#from the rest of the world go fuck yourselves
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a promise he'll keep.
requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought
requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room
a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon!
also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!
tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence
pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav
blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.
armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.
long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.
your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.
it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.
you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.
but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.
painfully.
"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"
you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.
astarion's face falls.
taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.
his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.
your eyes flutter shut in response.
"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."
you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."
astarion hates the way your voice trembles.
"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."
and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."
"i'm okay," you try to deny.
astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."
your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.
the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.
"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."
your hand grabs his, squeezing.
"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."
he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.
"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"
and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.
astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.
"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."
you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.
and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.
#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate x reader#bg3 x reader#bg3#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion#neil newbon
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American films/tv series always claim that the apocalypse starts in a country in East Asia or Africa and the US, with the smartest, bravest, toughest people in the world, always saves the day.
Well congratulations American Government you’ve just flipped that bullshit trope right on its fucking head and as the rest of the world could’ve told you years ago you’ve just fucking killed us all.
From the rest of the world and the majority of your country go fuck yourselves xxx
#the willow project#joe biden#american politics#climate change#america#from the rest of the world go fuck yourselves#american congress#president biden
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Ao3
Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
Part 3 of the roommate idea
Steve declines the hellfire invitation from Dustin, making up a pretend date, because otherwise he was not getting out of that one. He checked the time on the wall.
2:27
Yeah, alright.
He waited a few hours before getting ready and heading to the school.
The game starts in thirty minutes so they should be-
Steve grinned as he watched the back of Dustin move into the drama room.
Perfect.
He waited a minute, listening into their conversation before deciding that he didn't need to wait for them to stop because if they stopped that meant they were starting.
He slammed open the clubs door, making a couple people in the room jump.
“Steve! What are you doing here?" Eddie asked from his place on the throne. "DnDs over, pack up your shit.” He stated, leaving no room for argument.
Well, apparently a little room.
“What!! Why?! Last campaign of the semester, Mike leaves for Cali tomorrow!"
Steve furrowed his brows, and put his hands on his hips, Gareth, Grant, and Jeff weren't arguing, they knew he was serious, good.
“It can wait till he gets back, why would you even plan this a day before he leaves?”
“Why do we need to pack our shit?!”
Steve pinched his nose, "We're going to Luca’s basketball game.”
“What?!?”
“That traitor-"
“Stevie, darling, you can't be-”
“Why?!”
“You two know each other-”
Steve grimaced, a migraine starting at the fore-front of his mind.
“Please shut up, Christ.”
Eddie winced and immediately shushed everyone.
“We're going to this game, because even if Lucas doesn't get to play, we still gotta support him. Dustin, Mike, you guys have only gone to one of his games, his first one.”
He turned the other group, "Grant, Gareth, Jeff, fuck Eddie. None of you have gone to a game, I know it's not your usual shit but you gotta come. Hell, Erica, you're his sister, I mean, you’ve done an amazing job at showing up at the rest, so I can’t really complain about you.”
Dustin winced, “ Sorry Steve, but why does this matter so much to you? It's not the end of the world.”
Steve rubbed his arm, “ He needs someone to be there for him, even if he doesn't win. You can just do the damn campaign at Eddie's when Mike comes back.”
Mike, in question, scoffs, “And since when do you make the rules.”
Steve ignores him, reaching forward and grabbing Eddie's arm, and Erica’s shoulder. "Suit yourselves, but kinda hard to play DnD without the Dungeon Master, and Eddie and Erica don't have a choice.”
They make their way to the gym, a reluctant group of Hellfire in tow, and sit across the top of the bleachers. Steve waves at Robin from where he sits and then turns to Hellfire. “ Thank you guys for being reasonable."
Gareth scrunches his nose, “You cannot just keep stealing Eddie randomly.” Steve purses his lips, and leans into the man in question.
"Not stealing if he's okay with it, right Eds?” Eddie looked between the two, “ I'm sensing I should say yes?"
Steve grinned and patted his cheek. “Good boy."
Dustin turned to them, "Was Eddie the date you were talking about earlier? You tell seem awfully friendly."
Eddie flushed, and let's out an awkward laugh. " Steve wishes he could date me."
#he does#steve going to all Lucas's games because nobody went to his game as a kid#Also this one is like#kind bad compared to the others but#Theyre dorks your honor#stranger things#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson x steve harrington#eddie munson#hellfire#dustin henderson#mike wheeler#gareth emerson#unnamed freak stranger things#lucas sinclair#Jeff(shit sorry Jeff I forgot your last name</33)#steddie#steddie ficlet#ficlet#stranger things ficlet#crisisinverted17#crisisinverted17's roommate au
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The Temptations of Jennie Kim
BLACKPINK Jennie
Words: 4,000
A/N: Boo! 👻
Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.
Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.
Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:
1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.
2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.
3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.
Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.
"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."
An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.
"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.
"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"
"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"
"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."
Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.
"What’re you drinking?"
"Whiskey."
It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.
"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.
"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."
Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.
Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.
"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."
Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.
"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.
"He was until you got in my way."
"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.
"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.
"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.
A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.
"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"
"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."
"That's not the same."
"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."
You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.
Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.
"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"
"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.
"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."
Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.
"Do it. Go ahead."
Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.
"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."
It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.
SMACK.
"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.
Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.
"P-please."
"Well since you asked so nicely."
Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.
"I'm so close...so so close..."
Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.
"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"
Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.
"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."
She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.
"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."
Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."
Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.
This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.
The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.
"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.
The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.
With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.
Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.
"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.
"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.
And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.
Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.
Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.
Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.
There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.
It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.
"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.
"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.
"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"
And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.
Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.
"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.
"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."
Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.
Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.
Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.
Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.
Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.
"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."
Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.
She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.
"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.
"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.
"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."
The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?
"Give me your jacket fucker."
Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.
"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."
There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.
It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.
And you wouldn't have it any other way...
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Waited
Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader
Genre: smut (18+)
warnings: mentions of mental health/poor self image, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, cheating, violence (nothing explicit), oral, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, degrading, spanking, marking, jealous Yoongi, rip Namjoon, bi Taehyung
Length: ~4.2k
Note: this originally was gonna be a short FWB smut but alas nothing turns out like i plan hahahahahahahahah shoot me thank you @the-boy-meets-evil and @onlyhuis for subjecting yourselves to this mess.
Summary: Best friends since childhood means you can tell each other anything. Right?
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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
Yoongi enters your world three days before you turn six years old. His parents buy the house across the cul de sac that's sat empty for months and show up with a moving truck and their two sons. While they're unpacking your mom walks over to welcome them to the neighborhood and you hide behind her leg to stare at the boy with a choppy bowl cut who stares right back from behind his own mom’s leg.
You dub Yoongi your best friend in fourth grade. It’s a silent declaration but one he quickly falls in line with. He’d always been the smallest in class, easy cannon fodder for bullies that want to push around the quiet kid. One time too many people called him stupid under their breath and you snapped. After school detention for three weeks and a handwritten apology addressed to the boy with a broken nose is the price you pay but no one messes with him again after that.
The first time you realize your best friend is handsome is senior year of high school. An hour before prom your date decided he wanted to go with someone else and Yoongi, who had zero interest in “cliche, organized humiliation rituals” trugged across the pavement to your house in a borrowed tux too big in the shoulders.
He posed for pictures while both your parents cooed, hands respectable at your waist as you both smiled through the awkwardness. His brother drops you both off and slips a contraband flask full of shitty alcohol in Yoongi’s hand before taking off.
You pretended not to notice when Jisung and Yoongi both simultaneously disappeared, only to reappear twenty minutes later; Yoongi sporting bruised knuckles and the traces of what would become a black eye come the next morning along with a split lip. Instead, you take another sip of what must be gasoline and pull him to the dance floor. During the singular slow dance he allotted, with your head against his shoulder and the reak of his older brother’s after shave burning your nose, you realized you wouldn’t mind if he kissed you.
The rest of the night is spent emptying your guts in Yoongi’s ensuite because your parents were so confident nothing would happen between the two of you that sleepovers at Yoongi’s were too common.
The first time you kiss Yoongi is also the night you lose your virginity. Your sophomore year boyfriend broke up with you two days before finals. Yoongi couldn’t stand Taehyung or the way you apparently believed he shit rainbows so you expected him to find nothing but joy in the news.
But when you showed up outside his apartment, elephant tears streaking down your face as you gasped around an explanation, Yoongi said nothing. He simply walked into the kitchen, pulled out the bottle of liquor he saved for special occasions, and passed it to you along with a shot glass.
He let your drunken sobs stain the collar of his shirt until you laughed yourself hysterical at the irony of it all. How Taehyung claimed he wasn’t ready for anything serious when he pursued you first, how he broke up with you after you told him you weren’t ready for anything physical.
“Fuck him,” Yoongi grumbled, burrowed between the pillows of his bed.
Your head lulled onto his shoulder with a snort, “I think that was part of the problem.”
Then you kissed him and Yoongi kissed you back. And when you planted yourself in his lap and touched him, he took the chance to touch you too. At some point your clothes were gone, allowing your best friend to take as much liberty as he liked. But even though the details are fuzzy you know he was gentle and devout. Yoongi took all the time in the world, pushing and pushing until you almost broke and melted to the floor.
And after all was said and done you cried while Yoongi held you until your eyes swelled shut.
The next day Taehyung called and asked to work things out. Like a naive fool you agreed and then two years passed in a blink before you caught him fucking the doe eyed underclassmen from his fraternity the night of graduation.
You wanted Yoongi but the last time you ran crying to him about Taehyung sat in the back of your mind. Since that day he’d taken a step back, missing your calls or dodging plans. Still your best friend but not present like before. Half your own fault because he warned you getting back with Taehyung was a bad idea but rather than listen, you told him to fuck off and mind his business. So he did and managed to get a girlfriend in the process.
But the universe has a weird way of shoving people together. Sipping from a bottle on the steps to the should-be-condemned house you rented with six other girls, eyes glassy and unfocused, you didn’t realize someone was calling your name until he sat down beside you.
“I heard,” Yoongi says, snagging your drink and downing his own mouthful before going back for seconds.
Your lips bruise under your teeth, the pain barely managing to consume your focus away from the new wave of tears threatening to crop up. “That I’m an idiot?”
Cold hands find the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, pulling it back up in the places it's dropped before curling around your frame and wrangling you into the boney side of his.
“That Taehyung is still an asshole.”
It's too familiar. Your hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt, his neck wet with your cries. Yoongi barely managed to get you upstairs and in bed without fuss, a plethora of pathetic cries none of your roommates are around to hear blurring your vision.
“Where’s Tiffany?” You ask, fumbling into the mattress. You’ll ask him anything to get your mind of the hurt.
Yoongi fought to tuck you in, shoving you back into the pillows everytime you tried to get up and attempted to convince him to go to the bars where your classmates are currently celebrating. Where Taehyung is probably strung out across whoever will give him the time of day.
He lets you pull him into a hug when a new wave of sadness erupts. It’s the first time you get a good look at him in months despite the blur in your vision. Silver in the streetlights flooding through the slits of the blinds, the dark dye he used to appease his mom washing out at the fried tips of his hair. Any more to drink and you’d convince yourself this is all some cruel dream. A ghost of the past haunting you in misery.
Yoongi might as well be. Nearly two years gone from the face of the Earth, only to be caught in short glimpses at parties or between class changes. Both of you spent the time reserved for each other with new people.
You missed him.
He turns to leave too soon; already halfway to the door before you speak.
“Stay?”
Even in your double vision you see the crack in Yoongi’s mask, the regret swelling to the surface. “She’s waiting back at my place.”
The summer comes with the suffocating muggy heat of your childhood home. Your parents fail to stifle their thrill Taehyung is out of the picture, more content to pretend he never existed in the first place.
Everyday blurs together, a routine you’ve maintained since you can remember. Hot days by the pool in your parents backyard (without Yoongi hiding in the shade), dinner at the greasy restaurant by the river with friends (but not Yoongi), and packing your room one last time (which holds too many memories of Yoongi).
The news comes from your mom.
She probes for information about the last time you heard from your neighbor turned friend turned stranger, complaining she misses having him around like when you were kids, asking what he’s been up to lately. It’s evident by your short response you haven’t heard yet.
He’s on the dilapidated swing set in his parents backyard when you find him. Shoulders slumped, toeing in the dirt, while he gazes beyond the treeline.
Silently, you take a seat in the second swing, ignoring the way the wood creaks under your weight. Without a word he hands you his phone. The screen is bright with the last messages.
Tiffany: you just seem to have a lot going on…
Tiffany: i don’t know if I can handle all of it
You hand back the device. There's nothing to say. Cursing her till you’re blue in the face won’t make him feel better and neither will platitudes. Yoongi won’t believe anything contrary to what she said, at least not right now when he’s reeling from a blow to his most vulnerable parts.
So you sit in silence until the moon swells in the sky. He isn’t ready to talk about it when you both fumble down to his parents basement. Or when he hits the Rick and Morty bong Seokjin bought him for Secret Santa years ago. Definitely not when he tries to kiss you and you let him. And not when you end up in his lap, both naked and fighting to detach from what exists beyond the tattered upholstery of the couch.
Yoongi finally speaks hours later, shoulder to shoulder in the comforting murky darkness of his room. You both still have the heated glow of bare skin sticking together where you touch but it turns clammy when he spills his guts.
He told her those three words after meeting her parents the week before. The first girl you’ve ever seen him be serious about. She said them back but Yoongi didn’t believe her. And the proof he was right sits immortalized in texts messages.
Each word cuts like a knife. Admitting his hurt, his vulnerabilities and weaknesses before shifting the focus to something safer like your break up from May and if Taehyung has tried anything.
He softens when your lips crest his shoulder. The lingering franticness fades with each peck as you move across his chest, then his throat, then his lips. Because you know Yoongi wants to talk about this once and never again. Needs to put it behind him before it becomes too real.
You leave for the city two weeks later and Yoongi follows after managing to snag a shitty IT job. He spends more time at your apartment than his own and when the girl you met through a roommate group moves out, Yoongi moves in.
Maybe it becomes too common of an occurrence. What was once reserved as an escape from the crushing weight of rejection, a way to find comfort in each other more than before, turned into a quick fix at the slightest annoyance. When you’re too pent up or Yoongi had a hard day. If you were feeling insecure after another failed date, or he simply wanted an easy lay with someone who knew how to get him off without the awkward pauses of learning.
Now, Yoongi bends you over the counter at three in the morning, lapping at your cunt like he didn’t have you sitting on his face before leaving for Namjoon's apartment to pre-game. The dig of the marble edge in your ribs is less alluring than the comfort of your bed; but what Yoongi wants he more often than not gets, so how do you refuse when he shuffles you into an Uber with hunger in his gaze and possessiveness in the grip on your thigh.
“Yoongi,” you sigh. Reaching back, one of your hands anchors in the short tufts of his hair, pressing him firmer into the ache of your pussy.
The tug of the cool counter top against your nipples works in his favor, leaving you desperate with a hitch in your throat each time you rock back into his waiting tongue. It dips into your opening, wedged between his fingers that dig into your walls just right after years of practice. Yoongi knows how to push all your buttons, he’s sewed half of them on.
Your forehead meets the marble on the next swell of his tongue except this time is across your ass and punctuated with a bite you’ll feel next time you sit. A harsh clench around his fingers grants you sinful drag of his tongue across the hole only ever explored by him.
“Fuc–Yoongi!”
Sloppy kisses follow your spine until he’s at your ear with his cock resting against the meat of your ass. You're bent back at the waist once again so he can pluck at your nipples the way he likes, until you're shuddering away and pleading for mercy in a way meant to spur him further.
“Bet Namjoon wouldn’t do this,” Yoongi grunts with a tease of his cock inside, bare.
He’ll never let you forget the semester of freshman year you drooled for his friend's dick while Namjoon remained none the wiser. Every unconscious shut down sent Yoongi into a sadistic fit of laughter until you cut your losses and called it quits.
You know why he’s bringing it up now. Namjoon looked good tonight. Newly single with a buzzcut that ruined most men’s allure. Maybe you contemplated re-igniting the old flame when he first showed up but now there's history and comradery that didn't exist in your younger days and it's too complicated just for the chance to satiate your curiosity. They’re all the same reasons you shouldn’t be fucking your best friend since grade school but none of it seems to have the same weight.
It didn’t matter what you decided because Yoongi saw enough temptation in your gaze to bring it up like he isn’t the one fucking you regularly.
Your pants fog across the marble. “Should we call and find out?”
His palm stings into your ass, heating the skin on impact. The opportunity to neg him into another smack passes too quickly. You’re already at the mercy of Yoongi’s mouth on yours, the taste of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and your pussy less than appealing but his tongue is hot when he licks behind your teeth.
A hand takes up the work between your legs, rough and rushed as you trapeze down the hallway towards the bedroom. Yoongi thumbs at your clit with intent. You nearly collapse against the wall with buckled knees from the onslaught of too much stimulation.
