#but only just went back to line and render | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blitzyn · 8 months

Text

stop moving

re4r leon s. kennedy x m!reader

request: none

synopsis: After finding yourself stuck in a closet with Leon, you end up squirming just a little too much.

a/n -> i have fallen victim to the leon lover rabbit hole. ALSO. I FUCKING FRACTURED MY FINGER??? guys i almost cried when i had to write the word balls. </3 but thank you all for 1k followers! tbh i only started this acc because i liked the font when i wrote something in my drafts lmao. but still! it means a lot to me and im happy to have gotten this far!

wc -> 2.5k

cw -> thigh fucking, hiding in a closet, spit as lube, handjob (r receiving), pet names (baby x2, sweetheart x1), he's kinda possessive tbh, not beta read

This was supposed to be relatively simple: get in, figure out where the president's daughter was, save her, then get out. Sure, you've seen your fair share of weird shit — especially after the outbreak in Raccoon City, but finding out that there was a whole religion dedicated to spreading a plague for the sake of taking over the world definitely takes the cake. For now, at least.

But finding yourself cramped in a closet with Leon, surrounded by a horde of hostile cultists, also wasn't something you expected to happen throughout the entire mission.

"Stop moving so much," Leon quietly muttered from behind you just as you shifted.

"I'm not," you huffed, a bit annoyed that you had to hide in this stuffy closet, even if you knew that you'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for your partner's quick thinking. Against his words, you adjusted yourself again, trying to find a decently comfortable position. Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips and the warmth of his chest pressed to your back as he pulled you flush against him.

"I said, stop moving," he repeated, whispering in your ear. You held back a shudder at the feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of it, stilling completely in surprise. Just then, thunderous footsteps could be heard outside the closet; slowly, listening for any sound that might reveal where the two of you hid.

You tensed and instinctively backed up to further yourself from the perpetrator, even if there wasn't much room to move to begin with. You could faintly hear Leon grunt from behind you, but you were in no position to apologize at the moment. Your eyes were glued to a crack in the old, wooden door, watching as the light shifted when the person passed by.

You waited with bated breath, hoping that it wouldn't come near. But, like some cliche horror movie, you could see the light at the bottom of the door disappear, meaning it was far too close for comfort. With every second the person stood there, the tighter Leon's hold on your hips became. The two of you went so silent your ears rang, and you were briefly afraid that it'd hear the sound of your racing heartbeat.

But after what felt like an eternity, its heavy footsteps started up again and away from the closet. You heaved a sigh of relief when the front door slammed shut, rendering the building empty once more.

"Fucking hell, sorry," you mumbled, trying to shuffle forward and give Leon his space when you realized that he hadn't let go of you yet. "You okay?"

Using the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the door, you lifted your arms a bit and curiously peered at his hands. But that's when you noticed the black lines covering his arms. Upon closer inspection, you quickly realized that they were his veins.

"Christ, Leon, what—"

"Be quiet. Just—just for a second."

You found it hard to tear your eyes away from his arms, waiting in silence. You focused on the sound of his labored breaths, biting your tongue to keep yourself from questioning him even further. Your mind couldn't help the invasion of 'What happened?' and 'What is that?' that threatened to spill from your lips. How did you not notice this earlier?!

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt him rest his forehead on your shoulder, muttering and grunting under his breath. And that's when you felt it — the reason why he was so reluctant to move just yet: he was hard.

"Oh." You couldn't help it, even if he had already told you to shut your mouth twice already. The silence from then on was painfully awkward as the two of you tried to figure out what to say. With a deep breath, you miraculously found the courage to speak up.

"Do you... Can I help you?" You offered, remaining still to keep yourself from accidentally pressing yourself up against him again. It was silent while you waited for his reply, embarrassment wriggling its way through your chest the longer the two of you kept quiet.

"I mean, you don't have to accept, you can just ignore me—" you began to ramble on, mortified that you even asked the question. "I just thought, cause, like, it'll be hard for you to—shit, I didn't mean it like that—"

"[Name]," Leon interrupted you, finding your instant silence charming in its own way. You could hear him take a deep breath in just as his hands slid further up to firmly caress your waist and abdomen. Electricity shot down your spine and pooled in your gut when he tugged you closer to him, grinding himself against your ass. "You can."

He reached for your hand and brought it behind you, placing it directly onto his cock. You gave it a tentative squeeze, savoring the quiet grunt that came from him, feeling your confidence grow by the second. You heard the gentle jingling of his belt as he undid it just enough for you to dip your hand underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers.

"Not wasting a second, huh?" Amusement and lust were laced in his voice as he spoke, a quiet moan spilling from his lips soon after.

He was hot and thick in your hand, throbbing rhythmically. You swiped a finger over the tip that beaded precum, savoring the shudder that came from his body. His hips trusted up into your fist, seeking more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

With a steady pace, you moved your hand up and down, tracing the prominent veins. You felt your own cock twitch at the sound of Leon's breathy groans and sighs, but you ignored it in favor of getting him off.

"Fuuckk," he drawled out, leaning forward to press his lips on the side of your neck. "You're good at this. Makes me think you've done this typa thing before."

"No," you responded, gently rubbing the spot on the underside of the tip. "You're the only one."

"I get the special treatment?" He muttered teasingly, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be my lucky day."

He could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline as he peppered open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck, untucking your shirt to slide a hand up your torso to pinch and toy with a nipple. His free hand traveled lower, slipping his cold fingertips underneath the waistband of your pants, but refused to go further than that.

You could feel his lips curl in a subtle smirk, but even as you realized he was teasing you, testing your patience, you had no intention to retaliate. Christ. The hold this man had on you. It was downright pathetic.

"God," he started, pressing his palm flat on your chest to bring you closer to him—eager for more of your touch. He let his teeth gently scrape against your skin, threatening to bite—to mark you, but he forced himself not to. He couldn't. Not right now. "I want to fuck you so bad."

His words were breathless, borderline desperate, as they left his lips. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up into your fist, pushing and pushing until your hand was flush against your ass, keeping you from jerking him off as he rutted against your hand.

"We can't, Leon," you muttered, disappointment lacing your voice. As much as you'd love to have him inside you, fucking you deep, you knew you couldn't. Not when the Ganados were still outside, at least. "Just let me finish you off."

Leon let out a low growl, knowing that you were right. There were a lot of things the two of you couldn't do inside the confined space of the closet, forcing him to conjure up ideas of what he wanted to do when all of this was over.

But for now, he settled on the second best option: your thighs.

"I know," he murmured, breathing in deeply as he pulled your hand away from his throbbing cock. "Then let me fuck your thighs. I'll be quick, I promise."

You mulled over his words, unsure if it would be a good idea.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, his voice heavy with lust. "Just this once. Then, when we find Ashley and get the hell outta this place, I'll make sure to fuck you properly. Nice 'n hard 'n deep. Wouldn't you like that?"

Fuck it.

"Mhm, yeah, go ahead." You relented, knees weakening at the thought of having his thick cock inside you, stretching and filling you up perfectly.

"Atta boy," he buried his thumbs underneath your pants and boxers, pulling them down to let them drop to your ankles. "Knew you'd come around."

He groaned at the sight of your bare thighs and drooling cock, running his hands along the curve of your ass to lean back and spread it, focusing his gaze on your asshole. "Fuck," he hissed. "Can't wait to feel your tight little hole around me later. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make you mine."

Arousal sank in your stomach like a rock as your hole clenched around nothing. Whatever's coursing through his veins made him more impulsive, more desperate, but with the fog that clouded your thoughts, you hardly found it in you to mind.

He spat on his cock and moved a hand away from your body to briefly jerk himself off and smear the saliva around.

"Open up, baby," he instructed as soon as he was done, raising his hand to caress your hip. "Spread your legs a little."

Like a trained puppy, you obeyed, widening your thighs just enough to let him guide his hard cock in between them. Your breath hitched at the sight of the head peeking out, squeezing your legs around him just a bit tighter.

"Jesus fuck, [Name]," he groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. Through the hazy mess that was in your mind, you found comfort in the warmth and firmness of them as you placed your hands on his forearms for some sort of stability. "That's it. Squeeze me just like that."

You could feel every twitch and throb, and you were sure he could feel yours, too. It felt like your senses were on overdrive as you listened to your labored breaths, his pleased sighs and grunts, and the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs. He set a leisurely pace, rocking his hips back and forth.

"Shit..." He hissed, speeding up his thrusts as his dick rubbed against your balls, smearing his makeshift lube across your skin.

His hips met yours with quiet slaps, making sure to keep the noise level at a minimum despite the overwhelming urge to just bury himself inside you right then and there. He mouthed at the nape of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, gently pressing his teeth down hard enough to send sparks down your spine.

His fingertips pressed into your sides so firmly it hurt, but it only served to mix in with the desire that burned brightly in your belly. He fucked your thighs with a sense of urgency, as if trying to satiate a hunger deep within his subconscious—not that you minded.

He grunted and groaned with every thrust, tightening his arms around your waist to tug you back to him whenever your hips jolted forward. It was intoxicating; the way he so effortlessly turned your body into a sensitive mess left you wanting more.

But as soon as a strong hand wrapped around your aching cock, you nearly came on the spot. One of your hands left Leon's forearm to slap it over your mouth as you tried to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

He breathily chuckled beside your ear. "Is this what you wanted?" He rhetorically questioned, swiping a finger over the leaking head so perfectly it left your skin tingling. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Ohh, fuck," you hissed. It was embarrassing how you so eagerly responded to his touch. "Yeah, th-that's it...!"

Your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the feeling of his slick cock moving in and out from between your thighs. Your lips parted from behind your hand to let out quiet pants and moans, digging your nails into his forearm the closer you got to your orgasm.

"Oh god, Leon—!" You moaned, pressing yourself further against his back. You could feel your legs faltering, but he didn't seem to mind having you rely on him to stand up.

"I know, baby, I know," he muttered, his voice tight and strained as his thrusts gradually grew sloppy and weak. "Me too."

His cock pulsed and twitched, and he can't help himself from clamping his teeth over the side of your neck this time. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it left a noticeable bite mark that dully ached.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he instructed, and you had no choice but to comply.

With a muffled moan, you arched your back and finally came as ropes of your semen coated the dusty wooden floor and Leon's fingers. He stroked you until he was sure that you were spent before letting go to chase after his own release.

"Shit," he cursed, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna cum so... so fucking hard...!"

With a strained groan, his hips jerked erratically as he came, holding you tight enough to leave bruises. You gently rub your thighs together, helping him ride out his high. It wasn't until a few moments later did he finally stop, breathing hard against your neck as he calmed down. But that's also when the clarity kicked in.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, moving his head from you. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened—I just—" he apologized, sighing in defeat a moment later.

"It's fine," you replied, patting his arm. You had to suppress a shudder when he pulled away from your thighs. The cum that ended up on the insides of them quickly cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sensation on your skin. You were just gonna have to suck it up.

"Let's just get outta here, already." You shuffled forward a bit to tug your pants back up your legs while Leon composed himself.

"Yeah," he said, pressing an arm against the dusty, wooden door. Through the dim light, you could see that his veins were no longer visible again, but that thought was going to have to hold off until later. "You ready?"

"Yup." You nodded after briefly making sure you still had everything in place.

Without further thought about what happened just a few seconds ago, Leon pushed the door open and quickly left the closet as you trailed close behind. Now, it was back to work.

3K notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 7 months

Text

"Efficiency" left the Big Three vulnerable to smart UAW tactics

Tomorrow (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tomorrow night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

It's been 143 days since the WGA went on strike against the Hollywood studios. While early tactical leaks from the studios had studio execs chortling and twirling their mustaches about writers caving once they started losing their homes, the strikers aren't wavering – they're still out there, pounding the picket lines, every weekday:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/08/09/how-hollywood-writers-make-ends-meet-100-days-into-the-writers-guild-strike.html

The studios obviously need writers. That gleeful, anonymous studio exec who got such an obvious erotic charge at the thought of workers being rendered homeless as punishment for challenging his corporate power completely misread the room, and his comments didn't demoralize the writers. Instead, they inspired the actors to go on strike, too.

But how have the writers stayed out since May Day? How have the actors stayed out for 69 days since their strike started on Bastille Day? We can thank the studios for that! As it turns out, the studios have devoted so much energy to rendering creative workers as precarious as possible, hiring as little as they can getting away with and using punishing overtime as a substitute for adequate staffing that they've eliminated all the workers who can't survive on side-hustles and savings for six or seven months at a time.

But even for those layoff-hardened workers, long strikes are brutal, and of course, all the affiliated trades, from costumers to grips, are feeling the pain. The strike fund only goes so far, and non-striking, affected workers don't even get that. That's why I've been donating regularly to the Entertainment Community Fund, which helps all affected workers out with cash transfers (I just gave them another $500):

https://secure2.convio.net/afa/site/Donation2?df_id=8117&8117.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T

As hot labor summer is revealed as a turning point – not just a season – long strikes will become the norm. Bosses still don't believe in worker power, and until they get their minds right, they're going to keep on trying to starve their workforces back inside. To get a sense of how long workers will have to hold out, just consider the Warrior Met strike, where Alabama coal-miners stayed out for 23 months:

https://www.thenation.com/article/activism/warrior-met-strike-union/

As Kim Kelly explained to Adam Conover in the latest Factually podcast, the Alabama coal strikers didn't get anywhere near the attention that the Hollywood strikers have enjoyed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyMHf7Yg0Q

(To learn more about the untold story of worker organizing, from prison unions to the key role that people of color and women played in labor history, check out Kelly's book, "Fight Like Hell," now in paperback:)

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

Which brings me to the UAW strike. This is an historic strike, the first time that the UAW has struck all of the Big Three automakers at once. Past autoworkers' strikes have marked turning points for all American workers. The 1945/46 GM strike established employers' duty to cover worker pensions, health care, and cost of living allowances. The GM strike created the American middle-class:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-18-uaw-strikes-built-american-middle-class/

The Big Three are fighting for all the marbles here. They are refusing to allow unions to organize EV factories. Given that no more internal combustion cars will be in production in just a few short years, that's tantamount to eliminating auto unions altogether. The automakers are flush with cash, including billions in public subsidies from multiple bailouts, along with billions more from greedflation price-gouging. A long siege is inevitable, as the decimillionaires running these companies earn their pay by starving out their workers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/general-motors-ceo-mary-barra-salary-auto-workers-strike-uaw-2023-9

The UAW knows this, of course, and their new leadership – helmed by the union's radical president Shawn Fain – has a plan. UAW workers are engaged in tactical striking, shutting down key parts of the supply chain on a rolling basis, making the 90-day strike fund stretch much farther:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2023-09-18-labors-militant-creativity/

In this project, they are greatly aided by Big Car's own relentless pursuit of profit. The automakers – like every monopolized, financialized sector – have stripped all the buffers and slack out of their operations. Inventory on hand is kept to a bare minimum. Inputs are sourced from the cheapest bidder, and they're brought to the factory by the lowest-cost option. Resiliency – spare parts, backup machinery – is forever at war with profits, and profits have won and won and won, leaving auto production in a brittle, and easily shattered state.

