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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

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Lion’s Den: Part 7

Steely grey eyes framed by thick, dark lashes that matched the inky black hair cut close to his scalp, and a speckle of facial hair dusting his chin and cheeks had been the focal point that you had been transfixed by. When it had been time to move your attention, you had gazed at his crooked nose that was a byproduct of a bad break that had never been fixed.

“Bronx,” you addressed the alpha that had been assigned to be your keeper, the nickname a placeholder for the legal name he had not given to you, “I need to leave.”

“You can’t leave.” The answer was the same, the typical response from a man who was meant to keep you locked down tight for your safety. “Bosses orders.”

“Queens,” you directed your attention to the other alpha, the other guard that had been by your side nearly every moment of the day, “can you be reasonable?”

The other alpha was much like Bronx in the manner of his appearance, with short-cropped hair and lighter eyes that were neither blue nor green, an odd mix akin to stork clouds thick and heavy with rain. His nose was straighter than Bronx’s, though there was a scar that had run across the bridge near his nostrils that was healed and fading. He stood shorter than Bronx, a few inches of difference between the two however he was no less intimidating in size or broad width.

And yet, both were smaller than Steve and Bucky. Both alphas who were meant to be guarding you were still not as tall or broad as the two alphas that had claimed you.

“You think we wanna be on the side of their anger?”

Queens scoffed and rolled his shoulders back, a glimmer of pain surging through him as his right shoulder had dropped back down. “You’re supposed to sit tight-“

“Am I an animal? Do I look like a puppy on a leash?” You squared your shoulders and puffed your chest, mirroring the stance they had taken as your teeth ground together. “Sit tight?”

“Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers-“ Bronx had started speaking, firing a single and weaponized glare toward Queens that had the smaller of the two clamping his mouth shut as the hierarchy of alphas was established.

“I don’t give a damn if they’re fucking on the moon, I am losing my damn mind! I have been holed up here for longer than I should have been-“ you raised a protest and grit your teeth, watching the two alphas become physically distended with the manner of which you were speaking to them, and the knowledge that if they should talk back to you, they would face the ire of their bosses.

“What do you want?” Queens had slid his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow, attempting to soothe you and your rising, tumultuous emotions.

“I want to leave, Queens! I want to go outside and feel natural light and be able to talk to people without having two gargantuan watching me all the time!” The way you had handled yourself and the rising aggression in your voice had been more than warranted. It was innate and reasonable, that you were feeling overwhelmed and passive-aggressive about the situation you were in.

“Bosses said-“ Bronx had started once more, digging in his heels when you felt the bubbling overflow of your sharp cry, the first strike of the chisel against stone, carving out your loneliness and desperation.

“I hate this,” your bottom lip trembled and you slid your feet back on the hardwood floors, your arms snaking around your middle, “I’m so God-damned overwhelmed and no one is telling me anything! I’m stuck here in this place like I have no option to leave because I don’t.”

A beat of stale silence had passed, a moment of brief and uneventful quietude that had only featured one distinct sound. You had tightened your grip on yourself, your fingers twisting the material of your shirt in tight coils as you drew your attention away from Bronx and Queens, casting your gaze on the flawless windows to your left.

The city looked beautiful from this height and yet you couldn’t allow yourself to wander too close to the glass to gaze out at the city below, the fear of heights and of falling to your doom had been an ever-present thought, even if the spectacular view of the sunsets and city skyline beckoned you to.

“Fuck,” Bronx cursed under his breath, his steely grey eyes speculating about you as you hugged yourself, as you had silently stewed in your misery, “I’m not getting my ass kicked because of you.”

You had flit your gaze back toward him ready to remark with a snarky reply when he had shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out his phone. He had tapped quickly on the device, holding it against his ear as the phone rang loud enough for you to hear, though you were unsure of who he was possibly speaking to.

“You need something? Chocolate? A bottle of wine?” Queens had suggested lightly; comically soft.

“What?” Your eyebrows had furrowed and your lip had continued trembling despite the few tears that had fallen and slipped down your cheeks being the only ones.

“Food..?” Queens motioned to the kitchen behind them with his thumb, his odd contrast between intimidating and aloof goofiness unconventional. “Do you…want some..?”

“I want to go out.” You had mirrored your previous statement with enunciation. “I am overwhelmed and I want to have a moment of peace-“

��We’re leaving.” Bronx had cut you off, he had ended the back and forth between you and Queens with a quick clap to Queen’s shoulder as he started dragging him toward the door. “Miss L/N, if you would please follow us-“

“What is going on?” You followed tentatively, unsure of what had happened in the span of a phone call, curious about what quick change could have made your desire to leave become a reality. “What the hell changed in a single phone call?”

“We’re going out,” Bronx answered shortly, opening the door for you to step out, with him stepping behind you. “Didn’t you want to go out?”

“I wanted to leave,” you countered and reached up toward the collar, brushing your fingertips against the velour, “I don’t want to feel like a prisoner.”

“We’re leaving now, you’re going out.” Queen’s offered the obvious as he stepped onto the elevator and you hesitantly followed after him.

“Okay..? But now I’m even more confused. I was banned from leaving..?” You glanced from Bronx to Queens, the two alphas caging you in between them as the elevator started descending, and with each floor, it had passed, your question had remained unanswered.

You were left in the dark by the sudden emergence from the penthouse you were made to stay in, made to follow them as they had stepped off the elevator and escorted you through the lobby. As the door had been opened by another alpha in a suit, Queens had angled himself to your right, shielding you entirely from view.

“Get inside.” Bronx had instructed less than pleasant, with the kind of desperate urgency that made you listen without argument.

You had climbed inside the SUV and had moved to the driver’s side, firstly noting the part of the door where the lock should have been was flush with the seamless leather. There was no conceivable lock that you could access and even the handle itself was nearly indistinguishable.

“If someone tries to break the window and open the door, it’s impossible.” Queens had spoken from the front, looking back at you as he shifted in the passenger’s seat, leaning to the left to be able to see you. “One of the many safety measures-“

“I couldn’t get out.” You countered side-eyeing Bronx. “I mean I couldn’t possibly-“

The steely eyes alpha had leaned over and reached for the handle, fingers picking at a small latch and yanking, the handle becoming more visible against the leather side. When he had shown you the handle, he had pressed it in to hide it once more than leaned back against his seat.

You had glanced out the window at the passing city scenery, keeping your hands folded in your lap as the driver had navigated the busy city. The vehicle was moving throughout the city, idle talk between Queens and the driver the only conversation carried in the vehicle as you watched the streets in passing, your mind wandering to the animosity you had suffered at the hands of your sister and her mate.

It was a motion that had created a cavernous divide between you and her, one that seemed to be permanent and unable to be patched or bridged over. She had chosen an alpha who was no better for her than heroin was to an addict, the resulting high and fixed need was present with both. Your sister was addicted to him, she was unable to lose him; unwilling to choose someone over her mate. Not even you, had mattered, not in comparison to Marcus and his vile, toxic grasp on her. She was chained to him, barred from the rest of the world by his mark and his claim, destined to bring her to ruin through unyielding possession for the sake of having someone to screw.

“There are too many people in the world like Marcus,” Bronx had broken the silence between you two, his tone of voice oddly gently as he spoke and drew your attention away from the window toward him, “too many alphas who have twisted what it means to be a good alpha and not just because you were born into it.”

You hadn’t commented on his statement, choosing to remain silent. Instead, you had rest your hand against your stomach and pressed lightly, both the bruises and the pain from Marcus’ attack had faded and dissipated, and there was minimal bruising around your neck which had been covered by the collar. It was as if the entire event had been something of a fever dream and you were now waking to the aftermath with confusion and wonderment about how you had gotten here.

“We’re here.” The driver had announced when the vehicle had pulled up to a curb in front of a brick and mortar corner building with sleek and eclectic fairy-lights hanging above bistro sets arranged in the designated patio section outside the main entrance.

“There’s no one here.” You commented while leaning forward and looking out the rear passengers' side window noting the lack of people outside on the patio, or inside the ethereal restaurant. “This is where we’re going?”

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t you trust us?” Queen’s had opened the door for Bronx to get out first, and after you had followed along, you were once again flanked and shielded as you were escorted toward the front door of the building, the eery quietude of the place was nearly chilling.

“You want me to answer that honestly?” You questioned as you stepped through the door, and been transported to a place that seemed so unfit for Manhattan and the concrete jungle of NYC.

The restaurant inside was beautiful and so full of life and greenery, the aesthetic of the dining experience seemed to be focused on nature outside of the big city. There were three living walls with thick and climbing ivy clinging to the wall in such great numbers that you could barely see the underlying structural wall beneath. The lights hanging above the tables were transfixed with hanging foliage and flowers that draped below the matching green fixtures they had hung too. There was an array of flowers somehow growing under a skylight and a wall, the pleasant and vibrant colours stealing your breath and your attention as you weaved in and out of tables to approach the breathtaking features.

When you approached, you had stretched out your hand and rested your fingertips against the soft petals, stroking the velvet beneath your thumb and index finger.

You had dropped your hand to your side when you heard the approach of footsteps, and the scent that had pilfered your senses was eagerly coiling around you like fine mist. Your heart had fluttered simultaneously with the butterflies in your stomach, a clear contrast between your sense of irritation with being locked in their penthouse.

“Sweetheart, you made it,” Bucky had stopped a few feet from you with his hands shoved into his pockets, drawing your attention from the living wall to himself.

You had turned your head and studied Bucky as he stood a few feet from you. The dark grey suit pants he had worn had drawn attention to the thickness of his thighs, continued through to the firm and broad build of his abdomen and chest that seemed so impeccable when tucked underneath a deep red shirt with the top few buttons undone, the sliver of one of his tattoos appearing beneath the collar under Steve’s mark on his neck.

“My jailers granted me temporary freedom.” You commented, reeling in your emotional and physical reaction to his scent and his appearance. “I think I only get an hour.”

“The collar looks good on you,” Bucky had chimed with praise as he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth and inhaled sharply, clearly just as transfixed by you as you were him.

“Do you give all your prisoners these? Or just the ones you wanna fuck?” You hissed at him as he approached with his lip trapped between his teeth, your irritation and reignited anger directed toward him had only grown when he laughed so lightly and airily.

“Come on, honey. You’re hungry — Steve and I want to talk to you.” Bucky had motioned to the space behind him with a tilt of his head and the boyish charm that seemed so out of place for a man like him.

“You tell me I can’t leave and then you bring me here and expect me to be complacent and happy to see you?” Your eyes narrowed as passed by him, only listening because you knew that he could have just as easily thrown you over his shoulder and been done with it.

“Seething anger or orgasmic bliss, wouldn’t change how God damn beautiful you are.” Bucky had followed behind you as you began walking, shamelessly flirting with you in such a casual manner despite your radiating vexation with him. “Isn’t she beautiful, Stevie? Firecracker omega-“

“Why am I here? Why did you bring me here when you told me that I wasn’t allowed to leave? What kind of bullshit is that?” Your anger had become fixated on Steve and his blue-green eyes, the colours shifting as he stared between you and Bucky, equally just as gorgeous as the latter.

“Why don’t you sit down-“

“I don’t want to sit down! I don’t want to do anything until you give me some kind of explanation why I can’t leave! Why I can’t go out and do things! Why can’t I start finding my place? Why would you think it would be okay to save my ass and then confine me to a cage like an animal! Do I look like a puppy to you?!” You were unleashing every ounce of unbridled rage upon them as if they weren’t the most dangerous men in the city, as if they hadn’t owned nearly everything and everyone in some manner. You were screaming at them as if they weren’t two of the most intimidating and powerful alphas you had come across.

“You would make a cute puppy. Or a bunny. Some little fuzzy ears and a soft little cottontail plug-“ Bucky had slipped past you, narrowly missing your balled fist flying toward his shoulder, and yet you had some kind of vindication when he had approached Steve and was immediately grasped around the throat.

“You’re always such a fucking brat, Buck. You can’t keep your mouth shut for five minutes.” Steve’s eyes darkened and his jaw had clenched in a fine line between lust and need for control.

“Thought you liked it wide open, Steve?” Bucky was unrelenting with his flirtations, his eyes drawn back toward you as he licked his lips. “Wouldn’t you like to see it? A little bunny trapped between wolves?”

“Sit down before I fuck you stupid.” Steve had affectionately growled deep in his throat as he let Bucky go before he looked your way and ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

“You’re right. And we’re sorry, we shouldn’t have constrained you to the house.” Steve had rolled his shoulders back, and in a moment had shifted back to the intimidating and imposing mafia boss he always had been. “You were there for your safety, doll.”

“My safety? Are you serious? I appreciate you giving me a place to stay after Marcus had…that was appreciated but then you tell me that I can’t leave, and you give me this collar. I know what the collar is, I know what the implications are but what the hell is going on?” You grit your teeth and looked back and forth between Bucky and Steve, both of them now revelling in the gravity of your anger and annoyance.

“Marcus had…arranged for you to be taken as some kind of payment. Six other omegas had been taken and sold on the black market, or something like it. Marcus had been in the talks with another alpha of another ‘family’ and had arranged-“

“He sold me out? Like I was nothing?”

“He put a target on your back and a large one. We’re in the process of finding out who he had talked to and what kind of threat is coming your way.” Steve had remained neutral in the manner of speaking, addressing you in the manner of professionalism if for no other reason than to combat the powerful anger rippling beneath that state of control.

“We should have told you earlier and we shouldn’t have restricted you from leaving the house. We overstepped our boundaries and we are sorry.”

“You’re damn right you overstepped your boundaries. I have a right to live without being trapped.” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, averting your eyes. “I’m going back to work. And I want to be able to come and go as I want. No restrictions.”

“Are you trying to negotiate?” Bucky questioned that flirtatiousness back in full force. “Cute little omega. Come closer and tell daddy everything you want-“

“Bucky, shut up.” Steve had once again cut him off, the warning growl as playful as it was charged with sexual tension.

“I wasn’t finished making demands.” You had squared your jaw as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “If you expect me to be in this relationship then I get to have some pull too.”

“Of course you do, baby. Sit down, order wine and some food. Tell us what you want.” Steve suggested, and you had only headed after a minute of silence, making a note to yourself to hold your ground.

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funnyexel · 2 years

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Shit Party | March Madness

Billy Loomis x Black Female Reader

A/n: I never see Billy Loomis x reader, its always poly. Which I have no problem with but options is always nice. This is big girl friendly. Feedback is also greatly appreciated.

Warning(s): Flirting, Controlling, Choking

Masterlist Mega List

“I think it’ll be fun.” Casey says to you over the phone. Sighing you look over your nails. “I don’t know…” You look over to your closet, thinking of a potential outfit. “Oh come on! Don’t be such a square.” She pressures you. “I’ll have to ask if Billy is going.” You exclaim. “You act like he owns you. In his mind, he probably does.” She projects, attitude in her tone. “He just looks out for me. Plus people have been disappearing at parties lately.” You eye the newspaper on your nightstand. “That’s obviously speculation! Small town, y/n. They don’t want us to go to any parties. Duh!” You sit and think about what she just said. “Mhm. Where’s the party? Maybe I’ll come.” She shrieks, telling you the location. “See you there!” She happily says. “I never said I-“ The dial tone rings in your ear and you set the phone on the hook. “I never said I’d come.” You get off your bed and go to the closet. Looking through your racks of clothes, you sway your hips a little. The excitement of going to a house party getting you a bit jumpy.

Picking out a short jean skirt, brown printed crop top, fluffy jacket, a purse to match it and calf high converses. Resting the garments on your bed, you look in the mirror and try to figure out what you should do with your hair. You had it in braids but you wanted to style it. A low knocking breaks your train of thought. Looking to your window, you pull your curtain and hold up a finger to him. Searching your nightstand, you pull out a key. Going back to your window, you unlock the pad lock that kept him out. Putting the lock to the side and opening the window. Letting himself in, he sits on your bed. Closing the window, you leave it unlocked. “I was just about to call you.” You walk by him to get your outfit, he grabs your wrist. “Where are you going?” He eyes you. “The house party by the park.” His grip loosens at your answer. “I don’t know yet. I might, if you go.” You glance over your shoulder then enter the closet to try the outfit. “Don’t waste your time.”

“Come on Billy. I haven’t been to a party in forever. I don’t know too many people.” He huffs to your muffled words. “You know that people are dead, right? You like news and shit, don’t you.” Putting on your shoe, you walk out the small space. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Casey said it was all speculation.” You shrug. “You really believe that bimbo.” He asks a rhetorical question. “No! Well…” You look to the side. “What are you wearing.” Your brows knot and you look to your outfit. “What? You don’t like it?” He stands up. “You look a mess. What’s with the shoes. You look stupid.” He laughs. Crossing your arms over your chest, you take offense. “I think I look good. The shoes are in. Come on!” You walk over to your mirror and pose a bit, trying to see whats wrong with the outfit. “I don’t care if they’re in, or whatever. Change.” He pushes you into the closet. “Its a house party not the zoo.” You turn around to face him. “No need to be rude.” You point at his chest and look for a simpler outfit. Kicking him out, you change and decide to keep your hair as is.

