#but literally all i needed to do was change my tone
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Part Five
Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)
You call Meredith when you get home.
You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.
How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.
"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."
"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"
"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."
"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.
"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."
"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."
"That works."
"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."
It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.
"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.
"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."
The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.
Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.
But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.
You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.
You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.
Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.
“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...
“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”
"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"
"You won't return any of our messages."
"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."
"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.
"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.
Dammit.
"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."
"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.
"Why not?" He countered.
“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”
He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.
You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.
God...
That felt good.
You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...
You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst with a happy ending#angst#grovel#jealousy
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hii!! ur writing has a choke hold on me!!🤯anyways, im so deprived of some comfort rn- could you maybe do something related to aftercare? For ex: Alastor comfort after a bit of degradation was taken too personally from reader :> (maybe some comfort while bandaging them up too idk)
Literally obsessed w ur shit ur like my fav hh writer, and ty for reading :3
Of course!<3 and TYSM!! That’s so sweet<3 warnings for sexual content, fluff? (Idk what fluff is apparently from my death one shot)
Your Alastor had always liked indulging in a bit of rough and degrading play; but this time he had went to far.
He had crossed one of your boundaries he hadn’t been aware of, calling you a degrading name you weren’t okay with; and as soon as that word left his mouth, you had become stiff.
Alastor had noticed immediately.
Stilling inside you, halting all movements, Alastor could only look in your eyes as he searched for consent within, searched for anything in your expression that still said you wanted him to continue; but he could not find it.
“Is everything quite alright, darling?” His tone harshly contrasted the nasty and rough demeanour he had with you only moments ago; now giving you a loving and soft voice as he checked in on you.
Looking to the side, you avoided his gaze as the word he used on you still pang through your chest. “Don’t call me that ever again.” You had spoken more harshly than intended, with a sharp snap in your tone, verbally indicating your distressed mood.
Immediately, Alastor had pulled himself out of you, only to wrap his arms around your torso, pressing his face in the snuff of your neck as he registered you were referring the to not so pleasant name he had called you as he fucked himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, darling.” He had meant it; truly. The dousing of guilt that consumed him as you emotionally pulled away from him had him panicking ever so slightly. “It won’t happen again.”
Sighing, you knew he had meant his apology, and despite how much the word he used had hurt you, you knew he had no ill intentions when using it; he merely indulged in a bit of degradation that you also found sexually arousing.
Placing a hand against the back of his hair, you tilted your face back to his. “It’s okay love; just please don’t say that again.” You had whispered ever so softly in his hair, only to feel him shiver from your breath cascading down his neck.
“Would you like to stop?” He had mumbled against your skin, asking for your consent to continue the sexual encounter.
“Yes…”
You weren’t in the mood anymore; and as soon as your deny for consent left your lips, Alastor clicked his fingers against one another. On command, the room you both inhabited slowly changed, warping from the confines of your shared room to a familiar one filled with items of pampering; a room Alastor only brought you to after he had made love to you or fucked you.
He had always been a gentleman to you, despite his preference to be less than gentleman-like whenever he pummelled himself into your walls, he always put your pleasure and your needs before his own.
It was something you were grateful for; and one of the many reasons you loved him.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, Alastor began hoisting you up, guiding your legs to link around his naked waist as he carried you to the large, hot bath imbedded in the floor; a bath which mimicked one of a hot tub in size.
Stepping inside, his hooves clicked against the metal alloyed bathing area as the two of you began to submerge within the hot water; it’s temperature relaxing all of your muscles as it began to douse your body.
Alastor had slowly settled you down in the bath, only to take a seat beside you as he held you close, his hands stroking parts of your body as he continued to comfort you.
You believed you would fall asleep if this were to proceed.
“I am truly sorry, my love.” He had spoken with such honesty and vulnerability as he held you, apologising to you yet again, despite doing so earlier.
“It’s okay, Al.” You only responded with a soft sigh as you leaned yourself against him.
“You know I don’t mean those things during our rougher sessions, don’t you, my darling?” He had asked ever so softly and gently, attempting to approach the subject in a calm manner, one that would be proefficient in cheering you up; his beloved.
You had only mumbled a yes, nodding your head as Alastors lips began pressing themselves against your neck. “I know, love. It’s just- that word.”
“It won’t be used again,” He quickly interrupted you. “My perfect little darling, I swear it.” He said between the pecks of romantic kisses he placed against your neck.
The smile that enriched your face wasn’t missed by your lover as you allowed him to pamper you, to echo sweet words of love and loyalties into you skin, to kiss sweet gestures of love along your body.
You were blessed to have such an evil man be your darling sweetheart.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#reader insert#x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader smut#alastor smut
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Bridgerton shade of blue
Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Warnings: Sexual themes at the Granville studio. Nothing explicit.
Season one
Chapter Eleven - Ruse to ruse
♡♡♡
Colin had brought you here, so he saw to it that he saw you home, though Benedict was a little reluctant. He kind of wanted to do it himself, but there wasn't time to argue and dawdle.
Anthony and Benedict would see Daphne home, Colin would take you, and Simon would need to go home and prepare himself for his future with Daphne.
Colin was good at riding. He handled the horse with perfection. You were home before your mother was even properly awake. He helped you off the horse, and you thanked him quickly, going around the back of the house knowing the servants would be up already.
Colin rode away before he was seen.
You dodged some maids as you returned to your room and quickly dressed down to make it look like you had been in bed the entire time.
You were lucky to get back when you did. A mere ten or fifteen minutes passed before your maid came into the room to wake you. You stretched and rose from the bed, relying on your acting to fool the poor girl into believing you hadn't been awake since before dawn.
She seems none the wiser as she tells you breakfast will be ready shortly and that your mother was awake.
Once you're up and dressed, you can act naturally. Everything that happens now is just the course of things. Daphne and Simon shall marry, she'll become a duchess, and Violet can set her sights on her next daughter, Eloise.
You enter the dining hall and see your mother already there, starting her breakfast. You join her with a smile.
"Good morning, dear."
"Good morning."
She seems none the wiser as to what you had been doing earlier that morning. For that, you are thankful. You tuck into your breakfast and pretend nothing had happened.
You've barely eaten when the butler comes in and announces you have a guest. You glance up at your mother with confusion. However, she looks thrilled.
"A caller?"
You don't even get to answer before she's up and heading toward the door to see who it was. You stand, too. Your mother returns moments later being followed by Benedict.
You look at him in confusion this time.
"Mr. Bridgerton, how delighted we are for your visit," your mother coos.
"An innocent visit, I assure you," he replies.
Your mother looks at you and tilts her head in his direction.
"What brings you to our door?" You ask, looking at Benedict.
"I thought I'd share the news. Daphne is engaged to the duke. She told mother this morning." He speaks slightly strained. Of course you already knew this information.
"How wonderful!" Your mother cheers.
"Yes. Very. Is she happy?" You ask, playing along.
"I'm sure they both will be." You catch the change of tone in his voice.
Silence settles between you both.
"Don't mind me," your mother says, returning to her seat at the table.
You sigh softly and turn to Benedict. "I'll show you out."
Your mother calls your name and then says, "so soon?"
"I'm sure Mr. Bridgerton was just delivering the good news in person. After all, they are my friends, mother."
You didn't give her time to answer before leading him out of the dining room. Benedict followed you to the door.
"What are you doing here?" You ask.
"I had to make sure you got home alright," he says softly.
"Colin brought me home."
"I know..."
You sigh softly and look up at him. "How is your mother coping?"
"She is pleased Daphne is marrying the duke. However, it would seem that Cressida Cowper may have seen them in the garden that night." He explains.
"Oh dear..."
"I'm sure all will be well, but we must keep our wits about us for now."
"Then why did you come here?"
