbows into his gut, pushing him away.

“Stop being so possessive and go and get the salve, please”.

Remus playfully rolls his eyes and then leans in close, whispering into your ear, “I’ll get rid of the ones on your neck and knee, but the ones under the clothes are staying”.

He didn’t even give you time to answer before he walked off, and you were feeling warm under the skin for an entirely different reason now as you thought about walking around all day with all his marks over your body. Maybe you would keep a few, you decided, especially when you get to see him riled up like last night.

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin one shot #harry potter smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*#harry potter

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holylulusworld · 2 months

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A different kind of Valentine

Summary: Your fiancé breaks your heart on Valentine’s Day out of all days.

Pairing: former!(any male character) x fem!Reader, Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, break-up, mentions/implied cheating, making out with a stranger, language, drinking, tipsy reader, a little fluff

Promises shouldn’t be broken.

Promises are meant to be kept. Right?

Love should be strong and unbreakable. If you swear to someone that you love and adore them, you cannot take it back so easily.

How could your fiancé take the words he whispered lovingly not months ago back?

“I can’t do this anymore,” he replied coolly when you asked why his suitcases were standing in the hallways. You believed he must go on yet another business trip.

That he wants to leave you never crossed your mind.

How foolish of you to believe that he wants to stay and keep his promises.

Shell-shocked you watched him grab your hand to slide his grandmother’s ring off of your finger.

You couldn’t think, speak, or even whimper. All you saw was the man you loved turn his back on you.

He stuffed the ring into his pocket, murmuring someone else’s name under his breath. You knew the name. Once in a while, he mentioned his assistant.

Of course, he had to turn your breakup into a cliché. He had to bang his secretary and leave you for a younger model.

If not for the tears running down your face, and the heaviness in your heart, you’d laugh at the fucked-up situation. It felt like you ended up in a bad rom-com slash comedy movie. The only difference was people weren’t laughing at the bad joke your life turned into.

“You can’t be serious,” oh, you finally found your voice. “Why are you doing this? Did you get bored? Is it the wedding? We could’ve talked things out.”

“That’s not it.” He grunted in your direction.

“Is she prettier? Better in bed,” you got angrier and louder. “Does she like it up her ass? Is it that?” You threw the next best things at him, making a scene. “What is it? Huh? Is her cunt squeezing your tighter?”

“You’re just not it!” He bit back and threw his hands up in surrender. “Can you not do this right now? How about you don’t throw a tantrum? People break up all the time!”

“Five years and that’s all I get?” You yelled. “I deserve better than a lame excuse! I want to know what happened to us!”

“I love her because I don’t love you anymore!” He yelled back, making you flinch at his outburst. “It’s not only that the sex is better. She’s all I ever wanted in a woman. You got too comfortable and want to cuddle on the sofa instead of going out and blowing me off behind a bar.”

“What?” You huffed. “I was the one trying to drag you off the couch! You only ever went out with your buddies.” He ignored your tears, and that your voice cracked. “I guess this never mattered. You had to fulfill the cliché. So, go ahead. We will see if she can make you happy.”

You stormed toward the door, blindly grabbing your keys and phone. It was impossible to stand there, staring at the gifts you placed on the coffee table in the living room.

“If you are still here when I come back, I’ll stab you right in the face,” you looked over your shoulder at the man who used to be your moon and stars. “If you touch my shit, you are a dead man. I will find you and your whore and turn you into dog food.”

“Another one,” you slammed the glass down onto the bar counter. “Make it a double.” You placed fifty bucks onto the empty glass. “No, give me the bottle. I think I’ll drink it at home.”

“We don’t sell the bottle for you to take it home,” the bartender gruffly replied.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You glared at the burly guy. “I can drink the whole bottle at the bar, but I can’t pay for it and take it home?” Quirking a brow, you look at the man.

“House rules.”

“Fuck this,” you grabbed the fifty bucks and stuffed the money into your bra. “I’ll get more at the next liquor store. Fuck you, and all of you.”

“All of us?” The bartender asked with amusement.

Storming out of the bar you huffed again. “Fuck Valentine’s Day.” You muttered and walked away, almost running a guy over.

You glared at him and bared your teeth.

“Assholes with a ding-dong between their legs. You are all the same. Useless and worthless…”

“Hey, watch your step, doll,” the guy snickered when you threw your clutch at him. “Ouch, what do you think you are doing?” The man caught your clutch just in time.

“Fuck you too!” You poked two fingers into his chest. “You are no better than the bartender and my lovely fiancé. All of you are useless and have a limp dick. No man is worth my time.”

You snatched the clutch out of the man’s hands. “Language, lady,” he said, his voice now dangerously low. “If you don’t watch your tongue, someone might teach you some manners.”

“Oh, and you are that kind of man,” you slapped him across the face with your clutch. “Who do you think you are?” Usually, you wouldn’t attack a stranger in the dead of the night, but you were a little tipsy, and still mad because of the events of the day. “Threatening a woman.”

“Sweet cheeks,” he said while rubbing his face. It was still red from the slap, and he considered his next step. “I wouldn’t dare to raise my hand against you.” The man stepped closer to grab your clutch. “I said—” He grabbed you by your throat and slammed you against the wall, “I’ll teach you a lesson.”

“I’ll scream,” you began to race. Maybe you messed with the wrong guy. “Get off me.”

“Yeah, you will scream,” he smirked darkly and leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’ll make you scream my name, doll. So, what will it be? Do you want me to make you scream, or do you want me to make you whimper my name?”

“That’s not a choice!” You complained. “I have had enough of selfish men believing they can toy with me and my heart. I’ll cut yours out if you dare to touch me.”

“A cocky one,” he dropped his hand from your throat and pressed his hand against the wall, right next to your head. “Tell me, doll. Who hurt such a sweet girl?” He looked you up and down, hungrily roaming your body with his eyes.

“He—” You looked away and blinked a few times. “You’re not my therapist, and I’m not your problem.”

“You made it my problem when you attacked me because a douchebag hurt you. So, again. Who hurt you, doll?”

God, he smelled so good, and his lips tenderly pressed against your earlobe. You didn’t know what got into you, but you grasped for the stranger, taking him by supposed when you pressed your lips to his.

His hands grabbed your face, gently cradling it while he allowed you to dominate the kiss. “Doll,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re a little drunk, huh?”

“Make me forget about him,” you pleaded and fisted his jacket. “Here and now. Come on. Don’t be all talk.”

“I’d love to make you scream my name.” He pecked your lips twice. “I love me a crazy girl hitting me at first sight but, I won’t take advantage of you. You’re hurt, drunk, and a little lost. Let me take you home.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you gasped and stepped back. “I just kissed a stranger and asked him to fuck me. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, doll,” his features softened. “It’s alright. I’m a nice guy.” He smirked and laughed as you stepped back again. “My name is Bucky, okay. I’ll take you home if you want me to. Or I could call a cab for you.”

“Y/N,” you murmured your name, embarrassed about your actions. “Sorry. I didn’t want to attack you…or kiss you…or ask you to fuck me.”

“Y/N,” Bucky hummed. “A very nice name.” He said. “For an even nicer woman.” Holding out his hand Bucky waited for you to take it. “I won’t bite, promised.”

“Maybe I like it when you bite me,” you challenged him.

“Let’s stick to getting the alcohol out of your system,” Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you didn’t take his hand. “Doll, you shouldn’t stay here. We started on the wrong foot, but I’m not a bad guy.”

“What the shit!” You exclaimed loudly while you looked around your apartment. “That bastard had the guts to unpack the gifts I got him before leaving our home to bang that bitch.”

“Hmm…that him?” Bucky lifted one of your picture frames. “He looks like a douchebag. I was right.”

“Why did you come with me again?” You glanced over your shoulder at the stranger in your home. “I’m good. Really.”

“I won’t leave a pretty dame in need alone on Valentine’s Day,” Bucky said. “Not after that man left you for some other woman.”

“I’m fine,” you lied. “Just…mad.” You shrugged. “I had the whole day planned; you know. Dinner at our favorite restaurant, the perfect gift, and naughty underwear to…” You shook your head.

“His loss,” Bucky shrugged while looking at one of the gift bags on the table. “It should’ve been him making big plans for Valentine’s Day. If you love your lady, you spoil her.”

“He found someone prettier and sexier,” you sniffled. “He told me so. The man I loved fell in love with his secretary because he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Again, his loss,” he stepped closer to look inside the gift bag, taking the lingerie out. “Red lace, huh?”

“He liked red…” You snatched the underwear out of Bucky’s hands. “I wanted to turn him on. It’s been a while since he was interested in doing more than sleep in our bedroom.”

“I’d say white suits you more,” Bucky threw the lingerie over his shoulder. “How about you change into your favorite outfit, and I invite you for dinner. No strings attached, doll.”

“You want to take me out?” You questioned.

“Please let me take you out,” he stepped closer to grab your hand. “You deserve to spend this day with someone who cares.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yet,” he said. “Let me get to know you, please.”

You nodded and agreed to go out for dinner with Bucky. It was a risk, but one you were willing to take.

Valentine reloaded

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #mafia au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #A different kind of Valentine

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gojos-whatnow · 3 months

Text

『Make Your Dreams Come True』⇝♡

⭒Alt. title: normal call gone booty :000

⭒Synopsis: Gojo's flirting with you over the phone, as usual, when you suddenly ask him to come over...

⭒Warnings: NSFW, sexual content, subby satoru ml, reader and Gojo are both switchy tho, afab!reader, fingering, dick riding, not clearly stated that reader/gojo are virgins but you can imagine it, reader/gojo are best friends at the start, lots of the word "baby", implied fortnite (I'm probably missing stuff but oh well)

⭒Setting: Juju high Satoru but aged up ykyk cuz his sunglasses are so mmf

⭒Notes: first post but I'm considering making this a series HELP

You and Satoru happened to be playing games together, as usual when you weren't on missions or doing schoolwork. You adjusted your headphones slightly, feeling the growing head discomfort from wearing them too long. It was worth it for Satoru, however, since he never ceased to make you laugh.

"Why would you run so far off, dude, you're gonna get sniped," you sighed, seeing how far away he was on the map.

"Pfft, I'll be fine, worry about yourself, you're one-tap."

"Maybe if my teammate decided to come help me I wouldn't be."

"You're jus' sayin' that cause you miss me."

This was the usual back-and-forth until one of you got ambushed or something. The normal flirting from Satoru while you shrugged it off with a chuckle. Though, you'd been playing for hours now, and tiredness was creeping into your skull, knocking down the filters of brain and speech one by one.

"Yeah, miss you a lot," you murmured, meaning to sound teasing. It came out all too genuine. "Wish you would come save me, Satoru."

You listened to the clacking of his keyboard, faint over your headphones. Satoru's silence made it all too easy to hear the lull in his playing, the quick pause and pickup. You looked at the map, knowing exactly what it meant. Sure enough, his ping was high-tailing it towards yours. You chuckled to yourself, feeling warmth in your chest. What a hero.

"Something funny?"

"No, no, you're just down bad for me is all," you spoke slyly.

"As if I try to hide it."

"Y'know, I reread our chats when I want an ego boost."

"You serious?" He snickered.

"Yeah. All the times you've called me gorgeous and told me I had a nice ass..."

"Wait, waitwaitwait-"

You heard the clacking of his keyboard stop entirely. Pausing, you realized and looked at your phone, tapping into your messenger. His typing bubble was up, as expected. You continued walking towards him in the game as you waited for his message to come up.

"Ok, there."

You turned to your phone and deadpanned.

S͟a͟t͟o͟r͟u͟u͟u͟u͟u͟ ͟🥺͟️͟🥺͟️͟:͟

Beautiful tits

And rack

You shook your head and hastily typed back 'nice cock' before picking up where you were. You heard his phone go off, a few seconds go by, then his seductive voice spoke to you again.

"Wanna see it, baby?"

"Bet."

He breathed out a laugh and you continued playing, occasionally speaking your mind a bit too much from grogginess. The sleep deprivation had started to show in your voice, though.

"You tired or something? Need a sleebge?"

"Yuh, I'm eepy," you yawned, rubbing one of your eyes. "But let's just finish this match."

"We're gonna lose if you're nodding off while you're getting cracked. Might as well quit while we're ahead."

"Ugh, that phrase. You sound like, fuckin', me." You cringed at your own phrasing, letting out another yawn.

"I wish I was fuckin' you."

After the moment it took your mind to register the words, you felt a response roll off of your tongue faster than you knew it was even there.

"Then come over."

You heard the usual chuckle that you and Satoru would share after something like that snake through your headphones. When you didn't join in, there was a pause.

"Are you... serious?"

A moment. A single moment was all it took in your tired mind to commit to this idea of yours.

"Did it sound like a joke, Satoru?"

You could hear his speechlessness, you could tell he was floundering like a fish right now, his keyboard, his screen, the whole match left completely forgotten. Once you'd had enough of the silence, you spoke to him again.

"I'm absolutely for real right now. Door's unlocked...

Lemme make your dreams come true."

"Ffffffuck."

You watched on your screen as a popup appeared. "THE_honored1 has disconnected." With a smile, you left the call, pulled off your headphones to let your ears breathe. You had just finished standing and stretching when there was a soft knock on your door. So uncharacteristic of Satoru.

You quickly checked your clothes and hair, just to make sure you didn't look like an absolute slob who had been in their gaming chair all day. Oh well, Satoru probably wasn't too far off from that himself.

You opened the door, only to find your friend was completely quiet, barely able to meet your eyes, though it seemed like he couldn't look away from them either. With a friendly smile, you stepped out of the way and motioned for him to enter. He stepped past you, hands in his pockets. You closed and locked the door behind him, then turned around just in time to feel an arm wrap around the small of your back and a hand gently grab your chin.

"I need to know..." He paused, taking a breath. He was basically panting, hot breath ghosting over you with each exhale. "I need to know right now... if you really meant it."

"Every word."

"You still do?"

"Of course."

At that, the hand under your chin pulled your face to his and his lips crashed into yours. You could feel him trembling as your arms wrapped over his shoulders, and you could feel his heart racing, beating right out of every artery in his body.

He felt sparks, fireworks, the whole nine yards, as he kissed you. His whole body seemed to stall like an old car as soon as his lips touched yours. His brain turned to mush- no, melted. Reduced to a boiling soup in his skull. Because finally, finally he was kissing you.

'Girl of my dreams' wasn't how he would describe you, but he'd dreamed of you. He'd literally seen you in his slumbering mind, and wished he could do more than just the occasional flirting and borderline sexting. Satoru had been fantasizing about you for years, it felt like, ever since you'd reached that casual first-name basis. He wanted to know what it would really be like. If those fantasies could be recreated.

And when you kissed back, waking him from the sloshing pool his mind had become, he tugged you close, bodies flush. He felt your breasts squish against his chest, one of your hands cupping the side of his head just under his ear, and God did it make him lightheaded as all the blood in his slovenly brain ran south. He could feel his voice in the back of his throat, threatening to let out a moan with every exhale. He struggled to hold it back, not wanting to embarrass himself in front of you by acting like an animal in heat just from your kiss and your touch.

You couldn't say you weren't feeling anything yourself, though. You were sure that, without your bra, Satoru easily could've felt how your nipples were hardening, and your breath shook as one of his hands left your chin and sensually trailed down your side and up under your shirt. But, of course, these feelings weren't nearly as turbulent as Gojo's excitement and arousal, which were only hightened when your tongue slipped between his lips.

