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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Dirty Work 40

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Feel very off today IDK.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Please, please,” you puff, reaching between your legs, “please, I can’t–”

Your words are wobbly and loose, your legs too. As you touch Loki’s chin, you feel the slickness smeared across it. He only nuzzles further into you as your thighs twitch around him. You choke and beg through your shallow breaths.

He hums into you, reaching around to snatch your hand, pulling your arm behind your back. You whimper, wavering on your feet. Before you can lose your balance, he takes your other hand, guiding it alongside your other, locking both against your lower back.

He moans as he drinks you up. You put your feet flat and shake as another wave crashes down on you, the water slakes over you, the humid air adding to the sweat beading over your skin. You cum again and again and again. Each time, he grows more devoted to his task, twining your nerves together until you’re wrought.

Your leg buckles and gives. He releases your hands, once more grabbing you by the hips and holds you up. He eases you down slowly as you shake weakly. Lower and lower, he keeps your ass in the air as you drop down on your hands and knees. You’re senseless and lost in the ravages of pleasure.

When you come again, all your strength drains from you. You can’t take anymore. He lets you go as you collapse onto the porcelain and groan. He drags his hands down your legs as you roll onto your side and heave. He snickers and traces up your arm.

“You’ve been very good, pet,” he growls and stands, stepping over you as he pushes the door open.

He leaves you there, the door open as the shower continues to pour down on you. You catch your breath but can’t move, not right away. You’re so very tired. Worn out by more than his unprecedented attention but by everything. The day seeps back into your mind and coils your muscles tight.

You get one knee under you, then the other. You climb to your feet and shut the faucet off. You emerge and stumble, reaching for a towel from the rack. You wrap yourself in the fluffy cotton and look at the open door. You hobble towards it, finding Loki… Mr. Laufeyson in your bed. He stretches out, his arms bent behind his head, as his nakedness is concealed only by the blanket folded at his waist.

You turn off the bathroom light and cross to the bed. You flinch as you sit, swollen and oversensitive. You dry yourself off stiffly and stare at the wall. The glow slowly fades and you’re left dull and worn. That’s all this will ever be. You have your use and when he doesn’t need you, you are just there.

You stand and drape the towel over the wooden arm of the sofa. You look around, searching. You pad along to the closet and fold the door back. There’s your stuff. You fish out a night gown and return to the bed. You wonder why he’s still there.

“I’ll stay,” he reaches to rub the silk between his fingers, “in case… my brother thinks to attempt another coup.”

“Oh, thanks,” you utter, refusing to look at him. “Would you like the light off?”

He takes a breath, “ah, I should’ve brought a book. You always do enjoy it when I read to you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “the light?”

“Off, is fine,” he replies evenly.

You flip off the lamp and lower yourself down. You keep your back to him, hand clinging to the edge of the mattress as you fight to keep your breath steady. You just want to cry. You feel so heavy but flat. As if you’ve been run over.

“Pet…” he says gently. You don’t answer as you stay as you are, right at the very edge, making yourself as small as possible. “Suppose you are tired…” he mulls quietly, “yes, you should rest.” He flutters his fingers against your waist, “as should I.”

He shifts behind you and brings himself closer, looping his arm around your stomach. He urges you back, putting you flush to him as you grasp slips from the mattress. He nuzzles your crown and his hot breath fans across your scalp. He sighs and embraces you tighter.

“I’m certain I did little to lessen your fatigue,” he snickers, “though I don’t think you will complain. Surely, you didn't sound unhappy at all.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree.

You feel him tense and he puffs a longer breath into your hair. He slackens his hold on you but doesn’t draw away. He hums, “sweet dreams, pet.”

✨

You sway between bouts of dull sleep that makes your head ache and hollow restlessness that has you squirming against the body behind you. Mr. Laufeyson sleeps undisturbed by your fidgeting, much to your relief. That last thing you need is him waking up unhappy.

When at last he wakes, he does not free you. He pushes you onto your back and covers your mouth with his. He kisses you until you can’t breathe and when he pulls away, he gazes down at you. You just look back at him emptily. He frames your chin and tries again. This time, your cheeks dimple as you attempt a smile.

He recoils and sits up, putting his back to you. You think he’s displeased but you can’t tell. He can seem so when he’s thinking. What could he be agitated by anyway? You’ve only let him do what he wants.

He’s silent as he rises and dresses. You do the same, picking a plum skirt and a white blouse. You sit to pull on your stockings and catch Mr. Laufeyson watching you. His eyes crawl up from your leg to your face. He quickly turns away.

“I have some calls to make,” he takes his phone from the side table and brusquely marches to the doors.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you confirm.

He stops, his hand on the door handle and his head tilts. He seems about to say something before he rips the door back. He swallows loudly before he finds his voice, “my mother should have breakfast ready, you may join her.”

He leaves and the door closes a bit too harsh for your comfort. What now? What have you done? And what calls does he need to make? Perhaps he got one. Maybe she… No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t matter.

You go to check your reflection and tidy up. You peer around the room. You can’t stay in here. It just reminds you of last night and all your confusing thoughts. Not just thoughts, feelings.

You let yourself out and look up and down the hall. You go downstairs and wade through the quiet morning lull. Gertrude is in the kitchen chopping fruit with a large knife. You don’t know what to do, you think you’re too early.

A figure startles you as its shadow darkens over your shoulder. You shuffle aside and turn to face Odin as he enters, an empty cup in his hand. Gertrude comes forward to take it from him with a “good morning, sir.”

“Ah, there she is,” he greets you, “have you had a coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “no, but I…” You don’t want one. You don’t want anything but to be alone. You turn our head to look out the window at the rustling leaves brushing against the pane.

“I always found the morning air did me more good than caffeine,” Odin says, “would you like to see the gardens?”

“Sir, I–”

“Please, enough of that,” he waves away the formality, “you would do me a favour. It isn’t often I have someone to walk with me.”

You look at him and bite your lip, “of course.”

“Wonderful,” he proclaims and waves you ahead of him. You go around to the back entry way and stop by the door. You look at the mat then around. You don’t have any shoes.

“Ah, these will do,” he bends and pulls out a pair of plaid gray slippers, “a bit big but we can go slow.”

He turns them towards you and stands, waiting for you to step into them. He has a pair of leather shoes already on his feet. You thank him quietly as you slide your feet in. He opens the door for you, again letting you take the lead.

He points you across the veranda and offers his hand for you to descend the steps onto the stone path. You take each stair carefully, not wanting to lose the overly big slippers. As you get to the bottom, he rescinds his hand and offers an arm instead. You hook yours through his and let him guide you.

You quickly lose yourself in the scenery and your worries. The green leaves, the creeping vines, the fluttering petals. It’s all so beautiful. You don’t belong there.

You lower your head, as if just looking upon it all is a crime. You should be at home with your father. A pang jabs deep between your ribs as you think of him. You haven’t even called. You’ve barely given him a single thought. You must be as selfish as he always accused you.

You keep your feet moving in tandem with Odin’s but pay little attention to your path. He slows and stops you as a trickling plucks in the air. You peek up and see a large plinth with water flowing down the sides. A wonderful fountain in the midst of a square basin dug into the earth.

“I come here to think. Or not to,” he explains, gesturing you towards a carved wooden bench. You sidle along and sit and he lowers himself with you, his arm still entwined with yours. “I can see you are in need of both.”

You shake your head and focus on the flowing water. Your cheeks pinch and your lips tauten across your teeth. You can’t cry. Not in front of him.

“You are homesick?” He asks gently as he pats your arm with his free hand.

You nod.

“It is only human. I remember…” he leans against you, “when I was young, if ever I truly was, and I went away from home for school. I was so very excited. My whole life I’d been sheltered, eh. My mother had me close all the time. I went to a private school with walls that shut out the world. And after the years of what felt like a prison, I couldn’t wait to be away, to be free.

“And my first day alone, sitting in my dorm, so proud of the Hendrix poster on my wall, I broke down. I bawled for hours. I couldn’t stop. I’d never ever cried like that. But I went down to the RA and asked to use the phone. I called my mother and…” he snaps his fingers, “in an instant, no tears. And even when she hung up, I was alright, because I knew I could always call her back.”

You sniff, your eyes stinging. He doesn’t know you can’t call your father. You don’t want him to know that.

“You went to college?” You ask.

“Mm, yes, wasted a bit too much time there,” he sighs, “but you won’t fool me, girl. Who do you miss so much?”

You shrug and hang your head. You don’t even know if you really miss your father. You know he doesn’t miss you. All you know is he’s sick and you’re hear, sitting in this splendour, buying new dresses, and eating fine cheeses.

“My father…” you croak.

“Ah fathers, they are… complicated.”

You nod and gulp tightly. You lift your head and peek over at him, “he hates me.”

The words strangle you once they’re out. There it is. The truth. There’s no taking it back.

It only took you thirty years to figure it out. You never had anything to compare it too but seeing Frigga dote on her children, just her asking you how you are, sparked the revelation. Then there was the other side, the dejection, the constant reminders that you are only good for what you can give, not what you are. That’s the only way your father ever treated you.

“I’m certain he doesn’t,” Odin coos gently.

“No, he does,” your lip downturns and tugs on your cheeks, “I always knew it but I wanted so desperately for him to love me that I… I told myself… that he did or that he could.”

You tear your arm free and stand. You hide your face as you try to smother the sudden eruption of sobs. What is wrong with you? You sweep away, facing the foliage at the other end of the fountain and heave, shoulders shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimper. “I shouldn’t–”

“Do not apologise. I won’t accept it,” he insists as he rises and hovers close to you, “you’ve nothing to be sorry for. How you feel is not an offence.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you turn to him, “I want to disappear.”

His eyes sparkle and his features soften, “dear…”

“No, I do. I don’t want to be here or anywhere. I don’t belong. Not here, not there, not on this planet.”

“Oh my,” he puts his hands gently on your shoulders and angles you towards him, “you feel that way, but feelings are not always true.”

“It’s true. I’m… I’m just a maid. I’m not… I’m not…”

“You are exactly where you should be,” he says, “you are here with me.” He pulls you against him, trapping you in his arms. He brings a hand to the back of your head and cradles it, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. He rocks you gently, “you are safe and you are wanted.” He pets your hair as he holds you, “you are worthy.”

You bring your arms around, clinging to him, clinging to safety. You bury your face in the soft fabric of his shirt and weep. You weep until you're dizzy and raw and spent. And when you’re drained, you don’t let go. You can’t.

You just want to stay here with the birds and the insects and the rippling fountain. You want to hide away in this menagerie and never come out. Yet you know you must. Not right now, not just yet. But eventually, you have to tuck it all away again and face the world.

For now, you’ll just let him hold you.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #marvel #avengers #mcu #thor

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the-kr8tor · 2 months

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Stem the Tide

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW injury, TW death, CW vomit mention.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

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CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

There's water in your lungs.

Hobie's injuries scream at him to stop swimming, but he doesn't, not until he swims you to safety. He has you placed on a piece of the revenge, a shattered part of it, all splintered wood and sharp edges that dig into his skin.

The storm has subsided, the sea monsters went back into the water, the thought should ease him but he'd rather have the beasts within eyesight if possible. The sky is still dark and blue, the sun is just about waking up to the carnage floating on the depths.

His other half is paddling away from the trenches where the creatures could lie in wait. Eyes gradually searching for his crew but his main priority is you. You who haven't opened your eyes, you who haven't breathed nor moved. He worries, grief calling for him once again.

The fear of losing you is the only thing keeping him moving.

His arms ache as he tries to restart your heart. Pounding and pushing into your chest, doing his best not to crack any of your ribs. Chapped lips breathing life into you, inflating your lungs, chest heaving up but you don't expel the water. He ignores the freezing water; it's almost as cold as your skin, still it burns him with every touch he gives you.

You haven't breathed on your own for a long while.

He curses himself, wishes that he got to you faster but with all the jaws coming towards him he had to dodge in the water and with all the strong currents he let you drown. Fuck, why wasn't I fast enough? He thinks, guilt chewing him.

“C’mon, Scuttlebutt. Fuckin' breathe.”

Hobie sees land ahead so he paddles faster.

He sucks in air, then blows into your icy mouth. Pumping and pushing, his muscles are threatening to give out.

“Not you,” tears brimming in his eyes, the sun peeks in the horizon, illuminating your lifeless face. “Please, not you too.”

A large wave almost sweeps the two of you off the raft, he protects you with his own battered body. The wave helped, the makeshift raft beaching on the sandy shores of the unknown island.

He pounds his palms continuously on your chest. Thump, thump, thump. The sound echoes in his ears like death knells.

Nothing.

Your lips are turning an unnatural shade. He doesn't focus on it, instead Hobie leans in, breathing into you once again, moving his head down, he listens intently for a sign of your heart beating.

He can't even hear a faint beating.

“Fuck!” He continues the cycle, palms compressing on your chest, mouth giving you air straight from within him. “Open your goddamn eyes!”

Hobie yells your name, full of anguish and denial. He won't give up because if it was you in his shoes, you wouldn't have.

His sobs wracked his body, yet he does it again and again and again. He can't even look at your face anymore because if he fails, he doesn't want to remember your lifeless face, instead he'd want to remember you smiling, smiling at his crew, smiling at whatever joke Pav said, smiling at him.

He'll do anything to see it again. The crew can't lose you.

He can't lose you,

“No!” In his desperation, he hammers his fist harshly on your chest.

Nothing.

He does it again. Thrashing and drumming.

Nothing.

Hobie closes his eyes, leaning down to breathe life into you one last time. He's tired, too tired to continue. Lips lingering on yours, he holds onto you tight, refusing to let go.

You wake up to lips pressing on yours and salty water rising quickly from your lungs.

Gasping and coughing, you feel calloused fingers push your body to the side as you vomit out all the water. Eyes stinging, hands digging into the sand.

You hear relieved laughter behind you, hand gripping to your shoulder, the other rubbing gently on your back.

Spitting the last salty water out of your body, you fall back on the wooden raft, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. Hobie greets you with a tired smile, fatigued yet he still finds it in himself to grin from ear to ear.

The sun blankets behind him, bathing him in its light, piercings shining, and like fate's practical joke, there's a halo behind his head.

“Please don't tell me we both died and now we both ended up in the same place.” You joke with a hoarse voice. Tongue still tasting salt. “I can barely handle you while alive and now I have to be with you even in death?”