This is especially true for staffing. Automakers are violently allergic to hiring workers, because new workers get benefits and workplace protection. Instead, the car companies routinely offer "voluntary" overtime to their existing workforce. By refusing this overtime, workers can kneecap production, without striking.

Enter "Eight and Skate," a campaign among UAW workers to clock out after their eight hour shift. As Keith Brower Brown writes for Labor Notes, the UAW organizers are telling workers that "It’s crossing an unofficial picket line to work overtime. It’s helping out the company":

https://labornotes.org/2023/09/work-extra-during-strike-auto-workers-say-eight-and-skate

Eight and Skate has already started to work; the Buffalo Ford plant can no longer run its normal weekend shifts because workers are refusing to put in voluntary overtime. Of course, bosses will strike back: the next step will be forced overtime, which will lead to the unsafe conditions that unionized workers are contractually obliged to call paid work-stoppages over, shutting down operations without touching the strike fund.

What's more, car bosses can't just halt safety stoppages or change the rules on overtime; per the UAW's last contract, bosses are required to bargain on changes to overtime rules:

https://uaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Working-Without-Contract-FAQ-FINAL-2.pdf

Car bosses have become lazily dependent on overtime. At GM's "highly profitable" SUV factory in Arlington, TX, normal production runs a six-days, 24 hours per day. Workers typically work five eight-hour days and nine hours on Saturdays. That's been the status quo for 11 years, but when bosses circulated the usual overtime signup sheet last week, every worker wrote "a big fat NO" next to their names.

Writing for The American Prospect, David Dayen points out that this overtime addiction puts a new complexion on the much-hyped workerpocalypse that EVs will supposedly bring about. EVs are much simpler to build than conventional cars, the argument goes, so a US transition to EVs will throw many autoworkers out of work:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-20-big-threes-labor-shortages-uaw/

But the reality is that most autoworkers are doing one and a half jobs already. Reducing the "workforce" by a third could leave all these workers with their existing jobs, and the 40-hour workweek that their forebears fought for at GM inn 1945/46. Add to that the additional workers needed to make batteries, build and maintain charging infrastructure, and so on, and there's no reason to think that EVs will weaken autoworker power.

And as Dayen points out, this overtime addiction isn't limited to cars. It's also endemic to the entertainment industry, where writers' "mini rooms" and other forms of chronic understaffing are used to keep workforces at a skeleton crew, even when the overtime costs more than hiring new workers.

Bosses call themselves job creators, but they have a relentless drive to destroy jobs. If there's one thing bosses hate, it's paying workers – hence all the hype about AI and automation. The stories about looming AI-driven mass unemployment are fairy tales, but they're tailor made for financiers who get alarming, life-threatening priapism at the though of firing us all and replacing us with shell-scripts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This is why Republican "workerism" rings so hollow. Trump's GOP talks a big game about protecting "workers" (by which they mean anglo men) from immigrants and "woke captialism," but they have nothing to say about protecting workers from bosses and bankers who see every dime a worker gets as misappropriated from their dividend.

Unsurprisingly, conservative message-discipline sucks. As Luke Savage writes in Jacobin, for every mealymouthed Josh Hawley mouthing talking points that "support workers" by blaming China and Joe Biden for the Big Three's greed, there's a Tim Scott, saying the quiet part aloud:

https://jacobin.com/2023/09/republicans-uaw-strike-hawley-trump-scott/

Quoth Senator Scott: "I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely":

https://twitter.com/American_Bridge/status/1704136706574741988

The GOP's workerism is a tissue-thin fake. They can never and will never support real worker power. That creates an opportunity for Biden and Democrats to seize:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

Reversing two generations of anti-worker politics is a marathon, not a sprint. The strikes are going to run for months, even years. Every worker will be called upon to support their striking siblings, every day. We can do it. Solidarity now. Solidarity forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

#pluralistic #strikes #uaw #labor #automakers #big three #big car #eight and skate #work to rule #tactics

4K notes · View notes

jinjeriffic · 3 months

Text

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #dc domics #batfamily #no beta we die like danny phantom #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#fanfic #congrats bruce it's a boy #clockwork loves melodrama

2K notes · View notes

awniie · 4 months

Text

ֺׅ─꒲ overstim drabble… .ﾟ۪ ☆

ʚ content: smut , barely proof read , draft ・⸝⸝﹒₊˚﹕

he needed you, squeezing your plush thighs against the sides of his face. Your small hands tugging at his hair, begging him to stop or at least slow down. “baby, baby’ pleaseee.” moaning out his name over and over as if it was some sort of prayer that could save you from the torment on your cunt. “I’m a- s-so sorry, please j’s-“ your voice breaking off into a half cry-half moan as he latches his mouth around your sensitive bundle of nerves. By now, both of you forgot what you’re apologizing for, but it was mutually understood that he was eating you so, so good. He kept one hand on the little pooch on your stomach, keeping you from squirming too much. He slowly relinquished his hold on your clit with a lewd ‘pop’

“T’s okay baby, just a little more okay?” He told you, with no intention of keeping that sentiment 100% true. His tongue running long, languid lines up your cunt. He took a moment to pause, giving no warning before he plunged his tongue into your entrance. You clenched around him, causing him letting out moans that sent vibrations from your pussy up your spine. Your whines go up in octave , and your feel a familiar pressure rising in your abdomen. Faint white lines from previous, dried up tears from scar your cheeks. He glanced up from his position at your crotch, sharp eyes taking in all your little faces and movements. The way your nipples peaked up from your breasts, the soft pudge of your stomach, the fucked our expression you wore, it went straight it his cock with a groan.

Meanwhile you were holding onto your life. You reached your hands out, signaling that you want him to hold yours. He kindly intertwined his big, veiny one with your softer, smaller trembling hand. His words and actions so soft compared to the way he was giving no mercy to your cunt. The stimulation was just too much for you, and you couldn’t help but squirm and wiggle while trying to to cry too loud

“ I-I’m c-cum-ming ! You warned him, feeling that pressure come to a stop before finally releasing. Your backed arch and you let out a half-scream half-sob, seeing only flashes of white as your eye rolled to back of your head. Waves and waves of pleasure kept crashing over you, rendering you senseless. He kept his mouth right there at your cunt, lapping up alll your juices as if he was parched and your cum was the most purest of water.

He pulled his face back, just to see your pink pussy flutter and pulse from him. You were so perfect, even your cunt matched the rest of you. At least that’s what he thought as he watched more of your slick leak from your weeping hole. “Look, even your pussy is crying for me.” he told, suppressing a small laugh, pressing a kiss to your clit and then one to your tear-stained lips. Your body simply twitched in response, even the slightest brush in a spot you were a little sensitive in would throw you into a state of unconsciousness.

“Can you do that one more time for me baby?” ♡ ۫

SATURO, SUGURU, CHOSO , anyone of your favs !! ⊢ ✶ ˖ ࣪

1K notes · View notes

gurugirl · 4 months

Text

Nympho | poly!nympho!harry

Summary: Y/n is a nymphomaniac who just loves people. One day she happens upon a "harem" arrangement that seems perfect for her and her insatiable appetite. Loosely based on this Tumblr request.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This has already been released on my Patreon. This is the first part of an au that follows Y/n as she explores a new kind of relationship with 9 other females and Harry. All subsequent parts will only be posted on Patreon.

Warning: 18+ only, smut, voyeurism (consented), exhibitionism, multiple partners

Y/n had a problem on her hands. A problem few knew about. In fact, so few people knew of her problem that it was limited to only herself and her therapist. And one accidental drunken confession to a stranger at a bar.

She was what the medical world called someone with compulsive sexual behavior. In other words, a nymphomaniac.

She laughed when her therapist told her the opinion. Hypersexuality. Nymphomania.

Y/n always thought she was more just a young woman with a high libido. A libido no one could match. No one she’d met anyway. She couldn't keep a boyfriend or girlfriend long enough because they couldn’t meet her needs. Sexually.

She just really needed it all the time.

And of course, there’s not a cure for such a thing. Therapy, antidepressants maybe (she had no interest in this route), meditation…

Her Google searches on ways to soothe herself in between dry spells or times when she was purposely trying to “detox” only rendered stupid articles and based medical opinions.

So instead of trying to deny herself of her natural urges she went down a rabbit hole on the internet and found that there were plenty of others just like herself.

She wound up coming across a private members-only forum where people could vent about their frustrations and even meet up with others to sate their desires. Not everyone on the forum was a nymphomaniac like herself. Some were seeking particular relationships. There were those looking for a third. One was seeking a partner to slap them across the face. But there was a section for those with high libidos and nymphomaniacs.

The problem with some on that forum was that they were married and looking for something discreet to have on the side. In other words, they were looking to cheat. Y/n wasn’t interested in that. She didn’t want to hurt anyone or sneak around that way.

She was a silent observer for a while. Reading posts and learning all about the way people dealt with their own problems.

The Meet & Greet section of the forum was interesting. Most of the posts were private, invite-only, or by request-only so she wasn't able to see all of them. But she came across a sort of invitation.

Seeking open-minded females to join my household. Open and loving relationships only. Poly. Inquire for more information. No judgment.

She knew she was probably polyamorous. She liked multiple partners and would grow close to anyone she had sex with but also had no issues knowing her partners had sex with others.

So she clicked the ad, filled out the short informational survey and included a photo of herself (her cutest), requested to join the conversation, and waited until she was approved.

A response came back within only minutes.

She learned that the man who placed the ad was wealthy and living with many women in a kind of poly arrangement. Living in his mansion (pictures of his estate included) with him were 9 women. They all shared one another sexually and emotionally. All the sex one could want while also being financially taken care of.

She received a picture of Harry and each of the 9 women.

It seemed almost too good to be true. But she couldn’t pass up the chance to meet with them and find out more.

. . .

She’d busted her ass at work that day. She worked at a bakery so her mornings were early. And Saturday mornings were the most grueling. The line out of the shop by 10 am was usually 20 people deep. And that day was no different.

The nice part about working at a bakery was that she was usually off work by 1 pm. On Saturdays sometimes they sold out by noon.

She showered and threw on a dress and dried her hair before rushing to pour her coffee into a travel mug and set Harry’s address into her phone as she jumped into her car.

He told her that there was no rush to meet him by 3 but she hated being late. She was also quite anxious to meet everyone. To see what the setup was and find out if it was legit.

She did google the man of course. He was extremely wealthy and attractive. Did some charity work. There wasn’t too much about him. But he seemed to be credible.

When she arrived at the destination she was floored. She stopped her car in front of the tall gates and gawked at the details along the iron and stone. She couldn’t see beyond the gate but suddenly they began to slowly open up. The long driveway stretched into the property lined with trees and lovely landscaped shrubs with a fountain or two but when the trees parted and the drive wound into a circle in front of the home it was like something out of a movie.

She couldn’t even count the levels of the place. 3? 4 or maybe 5? It was difficult to tell from her little car.

She pulled the break lever and parked before getting out and staring up at the details on the façade of the mansion.

“Hi! Y/n?” A woman at the door greeted her with a smile as she descended the steps.

“Hi! Yes, I’m Y/n,” she waved and held her hand out to shake but the woman, who smelled like vanilla and amber pulled her in for a hug.

“I’m Chanel. We hope you feel comfortable here. Harry’s just inside,” she gestured toward the house and led Y/n up the steps and into the impressive entry with a double staircase, high ceilings, and marble floors. The place was immaculate.

Chanel took Y/n’s hand and guided her to another room where there were a few women, scantily clad and laughing, and then the man, who she was positive was Harry.

His light green eyes, wide grin, and dimples were gorgeous.

“Y/n,” he put his arms out toward her, “It’s so nice to finally see you in person,” he hugged her and kissed her cheek sweetly.

She was already feeling all the love from everyone. The other women that were in the room all hugged her and greeted her as well.

Harry showed her a few areas of the house as he gave her a rundown of how things worked.

“We all love and respect one another. No one in this house is off limits to anyone unless someone is having a day where they need to be alone but that’s rare. Everyone here likes sex a lot. We do things in the open here. Sometimes in private. I like to watch the girls playing and they enjoy watching me as well. We don’t like a lot of secrets here when it comes to sex.”

Y/n nodded and tried to imagine what that might look like. It sounded like a hot fantasy that only happened in porn.

“For example, this morning I had three of my lovers in bed with me and I woke up horny, as I always do and the one closest to me got my cock while the other two got off watching us. The other girls were in their rooms doing nasty things to one another as well,” he looked at her and grinned, “That’s kind of how things go here. Sex after dinner, before dinner. Right on the kitchen counter as someone is making dinner next to us.”

“Wow. That sounds incredible. Like a dream.” She said as she looked at his huge kitchen and two girls followed behind them.

“Would you like to see it in action? Right now Alana and Sasha are fucking in the TV room. I was just watching them before you arrived and I’m sure they’re still going at it. Up to you.”

She nodded. Everything about this situation felt like something she could quickly settle into. She’d love to have her days filled with sex and watching others and exploring.

Harry put his arm over Y/n’s shoulder and nudged her closer, “Don’t be shy,” he whispered as he walked them toward the TV room. Y/n could hear the girls moaning and the soft slick sounds that came with sex.

“Alana has the black hair, and Sasha is the one with the collar,” Harry explained.

Alana was on all fours as was Sasha who was eating her out from behind. Sasha was also using a dildo on herself as she steadied her body with one hand, face stuffed into Alana’s pussy and working the dildo in and out.

Alana turned to see Y/n and Harry and her lips were parted, “H… Hi…” she panted and then swayed her hips over Sasha’s face.

Y/n brought her hand up to wave, “Hi.”

She’d never been in a situation quite like this. She’d participated in sex parties, orgies, and the like, but to be part of a household where everyone has access to one another all day was a new concept.

“No one that lives here works. That’s another rule. No working. We all need to have access at all times, unless, like I said someone needs some space or a day alone. But really, this just means I don’t want anyone under my care to worry about money or stress about a job. I take care of everything.”

She looked from Harry back to the girls who were enjoying themselves in front of everyone. It was making her horny. Well, she was always horny, but seeing soft curves and breasts, and hearing their gasps and groans of ecstasy was making her panties wet.

She both loathed and loved her condition. Loathed it when she wasn’t in a spot to take care of herself. Loved it when she was.

“So it’s you and 9 women here right now?”

Harry nodded and put his hand on the back of her neck, gently squeezing, “That’s right. I’m open to as many as fit into our lifestyle here. I have sex with each girl every day. Sometimes all of us participate together. Some days I want to have sex with one of them a few times. Depends on the day.”

Y/n looked up at the man. His jawline was sharp. She was already hot and feeling achy and he was so attractive and looked so yummy to her. In fact, everyone she’d seen so far looked quite appealing. She’d be happy if Chanel who was just to her right had her way with her.