You softly leaned into him, tapping his leg with your foot to signal for him to move back. As you continued kissing him, you led him back to your bed, shoving him down to sit on the edge of it and finally letting your lips leave his. As you caught your breath, you crawled up onto him, straddling his lap. He looked up at you with eyes that screamed how bad he wanted you, panting heavily but still wanting more. Then, he chuckled.

"This isn't at all how I expected."

"Hmn?" You beckoned for him to explain, draping your arms over his shoulders and carding one hand into the hair at the base of his neck.

"It's all so backwards from how I pictured it. I always thought I would be the one to invite you over, run the show... be the one in charge, but fuck, I'm such a loser," he sighed out, trailing his hands over your waist and stomach under your shirt. To help him, you pulled it over your head and off, giving him better access and a nicer view.

"A loser? What, for having a girl on top of you?" You purred, trailing kisses along his cheek and jaw. "Please, there's at least a billion guys who'd sell their soul for that."

His voice and breathing trembled as he tilted his head to the side for you. "No, I mean... how I barely had the balls to even come over... Let alone ask you to."

"Trust me, baby, you can do anything if you're tired enough. Or if you're Satoru Gojo," you whispered, nibbling lightly on his ear. A shudder ran down his spine at that, and he felt like he could cum right then and there.

"Fuck... Keep talking like that and I won't last for shit."

"Yeah? And how do you think I feel when I'm touching myself to your messages, hmn?"

He let out a soft gasp as you ground your hips against his. His hands ran to your hips, gripping them and guiding them as they rolled.

"Saying I could last three minutes would be a generous estimate."

"God, you do that too?" He asked, voice coming out whiney. You let out a seductive chuckle that burned through his loins.

"Of course I do. Ego boost, remember?"

"You like when I call you gorgeous?" He sighed, feeling you throb against his crotch.

"Don't dislike it," you admitted. "You're pretty damn gorgeous yourself, though. Pretty boy Satoru."

He felt his rock solid cock twitch in his pants at your words, once again. He was doomed. His molten mind knew that, even as he helped you take his shirt off. And then your hands trailed down his chest and stomach, making him even dizzier.

"Don't think... I can take much more of this..." He admitted as your soft lips kissed down his shoulder. He could feel you smile against his skin.

"Hehe, awwwe, you close Satoru?" You giggled and gave a few harsh rolls of your hips, sending hot pleasure coursing through his lower half. He gasped, hands gripping you tightly.

"Fuck, fuck, Y/n, don't do that."

"Okay, baby, I think you've waited long a enough. Just how long, I wonder?"

It felt like his whole life. An eternity he'd waited for this, for the chance to watch you unbuckle his belt and tug his pants down and off of him, followed by you doing the same with your leggings. You crawled back on top of him, hovering over his thighs and holding his shoulder with one hand to steady yourself. Meanwhile, your other hand found its way into his boxers, and you could hear his breath hitch as your fingers wrapped around his length and slowly started stroking up and down.

"Y-you don't have to do that," he breathed out, a hand gripping your wrist. "Trust me, I'm as hard as I could get."

"Well, I should hope so. You're bigger than even I expected," you chuckled, stilling your hand and pulling it away.

He sighed softly and looked up at you through his pretty lashes with a smug look. "And what about you? Think you could take it? Think you're even ready to?"

You felt yourself clench on nothing at his words, feeling how intense his eyes were on yours. With a smile, you grabbed his hand and placed it at the waistband of your panties.

"Why don't you find out?"

His smile left his face, mouth opening as he took a breath. His eyes left yours to look at where his hand was, and his mind stalled only a moment before his fingers dipped under the fabric of your underwear and softly tugged them down.

He left them about halfway down your thighs and reached up to cup your sex. He drug a finger through your folds, feeling how wet you were and suddenly wanting nothing more than to see how much pleasure he could bring you.

He continued pulling his finger forward until he found your clit, stopping to rub gentle circles against it. He heard a soft noise fall from your lips and watched your hips just barely twitch. God, did he want to turn you into a mess.

He looked up at you and your heated expression. "Can I...?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," you spoke, sounding the least composed he'd heard you all night. Carefully, he slipped one of his fingers between your folds, stopping at a shallow depth and curling his finger to tease you.

"You want it all the way in?" He asked with a smirk on his face and a playful lilt to his voice. You bit your lip, lidding your eyes at him, and wrapped your hand back around his cock.

You watched his whole teasing nature melt away as his cock twitched in your hand, begging for friction. Silently surrendering, he pressed his finger deeper until your cunt reached the base of his finger. He felt around your insides, watching you squirm slightly.

"'S that feel alright?"

"Yeah, you're all good."

At that, he curled his finger forward finding your g spot and feeling your walls clench around him. He added another finger and prodded against that spot. Your hips rolled against his hand as a soft moan was pulled from your lungs. The moment he heard your voice make such a heavenly sound, he was hooked. He couldn't help but move his fingers faster, try to reach deeper, and softly rub his thumb against your clit.

"Satoru," you called, somewhere between a moan and a fond chuckle. You reached a hand up to cover your mouth, only for it to be stolen away and replaced by a greedy pair of lips, drinking in every soft moan you gave. It didn't take long from there to feel a coil tightening in your abdomen, and as you pulled away from Satoru's lips for air, you leaned into him, pressing your chest to his and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Y-you really want- hah- want me to cum now?" You asked making sure he was actually alright with that fact and not just lost without a thought.

"Fuck yes, baby. And I'll make it happen again when I'm inside you, mark my fuckin' words."

Hearing this, you felt your orgasm crash into you, making you stuff your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your sob. After all, two of your walls were shared with Shoko and Utahime, and you'd prefer that neither knew what was happening (particularly Utahime).

Once your orgasm had ended and you were catching your breath, you felt Satoru pull his fingers from his cunt, letting the cool air of the room touch your slick and make it embarrassingly obvious how wet you were. You pulled away from his shoulder and looked at him, finding he had two fingers in his mouth and a dreamy look in his eyes.

You tasted absolutely delicious. If he wasn't so painfully hard and losing patience, he'd have started eating you out right then and there, not stopping until you were barely lucid. God, how gorgeous you would look like that. But it'd have to wait for next time, and he'd make sure there was a next time.

"Need a break?" He asked softly, though it would pain him to hear you say yes.

"No, no, not after you've been waiting so nicely," you murmured, kissing across Satoru's face. As you did so, you took a hand off his shoulder and used it to tug your underwear all the way off. Once he realized what you were doing, he shifted around to tug his boxers down his own legs, leaving him completely bare under you. There was only one thing keeping you from being just the same.

"You gonna keep this on the whole time?" He asked slyly as he tugged at your bra strap.

"You want it off?"

"Wanna watch 'em bounce." He turned his eyes to yours, pausing your kissing. "You wanna keep it on?"

"Well, it's..." suddenly you looked the most flustered he'd seen you. Ever. Even when he was knuckles deep in your cunt, you'd kept some sort of stoic persona. But now, suddenly, even through the dark he could tell your face was red. "It's embarrassing..."

"Why's that?" He cooed, pulling you close so he could kiss along your shoulder.

"Whaddya mean, 'why-"

"I mean, it shouldn't be embarrassing around me. I worship you. It hasn't changed yet, why now?"

You thought through his words for a second, then sighed and grabbed both of his wrists, pulling them to your shoulder blades.

"...go ahead."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's like you said. Why not?"

He gave you a soft look and pressed an even softer kiss to your lips as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. He unhooked it and carefully pulled it off of you, leaving you completely bare and with an urge to cover yourself as you felt your nipples harden even further with the cool air.

"'S okay, yeah?" He asked reassuringly, dropping his hands to your waist. When you nodded, he leaned forward and trailed kisses along your chest and both of your mounds. Your breath shook as you watched him and how his eyes would occasionally meet yours, making sure you knew how much he loved you and your body. After a bit more kissing, and some hickey-leving and groping, his lips lifted to meet yours, and his hands returned to his waist.

"You ready yet?" You sighed out, pulling your mouth from his.

"I've been ready for an hour, baby," he laughed, his enthusiasm returning.

"You sure?" You cooed playfully.

With a frustrated look on his face, you felt Satoru tug your hips down, pressing his cock against your folds. You bit your lip, feeling yourself throb and softly grind against him. He loosened his grip and you took that moment to lift yourself up enough for you to grab his length and line it up with your entrance.

You both exchanged a glance before he helped you ease down onto his cock, blissful sighs leaving both your throats. You felt Satoru whisper out his thousandth curse of the night and bury his face into the crook of your neck, letting out shaky whimpers as you continued to ease down.

"D-don't worry about- hah- t-taking it all..." he reassured, no longer helping you down - letting you go at your own pace.

"I can fit it," you murmur, continuing your careful decent down onto him.

"God, you're so hot inside. F-feels like I'm melting... All cause of me..."

You meant to chuckle, but it came out as more of a near-silent whimper as you sat down fully, feeling the tip of his cock kiss depths inside you that had never been reached before.

"You really did fit it all," he sighed out, an obvious smile on his face even though you couldn't see it. "You're a fucking angel."

He ran his tongue over several of the hickies he'd left along your neck and shoulder, all easy to hide, as per your request. You rested where you were, trying to get used to his length being the full way inside you.

"You alright?" He leaned back slightly, pulling your chin so you face him. "You're so quiet. You short-circuitting?"

You wiggled your hips and smiled at him, watching his lashes twitch as his eyes threatened to roll back at just that. "I could ask you the same thing," you purred between soft breaths. He leaned forward and rested his chin on your shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist in a way that was hug-like. One of his hands reached down under one of your thighs and attempted to lift you up, but you stayed put, clenching your walls around him and hearing him let out a shaky breath.

"Can't wait, baby," he whimpered softly. "Can't wait. Please move."

Indulging his sweet, pathetic pleads, you lifted yourself up slowly and sat back down, the feeling of his tip ramming into a certain spot inside you making you clamp down on him once more. His arms tightened around you. "Shit," he let out a sobbing whisper.

"You're so shy right now, Satoru," you cooed, trying embarrassingly hard to keep your voice from cracking. "What happened to all the talk you give me over our calls?" With that, you slid yourself back up and down. The resulting sound that graced your ears was glorious. Right next to your ear, you heard the great Satoru Gojo squeak. So vulnerable.

You picked up these movements at a slow and steady pace, not wanting to overwhelm Satoru, but make him feel amazing. And amazing he felt, dizzy and with his soup-mind more than numb. His soft grunts told you that much.

Everytime his tip prodded against a sweet spot inside you, you wanted to slam yourself down onto him and feel it again, but you knew Satoru wouldn't last if you went too rough. Right now, his arms around your waist pulling you up and down told you what pace he wanted as he steadily pulled you faster. You slipped a hand up his neck and into his hair, tugging softly to hear more of his voice. As the speed mixed with pleasure started making it impossible to keep quiet, you pressed your mouth to the top of his head.

It was clear he knew he was hitting a good spot, as he kept angling his hips to reach that spot with every bounce. One of his hands reached down to rub at your clit and, in your mind, there was the thought that you might actually cum first.

"Fuuuck, I'm close," he whined out, and you could feel his hips twitching up in an attempt to meet your bounces. Between your moans, you whimpered out a "me too."

He started tugging your hips up and down faster, and his hips struggled to meet yours to ram into the very back of your cunt. You yelped the first time his tip slammed into that sweet spot, and hid your face in the side of his head, recalling your wall-mates.

It took barely 30 seconds for your orgasm to wash over you. At the last moment, Satoru grabbed your face and shoved his tongue down your throat, lapping up your orgasmic mewls and keeping you somewhat quiet. Your cunt squeezed his cock tight, and one more thrust did it for him, sending his eyes up and back into his skull as he saw white. Without a thought of hesitation, he pumped your insides full of his cum, orgasming harder than he'd ever felt in his life, and it only felt better at the thought of making you all his.

His lips still stuck to yours as you both attempted to catch your breath. He pulled away for a moment to look into your eyes, only to lean back in and give you a real kiss, making you whimper.

"I fucking love you, Y/n," he sighed out as he pulled away, looking back into your eyes with a gaze so genuine, it made you freeze. "This... this is a terrible way to ask, probably top 5 worst ways, but... will you be my girlfriend?"

You sighed out a laugh and pulled his lips back to yours, kissing him with a completely different intention now. "How could I say no to you, honey? Heh, and you called yourself a loser," you shook your head. "Would a loser be in this situation?"

He rolled his eyes at you and pecked you on the lips. You gave him a soft smile, but yelped as you felt him swing you around, tossing your back down onto the bed. Your mind caught up just in time to see him on top of you with a dopey smile on his face.

"So, Sweetheart, you wanna go again?"

BONUS: The Morning After

After spending the morning making sure that your legs still worked, your hickies were covered, and that no one was around to see Satoru leave your room, you met with your classmates as if it were any normal morning. It seemed like one too, as you greeted everyone, including Satoru. He'd waited for you to text him that everyone had already left, so he was the last one out.

"Morning, Sleepyhead," you waved.

"If I had known you would be so late, I would've came and woken you up myself," Geto sighed. You quietly thanked God that Geto didn't attempt to do that.

"Hey you guys," Shoko waved. You felt nervousness in your chest at how amused she seemed.

"Did you have fun last night?"

Your stomach dropped, and you slowly turned to Shoko, finding a smug look on her face. Geto look confused, but knew something was up when he saw the terrified stares of you and Satoru.

"What happened?"

"Nothing important," Satoru waved his hand dismissively with a sigh, but his face was red too.

"I'll tell ya later, " Shoko leaned over and whispered to Geto.

"What're you idiots making such a big deal about?" Utahime asked, looking at you and Satoru's expressions.

"Hey, Utahime, you didn't happen to hear any weird noises last night, didya?" Shoko asked, leaning around you to look at her.

"I did, actually. Around 11, I think. Why?"

"Nothing, just making sure I wasn't hallucinating or something," she brushed it off, continuing to smirk at you and Satoru. At that Utahime left with a suspicious look.

Geto suddenly put the pieces together, eyes widening. "Wait. You two..."

Shoko nodded with a knowing 'mhm'.

With a look over his shoulder to make sure that Utahime was really gone and Mei Mei wasn't looking, Satoru reached over and tugged your collar to the side, displaying a blue hickey. You slapped his hand away, looking at him with a beat red face.

"Satoru!" You gasped.

"Oh, we're dating, by the way." He spoke coolly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Took you long enough," Geto rolled his eyes.

"I told you, man, I had a plan this whole time."

"Last I checked, that wasn't at all the plan."

"Well, I had to make some... situational changes."

You, Geto, and Shoko all deadpanned at his bullshittery.

"Okay, look, the point is that it worked out."

"I guess I can confirm that," you sighed.

"Is he any good?" Shoko asked, nonchalantly. "Eh, why bother asking? I could hear the answer to that last night."

"Shut up!!"

569 notes · View notes

badgerbl00d · 3 months

Text

one piece boys rescuing you pt. 2

☆ characters: sanji, kidd

☆ up next: waking up with the one piece boys

☆ summary: you end up in an awful situation where your life is put in serious danger. will they be able to save you in time?

☆ content: physical violence, slight SA implications, gory imagery (blood, wounds, injuries, etc.), mutual pining, angsty, happy ending, mdni

☆ a/n: i am the proud leader of the scottish!kidd agenda and like to imagine him using scottish slang and having a thick accent so this required some extensive research into scottish swear words lol. chebs (tits) is my favorite. enjoy!

part 1

Sanji:

Zoro nodded, wordlessly, resting against the doorframe.

“Careful you don’t catch her in the crossfire.”

Sanji said nothing. He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him.