He laughs, the sound louder than the waves on the shore. “That's the first thing you say after almost dying? Miles is right, you use humour as a crutch.” with a shaking hand, he cups your cheek, laying his forehead against your own, resisting the urge to lay his head above your chest to listen to your heartbeat, just to make sure he isn't hallucinating.

You exhale against his face, breath fanning his eyelashes, it's enough proof that death has decided to give him reprieve.

“We're not dead?” You close your eyes, savoring his presence. Hands clasped around his wrist, feeling for his pulse.

He's not dead.

“No,” he leans away, relief under his sigh. “We're alive.”

You chuckle, ghosting your thumb across the gashes on his cheek. “You did good.”

Hobie shakes his head with a smile, rolling on his back, he falls on the sand softly, arms spread out. The once white sand turns into a shade of pink under him, reminding you of his injuries.

“I did good.” Eyes closed, hand reaching towards your side, he grasps your blouse in his palm like you'd fade away if he lets go of you for even a second. The cloth is warm on his skin, realizing that you're injured.

Your cough and groan was enough to ignite his adrenaline once again.

With a hand, you stop him from moving frantically. You inhale a sharp breath, “We need a fire going.” Sitting up on your own, shivering from the cold. He observes with his hands hovering over you.

“Alright, just stay here, I'll light it.”

“No, let me help.” Your wheezing says otherwise.

Hobie grasps your chin, lifting it to face him. Your skin is on fire, he smiles at life coming back to your body. “You drowned,” he doesn't want to say the other word or it might come true. “I think that trumps over a couple of stab wounds.”

“A couple?!” You blink in surprise. “Hobie—”

“Just a few slashes. Stay here, don't cause trouble, trouble. Captain's orders.”

“You're so fucking annoying.” You flop down on the raft, gripping your weeping wound, teeth chattering.

“You could say ‘thank you’ for once.” he teases in an attempt to bring back normalcy. Staring at your sand crusted hair, seafoam draped around you, he's glad he didn't give up in saving you just for him to get a glimpse of this view.

You stare at him through wet lashes, a small pout on your warming lips. “I'm losing blood, captain.”

The simple sentence gets him to clamp up, face suddenly serious.

“Bring me a coconut!” You yell, pout replaced with a small smile. You hide your wincing with a bite of your lip, drawing blood. Looking at him upside down, he has his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

“You're insufferable.” He quotes you before immediately jogging over towards the tropical forest behind you.

“And I, you.” You whisper into nothingness, touching your lips with the pads of your fingers.

—

The fire cackles next to you, the flames dance in your vision just like the fire that devoured the revenge. Smoke fills your lungs again, you cover your nose with your arm, eyes closed, trying to forget what happened. What you did.

Hobie holds a circular pendant tied to a stick, the metal glows red hot, the engraving of a wave twirls as he moves it closer to you.

You clutch the back of your head, it still stings when you press down, at least you're not freezing and wet anymore thanks to the fire next to you.

“How do I do this?” He asks, eyes flicking to your pained face.

“Just place the metal on top of my wound for a few seconds then take it off immediately. I don't want a piece of metal in me.” Your voice is muffled by your arm.

“Show me.”

Lifting up your blouse, you hiss, fabric sticking to the angry wound, revealing where the bullet pierced you. “He nicked me so there's no bullet to take out.”

“Less work for us then. Ready?”

“Yes, just use the plain side. I don't want it to leave a mark.”

“Bad news, scuttlebutt. It'll leave a mark.”

“Not what I meant. The wave, I don't want it to leave a shape.”

“I know.” Without warning, he places the bare side of the pendant on your wound. Skin sizzling, you bite into your arm, yells tamped down. Other hand gripping into his elbow. It's an unimaginable pain, you can't believe Hobie survived through two of these.

He flings it away, careful not to add to your pain. “You alright?”

You heave, a tear escaping from your eye. “I guess I deserved that.” Looking at him through half lidded eyes, he gives you a weak smile.

“You would've flinched.”

“You're right, I would've flinched. At least I'm honest about it.” You let the air kiss your searing skin. Letting your head fall on the tree trunk behind you, He watches you like you're already dead. “It was a joke, Hobie—”

“What happened to you? Below deck?” He shakes his head, glaring at your neck. You instinctively hide it under your hand, it's still tender to the touch.

“Had a run in with a very bad man. I got him though…” you nudge him with your foot. “I'm—” you can't find the right words. “I'm sorry about the ship, I had to defend myself, I didn't know the fire would—”

“The ship was already gone the moment Mathias found us.” Those grey eyes look at you intensely, remnants of the storm still leave traces behind them. “Don't apologize, you got him, that's all that matters.”

“I burned him alive, Hobie.” You blurt it out, confessing your sins. “I shot a man. I–I don't…It matters that I did that.”

He sits closer, leaving the searing metal next to him on the fire. Holding your knee, he tentatively touches your hand before he reaches for it fully. Skin meeting skin, hand holding yours, the same grey eyes soften for you.

“Let it matter then. But don't let it in, don't let them try to kill you a second time. Bury their bodies if you have to but don't mourn them.”

“Can we do that? Bury them? Not metaphorically, even without the bodies.”

“Yes, if you want to. I'll help you dig.”

You nod, gliding your thumb along the ridges of his hand. After a beat, you swallow a lump in your dry throat. “I can still hear his screams.” avoiding his eyes, you look down at the grains of sand, your tears leave patches of darker soil in its wake.

Hobie squeezes your hand. “I'll quiet it down for you.”

“How?” you look at him, eyes questioning, eyes weeping.

“I'll talk over it, make you listen to something else other than the screaming.”

You give him a tight lipped smile, forced, tears threatening to fall. You can't ignore their faces anymore. “Finn, Ned and—”

“We'll bury them too, and we'll mourn them. They deserve that much.”

“They deserve more, Hobie. Much more.” he pulls you in, seeking comfort from each other. Arms enveloping you. You let him take you in, his scent replacing the smoke clinging to your lungs.

“They do,” Mindful of each other's injuries, you lay your head on his uninjured shoulder, face buried on the crook of his neck. He does the same, nose kissing your skin. “they deserve better.”

He finds that his arms are molded to fit you.

“The others? Do you know they're alright?”

“I saw them escape, that's all I know.” You lean away, looking at him with worry. “We'll find them, but knowing Gwen they'll find us first, yeah?” he cups your jaw. “We'll get out of here, I promise.”

“I'll hold you to that.” You nod, leaving his warmth, back landing on the wood, letting yourself fall back to your old ways.

Hobie still has his hands shaped to fit you. “We have to survive first.” He taps your shoe. “Do mine next.” He lifts up his shirt, showing you all the angry gashes like a prized trophy. “Then our scars will truly match.”

—

Shoes discarded on the sand, you wade through the seafoam with Hobie. The sun glares, puffy clouds shielding you from the heat. A breeze passes by, seagulls squawk above.

“We could eat those.” He pipes up, kicking something under the sand.

“The sand?”

“The birds, thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” Leaning down, he grabs something red buried in the sand. “Help me with this.”

You stretch your shoulders, careful of your own injuries. Copying his stance, you both pull. “How do we even catch one?”

“Pistol, a spear or a trap.” He does all the work of pulling while you're still aching. His injuries still hurt but he'd rather do all the work than let you strain yourself. “Trust me, after eating fish for three days straight, you'd beg for something else to eat.”

“You think we'll be stuck here for three days?” you tug in sync, pulling it with all your strength.

“Maybe more—” he scoffs, finally hauling the fabric out. “It's our sail. Bloody hilarious.” the crimson lay half buried in the sand, tattered.

Ned would hate seeing it like this.

You trace the stitching around the edges, remembering how his expert hands once weaved around it.

“Oi” he brushes his knuckles on your hand to get your attention. You feel his broken skin briefly. “We could use this as our roof.”

“Mm-hmm, you do that and I'll continue searching around the shore. Maybe my satchel got washed up too” you let go of the cloth, already walking away.

“Nah, I'll come with.” He bunches up the sail in his arms, drowning his entire body in red.

Crimson like the eyes of the beast.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile. “We can't stay together the entire time we're here. We'd drive each other crazy.”

Hobie catches up to you, wide strides and long legs sauntering over to your side. “Good thing I'm already bonkers.” he passes by you, looking over his shoulders to see your wide eyes looking at him. “Hurry up before the sun sets.”

You shake your head, jogging to walk by his side. “I bet in three days we'd start killing each other.”

He snorts. “I beg to differ.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

After a minute of walking along the beach, you find a washed up crate. Hobie opens it with the butt of his gun, punching a hole straight through. You pray that it's medical supplies or at least food.

He laughs, clutching his side, leaning on the box. Beckoning your confused self, he drapes his arm around your shoulder, showing you the contents.

You blink confused at the brown bricks. “Is this tea?”

He continues to chuckle like he heard an inside joke that you're not privy to. Taking one in his hand, he weighs it, surprised that it wasn't damaged by the sea water, he thanks whoever packed it well.

Opening the packaging, he brings it close to your nose. “Here.”

You flinch back, burnt skin tugging on your side. “What the hell! I'm not smelling that!”

He laughs louder, you wonder if his injuries ache too. “Just smell it and tell me what you think it is.”

“No! What if it's solid shit?”

“It's not! Solid shit? Really?” His broken lips hurt as he smiles wider. “Do you not trust me?”

You suck in your teeth, “fine, if this is shit I'm drowning myself.” With apprehension, you lean forward to sniff. “Is that?” You sniff again, this time with a laugh. “Holy shit!”

“It's bloody chocolate.” You grab his hand, smelling the sweet treat. “Guess you got your wish. An entire crate of ‘em too.”

“I can't fucking believe that it hasn't melted yet!” He hands you the entire bar and you grin. You both guessed that one of the navy ships was carrying it. “We only need a crate full of alcohol and we're good.”

Hobie clasps your arm, “We can stay here forever if we do find one.”

“Fuck off.” You say in between laughs. “I'm not staying here forever—” your smile falters, fear enters your body.

“What?” He turns around, following your line of sight.

A body, there's a body washed up on the shore. It's draped in a blue uniform and seaweed, seagulls land near it, tentatively pecking.

“Stay here.” He murmurs, draping the sail on top of the crate. You grasp his hand before he leaves your side. “Y/N, stay here.”

“No, what if he's still alive?” you hold on to him tighter.

He nods, eyes roaming your tensed face, your shoulders are straight, eyes staying on the body. “Alright, but walk behind me, yeah?”

You nod.

With every step, your fear encapsulates you further down to your feet, the warmth on your soles keeps you alert. Yet, your hand stays on the cold hilt of your dagger.

Hobie kicks the corpse, it stays unmoving. A group of crabs start to scavenge the body, pinching and taking skin.

“He's dead. No need to worry.” He looks at you over his shoulder, glancing at your tight grip on the dagger.

“What if we're not the only ones here?” your breath shudders at the thought.

“I'll sweep the island—”

“We'll sweep the island.”

He doesn't protest, knowing you won't take no for an answer. “Fine, just—” grabbing your hands, he fixes your hold on the dagger, guiding your fingers around the hilt. You freeze on the spot. “There, better.” He tugs at the weapon, it doesn't budge in your hold. “Now they can't take it from you. Don't let them take it away from you.”

“I won't, I promise.”

—

The island is small, smaller than you thought it would be. Green foliage and tropical trees cover half of the island. Dry leaves crunch under your foot, critters slither and chatter under the tall grass, making you conscious of where you land your feet. The rays of the sun peek behind the tree tops. Exotic sounding birds sing above the branches, their rainbow feathers fly overhead, leaving a breeze to flutter against your cheeks.

You almost run into Hobie when he stops abruptly. He whistles out, reaching blindly behind him to grasp your hand.

“Come on.”

Surprisingly enough, you don't let go, locking your fingers around his, letting the warmth course through your skin.

You hear rushing water.

“We're fuckin' lucky.” He pauses, watching you peek from behind to see what's in front.

You're in awe at the small waterfall, misty water cascading like unfurled silk; it splashes cool water down into a plunge pool. Before you know it, Hobie's stripping down to his knickers.

“Woah! A bit of a warning!” You cover your eyes quickly.

He hoots before you hear a loud splash.

Hobie calls your name, you can hear his smile from how he utters it.

“It's fresh water! We can drink this!” He yells over the sound of the waterfall.

“I'm not drinking your bath water!” You still avoid him, glancing all over the place except for where he swims.

“The water isn't stagnant! It's clean! Come over here!”

“No!”

“I'm not fuckin' naked, Y/N! Just fuckin' come here.”

With a stomp of your foot and a click of your tongue, you glance at him, avoiding staring at his bottom half.

“Someone else could still be here, Hobie and you're relaxing!”

“No one's here, trust me. We've swept the entire place, there's no one here. Jus’ us” He floats and you immediately look away. Laughing, he lets the water wash over him.

“Well I'm glad you're having fun!” You say sarcastically. “But I'll walk around so you don't get stabbed in the water.”

“I can finally teach you how to swim! Get in!” He teases, knowing you won't actually swim with him while he's practically in his birthday suit.

“Nope!” You walk away but still staying close to him. “Maybe when you're not naked I'll reconsider!”

“Suit yourself! Wait!” You pause, “Stay close, yeah?”

Nodding, you wave with the dagger.

You walk around the area, avoiding colorful flowers that you're too afraid to touch. Hands grazing the top of the tall grass, you gasp when a familiar plant catches your sight.

“What?!” You hear Hobie shout, “you alright?!”

“I'm fine!” You yell back. “Keep floating like a turd!”

He laughs, a second later you hear splashing.

—

You sit on the banks of the pool, tired muscles sagging into the dirt, your pockets are full of medicinal herbs. You're just glad you found the right plants that can help to stave off infection. If only you had a mortar and pestle then it'll help with digesting the bitterness better.

Drawing swirling patterns on the dirt with your dagger, you don't look at him, only flicking your eyes to see if he hasn't drowned from napping in the water. He floats aimlessly, skin glistening under the sun, toned chest and scars in full display. You huff, moving your eyes away from his body. Yet your mind wonders where he got them, it's better to think about it than letting your mind wander back to what happened on the revenge and your almost death.

The slight sting of your injuries helps keep you awake at least.

