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semischarmed · 3 days

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River

River was a walking enigma.

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him.

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly.

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness.

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark.

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night.

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = =

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out.

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment.

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements.

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water.

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs.

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile.

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk.

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite.

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval.

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet.

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped.

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness.

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school.

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists.

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!”

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own.

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River.

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind.

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me.

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

#male possession #male merge #male corruption #male skinsuit

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sincerelyyuu · 1 day

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hidden affections • itadori yuji

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ synopsis: after moving to a new school, you quickly gain the affections of a mystery admirer. ➼ pairing: itadori yuji x gn!reader ➼ content/tw: sfw, secretadmirer!yuji, tooth rotting fluff, no curses au, yuji is basically a lovesick puppy and is whipped for reader ➼ wc: 2K words ➼ a/n: desperately in need of some cute yuji content! likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡

Growing up, there weren't many people that Yuji found interesting enough to date. People seemed to gravitate towards his friendly and outgoing personality so making friends came easy to him. Even then, there wasn’t anyone that really caught his eye. Of course, he had his preferences (Jennifer Lawrence being one of them), but no one that he considered passing the threshold of friendship with.

That is until he met you.

Nobara had mentioned a new student was transferring into their class. It was a little unexpected considering it was the middle of the school year, so he was curious as to who this person was. When you first stepped into the classroom, Yuji felt the breath knock out of his lungs.

He always thought the idea of falling in love at first sight was so cheesy and something that only happened in movies. Yet suddenly all of those love songs on the radio made sense. You were the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He hadn’t realized he was staring until Nobara shoved an elbow into his side, snickering at the way his jaw snapped shut from the way it hung open. Meanwhile, you stood at the front of the class, doing your best to smile despite your nerves at all the attention on you.

“This is (y/n). They’ll be joining us for the remainder of the school year. They just moved here, so please do your best to make them feel welcome,” the sensei introduced before turning to you. “You may take a seat.”

Bowing in respect to the teacher and then once more to your new classmates, you briefly scanned the room. You decided to take a seat next to a pink haired male who waved hello enthusiastically to you, already feeling your nerves dissipate from his cheery demeanor.

“(y/n), right? I’m Itadori Yuji,” he greeted with a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, Itadori,” you returned his smile, pulling the supplies out of your bag to get ready for the lesson. “I like your hair. It kind of reminds me of strawberry milk.”

The words leaving your lips before you could stop them, you looked at him sheepishly, “Sorry, was that weird to say?”

Yuji laughed lightly, a little embarrassed at your thoughts on his hair. “No, it’s fine. I haven’t heard that one before but thanks, I guess.”

“If you want, my friends Fushiguro, Kugisaki and I can show you around. I wouldn’t mind-, I mean, we wouldn’t mind,” he offers, quickly correcting himself and silently cursing himself for lamely stumbling over his words.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to catch it and nodded your head eagerly, “I’d like that a lot.”

Just like that, you found yourself hanging out everyday with this trio of friends who accepted you into their group with open arms. There was rarely a day where you weren’t with them, be it group study sessions in the library or outside of school going on convenience store runs. Among this group, you naturally became closest with Yuji who always made you feel welcomed.

Meanwhile for Yuji, what started as innocent interest quickly evolved into a full blown crush on you. He was drawn to your bubbly and sweet nature and like a moth to a flame, his heart followed you. He found himself thinking of you all the time, wondering about what you liked or what you were up to. Wondering if you thought about him as much as he thought about you.

It was the little things that sent his heart racing. One random day, his number two pencil had rolled off his desk. Leaning down to grab it, his hand brushed against yours feeling the soft skin of your hand against his fingers. You were a step quicker than him and grabbed the pencil first, placing it back on his desk.

“Thanks,” he expressed, doing his best to fight back the rush of heat to his face.

You merely waved him off nonchalantly in an effort to tell him not to worry about it. After that, Yuji would purposely drop his pencils often in class, timing it so that his hands would brush against yours every time. You joked with him about how clumsy he was when in reality, his hand would tremble as it yearned to hold yours.

Yuji never had a problem with expressing himself to others. However, when it came to you, it was like his brain immediately turned to mush. All of his thoughts fly out of his head the minute you're on his mind.

“Why don’t you just tell them how you feel?” Megumi asks him a different day.

“What if they don’t feel the same way?” Yuji whines, plopping his head onto his folded arms on his desk. “It would be so embarrassing if they rejected me.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” his friend replies, mildly amused by the distress on Yuji’s face. “Besides, I’m surprised they haven’t figured it out yet.”

Raising his head, Yuji looks at him in surprise. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You literally have hearts in your eyes whenever you look at them.”

Did he really? He couldn’t help it. Every time you walked into the room, it was like all he could see was you. The way your eyes light up whenever you wave hello to him. The crinkle of your nose whenever you laugh at something funny he said. Your voice dripping with honey every time you spoke to him. You were absolutely captivating to him.

“Look, I’m just saying that there are other ways to let them know your feelings,” the spiky haired teen suggested cryptically with the gears turning in Yuji’s head as he thought over his best friend’s advice.

The next day, you and Nobara were aimlessly chatting about plans for the weekend. When you walked into class, you were surprised to see a red and brown box sitting on top of your desk. Upon further inspection, you saw it was a pack of chocolate Meiji Hello Panda cookies, your favorite childhood snack.

“Whatcha’ got there, (y/n)?” Nobara asks as she throws her bag to the floor and slips into her desk beside yours.

“Cookies,” you answered and held up the box to her. “Did you see who left these here?”

The ginger shrugged, “Wasn’t from me. Is there a name?”

Taking a closer look at the box, you couldn’t find a sender name. Instead you found a tiny strawberry sticker pasted on the front. Why would someone leave you this on your desk? As if answering your thoughts, Nobara leaned in with a cheeky grin.

“Looks like someone has a secret admirer~,” she teases.

You shook your head at her in disbelief. “I doubt it. Maybe someone is just being nice?” you tried to reason with her.

“Oh, definitely. That’s exactly why I have a box of treats sitting on my desk, too,” Nobara sarcastically retorts and gestures to her empty desk.

You shoved her shoulder playfully with a laugh, opening the box and shaking a couple of the shortbread pandas into her awaiting hand. Hearing a chair screech on your opposite side, you turned to see Yuji looking at you with expecting eyes.

“Hi, Itadori!” you greeted, holding out the box to him. “Want some? Someone really sweet left these for me on my desk today.”

“O-Oh, really? That was nice of them,” he stammered in response.

He stretched out his hand and let you drop a couple of the pieces onto his palm, crumpling the convenience store receipt with the name of the snack inside of his hoodie pocket.

Satisfied with how the first time went, Yuji started leaving anonymous tokens of affection at your desk every day. A single stem of your favorite flower (which he found out through Nobara who had a field day when he told her of his crush on you). A bag of candies as sweet as you. A cute bunny keychain that he won at the local arcade (and spent way too much money to get) that reminded him of you. Each time he would wake up extra early to make sure he was the first one to get to class to leave his little gift.

Feeling a bit braver, Yuji also began writing love notes to you to slip into your locker. Just little one liners onto torn notebook paper of things he wished he could say to you but didn’t have the courage to say to your face.

“Seeing your smile is enough to brighten my whole day.”

“You are my sunshine on my darkest days.”

“Do you understand how amazing you are?”

With every passing day, you wanted so badly to find out who your secret admirer was. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t start to develop a crush on them back. How could you not when they were clearly trying hard to convey their feelings for you in the most endearing way?

The only clue you had was that same strawberry sticker that accompanied each gift and note. You did feel guilty that this mystery person was spending all this time and money on you without getting anything in return. The curiosity was starting to become unbearable.

So, you made up your mind. You were going to find out who this person was whether they were ready or not.

Waking up just as the sun was rising, you hurriedly got ready and made your way to school. Walking through the empty hallways, you stopped just as you were a step away from the door of your homeroom, careful to avoid being seen through the class windows. Your heart accelerated once you heard footsteps inside the classroom. They were already here. Inhaling deeply to steady your rapid heartbeat, you slid open the door.

“...Itadori?” you gasped.

The tall teen looked at you with wide eyes, unceremoniously dropping the adorable shiba dog plushie on your desk. He felt a panic rise in his chest. You weren’t supposed to be here yet. What were you doing here?

Wracking his brain on what to say, he ultimately sighed. Turning to face you, he rubbed the back of his head bashfully, “You finally caught me. It was me.”

You felt your heart grow warm at finally matching a face to all the gifts and the love notes. To think it was your friend Yuji this entire time. As you studied the male, your eyes gravitated up to his strawberry pink locks.

Strawberry. The strawberry sticker. You finally connected the dots. It was his way of telling you it was him and you didn’t even realize it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you questioned softly. Walking up to the tense male, you saw him gulp as you stopped in front of him, looking so nervous and utterly adorable.

Yuji gave a half hearted laugh before replying, “Would you think I’m lame if I told you I was afraid to?"

"You just make me so nervous. I really like you. I’ve liked you for a while now but I didn’t know how to say it without ruining our friendship. I wanted to give you an out in case you didn’t feel the same.”

Picking up the plushie, he tentatively held it out to you. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach at the way you accepted it and held it to your chest affectionately.

“Yuji,” you gently beamed up at him. “Can I call you that?”

Yuji swore he died and went to heaven upon hearing you say his first name. Cheeks flushing, he nodded fervently. He felt his breath hitch when you leaned up to press a kiss to his reddening cheek.

“Thank you for everything,” your voice full of gratitude as you stared into his fawn colored eyes. “For the record, I really like you, too.”

Feeling a sudden wave of confidence, he placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Does this mean I can finally take you on a date?” he asks, his cheeks aching from how widely he was smiling.

Hiding your face behind the plushie in your hands, you peered up through your lashes at him with twinkling eyes. Too cute, Yuji thought.

“Just say the word and I’ll be there,” you promised.

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allicat0 · 3 days

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haiiiii 👋

love ur work! could u write a toji x reader ? if u could include oral s3x pls its my fav! have him f!ngering her while making out 😍😍 and maybe he can be an older brothers bestfriend so they have to be sneaky 😏 thanks so much xx

Ticking time Bomb

Ans: thank you so much and of course I’ve been dying to write something.

Summary: As your brother went out to get some food, you and his best friend Toji race the clock, seeing if he can make you cum before your brother returns.

Content: MDNI!, afab reader, 18+, smut, Toji x reader, oral sex, receiving, fingering, making out, trying not to be caught, praise, swearing

A/N: This prompt always gets me, I eat up a brothers best friend trop this one is shorter than most of my other ones hope that's okay.

You and your brother had been left alone, the two of you finally had the house all to yourselves as your parents had left on a business trip for the next three days. Though there was a twist, since the two of you had the place alone, your brother jumped at the opportunity to bring his friends over, one of those friends being Toji, how you couldn’t stand him. He was a cold and shielded guy, always smoking, getting himself into trouble, always picking on you and getting under your skin, he was a disturbance of your peace everytime he was over. But you couldn’t lie, he was a good looking guy and he had charm, it got to you each and every time finding yourself in the same situation, over and over again.