Walking out in washed out blue jeans, dark blue crop top, a oversized brown suede sweater and brown shoes to match. “This is as simple as it gets.” Looking you up and down, he shrugs. “Lets go.” You smile, spraying some perfume and locking the window. He side eyes you. “You trying to trap me?” He leans over you and you playfully push him off. “No, back door.” You put the key away and turn off the light before leaving with him. “Home alone, no wonder you wanna leave.” He follows behind you and watches as you lock the back door. “That’s why I have the lock. My mom knows you love to come through there.” You both climb the fence. “Over statement.” He makes it down but you struggle. Groaning, he grabs your hips and lifts you down. “I don’t think so, Mr. Loomis.” You walk with him, down the street. “Stop calling me that.” You giggle at him, shaking your head.

The street lights lit the way to the party. With each step, the music got louder, signaling that you’re getting closer. “Maybe we should go back.” The nerves set in as you nervously laugh. “I didn’t walk here for you to pussy out.” He says side eyeing you. “come on billy don’t do me like that. you know how I get.” You stop and pull him aside, being a few houses away but seeing people going to the party. “Exactly why I’m doing it.” You roughly let him go and pout. “give me a break.” You look up to him and he just stares. “please?” You clasp your hands together in an attempt to persuade him but nothing seems to be working. “Stop that and come on.” He leans down, speaking into your ear and pulling you towards the party. Entering the party you were swallowed by the crowd of people, immediately losing Billy. Now you really wanted to go home. “Y/n!” A feminine voice yells over the music. “Casey?” You squint in the dark lighting and walk over to her.

“I’m glad you came. Finally!” She hugs you and you give her two friendly pats on the back. “Yeah…” She looks around for a quick second. “Alone I see.” She smirks and hooks her arm with yours, walking from the crowd. “Great time for me to introduce you to Derek.” You instantly shake your head. “Straight no.” She stops and turns to you. “What?! He’s so…you. You know?” You cross your arms over your chest. “No. I don’t know and I don’t wanna know. You swear you’re cupid.” She rolls her eyes. “At least give it a try! And I think I do a pretty good job.” She smiles awkwardly. “I’d rather lick a cheese grater. When you get into a steady relationship then you can play matchmaker all you want but now, its a no from me.” She sighs. “Too bad…he’s already coming over here.” She backs away. “Casey!” You raise your voice and stand very still. ‘If I stand very still he’ll probably ignore me.’ You thought to yourself. The plan backfired as he taps on your shoulder.

Slowly turning around, you just stand there. “Y/n Hi.” He leans in a little too close for comfort. “Bye.” You do a 180 degree turn and disappear into the crowd. At this point you desperately wanted to go home. Your mood is officially killed, your social battery is drained and you honestly feel uncomfortable here. “what are you doing.” He whispers against your neck, making you jump. “Holy-…you scared me.” You turn around to see Billy. He simply smirks and his tugs you to the backyard. It was quite reserved, sitting on a lounge chair he waits for you to sit as well. “I don’t think I’ll fit.” You say, your hands awkwardly flopping at the sides of your body. “There’s space for the two of us.” He manspreads in the seat. “Is this some kind of sick joke?” You huff. “Maybe.” You roll your eyes. “Fine but if I feel something, I’m getting up. You hear me, Billy?” He nods. “Yeah, whatever.” You sit on his lap, trying not to be directly on his groin.

“So…where’s Stu?” He groans and throws his head back. “Really?” He whines and you laugh a little. “Oh stop being a big baby. He’s funny.” You shift in his lap, turning to the side a little to push him playfully in the chest. “Could you close your legs, I’m sinking.” You hold onto the arm rest, trying to keep yourself up. “That didn’t sound like a question.” He eyes you. “cuz’ its not.” He closes his legs and tilts his head towards you. “Y/n L/n, did you just order me to do something.” He traps you in eye contact. “Really? My whole government.” You look at him straight faced. He shakes his head still keeping eye contact. “You still did it, didn’t you?” He licks his lips, causing you to look away from his eyes and blink. “You got me there.” He puts his hands on your waist, shifting you closer towards him and puts your hand on the back of his head. Slithering your hand more into his hair, you softly massage it. “Getting comfortable I see.” You look at him, relaxing with his eyes closed. “Yup, though it would be better if you were in a skirt.” He moves his hand to your thigh.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” You say and lean into his ear. “you didn’t like my first outfit, guess whose fault that is.” You sit up and look to the house. “No regrets.” You look back to him, tugging at his hair and taking your hand out. That action making him jump out of his relaxing state. Staring at you with a mischievous look. A sharp grip on the back of your neck, squeezing at the sides of your throat. You chuckle as he pulls you closer but the laughter soon dies in the back of your windpipe. “is this a way of you trying to ‘woo’ me?” You breathlessly ask. “probably.” His grips loosens and you take a small gasp of air. “so classic. what’s next you take me to a backseat?” You sarcastically say. “Something like that.” He smiles. Placing your hand over his that laid on your thigh, you patted it. “Great, because I’m starting to feel something.” You get up, turning around to look at him. Bending over, you lean on the arm rests, your face right in front of his. “You tipsy?” You ask. “No.” He responds and you move a hair from his eye. “Good.” You shift closer and press your lips on his.

#fanfiction #black fanfiction #y/n #black y/n #black girls matter #black girl magic #black women #lemon #billy loomis #scream #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface #billy loomis x y/n #billy loomis x you #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher

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joshslater · 2 years

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The Lost Year of Gain

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Dude, you have most of the ingredients you need. You only lack commitment, if you don't mind me saying so." Steve is having another one of his coaching moments. I much prefer when he helps me with my form than him trying to be my shrink. I'm not quite acing all the tests, but I'm pretty darn close so I think I'm in a better position to analytically approach my exercises than he is. It's not like he is my coach anyway. He's just a big dude that happens to be at the gym most of the time when I'm working out. He helped me use some equipment correctly one time, and since then he's been friendly. He knows what he's doing, so I'm not ungrateful for his tips, but there is nothing more to it. Not even a gym buddy. A gym acquaintance.

On the other he does know what he is doing. He's easily the fittest person I personally know, and it wouldn't surprise me to know that the reason we see each other so often at the gym is that he spends most of his time here. "It's not that easy. I have a lot of other things to think about," I retort.

He's putting down his weights and looks at me with undivided attention. His chest is still heaving while his body is desperately trying to re-oxinate after his latest set, way heavier than anything I could muster. "I don't know if I've told you I study sports medicine. I've taken an interest in sports psychology and how it interacts with more recent neurological research. I think I might be able to help you there."

That he studied sports medicine was something he'd mentioned on a weekly basis, but I've always assumed it was mostly how to apply creams and massage strained muscles. "Like my motivational coach or something?" I don't mind him telling me to aim for the stars to hit the moon, as long as it doesn't steal time from studying.

"Nah, dude. You'll do it all by yourself. I'll just help set you in the right direction." "So, what ARE you proposing? Drugs?" "No. Not unless you want to anyway. I've been working on a kind of hypnosis thing I'd like to try out. Considering doing a thesis on it, actually. It'll make you really motivated for a set duration, like a year or so." "Hypnosis? I don't think. Well. I..." "Dude, I know. You think you are too clever. It actually works the other way. If you are too stupid you won't pick it up as easily." "What do I need to do?" "Just shake my hand," Steve says as he reaches out his hand. I reach out to grab it, but he quickly grabs my arm by the wrist, moves it to my forehead, and says "sleep".

There is like a disorienting wobble. The whole room is shifted around and I'm standing at a different spot, facing a different way. It's such an odd sensation, like I just woke up from a dream. Eminem's "Till I Collapse" is playing in my ears way too loud. I hate hip hop, I never play music at the gym, and I never play it this loud. Somehow I know it is coming from the phone in my hand and confused I look down at it. The phone is definitely my trusted old phone in my old Hulk case, but nothing else makes sense. I'm wearing gloves all of a sudden, but more shocking are the arms connecting the gloves to my body. They are huge, veiny, pure muscle arms. I'm not wearing the T-shirt anymore, but instead have some sleeveless thing on with the side of a pair of much more developed pecs than mine peeking out.

I turn towards the mirror and can't believe what I see. It's me alright, with a new haircut that is more tightly cropped with a machine on the sides. But going further down, below my face, things starts getting really unfamiliar. The neck is clearly thicker and everything the loose sleeveless shirt doesn't cover is massively bigger than moments ago. Just looking at how the shirt sits on my shoulders tells me it hides more changes. I grab hold of the hem of the shirt and pull it to the side. I'm stacked. Squares like a waffle iron, and not just from starving myself a washboard. I'm properly jacked with a wide waist and even wider shoulders.

My gears are slowly turning to try pull myself out of amazement and spit out solutions. Clearly this has something to do with the conversation I just had with Steve. I hit the button on the phone to get the lock screen and I'm just as startled by what I see. Same date as before, but one year later. What the hell? Did he knock me out for a year? I remove the glove, unlock the phone, and start look through what's in there. It looks very similar to what I would have expected from myself. Notes from classes. Messages from friends. Only things different are the meticulous workout schedule and diet notes. It's like my life had went on for a year without me.

Shit. Exam in three weeks according to the schedule, and I can't remember anything from the past year. I look back into the mirror. Perhaps... no, definitely worth it.

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babblydrabbly · 2 years

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Say It || (Rick Flag x Shy!Reader) Smut

Pairing: Rick Flag x Shy F!Reader

Character(s): Rick Flag, Harley Quinn, Boomerang.

Warning(s): Language. Daddykink. Praisekink. Fingering. Penetration (m/f). Blowjob. Spanking.

Wordcount: 3k [ A/N: My first daddykink fic! And shout out to the discord crew. >:) ]

You've always been too shy to let your attraction to Rick Flag be known. But you have a certain kink— one that just so happens to fit perfectly with Rick's own. He generously offers to coax you out of your shell. Lieutenant!Reader.

*Dirty talk dialogue co-written by queen @lorecraft uwu*

@lorecraft @lacontroller1991 @deadangeluniverse @heart-0n-fire @knivesareout @green-socks

“He ain’t even all that cute.” Harley snorts, passing you back your phone. You take it, exiting the dating app and shoving it back in your pocket.

Rick’s ears perk up as you huff out a breath from across the room.

“Yeah well, call me desperate.” You mutter.

The trip back to base had been one long talk with Harley Quinn about your love life, or, an ample lack thereof. Like Rick Flag, you had spent most of your time working and doing little else (Harley has pointed out this common ground among the two of you more than once).

Harley squeezes you in a brutal side hug, a big grin on her makeup-stained face. “Don’t worry, Sweetums. We’ll find you someone to get you nice ‘n fucked out soon.” You shove her away playfully, a look of disgust at her crude way of putting it creasing your features. But still, your cheeks burned.

Rick busies himself with all the debrief paperwork scattered on a table across the room, pretending like he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your and Harley since you all got back. You and Rick were close— You put your lives on the line for each other every time you commanded the task force together. He’d even go so far as to call you one of his closest friends. But you never spoke of relationships. This was the first he was even hearing of you on any dating apps at all.

Which may have been a good thing, because Rick is shoving all those papers into their proper files with the kind of force he can’t explain; Despite the mission's success, he’s suddenly in a bad mood.

“Am I crazy? Is it too much to ask for someone to bend me over and call me a good girl once in a while?” You finally retort under your breath, and you and Harley burst into laughter.

“What’re you two gabbin’ about?” Boomer hollers. He slings his arms around both you and Harley, and you comfortably fit your arm around his waist.

“Nothin’,” You say breezily— innocently.

You hated the part where your friends had to go back into solitary confinement while you were free to go home. So you linger, headed back to the Argus offices after seeing them off, your mind already started on your mission report.

You’re not surprised to see the light in Rick’s office still on. You curve around a set of cubicles away from your own workspace, stepping into the square light of his door frame.

It’s odd seeing Rick Flag doing something as mundane as typing on a keyboard. But you smile fondly, seeing how he’s got the same mind as you to get all the red tape out of the way before getting some rest.

“Did good out there, [L/n].” He drawls in greeting. Rick finishes up what he’s writing before looking up. You close the door behind you with a deep sigh, a pleasant buzz radiating through you.

You didn’t go out of your way to get your praises from Rick but it was nice that he took the time to say them once in a while. In all honesty, it was better this way. You kept a tight lid on your attraction to your work partner; You never let the personal stuff crop up with him like you did with Harley or Harkness. You kept up a good stone face in the field, but you were a terrible blusher when it came to matters of the heart. The less you embarrassed yourself around the Colonel, the better.

Rick shoots you a strange look when you plop down in the chair across from his desk. You chalk it up to that post-mission exhaustion, the way you mistake it for— Hunger? Something darker than just a once over.

“Could have covered the others better.” You shrug. “Think Boomer’s hearing is permanently damaged from that flash-bang going off.”

“You covered all six team members, and me, [L/n]. Don’t think I didn’t add it to my statement.”

“Well thank you kindly, Colonel.” You smile, giving him a lazy salute. And is it just you, or does that look wash over his face again?

He studies you for a moment. Rick leans back in his chair faintly as he seems to gather his words.

“Thought I’d tell you— I heard you and Harley talkin’ earlier.”

Rick’s cock had twitched the moment the words ‘good girl’ had left your lips. Rick had known you a long while— Even before the Task Force. And when he had recommended your spot for the squad, he’d enabled his own addiction to being near you. You never spoke that way around Rick, but god. He was burning now to hear more about your needs with a sudden, consuming desire.

Shock and a shake of embarrassment hit you at his words. “You— Did?”

He nods thoughtfully, spreading his knees apart so that he can rest his elbow on either arm rest, entwining his fingers in his lap.

“You’re looking for someone to get you ‘nice ‘n fucked’.”

His words bring you out of the sudden trance you’d fallen under— How his mood has shifted from tired to utterly laxed, the tension in his shoulders easing. You blink, your face cherry red.

“I’m so sorry, Rick. I was just— talking shit with Quin. I didn’t mean for you to hear like that.”

He chuckles lightly at that, eying the way you shift in your seat awkwardly. He knows how much you lean toward professionalism. Before the squad, there were lines you never crossed. Suicide missions changed that, of course, like they did for Rick’s quiet little obsession with you. It was a roaring fire now that you were sitting in front of him, your hand running through your hair as you tended to do when you were nervous. You’re the first to break, your eyes flitting away from his pressing gaze.

He hums. “I know when you’re kiddin’, [L/n]. That wasn’t it.” Rick says pointedly— He’s teasing you.

“Colonel Flag—“

“[Y/n],” He cuts you off sternly. You find your mouth snapping shut.

“You want someone to bend you over and call you a good girl, darlin'? I've got a desk right here and a dick that's been half hard since I heard you say it."

The heat that blooms in your gut is instantaneous. You search his face for any sign of a joke; How many times had you imagined him saying something just like that?

But he’s waiting patiently, his head tilted.

“I…” You trail off, your mouth is suddenly dry.

Rick pushes away from his desk with a boot.

“Get over here, Lieutenant [L/n].” He orders calmly, stirring you from your hesitation. You’re shocked at yourself when you shoot up out of your chair.

Rick smirks. Knows you need a little coaxing when you’re out of your element. But you were a quick learner. Adaptable as hell. Just one of the many traits that drew him to you.

Rick’s eyes follow you as you cross the short distance between you. He stands when you make your way to him, planting himself squarely in front of you. He says nothing when he takes your face in both his rough palms, eyes raking in every feature— from your blown pupils to your shining, parted lips. Rick leans down and offers you a deep kiss. It’s deliberate and firm— just like everything about Rick Flag.

You moan softly in surprise, but still you melt beneath his touch. Rick takes it as an invitation, his tongue slipping out to swipe across your bottom lip languidly. You open up for him, your hands shooting up to grasp his. Rick smirks again against your pliant mouth.

“There we go, darlin’, get you nice and relaxed for me.” He murmurs, pulling away. “You’ve got the sweetest mouth. Knew you would.”

You respond with a shaky exhale, your tense muscles relaxing as he slides his hands down your sides. You can’t help but let him guide you, let him turn you around until you’re facing the office desk in front of you now. Rick’s wide palm splays over the space between your shoulder blades, a wordless order to bend forward. You sigh when your forehead presses carefully to the cool surface.

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart, this is just what you needed, huh? Been workin’ hard. Need someone you can trust to bend you over and get you ready for a good fucking.” He murmurs. His boot squeaks faintly with a closer step. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel the hard press of his pelvis meeting your ass. You whimper, moving your hips to feel closer to him.