Breaching the bedroom door proves too much a struggle. Yoongi bounces off the door jam from a rough grope against his zipper which leaves you flailing before catching in the corner of the mattress. His room is too damn small for the king bed he insisted on but it makes for a great backdrop to your fucking. Miles better than the more practical queen hidden in your room further down the hall.
You manage to push him off long enough to dig your knees into the sheets, crawling to the pillows with an arch you know he’ll rib you for later.
“Coming?” You ask over your shoulder, eyeing the flash of his boxers creeping through the opening of his zipper.
Flopping on your back, you splay across the over abundance of pillows like a queen while Yoongi works off his pants. His hair is a mess and a bruise the size of your mouth blooms high enough on his neck he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next two weeks. “Spread your legs.”
“Do you one better.” It's a goad in the most obvious sense. He likes to watch you huff, failing to get yourself off until he intervenes and gives exactly what you need. So you throw your legs wide, bent at the knees just to make it clearer in the faint light spilling from the window, and sink a hand down and play with the mess he caused. “Mmmm, Yoongi.”
“Finger it for me,” he drawls.
Muscles melt at the first pass inside your already battered walls. Not as deft as his fingers but you won’t tell him that unprompted. Yoongi’s ego is big enough when it comes to your sex life, fueled by the knowledge he’s collected many of your firsts. But the way he palms over his underwear in mimic of your rhythm tempts you to break that rule.
“Come here.”
Yoongi just smirks at the demand, pushing the mess of his pants off until he’s bare and the maroon head of his cock makes you drool. “You come here.”
“I’m not playing naked chicken.” You growl. “Come fuck me before I get my vibrator.”
Flipping on your front with your ass in the air, you drive a hard bargain Yoongi’s never been capable of saying no to. The bed dips behind you, knees between your own, shuffling them wider so he can stretch you until you’re pliant and aching.
His chest melts to your back, sticking uncomfortable but you don’t care because it feels good. Like he’s consuming you. “How bad do you want it?” Yoongi bites into your shoulder.
“Yoongi, fuck.” Your arms collapse under the first rush of his hips, spin dipping harshly to take every inch until he’s flat against your rear.
In a blink, you’re parallel to the mattress, pinned under his weight. It’s pathetic for so early in the game but Yoongi is the same man who gave you so many orgasms you’ve cried so it only stands to reason he crumbles your bravado like it's nothing.
Sniffling in his hold, you turn to nose at his cheek over your shoulder. “Please, fuck me.”
“Shit,” he spits with a harsh thrust. “You’re so fucking tight for me.”
The next press of his hips leaves you heaving. Your hands scramble when he cants a bruising pace against your ass. Hard. All while every noise he tries to hide sings straight into your ear.
With immense effort, you wiggle onto your back. Yoongi meets you with a kiss, tongue to tongue while he works back inside where you both need him most.
The callous of his palm rakes against your throat, not squeezing, just a possessive firmness.
“H-harder,” you beg, nails leaving crescents in his shoulder.
Yoongi hitches your thigh over his; slowing so he can fuck you deeper, crushing every noise hiding in your gut out.
Shocked from the sudden rush against your clit, your leg kicks out straight. It’ll leave you sore in the hips come morning but right now you don’t even register the discomfort. “Oh, oh, oh!”
“Like that?” Somehow he manages to drag the head of his cock deeper from the praise.
“Just like that,” you pant into his mouth.
He leans back to watch your decay into desperation but stops when you tug him back by the sensitive roots of his hair. Cracking open your eyes, you find his brown ones inches away. Forehead to forehead while you both synthesize into a heap of flushed skin and need.
Fingers intertwined, Yoongi pins your hand on the pillow. Then he stares. Not at your face as you crest the first wave of an orgasm but your fingers curled between his. Like he’s never done it before, like he doesn’t know exactly how you two got in this position.
“Oh my god, Yoongi.”
You cum hard. Nearly managing to drive him out from the force to your insides. Every muscle twisting tighter and tighter until it breaks and when you pull his mouth back to yours all you can do is shake under his lips with cracked mewls.
Yoongi might be shaking too but he swells inside you with a groan, collapsing into your neck before your brain catches up to consider the idea.
Dodging an attempt at a final kiss, he favors his lips on your throat. Fleeting wet pecks that get you choking on air. Then your breasts where he takes up his abandoned work on your nipples, teeth flashing across the sensitive peaks until your shoulders cave and you're desperate for him again; grinding into the fingers he’s so readily supplies.
He’s fucked you like this before. When he has something to prove to the non-existent entity constantly creeping on his subconscious, when he feels he isn’t good enough in some intangible way. Asking him what's wrong won’t do anything. Yoongi will tell you when he’s ready; if he ever is. Years of friendship and the fear you’ll see a part of him capable of scaring you away still eats him alive. So you’ll give him whatever reassurance he needs this way and hope he understands.
Your second orgasm comes faster than the first. Trails of the previous pleasure pushing you swiftly along. Yoongi latches his lips around your clit and sucks until spots flash and your thighs nearly crush his head.
“Fuck, Yoongi. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cry, threatening to fold in half under his fingers. “G-gonna cum again.”
Flares of lightning in your blood explode. Throat raw from wailing, Yoongi works you through until you dig your ankle into his ribs and kick him off.
The cold air in the room helps cool your feverish skin unlike the dark haired man flopping next to you. It’s quiet around two sets of gasping breaths and the rain tapping at the window.
Shoulder to shoulder, you calm in the drum of the overhead fan. Yoongi’s fingers tangling and untangling with your own confirms your suspicion. Whatever he needs to tell you bubbles below the surface, swirling until he finds the safest words to share his feelings. There's no point in guessing but it doesn’t stop you from spiraling through the possibilities.
The major suspects lack any clear indication. His date last weekend ended with mutual disinterest. Nothing concerning his job registers in your vague memory. Both your parents were fine the last time you visited months ago. Yoongi’s nephew is fine—
“I told my mom you're my girlfriend.”
Well that's new. “Oh.”
“It was an accident but—”
“What’d she say?” You cut him off.
Yoongi hesitates. Your voice doesn’t betray disdain or hope, only reluctant curiosity. If you set too many expectations he’ll clam up and avoid you for months like when he lost his virginity at a party freshman year. Yoongi shares on his terms and you listen.
“That it was about time I got my head out of my ass.”
You wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. Yoongi’s palm slick against your own betrays his nerves, the ghost of squeeze begs for some kind of reassurance he isn’t crazy.
“Huh.” You exclaim to the ceiling. It’s not the worst idea. And its definitely not the first time you’ve entertained it.
He lets you go the second you tug on your connected hands, anticipating swift rejection that leaves you feeling sour. But you’re rolling into his chest, the now free hand protecting his sternum from the dig of your chin so you can stare him down until he finally blinks your way. You won’t let Yoongi wiggle away from this ten year overdue conversation.
“Is that what you want?”
The answer is clear in his eyes. Yoongi’s mouth rounds over the words to tell you, floundering silently because he’ll admit he isn’t good at things like this. But if it’s worth it to him then you need to hear him say it.
Rising up, you sit bare in his lap while he works through his nerves. Finally, when your hand cups his cheek and his eyes sink closed, leaning into the warmth, he tells you.
“That’s what I want.”
Your nose wrinkles with a shy smile. “Kinda cliche.”
Yoongi snorts when you kiss him but melts the cold facade swiftly.
“Yeah well,” he huff. “So is losing your virginity to your prom date but let's not talk about that.” Yoongi may spit the words but his hands, gentle where they trace the curve of your sides, betray his euphoria.
“We can talk about that too if you want.” You whisper into his jaw, lips prickling from the shadow growing there. “Prom me probably would have let you fuck her.”
“Yeah?”
You choke on a laugh at the pleased shock on his face. “Yeah, but not after that black eye came in.”
“Cheap fucking shot.” He grumbles under his breath, but you’re already there kissing the words from his lips. Yoongi indulges, melting further into the bed when his tongue timidly slips along yours. After you dip away to press more languid pecks where his cheeks round, he speaks again. “If I asked you out then what would you have said?”
“Well the only reason I said yes to whats-his-fuck was because someone else was too stubborn to ask me himself.” You hum in his ear. “Does that answer your question?”
You're on your back in a flash, pinned under your boyfriend who smiles as you flounder and fail to push him off.
“You need to be nicer to me,” he grunts when you knock out his arms and collapse his chest to yours.
“If you wanted someone nicer, then you had years to figure that out.”
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Tipsy - Paige Bueckers x Fem! Black Reader
Written March 22, 2024.
Warnings: angst, vulgar language, fluff, brief mentions of sex and sexuality.
You are Safiya
You and Paige have just gotten in from a house party that your cousin Anthony threw. All was well until one of his close friends, Camilla approached you, making advances toward you.
—
Your back rested upon the kitchen counter, a red cup in your hand filled halfway with vodka. The alcohol was getting to your head, and literally everything she was telling you seemed hilarious in the moment.
“Like, it was just so crazy because… she was dead serious! And we’re all just looking at her, but she was in her own world,” Camilla recalled as she told you about another experience she had at a different party of Anthony’s.
“Yeah well,” you shrugged, “some of us should probably be more like her,” you chuckled at the end of your sentence.
You had to yell a little over the loud music, but Camilla figured she’d make it a little easier by leaning into you. “Would you?” She inquired, “show me a little something,” Camilla beckoned with a smirk, daring you.
You snickered, “I said some of us. That doesn’t include me, I’m not really the dancing type.”
“It doesn’t hurt to let loose,” Camilla proposed. “Put the cup down, and let’s go dance.”
“Ahh..” you trailed off. “Fuck it.”
You abandoned your cup, pouring it out in the sink and followed Camilla as she led you through the crowd. You watched her first, trying to get a feel for how to match her energy.
She gyrated her hips, moving randomly, but you couldn’t deny that she looked good. You weren’t blind. She wore beige cargo pants, a white t-shirt from Goodfellow, and when her arms raised you could catch a glimpse of her boxers that rested gracefully on her hips. Just behind the band was a tattoo, but you couldn’t quite read it. Her hair was in a high bun, and she had a glowing smile.
And even the blind could see her aura. It was inviting and fun. Nothing too serious, which is why you eventually joined in. You were careful, at first, maintaining distance between yourselves, but as she minutes passed you got closer and closer to one another.
“Your Number” by Ayo Jay came on, and soon enough you found yourself damn near grinding on Camilla. You whined your hips slowly, your hands resting on your knees, and Camilla catching everything you were throwing.
Occasionally you would brush your coily hair out of your face, and your skin felt like it was on fire. All of the people in the house weren’t helping either as you all exchanged body heat.
Camilla hands found your hips, squeezing them as she brought you even closer, but you quickly brushed you off. You knew what you were doing, you aren’t stupid.
It was bad enough that you were throwing your ass back on someone other than your beloved girlfriend.
“Don’t touch,” you muttered, coming out of your bent over position.
“Damn, why’d you stop?” Camilla asked you, her hand coming up around your waist again. “Music’s still going.”
You swatted her hand away again.
“Yeah, babe, why’d you stop?” You heard Paige’s familiar voice from behind the both of you, her muscular arms crossed over her chest.
Before you could answer, she stood in front of you with your face in the firm grip of her hand. “Are you serious right now?” Paige gritted, narrowing her eyes at you. “No, no, actually, are you crazy? I know good and well that you aren’t stupid—“ she began to rant, her piercings globes never leaving yours.
A warm feeling spread within your chest, and your panties became damp. You tried your best to hide your smile as she expressed her anger, but you couldn’t help it.
“Is this funny to you?” She continued. Camilla got the hint, backing away into the crowd. Paige could smell the alcohol on your breath, and she knew exactly what was happening.
Usually she didn’t like to leave you alone at parties because she knew how people could be, but you’d convinced her that you two could do your own thing. Clearly that wouldn’t be happening again.
“Mm-mm,” you hummed, shaking your head.
Without words, Paige drug you through the party, and out of the front door, without even saying goodbye to Anthony or her friends. You did walk past them though, exchanging looks with them.
Paige pushed you in front of herself, watching you drunkenly stumble. “Walk,” she ordered. You guys took her car to the party and she’d parked a little down the block.
Your 1 inch heels slammed against the concrete, the sound filling your ears. That and the sound of cars speeding down the busy street. The temperature had dropped since you two got there, and goosebumps appeared on your arms. “I’m cold,” you whined, turning around toward her.
Paige rolled her eyes, shrugging off her unbuttoned button-up shirt and placing it on your own shoulders.
When you got the car, Paige opened the door for you, helping you get in, and then buckling you in. Even though she was upset with you, she wouldn’t forget her ways.
She get in on the driver’s side, turning on the heat for you.
You guys were about thirty minutes out from your joint apartment and you curled up in the seat after kicking off your heels. You’d shifted your body to face Paige, and you merely observed as she drove.
“P, I’m sorry. Are you mad at me?” You questioned, but she never answered. The road had all of her focus as she tried to get the two of you home safely.
You reached up, your ring clad hand grazing her jawline. You felt it clench and unclench. Paige was primarily trying to keep herself from leaning into your palm, but she just loved how it felt when you touched her.
Begrudgingly she brushed you off, placing your hand back in your lap.
—
And here you are, sitting on the couch of your living room with your face buried in the palms of your hands. You were still drowsy, but somewhat coming to your senses and you knew you fucked up.
Paige disappeared to the back of your apartment, presumably showering and getting changed. She’s been in there for about 25 minutes or so. The entire ride, not once did she speak to you.
You turned on the T.V., needing to fill the silence. Your mind was going a mile a minute and honestly it was killing you. You slowly made your way into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Groaning you screwed your eyes shut, taking small sips. You’re a lightweight.
Your feet had begun to ache, and the sweat dried on your skin. An icky feeling covered your skin, but you didn’t even want to think about going near the bathroom. You wanted to give her space.
It wasn’t long before she came out, steam following her.
Her slippers padded against the floor and you could hear Paige nearing the kitchen. You never looked back though. Truthfully, you were a little scared to.
In her hand, she shook a bottle of Aspirin which you nearly lunged for. But before you could grab it, she held it above your head, the full length of her arm extended. “We need to talk first.”
You nodded, “of course.”
“Did you want her to fuck you, Saf?” Paige inquired with seriousness in her face.
“What? No!” You replied immediately. “Not ever. She’s not you so…”
She chuckled bitterly, “oh really? Did you have the same thought when you were grinding on someone else, who isn’t me?”
“I— it was a mistake,” you huffed. “I wasn’t going to let it go any further than that. I love you, not her!”
Paige huffed, running her hands down her face. “I don’t doubt that, but what were you expecting to get out of this— me catching you in the act?”
Your cheeks warmed, and you cleared your throat. “I-I was hoping that you’d…” you trailed off.
“You’re a big girl, say it,” Paige pushed you.
“I wanted you to… you know, punish me for it.”
Paige grabbed your hands at your sides, pulling you in. “You know how I feel about communicating. You tell me if there’s something that you want. Why didn’t you?
Truth be told, you missed Paige so much. She’d been away for games and there was only so much a phone call could do for you. When it came down the topic of how much you need her to touch you or caress you, you got a little anxious.
You knew that there was a deeper problem if you couldn’t communicate with your longtime partner about how you felt about your sex life.
You huffed, “I’m embarrassed by it.”
She opened up the bottle of Aspirin, shaking a tablet into your hand, and passed it off to you. “Why? Did I do something to make you feel this way?”
You shook your head vehemently, “no, never. I just don’t know how to express my desires, and I didn’t want you to think differently of me. I know I went about it in the worst way.”
“I love all parts of you,” Paige expressed, keeping eye contact. “I’d never look at you differently just because you want to be fucked like a slut sometimes,” she spoke with a comical tone, but you knew she also serious. “We’re learning together because we’re a team.”
“Of course,” you nodded. You knocked back the Aspirin, one hand still connected with Paige’s.
“Come on,” she pulled you in the direction of the back of your apartment. “I’ll run you some bath water.”
You follow gingerly, but suddenly Paige pushes you to walk in front of herself, just like she’d done earlier. The palm of her slender hand made contact with your backside and you let out a yelp.
Your head snapped back her, to which she winked. It was looking like your fantasy was about to come true.