For the first time in his life Zoro’s presence brought him a degree of comfort. He knew he could handle whatever awaited him by himself, but he would be a fool to deny that the swordsman was further guaranteeing your safe return home.

He descended a small set of stairs into a dark, damp basement. The walls were lined with a sickly yellow mold and the smell of rot had sunken into the cracks of concrete, filling the room with the thick, metallic smell of drying blood.

His stomach churned knowing that you were somewhere here.

A door lay slightly ajar at the end of the hallway, pale yellow light pouring out from it.

He approached the door, pushing it open with his free hand.

Merde.

He was greeting with a sight that made his head spin in a way it never had before. He steeled himself, biting back the urge to vomit at the sight of what they had done to you.

Five or six men, whose faces he didn’t care to look at, stood around the room surrounding you.

The outer corners of the dirty cloth that had been wound around your mouth as a gag were soaked through with blood. Sanji felt heat climbing up his throat and settling into the space behind his eyes translating itself from mere anger to blind fury.

Your hands were bound too tightly behind your back leaving your elbows bending at unnatural angles and your shoulders jutted forward as though they were being torn out from your skin.

He began to undo his tie, watching from the corner of his eye as one of the men- the apparent leader- began loading his gun. His breath was shaky and uneven, the inhales and exhales never dealing with an equal amount of air.

He never took his eyes from you as you doubled over and took small gasps of air. In the midst of his disbelief he made a mental note of each injury you seemed to have. Broken wrists, dislocated shoulders, broken ribs, cuts and bruises covering most of you- the most upsetting of which were the purpling fingerprints around your neck.

He would return every injury done to you tenfold. As he took another inhale from his cigarette he realized that you were losing blood from another wound to your side.

The few-days-old injury to his left eye, bloodied and mushed, the broken finger on the hand wrapped around his gun, the dried trickle of blood pouring out of his left ear.

Atta girl. He knew you wouldn’t have gone down with a fight. Sanji took a moment to glance at the others in the room, all bearing similar injuries, and couldn’t help the smirk that settled onto his face.

One of them said something, perhaps a snarky remark meant to question his confidence, or an insult meant to diminish it. He wasn’t sure. Nothing other than you was registering in his blurring mind.

It was the sound of a faint drip, drip, drip that sealed their fate.

As Sanji turned to see your tears hitting the floor his vision blacked.

He felt the unfamiliar feeling of hot blood covering his hands- the very ones he’d sworn to never use in battle.

The feeling of flesh tearing beneath his fingernails, his fingers grabbing whatever mass they could get their hands on and tearing.

You turned your head toward the floor, trying to block out the sounds of gore and violence that echoing within the four damp walls that had held you prisoner for the past two days- not because it scared you, no. But because you did not want to face the pure satisfaction that the scene unfolding before you brought. It was too much to watch someone else carry out the revenge that was rightfully yours.

You laid your forehead against the cold floor, sweat dripping from your forehead. God, you were exhausted. You let your body hand limp, allowing yourself to rest as best you could now that Sanji was here.

You weren’t positive- the old digital clock that was on the desk in the corner seemed to not work properly- but by the time Sanji finally stopped, bending down to wipe the blood off of his hands onto the shirt of one of the men, you guessed that thirty six-ish minutes had passed.

You held still as Sanji undid the restraints against your hands, letting yourself fully fall onto the floor.

You sighed, savoring how good it felt to feel the cold, wet cement pressing against your shaking body. The floor, which for days you had been dangled over, teased with, now welcoming you onto it.

A warm, sticky hand under your chin broke the pleasure. Sanji tilted your chin slightly upward to look at him.

“Mon coeur,” he said, voice shaking.

“Sanj’,” you responded, closing your eyes and resting your head into his palm.

“Can you sit up? I’ll carry you out.”

“I can stand,” you said, more aggressively than intended. But you didn’t need to be treated like you were fragile. The fact that you were even alive was a testament to that.

Sanji drew back, offering you only a silent hand in case you needed any assistance getting to your feet.

You struggled, taking deep breaths as you shakily made your way onto aching feet, feeling like a thousand nails were being screwed into your skin.

Sanji tucked a hand under your armpit, resting it gently against your hips- your ribs were too cracked to risk applying any pressure to your sides.

You winced, eyes shutting as you let the ebbing pain pass through you, placing one foot in front of the next.

You made it to the door before you spoke.

“Let me have a smoke, will you?”

You reached for the cigarette between his lips before he could answer and took a deep inhale, ignoring the hot white pain that seared through your chest as you did.

One of your captors, the one who tied you up, was lying by the door. Eyes open and glazed over, mouth swelling like a dead fish left out in the hot sun.

You bent down, enduring the pain sent by your body, a desperate attempt to make you stop moving.

You pushed the lit cigarette into your captor’s open mouth, watching the ash burn his tongue.

You stood back up, leaning against Sanji.

“Carry me?”

He nodded, picking you up ever so gently, his hands providing you with a sense of security that you had spent the last several days losing any hope for.

“One last thing, Sanj’,” you said.

You closed your eyes, cementing this place into your brain. The stench of blood, now fresh and coppery. The humid air that stuck to your skin.

Whispering, more to yourself than anyone, you uttered a final word.

“Rot in hell.”

Sanji carried you up the stairs and out the door.

It was only when you saw the first hint of sunlight that you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the comfort of his presence. He was here, you were safe, he had you.

Zoro was waiting for you with Chopper when you got outside. The sun felt both heavenly and hellish. It’s warmth proof that you were still alive- that blood flowed perhaps too freely through your bones. And it’s brightness, which so highly contrasted the mildewy lamplight of the room you were stuck in, a confirmation of what you’d gone through. But the harsh rays were suddenly replaced by cool shadow and you opened your eyes as Chopper did what immediate work was available for him to do. Sanji stood over you, the sunlight pouring over him from behind his head, a worried look on his face.

You closed your eyes again, the tiredness of your body finally catching up with you.

Zoro, who up until this point had said nothing, placed a hand on Sanji’s back. A gentle touch that offered a surprising sense of grounding.

“Your hands,” he observed. Sanji looked down at them, caked in dried blood and small, stringy pieces of… skin, maybe? Flesh? He tried to recall but everything was a blur.

Sanji shrugged, “Didn’t notice.”

He looked at Zoro who gave him a curt nod and they both turned their attention back to you.

A memory played out before you.

I must be knocked out, you thought. It was crystal clear, so unlike a dream that you momentarily felt you might actually be reliving it.

The white light of the fridge in the kitchen cast you in a glow as you rummaged through its contents. It was rare to have any leftovers with this crew. There was some fruit- none of which you liked. Milk, eggs, carrots, pork, nothing. Ingredients upon ingredients and you knew better than to start trying to cook.

“Hungry?”

You turned, startled to see Sanji lighting a cigarette in the doorway.

“Yeah.. Not many options though.”

Sanji came to stand beside you, beginning to do his own rummaging. He began grabbing several things, a head of cabbage, carrots, pork, butter, heavy cream…

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna start cooking. It’s nearly three in the morning!”

Sanji smiled at you, taking out the set of kitchen knives you’d gifted him just two months prior for Christmas (a gift that left his nose bleeding for nearly half an hour).

“Ah. I couldn’t sleep. And besides, it is my job to feed you if you’re hungry.”

You smiled and took a seat at the counter, watching him cook. Normally you might offer to help but you were far too hungry to allow your lack of expertise to ruin your own meal.

He moved with such mesmerizing fluidity, the art was clearly a second nature to him and to watch it was captivating. The cutting of vegetables, the smell of cooking meat, the view of his forearms flexed as his hand gripped the handle of the knife, the tease of his happy trail when he lifted his arms to reach for something and his slightly small pajama shirt lifted.

Sanji was enchanting- but so were you.

Your head tilted to the side as you rested it on your hand, a small smile set on your lips. Your shirt was the exact opposite of his- too big on you- and was hanging off of your shoulder. Sanji did his best to not stare at your collarbone, and the line it painted that led up your pretty neck.

“What’re you making anyway?”

“Garbure,” he said, simmering a pot on the stove, “It’s a french soup. Sort of a cleaning-out-the-fridge thing. But it’s amazing when made well.”

You hummed, “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

“Honestly? I heard you in the kitchen and figured I’d make you something to eat.”

“You’re an angel.”

He looked up at you and the two of you smiled. A light jolt of electricity ran down your back.

God, was he always this handsome?

“I think so?”

“What?”

“You… asked if I’m always this handsome- That was for me right?”

“Oh- Fuck, I-I hadn’t meant to say it out loud!” Your cheeks darkened and you let out an embarrassed giggle.

“I’d ask if you’re always so beautiful but I know the answer is yes.” He ladled the soup intj a bowl and set it in front of you, serving one for himself as well.

You leaned your head against his shoulder as you ate.

“Mmmf- ‘S good!”

Your hand snaked through the opening between his bicep and chest to rest on his arm, giving it a light squeeze.

“Thanks Sanj’.”

He smiled, and leaned his head against yours.

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me that. Makes me feel special.”

“You are. Who else can make ‘garbage’ this good?”

You added a french accent.

“Garbure!” he corrected, laughing.

“Right, right. That.”

Maybe it was the soup or the feeling of Sanji’s hair against your forehead- both a warm and physical proof of how much you were cared for, but you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so full.

The rest of the memory is blurry.

You can recall the weight of sleep seeping into your body, more and more of your weight being shifted on to Sanji.

The feeling of his hands under you, carrying you to bed. Or was that now- as he carried you into the Sunny’s infirmary? The last thing you remember- if this was even a memory anymore- is the feeling of a kiss being pressed upon your cheek.

You woke up in one of Sunny's medical rooms with very little pain.

“I made sure you got the bed by the big window,” Sanji said from the chair he’d pulled up next to your bed, “You joked about it once.. That if you ever got hurt you’d want the room with it.”

It looked like he’d spent the night. You were in new clothes but he wasn’t. Dark circles lined his eyes.

You smiled at him, “Thanks… For everything. I’d still be there if you hadn’t-”

Your eyes welled with tears and your lower lip was trembling, like your body recognized that within these four walls any emotions would be welcome.

Sanji placed his hand over yours and rubbed his thumb up and down your wrist.

The tears flowed freely now, as you looked down at his hands.

“Sanji…”

He had started washing them but the moment Chopper told him you were stable he abandoned the project altogether. His hands were cleaner but browning bits of red gunk were drying in his nail beds.

Your eyes were wide as you waited for him to say something, your breath shallowing.

He sighed. He didn’t want you to be reminded of anything that had to do with what you’d gone through.

“Yeah,” he said, at a loss for words.

“I’m… sorry.”

You weren’t sure what to say. But your heartbeat picked up as he squeezed your hand.

“Don’t be, mon ange, I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner. We all are.”

You laid your head back down, chewing your lip.

“I’m glad it was you. That found me.”

Sanji’s chest tightened.

He’d come to terms with how he felt about you, a feeling both amplified and confirmed by the sound of your voice. His time spent around you affected him deeply beyond flirty remarks and nicknames. He was reduced to so very little in your presence, a nervous bundle of love sickness and desire.

And you were glad he found you- that he rescued you.

“So am I.”

You turned to look at him.

It didn’t really have to be said- it was there.

In his hands dripping with filth and violence, and on your face teary-eyed and thankful. In the lingering touches and glances the two of you have been sharing for the year you’ve been a part of the Straw Hat crew.

Neither of you had to say ‘I love you’. It was there.

Sanji pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I made soup,” he said smiling at you, “Garbage.”

You nodded, lightly laughing. It hurt your ribs.

“I can warm some up for you, if you’d like?” He stood up, preparing to leave.

“No- Can you stay? Please,” you said.

Sanji smiled, “Of course!”

You scoot over on the bed making space for him, which he happily took.

You laid your head onto his shoulder, and grabbed his hand. You felt him freeze up when you did, and laughed.

“You just saved my life and saw me at my lowest- is holding my hand too much?”

Sanji chuckled, “You’re right. How about this then?”

He brought a hand underneath your chin and you locked eyes as a smile spread across his face. He dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was soft, and chaste. Perfect. You placed a hand against his neck to prevent him from pulling away and deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips. You felt a small moan escape him and smiled against him. When you finally pulled away a thin string of saliva connected your lips to his.

“Hot,” you said, giggling.

Sanji’s pupils were blown wide and his cheeks pink. A few beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead and he tugged his tie loose.

“You okay, Sanj?”

“Yes! More than okay- I just, I wasn’t expecting that.”

You nodded, holding his hands.

“Well, I would like to shower and… I take it you haven’t showered yet either.”

Sanji gulped, “Um, no. I haven’t.”

You smiled, admittedly proud of yourself for flustering him out of his flirty act.

“Would you like to join me?”

Poor thing, he tried his hardest to maintain eye contact and keep up his civilized demeanor, but the steady trickle of blood that had started to pour out of his nose gave him away.

“Yes!” he yelled, “Mon dieu, tentatrice de femme, yes, please. I would love to join you.”

You laughed, getting up out of bed.

“Mind carrying me?”

“Of course, my love!”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he picked you up, “It’s nice to have you back, perv.”

He blushed, “What can I say? An offer like that from a woman like you is enough to fix anyone up.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, walking you out of the infirmary toward the showers.

Kidd:

You were going to kill him. If you got out of this alive you were going to kill your captain and tear his other arm off. You knew that, one way or another, this heist was going to go wrong. It was messily planned, Killer hadn’t been consulted, and Kidd was motivated primarily by anger and a bruised ego.

You sighed, somewhat resigned to your fate, and leaned back against the wall, trying to ignore the barrel of a shotgun that was resting against your temple.

“Mind backing up with that?”

The pirate holding the weapon shot you a faux-sympathetic smile, “Sorry, baby, Captain’s orders.”

He trailed a finger down your back, causing you to struggle against the cuffs. He dropped his hand and laughed at your reaction. “You’re disgusting,” you spat at him.

He nodded. “Yeah, and you’re stuck with me here. So better watch that mouth.”

Your wrists ached, it had been a while since you last felt the weight of sea stone against your skin. It was worse than you remembered. You could feel every muscle in your arms straining above you from where the chain that linked the cuffs hung on a nail. The first time you were handcuffed, the marines had caught you stealing but you were only fifteen, not yet a pirate, and lucky enough to have ran into a notoriously easy going captain who let you off with a warning. Those handcuffs were metal, tight against your wrists but not physically draining- if anything, you were only riled up at the inconvenience of having your hands tied. Sea stone was different. A naturally occurring mineral found in the depths of the ocean weaponized against you and other power holders. When you first felt sea stone a few years after, tight and heavy around your wrists, the fatigue stuck with you the most. How humiliating it was to not only be powerless but to have the will to fight drained from your body. You’d only narrowly escaped and swore to never be rendered so powerless again.

Yet here you were, silently praying that Kidd would walk in soon. This heist was a bad idea from the start but you’d only agreed because you had stupidly assumed that Kidd had acquired accurate information. Your anger had somewhat subsided as you approached your third hour in captivity, it was too tiring. Hopelessness had begun to spread.

The entire heist was Kid’s idea in the first place. A poorly executed revenge plot that you and Killer had tried to discourage.

“That’s them?” you asked, pointing to a group of pirates.

“Aye… First year we spent in the New World those bawbags got a few good shots on us. Heat came out with a few broken bones and it took us around a month to get Victoria back up and runnin’.”

“Ohh, I get it. They hurt your ego and you want to get back at them. That always ends well.”

Kidd scoffed, rolling his eyes at you.

“No- it’s luck. They have the map we need… and a lot of treasure that I wouldn’t mind taking.”