"I told you. To make sure you got home."
"Do you not trust your brother?" You ask.
"Of course I do," he replies quickly. "I just wanted to see you."
You smile and then chuckle. "You worry too much. You should go home and be there for Daphne. She will need all the support she can get right now."
He sighs softly and nods. Benedict does leave immediately. He just looks at you. You're unable to read the expression on his face as you stare back at him in confusion.
He soon snaps out of his daze and takes his leave. You watch him go.
When you return to the dining room, your mother looks at you. "Why did you show him out so soon?"
"Mother..."
"He could have come with good intentions."
"He just came to tell me of Daphne's news," you say, sitting down once again.
"He may want to court you."
"Mother, I can assure you that my future husband will not be a Bridgerton. That will never happen."
Your mother grumbles. "You never know."
You look down into your tea cup and see your reflection in the hot liquid. "No, mother. I do know."
♡♡♡
Daphne was to be married within the week, so you hear from her when you visit her family the day after the duel.
Violet was all a buzz with the news, truly believing her daughter was marrying for love, but everything you looked to the eldest Bridgerton daughter, you could only see the anxiety on her face.
Poor Violet would never know what really happened.
Eloise excused herself from all things wedding related, so you accompanied where you could. Daphne was grateful to have a hand to hold when her emotions became too much sometimes.
When she was fitted for her wedding dress, you held her hand. When her mother went through gloves and veils, you were stood there beside her, your arm hooked with hers. When they discussed nightdresses, you stood beside her and kept her company.
Daphne was glad you were there. She surely would have lost her patience had you not been.
When you returned to their home later that day only to find out from Anthony, the special license had been denied, Daphne reached for your hand again.
The conversation was cut short when Violet entered the room to greet Lady Danbury.
"Now, this is far too grim a mood for the celebration I was counting on," Lady Danbury said, looking at everyone. "What on earth is the matter?"
"Anthony?" Violet looks at her son.
"We have been denied our request for a special license," he tells them.
"What?"
"The archbishop did not see a need." The duke added.
"It is not the archbishop," Lady Danbury says. "It is the queen. Perhaps she has taken your rejection of her nephew to heart, or perhaps she is simply bored. Either way, it does not bode well for your daughter's social future, nor any of the Bridgertons for that matter."
You feel Daphne squeeze your hand.
"Surely we must be able to do something?" Violet asks.
"Give her what she wants. Attention. Appear before her yourselves and make a personal appeal. But she will not respond to begging, and she can sniff out even the faintest whiff of insincerity, so do not lay it on thick. Tell her you are in love, plain and simple and true."
Daphne and Simon look at each other. Daphne looks like she could cry.
"You can do that, can you not?" Lady Danbury asks them.
Daphne nods her head. Then Simon gives one firm nod also.
"Good. Now, where is the dinner I was promised?"
Violet chuckles and leads the way.
You let go of Daphne's hand and follow her mother. Anthony accompanies you, and the happy couple follow.
♡♡♡
Benedict returns to the studio of Mr. Granville. He has chosen to sit out dinner with his family, not knowing you were there.
Henry answers the door.
"Bridgerton! I am so glad you came."
"I dare not miss it," Benedict answered.
"Please, come in."
The two of them head inside.
"Make yourself at home. I would show you around, but host duty calls." Henry smiles and walks on ahead.
The studio is much more lively tonight. There are people everywhere. Benedict walks down the hall a little bit and peers into one of the open doorways. The room is full of pretty women dressed in as little possible dancing around. He keeps on walking and peers into another room. There are people sketching in this one.
"What are you doing here?"
Benedict turns around to find a woman looking at him.
"Apologies. Have we met?" He asks.
"We need not to have met," she says. "You are a Bridgerton, yes?"
Benedict, of course, would not recognise the seamstress.
"I see my reputation precedes me."
"Not exactly a virtue."
"Anything that gets me your attention is a good thing, I rather think."
"You should go, home to your brother, perhaps."
Benedict scoffs. "But I'm receiving far too warm a welcome here."
They later find themselves on the stairs enjoying each other. His lips on her neck and collarbone as his large, warm hands explore every curve of her body.
She takes his hand and leads him down the stairs and through the crowds. He hurries forward to find them a room, opening a door only to find Henry Granville and another gentleman enjoying each other up against the wall.
Henry's eyes land on Benedict as he stands there, watching them. Slowly, Benedict steps out of the room, closing the door behind him.
"Bridgerton," Genevieve whispers.
She's sat with a young woman nearby. She uses her finger to gesture him over. He walks over immediately, sitting between them and kissing the young lady. He then turns and kisses Genevieve, too.
He enjoys his evening with the pair of them.
It was safe to say, this man had no intention of settling down any time soon.
♡♡♡
The dinner passes by rather quietly. There is a slight tension between Simon and Daphne. Violet and Lady Danbury carry most of the conversation, and you join in when possible.
The only other Bridgerton's at the table were Anthony and Eloise, though the latter made it clear she would rather be anywhere else.
You find yourself a little disappointed at the lack of Benedict. Anthony just told you his brother had gone out. He knew not where. You didn't bother digging if he didn't know.
"What about you? Are there any prospects this season for you?" Lady Danbury asks, gesturing to you with her wine glass.
You look uo and find yourself a little stunned at the question. "Oh, um. I had some callers. Though not many. Very few came back a second time." You look down at your dinner.
"Worry not. You're still young. Your time to shine will come," she winks at you.
Violet looks at Anthony, who furrows his brow at her. When she nods her head at you, he shakes his head with wide eyes. Violet gives him a firmer look.
You look up, and she quickly smiles at you.
Anthony sighs and turns his head toward you. He keeps his voice low. "Whatever my mother says, do not buy into it."
"Hm?" You look at him with confusion.
"Anthony," Violet calls. Both of you look up at her. "Why not keep her company tomorrow?"
"Mother..."
"It would surely make her happy." Violet smiles brightly.
"Lady Bridgerton, there is no need," you try and steer her away from setting her up with one of her sons.
"I'm sure he won't mind."
"You're busy, no?" You ask quickly, turning to the young Viscount. "You mentioned some ledgers or something."
Anthony nods quickly. "Yes. Exactly. Those ledgers."
Violet sinks in her seat a little. Disappointed in her son. She can't help thinking you'd make a wonderful daughter-in-law. You would suit the Bridgerton name quite well, she is certain.
When dinner is over, Simon is very quick to leave. He speaks very little to Daphne as he exits the house.
Anthony sees you out.
"Shame Benedict wasn't present," you say absentmindedly.
"You seem rather close to my brother."
"We are friends. Fret not." You smile at him.
"I have no idea where he wanders off to so late at night. Nor do I care to ask."
"What you men do in your free time is your own business," you say.
"What could you possibly know what men get up to?" He asks, looking at you.
You just give him a sly smile, one Anthony simultaneously hates and loves. You're a cheeky one.
"Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton."
"Goodnight."
He waits until you're in the carriage and then heads back inside his house. He walks starlight past his mother, who is gearing up to talk him into courting you, he is sure.
Violet watches him disappear upstairs.
♡♡♡
The next day, Daphne and Simon appear before the queen. You know not what is said in that room, but you are to gather later that Simon Basset made the most romantic speech known to man.
He declared his love Daphne in front of everyone in that room.
The queen gave them her blessing.
It worked.
♡♡♡
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The nights of the last gasp of study season seem as though they go on forever, and as I watch the clock on the wall of Michelle's cluttered dining room, I could swear on my life that time is slowing down. It takes an hour for five minutes to pass, while the numbers on the maths book in my hands seem to merge together into some sort of mathematical soup right in front of my eyes.