#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#uconn huskies#paige bueckers x oc#wlw post#paige bueckers fanfiction#paige bueckers x black reader
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SO IT GOES...
tw: MDNI; fem!reader; teasing; tipsy fooling around; under the table; fingering; reader has acrylics on!
concept: mom's friend's son!luke who only comes around when your parents are hanging out or for big events. song: so it goes... by taylor swift
a/n: you voted for this so... here you go! this is inspired by this post by @too-deviant ! i saw the concept and was immediately hit with inspiration. it's a bit short, but don't worry, there is a part two coming soon! i will link here when it's up. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪
was getting wasted a bit tipsy at your mom's friend of a friend's wedding reception a good idea? no. no, it was not.
but you couldn't help it! it was so. boring.
the ceremony was a drag, the small talk was unbearable, and you were going to be stuck here for lord knows how long while your moms talked the night away.
when some of your older cousins came around and offered, you just had to get a few shots! just to provide a warm buzz.
and a couple of cocktails couldn't hurt, just to keep you steady!
oh, and wait, no one wanted that bottle of champagne, right?
so here you two were, a pile of giggles and smirks as you passed the bottle between yourselves in your not-so-secret corner of the world. you both rambled on, reminiscing on old memories of your time spent together.
sharing glances and tipsy smiles when one of your mothers came by and commented about how cute you looked, how it seemed as if no time had passed.
eventually, the teasing started the same way it always did: his hand rubbing its way up and down your thigh.
it was especially easy for him to access your bare skin, the criminally short dress you wore barely covering the smooth flesh. you wore it with him in mind, of course.
last winter, you'd attended a holiday party in jeans, and you'd have thought you were in a chastity belt the way he pouted. he spent most of the evening complaining about missing the way your pretty thighs looked without the fabric, so you decided to be extra nice this time around.
unfortunately, you were starting to think that maybe you had been a little too nice when you felt his hand start moving up, up, up.
"luke, stop it! wait til we're alone!" you giggled quietly, swatting at his hand but doing absolutely nothing to deter him from his goal of getting his hand on your panties.
"oh, c'mon, baby. everybody's too drunk to even care." luke hummed in your ear, his warm breath on your ear making you shiver despite the heat. "besides, haven't felt you in so long, can't blame me f'being a little impatient."
you let out a soft moan when his hand finally found your panties, his palm applying some soft pressure before stopping, making you whine. "is that a yes?" he asked, his voice husky in your ear. you didn't even have to look at him to know he was smirking.
you bit your lip gently, glancing around the room to make sure you really were in the clear before nodding. "mhm."
he slowly rubbed circles onto your clothed pussy, relishing in the way you'd already soaked through them. "god, you're so wet..." he murmured, teasing you over your panties while you let out the occasional gasp or whimper.
"luuuke, stop t- oh." your complaint was cut off by your own quiet moan when he finally pushed your panties to the side and moved his middle finger up and down your slit. he spread your wetness around before finally easing it inside of you.
"oh, fuck." you moaned, bringing your hand up to your lips to try and discreetly muffle yourself. no one was paying you two any attention, but that didn't mean you wanted to tempt fate any more than you were!
luke draped his free arm over the back of your seat, forcing you in place and looking just oh-so-casual while his thumb found your puffy clit. he slipped in another finger, speeding up his thrusts while you struggled to stay quiet.
only you two could hear the squelching of your pussy while luke fingered you, the sounds of music and godawful karaoke blocking it out from the rest of the world.
"so. fucking. wet." luke groaned in your ear, punctuating each word with another toe curling thrust as you felt the familiar, delicious knot in your stomach start to grow. "fuck, fuck, m'so close!" you practically whined, trying to squirm against his firm grip, only to be met with his fingers curled up and made you hiss.
"you gonna cum f'me, baby? gonna be a good girl and cum on my fingers?" he cooed, to which you could only nod rapidly and dig your nails into his arm, afraid that if you opened your mouth, you would moan too loud and bring attention to yourself.
after a few more rough thrusts, you turned and quickly buried your face into his shoulder, unable to hold in your moans as you squeezed your eyes shut and came undone.
he continued to rub your clit as you came, enjoying the sting of your nails digging into his arm and the fabric of your panties scraping his knuckles while you rode out your high.
eventually, however, he stopped and pulled his hand out from between your thighs, allowing you to catch your breath. he lifted his hand up, fingers and thumb glistening with your juices all over them.
"fuck, that's hot." he stated, looking at you as he popped his thumb into his mouth to clean it off. you blushed and smacked his chest, attempting to bring his hand down. "luke, stop it!" you hissed, your blush only seeming to egg him on more.
"ah, ah, ah. i earned this, doll." luke tutted, a wicked smirk on his face as he licked all your juices off his hand, groaning at your delicious taste until your mother came by to check in on you, asking if you felt okay, telling you that you looked a bit flushed.
"don't worry, i'm here to take great care of our girl for the night." he told your mother, his best, charming smile on his lips. "in fact, i'm gonna go grab us some waters." he stated, casually adjusting his hard on under the table before getting up and walking away.
your mom continued to talk, going on about how cute it was that you two were still the best of friends, but you weren't paying attention.
no, all your attention was on your phone as you waited for the usual text message to arrive in three... two... buzz, buzz.
you picked your phone up off the table and smiled to yourself as you read the messages.
"meet me in the stairwell"
"don't make me start without you."
maybe getting dragged to these random events with your mom wasn't all that bad after all...
ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ
#☆lola writes!#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan smut#mdni#luke castellan fanfic#pjo#pjo series#pjo tv show#pjo x reader#pjo x you#pjo fanfic
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can you please do one where less and reader is dating but some rumour came out ( like reader is cheating) or something because reader is seen with someone else quite a lot and they just have a argument but it turns out that reader is just planning to propose to less? Ur fics are the BESTTT
i can’t believe you - alessia russo
alessia russo x reader
description: in which your special surprise for your girlfriend gets spoilt by cheating rumours
warnings: angsty, mentions of cheating, multiple tears shed, miscommunication but happy happy ending
a/n: ahhh! this was so 🤍, thank you so much for the love, baby!!, i hope you enjoyyy ❤️ no joke, i teared up while writing this because i felt bad
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
you and your girlfriend, alessia knew each other better than you knew yourselves. you knew each other majority of your lives when you played for the same youth clubs.
you followed each other everywhere. whatever alessia did, you did, whatever you did, alessia did. it was simple.
you were two peas in a pod and that’s how you liked it, after your years of friendship, you both began dating when you studied in north carolina. she loved to tease you that you only made a move because she wore the captain’s armband, you would not confirm nor deny.
—
when you both came back from college and signed with manchester united, people saw the true alessia and (y/n) that were obsessed with each other.
it was a random day when you both went to training, hand in hand with cheesy smiles as you enter the change room that had numerous groans of teasing echoing in the room.
you both find it really hard to be apart from each other but alessia genuinely thought the world would end if you weren’t holding her hand. your cubbies are directly next to each other but she drags you to squeeze in hers.
if you get up to move, she’ll pout at you until you kiss her to make her feel better. you know her little tricks but you’re not complaining.
you stand up from her cubby after lacing your boots, squeezing her thigh before you get up, “where are you going?” she protests immediately, rushing to grab your hand to stop your movements.
“to the bathroom, baby, i’ll be two seconds” you giggle affectionately, kissing the crown of her head before making your way to the bathroom. her eyes watch you intently as you walk out of the room before ella plops down next to her and puts her in a choke hold.
“can’t survive without your little girlfriend, huh, less?” she teases, alessia grumbles and pushes her off, “fuck off, yes i can” she scoffs with a roll of her eyes. ella’s smirk turns into bright laughter when alessia’s face visibly brightens when you come back.
alessia glares at her until you come to stand in between her legs. she immediately wraps her arms around the back of your thighs while her head rests on her stomach. you smile as she leans into you as you play with the ends of her ponytail.
“why is my girlfriend pissed, tooney wooney?” you tease, giggling when alessia pulls you closer, almost making you fall on top of her.
“i just said she couldn’t live without you” she shrugs, alessia rests her chin on your stomach to look up at you. “baby, tell her i can!” she pouts, you smile amusingly at her and nod with a coo, “you can, lessi” she smiles satisfied and buries her face into your jersey, missing how you winked at ella.
you don’t blame your girlfriend though, you’re always together, it was the normal for both of you. ella masks her laugh and winks back at you before moving off so you could sit in your regular spot next to your girlfriend.
she immediately kicks her legs into your lap, you pull her closer while you smile sweetly at her. she puckers her lips at you and you close the gap without any second thought, kissing her gently a couple of times before pulling away and hyping her up for training.
“come on, star girl, training!” you tap her legs and she groans, shaking her head. “no, babe” she challenges, you smile at her, “hm, yes, babe” you tease her with a grin. she narrows her eyes at you for a second and rolls them when you cock your head at her.
“fine” she huffs, placing two hands on your hips to pull you into another kiss, one of her hands moves to the back of your head to deepen it and you have to push her away with quite a lot of strength to separate. “lessi” you warn, she squeezes your hips in response, you lean closer to her so her lips ghost yours, “training” you whisper, pecking them quickly and leaving her a flustered mess.
you pair up for training and giggle with each other, your bright smiles contagious for everyone on the team.
—
when you and alessia moved to arsenal, things couldn’t have been better. you both fit in like you’d been there all along. you and alessia moved to a new house and everything was just perfect. you two were extremely happy, so happy that you had a special plan up your sleeve.
it was extremely hard to keep it a secret but you were finally ready to propose to alessia. you’d bought the ring years ago, literally when you came back from college but the times didn’t feel right.
but everything recently had just been falling into place, you just needed the perfect plan, and who else would you employ other than leah williamson to help you out?
you and alessia were extremely close with leah, having known each other for years. you wanted to ask lotte but you and her collectively agreed that alessia would catch on quickly.
and so you started the planning with leah.
—
“baby, i’m just going to leah’s to help her with something around the house” you rush out after you both get home from training. she looks up at you confusingly as she sits on the couch, you always cuddle and watch something when you got home.
“what does she need help with?” alessia questions, watching you scramble to get things together. “just a flat pack or something, baby” you say randomly, her eyebrows furrow but she chooses not to question it. “oh okay” she says quite sadly and you feel bad, instantly.
“i’ll be back soon, love, i’ll get takeout for dinner and we can cuddle when i get back” you suggest, smiling when your girlfriend’s expression softens. “okay” she smiles, nodding at you, you lean down from the back of the couch and kiss her gently, pulling away with multiple pecks to her cheek making her giggle and squirm.
“i love you” you whisper in her ear, “i love you too” she whispers back, you grin at her again and kiss her quickly once more before rushing out the door.
—
over the span of two weeks, alessia was left at home for most of them. she trusted you with every bone in her body but things were popping up in the media that she couldn't help but look at them. pictures were popping up of you and leah in town, shopping, hanging out and people were questioning your loyalty.
alessia knew you wouldn’t cheat on her, she knew how much you love her but she’s only human, maybe the photos didn’t look friendly, you were hanging out with leah a lot, you were leaving her at home to be with leah. thoughts were lingering and she couldn’t help it.
—
the reality was that you and leah were perfecting the little details for your proposal. the plan was simple: you would take out alessia to dinner at her favourite restaurant, getting her flowers and chocolate.
after that, you would take her to the beach where you have an elaborate set up waiting for her. a large heart made out of rose petals with candles lighting up the sand. a photographer would be hiding and you would propose.
then, you’d take her back home, all your nearest and dearests waiting for the two of you. photos would be plastered of the two of you all over the place, it was alessia dream proposal, you knew she would love it.
—
you’d come back one night after being at leah’s all day basically, you were proposing tomorrow. alessia went to get dinner with lotte, which ended up being cut short by the blonde crying in lotte’s arms asking why you didn’t want her anymore. (you didn’t know this)
“baby?” you sing out excitedly, your eyebrows furrow at the human golden retriever not bounding over to you like she always does. you rush and get your jacket and shoes off, moving closer into the house to try and find your special girl.
it was when you entered the dimly lit living room that you heard the soft sniffles coming from a bundle of blankets that you felt your heart shatter into pieces.
“lessi?” you ask softly, moving the blanket off her to see her tear stained cheeks and red nose.
she cries more when she sees you, “don’t, ‘lessi’ me, i can’t believe you” she cries, harshly wiping the tears off her cheeks. you sit down next to her instantly, “hey, what’s wrong?” you place a hand on her thigh and she tenses, you pull back instantly with a pained expression.
“you” she sobs, her body is wracking with tears and you don’t know what to do. “baby, what did i do? talk to me” you plead, your own eyes are filling with tears at seeing alessia sob, in all your years of dating, she’s never cried this hard.
“you don’t want me anymore” she chokes out, “you want leah” the tears are falling at a frantic rate and she’s rubbing them so harshly with the sleeves of her (your) hoodie.
“what?” you exclaim loudly, “what are you talking about?” you grab both of her hands and wipe her tears off her cheeks, much more gently than she was previously doing.
“you’re never home! if you don’t want to be with me anymore fucking break up with me, say it to my face!” she sobs, you pull her to your chest and she thumps her fist on it.
“i don’t want to break up with you, alessia, please-” you start but she hits you again, it’s not enough to hurt you physically but it’s doing wonders emotionally. each one felt like a stab to the chest.
“why are you always with leah, why don’t you want me anymore?” she cries, leaning into you slightly as you hold her to you tightly. “fuck, alessia, no, baby, me and leah are just planning something, please, it means nothing” you assure, she shakes her head. another hit.
“but it does mean something, you’re not here, i’m alone every night, my fucking phone is blowing up and it’s driving me insane.” her tears are soaking your shirt but you don’t care.
“alessia, look at me” you say sternly, she swallows the lump in her throat and looks up at you through her wet lashes, she sniffles when you make eye contact.
“alessia, i love you, i love you more than anyone in this world, leah is a friend, our friend and that’s all she is. you’re my person, i love you” you choke out, tears were falling down your own cheeks now and alessia instinctively wiped them.
“you know what? fuck it!” you get out of the embrace and sprint to your bedroom, throwing it apart to get the ring you’ve been hiding for years. you stumble as you run back to her on the couch and look at her breathlessly, ring in hand behind your back.
“leah has been helping me in planning something very special for you” she sniffs as she looks at you, listening to you intently.
“i had this big, fucking, elaborate plan but it’ll have to wait for tomorrow, i don’t care, i’m doing this now” you quickly wipe a tear before getting down on one knee. alessia gasps loudly and covers her mouth with her hands, she’s sobbing all over again.
“alessia mia teresa russo” you choke out, taking a deep breath before taking the ring out from behind your back, alessia’s eyes widen when she sees the ring, sobbing uncontrollably.
“my pretty girl, my favourite person in the whole world. the first time i met you when we were 10, i told my family that i was going to marry you and i kept my promise” you swallow, she looks at you trying your best keep her composure, each word clinging to her ear as you spoke.
“my alessia, you’re kind, smart, beautiful and the sweetest person alive and that’s only some of the things i love about you.” you take a deep breath, tears were falling fast and hard for both of you.
“i love the way you can’t sleep without me scratching your back, the way your nose crinkles when you laugh, the way you drag me along to all your nail appointments to make me get matching nails with you”
you both let out a wet laugh, alessia looks at you with sweetest expression, her eyes were filled with love, but nothing compared to the way you were looking at her right now, she takes a mental photograph of it to replay it forever.
“you’re my best friend, my person, i couldn’t imagine a life without you, and so, i’m asking you to be my best friend forever, will you marry me?” you ask nervously, alessia lets out a sob and nods, pulling you into a bone crushing hug while kneeling on the floor with you. her face buries itself in your neck as you both cry, clutching onto each other for dear life.
“i love you, i love you so much” you coos, running a hand through her hair while her arms grip you tightly. “i love you” she breathes out, moving back to look at you. “my future wife” you breathe out in slight disbelief, her heart jolts. “my future wife” she parrots under her breath, her eyes tracing all over your face before you pull her into a passionate kiss.
it’s frantic and needy but soft and loving all at the same time. you’re moving completely in sync and she hums against you in relief. she pulls away to rest her forehead on yours, “i’m so sorry for everything” she sniffs, choking back her tears as you look at each other. “don’t be sorry, baby, it’s okay” you coo, moving a stray piece of hair from her forehead.
“fucking media bullshit” she grits out, you laugh affectionately and peck her lips a couple times, she smiles into you, “fucking media bullshit” you say in agreement, looking at her with a cheeky smile.
“can i put the ring on you, beautiful?” you grin as she nods instantly, “yes please” you take it out from the box and slip it in her finger, a complete, utter perfect fit. her breath hitches when she sees it on her finger, looking up at you then back at the ring and back at you again.
she surges forward to kiss you again, “i love you” she mumbles against your lips, you smile into her, “i love you too” you grin, kissing her deeply as you pull her to sit on the couch. after a whole lot of kissing and talking, you and alessia cuddle, she lays on top of your chest as you run your hands on her back under her hoodie.
“can we still do the proposal you planned?” alessia looks up at you from your chest, “but you have the ring already, baby” you chuckle, pinching her cheek affectionately.
“but you worked so hard on it, i feel awful” she admits, pressing a gentle kiss to your sternum. “i’ll still do what i planned and you can wear the ring, lessi” you smile, “you don’t need to feel bad at all, i can’t even imagine how you felt, i'm sorry i wasn't there for you” you look sad and alessia scrambles to straddle your waist.