“See!? Ego. If this was just about necessity we’d take the map and leave. I’m telling you that this is a bad idea.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. He’d had a nonstop headache since you joined the crew.

“Alright! Alright. Jesus, woman! Killer won’t say yes either way so I need your cooperation. No gold, no treasure. We’ll just grab the map and be on our way.”

“And by we I’m assuming you mean me?”

He flashed you a smile that made your chest tighten.

“Aye! And if you’re caught they wouldn’t hurt a bonnie lass like ya’ anyway.”

“Oh, I’m sure. They seem like great people.”

“Don’t start getting smart with me,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper.

There was a diagram of a building on it, with a room in the back circled in red ink.

A thick metal finger landed on it, “Here’s where the map is. This building is relatively unimportant to it so they assign their lower level lackeys to guard it. There’s two guards outside each door, four guards on this one. I’ll distract all except the four by pretending to steal some other shit. They’ll recognize me.”

“And I come in through this window I’m guessing?”

A window at the end of the hall led right to the room you needed to access.

“Aye. You’ll be alright handling the four of ‘em. But you need to keep one conscious to show you where exactly the map is. Once you’ve got it- run. They’ve got a few devil fruit users in the crew and they’ll be at the scene fairly fast. From there we can bolt.”

You thought about it. The plan seemed quite out of character. It was extremely unlike Kidd to avoid a fight even in circumstances like this. But maybe he had other reasons…

As though he read your mind he answered, “Look, if it was just me I'd kill every son of a bitch on that crew. But I don't want ya' getting hurt.”

You sighed, “This is a terrible idea. Your information is twenty percent reliable, at most.”

“If you follow my instructions and we stay near each other we’ll be fine.”

“Hm, so you’re scared I’ll get hurt, huh?”

You laughed, watching his brows furrow and his cheeks go pink.

“No! Kind of, it's just 'cause you’re weak and I don’t want to have to worry about ya'.”

“You’re still mad about losing the arm wrestling match to me, huh?”

He scowled, folding his arms across his chest- refusing to answer.

“Alright, cry baby let’s go.”

Kid’s information was wrong. The four guards were the devil fruit users. You’d managed to knock two of them out relying on haki alone, but the two left were stronger. If only you could isolate one of them. Your devil-fruit worked well in close distance one on one fights, but you were mentally unprepared for this fight and the two in front of you were logia-users. You were badly beat up and struggling to stay on the offensive. Your dodges were growing slower and slower, your attacks weaker and weaker.

Fuck, you thought, trying to stay calm and think of your best course of action. You needed to get into the room they were guarding, if you could just create an opening that caught them off guard.

You reached for the pocket knife you kept tucked in your boots- it was a dirty move but it would have to do. You faked an attack on one of the two conscious pirates, before quickly changing directions and throwing the knife directly at one of their unconscious crewmates. They both ran in the direction of the knife to defend their crewmate, giving you the perfect opportunity. You slipped past the pirate closest to the door, shutting it behind you and jamming the handle shut with a chair. You had ten seconds tops- a chair wasn’t going to come close to stopping a logia user. Luckily for you, they had made the mistake of assuming no one would get past them and left the map out in the open, on a table with a bunch of other papers. You swiped it, quickly rolling up a loose piece of paper to imitate the map. Right as you finished tucking it into your shirt you felt a hand wrap around your neck, your vision blurring. Damn it, you thought.

You could faintly hear the voices of the two, ‘What should we do with her?’

‘She didn’t manage to take anything,’ they laughed. A small smile settled onto your face.

‘She’s pretty, huh?’

You felt something heavy clamp down on your wrists. What little energy had evaporated, and you blacked out.

You were starting to lose track of time. Three, maybe four hours had passed? You had no way of being sure other than the burning numbness that had spread throughout your body. Your arms were aching in a way you never thought possible, and you had been taken to a second location, you were sure of it. If you were in the same building as before, Kidd would have found you hours ago. But there was no doing anything now. The pirate watching you had kept his distance, aside from an occasional taunt or revolting brush of his fingers. He was now settling in the corner of the room, silently watching you, his gun’s aim never leaving you. You decided that staying quiet and avoiding eye contact was the best course of action, and beating his ass would only be a thought worth entertaining once you were out of the cuffs.

“So how does a pretty lady like you end up in a situation like this?”

He broke the silence, much to your disappointment.

You didn’t say anything.

He stood up, coming closer to you. Your stomach churned and you looked down.

“I asked you a question,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

“Fuck. you.”

You heard the crack of his fist against your jaw before you felt it. It was dizzying and left your mouth bloody and aching. You winced, running your tongue over your now split lip.

“What’s your name?”

He tucked his gun into his pants. You braced yourself. This was going to be a long night.

“Your name, baby, what is it?”

You spit the blood that was pooling in your mouth onto him.

This time it was an uppercut to your stomach. You couldn’t even double-over in pain. The third hit was to the other side of your jaw.

You stopped counting once they went over eight. You tried to think of something else, anything else. Killer’s baked goods, Heat and Wire’s terrible joke collection, Kidd’s latest invention or screaming match with you. You’d seen them all only hours ago but your heart was aching. You missed them.

Your mind kept going back to a few weeks ago, replaying a memory you had been trying to forget.

You were headed to the kitchen, you remember it was warm out- or was it raining? You went with raining. You took more time than usual to make your way up to the kitchen, meandering through the halls and tracing the old wood with your hands. The sound of hushed voices caught your attention, bringing you to a stop outside of your captain’s room.

“Why don’t you talk to her about it?”

Kidd laughed loudly, more-so to make a point than anything.

“And say what? I know I’m an arse and not your type but I’m madly in love with ya’ please don’t kick my arse?”

Killer chuckled, “That’s one way to do it. Or, you know, you could just be genuine and tell her the reasons why.”

“‘Cause she’s a tough lass- and a bonnie one, at that, a bit too good for me, no?” he said. Your heartbeat was resonating up in your throat and your mouth ran dry- who were they talking about? Kidd had only ever taunted you for being one of the stronger members on board. Your heart contracted in your chest and a deeply unsettling sense of jealousy creeped its way into your system. You tried to shake it off- it’s not like you wanted your captain to be in love with you. You definitely weren’t in love with him.

“… I dinnae Kil’,” you heard Kidd continue, “I might be a mean son of a bitch but I don’t think my heart could handle a rejection like that.”

“You definitely couldn’t,” Killer agreed, laughing, “But I don’t think you’d get rejected. Worth a shot if you ask me.”

Your brain tried focusing on other things, but you always came back to your captain. Hot-headed and irrational and eighty percent of the reason you were in this mess in the first place. He had you captivated. But it was enough. You felt yourself dancing the line between conscious and not and decided to savor these memories, these snapshots of a life on the sea. You didn’t hear when Kidd finally came in, staining the walls with a spray of red blood as he tore through the man who had dared lay his hands on you. But when you noticed the lack of hits being thrown your way you looked up.

Kidd had experienced heartbreak before- many times, but very few things compared to what he felt when he made eye contact with you. If a heart could physically break, tear and twist and shatter, that’s what Kidd felt seeing your face, bruises and bloodied. You took note of the red staining his metal hand. It was painted in multiple shades, light crimson to dark, sticky brown. He’d been at it for a while.

He rushed to your side, picking you up by the waist and removing the handcuffs from the nail on the wall. Your arms had been numb for an hour or two now. You wished they weren’t so that this release might have felt more satisfying.

You collapsed into Kidd, who kept his arm wrapped around you, bringing you into his chest.

“Shh, Y/n, I’ve got ya’ lassie,” he said, voice wavering.

“Kidd,” you said, wincing as you tried to sit up, “The map-”

“Don’t worry about the map,” he said, picking you up off the ground, “I’m getting you on board. I’ve already called Killer, he’s meeting us about half a mile away.”

He sat up against the wall, legs spread sort and placed you in between them, your chest against his back.

“Let me see your hands,” he said.

You placed your hands in the palm of his metal one, shutting your eyes and he cracked the sea stone around your wrist. The cuffs fell off in pieces around you.

He stood up, taking you in his arms, “How ya’ feeling?”

You coughed, the change in positions overwhelming you, “Like a million bucks.”

“Atta girl.”

Everything was muddy, your awareness, your vision, your memory. You clung to Kidd’s neck, tucking your head into his chest. His heart ached- you were scared.

“You’re alright, Y/n. I’ve got ya’,” he said, “Won’t let anything happen to ya’.”

You nodded, but your body refused to relax. At any moment, you told yourself, you were going to open your eyes and be back in that room. Kidd was your lifeline, a solid, physical reminder that you were safe now.

Killer was understandably furious when he saw the two of you climbing on board, Kidd with some cuts and bruises and you, barely conscious in his arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together and realize that Kidd had ignored his advice. He was on the verge of telling you two off, but one look at your state kept him quiet. You don’t remember much after that, as you fell in and out of consciousness. A feeling of disgust settled deep within you as your mind replayed the way your captor laid his hands on you, and was only soothed at the memory of Kidd’s touch. Of how gentle he was. The next four days passed in a similar fashion. You were much too out of it to know, but Kidd spent the majority of his time by your side. He established his longest arguing streak with Killer yet, by insulting all of the food he brought you insisting that “she doesn’t like that.” He made sure that you got new blankets every few hours, forcibly making Heat warm each new blanket. No one got much sleep until, finally, Kidd decided you were stable enough and retreated to his office to mope.

You woke up around an hour after Kidd finally left, and got up later that night after. Killer helped you to your feet. The feeling of the cool wood against your bare feet was relieving.

“Where to madam?” Killer said.

“His office.I have a word or two for him.”

“Whose idea was it, anyway?”

“Seriously? Whose idea do you think such a stupid stunt like that was?”

“Fair enough, but you were stupid enough to go along with it.”

“Fair enough.”

Killer dropped you off in front of your captain’s office.

“Best of luck,” he said, “And... I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried.”

You gave him a quick hug, “Thanks Kil'.”

You opened the door, closing it behind you.

Kidd turned around to scowl at you. His prior softness already having been replaced with his usual attitude.

“Can’t be bothered to knock?”

Your hands balled into fists at your side. You marched across the room toward where he was sitting, and landed a heavy slap across Kidd’s face. He staggered two steps back and landed in his seat.

“Okay, okay,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek, “I deserved that.”

“I told you! I fucking told you it was a bad idea and that your information was most likely innacurate. You risked my life and, even worse, your own. The crew could’ve lost everything, you selfish asshole!”

He sat silently in his chair, avoiding eye contact with you. His cheeks were pink, one significantly more so than the other.

“We should have called Killer like I said to and had another person with us- it was idiotic to have gone into that with just the two of us. Did I mention yet that I told you so? But you refuse to listen to anyone other than yourself, you absolute boar.”

The silence hung heavy in the room and you felt pride swell in your chest- you’d never seen your Captain so quiet before.

“That was the stupidest decision I’ve seen you make in a long time,” you took a deep breath before reaching in your pocket, “But it paid off.”

Kidd’s head turned to look at you, confusion was plastered over his face.

You pulled the map out of your pocket and placed it in front of him. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly.

“Thanks for the change of clothes,” by the way, you said sarcastically, “I smell great.”

No doubt he had given up on the map the moment he saw you in that room. He took note of the bruises around your wrists and gently grabbed them without thinking.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, rubbing his thumbs on your wrists.

God, he could be stupid. But there was no one else you’d follow after as readily.

You crashed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck with tears pooling in your eyes.

“I’m just glad you’re okay!”

You felt him stiffen, not having expected you to hug him.

“I was so worried,” you continued, “That something had happened to you.”

He wrapped his arms back around you, sinking into the weight of your embrace.

“So was I.”

You heard him sniffling, and rubbed his back gently.

“Crybaby.”

“I’m not cryin’,” he said, voice shaking.

He squeezed you one last time before letting you go.

You stood up, facing him. His eyeliner was running.

It was quiet again, though this time it was much more awkward. You’d yelled at him plenty of times before, but never had you embraced like that. Your pink cheeks now matched his. This time you looked away from him.

You felt a slight pull at the back of your neck and realized Kidd was pulling you by your necklace closer to him.

You obeyed and sank down into his lap. Your mind was telling you this this was abnormal, an overstepping of boundaries. Kidd was your captain and friend. You shouldn’t be in his lap hugging him. But it felt so natural. Like the most casual thing in the world.

“I was terrified,” he said quietly, “That I- That we might lose you.”

You rested your cheek against his, savoring how warm it was.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Oh trust me, I know,” he laughed, “You’re a rather tough lassie.”

Your ears perked up at that, and very quickly went red.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“What’s that?”

“You were talking about me the other day.”

Kidd paused for a second, “Was I?”

You giggled.

“She’s a rather tough lassie,” you said, imitating his thick accent, “And a bonnie one at that. A bit too good for me, no?”

“Oi, oi! I was talking about someone else,” he said, his cheeks darkening several shades.

You pinched his cheeks, “Well, that’s too bad. I would’ve said that I feel the same way.”

He perked up, “Oh, yeah? How’s about I describe this tough lassie and ya tell me if the description fits.”

You smiled.

“Right, she’s about this tall,” he held up his hand to your standing height, “Sittin’ on my lap, and just about the prettiest girl on the sea. And I owe her enormously for my latest fuck up because if anything had happened to her I’d have gone absolutely mad and jumped right on overboard.”

Your smile softened, and you stared at him for a moment.

“Sounds about right,” you said.

“Well, then.”

You leaned in toward him and moved slowly, just in case. Just in case he changed his mind or wanted to backtrack or wasn’t sure. But your lips touched and your captain showed no signs of regret or hesitation so you deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and savoring how he grabbed onto your hips. The kiss grew more and more heated, his grip on you stronger and stronger. You pulled away for air, gasping for breath. Kidd’s lipstick was smudged, and he brought a thumb up to wipe it off of your lips. His hand rubbed gently up and down your back. Fatigue began to take over as you let yourself indulge in the comfort of Kidd’s presence. Despite having been bedridden for several days your body was still mentally and physically in survival mode. Only now with a strong set of familiar arms wrapped around you could you finally relax.

You laid your head down onto his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Tired?”

“A bit.”

“Sleep, lass. I’ll carry you to bed.”

And you did.

You woke up the next morning feeling more rested than you had in years, a thanks from your body for the break.

The bedsheets surrounding you were unfamiliar, not your own.

But the strong hand draped over your waist answered any questions you had started to form. You wiggled back until you felt your captain’s chest against your back, and held his hand, tucking it under your chin.

“Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Good morning, Kidd.”

634 notes · View notes

notquitecanon · 3 months

Text

Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys.

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag. Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit.

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went.

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system.

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you."

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?"

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch."

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy."

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle.

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe.

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up."

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady.

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?"

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin. Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked.

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you.

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince.

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin.

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church?

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it."

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that.

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through.

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist.

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.”

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.”

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey.

“You barely know me, sweetheart.”

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment.

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.”

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips.

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features.

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.”

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head. You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.”

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless. Two sides of a balanced scale.

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

#matt murdock x reader #Daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock x y/n

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killerkillerkillher · 1 month

Text

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

#ghost mw2 #price mw2 #cod modern warfare #gaz mw2 #soap mw2 #call of duty #angel/devil au #141 x reader #141 x male reader #poly!141 x reader #let me cook!#LET ME COOK!

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scekrex · 28 days

Note

Im not sure if counts as an ask but. But hear me out.

Adam X Male Reader.

But...

Adam is at meeting but forgot to take the ribs his newly wedded husband (AKA, The Reader) made for him. So being the good husband he is, Reader goes to the place where the meeting is being held at. To give Adam the Ribs.