“No one ever gets jealous?” Y/n inquired.

Harry shook his head, “No. if jealousy does arise, this may not be the right situation. I have had some partners in the past who were invited but wound up not being able to handle it. And that’s okay. They didn’t know that they’d feel so jealous so we parted ways.”

She nodded and licked her lips as she set her gaze on the wet dildo that was being moved in and out of Sasha’s pussy.

“How does this all make you feel right now?” Harry asked.

“It sounds amazing. And I’m really turned on seeing this.”

“Yeah? Me too. Your survey said you were a nymphomaniac so you must be quite ready for a good fucking about right now. It’s up to you if you like this setup but I would like to bring you to my room and give you a preview of what you could expect.”

Y/n looked up at Harry and she could see his pupils were blown out and his lips were dark pink. She swallowed and nodded, “Yeah. That would be fun. I don’t mind if anyone watches, though. I’m very open.”

Harry licked his lips and drew his gaze over her face, “Then I’ll leave my bedroom door open.”

She followed Harry up the stairs and to his large bedroom. But as they passed the other rooms, she noted all the bedrooms were large. Huge in fact. Lots of toys and contraptions set up.

But Harry’s room was tame compared to some of the other spaces. His bed was massive and he did have cuff bars at the head of his bed as well as a bar that hung from his ceiling.

She felt someone behind her touch her shoulder, “Can I help you out of your dress?”

She turned to the woman and smiled as she nodded, “Sure. What’s your name?”

The woman took the bottom hem of Y/n’s dress and began to lift it, “Carrie. You’re beautiful, Y/n. Thank you for letting me see you.”

When her dress was off, Carrie lay it over a chair so it didn’t wrinkle and Harry stood before Y/n with his shirt off and all his tattoos that she had no idea existed were on display. Dark scatterings of tattoos in different styles. His left arm littered in them.

But even more impressive was his body. Well-toned, muscular, lean. Harry moved his hands behind her back and unhooked her bra like an expert as he kissed her neck. She could feel puffs of his warm breath against her skin as she closed her eyes and stretched her neck out for his access as she placed her hands on his shoulders. He lowered his mouth to her clavicle and then to her breasts when she felt his fingers in the band of her panties to pull them off her legs. He pressed his mouth to her tummy and once her panties were on the floor around her ankles he pulled her to his bed, “How do you want it, Y/n? What do you like?” He began to take his pants off as he asked her and she scooted into the bed.

“God I like so many things. Let me suck you off first. It’s gonna make me drip and then I want to be fucked.”

Harry watched her as he dragged his underwear down and his heavy cock drooped. He was thick and fully hard but unlike the last man she slept with, his cock couldn’t stand upward because it was too large. She moaned and reached for him as he climbed up to her on the bed.

“Whatever you want. Is it okay if Carrie eats you out while you suck me off? I can tell she wants to play too,” he looked behind himself at Carrie and then back to Y/n.

“Oh… yes! Do you want to, Carrie?” Y/n asked.

“It would be my pleasure.” Carried sauntered toward the bed and got onto her knees to wait until Harry and Y/n were in position.

Harry lay on his back and spread his legs as he ran his palm over himself, pumping down to the base of his pretty cock. His thighs looked strong and healthy. Harry’s abs were begging for her tongue so she climbed between his legs and did just that. She licked upward over his abs and kissed as she went, “God your body is something I can worship,” Y/n moaned as she grasped onto his thighs and worked her tongue over his skin and his tattoos.

Harry softly moaned and then put his hand into Y/n’s hair, pulling her away from his abs, “I’ll give you five minutes on my cock. And then I’m gonna fuck you, okay darling?”

It was bliss. Y/n had participated in group sex but this felt so right. She tasted Harry’s prick, licking down to his balls, and then licked and kissed his scrotum. She stuffed her mouth with his sac and moaned around him. Harry gasped. Carrie had laid on her back with her face up with Y/n’s pussy pressed into her face as Y/n sucked and licked Harry up.

Carrie’s soft warm tongue and her lips felt like relief on her aching, wet pussy. But once Y/n finally put Harry’s cock into her mouth and got into a good pace Carrie had to get onto her knees and lean into Y/n from behind to keep licking at her cunt.

Y/n wretched the tiniest bit as she lowered over him as far as she could and sucked as she lifted upward, only to repeat her wet tongue and warm mouth encasing his cock and then gagging as his tip reached to the back of her throat and she pushed even further to make his cock reach deeper.

“That’s five minutes,” Harry panted his words as pulled her up and drew her in for a wet kiss.

Carrie moved herself to the foot of the bed and took her panties off before she began running her fingers over her pussy.

He picked up the condom that was conveniently on his bedside table, “We’ll use condoms until everything is all worked out,” he began to put the condom over his cock, “We want to make sure you’re happy here and this is what you really want and then you’ll get tested for STDs and we’ll make sure you're one a good birth control. Once that’s out of the way,” he tossed the wrapper onto the nightstand, “Everything will be raw. I like coming inside my girls and they like to walk around dripping of it or have it eaten out of them.” His grin was a little cocky but Y/n could see why. He was living the dream. They all were.

She couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her as she laid on her back and Harry fit himself between her thighs. He gently pressed his thumb through her slick crease and then put it into his mouth to taste before running his fingers over her clit.

Y/n moaned and bucked her hips upward as she kept her eyes on his pretty green ones.

“Want my cock, Y/n?” He painted his condom-covered prick through her folds and up over her clit.

“I need it. Need to come so bad.”

Harry looked down to her pussy and grasped his base as he lined himself up with her. Y/n couldn’t see Carrie but she could hear how wet she was and her small moans as Harry finally slid inside.

“Fuck… I think you belong here, Y/n,” he gritted as he backed out and then pushed back into her, his tip reaching into her guts deliciously.

She nodded in response as Harry’s intense eyes were locked on hers, “Yes…”

Harry worked himself into Y/n, getting deeper on each plunge until his hips were pasted to hers and he was fucking into her, pushing her up gently with each rock of his hips.

Harry was breathing hard as he paused and took Y/n’s thighs and pressed them into her chest so he could fuck down into her with deep, painful strokes. The pain was welcome. Y/n loved getting her guts rearranged by a man with a big cock just as much as she loved the soft and delicate lips and fingers of a woman. All forms were welcome. But she did prefer her men with big cocks. Women were better lovers in general and she would never be able to choose if she liked men or women better. All she knew was that Harry’s cock was exactly what she wanted in a man.

She squeaked when he began to rail into her, her pussy walls sucking him in and squeezing as he drove into her.

Harry’s rhythmic breath with each of his thrusts was sexy. She loved to hear a man enjoying her body.

“Oh, Y/n…” he grunted, “I’m not letting you leave. I’m gonna need this pussy every day.”

She moaned loudly and all she could get out was a gurgled, “Yes!” It was hard to get much breath into her lungs with the way Harry had her folded in half and the pace at which he was pounding into her.

“Yeah? You wanna be my new girl? Have lots of girlfriends and one boyfriend, Y/n? Get cock and pussy every day?”

Tears fell from her face as she blubbered and moaned a resounding, “Yes!”

Carrie was gasping her words as she fingered herself to the view, “Oh god! That looks like it feels so good!”

“It does feel good. You like watching her pussy get fucked, baby?” Harry spoke to Carrie as he released Y/n’s legs so her feet fell flat to the mattress.

“Yes! Oh, Daddy! I want to watch it every day! Please!”

With the change of position and Y/n’s knees bent, her feet on the mattress Harry’s groin rubbed into her clit and she felt that spark of the finale approaching. She’d been so on edge since she arrived at Harry’s home and then seeing Sasha and Alana fucking in front of her and now with Carrie watching and Harry’s cock punching into her tummy in hard and long strokes she was simply in outer space. Her body was receiving his big cock and her clit was stimulated like she needed.

“Feel it, Y/n?” Harry ground into her with his eyes on hers, rolling his hips sensually and making sure he was smushing into her button. He knew what he was doing. He knew his cock felt good inside of her and that once he added the stimulation of her clit she’d be coming soon. All his girls loved his cock. Loved their clit touched while he was inside of them. And he could see it was no different with Y/n.

“Harry, yes! I feel you. It feels so good. I’m gonna come…”

Harry groaned loudly and slammed his hips into hers. He massaged her tits as he kept himself still for a moment to catch his breath, “You wanna come, Y/n? Like how it feels?”

“I do! Harry, please…” she begged as she bucked her hips up into him to get him to start moving. She was so close.

Harry grunted a laugh and circled his hips, digging his cock into her cervix and she hissed at the ache, “You don’t even have to beg here unless that’s what you like. I’m always gonna make you come, Y/n.” He was breathing hard as he spoke.

“I want it every day. I love this. I want her next,” Y/n lifted her neck and made eye contact with Carrie who was softly cooing. She’d already come but she was still rubbing her pussy and moving her hips.

“Then you can have it. And Carrie too if you want.”

Y/n moaned and nodded as Harry began to move again. Inching back and then pressing himself into the hilt. Over and over again until it was skin smacking wetly and loud choked moans and gasps.

Her tits bounced back and forth as Harry ravaged her pussy, fucking into her perfectly until she clamped down on his cock and began to pulse around him, pussy fluttering and gushing as she cried out.

“That’s it, Y/n… Come for me… just like that… good girl…” he watched her face screw up as she orgasmed and he held himself back. He could have released into his condom but he wanted Y/n to feel everything the way it was meant to be felt. The inner walls of her spasming cunt, pressing and pulling Harry’s cock in as she rammed into her turned her into a melted puddle.

When she opened her eyes she saw Harry watching her with a grin, “Want to eat my come out of Carrie’s pussy?”

Y/n moaned and nodded, “Fuck yes.”

She sat up as Harry pulled himself out and removed his condom. He dragged Carrie toward him by her ankles and the girl laughed with a squeal. Y/n loved this. She was feeling so good after her orgasm and now she was about to get to play with another person and eat come from the pretty girl’s pussy. It was a dream.

She watched as Harry flipped her over to her tummy and swatted her bottom, Carrie laughed and angled her hips so Harry could enter her.

He leaned over Carrie and spoke lowly, but still loud enough for Y/n to hear, “Such a good fucking little girl for me, baby. Want Daddy’s cock and his come?”

She whined and lifted her hips again, hoping he’d just enter her, “Yes, Daddy!”

Y/n wondered if all the girls called him daddy or if it was different depending on the girl.

With Carrie’s tummy pressed into the mattress, Harry spread her cheeks and plunged into her in one go as she grunted and moaned.

Y/n climbed up closer to watch Carrie’s pussy spread open for Harry’s bare cock and she was immediately horny again.

He rocked into her and he moaned softly until his thrusts grew sloppy, his hips were jerking and he began to whimper, “Oh shit… Fucking gonna come, baby,” he panted, “Y/n… I’m coming inside of her, watch,” he whined as he gripped Carrie's hips and Y/n could see Harry’s balls tighten and throb as he released into Carrie.

Carrie moaned into the blankets below her face as Harry coughed out a loud groan. It was so hot. She loved having such a good view of two people having sex.

When Harry pulled out with his chest still heaving he grabbed Y/n’s hand, “She’s all yours now, Y/n. Filled with my come.”

Y/n smoothed her hands over Carrie’s soft bottom and lifted her hips up before she tongued up and down Carrie’s entrance, first tasting Carrie’s slick arousal and then as Harry’s come began to drip out of her opening she caught it and swallowed it down little by little as he leaked from her.

“Get on your back so I can really eat you out,” Y/n directed Carrie.

Harry sat up against his headboard and watched the girls. Carrie spread her legs as she was on her back and Y/n stuffed her fingers inside, watching Harry’s come coat her fingers as she pushed it back inside of Carrie slowly.

When she put her mouth back onto Carrie she slurped his come from her. There was a lot. But Carrie was loving the attention as she rolled her hips and moaned.

Y/n used her tongue to clean up as much of Carrie as she could but Carrie was so wet and slippery it was quite the task. A yummy task, but still.

When she felt Harry’s hands on her hips she turned to look at him.

“I’m gonna eat you out while you eat her out and then I’m gonna fuck you again because I’m ready for round two already. Okay?”

Y/n grinned widely. She had hit the jackpot with this setup unless it was just a dream. But she would revel in it as long as she could. She put her lips around Carrie’s clit as she felt Harry’s fingers inside of her cunt before he lapped her up with his tongue.

She was sure she would enjoy living this way with Harry and all the girls. She couldn’t wait to try each one of them out. But for now, Carrie tasted diving and Harry’s tongue was magic and she needed to put in her two week’s notice at the bakery.

A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this and would like more I'd be so grateful to you for joining my Patreon!! xoxo

Tags: @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @icumforbaldrry

846 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 10 months

Note

AAAA YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD AAA I LOVE IT!!! Could you write some fluffy soft mushy stuff about cuddling gojo? he deserves to be held and loved and appreciated

alone with the moon

FEATURING. gojo satoru x f!reader — wc: 1.9k

CONTENTS: i accidentally added angst, but it's mostly cute! no spoilers, sfw!!! gojo comes home late from a mission!

You waited, pushing your ear against the phone as the line rang, once, twice, a third time.

When the voice of Satoru Gojo, leading you to his voicemail box, answered again, your confidence waned, concern only growing about his condition.

Your texts remained delivered, and a response bubble never once appeared, even though you willed it to. The last time you’d heard a word from him was this morning, when he was leaving for work, promising he’d be home before dinner. Satoru never went long without answering you, and the food sat cold on the table without a word.

In a rush of panic, you’d reached out to Shoko, Nanami, anyone you could possibly think of that he might contact in a pinch. Though, none of them had heard from him in days, and you started to doubt that he’d ask for backup, even if he really needed it.

A terrible image rooted inside your chest. Satoru was strong, but he wasn’t immortal, and you knew that he could be lying somewhere, alone, dying. If that was the case, you’d be none the wiser.

You worried your lip, feeling like you were slowly losing a grip on sanity. If he’d just send you a simple heart in return, a space, anything to let you know that he was okay, you could release the tight grip that squeezed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs. Instead, you sat in silence, holding your phone like a lifelong, incapable of thinking of anyone but the man who hadn’t even told you where he was going.

Finally, the door opened. It shut. You held your breath until the sound of heavy, recognizable footsteps padded down the hall, and you were to your feet in a flash, rushing around the corner.

Gojo’s shoulders were slumped as he slowly pulled the blindfold over his head, soft white hair falling onto his forehead. Before he’d had the chance to say a word, you’d thrown yourself into him, your tight embrace crushing his arms to his hips.

He relaxed immediately, holding you just as closely. “I missed you too, honey.”

Although you usually melted at the sound of his voice, the casual tone that he dared to use, to insinuate that nothing was wrong, was enough to irritate you. You shoved him away, lips drawn into a thin line. “Where the hell were you?”