“no, we’re not going to be sad, we’re forgetting all of this and being happy alessia and (y/n) who are now engaged” she says sternly, you smile up at her affectionately while running your hands over her thighs. “okay, baby” you coo, smiling when she leans down to kiss you.
—
you do your original proposal as planned and alessia and you share tears at every location. it was so special for the two of you and you were so appreciative of each other. ‘in love’ was an understatement.
when you get back to your house to all your guests, alessia looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. you do an emotional speech about alessia before thanking everyone for coming, she cries again when you never take your eyes off her as you spoke about her so affectionately.
you do your rounds together gaining congratulations and as soon as she sees leah she sprints to her. she pulls her in a tight hug and apologises profusely, leah’s eyebrows knit together in worry and confusion as she hugs your now fiancé, looking at you for any answer and you wink in response.
alessia then grabs your hand, dragging you off to look at all the photos around the room, smiling and laughing at old memories.
so no, your proposal didn’t happen the exact way you wanted but you got your girl in the end. it was definitely a story for the books. you love each other dearly and it shows.
⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆
liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others
alessiarusso99: my best friend, cheers to forever 🥂🍾 i love you x
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yourname: my beautiful girl, i love you so much
↳ alessiarusso99: i love you, baby
leahwilliamsonn: my babies are all grown up
↳ alessiarusso99: i’m so sorry, i love you
↳ leahwilliamsonn: why do you keep saying sorry
↳ yourname: long story
ellatoone: told you! i knew you couldn’t live without her, cheers to my sisters 🥂
↳ yourname: tooney wooney!! sister forever 🥂
↳ alessiarusso99: i won’t even lie, it’s true
↳ ellatoone: sappppppp
#woso#woso community#woso fanfics#woso x reader#woso one shot#woso imagine#alessia russo#alessia russo x reader
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𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐫𝐞 𝐍𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞
Summary ➳ Ever since Daryl and Merle joined you and the rest of the survivors, Shane believed that the brothers were no good and warned you to stay away. But you never had good hearing.
(A/n) ➳ This is gonna have multiple parts, I’m not a fan having multiple dividers used as time-skips. Take care of yourselves!!
Word Count ➳ 2.1k (There ain’t a lot of smut but I’ll make it up to you guys in the next part!)
Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, mentions of death/killing, swearing, mentions of masturbation/masturbation (M), oral (F), cunilingus, fingering, pet names (baby), overstimulation…
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Coming soon!!)
You often found your mind wandering ever since the outbreak, you struggled to believe what was happening was real. You tried to think positively and hoped that in the end, you would wake up from the nightmare. But there was no nightmare since there was no dream. The outbreak indeed happened and the world is in fucking shambles.
Even during the panic, you found it unbelievable, you refused to believe. It took your brother bruising your arm to drag you into the truck. And when Lori and Carl were put into the truck, Shane told you his belief of his friend’s demise. Another thing that you refused to believe and luckily, you didn’t change your view.
Shane stretched his arms as he stepped out of the tent, a groan leaving his lips. But he wasn’t the only one awake so early, you were as well.
You were folding the group’s clothes, but you were also looking at the tags of the men’s shirts the group had taken. You were ripping the sleeves off of those you deemed the right ones.
“What are you doin’?” Shane asked you, lifting an eyebrow as you ripped another sleeve. He had a good guess of who those were for.
“Daryl’s shirts are coated in sweat an’ dirt. There are holes in ‘em.” You replied, a harmless smile on your face. Shane knew that you were trying to do something good for him. “He needs new ones.”
Shane kneeled, taking your wrist to stop you. “Don’t you think he can do that himself?”
“But he’s out huntin’.” You pulled your wrist back.
“If he can make time for huntin’, he can make his shirts himself.” Shane snatched the rest of the shirts and pushed them to the side. “What are you doin’ up anyways?”
Your eyes looked away from his, fidgeting with the tag of Daryl’s shirt. Your dreams were plagued by nightmares, you wouldn’t go into detail, and you were happy that you forgot most of it.
Shane could see it in your eyes, he rubbed your back. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get our home back.”
“Would we?” You mumbled, rolling your eyes.
“What was that?” Shane demanded to know. He grabbed your shoulders. “Say it again.”
“It’s gone, Shane. We have no home, there’s nothin’ to go back to.”
“Don’t you ever think like that.” Shane snapped. His voice was low yet gruff, showing how serious and angry he was. “We’re goin’ to get home. Understand?”
You looked away once more, nodding. Your ears caught the sound of Daryl panting, arguing with his brother to wake up and help him.
Shane moved his hands from your shoulder to brush back your hair. “Go back to your tent, get some rest.” Patting your back and taking the sleeveless shirts, his voice returning to normal. “And keep away from them. I shouldn’t have to remind you, again.”
You heard Shane speaking with Daryl, handing or shoving the shirts to his arms in trade for some of the game he caught. You also heard Shane taking credit for the work done for Daryl.
“I did ‘em. You smell like shit.” Shane was starting to piss you off. First telling you to keep away from people you were going to have to work with and then taking credit for work you did…
It was most likely midnight. You and Shane were the only ones sitting by the dying campfire. Georgia may be hot during the day but could be cold during the night.
Shane glanced around, he was cautious, making sure it was just the two of you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “Stay away from them. I shouldn’t be repeatin’ myself and I don’t like to.”
You knew Shane could be an asshole at times but deep down, he meant well. But it was harder to believe him each time when he wouldn’t give you a reason.
“All I am askin’ is an explanation.” You begged Shane. “Give me a reason.”
“Do I really need to explain myself?” Shane loudly sighed when you nodded immediately. “They are suspicious. I know we need every hand we can get but when it comes to them, to Merle. It’s obvious that they are plannin’ somethin’, somethin’ bad.”
“What does that have to do with Daryl? Or me?”
Shane was getting annoyed by your constant questions. He ran his fingers through his hair, nearly pulling them out. “Let me ask you this. Do you think Daryl will go out of his way to save you?”
“What if-”
“No ifs ands or buts. Answer it.” Shane said sternly, he didn’t need your response since your silence was your answer. “Daryl is only lookin’ out for his brother, he ain’t gonna be saving your dumbass unless you got somethin’ for him or Merle.”
“Don’t say that about him. Daryl is just misunderstood.”
A harsh laugh left his lips. “Jesus (Y/n), why are you tryin’? You are unbearably naive. Always having soft spots, like that damn dog. Watch, Daryl is gonna bring you down to his shit level, and when he does, I ain’t gonna be there to help your pathetic ass. You’re gonna be risking your life for people who don’t give a damn about yours.”
Tears stung your eyes, hurt by your brother’s words. And Shane could see it. “You’re my sister, the only family I have left. I won’t have you taken away from me because of them.”
You felt like a fish out of water, the way your mouth was opening and closing. It took you a good minute before you could finally speak. “The world has gone to shit Shane. We need each other to survive, we can’t be divided.”
“(Y/n)-”
“You gotta get rid of your black and white thinkin’. Find common ground with them, not draw a line in the dirt and spit on it.”
You pushed his arm off and stomped off, you must’ve looked like a child.
“(Y/n).” He called out to you, watching you walk off.
You sat on a random rock once. You knew your path back to camp, you remained close by, in case of an emergency.
You wiped your eyes, frustrated. You took deep breaths, running your hands up and down your thighs to stop you from completely sobbing.
“The hell you doin’ out ‘ere?” You flinched, snapping your head around just to see Daryl with a string of rabbits over his shoulder.
“I could say the same.” You grumbled, turning your head back around. “Why you huntin’ out so late?”
“None of yer damn business.” He countered rather harshly. “You gonna answer?”
You were ready to rant but Daryl was a man of few words, and he preferred it if people got to the point instead of wasting his time. “Shane and I fought. He’s a fuckin’ asshole.”
“...Wan’ me to kill ‘im?” He asked, loading his crossbow and hearing a click.
A faint smile crossed your face, holding in the snicker you had coming. “I thank you for your offer. But I’ll be alright. He’s probably stressed.”
“What’ver you say.” Daryl turned around and walked away, just in time for Shane to appear. He didn’t bother giving Shane a second look.
“Still havin’ a hard time deciding if I’m real or not?” Rick asked, taking the water you handed him.
“No, I made up my mind when Shane told me. I knew your stubborn ass would come out sooner or later.” You laughed as well as Rick. You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting by the dead campfire with him.
Comfortable silence overcame you both, but Rick had questions. Especially when he hadn’t seen you and Shane speak, even when he returned.
“Shane… What happened?”
“Shane… He doesn’t think that the brothers are good.” You replied. “I understand where he’s comin’ from but Daryl’s different.”
“Talk to him often?”
“Not really.”
Rick sighed. “You’re too kind, one day that will come back an’ haunt you.”
Rick left the conversation at that, leaving you with your thoughts. You were stuck. You couldn’t focus and you didn’t want to be around your brother.
You joined Daryl despite his protest and annoyance. He allowed you to follow, even more when he learned that never shot a gun before when the topic of weapons came up.
“Don’t be lookin’ tense.” Daryl commented, his hand coming to your wrist. “Yer holdin’ it too tight, relax yer damn grip.”
You mumbled an apology, doing your best to take his advice. But after a couple of minutes of remaining tense, Daryl took away the gun. “That’s it, what’s on yer mind?”
“E’cuse me?”
“I ain’t gonna risk our food on you unable to shoot a damn gun.” You rolled your eyes. “Yer shit brother?”
You grumbled, cursing Shane under your breath. “I rather not think about it.”
“Yer gonna have to find a way to deal with yer shit if you ain’t gonna talk.”
“Like what? Takin’ care of myself?”
Daryl shrugged. “Probably.”
“What am I supposed to do here? Not much to take care of myself with.” You motioned to the trees that surrounded the two of you.
“Perfect place to jerk one out though. Quick and easy-”
“E’cuse me?” You repeated, a little louder this time.
“How many times you gonna say e’cuse me?” He horribly mimicked your voice. “The way ya lookin’ at me shows that you hadn’t done it.”
“I have.” You huffed but Daryl lifted his eyebrow. “I-It’s just- it’s difficult. I can’t do it when I know people are around or gonna be lookin’ for me. I don’t wanna be embarrassed.”
“Haven’t ya learned to do it quickly?”
“No… But are you willin’ to help?”
Daryl gave you a confused look. “Thought yer brother didn’t want you ‘round me? Would ya think he’d approve of this? Me touchin’ ya?”
“Who gives a damn what he thinks? He can’t decide what I want.”
He placed his crossbow against a tree and crossed his arms. “Ya gonna give somethin’ in return?” You nodded hastily. “Then take yer damn pants off.”
Your fingers pulled on his sandy blonde hair, taking gasps of air as you felt his tongue lapping all of your juices. How long has it been? An hour or two? How many orgasms have you had? You weren’t even going to try and count them all.
He kept a tight hold on your hips, he pulled you back whenever you pulled away. He had you laid against the dirt, feeling the pebbles and sticks poking at your back and head stopped bothering you when all you could think about was clouded.
Daryl remained between your legs, your thighs clenching around his head, the wetness covering the lower half of his face. His tongue danced around your folds and clit.
Daryl shifted his position, he kneeled, giving him a perfect view of your flushed body. A layer of sweat across your open skin, an arm thrown over your eyes and your other hand was no longer pulling at his hair but gripping a patch of patch.
He dipped one finger into your cunt, feeling you squeeze around him, making him add another. He slid his fingers in and out, fucking you quickly.
His other hand reached to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his fly and freeing himself. He jerked himself off using precum as a kind of lubricate. Each stroke of his cock was matched by the pace he was fingering you.
Above the wet sounds of your cunt, he could hear the soft moans leaving your mouth. His breathing fell into an unsteady pace alongside an occasional groan from the back of his throat.
Both of his arms were burning, moving faster than to what he was normally used to. A painful shiver ran through him, he was coming.
Another painful bolt. There was a hint of pleasure, but there was a different feeling. “H-Hold on-” Your back arched off the ground, a gasp cutting you off. “I think-”
He curled his fingers and repeatedly hit your g-spot. “C’mom baby, c’mom baby.” He repeated under his breath, twisting his fingers and scissored them inside of you.
You swore loudly, feeling the sudden release, squirting all over Daryl’s hand and pants. Daryl tossed his head back, leating out a strained fuck though his teeth. You felt his hot cum spill over your cunt, your arm moved away from your face and looked at Dary through your hazed eyes.
Daryl gave a couple of more pumps, stopping both of his hands. You gasped when his fingers pulled out, you could see the mess you made. “I didn’t mean-”
“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” Daryl chuckled, bringing his fingers to his lips, licking off the remaining juices on them. “Feelin’ better?”
You nodded, panting. “Very.”
“Good, ‘cause you still owe me.”
© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.
#x reader#x female reader#fluff#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd x reader#twd daryl#twd fanfiction#twd shane#daryl x you#daryl smut#daryl x reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl fanfiction#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead daryl#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#the walking dead x you#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead fanfiction#norman reedus x reader#twd smut#the walking dead smut
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thinking about being felix’s incompetent little girlfriend 😩 tw: bruises and mentions of throwing up. r has long hair.
“‘ve got another bruise.” you mumble heedlessly, barely even thinking about the words that come out of your mouth as you apply lotion (which is probably enough to cover a months rent in a two-bed flat) to your calves. felix, hunched over his textbook with a blue ballpoint pen between his lips, turns swiftly towards you, following the sound of your sweet, airy voice.
he sighs at the pretty image of you, body covered by one of his old t-shirts, practically eating you whole, hair falling over your shoulders and delicately manicured fingers massaging into your supple skin. he’s sure that his eyes go soft, practically heart-shaped, watching you in your own little world. he can see the constellation of bruises that you’ve already accumulated, seemingly from nowhere. pulling the pen from between his lips, he chucks it down onto his desk and rises from his swivel chair.
it’s then that you look up at him, not a thought behind your pretty eyes. his heart flutters at the way your pupils double in size, the way your lips tilt upwards at the mere presence of him. he fills your space without hesitation, so big and full of life, so warm, so handsome. your smile widens as he sits down next to you, the depth of the shift of his mattress. bright brown eyes linger upon your legs, taking in the dark purple discolouration. felix hums, looking back at you.
“does it hurt?” he asks, reaching out towards you. his skin is warm and soft, hands of little manual labour but so much comfort and love.
you know this game, have played it a thousand times. a dramatic sigh falls from your glossed lips, pretty pout settling mere seconds afterwards. “terribly.”
“need to be more careful.” he says lowly, fingertips tracing the anklet with his initials on, a present you received during your 18th birthday in paris. the gold shimmers as he moves, raising your leg with a light yet dominant touch. felix leans down, dark strands of hair falling over his eyebrow piercing, and his lips kiss a trail upwards. he kisses you in a manner so achingly sweet, a way so felix, until he reaches the afflicted area. the kiss that he leaves there is bigger. “my little airhead, hm?”
or when you’re all drunk and sloppy :( he’s just watching you so carefully, so effortlessly your knight in shining armour. felix doesn’t stop you from downing your jägers, doesn’t stop you from sipping his stella, but his hand doesn’t leave your side the whole night, doesn’t let you out of his sight, even when you’re hunched over a group of bushes, chundering your guts up on the walk back to your accommodation.
those loving hands rub soothingly up and down your back, shushing your heaves. “that’s it. good girl, get it all out.” he doesn’t care for the violent smell, or the way that it splashes against his trainers. just cares about helping you, getting you tip-top again. his other hand gathers your hair, holding it up and away from your face.
“she’s so fucked.” arabella, one of your friends from back at your all-girls private school slurs on her words, bumping into felix’s side. he resists the urge to roll his eyes — as if she wasn’t the one shoving shots down your throat. “just give her some fucking water or something. i want to get back.”
“no one’s stopping you.” he says, motioning with his head, pointing to the way back to college towards farleigh, subliminally trying to tell him to take the others and leave the two of you to yourselves. you, of course, miss this interaction, too busy with your tear streaked cheeks and spit coated lips. your little hand reaches back blindly for him, grasping onto his green polo. his hand resumes its gentle strokes.
farleigh groans behind the butt of his cigarette, dragging your friend away and motioning for the rest of your posse to come along.
“felix.” you sob pathetically, feeling far more than sorry for yourself. his poor baby, he thinks, doing so little to take care of yourself. your heaving stops for a moment and you fall to your knees. felix is quick to react, scooping you up from underneath your armpits and pulling you away from the pile of your own sick.
“i’m here, bambi. you’re alright.” he murmurs as you shove your head into his shoulder, undoubtedly staining his top. his hands still never once leave you, even as he gives you time to regulate your breathing and choked cries, pushes your hair back time and time again.
even then, nostrils stinging with the sour smell and shoulder dead from your limp limbs, he can’t help but smile. he smiles at the knowledge that only he gets you like this, all reliant and incompetent, so desperate for him and his, in your eyes, omnipotence.