For some reason, with Michelle and Jen nattering history facts to one another on the other side of the table, I think about Alison and what she might be doing right now on the eve of the summer exams. Is she pulling an all-nighter too? Maybe, but not for studying. Alison hardly needed to study at all, that’s how clever she was. Even in those party frenzied days of early winter when she and I would pop a molly and stay up until dawn gurning she would still appear in class the next day and answer the teachers questions perfectly with a bored nonchalance about her while I sweated in the seat behind her, fighting a battle that I would inevitably lose to the boys toilets by the eleven o’clock break.
Alison won’t be studying, but maybe she’s popped a molly without me and is dancing somewhere, singing along to whatever pop song is charting right now and whipping her fiery hair about while I sit here for the eighth night in a row, making my way steadily through a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits that I foraged from the Tengu’s pantry.
Maybe she’s even getting laid. I peer across the table at Jen and Michelle, pulling faces at one another and arguing over their bullet points for the battle of Stalingrad, and am struck with a reminder of the barren wasteland my sex life has become. It’s been months since I’ve been touched by someone who wasn’t myself and the outlook looks bleak. It’s doubtful that will change any time soon, so while there is every chance Alison is having sex literally right now, the chances for me are worse than being stuck down by a thunderbolt.
Debra, pokes her head through the door, “I’m off to bed now, loves, is there anything you need before I go?”
Michelle rifles through a handful of flashcards, “No, mam, we’re fine.”
“Right well, don’t stay up too late.”
“Uh, it’s an all-nighter. That means we’re staying up all night.”
“Well alright, Michelle, there’s no need to take that tone with me.”
“I’m not taking a tone, I'm just explaining something to you.”
“Well I feel like you’re taking a tone, Michelle, and I don’t appreciate it, especially in front of your friend.”
“Him? He’s Jen’s friend, and by the way-”
“Alright!” Jen interrupts, “Goodnight, Debra, we’ll see you in the morning.”
Debra steps back into the living room with a hassled, “Goodnight.”
I glance at Michelle, who stares back at me with the same naked fury simmering in her eyes that has been there since the library, daring me to speak to her, but I couldn't be bothered to traverse that landscape. Not a hope. These days I only speak to her when strictly necessary. I turn back to my books and start pencilling out another equation.
As the night drags on, my eyelids become weighty as my focus slowly wavers, and Jen, in tandem, becomes lethargic in her seat, head lolling over the back of it, bleary eyes on the cornicing on the ceiling as though they hold the answers to the questions that Michelle is grilling her with. She will resign soon. I flip a page of my maths book and reach for another chocolate biscuit, only for my hand to connect with empty packaging. Did I really eat all that? Oh well, I’m still growing.
My voice is croaky from disuse when I speak, “You have other snacks?”
Michelle acknowledges me reluctantly, “Cupboard above the microwave.”
I raid her kitchen for half a packet of cheese tortillas, some penguin bars and some salted peanuts. At the back of the cupboard I spy Michelle’s precious Nutella, of which she started a war against her parents over during those fraught early days of her break up, and for some strange, vengeful moment I feel compelled to unscrew the lid and dunk my whole finger in it, lick it clean and then toss it back, hoping that by the time she notices what I have done I’ll be long gone.
I return and throw a penguin bar across the spread of papers to Jen, who misses and it thwacks against the wall behind her. She groans at the prospect of picking it up, shifting her body like it is composed of lead and slumping to half heartedly scoop it from the floorboards with limp fingers. “I’m sleepy,” she groans, “I can’t do this anymore.”
Michelle is stern, “You’re not sleepy, you’re fine, just have more sugar.”
“No, I am. I can’t think anymore. I feel drunk.”
“Come on, Jenny,” I say with gentle encouragement as she hoists herself like a sack of potatoes back into the chair, “You can manage, just another hour, huh?”
“An hour? It’s already three in the morning. I can’t.”
Michelle places a hand on Jen’s, still clutching the chocolate, “We just have a few more things to get through, just to make sure we really have the best chance of good marks tomorrow, yeah?”
“And I’m, like, eighty percent through this maths stuff,” I chime in, “I want to have a look over quadratic equations and then just do a quick refresh on trig…”
Jen looks at us as though we’ve gone insane, “Then study that stuff,” she says incredulously, “I’m not stopping you.”
Michelle and I exchange guilty looks.
“Why do you need me here to study? Are you afraid to be alone in the same room or something? God.”
Jen’s eyes are sunken and heavy, her makeup smudged from where she has been rubbing them, the same way she did as a child when everything got too much for her. “If you don’t let me sleep I am going to break down crying, so either study on your own or stop studying, I don’t care.” She heaves herself from the table and staggers towards the door, “Goodnight, losers. Talk or don’t talk, I couldn’t give less of a shit,” and with a yank on the french doors she is gone.
And the clock ticks.
And a page flips.
And we don’t say a word.
Beginning // Prev // Next
#lucky boy 2009#eeep!#i haven't done an exam in like?? 12 years??#do not miss this at all#tw: drug mention#tw: sex mention
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told a customer some information today in a slightly confused tone because i wasn't sure i understood what they were after
and they were like well i'm not very confident in your answer! i don't feel as though you've answered my question at ALL.
so i repeated the exact same thing in a confident tone and they were like alright thank you, now I know what to do
you're welcome i just changed my tone of voice and took out all the 'uhh' sounds
#they were genuine#i was fully willing to expand if they still weren't happy#but literally all i needed to do was change my tone#lmaooo
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Istg every time POC try to bring up a concern on racism. People will call US racist for connecting the dots. Like. Im sorry youre oblivious?
“youre racist for thinking this is racist / for connecting this to racism” hello??