It was evident that you were bored, sprawled out across your bed in the dark, the only light in the room was coming from your phone illuminating onto your face. Your stomach let out a low rumbling sound that emanates from your abdomen, causing a sigh to escape your lips sitting up and off of your bed. You were hungry and you knew your brother wasn’t gonna make anything so, you went to ask if he was gonna get take out. As you made your way down to the basement your eyes automatically locked on Toji, sprawled out across the couch blowing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. He noticed your presence, his head turning to face you, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“you looking for someone darling?” ugh that fucking nickname, as much as you wanted to say you hated it. You’d be lying. “I'm just looking for my brother.” You said leaning against the doorframe doing your best to keep the annoyance out of your voice. “What are you even doing here, come to bother me some more?” you asked him, crossing your arms. A cloud of smoke escaped his lips as he chuckled, “And what if I said yes, what if I said I like to come over just to see you?” his eyes locked on yours for a second before continuing. “Anyways, your brother is busy, went out to get some food.” You nodded your head taking in what he said, good thing you were really hungry. “Alright sounds good, see yah” You said turning on your heels quickly walking up the stairs. Toji quickly sat up and put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. “Hey- hey wait a second.” He said quickly following you up the stairs.

You did your best to ignore him, and made your way over to your room opening the door, but he was quick to reach his hand up and close it. “What are you doing?” You asked, looking up at his hand keeping your door shut. Toji’s eyes were burning into the top of your head, keeping silent for a moment. “You know. .” He said in a cold whisper, you felt as his free hand moved down, gently placing itself onto your hips. “We have some time till your brother comes back. .”Toji said, whispering into your ear, a chill rushing through your body. “Toji. we can’t” You let out in a low whine. His face leans down moving past your hair, his warm breath hitting up against your neck. “I know you want to.”

You turned around to face him, he fixed his posture so he was staring down at you. Your mind was racing, it couldn’t be long before your brother was home, but you totally could be quick. . and he’d never know. It's not like you haven’t done it before. “Okay. but qui-” Toji didn’t even give you time to finish your sentence, he opened your door and shut it behind him, guiding you over to your bed. Your back pressed against your bed as Toji’s lips firmly pressed against your own. He left you not a single moment to think, before he was pulling both your pants and panties down in one quick motion. His fingers began trailing down your stomach and reaching for your inner thighs, spreading them apart, giving him full access to your most private area. “You’re so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and heavy.

With one swift motion, he inserted both his index and middle finger inside you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. As he continued to pump his fingers into you slowly, his tongue pushed past your lips, lapping with yours. Toji grinned into the kiss as he felt your pussy clamp down around his fingers, you were close to cumming and he could feel it. His fingers pulled out of you pushing them into your mouth. “Taste yourself on my fingers, pretty girl” he said to you with a shit eating grin, and that you did, sucking your juices off of his fingers. “Why did you stop?” you let out muffled.

“Because baby, I want you to cum on my tongue” Toji said as he began moving down in between your legs, planting soft kisses against your thighs, he was about to devour you with his mouth. It wasn’t long before a gentle kiss was placed against your pussy. His tongue darted out, flicking at your clit gently before plunging inside you. You arched your back, your nails digging into the sheets as pleasure coursed through your body. Toji continued his assault, his tongue working in perfect harmony.

You bit your bottom lip trapping in your moans just in case your brother came home, every now and again they would escape. They sounded like symphonies to Tojis ears. His pace began to pick up your orgasm right around the corner as it was before, the knot building up in your core. You could feel it, you were on the edge when you heard the front door open. A course of panic went through your body as well as pleasure. You didn’t know what to do. It wouldn't be long until your brother came in looking for Toji. “Toji stop hes-he home” You said doing your best to push his head away but he didn’t budge.

His tongue began to pick up the pace, his fingers dipping back into your wet pussy, pumping in and out of you, in perfect sync with his tongue. Your hands coming up to your mouth as you wanted to block out any foreign sound that was to leave your mouth. You could hear your brother moving throughout the house, as the knot in your stomach was about to burst. As you were about to cum Toji slipped his fingers out once more using just his tongue to make you cum.

“Oh fuck” You moaned into your hands feeling as you finally gave into the release. You were cumming on his tongue, exactly what he wanted. Your legs were shaking as Toji pulled his head away from between your legs, licking your juices off of his lips. “You're fucking beautiful baby” he said to you softly.

The two of you heard as the door knob to your door began to turn, you quickly put the blanket over top of your bottom half and Toji sat on the edge of the bed. “There you are.” your brother said, sounding annoyed from the hunt to find his friend. “What are you doing in my sister's room?” he asked, sounding somewhat confused. “Got bored,” Toji said, shrugging. “ Well come on, the food’s here.” Your brother said stepping out of your room walking away. Your fell back crashing against your pillow with a sigh. “That was too close.”

@allicat0 signing off. .

#fanfiction #smut #anime #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushigro x reader #toji fanfic #brothers best friend #18+ mdni #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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cookie-crumblr · 3 days

Text

F!Bimbo Reader x Bugkeeper Yandere OC

A nipple clamp fueled daydream i had~

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: F!Reader, reader referred to as she/her, reader has a vagina, nipple play, nipple clamps, exhibitionism, pet names for ready (precious butterfly,), beyond Stockholm, reader is in shackles, public fingering, public sex(in a fitting room),unprotected sex, cum eating not proofread.

EEEEEEP! I just bought some nipple clamps with little chains on them and i’m so excited to wear them around like under everythingggg and OMG PLZ…. IM DROOOLINGGG🙈🙈🙈

status: together

You didn’t tell him, you somehow snuck it into your amazon order without him seeing. And they’ve arrived and he didn’t even check the boxes this time!

You’re so excited an entire flock of butterflies fill you dangerously to the brim.

He loves to make you happy above everything else. He takes you shopping all the time, making sure you always get to be covered in the latest fashions and showing you off properly.

You have a surprise for him today when he takes you out.

You get a low cut dress, one that goes almost to your navel, and put it on… Excitedly you take your pretty mounds out one at a time and attach little gold clamps with several delicate chains connecting the two.

The pressure is already divine and has you panting little foggy splotches onto your mirror. But you give the center of the chain a little tug to test it and “Ah!~” Oh gods!

This is gonna be fun! You can’t wait to tell him about the ones with a clit clamp attachment and a collar!!! wheeewww! calm down a little! you’ll spoil the fun before it’s even began! One thing at a time.

Oh but he’ll have the most fun with the collar attachments!

You smack your cheeks lightly to despell the enchantment that dream casts over your mind.

“Oooooh Enixxxxxx!!!! I’m ready, darling!!” You call and bust through the door, arms held up and ready for him to unlock the shackles. The sensation of fabric running over your nipples is already driving you mad! these things are amazing!

He pushes up his glasses, chuckling at your adorable behavior, “Alright precious butterfly,” his hands are soft and clammy as always. He’s so cute and always so nervous even still. No matter how good he is at hiding it.

Black hair falls into his face, and you reach up to push it behind his ear. His dark skin darkens another shade more crimson.

His hands come around yours and your body, his mouth comes dangerously close to yours, brushing past it he’s moves to your ear.

“What are you wearing there, Butterfly, hmm~?” He brushes a thumb over your hard and squeezed nipple.

In shock you let out an “Ah!” at the jolt of ecstasy that sent through you.

“My, my, so sensitive, what is this?” He pulls the fabric away for your chest enough to see the metal squeezing you, and the chains he thought were a long necklace at first. “Trying to be sneaky huh?”

He pulls his touch away from you and faces the door, leaving you with pangs of longing and and a frigid loneliness. You whine, and he turns back to you, “Butterfly, we’re going out, wasn’t that your original plan?” He smiles feigning innocence.

“You’re cruel!” You call after him and follow along.

He doesn’t help you into the van like usual, instead he sits at the wheel and hungrily watches your every uncomfortable movement. The pressure is already becoming too much for your poor nipples.

You want desperately to touch yourself, or better yet be touched.

Your hand flies down and your legs spread, when he grabs your wrist.

“Nope.”

You’re big puppy eyes widen and you pout at him, “wha?”

“You did this to yourself, Butterfly, now i get to watch you squirm,” he says coldly.

Shivers run down your spine, “What happened to that shy guy that couldn’t get out one word without stammering around me, huh?” You poke his cheek.

“You love this me more, admit it.” He says with a smile, but you frown.

“I like every you, so far” You cross your arms and immediately pull your arms away from your chest with a shudder of pleasurable pain.

the car ride is too long and uncomfortable you squirm and writhe begging to take them off for at least a little while, all while Enix just smiles wickedly next to you.

He helps you out of the van at least, his hand on the small of your back, his other holding yours to steady you.

He suddenly brings his head down to your chest, moving aside the cloth over you before lightly sucking on your pinched nipple.

You try weakly to push him off, “Ooh! Enix! S’too much!”

“And who’s idea was this now hmm?” He kisses your clavicle, pausing there, he says: “You should have gotten one with a collar…”

A chill runs down your spine.

He pulls you along next to him, and grabs your ass.

You walk to your favorite Italian tailor’s, you’re giddy as you step through the door and find it more filled with people than usual.

It’s a pretty exclusive place… But you’re excited that there’s more people around today.

You exhale loudly on accident. All the pressure on your buds is starting to hurt!

Soon you’re walking through the aisles, shaking and reaching up to your chest, hoping to get rid of the pressure.

Enix stops you, and you continue to shake in his grasp. “Enix please,” you whine.

His hand slowly climbs your arm, up your shoulder, his chest presses against your back and he leans down to whisper into your ear“You wanted this, Butterfly,”

His other hand brushes gently over your exposed flesh, up your arm, over your shoulder, down the edge of your plunging neckline until he gets to the first chain and lifts it, just readjusting where the pressure is angled.

You sigh, “Eniix”

“I love it when you say my name,” He gently takes the chain back down, grabbing the next chain along with the first and lifting it up next.

The pressure shifts slowly again, and the pleasure along with it, rolling over you slowly.

You feel him slip his other hand up your dress, slowly getting to that burning place inside you.

He doesn’t leave you empty for long, his slender fingers pierce you and his thumb and palm play with your clit.

“Enix! What if someone sees!?” out of breath, you manage a hiss.

“Nobody will, Butterfly, I’m watching” You remember he’s like six foot something, he slouches so badly, you always forget he’s so tall! Of course he can see over the racks.

He keeps dipping into you ferociously, while he holds the chains up and relieves some of the pressure. giving you even more pleasure where you need it. “Mmmmf!”

The heat builds in you, desperately climbing to its peak, he speeds up, he knows your close. Wet with your slick he rubs all the way out over your clit and then back inside of you and curling.

You cum on his long fingers, he brings them to his lips. He licks your essence off languidly, a moan rumbles in his throat.

He pulls you along to the fitting room, luckily nobody’s using it for adjustments.

“Butterfly, let me relieve you first,” her kisses you all along the jaw and neck and shoulder slowly takes your dress off. and then removes the clamps.

He takes each over sensitive bud into his mouth and gently rolls his tongue over them.

“Oh my gods!” You moan, as he keeps up his delightful assault.

The tenderness after the harsh prolonged torture feels like a dream.

He’s making your body burn up again!

“Butterfly,” He lifts your leg, and pushes you against a wall. “Fuck” he presses his length into you and your eyes cross. It feels like he’s pushing in forever and you get to be so fucking full even by the half of it! He stretches you to perfection.