“‘m never drinking again.”
“that’s not true.”
you whine, pushing your face further into his neck. “it’s not true.”
yeah, he thinks, he’s pretty lucky with his sweet, incompetent girl.
#<3 felix catton#felix catton fluff#felix catton fanfic#felix catton#felix#catton#saltburn!!!#saltburn fluff#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn movie#saltburn#saltburn fanfic#felix catton x reader#felix catton abby’s version
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no one speaks to you like that
r deals with a cruel coach at the world cup. misa makes it better. feat. the girls finding out that their friends are together.
The door slammed shut behind him, and you exhaled a deep breath, collapsing back onto the bed. You'd never been more unhappy to have your own room than at that moment.
You'd stepped out of the bathroom post shower, just barely throwing on clothes, when you'd heard a knock at your door. You were hoping it was Misa, but when the door opened to reveal Vilda on the other side, you felt your heart sink. He had his characteristic scowl on his face as he stepped past you.
The following 15 minutes were what could only be categorized as verbal abuse. He went after everything; your skills, how hard you were trying, how fast you were, how you were "clearly not" following the meal plan he arbitrarily changed whenever he felt like it. You stood, completely still, looking just over his shoulder, taking it. You wouldn't argue, that never ended well. You didn't let yourself cry either, because he never appreciated tears. Instead, you let the words wash over you, and dug your nails into your palm.
You thought of Misa the whole time. How if she heard what he was saying she'd probably do something to get herself more than benched this time; maybe sent home. The last time Vilda had gone after you like this, he had made the mistake of doing it in view of Misa, who completely lost it at him. Now, she was unlikely to play the rest of the tournament, and Vilda seemed to enjoy screaming at you more than anyone else.
No one knew about the two of you, even if Vilda suspected. No one else had witnessed her reaction to his cruel words directed at you; everyone just knew she'd argued with him, and she would be riding the bench no matter how far we got. The division within the team was stark, and although Misa was a Real Madrid player, she mostly hung out with the Barcelona girls; with you. You'd gotten together a few months ago, and decided to keep it to yourselves, not wanting to deal with her club teammates finding another reason to dislike her.
When Vilda finished, you just wanted Misa. You wanted to wrap yourself up in her strong arms, bury your whole body in her larger one. You never felt safer than when Misa held you tightly to her. You knew that you should probably find Alexia or Irene and tell them what happened, but you didn't want to make a big deal out of it. You pulled out your phone, intending to see if Misa was alone, so you could go to her. You needed to get out of this room; the scent of Vilda's aftershave hung in the room like a fog, and it felt like it was suffocating you.
-Are you by yourself?
-Yes. Do you need me?
You could practically see the smirk lighting up the goalkeepers face as you read her response; you did need her, just not in the way she was implying.
-Can I come up? Vilda just left.
The little bubble that let you know she was typing appeared and disappeared a few times, before her reply came through.
-Dick. Yes, of course, please come up.
With that, you slipped your phone into your pocket, grabbing your room key, and headed out the door. You yanked your hood up, trying to hide the tears leaking out of your eyes. You walked down the hall, trying to keep yourself from crying until you got to Misa's room.
You heard voices coming from the direction of the elevator you were headed too, unmistakably those of Alexia and Jenni. Fuck. You had nowhere to go, and as soon as they saw you, they wouldn't let you out of their sight until you told them what was wrong. You had no choice but to keep walking towards them, turning the corner, hoping they'd be too wrapped up in conversation to notice you.
"Y/n!! We're gonna watch a movie in Mario and Ale's room, come with," Jenni called the minute she spotted you. You didn't know how to say no, so you said nothing, trying to walk past them.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Alexia asked, putting a hand on your shoulder to stop your movements. Again, you didn't say anything, continuing to stare at the ground. A gentle hand came to tug your hood off your head, before lifting your chin up. Your watery eyes met the older girls.
"What happened?" Jenni questioned, looking overly protective even though she didn't know what happened. She kept her hand under your chin, not allowing you to drop your gaze again.
"Nothing, I'm fine, I'm just going to hangout with Ona," you lied, trying to shake off their hands.
"What happened," Alexia asked, in a firmer voice. It wasn't mean, or harsh, but it still reminded you of the verbal lashing you'd just endured, and more tears were flooding your eyes before you could stop them.
"Vilda," you started, before a sob escaped your lips.
"Fucking hell," Jenni swore, pulling you tightly against her. "What did he say?"
"Come on, bring her to my room," Alexia said quietly, looking furious, realizing you weren't going to respond. Jenni maneuvered you down the hall, never letting go, through the door to Alexia's room, before pushing you to sit down on the edge of her bed. You wanted to pull your phone out and tell Misa that you'd been intercepted, but you couldn't do that without arising suspicion. Also, you couldn't really see clearly through the tears blurring your vision.
Alexia spoke a few words to Mariona, who looked equally as murderous as the other 2 girls, and you knew you needed to pull it together and make sure none of them did something stupid. They were all older than you, and were quite protective. It wouldn't be the first time they clashed with Vilda over him mistreating younger players, but with the semifinals coming up, you knew you couldn't risk anyone else getting benched.
The problem was that you were only getting more worked up, even as Jenni wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and began talking quietly in your ear.
"Whatever he said isn't true, I promise. You're an important member of this team, and you haven't done anything wrong," she told you.
You nodded, but the tears wouldn't stop. The embarrassment you felt was only making you cry harder. Alexia took a seat on the other side of you, placing a hand on your back.
"Jenni's right, you haven't done any-" her words were cut off by a frantic knock at the door. You knew who it was, even as the other girls exchanged confused looks. Mariona went to answer it, as Jenni and Alexia looked curiously after her.
No sooner had Mariona opened the door, than Misa's panicked voice was filling the room.
"Have you seen y/n? She texted me that Vilda..." She trailed off as Mariona stepped to the side, revealing your shaking form sitting in between your captains. The other girls watched as Misa's face melted from one of panic into one of pure adoration; one they'd never seen on her face before.
"Y/n, baby," she said, seemingly forgetting that you weren't alone. Your teammates exchanged looks, Mariona and Jenni mouthing “baby??” at each other, as Misa crossed the room, tugging you out from under the arms of Jenni and Alexia, pulling you into hers. They were just as surprised to see you wrap your arms around Misa, clutching tightly to her sweatshirt. Your tears immediately slowed as Misa held you tight, the feel of her around you calming you down instantly.
"I'll kill him," Misa said through clenched teeth, addressing no one in particular.
"Easy there, why don't you tell us what the hell is going on before you go kill him," Jenni said, glaring at Misa. Your Barca teammates had clearly connected the dots, and did not appreciate that you were clearly keeping a secret from them. Misa made to let go of you, make this more of a conversation had with you, rather than one spoken over your head, but you only tightened your grip on her, shaking your head into her chest. Her attention was, again, solely on you as she pulled you over to the other bed, tucking you under one arm as she sat down.
Misa was still gazing at you, fingers scratching lightly at your scalp as you emerged from her chest, wiping harshly at your face. Her hands pushed yours out of the way, ridding your face of tears much more gently than you had been doing. The simple gesture was so sweet, so intimate, and Alexia cleared her throat, drawing both of yours attention back to her.
"Well? How long has this been going on?" She asked, voice no longer the soft tone she had been using with you, instead replaced by what can only be described as her authoritative voice. Misa retreated to the rather quiet version of herself that most people experienced, and you spoke up. Still, her arm remained protectively wrapped around you and no one missed the way you leaned into her unconsciously.
"Since May,"
"And you didn't think you should maybe tell us that you were in a relationship with someone on the team? A relationship that appears to be pretty important to you?" Jenni asked. Her jaw was clenched, but she didn't look like mad Jenni, she looked like sad Jenni. You realized the three of them were not necessarily angry, but hurt that you'd kept this from them. You paused, unsure how to respond to that. In truth, Misa had asked to keep it to yourselves, but you didn't want to throw her under the bus. She had no such reservations.
"I asked her to not tell you guys. I didn't want anyone to know anything until I figured out how serious y/n was about me. And by the time I figured that out, we were at camp, and I didn't want to give my club teammates another reason to be... the way they are with me."
The other girls stared at the pair of you, somewhat stunned at the vulnerability just shown by Misa in admitting all of that. She was a reserved person, a private person, someone much happier to help her friends than allow them in at all.
"Well... that makes sense," Alexia said decisively. "We won't tell anyone."
Misa nodded once, a small smile gracing her lips, before she turned to look down at you.
"What did Vilda say?" She asked, eyeing you carefully. In response, you just shrugged, refusing to make eye contact. You absolutely did not want to discuss what he'd said in front of the rest of your teammates; you trusted them, but the things he had said were humiliating. Misa seemed to pick up on this, as did Alexia, as they quickly made eye contact, and Misa stood, pulling you with her.
"Let's go back to my room, yeah?" She asked quietly, and you smiled gratefully at her. Mariona and Jenni both voiced their disapproval at that idea.
"I have like 15 more questions for the two of you," Jenni protested.
"Yeah, what are we supposed to do, just let you go back to Misa's room all alone? We have a game tomorrow, girls." Mariona said teasingly.
"Alright, let them go." Alexia said, hiding a smirk at Mariona's comment. It really hadn't been that funny, but the way you and Misa immediately blushed, and looked anywhere but at your friends was amusing.
You and Misa walked out of the room, ignoring the suggestive jokes that Jenni and Mariona were making. You walked in complete silence to the elevator and up to Misa's room. You'd broken apart the minute you'd exited the room, and Misa longed to take your hand. Now that you were away from your friends and their teasing, it seemed the weight of whatever Vilda had said to you was settling back on top of you.
You allowed Misa to pull you into her room, nudging you to sit on the bed, as she took a seat next to you. You were distracted, caught up in your own head, only looking up at her worried brown eyes when she said your name softly.
"Are you okay?" She asked, feeling like she probably knew the answer. You shook your head slightly, leaning to lean more against the brunette. "Tell me what he said," she requested, and you sighed.
"More of the usual. I'm not playing hard enough, I'm not fast enough, not good enough," you paused. You looked up at your girlfriend, not sure if you should continue and tell her the worst part. She smiled encouragingly, a smile you only saw on her face when it was just the two of you. "He told me I need to start following the meal plan better, because 'it's clear' that I'm not," you finished quietly.
Misa's hands clenched into fists once again, knowing exactly how those words would effect you. She, more than anyone, knew that you struggled with keeping your habits around eating and working out healthy, and not letting them become obsessive. The goalkeeper reigned in her anger, though, realizing that it was clearly not what you needed from her.
She lifted your chin with one of her large hands, her touch gentler than you thought possible. "He's wrong, baby. You're having an incredible tournament. We're as far as we are partially because of you," she said earnestly.
"And yes, you aren't following his stupid meal plans, because he isn't a dietician, and you need to be careful with how you keep track of what you're putting in your body. You're doing what you need to do to stay healthy, and that is what's important."
You were still looking at her with so much doubt, as though you desperately wanted to believe her, but weren't sure if you could. Deciding that maybe words had taken her as far as they could, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours, hard, in what she hoped was a reassuring way. You met her with enthusiasm, relaxing into the kiss as your mouths moved in sync with each other.
After a few moments, she pulled back pressing her forehead to yours. You looked slightly dazed, and Misa bit back a smirk at the effect she had on you.
"You are beautiful" she whispered, "you are strong, and you are fueling your body in the way you need to, in order to do your job. And I am so proud of you."
Misa often shocked you with how gentle, how kind and soft she could be. She put on such a hard exterior, all harsh frowns and flexed muscles on the pitch. Off the pitch, she was only slightly less intimidating, opting often to remain quiet and listen, her hard expression only wavering when she was around people she was comfortable with.
She was so different when you were alone with her though, the severe expression that normally rested on her face melting away to soft lips that pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, and wide eyes that looked at you with so much love.
It hadn't started off that way; it had started as passionate, rough hookups. Slowly though, you wore her down. She couldn't get enough of you, and she eventually stopped trying to.
She was enamored with you, and you with her. Privately, she felt that you made her a better person, a kinder person. You felt like she had a unique ability to make you laugh when nothing seemed funny, and hold you together when you felt like you were minutes from falling apart. Like right now. She knew exactly what to say, what to tell you.
"I'll say something to him," she said quietly, and you pushed her off of you, sitting up.
"No, Misa, you can't," you argued. She looked determined, a familiar smoldering look on her face, one she got when she was getting ready to save a penalty.
"Baby, he can't speak to you in that way," she began.
"No!" you responded, almost shouting. She looked at you in surprise, startled to see an incredibly panicked expression on your face.
"Calm down, y/n-"
"No, you can't say something to him. Promise me you won't. Please," you interrupted, almost begging.
"Why? I'm already benched what else could he do?" she wondered.
"He could send you home, Misa. And if you left, I couldn't... I couldn't do this, not without you," you responded, looking at her desperately. Misa brought you back into her arms before responding, holding you tight.
"Alright, baby. I won't say anything. I'm not going anywhere, and you don't have to do this without me," she promised.
"Thank you," you murmured. The goalkeeper smiled at you softly, rubbing your cheek gently with her thumb. You still looked nervous, still upset, biting the inside of your cheek like you were thinking hard. She waited patiently, content to sit in silence until you were ready to say what was on your mind.
"I'm sorry they found out. I just kind of freaked out when I ran into them, and I wanted to find you but they were in the hall..."
"Don't worry about that. I don't care that they found out. I don't care if everyone knows i'm with you. I just care that you're okay," she told you. "Anyway, now that Jenni has probably told the entire team, I can stay in here tonight with you."
You leaned closer against her, more relieved at her saying she'd stay than you'd like to admit.
"But you have a big game tomorrow, and you need to rest. What can I do to get you to sleep?" she asked, knowing you were likely too anxious to be able to sleep right away. Again, you marveled at how well she knew you.
"Hmm," you said, scooting down the bed and rolling onto your stomach. Misa was looking at you adoringly, and you grabbed one of her hands, placing it on your back. She laughed in response, beginning to run her nails lightly up and down. You sighed happily, and she scooted down too, kissing just above your eyebrow, before resting her head on the pillow, continuing her motions. You were drifting off, but still, the thoughts of Vilda and what he'd said to you still bounced around in your head.
"Do you think he'll yell at me again?" you asked groggily, blinking your eyes open just enough to see the girl opposite you.
"No. I won't let him," she responded, sounding completely sure. You nodded, shutting your eyes again. You believed her, inexplicably. Her tone was so confident, and more than that, you trusted her. More than you'd ever trusted anyone before. You fell asleep easily, feeling completely protected with the strong girl next to you, watching as you drifted off.
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#woso#woso imagine#woso x reader#misa rodriguez x reader#misa rodriguez#alexia putellas#jenni hermoso#mariona caldentey
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We're going to scream about Nandermo all week, but right now I need to talk about Baron Afanas. Because the Baron's arc, so to speak, always felt like a big part of the series DNA for me - and oh fuck did this episode deliver on why.
I think we can agree: in the show, vampire society is fucked up, right?
Vampires on their own have plenty to deal with that can make them crazy. They have to live by killing. They lose everyone from their old lives. They have to find new reasons to keep going on, forever, so shit can get decadent really fast.
But holy shit, what that's turned into in vampire society? Where you actively put cruelty over mercy, and violence over solving your problems? Death cults and scam artists roam free, but if someone has depression the best thing to do is ignore them. Someone can get their mind wiped or be locked up for centuries, and that's just what you do to your species.
--
So: the Baron's arrival is the first conflict of the whole show. The joke is about an ancient powerful creature of pants-shitting terror, vs three lesser vampires who just want to live their lives and not get murdered for being too lazy to conquer humanity. There's a lot of talk about how to please him: do you keep to the old ways, or pick up some new traditions? Decorate with flayed skin, or with glitter? And the Baron says: who cares, you're all soft and useless. All that matters is getting more control over this world, until people are cattle and we have no reason to hide anymore.
But later he confesses: that shit stopped mattering ages ago. He's not even real nobility, he's literally impotent, and he talks about doing horrible things because he doesn't know what else to say. He's angry and half-crazy from boredom. And admitting that, owning those feelings, means suddenly he has three new friends and a whole new world of things to enjoy.
There's the Baron the rest of the vampire world knows, but for one night we see the ancient, unknowable terror was just a guy. Maybe he's always been just some guy.
That fun puts him in a vulnerable position, and he's killed by the most unwitting vampire slayer in fiction. But Baron Afanas is changed. He sucks dirt for a year and still comes out of it with a new lightness and joy to him. He saves the Sire, another ancient terrifying monster everyone was eager to kill or send away. They adopt the hellhound. They get cozy and give advice. They make popsicle stick houses and go on walks. They live.