He arrives and busts down the door. Because he got no fucks to give besides giving Adam the ribs.

When he does, he saw Adam looking back at him with a shocked expression along side Lute who's face mirrored Adam's. A usual site besides the shock.

But what surprises him is that on the side of the room is Lucifer and Lilith (perhaps Eve too if you want) But Reader quickly gets over it, he came here on mission after all.

So he walks to Adam gives the ribs then he proceeds to remove Adam's mask to french kiss him. Then proceeds to walk out the busted door.

But not before looking at Lucifer and Lilith and saying "Our daughter is better than yours." Pointing at Lute as he said this. Then he leaves.

Leaving everyone process what happened.

Also leaving Adam having to explain who that was to his most hated enemies while trying to figure out how to tell Lute, He and his Husband see her as a Daughter.

Omg it definitely counts as an ask and fuck it's a good one on top of it!! It's cracky and I love myself a crack fic

I bring the ribs, I bring the drama

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When you got a text from Adam that informed you he had just reached hell and was attending the meeting scheduled with Lucifer and then spotted the robs you had made for him as a snack still standing on the counter, you did the only logical thing as the husband of the first man. You grabbed the plate filled with ribs and went after him and his forgetful ass.

Reaching hell sure wasn’t as hard as Adam always made it out to be, it was simply a long elevator ride that came with it and knowing the brunette the way you did that alone was reason enough to usually pull his little holograph stunt. But once Sera had caught onto that, she had had a serious talk with Adam, explaining why he wasn’t allowed to continue attending the meetings that way, so he had been forced to physically appear at this exact meeting. Which meant you had als a long ass elevator ride ahead of you. Nothing that would stop you from bringing your husband his much desired food though, you knew from experience how grumpy Adam could get if Sera sent him down to hell without a snack. And you desperately wanted to avoid grumpy Adam coming home only to realize that he had forgotten the snack you had prepared for him beforehand.

When the elevator doors opened with a quiet ‘ding’, you stepped through them and headed to the two winged doors right across the small elevator. You carelessly kicked the doors open, the handles on the inside both hit the walls with a loud ‘thud’ that echoed through the room that had gone quiet the second the doors had opened to reveal you. The glowing yellow eyes on Adam’s mask widened in shock as he spotted you, right in front of you sat Lucifer, his back had been facing the doors but the king of hell had turned around to look at you, confusion was written visible in his eyes as he tried to remember if he knew you. By his side was his wife Lilith. Great. The fuck-up and the cheating whore, both in the same room with your sweet darling. Seems like your little mission of food delivery was more needed than you had first thought it might be. But you knew Lilith was a pain in the ass and so was her husband. Lute fluffed out her wings as she narrowed your eyes before her expression turned into shock just like Adam’s.

In silence you walked around the ridiculously large table that was taking up most of the space in this room, given that its purpose was meetings it seemed to make sense though. You placed the plate in front of Adam, eyeing Lucifer and Lilith, hatred lingered in your eyes and you let the king and queen feel and see how much you despised them. They had caused nothing but trouble, they had been responsible for hell to even open its gates in the first place. Fuck-up, cheating bitches. Then your attention shifted from the married couple across the room to your husband. Hands reached for Adam’s mask and due to the element of surprise you had on your side, he was still trying to process that you had just walked in on this meeting like it was the most casual thing you had ever done in your entire existence, which is why he didn’t stop you from removing his mask. You placed it in his lap, careful not to drop it, you knew how much it meant to Adam and you weren’t intending on leaving scratches on it.

The golden eyes of your beloved were filled with shock and confusion, yet in the far back you saw a glimpse of thankfulness spark in them as you gently reached for his chin and pulled him into a kiss, it was meant to be a quick peck on the lips, but when Adam’s hand shot forwards to grab your waist and keep you close, you kept moving your lips against his. The presence of the others that kept you company inside this meeting room were forgotten in an instant, all that you could focus on were Adam’s soft lips that met your gentle movements so well. You slightly tilted your head to deepen the kiss, by squeezing his jaw you forced the first man to part his lips for you, providing the entrance your tongue needed to explore his mouth from the inside. When the tip of your tongue brushed against his, inviting him to dance with yours, Adam found himself unable to hold back the quiet moan that bled into the soft kiss you had started. And his tongue caught up quicker than his brain did, dancing with yours in Adam’s mouth as you claimed it as yours yet again.

When you pulled back in order to breathe in some stinky hell air - yet it was air so you didn’t mind all that much - you looked into Adam’s wide eyes, this time it wasn’t shock that reflected in them, it was love paired with desire and a shimmer of lust lurked in the back, you knew what he would give for you to stay, to keep kissing him like that, to maybe even sit down on his lap like the pretty little lap prince both of you knew you could be if only you wanted, but that wasn’t part of your mission. Your mission had included the task of bringing your husband food and that you had done successfully so you wiggled out of Adam’s lazy grip and pulled away from the first man entirely.

As if nothing had happened you rounded the table yet again to make your way over to the large doors you had just kicked in, yet you couldn’t help but stop on Lucifer’s side of the table. You slammed your hand down on the blue-ish looking wood, leaned in close to the blonde one and loudly stated, “Our daughter is better than yours, suck dick old fucker,” while you pointed at Lute to clarify which daughter you were speaking about. Lute’s expression shifted from shocked to confused and you watched as Adam’s lieutenant eyed the first man with a mix of confusion and pride. Then you straightened your back and walked out óf the room, once outside in the hall, you raised your hand to snap your fingers which resulted in the doors falling shut behind you with an equally loud sound as they had been opened with. And with that, you left hell again.

Once the door had fallen shut behind you, Adam had been quick to put his mask back on in order to hide the blush that started to bloom on his cheeks, Lucifer must not know about the effects you had on the first man, not when the blonde little devil sitting across from him was his sworn enemy. “Who was that?” the blonde man asked and pointed with his thumb to the closed doors behind him, an eyebrow was raised at Adam and even Lilith seemed to be curious about Adam’s answer to the question her husband had just asked the first man. Adam just and casually answered, “My fucking husband, bitch.” Because while your visit had been surprising, he would not deny you in front of Lucifer. He loved you and he was quite proud to be calling you his husband, fuck Lucifer’s opinion on it. “Daughter?” Lute asked as soon as Adam had answered Lucifer’s question and stepped up to her boss and best friend. The first man avoided meeting her eyes, even if it was just through masks. “Yeah, daughter. His idea not mine, fucking deal with it bitch. It brings my man joy so fucking take it.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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rustedhearts · 8 months

Text

misled (college!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: overtaken by irritations with his playboy persona, you distance yourself from steve. but how long can you really stay away?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the scholar stud masterlist ✶ main masterlist

tags: angst-ish; steve’s a whore; general horniness; teasing; smut; frat-party-sex; rough-ish; choking (but not really); once again not edited.

“late at night, body’s yearning. restless night, want to be with you. someone’s playing in the garden, so enticing, he’s sure to take a bite.”

misled, kool & the gang

somewhere in indiana, october 1988. tillman university.

last week...

"So, you fucked me and don't even have the courtesy to call after?"

The students listening across the hall winced at the sound of your voice shrilling through the hall. Peeking through the crack, the rear of Steve Harrington's chestnut tresses, recently conditioned and gleaming in the fluorescents, could be seen standing in front of your door. Behind you, your roommate, Caroline, could be seen hovering a pink nail polish brush over her big toe, too stunned by the confrontation to even move.

"Heh," Steve chuckled, bracing one hand against the doorframe. "I was gonna call, baby."

Chest tight with an air bubble of embarrassment, you glared at him fervently through a pair of thinly rimmed glasses. "Yeah, when?"

Steve, though never usually colored with humiliation, tinged pink. He'd slept with plenty of girls and never called—but with you, it was purely accidental. He meant to call, he honestly did. But then his dad appeared the day and demanded Steve's attention, and off they went to their second home in Connecticut, where he laid down "the law."

"The law" being that this was Steve's year to "get his head on straight," and drop the poli-sci major for pre-med as originally intended.

"I've let you screw around long enough," Mr. Harrington gruffed over a grilled lobster, white chunks buried in his teeth. "It's time to get serious."

"Sweetheart, listen—"

"—I thought I was 'distracting.' I thought you were so obsessed with me that I barely had my bag down before you were humping me like a dog, Harrington," you snipped. "What happened to that?"

The girls across the hall giggled and snickered, and Caroline grimaced into her nail polish bottle. Steve, on the other hand, pushed himself away from the doorframe and crossed his arms. You hadn't meant to be so cruel, the words just came rushing out like a tap on high—and it came out scalding hot.

"You're cute." His tone matched yours, sharp-edged and mean. "I said I was sorry, that not enough?"

You mirrored his stance, arms folded tightly over your baggy t-shirt. "You didn't, actually."

Dropping his arms defeatedly, Steve sighed and tipped against the doorway again. His cruelty fizzled out, overtaken by soft, rounded eyes of hazel brightness.

"Well I am, alright? C'mon, you gonna make me stay out here and beg?"

The shuffling across the hall ceased, the girls taken aback by Steve's murmured words. You, on the other hand, watched him carefully. He was handsome, no doubt, and knew how to turn on the sweetness like a honey drip. But is that all it was—an act? Did he mean all he said in his dorm that night? Or did his reputation precede him, and he just knew how to work you a little too well?

You could feel your edges rounding, melting bit by bit like butter in the heat. You reached for the door, prepared to open it a bit further and ask him inside—but a whizz of long, silky blonde hair flittered by and skirted to a stop. It came with a thin, fair-skinned face and eyes as blue as water. A girl too pretty for Tillman, a girl too pretty to be real.

"Steve?" she gasped, staring at the back of the boy's head with a wide grin. "There you are, I haven't seen you in ages!"

The quiet across the hall quickly morphed to noisy commotion: fumbling, gasping, and a little profanity. The softness quickly hardened like caulk, and you whipped the door halfway shut, flashing Steve a bitter grin. The blonde's hand reached for Steve's arm, turning him to face her and avert his attention.

But the boy's big eyes were only set on you, welled up with pleading. "Honey, wait, it's not what it—"

"See you around, Harrington."

today...

Since that day in the hall, you did everything you could to avoid Steve Harrington.

But it seemed Steve Harrington didn't let up easy.

He was there when you got back from class, waiting for a chance to explain himself. You rushed past him with a speed he couldn't keep up with (and the other girls glared at him with such ferocity that he worried for his safety). He stared at you in class, eyes unabashedly fixated in the rear of his chair, back to the professor until a sharp "Mr. Harrington," startled him back into focus.

But on the fifth day, when all you offered was silence, Steve felt his patience wear thin.

When your familiar scent wafted by on the way out of British Lit, Steve shot his hand out and grabbed you by the arm. You gasped upon impact against the wall, heart racing at the sight of Steve's firm body blocking you in. He felt firmer than before—or maybe you just missed the solidity of those bronzed muscles. Scented overpoweringly of vetiver and amber, coaxing you with that animalistic restlessness that festered in your veins just like last time.

Steve's lip quirked upward, hand pressing flat against the wall beside your head. "How long's this gonna last, sweetheart?"

You could feel yourself slipping into a daze. What harm could dipping your toe in the murky water really do? It certainly looked enticing—with all his bulging muscles, and beautiful plump lips—

No. You had to have some self-respect.

"I’m over you, Steve. Simple as that.”

Steve watched you tip your nose up at him, jut your little chin out and huff. You were good, he’d give you that—enough to keep a calm face beneath his heavy stare. But he could see the way your chest stuttered beneath your shirt, how your nose flared with shallow breaths. You lingered on his mouth a little too long to be over him.

He slid his tongue over his teeth and shrugged, pulling his hand away from your head. “Alright, baby. Whatever you say.”

Steve whirled around and strode down the hall, shoulders pulled back and head held tall. If you wanted to play, he’d play. But he wouldn’t make it easy for you.

✶ ✶

“No Harrington at the door, that’s new,” Caroline snickered as she kicked the door shut behind her.

You glanced at her over your shoulder from your place in the mirror. Makeup bag spilled over the tiled floor, lips sticky with gloss, you were ten minutes deep into a carefully crafted eye look meant for one night only. Alpha Phi were hosting a Halloween party tonight, and you were determined to prove Caroline—and Steve—wrong. You were over him. Totally, 100%, completely over Steve Harrington.

You didn’t even care if he’d be there tonight, which you knew he would. Maybe that’s why you insisted on keeping your dress pulled down so low, skirt hiked high. You wondered what he’d decide to wear. Something tight on his chest, stretched thin across the broadness of his back. Maybe something dark, because dark colors made his eyes brighten and sparkle.

Swallowing, you tossed your eyeliner back into the makeup bag and huffed. “It was about time he got the hint.”

Caroline’s gaze narrowed. “Right. Because you’re over him.”

Straightening your spine, you grinned at the mirror and nodded. Even a heavy, centering breath couldn’t calm the stirring in your stomach. An arousal burrowing deep in your bones.

“Absolutely.”

✶ ✶

He wore a black suit. Somehow, though it covered his limbs completely, it made him look bigger. A tall vision of lean limbs striding through tightly-knit bodies leaking liquored sweat. The music Alpha Phi played seemed to muffle at the sight of his back, heading toward another room where people waited. Waited for him. Just for him, in all his pretty boy glory.

The black clothes on your body stiffened, and you huffed as you plucked at the fabric thinning with dampness. You just got here and you were already pining.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pushing through a group of people at your left to maneuver toward the kitchen.

You wanted to be souped up and fuzzy with alcohol haze in the next twenty minutes, or else you weren’t sure you’d make it. As you scrutinized the drink selections wading in ice buckets on the kitchen counters, a familiar, deep-throated chuckle rumbled somewhere behind you. You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling slowly, curling your fingers into fists in time with the swell of breath. You could do this. Steve Harrington was just a boy, and there had been plenty of boys over the years. He wasn't special.

Opening your eyes, you snatched a pumpkin flavored ale from the first bucket and reached for the bottle opener.

"Here, sweetheart, lemme get that for you."

Steve's hand swallowed your own, plucking the opener from your grasp as easily as a toy from a baby. He crowded you, arm brushing your own as he popped the top off the amber bottle of beer with ease. It clattered somewhere on the floor, but Steve seemed uninterested in mess; his eyes settled on you as he held the opened bottle out, sunglasses tucked in the collar of his t-shirt.

You reached for the bottle, but he held it out of reach toward his elbow. Frustration took hold in your throat, lumped like undigested food. And it found home in your stomach, twisting like a thin blade in a mess of guts. You can do this, you reminded yourself. He's just a boy.

"Steve," you huffed, glaring at his chest instead of the sly smirk toying on his handsome mouth.

"What, no thank you?"

Lifting your eyes, you settled a hard, narrowed gaze on his forehead and reached for the bottle again. "Thanks."

Steve shot the bottle up toward the ceiling, held tight in his fist. He was wearing a silver ring on his right ring finger and that slutty, brown leather-banded watch again.

You swallowed, fingers recoiling toward your sides where they twitched with need. Flashes of those long, slender fingers of his skating over your flesh came like waves of heat. Massaging fat, pulling, prodding, spreading, diving into wetness and coming out soaked. How sometime after he dressed you again, when his roommate calmed his frustrated screaming, complaining about washing Steve's "jizz" out of his comforter, Steve's fingers found your bottom lip and traced their softness. How sometime on the walk back to your dorm, he pressed you against the brick wall in the walkway and wrapped them around your jaw to devour your mouth.