Gojo blinked back, frosty eyelashes falling over wide crystal eyes. Then, he was rummaging through his pocket with a cheeky smile, pulling out the phone that had cracked, splintered, rendered completely unusable. “Sorry. I would’ve called you if I could.”

You inhaled. Released a shaky breath and tried to calm your nerves before you said something you didn’t actually mean.

Gojo’s smile quickly turned into a frown. “I didn’t mean to make you wait. You should’ve gone to bed.”

Though he was trying to comfort you, the comment only served to upset you more. “You think I could have just gone to sleep? You should’ve told me where you were going. No one had any idea where you were and I couldn’t get a hold of you, and—”

You stilled, burying your face in your hands before Gojo had come up around you, his tall frame hovering over you, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. His fingers ran along your spine, stopping softly at every bone before he continued to the next notch, thinking. “I don’t want you to worry. You don’t need to worry.”

“I always worry.” The words were plain, offered to him without any dressing, no way to cover them up into anything but exactly what they were. “That’s the cruel reality of being a sorcerer.” You swallowed, burying your face into his chest, even though he smelled of dirt and sweat and the sickening smell that lingered from cursed spirits. “You may be Satoru Gojo, but with everything that’s been going on, I can’t help but wonder if each time you leave will be the last time that I see you.”

Satoru was quiet, contemplative. He stopped tracing your skin, instead letting his large palm rest still on your hip. “I’m okay, baby. Really.”

Leaning back in his arms, you scanned him. A gash cut across his cheek and grime had splattered all over his uniform. “Are you?” you asked in a soft voice, wiping your thumb against the wound. “You’re bleeding, Satoru.” The color stained your finger, revealing the outline of your thumbprint that had smeared against his skin.

Gojo pulled your hand away, gently grasping your wrist, as if to redirect your attention, even though you could focus on nothing but the crimson stain. “It wasn’t from the curse. I let my guard down a moment. Some debris hit me in the face, that’s all.” He smiled, though you couldn’t be sure he was telling the truth, his voice hushed. “It’s just a scratch.”

It looked like more than just a scratch, the droplets deep red as they flowed down to his chin. “You’re exhausting yourself,” you said, swallowing the wave of emotion that threated to drag you down. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I have to—”

“Even you have your limits.” With a sigh, you untangled yourself from his embrace, taking his hand to lead him to the bathroom. “This is reckless, Satoru. If they need your help so bad, they should understand you’re no used to them dead.”

His lips curled, but the smile lacked any of the usual charm. “I’ll be okay.”

“You always say that, but lately, I’ve been finding it hard to believe.” There were bandages in the medicine cabinet, ointment, and you rummaged them, thinking. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Satoru was quiet as you pushed him onto the countertop, his legs long enough to reach the floor completely. You stood between them, wiping a warm cloth over his cheekbone, scrubbing harder where the blood had already crusted over.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Satoru apologized again, his eyes soft under long lashes. “You know I would’ve called you if I could.”

“I know.” You swallowed, unable to hold his gaze for long. With shaky hands, you placed a ridiculously shaped bandage over his cheek, grateful that you could something, even something as small as this. “There,” you said in a tender voice, hating the way your lips quivered around the syllable. “All done.”

Satoru smiled and leaned forward, wrapping two strong arms around your shoulders. “Thank you. I didn’t realize I had my own little nurse.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him on the cheek, right over the scratchy little band aid, exhaling a sharp laugh. “You don’t need a nurse. You need some sleep.”

He didn’t answer as you led him to the bedroom, the exhaustion on his face too evident for an objection.

The sheets were already pulled back from your earlier attempts at sleep, when you were too tense and worried to keep your eyes shut. Now, the blankets were too alluring to resist, warm and heavy, and you sunk easily into the mattress, exhaling relief.

When Satoru laid beside you, you rolled over, forcing him onto his side so that you could wrap your arms securely around him.

For half a moment, he tensed, surprised, but didn’t object to the change in your usual position. Instead, he held your hand tighter against his chest, letting you intertwine your legs with his own.

Satoru was warm, and he needed a shower, but you were too consumed by overwhelming relief that you didn’t care about anything but being near him.

“I’m okay, sweetie,” he said after a moment of unbroken silence, caressing your knuckles with rough fingertips. “Really, you don’t need to—”

Swallowing, you buried your forehead further into his neck, breathing in the cotton and detergent from the fresh shirt he’d changed into. Sweat lingered on his skin, and his hair was tangled, but the faint smell of his cologne remained. “Just let me hold you, Satoru.”

The moment was serene as he contemplated his next words.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, uncertain. The opposite of every adjective that most people would use to describe him.

It was not a question that could be so easily answered with a yes or no, and you wondered what you could say that wouldn’t upset him. Satoru was the sun, but he belonged to more than just you; one singular person couldn’t bottle up that light and threaten to hide it away from the rest of the world, just to keep it safe.

“I don’t want you to think you’re alone in this, because you’re not.” You hummed your words, maintaining every syllable on a single tone, hoping it wasn’t evident that your voice was near collapse. “Let everyone else think Satoru Gojo is invincible, but I know better.” The hum of the fan became your focus, his subtle breaths interrupting the white noise.

He squeezed your hand, silent once. Another minute passed. Sounds from outside cut through it, sharp. “I don’t have another choice.”

He never meant to scare you, but it happened anyway. It would always happen, so long as you harbored a shred of affection for the man who’d never had any other choice but to be a jujutsu sorcerer. You pressed a kiss to his neck, then, the skin warm and soft there.

“I know.” A sigh left your lips. You were grateful that you weren’t facing him. “The world needs you. Am I selfish for thinking I need you more?”

Satoru turned in one fluid movement, crushing you to his chest, burying his nose in your hair. His arms squeezed your stomach, so much tighter than you anticipated, but you were safe, warm, and he was sheltered there with you. “I could never think you’re selfish for that.” You clung to him. “I’m sorry I can’t be here with you more.”

Another wave of stillness hit the two of you, in which neither of you knew what to say next. His breath was cold against your ear. “It’s okay,” you said, even though sometimes it wasn’t, and you missed him every moment that he was away. “I’ll still be here every time you return.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, untangling the soft, white strands.

“I’m proud of you, Satoru. Sometimes, I just wish you’d let me take care of you. I wish I could do more.”

You felt him laugh, though there was little amusement in it, and you wondered if, maybe, he wished that too. But he was Satoru Gojo, and you were just a grade one sorcerer, and when it came to jujutsu, the gap of power is wide between you. There are missions he must take that no one else can, not even you, and you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life.

“You don’t need to do more.” He kissed your temple and relinquished his position once more, flipping to his side. Your stomach was once again pressed to his chest as you hold him.

There were no words left to be said. Instead, you held his wrist loosely in your hand, swirling patterns into it with your thumb. For once, Satoru’s breathing evens out before your own, and you are left alone once more.

2K notes · View notes

lena-in-a-red-dress · 22 days

Text

Alt Assistant AU - Game Night

“Hey.”

Kara lets herself into Lena’s office, her greeting pulling her girlfriend’s attention to her.

“Hey,” Lena returns. At this hour, she should be tired, but there’s not a trace of exhaustion in the focused gaze that meets hers with a smile. “How’d it go?”

Kara grins. “I signed my contract with CatCo forty-three minutes ago.”

Lena’s smile widens to beaming. “I knew you’d wow them.” She rises from her seat and leans in to press a kiss to Kara’s lips. “Congratulations, love.”

Lifting the bag of Big Belly in her hand, Kara shrugs her eyebrows invitingly. “Dinner to celebrate?”

Without a further word, Lena moves with her to the couch. Though she brings a stack of contracts with her, she holds off on reviewing them until after their burgers are devoured and the leftover fries long cold. Kara doesn’t mind Lena’s preoccupation– it gives her an opportunity to study Lena in profile, from the line of her jaw to the curve of her nose.

“Hey,” Kara murmurs.

“Hmmm?” Lena hums back, not quite looking away from the pages in her lap. Kara smiles.

“I’m hosting game night tomorrow.” Her declaration is met with a nod and another hum. “Wanna join?”

“Not really.”

That’s another difference of this reality– this Lena declines invitations just as often as the old Lena used to, but not out of self-preservation. She simply feels no need to commit herself to something she’s not interested in. Most times, Kara admires her forthright, but tonight she can’t help the disappointment that courses through her.

Lena senses the change in her mood, and sets the contract down to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

“I want you to come,” Kara returns plainly.

Lena’s brow furrows. “Why?”

It’s not an unreasonable question– Kara’s been hosting game not regularly since the reality reset, eager to reclaim one of the few things that helped her feel like nothing had changed. Lena has never expressed interest in attending, and Kara hasn’t extended the invite until now. But something has changed.

“My friends will be there,” Kara says. She lets her fingers trace the seam of the back couch cushion. She keeps her eyes on Lena’s. “I want you to meet them.”

Lena’s chin tilts to one side. “I see.”

“All of you are important to me,” Kara continues. “I want you all to know each other.”

She’s lived separate lives before– she has no interest in suffering similarly in this reality.

Lena’s pink lips twist into a smile. Her gaze teasingly turns askance, even as she gracefully scoots herself closer to Kara. “Well,” she purrs. “In that case…”

She leans in, and Kara closes the distance, capturing her lips– still tasting faintly of grease– in another kiss.

“I suppose I can make the time.”

—

Game night is better than Kara could have imagined. In the previous reality, Lena’s first three game nights had seen her stiff and reticent, coiled tightly as though expecting a physical blow. But current Lena… Lena is on full display. All of her magnetism that draws investors in like moths to flame now brings Kara’s friends into easy conversation, her features bright and open.

She absolutely dominates at Monopoly, of course. And Trivial Pursuit. Kara cherishes every cheer of excitement when Lena succeeds, be it collecting rent or a correct, obscure answer. Lena’s clearly enjoying herself, which was Kara’s secondary goal for the night. Joining the two halves of her life will only work if both sides have fun.

The night ends when Lena heads out first. “Early meeting,” she explains, but Kara suspects she’s bowing out– at least in part– to give them time to report in and render judgement.

When the door closes behind Lena, Kara takes a moment to deliver a load of dishes to the kitchen. She can’t help the grin that spreads her features– she can’t wait to hear her friends’ approval. But when she turns back to the line of solemn features lined up before her, her stomach drops.

“What? That– things went great! I thought—” She scans their faces. Alex, she can kind of understand. As her sister, she’s predisposed to being protective. Brainy, less so, but to Kara he seemed to be demurring to his own girlfriend, on whom Kara locks her gaze.

“Nia?”

Nia at least, she expected to be receptive to Lena. They’d been friends in the previous reality, to Kara’s recollection, and her easy-going nature surely would have left her primed to adore Lena.

Except Nia’s grimace is widest of them all.

“I dunno…” She draws out the word, stretching it into an audible apology. “She’s nice, I guess, but… she’s also a little… intense?”

Kara blinks in surprise. “Intense? How do you mean?”

Lena can be intense. Kara knows this. She wouldn’t be a good executive if she wasn’t. Nor would she be able to go head-to-head in a male-dominated industry. But Kara hadn’t seen that intensity tonight. She’s genuinely confused, and waits for Nia to elaborate.

“Well…” Nia seems at a loss for words, and she shoots a glance at the others for support. “She’s, uhh…”

“Obsessed with winning, for one,” Alex delivers bluntly.

Kara stares at her sister. “You’re mad because she… won?”

“It’s more than that,” Nia follows up quickly. “I don’t know how to really explain it, but she just doesn’t seem to… fit.”

“She has nothing in common,” Alex continues. “And I don’t like how she treats you.”

“Like what?”

“You waited on her hand and foot the entire night! Like you were her assistant!”

“It just felt like there wasn’t space for anyone else when you’re talking to her,” Nia says softly. “It might just be me, but…”

“It’s not.” Alex all but scowls. “All of us felt it, and the fact neither of you picked up on how uncomfortable we were says more than it doesn’t.”

Anger starts to build in Kara’s belly, but the hurt in her chest tamps it down. A lump lifts to her throat when she looks to the one person who hasn’t weighed in yet.

“Brainy?”

His expression is pensive. “I too noticed the magnitude of Miss Luthor’s presence, which perhaps may not be well suited to such intimate evenings between friends.”

Kara presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath, then a second. Once she’s sure she can speak without her voice breaking, she swallows thickly.

“I see.”

“Kara…” Nia trails off when Kara lifts her hand.

“I know you all must be tired. I’ll clean up,” she says. Nia opens her mouth to protest, but Alex places a hand on her shoulder. The younger woman slumps minutely as she quietly sighs.

“Okay.” Nia rises from her seat, tugging Brainy towards the door. “I’m sorry, Kara. I just worry–”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Kara clips out. It effectively silences Nia, who glances sadly at her before she and Brainy slip out of the apartment. It leaves Kara alone with her sister, whose gaze she studiously avoids.

“I’m not going to apologize,” Alex states. “She wasn’t the only one in the room tonight, and she was too full of herself to see that the rest of us weren’t gelling. And you deserve better than someone who treats you like the help.”

Kara doesn’t respond or look up from the knot of wood in her butcher block table.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear–”

“I need to get up early tomorrow,” Kara grinds out. She’s heard enough. “Please leave.”

Alex doesn’t push any further. She nods, reaching for her jacket.

“Call if you need anything.”

Kara doesn’t breathe again until the door clicks shut. Only then does she release the pressure in her chest with a gasp, as the tears splash onto her cheeks.

—

Kara had lied about the early morning, but she finds herself sleepless regardless. She waits until the sun rises before she finally texts Lena.

What’re you up to? She sends, doing her best to sound casual and unaffected. She thinks she might have succeeded when Lena’s pending response immediately appears in the form of three pulsing dots.

Work, comes the quick reply. Seoul needs some cajoling.

Kara sends a sympathetic emoji back.

Should have everything handled in a few hours. Meet me at the office at 10? We can go to brunch.

Despite the gloom hanging heavy in her thoughts, Kara finds herself smiling.

Absolutely.

She’s in front of LuthorCorp twenty minutes to ten, and sends a querying question mark to see if Lena’s already on her way down. Unsurprisingly, she gets a ‘ten more minutes’ in response. Kara decides to spend the wait inside, and makes her way up to Lena’s office. As the elevator lifts higher, Kara’s stomach sinks lower.

She won’t be able to hide this from Lena. Lena knows her too well, and besides that it wouldn’t be fair to let Lena believe something that wasn’t true. Still, Kara plasters on a smile before pushing the final door open.

Lena looks up, and her eyes spark with joy at the sight of her. She rises from her seat, meeting Kara halfway to the desk to greet her with a brief, sweet kiss.

“Hey,” Lena says. “I just wrapped up the call. I just need to document what was discussed and then we can leave. They were ornery, but I’m persistent, so they eventually came around.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Kara returns. She watches Lena return to her seat and soon the soft clicking of rapid typing filled the air.