And that seemed like the end of the story until last night - when the Baron suddenly felt like the butt of a joke everyone knew but him. Spurred on by someone else who feels lonely and ignored, the Baron felt vulnerable. And he snapped back to how he lived for centuries.
'What the hell are you all doing, enjoying yourselves? We're supposed to be unhappy. We're supposed to live centuries of unhappiness, bringing pain to everyone in our path, and we're definitely not supposed to cheer up our friend who's sad.'
--
Nobody liked the Baron before Guillermo killed him, not even other powerful vampires we meet; they saw the Baron as a crazy far beyond their own crazy. But this is also how vampire society values you. It's how they measure Nandor's worth when they think he's dead, too: how old and powerful you are, how much you've been able to conquer and kill.
Vampire pods are both cliquish and aren't expected to last in the first place. If someone dies, you literally paint them out of your lives and forget. Everything we see discourages feelings, sincerity, or even basic companionship. The only way to earn respect is to be cruel. The more cruel you are, the more powerful you are. The more powerful you are, the more feared you are - the lonelier you are, the crazier you are. It's practically designed to create the Baron, or worse.
But new vampires don't behave that way. And the vampires we follow in the show don't behave that way - because they have each other, because they've been encouraged to have each other, often by Guillermo. (Holy shit, Nadja saying maybe she'd be fine dying, and Nandor immediately asking if she's okay? Nothing changes in this house, except everything does. They're not going to almost lose one of their own ever again.)
The vampires in the heart of vampire culture never seem happy to be like this. It doesn't have to be like this.
--
The Baron doesn't become a tyrannical monster for long. Because he never actually was one - and because he spends two evenings and a fireball to the face, watching Nandor and Nadja fight for Guillermo. Watching them plead and cling and defy, seeing Guillermo's earnest feelings in spite of his bloodline and the mistakes he's made. Seeing Nandor's perfect trust, and then his grief, the way he insists that Guillermo was never 'just' anything. The Baron can't find real fulfillment in hurting someone (because that ship sailed ages ago). He can't deride them for caring, because he's cared for a long time now.
And when the Baron admits that's who he is, when he says it out loud, he only gains more in his life. He finds new depth in the happiness he'd felt for a while now, because he's admitted and allowed himself to be happy. And now he has the children he's always wanted. Living together, the Baron and the Sire are still ancient and powerful - and they're also family, finding real joy together in a world that was ready to dispose of them.
"I suppose with the right company, it can be beautiful, this eternal existence."
--
There's an inherent selfishness to being a vampire, taking from someone else in order to live. But there doesn't have to be inherent cruelty, or lack of love.
They're all ready to admit they care. The Staten vampires have all cared for Guillermo or each other in their own ways this season. And Guillermo doesn't lack for flaws, but loving his monster family has never been one of them. (When he and Nandor work their shit out, they're gonna be insufferable.)
Now they just have to let the Guide in. Because she's absolutely starved for love, and vampires get pretty fucked up when they're on their own.
#fandom: wwdits#what we do in the shadows#wwdits#i am a meta gremlin#baron afanas#tl;dr i am a sucker for choosing love#especially when the world around you says it's stupid or you're not allowed#but love was always in you so it happens anyway
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Fic: Closer
cowritten with @astroboots
Fandom: Moon Knight
Pairing: Jake Lockley x F reader (x Steven, x Marc)
Length: 5.6k words
Rating: Explicit 🔞
Warnings: This fic contains explicit sexual content including dirty talk, spitting, anal play, and anal sex. (That's it. That's the fic.)
Summary: Jake checks an item off his bucket list, and you both thoroughly enjoy yourselves.
Notes: Many thanks to @guruan who fixed our my extremely questionable Spanish (any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault) and whose deliciously debauched art is a never-ending source of inspiration. More thanks (and uh... oh god, sorry 🙈) to the poor anon who submitted the prompt that spawned this to Cici last Kinktober and had to wait a whole year to see the damn thing. And, of course, ALL my love to my darling cowriter and 🤡💖🤡 sister, @astroboots, who always makes writing a joy, and without whom this never would have been started, finished, or posted at all.
[ twp’s Masterlist | boots' Masterlist ]
Jake hasn’t spent a lot of time in the driver’s seat over the years. For a long time he only fronted on rare occasions. Life or death situations mostly. Those hair-trigger moments when the body is in critical danger and a moment’s hesitation is all it’d take for all three of them to wind up dead.
Those times when things are too much for Marc or Steven to be able to handle? That’s when it’s Jake’s turn at the wheel.
It’s why normally the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, in command of the body, is the source of imminent danger:
The face of the man who has a knife pressed against the collar of his military uniform in the middle of a desert.
A panoramic view through the windshield of a truck that is seconds from veering off a winding cliff-side road.
A long-haired Jim Jones wannabe staring down at him along a glowing walking stick protruding from his own chest.
But things have been different lately. For one thing, he’s been spending a lot more time fronting, and not just in dangerous situations.
For another, he’s learning that there’s so much more world out there than he’d ever imagined. There’s Ben & Jerry’s peanut popcorn flavored ice cream, Saturday karaoke nights, Derby Girls and you.
Always you.
You were just Steven’s girl first, and then somehow against all odds Marc got involved too, and now that Jake’s been allowed a taste, he's never letting you go. You’re his guide to the wide world, the road map keeping him on the right route, the safe resting place when he’s tired. Su alma, his soul.
And right now you look exhausted. Your thighs shaky and trembling, matted hair glued to your forehead, all of you dripping with sweat and other things. Steven must have really worn you out before he ceded the front.
Sweet, shy little Steven—Mr. Sunshine—who just fucked you seemingly within an inch of your life before he remembered that he needs to share.
And Marc thinks Jake is the unhinged one.
The punch of adrenaline that always comes with fronting is still running through his veins, and he’s already hardening at the sight of you on your stomach, ass up in the air on display for him, Steven’s come just beginning to drip out of you. It doesn’t matter that the body just came, it’s Jake’s turn now.
He slides his rapidly stiffening cock through your slippery folds, nudging the head against your clit, you and him both slick and sloppy with Steven's come and your own wetness.
“Aaah – Jake,” you gasp sharply into the pillow.
You know it’s him. He doesn’t know how. You haven’t even turned around to look at him, but somehow you just know. You always know. It’s an uncanny magic trick that impresses the hell out of him every time.
Jake grips one side of your ass in his free hand, squeezing hard. You’re all smooth skin and soft flesh under his finger, your cute little asshole peeking up at him. You’d kill him if he’d called it that out loud. So he doesn’t. He bites his tongue, swallowing down the groan that’s simmering in his throat at the sight of you.
He can't resist sliding his thumb over that little pucker. He barely even brushes over you when you let out a pretty gasp for him. His cock is fully hard now, and it jerks against you at the sound, so he does it again, just to see if you’ll make the same noise twice. You do.
Then you moan, sharp and keen, and he has to pull back, hand sliding over his slick length once before he leans in and replaces his thumb with the head of his cock. Taking his time, he slides it along the curve of your ass before nestling himself snugly between your cheeks. He makes an absolute mess as he goes, smearing the shiny slick left by Steven all over your bare skin until everything is a glistening sheen under the dim light as he begins to thrust forward, sliding his cock between the valley of your cheeks.
Jake's dreamed of taking you here. He wants to take every fucking hole you have, fill you up and cover you with his come until it's dripping off of–out of every inch of your body.
Mierda. Even just the thought of it has heat climbing his spine, and his cock jerks in his fist and spitting even more precome into the mess already covering your spine and the rounded curves of your ass.
He thrusts against you again, fucking himself between your cheeks, and you mewl quietly, pressing back against him. Maybe he won’t even fuck your pussy this time. Maybe he’ll just stay right here and rub his cock on your gorgeous ass until he comes all over it. Add to Steven’s mess with one of his own. He’ll do it. And reach around and rub your clit so you come too.
Maybe if he can get you used to the idea of his cock rubbing against your ass, maybe one day you’ll let him put it inside too.
"You can, you know," you mumble out into the pillows, and Jake freezes, heat streaking down to his balls, and he has to grip himself hard at the base to avoid painting your ass with his come right then and there.
Shit, did he say that out loud? He’s pretty sure he didn’t. He must have heard you wrong. Or he misunderstood. You can't possibly be offering what he thinks you are.
"You can try putting it in. I might ask you to stop if I don't like it, but..." you your knees slightly, and the move has your ass practically wiggling at him in temptation, "It feels good right now."
Jake's brain stalls out. His body flashes hot all over. The back of his neck is tingling. He squeezes the base of his cock so hard he thinks he might be in danger of doing permanent damage, but he'll be damned if he comes on your ass right now when he’s just been told he might get to come in it.
Gritting his teeth, Jake breathes through his body’s urge to come, pushing down the near-overwhelming need to shove his cock into your tight little asshole immediately. He knows he has to prep you if there's going to be any chance of you enjoying this, and he needs you to enjoy it because he wants to be able to do it again (and again and again and...)
Shit. He needs to get on with it, or he's going to finish before he even makes it inside.
Jake makes himself let go of his aching cock, leaves it bobbing and dripping in midair, and turns his focus on you.
Leaning closer, he uses both hands to pull your ass cheeks apart, and just looks at you for a minute, watching your body clench around nothing.
"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" he demands, sticky thumb sliding down through the mess of your slick and Steven’s come to circle your puckered hole, almost but not quite touching it, "Gonna let me put my cock inside this tight little hole and fill it up with my come?"
You whine, your whole body shivering under him, and he grins, satisfaction buzzing in his veins when your hips cant further up, trying to get him to touch you.
It’s fucking adorable is what it is. He is starting to understand why Marc likes to edge you now. How could he not? You’re always so reactive and needy when you’re denied. You make it so fun to tease.
Sliding his thumb down, he slicks it around and around, just to watch you whine and shiver and shift, hips chasing his touch. His dick jerks with every noise you make and every time your body visibly clenches.
As fun as this is, a bright delight humming in his chest at your every little reaction, Jake doesn’t have the patience to tease you for long.
He’s not like Marc. El Jefe seems to have infinite patience when it comes to this, but it’s only a minute or two before Jake can’t wait any longer. He feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin if he doesn’t get inside you one way or another. So he stops, holding his hand still to let you “catch” him.
When you do, he sucks in harsh breath, heat punching through him as he watches you rub yourself against his thumb, heart rate spiking as you lean back, the tip of his thumb pushing inside just a little.
It's barely anything, but the feeling of you parting to let his his thumb slips inside, then squeezing him back out is addictive. He presses harder, wanting more. His thumb slides a bare inch inside, and his groan barely covers the strangled sound you make, body tensing under him.
Sweat breaks out on his forehead along with the realization that he cannot fuck this up.
"Alright, mi alma?" he asks, trying to sound sweet and gentle, but his voice, low and eager, betrays him. A starving wolf in a sloppy sheep disguise. He’s not fooling anyone, not himself and certainly not you.
Reigning himself in as best as he can, his fingers close into a fist with tight tension blaring in every nerve. Then he unfurls his palm to pet his hand over your back and down your side to give your ass a gentle squeeze.
“Do you need me to stop?"
"N-no," comes the shaky answer, and Jake thanks any gods who might be listening, "It feels a bit odd, but..." you squeeze around his thumb, hot and unbelievably tight, and Jake swears under his breath, "It’s a good odd, I think. Just– just give me a moment."
You shift slightly, clenching again, and his cock jerks and throbs like the nerves of his thumb have somehow been reattached directly to his aching length. He really fucking doesn’t want to come before he even gets inside you, but right now he’s not sure if that’s in the cards for him.
Then you push back against him, and his thumb slides in another half inch, and both of you gasp. He pulls out slightly and risks a small thrust back inside. He's rewarded by another gasp and a small moan, so he does it again, a little further this time, and this time the moan is louder.
Fuck, you look so good like this, ass all slick and slippery. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jake leans forward, spitting onto the curve of your ass right above where his thumb is inside you.
You jerk when it lands on your skin, and he likes that. Likes that even though he’s done it before it always seems to take you by surprise. Likes how his spit looks on your skin too, shiny and slick as it slides down the crack of your ass to join the rest of the mess he’s smeared there. Likes that when he pushes it into your tight little asshole, it’s one more way that he can be inside you, make you a little bit more his in a way that will linger after he’s no longer with you.
You whine as he pulls his thumb all the way out, he spits again, hitting his target, directly on your pretty little asshole, then he presses in again, shoving more of his spit into you.
Like most things when it comes to how he feels about you, Jake doesn’t entirely understand why he likes this so much. It’s primal, somehow, a deep-seated need to mark you with himself–his spit, his scent, his come.
His cock is aching, throbbing in time with the way you clench every time he pushes his thumb into you. Jake can't stand it, has to wrap his free hand around himself, gripping as hard as he dares, and stroking slowly. He grits his teeth against how good it feels, red hot pleasure searing up his spine as he leans in to slide the head of his overwrought, leaking cock along your ass, right next to where his thumb is shoved inside.
"You feel how hard you make me?" he demands, pressing himself against you, relishing the way you shift and moan again, body still squeezing around his thumb, but loosening with every passing moment as you relax. It also has the added benefit of his precome dripping down to lubricate things even more as he thrusts into you a little deeper each time. "Fuck, I can't wait to get inside this tight little hole. You gonna let me in, mi alma?"
"Yes, yes, Jake! Please!" you cry out, only partially muffled where your face is pressed into the pillows, and he damn near loses it again. Has to press his cock against you hard, almost to the point of pain as fire licks out along his nerves, threatening to send him over the edge.
"You want this cock in your ass right now?" he grits out, vaguely aware that he should probably spend more time prepping you, stretching you so you can take him easier, but he can't wait another fucking second.
He pulls back, pulls his thumb out, and you whine out his name Jake, Jake, Jake as you push your ass up and back, chasing his touch.
He looks down to see a blur of movement between your legs, and realizes that at some point you shoved a hand underneath yourself to rub at your clit.
It’s pure impulse. He doesn’t think. Before he even realizes what he's about to do, Jake’s hand flashes out, coming down on your ass with a sharp crack that sends your flesh jiggling in an all-too-appealing way.
You cry out, sharp and high-pitched, but Jake knows from experience that it's a cry of shock, not of pain, and he quickly follows up on his advantage.
"Naughty naughty, sweetheart,” he scolds, “Who said you could touch yourself?"
You freeze, obviously caught, and several seconds tick by where he watches approvingly as the mark left on your supple skin from the impact of his hand shades into a darker hue before you whine again, "Please, Jake. I need– I need–"
That's more like it.
"Pobrecita," he croons to you, enjoying the way you relax at his gentle tone, "Do you need more?"
You nod into the pillow.
He leans in and smacks his cock against the same place his hand struck. You jolt, letting out the hottest fucking sound, so he does it again, and has to grit his teeth against the noise that wants to escape him at the sensation.
"You want this cock, mi alma?" he demands, voice harsh, "You want me fuck your ass with it right now?"
"Yes. Yes, Jake. Fuck, please. YES!" you pant out, sounding as desperate as he feels. You’re pressing back against him, hips shifting so you can press that pretty little hole right against the tip of him, acting for all the world like you're going to fuck yourself back onto his cock if he doesn't give it to you fast enough.
It's a heady feeling, to hear you beg for him, and part of him wants to hear you do it again, and again and again. To leave you there, begging for him as you struggle to fuck yourself on him. Lucky for you, he is nothing like Marc.
"All you had to do was ask, mi alma," he grates out as he begins a slow press forward, "All you ever have to do is ask, and I'll give you the world."
Your body yields to him, the head of his cock slipping inside, and he has no more words. Only a strangled groan to match your whine as you clamp down hot and impossibly tight around him.
A sparkling clarity descends, time dilating, stretching out the way it does when he's in the middle of a fight, and he can only be grateful because he's barely clinging to his composure by the tips of his fingers here.
One truth stands out above everything else: he can't hurt you.
He has to go slow, keep control, make it good for you.
Jake wraps an arm around you, fingers tangling with yours to rub desperate circles around your clit, and he breathes a sigh of relief when you relax slightly under and around him. Still he doesn't move, not sure if he can without losing it and pumping you full of his come right then and there.
It's only when your hips start to move, hitching forward against his fingers, and then back to fuck yourself a little farther onto his aching cock that he dares draw in another breath, dares to meet your movements with small thrusts of his own, fucking in a little further each time.
And you take him just like that, little by little. One slow press, one torturous inch at a time, until he's buried as deep in you as he can go.
"Fuck. Jake," you gasp out, clenching hard around him, and he groans.
He makes the mistake of looking down at where you’re stretched tight around the base of his cock, taking every fucking inch he has to give, and the sight hits him like a punch to the gut. His hips stutter forward involuntarily, and somehow you take him even deeper.