“You hungry?” You almost jump when he suddenly appears on the edge of the pool, arms tucked under his chin, grey eyes looking expectantly at you.

“A little. You?”

“Starving. We're gonna need to make a shelter soon.” Hobie twists in place, head resting on the ground, face staring up at the afternoon sky.

You scooch closer, he smiles when your upside down face fills his vision. “Do you know where we are?”

“No, I'm guessing we're in one of the thousand islands. We were near it when we—Just be glad that we didn't land on a cannibal island.”

“There's no such thing.” He reaches up, wiping the sweat off your brow. “Right?” you almost lean into his touch.

“We got attacked by a bloody sea monster, ‘m sure there's an island somewhere with cannibals.”

“True.” You shrug, trying not to remember what the beasts look like or even sound like. “Did you piss your pants too when they came up from the water?” Teasing, you fall into relaxation with him.

“No, I shat myself.” You laugh loudly. Hobie thinks he has the best seat in the house. “Can't fuckin' believe they're real.” He can't believe you're real.

“Still feels like a dream. Someone has to know those things exist.” The sun illuminates the side of your face, lighting up your features. He can't help but reach up again with the same excuse to wipe your face. “Thanks, I'm sweating a lot.”

“Really? I haven't noticed.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe if you take a dip then—”

“Nope.” To his dismay, you move away from his view. “Come on, fishman, we need to get started on shelter.”

“I just said that.” He stands up, groaning along the way, you look away. “and really? Fishman? That the best you can do, stinky?”

“Stinky?” You cross your arms on your chest, hearing clothes shuffle behind you. “What are you five?”

“Could say the same thing to you,” his face suddenly appears on your shoulder. You yelp, groaning comically, briskly walking away in annoyance. “Wrong way, scuttlebutt.”

You turn heel, trudging in a different direction while he chuckles.

—

Standing in knee deep sea water, the sun beaming down, soft sand under your toes and your stomach growling to be fed, you stand near Hobie whose trousers are folded up to his knees. The water laps at your legs, warm enough to be comfortable but cool enough to keep you in the water. Tiny fish weave around your legs, their fins brushing your skin.

“There!” you point too fast that you pull a muscle but you pay it no mind when Hobie misses the fish again with his makeshift spear.

“Fuck!” The spear is sticking out of the sand, Hobie who is equally starving kicks the water, it splashes all over your blouse.

Great, you're hungry and wet.

You huff loudly, frustrated like the man next to you. “I'm hungry.”

“I know.” He says flatly. Taking out the spear, he aims again.

The fish wiggle in the water like it's mocking Hobie.

“Maybe we can survive eating chocolates and coconut for the rest of our days?” You wipe the sweat off the back of your neck. “Or I can start catching some crabs.”

“Fuck this!” He yells, drawing his gun, he shoots at the fish, the bullet hits the water like a tiny cannonball, splashing you again.

It's a bullseye.

You scream when he grabs the still bleeding fish. Hobie smiles wildly, yelling triumphantly.

You both jump up and down in the water giddily.

—

The fire roars in front of you, your dinner needs some seasoning but it's better than sleeping hungry with only chocolate to fill your stomach. Times like this you miss Finn's cooking, and him.

Hobie looks at you through the fire, he's thinking of the same thing. Wishing that he wasn't.

“What kind of fish is this?” you break the quiet to stop your thoughts.

“The edible kind.”

“You have no idea do you?” Narrowing your eyes at him, you scoff.

“Fuck if I know.” Hobie shrugs, scrunching his nose.

“You're a pirate.” You stop chewing.

“Yes and? I'm not a bloody fisherman.”

“I thought you'd know, because you're in the sea most of the time.”

“Fishing was James’ job not mine.”

“Kinda wishing James was here then.” You murmur but he still hears.

“Give me your bloody fish, you ungrateful bastard.” he reaches towards you and in turn you pull your fish away from him.

“No!” he chuckles at your reaction, shaking his head before silence drapes over the peace you've both created.

You keep munching on the plain mystery fish. Hobie was kind enough to catch (shoot) another fish so you don't have to share one. It's flaky in your hands, now you smell like sweat, blood and fish. The greatest smell combination in the world.

You chew, “I need new clothes.” and a bath but you'll never admit it to Hobie.

“That bloke has some,” he points with his chin at the dead body, laying further at the beach.

“Ew, I'd rather stay in these.” You grimace, looking down at the tattered and singed cloth that's holding on to its last leg.

“I don't mind that, I can actually see your elbows from here.” he smirks, trying to look flirty but with him chomping on a fish head it ended up looking more hilarious than cute.

“My elbows? Oh you pervert.” Yet there's heat behind your cheeks even when his own cheek is covered in fish scales. “Should we bury him?” you change the subject.

“We should or it'll stink,” he flicks his grey eyes at you, the simple act wakes up the butterflies in your stomach, or maybe that's the fish. “like you.”

“I don't stink” a lie of course.

Hobie laughs into his half eaten fish. “I can smell you from here.”

“No you don't, that's the fish!”

“What's the difference?”

You flick a fin at him, it hits him on his head, sticking to his hair. Laughing, you take another bite, something hard almost breaks your tooth. You stop giggling, spitting out a round metallic thing.

Realization hits you, Hobie peeks at your hand,

His sudden loud guffaw makes you throw the bullet at him. He dodges it, still laughing hard and with a fish fin stuck to his hair.

“This is why fishermen don't shoot at fish!” You end up cackling too, finding his laughter contagious. “I almost bit into it!”

He guffaws louder, hiding his face and you get a full view of the fin on his hair. You shake your head, standing up to sit next to his shaking form.

“Stop moving! Let me get that thing off.” You grab it, throwing it into the fire.

His laughter subsides, staring at you with those stormy eyes. He sniffs, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to say something that could hurt or for him to say something that would make you leave. But you don't and he stays silent. Just reveling in each other's presence.

You read his expression, his lips still hidden under his hand but his eyes say everything. You don't want to ruin the night but you have to tell him or it'll eat at you, not letting you sleep and you ending up looking at him with pity and grief. You don't want that, you want to continue to look at him like you've recently found out from Miles, with reverence and fondness that's out of your reach.

“I'm sorry.” Your words don't hurt him but your expression brings a pang in his heart. “About…everything.”

“‘s not your fault.” Grief knocks on his door and he refuses to answer. “Nothin' to be sorry about.”

“Feels like it is.”

“You're not the one who killed them.” Grief tries to barge in on him, he blocks the door, still refusing to let it in. “There's nothin' to forgive.”

“Still, I'd like to apologize. They were good men.” Against your own better judgment, you take his hand, he doesn't flinch away, even twisting his hand to hold yours properly.

“Do you want to say goodbye? To them?” he murmurs like he isn't sure of it himself.

Hobie refuses to let it in, not again, not in front of you.

“Yes, but we'll do it once you're ready.” You whisper to him like the world could hear his secret.

Hobie sighs. Heart aching, he doesn't want to say goodbye, if it was up to him he'd never—

“Hobie?” You call his name softly, “If you need help with silencing the screams,” a shaky breath escapes you. “I'm here.”

He frowns, seeing her face and not yours for a brief second. Changing tune, he takes his hand away. “Thanks.” It's your turn to frown.

You inhale, “I'll go grab us some water for uh cleaning our wounds. I'll clean them before bed.” Walking away, you leave him alone with his thoughts, he hopes you turn back around, but you don't.

—

Hobie takes first watch, torso exposed to the sea wind, letting it calm the searing pain of his injuries. He observes for any boats or ships on the horizon, even hoping for a box full of medical supplies to wash ashore.

He rubs his heavy eyes, it's supposed to be your turn but he lets you sleep in, after everything he'd let you rest as long as you need to. Looking over his shoulder, the simple act makes him wince. He stares at your sleeping face, calm and angelic under the warmth of the fire, and he can't help but feel jealous. You're situated under the shabby shelter, protected by the red sail that's fluttering in the breeze. Foot twitching, you scrunch up your nose in your sleep,

Chuckling, he turns back around to face the beach.

There's still nothing but seagulls flying above the water and crabs digging into the sand.

Yawning, he shakes his head wildly to keep awake. So he decides to walk around the beach, stretching his throbbing muscles.

As Hobie kicks the sand between his toes, he finds himself standing next to the navy man's corpse. He stares at the lifeless eyes, lips blue, skin so pale it blends in with the sand. The crabs still eat the remains, pinching and taking bits. He scoffs, knuckles shaking, nails leaving crescent shapes on his palms.

He doesn't deserve to be buried, Hobie thinks. And he definitely doesn't need her pity. So he takes the man's legs, slowly dragging it down to the shore until it floats. The rush of waves wakes him up, cold water dousing his lower half. Hobie pushes it away roughly, letting the tides take it, letting the sea claim it like it has claimed his friends.

He watches it slowly drift away, yet his anger doesn't subside. The fire in him is still burning ever brighter. He mentally promises the crew he lost that he'll avenge them. That he'll get Mathias, even if it kills him.

Your screams bring him back to reality. Bolting away, wading through the water, the sand hinders his sprinting, he quickly runs to your side.

“Oi, oi!” Hobie watches your terrified face morph into relief when you see him. “What's wrong? Crab in your knickers?” He stops his joking when tears slide to your cheeks, your entire body is shaking. His chest heaves at your sobbing. Voice cracking when he utters your name, Hobie lets you breathe, holding on to your shoulders firmly.

You stare at him through the tears. “I–I dreamt that you left me here.” His façade breaks into two. “And I w–woke up and you weren't here. I thought—”

“I would never. I won't leave.” You continue to weep so he holds you, not to make you stop but to help steady you through it. He'd hold onto you every minute of every day if he has to.

It's frightening how well you two fit together, limbs tangled around one another. Like a pair of wings, one cannot fly without the other. And that terrifies you through the embrace.

“I'm s-sorry, I really thought.” You find your place atop his chest, face buried on his skin, his scars kissing your cheeks. Hands gripping to the small of his back, your nails almost digging.

“‘m here, ’m not leaving you, promise.” Hobie intends to keep it, not for your sake but for his.

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kingkatsuki · 1 year

Text

— when you play secret santa

Masterlist.

Warnings: kinda angsty, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.5k.

There are a multitude of things Bakugou Katsuki hates about the festive period. The freezing temperatures that make it difficult to use his quirk and leave him shivering on patrols, the fake hallmark bullshit that corporations try to sell during the holidays (he deliberately refuses any Yuletide collaborations for this exact reason), the way people seem to only care now it’s Christmas, the crowds and one of the worst things…

Forced fun.

Every year the Dynamight agency arrange a secret Santa, and every year Bakugou refuses to participate. Just another bullshit, meaningless waste of time during the festive period, and he never has any idea what to get anyone anyway.

But this year is different, because this year you worked at his agency. Bakugou groans as he looks down at the piece of paper with a name scribbled on it, his secret santa.

When you asked him one evening as you were leaving if he was going to participate in the secret santa event, he was going to reply with a scoff. Wondering why on earth you were asking him such a ridiculous question, what would give you the idea that Dynamight would want to do secret santa? But it was the adorable, hopeful look in your eyes that had his throat going dry and his heart palpitating as he stopped dead in his tracks. The words leaving his lips before he could even stop it— yeah, I am.

Bakugou hated the way your cheeks seemed to glow at his response, how happy you looked that this year he would be participating.

And that’s why he now found himself with a piece of paper in his hands with a name that wasn’t yours.

He didn’t even know who the fuck it was! Apparently after searching his employee database it was a lady in admin. Now stuck with trying to find a workplace regulation gift in between the long holiday shifts, maybe he’d get one of his sidekicks to get a gift for her instead.

How foolish he’d been to think that he’d get your name, that after all the shit he’d been through in his life that fate would grant him a free pass this once and give him the gift of you. But as always, the odds were against him. Crumpling up the piece of paper with a groan as he threw it onto his desk, tugging his glasses off to rub the balls of his hands into his eyes.

But perhaps he could swap with someone…

Finding out who had you was proving near impossible, it had been easy to get his sidekicks to announce to him who they had for the secret Santa, but everyone else in the agency was proving to be rather tight lipped. Whether it was the fear of their boss, or the fact that one of them may have him, he’d near but given up hope of swapping to get you.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, Bro.” Kirishima shook his head as he tucked into his bento box, a mouthful of rice slurring his words.

“I don’t give a shit, who ya got?” Bakugou pointed his chopsticks holding a piece of Gyoza towards Kirishima before shoving it into his mouth.

“I can’t tell you! It’ll ruin the whole thing,” Kirishima shook his head, “What if I’ve got you?”

“You ain’t got me.” Bakugou knew who had him already, it was a poor man from the cyber security department who seemed terrified when he’d revealed the big secret to the man himself.

“How do you know?” Kirishima sat back in his seat, “Man, this is why you never participate isn’t it? You don’t like fun.”

“I like fun,” Bakugou scrunched his nose in mock offence, “I hate surprises.” He mumbled, and truth be told, he hated not having you more.

“Well, I’ve already bought my gift so I can’t switch.” Kirishima grinned and Bakugou raised a surprised eyebrow.

For how generous and altruistic Kirishima was, he wasn’t usually this prepared. Often ignoring deadlines and leaving things until the last minute which would often result in him racing around like a headless chicken.

“Why don’t you just get her a gift anyway, man? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“I can’t do that.” He shot back, glaring across the table.

There was no way he could get you a gift out of the blue, even if it was for Christmas. Being the only person in the agency outside of the secret santa that he’d purchased a gift for would make it completely obvious that he’s in love with you, and the thought of your rejection made him blanch.

“Yeah, you can.” Kirishima continued, “You were gonna get her something if she was your secret santa anyway, so what’s the difference?”

It was a huge difference, it would mean the gift he’d give you separately was far more personal… Even if he would’ve gifted you the exact same thing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Just wait it out man, and think positive. She might have you!” Kirishima smiled as he took a long sip of his protein shake.

The thought of you holding a piece of paper with his name on it had Bakugou feeling all giddy inside, trying to stop the ridiculous smile from tugging on the side of his lips as he pictured you going out to shop for a gift for him. Wrapping it and writing his name on it to gift it to him on Christmas Eve.