“And you’ll get what you want. Good girls always get what they want. You’ve been such a good girl, [Y/n]. You wanna be bent over my desk and fucked by your Colonel?”

“Rick.” You shiver, blood rushing to your face again. You try to bury your face in the crook of your elbow, but Rick Flag won’t let you shy away. He tuts.

“Uh-uh. I’ve gotta hear it. You’ve gotta prove to me you deserve it, darlin’. Show me that you want this cock buried inside of you like good girls deserve. C’mon, baby.”

Rick takes your arm, then the other, and you understand immediately to place your wrists crossed at the small of your back for him, your hands curled into tense fists. He takes a moment to lean back and see you bent over for him; He takes his time with the belt and zipper of your uniform, his touch lingering against your now exposed sides as he drags your pants down over the curve of your ass. You shutter at how he takes his time, how he slides the pad of his middle finger over your skin before pressing it to your folds.

You gasp.

“Wet already.” He muses. He circles your clit, loving the way you buck instantly. Rick’s other hand comes up to steady your hip. You whimper when he slides his finger into your sex, pulling out slowly almost immediately. “Prettiest little pussy. Goddamn, could barely get my finger in there, you’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

You watch your breath fog the surface of the desk as Rick pumps his fingers in and out of you, crooking them against the spot inside you that makes the heat in your lower abdomen grow hotter. Rick was right— You weren’t joking about how much you needed it— How close you were to coming just from two of his fingers inside you now. You writhe with a breathy whine.

“I know, sweetheart. You hear how wet you are? Don’t even have to moan to tell me how much you need me, needy lil’ thing.” He tilts his head down, admiring your prone form.

“You take my fingers so well, baby. But what you really need is my cock, huh? Not going to be satisfied ‘til you’re— What was it? Nice ‘n fucked out?” The soft metallic clank of Rick’s own belt rings out. He presses his bulge to your cunt through the rough material, pulling away only to fish his hard cock from his underwear. He holds the tip to your slick folds, running his head up and down your cunt a few times, enjoying the way you squirm. Finally, he lines himself up, pressing his length into you with a deep groan.

“Oh, fuck.” You cry out softly. You bite your lip, pushing your forehead against the wood. It seems impossible the way his length buries itself deep inside you, your cunt stretching around it’s girth until your hips are stuttering. You don’t think you can take it all, but Rick pushes in slowly, stopping just before bottoming out. He waits for you to ease around him.

“Fuck, grippin’ me like a goddamn vise. Feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” Rick growls, his thumbs rubbing patient circles into your hips. It’s all you can do to whimper and relax.

“Please.” You breathe out.

“Please, what? Gotta hear you ask for what you need, baby.”

“Please fuck me.” You beg, and you feel Rick’s cock twitch inside you.

Rick yanks you back against his pelvis, your sex flush against the base of his cock. You cry out, surprised, your arms nearly releasing to brace yourself. Rick’s hand shoots out to lock around your wrists, pinning you in place as he pulls his cock all the way out, slamming back into you until you’re jerking against the desk. Rick’s name falls out of your mouth with a strangled moan.

“Knew it. Always knew you’d want it to be used like this, bent over and fucked raw. Not happy until this little pussy is swollen pretty and abused, huh?” He teases, thrusting into you again. Your eyes roll up faintly as he begins a quick and brutal pace, his cock filling you up with each and every shove of his hips. A rumble leaves his throat as your slick coats his length, your juices already soaking him. “Yeah, you need this cock don’t you, baby girl?”

You moan at the pet name, ears and cheeks flushing deeper.

“You like that?” Rick feels you clench around him, “Like being a good baby girl for me?”

You nodded desperately. Squeezing your eyes shut, you snap your hips back to meet Rick’s thrusts, chest pressing into the desk as you arch your back.

“Wanted this for years. So goddamn beautiful, darlin’. Been watchin’ you since I met you, seen how smart you are, how fuckin’ deadly you are. Fuck, you make me so fuckin’ hard. Wanted to bend you over so many times and fuck you after a kill— right in front of the team. I don’t fuckin’ care if they watch. I’d take you just like I’m takin’ you right now.”

You whimper in response, and Rick’s hand draws back to slap your ass. You jolt.

“Such a good fucking girl. Look how you’re taking Daddy’s cock. You like that, baby?” The word slips out of him, and you crane your head back in shock. Rick’s eyes have slipped shut in the moment, jaw clenched as he loses himself inside you. When he opens them, you level him with big eyes, your mouth falling open as you keen with every thrust.

“Yes, Daddy,” You utter shakily.

“Fuck.” Rick grinds out, “Fuck, yes, baby girl.”

Your head falls back onto the desk as he shifts his stance, kicking your ankles wider until all you can do is hold your weight on the tabletop. You cry out, cheek red against the wood as you slide up and down the desk. The legs of the desk creak as he pounds into you.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl gettin’ all drunk off this cock. You feel good, baby?”

“Yes— yes.” You chant. You feel your climax nearing like a wave crashing just offshore of where you need to go. You let out a long, shaky moan. “Need to come, Daddy, please.”

Rick swears under his breath, reaching around you with his free hand. You gasp when his fingers meet your clit, his short strokes finally tipping you over the edge. You cry out his name again as you come, your walls clenching around Rick’s cock as he fucks you through it. When your head falls onto the desk again with a dull thud, Rick releases your wrists, pulling out of you breathlessly. You whine at the empty feeling of his length gone.

“I know. Still need it, don’t you.” Rick murmurs against your neck, leaning over to kiss your throat with wet, parted lips for a few moments. He pulls your clothes back up, deft fingers buttoning you securely.

“You didn’t come, Daddy.” You say when you finally come down. You push yourself back onto quivering legs, turning to face him. Rick is stroking his cock slowly, blown pupils watching you.

“You’ve been a good girl. But you gotta prove to me you can handle taking all my come, sweetheart.” He says. His hand comes up to caress your cheek, and you find yourself pushing your face into his touch, still wanting more.

“How?” You prod, and Rick’s chest heaves at how good desperation looks on your blissed out face.

Rick takes your hand as he sits back down in his chair, guiding you to kneel between his broad legs. He brackets you with them comfortably, and you slide your hands up his thighs, wetting your lips.

“You already know, don’t you?” He hums, carding his fingers through your hair. You nod. Reaching for the base of his cock, Rick lets go so you can replace his grasp, reveling at how it jumps in your hand. Rick’s eyes flutter. “That’s my fucking girl.”

You begin a gentle pace, your eyes wandering Rick’s face as he eases back for you. When you finally lean forward, you hum at the taste of Rick’s precum mixed with your own slick. Rick groans deeply.

“Sweetest fuckin’ mouth, baby. Goddamn sinful. Almost as good as that gorgeous pussy.”

Your eyes fall shut as you swallow him down in earnest, taking in as much of him as you can while stroking the rest in your hand. You shiver when his fingers entangle in your hair again, your head leaning forward to swallow more as he slips his light grip behind your head. “Yeah that’s it, takin’ me so well. Knew you would. Dreamt about this mouth around me. Fuckin’ thought about it in the shower, too. Always came so hard.”

Rick feels your moan from the back of your throat. Swearing, he takes a deep breath, his hips staying as he nears orgasm. He opens his eyes to watch you, his teeth grinding when he sees you looking up at him with shining eyes.

“Fuck, baby girl.” He croons, gripping a handful of your hair. You moan again, pulling away a little to lick a long stripe up his length.

“Are you gonna come, Daddy?” You ask softly, cheeks hollowing as you swallow him down again. Rick inhales sharply. You whimper in surprise when the hot warmth of his come suddenly hits the back of your throat. Rick’s hips still as he moans, his cock spurting thick ribbons into your waiting mouth. Your throat moves as you swallow it eagerly, head still bobbing on his cock.

When he finishes, you pull away, licking your lips. You say nothing, silently waiting for him to stop seeing stars as you lick his length clean.

“Did I do good?” You finally ask, embracing the anticipation of hearing his praise. Rick rakes his hand through his hair, blinking down at you like you’re crazy for even asking.

“Fuckin’ hell, [Y/n].” He breathes, needing a moment. He reaches down, cupping your face again for another kiss, his tongue dipping past your lips to meet yours. The two of you pull apart with a wet sound, his forehead pressing to your own. You shoot him a coy smile.

“You were fuckin’ amazin’, baby girl.”

Later, at the next briefing, Harley skips into the room in her new outfit, Argus lanyard swinging in her grip.

“Hey, hon!” She greets, headed right for you. Her high voice bounces around the empty room. “How’d fishin’ for the good stuff go?”

You look up from your tablet, a puzzled look on your face.

Then you remember. “Oh, right.”

Harley waits expectantly and you realize you’re taking too long to lie. You shrug, “I uh, changed my mind.”

As if on cue, Rick Flag catches your attention as he enters the room, your cheeks heating at the sight of him.

Harley looks between the two of you, pinging back and forth a few times like she’s watching a tennis match play out.

“Changed your mind, huh?” She grins. You sputter, deciding to close your mouth before you say something you regret.

“Always knew Flag was just as hot for you.” She teases, poking you in the rib. “Either that or somethin’s wrong with him. Colonel Uptight’s been single way too long.”

Rick doesn’t look up from his files from across the room. “Yeah? Maybe I’ve been waitin’ on the right one to make my good girl.” He drawls.

You redden instantly, and Harley grins between the two of you again with a snicker.

#rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag imagine #rick flag smut #dceu fanfiction #rick flag #mywords*#tss fic

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

ii. secret.

read on ao3

Lena Luthor dies a villain.

Her death took out half the population in the vicinity. A blinding white light piercing through the National City skyline. A deafening boom heard 5 cities over. An explosion so great, even Supergirl was knocked dead.

And so, Lena Luthor dies a villain.

Alone and young. And so, so bitter. An accomplice and ally to Lex Luthor.

Some would even say she was a greater, far more cunning, far more terrifying force than Lex.

There were rumors that the woman had magic at the end of it all. That no one person could be capable of that much destruction without the help of something inhuman.

But well, rumors were all it can be, especially when all possible witnesses perished along with the Luthors.

******

Weeks later, Andrea Rojas holds a memorial event for Lena Luthor; protesters burn the venue to the ground.

Months later, Supergirl returns to the world. More radiant than ever. More alive than ever. Stronger. Better.

Years later, National City recovers fully from the whole catastrophe.

Supergirl is reported to most frequently be seen in the memorial square for the fallen victims. A dozen paparazzi pictures of the caped heroine quietly walking, sometimes whispering under breath.

Praying, somebody on a CatCo article comments. She’s always praying whenever we see her there.

****** The closet doors burst open and out steps Alex Danvers.

A colorful stream of expletives coming right along with her, “Fuckin’ fur coats, goddamn hangers, fucking hitting me in the face—”

“Took you long enough,” a familiar voice greets her, “where the hell have you been? And why are you so...dirty? If you track mud on my carpet I swear to God, Alex—”

“I was cleaning your grave, okay?” she snaps, setting down a bucket filled with various cleaning supplies, that Lena’s just now noticing, on said carpet.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex huffs about, crossing her arms, “You don’t have to make a big deal about it. I don’t want to do it again, it’s a bitch for my back pain. I was just pissed about the graffiti. You’d think people would have better manners than defacing the grave of a dead woman. If only they—”

“Thank you, Alex,” she cuts her off, a shy smile gracing her face. She really doesn’t want to hear about the rest of it. And if Alex doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, then no big deal shall be made.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she says then, and Alex just nods, grabs her bucket of supplies again and turns to leave.

Although not before saying, “Remind me again why you let Kara win? With the portal?”

Lena just shrugs, dark hair escaping out of her messy bun at the movement.

“She said she’s always wanted to go to Narnia.”

Alex shakes her head, rolls her eyes, “Whipped.”

And well, that sounds about right.

******

There’s a documentary on Netflix about the Luthors. Lena’s face in black and white, on the preview banner, a big red X drawn over it.

Kara snaps the remote in half.

Lena reaches over the blanket, grabs her hand, flicks the TV off with only a swish of her fingers and a glitter of sparks.

“C’mere,” she says, tugging gently, till she has a lapful of Krytonian draped over her. Lena traces her fingers over the crinkle between Kara’s brow, smooths them out, thumb dragging across lips till it pulls to a soft smile.

“We know the truth,” she tells her, “and that’s enough.”

“It’s not fair.”

Nothing ever is.

******

“How’re the kids?” She asks, one hand whisking eggs, the other holding the bowl steady.

“Oh, you know, asking me a thousand silly questions a day. Driving Alex crazy. Never letting me sleep. They’re perfect, really,” Kelly says, and Lena hums in response. Before she catches Kelly popping a blueberry in her mouth, a crime punishable by Lena Luthor’s death stare.

“Those are for the muffins.” A foam covered whisk points dangerously to Kelly’s chest.

She raises both arms in surrender, palms opening, dropping the remaining three blueberries onto the counter.

“You know, I’ve seen you do it a thousand times, yet it still doesn’t fail to surprise me.”

Lena concludes she’s talking about the baking tray hovering in the air, a feet away from them, greasing itself. Or maybe it’s the soup at the stove with a ladle stirring itself.

“What can I say,” Lena quips, smirking, “I’m magical like that.”

******

Andrea finds her on a Tuesday.

One minute Lena is reading quietly on her front porch, the next, there is an explosion of sound in her living room. She throws open her door, magical energy sizzling at her fingertips.

The sight that greets her stops her in her tracks. Acrata pinning Supergirl down, their coffee table destroyed. She sighs internally, she loved that coffee table. It was a wedding gift from Nia and Brainy.

“I knew it,” Andrea whispers, her grip slackens around the hero's throat. She stands up slowly, as if afraid that if she moved too fast Lena would disappear. She leaves Supergirl gasping on the floor; materializes in front of Lena in a cloud of black smoke.

“I knew it. I knew it. I knew it.” She sobs into Lena’s blouse, arms wrapped tightly around her. Lena embraces her on instinct, her eyes closing briefly, before opening up again to check on Kara dusting herself off.

“Andrea,” Lena croaks, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You can’t tell anyone I’m alive. You can’t tell anyone how I tricked Lex, how I saved Supergirl, how I saved National City.

“Nobody will know,” Andrea promises her.

******

There is a cottage by the woods that nobody else sees, where every Sunday a blonde woman rips apart pieces of wood with her bare hands, where a pale woman with even paler hands grows crops from the barren earth within seconds, where the closet hides cities instead of clothes, where a dead woman and a hero spend their lives in bliss.

******

It has been ten years, her hair is more gray than blonde now, her skin more wrinkled than smooth, her hearing though? Her hearing is still better than ever. And it has been ten years since she’s heard that tell-tale whoosh of a cape, it’s been a decade and still, the sound brings her the same thrill, the same adrenaline.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Supergirl? Or should I say, Superwoman, now?”

And oh-

She did not come alone.

Lena Luthor is set gently down on the balcony.

If Cat Grant wasn’t Cat Grant, she’s sure she would’ve already suffered a heart attack from the mere sight of a woman long dead standing breathing and alive in her home. She would’ve shrieked and demanded answers.

“I need a favor,” Kara tells her, stalking closer, hand on her hip. Cat would’ve laughed at that if this were some other time. No need to play the intimidating game with me, Kiera, she would’ve said.

“What is it?”

“I need you to break a story,” she tells her. “You, Cat. I want you, and nobody else to cover this.”

Cat raises her brow at that, she already has an inkling as to what the story might be about.

“A story hmm? This better be good, if I’m to come out of retirement for it.”

This time it’s Lena Luthor who speaks. Cat has been dying to hear what she has to say.

“It’ll be good," she promises her, "It’ll be better than good."

Kara crowds closer to Lena, then; wraps a protective arm on her waist. Cat watches frozen as Lena's index finger lights in flame. What a sight they make.

"You’ll be telling the entire world the last Luthor’s secret.”