You make a strangled sound, clamping down so tight it borders on the painful, and he freezes, shuddering behind you.
"¡Mierda! ¿Estás bien?" he demands, has to stop and mentally scramble for the words before he can ask again in English, "You okay, mi alma? Shit, did I hurt you?"
"N-no. I'm okay," you pants out in response, "You can– You can move, Jake. Please. Need you to mo–"
Before you even finish the sentence, he’s already pulling out and easing back in. It’s a tight fit, your body hugging him so snugly that nothing else would fit.
Lento, he reminds himself, gently. Not too fast. Gritting his teeth against the demands of his body, he presses himself in and out of you as slowly and carefully as he can manage, and he tries to keep his fingers moving on your clit. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in until he’s sure it must be painful, but he can't make himself let go.
You whine, writhing under him as he inches back into you.
"Jake," you pant out, nearly sobbing his name, "Jake, Jake," and he slows further, worried that it's too much.
"No!" you cry out suddenly, and Jake freezes on instinct, holding still as you prop yourself up on one elbow, turning your upper body sharply to one side so you can glare at him over your shoulder, "Don't bloody stop. I want you to fuck me."
The words hit him like a blow, knocking the air out of him, and the determined look on your face stabs him right in the heart, his whole chest pulling tight.
"You've been so patient, Jake,” you cajole him, “and it's good. Better than I thought it would be. I want you to stop holding back. Fuck my ass for real. Let go, Jake."
Fuck, he loves you so fucking much. The feeling is so big, he doesn't know how his body can contain it. He wants to move mountains, conquer the fucking world just so he can lay it at your feet. He'd give you anything.
But the only thing you're asking for right now is his cock, and that he’s just as desperate to give you as you are to take it.
He pulls out slowly, one… last… controlled… withdrawal, then he slams into you so hard it drives you forward across the bed away from him. Digging both hands into your hips, he yanks you back to him, back onto his cock.
"Like this?" he asks as he pulls out and slams into you again, "You want it hard? Like this, mi alma?"
"Yes– Fuck– Yes–" you gasp out between harsh thrusts, "Ja-Jake!"
His name breaking on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard in his entire life, and it severs the last threads of Jake's control. He lurches forward with a roar, driving himself into your tight little ass over and over again, as hard and fast as he can go.
The force of it knocks you off your elbows, flattening you into the bed, but Jake just yanks you back, repositioning his knees as your hands scrabble uselessly at the sheets.
Every thrust is deep and relentless, burying himself inside you as deep as your body will let him, giving you as much of him as you can take. Until his hip bones are pressed flush against your ass, until his cock is buried inside you to the root, until every inch of him is enveloped by you.
He's so lost in the feel of you, he doesn't realize he’s fucked you all the way across the bed until you're precariously balanced on the edge of the mattress.
Your knee goes first, slipping sideways off the bed mid-thrust, and it's enough to pull him off balance and send you both tumbling to the floor.
Instinct takes over, and before Jake even has a chance to consciously register what’s happening, he’s already twisting, shielding your body so that he takes the brunt of the fall. He winds up hitting the hardwood ass-first before coming to rest with his head against the nightstand and you in his lap.
Miraculously, you’re still connected, the force of the fall shoving you down on his cock farther than ever before, the feeling of being lodged so far inside your tight ass more than enough to overwhelm the slight pain in his tailbone from the fall.
There's a moment of stunned silence, then you start shaking, trembling in his arms, shoulders vibrating against him. He has half a second to worry that he’s fucked up badly enough to make you cry before a loud, bright sound rings out in the room.
You’re laughing. Oh thank fuck.
"Oh my god, Jake! You just fucked me off the bed, quite literally. That's definitely a first!" you exclaim, twisting around to giggle down at him, eyes crinkled with amusement, mouth curved in an open, full-toothed smile. Jake has a handful of seconds to marvel at how beautiful you are before you shift in his lap, your body clamping down around him, and any last lingering shreds of control he might have been clinging to are gone.
Jake lifts his hips, fucking up into you, and watches your eyes go wide, a gasp falling from your lips.
It's not enough.
He grabs your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh and rolls to his knees, and your gorgeous laughter dissolves into a broken cry of surprise as he drags you with him. The sound melts into a long drawn out moan that has the tip of his ears tingling. He can’t think, all he can do is keep going as he fucks forward into you again, his chest tight against your back as he forces you down onto all fours so he can keep fucking you.
Fuck. The wood floor is hard and uncomfortable under his knees, digging into his kneecaps. He knows it must be worse for you with his weight bearing down on you, but he can't make himself stop.
He's been dreaming about taking you this way for so long, and now he finally gets to. He knows, he knows he should stop and check on you, should move the two of you back up onto the bed where you'll be more comfortable, but that pretty little ass is stretched around him so perfectly, tight and hot around him, and his need is riding him hard.
Heat prickles from the tip of his fingers, spreading along the nerve endings along every patch of skin, fuck. It’s everywhere, expanding across the span of his chest, pooling in his abdomen, gripping into his lungs. He can’t breathe. Can’t stop. Can’t–
"Lo siento," he stutters out. "I'm sorry, mi alma. I can't– I have to–" Words leave him, and all he can do is pant against your neck as his hips jerk into you with increasingly sloppy thrusts.
His end is approaching fast, whether he wants it to or not, and he barely has the presence of mind to shove a hand underneath you, rubbing desperate circles over your clit with fingers gone clumsy with need.
He has to make it good for you. He has to. He has to–
Por fortuna, it only takes a minute for you to tense underneath him, sobbing out his name and tightening around him so forcefully that he can't keep thrusting, his cock locked in place by the tight clench of your body.
The lack of movement is enough to stave off his own orgasm, but just barely, the pleasure is overwhelming, teasing at the tip of his tongue as you shudder underneath him and you flutter rhythmically around his cock. It's so similar to being inside your pussy when you come, but it's different too. The pulse of your pleasure there squeezing him so tight it's nearly painful, but its so, so fucking good.
He breathes through it, pressing open-mouthed, panting kisses against the skin of your back. Does his best to keep his fingers moving on your clit, trying to prolong the moment for you, to draw you pleasure out as long as he can. He wishes he could see your face.
Next time, he promises himself. Face-to-face next time, so he can watch every expression you make as he fucks you full of himself and see the pleasure break across your face when you come with his cock lodged deep inside.
All too soon, you're collapsing forward onto one elbow, your other hand shoving at his where it's buried between your legs, and he lets you push his hand away, planting his palm on the ground next to your head.
You turn weakly to look up at him, pulling partially off of his dick as your body sags like you can’t keep yourself up.
"Are you ready, mi alma?" he grits out, dimly aware that he's shaking as he braces himself above you, "Ready for me to fuck this tight little ass full of my come?"
"Mmm," you hum, sweet and contented under him, "yes, please."
That's all Jake needs to hear.
He slams his hips forward into yours, and the force of the first thrust knocks you forward off your elbow, your chest meeting the ground as you half-collapse under him.
Jake follows you down without stopping, fucking into you hard. You sink a little further towards the floor with each thrust until you're flat on your stomach, but Jake still doesn't stop. He can’t, though he's sure he must be flattening you. Doesn't think he could stop if his life depended on it
He's grinding into you now with increasingly sloppy thrusts, burning heat burrowing into the base of his spine as he holds back his orgasm by sheer will, slurring out endearments against the back of your shoulder.
“Mi alma. Mi vida. Reina de mi corazón.”
And you are. His soul. His life. The queen of his heart. You are all of that and more. His gorgeous, perfect love, taking him, all of him, exactly as he is.
"Do it," you say from underneath him, and reality seems to recede, his vision tunneling in on your lips as they shape the words that just might kill him.
"Fill my ass up with your come. Fuck it into me as deep as you can. I'm yours, Jake."
Jake's orgasm crashes into him like an unexpected switch. Like a bomb going off. Like a knife sliding between his ribs, sharp and sudden. Pleasure sears though every inch of the body that has never felt more like his than it does at this moment, his forehead pressing against the warm skin of your back as he empties himself inside you in pulse after pulse of aching release.
By the time the last shuddering spasm subsides, Jake feels wrung out like a bloody rag. He barely manages to avoid collapsing on top of you, mustering just enough strength to roll the two of you to the side so that he’s no longer squishing you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he carefully pulls out, then pulls you back against his chest, curving his body around yours, and the two of you lay cuddled together like that for a long moment.
Eventually, his strength returns, along with the awareness that the floor he’s holding you on is both hard and probably not all that clean given Steven’s penchant for pouring sand all over. You deserve better. He gets up first, and carefully helps you rise to standing, waiting a moment to be sure you’re steady on your feet, before guiding you gently into the bathroom.
When he flips on the bathroom light, the shadow of his reflection in the small round mirror transforms into a flushed, wide-eyed Steven who mumbles, “That was… God, that was… ”
He doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Jake’s not sure he could either, but Mr Sunshine doesn’t need to know that, so he just shoots the mirror a smug smile and tips an imaginary cap in that direction before he moves to turn on the shower.
You shiver a little when he steps away from you, so once the water is running, he wraps both arms around you, encouraging you to lean against him while you wait for it to get warm. You do, wrapping one arm around his waist in return and curling into his chest like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
Jake just watches you. Tilting his head back and slightly to the side to get a better angle, he lets his eyes roam over your face, taking in the soft curve of your cheek, the eyelashes feathered against the soft skin there nod that your eyes have fluttered closed, the hand you’ve settled against his chest, right over his heart, the way your lips curve up into a slight content smile.
You’re beautiful.
You always are, but right now, something about this moment makes Jake’s chest tight. It steals his breath as surely as if there were hands wrapped tight around his neck, choking the life out of him. But instead of stealing his life, it’s as if you’re giving him more of it, pumping him full of its essence, filling his chest until he doesn’t know how his body can contain the feelings you inspire in him.
The bathroom is getting warmer, steam starting to form on the mirror, but Jake is loath to relinquish his hold on you. You seem equally uninterested in leaving him. You’re snuggled contentedly into his chest, but the way you slump lower and looser with each passing second tells him that he needs to get you moving fast, before you fall asleep standing up.
“Water’s warm,” he tells you, and you hum sleepily against his chest. It’s so, so tempting just to carry you back to bed, but he knows you’ll be happier if you’re clean.
“C’mon, mi alma. Into the shower. Vamos.” He herds you gently backwards until you’re standing under the spray.
You hum sleepily up at him without opening your eyes, and he’s worried for a moment that he’s lost you to sleep already, but you stay standing when he cautiously releases you.
Reaching for your soap, he quickly lathers up a washcloth. The smell of the soap—the smell of you—quickly permeates the small space, and he breathes deep, letting the familiar scent wash over him. He runs the cloth gently over your shoulders, taking extra care with the still-visible bite mark one of them left there, then down over your chest. The skin of your breasts is soft and warm under his fingertips, and he’s half tempted to try for another round, but he feels strangely protective of your soft sleepiness.
Instead he dutifully rinses you off, letting the water cascade over your body.
You blink your eyes open long enough to shoot him another warm, sleepy smile, and the contentment in his chest seems to expand, taking root and spreading with every breath until it feels almost too large for the small space of the shower.
He steps out, reaching for a towel, and drys you off gently, before doing the same to himself with much less care.
Then he carries you back to bed and tucks you in, doing his best to straighten out the wrinkly covers before pulling them up over both of you. Curling his body around yours, he holds you tightly to him. There are a lot of things in this world Jake can do without, has done without. But this– you are no longer on that list.
In the cozy warmth of the bed with your body pressed against his, his eyes feel heavy. Jake never used to fight to stay in the driver’s seat, not once the excitement was over. But he clings to consciousness now. He wants to prolong this moment when his vision is filled, not with yet another threat to body, life or limb, but with something altogether perfect: the sight of you drifting off to sleep, your head nuzzling into the pillow, a slight smile on your face… safe.
It’s the last thing he sees as he falls into a deep, restful sleep.
.
Thanks for reading!
—
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#moon knight#moon knight fic#jake lockely#jake lockely x reader#jake lockley x you#f reader#oi stuff#fanfic#astroboots#thirst world problems#lemon#q#red flags 'verse
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Business As Usual (Part Five)
Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader
Warning: Arranged Marriage, Angst, Cheating
Words: 1,678
NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Just as you heard the shots and Tommy walked outside, your heart raced in fear. Your body trembled with anxiety, realizing how dangerous your life had become since marrying into the world of the notorious Peaky Blinders and, even though you grew within the ranks of the Mafia, you had always been sheltered from the dangers of the underworld.
But this did not mean that you could not protect yourself. Your father had taught you how to shoot when you were just a child. Taking one step backward, your hand thus instinctively reached out to grab the gun resting elegantly yet threateningly upon Tommy’s mahogany-finished desk.
Your fingers brushed over the cool metal surface, feeling an almost primal connection to it. The click echoed through the vastness of the room, reminding you of all those years ago – practicing until your aim became perfect, steady. This was what you needed now as there was no way that you would rely on anyone else to protect you and the unborn child you were secretly carrying.
You heard another shot being fired outside before gripping the gun firmly, pushing past the panicked fear swirling inside you.
As you stepped forth onto the porch area where Tommy was standing, he immediately snapped, telling you to go back inside.
"I told you to stay inside!" His voice boomed throughout the night air like thunder, causing birds to scatter and leave their perches just before another shot was fired from somewhere down below - close enough to raise alarm bells in both of your hearts. Fear and adrenalin coursed swiftly through your veins, urging you both to act decisively amidst uncertainty.
"Who is it?" your voice quivered slightly as the words left your lips, betraying your growing fear.
"Someone whose got out for you and your fucking family. Now go back inside!" Tom's command came sharply, cutting through the oppressive silence that had fallen upon the gardens below. But despite his tone suggesting authority, his face revealed hesitation mixed with anger, making clear that while he knew better than most, leading such a brutal organisation carried its own set of burdens. As his gaze shifted towards the ground, you couldn't help but notice how his usually cold exterior softened, replaced instead by vulnerability which only served to intensify the desire simmering beneath the surface.
With Charlie inside, he knew not to let this stand and, just after you indeed walked back into the foyer of your large residence, your husband ought to investigate the disturbance.
His presence commanded attention wherever he went. He strode purposefully forward, his powerful legs propelling him quickly along the front yard of Arrow House.
His mind conjured up images of the enemies he had vanquished and friends made, allies lost...all these memories seemed to whisper in his ear as he approached closer to the place from whence the shots were coming. His chest tightened at the thought of losing more comrades, especially when they faced challenges like this. It was a constant struggle, and although some may deem it glamorous due to popular culture portrayals, Tommy understood well that leadership wasn't easy nor glamorous, requiring endurance, tactical thinking and, above all, sacrifices.
Meanwhile, you walked towards the back of your large house to also investigate where the shots were coming from. Feeling anxious and worried, adrenaline flowed through your veins, leaving your hands clammy and your stomach knotted.
You knew that someone was in your house, intending harm to either Tommy or yourselves. Slowly, stealthily, you moved further into the hallway of your home, peering around corners and into rooms to ensure nothing escaped your vision. All the while, your ears strained to pick up any sounds indicative of danger nearby.
Suddenly, you caught sight of movement behind the sofa at the far end of the living room, and you instinctively raised your weapon, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Just then, something fell through the air from behind you.
Before you could react, the silhouette of a tall looking man emerged from behind the furniture, lunging toward you with a savage grace. With lightning speed, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying straight towards your target. There was an audible scream followed by a sickening crunch, and then eerie stillness returned once again.
For a moment, you stood motionless, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It took several moments for you to realize what you had done.
Adrenaline surged through your body, and you felt numb. Your arms shook violently as you dropped the gun onto the floor, its sound reverberating across the silent house. You hadn't realized how much your body ached until you finally stopped firing. The pain radiated from your shoulder down your arm and into your wrist as you too must have been shot.
You covered your arm with your hand, trying to stop the bleeding as you looked downward, seeing the victim laying sprawled lifeless beside you before you heard yet another shot being fired outside, causing you to jump.
The sudden noise broke the spell, bringing back the harsh reality of the situation. Realization struck hard, as your heart hammered fiercely in your chest, your limbs trembling involuntarily. Adrenaline filled your system, causing your pulse to race erratically. Gulping down your terror, you managed to regain control over your shaking knees and picked up the gun you had fired just moments ago.
You raced outside, determined to find the source of the last shot fired. Outside, darkness loomed heavily, providing ample cover for potential attackers. The rain began to fall, creating puddles everywhere as you searched frantically for anything unusual that might indicate the presence of hostile forces. Glancing nervously in every direction, you tried to maintain focus while battling against fatigue and discomfort caused by your injury.
Finally spotting something suspicious near a group of bushes, you slowly edged closer, pointing your gun directly ahead as you steadied your breathing.
This is when you saw her. The woman you hated the most, holding a knife against your husband's throat while Isiah Jesus, another member of the Peaky Blinders, was pointing a gun at her.