#‘people headcanon frisk as black too. also a lot of ppl hc frisk as white’#bro a lot of ppl headcanon frisk as asian to what is ur point#also im not saying people shouldnt fucking hc frisk/kris as asian ok!#if you HC frisk/kris as asian then you especially need to watch your ass#you are on thin ice with me#if i headcanond frisk as asian (which i do) i would not draw them yellow#also did i not say PREVIOUSLY that the humans being yellow in game normalizes people (especially young people) not caring??#so people will HC frisk as asian and then no one tells them its fucked up if theyre yellow AGH.#‘UM EXCUSE ME why are you fucking hc’ing frisk and kris as asian’ bc im fucking asian????#someone called me fucking racist??#im asian and what to reclaim this weird fucking design and i also changed their skin tones??#at least im not white who calls them asian and draws them yellow??#fine. fine dont listen to me. dont listen to other asian people and other POC who bring this up#live in your oblivious world where you get mad that POC tell you shit abt this#literally every time Asian people and ESP Asian Americans bring up this issue you all get so pissed#im sorry for swearing at you?? whoever is reading this???#weve been talking about this for literal years.#dont you fuckijng thing theres a reason it keeps getting brought up for the past almost 10 YEARS.#talking#sorry for bringing my im a poc card??#god reminds me of what Chara was talking about last night#we grew up with debate classes and the reason for a good Discussion is bc you have to avoid fallacies right#so that means KNOWING your opponent#but in the internet were all anonymous. which is fine! you SHOULD NOT be obligated to bring up your identity at all#but do you know why in any other discussion thats why ppl online say ‘i have a doctorate and-‘ ‘ive studied thsi for 4 years and’?#and so i just keep thinking. ok so my perspective is i am asian right.#my perspective is i have heard from my brothers and sisters who LIVE in the west and their histories of racism and discrimination and propag#so im just wondering. who are the -eople mad at me?? what is your story? youre an artist who cant take criticism??#ok logging off again to eat my fucking burger#(actually not having a hurger rn but i wish)
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Anyway, back to testing (Patreon)
#Doodles#Portal#GLaDOS#Chell#Curiosity Core#Space Core#Cave Johnson#So many GLaDOS'!! She needs all the <3#And then also featuring some others lol ♪ Replaying 1 really made me want to fill out the cast a bit more!#I'm still the most used to drawing her Portal 2 design tho - which is a shame because her 1 design is so weird!! I like it :D#I still haven't given her a proper study but I do like how in the audio commentary they talk about how she has a feminine edge hehe#She does! They did a good job with her design ♪ And improved upon it in 2 I think :D I still haven't gotten to that audio commentary#I'm so curious as to what they'll say about her there hehe ♫ But I'm still just playing normally for now! I forgot how much longer it is :0#I tore through it the first time so now taking my leisurely time feels funny haha ♪ I am enjoying myself tho :3#Anyway!! Back to what I love about 1 <3 <3 Her tone switch literally Always has my heart ♥ Ughhh I love herrr#I also quite like Chell's design from both games :) I wonder if GLaDOS keeps making remarks on her appearance because of the changes :0#She does have fuller cheeks in 2! She's not as gaunt - and she looks like....made-up? Make up made up? Y'know? :0#Not that we get a particularly good look at her in-game but hm! The differences#As well as in her long-fall boots! The braces really were just stuck on her legs in 1 weren't they :0 No wonder the Curiosity Core was rude#I do really love the Curiosity Core tho haha ♪ Probably my favourite canon Core :D I think she'd get along well with Space Core lol#And then leaving off with that one little human-GLaDOS headcanon thing I posted about! Impatiently lol#I made these like The Day after posting that I couldn't help it I was too deep in the paint XP It was fun ♪#I really do think she'd look so much more like Cave still! Especially after replaying the bit where he says to put Caroline in ''his'' place#Is that retrofitting? Was it designed with him in mind initially? Hmmmmm#I also figure if I'm going to give her a human design I might as well go the whole way and not just slap robot parts on her face lol#It's hard to imagine her with two eyes tho! Like I might even go so far as to say she can have three eyes but not two! Only one or three#Her third ''eye'' would be the mole next to her eye lol - how would her vision work in that case :0#Would she have panoptic depth perception or like triple vision or what?? Or maybe just leave her with one functioning eye lol#Handplates!Gaster-core (Core lol); turtlenecked one-eyed evil scientist with labcoat lol#Y'know it's funny - when I first drew GLaDOS several years ago I compared her to Gaster at the time too. Huh. Sure that's nothing :)
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who wants my high maintenance ass
#going to the highest bidder#get ready to have to literally coddle me#the ppl im seeing need to be touching me every minute but also i hate being touched in public so have fun figuring that out#and i will ask u do to everything like open all my things and order for me#and i require snacks after sex i used to make this girl bring me food for after#and i need CONSTANT assurance and if i sense the slightest change in tone/mannerisms i’ll shut down#and i don’t like asking for things but i need so much
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the way my heart sank . lol
#tried to get on a call to study w my gf bc weve both been avoiding stuff we Have to do and its been making us anxious#but esp her bc shes been in this cycle for a while and shes struggling w it a lot . and i love her and i want the best for her#and all my friends r like u should push each other to do better even if its uncomfortable somewhat and i agree#so we were like. yh lets do stuff / get on our work tmrw even tho its anxiety-inducing etc...and then we got on a call#and this is the most like. bored/displeased ive ever heard her sound like she seemed extremely disinterested and even mildly irritated#and it honestly shocked me ??? so i ended the call bc i need to do work and it was making me sad#and im trying to listen to words more than tone but it was so extreme and such a sudden change that it literally wasnt good for me . im so#confused rn . like ik facing tasks youve been avoiding for months causes anxiety ik theres like a mental block around it that makes u not#want to deal w it or become irritated at ppl who suggest that you should#but omg?? it was so weird and like. when i said she was making me sad so i wanted to end the call she was like. ok 😐#which is a fair response ig but shes never responded to me that way b4...like what is this what is happening...#i want smn who encourages me to move forward and who appreciated that i want them to do the same#instead of staying stagnant and anxious for months. i talked abt this before on here and everyone collectively was like Be More Patient and#work through it w her etc etc (my friends said the exact opposite tho) and i have been Trying To but its making me feel actively . bad.#like. im Afraid.#to bring it up . and then when i finally did say yh lets do smth lets get thru this tgth she just shut down on me somehow#idk what else i can do#i will talk to her abt it later i just need to work rn. i had to get this out of my system first.#shes so sweet and wonderful and supportive usually. but when it comes to thsi topic. im rly shocked idk#i knew she felt bad abt it but i thought she agreed to move through it w me and i didnt expect her to direct it at me#like whatever i said shed give me the coldest ok 😐. like. again nothing inherently wrong w that but when contrasted w#the way she talks to me usually there IS smth wrong it . its jarring and uncomfortable and made me rly upset bc it felt like she was mad at#me for trying to help . idk#UGH whatever ill talk 2 her later i have to do this lecture itll help distract me
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Clawing at the walls I hate that I don't have enough time to keep up with all the QSMP and Purgatory POVs / lore I'm interested in, I JUST WANNA KNOW WHATS HAPPENING!!!! I WANNA SEE IT ALL!!!!!!
#i talk#qsmp talk#purgatory talk#IM A SPONGE FOR KNOWLEDGE AND INFORMATION AND THE CONSTANT FLOW IS EXCEEDING MY ABILITY TO ABSORB#by which I mean being an adult with a full-time job makes it so hard to be a QSMP fan OTL#I just wanna know all the things... and not just summaries I want all the juicy details#I want to know the exact quotes I need primary sources#I don't like hearing things second-hand and even when I DO hear them from trusted sources#I like looking things up myself because#what was the tone? what was the context? what was the response to what was said?#It's important!!! It can change my entire perspective rather than if I just took a quote or summary at face value!!!!#agh!!!!#QSMP / MCYT as a whole was the worst possible media for me to get into because it's IMPOSSIBLE to know it all#Meanwhile I'm cited the official gosh dang Transf0rmers wiki#because I'm literally the ONLY person who transcribed an interview from one of the (at the time) recent TV show writers#I wish I'd known how to archive / download streams at the time. It's lost media and I'm so glad I summarized things / transcribed stufd#* stuff. But I could've done it even better...#anyways that's a big reason why I run R.A. I want the clips for my own sake but I also like providing context for other fans#agh. I AM mostly exhilarated with the Purgatory 2 things because Quackity's commentating is SO fun#and it's a good way for me to keep up w/ multiple POVs without watching 10 streams at once#but I'm still missing out on things. And I've missed SO MUCH QSMP lore.#I never used to miss a Phil stream but now I'm so behind on VODs#OTL#none of this is super serious complaining this is more of a ''man wouldn't it be nice if I could do it all?'' thing#Anyways. Idk if you read tags Bell but if you see this — you're a real one for posting so many clips#I appreciate you so much#*** Meanwhile I'm cited on#missed a word there
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one of these days I'll actually make that animatic for Spiral Staircase but alas I need to get better at both music and art first
#i have ideas#but it requires me to get better at knowing when we've changed by a quarter tone#and i can't 100% say that i know when all of those are#and also i need to actually do digital art for it#but literally every time it comes up on my shuffle I get mentally ill about it
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x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ
in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.
warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.
a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!
“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.
He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.
“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”
The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.
During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong.
“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”
Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”
“Deadly.”
“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”
“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.
They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?
However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.
Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”
Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.
“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.
“I’m starting to regret it.”
“Can’t you at least say it again?”
“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.”
“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”
“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”
“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind.
You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.”
“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”
“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”
“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!”
“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”
“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”
Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety.
His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else.
“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”
You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections.
But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.
© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#earthtooz: honkai star rail#dr ratio x reader#veritas ratio x reader#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#ratio x reader#dr ratio fluff
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pornstar au
f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley
3.7k words (sorry)
tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.