It was the only thought keeping him sane the closer it got to the day, finally acquiring his gift late after one patrol as he bought an obnoxiously Christmassy gift bag to place it inside as he brought it back to his agency. Scribbling the recipient onto the tag as he left it with the other gifts sitting beneath the outlandish tree. Bakugou wanted to look for your name in the huge pile, wondering if he could find out who actually had you or what the gift was but instead he made his way to the locker rooms. Tired bones aching from his arduous patrol as he made his way to shower before the annual Dynamight agency Christmas party, refusing to wear a Christmas jumper as he opted for a plain cable knit burnt orange sweater instead.

Turning up to the party late meant that most people had already opened their gifts, the loud bustle hitting him as he weaved through the crowds. Reaching out to grab a flute of champagne as he took a healthy sip as he gave polite nods to his staff that wished him a “Merry Christmas” as he walked through, not wanting to make it obvious that he was looking for you.

Giving up as he spotted the familiar red mop of his best friends hair hidden beneath a bright red Santa hat as he made a beeline towards him. Bakugou’s heart instantly sped up when he noticed who was standing beside him.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a gorgeous smile on your face as you seemed to hang on Kirishima’s every word. Handing him the glass you were holding as he handed you a gift in return. Was Kirishima your secret Santa all along?

The familiar ache returned to his chest at the sight, something he’d never experienced until he met you. His adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you slowly begin to tear open the messily wrapped present. He could make out the garish paper from across the room as Kirishima leaned in to gage your reaction, a huge grin on his face.

Bakugou couldn’t even be mad that Kiri got you as a secret Santa and didn’t tell him because the way your face lights up at whatever Kiri got you makes his heart palpitate. You’re so beautiful.

But he can’t avoid the hurt that aches in his chest or the way he feels his throat tighten as he watches how happy another man has made you, wishing it was him that made you look that happy instead.

Lifting his glass up to his lips he downs the rest of his champagne before placing the glass back onto the table, ignoring the lone present sitting beneath the large Dynamight tree addressed to him as he makes his way out of the room, his head down to avoid catching anyone’s gaze as he leaves.

Maybe he should’ve got you a present after all.

But if Bakugou had stuck around the office party, he would’ve seen what Kirishima gifted to you as your secret Santa, and the real reason why you were smiling. The horribly wrapped gift was actually a framed photograph of you and Bakugou at a press interview for Dynamight’s agency. Your eyes gazing up at him in adoration as you both smiled softly at something the other had said while you both acted like you were the only two in the world.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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arlh0e · 4 months

Text

Almost (sweet music)

Part: 3/? Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Hozier x fem!reader, smut, oral fem!receiving, face sitting, PIV sex, no explicit mention of a condom, slightly subby but not completely subby Andrew, yearning, begging, make-up sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, ✨eye contact✨,general filth, smut with plot, smut under the cut, fluff, after care

The way Andrew was looking up at you was intoxicating. The look in his eyes was nothing sort of pleading and the way he looked kneeling before you was similar to how one would kneel before an altar to a Devine goddess.

The way he admired you was nothing short of utter worship, like he was in awe of your very presence.

His hands were tight around your waist, wandering a little bit, but staying firmly in a place that you could only describe as utterly respectful, like he was scared to go to far in fear that you would disappear.

He continued kissing the band of exposed skin between your waistband and the hem of your shirt, his eyes never leaving yours for a second. He was wordlessly pleading for your approval in taking this farther.

“Use your words.” It slips out before you can even fully form the thought or process what you’ve just said. Judging by the subtle excitement that touched his gaze though, he approved.

It was an interesting thought, you had never seen the side of him that even slightly hinted to him being into relinquishing control like this. Usually the begging was a job reserved almost exclusively for you. You were unsure of how exactly this would play out.

“Please may I touch you?” His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you a bit closer to him, his kisses lingering a bit longer against your mid drift. “Please.” The look in his eyes made you think he might cry if you said no.

You move one of your hands to the bottom of his chin, picking his head up and leading him back up to his feet in front of you. He towered over you, looking down, his eyes searching for any sign that you were still upset with him or that he was going too far. “You may.” You stand up on your toes to place soft kisses across his jaw line. The satisfied, happy sigh that leaves him pulls at your heart and gives you the confidence to keep going. “Don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself though?”

You chuckle against his neck, the breath wafting across his skin makes him tense a little bit, a shiver running down his spine.

You pull away to look up at him expectantly, refusing to make the first move even as your hands make their way to his shirt, gripping it tightly, keeping him impossibly close to you. He leans down, clearly intending to press his lips to yours, but is met with your hand between the two of you, stopping him. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. We ask first.”

“Can I kiss you?” One of his hand makes it’s way too your face and he runs his thumb back and fourth over your cheek. “Please, darling, I’ve missed the feeling of your lips terribly.” His other hand comes to your face as well, holding you in a way that feels so comforting. He’s still pleading with his eyes, they’re so intense looking into yours. His eyebrows are furrowed in desperation and lips are slightly opened, his eyes frantically searching your face, darting back and fourth between your eye a your lips.

In lieu of a verbal response, you nod and pull him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He wastes no time pressing his lips to yours, the kiss is soft, full of love, but not lacking urgency. He always kissed you as if he was suffocating and you were his boy source of oxygen left on earth, not only wanting you, but needing you.

Without parting from him, you gently usher him back toward the bed, and only once the back of his knees hit the mattress do you separate your lips from his, gently pushing him down onto the bed.

His smile while looking up at you showed nothing but pure adoration. “You are Devine my love, may I?” His hands were at the hem of your shirt, pulling desperately at the fabric. “I’d like to worship you properly if is all the same to you.”

“Yes, darling, go ahead” you silently thanked yourself for not wearing a bra to bed as he lifted the clothing over your head, revealing your upper half to him. As he looks over your body, he’s grinning like a little kid in a candy store, his mouth practically watering, thinking of all the ways he’d like to devour every inch of you. And you’d like him to. If it were up to you, not a single inch of your body would be untouched by his hands, his mouth, him.

His lips are back on you, exploring your torso, gently nipping at the skin on your stomach, making his way up to the valley between your breasts. Your hands move to tangle into his hair, pulling gently, just enough to elicit a small, sweet sound of satisfaction from between his lips.

His head moves slightly to attend to your left nipple while his hand makes its way over your right.

The feeling of his hands and mouth on you was nothing short blissful. You had always been fully aware of just how generous of a lover Andrew was, always getting pleasure from giving you yours, but this moment took the cake.

You weren’t sure if it was the months apart, waiting for his return, yearning to be in his presence, longing just to be near him, but in this moment, his touch had never felt so good. He was intoxicating, like a drug made specifically with you in mind, sent from whatever gods that were out there with the sole purpose of ruining you.

Before you knew it you were straddling him, his mouth moving on to focus on your neck, your jawline, behind your ears, coaxing sounds from you which, if you were in your right mind, would embarrass you terribly.

He lifts his head to meet his lips to yours again, this time a bit rougher, hungrier. “Please,” another kiss. “Can I,” and another. “I need to taste you.”

He pulls you with him as he lays himself down, your position above him moving farther up, close to his chest now, with his hands on your hips urging you higher.

The thought crosses through your mind that as enjoyable as this idea seems, you may kill him if you try it. “Andrew, I really don’t want you suffocating between my thighs.” You laugh and place a kiss on his forehead. “As tempting as that sounds, I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

“Well in the event that such a thing happens, you can tell everyone that I died doing what I love.” He lets out a breathy laugh, continuing his attempts at pulling you forward. “You know I love nothing more than to please you, wont you please let me do what I love?”

Your hands meet his at your waist to assist in removing the final layers of clothing between the two of you. “Okay, but tap my thighs twice if I kill you alright?” You mutter quietly as you let him guide you until you’re hovering over his face.

He begins his worship at your inner thighs, kissing and nipping and sucking at the soft skin, moving back and fourth between the two of them so as not to give unfair attention or show favoritism between the two.

His breath is hot against your skin, awakening every nerve ending in your body, you swear you could feel his touch through every fiber of your being from the tips of your toes to the ends of the hair on your head. Every touch drew you closer into him, from the work his lips were doing on your thighs to his bruisingly tight grip holding you there.

He lets out a very frustrated sigh. “Darling, please, Im not made of glass.” And you’re suddenly being pulled down onto his face.

The sensation, while familiar is strange (though not unwelcome) considering the change in orientation. His tongue dancing, exploring every crevice of you drove you up the wall. “Fuck, Andrew.”

He made a point out of teasing you every time. He stubbornly refused to give you what he knew you wanted right away, claiming the anticipation is what made everything all that much better when he makes you cum. You couldn’t argue of course, he was right, but it never made it any less frustrating when he teased you the way he did.

Absentmindedly, you begin the rock your hips back and forth over top of him, trying to move yourself to a position to get what you wanted. You weren’t quite expecting the deep groan, guttural, sound that bordered on a feral growl that that came from him as a response to your actions.

The vibrations it sent through your core elicited a similar sound from you, and then a string of moans and curses which you weren’t sure were completely coherent when his tongue moved to where you so desperately wanted his attention.

Your body moved on its own accord. Your hips snapping forward against his face repeatedly, your legs were shaking in a manner that you could only describe as violent.

The waves of pleasure running through you becoming more and more intense with every satisfied hum and groan from him, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

His name was falling off your lips repeatedly alongside every curse your barely functioning brain could think of.

You were positive that he had never been this enthusiastic about giving before, which was saying something, because there truly was nothing he got more excited about than going down on you, but even then he had never gotten this into it.

Before you knew it you were coming undone, squirming desperately against him as he held you there and continued his wicked pursuit of your pleasure, lapping up every ounce of your orgasm that now covered your thighs.

He wasn’t giving you any sort of break to recover, keeping his attention solely focused on the bundle of nerves between your thighs, which was growing increasingly sensitive by the second.

Your vision was blurry and your legs were numb, barely able to hold up your weight. “Andrew, I-” your voice sounded far away, as if it didn’t even belong to you as you reached your second orgasm, less than a minute after your first, and yet he still kept going. “Fuck, too sensitive, Jesus!” You desperately pushed yourself away from him, fighting against his grip on the back of your thighs.

You feel him smirk against you as he releases you to climb off of him. Your head hits the pillow behind you and you let out another breathy moan, riding out the rest of your orgasm with Andrew sitting between your thighs which are still spread open, watching you still shaking and moaning, even twitching occasionally. “You’re so beautiful.” He’s staring in awe at you, baffled by the sight before him. “Can I please keep going? Just one more?” He smiles down at you, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

You nod wordlessly. You’re positive that if you tried to speak you’d be completely incoherent. He chuckles quietly. He absolutely loved seeing you this way, your mind completely blank, entirely fucked out and still wanting more of him. You were utterly obsessed with each other, and in this moment nothing could take away from that.

He waits patiently for you to come down, not wanting to completely overwhelm you (that could wait). While he’s waiting, he takes the time to remove his own clothes, which in all the excitement had surprisingly been left completely untouched.

Once you give the okay, he’s back to work between your thighs, this time using not only his mouth but also his fingers.

By this point you were spent. You couldn’t think clearly, you doubted your ability to speak even, you were convinced that this was the most high you had ever been off of him, or anything for that matter.

The feeling of him between your legs was the only thing you could imagine ever thinking about again in that moment. He knew every inch of you like the back of his hand, it was as if he had known you all his life, like you were the only lover he had ever known or would ever know. The only word you would ever be able to describe him with was ecstasy.

The world outside of this room didn’t exist in that moment it was like the stars the moon and all of the planets orbited around the two of you.

You continued letting out moan after broken moan, bordering on screams as his fingers curled inside of you, working together with his tongue to make you cum in record time, it had gotten to the point where the line between pleasure and pain was almost completely blurred and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

When he removed his head from between your thighs, you found yourself aching for him to come back. The wicked smile across his lips told you that of course he would, and surely enough, before you knew it his lips were back on yours.

You could taste yourself on his lips, slightly salty, but the taste doesn’t completely cover the sweetness in his usual taste.

When he pulls away his eyes are almost entirely dilated and his breathing if heavy. “My god, please let me fuck you, I need you so bad.” His tone is pleading, almost a whimper. You nod quickly, hands moving to his face in an attempt to pull him back to you, desperate for any contact you can get. “I need you so say it. Tell me that I can make love to you. Please.”

“Yes, Andrew, fuck-” you pull his face down to yours and kiss him hard, theres passion and hunger behind it. “I have been waiting for months, missing you for months, please.”

You both moan in unison as he presses into you. You cant help but look into his eyes as he does so, the way he looked at you, marveled at you, worshipped you made you wish this moment would never end. The way your bodies entwine is utterly enchanting, it’s enough to make you forget where your body ends and his begins.

Before Andrew you had never really seen sex as something as intimate as it was with him. Of course exposing yourself to someone and having that vulnerability with another human was always intimate, but never before him did you feel like it was something that inextricably intertwined two people, body, mind and soul.

Sex with Andrew felt akin to pouring your heart out to him and laying the deepest, darkest, most shameful parts of yourself out in front of him without fear of judgement because he would always accept you as you were. Only with him did you finally understand the term “make love”. He loved you unconditionally and you loved him with equal devotion.

You could feel yourself coming to yet another orgasm at the same time that his thrusts started to become sloppy, more rushed, and ever so eager to reach his own high.

It was crazy to you, the way your bodies were always in sync like that. You knew all too well how much of a rarity it was for two people to finish together in most relationships (truth be told, in your experience, it was a rarity to finish at all with anyone else) but it had never once been an issue for the two of you and tonight was no exception.

As that familiar wave of ecstasy washed over both of you, your bodies tensing and then relaxing all in complete synchronization. You swore it was like magic.

You let out a small moan as he pulls away from you, lying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. His scent was so familiar, he smelled like home, like your future, like the two of you sitting on the porch of your home together, old and gray, watching your grandchildren play in the front yard. The thought honestly made you want to cry given the circumstances, but you found yourself just being happy enough to be with him for now. The talk about where the two of you stand could wait until the morning.

“So am I forgiven or am I gonna have to ravish you again in the morning?” He chuckles into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re forgiven, but Im open to the idea.” You look up at him, smiling. His gaze was so soft, full of adoration and wonder.

“Great, because I was planning on it either way.” His smile widens and the two of you laugh. You missed this.

Being in his presence was a comfort that you would never take for granted ever again. He instantly put you at ease, made you feel relaxed like you had never felt otherwise.

You found yourself drifting off to sleep, barely still conscious enough to hear him mutter “I love you” as your sleep overcame you.