“Last night was fun,” Lena says, glancing briefly up to catch Kara’s gaze. Her eyes are bright, betraying the honesty of her words. “And your friends are nice. I like them.”

“Yeah,” Kara breathes. Her fingers reflexively reach up to adjust her glasses. Lena’s typing pauses. She looks up at Kara for a poignant moment, and Kara can see the moment her walls shutter into place behind her eyes.

“Ah.”

Lena’s gaze returns to the computer screen, and her long fingers resume their typing. Her tone is even, but the neutrality in it is clue enough that she’s more affected than she wants Kara to know.

“It… It’s not that they didn’t like you–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lena says coolly. “I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“What I mean is–”

“It’s fine, Kara,” Lena cuts her off, irritation leaking through her facade. “It doesn’t matter–”

“It does to me!” Kara blurts. Her vision wobbles through angry tears. Her throat aches, but with the truth hanging between them the dam has broken. “It matters to me.”

Lena’s fingers fall still. Her gaze softens as her eyes find Kara’s. After a moment, she pushes her chair back and rises. Crossing around her desk, she leans back against it, arms folding over her chest. Lena studies the ground at her feet for a long moment before lifting her chin.

“Is it something I can fix?”

The question is plain yet loaded with thinly veiled hurt, and it breaks Kara’s heart to hear it. Then in the next heartbeat, anger flares in Kara’s chest. The one thing she admired most about Lena in this reality, the one thing she was never forced to do here, was to remake herself into something she wasn’t. To change herself to be more palatable to others.

And here she is, offering to do just that.

For Kara.

“No,” Kara croaks. Then, stronger, “no.”

Lena takes a deep breath. “Kara, I can see how much it means to you, to live your life as a singular whole. And I get it– I do. But I’ve seen this before. I know if it comes down to a choice between them and me… I know I won’t be the one to keep you.”

Her voice cracks, and Kara’s heart stutters to see the sudden tears in Lena’s eyes. Her own cheeks are already damp, and her breath hitches in her chest. Lena pushes towards her at the sound of it. Her palms frame Kara’s cheeks so gently Kara only sobs again.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispers, lips quivering. “Kara...”

“You’re not.” Kara swallows, her hands coming to rest on Lena’s waist. The contact grounds her, lending her the strength that drained out of her the night before. It bolsters her, drying her tears even as Lena’s thumbs brush them from her cheeks. “You won’t.”

Kara leans in and kisses Lena firmly on the mouth. Then she wraps her arms around her, hugging her close enough to whisper low in Lena’s ear.

“I love you, Lena.”

Lena’s arms tighten around her waist, burrowing her face against Kara’s neck.

“You will never lose me,” Kara vows. Her jaw tightens. “Never again.”

She pulls away with another fierce kiss. Lena lets her go, but her touch lingers as they disengage. Kara backs up, keeping her gaze on Lena for a long moment.

“I have to go. But I’ll be back.” She smiles. “And brunch’ll be on me.”

Lena does her best to smirk, and it almost reaches her eyes. “Promise?”

Kara knows it’s meant to be a suggestive tease, but the nod she gives in return is as solemn as a vow.

“I promise.”

—

Kara issues only a short text to the group.

My place. Now.

If any of them had other plans, her tone plainly supercedes them, as fifteen minutes later her friends are all sitting on her couch watching her glare at them.

“I am angry,” she states, unnecessarily. “With all of you.”

Nia is the only one to quail at her tone. “Kara…”

“You are so indescribably selfish, each and every one of you. And you have the gall to say Lena is full of herself?”

Alex’s mouth opens in defiance, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance to speak.

“But you’re right about one thing– last night was a test. Lena might have failed yours… but you failed mine.”

Nia and Brainy look at each other, but Alex’s features don’t soften a bit. It only rankles Kara further.

“So what if she wins at all the games? None of you can pretend you wouldn’t do the same in her place.”

Brainy’s head tilts in concession, but her focus is caught once more by Alex once more drawing breath to protest.

“And the fact that I wait on her, as you so aptly put it?” she barks. “That I refilled her glass and kept her snacks topped up? What you conveniently failed to notice is that she didn’t ask me to do any of that!”

“No, she just expected it–!”

“I did it because I wanted to! Because I wanted her to be comfortable around my friends! Because I love her!”

Her voice rings out sharply in the sudden quiet. Kara hadn’t meant to admit it to them, not here, not now, but she refuses to take it back. She lets her scowl deepen.

“I love her,” she repeats, this time calmer. She looks at each of them. “I introduced you to the woman I love, and all you could think of were yourselves.”

Nia’s guilt visibly deepens, her shoulders bowing in on themselves. Brainy’s chin lifts, suffering the accusation stoically without denial. Only Alex remains unrepentant.

“Lena is kind and confident, and wonderful. She’s also stubborn, strong, and ruthless when she needs to be. I will not let her compromise any part of who she is just because you can’t handle who and what she is.”

A beat of silence follows, before Alex sighs.

“She was your boss, Kara,” she points out. Her tone, at least, has softened. “A boss you hated. And now she’s got you wrapped around her little finger? I don’t buy it. I don’t buy whatever she’s told you about how she’s changed, just to get you into bed–”

“Enough!” Kara shouts. Her hand slices through the air, silencing her sister, if only for a moment. She trembles with rage. “Don’t you dare say anything about something you know nothing about–”

“I’m your sister,” Alex fires back, “I know plenty–”

“She’s not the one who changed!” Kara cries, finally shocking Alex to a standstill. “You say you know me, but I’m the one who changed. For months, I’ve been different, and none of you have noticed.” She glares at her sister. “Not even you.”

None of them seem to know what to say. Even Brainy, astute and perceptive as he is, seems perplexed. She continues to glare at them, but ultimately reaches for her purse to leave. She’s done with this conversation.

“Lock up after yourselves,” she snaps. “I’ve got brunch to get to.”

She leaves them all where they sit, gaping after her until she slams the door shut behind her.

#supercorp #alt Assistant au #game night #read em and weep #got at least one more snippet on the brain #should have it up this week

298 notes · View notes

harrysonlylover · 6 months

Text

Red Line*

Summary: Harry has some lines that he sticks to, except that you were never one to oblige.

Or Harry getting jealous.

Trope: Agent! Harry

Warnings: Mean Harry, Dom Harry, oral scene, hair pulling, choking.

WC: 4k

This is set before At All Costs

Main Masterlist

Harry has been acting weird lately.

Y/n wants to believe that it’s a coincidence, or that he’s just delighting in his position as a superior, but she knows deep down that there’s more to it.

His attitude towards her keeps changing, he’s either completely stern or completely soft. The latter is more confusing for her given his persona. It’s even more concerning when it’s shown in front of other agents.

The only logical reasoning would be the physical relationship that they have. They hook up when he approaches her (which has been increasing lately). But getting on his nerves is her favorite activity, so sometimes she barges into his office or room and initiates the first move. Of course, she does that because he specified that sex will happen only when he says so. Though his plan doesn’t seem to work as he obliges to her wishes every single time and fucks her into the next training.

It started almost six months ago when he really had it with her during an important training. She talked back at him in front of relevant agents from a different country. He commanded her to leave and wait in his office where he was going to issue a punishment for her. That went completely sideways when the verbal discipline he wanted to perform turned into degradation as they screwed each other’s brains.

They never actually agreed to a certain timing, Harry would simply show up and knock the air out of her lungs with a hungry kiss. He’s someone who likes order in both his personal and professional life, Y/n disobedience rendered him attractive to her in an odd way.

The nice outcome was the raw and dirty sex they had. The only orders she obeyed were the ones he gave her behind closed doors.

It isn’t exactly an ideal position because intimate relationships are not to be found in the workplace; especially in this dangerous field. That wasn’t supposed to be an issue since it was common knowledge that they hated each other’s guts.

But did they really?

Harry’s weird behavior did not go unnoticed by Y/n, maybe it’s just their chemistry increasing but at this point, she can’t figure out anything. Lying to herself won’t benefit her; she likes him and she really shouldn’t but it’s already too late.

He isn’t a casual kisser but that changed recently. He attaches his mouth to her’s the entire time as if they got glued somehow.

He developed the habit of resting his lips against her forehead during missionary, leaving a subtle kiss that she didn’t even catch up on until a while after.

Despite the sexual energy they shared, the stolen glances and lingering touches, by far his lips subtly brushing against her face was the closest form of obedience he had ever experienced.

Their bodies worked together in sync. A kiss here, a kiss there. Warmth here and warmth there.

They despised each other outside of the bedroom, Harry can’t handle someone who questions his authority and Y/n is exactly that.

She messes with his perspective about everything he has been taught, his morals, his personality, and his methods of training. Whenever they’re found in the same room together, know that some snarky comments will be thrown.

He hadn’t seen her in two days. It’s normal to go a while without seeing a colleague or an agent as everyone’s missions can vary. He lived his life normally without seeing lifelong friends for months, unaware of their safety and whereabouts. But the moment the clock strikes 10 in the morning, he’s up on his feet strolling to Agent Marks’ office. All agents that he bumps into either move out of his way after greeting him or quickly hide inside a room.

And that is Harry Styles.

“Marks where is Miss Y/n?” Harry practically barged into the office making the agent in front of him jump on his feet in a matter of seconds.

“Mo—rning S-ir” He stuttered in shock at the sudden entrance before processing what Harry asked him and turning his attention to the computer where he typed Y/n’s name as Harry gave him a cold stare.

“It looks like she’s scheduled to return today.” He answers Harry whose face shows a hint of relief upon hearing the information.

He walked out of the office without any other word and headed straight to the spacious gym where other agents were training as well. This time no one halted their movements or walked away, only because everyone wanted to admire his stamina while working out.

All agents were well trained and monitored, just because Harry radiated authority does not mean others were lower than him. He’s a well respected man.

The attention in the room turned to him as he covered his hands in boxing gloves and began punching the bag in front of him.

Watching him exercise was similar to indulging in a movie about a ruthless athlete. He punched it nonstop as sweat dripped down his forehead until it ultimately covered his pump chest.

His stamina was otherworldly. He didn’t reach this position for nothing. While everyone admired him and secretly wished they could mimic his moves, Harry’s mind was somewhere else.

He couldn’t stop thinking about a certain girl and her safety. He’s not sure which is irritating him more; the fact that he’s unaware of her situation or why he’s so concerned with her.

His punches were coordinated yet extremely intense. His biceps flexed with every move and his abs contracted under the dim light of the gym.

He released every emotion that he couldn’t decipher into that punching bag. He didn’t realize how far he went until his friend Zayn stood in front of him and caught the punching bag in his arms.

“Mate it’s gonna fall off the hook.” He warned him, catching his eyes in a concerned stare.

Harry looked around him only to be met with the sight of an empty gym and a clock that was striking 1 in the afternoon.

He’s been here for three hours?

He walked slowly to the nearest wall where he rested his back before sitting on the ground.

He lost track of time as his mind was conquered by Y/n. He shouldn’t be thinking about her or anything that’s related to her. And definitely not about the mole on her left hip and the softness of her—

“Are you okay?” Zayn rescued him from his merciless brain. Harry’s chest heaved as he closed his eyes to gain a moment of calmness that he rarely ever enjoys.

The bruises on his knuckles that were healing are now visible again and he can’t help but remember how Y/n expressed worry over them.

Does she care about him?

Is she thinking about him?

“I’m fine.” He replied to Zayn to avoid further questioning. He’s aware that his friend can get worried sometimes but Harry is a closed book. There is no need to confide anyone in.

He walked away after catching his breath, leaving Zayn standing in the middle of the room with unanswered questions.

A cold shower will always soothe Harry right after exercising, but especially when he’s losing control of his thoughts.

As the icy water engulfed his skin in a pleasurable sting, he rubbed his face and eyes to avoid the sinful images that were flooding his mind.

Although he shouldn’t, he realized that he never fucked Y/n in the shower. It didn’t take long for him to harden at the mere thought of their skin together under the water.

He can even imagine the way she’d rest her head against his body, bite his skin, and let out lustful moans that haunt his daydreams.

He is absolutely fucked.

“Fuck’s sake.” He tilts his head backward, allowing the cold water to drip down his toned body reaching his erect cock, earning a hiss from him.

He could fuck anyone right now just to get it out of his system. In fact, he could do that at any given time and yet he always holds back.

The gravitational pull Y/n has on him is insane. He wants her body attached to his at all times.

He showered quickly after muttering under his breath about self-discipline and wrapped a towel around his waist.

His mind was so occupied with Y/n that he forgot all about bringing in clothes with him. He’ll have to step out with only the towel covering his body, but that wasn’t much of an issue as he assumed that the center would be somewhat empty at this hour.

He strolled down the hallway with the towel as a layer for his lower body. The shower helped his nerves to calm down after all the torturous thinking.

He was headed towards his office that he stays in on most days before hearing muffled voices coming from the gym.

Normally, he wouldn’t give two fucks. He can’t keep up with every single agent and he only interferes if he observes something against the rules.

But the soft voice followed by giggles that his ear can detect from miles away—that is his business.

He dismisses the fact that he’s half-naked as he directs his attention to the gym area where he sees Y/n, still in her field clothes standing next to an agent who is clearly thirsting for her.

“I’m glad that you’re back.” The agent practically had his body glued to Y/n.

“Hmm yeah?” Y/n used her flirtatious tone; the same one that had Harry weak in the knees. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back from using the training he had today to deform the guy’s face. All the stress that the shower took away came back and bubbled through his bloodstream.

“Of course. I missed you and I was wondering if you would like—“ Harry interrupted by pushing the door open with a force, catching them off guard.

“Hello Sir—“

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” His anger was visible and he looked like he was about to get reckless.

“Training sir-“

“Training your flirting methods?! They sure as hell suck.” Harry dripped poison with every word and his body language indicated how furious he was.

Y/n stood unbothered. She was amused even. Harry could easily tell that which pissed him off even more. Her eyes scanned his body the same way she eyes a candy.

The guy was swallowing down his throat, inattentive to the shared glances between Harry and Y/n. All he cared about in the moment was not upsetting his boss, and trying not to appear as a total idiot in front of Y/n.

“Get the fuck away from my face right this instant. Your actions will have a consequence.” Harry’s voice was threatening and devilish as if he enjoyed being this rough with agents. In fact, he lived for the thrill of it.

The agent scurried out of the room as fast as he could to avoid eye contact with Harry who was staring at him with a clenched jaw and bulging eyes.

If he wasn’t angry already, Y/n surely knew how to press his buttons. She casually headed towards the door with an amused grin planted on her face.

“Not so fast Y/n.” He grabbed her arm before she got to pass by him. She rolled her eyes instantly and looked away.

“Who the hell are you rolling your eyes at?” He grabbed her jaw with his hand, forcing her to look up at him.

“Is there anyone else in the room?” She replied in a sassy tone, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

His nostrils were flaring and she could almost hear his teeth grinding together. The look he gave her warned her that she was in for it. But obviously, she pressed further.