"You can't take it, can you?" Steve's voice, graveling lowly with an erotic rasp, snapped you out of your syrup-sticky thoughts.

He was closer now, standing toe-to-toe, gazing at you down the slope of his nose. Your beer bottle still in the air, his other hand dangling emptily near yours, Steve stood at a proximity so near that you could smell the cigarette on his breath. The outline of the pack in his front left pocket was enough to have you squirming. You craned your neck, attempting to release it of strain and tension from a constriction of muscles. Not even the tightest clench of your core could calm the festering heat settling in your body.

"W-what?" you scoffed, head shaking. "Can't take what?"

You lacked the bite of last week's confrontation, and both of you could tell. Steve swooped down a little closer, neck arching to meet your height. His eyes lolled left, then right, then back to your face where they met your mouth like he readied to tell a secret.

"You're all squirmy, darlin'," he mumbled, voice almost slipping away in the music from a stereo in the living room. "You want me. I can tell."

Pressing your teeth together, jaw wired shut, you huffed a breath through your nose and fixed up your chin. "In. Your. Dreams."

Beer abandoned, you whirled around on one foot and stomped toward the way you came. Behind you, Steve straightened his spine and tongued away a grin. Through the opening above the sink, Steve watched you dash toward the stairs, hair flouncing with every rushed stomp. You were insatiable. It would be so much easier for you to give in, but your stubbornness prevented you.

Steve set the open beer down on the counter and headed toward the hall, knowing even he could no longer stomach your hard-headedness. If he had to be the one to give in, then so be it. But watching your ass sway in that little black dress, your breasts rise and fall in quick, shallow successions in that plunging neckline, jeweled with a little, blinged-out blue cross—Christ, his knees felt weak.

He wanted you in his hands, and he wanted it yesterday.

With bounding, leaping steps up the stairs, Steve hurried to place you in the mass of bodies. The music faded, swallowed by distance and the blood rushing in his ears. He threw open doors and ignored screeches of bare, naked surprise from stray couples that couldn't contain their own impatience. When he made it to the bathroom door, he skirted toward the front of a line of girls half-clothed forming against the wall and knocked twice.

"Hey, back of the line," a red-head in a witch hat snapped at him from the front.

Glaring at her, Steve knocked again, incessantly desperate.

"Somebody's in here!" your voice called sweetly from the other side.

Screwing his face up at the girl still huffing and puffing at him, he jiggled the door handle. "It's me, sweetheart, just open the door."

A quiet 'oh, Christ' came through the door, and Steve shuffled back a step as things slammed and clattered on the other side. The witch hat girl crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, and Steve shot her another sharp look before the door flung open. Before you could admonish him with more synthetic, short syllable grievances, Steve breached the gap between your bodies and grabbed your face. Two big hands, slender-fingered and cooled with metallic accessory, scented of cologne and tobacco and Steve, pressing firmly against your cheeks and partially under your jaw.

Steve used this hold to pull you in, mouths attaching and eyes sinking shut. Tongue gliding against yours, searching the crevices of your teeth, sloppy and needy and completely blinded by the tightness in his pants.

"God, get a room already!"

Steve popped away from your mouth with a soft, detaching slurp. You heaved for air, cheeks round with warmth, lips plumped with rushing blood.

His eyes rummaged your face, and when he found nothing but astonished thrill, he slipped his hold to your hand and gave it a little sideways tug. "C'mon."

The stumble to a free bedroom came with a fumbling of clothes and wandering hands. The search for a bed without people already humping on it was fruitless, and so dazed with lust, Steve snapped at a couple with such ferocity that they went skittering out of the room before anyone could protest. And once the door was locked and the bed once-overed for ick, Steve grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back in again.

It was as you were bouncing back on the bed, shuffling to make room for him on the duvet while exploring his mouth with your tongue, that Steve pulled away.

"Mmm...wait, wait..."

Pulling back to sit on his haunches, Steve smoothed his hands over your thighs, teasing them under the hem of your dress—just to keep touching you, stimulating you, keeping you there. Your breath came and went rapidly, body collecting heat in the wait. Your fingers were practically buzzing to touch him again, thighs quaking with anticipation of the burning stretch from his body between them. You were itching for him. Sitting there in all his glory, black fabric and tousled hair.

"I just...I wanna say, baby, I really meant to call you. Honestly, honey, I did."

You sighed, desperation taking a rest at the softness of his voice. Reaching out, you rubbed the pad of your finger over his ring. "Okay—"

"And that girl? I haven't seen her in months—she said so herself! I just...I had a past before you, sweetheart, but that's all it is. Just the past."

A smile swept over your face, small and coy and completely taken by his boyish admission. Sincerity held his eyes with unblinking certainty. You reached up and brushed his hair away from them, thumb sweeping across his cheek.

"Okay, Steve. I believe you."

As though triggered out of some conditioned state, Steve pounced at your forgiveness. His weight toppled down on you, pushing a wheezed giggle from your mouth as he attached his own to your neck. Your amusement trickled straight back into arousal, thighs tightening around his hips as his fingers looped into and tugged down the front of your dress.

"Christ, couldn't take it anymore," he mumbled, wiggling down to smatter kisses across your chest. "Had to...mmm...have you."

Gliding your fingers through his hair, you tipped your head back toward the ceiling and sighed blissfully. “Then have me, Steve.”

The groan Steve expelled against your breasts came with a gust of hot breath, and a rumble that had you gasping and shivering. He nipped at the pudgy flesh once, lolled his tongue over the aggravation to soothe the sting, and pulled back to shed his layers. You hiked your dress around your waist, too busy ogling Steve’s bare abdomen and the thatch of hair at the base of his pelvis, all exposed with every article freed from his body, to bother discarding your own. You weren’t sure you could last much longer.

And as his cock sprung free, fisted with his ringed hand in all its pinken, glistening glory, you became embarrassingly needy—mewling, reaching out and pulling, scraping with your nails, pouting out your lip and welling up with tears.

“Aw, cryin’ again, sweetheart?” Steve cooed, rubbing his thumb through the slick on the head of his cock to smear it as he pulled your thighs over the top of his. “Don’t worry, baby, you won’t be waiting long.”

Trembling with anticipation, you shifted and tilted your hips in an attempt to gain friction and release your aching torment. Steve snickered, pushing his hand down firmly against your hip to pin you to the bed. You huffed through your nose, pout deepening. Steve’s eyes flickered up toward your displeasure, and he felt himself softening.

“God, look at you—alright, sweetheart, a little wider. Little wider—there you go, fuck,” Steve rambled, pushing your thighs as far as they could go to make room for his body.

Sweeping his cock through your slickness, he made gentle, delicate massaging glides against your sensitive, throbbing clit before sinking in. The stretch burned and stung, and you pinched your eyes closed with a gasp. But when he sank in to the hilt, settled in deep and snug, the burn fizzled away to a feeling so full that you could only whimper and writhe.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice was soft, a low whisper that tickled over your face.

Peeking them open, you found his face above yours, graced with a handsome smile that softened him like light. Trembling, your fingers approached his face, running down the dampness of his cheek and through the front of his hair. He kissed your wrist as it passed his mouth. His thumb pressed against the underside of your jaw, shifting you a little to the left until you felt the plumpness of a pillow beneath your neck.

“There,” he mumbled, swooping to kiss your head. “Comfy?”

As though satiated just by the fullness of his cock lodged inside you, you breezed with a dreamy sigh and nodded. “Very.”

Steve’s lip twitched into another grin. “Good.”

Running your palm over his bare bicep, freckled with mocha spots and slick with exertion, you hummed. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Don’t be gentle. Need you bad.”

A snorted chuckle rumpled from Steve’s throat, and he lifted another hand to cup his palm over the crown of your head. “That so? You need it a lil’ rough, pretty girl?”

Bobbing your head fervently, eyes rounding with delight: “Yeah—yes, please.”

Eyes scanning the surface of your flushed face, Steve took on a look of exasperated hesitation, wrinkling in his brow. "Ooh, I don't know—"

"Please," you yelped, hands tugging at his shoulders.

Steve chuckled, pretending to be moved by your ministrations, falling a little closer to your mouth where he pressed a kiss. "If you insist, honey."

The start to his thrusts were slow. Deep and languid, full of sweeping hips and firm arms. And just as you were about to protest, face screwing up with impatience, Steve located a ferocity that had you wailing. Barreling into you, fingers scrunching in your hair to pull by the root and yank aside, bearing your throat and calling to his teeth. They scraped over and sank into the flesh, bursting blood vessels and burning with vivacity. The bed frame clattered into the wall with a thumping melody, and every thrust inched you a little closer to the headboard.

You reached up to find footing, bracing yourself with two hands around the wooden bars of the headboard. Steve slid his hand from your hair to your neck, fingers pressing gently into the column of your throat. Not squeezing, just holding.

"Kiss me," you rasped, feeling the spark of an approaching climax gather in your nerves, rising to the surface.

Steve's mouth moved to yours like a magnet, latching with full lip and licks of tongue. His thumb pressed gently into your chin, tipping your head up. He followed every angle of it, never stopping the furious pace of his hips, every one coming with a prod of his cock at somewhere with tremulous, visceral surges. When you began to vibrate so badly you could barely hold tight around his hips, Steve pressed his fingers a little further into your skin. Enough to cut the pressure in your air stream, suppressing it to just the slightest wheeze.

And as you fluttered around him, Steve's arms grew weak, wobbling with need as he clenched every muscle he could to hold back. He wanted to cum with you.

He didn't have to hold off long—your vision bursted to white, streaked with tears pulled by a high-pitched shrill. The guttural, animalistic sound, and pure, heavenly delirium on your face had him spiraling—freeing himself from your tightly-clenched walls to spill over your stomach, coating it with sticky warmth. Nonsensical babbles slipped from your swollen mouth, low grunts and moans from Steve's. His fingers uncurled from your throat, the other leaving your hair to smooth it down on his way toward the other side of the bed.

When breath returned to an even symphony, and the room resumed to faded, thumping stereo music, you rolled onto your side and stared at the naked, glistening boy.

"You owe me a date, Harrington."

Steve chuckled breathily, tugging you into his side with a lazy push against your back. In the crook of his arm, he popped a kiss on your head.

"More like two."

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mattsturniolosmuse · 19 days

Text

He's A Real Mad Lad

Part 1 of Meant to Be: A Heartbreak High fanfic

Reader POV

Synopsis: You get called down to the gym because of the incest map. Cash finds out you like him, and he likes you too.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive language, fluff, drug use, makeout, spicy

Song: WITHOUT YOU by The Kid Laroi

🎵♥ you cut out a piece of me and now i bleed eternally ♥🎵

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

"Will the following students please come to the gym." A loud voice said over the intercom. I stopped talking to Quinni and Darren and listened.

"Darren Rivers."

"Quinni Gallagher-Jones."

"Sasha So."

"Spencer (Spider) White."

"Amerie Wadia."

"Harper McLean."

"Y/N L/N."

"Douglas Piggott."

"Dusty Reid."

There were more, but I didn't listen. I rolled my eyes and collected my backpack, heading to the gym. Darren and Quinni were close behind me.

You might think I'm weird. My two best friends are part of the LGBT society. Darren is queer and non-binary. Quinni is lesbian and autistic. But, I loved them more than anyone I had ever loved before.

I am aromantic. I made out with Sasha once, and have done multiple other things.

The door gym slammed behind me, and I looked around. Many of the students called were already sitting down.

"Seriously, Y/N, why do you have to wear such scandalous outfits?" The teacher asked. I looked down at myself.

Today, I was wearing leather shorts that barely covered my ass, and a hot pink cropped tank top that showed quite a bit of cleavage.

"All for the aesthetic, miss." I say sweetly. I walk past Cash, who, was biting his lip and staring at me. I blush.

I've had a crush on Cash since year 7. He was funny, but isolated, and when you got to know him, he opened up to you.

"Hey, Cash." I say, taking a seat beside him. His eyes move away from my chest.

"H-hey!" He says quickly, his face turning a dark shade of red. Darren sits on my other side, and Quinni sits beside him.

"So. The incest map." The teacher said, pulling up a photo. I groaned. Now the whole school knew what I had done and who I had done. I glanced at all the names connected to mine.

Y/N

wristy to Dusty

blowie to Spider

made out with Sasha

shagged Darren

loves Cash

Ok. I did give a wristy to Dusty, and I did blow Spider. I made out with Sasha and I do love Cash. But I did NOT shag Darren! He is my best friend and I would never, ever do anything with him. He's like a brother to me.

Cash nudges me.

"What about that, bruh?" He says, gesturing to the map.

"What, cunt?" I say.

"You love me?" He asks, smirking. I flipped him off.

Yes, for fucks sake. Yes.

✦✦✦✦✦

"You got any weed?" I ask Cash as we step outside of the school.

"Yeah, hold on a second." He says. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a joint.

"Thanks." I say, lighting it.

"Yep." He responds. I take a puff, and he steals it from me, taking a puff as well. I groan.

"Now it has all of your cooties on it!" I whine playfully.

"Come on. If I kissed you you would like that, wouldn't you?" He teases. I cross my arms.

"Ooh, I hit a sensitive spot, didn't I, bruh?" He asks, poking your shoulder.

"Shut up and go back to drug dealing, you cunt." I say. He shuts up. I smirk.

"Ooh, hit a sensitive spot, didn't I, bruh?" I mock, shaking my head. He laughs.

"You want to come over for a bit?" He asks. I gulp. I've never been to his house before, and I wasn't sure I wanted to.

Fuck. Of course I did.

"Yeah, sure." I say.

✦✦✦✦✦

"What the fuck is that? Is it alive?" I screech, gesturing towards the goose beside Cash's bed.

"No, he's a full mad lad. He's sick, go pet him." Cash says. I look at him, expecting him to crack up laughing, but his face is dead serious.

"No, thanks." I say, walking in the opposite direction.

He sits down on his couch, and pats the empty spot next to him.

"So. This is a legitimate question, bruh." Cash says, looking at you in the eyes.

"Mhm." I squeak, getting lost (once again) in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Do you love me?" He asks.

"What?" I question.

"Do. You. Love. Me." He asks slowly. I don't respond. I have a vivid image of myself riding him on this couch.

Cash grabs my chin.

"Y/N!" He says abruptly. I snap out of my daydream.

"Y-yeah!" I say.

"So you do love me!" He says, throwing his arms up in triumph.

"What? No, I just-" I start. But I hated lying.

"Yes. Since year 7. I just didn't want to tell you because we're good friends, I didn't want to ruin what we had." I say, fidgeting with my thumbs and looking straight into my lap.

"Oh, bruh. My bunny. Come here." Cash says, pulling me into a hug.

I giggle. "You smell good."

He smiles.

"I like you too. But since year 3." Cash says, turning red again.

"Ha! Really, though?" I say serious. Cash nods. I blush, turning away. My phone buzzed. I pick it up.

MOMMA: come home, sweetheart, you need to babysit your little sister

You: on my way

"Sorry, Cash, I've got some babysitting to do, I guess." I sigh, standing up off of his couch.

"Yeah! No, no problem." He says, leading me to the door. I was half way down his steps when he called me.

"Y/N..." He says. I turn around, and the moment I do, his lips land on mine gently. He pulls away, hesitant to go further, but I wrap my arms around his head and pull him close, smashing my lips onto his again.

He drags me back into the house, guiding me into his room and pushing me onto the bed. He lifts off his shirt and climbs back on top of me, his lips attaching to mine in a passionate kiss.

I pull on his hair, and he groans into my mouth. He grinds his hips into me, and I whimper.