His hand wraps around your throat, as he’s pelting your insides with rough thrusts from his massive member.

“Yes! Enix!!” You hold on to him for dear life as he fucks the shit out of you.

Your spongey walls flutter and contract around him, right before he shoots ropes of his hot load into you.

“I don’t want to pull out,” his voice is gruff and low. he keeps rocking his hips slower now, basking in your pussy and the afterglow of post orgasm bliss.

“We have to go back out,” You tell him.

He slips out of you, still rock hard. “You’re unfortunately right,” his cum seeps out after him.

He swipes your slit and collects some of himself, and then brings his fingers up to your lips.

You eagerly suck on them, he fixes your dress and hair for you, and you get back to the floor.

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fairykazu · 2 days

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is he a dog or a cat? with childe masterlist ++ cw: this is f!reader but can be read as gn, crushing && requited feelings.

the way he trailed behind you like a lost puppy during lunch; it almost made you feel pity for him. key word, almost. whatever he tried to pull during english today wasn't cool but you didn't mind it. but the way, he's acting behind you, he instantly regretted it.

but if you think about it, childe’s like a dog, fiercely loyal to the bone and willing to do anything to prove himself. he’s kind of stupid, not in a bad way of course. it’s just sometimes he acts without thinking, swinging his fists instead of using words as a weapon. other times he’s more akin to an orange cat with the way he acts, it’s like he turns off his brain whenever he hangs out with you.

you remember when you two were playing a game of hide and seek, in your defense, he started it! he bet he could’ve found you within a minute. could he? yes, but that’s beside the point, he attacked your honor! you juked him by running to a fork, throwing a rock at a dead end and running in the opposite direction. when he reached the forked alleyway, he heard the rock in the other side, running at the speed of light. then he knocked his head against the dead end. but did you win?

yes, that’s the most important part (an obvious lie).

…childe was fine after he hit his head of course, after you rushed towards him, helping him up. he sat on the cement floors as you circle around him with questions, checking if he was bleeding. “ajax, are you okay?”

he was smiling like a cheeky dog, basking in the attention you gave him. if food wasn't something he'd consume, affection would definitely be his go-to. “of course, i am when you’re with me.”

he chuckled as you rolled your eyes, punching him playfully in the arms, "okay, from that reaction, you seem to be in good shape to me."

he let out a gasp. he fixed up his attitude, immediately switching his personality from being cheeky to being solemn, tearful even. "oh, name! my forehead hurts so bad."

you tilted your head, well, it's better to play along with his antics than to ignore them. otherwise, he'd keep it up. "oh no." you dryly replied, "do you need a kiss for your boo-boo?"

childe looked up in your direction, breaking his character a bit. he was stuttering out, his freckled cheeks flustered, "really?" he cleared his throat. "i mean, ahem, i believe thats the best way for me to heal."

"really?"

it was clear that childe wouldn't believe that you would go with the kiss. but as always, he knew if he riled you up enough, bruise your ego to prove him wrong, it could happen.

maybe... well, he hopes. "...yepp!"

“if you say so, ajax.”

he was flustered to the point his neck reddened, he didnt think it would be this easy. you leaned in close and he squeezed his eyes. but it wasn’t even a kiss, just a brief press against his skin but still he stumbled around his words, “thank you… that would surely, i mean, i know that confidently that would certainly– i mean, i know that would make me heal.”

he’s trying to play it off as cool but internally, he knew he fumbled so bad. who says that?

“uh-huh, c’mere, let me take you to the nurse.”

“oh okay!”

huh… well, he’s kind of a mix of those animals. but how do you describe that? would he be that one show, dog-cat or cat-dog? youve seen him in a different light before but he rarely shows you what that side looks like. only once you’ve seen him as the fearful delinquent and never again.

“childe, why are you following me? don’t you have other friends?” you asked, turning your heel to stop abruptly, facing him. thankfully the road you took to go home doesn't have any crowds. otherwise, this situation could be taken in the worst way possible. childe rested his head on your shoulder, you could feel the ambience to dampen as you met his ocean eyes.

he looked back at you, “well, name, your bodyguard is here to protect you.”

dog.

you rolled your eyes, “really, thats your excuse.”

his gaze only stayed on you, “mhm, and as your bodyguard, you need to be safer around these parts.”

“so you’re a cowboy now.”

“no? well, i just want to say something.”

okay, maybe a cat?

“go on.”

“you know in english where i acted… weird..” oh yeah, you remember now. if you recall, he was acting off. more flirty than normal, did you hate it? not exactly… but does he really need to know that? not right now.

“there was this group of guys who were talking about you like you were an object as if you were just the girl of the week. so that’s why i was acting like we were dating. and don’t worry, i did use my words…”

“that’s cute of you but you also fought them didn’t you?”

“you called me cute?”

“that’s what you focused on???”

“that’s besides the point, you think im cuteeee.”

“sure whatever you want.”

he’s a dog that’s for sure.

#astronetwrk #childe x reader #childe fluff #gi childe #genshin #childe genshin impact #genshin impact childe #childe tartaglia ajax #ajax x y/n #ajax x reader

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shadowandlightt · 20 hours

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories | Twelve | Azriel x Rhys' Little Sister! Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven

You laughed as you walked through the forest with your mother and Michaa, your maid. Though, you almost could have believed she was your father’s bastard daughter. In another life, maybe she could have been your sister. You were on your way to meet Rhys, before continuing on to the War Camps to the north.

You hated The Illyrians and their prejudice, but you loved your brother, Cassian, and Azirel. Although you weren’t sure if you’d see Az or Cass on this trip. It’d been too long since you’d laid eyes on them though, and you were aching to feel their arms around you.

“How much further?” You groan, dropping your wings slightly, “Can’t we just fly?”

“You know the winds are too strong today, my love,” your mother informs you softly, “I think we’d all father fly anyway, you know how much Michaa loves it.”

The young woman only grinned and turned her eyes towards the sky. She was Illyrian too. Wings unclipped thanks to having been born in Valaris. Why she wasn’t in Illyria you weren’t sure, but you were glad to have her. Your life wouldn’t be nearly as fun without her by your side for all of the trouble you caused.

You close your eyes for a moment and reach your power out, focusing on the soft shadows that lurked by the trees. You weren’t as good at commanding them as Azriel, but you had a small kernel of that power dwelling inside you. Something your father knew nothing about.

I’m coming, you willed them to say. Before searching for their master. You felt his mental shields, just as strong and powerful as he. You stroked down those shields, gently, sensually. Begging for entrance to his mind.

I’m in a meeting, his voice fills your mind.

I plan on sneaking into your tent this weekend.

And you swear you can hear him groan. Not in frustration, but in wanting. You can feel it rippling through his mind. You smile down at your feet, heat rising in your cheeks. You knew the effect you had on him, just as he knew the effect he had on you. You were playing a dangerous game.

Your father would likely kill Az if he ever found out. Which is why you had to get good at sneaking in the shadows, using them to conceal you from prying eyes. You were a quick study though, and was beginning to master the skill. Az was always proud of you when you manages it.

Don’t get me in trouble today, he warns, although not sounding very convincing, I doubt the Lords would like it very much if I start smelling like I want you as badly as I do.

You pause, nearly tripping over a fallen log. Your mother gives you a knowing smile, seeming to understand who you’re talking to. She only knew because she once caught Az sneaking out of your rooms just before dawn. Her and Rhys had been out flying all night and were just returning. She only smiled and turned around, wishing you both a goodnight as she went.

I doubt my brother would like it very much.

Minx.

But you can hear the laugh in his voice. It fills your head and your chest, filling the void that always seems to be there when Azirel is not near. You rub your chest subconsciously, feeling that void a little more today knowing you’ll be seeing him in just a few short hours.

“Rhys will winnow us to the camps, won’t he?” You ask your mother.

“Yes dear, he’ll winnow you and Michaa first and then come back for me,” She tells you once more.

I want everything with you, Az.

I want it all too.

You smile to yourself, knowing he meant it. If only your father wasn’t the male that he was, maybe you’d be allowed to follow your heart. Free to love whoever you wished. Not be sold for breeding when the time came. But you were still young, only eighteen. Marriage was still a good while away, thanks to your mother convincing him you still had growing up to do. She was right in some ways.

“Pay attention to where you’re walking, Y/N,” your mother warned you, “Your Shadowsinger will still be there once we reach our meeting point.”

You blush ferociously, heat flooding your cheeks so much that it radiated from them. Michaa smiled and let out a little laugh. She knew too, of course. You two sat up late most nights, when you weren’t out flying together, and talked about the Shadowsinger and just how wonderful he truly is.

He’d seen such darkness already in his life, but yet his smile was still so beautiful it took your breath away. Sometimes that smile was reserved only for you. Sometimes you felt as if you were the only fae alive that got to see it, and you were okay with that. With the thought that he only smiled for you, and sometimes Cassian and Rhys. They were his bastard brothers after all. You were different though, you’d never seen him as a brother. From the moment you met him, as young as you were, you knew he was destined to be something else to you. You could already feel that strange tug in your chest, pulling you towards him.

I’ll see you soon, you promise him, sending images of the two of you curled up together into his mind.

You can practically feel him smiling against your skin, can practically feel him against you. You bite your lip, trying to regain control. But he seems to caress you in his mind, making you go weak in the knees.

You pull away from his mind, noting how he seems to leave a small spot open just for you to return whenever you feel like it. You smile to yourself as you continue to walk. You wished you were strong enough to winnow more than one person, so you could just winnow to the camps and be done with this walking.

But you weren’t far from the halfway point where you were supposed to meet Rhys. You would probably have to wait on him, seeing as he was apparently in the middle of training a new unit, but he would come for you one way or another. And he would take you to Azriel, whether he wanted to do so or not.

But the shadows swirled around you as you reached a clearing. Your mother and Michaa falling silent. The whole world fell silent it seemed like. The shadows swirled, reaching your ears as you sniffed the air around you.

Run, they said, run far and run fast.

“Mother?” You question, smelling several distinctly male scents lingering in the air.

She didn’t get the chance to reply before an arrow shot through her wings, causing her to scream out. You screamed too, seeing a flash of blonde hair in your vision, before arms came around you. Your wings vanished, too afraid of what might happen to them. But your mother, Cauldron, your mother’s wings.

They grabbed Michaa next, holding a blade to her throat. You felt the cold steel kiss your own neck as lips caressed your ear.

“Don’t scream,” He said into your ear, “Or I’ll slit your throat.”

You swallow thickly. Fear gripping every part of you. You forgot the training Cassian and Rhys and Azirel drilled into you. Forgot that you weren’t a helpless little girl, that you had powers too. But all you could think of was the fear that gripped you and the smell of blood, your mother’s blood. And the realization that you were going to die, one way or another.

You wake with a start, jolting up in your bed before hurtling yourself into the washroom nearby. You empty your stomach over and over again, before the sound of your bedroom door makes you stop. Cassian is by your side in an instant, rubbing your back.

“I have them too,” He confirms, “Every night.”

“I’m sorry I woke you,” You say softly, feeling the nausea fade.

“I was already awake,” He sighs, sitting down on the floor across from you, leaning against the bath, “I heard you scream.”