He glanced subtly behind him to make sure that the hallway was empty before tightening his grip on her arm and dragging her behind him.

“Where are you—“

“I don’t want to hear you talking.” She had really messed up.

When she returned from her mission, she craved nothing more than his body against her. It tormented her on the field, but she was instead met with an agent who was pining after her when she was not even interested.

She flirted back because she saw Harry’s silhouette while the guy was too busy staring at her.

Teasing Harry was her favorite activity. They were not official nor expressed romantic gestures but Y/n was curious to see Harry’s reaction upon seeing her with other men, and that guy was the perfect opportunity for her.

She didn’t have a particular response in mind, maybe just Harry being nonchalant but she certainly did not see this coming.

He guided her to his office where he shut the door behind him with a thud. He released her arm and stood in front of her as he looked down at her with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw.

“What the fuck was that Y/n?” His tone fluctuated between high and low as he cornered her, making her lean against the door while his arms caged her on both sides.

“I don’t know. What was it?” She pretended to be clueless, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth; a move that he adores.

“So now you know nothing about being a slut?” He spat with anger, attempting to avoid the way she was tugging at her lip.

Their bodies were dangerously close, he wanted to bury his face in her neck and give her love bites that she’d have to hide but feel their sting whenever pressed on. Y/n craved sinking herself down on his cock and caressing his face as he let out the most beautiful sighs. But Harry’s head was spinning with jealousy and Y/n opened Pandora’s box.

“Are you jealous Harry?” She cooed, placing her hand on his toned chest which was still moist from the shower. His pine shower gel was everywhere.

“It’s sir for you.” He moved her hand away from his body and wrapped it around her throat.

He didn’t want to admit it verbally, but he was about to burn the entire room when he saw her breathing next to a man who wasn’t him. These feelings of possessiveness keep increasing and he can’t fight his urges no matter how disciplined he is.

“I left for two days and you got all cranky.”

“Then you came back and started acting like a whore.” His grip on her throat tightened as he inched his face closer to her.

“We were just chatting.” She rolled her eyes again.

“First of all, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your pussy…” His face was practically glued to hers as his deep voice sent shivers through her body. His cologne made a complete mess out of her.

“… Second of all, he wants to fuck you and that’s my duty only. Do you understand?” His tone was a mix of possessiveness and softness.

“Yes.” Her brain barely processed left his mouth.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

With Harry towering over her, she took a quick moment to ogle his body. There’s a reason she likes it when he chokes her; other than the tingly feeling she gets when his hand covers her throat—his veins drench her panties.

They extend along his forearm down to his hand that she stares at during training. The more he tightens his grip—the more his biceps flex. His pumped chest and chiseled abs are a bit moist from the shower, and incredibly smooth because he applies a lotion. The towel is low on his waist giving a scandalous display of his toned V line, and an appearance of the ferns tattoo.

The water covering his curls dripped down to her chest then sternum; drop after the other before he lowered his face to catch them with his tongue. It felt warm against her skin—seeing him fresh out of the shower had her lusting for him to fuck her under the water.

His tongue moved against her skin, catching the fallen droplets before reaching her neck where he sucked harshly on her skin.

He pulled away abruptly offering her his devilish grin.

“Kneel.”

He switched back to his authoritative tone, he knows how much she loves being treated like a slut. She acted like one anyway.

“Yes sir.” She gradually went down on her knees, with her hands trailing his body just so she could take the towel off. His cock stood against his stomach, beads of precum glistening on his tip.

“Don’t think for one second that this is a reward. Your mouth is nothing but a fuck toy.” He grabbed her ponytail in one hand and inserted his finger in her mouth with the other.

She sucked on his thumb, looking up at him with ‘fuck me eyes’ as she shamelessly continued to ogle his muscles. Her view was perfect. His V line and the trimmed hair had her pussy clenching around nothing.

She stuck her tongue out at him daring him to not hold back. She pushes his buttons every time so she can earn what she wants: rough sex and soft aftercare.

“Such an eager slut. Drooling for cock.” He slapped his cock on her face making her try to suck on it.

“Only your cock sir.” She knew that this would get him all worked up.

“Damn right. Only mine Y/n.” He grunted, guiding his cock to her rosy lips. She licked the precum off his sensitive tip earning a hiss from him.

Her tongue worked its way along his shaft with one of her hands cupping his balls. She maintained eye contact with him for the thrill.

Her mouth released scandalous moans to show him that she likes this. Her hand stroked his length while her tongue fixated on his tip.

“Sluts don’t get to enjoy pleasure.” He pulled his cock out of her mouth with a pop making her whine.

He spat on his shaft before bringing it to her lips again and thrusting it all in one go. She gagged immediately and tried her best to bob her head against it. He slapped her hand away when she tried to touch his length and began thrusting his hips into her mouth.

“Can you hear that? The sound of your pathetic gagging? Way better than your sassy talk.” His voice wavered at the end when his cock reached the back of her throat.

He had to balance between tilting his head backward from pleasure and looking down to see her beautiful ruined face.

Her cheeks hollowed around his shaft as he used her mouth. Her gagging had him weak in the knees, not to mention the tears streaming down her face along with her messy hair strands.

“That’s it, little minx. Make your throat ache.” He stroked her head before pushing it against his shaft, holding it for a few seconds, and pulling out.

She coughed heavily; trying to catch her breath as precum and saliva dripped down from her mouth to her chest.

“Aw, would you look at that?” He swiped his fingers along her mouth, catching their mixed juices together just so he could lick it.

“Whose cum is that hm? Whose cock are you choking on?” He asked with a raspy voice that had her squirming.

“You sir.”

“Hmm like music to my ears.” He took in her puppy eyes and ruined face for a minute or two, before thrusting his cock back in her mouth.

Her tongue felt so fucking warm that he had to restrain himself from cumming. He didn’t lie when he said that her mouth was his fuck toy. His hips rolled forward as he pushed her head on his length back and forth, letting out audible moans.

“This is the only cock you can suck Y/n.” He gritted through his teeth as he fucked her mouth mercilessly.

“When you wake up in the morning with a sore throat, you better keep that in mind.” Her whines were loud through the gagging and choking. Of course, her squirming never fails to make him smirk. She’s sassy until he makes her needy; that’s when sub-Y/n comes out to play.

“Oh poor baby, does your pussy need a cock to fill it?” He slowed down to watch more saliva leak from the corners of her mouth and to hear her beg for a release.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” He sped up again—on purpose. She dug her nails into his thighs and pushed her head against his cock till her nose bumped his pelvis.

This exact moment altered his brain chemistry—she silently choked on his cock, a tear streaming down her cheek as she whimpered eagerly with puppy eyes.

She lived for this—she wanted him to use her.

He refrained from guiding her anymore as she took the initiative by herself and fucked her mouth.

“So dumb for my cock aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes in ecstasy when she swiped her tongue against his swollen tip.

His length had grown since she first began sucking it due to swelling—but that didn’t stop her from taking it all inside his mouth.

He felt his cock beginning to twitch which she seemed to enjoy. Of course, she’d want his load.

“Time to use your mouth as my cum dump, isn’t that right little minx?” Her muffled moan and gagging sent him over the edge.

He didn’t hold back and released his load inside her mouth. His moans and curses filled the room as he kept letting out one rope after the other of his warm cum.

Y/n’s mouth overflowed as she eagerly swallowed it while some leaked out of the corner of her mouth.

“Take my cum, little minx.” He panted heavily—prompting his muscles to contract as his hand caressed Y/n’s cheek.

She took his cum every single time without hesitation, the same way he devours her cunt for breakfast.

He pulled out with a hiss—he was still leaking but he didn’t want to pressure her even though he knew she’d want it.

She was trying to lick every drop from the corners of her mouth. Her view was even better now—he looked heavenly with his body just standing there as his cock leaked on her face.

He kneeled to her level and lifted her body off the ground with one arm, before placing her on his desk. He was still experiencing the high of the orgasm—but he wanted to make sure she was okay.

She did not use her safe word and he wonders if she ever will—she likes it way too rough.

He wiped her face with tissues, pressing his lips against her temple like he always does. She rested her head against his shoulder as he stroked her head.

They never discussed his gentleness in the aftercare. It was the bare minimum of course, but sometimes he liked to pretend that it was more than that.

It was an excuse to give her love. To tip the universe off its balance.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“This is the last time I wish to see you flirting with another man.” His tone remained neutral, but it was an order. A strict one.

“Don’t want to anyway.” She buried her face in his chest.

Her response caught him off guard. He can’t push away his possessive thoughts for long—but he can’t confess either.

He pulled away momentarily to fetch her a water bottle from his mini fridge. He helped her have some sips before wiping her mouth and kissing it—again.

Her mouth was addictive and damn it was he an addict.

He sticks to a lot of rules in his life—yet her lips feel so forbidden, inviting him into a world free of order.

She was his kryptonite.

His red line that no one would survive crossing.

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf

Red tags didn’t work.

951 notes · View notes

sohnric · 2 months

Text

KISS STAINS — E. SOHN

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: fluff, situationship to lovers ?? poor eric is a little confused, but he is very much in love.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: the reader is titled as "girlfriend", misunderstanding/miscommunication

a/n: this is a late valentine's day fic because it wouldn't appear in the tags on wednesday and i had to wait to get home to fix it >:( !! thank you @/from-izzy and beloved @/csenke (as always) for beta reading o:)

When the front door to your apartment opens up in front of his eyes to reveal you staring at him in surprise, Eric can’t help but feel a little confused at your expression. You’re wearing a mini dress– one of the black ones that hug your figure just in the right places– makeup adorning your face and making your gaze twice as much magnetizing to the boy through the layer of eyeliner tight-lining your eyes. He suddenly feels a little silly for coming up to your apartment in a casual outfit– as far as he was concerned, neither of you made reservations to go out, though.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, making Eric twice as confused. Still, you let him inside your place, stepping aside from the doorway and watching as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a pouty look playing with his features.

“Well… it’s Valentine’s Day,” he says, as if the reason wasn’t already clear enough before. Scratching the back of his head, he offers you the flowers he’s been holding in one hand, watching as you take them with big eyes that only soften when you bring them up to your nose and breathe in the scent of your favourites. “I thought we were staying in today…?” he asks, pointing at your outfit that’s very obviously meant for going out.

“Oh,” you look at him, tone of voice almost a little ironically surprised as you walk towards your kitchen and take out a vase, pouring water in it and placing the bouquet inside. Eric was too busy with practice to get you any reservations outside, and although he was sure he could sneak you in somewhere in a mediocre restaurant, he was thinking you two could just hang out at your place instead. He liked the idea of cuddling with you in bed much better if he’s being honest. “I’m getting ready to go out, though.”

The sentence catches Eric off guard. He watches as you walk back over to your bathroom and plug in your hair straightener, sectioning your hair into thirds so you can work on your hairdo more efficiently. The boy follows you in, staring at your expression through the mirror. “Why…?”

“Well… You never asked me to be your Valentine, Eric,” you shrug as if the reasoning was the most obvious thing in the world.

The boy instinctively furrows his brows at you, the argument making him a little taken aback. Sure, he never asked– but the only reason was that he thought he didn’t have to. “I assumed that was a given,” he hums, watching as you touch the hair straightener to see if it’s hot enough to use on your hair, “besides, you could’ve asked me to be your Valentine too! This is the 21st century, men don’t have to do everything…”

Your expression morphs into frustration– a clear sign that the fact that Eric didn’t ask you to be his Valentine has been bugging you for quite some time now and he hasn’t noticed until now. It makes the boy feel a little bad. Had he known it was important to you, he would’ve asked you, no big deal. The thing is… he really didn’t think he had to ask in the first place.

“Why did you assume it was a given?” you ask, scoffing.

Eric watches as you run the hair straightener over strands of your hair, yet the usual concentration on your face when you do so leaves your expression and is replaced with a look of irritation. Your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a wrinkle in between them, rendering the boy speechless. “Because… we are dating…?” he says, eyes staring into yours through the bathroom mirror.

A snicker leaves your throat at his argument. “Correction– we went on a few dates.”

Now, this has Eric Sohn even more speechless than before. He didn’t think there was much difference between dating and going on dates, but now he realises that your mind is perhaps even more complicated than he thought it was before. “So… we aren’t dating?”

The question leaves his mouth before he has a chance to stop it. His mind is swirling around with all the dates you two have been to. It’s been two months since the two of you started dating– well, what he assumed was dating– and never once has he doubted that this is what you two were doing. He took you to the arcade and let you win on a few of the machines. He took you to the amusement park and bought you all the cotton candy your heart desired. You two took photo booth pictures and he keeps the strip in his wallet. He told you he loved you when you went on a late-night walk a few weeks after your first date, and since then, every day at least once. Hell, he even brought you over to his dorms and didn’t dismiss his friends when they started calling you his girlfriend after you left.

Because in his mind, that’s what you were. His girlfriend. Because you two were dating. You did all the things people in relationships do– you hold hands, you kiss, you sleep over at each other’s houses– you are intimate…

Are you two not dating?

“You’ve never asked me to be your girlfriend either,” you shrug, combing your hair before you move to straighten another piece, making the boy fall into a momentary silence.

Has he not? Well, if he really thinks about it, that’s true. He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend, because after the shift you two made from being friends to going on dates and being rich in PDA, he thought his intentions were obvious. Somehow, in his lovesick mind, the moment he asked you out on a date was the moment you two started dating– and when you say it like this, it makes perfect, logical sense, doesn’t it?

Obviously, now that he thinks about it, it doesn’t. “Well, I just assumed… is this not exclusive?” he asks, his heart suddenly dropping into his stomach.

“Well, you never asked for that either,” you shrug.

“So that means you are seeing other people?” Eric clarifies, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Never in his life did he need a response to his question to be negative as much as in this moment.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror, something behind your gaze shifting when you notice his distressed expression. Eric recognizes just how anxious he looks in your bathroom mirror, and before you give him a chance to crumble, he hears you chuckle. “I am not. Are you?”

“Well, up until this moment, I thought we were in a serious, committed relationship, so no, Y/N. I am not seeing other people,” he says, an airy laugh escaping his throat.

Staring at each other’s expression in the mirror, Eric watches as you sigh and put the hair straightener down on the sink, turning your body towards his. His eyes go wide as you stare at him with your warm orbs, fondness and tenderness now mirroring your gaze– a big contrast to the stern look you greeted him with upon opening your front door.

To Eric, the progression of your relationship was natural. He took it as it came, admiring the shift from being friends to something more, and never once questioned the direction it was heading. He loved you– of course, he always thought of you as his. To Eric, the love you two share for each other has always been habitual.

He never asked you to be his, because in his mind, he was already yours. It was as obvious as that. No second guessing– he was always sure of what you two had.

“You’ve been telling people that I am your girlfriend?” you ask, voice quiet, tender, yet almost amused– pleased.

“Well, was I wrong?” he hums, locking his eyes with you directly now, laughing.