His tongue, finds its way into my mouth, and my hands trail over his abs and chest as our tongues fight for dominance.

The makeout lasted quite a few minutes, until his grandma came in.

"You slut! Come! I made you some bread!" She says. Cash jumps and looks behind him.

"Nan! Get out!" He says.

"Ooh la la! She's a pretty one!" His nan says. She leaves, and Cash faces me again, kissing me gently once more. I laugh.

"She's such a cute old lady." I say, lifting myself off of Cash's bed. He smiles, putting his shirt back on.

"Yeah. But not as cute as you." He says, winking.

God. He's such a dork.

#heartbreak high #douglas piggott #douglas cash piggott #cash heartbreak high #cash x reader #18+

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captaincapsicle83 · 2 months

Text

I Know I Said I Couldn't Call

Bucky Barnes x Reader

TW: implications of death, cursing, and [worst of all] phone calls

Summary: Bucky gets an unexpected call in the night. A short little story, cute little fluff moments...

He grunted, and turned over at the standard form iPhone ring. Sam mocked him, and Tony was baffled, but Bucky claimed he, "liked the factory stuff."

In all reality, he didn't know how to change it.

It seemed to ring forever, and with experience he was sure it would. He turned over, reaching across the bed he was sprawled out on. The blanket was gathered at his feet, the sheet wrinkled and wild. He had about four pillows, arranged in a strange modern art kind of way.

It was truly a remarkable sight, but Bucky was just glad to be getting any sleep at all in a bed. Of course, not for very long, considering-

The phone call.

He picked out the phone, in his non metal hand. He became a little more alert, a little more awake, and sat up at your name flashing on the screen. At the end of it, was a little emoji, a pink heart with some sparkles around it.

He hesitated, but not for long. He didn't want it to ring out, risking not talking to you. You were on a mission, somewhere in an Eastern country. It was a solo one, Fury telling you it would he a piece of cake.

Ever had cake that was dry, and spongey? Made with frosting that wasn't sweet and tasted like crepe paper?

That was the piece of cake you were eating in Northern Russia right now.

"Hello?" Bucky said, his voice gruffer than he meant it to be. However, he couldn't much help it, the tiredness was overcoming him, no matter how much he shooed it away.

"Hey, baby," you said. Your voice was soft, and sweet. Sweet like the cakes you and Bucky ate together on that third date where you accidentally got another tables birthday dessert. Sweet like the cakes Wanda would bake with you, the ones you made her promise to make you on your wedding day.

"Hi," Bucky said again. His voice was as soft as he wanted it to be this time, like a cat walking carefully across a piano. Alpine did that once, and he watched with such lust and wonder, you had to watch his face. It had to have been the quietest moment of your life, watching his face light up into a half smile as Alpine carefully treaded, her soft paws taking each step with care.

It was beautiful, he was beautiful.

"I thought you couldn't-" Bucky started, but you cut him off. He was too tired to sense the underlying issues with the conversation. The unexpectedness, the urgency...the sadness.

"I know I said I couldn't call. It's just- I got the chance and I didn't...want to...waste it," you said.

"Oh," Bucky said, cutting himself off with a yawn. "That's...nice. I've missed you."

"I miss you too- I'm sorry I woke you up. It's gotta be so late there," Bucky glanced at his bedside clock. 2:43 am.

"How have you been sleeping through the night?"

"Better, honestly," Bucky said, then let out a tired chuckle. "The beds always a mess though, I kick things everywhere. Alpine won't come near me. Guess its the Winter Soldier in me."

You laugh at the joke, but it hurts you. It hurts your core, and you put a hand to the gaping wound on your stomach. You were outside of the old payphone box, watching the snowflakes fall on and around you. Your phone was so smashed and cracked, you were surprised it turned on at all. You were very serious about phone chargers though, and it was always above 70% when you left with it. Bucky would joke if the phone was below 50% charged you’d go into shock.

It was at 23 when you had made the call. Turns out, he wasn’t half wrong.

"How's the mission?" Bucky asks you. You admired his ability to hold a conversation, yet he was clearly struggling. You were too, if you were honest.

"It's going on a little longer than expected," you say, trying to sound like you were laughing without doing it. It hurt too much, and you were worried your guts would quite literally spill out.

"It'll be alright, you always get through it," his soft voice says. That was why the cat liked him, you had told him, because he basically was a cat.

He had pressed for answers, and you had delved him, not only into the satanic lore of cat behavior, but of the slew of internet memes, comparison of him to the one and only grumpy cat.

Sam was there for that, and nearly died everytime a new side by side came up.

"Is everything okay?" Bucky asked. The line was quiet, and you were suddenly very aware of that. You were worried you had already died. That wasn't what you wanted, not to die on the phone.

"Yeah, just thinking of you," you could almost see the blush and smile he was surely brandishing. "I'll be home soon, baby," you lied. You owed it to him, to let him sleep a little longer after you hung up.

"Yeah?"

"'Course. Be back before you know it. Gotta kick your ass for messing up my bed."

"I love you doll."

"I love you too, Bucky," you couldn't help but choke out a sob at your last words. Before he could question it, before you could hear anything else, you used all your energy to hang up the phone, letting the line go dead as your ungloved hand fell to your side.

Your eyes watched, the life flickering in and out of them, the snowflakes fall from the sky.

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel mcu #bucky barnes fic #marvel fics

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atlasnessie · 3 months

Text

GET HOME SAFE, alright ?

an: chuuyas so funny want him soo badd .. not proofread. reblogs appreciated !!

cw: uhh alcohol and getting drunk but like, it’s nothing bad

the heavy smell of alcohol lingered on chuuyas lips, and his eyes started to wander around the room. around other people, the bartenders, and then you. you lazily rested your elbow on table as you chatted with a few of your friends, face red as it signaled you had too much to drink tonight. everyone’s voices were muffled in chuuyas mind, words and sentences going in one ear and out the other.

in all honesty, chuuya nakahara, port mafias best martial artist and most feared executive, has never spoken to you before. to him, you were his bar crush. the biggest crush he has ever had. ever.

a long time ago (a month or so ago, really) he’s seen you for the first time, and his heart stopped. you walked in, soaked to the bone by the rain, and sitting on a barstool not so far from him. it was clear you were just trying to find some shelter and a place to clear your head, as everyone did at the bar, but at the same time, your eyes were puffy and you sniffled. pulling out your phone from your pocket, thumbs rushed on the screen as you wiped a tear away from your cheek (he couldn’t tell if it was rain or real tears.)

chuuya pitied you for a moment. what could your pretty face be crying about, he wondered. did your car break down ? is a celebrity not coming to town ? or —

just ask chuuya was about to doze off, alcohol filling his mind, the ring of a phone call made him blink rapidly and look back at you. he assumed it was his phone (probably dazai’s late night shenanigans), but it was you. bringing the phone close to your ear, the ginger would faintly hear another voice shouting ‘ill kill him !! … hey, quit laughing ! i’m serious !!’ you chuckled as you wiped the last tear that fell, quietly explaining about your situation. with the context clues he had, nakahara assumed you’ve been dumped. no, cheated on ? perhaps … both ..? he couldn’t place his gloved finger on it. anyways, that was besides the point. his drunken mind couldn’t help but think of how beautiful you looked. wet rain hair dripping down on the glossy table, the smile on your face and the way your teeth poked out as you laughed, your puffy eyes, he was curious as to why anyone would dump someone like you.

“i don’t think the guy deserved you ..” he muttered to himself before closing his eyes, arms resting on the table as his head was resting on it, angled in a way his eyes faced you. as soon as he passed out, you shifted your gaze to the sleeping ginger, phone still pressed against your ear. you heard something from him, but brushed it off.

he was just another sleeping drunk. much like everyone in this damned bar.

glasses clanked with one another as you took another sip of your drink, swirling it around and bringing it close to your lips, a small, amused smile cracking. two friends sat at the bar table with you, side to side with you sitting in the middle. the topic of your ex came up as the one who sat on your left, face flushed as red as their wine, slurred their words, cussing him out.

“y’know .. when i said i was gonna kill him, i meant it ..!” you sipped your drink in amusement. the friend that sat on your right sighed and drank their juice (they agreed to be the one driving home.) you pat your drunken friends back and excused yourself, saying you had to use the restroom. hopping off the barstool, walking towards chuuya and turning.

as you turned the corner, chuuyas eyes followed you, his head on his hand as his elbow propped him up. noticing something falling out of your pocket, chuuya raised a brow. your keys.

nakahara hesitated to pick them up, contemplating about it for a moment before groaning, mumbling ‘whatever. fuck it’ and picking it up, getting off his seat and jingling the keys by his hands, sitting back down and waiting for you to come back.

a few minutes passed, and chuuya was getting ready to leave before noticing you coming back from the bathroom, a panicked look on your face. patting the sides of your coat, you mouthed out ‘my keys ..!’ making chuuya chuckle quietly to himself. as you rushed over back to your friends, you alerted them of your missing item, and god forbid you loose your keys, right ?

“no i swear, i had them here ! these were my spear ..!!”

“these ?”

you turned your head, the worry on your face melting away as soon as chuuya stood in front of you, keys dangling in front of his face. you yelped and gently took the keys, checking if it was really yours before thanking the ginger, over and over again.

“is there a way i can repay you ? can i pay for your drink ?”

you wouldn’t have the money for that, doll, chuuya thought with a soft look before brushing it off.

“bills payed. get home safe, alright ?” before you could reply, or even speak, chuuya waved goodbye with a charming smile and walked out of the bar, a hand on his hat and his coat draped over his shoulders.

chuuya nakahara has never spoken to you before. until today.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #atlas writes !

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

Text

make the friendship bracelets / dagger squad x reader

this is for the top gun x swiftie girlies. I am in the midst of making as many friendship bracelets as I can fit on my arms for the eras tour and had this idea !!! it’s a little short but this is just a fun little drabble :) i hope you enjoy!!!

make the friendship bracelets / dagger squad x reader

add yourself to my taglist

word count: 600

warnings: none :)

You cleared your throat as you all sat around a booth, knowing this was your moment before everyone started to head home for the evening. “Going to make a speech?” Hangman asked, eyeing you as you looked at everyone expectantly waiting for their attention. You just smiled, reaching into your purse to grab the friendship bracelets you’d spend the past few days making and handing them to their respective owners without a word.

“What’s happening right now?” Rooster asked, looking down at the delicate beaded string in confusion.

“They’re friendship bracelets, Roo,” you said dryly, fighting a smile.

“Why?” he asked and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why is it a bracelet? I’m not in the mood to get existential tonight… I just thought, well… I’m not making a speech but you guys are my best friends and I’ve never really had best friends before so… friendship bracelets,” you said almost awkwardly as everyone just stared at you before their resolve cracked and they were all excitedly putting them on. Well, everyone except for Bob, he had put his on instantly and had been grinning down at it the whole time.

“What is this, summer camp?” Hangman asked, but you didn’t miss the slight glimmer in his eye as he looked it over.

“Did you pick these colors because of Star Wars?” Fanboy asked and he beamed when you nodded. “This is awesome!”

“I can’t believe you did this! This must have taken you hours,” Phoenix said. “This is so sweet.”

“This is my favorite thing ever, thank you so much.” Bob said, looking down at his like you’d presented him with the Holy Grail before reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

“My daughter is going to be so jealous,” Payback said and you just smirked as you grabbed another from your purse and slid it across the table. “You made one for her?” he asked, looking at the much smaller bracelet in awe.

“Just securing my place as the favorite aunt,” you shrugged and Phoenix shot you a look.

“Hey, a bracelet changes nothing. I’m the favorite aunt,” she said and you laughed softly.

“Whatever you say, Phe,” you said as you slid to sit on the top of the bench and hooked your legs over to hop out, approaching the bar to meet Penny who gave you a bright smile.

“Another one?” she asked, but looked at you confused when you shook your head and instead presented her with a bracelet. “For me? Are you serious?” she asked, slipping it on.

“Of course, you’re a part of our team too.”

“Just for that, this is on me,” she said, placing a fresh beer in front of you and you turned to look at Maverick who’d cleared his throat.

“Can I help you?” you asked, trying to stifle your smirk.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing…” he replied, nonchalantly sipping his beer but eyeing yours and Penny’s wrists. “Just wondering where mine might be.”

“Sorry, old timer. There’s a height limit on friendship bracelets,” you said and Penny cackled from beside you. “Must be this tall to ride,” you held your hand up just above his height and you couldn’t help but laugh at his shocked expression as you pulled his from your pocket, donning his callsign just like everyone else’s.

“Oh, I didn’t… I was only joking,” he said but you could tell from the look in his eyes how much it meant to him.

“Of course you were, sir,” you exchanged a knowing look with Penny before heading back to your friends who were now all arguing over who had the best one and you wouldn’t have expected anything less.

#top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #rooster x reader #hangman x reader #phoenix x reader #fanboy x reader #bob x reader #payback x reader #coyote x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake seresin x reader #natasha trace x reader #bob floyd x reader #reuben fitch x reader #javy machado x reader

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pedgito · 1 year

Note

do you think eddie would prefer the kinky, passionate, messy sex with a lot of spit and other body fluids, being very dominant and in control or the giggly, not taking himself or you very serious loving type of sex where he jokes around all the time? i see him doing both but i think in a long term relationship he would be kinky af and enjoy that more

so…i got carried away, it extends under the cut.

cw: spitting, slight choking, degradation, spit as lube

i think it’s a beautiful mix of both when it’s not planned out. i imagine there’s times when he’s stressed and he really just needs to let it out and that’s always the safest and most comfortable way for him to do it, just showering you with that love and attention but also like, kinda being rough about it?? it’s just that outlet he needs to release the anger that’s built up and he loses himself in it sometimes. it’s always face to face, either his forehead is pressed up against yours or he’s hovering super close and just watching, hands squeezed around your throat ever so slightly until you squeak when he slips inside you.

and he calls you the worst things, does stuff that normally would make you both blush outside of these circumstances, but there’s no judgement here and eddie appreciates that.

“needy little whore, yeah?” he says through gritted teeth, his harsh thrusts shoving you up the bed until you can’t help throwing your hands against the wall, giving him some resistance. “always so fuckin’ greedy for my cock.”

he’ll bite and suck at your bottom lip until it’s bruised, spitting into his own hand as he reaches down to rub at your clit just because he wants to watch you squirm before turning his attention back toward you and nodding toward your mouth, watching closely as you part your lips, letting him spit into your mouth.

you thought you’d always hate it, but eddie had changed your viewpoint on so much shit that you weren’t sure there was anything you wouldn’t be interested in trying.

and most of the time you can barely manage words, so it’s always eager nods and mumbled responses as you fall deep into it, because even within all that eddie still takes care of you—and if those aren’t the best orgasms you’ve had, you’d be lying.

but he’s also one giggly motherfucker when he’s just teetering on the edge of being too horny—he’s not really asking for sex, but it always ends up there anyways. some nights start with you first, his hand shoved down the front of your underwear as he mocks your expressions lightly, chuckling when he realizes he’s hit the right spot and doesn’t stop. other times it’s him, laughing breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut as you lick a slow line up his cock from the base to the tip before taking him fully in your mouth.

and when you fumble too much during sex, the inbetween of switching positions or slow lingering kisses, he really can’t help but find it amusing, cracking stupid jokes to fill the silence—

“so, how was your day?” he asks randomly, shifting you up on your knees as he settles behind you, “do anything interesting?”

you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it, followed by his voice answering his own question.

“because boy has mine been fuckin’ super.” he says boastfully, slipping inside you again, “doing my favorite thing right now, actually.”