“It was that day,” You confide in him, “In the woods.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” He tells you slowly, “I don’t want you to have to relive it.”

“I relive it every day. Everytime I close my eyes, it’s there.”

His eyes soften at you. He reaches a hand out for you to take. He’d been too far away that day to get anywhere near you. He couldn’t have made it even if Rhys called for him. He didn’t know it happened until it was too late. He made it to the clearing not long after Azirel and Rhys, having flown as quickly as he possibly could.

“It was Lucien,” You spoke after a long while, “I slept with Lucien.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” He replies softly, “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I did it to survive,” You agree, in your own way trying to convince yourself, “It kept Tamlin from darkening my door.”

He sighs deeply, knowing you’d been through more than any of them. You watch as he gets to his feet, wings tucked in tight, and holds a hand out for you, “C’mon, let’s get you back in bed.”

You take his hand and allow him to pull you up before slowly walking you to your large bed. Big enough to accommodate wings, you realized. Big enough for more than one winged person. You had a lump in your throat, because once upon a time that was all you could’ve asked for.

You climbed into your bed, allowing Cassian to pull the covers up over you before he walked to the other side and crawled in.

“What are you doing?”

“Not leaving you alone,” He said gruffly, curling his arms around your stomach and pulling you to him, “We all know you slept better when Az was in your bed, but seeing as he’s at The House of Wind, being an ass, I’ll just have to do.”

You swallow and nod. Trying to fight the blush on your cheeks at his admission. You knew, of course, that he knew about you and Az. He hadn’t made his knowing very secret over the years. But was always smart enough to lose his tongue whenever your father was around.

Now he didn’t have to worry about that. Your father was dead. You didn’t mourn him the way you mourned your mother. You didn’t feel the need to mourn him in that way. He wasn’t a loving man. He was the opposite of your mother.

“Why won’t you fly?” Cass asked softly.

“It hurts too much to try and summon my wings now,” You tell him honestly. It seemed that tonight would be the night to let all of your secrets go.

“Hurts too-”

You cut him off by rolling over onto your front, your nightgown cut low enough in the back to reveal two long scars stretching down your back. You know the moment Cass saw them, because he went rigid and sucked in a deep breath. He reached out, fingers carefully brushing the top of the scars.

“Hurts in more than one way,” You confirm, “Emotionally, and physically. The scars are thick, right where the wings should be.”

“You didn’t heal?”

“Faebane.”

He rolls you back over so you’re on your back now. You refuse to look up at him, refuse to meet his eyes. You can feel him staring at you though, you can almost feel his emotions rolling off of him in waves.

You shake your head and roll back over on your side, “I’m tired.”

You feel him nod behind you before wrapping you back up in his arms. You melt into his arms, missing the feeling of being held by someone. Maybe that’s why you turned to Lucien all of those years ago. He was there and he was in pain too, and needed someone to help him move on. He was sweet and gentle and not at all like his ruthless brothers, or Tamlin.

It just seemed to work between the two of you. There was no love between you, no true feelings. It was physical, and that was it. He would occasionally try to go to bat for you against Tamlin, but much like how he was with Feyre, he would never really push his friend for fear of what would happen.

You fall asleep quickly, and do not dream again.

You wake in the morning to the sound of a door opening and a low growl. Fear rips through you and you refuse to move. Even as arms retract from around you, even as the male next to you sits up in the bed.

“You don’t get the option of being mad,” you almost let out a sigh of relief at Cassian’s voice.

You were in the Night Court, you were safe.

“You’re in her bed,” Azriel growls.

“All because you weren’t here,” Cassian shrugs, or you assume he does, “She needed you, and you were sulking because she did what she had to in order to survive.”

“You know nothing about what she did,” Az growls again.

“They carved her back,” You feel Cassian shudder in the bed, “Two long lines, right where her wings should be, like they carved her up trying to get to them.”

You wanted to tell them that he was right. That’s exactly what they did. They carved you up like a piece of meat trying to find your beloved wings. The thought made you want to vomit again. But you refused, you refused to let them see you like that again.

“Get out of her bed.”

“Brother, you know I’m only here to help her,” Cassian said softly, “She needed someone. Preferably you, but I made do.”

The bed dipped as Cassian got up, leaning over long enough to brush a kiss on your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, but he’d been doing it since you were a small child, maybe even before then.

“It was Lucien Vanserra,” Cassian said softly at the door, “Which I thank the Mother for. Because at least he still had a heart, before Amerantha came. For all he’s worth, he was a good male, once upon a time.”

Azirel growls again and shuts the door in Cassian’s face. Az’s shadows make their way towards you, curling around your body as Az slowly moves closer. You know they’ll tell him that you’re awake, but maybe he’ll ignore them and let you continue this farce.

“I’m sorry,” He said pulling a chair up to the edge of your bed, “I should have handled things better yesterday.”

You finally peel your eyes open to see him leaning over, hands folded on your bed. You want to reach for those hands, those beautifully scarred hands. You wanted to kiss them again, like you used to do all those years ago. But it didn’t feel right anymore.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” You admit, “It was wrong of me. I aimed to hurt you, and that’s something I promised I’d never do.”

His head shook slowly, “I hurt you too. I promised I wouldn’t let you go. And instead I turned my back on you the second you said something I didn’t like.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows and reach over to brush a few strands of hair out of his eyes. You missed his eyes, so telling to you and cold to everyone else. The Shadowsinger of the Night Court, violent, cold, and deadly, yet so soft and warm to you.

“I love you, Azriel,” You admit softly, feeling his shadows gather on your back.

You knew what they were doing, even if he didn’t, but you didn’t try to stop them. He would want to see them eventually. But not this morning. Not when you already felt so laid bare in front of him.

“I know you do,” He leans forward to kiss you, “I love you too. C’mon, Rhys said he should be back today. And Mor is waiting downstairs to eat breakfast with us.”

So you find yourself sipping on coffee and eating a rich pastry with Mor when Rhys, and a very soaking wet Feyre and Amren slam into the floor of the living room. You all shoot to your feet. Moving towards the three quickly.

“What the hell happened?” You questioned.

“I’d like to know the same thing,” Rhys stated.

“Did you get it?” Is all Mor can think to say.

“Get what?” Your head rips to her and then back to Rhys.

“Nothing.”

“No!” You yell, “Not nothing! Obviously not nothing. What happened in Summer?”

And then you hear it, you hear the book.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @queerqueenlynn @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @witchymomfrien

@one-big-fangirl @amara-moonlight @annamariereads16 @maddybraps @saltedcoffeescotch

@wallacewillow0773638 @minnieoo @st0rmyt @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf

@sh4n @emryb @mikatanazaki @nickishadow139 @ilovespideyyy

@mysticalfuncollectorus @judig92 @tele86 @oksloan3 @darling006

@dr4g0ngirl @weasleyreidstyles @ren-ni @fleurrreads @i-am-infinite

@thestartitaness @fxckmiup @inloveallthetime @isa1b2h3 @fightmedraco

@val-writesstuff @acourtofdreamsandshadows @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @mybestfriendmademe @azzydaddy

@lilah-asteria @quinzzelx @5onedirection5 @its-sam-good @mp-littlebit

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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thesassypadawan · 3 days

Text

Repair Kit (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. A verily simple, straight forward job…except when it comes to a pair of dumbasses. Who have no problem texting you in the middle of the night when they overdo it practicing…or when your new boyfriend accidentally gets out drunk. And tells you some things.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s a slight hint of smuttiness. Some drunk dumbasses and a booty grabbing Hayden.

Notes: Happy Hayden's (And Mine) Birthday Event! In honor of the man, the myth, the legend; I will be posting nothing but Anakin, Vader, and Hay stories all April long!

A little something for @ittybitty-rt ! It was truly a pleasure to write this! I had a lot of fun with it! Hope you like it! ❤️

- It was 2am when your phone goes off. You only know this because it was glaring at you from the lock screen. Along with an interesting message from a certain ‘hello there’ saying gentleman… ‘Vader Repair Kit’. Bring. Hayden’s trailer. Now.’

- “Oh, what the hell now,” you grumble. Begrudgingly rolling out of your nice, cozy bed; you hurriedly throw on the first thing you can find. Grabbing the requested ‘kit’ on your way out.

- This was your job; well, to a certain degree. You’re the on-set medic for the new Obi-Wan series. Normally, during the DAY, you can be found fixing up beaten knuckles…soothing minor burns…maybe even stitching up a wound or two. Pretty much you just keep everyone happy and healthy.

- Simple enough. Except when it comes to a particular pair of grown ass men who act like stupid teens the moment they’re together. Who see absolutely no problem with texting you in the middle of the night. About the most moronic things…aka usually practicing after hours and completely overdoing it.

- However though, that wasn’t the case tonight…

- Before you can even knock, the door flies open. Revealing ‘Dumbass #1’ in all his grinning glory. “D-Darling, you look stunning.”

- Stunning…they must have fucked up good. “Shove the sweet talk, Ewan. Who did what this time?”

- Rubbing the back of his neck, the ‘jedi master’ laughs nervously. The smell of alcohol VERY noticeable on his breath. “Well, y-you see-”

- “Meee, I did!” A familiar voice calls out drunkenly.

- Shooting Ewan a look, you push your way inside. To find…

- ‘Dumbass #2’ sitting on the bed; big, goofy smile on his face. Arms flung wide open. “There’s my angel!”

- Staring blankly, you let out a heavy sigh. “Seriously? Don’t make me regret agreeing to date you.”

- Not paying any mind to the whines of ‘how mean’…or the ungodly adorable pout…you immediately get to work. Pulling out various rehydration items and whatever can possibly lessen the inevitable hangover from your ‘kit’. “All right, dark lord, you know the drill. Just like when you overheat in the Vader suit. Drink and take what I give you. And you’ll be sort of good as new.”

- Right as you’re about to hand him a bottle of what you both so affectionately call ‘blue milk’ and some aspirin. Those arms you’ve been avoiding wind around your hips and… “Heh-heh, booty.” …unceremoniously pull you down onto their owner’s lap.

- “Hay, what the…stop!” You squeak, face all flushed while trying to wiggle out of his hold.

- “No!” He giggles excitedly, squeezing your plush posterior like crazy. “Booty!”

- You hear the sound of Ewan clearing his throat behind you, a slight smirk in his voice. “You h-have this under control. I’ll l-leave you two love birds b-be.” Followed by the trailer door closing. Bastard…so much for being your only hope.

- Barely a second afterwards, Hayden has his face buried in the side of your neck. Nipping and sucking your sensitive skin. Hands still kneading greedily. “He right, ya know. We that…because I loves you.”

- Did he really just say that? You haven’t…he hasn’t… “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter. Scratching the back of his head, doing your best to ignore the awakening beast pressing into your stomach.

- Pulling away, not before giving your collarbone a gentle bite, Hay looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. Whining a bit while not so subtly grinding. “Maaaybe, but don’t mean it not true. I loves my angel. Wanna shows her.”

- Forcing back a soft moan, it takes everything you have to not cave. Sure, you’d love nothing more than to do so; to just tear it up like nobody’s business. But right now…right now he needed you in a whole different way.