You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.
"Professor."
He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.
"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.
The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.
"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.
Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"
He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.
"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.
"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."
Fucking hell.
Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."
Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.
"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.
"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."
It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."
The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.
"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"
Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."
He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."
Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.
His good girl.
A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.
Action.
"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.
"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"
His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."
Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.
"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.
Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.
"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."
That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.
"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."
"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.
"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.
Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.
Bloody fucking hell.
His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.
Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."
Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.
"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.
His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.
Delicious.
Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.
Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.
He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.
"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.
"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.
"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."
He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."
That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.
Barely.
The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.
"Fuck, look at me."
Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.
"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.
"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.
Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.
"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"
His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."
Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.
It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.
You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.
"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.
He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.
In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.
"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.
By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.
His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.
Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.
You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.
He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.
"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.
He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."
Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."
Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."
He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."
Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.
Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.
"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.
His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"
Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.
You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.
Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."
Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.
"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.
Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.
This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.
You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.
He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."
Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."
He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.
"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."
How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?
"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."
You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.
Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."
He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."
Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.
His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—
All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—
"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."
He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.
Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.
Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.
"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."
You didn't.
"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.
Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.
All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.
"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.
That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.
Cut.
Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.
His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.
To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.
Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.
Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.
He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.
"Perfection."
--
A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.
Ghost truly is the king.
Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.
Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.
Another. one.
Fuck. Fuck!!
You cannot wait.
@mishaglass
#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x f reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon riley x reader#cod#cod smut#simon riley x you#simon riley#pornstar!au#simon ghost riley x you
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Be Mean To Me
Pairing: Bucky x f!reader
Summary: After a long day at work, you just want to lose all control and have your boyfriend fuck you into oblivion
Warnings: Established relationship, slight angst, fluff, smut, mean!dom!bucky, reader asks for it, they are so in love, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, oral (male receiving), ball sucking, slapping, spit kink?, degradation, humiliation, name calling (slut, whore, bitch, sugar, good girl), daddy kink, some praise, spanking, pussy slapping (like once), safe word (yellow), vaginal sex, no prep anal, Bucky has a huge dick, choking, aftercare, check-ins, crying during sex, crying after sex, soft!Bucky, no mention of Y/N, no description of reader other than being female
Word Count: 4.9k of mostly smut
A/N: This was very self indulgent. Work has been kicking my ass and I want to be taken care of. Any mistakes are my own. If I missed any warnings please let me know. @bucknastysbabe it's done! I think I should go back to therapy. But hey, smut
You feel your throat tighten as you walk up to the apartment you share with Bucky. It was one of those days that left you beaten down and wanting to curl up under your blankets and cry. You didn’t even want to go into work this morning, having to force yourself to get ready. Too many rude customers, incompetent coworkers giving you more work than you get paid to do, everything leaving you overstimulated and wanting your boyfriend.
It left a craving deep down inside of you, a want that you knew only he could quell. You just wanted to shut your brain off, have Bucky take care of you, ruin you, treat you like a whore, break you down, just to put you back together again.
You swallow the lump in your throat and unlock the front door, finding Bucky on the couch watching some random action movie that he claimed to hate. At the sight of him your body naturally relaxes and the urge to crawl onto his lap is too much to bear.
“Hey, sugar. I’ve been missing you all day. You’ll never fucking believe the video Sam sent me of Tony trying out his new thrusters! He flew rig- What’s wrong?” He perked up at the sound of the door opening, truly missing his girl. Whenever you’re around him his entire day gets better, a lightness filling his chest, but when he sees how run down you are, his heart literally hurts for you. Bucky wants to protect you from everything, from supervillains all the way to spiders in the house.
“Long day, baby. Just wanna be with you.” He opens his arms and you instantly crawl into his lap, eyes burning with tears you refuse to shed. He runs his metal hand up and down your back, pulling you as close to him as possible, while his flesh hand rests on your head, holding you to his neck, letting you breathe him in.
“What can I do for you, sugar? Want to talk about it? I can order from your favorite place. Can run you a bath. Whatever you want, sweet girl.”
“Please, be mean to me, Bucky.” Bucky feels his heart clench in his chest. He wants to keep your heart safe from whatever it is that is plaguing you, but he knows he can’t. What he can do is follow your request and make you forget.
“How mean do you want me, sugar?” Bucky has done this for you a few times. He always asks how you want him to treat you. It’s in his nature to be sweet to you, fill you with praise, but that's not what you want right now. You want to be degraded and treated like a fucktoy.
“Mean.” You keep your eyes trained on him. This is the only part where you need to keep your head on, make sure that he knows you want this.
“Remember your colors, sugar?” You nob, excitement bubbling up inside of you. “Remember, daddy will only be upset with you if you don’t use them. If you need to say yellow or red, you will.” His tone is final. This is the only way he would ever agree to treating you like a slut.
“Yes, daddy.” And just like that, Bucky’s entire demeanor changes. He goes from your sweet, cuddly boyfriend to a cold and callous body of muscle.
“Then take your clothes off, slut.” He pushes you off his lap, just hard enough to give the illusion of indifference. As you strip, Bucky keeps his eyes trained on the TV, not paying you any mind. Your core throbs at the fact that you are completely exposed while he is still fully dressed.
“On your knees.” He’s still not looking at you, but you obey without thought, willing to do whatever he wants. Grabbing the back of your neck, he forces you in between his spread legs, and you whine at the fact that his cock is still soft inside his sweats. Any other day, Bucky would make sure that your knees were never on the hardwood floor without a pillow or something soft underneath, but not today.
On days like these, when you want to feel completely submissive, it takes Bucky a while to get aroused. It’s in his nature to love up on you, make you drunk with pleasure in the sweetest way possible. He feeds off of your energy. When he is sure that you are having fun, his body lets himself fall into his role.
“What? You think at the first signs of some tits I’m gonna get hard? I knew you were a dumb slut but I didn’t realize just how thick you were.” Your pussy was absolutely pulsing with need. With his hand still on the back of your neck, he rubs your face against his crotch, feeling his cock begin to harden at the smell of your arousal.
He pulls you back far enough to slide his pants down, foregoing boxers, and you immediately try to take his half hard length in your mouth. Before you can process it, Bucky’s right hand lands a slap to your cheek - hard enough to make a welt that will take a few hours to disappear. You gasp and your cunt pulses even harder than before at the sting left on your cheek.
His metal hand wraps around your chin, much cooler than it’s supposed to be, and forces you to look him in the eye. In the back of your mind you realize that he turned on the cooling function in his arm to sooth your cheek; the arm was built to keep him cool in the Wakandan sun and heat. “Did daddy say you could suck his cock?” He uses his hand to shake your head from side to side, answering for you. “Then keep your slutty mouth shut.”
He spreads his legs wider and pulls your face closer to his heavy sack, already full of cum. “Hands behind your back, and suck on daddy’s balls.” You join your hands together behind your back without question and nuzzle his balls. Wasting no time, you take one into your mouth, sucking feverishly, enjoying the light dusting of hair tickling your face.
“Oh, fuck, come on, slut, I know you can do better than that. Take ‘em both in your dirty mouth.” He pushes you further into him, cutting off your oxygen, and you swear you hear your slick drip onto the floor. Your jaw aches as you try to get them both in your mouth, but you can't; his balls are too big. Bucky ruts against your face, squishing his balls, precum leaking from his tip, dripping onto his stomach after he takes his shirt off.
With your limited amount of movement, you alternate between each ball, licking at the seam. Every time you switch balls, you feel the other drag wetly across your face and you have to clench your legs in an attempt to quell the ache between them while fighting with your need for air. “Such a dirty bitch, lapping at your daddy’s nuts, shit.” He pulls you back just as your head starts to go fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, and you gasp for air, spit is covering the lower half of your face and is dripping down your neck and chest; Bucky feels his cock throb at the sight.