“We never had the talk.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” he says.

Watching you roll your eyes, the misunderstanding now vanishing into thin air– he leans in and presses a kiss to your red lips. When you pull away from him, a soft giggle resonates in the four walls of your bathroom, a finger pointing to his lips. “That looks good on you,” you hum as the boy looks at his reflection in the mirror.

Red lipstick is smeared all over his lips, a messy imprint of your affection. He finds himself smiling at his reflection, a lovesick look warming up his gaze when he looks back at you. “Does it?”

“Yeah,” you hum as you stand on your tippy toes and press another peck to his face– now reaching for his left cheek instead. Eric’s arms come to hold your sides, helping you balance as you press wet kisses all over his face, wherever you can reach. He feels you glaze his other cheekbone, the tip of his nose, his chin, the very middle of his forehead. Two kisses placed on his temples, a hearty giggle escaping your throat when you peck his jaw and the side of his face, only pulling away to admire your masterpiece.

“Just so we are clear,” Eric clears his throat, finally verbalizing the thoughts he’s been keeping to himself– the thoughts he assumed were clear as day and didn’t have to be said out loud or clarified, “will you be my Valentine, then? Or my girlfriend? Both, actually?” he asks, heart leaping out of his chest when you laugh at him and thread your fingers through the hair on his nape.

“Well, I kinda assumed those two go hand in hand, Eric,” you hum to him like a secret, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your punctuality.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Let me think about it–” you joke before you burst into a screechy laughter, having Eric’s hands prop below your knees and hoisting you up onto the bathroom sink.

The boy leaves another kiss on your lips before he pulls away and admires your face from up close. Eric Sohn likes pretty things and your face is so far his most favourite. And when he catches his reflection in the mirror– his face full of lipstick kiss stains and a dumb, lovesick look in his eyes– he’s almost happy for all of the confusion.

See, as the hopeless romantic he is, although he hates to admit that he hasn’t been dating you for the past two months like he thought he has been, he doesn’t really hate the idea of your anniversary being on Valentine’s day: the holiday of love.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #eric sohn #sohn youngjae #the boyz fluff #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario

194 notes · View notes

stevenssacrab · 5 months

Text

Before The Party

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Just before the party, you question your outfit choice; Steve shows you how beautiful you are.

Rating: 18+ (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: lighting grinding, kissing, horny Steve lol, insecure reader, Steve being the best boyfriend anyone could ask for.

Word Count: 1k

a/n: I love Steve so much, the sweetest of man I swear, also I wrote the sexier parts to After Last Night by Bruno Mars, let me tell ya, perfect song for the occasion hahah

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Today was the annual Christmas party at Stark Tower. You usually dreaded going to these, but you have someone to go with this year. This year, you decided to go a little sexier; you're wearing a floor-length burgundy dress, off the shoulders, with an A-line silhouette with a high slit stopping just below the hip bone, accompanied with a silver heel with rhinestone embellished straps. For jewelry, you went with a simple 18K white gold pendant, and of course, the hair, Hollywood waves with a crystal hairpin tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I hope I'm not overdressed," you said to yourself, suddenly insecure in your outfit choice; you shook your head as if shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, "No, I look good, right?" you ask aloud, raking your eyes over the ensemble, questioning every choice you've made up to this point.

"Baby, have you seen my shoes?" Steve called, walking into the room, too concerned with his outfit to notice yours, but only for a moment.

"Hey, do I look okay?" Steve finally lifts his head, laying eyes on you for the first time. He had been with you throughout the whole process of picking out everything, but this was his first time seeing it all together. He was rendered speechless; all the words in the world couldn't describe how elegant and stunning you looked, the dress hugging all your curves perfectly, accentuating every mound and hill that was you, and don't get him started on the slit, highlighting your long legs, making your legs never-ending, Steve, staring like a starved man, eager to kiss up your legs, worshipping and memorizing every beauty mark and scar on your body.

"Steve, do I look okay?" you whimpered, a hint of sadness lingering in your voice; you turned to Steve, with tears welling up in your eyes, having convinced yourself that you looked horrible.

"Okay?" he asked, walking around your shared bed, slowly sweeping his eyes over your entire body.

"I look bad, don't I? Ugh, I knew the dress was a bad idea; maybe I shouldn't go tonight," you admit sadly, moving to sit on the bed; you slip your shoes off; you want to curl up and hide.

"No baby, not at all," Steve says wholeheartedly; he grabs one heel and gently slips your foot back into it; he buckles the strap by your ankle and brings your leg up to his mouth, slowly kissing up your leg.

"You look amazing," one kiss, "beautiful," another kiss, "ethereal," another kiss. You blush deeply and giggle with every kiss Steve lays on your leg.

"Steve," you whine, wiping your eyes away and pull him up for a passionate kiss filled with every ounce of love you felt for this man. Steve climbs on top of you, trapping you under his broad body, sliding his body in between your legs, fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces; you let out a breathy moan, grinding your hips up into Steve, desperate for friction. Steve swallows every moan he earns from you.

"Steve," you whimpered, gripping his arms tightly. "Steve, we're gonna be late," you say, grinding into him despite your protests.

"Let's skip it," he groans, moving his lips to your neck and sucking gently, meeting every buck of your hips perfectly, drawing a whine from you.

"We can't, Tony. Will never let us live it down," you sigh. Steve groans loudly and climbs off you, extending his hand out to help you sit up.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," he laughs, smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit; he kneels in front of you and helps you put on your other heel, kissing up your legs like before.

"How do I look?" Steve asked; he was dressed in a light grey suit that complimented his blue eyes, accentuating his broad shoulders wonderfully; you ran your hands up his arm and past his shoulders, tip-toeing up to kiss him sweetly.

"Ravishing, my love," you utter in between kisses. Steve smiles into the kiss and rests his hand on the small of your back, pulling you into a deeper kiss; you break the kiss slowly, fluttering your eyes open.

"Ready to go?" you asked, scanning him over, laughing at his feet; he still doesn't have his shoes on.

"On the bed," you say confidently, Steve laughs.

"Yes, ma'am," he jokes playfully, watching you as you slowly kneel in front of him. "Now that's what I'm talking about," he says, smiling coyly; you smack his leg light-heartedly, grinning from ear to ear.

"The shoes," you say plainly, holding out your hand. Steve places the shoes in your hand, and you slowly slide his foot into each shoe; you gently pat his feet when you're finished.

"Let's go," you say happily, hooking your arm with Steve. The car ride to the tower was smooth and uneventful; Steve rested his hand on your thigh, drawing random patterns the whole way.

"We're here," Steve says and quickly hops out of the car, lightly jogging over to your side, opening the door for you, and offering his hand to assist you; you smile shyly and the gentlemanly gesture; Steve was always so chivalrous, never missing an opportunity to make you feel like a princess. Steve hands the keys over to the chauffeur and holds his arm out for you to rest your arm; you smile at Steve and stride forward, heels satisfyingly clapping against the tile. You smile up at Steve for the umpteenth time tonight while waiting for your elevator. The elevator arrives with a ding, and you step in, checking yourself one last time in the reflection; the doors open, and you meet with an array of fellow Avengers dressed to the nines, everyone smiling and drinking carelessly, soft Christmas music played by the live band filled your ears, you gently squeeze Steve's arm nervously, Steve returns a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

"We got this," Steve says with a nod; when you step through the threshold, your eyes meet with Wanda and Natasha; smiling brightly at them, they look at you with their mouths hanging open. "You look hot," Wanda mouths from across the room; you laugh, throwing your head back. Steve laughs and lets go of your arm to let you go to the girls; you give Steve one last look before excitedly walking over to them, and you're met with excited squeals and hugs.

178 notes · View notes

fr-18 · 9 months

Text

Rompecorazones// Jenni.H

the game ticked slowly on. From the roar of celebrations in the 81' minute to the solemn faces around the stadium at the + 1' minute of extra time.

the stadium was bursting with joy after the first half, clearly Spain were dominating the game and it seemed already written in the stars for the spaniards to be going through to the semi finals.

until a through ball from Pelova was smoothly caught by van der Gragt which meant that spot in the semi's was anybody's to snatch up.

the spanish side clearly deflated as the replay of the goal played on the screen whilst The Netherlands celebrated.

the opportunity to regroup and ignite some fire into the girls was snatched up by vilda.

it was doubtful anyone was listening to a word coming out of his mouth, his decisions were normally what made Spain suffer.

you caught Jenni's eye in the huddle as she squirted the drink into her mouth. All you could do was give her a reassuring smile.

even if all you wanted to do was walk over to her and kiss her and tell her everything will be okay.

throughout all the criticism and mistreatment she had gone through she was still standing strong, ready to go again for possibly another 45 minutes.

You went back to sit on the bench as the game was starting again, but before you sat down Jenni had pulled you towards her and enveloped you in her arms.

"go" your whisper in her ear before pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

she nodded before releasing you and sprinted back onto the field.

sighing you flopped back into your seat and rubbed your palms over your face.

"ella es una chica fuerte, ella sabe lo que hacer." Alexia reassuringly whispered into your ear as she pulled you into her side."she is a strong girl, she knows what to do."

"Lo sé, solo me preocupo." you softly say before realising how it could come across to your Barcelona captain. "como hago con todos ustedes" you rushed out."i know, i just worry" "like i do about you all"

Alexia let out a chuckle whist squeezing you closer.

"tu preocupación por ella es un poco más profunda, ¿no?" the older women spoke into your ear as both your eyes were fixated on the game. "your worry for her runs a little deeper no?"

"quizas" you meekly spoke. “maybe”

Alexia left it at that as the both of you were called to start warming up.

the stadium became ear-deafening at the sight of alexia getting on the pitch.

you stood there waiting for your substitution and looked around the stadium, spaniards singing and shouting hoping to ignite a flame in their home team.

and that they did.

with 9 minutes left to play Salma slotted it into the goal with an assist from jenni.

instead of running over with the other girls to celebrate she made a bee-line towards you crushing you into a hug.

"we're so close" she whispered as she squeezed her eyes closed in hopes to not let her tears fall.

"9 más, entonces eso es todo" you said into her neck before walking with my arm around her waist leading her to our celebrating team."9 more, then that's it"

finally the whistle blew and all you were able to do was collapse onto the turf. sobbing into the dirt for a complete different reason than the dutch.

you'd done it and now it was on to your next challenge.

it wasn't long before you were being pulled up by recognisable, tattooed arms.

"we did it" you screamed.

history had been made today, you only wished there were different circumstances…

crying into your shoulder jenni only nodded, clearly she had been rendered speechless from the last 120minutes.

walking around the pitch with the team you couldn’t keep the smile off your face, not on the changing rooms after.

it being full with laughter in singing only meant your grin became toothier.

you weren’t involved in the horrendous yells your teammates called singing and it seemed neither was Alexia.

“you love her?” alexia whispered as she watched your eyes follow the tattooed women around the changing room.

“i love her” you whisper more so to yourself, which means you take your eyes of Jenni.

“Ay Dios Mío, me encanta Jenni” as the words came out of your mouth the loud chatter seemed to of decreased. This meant everyone heard the personal words escape your mouth.“oh my god, i love jenni”

including the one women you didn’t want to know…

“eh me amas?” the women spoke as someone turned of the music.“huh, you love me?”

“maybe you should-” Alexia tried to usher you both out the room in hopes of saving you from at-least some embarrassment.

“no Ale” Jenni said as she pushed the other women’s off her.

“is it so hard to believe?” speaking in english made this easier as the majority of your team weren’t confident with the language.

“you can’t.” she says with a confused laugh.

you hadn’t looked up from the floor since Jenni had started to speak, too ashamed to see the faces of your teammates whilst you were so vulnerable.

“no i’m sorry, i can’t do this with you.” she shakes her head as she looks to Alexia who was stood beside you.

Alexia shook her head at her old partner in hopes she wouldn’t stamp on your heart in front of all your teammates.

“you understand that i am 11 years older then you yes? i don’t date people that were 12 years old when i debuted for Barcelona. I will not get bashed in the media for dating a 21 year old!” as she went on her voice rose until it all got too much and you broke down.

hearing her be so degrading and saying it so carelessly made you think that she wasn’t the person you looked up to anymore.

Jenni carried on with her reasons on why your feeling for her were so silly and idiotic, clearly not noticing the distress she was causing. a few of the other girls tried to get her to stop for your sake but she only shrugged them off. “ i will be retired by the time your at your prime. these feeling you have need to go, otherwise don’t talk to me. If you can’t grow up and push your feelings aside i don’t want anything to do with you”

the team were taken aback by the older women’s harsh words, clearly their english wasn’t as bad as you once thought.

“i’ll stay out your way Jenni, after the final you will never have to see me again. i promise you that.” Were the first words you had spoken.

you looked up at her, grabbed your things and walked out of the changing room.

you walked through the backs of the stadium until you found your destination.

you knocked on the door until it was opened by a not so friendly face, “umm is Vic in here?”

tbe women nodded and allowed you in.

“yn? what happened” the Dutch women quickly rose to her feet at the sight of your tear stained face.

“jenni. i told her”

#woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso masterlist #jennni hermoso #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso imagine #espwnt #espwnt x reader

348 notes · View notes

kuromochimi · 5 months

Text

Pros and Cons

Rin Itoshi x F!Reader

If you’ve seen friends or if you want to see where I got the prompt from, it’s from when ross had to choose between two girls and made a pros and cons list to help him decide.

Content: angst to fluff, aged up characters (18+), not proof read

Rin didn’t think he’d ever end up in such a situation. See, despite there being a long line of women willing to climb mountains just to have a chance at being with rin, he very rarely entertained any of them… mostly because he already had his eyes set on someone else. You. But life’s circumstances never really gave you two any way to work on what you both knew could happen. He was mostly having away games or training and you were too busy with a blooming career somewhere far from where he usually wad. “It’s not the time”. The line rin would always tell himself. The right time just never seemed to present itself.

Unfortunately, time won’t always be friendly to continuously missed chances. After years of not having anything happen, rin came to the conclusion that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Besides, you’ve had a few boyfriends and situationships here and there and rin, being surrounded by his team mates and their stories about how good it feels to have someone supporting them from the stands, he got impatient so he decided to give someone a try. Mai. One of the team’s PR managers. She always was nice to rin, pretty, soft spoken, understanding, basically what most men would want. Fortunately for rin, she also seemed to harbor some sort of attraction towards him. Nothing serious at the moment but definitely something to start with. A few dates here and there. Hang outs at home and all. Mai was aware that rin couldn’t commit yet and neither was she. The arrangement they had worked for both. But boy, was timing a bitch to rin. Roughly 3 months into dating mai, rin was rendered frozen in place when he received a message from you.