- Despite his protests, you untangle yourself and slide out of his lap. “How about this?” You coo, sitting besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You drink your ‘blue milk’ and get some rest. And…you can show me as much as you want in the morning. Okay?”

- “Fine,” he huffs, resting his head on your shoulder. “You numb me?”

- Although this isn’t exactly how you pictured the two of you saying it, you can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too.”

- “Good, because I no give up booty,” Hayden mumbles. Giving aforementioned booty one last good pinch before dozing off.

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

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hbyrde36 · 22 hours

Text

for @penny00dreadful

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 <-

Chapter 4: No Place Like Home

WC: 5496 | Ch 4/4 | AO3 <-

It was a surprisingly smooth landing as Steve was brought into the highest tower of the Witch’s castle through a large open window, caught in the exceptionally strong grip of the two flying monkeys who carried him there.

Eddie had arrived the same way only a moment or two ahead of him, and was now struggling against his own guard monkey's hold, trying to get to Steve while being dragged out of one of the room’s two doors.

“It’s so kind of you both to visit me in my loneliness.” The Wicked Witch cackled, standing in the middle of the chamber next to a huge crystal ball, the image displayed within it fading before Steve could suss it out.

“What are you gonna do with Eddie? Where are they taking him?!” Now that his feet were on solid ground, Steve tried to fight back, but couldn’t seem to shake his captors.

The Witch waved a dismissive hand. “Never you mind about that.”

“Give him back to me!” Steve raged.

“Certainly, certainly, as soon as you give me those slippers.”

Steve swallowed hard, hesitating. He knew what Eddie would probably say, that it was a terrible idea to give her even more power—to give her what she wanted.

At his silence, she turned, addressing a few more of her little monsters that were waiting on standby around the room. “Very well. Boys?”

The flying monkey’s ears perked up.

“Hurt him.”

Steve braced himself as The Witch’s henchman quickly moved to follow her command, but it wasn’t him they were coming for, instead they raced out the same door Eddie had just been forced through.

“No!” Steve shouted, willing to risk anything if it kept Eddie safe. “Take the damn shoes, I don't care! Just don’t… don’t hurt him, please.”

She shot him a cruel grin, and the monkeys holding him finally let go, backing away as she stalked closer. “That’s a good boy.”

Steve snarled, briefly considering kicking her right in her smug face as she bent down, but thought she might be less likely to let Eddie go if he did.

Begrudgingly, he held himself still as she reached out her hands, but before she could even lay a finger on the shoes, there was a flash of light, a spark like electricity crackling, and a force lashed out to zap her.

The Witch jumped back, hissing. “Curse you!”

“That wasn’t me! I swear!”

“No, but I should have known. My sister must have put a spell on them. They’ll never come off… as long as you’re alive.” She circled him slowly, tapping the end of her pointed chin. “Now the only question is how to do it.”

“Oh for the love of—” Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just kill me if you’re going to kill me, alright? Why do you people always have to drag shit out?

“What people?”

“Bad guys!”

She huffed, straightening her cloak. “These things must be done delicately, or you hurt the spell.”

“They're always monologuing about their evil plans too. I mean, what’s up with that?” Eddie’s voice rang out from where he had suddenly appeared in the doorway behind The Witch, somehow having given his guards the slip.

She stomped her feet. “I don’t mono—” She began, then gasped, spinning around. “How did you get free?!”

Steve wracked his brain to come up with some kind of distraction, anything to keep her busy long enough for them to get away.

“Hey, Witch!” He called out as he squatted to pick up the massive crystal ball he’d noticed on arrival, even heavier than it looked, and began to carry it towards one of the windows. “You don’t need this for anything important, right?”

“Put that back! It’s priceless!” she shrieked.

“It’s pretty heavy, I don’t know if i can–” Steve cut himself off, pretending to stumble, and tossed the ball as hard as he could, hoping she’d try to catch it.

She dove, and in an impressive show of strength and dexterity managed to get under the ball before it hit the ground, preventing it from breaking. She looked stunned from the fall, the weight of the crystal pinning her to the ground for the time being.

Steve made to run to Eddie’s side, but just then, the other set of doors burst open and half a dozen very tall foot soldiers in ornate uniforms, furry helmets, and with the same bright green skin as their ruler, spilled into the room, rounding on Steve and cutting them off from each other.

“Just go!” Steve shouted.

Eddie shook his head, eyes darting from the door behind him to what he could see of Steve between the soldiers. “I’m not running away and leaving you here!”

“Get out and find help! It's not running away if you’re coming back, right? Now— go!”

“Damnit, Harrington.” Eddie cursed, taking a few stumbling steps towards the way out. “I am coming back.”

“I know.”

With one last tortured look Eddie took off, his pounding footsteps echoing as he ran through the hall and down what sounded like a set of stairs. Half the guards took off after him while the others remained with Steve, backing him into the wall.

Steve craned his neck, near enough to a window to peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Eddie’s escape and know first hand that he’d gotten away.

“Come on, come on,” he chanted quietly to himself, even as the soldiers started trying to pull him back over to The Witch, who was unfortunately back on her feet again. The castle doors began to close as he watched, and for a second Steve thought all hope was lost, but then he spotted it—moonlight shining on dark curly hair, slipping through the opening just before the door slammed.

Steve’s heart leapt, and he finally let himself be led back over to The Witch. No matter what else happened here, at least Eddie had made it.

“You’ve been more trouble to me than you’re worth, brat!”

“Heard that before.” Steve mumbled to himself. He didn’t fight as the hands on him shoved him down into a chair, figuring it was smarter to save his strength for now.

“But, it'll all be over soon,” The Witch added as she snatched a giant hourglass off a nearby shelf, flipping it over onto the table in front of him. “That’s how much longer you've got to be alive. When the sand runs out, I'll have made my preparations.”

With that, she and her soldiers left, locking both doors up tight, leaving him alone in the tower.

Steve didn’t waste time wondering why he wasn’t tied down or handcuffed, and was out of his seat in a flash. First he checked the doors because, duh, but they were, indeed, locked. He then ran back over to the window, wondering if he’d survive the drop. It didn’t seem likely—even if he did, there was no way he’d walk away from that kind of fall without needing serious medical attention, and he had yet to see a single hospital in Oz.

His next move was to search the room for weapons, something to break the doors in, or anything he might be able to use to climb down. The curtains proved to be useless, moth bitten and too slippery to really tie together, and apart from a chair leg he managed to break off that doubled as a wooden stake, he found nothing else useful to defend himself with.

Time passed slowly.

And yeah, Steve had been through a lot in his life, but he’d never been kidnapped before. He never would have imagined it could be this… boring?

There was only so long you could stand at attention, waiting for your captor to come back before your eyelids started to droop. He wound up sitting at the windowsill, head resting on his arm as he gazed out at the night sky, letting his mind wander. He didn’t really believe this was the last night of his life, he’d survived too much to be taken down by some psychotic pea-soup looking bitch, but any hope he had of seeing home again was gone.

He thought back on all the time he’d wasted—squandered opportunities to tell the people he loved just how much he loved them, the number of times he blew Dustin off to go on a date with some girl he couldn’t give two shits about, all these months since Vecna with Eddie, unable to accept his own feelings, and too afraid to admit them aloud.

He was so lost in it all that he almost didn’t hear the sound of someone pounding on one of the doors. Reasonably sure The Witch wouldn’t be knocking in her own castle, he ran to it, pressing his ear to the wood.

“Steve?!” A muffled voice shouted from the other side.

Eddie!

“It’s me, yes! In here!”

“Stand back, I’m going to chop through the door!”

Steve stepped back, watching in awe as the wood slowly splintered away with each blow, until finally he could see Eddie’s face through it, distantly thinking it looked like he had some sort of animal resting on his head.

A few more chops and there was a hole big enough for Steve to squeeze through.

Once on the other side, he saw that Eddie wasn’t alone. The Tin Woman, The Scarecrow, and The Lion were all with him—all dressed like The Witch’s soldiers.

“Costume change?” Steve asked.

“Long story.” Eddie let out a shaking breath as he tore the fuzzy hat from his head and flung it aside, managing to shrug out of his big coat just in time to catch Steve as he threw himself into the other boy’s arms.

“I wasn’t sure I'd ever see you again.” Steve whispered with his face pressed into Eddie’s hair.

“You didn’t think I was really coming back?”

“I knew you’d try, even if I hoped you wouldn’t.”

Eddie squeezed him tighter. “You’re such a self sacrificial ass.”

“Takes one to know one.” Steve pulled back, punching him lightly in the shoulder before turning to The Scarecrow, drawing her into a quick hug too. “I can’t believe it, you’re really okay?”

“Might be missing a little stuffing here and there but, these two did a great job getting me back in one piece.”

Their reunion was abruptly cut short by shouts in the distance.

“We gotta get out of here!” The Lion roared.

“What about the broom?” Steve said.

Eddie grabbed his hand. “She wants to kill you, Steve, fuck the broom! We’ll find some other way home.”

The group of them flew down the stairs back towards the way they’d come in. By some miracle they didn’t see a soul along the way, but as they raced across the foyer, just before they reached the exit, the doors swung closed, right in their faces.

“Going so soon?”

Steve turned at The Witch’s voice, spotting her standing on a balcony above looking down at them, laughing, as soldiers began spilling into the space from every direction. They were surrounded, though oddly none of the green men actually attacked, only approached slowly and menacingly.

“That’s right,” The Witch praised her guards. “Don’t hurt them right away, we’ll let them think about it a little first.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

Eddie raised the ax he still held, as though he would take on the entire brigade himself, but The Scarecrow snatched it out of his hand.

“What the–”

She swung it around, chopping and cutting a rope tied to the wall that Steve hadn’t even noticed, and sent a giant chandelier falling from the ceiling to land on a large group of the soldiers.

“Good thinking!” Steve said, and they used the momentary distraction to flee, running up a different set of steps to get away since it was the only path that was clear. They had no idea where they were going, and up didn’t seem likely to lead out, but they had little choice now.

The soldiers unaffected by the chandelier attack gave chase, and the five of them ran down corridor after corridor before finally spilling out onto the battlement, a part of the wall where soldiers patrol. It was a dead end and quickly they found themselves backed into a corner, soldiers on both sides, The Wicked Witch among them.

“Well,” she sing-songed as she zeroed in on Steve, “ring around the rosie, a pocket full of spears. Thought you’d be pretty foxy didn’t you? Well the last to go will see the first four go before him.”

Eddie leaned into Steve’s side, whispering, “What the hell did she just say?”

“I have no idea.” Steve said.

“I think she’s going to kill the rest of us first and make you watch.” The Scarecrow guessed.

“Right you are, Scarecrow. So how about a little fire?” The Wicked Witch raised the head of her broom up to one of the many torches that ran along the length of the wall, lighting it.

There was no way Steve was letting her anywhere near The Scarecrow with that thing, she’d go up in seconds and unlike being disassembled he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to come back from that. He lunged for the broomstick before she could lower it, grabbing it in the middle and fighting for control.

The next thing Steve knew he was being soaked in water like he was a contestant in a wet t-shirt contest.

The fire was put out instantly, the broomstick clattering to the ground as The Witch started screaming bloody murder.

“Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Who would've thought two pretty-boy-brats like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.”