#it's already october 2 in my corner of the world so...#yeah.#LOOK I JUST WANT LENA TO LIVE THE COTTAGECORE WITCH LESBIAN DREAM OKAY?#the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts #if u see a typo no u didnt #supercorptober 2021 #supercorp

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glazelilyy · 3 years

Text

for the sake of your smile

pairing - scaramouche x gender neutral reader

word count - 2385

genre - fluff, lil bit of angst

format - headcanons + blurbs

warnings - scara is slightly mean in the beginning, very vague spoilers for the 2.1 archon quest

summary - on the eve of inazuma's harvest celebration, scaramouche finds himself torn between his lover and his own personal feelings towards the nation of eternity

a/n - this is my submission for the lovely @favoniuscodex's "fall festivities" collab with the prompt: 14. harvest celebration! here's a link to the masterpost so you can see a bunch of really cool work from some really talented authors that's been submitted already!! i'm super grateful to be able to participate in this, thanks to favoniuscodex for hosting and to all the other authors for contributing such awesome work!! i'm proud to be among you all!! :) (posting this a day early EST time for my friends on the other side of the world! :>)

being the lover of the sixth harbinger had it perks, you thought

you often tagged along with scaramouche on his various missions and had the ability to venture out to lands in teyvat you'd never thought you'd ever set eyes on: from the calmest valleys of mondstat, to the icy basin of ice that was snezhnaya

currently, you were buckled down in inazuma's capital while scaramouche ran some sort of hidden operative on yashiori island

he never quite told you just what he got up to for the fatui, and you respected his silence, but you couldn't help but feel a little lonely at his constant absence

while taking a walk to clear you head, you stumbled upon a bustle of activity near the city's square: stalls were set up around the perimeter and draped in elegant cloths, lanterns hung from strings that connected various poles to each other, and most of all, the buzz in the air was electric

upon investigating, you learned that around this time the inazumans would harvest their crops before the coming winter and put them on display either to showcase or to sell

there'd be games, music, dancing, auctions, and fireworks that would set off at the end

the best part? the celebration was set to take place tonight! :D

growing up in natlan, you'd never experienced a harvest since everything was always boiling hot, so you were quite excited to attend what seemed like a joyous celebration!

the only problem would be convincing scaramouche to come with you

more content utc!

much to your surprise, scaramouche was standing in front of the vanity mirror, unbuckling his elaborate belts when you returned to the hotel from your walk. a perfect occurrence; fate seemed to be in your favor today.

"welcome back, scara." you hummed and wrapped your arms around his waist.

scaramouche merely grunted in reply, but placed a callous hand over top your knuckles.

"someone's in a good mood, did work go well today?" you teased, poking your head out to the side so your eyes connected with his through the mirror.

"i suppose it did. of course, only i could've received the electro archon's gnosis so quickly and efficiently." a haughty smirk found its way onto his lips as he unraveled his palm to reveal the floating, lilac gnosis.

the flickers of electricity licked up the side of his pale skin and elicited little to no reaction, despite the overwhelming charge being far too much for you to even look at straight. your eyes glimmered in the aftereffects of the gnosis just as your lips parted in awe; scaramouche couldn't help but beam with arrogant pride and a snarky smile of hubris on his face.

"that's that, we can finally leave this horrid nation by tonight." the sparks of electricity disappeared from his palm as did his body remove itself from your warmth.

"wait, tonight?!" you gawk, following his figure with your eyes as he disappeared into the bathroom.

"i'm not repeating myself. get packed." he ordered.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air and fiddled with your fingers, unsure of how to bring up the harvest celebration. scaramouche wasn't quite fond of inazuma to begin with, nor was he fond of mere insignificant humans (though you liked to count yourself as a significant human to him).

"hey...scara?" you hesitantly call.

"what?"

something's telling you not to bring it up: you've known scaramouche to never be one to partake in celebrations like this, but surely it couldn't hurt to ask, right?

"so there's this, uh, festival celebration thingy tonight?" you curse yourself for the nervous tingles in your stomach and continue forwards, "i-it's to celebrate the inazuman harvest, and apparently it's really fun! so i was kind of hoping-"

"absolutely not."

your face fell just as he emerged from the bathroom with both of your shower kits. "those things are far below me; i don't want to mingle with humans while they celebrate absolutely nothing." he scowled, tossing the kits into a nearby satchel.

"i-i know but-"

his eyes shot up and met yours. where they were once but calm seas and gentle waves, now brewed a tumultuous tempest flickering with violent violet lightning. "i said no. if you want to go frolic around and act stupid in this weakling nation, be my guest."

defiance still in your veins, you opened your mouth to retort but quickly shut it when scaramouche shot you an icy, cold look of anger. it was clear: he definitely did not want to stay in inazuma any longer. defeated, you bowed your head and swallowed your objections in one go. while scaramouche tosses all your belongings into the many boxes and bags that he'll make his agents carry, you opt to quietly slip out of the hotel room for some fresh air.

annoyance gripped him like a vice as he focuses on trying to stuff as many items as he could into his leather satchel. scaramouche despised the nation of supposed "eternity", and he'd be damned if he spent a single second longer in a country where his undesirability shone most.

daylight was still plentiful so you decided to bide your time until you bid farewell to inazuma by watching the harvest festivities from afar

a few times, children ran past you with sparklers and tasty looking treats in their hands

you hadn't brought any mora so there was no use in trying to quell the hungry ache of your stomach

the celebration came alight with life the more the sun lowered into the horizon and you couldn't help but feel slightly melancholic

sure, scaramouche wasn't the most social person, but even then you would've been more than happy just to browse everyone's proud harvest and buy a tricolor dango stick or two

maybe if he had been in an excellent mood, he would've considered dancing

but to no avail, you knew better than to try and change his mind

so you decided to lean your forearms on the crimson wood of a bridge and watch from afar until it was finally time to leave inazuma

scaramouche has never been fond of the nation of eternity.

it reeked of something putrid and vile; a stark smell in his nose or taste upon his tongue. the air was suffocating, if he breathed any more he'd choke to death. the nation of eternity had once discarded him like trash, but now he was eager to watch it unravel from the inside out from the safety of snezhnaya.

night had finally fallen and with your combined belongings packed tightly, he could finally leave this putrid island in the dust. the carriage in front of the modest inazuman hotel was packed with your belongings, two horses in the front ready to go.

"lord harbinger, we're ready to leave at your notice."

scaramouche dismissed the fatui underling and scanned the nearby roads for any sign of your figure. a scowl appeared on his face as he sharply snapped his fingers and summoned an attendant.

"where are they?" he ordered.

"master (y/n) is near the city square, they appear to be awaiting your summon, sir."

scaramouche felt his skin itch every moment he continued to be in this wretched city, so with an aggravated snarl on his face, he dismissed the attendant and set off to drag you back to the carriage himself.

much to his chagrin, the closer he got to the city square, the louder and more populated the streets became. the lanterns that hung from the many strings connected to various poles and building cast gentle glows of honeyed light onto the cobblestone below. laughter and cheering echoed in his ears, and from afar he could hear the telltale quick speaking of an auctioneer.

and then there you were:

quietly watching from afar on a wooden bridge, your arms folded over the railing and your chin rested snug in top of your arms. the light from the festivities rained down on your figure, yet there was such a solemn aura that engulfed you.

his boots thundered over the wood of the bridge as he spoke with no need to address you. "come on, we're leaving."

you didn't need to turn around to know that it was scaramouche, not with the way you awaited the slight twinkle of the bells from his hat to sound, nor with his unmistakable irritated voice.

"okay," you assented quietly, eyes still transfixed on the dancing crowds and displays of large fruits, "i'll be there in a moment."

he paused for a moment and finally turned around to glance at your sullen face. there was an obvious depletion to you, even noticeable to him. flickers of gold and fuchsia glimmered in your longing eyes from the faraway festivities, and a forlorn smile graced itself upon your lips. though his heart was no more than a frozen wasteland that beat for nothing, he couldn't help but feel a tightness grip his chest as you practically pried your eyes away from the celebration.

"alright," you started with a sigh, which then dissolved into a smile as you glided down the wood to him and slipped your hand into his, "let's go."

he should've been quite thrilled that you were finally letting go of those stupid mortal traditions that held no meaning to them. instead, he found his stomach swimming with nervous aches of worry. you'd been awfully quiet and lacked the usual vibrancy that often boosted his own mood. scaramouche couldn't find it in himself to ignore the longing side glances you cast out to the children who ran by nor to the way your your hand fit so snugly in his and spread warmth throughout his entire body; and perhaps that warmth melted his glacial heart just a little bit.

you broke from his grip, clambered into the carriage and scooted over to make room for him, only to find that he hadn't moved to join you. his violet eyes trained themselves on the faraway festivities with a look you couldn't quite place etched on his features.

"scara? are you coming?" you asked, inching forwards to the door of the carriage.

without warning or much grace, scaramouche gripped your hand and tugged you out of the carriage, sending you face-first into his body.

"we'll leave at first light tomorrow, send the carriage away and return by dawn." he ordered, ushering you away from the carriage with a strong arm locked tight around your waist.

"scara what are you doing? aren't we leaving?" you stumble behind him, feet unsteady and confusion written all over you face.

"what," he huffs, an annoyed tint to his voice yet a distinct softness in his eyes when he whips his head back to you, "you wanted to go to that harvest thing? well, we're going now."

if it meant he'd get to see the look of pure joy that spread across your face every single harvest year, he'd be willing to stay in inazuma forever.

you're so shocked that he's willing to stay in inazuma no less attend the harvest that you nearly trip over a crack in the cobblestone and faceplant into the ground if not for scaramouche's grip on your waist

"clumsy idiot, watch where you're going." he grumbles, but you're too happy to notice :P

the celebration is even more vibrant up close and you can't help but vibrate in place as your eyes take in each and every crack and crevice of the city square

scaramouche, on the other hand, is vividly uncomfortable and finds it hard to not immediately leave

you tug him around to various farmer stalls, gawking at each bulbous pumpkin or aromatic bushel of flowers that you come across

he doesn't quite understand what the big deal is about a pumpkin that looks slightly bigger than an average one

he also, much to your surprise, has never had tricolor dango, which you easily fix by ushering him to share a stick with you (there's no way in hell he'd ever admit how good it tasted though, good luck getting him to admit his sweet tooth)

"never EVER let scaramouche near the auction booth" is a lesson you learn very quickly after you find yourself gawking at the largest pumpkin on auction

his competitive spirit would never allow him to lose a feat in acquiring the big pumpkin for you (even if you didn't outwardly ask for it and try and tug him away from the bidding pool)

the fatui's pockets run deep and he's got a loud voice, of course he's gonna put it to use even more for your sake!

you do end up walking away with the title of "owner of inazuma's largest pumpkin" and with seven million mora less in scaramouche's pockets

there's a few stalls with games that you pull him towards, and though he'll grumpily comply he finds that he likes the little fishing game the best (you praise him for his efforts and suddenly his face is lit up like a lantern)

you knew his social battery was never high to begin with, which is why you found yourself tugging him by the hand to a secluded part of the city where there'd be less noise and even less interruptions. wordlessly, you plopped down onto a grassy cliffside and motioned for him to come sit beside you.

"thank you." you hummed and melted into his side.

scaramouche merely grunted and slung his arm over your shoulders to press you closer to him. "are you satisfied?" he asked.

"mm very. i'm a pumpkin owner too if that counts for anything."

comfortable silence engulfs the two of you before the unnaturally calm lilt of his voice gently cracks through the surface.

"i'm glad you enjoyed yourself." scaramouche hummed and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

under a thin veil of evening fog and glimmering stars, scaramouche makes a silent promise to himself to return next year to relive the smell of fresh spices and pumpkins in the air, the feel of cool water under his fingertips, and hear the soft melody of your beautiful laugh preserved in amber and illuminated under seasonal honeyed lanterns once more.

in any nation, he'd feel wanted as long as you were by his side.

date published: october 13th, 2021

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #scaramouche headcanons #genshin headcanons #genshin impact drabbles #scaramouche drabbles #genshin drabbles #scaramouche genshin #scaramouche gi #works—☆

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thepenultimateword · 2 years

Text

Static: Part Two

Part One

An electric shock like a clap of thunder jolted Villain into consciousness. Her ears popped as she shot upright, and a low whine sounded deep within her skull. Villain clasped her hands over her ears, trying to catch her breath as she waited for the fuzzy feeling in her head to fade.

You're fine. You're fine. A rogue chuckle escaped past her lips. Wow, that last shock had really shaken her. Was it a coincidence? Or did someone know she'd been talking? It was just another shock. You're fine.

Fzzzzzzzzzzz

Compared to the bolt from a few seconds ago, this regular, even buzzing was a comfort. Villain scanned the unfamiliar living room around her, ugly striped rug, square-shaped couches, brick walls with little decoration. It appeared as if someone had hastily straightened it up because, despite the empty floor and coffee table, the entertainment center was crammed full of crooked books, games, and movies, and the trash can in the corner was bulging. Where was she?

She looked up and down at the long couch she was seated on and pinched at the wool blanket thrown across her lap. There was something she was forgetting. Something important. Not something, someone. It was right there...at the back of her miiiiiind... Ah ha! Sidekick! This must be Sidekick's home. She shoved the blanket off her legs and immediately made her way to a window, stretching her arms over her head as she rose.

Hmmm a little seedy. Was this the neighborhood right off of Cedar? That did--fzzt!--look like Mario's Sub Shop a couple blocks down. She carefully committed the visual of the street to memory. Lucky. Now she didn't have to stalk him home.

The fire escape balcony rattled and a thin, frowning face suddenly blocked her view.

"Move."

With a wide grin, Villain took a couple long strides back, allowing the vigilante room to slip in through the window.

"Wooow, spicy," Villain purred. "Just get off a job?"

Sidekick's cheeks flushed a little and he folded his arms across his bare midriff. He was outfitted in his hero costume, thick army boots, long black tights, and a matching long-sleeved crop top that hugged to his skin.

"You slept too long. There were people who needed saving."

"Hm. What's up with the costume anyway? You know I've always wondered?"

"I chose it as a teenager, and now it's a part of my brand. Why? What's wrong with it?" It was said with all of the defensiveness of a person who already had their own insecurities on the subject.

"Maybe I just don't want anyone else seeing you this way? I mean, you brought me home. That has to mean something."

Sidekick rolled his eyes. "Shut up. I didn't know where you lived. Just be grateful I didn't leave you in a dumpster." As if suddenly determined not to care about Villain's comments, he dropped his arms and strode past her into the kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled a kettle and a pair of mugs out of the cupboard.

"You seem better. Not so..."

He awkwardly jerked his head to the side a couple times.

Villain wanted to smile, show him that his example didn't bother her, that it was even a little funny, but of course, any semblance of humor dropped her mouth to a frown instead.

"Yeah, well some days are better than others. Today must be a good one. How long have I been unconscious?"

"It's Wednesday now. So, just since yesterday afternoon. I thought about dropping you off at a hospital, but I figured you wouldn't like that, being a wanted criminal and all."

Villain moved after him and leaned her stomach up against the counter. Bits of static pricked at her brain, but she fought not to react. "Much appreciated." Then she smiled in confusion. "But why didn't you turn me in?"

Sidekick ran the kettle under the tap and placed it on the stovetop. "I guess because...then nobody would help you. Having those things shocking your brain all day, messing up who you are, it sounds like hell. You don't deserve that. No one deserves that."

"So you are going to help me!" Villain said, a couple tears streaming down her cheeks. "Do you need me to sit down? Can I go to the bathroom first? Cause since waking up, I've had to pee like a racehorse, and I don't know if I can hold it if I get another big shock."

"Woah, woah, woah." Sidekick threw up his hands. "I can't do it now."

A thank you faltered on Villain's lips. "Y-you can't?"

He paused then shook his head. "I've never done something that precise before. I don't even know how these implants work. If I do this recklessly, I could end up hurting you. I've already made that mistake once; I'm not making it again."

"Oh, um, yeah." Fzzt-fzzt! Villain grabbed her hair to keep her head from snapping to the side too sharply. "I guess that makes sense."

Even after the shocks dropped back into a buzz, Villain kept her hands on her head. It was just going to happen again in a couple minutes anyway. And she was so tired.

Sidekick wet his lips and fixed her with this cautious, semi-guilty stare. "And you can use my bathroom, just down the hall, on the right."

Villain nodded. "Thanks."

She felt like she should be able to leave the noise behind for a little while, let it sit at the kitchen counter with Sidekick for a few minutes while she took a few private moments to think over her situation. But static dogged each of her steps down the hallway. It followed her as she flushed the toilet, highlighted each twitch of her fingers as she turned on the sink, made her slap the soap bottle under the running water when a shock sharp enough to tweak her whole arm shot through her, and when she looked into the mirror she almost swore she saw it crackling in her eyes.

A wide grin split across her reflection's face. Villain stuffed her wet sleeve in her mouth to muffle a sudden peal of laughter.

I'm going to kill you.

The threat sounded weak this time, and the static's current cadence sounded a little like a laugh. Not the way Villain laughed when she was upset, but a real laugh. A mockery.

"You don't get to do that," she hissed, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "You don't get to screw me up, and then be normal yourself."

A stab of fear hit Villain in the chest. Her breath hitched. She talked to the static all the time, threatened it, yelled at it, bargained with it, but deep down she always knew she was pretending. This was the first time she'd actually, truly talked like the static had its own intent. Like it really had the emotions to laugh at her. She was really losing her mind.

No, don't think about that. Swallow it. Push it aside.