Reaching out, Bucky smears your spit around your face and leaves another, weaker smack to your cheek before he grabs his cock and uses his weeping tip to tease you, dragging it on your face. “What a nasty fucking bitch, drooling all over the place just from sucking some balls.” He slaps your cheeks with it a few times before forcing your head down all the way, making you gag and you immediately pull off, coughing.
He stares into your eyes, cold and calculating, waiting for you to speak. When your coughing subsides you manage to get out a hoarse ‘green,’ giving him the all clear. He takes your head and once again makes you take his cock, this time much slower and not as deep, the first time he wanted to fuck with you. “Such a perfect fucking mouth, shit.” He stops you from bobbing your head, “Stop being such a desperate whore and let daddy finish his movie.” You're sure you’re leaking onto the floor at this point.
You are able to see his face and he looks wrecked, mouth hanging open and head back; he’s not watching shit. Nonetheless, you rest your head on his thigh, getting comfortable, spreading your legs out to get closer to the floor so your head won't be bent at an awkward angle, ignoring the pain in your knees and the ache in your jaw.
The only sounds filling the room are Bucky’s ragged breathing and the movie playing in the background. There is saliva everywhere, his cock, all over his balls, down to his ass and on the couch. His cock is constantly leaking precum into your mouth but you don’t swallow, letting his taste linger on your tongue.
This isn’t what you wanted, you wanted him to demolish you. Sitting with his cock in your mouth is giving you too much time to think, so you do what any sane person would do - be a brat. At the first suckle, Bucky lets out a broken moan, at the second, he knows what you’re up to. Flicking your ear with his metal hand he hisses, “Don’t make me punish you, bitch.” At the third, he yanks you off of his dick, a trail of drool and precum keeping the two of you connected, as slaps you once again with his flesh hand, this time not soothing the marred flesh with his metal hand.
He stands and kicks the couch out of the way and pulls you with him by the neck. “You disobedient little-” he cuts himself short at the small puddle of slick that he finds from your previous position. “Is that what I think it is?” You only whine in response, his grip on your neck never faltering.
With his free hand, he reaches down to your pussy to feel just how wet you are, confirming his suspicions. “What a dirty fucking slut, leaking all over my floor.” He pulls you in closer to him just to whisper, “Lick it the fuck up, bitch,” before pushing you to the ground.
Your knees hit the wood hard and pain runs up your spine. You ignore the ache and brainlessly lap at your juices on the floor before Bucky smushes your cheek against the puddle and you moan. “Messy bitch, you are? Cunt is pulsing, waiting for my dick. Too bad I have to punish you, isn’t it, slut?” He leans down to the floor, eyes lined up with yours. “Daddy is going to give you ten spanks and I want you to count them.” You don’t respond immediately, stuck in a sort of limbo, drawn in further at the softness in his eyes.
No matter how hard he tries, Bucky can’t hide his devotion to you, that’s why he doesn’t let you look at him when he needs to play this role. His whole face softens at your silence, fearing he’s gone too far. “Color, sugar.” Stroking your cheek, he leans in closer, breathing you in.
“Green, daddy, so green.” The sigh Bucky lets out is audible and he feels ten times lighter.
“Good girl, you want to keep going the way we were?” Even though you said green, he wants to be certain.
“Yes please, daddy, want you to be mean.” You look so small and soft. Bucky struggles to put his facade back up, but he knows you need this.
Bucky positions himself behind you, staring at your ass and glistening pussy, and feels his cock bounce. The first slap isn’t soft by any means, you know there will be a handprint left. Your body jolts and Bucky groans at the jiggle of your ass. “One.” The second is on your other cheek and makes you clench around nothing. “Two.” He lands the next two much harder on the same cheek and you feel tears form in your eyes, yet continue to count, digging your nails into your palm.
He repeats the two spanks to your left cheek and takes a break to sooth your heated and raised skin with his metal hand after you’ve counted. The ground beneath your cheek is hard and unforgiving, leaving you neck bent at an odd angle. Spank seven lands on the back of your right thigh and somehow feels much stronger. “Shit! Seven, daddy.” Eight is on your left, and is just as hard. Your entire lower body aches: cunt pulsing and throbbing for his cock, thighs burning, and ass red and raw, sobbing with every impact.
“These last two are going to be harder, slut, since you forgot to count.” Even with his warning, you aren’t prepared. They are hard and fast, hearing them before you feel them, knocking the breath out of you, and you try to scramble up, but Bucky holds you down. “Don’t run away from me, you know better.” All of a sudden, the sharpest and most excruciating pain blooms from your cunt, and then you hear the wet smack of his metal hand hitting your core.
You wail, body shooting up, legs fighting to close to soothe the sting left. Before you can, Bucky’s hand on the back of your head keeps you to the ground, while he slams his cock into your cunt, not stopping to let you adjust. “That’s it, fuck. Such a good pussy. Dirty fucking bitch.” You can’t breathe, his cock is knocking all of the air out of your lungs. The only sounds in the room are Bucky’s moans and the wet slapping of skin, his heavy balls banging against your sore clit. With each thrust you’re sure he’s hitting your cervix.
The hand on the back of your head leaves to grab your hip, letting him fuck you even faster, the both of you sliding further and further on the floor. You try to brace yourself with your hands, but the brutality of his fucking is no match. “Daddy, fuck, s-so g-good, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but your cunt is pulling him in, barely letting him pull out.
Bucky is practically chasing you on the floor, hips never slowing down, eyes trained on your pussy, loving the creamy white mess on his dick. “Fuuuck, look at the ass bouncing on daddy’s cock, shit! Love the way this fat fucking ass looks when its all red and sore.” He’s in heaven, with the tight clench of your cunt wrapping around his cock, making him feel crazy.
“Daddy! I can’t, f-fuck, please, too much!” You’re fucking delirious with pleasure, feeling something twisting inside of you. You searched for something to hold on to, only finding smooth surface, legs locking, body seizing up.
“You can and you will take this dick, bitch. I don’t care if it makes you fucking bleed.” The pressure in your core builds tighter and tighter, all the while, Bucky’s hips never falter, sack still ramming against your clit.The breath is knocked out of you when you feel the most intense orgasm of your life pass through you.
Keening and wailing, you squirt on Bucky’s cock, the sounds of your fucking somehow getting even more wet until the force of your orgasm pushes his cock out. Your body is left twitching. There is a much larger puddle on the floor now - your cum. Bucky could fucking cum at the sight of your pathetic body laying on the ground, body wrought with pleasure. “Fuck, sugar! That was so fucking hot! You squirted all over, shit! I fucking love you so goddamn much.”
The entire lower half of his body is covered with your cum and Bucky swears he can feel his heartbeat in his cock. Nonetheless, he wraps his arms around your waist and hulls you over to where he kicked the couch, placing your upper half on the cushions. “You’re so fucking wet now I bet I could slide right into that tight ass, what do you think, slut?” Your core pulses at the thought of his fat cock in your ass, the two of you don’t usually do anal, given how big he is, but you can’t think straight, especially after cumming so hard.
“Yes, daddy. I want your big cock in my ass, want you to fill me up.” Bucky groans at the thought of his excessive load running out of your ass. Leaning back, he ruts against your pussy, gathering more of your slick, before spreading your cheeks with his hands, staring at your puckered hole. He lines his cock up and watches as precum leaks from his tip.
His cock is huge, much longer and thicker than average, and he knows it. Grabbing himself near his tip, he pushes, grunting at the resistance, knowing that this would be much easier if he takes the time to prep you, but you want to be treated like a whore. “You gotta loosen the fuck up, bitch or else I’ll really fucking hurt you. Want this fucking ass so bad, better let daddy in. Cock is too big for this little ass, isn’t it, gonna split you in half, leave you leaking for days.”