I got carried away so its a bit long, hope this was as fun to read as it was to write, I’ll hopefully update again tomorrow maybe, but I make no promises

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bwabys-scenarios · 5 months

Text

Kurapika Yandere Alphabet

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: brief nsfw(mention of Kurapika eating pussy), reader gets Stockholm syndrome, abduction, Kurapika forces reader to do things like take medicine when she’s sick or restrains her if she tries to hurt herself/escape, self harm, suicide/suicidal thoughts, restraint, isolation

A/N: I’m opening up requests for Yandere Alphabets!! Send your fav ADULT HXH/JJK character and I’ll make one :3

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Kurapika is very detail oriented, he shows his love by making sure the space you have is decorated exactly like your room in your home was. He spoils you with gifts and sweet treats, though he leaves them at your door or on your bed like a cat bringing you a dead mouse.

His love gets intense when you find out about his feelings and eventually return them. He’s the only other human being in your life, and you desperately need comfort and touch.

When you come to him for affection, he gets intense, he’ll hold you close, visibly trembling as he rubs soothing circles into your back. His eyes will flicker to your lips, hungry for kisses or even just to press his thumb into your soft lip.

When he comes home upset or goes through a depressive episode, he’ll want to hold you. Sometimes he holds you so tight his fingers leave imprints on whatever he’s gripping, be it your thighs sides, or back. He’ll kiss whatever mark he leaves on your skin, whispering apologies through tears.

“I’m such a hypocrite… I was supposed to protect you, but look… look at these marks on your pretty skin… I’m so sorry angel, please forgive me.”

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He’s willing to do next to anything to keep his darling safe and happy as possible. If that means killing masses of people that could potentially hurt you, he doesn’t mind baring that sin.

You are his angel, he would do anything for you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

After being abducted, he treats you probably the best any yandere could. He decorates your room to look as close to your previous one as possible, makes sure all of your needs are met and that you’re as spoiled as you can be.

He would never mock you, Kurapika wants his darling to love him. With all the lengths he’s gone to just to make you happy, he wouldn’t give that all up even if he was angry.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling's will?

No, besides abducting you, he’s not willing to do much against your will. If you’re trying to hurt yourself or escape, he’ll restrain you, but that’s it. Also, if you refuse to take medication when you’re ill or if he NEEDS you to do something for your own benefit he’ll make you do it, but he never makes you do something FOR him.

He would never force himself on you, ever. Kurapika loves his darling more than anything, and he’s still holding onto his morals.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

At first, he is very distant and even cold. Kurapika is more likely to have a darling he was friends with before abducting her, so they’d have to already be relatively close already.

After a few months with him, he’ll begin to relax around you again, like he did before he abducted you. For the first few months he’ll barely touch you, wanting to give you space and time to get used to your new life.

Once he’s comfortable, he’ll come to you when he’s upset searching for comfort and care. Just having you in the same house as him is enough to keep him from falling apart, but actually feeling your touch while he sobs after a nightmare is heavenly.

He’s happy to tell you how much he cares about you and how this is for your safety, but he’s hesitant to express his more romantic feelings. He’s already kidnapped you and taken you away from everyone and everything you loved, he doesn’t feel like he deserves you.

But when you return his feelings due to him being the only other human you have contact with, he is more than happy to shower you in love and affection. You’d be surprised at how cuddly and affectionate he is!

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Honestly? Betrayed and hurt. He’s given you everything you could ever want and need, and you’re still fighting him. Part of him understands that no matter what he does, he still kidnapped you and no gifts or privileges will make you happy to be imprisoned with him.

The selfish and delusional part of him, however, gets irrationally angry. He would never hurt you, and isn’t inclined to scream, but he gets so cold and distant, after a week of him taking away some privileges and barely speaking to you, you’ll be crawling back begging for his comfort and care. You’re only human after all. The boredom and loneliness would be enough to kill you.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Absolutely not, he nearly has a heart attack when you attempt to escape. Your safety is his number one goal, so seeing you attempt something so dangerous terrifies him!

Hell: What would be their darling's worst experience with them?

Two things!

1. For the first few months, he’ll chain her when he leaves the cabin for longer than a few hours. Of course the chain will be long enough so she can walk to the bathroom and she’ll have enough food, but it’s heavy and inconvenient. After you’ve settled in and given up on escaping, he’ll stop chaining you. Good thing too, because those things were heavy, and chaffing!

2. If you’ve pissed him off somehow or have been bad, he will straight up isolate you. He’s the only other human being you have contact with, so imagine being deprived of all social interaction for months at a time. The first few days you’re almost relieved to have some time to yourself. He never bothered you too much, but you didn’t exactly enjoy his presence. But after a while, the loneliness will set in. You’ll be crawling back to him for forgiveness within a week.

Besides that he’s pretty tame for a yandere. He won’t hurt you or try to break you psychologically. He barely punishes you, so as long as you behave decently, you’re fine.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/ with their darling?

He wants to start a family with you! Due to his entire clan being wiped out, he’s the only one left. Kurapika wants you to have his children, desperately.

He knows it will take a while for you to get used to being kidnapped, so he won’t bring this up until after you’ve accepted your fate and fallen in love with him.

“Angel… dont you think… you’d be a great mother?”

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He gets incredibly jealous of anyone that gets too close to you. Before he took you, he would accompany you to little get together with your friends. You were pretty popular, getting hit on by multiple men and women.

“She’s not interested,” Kurapika would say, his eyes a sharp scarlet as he stood behind you, a protective hand on your shoulder. His eyes follow them as they leave, and once they’re gone he caresses your cheek. “Let’s leave, some of these people are creeps…”

He becomes a bit possessive of you over time, but you chalk it up to him being protective over his friends. You find it cute, not knowing how much of a red flag it is.

Once he takes you, his jealous and possessive tendencies dissipate, and it turns into a more protective nature. You don’t have any contact with other people, so he doesn’t feel the need to be jealous. The only contact you get is with Leorio when he comes to give you a checkup, and Kurapika watches him the entire time.

There’s no use trying to beg Leorio to get you out of there, he knows you’re being held against your will. Although he’s sympathetic, he cares about his friend more than you, and knows you being near Kurapika helps him relax. Kurapika also is more careful with his life, wanting to stay alive to protect and love you the rest of his days. So Leorio will just sigh, patting your back.

“Sorry, (Name), but I can’t help you. Kurapika needs you.”

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

In love, very sweet and soft. Although his darling might see him as a bit cold and stiff, he’s actually flustered, and trying to hide how much his heart is racing when you’re near.

He attempts to touch you as much as possible, even if it’s just lightly bumping you while passing you in the hallway. Kurapika knows you probably hate him now, and he won’t push you into being close with him, but he’ll take these little touches and use them for comfort.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

When he falls for you, he’s been your friend for a while now. At first he tries to distance himself, hoping those fuzzy feelings of love will go away, but when they don’t, they turn into almost an obsession.

He’ll buy you gifts and try to spend more time with you between missions, until he basically lives at your home. Before taking you, he becomes quite clingy, wanting to soak up all of your love and attention before you may hate him for kidnapping you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He acts pretty much the same, but he’s much more loving and sweet with you, doting on you a lot. Nothing is too good for his darling!

When around other people, he’s cold and distant, but as soon as you appear he’s brightening up a bit!

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He takes away the TV and other items used for entertainment, and if you’ve done something to hurt yourself he’ll chain you up. The restraint is less of a punishment, more of a way for his paranoid mind to relax knowing you can’t hurt yourself now that you’re chained to your bed.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He’s a very soft and forgiving yandere, and only takes away SOME privileges with very bad behavior. He’ll take away the TV, a few of your art supplies and maybe your switch. He’s very careful, leaving you with at least two things to keep you from going crazy with boredom, usually books and/or your journals to write in. After all, it’s a punishment, but it’s supposed to be for your own good. If he’s harming you, then it’s not working.

Kurapika would rather die than watch you become depressed and suicidal, so even when you haven’t been behaving, he tries to not be too upset with you and make sure he isn’t too harsh. Even if you made him angry, you’ll always be treated like a princess.

If you hurt yourself or attempt to end your life, he goes nearly insane with worry and guilt. Hadn’t he been providing you with enrichment and the best, most comfortable life possible? He knows he kidnapped you, but do you hate the life he’s given you so much that you’d rather die?

He’ll chain you up after this. It’s just a chain that attaches to your bed. He’ll unlock you for exercise and to take you to the bathroom, and be prepared to get used to him watching your every single movement. He WILL be watching you use the bathroom and shower. You won’t even be able to wipe yourself in peace, the embarrassment may just kill you. “Just ignore me. I’m simply making sure you don’t try anything.”

The worst thing he’ll do is ignore/isolate you. You’ll barely see him, and he won’t speak a single word to you until you’ve apologized and realized why he does what he does. “It’s for your own good. You can learn to accept that, or you can get used to being alone.”

Kurapika is perfectly content to just exist alongside you, he can wait forever.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Oh he’s almost endlessly patient. Kurapika may be a bit delusional in some aspects, but he is very aware that what he did to you is wrong. He won’t blame you for acting out or trying to escape, you’re human after all.

He’ll never expect you to fall in love with him, even if he desperately craves your touch. Kurapika will wait though, hoping you’ll see how much he cares for you, and maybe reciprocate his overwhelming feelings.

He only loses his patience when he’s already angry/stressed, and may yell a bit. He’s quick to apologize and remove himself from the room. Kurapika doesn’t want you to be afraid of him.

He’s only ever thrown a real tantrum once, ending up destroying the living room and scaring you half to death. Kurapika couldn’t apologize enough, and it was the first time he ever held you close to him and wouldn’t let you go. “God… please, please don’t be scared of me. I promise I would never hurt you, this isn’t your fault, fuck, (Name)… you’re shaking. I’m so sorry…”

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Nope. He would straight up kill himself after accomplishing his mission. If he can’t find you, he has no reason to keep living after he’s killed the phantom troupe and retrieved the scarlet eyes.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He feels extremely guilty, and on the first day of your capture, he keeps considering just taking you back before you wake up. The two of you were already friends, he’s terrified to see your opinion of him change.

But he pushes all of that away. He can never let you go, knowing that people want to hurt you because of your ties to him.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

I think it’s pretty obvious to say it was the massacre of his clan that made him like this. He doesn’t want to lose the person he cherishes most after losing all of his family and friends.

You’re so precious to him, someone that would hold him after his nightmares and smile while baking him a birthday cake. He knows taking you away may make you hate him, but he can’t stand the thought of losing you. He once thought humanity was doomed, but you’re the only other human he sees any light in.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Absolute agony. Although your safety always comes first, Kurapika desperately wants you to be happy as well. He’ll try everything to cheer you up. Gifts, renting your favorite movies, making your favorite dishes, ordering your favorite takeout food…

“Oh angel, please… please don’t cry. I know it’s scary and upsetting to be here, but I promise… that you’re safe. Look, I brought you some dinner!”

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Kurapika is hellbent on making you happy and comfortable, so he goes to great lengths to spoil you with gifts and comfort items. Unlike most yanderes that would use this as an attempt to get you to like them, Kurapika spoils you purely because of his undying love for you, and his need to see you happy.

He’d do anything for you besides let you free. His heart is yours, and so is whatever your heart wants. Stuffed animals, your favorite snacks, nice clothes and jewelry, anything. Nothing is too good for you, if it makes you happy, even for a SECOND Kurapika is more than happy to get it for you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He adores you through and through, so returning his affection and accepting his gifts will make him a lot more lenient. He’s willing to let you go outside, and if you build up his trust enough he might even let you go outside alone. There’s a fence surrounding your home, so he’s able to not worry too much…

If you’re able to climb that fence, you may have a chance at escaping! If he does catch you though, his heart will be shattered and he’ll have trouble trusting you for a long time. All the progress you both made will be gone.

Wit's end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No, he would not intentionally hurt his darling. Now, there is a chance he could grab her too hard and break a bone due to his strength, but this would absolutely shatter him. He’d be so much softer and lenient with you, healing your wound and holding you close as he sobs and begs for your forgiveness.

This is one of the times he considers letting you go. He’s supposed to protect you, and now he’s the cause of your pain… but his selfish heart refuses to let you free. He is more willing to let you go outside and explore though, as long as you hold onto his hand.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He worships the very ground you walk on. Kurapika is incredibly soft and sweet, and willing to give you endless affection and spoil you, if you would allow it. You’re the only thing keeping him from snapping, and you bring him so much happiness. He’s never been in love before, you’re all he has left.

He will buy anything, do ALMOST anything to win you over. Kurapika is the head of a mafia group, he has money to spend. Spoiling you is no problem for him, sometimes he’ll come home with his arms full of stuffed animals, new clothes, and sweets for you.

When you finally have sex for the first time, he spends the first hour between your legs, eating your pussy and cooing soft praise, telling you how much he loves you and how beautiful you are. It’s worship, for sure. He sees you as a perfect angel.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He pines over her for a good few months, then takes you when he realizes his enemies have caught wind of your existence. Kurapika wanted to get into a romantic relationship and have you come with him willingly, but life never seems to be fair to Kurapika.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Absolutely not. His darling is his everything, and he wouldn’t have gone through all the effort of making you happy just to break you. He wants you to be yourself, that’s who he fell in love with!

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thevillainswhore · 9 months

Text

Spoiled and stuffed

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Bucky surprises you with a gift on your birthday.

Warnings: Smut (use of a d-ildo fem receiving, c-lit play, a little exhibitionism/mirror kink?), established relationship, Bucky is a warning himself, okay?

A/N: Beta’d by @lunarbuck - thank you so much my love, especially on such short notice 🥰 dividers by @saradika, also wanna give a special thank you to @flordeamatista for helping me with the colouring of my moodboard and in general being so supportive 💗

A little something for one of my nearest and dearest 🥰

You dig through your wardrobe, hair styled to absolute perfection, and make-up flawlessly applied to compliment your features, searching through your clothes to figure out the perfect outfit to go out tonight. Why?

Because it is your birthday.

Bucky refuses to let you stay in tonight, already having treated you like a queen for your special day with numerous gifts and loving gestures throughout the day. A gorgeous breakfast spread put together by him to kick off, with an extra surprise of you spread over the table for seconds.

It’s fair to say he has gone all out.