Villain took a deep breath, dried her hands on a towel, and walked back toward the kitchen. But just as she was about to turn the corner, the front door swung open so violently it hit the wall. A bit of dust crumbled from the ceiling.

"Sidekick!" Hero bellowed. "I got your stuff back!"

Villain pressed herself to the wall and peered carefully around the corner.

Sidekick whipped around, eyes wide, mouth twitching. Very subtle. "Hero! I-- Really? You didn't have to."

"No villain scum steals my partner's equipment!" Everything the burly man said was like a roll of thunder. He slammed Sidekick's compound recurve bow and quiver of arrows onto the counter with a wide grin. His movements were always hard and abrupt but also in constant good humor, so of all the heroes, it was hard for Villain to really dislike him.

He was sort of like if a Viking signed on for a L'Oreal modeling job. Massive shoulders, thick brown hair that reached the middle of his back, and long neatly trimmed beard mixed with braids.

"Is this mine?" he asked, already taking the second mug of tea from the counter and downing it in a couple loud gulps.

"Er, yes," Sidekick said. "I thought you might come by."

Hero wiped droplets of chamomile from his beard. "Good instincts."

Sidekick took his bow and arrow and went around the counter and into the living room to place them behind the couch. He flicked his eyes toward the hallway, and subtly thrust his chin at her to go back to the bathroom. Villain stuck her tongue at him. She was fine right here.

Sidekick sighed.

"What is it?" Hero said.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. They just...broke one of my arrows. But, um, Hero, since you're here...there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

Hero dropped back on his elbows against the counter. "Nothing bad I hope. HA!"

Sidekick smiled weakly, eyes flicking to Villain again as if partially to blame her and partially in search of support. "I'm thinking...maybe I want to take a break from hero work."

Hero's grin froze on his face. "What do you mean? Is everything ok?"

"Yeah! Yes, of course. Nothing is wrong. It was just a thought. You know, there are more options for people with powers than just the hero stuff. And before--" he cleared his throat "--what happened with my parents...happened, I was, I was thinking about exploring medicine--"

"Medicine?" Hero laughed. "Don't you think there are enough doctors in the world already? Did someone say something to you?" He moved across the room and clapped his hands down on Sidekick's shoulder so hard the smaller hero's knees wobbled. "Don't doubt your talents, Sidekick. You make a real difference out there. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Villain backed deeper into the hallway to stay out of Hero's peripheral, but she still saw Sidekick's tentative courage melt into a placid smile. What was probably hardest was that Hero honestly thought he was helping. He didn't want to hurt Sidekick. He had no idea that a few careless words could strike blows. If Villain sensed that, then Sidekick certainly did too.

"Thanks, Hero..."

"Anytime!" Hero beamed. "Now get some rest! You did good today!"

"Hm," Sidekick acknowledged. He walked with Hero to the door and choked out an upbeat, "See you later," but once the enormous man was finally gone, Sidekick's whole body drooped.

"Well that went well," Villain said, stepping out of the hallway.

"It's fine," Sidekick said. "It's sort of what I expected. Sorry, he drank your tea. I'll make you another cup."

"You don't have to."

"Well, I want to hear all about the history of that implant, and I find it's easier to talk about hard things when you're drinking something hot."

Villain's mouth parted in surprise. No one had ever treated her this way before. Like she might actually have feelings and struggles. Like a person. "In that case...go ahead."

She trailed him all the way into the kitchen, glitching every few steps until she was leaned back against the counter beside him. He still seemed a little down as he reached for a new mug, so Villain poked him in his exposed stomach.

Sidekick flinched back at the skin-on-skin contact, nearly dropping the mug. "Don't do that!" he said, cheeks flushing once again.

"Don't you get cold?" Villain said. "It's October. Do you have, like, a winter version? Twice the covering, but twice as cute?"

Sidekick's eyes roved over her frown-creased face, then seeming to register her expression as joking, he smiled. "Sometimes I put on a vest."

"Ooooh. Is it tight?"

"That does seem to be my trademark."

He found a new teabag to put in the mug and slowly poured hot water over it.

"I have sugar and cream here if you want any," he said, placing a pair of ceramic dishes on a tray along with both his and Villain's mugs and carrying it back to the coffee table in the sitting area. "Now why don't you explain everything."

Part Three

#villain x hero #hero x villain #villain x sidekick #heroes and villains #hero #villain #writing snippet #creative writing #fiction #heroes and villains community #superheroes and villains #sidekick x villain #sidekick

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gh0stlymoth · 2 years

Note

Jon A4 and Martin C4 please? 💖

(Martin C4 also requested by @coulson-is-an-avenger)

[ID: digital drawing of jon and martin standing next to each other, posing as if for a photograph. martin is standing slightly behind jon with his right hand resting on a grey and white cat, that is curled up against jons chest and held up by jons right arm. In their left hand, jon is holding a cane. Both martin and jon are smiling towards the viewer, while the cat is looking at martin with a displeased expression. Jon is a slim british indian person with long, dark wavy hair with silver streaks and scars across the face and arms. They are wearing rectangular glasses, a brown dress, and a grey blouse underneath. Martin is a fat british polish man with short white curly hair, freckles, and a bit of stubble. He is wearing rounded glasses, a black crop top, grey sweatpants, and an orange plaid jacket. The Background is a simple orange square. End ID]

Thank you both for the request, i am sorry this took me forever, anyway, jmart family portrait with their child.

Outfits taken from here

#tma #the magnus archives #jmart #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #the ghost scribbles #jon and cats #the cats name is the coroner btw #she is the only one in my cat hc that they actually planned to adopt #and she has a dislike towards martin bc that's somehow how i have started drawing them ajsghkaf #(she tolerates him when jon is away and i had a real sad hc about it that made me cry)#they have this picture on their fridge

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sashi-ya · 2 years

Note

OMFG FOR YOUR DARK CORNER EVENT PLS MAY I ASK FOR BRAT TAMER SMOKER WHO'S LIKE HARDCORE BDSM, LALE AND I ARE JUST 🥵🥵🥵 ILY ASJKFFIHEHWHD

So to my future colleague... I hope this fic helps you feel better during these studying days 💁🏻‍♀️😈 Enjoy my sweetheart!! 💖 ~

😈💜Sashi's Dark Corner💜😈

NSFW ~ Smoker x F! Reader ~ Brat Tamer Captain

tw: NSFW. BDSM. Usage of gags and riding crop. Hard sex. Bratty sub/ hard dom. Face fucking. Masturbation. Hair pulling. Squirting. Spanking. Mild degrading and name calling. Cum swallowing and kinda of impregnation kink. Explicit as fuck.

wc: 1.3K

Like this event? masterlist ~

He comes back from work, a stressful day as a Marine Captain has left him tired. She waits for him, always so eager to bother him, like the good brat she is totally naked. His leather gloves, she pleads for him to keep them on. Strings from saliva fall from her mouth as the heart shaped gag muzzles her voice and keeps her lips apart. She wants to be punished…

“I’m tired, not today” Smoker tells her, while he takes his heavy jacket off. You can’t speak, the gag ball heart prevents you from doing so, but you can communicate just fine. You want him to play with you, now.

You crawl, like a cat, towards his lap on all fours. Grazing your breasts against his leg, “mhhh” you moan just to make him want you. “Told you, brat. I’m tired…” he says, brushing your hair back, enjoying the way your mouth looks with such a beautiful artifact.

But you want him. Yes, you want him.

You turn around and crawl a little away from him. Right there on the kitchen’s floor you sit and spread your legs, showing at him your sex, wet, dripping, needy. “Mghh…” you moan, taking your hand towards it. Up and down, forming litmus strings with your arousal honeys in between your fingers. A sexy depiction of neediness and lustful intentions.

Smoker sits back on the chair, sighing. “You will push all my buttons, right?” he asks, crossing his legs… he is getting hard, definitely. You nod, “uhum…”. Sticking one finger in and out, you smirk. Twice. Knowing too well the captain hates you deciding by yourself. He is the one who guides your body, no finger goes inside you without him ordering you.

And you are definitely playing with fire now.

“Did I allow you to touch yourself?” he asks, bending forward and resting his elbows over his thighs. You giggle, tracing circles over your clit, making your inner thighs tremble and your mouth drool. “So you are playing the brat, I see…” he states, feeling the palm of his hand itchy for some spanks. “Stop touching yourself” he orders, but you ignore it and instead do it harder, and moan louder.

He stands up and walks up to you. Blowing the smoke of his cigars in your face he makes you stop by grabbing your arm and pulling you up. “Stand up, I told you to stop” he commands. His strong arms can lift you up like a feather. “Turn around” he says, pushing you towards the kitchen table, with your belly against the wooden material of it.

“Stay there, if you dare to move, I can assure the punishment will be more painful… I won’t fuck you even if you beg for it” he communicates you, and even if you are all about being a disobedient bitch for him, there is no way you would risk him not fucking you. “Uhum” you moan, as the gag won’t let you speak, and your jaw starts to feel tired.

His heavy boots’ steps resonate all around the house as he walks up to the room. You wonder what’s today’s pick… the flogger, a paddle, the cane or the riding crop? “Let’s see how he is feeling today…” you think, grazing yourself against the edge of the table to give your core release. You’ve been waiting for him all day, it’s not easy holding back for so many hours ~

He is back, you can perceive his powerful aura from even the stairs. You dare to look to the side, just to get a sneak peek of which instrument he has chosen. “Ah… the riding crop. Classic” you think, eager to feel the stinging pain of the small square of leather and the slight trepidation of being hurt by the stick itself… Those red marks… oh, those red marks that last for at least some days…

… but you don’t care, the pain and the fear, the submission and the punishment arouses you… and him.

Smoker hits his palm with it, as if he was warming the leathery chastising object before using it on your ass. “Good girl, at least you stayed still now” he says, now grazing so softly the tip of the crop up and down your back. From your nape to the small of your back. You know the stinge will come, but you don’t really know when, since he keeps moving it.

You purr, moving your ass side to side in a tempting, alluring, sinful motion. “Did I tell you to move, brat?” he asks, and before you could answer with a simple whine, the leathery strap engraves in your buttocks’ skin in a violent, painful motion. They say pleasure and pain are felt in the same area of your brain… you confirm it’s true. “Nghh…” you whimper, with your skin on fire and the sides of your mouth brilliant from the saliva.

“Are you going to behave? hum? you just can’t have dick everyday” he reminds you, pulling from your hair back to make you look at him. You fight against his grip, because you want dick every day, who doesn’t?

You deny with your head, you ain’t behaving. “Guess I’ll have to tame you then” he sighs, as if using your body to discharge the stress of the day was an awful job. “Come on, on your knees, bitch” he commands, giving you a last spank with the riding crop and making you kneel on the ground.

He lets for a second the crop over the table to simply unzip his jeans and free his sex. Hard, swollen, red, dripping, big. You can help but drool even more by the imagery in front of your eyes. “I imagine by now your jaw is perfectly opened for me to fuck you, isn’t it?”. You nod, avid for tasting the salty product of his arousal.

He unties your gag, it feels like a sudden relief… yet not for so long. “Come closer” he commands, using the stick on your back to bring your mouth closer to his dick. “Open big and hands on your back”.

Leather gloves graze your cheeks, and tightly tangle your hair around them. He sticks his sex, mercilessly up until your throat, face fucking you with such brutality you gag, drool, cry. On and on and on. Your core turns swollen, pulsating, dripping wetness… a lot. Your jaw feels even more tired, you feel your mouth fill with sticky release and his grunts accompanying that. “Swallow, now” he orders, and you comply. Warming your throat as it goes down, his cum is always well received.

“Good girl, look at your dripping pussy… Such a horny whore… let me fuck that arousal out of you” he says, smirking and pulling you up once again from your hair and throwing your trembling body against the table. “Spread” he commands, separating your legs with his knee and doing the same with your labia and his leathery fingers.

The captain lets his pants fall down into the ground and pumping his shaft a couple of times, he shows you he is indeed once again hard. “Will you hold it all inside, won't you?” he grunts guiding the tip into your entrance. “Y-yes, master” you moan, at this point about to come just by the anticipation of his huge dick inside you.

Smoker impales you, brutally. Using the riding crop, he makes you bite it. He grabs from each side, pulling your head back and giving you hard thrusts. You look like an animal, like a beast. He fucks you leaving marks on the commissure of your lips, you throw your eyes back, leaving them blank, body almost going limp. Sex so big, stretching your walls, hitting the perfect spot… ultimately making you come, shouting, trembling, squirting the base of his dick and the floor under you.

The marine comes too, filling your womb up with a new load of warm release. He does not pull off until the last drop is out of him, he wants you full, almost about to explode, he wants you to hold it in…

“Good girl, brat” ~

#smoker x reader #smoker x y/n #smoker x you #one piece x reader #one piece fan fiction #one piece imagine #one piece x you #one piece sm.ut #sashi ya #sashi's dark corner event

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eijishimas · 3 years

Text

midnight snack.

18+ nsfw content, minors dni. all characters are aged up.

masterlist.

content warnings: oral sex (f!receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (use protection irl pls!), quirk use (electro stimulation), a hint of overstim, & a sprinkle of degradation. f!reader.

notes: all i could think about while writing this was “and they were roommates! ohmygod they were roommates.” also thank u bria ( @rekiri ) & sun ( @kiridarling ) for keeping me sane while writing this, ily both <3

wc: 3.0k

You rarely got hungry in the middle of the night. You usually went to bed full of food cooked by yourself or ordered takeout by your roommate, Denki. Tonight was different, however. You had been working on a project, one that was taking up far too much of your time due to your incompetent group members causing you to pick up the slack. You had been stressed beyond belief lately because of them. Maybe a small stretch would help clear your mind, you reasoned to yourself internally. While you were at it, a midnight snack wouldn’t be too bad. It would help ease your nerves, even. You stood from your desk, stretching your arms above your head and cracking the joints of your shoulders. Now exiting your room, you threw a glance across the hallway to see the light under your roommate’s door was still on. Of course he was staying up again, when did he not? Probably off playing video games with the guys again.

You yawned, bare feet pattering against the hardwood of your apartment floor on your way to the kitchen. You shivered, wearing only a cropped sweater you had thrifted and a pair of your comfiest shorts. So what if they were a little short on you, they did the job of keeping you comfy while you slept. No one besides Denki saw you in them, mostly because you wore them to bed. Opening the fridge door, you cringed at the harsh lighting hitting you square in the face. You bent over, eyes scanning the bottom shelf for something to pique your interest. Since you figured Denki was in his room, you didn’t bother to bend your knees while you were searching for your snack.

“Uh- I uh, whatcha lookin’ for?” Denki’s voice cracked slightly. What were the odds? Your head whipped up so fast from the fridge, you nearly knocked into the door of it. Your face began to overheat as you saw your roommate standing there in his pyjamas, fighting off his own blush as he looked at you. Had he seen how your shorts rode up your ass, giving the perfect view of the lace black panties you had been wearing that night? Maybe. The answer was most definitely a yes, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you. He really didn’t want to die by your hands.

“I was, well I was grabbing some water,” you fumbled for your words as Denki approached you, moving around the bar counter of your apartment to peer into the fridge himself from behind you. His hair was damp, sticking to his forehead indicating that he had just hopped out of the shower. No kidding, he had used your fruit passion shampoo along with lemon scented body wash again. You felt his hot breath on the back of your neck from how close he was to you, your tongue wetting your lips as you tried to ease your building nerves. You were never so nervous around him, he was your roommate and your best friend. The two of you had always been comfortable around each other.

You stood perfectly still, razor focused on the fruit cup on the top shelf to distract your mind that was buzzing with electricity. He smelled so good. He felt awfully warm. And he was incredibly close to you, so much so that you could hear his own inner monologue if you listened hard enough. You were so caught up in your thoughts that your mind barely registered that his hands were sitting comfortably on your waist. “Hey,” Denki spoke up, “Did you wear that for me?”

Processing his words, there was a tiny heat that began to burn low in your stomach. “I’m sorry?” you squeaked out.

“The black lacy ones. The ones that make me want to eat you out on the counter until you’re screaming. Did you wear those for me?” his voice was low, whispering deliciously into your ear. Sinful thoughts were clouding your mind, your previous intentions of getting a snack now lost to the idea of possibly choking on something else entirely tonight. “Denki—” His hands slipped beneath your shirt, stopping just below your breasts. You were starting to feel something hard poking at the cheek of your ass. Your breath hitched, thighs clenching together in an attempt to tame the growing heat between them. The two of you had been dancing around the notion of having feelings for each other for a long time.

You tried to look the other way every time he would stare at you for just a small bit longer than he should. He pretended to not notice the way you sat so very close to him, despite the entire couch being free. The way your fingertips brushed his thighs when you leaned over him to grab the remote. The way his touch lingered on your hip when he went to pass behind you while you cooked dinner together, his palms warm and jittery. Everything clicked together so perfectly for the two of you, it was beginning to become undeniable and almost comical at this point.