“eddie,” you interject like clockwork, “shut up.”

and he knows it’s meant to be endearing, so he never takes it the wrong way. and it’s part of the reason why he enjoys both sides of it so much, he never takes himself too seriously and is always ready throw himself into whatever role you need him to be, just as you do for him.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #my writing #anon #answered

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strangemagicc · 6 months

Text

Muse | Part Two

masterlist | <prev

pairings: modern!artist!Eddie x fem!Reader, classmates to lovers

summary: Eddie invited you to his studio for a private session.

warnings: smut, oral (reader and Eddie receiving), fingering, p in v, creampie, ass play (no penetration), slight dom!Eddie

author's note: I know this is shorter but, hear me out, there's going to be a part three! this particular part had been on my mind since I wrote part one and I was really excited when it came together. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Comments / reblogs are always appreciated (seriously) 🖤

w/c: 3.3k

Rain cascaded against the windows, fat drops that hit the glass windows in small thuds. Eddie’s studio was cold, autumn air creeping through the cracks of the walls in the renovated warehouse he rented. His breath was warm against your skin coming out in even exhales as he blew against your flesh.

“You know when I said to paint me like one of your French girls I didn’t quite mean this,” he smirked at your comment, face trained on the lines he traced against your skin. You watched him, his face etched in stern lines that made him look older.

“You’re so serious,” you dropped your voice low, mocking and silly. He stilled, brown eyes looking up at you from where he knelt and you chuckled at him, reaching out to rub against his jaw. He nipped at your hand, a playful smile painting his features.

“You need to stay still,” he chided softly, voice even. Professional. You withdrew your hand and relaxed your face into neutrality, breath held as he brushed paint against your thigh. A mix of scarlet and lavender bright against your flesh. Your eyes roamed around the room, to the exposed brick walls and the canvases that lined them, some were blank and others completed works. Eddie’s style varied from abstract to expressionist. Frenzied lines and vivid colors. The painting of you, the lines of your hips and the curve of your breasts, was bordering fauvism. The colors were vibrant and beautiful. Unnatural in their depiction of your frame. They spoke of the feelings Eddie had when he saw you and painted you for the first time. You wanted to ask him about it, what he was thinking, and what the varying hues were meant to represent. If your interpretation of the piece was what he was trying to convey but you held your tongue, it still felt too soon to ask how he felt. Even as the weeks passed and your worlds meshed, nights spent at your place or his, whole days spent in bed. Innocent kisses turned urgent, his hips slotted between yours working you over the edge.

Being open with your feelings felt more exposing than standing bare in his studio while he practiced painting your body for the Living Art Exhibition he was going to be part of in less than a week.

“Almost done,” Eddie muttered softly against your thigh, brush strokes soft along your calf. You didn’t know what exactly he was painting, could only see the colors that he chose and he was not keen on letting you into the loop. It was going to be just as much a surprise to you as those visiting the exhibit.

“Do I get a prize for being a good canvas?” You questioned, eyes now focused on the lights of the city. He chuckled, dropping his brush into a jar of water situated on a small stand near his drafting table. Sketches scattered along the surface. His sketchbook that he wouldn’t let you open nearby. He stood in front of you, eyes lingering on yours from where he towered. A sly grin slotting into place, dimple popping out on his cheek.

“What kind of prize were you angling for?” He asked, chest brushing your breasts as he moved closer. You looked to where you were connected, where the paint covering your nipple pasties rubbed against his white muscle shirt. You swallowed hard and looked up at him. His gaze had turned hungry, wanting. The way it always did when his thoughts had turned far from innocent. His nose brushed yours, lips inching closer as he ran his fingertips along your abdomen. Up up up until he brushed against the heavy flesh of your breast. You gasped at the contact, eyes still trained on his brown ones.

“Are you going to answer me, sweetheart?” You could feel the warmth of his exhale against your pout. His tone was mocking as he watched you, noticed the way your chest heaved as he continued to run his knuckles back and forth across your hidden nipple. You tilted your gaze down as you bit your lip and debated, thighs clenching. You thought of the way his fingers would feel if only he’d dip them lower, underneath the cotton of your panties that were now painted over. Vivid blue to compliment the lavender. Eddie slowly removed one of your pasties, your breath sharp as it slid against your sensitive nipple and you watched the way he rubbed it soft. His eyes were still trained on you as he worked the other pasty off leaving your pebbled breasts blossoming in the outline of where the pasties once rested. He pinched and pulled on one and your knees buckled at the sensation. The need was overwhelming as he continued to tease. Eddie wanted to hear your whine as you begged for him, to enjoy the way his name sounded on your lips as you did. You looked up at him, watched his mouth, and traced the outline of his pink lips with your eyes. Drawing closer until you were pressed against him once more. You pressed your lips to his, soft and sweet until that wasn’t enough. Your kiss turned frenzied with want. Teeth pulling at Eddie’s bottom lip in a small tug until he groaned. You gave him a cheshire grin, looking up at him as though you had the upper hand. But of course, you never did. Eddie lifted you from where you stood, hands wide against the dough of your ass until you were pressed against his hard arousal. You wrapped your legs around him on instinct, mewling at the way his cock felt pressed into your clothed cunt. He gave you a knowing smirk, hands spreading your ass cheeks apart as he held onto you. You moved your hips slowly, grinding against him until the zipper of his jeans hit your clit just right.

“This is the prize you wanted?” His voice came out gruff, affected by the circle of your hips as you continued to grind against him. You nodded your head at him, a low moan escaping your lips as you continued. He smacked your ass, a sharp sting zipping through you and to your sensitive center. You moaned louder, needier.

“Let me hear you say it, pretty girl,” you bit your lip as you looked at him from under your lashes, faux coyness dripping from your gaze.

“I want you Eddie,” you keened. He groaned at the sound of his name on your lips and walked you to a couch nestled in the corner of his studio. Plopping you against the fabric, legs already spread wide for him. He didn’t waste time, kneeling in front of you and ripping your underwear off before tossing it to the side. He nestled his head between your legs, dark eyes watching you. You looked at the couch, at the paint that was leaving marks against its blue fabric.

“Eddie, I’m going to ruin your sofa,” you giggled as you knotted your fingers into his hair. He looked at you with a smirk.

“I don’t give a fuck,” and before you had time for a rebuttal his mouth was on you. Tongue flicking against your clit in a rapid pace making you buck against the sensation. Your back fell against the couch, moans growing louder as he continued to lap at your arousal. He pulled away to spread your lips apart, admiring the way your pussy looked for him. Sopping cunt and puffy clit. He teased your entrance, thick finger pushing in and stretching you until he was knuckle deep. He wrapped your legs around his shoulder and kissed your inner thigh. Mouth sucking against the sensitive skin as he began to slowly push his finger in and out of you. Your grip tightened in his hair, pulling slightly as he picked up pace and curled his digit inside of you. Warm kisses moving up your thigh until his lips were pressed against your sensitive bud. Eddie sucked at your clit, tongue swirling against you as he did.

“Oh Eddie,” you moaned, fingers pulling tighter at his hair. He groaned against you, pushing another finger into your entrance and picking up pace. You could feel the orgasm building, a delicious feeling growing at your center as he continued.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” The squelching of his fingers inside of you created a lewd echo reverberating against the walls. You nodded at Eddie, small moans escaping as you got closer to the edge.

“Let me hear you,” he demanded, fingers pushed into the spot only he could reach and you began grinding against his face.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m going to cum-“ you breathed, falling apart as the words escaped you. Your hand tangled into his wild curls, limbs buzzing and vision clouding as the orgasm coursed through you. You squeezed your eyes shut, legs closing around Eddie’s head as he brought you over the edge. His lips still wrapped around your sensitive clit, sucking until tears beaded in your eyes. Overstimulated, vision white with the intensity. Eddie lapped at your juices, moaning as the sweetness coated his tongue.

“Fuck baby, I’ll never get over how sweet you are,” he hummed, warm breath fanning your pussy. You loosened your grip on his hair, vision becoming clearer. Chest heaving as your cunt continued to flutter around his fingers. He slowly withdrew them, fingers slick with you. You sat on your elbows, watching him with a satisfied grin. Breaths coming out in short spurts as your heart hammered against your chest. You watched his face as you grabbed his hand and wrapped your lips around his digits, pulling them into your mouth. Licking them clean. Eddie’s eyes grew darker, jaw-dropping with a small gasp as he watched you suck your arousal from his fingers and hum in delight. He was on you, fingers wrapping in your hair as he held your mouth to his. Kiss rough and animalistic in its need. Tongues darting against each other as it deepened. You pulled at the hem of his muscle shirt, pushing the material up and over his head until his naked torso was revealed. You rubbed your fingers along his abdomen, nails gliding against his happy trail until you were tugging at the button of his jeans. Eddie helped you push them, kicking the denim to the side until he was left in his boxers. Cock straining against the material, precum leaving a dark circle where his head rested. You palmed at his length, stroking from base to tip as you bit your lip and thought about how he’d feel stretching you around his cock.

“I need you,” you whined and pushed his boxers down. His dick stood at attention, tip leaking sticky and slick. You moved closer to him, running his tip against your lips until they were coated. Eddie watched as you licked your lips, savoring the taste of him. You dragged your tongue against the vein that led to his tip, swirling your tongue when you got to his pink head. Pulling him inch by inch into your mouth with a teasing glint in your eye. He was heavy against your tongue as he slipped further into your mouth until he brushed against your throat. You watched from under your lashes as Eddie threw his head back, fingers wrapped in your hair as you began to bob against him. Saliva dripping from your mouth and coating his thick length. You wrapped your hand around him, grip firm as you dragged it up with your mouth. Other hand massaging his balls. You listened as he groaned, knees buckling with the way you milked him. Chest heaving as you picked up pace until the only sound you could hear was the mixture of you slurping and gagging as you deep-throated him. God, he loved the way you looked with your mouth around his cock. The image etched behind his eyes when the pleasure was overwhelming and he had to close them.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, hips bucking as you continued. Your eyes tearing up as his length pushed against the back of your throat. You wanted to taste him, to feel his hot cum coat your throat and focused on his tip. Sucking it mean as he groaned louder.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he pulled away from you, teeth sinking into his lip as he got a good look at you. Tears ran down your cheeks, leaving streaks in the paint that had been brushed there. The same effect captured around your mouth where the saliva dripped from your lips.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathed and ran his thumb along your pout. You brought his thumb into your mouth, sucking hard against him as you began to stroke him.

“Turn around,” he ordered, voice raspy. You flipped onto your stomach and he grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him. Back arched and ass in the air. He slapped your doughy flesh. Once, twice until your cheeks stung with his touch. You mewled at the sensation, pussy dripping from your previous orgasm and the overwhelming arousal.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he muttered to himself, pulling your cheeks apart and exposing all of you to him. He ran a finger along your folds, soaking his thumb in your juices. You cocked your head and watched him, the way his jaw hung slack as he began to press against your asshole. You wiggled your ass, humming at the pressure of his thumb against the puckered entrance. He withdrew and slapped your ass once more before lining up the tip of his cock with your weeping cunt. You felt the pressure of his tip pushing into you, and the way he teased you inch by inch. Savoring the way you felt as you stretched over him until you were full. It already felt so good, the way he was already pushing against the spongy spot that sent you over the edge. Eddie spread your buttcheeks apart, dribbling spit onto your tight hole and rubbing his thumb over the entrance. Prodding until his thumb slipped inside.

“I feel so full,” you moaned and felt the way Eddie twitched inside you at your words. He pulled out of you slowly and thrust back into you with force. Watching the way your ass reverberated against him with the impact.

“Please, please, please,” you begged him, unable to stand the teasing. He smirked at the whine in your voice, hips pulling back and pushing forward sharply again.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Faster, Eddie please,” you whined again and he picked up his pace. Hips pushing into your ass and balls slapping against your swollen clit as he did. The feeling was euphoric, and overwhelming as the next orgasm was already beginning to build. Your moans filled his studio mixing with the sound of his, naked flesh pushing against naked flesh. Eddie chased his orgasm, removing his thumb from your ass and gripping your hips as he did.

“Holy shit, baby,” he moaned and you looked at him from over your shoulder. You loved hearing him, how affected he was by you and the way your pussy fluttered around him.

“Please fill me up, Eddie,” you breathed between moans. Rubber band tightening in your abdomen as he continued to thrust into you. His hips stuttered against yours, the effect of your words felt in the way his cock twitched inside you. Eddie’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers likely to leave marks against your skin. Your pussy fluttered, rubber band snapping at your center. The orgasm was more intense than the last leaving you breathless, moans spewing from you between gruff pants. His name escaped from your lips like a prayer. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

“Oh God, Eddie,” you whined out louder, limbs like jelly as he continued.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up,” he slapped your ass, his faltering pace letting you know he was closer. He pumped faster, nails digging into the dough of your ass until he came undone. A loud groan escaped his pretty lips, the warmth of his cum shooting into you. He moaned your name, nails still digging into you as his load coated your walls. You let out a breathy moan, eyes rolling at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you. Eddie loosened his grip on you, rubbing where his nails dug half-moons into your skin. Slowly he pulled his softening dick from you, a small sigh escaping him at the loss of you wrapped around him. You whined at the emptiness, unable to move from your position on the couch. He patted your ass, eying the way your pussy looked dripping with his cum.

“Made such a mess out of you sweetheart,” he mused and you wiggled your ass at him. He swatted at the fatty flesh and pushed on your hip to turn you onto your back. His cum dripped down your leg, taking the remainder of any paint with it. He nestled next to you on the couch, wrapping his arm around you as you buried your head into his chest. You played with his chest hair, drawing lines against his ribs and tracing the dark ink that stained his skin.

“Should I call poison control?” You asked, thinking of how much paint each of you had just consumed.

“It’s all edible,” he laughed and you looked at him with a questioning raise of your brows. He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I may have bought some intimate paint to use with you,” he elaborated with a tug of his lips. You traced his smile, pouting up at him.

“So you’re saying I could’ve painted you too?” You slapped his chest lightly, playfully, and he rubbed the spot as though you had mortally wounded him.

“You could’ve but what’s the fun in that?” He questioned.

“I could’ve made it worth your while, a repayment for your patience,” you crossed your arms and turned onto your back away from him. Eddie turned onto his side to face you, crowding your space with his lanky arms and naked chest pushing into your bare skin.

“What if I promised to let you take care of me next time,” he asked, grinning at your brattiness.

“Cross your heart?” You questioned and looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“And hope to die, beautiful,” and he drew an ‘x’ against his heart, leaning down to press his lips against yours. You pushed your palm against him, his chest flexing against your touch.

“I’m holding you to it, baby,” you said the nickname with a playful tone but didn’t miss the way it made eyes widen slightly in surprise. The first pet name you’d used on him. He kissed you slowly, savoring the way your lips molded to his and the way your breath shuddered when he pulled your lip between his to suck and then release. You turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, legs draped over his hips in an embrace. As close as possible, drawing him closer closer closer. You liked these moments the most, when hungry kisses turned sweet and you got to worship his body in a different way. Fingers dancing along the lines of his shoulders, down his trapezius muscles, and along his spine. Eddie wasn’t huge like the bodies captured in those wellness magazines, his muscle was lean. Contoured arms and hardened thighs. Fingers calloused from years of playing instruments and manual labor. His face was sharp lines and a strong jaw. And his neck. Beautiful muscled neck. You wanted to cover it in kisses and love bites. To leave your mark so everyone knew. It was a crush, an innocent crush, but God now it was bigger than the both of you.

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