The result of your gifts from him means a mountain of new stuffies are now placed carefully into their respective homes in your shared room, chocolates overflowing your sweet stash, and an overwhelming amount of love in your heart for your man, who’s been making sure he doesn’t fall short of making you happy.

You love him with your whole heart. Birthday or not.

Hearing the door open, you know Bucky is now in the room with you, not thinking to take any notice as he’s probably just coming in to check how you’re getting on.

So, as you stand in only a towel, trying to mentally match colour choices and style options, you’re too focused on your current task to see the glint of mischief in Bucky’s eyes as he walks further into the bedroom.

Already dressed in his signature combat boots and leather jacket with all-black jeans and tight shirt fit - an outfit he knows you go crazy for - Bucky can’t help the predatory glare he pins onto you as he gawks at the fabric of your towel inching up your thighs. He honestly can’t get enough of them - marks from a week ago still staining your skin, placed there from your wild night that the thought of still makes a shiver run down his spine.

Wanting to update him to make sure he knows you're not going to be late for your reservation at the restaurant you’ve been gushing about for so long, you slightly turn your head over your shoulder - not enough for him to totally come into view - and tell him, “Hi baby! I promise I’m almost done, just gotta find something to wear and then I’m ready!”.

Bucky’s been crazy for you all day. Never mind that he wants to treat his girl on her birthday - he’s ravenous for you all the time, and now that he’s got a little extra surprise for you, he’s excited to see your reaction.

He wants you. Bad.

And he’s gonna have you.

Unaware of the tension in the room, you carry on with your quest, even without a response to you, too busy with your clothing dilemma to question your boyfriend’s antics and unusual silence. You want to pick the perfect outfit to look pretty for him after all.

Soon enough though, you're snapped out of your concentration when a sudden screech from behind you startles you enough to stop you from what you're doing and look towards the sound, only to see Bucky dragging one of your wooden chairs across the floor in your direction.

His azure eyes, fixed intently on you, never leave you as his combat boots, that hold vivid memories of you riding them, thud menacingly against the floorboards, moving closer as he doesn’t say a word.

The dead silence has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, anticipation bubbling inside of you with the arousing fear of the unknown.

Once it seems Bucky’s happy with the placement of the chair, he walks around to the front, eyes still never leaving you as he slowly sits down and spreads his thighs, licking his lips and finally speaking for the first time since he came in.

“Come here.”

It’s simple. Yet, the authority lacing his gravel baritone has your whole body on edge, hands already trembling at his deep voice and allure that’s screaming at you to do as he says.

You still can’t help but question the meaning behind his aloofness, stuttering with nerves, “B-Bucky? What’s g-going on? What-“

“I said - Come. Here.”

You gulp.

You know that tone of voice. You know what it’s led to before.

Clarity soon hits you. The look in his eyes, the tightening of his fists against his thick thighs, deliciously wrapped in denim that strains against him. It finally makes sense.

He’s going to turn you into his ruined little mess.

Taking careful steps towards him, nervous and aroused for whatever is about to happen, your legs feel like jelly as you walk to what you know will soon turn you into a puddle, knees almost buckling with each timid tip-toe in his direction.

As soon as you’re in between his legs, Bucky smooths his huge, calloused hands over the back of your thighs, going slightly under the towel to feel the crease of your ass as he grips the meat of your legs, groaning at your soft, smooth skin and the scent of your lotion applied after your shower.

Before you can even process it, Bucky yanks the end of your towel, your breath hitching as it drapes down your body, revealing your naked form.

“Bucky!”

Your shriek goes ignored as Bucky licks his lips, eyes taking in every single delicious inch of you as he slowly runs his thumbs over your hips. The cold air hardens your nipples, heightening their sensitivity.

Did he just growl? You swear he did.

Oh, you’re gonna be so fucked.

Literally.

Turning you around and gripping your bare waist to bring you down and make you sit on his lap, you can’t help the way your chest heaves as he brings your legs over his, forcing them wide by intertwining his boots between your feet - your cunt open on display for him and him only.

You’re already panting as Bucky starts to kiss all over your neck, hands smoothing over your thighs as you feel the rough denim of his jeans against your silk-smooth skin.

It’s torture not togrind your clit against the rough texture.

A violent tremor stuns your body as his deep timber ripples through your ear. “Daddy’s got another present for you, baby girl.”

Your whines are music to Bucky’s ears. He adores how worked up he’s got you already, but he doesn’t plan to stop there.

This is just the beginning.

Reaching around, somewhere you don’t see as your eyes are already half shut in apprehension for the pleasure you know he’s about to bring you, an extra weight added to Bucky’s already huge hands brings you back down to earth a little.

“Look, sweetheart.”

You do as you're told, slowly bringing your gaze down to see what’s in his hand. An unexpected moan bursts out of you at the thick, long piece of silicone he’s holding.

“You like it, baby? Daddy had it specially made, just for his birthday girl - look familiar at all?”

Of course it fucking did.

The recognisable girth. Veins bulging down the shaft that you loved to lick and tease. The unmistakable length that hit spots no one else had ever before. Even the colour was perfect - a pink tip rounding the whole look perfectly.

An exact replica of Bucky’s cock.

“Fuck.”

You can practically feel the smug smirk on the bastard’s face, too dumbed out already to call him out for his wickedness.

It’s sinister, the grin that crosses Bucky’s face. He’s proud of how well his gift has gone down with you. “That’s right, baby. You’re gonna fuck Daddy’s cock, while I watch and enjoy the show.”

Not even having the chance to prepare yourself, Bucky begins rubbing the fat tip of the toy up and down your cunt, your now soaking pussy coating it in your juices and easily sliding through your slit, catching on your hole each time.

How Bucky found a fake dick that felt so realistic was beyond your belief. Nothing could ever compare to the real thing, but right now, you’re on the verge of begging for your boyfriend to fill you and soothe the ache.

Trying to catch the tip of the dildo on your cunt, Bucky takes the utmost pleasure in making sure he moves it away just in time before you can sink down, your needy whining hardening his cock even more.

“Daddy, please please please, I wan’ it so bad.”

The strain of your legs being forced wide by Bucky’s boots has you drooling before the main events even begin. The exposure to your naked form, contrasting against your boyfriend’s fully clothed one, surrendering yourself to his control entirely.

Your head is spinning, in the best possible way, lost in the dream that Bucky is.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby girl.” But he really isn’t, his seductive chuckle, forcing your pussy to clench as he goes on to make you even more dizzy. “Daddy just fuckin’ loves watchin’ how desperate you get for me.”

With no warning, Bucky thrusts his fake cock to the hilt, your walls fluttering around the shaft as it sits deep in your cunt. Your mouth hangs open in shock to experience the same stretch only Bucky’s cock has ever given you. The veins in your boyfriend’s arm bulge from the exertion of holding you down to stop squirming and the effort to keep himself collected, inflicting torture upon himself from not having his cock in you.

Once you’ve managed to get your breath, your head falls back onto his shoulder, too heavy from the fuzzy feeling swirling through your head to carry any longer.

But Bucky’s not finished revealing all the tricks up his sleeve.

Gripping your jaw to force your head back up, Bucky coos in condescension at how dumbed out you look, gently shaking your head to try and bring you back to the present.

“Aw, baby. Don’t tell me you’re done already. Why don’t you look ahead, hm?”

And so, as Bucky keeps a firm grip on you, you look forward to the direction your man has made you face, opening your eyes a little more to get rid of the blur of your surroundings when it becomes clear as to what else has got him so giddy.

A mirror.

A perfect view of you draped over Bucky’s lap, completely bare, with a cock held inside you.

Sly fucker.

Bucky placed the chair strategically in front of your full-length mirror just so he could add an extra element to your delicious reckoning.

Whispering into your ear, his breath causes goosebumps to break out onto the curve of your neck, “You see what I see, sweetheart? How well your pretty little cunt takes Daddy?”

You do. You can see everything. The pride in Bucky’s eyes, the feral beast hiding behind the blue that’s dying to come out.

And as he holds your gaze, he finally starts to thrust the silicone cock into you. His strokes are slow and tantalising enough to make you need more. He’s always loved finding how much you could take before you snapped.

It didn’t mean he would go easy on you just because it was your birthday.

The force behind the pace of the cock gets faster, harder, your moans and whimpers causing Bucky’s grip to tighten on your arms - no doubt leaving more bruises for him to admire next time.

You would normally be embarrassed by the loud squelching from your pussy, wetness flowing from your stuffed hole as Bucky continuously fucks his silicone cock into you. But, you can’t find it in yourself to care in the least when you’re so close to your high.

“You wanna cum?”

You don’t think you’ve ever nodded so fast in your life, words escaping you as you become boneless in his hold.

That doesn’t satisfy Bucky, though. Evident in his snarl as he growls into your neck. “I want a fuckin’ answer. Do you want to cum?”

“Yes! Yes yes please, Daddy, please!” You’re almost screaming, past experiences leaving no time to be silent any longer, knowing your man will easily leave you on edge the whole night should you not answer.

Bucky must be on the same wavelength as you, that damned twinkle in his eye, proud of his girl for learning so well.

But you think you might die as he leans forward, his gaze unwavering from yours in the mirror as he states clearly, “Fuckin’ give it to me then, baby.”

And with a couple of taps to your throbbing clit and the tip of the dildo hitting your cervix just right, giving him your cum is not a problem as you practically vibrate in his hold. Belly jittering from a little overstimulation as he slows down his strokes and eventually comes to a stop.

The room is quiet apart from your heavy breathing. Bucky gives you a second for the adrenaline to ease off before slowly sliding the fake cock out of your pussy and placing it somewhere you don’t care to check right now.

Bringing his arms around your waist after untightening his grip to lean you back into him, Bucky snuggles you, allowing you to come down from your high as he obliterates your face with dozens of kisses and whispers praise into your skin.

“Did so fuckin’ good for me, gorgeous. Daddy’s so happy you like his present for you.”

Your delirious laughter is nothing new at this point for him. The energy zapped out of you enough to have you on the border of going a little loopy. Bucky would normally carry you to bed and take care of you as he tells you stupid jokes to make you giggle. But his birthday girl deserves a good night out, with some food to settle her appetite for what is to come for the rest of the night (little did you know).

The last of the sweet kisses pecked into your silk skin have you melting into his embrace. Bucky’s delicate way of taking care of you warming your heart even after his wicked antics just before you had to go out.

“Now, I’ll give you a couple of minutes, and then we’ve really gotta get going so we don’t miss our reservation, sweetheart.”

Relaxing back into bucky, you’re almost pieced back together enough to get on with your next steps, but the feel of a huge wet patch on his pants has you immediately embarrassed and stuttering to try and explain to your man how you’ve ruined his outfit.

“Bucky, - your jeans. They- they’re um, a little… wet.” Cheeks going hot as you duck your head in shyness, you attempt to get the rest of your words out, “You might need to change before we go.”

Bucky already knows the result of fucking you with your new toy has left him with a little something on his jeans.

He can’t help the dangerous chuckle he lets loose at your sheepishness after what he’s just done.

Placing his pointer finger under your chin, turning your head towards him until you look in beautiful blue eyes, he smirks, and you know what’s about to come out of his mouth won’t be good for your health or your pussy.

“Oh, pretty girl. You really think I give a fuck? I’m not gonna change, wanna know why?”

Kissing you once on the lips, your heart begins racing again, his mouth hovering over yours as he whispers, “Because this way, everyone will know who you belong to - who made you cum so hard.”

And Bucky wouldn’t truly be your man if he didn’t proceed to kill you with his final words.

“And who’s cock you’ll be taking in your tight cunt later on when I give the birthday girl her last present of the night.”

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danistartt · 1 year

Text

Prince Charming- Jamie Tartt

alternative title: poopeh pairings: jamie tartt x reader, roy kent, jan maas warnings: language about: jamie's trip to the sewers

The field is empty when you pull into the parking lot.

You frown when you don’t see any bright jerseys floating around the grass, checking the time on your car screen to make sure practice is still supposed to be going on.

You’re only more confused when you realize it is, cocking your head at the green like it’ll answer. You find Jamie’s contact and reread the message he’d sent you an hour ago, ensuring that it was indeed today and not a week ago. The date reads as it had, Jamie’s request for you to bring a bag he’d forgotten still typed out in black.

You glance down at it on your lap, poking at it with an index finger before you look back up, nearly expecting the team to appear. It doesn’t. You sigh, pushing the car door open anyway.

One of the assistants opens the door for you, just as surprised that the team is absent as you were. You shrug at him and knock lightly on the door to the locker room, pushing it open a sliver when there isn’t the normal buzzing from the team.

Very confused, you heave a big sigh, striding near the coach’s office to peek inside there, too. No luck.

You slump onto the bench in front of Jamie’s locker, fiddling with the zipper on his bag as you search your pockets for your phone. You’re about to call him when the door opens with an ocean of familiar noise.

Graciously, only Jamie strides in, easily catching sight of you. His reaction is immediate and lovely, beautiful face stretching cheerily. “Hey, love.”

“Hi, Jamie,” you greet, standing to meet him when he arrives. “Brought your bag.” You swing it lightly on your finger to show him.

“Ah, you’re great,” he says, kissing your cheek before pulling you into a hug. Greedily, you let him, already having missed his presence.

You bury your face into his chest and subsequently pull back, your nose wrinkled. Doubtfully glancing back up at Jamie, you shoot him a look before leaning back in again to sniff suspiciously at his shoulder.

You pull back as far as you can in his arms and make a disapproving noise. “Jamie, why do you smell like shit?”

“Right, sorry love. Lasso took us to the sewers today,” he says, brows furrowing. “D’I really smell that bad?”

You stare up at him. “What?”

“One of his lessons. The system an’all.” He pinches the fabric of his shirt and takes a smell. His lips purse, he shakes his head. “Nothin’.”

“Maybe you got used to it down there,” you point out, smoothing the wrinkles he’d made. “Either way,” you begin, patting his chest, “take a nice shower before you get home, okay?”

He snorts, ducking down to give you a kiss.

You smile against him, thrusting his bag against his chest when he begins to push you toward his locker, his arms tight around your waist. “Nuh-uh. You have things to do, Jamie Tartt. Don’t start things you can’t finish.”

“Who says I can’t finish?” he asks, one of his stupidly handsome smirks on his lips.