Tonight only made you more desperate for some type of release, since all of the previous tension between the two of you had crescendoed into Denki moulding his lips to your neck and sucking deep purple marks in a lovely pattern against your hot skin. Your legs felt weak, a strained moan escaping you. Between the cool air of the open fridge and his hands exploring your torso, it felt like heaven. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples eagerly, his name falling off your tongue as if second nature. You wanted him bad. And he wanted nothing more than to strip you of your clothes and have you right there in the kitchen.

Your legs quivered as he touched you, allowing yourself to lean back against him and succumb to his affection. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long, baby,” the confidence radiating off the blond was dripping right into his tone. It made more of that liquid heat manifest in your lower half. You were quite certain that those lacy black panties Denki had been talking about now had a wet patch from all of his ministrations. His hands kept massaging at your breasts, small whimpers leaving your lips as you whispered out how you needed more from him. You panted, craning your neck to the side to give him more access to your skin. Your hips seemed to move on their own as you wiggled your ass right up against his prominent hard on. “Fuck,” he swore, fingers dipping into your shorts and past the waistline of your underwear to feel your slick. You were soaking from his touches, thighs shaking and fingers finding purchase in blond locks as his finger pad grazed your aching clit. “More,” you whined with need, “I wanna.. I wanna touch you, please.”

Denki’s mind felt like it was melting. Was this a dream? He never wanted to wake up if that was the case. He inserted a finger into your core, heart fluttering upon hearing you moan out for him again. Your walls hugged his single digit, his dick twitching at the sensation. You were feeling unbearably sensitive for some reason that night, the way his thumb drew circles around your clit paired with his finger reaching within you made your head light. “You’re so greedy, look at you fucking yourself on my fingers. Moaning like that for me. From how much you walk around like a little slut, you had this coming,” Denki nibbled at the lobe of your ear before adding a second digit, curling his fingers and further sending you into your pleasure. “Denki,” you called out again, head tossed against his shoulder, ass rubbing right against his dick in ways that made his head spin. “You’re so wet, do you hear that? Holy fuck, I can’t wait to taste you,” Denki’s words made the coil inside the pit of your stomach snap, your first orgasm of the night finally washing over you as you clenched around his fingers. It took all of Denki’s willpower not to cum in his boxers right then and there. Falling against him for support, your hips lazily rolled against his digits to ride out your high.

“Up on the counter babe, we’re not done yet. I’m still feeling a bit hungry,” he murmured into your ear. The two of you backed away from the fridge, leaving the door open to allow some light in the darkened kitchen. You turned to face him, seeing a bit of a loopy smile on his face despite his lust blown pupils. You wasted no time in connecting your lips, tongue sliding into his mouth with ease. Your body pressed his against the cool granite of the counter, his hands drifting lower down your back to meet the flesh of your ass. He tapped your ass a couple times, his fingers pinching at the fabric of your thin shorts. “You won’t be needing these,” he chuckled deeply against your lips. His drop in octave made you shiver. Your own hands mapped out his body, feeling across his abs that he prided himself on as a pro-hero while your other went right for his cock.

Your excited fingers pulled down his gray sweatpants along with his boxers, his cock springing free from its confines. There was a lovely amount of precum beading atop his reddening head, your thumb swirling the natural lube around his tip. The action elicited a groan from the blond, grabbing a bit harder at your ass. You were gentle, teasing even, your eyes glazed over in lust as your hand pumped his dick at a slow tempo. Denki’s hips began to fuck into your hand, his chest heaving as he took this time to shed himself of his t-shirt. He felt entranced by how your fingers looked so delicate fisting his cock, breath hitching in his throat as your wrist rolled with each stroke of his dick. “Do you know how— fuck — how long I’ve waited for this?” Denki’s words are gentle, his neck craning back down to nip at your exposed skin.

“Too long?”

“Way too long.”

You giggled and he groaned, a low rumble against your soft skin that makes you shiver yet again. You smirked with amusement as you felt him pulse in your hand, yet Denki pulled away from your touch just as you were about to tip him over the line to his own orgasm. “You, you first,” he told you, golden eyes trained on yours, “I like seeing you come undone for me.”

A whimper escaped you, his grin hungry with want for you and only you. “Let’s see how good you taste,” he pressed a final kiss to your lips as he eagerly dropped to his knees. With a shy look in your eyes, you allowed your legs to spread, giving Denki a full view of your pretty pussy. He was practically salivating, eyes taking in your wet sex with a strange fire lit behind them. He was eating good tonight. With your fingers threading in his hair and tugging lightly, he took it as his signal to go. You sucked in a gasp of surprise as something cool touched your already slick entrance. Oh, you had forgotten that Denki had a fucking tongue piercing.

Instinctively, your thighs started to close around Denki’s head. He held them open with ease, the metal ball of his piercing following the tip of his tongue as he happily traced your entrance. “Denki,” you huffed, growing frustrated at his languid pace. For a man who seemed rather eager, he was going very slowly. Denki hummed in response, lips now attached to your clit and you felt your body jolt at the feeling. Fuck. Maybe you should have bit your tongue instead. Channeling electricity through his quirk, you felt a shock emitted from the tiny piece of metal in his mouth to your aching clit. “Denki!” you moaned, eyelids fluttering as you struggled to keep your gaze on him. Your hands kept pulling at his semi-damp hair, rutting your hips as best as you could into his face as your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You felt ten times hotter than you did when you first entered the kitchen, your hands expelling your own sleep shirt to the floor as Denki moaned at the sight of your exposed tits. This gave him the opportunity to push his tongue into your pussy, your toes curling at the sensation of his tongue entering your heat. He had his fun, darting his tongue in and out of you as he kept moaning to keep up the tiny vibrations. Moving his bangs away from his eyes, you could only watch as he ate you out with his skilled muscle.

His tongue reached deeper inside of you, his hands holding your thighs apart firmly as they were threatening to clamp around his head with more force. You hadn’t anticipated that Denki would be this fucking good with his mouth. Your inner walls squeezed around him, your moans picking up in volume. Your nipples were peaked, your back arched and your head thrown back as all you could do was continuously grind your hips against his face. This only edged the blond further, his nose stimulating your swollen clit as his tongue delved as far as it could into your dripping cunt. You nearly screamed his name as you were finally tipped over the edge, your chest heaving as Denki suckled at your sensitive lower lips. He drank your essence happily, your body prickling with heat as he drew back to watch in awe at how your pussy fluttered invitingly around nothing. He was drunk on the feeling of you cumming on his mouth. You two were definitely doing that again.

As you steadily regulated your breathing, Denki slowly got up from his position on the floor. Wiping away a bit of your cum from the corner of his mouth, he threw you another grin. You swallowed dryly, “Need you.”

“What was that, baby?”

“Need you, Den. I need you in.. Please.” Your eyes were begging him to give you more. You had seen how much his cock had been leaking onto the kitchen floor, practically throbbing between his legs from not having given release. With a cheeky sort of smile, Denki gave you a kiss to your cheek before settling his lips to the shell of your ear. “Whatever you say, babe.”

In an instant, you were swept off the counter, your body being caged between the closed freezer door and Denki holding you up from beneath your thighs. His cock fell heavy against your stomach, twitching in its desperation for attention. The light emitting from the open door of the fridge illuminated the right half of the electric blond’s face, his expression lustful and giddy in the harsh LED lighting. It made your heart buzz with anticipation, your body tensing as he eased the head of his cock past your folds. Your hands scrambled for his shoulders, fingernails leaving red crescents along his creamy skin. Denki’s eyes were on you, his breathing irregular as you wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting back in with confidence. His lips swallowed your moans, the wet, lewd sounds of your fucking adding more tinder to the heat now coiling in the pit of your stomach for the third time tonight. “Please,” you begged, practically trembling from overstimulation as Denki rocked you into the cool aluminum of the freezer door.

“Please what, baby?” the playfulness in his tone didn’t match the serious manner in which he kept pistoning into you, chasing his own release as your slick from previous orgasms now coated his cock and ran down his thighs. Each time he went in, he angled himself right up to meet that special spot inside you to make you see tiny specks of white dot your vision. “I- I, ah! Denki!” Fingers now grasping at his hair again, you yanked harshly as you came around his pulsing cock for the third and final time, squeezing him snugly as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. There was a tingly sensation running through your legs starting from your thighs, numbing and electric as Denki kept up his quick pace to chase his own release, groaning dirty praises into your ear that made you keen. Your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper and finish inside of you. His hips met yours for one last time, stuttering as he pumped his sticky cum into your abused hole. You two stayed there for a moment, you letting out quiet giggles as Denki took his time in getting the air back into his lungs. He let you down steadily from the position you had been in, making sure to hold you up since the feeling was still a bit lost in your legs.

“Wow that was,” Denki paused, struggling to find the right word for the situation you two had caught yourselves in. “Satisfying,” you finished for him, to which he blushed deeply. The smile he flashed you was earnest and relieved, if he was being quite honest. “Ah, nice! Let’s get you something to eat, maybe a cheese string. But definitely water!”

“I’m actually feeling pretty full right now in terms of cheese. Thanks for that, Den.”

“Wait really?” Denki questioned as he swept his boxers along with his shirt off the kitchen floor, his concern showing through his furrowed brow, “Not even for a cheese string?”

A deadpan look crossed your face, sighing as you gave in to your dumbass of a roommate. “One cheese string.”

“Bet!”

Needless to say, post sex activities consisted of a hot shower, the second Shrek movie, and two cheese strings (per Denki’s request). Not a bad way to relieve your stress, you concluded to yourself happily as you snuggled closer to your roommate, fingers intertwined beneath the blanket as you allowed yourself to slip into a comfortable slumber against Denki’s shoulder.

all works © eijishimas 2021. do not reuse, modify, or repost.

tags:

@cynthus-no @stoopidnekobish @brialoveskbtbb @baku-deku1 @cherrychan0

want to be on the taglist? see here.

#bnha smut #mha smut #bnha x reader smut #mha x reader smut #denki kaminari smut #kaminari smut #denki smut #denki x reader smut #kaminari x reader smut #denki kaminari x reader smut #eijishimas.oneshots

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 2 years

Text

A Conversation with Cardinal Dolan

Featuring the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Timothy Dolan

I'm a 27 year old reporter doing a piece on His Eminence, Cardinal Timothy Dolan, the current Archbishop of New York. As I helped prepare for Cardinal Dolan’s interview, I went to the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, one of the nation’s largest Presbyterian congregations on the 500th anniversary of the Reformation for the sole purpose of seeing Cardinal Dolan. I sat on the front row, sitting on the first seat of the right pew, so I could stare up into the blue eyes of the old priest as he spoke before the congregation in his cardinal’s regalia topped by the red biretta. The old cardinal was big with short cropped gray hair. His complexion was rosy pink and he had big hairy arms and huge hands.

For the next 15 minutes, Dolan was jovial, playful, thoughtful and deeply appreciative of what he recognized as “a historic invitation” to address his neighbors from five blocks north on Fifth Avenue. I loved his voice and the longer he preached the harder my dick would get until I would be squirming in my seat I was so close to cuming. By the end, I wanted to stretch out on the floor before him, spread my legs and have him fuck me.

A few days later, I was at his 15,000-square-foot mansion on Madison Avenue where his receptionist greeted me and told me to have a seat while she grabbed His Eminence.

The big boned old priest reached out one of his huge hands and laid it on my shoulders to greet me and my dick sprang an instant hard on at the touch as he guided me into his office. He shut the door behind me and asked me to take a seat.

I studied Cardinal Dolan as we sat down. Your typical older white male in his late 60s or early 70s. Not too bad, he had a cute quality to him. He has immense charisma, but his beliefs are mainstream, even veering to the right. And during my interview, I called him on his beliefs. But I can only imagine someone so vehemently against homosexuality is harboring some interesting fantasies.

We sat there for an awkward few minutes as my internal struggle willed me take things further. I got up and walked over to a wall with his accolades, ran a few scenarios that could get him into bed and then decided on one. I turned and said, "I need a little help, father."

"I’m afraid I will go to hell.” I added, hoping that was what the old priest wanted to hear.

“You want to repent your sins to God, Son?” The old priest said.

“Yes, Sir.” I answered, but then fell silent. I didn’t know what to say. I had never before done any repenting.

“Go ahead, Son.” Dolan urged me, “Tell God your sins.”

The words just came out.

“I’m a gay!” I said in a sudden loud voice.

The most powerful Roman Catholic leader in the United States turned to look at me. His eyes were wide in disbelief. He settled into his leather chair and I could almost see the gears in his head as he remained silent for a long moment. Then in the softest voice, he asked. “You ever had sex with another man?”

“Yes, Sir.” I admitted as a smile arose internally. My dick was so fat and hard I thought it was going to explode. Telling the old priest about me being gay excited me more than most sex.

“What kind of sex?” The old priest inquired in an almost quivering voice.

“I suck cock.” I confessed thinking of how much I love sucking cock. Then after saying that I turned and hugged the cardinal.

“I’m a sinner, Father.” I added as I pressed my face against his broad shoulders. I smelled his manly body and almost went crazy with lust as I squeezed my arms around Cardinal Dolan as I embraced him. Then he surprised me and hugged me back. Damn, it felt wonderful to feel his powerful arms around me. I quickly wished that I was his lover and he would hug me like that every day.

“We are all sinners, Son.” Dolan whispered into my ear. “I have sinning thoughts sometimes too.” He added.

Hearing that, I let my right hand slip down to his crotch and felt stiff flesh beneath the fabric of his slack. The big boned priest didn't disappoint as I felt a nice size cock.

“I have sinning thoughts.” Dolan repeated as he hugged me harder.

“Help me God. Take these thoughts from my mind.” The old priest suddenly yelled as I began to massage his dick and balls through the fabric of his slacks.

“Deliver me from these sinning thoughts. Cast out these thoughts, God.” The old priest cried out as I kneeled in front of him and grabbed the tab of his zipper. Cardinal Dolan didn’t attempt to stop me from unzipping his pants as I pulled his pretty decent pale, uncut cock out of his pants. It was about 7 inches, thick, veiny and hard. I reached back inside and forced his balls out.

“Please, God! Have mercy on me.”

Cardinal Dolan gripped the arms of his leather chair and shuddered in pleasure as I licked from the bottom of his shaft to the tip. Knowing this was probably his first blowjob and it it really turned him on to have me pumping up and down on his dick. His salty precum hit my tongue and I looked up passed the big cross at him. His glazed over eyes told me everything I needed to know. I had him right where I wanted him as I continued my oral assault on him, licking and kissing his balls.

“Jesus! Son of God!” The cardinal shouted as I took his dick back in my mouth.

By now Dolan built enough courage to lay a hand on my shoulder and then on my head as he kept shouting “Jesus! Jesus!" over and over again while I sucked his dick with all the skill I had learned during my life as a cocksucker. I was going to milk this old bastard and leave him wanting more. My head bobbed as his moans got louder and louder. His hands gripped my shoulders as if he wanted me to stop, but I wanted it. I wanted his cum. I wanted his satisfaction. He thrusted his hip as he could no longer hold it in anymore. With a last suck, his cock popped out of my mouth and with his loud groan, he shot all over my face as I furiously jerked him off.

His cum sprayed all over my face and I could feel it slowly seep down it. Luckily it looked like he got everything but my eyes. I slowly opened my eyes and watched as his cock went limp. He sat panting as if he'd just ran a marathon. I licked my cum covered lips and tasted him. I got up and grabbed some tissue paper from his desk to clean myself off. I made sure to bend a bit more so he could notice my ass just to let him know it was on the menu.

I wondered if this was his first sexual encounter. Oh well, it didn't matter. As I left, I turned and said, "Thanks for the interview Cardinal Dolan."

#Timothy Dolan #Timothy M. Dolan #archbishop #cardinal #fan fiction #priest #A Conversation with Cardinal Dolan #religious figures #celebrities

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heretohelptheidiots · 2 years

Text

Run to me

@proudbinerd per your suggestion.

Being affianced to Luisa had all sorts of wonderful benefits, for example every time she talked about you, the words, ‘my fiancé’ cropped up at least once per conversation. She delighted in showing anyone who would look her ring. You smiled proudly, watching her little celebrations with each villager she encountered.

That, unfortunately was how your mother found out. She was standing within earshot when the those wonderful words dripped from Luisa’s lips.

“Who’s your fiancé?” Your mother asked.

“Y/n!” Luisa chirped, spinning to face the speaker, realizing too late who had asked. Your mother made a bee-line for you, grabbing your arm, and started to pull you away. Luisa moved to intervene, but you waved her off. You mouthed ‘trust me’ as you walked down a side street behind your mother.