It was only water—from the now empty bucket Eddie was holding that he’d found god knows where—but as though she’d been dipped in the most corrosive acid known to man, The Witch began to sizzle and smoke, and truly did melt away into a puddle on the stone floor, leaving nothing solid but her clothes behind.

“She’s dead, you killed her.” One of the soldiers blurted out.

Steve hovered, trying to shield Eddie, unsure of how this was going to play out. The witch might have been gone, but they were still sorely outnumbered if her henchman’s loyalty extended past the grave.

But Eddie wasn’t having it. He remained in front, tilting his chin up. “Honestly, it was an accident, but she did try to kill us first, so—fair is fair.”

There was a moment of absolute silence before the entire army, monkeys included, let out a deafening cheer. “Hail to Steve and Eddie! The Wicked Witch is dead!”

Eddie looked back at him, jaw dropped, and Steve could only smile.

When the cacophony died down, Steve approached the first soldier who spoke, supposing he might be the leader or general or something. “The broomstick, can we have it?”

“Yes, of course! Please, take it with you.”

After a short reunion with a certain stunned-to-see-them-still-alive guard, fresh off what must have been an epic frolic through the poppy field and subsequent mystical slumber—if the state of his very red and heavy lidded eyes was any indication—Steve, Eddie, and their companions once again entered The Wizard’s throne room.

“Why have you come back?!” The deep voice of the Wizard rumbled through the air.

“We did what you asked.” Steve said simply, holding the Witch’s charred broom above his head.

They all waited with bated breath for some kind of response, but were met with nothing. After a few long moments Eddie took the broomstick from Steve and stepped forward.

“The Wicked Witch is dead, and uh, we brought you the broomstick.” He cleared his throat loudly, unceremoniously tossing the burnt bit of wood in the direction of the dais. “So, make with the wish granting, yeah?”

“I’ll have to give the matter a little thought. Go away and come back tomorrow.” The voice eventually responded.

“Tomorrow?!” Eddie snapped.

Steve shook his head, hands balled into fists at his sides. “But we wanna go home now!”

“We did everything you asked!.” The Tin Woman argued.

“Yes! At least send them home! They deserve it after performing such a great public service!” The scarecrow added, staring defiantly up at the floating head.

As the others jumped in to help argue their point, Eddie began to look around the room, searching, and beckoned Steve to follow him. They quickly found something odd tucked in a dark corner that seemed not only out of place, but frankly looked like an obvious control center of some sort hidden behind a green curtain. How hadn’t they noticed it before?

Together they crept closer, each grabbing one side of the cloth, and on a silent count of three…

“Do you dare to criticize the Great Oz? Think yourselves lucky that I'm giving you an audience tomorrow instead of twenty—”

…Flung the curtain back to reveal a young girl, about their age, with red hair, a bowler hat, and an all around Molly Ringwald vibe.

“...years from now.”

She swiveled in her chair as she finished her sentence, the words a strange mix of the booming voice they’d been hearing, and her actual voice coming through as her mouth got further from the contraption she was using to alter it.

“Ah, shit.” The girl, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Robin’s almost-girlfriend Vickie, sighed as she spotted the two of them, realizing she’d been caught in the act.

The others came over to join the party just as Eddie got up in her face. “Who the hell are you?”

She looked down, fingers playing with the hem of her top. “Would you believe… The Great and Powerful Oz?”

“What a scam! You’re a phony!” Steve shouted.

“I am, yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “These are all tricks I learned working with a magician at the State Fair.”

Eddie fumed. “You sent us on a suicide mission!”

“And I'm very sorry about that!” She said quickly, holding her hands up. ”In my defense, I didn't actually expect you to go after The Witch, I thought if I gave you an impossible task you would just give up and not come back. Then my reputation could stay intact.”

“I suppose this means no brain for The Scarecrow, or heart for me, or courage for The Lion?” The Tin Woman said.

“You don’t need me for that, you already have all those things. Think about it, Tin Woman. Was it not for the love of your friends that you helped them to get here, and to defeat the Wicked Witch? Someone with no heart wouldn’t do that.”

The Wizard smiled, rising from her chair, facing The Lion next.

“And you, Lion. What, you think just because you’re afraid that makes you a coward? You still did it, you still stood by your friends. See, the trick isn’t to not be scared, it’s to be scared and do it anyway. That’s courage.”

The Wizard turned lastly to face The Scarecrow and audibly gasped, her face turning an incredibly bright shade of red. “You, um, you helped to argue your friend's cases well, and I-I think it’s quite clear that you have a-a brain.” She paused, swallowing hard. “A b-big gorgeous brain, with, just—so many thoughts. I… sorry I don't usually—”

She trailed off, completely flustered and unable to look away from The Scarecrow’s face.

For a moment The Scarecrow looked equally entranced by the Wizard, but then she frowned, looking back at Steve and Eddie. “But, what about the boys? They want to go home.”

The Wizard bit her lip. “Well, I might have a way to get them there, but it would mean taking them myself, never to return.”

“Will you?” Eddie asked.

“Of course,” She said hesitantly, looking from him and Steve to The Scarecrow and shook her head. “I—of course. I used to live in Indiana too, y’know. I was working at the fair, like I said, and one morning the boss asked me to test the propane tanks in the hot air balloon. I didn’t know what I was doing but it seemed easy enough. Damn thing took off on me, and just never came down. I got caught in a wind storm and landed here in Oz, came up with this ruse about being a Wizard and, well, you get the idea.”

“Do you still have the balloon?” Steve asked.

She grinned. “How do you think we’re getting you home?”

Steve and Eddie finally leaving Oz turned out to be a grand spectacle, with every citizen wanting to thank them for ridding their lands of not one, but two Wicked Witches, in such a short span of time. Even Glinda had made the journey to see them off.

The balloon was set up in the middle of the square, and as The Wizard checked and re-checked her equipment, Steve and Eddie set about saying their farewells.

They hugged The Tin Woman and The Lion, and while It was difficult to say goodbye to them, it was nothing to the way Steve felt about leaving The Scarecrow. He had his own Robin, his best friend, waiting for him back home, but he felt connected to this version of her almost as strongly.

It didn’t help that he’d seen the way she and The Wizard had been looking at each other since the moment they’d met.

“Alright boys, ready to go?” The Wizard asked, looking sad.

“No,” Steve answered, turning an apologetic look on Eddie. “I can’t. I can’t ask her to leave forever, not if…”

“It’s okay, Steve. I saw it too. I want to go home, but I feel terrible.”

“Maybe Glinda can help?” Steve said.

One mention of her name and suddenly The Good Witch was right beside them, as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “You don't need to be helped any longer. You've always had the power to go back to Hawkins.”

Steve blinked at her. “I have?”

“Then why didn't you tell him that before?!” The Scarecrow asked.

“Because, Steve had a few things he needed to figure out first. Isn’t that right?”

Steve gulped, giving her wide eyes.

“I don’t get it.” The Lion said.

The Tin Woman shushed him, patting his hand. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

Eddie tilted his head. “What does she mean, Steve?”

“Well, I-I.” Steve stammered, eyes darting between Glinda and Eddie.

The Good Witch smiled, nodding encouragingly. “If you are ready to accept the truth, those magic slippers will take you home in two seconds.”

Steve but his lip. “Eddie too?”

Glinda laughed, high and bright. “Of course, Eddie too. Now stand together, and facing each other.”

They did what she asked, and while he remained quiet, Eddie was giving him that curious look again.

“What do I have to do, are there, like, magic words?” Steve asked.

“There are lots of magic words, Steve, but to get home you need only close your eyes, tap your heels together three times, and show the truth that is in your heart.

There was only one way Steve could think of to show the truth, so…

He took a deep breath, closed the space between him and Eddie, and crashed their lips together. His eyes fell shut as Eddie kissed back, melting into it—and as Eddie threaded gentle fingers through his hair, Steve clicked his heels together, three times.

“Steve?”

Eddie’s voice rolled over him out of the dark, tinged with concern.

Steve groaned, disoriented, his neck aching from the angle it was at, and he could feel a bit of drool drying on his chin.

“Stevie, wake up.” This time Eddie gently shook his shoulder, and Steve’s head snapped up, eyes popping open wide. He looked around wildly, confused to find that he was slumped in a chair behind the desk at Family Video—but it didn’t matter where they’d landed, he supposed, the shoes had worked, they were back!

“Did he fall asleep again?” Robin’s voice called out from directly behind, and Steve spun around so fast he knocked his chair over, which in turn knocked over a small stack of tapes.

He ignored the mess, pulling her into a tight hug. It was really her! No straw, no burlap, just a sweatshirt she’d stolen from his closet two nights ago, with her work vest over the top.

She shook her head like he was an idiot, but hugged him back anyway before letting go to set the chair back on its legs. “I was only in the back rewinding returns for half an hour!”

“Oh,” Steve breathed, finally registering what she’d first said, and felt suddenly lost. He could have sworn it was real, but Robin wasn’t freaking out the way he knew she would have if he’d disappeared for an entire night and day…

Or was it two?

The more he thought about it the less sure he was of how long he and Eddie had been stuck in that colorful other dimension.

If—if he had been stuck in another dimension.

Robin said he’d been asleep, and he was just slumped in his chair at the desk at the end of his shift, and there Eddie was, right in front of him looking amused, if a little worried, and… and wearing a completely different shirt than he’d had on as they trekked through—

Oh.

Eddie, who was here to pick him up for their hang out because Robin was borrowing his car.

Steve groaned again, rubbed his temples. “I had such a weird dream.”

“Was it a nightmare?” Robin asked.

It was a fair question, and something they all experienced from time to time even this many months out from their final dealings with the Upside Down. But this…this had been something wholly different.

“I’m not sure.” He settled on, yawning as he fought to think through the fog that was slowly lifting from his brain. Had it really all been in his head? A dream, a fantasy?

“Some of it wasn't very nice, but—” He glanced at Eddie again and felt a blush spread over his face. “Most of it was beautiful.”

“You were there.” Steve continued, giving the other boy a little nod. Eddie’s lips twitched into a crooked smile.

Steve turned to Robin next. “You were too—and Nancy, and Jonathan, and Argyle, and—” he trailed off, trying to remember everyone else he’d encountered along the way.

Eddie chuckled. “Did Robin make you watch The Wizard of Oz on repeat again?”

Steve froze.

Oz, yellow brick road, Munchkins…

He was such an idiot.

“It was slow this morning!” Robin lashed out, defensively. And you know I’m seeing Vickie tonight, I needed my comfort movie to settle my nerves!”

“Yes, I am well aware of your impending date, Buckley, hence me and my van being here to play chauffeur.”

Steve checked the time, he still had about fifteen minutes until he could officially lock up and clock out. “You’re early.”

Eddie shrugged. “I still have to pick us a movie for tonight. You go do your closing duties, or whatever, I'll be perusing the stacks.”

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away as Eddie walked off. He could still remember the other boy’s fingers pushing into his hair, gently cradling his head as they’d kissed—how his lips had felt so incredibly soft.

He wondered if it would be the same in real life.

“Steve… did you OD over there?”

Steve startled as, once again, Robin's voice came from directly behind him, though much softer this time. He took her hand, pulling her to the other side of the room.

“Do you remember that thing we talked about?”

She scrunched her nose. “Which thing?”