He pushes harder, tip finally popping in, causing searing pain to shoot through you. Crying out, you try to pull forward to escape the burning pain, wiggling further into the couch. Bucky leans over, careful not to push in any further, he knows you need a moment, any other time you would have been fully prepped and he would have slid right in, and wraps his metal hand around your neck, shushing you, “Shhhh, stop being so dramatic.”
After a few minutes, the pain begins to subside and your breathing calms down. Keeping his hand around your throat, he pushes in, inch by inch, and the pain comes back. You whine into the cushion, every new inch burning more than the last until his hips are flush with your ass. “What the fuck?! Your ass is so fu-fucking tight, shit! Fucking milking my cock, wanna pound this little hole, wanna fucking ruin you.”
Burying his face in the back of your neck, Bucky was taking deep breaths, completely out of it. He wasn’t thinking straight, not when your tight hole was hugging every inch of his cock. You on the other hand, were struggling, it was too much too fast. It fucking hurt, there were tears in your eyes, but your pussy was aching like it wanted more. Your clit throbbed with need, even when your ass was stretched to the brim.
You didn’t want to stop, but you needed a break, before Bucky could move his hips you muttered, “Yellow, daddy, yellow.” The hand on your neck left and Bucky maneuvered his upper body so that he could look you in the eye without moving his cock. His entire demeanor was different, back was your sweet, caring boyfriend.
“Good girl, daddy’s so proud of you for using your safe word. Shhh, it’s okay, sugar. Do you just need a second to breathe? Take your time, if you need to stop I will.” Bucky caresses your face as he soothes you, bringing you back down. His cock is still buried to the hilt in your ass, driving him insane. He wants to rail you so fucking bad, tip of his cock probably purple by now, but he would never do anything you didn’t want to, more than willing to sit with his cock inside of you until you’re ready or decide to stop.
You don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, you loosen up and your mind goes fuzzy once again, desperate for him to move. You wiggle your hips, rocking back and forth, instead of pain, blinding pleasure courses through you. “Green, daddy. I’m ready, just needed to get used to your fat cock, want you to pound into me.” Bucky lets out the most sinful groan and stills your hips with his hands.
He starts out slow, easing you into his motions, gradually gaining speed and force the louder your moans get. “Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open. His hips and thighs were wet from when you squirted on him, slapping against your ass, everytime he pulled back a vulgar shlick sound could be heard.
He fucked you faster and harder, staring at where you were connected. “This fucking ass feels incredible. Taking me so well, knew you could do it, fuck. Splitting your tiny ass in half. Oh God!” He could feel his orgasm building up, fighting it off everytime his cum filled sack slapped against your pussy. Letting go of your hips he snarled, “Show daddy how much of a fucking slut you are and bounce that fat ass on his cock.”
You whined, but complied anyway, digging your toes into the floor to get more leverage to keep slamming back on his cock. The sounds of skin slapping and both of your moans completely drowned out the ending of Bucky’s movie, not that either of you cared. Panting and moaning, you kept working yourself on him, feeling another orgasm bubbling up.
Meeting your thrusts, Bucky was rambling, not having one coherent thought in his head, “Look at that, give me that ass, yes! Don’t you dare fucking stop, bitch, want you to milk this cock. Love the way it fucking bounces, never seen anything like it, oh fuck!” He was getting whiny, high pitched moans falling from his lips. He couldn’t help it, his cock was too fucking sensitive and you felt too good.
“M Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Bucky practically growls, getting up to his feet to squat, not missing a beat while still trusting in you. Every time his pelvis met your ass he whined and whimpered, loving the way it jiggled. He could feel you clenching around him, drawing his own orgasm closer.
“Not until I do. Fucking hold it, bitch.” It seemed impossible, but Bucky fucked you even faster, his hips moving at a ferocious speed. He wanted to cum so fucking bad and your high pitched moans were about to make him bust. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I’m gonna fucking nut. You want daddy to fill your ass up, huh? God! Fuck, I’m splitting you in two. Uhhh. Balls are so heavy, so much cum. Fuuuuuuck. Daddy’s gonna fill you up, have you leaking.”
His hand wraps around your throat and chokes you, hips still smashing against yours, your orgasm barely being held in. You try to talk, get him to let you cum, but no words come out. Bucky felt his orgasm approach, balls pulling up, “Shiiit, daddy’s gonna cum, gonna flood your ass, you ready, cum with your daddy. Right. Fucking. Now.” Bucky cums with a long, drawn out moan. The feeling of his endless load pouring into your ass sends you over the edge and you cum so hard your vision goes black for a second. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through you. Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily, prolonging both of your orgasms.
As you both catch your breaths, you feel Bucky begin to soften inside of you, still plugging your hole, stopping his cum from leaking back out. “You were so good for me, sugar. I’m so proud of you.” At those words you feel your bottom lip begin to tremble. Burying your face into the cushions, a sob escapes your throat, all of your emotions finally bubbling over.
Running his hands up and down your back, Bucky soothes you. This was always his least favorite part, seeing you cry. He knows that you’re crying isn’t because of him, but there is always a twinge of fear that shoots through his body, scared that he went too far with you. Bucky pulls out as gently as he can, hissing when the air touches his spent dick, and moves to rest his back against the couch, pulling you into his lap.
Neither of you care that his cum is leaking all over. Bucky will clean the room later, after he takes care of his sweet girl. You cling to him as you sob into his neck, his hands massage your sore cheeks as he whispers in your ear, “Such a good girl for me, you made me feel so fucking good. Can’t even begin to explain how good you felt. There you go, let it out. I’m right here.”
Carefully, he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. When he tries to set you down you just cling on harder to him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “I gotta draw us a bath, sugar. You know you have to pee, I’ll be right here when you’re done.” You hesitantly let him go while he draws the bath, putting in your favorite oils. After you pee and wipe, he helps you up so you can wash your hands before sitting you both in the tub.
Bucky sits against the wall of the tub and you curl further into his lap, not wanting any space in between you. Somehow you still aren’t close enough to him, wanting to be surrounded completely by him. Tears are still leaking down your face and even with Bucky’s consuming presence, you can’t seem to pull yourself up to the surface. Bucky’s arms are wrapped around you, making sure that you are as close as possible without him being inside of you.
“Sweets, can you look at me? Want to see those pretty eyes.” You can hear the concern in Bucky’s voice, but you can’t bring yourself to move away. He’s your safe space and you just want to bask in his warmth. “Sweets, please. Can you tell me how you feel? I need to know you’re okay.” You don’t know why that set you off, but all of a sudden more tears escape you, sobs fighting to make their way out.
Bucky’s entire world stops, fear shoots up his spine. He doesn’t know if he could live with himself if he hurt you, if he did something that you didn’t want. He knows that you asked him to treat you like a whore, but what if you didn’t want him to go as far as he did? You used your safe word when it got to be too much, but what if you really wanted to say red, not yellow, but wanted to please him, or felt like you had to please him. “Sweetheart, did I hurt you? Did I go too far? Please talk to me.”
Even though you didn’t want to talk, you could hear that he was about to cry. “I’m okay. Just love you so much.” You could feel Bucky relax under you.
“You sure, sweets? I’ve never seen you like this before.” While some of his fears subsided, Bucky was still worried about you.
Picking your head up so you could look him in the eye, you saw just how scared Bucky truly was. “I promise, Buck, I loved every second of it. You made me feel so good and cared for. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” Bucky closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. At that moment, Bucky understood why aftercare was so important. Of course he knew you needed to be taken care of so that you knew how much he loved you, but hearing those words come out of your mouth made him feel loved in a way he didn’t know was possible.