You spent the next hour getting abraded nine ways of Sunday. Everything was up for criticism. Your face, your hair, your eye shape, you taste in clothing, you ability to cook, and your worth as an individual were all attacked. You stood quietly as you had so many time before until.

“And then you choose that Madrigal woman. That hulking, stupi-“ SLAP!

“How dare you talk about Luisa that way?” You hissed. “I’m going to leave now. I don’t want to see you again unless you’re apologizing for speaking about her that way.” You turned on your heel and stalked off. Started back toward the square, but changed your mind part way. You needed time to think, to breathe. You didn’t care you went, you just needed to go.

About a half hour later, you tripped over a root, interrupting your destination-less escape. You curled up at the base of the tree, your breath coming in rapid desperate gasps. Surely you hadn’t exerted yourself that hard coming out here. In your minds eye you could see the shocked and angered face of your mother. You’d never crossed her like that before. What was going to happen? Why hadn’t you let Luisa intervene? You jumped at the sound of wing beats over head.

“Just a toucan.” You murmured to yourself, rubbing your arms. It was the middle of the day, why were you cold? It perched for a moment honking at you. You raised an eyebrow at it before waving it away. It honked again and flew off.

What if she objected during the wedding? There would be nothing you could do. What if she organized the town against you, or worse, against Luisa? You couldn’t risk her loosing her home over you. You sat catastrophizing, not hearing the approach of footsteps.

“Miguel says she’s this way.” A familiar young voice said. Your head snapped up and you saw Antonio, the Jaguar, the toucan and Luisa.

“Thank you, Miguel, Antonio. You should go home now, I’ll take it from here.” Luisa said, fluffing Antonio’s hair and stroking the top of Miguel’s head. Antonio looked over at you and nodded, asking the Jaguar to take him home.

“Hey.” Luisa said, “Dolores found me and told me everything when she realized you hadn’t come back.” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Why’d you wait?”

“What?”

“Dolores summarize all the awful things she said about you, but she said you only retaliated when she said something about me, or tried to anyway.” She grinned slightly. “Never thought you’d be defending my honor.” She playfully bumped you with her shoulder. She took a look at your face and backed off with the jokes.

“Are we going to be okay?” You asked, your voices sounding terribly fragile in your own ears.

“Tio Bruno already answered that one.” Luisa said, pulling you into her lap. “We’re going to be better than fine, even if I have to ask Antonio the put caymans on guard to keep your mother away.” Your head dropped to her shoulder.

“Take me home?” You requested.

“Of course.” She said, picking you up. “Promise me something, though. Next time you feel like you need to run. Run to me. I don’t like wondering what happened to you.”

“I promise.”

#disney encanto #encanto #luisa/reader #luisaxreader #luisa madrigal #fanfic #reader insert

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charlie-artlie · 3 years

Text

Jmart brain rot never sleeps 😔 based on these-> (the original abot post) (the cursed audio from the lifestream)

[ID: A black and white comic featuring Jon sims and Martin Blackwood from the magnus archives. Martin is a tall fat white man with a curly mullet. He has a close cropped beard and square glasses. Jon is a shorter Indian man with shoulder length black wavy hair with grey streaks. Jon has a short mustache and beard and square thick frame glasses and circular scars on his face and hands, as well as larger scars on his neck and hand.

Panel 1: Martin: “god Jon why don’t you ever wear your own clothes?”.

Panel 2: Jon: “I like your sweater, it makes me feel...”.

Panel 3: Martin, pointing: “it makes you feel like a thief!” Jon: “no!!”

Panel 4: Jon: “it makes me feel, safe.”.

Panel 5: Martin: “oh Jon”.

Panel 6: Jon taps his fingers together shyly and looks down as Martin approaches him with open arms. Martin: “c’mere.”

Panel 7:Jon and Martin embrace and we see Jon has a sly smug look on his face. An arrow points to him that says “gets to keep the sweater”.]

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tma #arts #I didn’t realize the text was from abot when I started but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised #biggest jmart text post generator in the land #like I knew it sounded familiar >_>

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leetotters · 3 years

Note

Yahooo!! How are you girl?? Can I please ask a fic about peter's birthday and him being like a soft dom to his girlfriend??🥰🥰🥰

this got a little out of hand but not really? he's like 21 in this fic, so adult peter!

adult!peter parker x reader

warnings: oral(f receiving), eating of food off body?, finger sucking, nipple sucking, soft dom peter

summary: something like request^

"Happy birthday Petey" You cheerfully exclaimed when your boyfriend entered the kitchen, you baked a two layer cake and asked Aunt May to make her infamous cherry pie that Peter so dearly loved, your smile was wide making your eyes scrunch, holding out your arms broadly as if it were a big surprise.

"Woah baby, all this for me" Peter grinned looking around the decorated room, his eyes catching the birthday banner hanging from the wall, "This is why you couldn't go to breakfast with Ned, MJ and I" Peter spoke inching away from you, his lips curled in an impish smirk making you aware he had indecent intentions in mind.

"Well this is very thoughtful of you" Peter mumble seductively in to your ear, your breath hitching as he began nipping the flesh of your earlobe making your cheeks heat up and a pulsing feeling rush to your core, "Did all this for me huh baby" Peter inquired still nibbling your ear, his hand wrapping around your exposed torso.

You nodded, involuntarily whimpering when he pulled back, his hand toying with the elastic waistband of your grey shorts, a wicked grin plastered across his face dipping his index finger in the cake frosting, then bringing it to his lips. "This is fucking delicious baby" Peter sighed at the sugary taste, practically moaning, you clenched your thighs together, oh that sweet sound.

"Open up" Peter plucked the cherry that rested on the pie into his mouth, gripping your face in his hands, pressing his pink lips to your open ones, and slipping the cherry into your mouth, your heart was beating so fast, you swore it would pop out, "Aren't you going to swallow" Peter spoke, his hazel eyes filled with lust and a mischievous shine.

You stared at Peter chewing the rosy fruit, the taste purely sweet making your tastebuds flutter at the flavour, but still it wasn't as good as the thick phallus resting inside Peter's pants. "Taste good baby?" You nodded sucking the remaining munched fruit between your teeth.

Peter chuckled, wiping the excess juice of the cherry from your lips, pushing his finger into your mouth, wordlessly you began sucking, swirling your tongue around his thumb attempting to seduce him into giving you his cock. You pulled back with a pop, waiting for Peter's next request, he was the birthday boy after all.

Peter groaned, god you were going to be the death of him, he picked you up placing you on top the kitchen islands, "Look at you obeying me like a good girl" Peter praised, pecking your lips softly, he pulled your square neck crop top over your head revealing your bare breasts, Peter leaned down blowing your nipple that was now harden due to the shiver making contact.

"Pete" You moaned, desperate for him to suck on your nipples or even just peck them, you just wanted to have his lips on you. "Want me to suck your pretty nipples baby" Peter didn't get a worded reply only a needy whimper, he didn't waste time, suckling on your harden buds, as he himself wanted them in his mouth much more than you.

You were in your land of bliss, Peter sucked deliciously on your breasts, your pussy was probably drenching with your juices by now, you tangled your fingers in his locks, playing with the soft hair. "I'm missing something" Peter drew back, you whined out loud missing the warmth on your now cold nipple.

You opened your eyes, seeing Peter slicing a piece of his cake then smearing it on your chest as if you were a canvas and he was the artistic painter, you were confused at first, but when he jutted his tongue out licking the cake off your nipple, you couldn't help the moan rippling out of you. "Much better" Peter mumbled satisfyingly devouring the dessert caked on your chest.

Peter raised his head, his chin messed with frosting and specks of colorful sprinkles that were on the cake, he winked before kissing down your saliva covered torso to your thighs, he pulled your shorts down your smooth legs meeting your covered pussy, a wet patch resided right in the middle making Peter known how turned on you were earlier.

"Look at that" Peter grinned, looking up at your pleading eyes, "You're so wet baby, all this for me" Peter flicked your clothed clit earning an unsteady breath for you, the sound of your panties ripping filled your ears, staring down at Peter with doe eyes, as he threw the teared material across the kitchen floor, the warm air hitting your exposed pussy.

Peter eyes were blown wide, your pussy was glistening, your folds dripping wet shining proudly, Peter licked his lips, rubbing your thighs looking like a starved man who was seeing food for the first time in forever, he toyed with your folds, smearing your juices on his fingers before pushing them in easily, Peter latched his lips to your pussy, sucking the addictive juices and moaning at the taste.

"Taste so good baby" Peter voiced, his mouth still on your pussy sending a vibration through your core, you arched your back laying down on the islands giving Peter a better position to devour your cunt, your hands clutched the towel, your lips parted letting out a squeal when Peter gyrated his tongue, circling your drenched folds, his finger assault sloppy focusing to bring you to your euphoric end.

It wasn't long till you were coming undone on Peter's tongue, he lapped your come together with your juices making sure the warm liquid seeped down his throat, his hands were placed on your waist kneading the flesh, Peter reluctantly released his lips from your pussy, his fingers still firmly pushing inside of you, eager to bring you to your second orgasm.

You were relishing the exhilarating feeling of your first orgasm, your hips bucking up feeling Peters fingers moving trying to get a second one out of you, your pussy fluttered as you came on Peters fingers, mouth agape, eyes tightly closed shut as you clenched around his fingers.

“Come baby,” Peter encouraged smiling gratifyingly that he got his girl to come, not one but two times just using his tongue and fingers.

Peter withdrew his fingers from your pussy, thumbing your bud and placing them in his mouth, sucking his fingers clean, savoring your taste.

“Taste like cherry pie” Peter teased standing upright over your figure, your lips were curled in a lazy smile seeing Peters face greased with your juices, you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him close, pressing his wet lips to yours, you moaned at the taste of yourself on the tip of Peters tongue.

“Happy birthday baby” You yipped, “But I still haven’t given you my present” You bit your bottom lip.

Peter smirked devilishly, “I know” He pecked your nose lifting you up in his arms, “You still have to suck my cock and ride me princess” Peter grabbed the pie from the counter, steadying you with his other hand.

“We’ll save this for later hm” Peter wiggled his brows. “Happy fucking birthday to me”

part two

#peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem #lee writes short fics

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

Power Struggle - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re set up on a blind date with a man who might just be your match. (~5.1k words)

Warnings: fem pronouns, fem!reader, blind date, exhibitionism, public sex

A/N: Part of @cherrytenko’s CEO collab! Surprisingly this is possibly the longest fic I’ve written as a oneshot and it’s a little softer than I expected it to be but please enjoy!

---

It’s about half past 6pm when you add the final touch to your makeup, a smear of matte lipstick (Rouge Hermes #48, to be exact), to your lips.

It’s not often that you’re able to leave work early but your mother and father had called you from overseas in the late afternoon, interrupting their own third honeymoon, to remind you of your final meeting for the day -

A date.

“I know you hate these things, but just go! You might like what you see,” your mother insisted over video chat, her voice muffled by the sound of wind whipping past her as she and your father cruised along on a shaky speedboat they’d purchased just for the day. You weren’t completely sure where they were, only vaguely aware that they were somewhere around Jeju Island, and not exactly sure why they still had phone service, but you weren’t going to ask too many questions.

“No obligation!” Your father adds, just out of view and yelling slightly.

Sure, never any obligations.

As you smack your lips in the mirror to smooth out the lip color, giving yourself a brief once-over to decide whether or not you feel the need to adjust your hair or if you will wear falsies or not, you frown ever so slightly, then let out a sigh.

You hate this.

This is the third “meeting” they’ve arranged for you this month, and they’d been at this for almost six months overall by now. This search for a ‘suitable husband’ was getting stale - not to mention, time-consuming - and you weren’t sure you would be willing to appease your parents any longer.

In fact, you weren’t exactly sure you were interested in a partner anymore. The clock would hit thirty any moment now, and the math of falling in love, getting married, having kids, and still heading a successful company no longer seemed to be adding up. You didn’t know how exactly to tell your sweet parents who were the picture of domestic bliss that they’d probably have to give up on the idea of grandchildren, and consider raising puppies instead.

Regardless, for the time being, you could still bother to meet this stranger for dinner.

There’s a clasp seal envelope atop your dresser - a portfolio that had been left on your desk by your father’s assistant at the beginning of the week - that still seems entirely too formal for the process. This is matchmaking, not a job application, was the first thought that came to mind once you realized the envelope held a set of photos, a resume and an admittedly curt but formally written statement reminiscent of a cover letter.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the signature at the bottom of the letter read in an extremely neat script. He must be particularly organized and detail-oriented.

There were two pictures, one that looked almost like a passport photo and the other much more relaxed, where he was dressed casually in a t-shirt and pressed jeans, standing with his arms crossed beside a redheaded man whose smile was wide and infectious, his arm around his neck. You wondered if he picked those photos himself.

You’d perused the first photo much more carefully because you could see more of his face. He’s quite handsome, you’d admitted, the faintest warmth in your cheeks, but he seemed awfully uptight. For one, the look on his face was very neutral, not bothering to smile. He was clean shaven and his hair was close cropped at the edges, a woody brown that paired well with serious olive eyes. You wondered if he ever laughed out loud, and what he looked like when he did.

The taxi driver is prompt and waiting outside of the high-rise in which you live by the time you make your way down the elevator. The click of your heels is loud on the tile as you make your way past the revolving doors. As you slip into the back of the car, you wonder if you’re dressed too professionally. You may have forgone the women’s pantsuit, but you’re still wearing a feminine pantsuit-esque ensemble in a creamy beige - pink would have seemed too ditzy, white would have seemed a bit too innocent (not to mention risky) and yellow too juvenile.

You’re not sure why you’re thinking so hard about this, but really years of paying attention to your appearance in public, not being taken seriously because you’re pretty and young and your personality is more bubbly than bossy puts you on your guard, especially when it comes to first impressions.

The location appears to be an upscale sushi restaurant, the type that you have to call ahead for months to get a reservation unless you have some kind of special arrangement with the owner. A staff member checks you in and brings you to the back to a private room, and as you pass through the dimly lit hallway, clutching your purse a little too securely, a scene from a yakuza movie comes to mind.

“Your room, madam,” the young man nods and motions you to enter a room that is brightly lit enough that it is almost blinding, large and round as though you were in a fishbowl yourself. You look up and notice that even the ceiling is curved. Elaborate paintings hang off the wall.

He’s not here.

You glance at the attendant and he raises his eyebrows as though he is expecting you to say something. You must look surprised, and continue to look so as you remove your shoes to sit at one of the thin mattresses set before the low table.

You wish you’d worn stockings perhaps, tucking your bare feet beneath you in a casual seiza position. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been this traditional/formal, and the thought of a man you barely know already knowing what your feet look like bare bothers you just a bit.

The attendant pours water and then tea for two wordlessly and slips out of the room.

Your heart pounds once you’re finally alone. Why is this so intense?

You fidget nervously with the thin silver necklace you are wearing, looking for a menu. There is none so far. Just square plates, both chopsticks and forks (odd for sushi, you think), and a steaming cup of tea set right next to a sweltering crystal glass of ice cold water. Opposites.

For a fleeting moment, you actually wonder for once if this man will like you.

“My apologies, Ms. ___.”

You’re startled by a rich voice, a tiny gasp revealing that you’re more spooked than you realize, and your eyes shift towards the direction of the sound to see what looks like your date finally arriving in a hurry.

You instinctively readjust yourself onto your knees to look formal, then realize you should probably stand instead, but before you can get up he waves you to sit back down, now settling down himself across from you.

“I had intended to arrive early but quite a few things happened at the company to make that unfeasible.”

He said this while removing a suit jacket in a way that was in no way intended to be sexy, not at all, then let out what sounded like a single, semi-nervous chuckle.

Wordlessly, you replied with a nod, transfixed as you compared photography to reality. The photos didn’t do him justice, not at all. The suit jacket was picked up quickly by a waiter who you had forgotten was still in the room.

Ushijima extended an arm to you across the table, intending to shake your hand.

“Did you wait long?” He asks as you shakily take his hand for a handshake that consumes your hand almost entirely in his large one.

You shake your head, then embarrassed when you realize you aren’t using your voice, and add, “No, I didn’t wait long...”

“Are you hungry?” He replies, quickly. Your instinct is to say no, no you didn’t need anything, especially not from him, but you are pretty sure your stomach would growl loudly any minute now, and you’d only look like a fool.

Ushijima glances at the waiter, who finally hands the two of you menus.

“Please order anything you like.”

You look down, swallowing hard again, and for a moment it is difficult to focus on the unnecessarily elaborate handwriting on the menu.

Something about him already grates on your nerves and you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what. You could forgive people for being late, and you were used to people being a little forward, but something about the way he was both familiar and unfamiliar in the way he spoke to you seemed to veer into patronizing behavior.