Steve sighed, speaking low. “You know, the… how some people go both ways, thing?”

She gasped, grabbing his arm, and looked back over her shoulder to where Eddie was still browsing, before whispering, “Do you mean…?”

Steve nodded, unable to stop his mouth from spreading into a wide grin.

“Are you gonna tell him tonight?!”

“Yeah, I think so.” Steve bit his lip. “Well, that, or maybe just stick my tongue down his throat the second we’re alone.”

Robin snorted. “And they say romance is dead.”

“Okay smart-ass, how do you think I should go about it?”

“I think—it doesn’t matter what you say or do, because that boy is just as crazy about you as you are about him.”

“I hope so.” Steve looked down, wringing his hands. “I really like him. I-I might even–” He trailed off, too afraid to finish the thought even though he knew it was the truth.

“I know, dingus.”

At the other end of the store, tape in hand, Eddie began to make his way to the counter.

Robin gave Steve a little push towards the break room door. “You go splash some water on your face and change. I'll get your man checked out.”

“Not mine yet.”

“He will be. I’m proud of you, Steve.”

“Thanks, Robbie.”

As much as he’d joked to Robin about just going for it, Steve spent the whole drive to the new Munson trailer trying to compose the perfect speech to tell Eddie how he felt, but by the time they arrived he had nothing to show for his efforts but sweaty palms and anxiety.

Should he have just reached over the center console, taken Eddie’s hand, and hoped he got the hint? Maybe he shouldn’t make such a big deal out of it. No, no. Steve was supposed to be good at this! Eddie deserved more, he deserved the perfect moment.

“You, uh, planning on coming inside?”

Steve sucked in a breath, snapping to attention, and realized Eddie had already gotten out of the van and come around to open the passenger door.

“Sorry.” Steve’s face grew hot as he climbed out of the van. “Guess I'm still feeling a little out of it from falling asleep earlier.”

Eddie frowned, reaching up to feel Steve’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“Are you sure that’s all? You do feel a little warm.”

“I’m fine.” Steve ducked his head, throwing off the touch, though what he really wanted was to lean into it, and followed Eddie inside.

Eddie went right for the kitchen, throwing the bag from Family Video bag on the counter before diving into the fridge, digging out two beers.

Steve tried hard not to stare as Eddie bent over, reaching for the bag for something to do instead, and pulled the single tape out, flipping it over to the cover.

“Seriously? Return to Oz?”

Eddie turned, grinning as he took a sip from his own bottle, sliding the other one towards him. “Come on, that's funny!”

Steve huffed a laugh and tossed the tape back onto the counter.

“And, y’know… it’s a good movie.” Eddie went on, grin slipping a little as he set his beer down and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away—looking nervous, Steve realized. He realized something else too—there was never going to be a perfect time, or a perfect way to say what was in his heart. He knew how he felt, and he was pretty sure he knew how Eddie felt now too, or at least his subconscious did. Now he just needed to take that leap of faith.

“I know you don’t really like all the horror stuff me and the kids usually make you watch, and since it’s just the two of us I figured—”

In the middle of Eddie’s adorably flustered ramble Steve stepped around the kitchen counter, took the other boy’s face gently between his hands, and crushed their mouths together.

Eddie went very still under his touch and Steve quickly pulled back, panicked for a moment that he had it all wrong, until Eddie wound his arms around him, gripping the back of his shirt as he pressed him into the counter, and suddenly Steve was the one being kissed.

And what a kiss it was.

At the first brush of tongue Steve smiled into it, unable to contain his joy because Eddie had kissed him back!

When they finally pulled apart again, Eddie blinked hard, looking dazed. “Shit, Steve, am I–am I dreaming right now?”

“God I hope not.” Steve went right back in, winding his hands into Eddie’s hair as their lips met again and again, their bottles of beer forgotten, left to grow warm on the counter.

Later that night, when the movie was over—not that they’d seen much of it—after they’d actually talked and made their relationship official, and made out so much that Steve’s lips were sore, they curled up in Eddie’s bed together.

As he burrowed deeper into Eddie’s side, and Eddie wrapped his arms around him even tighter, Steve let out a contented sigh.

Dorothy had it right—there really is no place like home.

Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie wizard of oz #adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie #gift fic

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fluffydice · 7 months

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Being 100% honest I thought Saiki was always telling the truth when he would tell them to go away and stuff. I primarily rely on tone/faces/context to understand when people are being sarcastic or lying lmfaooo. But even with all this in mind, I never thought that Saiki didn’t like his friends like some people say.

Him being annoyed with them, telling them to leave him alone, I understood all of that because I get it. Being overloaded makes me like that too, and that’s what this guy is constantly experiencing. He definitely is a tsundere (saying he straight up doesn’t like his friends) but I think it’s also important to realize that Saiki just has firmer boundaries and a significantly shorter social battery than his very rambunctious friends do. I think people can accept that he is a tsundere, especially because he outright admits it, but they can’t accept the idea of a friend not playing nice when telling them to give him space. And that’s always confused me a lot because do people just?? Brush off their friends when they’re not up to socializing?? Do they just assume they’re not friends anymore?

So it drives me insane when people say he doesn’t like his friends. He does, he fucking adores them. He’s just both very traumatized, very inexperienced when it comes to socializing, and used to his boundaries being ignored. So the way he goes about trying to get space seems like a dick move (because it kind of is), but this doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his friends. He needs them. He looks after all of them. But he also needs his own space, and just doesn’t know how to go about that.

His friends are overly pushy too. I think an important aspect of Saiki’s friendships is that they slowly stop projecting onto him over time, and that he slowly starts to include himself more without having to be chased down. We don’t see the full scope of this transformation, but the seeds are definitely there. Their friendships growing and developing means that they start to understand the Saiki has needs that need to be accommodated for, like needing time to himself. They just have to trust that Saiki genuinely likes them and will seek them out when he’s ready.

And he very much does. Because, again, he adores his friends. He’s definitely a tsundere, definitely an asshole, but this doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his friends.

#autism moment I kinda just took Saiki at his word and didn’t realize he was a tsundere until he mentioned it #but like in my mind him saying ‘they just follow me around’ wasn’t him not liking them #he was just annoyed #didn’t mean he wouldn’t care about them #Saiki k #idk really #fluffy writes an essay

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risuola · 5 months

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I — NOT YET — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who is a mob boss

When a guy in the club tries to assault you, you ask a random stranger to pretend to be your boyfriend. Little that you know that out of all people, you chose a mob boss.

cw: smut, mafia mob!au, briefly mentioned assault and tiny bit of violence, Sukuna (yeah, I consider him a warning), reader discretion is advised — 2,7k words

a/n: mada... mada mada~ the very second I heard this menace toying with Panda, Kusakabe and the rest in Shibuya, not allowing them to move unless he say so - my head went straight to the idea of him playing the same game in bed.

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Sukuna never had to get used to being interrupted. Never. Anytime it happened in the past, all he had to do was to glance at the person and it usually got the message across. His gaze has enough power in it to quickly inform the intruder why invading his personal space or cutting him half-sentence is a damn bad idea. One look from him usually was enough to make anyone reconsider if they really want some problems. Sukuna had his eyes trained to be sharp and cold, his body strong and intimidating and his aura dangerous. He spent years building his reputation, earning a position in his world that now guaranteed him calm. Now everyone and their mothers know that he’s not the one to cross paths with. He’s a VIP, he’s allowed everywhere and he has no qualms about killing someone. Ryomen Sukuna is a brand, he’s a threat, he’s untouchable, invincible. No one in the right mind would ever try to start anything with him at this point. That’s why, when he tried to relax in one of many clubs that he owns in Tokyo, he couldn’t believe someone had the guts to push onto him at the bar.

“Hey, sorry, can you please pretend to be my boyfriend for a second?”, he heard near his ear and following the sound and the soft tug on his elbow, he turned his head towards you. Lucky girl, he thought while quickly assessing the view. You were too god damn pretty to be killed, looking at him with those pleading eyes that glistened in the harsh artificial lights. You were visibly scared of something, or someone, and oddly enough it wasn’t him who brought you to the verge of tears.

“Your boyfriend, huh?”, he mused, allowing his eyes to trail down your figure. The dress you had on left little to imagination and yet he wished to tear it off to see more of you. It hugged the shapes of your body perfectly and the silky fabric betrayed the lack of bra underneath. You were attractive, but clearly not smart enough to think twice before approaching a stranger.

“Please, I beg you, this guy—“, you tried to explain, squeezing your perfectly manicured fingers around his veiny forearm, but your sentence was cut in half when a man grabbed you by the waist, pulling you away just a little and harshly pressing your back against the bar. Sukuna watched as you winced when your spine hit the edge of the wooden countertop, he watched for a moment how you tried to push the guy away. With no effect, you weren’t strong enough to stand against him, you were trapped between the unwanted body and the furniture behind you, fighting the hungry hands that were groping your figure.

“Naoya, get off of me—” you tried, pushing his face away from where he was trying to suck a spot onto your neck.

“Oh, shut up woman, I know you want it,” the blonde-ish idiot grinned, twisting your arm enough to make a space for himself. He wasn’t bothered in the least with the fact he was trying to get between your legs in the very center of a club. Sukuna’s club.

Ryomen zeroed the whisky in his glass and got up from the chair. Usually, he would ignore situations like this. Other people’s problems were none of his business and he had enough his own things to take care of, to bother himself with anything else, but you. You were a problem he was willing to explore.

“Zenin, huh?”, he asked, connecting the name he heard falling from your lips with the wannabe gangster he heard about many times before. There was a certain reputation tied to Naoya’s name, mostly regarding his treatment of women but as long as he wasn’t touching his women, Sukuna couldn’t care less about this trash of a man. You definitely were not his woman. Yet.

“The fuck you want, I’m busy,” Zenin groaned, pulling his nasty mouth away from your shoulder for just a moment, only to shot a glare to the club owner.

“I can tell that you’re busy,” Ryomen grabbed one of Naoya’s wrists. It wasn’t looking like a hard grip, but the face of the blonde betrayed the sharp, bone-breaking pain he felt.

You felt some kind of relief when the stranger you just met stepped between you and your unwanted date. The large body of him towered above you completely, he was bigger than you thought when you approached his sitting form, but you couldn’t think about it for too long when he dealt with Naoya so easily. Once the blonde was gone, he turned to you.

Your heart skipped few beats once you took the image in. The man was huge, way taller than you and built like a greek god. The sharp outlines of his muscled torso beautifully showed through the dark graphite dress shirt. Looking up, you could finally see his face clearly. His features were attractive, dangerous with the black tattooed lines around them. He could easily be a gangster or something.

“T-thank you,” you spoke finally, snapping out from the initial impression of him. He was a red flag, you knew that. If not for the circumstance, you’d probably be the first to run away from him. He was hot. An absolute smokeshow, but he was certainly bad news.

“Was he your date?”, he asked, pulling a chair that he was sitting on previously and twisting it to position, before his large hands landed on your hips. There was no effort whatsoever when he lifted you and sat you down on the seat. He opted to stand next to you.