You groan loudly, a gentle hand pushing his face away. “Prick. Get away from me.”

He laughs, his fingers crawling up your wrist to hold your hand. He brushes his lips against the bony hills below your fingers, eyes sparkling as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling his smile on your skin.

“Prick,” you repeat, softer.

“Yeah,” he admits, “but you like it.”

“Only a little,” you confess, letting him kiss you again.

A door slams. Footsteps pause, and then, disgusted: “Get a fucking room!” Roy. He says hi to you a lot kinder, but the embarrassment refuses to ease.

You choke, pulling back so hard you slam your head against the wall. You crane your neck down, hiding behind Jamie’s figure.

“Oi, stop screamin’!” Jamie screams back, a heavy palm warm just above your neck. The door to the office slams behind Roy as Jamie shakes his head, brows knitted together. His thumb rubs around a thready ache. “Fuckin’ old fuck,” he mutters, softer now. His pretty eyes look into yours.

You giggle. “He’s right.”

“You wanna get a room?” he asks.

“I should go,” you correct, pecking him quickly before he can convince you to stay with his sad little pout and round eyes. “Say hi to the team for me.”

“We heard,” Jan Maas says from far away.

Many more voices chime in with a greeting.

“Will you lot shut up?” Jamie says.

“I’ll see you soon,” you laugh, blowing him another kiss.

“I’ll try to wash off the smell!” he calls.

“Prince Charming!” you croon, letting the door close behind you.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt reader insert #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you

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rreskk · 2 months

Text

ASLEEP

Summary: Trevor has a habit of acting upon his urges. You woke the moment before he could, and you made him deal with the mess himself.

TW: Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1489

Trevor dragged his legs across the wooden porch and opened the door with his prominent hips, eyes immediately searching for you in this needy, horrifically restless state. His heartbeats were rapid and he was experiencing a haze of sobriety for the first time in a while. It was taking a toll on him, explaining the random bursts of deprivation where the meth would “cure” it.

He grumbled when you were absent from the main room until he peeked his head through the bedroom doorway, seeing you sprawled out on his bed, asleep. He promised to be back hours early so he couldn’t blame you for sleeping, yet he was crossed. His brows furrowed and he dragged his heavy legs towards the bed. You were sleeping so effortlessly. It made him think you weren’t excited for his return despite spending time together the morning prior. Spending time, he really meant arguing but he refused to see the fault being him.

“Hey.” He murmured into your ear, gaining no verbal response. Instead, you snuggled further into his mangled sheets and breathed out with ease. Your face, light and peaceful, without his comfort.

Trevor placed a finger and outlined your shoulder, caressing the barely exposed skin but calming down at the physical touch. Unconscious or not, he really needed to be praised with your attention. Even if he doesn’t deserve it.

“Hey.” He repeated and properly loomed over you. His frame shadowed and blocked out the light from his lamp, hiding the small details on your face, making the warmness turn cold. And you remained dead.

This was not aiding his pining aches. Trevor fantasised about you rushing to his side with the click of his fingers, like a nurturing maid; a motherless mother, an emotionally-available whore, a bitchcraft witch to cast spells upon the desires he wants. Yet, right now, you were doing nothing.

“C’mon…” He tugged onto your shirt like a little boy, “I’m back. Wake up.”

Still, the trailer was silent and deadly. He was alone with his thoughts again.

Trevor whined softly before greeting his impulses – a habit he does when vulnerable – throwing off the sheets that covered your static body, displaying the lazy clothes that clung sheepishly around your curves and limbs. You were too much of a heavy sleeper to recognise a hand following your backside, giving you a small squeeze, fondling around your hips, worshipping your stomach through the thin T-shirt.

“Sugar, angel,” Trevor addressed while lining his lips against your jaw, “I really want you right now. Wake up for me, I need you.”

He hoped you’d at least hear him through your sleep, just enough convincing to tear you from that slumber, but his impatience was running low and he couldn’t stop himself. Like a pathetic dog, so lost without his owner. So lost that he crawled over your body and gently positioned your knee upwards. If you weren’t going to wake up, he’s just going to use what he can get. Even if that was the most bare minimum pleasure.

His hands toyed around with his waistline and slowly edged it down and around his thighs. Then he hovered over your knee, his bulge safe behind the tight whites, holding back the source of his desires where it itched and ached. Trevor was so hard, grunting when he swiftly pressed his crotch against your knee, moving his hips in circles, grinding towards the bone, getting the real feel before deciding it was too little for his preference. Your knee, though bony, had no warmth or skin to provide a replicate of your sex.

With his mental humor cutting short, his fingers intertwined with yours and waited for a minute to ensure you were not faking the rest. Trevor’s eyes drifted to your goddess of a face, finding himself smiling at how lucky he was to have lured such a beauty. Although you may have fell asleep to avoid the bitterness of the fight, you still looked like a blooming flower, a diamond in the rough. He fell forward and praised your neck with kisses, his crotch unconsciously falling into your knee again, hitting the right spot where he gasped into your skin.

“Oh, fuck.” It slipped out from his tongue, hurting so good.

The bone struct the burning heat and he grinded into it repeatedly, treating you like a free palace to roam.

Trevor whined into your ear as he hump dried your knee intensely. He was so self-indulged that he was apathetic at your awakening. His eyes fell onto your open ones and he could only moan out your name in greeting.

You struggled to process what he was doing until he pulled up the rugged T-shirt where your breasts fell into his palms, perfectly fitting as he groped, played, squished, pinched the size. The rough pressure made you groan softly. Allowing him to captivate your breasts.

“Mmm…” He communicated through small phases of moaning.

“Are you close?” You whispered, treating him like a low-life subhuman.

Trevor was not afraid of eye-content and nodded proudly. His white briefs were heavy with arousal and you could feel the damp pre-cum from the fabric grind into your knee. It left wetness smear across the skin. Hot smear.

“That’s right,” You smirked, “C’mon. You can do better. Can’t you?”

“Mhm��” He winced.

“Let me help.” Thinking you were going to portray the fantasy he’s been dreaming of, harsh reality betrayed the expectation that buried his mind. Trevor threw his head back and cried with pain and pleasure, feeling you kick him with the knee, the brutality behind your actions making him shrivel up on bed beside you, cowering his crotch for protection and comfort.

“Fuck, fuck!” Trevor said through gritted teeth and closed eyes.

“That’s what you get for waking me up.” You scoffed and proceeded to grab the bulge for yourself. It sat in the palm of your head, soaked and used. You gripped and recognised the shape of his boner twitching. It shrivelled into your hand, like a deer in headlights.

His whole body went into shock when you gave him the abuse. Trevor wobbled out your name with his quivered lips, hoping you’d take mercy on him.

“Ohh, poor baby… You just want to cum. You wanna use me without my consent?” You continued to mock.

“M’no. No. No – “

“Do you know what happens to dirty animals like you?”

“Mommy, I’m sorry.” Trevor urged.

“Oh, so now you call me mommy. You think treating your mommy like that is nice?”

“I’m sorry!” He cradled your hand that held his crotch tightly, thumb caressing yours.

“Mommy’s not going to help you, Trev. You gotta make yourself cum, yeah?” You murmured.

His face fell at this proposal and he shook frantically, “No. C’mon, no. That’s not fair.”

“You need me?”

“I really need you. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Where were the calls or messages?” You challenged.

“I – “

“You don’t deserve to be helped. Mommy will watch you instead. I’ll make sure you’re getting exactly what you deserve.”

“Ohhh…” It seems as though Trevor accepted his fate.

When you released his crotch from your white-knuckled fist, he immediately went to work in front of you, his briefs torn from his hips and exposing that ugly mess of a cock. He was already in the middle of an orgasm when inserting freedom, sloppily jerking himself off in front of your eyes.

His Adams-apple trembled in his throat and he glanced to the ceiling, cum draping them sore hands that were sweating with arousal and emotional stress. At this point, he forgot you existed and focussed on relieving himself.

“Fuck, fuck… God!” Trevor’s waist fell into spasms when another orgasm was quickly approaching.

You were amazed to watch him experience so much at once. You knew of his short activity rate, but now you were seeing it when it comes to masturbation.

“Ah, fuck… I’m gonna fuckin’ cum again – “ He said, looking directly at you, “Watch me, mommy. Watch me.”

“I’m watching baby.” You reassured with a smirk, head resting against the bed railing.

This was the push he needed. Trevor arched his back and came again. However, this time, it was strong. His cock twitched dramatically as he oozed cum, dampening the sheets underneath but also his thighs. His skin being dressed by this warm and white sensation.

“Ohhhh!” You heard him moan loudly and through the night.

His body fell back and he exhaled with defeat. You stayed silent while he maintained the usual composure but it never returned.

Trevor only whined for you again, calling you “mommy” and shuffling close to your body as if you were attached like glue. It was weird yet you enjoyed the submissive nature when he grew needy. Always when he was sober.

“Good boy.” You whispered and kissed behind his ear.

The man shuddered but said nothing, only embracing your body.

#trevor philips #grand theft auto 5 #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #trevor gta #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto5 #my fanfic #my fanfic writing #my fanfiction

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dominantslasherking · 2 years

Note

Hear me out-

Being friends with Michael since childhood, breaking out of Smith's grove with him, all the while Michael is developing feelings for the reader. After they break out Michael decides to ride the reader for being so good to him and helping him escape

the reason why the reader is in there could be whatever you want ( I originally was going to say reader should be in for killing thier dad)

Also sorry it's long + I love your fic 😍

Ur a literal god in my books 🙂

Michael Myers with Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

You didn't regret helping Michael kill the bullies, and you definitely didn't regret killing your abusive mother and father. You did have a younger brother, but your parents starved him so much that it ended up killing him, no one cared for your brother's death except for you. The police didn't give a shit, the teachers, and the entire town just let it happen. Michael was there to try and console you but he wasn't really good at it.

Both of you ended up Smith's Grove Sanitarium together, both of you were being watched closely, they even barely let you two interact...but that didn't stop the two of you after years, of when they finally had enough and separated you two, Michael had broken out of his cell, he killed the guard who was keenly watching yours took his keys and set you free. Both of you were probably the same height, towering over basically everybody, and putting a swift end to the guards that saw or tried to go after each of you.

Michael followed you, as you were the one who got a layout of the asylum. He made sure to clear the way easily as you tried to remember the best way out.

////////////

Once Michael and you finally escaped you rested at his place, Michael came out with his suit and mask as he looked at you silently. He stalked closer to you, taking note of how you just got out of the shower and the towel loosely wrapped around your waist. The water glistened on your skin.

Michael took out his knife and slowly traced it along the towel, the blade getting a strong grip as Michael pulled, letting your towel fall down.

His knife stayed in his hand as he refused to let go, Michael sat on top of your naked body, pushing you onto his old bedroom which seemed to have been redesigned by new people living there, but both of you took care of them already.

"Michael..." You breathlessly whispered knowing you wouldn't get a response but you did get a husky grunt in return.

Slowly unbuttoning his suit until you could see his perfectly carved V line and lean body. your hands traced along his abs his mask tilting down at you watching closely as you fondled his body.

One Michael was fully nude and took off his mask to let his shaggy long hair fall in front of his face.

It didn't take long for both of you to get hard since you both did have an attraction to each other. Michael sat down on top of you, forcing your hands off his body to let you know he was in control even if he was the one getting dicked down.

With one hand he searched the nearby bed stand until he found a bottle of lube. Michael really didn't care how much he used, it splattered it all over your cock and he let your cock rub in between his ass cheeks.

Wasting no time, Michael took your cock inside him fully, you could also tell he had no preparations because he was extremely tight, however, his reactions were rather null when it came to pain.

Michael started to lower himself up and down. Your hands clamped around his waist, as he effortlessly rode you his own cock hard cock bouncy up and down from the movement.

You huffed into his shoulder holding in a groan as his body continued to bounce, His hole easily taking your cock inside and sucking it hard, before his hole repelled up and down onto your large cock.

Finally, you heard his small yet herdable groans of pleasure, Michael was also enjoying himself as he rode your cock.

Michael slightly pulled himself away from you, bending his body slightly back, letting you get a view of your cock sliding in and out of his puckering hole which was being torn open by your cock.

"Fuck..." You groaned, feeling yourself near, the sensual sight of his ass devouring your cock helped extremely, his movements got faster, and suddenly you started to thrust inside him sloppily, wanting to release. Suddenly your seed spilled deep inside, him, Michael's hole twitching and squeezing you hard, as you realized he came after you had shot your bucket of cum into him.

Both of you were breathing heavily. Michael suddenly got up, your cock sliding out of his hole, as you watched your load of cum spill out of him.

the cum inside Michael was rather endless since it was basically your first time and his as well.

But it seemed he didn't expect you to fill him up that much.

#michael myers x male reader #michael myers x reader #michael myers fanfic #Slasher x male reader #Michael myers #Slasher x reader #Michael Myers x male reader smut #Michael myers gay smut #Bottom Michael Myers #Halloween Michael Myers x reader #Halloween Michael Myers x male reader #Michael Myers x reader smut

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kikiwooo · 10 months

Note

hello may i make a request? so i heard that dyrroth will be banned at 2024...can i make a request where is the player gives him the last goodbye in their last moment with dyrroth before they're unable to see him again? its up to you if it's angst or happy ending, and if its okay can it be a gender neutral?

refuse to let him go

yeah

Telling him was the worst part, seeing him becoming angry quickly and questioning it over and over. He didn't accepted it, he wasn't going to accept it.

...what would the abyss do without him? A kingdom without it's prince, a kingdom without a ruler is no kingdom at all. He had many plans to take over the whole Land of Dawn, he was still making many plans.

and you, you..you surely taking it more harder than him right? You must take it much more harder than him...right?

The abyss prince who won't let anyone or anything get close to him, will let you crash into him. Collapse in his arms and tightly hold onto him....hes doing the same but more gentle, you're only human after all. Cry or scream all you want, he'll be there to his very last seconds.

If it doesn't end well....well,

The tight grip he had around your body was comforting, but both of you knew it wasn't going to last long. Your grip around his form tightened with every passing second, the Abyss Prince noticed that. He presses you onto him much more as if that's possible, he wanted to comfort that one and only human who choosed him over over anyone, he never wanted to let go. But time wasn't going to wait for anyone, even if they're the strongest.

" ..take care of the abyss for me...alright?"