Her hazel eyes held a mixture of determination and cruelty, contrasting starkly with Tommy's own intense gaze fixed on hers
Carefully, you approached the group and, in her panicked state, Laura did not notice you until your gun was pointed directly at her head.
"Drop the fucking knife or I will blow your brains out," you warned her, taking care to remain calm and composed. Your heart pounded in your chest, knowing full well that this situation was beyond treacherous.
Laura, however, remained unfazed, seemingly reveling in the fact that she was putting Tommy and herself in grave danger. Her resolve appeared ironclad, hinting at an underlying reason behind her actions that you didn't understand, but your primary concern at that moment was getting Tommy safely out of the line of fire, simply for Charlie's sake.
"You should join my side, Y/N. He is using you and so is your family," Laura argued defiantly, clearly wanting to cause havoc.
"Says the woman with no fucking morals whatsoever," you retorted, feeling your blood pressure rise as you struggled to contain your rising temper.
Isiah merely watched with grim detachment, waiting for orders from Tommy and sensing that things were about to get ugly very soon.
Realizing that arguing wouldn't solve anything, Tom decided to take action. His decision was final, showing the strength of his convictions even during times of crisis.
"Now drop the knife," you demanded again forcefully and, just as you spoke the words, Tommy grabbed her wrist tightly in an effort to push her away.
Laura, of course, put up a fight and it was this fight which caused you to lower the gun and shoot, aiming directly for her knee cap. The loud crack of the gunshot echoed around the neighborhood, startling nearby animals awake and bringing people to their windows wondering what was happening outside.
She cried out in agony, falling to the ground with a grimace painted across her face.
"This is for sleeping with my fucking husband," you seethed before uncocking your weapon.
Turning to Tommy, you asked him one simple question, "Why her? Why would you choose her?" This time, your hurt manifested itself in a palpable way, striking Tommy squarely in the gut as he contemplated your query.
He sighed wearily, running a hand through his dark hair in a characteristic gesture that belied his turmoil within. "It was business, nothing more," he said weakly, unable to meet your eyes.
But his eyes told another tale, and you recognized that look of guilt etched across his features.
"She fucking played you," you muttered under your breath, turning away to avoid further confrontation.
As you stepped away, moving past Isiah and heading towards the house, tears welled up in your eyes - the result of the betrayal, fear, and confusion swirling inside you.
"Get her away from my fucking house and put a bullet in her head if you want to, Thomas! I don't ever want to see this woman again. Do you hear me?" you spat after having turned around momentarily. Your heart pounded madly in your chest, threatening to escape from your ribcage altogether.
Pain seared through your injured arm, forcing you to grit your teeth against the waves of agony crashing upon you. Ignoring the debilitating pain, you pushed open the door leading back into the living room. Inside, everything looked as though chaos reigned supreme—the mess of torn papers littering the floor bore testament to the urgency of the encounter that had unfolded earlier. Dread settled in your bones as you trudged through the broken glass and discarded documents, eventually reaching the staircase leading to the second level.
Tears threatened to overflow as you climbed the steps, wincing slightly at the sharp prickle of pain coursing through your wounded arm.
Desperate to distract yourself from the overwhelming mix of emotions raging within you, you attempted to focus on your physical injuries instead. The bullet lodged in your arm had now begun to throb insistently, accompanied by a steady trickle of blood oozing outwards.
You knew that you had to attend to your injuries now but you almost had no strength left within you to do so until, eventually, you heard a familiar voice from behind.
"I will take you to the hospital, Love," Tommy whispered softly, his tone laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. It seemed as though he genuinely wanted to comfort you despite all that had transpired tonight. And suddenly, your anger started to fade somewhat, probably because you were exhausted.
Inhaling deeply, you shook your head, knowing that there would be questions.
"No. You can get the bullet out," you replied stubbornly, unwilling to let anyone else help you. As strong as you may appear, you knew deep down that it wasn't really you, but rather pride keeping you standing upright in those shoes. Even as you clenched your jaw, attempting to hide the pain, your legs wobbled beneath you like jelly.
"I would, if you weren't pregnant," Tommy responded, a hint of regret evident in his tone.
Hearing these words, shockwaves of emotion coursed through you as you absorbed the truth hidden within those little words: 'pregnant'.
Your entire world shifted abruptly as gravity lost its meaning and the air became heavier. Reality crashed down on you mercilessly, leaving you stunned. Your child...his child, conceived amidst the chaos and violence that surrounded them daily.
"You know that I am pregnant? How?" you asked, seeing that you never told him. The uncertainty in your voice revealed both your surprise and disbelief.
Tommy nodded solemnly, acknowledging your astonishment. "Frances became to notice. She told me and I figured that you were going to see someone about it," he explained.
"I couldn't terminate the pregnancy, no matter how much I wanted to Thomas," you admitted, your voice low and somber.
There was a pause between you two before Tommy finally broke eye contact, looking downward thoughtfully. "I understand," he said before taking your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then leading you to his Bentley.
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#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby fanfiction
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dickie and jason headcanons pretty please
Everyone thinks Tim and Damian are a nightmare to have in a room together, but it's actually Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian still need to work through a thing or two and subconsciously pull their punches because of that, but Dick and Jason have no such thing. They've been siblings the longest and at this point it's an undisputed fact that they love each other, so there's zero limit to them being absolute menaces
They've been in a Toy Blast standoff since last year. Dick keeps speedrunning the levels and Jason keeps deleting the app from Dick's phone until he catches up
The bathroom switch in the Bludhaven apartment is outside the bathroom. Barbara kept telling Dick to get it changed and he kept procrastinating, so when Jason broke in and turned the lights off in the middle of Dick's shower, all Babs said from the other room was "Told you so"
Jason: "Alfred, tell Dick to quit breathing over my shoulder"
Dick: "Tell Jason to quit blocking the screen with his big helmet"
Alfred: "Sort it out yourselves, this is not in my job description"
Dick wrestled Jason for an Oreo but also gave him the comfier sleeping bag in the span of five minutes while they were on a stakeout
Jason is absolutely the sibling that chases Dick around the house with a knife for fun when Bruce and Alfred aren't around
Dick: "Get out of my room"
Jason, lurking outside the windowsill: "I'm not in your room"
Dick's outfits aren't truly considered nice until they pass the Jason Test, which is getting a "meh" instead of "you look like you were drawn by a fourth grader"
To brag that he got the last slice of pizza, Jason slapped it across Dick's face
The most accurate ruler in the world is the one they use to split the last candy bar (but Dick secretly lets Jason have an extra millimeter)
And the most accurate measuring cup is the one they divide the last of the apple juice with (though Jason generously gives Dick a few drops more)
The tension is palpable—even the Subway guy cutting their sandwich can feel it
Alfred sends them out to do yard work and they start sword-fighting with increasingly bigger sticks until Dick grabs a rake and Jason whips out the All-Blades
Jason: "I was here first!"
Dick: "I was born first!"
Jason: "I was adopted first!"
Dick has two Instagram accounts—Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Jason has three—Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the verified Nightwing
When the Cave is colder than usual, Jason brings Dick his favorite peppermint hot chocolate but always takes the first sip
Together they stole the bat-plane, flew to Lebanon for food, received a hefty fine after nearly colliding with a fighter jet, got a huge scratch on the side, paid someone under the table to fix it, and put it back where they found it in the span of Bruce debriefing the Justice League
Dick will go through Jason's leftovers, pick out what he likes, and leave the rest. Later he'll hear Jason walk out of the kitchen shouting "Who the FUCK took the shrimp out of my shrimp fried rice?!"
When they were kids Jason's bedtime was half an hour later than Dick's. Dick still has beef with Bruce about that
Dick is Player 1. Jason is Player 6 because the first time they played he grabbed a random controller from a box of dozen
Jason: "Help me bury this body"
Dick: "Sure"
Jason: "Also I need to delete all record of this guy's existence"
Dick: "Will do"
Jason: "And can you get me a drink?"
Dick: "Get it yourself"
When he first arrived, Jason was resistant to the idea of having an older sibling until he realized he has Younger Brother Privilege
Dick hides the remote with a sword swallowing trick and Jason hates it
They use texts for personal conversations, WhatsApp for vigilante business, and Snapchat for unhinged memery. It's like talking to 3 separate people
They also have their own text abbrevation: DTB (Don't tell Bruce)
They don't apologize, they just sulk in their rooms for a couple hours until Alfred calls them down for dinner and they forget all about it
Goon: "Who's that blue fella? Youse was fightin' real loud"
Jason: "Nightwing. He just pisses me off sometimes"
Goon: "I can take care of him"
Jason, lighting a cigarette: "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get your ass handed to you"
#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#batman#batfamily#batfam#batboys#batbros#batkids#batsiblings#batman family#incorrect batfamily quotes#incorrect quotes#incorrect dc quotes#dc comics#headcanon#ask#anonymous#tw swearing#tw food mention
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random smut headcanons || bg3 ladies x reader
18+, minors do NOT interact
cw: afab!reader!receiving, implied strap-on use, f!reader terms of endearment
word count: 1600+ (400+ each)
author’s note: these are some of my current smut headcanons for lae’zel, minthara, shadowheart, and karlach that originally started as what i thought their fave positions were. i should probably share that i have yet to beat the game or explore all of their romances, so my opinions may change in the future as i do. enjoy! <3
lae'zel
lae’zel likes to fuck you in any position that gives her power, but then again, she’d manage to get power in any position you find yourselves in. if i had to describe a position that she’d like, i’d go for one where you are sitting on her strap, but backward, your back flush against her chest, which is heaving. she juts her hips straight up into you with one hand on your breast and another strumming your clit, her mouth placing kisses and love bites on the skin she can access. the contact of your bodies together has grown to be so intimate for her that it’s a must anytime you have sex–no matter the duration. even during those short moments when you can get some relief, when she’d have you pressed against a nearby surface, completely under her control, she wants your chests grinding together as she brings you to your peak. her hands will happily explore your body with the gentle touch that she craves herself. when the strap isn’t in the picture, she’ll still bring you to orgasm with a combination of her mouth, fingers, and pussy. lae’zel would be a fan of rubbing her pussy over yours, relishing in the mess you both make. and on that note, she definitely touches herself whenever she eats you out.
lae’zel also likes to be bitten–shoulders, ears, everywhere, especially her lips. take her plump bottom lip in between your teeth, pull, and she will go crazy. she will push you down and take you right then and there (giving you your own marks, of course). she wants to bear the mark of the conquest, and her possessive side is pleased to show the world who belongs to whom. and on the softer side of things, lae’zel is a big fan of being adorned in kisses, with her favourite spot being her jawline.
lae’zel may also have a hard time being patient when it comes to you. sometimes, you just smell so good to her that she has to take you right then and there. the party will stop for a short rest, and she will quickly pull you into an empty room she found, pushing you up against the wall as soon as she closes the door. she wastes no time stripping you of the pesky clothes that get in her way. she must taste all of you–everything else can wait.
minthara
minthara is another fan of being in control–who would have thought? she usually favours the positions that have you writhing beneath her, begging for more. it boosts her ego to know that she’s the one–the only one–to give you the abundance of pleasure. she’ll have you on your hands and knees in front of her, her strap buried deep inside of you, and your face buried in the pillows below. your hands would be tied behind your back, firmly in her grasp, as she pounds into you. maybe she’ll push your face a little more into the pillow just for fun. she can also get a bit sadistic at times, sometimes denying you an orgasm, ordering you to hold it until she gives you permission. she always gives in, though, especially when you’re taking her so well.
minthara will never outright admit it, but she loves the gentler moments just as much as the rough ones. for instance, she likes to have you on your side to where she can take you from behind, her body pressed against your own, and her hands caressing your skin. it’s a bonus when a mirror is nearby, specifically in a position that puts you both on full display. she thinks the act of sex is beautiful and wants to see everything, including your pleasure-stricken face. it is in these moments that soft minthara shines. she’ll allow herself to be a bit vulnerable with you but will still find it hard to express it through words… so she will show her love for you through her actions–more specifically, through her touch. her touches feel heated against your skin, showcasing her passion for you, and she does it in such a loving way that she doesn’t even need words to supplement them. of course, that doesn’t mean that she won’t use sweet words with you, because she will, such as reminding you of the obvious: you are brave, you are strong, you are exquisite; it just means that she is better at showing her admiration for you through the use of her own body.
minthara is also insanely possessive. she’ll mark you just as lae’zel would, but she’ll also bring it into the sheets, reminding you whose pussy it is as she fucks it. in those moments when she’s feeling particularly in the mood, she’ll get a bit rougher and make you repeat, out loud, who you belong to. she wants the neighbours to hear it.
shadowheart
shadowheart just loves to be deep inside of you, holding power or not. she’ll happily take you in various positions, whether you’re on top or bottom. it is worth noting that she can get a little greedy, though, but never too rough. when the power is in her favour, she just wants more and more. she becomes so consumed by the moment–the way your hips snap together, the way your mouth falls open to let moans escape, the way you take her so well–it’s all so intoxicating. she wants to feel it all... so maybe she’ll cast a little spell to where she can. it makes your love life so much more interesting. each time she enters you, each time she bottoms out in you, each time she hits your g-spot, each time is enough to drive her crazy (and you will hear her moans). she’ll maintain such an intimate tempo the entire time, too. she is in no rush to bring you to orgasm and wants to savour every moment. she may go slow, but fuck, she’ll make you both feel so good.
shadowheart is in love with every part of you and wants to see it all during sex. she gets so mesmerised and yearns to love on it all. whenever you’re riding her, she loves to watch and admire your breasts as they bounce. (as i have seen in many headcanons, and agree with,) shadowheart is also a fan of your ass, which she’ll grab whenever she has a chance to. for fun, she’ll take you from the back just to see it bounce, too. i also think she’d slap it to see a bit more jiggle, being fascinated by the red handprints she leaves in its place.
shadowheart is a fan of other things during sex, like playing with and pinching your nipples. while she isn’t very rough with you, she’s not opposed to a little pain with your pleasure. she would gladly receive the same treatment (being gentle all the time is no fun to her). she also loves (LOVES) to have her fingers on you, in you, all of it. she’ll usually bring you to orgasm from her fingers alone. feeling you clench around her fingers gets her wet herself, which honestly makes her a fan of getting each other off at the same time. there is something divine to her about having each other’s fingers buried deep inside the other, moaning into each other’s mouths as you press on.
shadowheart also loves to call and be called a good girl. i don’t make the rules.
karlach
karlach loves anything where she can pull you close and love on you properly, so slow and sensual love-making sessions with her are a must. she deems you a goddess and believes you must be treated as such. when she has you in a position like missionary, she likes to use her hands to roam across your body and caress it gently, often leaving her kisses in their place. gods, you are just so intoxicating to her–she’ll react similarly to shadowheart in this sense. she’d do anything to be able to feel herself be inside of you–that might just drive her crazy. if that were to happen, i don’t think she’d keep up with being very gentle. i think those years of pent-up passion would just explode and lead her to grip your hips like a mad woman, pulling you roughly toward hers until she couldn’t get any deeper.
karlach gets so giddy during foreplay. she can hardly contain herself sometimes. she has to remind herself to go a little slower rather than just rip your clothes off of you (which she would totally do). she gets breathless during makeout seshes because she never wants to depart her lips from yours, yet she will still try to fiddle with your clothes, eager to admire what lies beneath. unless, of course, you were okay with her giddiness… in which case she will show you just how needy she is for you. your clothes would be on the floor, and your bodies meshed together in less than thirty seconds (she has timed it before). whatever the occasion, she will make it a moment you will never forget. she is all about giving you what you want… many, many times. many!!
karlach does have a soft spot for you riding her, though. she’ll be patient with you unless you want some more, in which case she will happily oblige–she’ll have you flat on your back in less than ten seconds, ready to give you all the attention you crave. just think of the way she lays on her back in camp (you cannot tell me that she does not want to be ridden until she sees stars). she is also a fan of trying different positions, such as fucking you while standing, her arms holding you up in the air as she pulls you down on her cock. she will take any excuse to do it, too. it gives her a good workout.
karlach is also such a sweetheart with her words during sex. she’ll tell you how good you’re being for her and how she will adore you as long as you let her.
#lae'zel x reader#minthara x reader#minthara baenre x reader#shadowheart x reader#karlach x reader#bg3 x reader#baldur's gate x reader#baldur's gate 3 x reader#bg3 headcanons#baldur's gate 3 headcanons#lae'zel#minthara#minthara baenre#nightwarden minthara#karlach#karlach cliffgate#bg3#baldur's gate 3#lae'zel bg3#lae'zel baldur's gate 3#minthara bg3#minthara baldur's gate 3#shadowheart bg3#shadowheart baldur's gate 3#karlach bg3#karlach baldur's gate 3#my writing
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