“No… I came here with a friend, but she left earlier. I was just about to leave as well, but this guy stopped me,” you sighed. “He wouldn’t let me go, I was afraid that he’ll just walk after me to my home. I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. The gesture in itself was soft, but you shivered underneath his touch nonetheless. You couldn’t quite tell what made him so… scary. Was it his overwhelming frame? Or maybe the calm, distant demeanor? He had authority, he was expecting submission and when he was looking at you, you felt like a prey of him. Strangely, you were quite fine with that. You had no wish of doing anything with Naoya, but this man… he was different, he was interesting, he made you cross your legs just to feel any kind of pressure between your thighs. “Your name?”

“Y/n,” you replied.

“Y/n. Nice,” he gave it a soft nod and ordered two drinks. “Ryomen is my name. Sukuna Ryomen. Memorize it.”

“Sure…”

At this moment, you had no guts to ask why was it important to imprint the name he told you into your brain, but it all became clear just barely two hours later. You couldn’t exactly recall the moment Sukuna led you out of the club and into his car. There was something so enticing about his entire aura that made you lose your ability to think. He made you break every rule you ever had for yourself – to not talk with strangers, not go with them anywhere. Before that night you were doing exceptionally good in avoiding danger, you somehow slipped through your life up until that point without any major problems, but once you faced the problem, it was a big one.

The talk was good, it flowed easily and the menacing aura that Ryomen had all around him kept you interested. You had no idea that you’re attracted to bad boys, and maybe you were not exactly into school hooligans. Turned out, you’re aroused by the much worse kind – the kind that keeps a gun behind his belt, drinks pure whisky and makes people run away just by shooting them a glance. Yeah, that seems to be the kind of men you are into, because if there was any common sense left in you, you’d be out the door and running towards the safety of your dormitory. If there was any self-preservation instinct in you, you’d be probably anywhere else, rather than in here.

In the most luxurious house you’ve ever seen, not to mention been inside of; somewhere in the outskirts of Tokyo where you were not even sure how you can get back to your home from there. If you were just a little smarter, you’d for sure be in your own bed right now and not on the dark leather couch, with your silky dress scrunched up around your waist and your underwear torn to pieces and laying on the floor. If you had more braincells, maybe you wouldn’t be bouncing on that stranger’s dick right now, gripping onto his muscular shoulders as one of his large hands kept your hip in a dead grip, leading your moves up and down his girthy length and the other one tightly squeezed around the back of your neck, from where he was keeping his head close so he could kiss you so hungrily it took your breath away. But that’s just where you were. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

He felt so goddamn good, filling your tight hole to the very brim, stretching you to the point of delirium and he wasn’t even fully in yet. His moves were aggressive and yet sensual; he made you feel small even if it was you who was on top of him. You had no control, he made it clear with the way he was holding you and every time you tried to dominate him in any way, he quickly showed you your place back. Maybe later, he’ll let you have your way with him, but now, he was in charge.

“Think you can take all of me?” He asked against the delicate skin of your neck, now painted in red and purple marks he nibbed onto it. You could feel him grinning at the way you squeezed your little hands on his clothed biceps. He got you all exposed and yet he only allowed you to free his dick; his shirt was still buttoned up, his pants were still on his legs. There was a certain dominance shown in the way he got you all naked on top of his suit.

“N-no,” you breathed out, “too big.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” Sukuna doesn’t exactly accept no as an answer and he for sure gave you enough time to accommodate to his size. “You’ll take it and thank me for it, yeah?”

“Yes,” was all you could mumble, before both of his large hands landed on your hips. The iron grip, you were sure, was going to bruise you but now, it felt grounding in a way.

“Good girl,” he praised, his purr vibrated against your skin as he sucked yet another mark along your collarbone. It distracted you for a moment before he pushed your pelvis even lower, fully bottoming into you. Your clit made a contact with his lower belly, the harsh brush of his skin against the swollen bud making you moan louder than you were meaning to. You felt like all of your organs were moved out of the way just to make more space for his dick and Sukuna couldn’t be more satisfied by the way you took him in. “See? As if you were made to take this cock.”

Something incoherent left your mouth, a tear stained your cheek and the man was happy to lick it away, tasting the saltiness before he bucked his hips up, keeping yours in place. He took full control, thrusting into you with all the power he had in his muscular body and you held onto his shoulders with your little hands. The filthy, wet sounds were filling the interiors, bouncing off the walls and mixing with all of the whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips. Some grunts added to the melody, but you barely heard any of it, too consumed by the exploding pleasure between your legs.

Sukuna’s name was leaving your mouth like a prayer, you felt so close, you felt like falling and you had no intention to stop. The man grinned, licking a long stroke along your throat, his tongue curling upwards as it reached the tip of your chin. The taste of your skin felt intoxicating to him, he wanted to devour you whole, to keep all for himself.

“You wanna cum, huh?” His voice was taunting. “You’re clenching around me so fucking hard, you’re gonna milk me as well.”

“Yes, yes, please,” you near damn begged, chasing the bliss that you could almost taste on your tongue right now. It filled all of your body cells, rushed through your veins in ecstatic waves of lust.

“Not yet,” he ordered and it felt almost painful to force yourself back from the state of climax. You could tell he was playing with you, toying with his dominance, reminding you that it’s him who pulls the strings in here. And yet, he was still rutting into you, his movements completely different to what he was saying, he was fucking you like he wanted you to cum in that very moment. “Still not yet,” he teased, feeling your little fingers digging onto his shoulders, your manicured nails nearly making holes in his shirt as your eyes fell shut.

“Oh god, Ryomen, please,” you whined. Your thighs were shaking, your spine arching and the incredible tension below your stomach threatened to burst any second now.

“Now,” he ordered and just like that, all inside of you snapped. You came all over his dick, and you came hard. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experienced, like you were suddenly shot into another dimension and if not for the way he sped up his movements, you’d probably just get lost in the lustful feeling. Ryomen came just few moments after you, wrapping his arms around your waist and painting your walls white. You felt him throbbing, spasming inside of you, the hot seed gushed out of you as he was pumping it in, staining your thighs and the bottom of his black shirt. Then he pushed you down, fully onto his cock, plugging the way out for his cum.

You found his lips, swallowing his quickened breath as you kissed him with desire and he gave in, quickly dominating the kiss. You were tired, the muscles in your legs were burning from the intense exercise, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of still wanting more. He made you hungry, he made you unsatiated and you were sure, you won’t be able to recognize yourself after you’re done with him. You were never such a greedy lover but frankly, you never had a chance to feel that good with anyone. The boys you’ve been with had no skills and if not for the orgasms you gave yourself with your fingers, no one else ever brought you over the edge like Sukuna.

“Can you undress?” You asked him, your lips brushing against his as you mouthed the question and he chased your kiss with his head, grabbing your lower lip between his teeth. There was a certain expression painted all over his dangerously handsome features, the menacing aura amplified as he took his sweet time before replying.

“I can undress,” he began, yet there was a but hanging in the air. He had conditions and you were open to hear them. “I’ll give you two options, little kitten. Wanna hear ‘em?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t undress. You can pull yourself together and I can drive you back to your home now. But I can also take the suit off, carry you to my bed. Then you’ll stay with me till morning, but don’t have any hopes for a calm sleep, no. The night will be as filthy as it can get. You’ll be sore tomorrow, most likely exhausted.”

You blinked hearing the options. It was clear as day, stop there or continue? You knew the answer already, your body decided for you even before he came up with an offer.

“Will you drive me home as well if I pick the second option?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get you naked.”

» PART TWO

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augustinewrites · 6 months

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“hotter than jennifer lawrence, you say?”

nanami can tell that gojo’s having a hard time holding back his laughter as his student nods enthusiastically. this is the last time he’ll ever let them drag him out for a meal again.

“yeah! and oh man…”

the blond chokes when yuuji gestures vaguely at his chest. this is why he never stays at the school over his lunch hour.

gojo, wisely, pats the boy on the shoulder as nanami coughs. “alright, that’s enough out of you. even though i agree, you better stop before the vein in nanamin’s forehead bursts.”

the conversation grinds to a halt, gojo visibly stiffening as nanami's gaze narrows dangerously. “did you just say…that you agree?”

before gojo can open his mouth to defend himself, yuuji pipes up once more to add fuel to the fire.

“but it’s true!” the boy insists through a mouthful of food. “i’ve never had a teacher as hot as—”

“as hot as who?” you ask, suddenly standing at the end of their little table.

yuuji shuts up immediately, face turning as pink as his hair and he averts his gaze to the table and mumbles no one under his breath.

nanami watches gojo beam up at you, then very bravely lets his eyes drift down to your chest for a split second.

but it’s a split second too long, and nanami is about to reach across the table and knock teacher and student’s idiot heads together when you lean down to press a kiss to his cheek.

“come on, love,” you say, smiling sweetly. “you promised you’d take me to that new dessert shop in the city.”

he’d made no such promise, but he gets up to follow you anyway, stripping his thick, autumn coat off and draping it over your shoulders.

with that, he wraps a possessive arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“yuuji,” he begins. “this is my fiancée. she teaches at the school.”

you glance up at him, confused. “yes, we know each other, i’ve taught—”

“we’ll be off,” he cuts in, sending gojo a sharp look before guiding you out of the restaurant.

he doesn’t let go of your waist until you’ve walked at least a block. it’s only then that he exchanged your waist for your hand.

he’s suddenly very wary of any other pedestrians looking at you, wondering if they’re thinking about what’s meant to be for his eyes and mind only.

“at first you looked like you needed saving in there,” you hum, using your free hand to hold onto his arm. “but…it seemed like they did, with the way you were glaring at them.”

“i wasn’t glaring,” he lies.

“you glare, darling. you may not notice it, but others certainly do. shoko calls it resting bitch face—”

“i do not have a resting bitch face. this is my…thinking face.”

“oh? then what were you thinking about?” you inquire.

“you,” he tells you truthfully. “and how lucky i am to have somebody so beautiful to come home to. someone hotter than jennifer lawrence, even.”

you smile into the kiss he leans down to press to your lips, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and murmur…

“you’re going to get very lucky tonight.”

#nanami x reader #he sends a video to gojo that night...#nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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lokischocolatefountain · 2 months

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Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew.

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to.

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate.

That was where his troubles began.

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours.

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?”

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade.

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair.

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.”

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either.

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole.

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked, groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip.

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal.

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth.

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?”

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.”

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.”

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?”

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.”

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.”

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.”

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance.

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type.

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive.

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up.

Fucking disgusting.

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world?

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man.

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes.

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing.

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements.

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers.

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety.

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time.

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did.

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked.

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.”

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave.

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You��re out with your nephew.

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.”

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.”

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.”

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor yet.”

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.”

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.”

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.”

“Like me.”

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.”

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.”

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.”

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.”

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.”

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen.

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?”

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived.

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside.

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts.

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines.

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this?

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass.

He should leave.

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home.

He should leave.

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day.

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one.

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open.

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about.

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.”

No, it couldn’t be anyone else.

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was.

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch.

“J-Joel?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks.

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you.

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one.

“Touch me!”

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you.

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?”

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.”

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to.

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time.

“Any man?”

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure.

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage.

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest.

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire.

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way.

“Please… I don’t– what was that?”

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore.

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.”

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!”

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you.

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree.

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward.

“Joel…”

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed.

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties.

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you.

“Be a good girl from now.”

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2

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