But if its......

The abyss prince walked out of the 're-design' room whilst holding his head and cursing under his breath. The whole re-design thing had taken a quite tool on him so it was only natural for him to feel tired, but not that tired. His piercing eyes searched for you, for your form that he was familiar with.

" hmp...where are you? ..(name).."

when his eyes found you, they noticeably sparkled.

"There you are-"

hm?

You held out a burger to him, his favorite.

Dyrroth sheepishly grinned and took it from your hands already devouring it, he wrapped his arm around your waist and rested his chin on between your neck and shoulder.

"Ah~ you know me so well, as you should."

#[ x.brainrot ] !#mlbb #mlbb x reader #mobile legends #mobile legends bang bang #mobile legends bang bang x reader #mobile legends x reader #gn reader #x reader #dyrroth #dyrroth x reader

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snugglywugglysocialist · 5 months

Text

Anguish

You rap three times at the door, wringing your hands in dread for what you're about to be greeted with.

“Well, you look like hell." You say quietly, praying that her sense of humor survived what happened the night before. Casey shoots you a tight smile through the gap of the door, stepping back and allowing it to open fully for you.

“Didn't know you made house calls." She rasps, walking slowly towards the couch in the middle of her living room.

"Only for you." You chide sarcastically, grandiosely bowing in front of her after throwing your bag onto her desk chair. She laughs lightly and clutches her right side, cursing under her breath through clenched teeth. You feel your face drain as you move to sit next to her.

"Did they catch him yet?" You inquire, sitting down carefully as if she may break. She lets her head fall to the back of the couch, closing her eyes and taking in a pained breath before speaking. Your jaw locks in anger as you see her struggle to form the words she’s looking for.

"Nope, no leads either." She says rigidly. You nod in response despite her eyes still being closed. Your eyes rake over the already-blackened bruising that covers her pale skin, only growing more enraged as you move them downward. Casey wheezes and you search for something to say, wanting to drown out the noise of it.

"Why are you staying here if he's still in the wind?" You ask, choking back the ire threatening to lace your words. She frowns and forces her eyes open to meet yours.

"Where else am I gonna go? Do you want me to sleep in my office?" She asks, condescendingly. You’re used to her sharp tongue, but not its use against you. She closes her eyes once more after seeing the shock of her comment materialize in your eyes. You study her turned face in the dull lamplight, realizing her abrasions are even worse than you thought.

Casey winces and guards her sides, pressing her hand into her ribcage until you see tears welling beneath her eyes at the pain of it. You stand to walk to your bag, the sounds of your footsteps swallowed hastily by the oppressive silence in the room. Her eyes shoot open and track you hesitantly as you return to the couch.

You rifle through it for a few moments, trying to find what you’re looking for. Casey’s eyes don’t leave your darkened figure; you can feel the look she’s giving you even with your back to her. You turn to approach her, trying to ignore the way you feel in this moment. The way she looks up at you—dazed and resentful—sends a stab through your gut.

"Get up." You say gently, offering your hand to her. You expected her to ask something or refuse, but she takes your hand without question, standing slowly. You silently confirm that her ribcage isn’t wrapped, and display the compression bandage in your hand.

"They should've given you some of these for your ribs before they discharged you at the hospital." You ramble lowly, feeling strange under her stoic gaze. She nods in understanding, and moans in agony as she tries to raise her shirt. You grab the bottom hem and peel it slowly from her skin, gently raising her arms to fully remove it. She groans, falling towards you as she lays her forearms across her torso.

“I know. You'll feel better after we do this." You coo gently, helping to straighten her body out. She removes her arms and bites her lower lip harshly as you press the wrap into her skin. Her navel muscles tighten as your hand lays across the skin shrouding them, and she struggles to breathe. Knowingly, Casey replaces your hand, securing the end as you begin to slowly bind the length of her ribcage.

You continue wrapping, focusing on the way her face changes when your fingers brush over a particularly tender area. The two-minute long task seems like it takes an hour as you listen to the sounds of agony leaving her throat.

You round for the final time, and softly secure the end of the bandage. She exhales the breath she’d been holding, and relaxes her shoulders in relief. You move to grab her shirt off the table, and help her back into the worn fabric. It hangs loosely from her lithe figure, and you let your gaze linger for a little too long. You look up to meet her eyes.

"See? I told you." You say with arrogance, trying to pull a smirk from her. She smiles lazily as you brace her body against yours, helping her to the couch.

“Thank you." She whispers, sinking into the leather and giving you a look you’ve never seen from her. You ignore her comment and shove your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

"You should let me stay with you until they catch him." You pivot, searching her eyes for an answer. Casey scoffs and turns her head, catching her tongue between her teeth. She purses her cut lips and nods sharply.

"If you insist." She mutters, her face still turned away from you.

"Go to sleep." You state curtly. She lets a barely audible response leave her lips before letting her eyes flutter closed. Your heart beats wildly against your chest with enmity as you watch her struggle to get comfortable. You curse yourself silently for not showing up a lot sooner.

#law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #casey novak #casey novak fanfiction #casey novak x reader #hurt/comfort

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rachalixie · 2 years

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can’t get you off my mind

classic you-meet-minho-at-a-party-and-he-takes-your-breath-away trope

warnings: alcohol mention, minho x gender neutral reader

genre: strangers to lovers

word count: 750+

the first time you see him he’s walking through the front door with chan and jisung like he owns the place.

he’s stupidly pretty, with plump pink lips formed into a pout and long lashes framing big eyes. he’s wearing sinfully tight leather pants and a soft looking sweater, a look you didn’t think would ever fit but somehow this boy makes it work. you realize you’ve been staring for longer than is socially acceptable when he turns and his eyes latch onto yours, and your cheeks burn as your gaze drops down to the half finished drink in your hand. your mind is racing, you swear you’ve seen him before somewhere, his eyes are captivatingly familiar. your friend taps you on the shoulder, holding out a ball indicating that it’s your turn to go in pong, and he almost leaves your mind.

the second time you see him, he’s leaning against the kitchen island in a way which you can only describe as cocky. you can’t shake how familiar he looks, but where have you seen him before?

“another drink?” he asked, holding out a seltzer to you. you take it, nodding in thanks.

“you’re here alone? no one to get drinks for you?” he asks teasingly, perching up on the counter.

“i don’t think that’s any of your business,” you flush, refusing to feel embarrassed. “last i saw, you walked in here alone too.” a low blow, maybe, but he started it.

“is that you admitting to have been watching me?” he asks, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hands, which would have been an adorable pose for anyone other than him. “it’s okay. i’ve been watching you too. anyone who i was with tonight wouldn’t have held a match to you.”

you choked on your seltzer, staring at him in shock, but he just hopped off the counter and sauntered away.

the third time you see him, he’s white-knuckling a bottle of beer in his hand while cringing away from a girl in a ridiculously short skirt and false lashes. you’re walking towards them, trying to get to the balcony behind them to get some fresh air. he grabs your wrist before you can walk past them, and all but pushes you between himself and the unnamed girl just as she’s reaching to feel his bicep.

“this is y/n,” he says, his voice smooth as velvet despite the discomfort you know he’s feeling. “have you two met?”

the girl scoffs, not bothering to answer him as she walks away in search of other prey.

“rude,” you giggle, breath catching as you realize he’s still holding your wrist. “wait, how do you know my name?” you ask, his earlier comment mixed with this interaction catching you way off guard.

“i make it a point to know everyone here, y/n,” he said, turning his grip on your wrist to hold your hand. “it’s a pleasure to meet you, by the way.”

you blush, questioning how he can be so ridiculously charming and annoyingly cocky at the same time. you open your mouth to answer, but before you can speak he’s beckoned by chan and jisung from the other side of the room.

“minho!” chan exclaims, flushed and giggly drunk, making the pretty boy’s head turn. “minho come here!”

“come see this! changbin’s about to crush this guy in arm wrestling!” jisung followed, giddy.

“duty calls,” minho says, leaning into your space just long enough for you to smell his sweet musky cologne under the alcohol on his sweater. he smirks and walks away, leaving you to finally get to the balcony.

minho, you mouth his name, testing it out. i like it.

the fourth time you see him, you’re leaving the bathroom and he’s right by the door, beckoning you into a room down the hallway with crooked fingers. of course you follow, and as soon as you enter the door he shuts and locks it behind you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. he backs you up to the bed, and you let out a yelp as your knees hit the edge and give out. he’s looking down at you, smiling softly in place of the smirk he’s been wearing all night.

“minho, can we be in here?” you ask timidly, your hands twisting around each other. he makes you nervous, you can’t help it.

“oh, kitten, this is my house. you’re on my bed,” he practically purrs, moving closer to you and caging you against the headboard. “you don’t need to worry about any of that.”

turns out, he does actually own the place.

—

masterlist

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good-beanswrites · 8 months

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And here's one with Weak for Fuuta and Amane, for anon! I've recently been going crazy over some ideas from posts about Fuuta and food and he and Amane's relationship, and they came together perfectly with the prompt -- thank you for the request 👀👀👀

“Can you be quiet for one minute?”

Fuuta spun around from where he’d been complaining loudly about the food, with his mouth full of it, to find Amane glaring from beside him.

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” he said through bites. He paused to swallow, though. And take a sip of his drink. And then forgot was he was talking about anyway.

Amane returned to mouthing a blessing over her food. The annoyance in her expression melted away to serenity as she brought her hands together. Fuuta watched as she drew herself up. Then she ate calmly. He could have crumbled in shame, right then, at the thought of this tiny kid holding up better than himself.

She, too, had experienced the punishments that came with their verdict. Restraints pulled so tight it’s hard to breathe. Long nights of maddening voices and watchful eyes. The smaller meal portions leading to shaky limbs. Fuuta spent every meal inhaling as much as he could as soon as he could -- and here Amane sat as if she had a perfectly content stomach. Through everything, she maintained her strong gaze and commanding voice.

Fuuta reminded himself she did have a few advantages over him. She still had all her eyes and ribs intact, for one. It was difficult to give someone a convincing stinkeye with only one eye.

While he continued shoveling down his meal, he noticed her separating things on her plate. The meat in the corner went completely untouched.

The aforementioned treatment had made him irritable -- more irritable than usual, that is -- and he jabbed his utensils at her. “Hey, we talked about this. Eat your fucking meat. I’ve been eating my vegetables, yeah?” Not that he wanted to. He would have eaten just about anything they put in front of him if it kept the gnawing hunger at bay.

“It’s against my beliefs,” she said simply.

“I thought suicide was, too.”

She raised her chin. “I’ve known plenty who have fasted and become stronger for it. This is nothing drastic.”

Fuuta grit his teeth. He’d witnessed his fair share of internet-goers who acted cruel about another’s religion. He wasn’t about to join them in being some piece of shit who forced her to do something that was against her code. But there was no way he was going to sit around and watch her starve herself, either.

He couldn’t blame Amane for how harshly she’d refused help from the others -- they coddled her, encouraging her with sweet talk, or tried an insufferable stern parental tone. Fuuta wasn’t cut out for any of those methods, anyway. What he did know how to do, however, was make threats.

Even if Amane didn’t fear death, he knew there was one situation she would do absolutely anything to avoid.

“Oi, if you get any weaker, Shidou’s gonna step in.” Her frown twitched. “He’s already harassed me and Mahiru about our meals. He saw my hand shake one time and hasn't stopped hounding me about it since. The minute he can tell you’re not eating enough, he’ll be all over you. And let me tell you, you’re not very subtle about it.”

The final statement came out with more bite than intended. Maybe he was bitter that she was at least more subtle than him. Maybe he thought it was fucked up the way she, too, had grown visibly weaker. Maybe he was just hungry and tired of talking. He attacked another mouthful of food.

Amane was searching her plate as if the answer could be found there. There was a long silence as she contemplated. Fuuta had thought he’d won until she shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes and head in an over dramatic show of exasperation. “So stubborn!” When he was done chewing, he picked up his plate. “Fine.” He gathered up all that was left, dumping it onto hers with a flick.

A fire ignited in her gaze. She shoved the dish away. “I’m not some weak child to be pitied.”

“Wha–? It’s not pity!”

“You think I’m weak.”

“I think you’re hungry!”

“You don’t know anything!”

Mikoto passed by, chuckling as they raised their voices. “Look at you two hotheaded kids. Do I need to break it up?”

“Go away!” they chorused.

“Alright, sheesh…” He kept walking, leaving the pair to stew in silence.

Fuuta didn’t have it in him to fight today. He was tired. He ached all over. If she wasn’t going to appreciate his help, so be it. He was starting to get used to his good intentions being taken the wrong way. It looked like he was just the weak one, after all. He grabbed his empty plate and stood to leave.

“Fuuta.” Amane took a deep breath. “I am hungry.” She gestured for him to come back. Then she moved the meat from her plate onto his.

He eyed the offering, hoping his expression didn’t betray how desperately he wanted to scoff it down. “I’m not some asshole who’s gonna take your food.”

“You’re not taking it. I’m giving it. I would have thrown it out otherwise.” Amane picked up some of the vegetables. “In return, I will eat this. We both must stay strong for the ordeals ahead.”

After a moment of hesitation, Fuuta sat back down. He took a bite. Neither said a proper thank you. Neither needed one.

He glanced to Amane with a smirk. “Good. This way, we’ll both keep that geezer Shidou away.”

It was only for a moment, but for the first time since the second trial began, Fuuta could have sworn her lips slipped into a small smile.

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #amane momose #oh yeah it also references that minigram/timeline about her not eating meat and him not finishing his vegetables #the fuuta/food one was from a bit ago but its been in my head again after his timeline convo making sure haruka was eating #thank you for the request ahh this was so much fun :D #ive had so many amane thoughts with purge march coming up - and its always a good day to get emotional over fuuta dsfdsfds #i always thought their timelines were really interesting with how calm she is and how completely wracked with anxiety he is #i think hed be pretty aware and ashamed of that #rip mikoto but i needed to show that they find kinship in being treated younger than they want because of their age+attitude 😂#i picture a very sibling relationship for them #you dont really coddle your younger siblings the same you would with other kids #so they have a lot of respect and also frustration towards each other...#i actually think fuuta has a lot of respect for shidou too but can lean into his annoyance for amanes sake #ahh ty and i hope you enjoyed!#like i said this one was a lot of fun to write omg #drabbles

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