Why wasn’t he nervous? Every man you’d sat across from in the past half a year had just a little waver in their voice when they spoke to you at some point, even those who had started off boasting their fancy degrees and their villas and their large bank accounts.

But he sits perfectly still, all broad shoulders, gently wafting cologne, and a gaze that is both disconcerting and impartial, so you don’t know what to think.

When you look up from the menu to him, his eyes are still heavily focused on you, and you can’t really fault him. There’s nothing else to look at in this room, after all.

You take this opportunity to tease him. No man has ever intimidated you before and this one is no different.

“Are you going to order anything? I barely saw you look at the menu.” Your voice is light and coquettish and it implies, all you’re doing is staring at me.

“I already know my order. I’ve been here enough times,” he replies, immune to the playfulness in your voice. You watch him roll up his sleeves as he answers, and take note of the shape of his hands as he takes a sip of tea.

Maybe you’re the one staring.

“Would you like a recommendation?” He offers as he sets the cup down.

You shake your head no, and wonder again why you’re making gestures instead of talking. He smiles as though he can read your mind.

Once the waiter takes your orders and leaves the room, you’re left in silence, facing your would-be partner. It’s a stalemate of sorts and you lose, asking the first personal question.

But you ask it semi-clinically, refusing to lose the upper hand. You’re not sure why there’s an upper hand, but there is, and it will be yours.

“I read a little about your company before arriving. You gave me quite a few details, which I appreciated,” you state, turning your head to the side politely to take a sip of tea yourself. “You’ve done very well for yourself as CEO,” you add.

His eyes don’t crinkle from the flattery. “My employees do great work at all levels so it’s only natural that there would be positive growth,” he replies matter-of-factly.

You smile politely, but this answer doesn’t give you very much information about him. He’s shifting the success away from him, you remark, however he accepts the compliment as though expected. Is this genuine humility or arrogance?

You lean very slightly forward, just enough to see if he’ll take the opportunity to glance down your blouse, as other suitors have invariably done. He doesn’t, and you proceed to ask the next question.

“What do you do outside of work?”

His eyebrows raise, and you wonder if it’s because he realizes you are pretending you didn’t read that section on his application, but he answers anyway.

“I don’t have very much free time, as you are probably aware, but I garden and paint. And of course, I like to keep fit through team sports.”

A quick look at him makes that last part quite clear. You clear your throat slightly and then it is silent again. It’s not exactly an uncomfortable silence, but it’s not comfortable either.

Just as you wonder why he isn’t asking you any questions, he suddenly speaks up.

“Pardon me if this sounds inappropriate, but you’re beautiful. Why would you need a matchmaking service?”

You’re taken aback, and while your brain is scrambling for understanding of what his intentions are, he adjusts his sitting position so that he’s cross-legged with both hands on his knees and lets out a sigh before continuing.

“You’re also accomplished and clearly articulate. I don’t imagine you’d have trouble finding a partner through more organic means.”

It seems like there are a million butterflies that suddenly inhabit the small space in the pit of your stomach. Again, you’re at a loss for words, something that is rare for someone as opinionated and cordially fierce as you.

Should you be offended? It’s almost as though he’s asking what’s wrong with you?

He asks frankly, “Why a blind date?”

You want to ask him the same question, but you hear the waiter return and you fall silent, letting the butterflies in your stomach die down.

---

“I-is this the first time - ah - you’ve done this?”

You’re no longer laid out on the tatami like you were just an hour earlier, Ushijima nibbling on your lower lip and your collarbones instead of the overpriced, high-quality fish that sat atop your table, but now laid under him, spread eagle save for the hands you use to hold on to his shoulders as he slowly and deliberately thrusts inside you.

Your voice is breathy and catches in your throat every time he moves, but you have to know. How often has he ended up like this?

The heat that fills your whole body now isn’t just from the shame of letting a stranger fondle your body in an upscale restaurant, it’s because Ushijima somehow knows exactly where and how to touch you, as though he’s always known. His fingers have traveled your body like a hiker on a well-beaten path, from the softness behind your earlobes to your squishy center and back, and now have settled into a hold that is firm yet gentle on your hips.

When he replies “no” with immense honesty, his mouth sinks into the crook of your neck and he goes just deep enough that you don’t have time to factor this new information into your impression of him.

So instead you savor the thickness that fills you and the strength that holds you close, the soft grunts that fill your ears before they get drowned out by your equally loud whimpers and moans.

---

You don’t spend the night, partially out of shame that Ushijima bedded you so quickly and partially because you have a full schedule for the next morning. The parting of ways is brief and awkward and you seem to feel it more acutely than he does.

“I enjoyed our time, Miss ___,” he offers. You’ve dressed up faster than he has so you find yourself unwittingly ogling at the expanse of his sculpted chest and the flex of his muscles as he redresses. You’re almost sad to see him cover up.

You nod and walk out of the room, trying your best to hide the fact that your legs feel far too wobbly to be walking on these heels.

---

“Miss ____?”

Your eyes widen as you realize you’ve been daydreaming through a meeting with the board of trustees and now the wrinkled old men who hated the fact that your father thrust you into leadership you “didn’t deserve” are staring at you with disgruntled expressions.

“Oh, um,” you think quickly, recalling where the presentation left off and glancing quickly at the notes you’d jotted down on a notepad before wondering why Ushijima hadn’t called or texted since you met two weeks ago.

“Um?” The most senior of the group repeats, and your stomach turns for a moment before you steel yourself. He bares his teeth every time he’s displeased with you and you get the impression of an ancient and disgruntled wolf.

You clear your throat loudly, and settle back in your chair, crossing your legs and your arms over your chest.

“I have some disagreements with the current approach, but I’ll start with the pertinent positives,” you start.

---

“Was the sex at least good?”

Your best friend from high school glances at you briefly, as you face forward on the Peloton you are riding side by side with her. She’s much less out of shape than you are given that she also is your personal trainer and thus rides hers effortlessly, taking some time to wait for you to respond.

You begrudgingly say yes.

“Wow, for once someone dropped you before you could drop them!” She teases in a sing-song voice. You would slap her on the shoulder if she was close enough and if you weren’t out of breath. It stings just a little bit that you’ve heard nothing from him nor the matchmaking company and don’t have a good response to tell your parents aside from I guess we didn’t click.

“He’s missing out, though.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you huff, and cycle faster. No hard feelings.

---

Scratch that, there were absolutely going to be hard feelings now that he was not just fucking with you but also with your livelihood.

Admittedly, it was strange that despite the fact that your companies had never crossed paths until now despite working in the same consumer domain but this was unacceptable.

You’d opened an email that had just slipped into your peripheral vision as you worked on reviewing a couple of interns’ executive summaries, only to find that Ushijima might have just royally fucked you over.

A curt email from a crucial business partner read,

We apologize but we’ve decided to move forward with Ushijima Industries instead. I understand that this is last minute, but we believe that it will be mutually beneficial to discontinue our relationship at this point in time.

Your blood boiled. What the fuck was this?

Your phone rang, one of your team leaders calling immediately and likely looking at the email at the same time you were. He apologized profusely.

“What happened?”

“It seems like they just showed up and offered twice as much as we offered them last minute.”

This bastard. Then in a moment of horror, you wondered if this was your fault, if you had blabbed a little while slightly tipsy off of sake, and revealed that you had this acquisition in the works.

Voice smaller now, you asked, “So we can’t do anything to woo them back?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just have to make sure our other deal doesn’t fall through,” the slightly frantic man answered, the sounds of keyboard keys clicking rapidly heard in the background of the call.

“Okay, thank you for your hard work,” you stated. “I’ll see what I can do,” you replied with a click.

Maybe calling someone who’d ghosted you as you drove home, fuming and irritated, wasn’t the best idea, but you needed to confront him somehow. The idea of being bested in more ways than one was too much to bear.

The phone rang once, twice, then three times, and you were getting angrier with every tone through the car speaker. You hung up in frustration.

How embarrassing.

You made it home still irritated, indulging yourself in a relaxing bath to quell your anger. By the time you had soaked for close to an hour, you were mad at yourself for reacting impulsively and now having your number in his phone as a missed call… if he recognized it anyway.

It turns out he did.

“Ms. ___, did you call me earlier? I wasn’t able to make it to the phone in time.”

His voice was even lower on the phone, a slightly gravelly quality making you wonder if he’d actually been napping or just had a smoke. You couldn’t imagine him doing either of these things.

“What kind of game are you playing, Mr. Ushijima?”

There was a bit of hesitation on the phone, and you let out a sardonic laugh once he replied, as expected, “What?”

“How did you know about that deal other than what I told you?”

He paused again, and you too, stood still, a towel wrapped around your still dripping body.

“I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he then said, carefully. “I, uh… assume you were calling about something else.”

You grit your teeth. What the fuck else? The fact that he sounded genuinely confused only served to aggravate you further.

“Did you or did you not use the information I gave you to intercept my deal with MNY?”

Finally the lightbulb went on.

“Oh, that was you. Hm.”

If you’d been talking in person, you probably would have slapped him at this point. Or at least considered it.

“I didn’t know you were our competitor in that aspect. I… probably would have reconsidered if I had known.”

“Excuse me?”

That tone of over-familiarity, patronizing… the care when you’re not supposed to care was back and you realized you regretted this phone call.

“How would it be any different? Are you implying that you’d let me win?”

“No, of course not, I…” He trailed off. “Would you like to come over to my apartment and talk? I can give you my address, I would rather talk in person.”

Why? So I can get over there and end up fucking you again?

“I respectfully decline,” you answered curtly, and hung up, tossing your phone onto your bed and letting out an aggravated sigh.

---

The next morning, you leave an early executive meeting only to find that your office had been overrun with flowers between the hours of 7 to 8 am.

There are yellow roses, stating admiration, spilling out of an oversized bouquet on your desk and a separate bouquet of light red carnations and white camellias that imply that he finds you ‘adorable’. A white card is placed in the yellow bouquet, and on it is written Ushijima’s neat script - you realize it’s from him before you even finish reading the note.

I would like to see you again. Please accept my call around 6 pm.

Respectfully,

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Your hands hover over the wastebasket in your room with the flowers in your arms, but instead you sigh, and stuff them behind you on your shelf. At least you won’t have to see them while you work, but they’re pretty. They’re clearly bought from a floral shop, but you recall that he had said he gardened in his free time.

Ushijima calls promptly at 6 pm and you let it ring twice before deciding to block his number just as he’s calling. Something about the action is satisfying.

You can’t be won over with a couple of flowers and kind words. Women aren’t as easily swayed as he may think.

---

It’s another Friday, and surprisingly you haven’t been contacted for a blind date, whether it’s by your parents or the matchmaking service they’ve subscribed you to.

Maybe they’d gotten the message after you’d been ghosted that you were tired of this game. Maybe they were giving you a break. Maybe they’d run out of potential suitors. You were surprised, but not upset.

Ushijima had truly gotten under your skin.

After blocking his call, there were no more attempts at contact for the rest of the week. The only thing left to consider was that if you ever crossed paths in your careers, you would pay him back for snatching your investor.

And snatching your dignity in the process.

It was about 4 pm and most of the employees were wrapping up their tasks for the day. You usually aimed to have everyone out by 5, especially on Friday so this was boding well.

“Hey, Madam President, are you okay with an add-on?” You hear your secretary call from outside your door.

“Oh, I mean, I guess but-”

She’s already letting Ushijima through the door.

You smile sweetly, maintaining professional behavior as best you can, while your secretary leads him to an armchair across from you, up until she exits, your expression souring the moment she closes the door.

“Mr. Ushijima, what are you doing in my office?”

He’s settled into the chair so comfortably that it feels as though you’re in his office, not your own. He’s dressed more casually than he was at the restaurant, no suit jacket, just a brown V-neck sweater over a dress shirt that almost seems too tight and a pair of chinos. He’s also wearing a pair of glasses, which is new.

You hate that he looks good.

“Apologizing and requesting your company.”

He looks at you sincerely, his hands clasped together in his lap. You narrow your eyes.

“Please leave.”

He actually frowns, and the small action actually surprises you.

“Do you actually want me to leave or are you still upset about the investor? Because if it’s that, we can make an arrangement-”

“No, I’m upset because you did that after not following up after our one night stand!” You finally blurt out, then bite your lip realizing you might have said too much.

“I… got busy.”

“Busy screwing me over?” You quip.

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture.

“I didn’t call because I thought you didn’t like me.”

You’re a little stunned by this reply, then decide you don’t believe him. What was there not to like? At least at that point he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Why would you think that?”

His hands leave his hair again and rest on his knees. You notice it seems like a default position for him.

“I’ve been referred to as ‘stiff’. It’s great at work but not great for relationships.”

Ushijima’s brutal honesty is again sending you for a loop. You raise an eyebrow, bidding him to continue. Your arms uncross and you rest your elbows on the table.

“So…?”

“So usually by the time I’ve had sex with someone, it’s all they’re after. And since you didn’t call, I assumed even the sex wasn’t good.”

You unwittingly burst into laughter. Here was this successful, attractive man with a perfect pedigree who was insecure about how good he was in bed?

His eyebrows furrow, and you recollect yourself, realizing that this is a bit cruel.

“You could have sent a text,” you murmur.

“I’m bad at starting conversations.”

You stifle another laugh. “So you just don’t?” You tease. It’s gently mocking but mostly incredulous. It seems that he’s the opposite of the confident man he appears to be.

“That’s why I got excited when you called but then you were upset.”

You purse your lips.

“I promise I didn’t intend to put you in a bad situation,” Ushijima insists.

You sigh, then offer him a small smile. “Are you normally this persistent?”

He glances at the flowers that are only partially hidden from view, which makes your face warm up bashfully, and then looks right back at you.

“No. I just like you.”

Again with the directness, a confidence that is effortless, even when he’s not confident at all.

You don’t want to melt but you do. So instead you rise and clear your desk, stuffing a few items into your handbag as you prepare to leave. He watches, unsure of what you’re up to, sitting still as you walk around towards him and place your hand lightly on his shoulder.

Your body faces the door, but you turn to the side to look at him and grin.

“I’m done with work for today. Take me out.”

---

A couple months later...

“Fuck, you’re - ah - they’re gonna know, I-” Your voice morphs into a mewl instead once his ring finger reaches just the right spot; you’re squirming as much as possible under his touch but he has you laid back on your work desk with both ankles rested on his shoulders and his weight leaning onto you to essentially keep you in place.

“Move your hands,” Ushijima whispers in a hushed tone, leaning in to kiss between your breasts as he readjusts your legs atop him. His pants are down and his cock is already up and ready, the base and swollen balls rubbing against your wet cunt that you are desperately trying to protect from his intrusion. You know there’s absolutely no way you’ll stay quiet when he’s pounding the shit out of you, he likes it entirely too rough, and the walls are thin. You don’t listen, continuing to reach for his hands to swat them away from you.

There’s a part of you that is almost certain that at the very least your secretary knows that every time Ushijima comes for a ‘meeting’, it really is just to fuck the shit out of you before you leave together for the evening, or to relax you right before you once again have to defend your dad’s establishment of you as Company President.

This isn’t a good look.

“I-I can’t…” you whine.

“You can,” he assures you.

He gently kisses your face before prying your hands out of the way and keeping them pinned up against you with one hand and guiding his trajectory with the other before sinking inside of you. You moan at the breach of your privates and he quickly presses his lips to yours to swallow the sound.

Once he’s bottomed out, he rolls his hips, and soon you start to see white once you climax, clenching and cumming around him.

“T-Toshi!” You moan his name, and he clasps a large hand around your mouth before continuing, picking up the pace as he fucks you through your orgasm. He can’t deny that he likes the fact that you’re noisy, that the fact that the heavy desk he’s fucking you against is making a squeaky noise that suggests he’s really putting some force behind these strokes, and that if anyone could see the two of you now, it could be an issue for both of your corporations. Misconduct, they would call it.

He doesn’t care and while you act like you do, you don’t really care either.

When he lets go of your wrists to use the edge of the desk as leverage and tilts backwards, you scream in pleasure, a terribly obvious sound, and it’s enough to have him tip over and spill into you with a groan. He collapses onto you and the two of you almost slip onto the floor, but don’t; you wrap your arms around him.

Your hair is disheveled and so is his, and your legs are sticky with sweat and cum. You sigh, letting him soften inside you and stroke his hair.

“You’re getting me in trouble,” you murmur, and he lets out a breathy laugh.

“We don’t really have to answer to anyone, do we?” He replies with a smirk, and pecks you one more time on the lips.

He’s right - only you two are a match for each other.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ceo!ushijima x reader #ceo collab #ushijima wakatoshi smut #ushijima smut #haikyuu smut #not sfw #fic: power struggle #mae.writing #hqintheclub

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