You: Rin! I’ve been assigned to work near your home stadium. Did I get that right? idk if that’s what you call it but yeah. I just moved in yesterday. Want to meet up? :)

As rin was mindlessly staring and repeatedly reading your message, reo passed by and “accidentally” saw the message. “dude, who’s that? isn’t mai going to get jealous?” Rin snapped back into reality after realizing his friends had seen what was going on. Isagi looked as well and as he read the contact name, a bulb went up his head “oh wait isn’t that the girl you used to like before you started dating mai?” A few banters here and there about the team invading rin’s privacy, shidou chimed in out of nowhere “Know what? Why don’t you make a pros and cons list for the girls? I know damn well you still like that one but you also seem smitten as fuck for mai so.. pros and cons man” and most of the time, only bullshit comes out of shidou’s mouth but god, rin was at such a crossroads, he gave in. With the help of his teammates, a list was made.

Later that day, rin agreed to meet with you. It’s not that he had already decided or that he was confident you still had feelings for him but he thought it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he had already asked mai about it and she was more than okay with it. She even half joked half meant said that if things work out between you and rin, she should at least be invited to the wedding. When rin arrived at the meet up place and he saw you sitting and looking around, there was no doubt in his heart. It was still you and he was a big fool for ever thinking that dating someone else would ever work. Not to deny that mai was a great girl and that they matched pretty well.. it’s just that you were it for him. At that moment, he thanked the heavens that his arrangement with mai wasn’t serious yet. He felt bad having to end or because the relationship had its fair share of ups but, god, seeing you again just locked him in and it would feel wrong dating anyone else when he was this crazy for you. Rin walked up to you and gently tapped your shoulder. You immediately looked back to see him and as if on instinct, you jumped up to hug him. “Rin! How have you been?!” You exclaimed while still hugging him. “Hello to you too, yn” he calmly replied back while hugging back, cradling your head gently in his hand.

The meet up went as well as you had hoped. Lots of catching up, rin touring you around, trying out different food places. It was a fun welcome to the city. In the evening, as rin was about to drive you home, he realized that he left his phone at the restaurant. “Sorry yn, can you wait a bit, I think I left my phone” you gave him a gentle nod as he left the car. You let out a heavy sigh because god were you nervous. You wanted to finally try it out with rin since you were close by and distance wouldn’t be an issue anymore. As you were thinking of ways to tell him what you wanted to do, a piece of paper with your name on it caught your attention. It was at the little compartment in between the driver’s seat and your seat. Not meaning to be nosy but also being extremely curious, you picked it up and unfolded. You were half expecting a cute note but you were met with a pros and cons list. Specifically the cons list which had “unstable” and “needs career” which you immediately interpreted as him conveying that you looked to have no stability and that you had a career he deemed insufficient to consider as a relevant enough career. And it hurt. It hurt because he was right. Compared to him, your career was small and you couldn’t exactly blame him but you didn’t think he’d see it as something bad enough to consider it a “con”. You didn’t even realize you were crying and you didn’t realize that rin had just opened the door to his seat. “Yn? Hey what’s the matter?” He sounded so worried and caring but that didn’t matter. “I- I’m taking a cab, rin I’m sorry” his eyes darted to the piece of paper in your grasp and his face fell pale. “yn listen, wait” he gently grabbed your wrist and you let him. “I know this looks bad. Fuck, it is bad. But it’s not what you think. I don’t think you’re unstable or any of that. It’s just.. what I’m trying to say is that you being busy with your career, we wouldn’t be stable is what I’m trying to say there. And that you wouldn’t want to pick anything over your career at the moment. I swear I just.. I’m not good with words please believe me. And the other girl on the list, I tried dating someone else but when I saw you today, everything just fell into place. I like you still, I know you know that. She knows it too” and he was telling the truth. It just wasn’t sinking into your head that he was saying that he wanted a relationship? The person you’ve loved since senior year of high school likes you back. You always had a guy feel but he never acted on it so you brushed it off but now he just confessed. “Let me make it up to you and all the years we missed?” Rin asked with a smile.

#blue lock x y/n #blue lock #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin angst #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi angst

176 notes · View notes

secretsofblackthornhall · 2 years

Text

Julian to Alec

Dear Alec,

Hello from Chiswick! I’m sure Magnus has been keeping you up-to-date on the adventures we’ve been having here at Blackthorn Hall. We’ve been making progress, slow as it is, but the place still feels very far from being a house I or my family would want to live in. Except Dru, who claims she’d rather keep it cursed for the ambience (not that she’s been here yet.)

All of that is to say I suggest you thank the Angel every day that Tatiana Lightwood married a Blackthorn and this house is our problem and not yours. Anyway, you get the update this time instead of M.; you’ll see why soon.

Our search for the objects that hold the Curse of Tatiana continue! We’ve run out of objects that Rupert has any inkling about, which means we have gotten into the ley-line maps. I can hear Magnus groaning from here as you read this to him. Yes, Eighteenth-century ley-line maps, second only to ancient Babylonian star charts for their ease of reading and understanding. You can tell Magnus he can stop putting his coat on, though, because we got in touch with Ragnor Fell asked him to come from the Scholomance to help us. I suspect Ty harassed him until he agreed (though I have no proof) but he was polite enough about it. Polite for Ragnor, I mean.

The ley-lines suggested two possible locations where something important might be kept—a Downworlder gentleman’s club and a church, both in central London. We decided to start with the church, which is named St. Mary Abchurch. (Am I wrong or are British names weirdly silly sometimes? Emma immediately started calling it “St. Church von Church,” and now that’s the only way I can think of it.)

Anyway, St. Church the Churchiest is a not-huge red brick church on Abchurch Lane (funny how that works out). We took the train and then the Tube to get there, which may have been the most complex part of the day, just figuring out how to navigate the whole weird mundane system. The church was pretty quiet and empty—it was the middle of the afternoon and there were a handful of tourists, but I don’t think it’s well-known so we didn’t have to worry. We weren’t glamoured, but nobody paid any attention to us anyway. Tattoos are pretty common in London.

We walked the whole church, pretending to gaze thoughtfully at the memorials and the paintings on the inside of the dome and so on while waving the Sensor around as much as we could and waiting for it to respond.

And it was not responding. Covering the whole church didn’t take all that long; like I said, it’s not huge.

Emma pointed out that just because the church was on a ley-line in London didn’t mean Tatiana had necessarily left anything there, since there are way more ley-lines than objects we’re looking for. And she’s right—we’re assuming Tatiana didn’t break into some mundane’s house on the same ley-line and leave anything there, but I guess she might have. It would have been a very strange thing to do, but whatever else we’ve learned about Tatiana we do feel pretty confident she was a strange one.

We did get a break, though—just before we were about to leave Emma went to look at a display for visitors on the wall about the history of the church. There was a whole bit about how in the Second World War the dome of Abchurch St. Abchurch was hit by a bomb during the Blitz of London (Tessa was an nurse during the Blitz — did you know that?). Most of it was just about the dome and how it was broken and how long it took to fix and who fixed what, but at the end there was a bit about how for safekeeping a number of the church’s more valuable possessions were removed. There was an artist’s rendering of those possessions—I guess most of them didn’t end up coming back to the church—and now at last you get to find out why I’m writing to you and not Magnus!

Right at one end of the illustration was a pair of candlesticks and on the candlesticks, a very familiar symbol indeed. Flames—and not just flames, but the same flames you’ll find on that family ring of yours. And also a big script “L.”

So, any chance you or Isabelle recognize these? Did they get taken out of the church by a Lightwood, or returned to one? I know it’s a long shot but it seems like it would be too big a coincidence for a pair of Shadowhunter candlesticks to randomly be in St. Mary Abchurch. Let me know if the candlesticks ring any bells for you or Izzy and give our love to the kiddies!

Julian

#Secrets of blackthorn hall #sobh #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #alec lightwood #not magnus #The Blitz!#dru blackthorn

3K notes · View notes

red-pill-blue-pill · 8 months

Text

As friends.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Miller

Summary: Joel is your friend, he just happens to be really handsome

Warnings: mild spice towards the end ??? just in case, fluff, friends to lovers (just so y'all know I'm a sucker for that shit)

a/n: I wanted to write a little blurb but it got outta hand. This is is my first time writing for the Joel Miller and i'm nervous (I love this character so much) so please be kind 💖

His living room was dimly lit by one of the lamps next to the couch. Something played in the background, blues you think. He had found a record player a couple of weeks ago while he was patrolling with Tommy. He had even come across some records in perfect condition, tucked inside a tattered wardrobe. He was such a lucky fucker.

When he came back, he showed them off to you while saying something along the lines of “‘f you wanna listen to them you gotta come to mine, sweetheart” flashing you one of his now familiar cocky smiles, as if he needed to convince you to spend time with him.

Your stomach still churns at the nickname and you chastise yourself every time, for letting your mind even dare to go down that path when it’s Joel the one you’re talking about, for even thinking about him that way. Joel, your fucking friend. It had to be the lack of romantic action in your life. It had been so long since you last were with someone that your brain had to be confused. No one in Jackson had caught your eye for the last couple of years, nor tried to make any advances to you, and who would have dared when you were next to Joel —mean scary Joel— every single day?

Still, you didn’t care, you spent most of your free time either with him or at his house, playing games with Ellie while he was on patrol or sipping on wine and talking about your day when he fixed you a nice dinner. Like right now, back at his living room, soft blues playing in the background and the soft orange light from his lamp rendering the room even cozier.

You were sitting on his sofa, glass of wine in hand. Blues had never been your type of music, at least not until Joel showed you one of the records he found on patrol, an Eric Clapton one, a smile from ear to ear and an excited “Look what I’ve found, I reckon you gon’ love it.”

But now, as you look at him sprawled on the couch, his head —his big ass, heavy head— resting on your legs with his eyes closed and humming softly to the song, you believe it may be your favorite.

You sipped on your wine and carded your fingers softly through his hair, relishing in the feeling of his hair through your fingers. You looked down at him, his face was completely relaxed, the familiar pull of his frown nowhere to be seen. He looked so peaceful like this, his long lashes fanned over his cheeks and the light casted soft shadows over his face. He was so handsome.

“You are so handsome” your mouth spoke before your brain could catch up. His eyes opened, orbs completely dark thanks to the lightning, and he quirked a brow, clearly amused at your comment. You tried to recover quickly “And I’m just saying this the way a friend calls another friend cute, don’t get too excited.” You chuckled.

Lies, lies, lies.

He scoffed, “Yeah, right.” he closed his eyes again, letting himself enjoy the feeling of your deft fingers through his hair. “Who you tryna fool, sweetheart? ‘m as old as time.”

You stretched your arm to place the wine glass on the coffee table, careful to not disturb Joel with the motion. This time, your now free hand went to trace the lines on his forehead so softly, a barely there touch. A shiver ran down his spine. It had been a long time since someone touched him with such care, as if he was some precious relic, only to be treated with care.

“Hate that you can’t see what I see, Joel” your voice was soft, charged with love, but still stern. You hated when he was self deprecating, which unfortunately was very often.

“And what is it you see?” he swallowed the lump in his throat. Why were his hands sweating all of a sudden?

Your fingers drifted to the lines around his eyes, tracing them with your fingertips. “For starters you’re rugged and strong and that’s just plain attractive. Besides, you think age kills beauty, but it’s quite the opposite.” His eyes opened once again and gazed up at you, something you couldn’t quite make out swirling in them. You continued, trying to ignore the heat of his stare “The lines in your face… they mean you’ve lived, you’re alive.” you are here with me

“What do you mean?” his voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse because of the sudden dryness that had taken over his mouth.

“This one right here” you smoothed out his semi-permanent frown with your thumb “tells me you’ve got very few friends.”

“m‘kay, that’s rude.” he feigned hurt for a few seconds, then he saw your bright smile. That goddamned smile, the one he never got tired of seeing. And then he smiled too. A small and barely there grin.

“Then the ones around your eyes”, your fingers skimmed over his crows feet, “they tell me that you’ve laughed and smiled a lot, that despite this nightmare we’ve found ourselves in, you were happy once.”

Silent fell over the room, Eric Clapton sang in the background as Joel and you played at your personal staring contest, one charged with unspoken feelings. His eyes were wide in surprise, searching your face, looking for something you sure fucking hoped he found in the way your soft eyes looked back at him. Your fingers still threaded through his locks, not once having stopped since he laid his head on your legs. Everything felt intimate, maybe way too intimate for just a couple of good friends having some wine after dinner.

A nervousness settled in your bones, the kind of feeling you get when you know something’s about to happen but you don’t know what. Your heartbeat picked up, it thumped wildly against your chest, your eardrums, all along your veins. Then you cleared your throat, unable to stand the silence any longer. “Anyway, as I said, you are handsome.” you let out an awkward breathy laugh. “I‘m telling you as a friend” you quickly added. Again. For good measurement, right?

He sat back up on the sofa, his body slightly twisted to face you. In the daze of the moment you had completely forgotten how broad he actually was, his knee pressing against your thigh. “As a friend…” he echoed back at you, a teasing smile spreading over his features. God, he was going to be the death of you.

You reached back for your wine glass and nodded absentmindedly before taking a long gulp, not daring to look him in the eyes just yet. Suddenly, his hand cupped your face softly, fingers pressing lightly into your cheeks, encouraging you to look at him. His eyes were filled with tenderness and the kind of hope you have when love is still a possibility. His lips were mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“Would’ya mind if I kissed you, sweetheart?” his voice was low and syrupy and it ignited a different kind of desire in you, something you had never felt before, raw, primal. You inhaled sharply and before you were even able to answer he added “As friends, that is.” he chuckled, clearly proud of himself for teasing you, and you smiled fondly.

“Ain’t that what really good friends do?” you laughed breathily.

“Oh, I reckon they do a whole lot more than that.”

His lips pressed softly against yours, a softness you knew Joel was capable of but you had never experienced it yourself. Now, after getting a taste you didn't want to live without it. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, tangling with the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you against his lips, deepening the kiss. Your hands found purchase on his shoulders, and thank god because suddenly Joel was grabbing your thighs and pulling you to straddle his lap.

He took advantage of the gasp of surprise that left your lips and licked greedily into your mouth. His hands roamed your back, going down occasionally to squeeze your ass over your jeans, relishing in the whimpers he pulled from you. Your hips started moving on their own accord, rutting against Joel’s growing bulge, making a deep groan rumble on his chest.

You tugged on his hair to break the kiss and stared dreamily at him. His pupils were blown out, his half lidded eyes hazy with lust, his lips swollen and red from kissing and a light shade of red tinted his cheeks. He was positively fucked out.

“You want this?” he asked while playing with the hem of your t-shirt, ducking his head once again to lick and kiss at your neck.

You could only muster a distracted “Hmh” as you kept rutting your hips against his. “As friends?” you asked between whimpers.

He pulled away to look at you, a hint amusement in his eyes as he took in the cocky grin you were sporting despite the lust filled gaze directed at him. His hands slipped past the waistband of your jeans, grabbing your panties from behind and pulling till the fabric rubbed against your clit. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

“As friends” he answered before claiming your mouth once again.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

228 notes · View notes