Before the water gets cold you’ve stopped crying, making Bucky feel much better and he washes the sweat and spit off of your face and body, being extra careful with your sensitive pussy and ass. All the while whispering sweet nothings into your ear while you take turns kissing each other all over.
Bucky feels ten times lighter when he gets a giggle out of you. He knows that there will be days when you need him to treat you like a slut, but you know how much he loves and respects you. He lays you on the bed before grabbing your favorite lotion to put on, being extra careful when it comes to your sore ass, placing kisses in each spot after he's rubbed in the lotion.
The marks on your face are gone by now, but Bucky still fusses over your skin care routine, knowing you don’t have the energy to complete it. After taking care of you, he climbs into bed and covers the both of you up, still naked but you don’t care. Bucky reaches into the bedside drawer and grabs some chocolate while you feed it to each other. Neither of you say much, but nothing needs said.
You place kisses on his chest and arms, anywhere that you can reach, trying to let him know how much you appreciate him - Bucky knows. You fall asleep first, not being able to keep your eyes open any longer, Bucky moves you to his chest, cocooning you into him before he falls asleep, your head tucked carefully under his chin, legs tangled together, completely protected by him.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky x y/n#bucky imagine#bucky smut#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#sebastian stan x reader#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#dom bucky barnes#sebastian stan imagine#sebastian stan smut#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff
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— “hands off! i’m taken!”
for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.
CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption
A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).
it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)
he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.
and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?
“hands off! i’m taken!”
…or so he thought.
regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.
“pardon?”
“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”
were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.
(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)
alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent.
now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…
‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.
then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.
seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”
“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”
“actually, i am.”
you blink at him. “you’re what?”
“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.
(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)
after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”
there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—
quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”
is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?
against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.
“then… may i ask what i am?”
“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”
neuvillette feels as though he could cry.
(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.
despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.
yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)
mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.
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it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow)
summary: satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.
wc: 1.2k
cw/tags: gojo x reader, arguing, miscommunication, angst/comfort, established relationship, lowercase because this was originally going to be a short answer to a request but ended up being 1k+ words (oops)
note: welcome back gojo nation, today i offer angst that started as a fluffy co-parenting megumi prompt and turned into...this. based on the jealousy prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting !! hope you enjoy :D
likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3
"you think i'm jealous? jealousy is not in my vocabulary, babe."
"mhmm, sure. you're not jealous and the sky isn't blue," you fire back without hesitation. what started as a petty argument was beginning to boil your blood a little too hot for comfort, and you couldn't pinpoint why. thoughts poked around in your mind of your boyfriend's arrogance, the need to be the best, and simultaneous fear that you were going to leave him. but, in true satoru fashion, he chose to be an enigma instead of communicating.
"i'm literally the strongest being in existence," he argues and you catch your eye twitch in the rearview mirror. "what would i have to be jealous about?" a part of you wanted to just slam on the brakes to see if he'd go flying forward but decided against it because of the other occupants in the car. as much as they tried to act like they weren't listening, the two kids in the back weren't very good at hiding their snickers of amusement. "like, really. i'm super hot, i'm super strong, i've got the voice of an angel-"
"i'm just saying, satoru. your behavior back there was...weird. i didn't like it," you mutter.
"and i didn't like how that guy was looking at you like you were some kind of dessert in a pastry shop," he counters. "i just...it's fine. you don't get it." your stomach churns unexpectedly at his tone and there's a sharp pain in your heart that you don't anticipate. you know he didn't mean it, but the sternness of his voice was sounding more hostile the longer you talked with him. it made your face hot, not in that butterflies and daydreams kind of way that he normally made you feel. this feeling was foreign and intense, a sensation that made you want to curl up and hide. it was the same feeling as when you were about to exorcise a curse.
when you were about to fight.
"what's that supposed to mean?" the atmosphere of the car changes in an instant and you can feel the effect your five words have on every occupant of the vehicle. megumi and tsumiki's gazes dart upward, eyeing you nervously while a robotic stiffness shoots through satoru's body. "what do i not get?"
"it's nothing," he grits through his teeth, but you're too angry to back down.
"it's not nothing, so spill it," you say and his jaw clenches. "why are you so jealous of some dude at the grocery store?"
"i said i wasn't jealous."
"your actions are saying otherwise." you start relying more on your instinct to drive you back towards jujutsu tech because your brain was starting to shut down.
"what, you don't believe me? why don't you just trust me?" he's on the verge of shouting at you. he never shouts at you. it terrifies you and it makes the two kids in the second row shift uneasily in their car seats. you don't know what else to say; your mind was preoccupied with not crashing the car and trying not to cry from the stifling pressure in the car.
"i-i don't like you right now," you force out. it's the wrong thing to say and you can sense satoru snap before he does.
"please, be my guest. go with your little cashier if you like him so much better," he spits and your body moves before you can register what it's doing. one minute, you're driving down the street toward the school; the next, you're turning into the nearest mini-mall parking lot, putting the car in park, and slamming the driver's side door behind you. you don't know where else to go, but all you know is that you can't stay in that car with satoru when he's like that. he'd never do anything to hurt megs or tsumiki, but being on the road in such a compromised mental state wasn't safe for any of you. so, you start walking.
the sun was nearly down and you knew it would be faster if you just sucked it up and drove the rest of the way, but something about this petty little fight was bringing up memories you didn't want to rehash. after you make it past the first stoplight, the telltale hum of your car's engine pulls up next to you, coming to a stop while you continue in the direction of the school. punching the hazards button, he jumps from the driver's seat onto the sidewalk to call after you, but you shake your head.
"babe. babe, please get back in the car," he pleads and you keep walking. "i'm sorry. please, come back in the car. i'll drive us the rest of the way and we can talk."
"it's fine," you state firmly without looking at him, "i'll walk back."
"i made a mistake. please, please come back in the car." he gently grabs your wrist to stop you and you shoot him a brutal glare from the corner of your eye, seeing him deflate in real-time. "please." smaller footsteps approach from behind him, and your senses snap back into place when you see that megumi and tsumiki followed satoru out of the car.
"he was stupid," tsumiki says and her brother nods in agreement, "really stupid."
"and if you're walking back to school, we're walking with you," megumi declares and the sentiment is enough to finally get you back in the passenger seat, staring out the window for the few agonizing minutes remaining of the drive. once you've turned on the tv and stuck a frozen dinner in the oven for the two children, you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face of its still-burning sensation. you've just finished drying your face in front of the mirror when he trudges in like a kicked puppy. you feel him before you see him, his arms wrapping around your torso and his face disappearing into your neck.
"i'm so sorry," he whispers and you swallow a thick lump in your throat. "i'm so sorry for what i said and what i did and how i made you feel. you were right; i was jealous. just...seeing you live out such a mundane scene as buying groceries reminded me that you could have anyone you wanted." you turn to face him with a puzzled look.
"what do you mean, anyone i wanted?"
"you could be with anyone you wanted," he says quietly. "anyone but me."
"oh," is all you can choke out before you pull him as close as humanly possible, holding him so tightly that he'd be a fool to think you would ever want anyone else.
"you could have any life you wanted," his voice breaks against your skin. "not one where our best friends die before they reach 20 or disappear off the face of the planet. you don't need to have this one. you don't need to stay with me."
"has it ever occurred to you, satoru," you murmur, "that maybe i want to stay with you? forever and after that?"
"why would you do that to yourself?"
"loving you is not a burden, gojo satoru. i would find you in any lifetime and i would love you in every single one," you vow and your chest aches when he sniffles softly.
"i don't deserve you. i really don't."
"maybe you do, maybe you don't, but that's not up to me to decide. so, it doesn't matter because i'm staying."
"you'll stay?"
"forever and after that."
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