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undercovercameron · 1 year

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hole in one

summary: you're a server at the island club, and you may or may not have a favorite customer.

notes: i'm back baby! haven't written anything in a good while but i suddenly had this image of a girly reader and a flirty golfer rafe with that season 3 buzzcut... i HAD to make a pun with this title and i'm so glad i did. also i always write rafe a little more attentive and well-meaning than he is, so take this headcanon of nice rafe with a grain of salt-- and this shit is hella dirty so please enjoy and let me know what you think ;) (also im coming back to edit this fully in a little bit but i wanted to post just to prove i still love and use this account kajddjd)

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 4453

Some things in Rafe’s life were simple pleasures.

A cocktail during dinner, a night where all the TV he watched was reality shows, a cigarette on a night out. The silence of his childhood home.

Golf, coincidentally, was also one of those things. The course he frequented was just a ten-minute drive from his house, and he had priority parking. As a donor and a club-member of course. The drinks were cheap, the company was even cheaper, and he had a killer swing. There was rarely an afternoon out on that green that he didn’t enjoy. He felt closest to peace when all he had to work for was getting that tiny white golf ball sunk into a hole.

They were often sweaty putting sessions, as the North Carolina heat in the summer was no joke, but the traveling drink cart was a brief respite from that.

“What can I get you?” You ask, bright and long-lashed. Your hair was done in a tight updo, your makeup was flawless, and not a single spec of dirt or turf lay on your uniform. You took pride in your appearance and the effects it had on the loose wallets of the Outer Banks’ finest real estate investors and offshore bank account holders. Most of all, you enjoyed a certain someone’s attention.

Rafe peeks under the overhang of the cart and stares at your selection. He stands with his hands on his hips, gold rings flashing in the hot sunlight. You take a look at him for the first time today, eyes taking over his bent form. He has gray slacks on with a dark blue polo stretched over his well-built back, unbuttoned to show the tiniest glint of blonde chest hair and his gold chain. He spared no expense when it came to his appearance, you’d come to notice.

“I think,” he starts, standing back up, and fixes you with his blue-eyed stare. It makes you hold back a shiver despite the heat. “A double tequila soda.”

He gives you a once-over, admiring the way your skirt hugs your waist and the sparkle of your earrings. He always likes when the girls have their hair up— gives him a sneak peek of what it’d look like if he pulled it.

“Three limes? Just how you like?” You ask, breaking his focus, and reach for a plastic cocktail cup. You have a freckle behind your ear, he notices.

“Exactly right,” he says, folding his arms over his chest, and his face splits into a grin when you glance at him and blush. He could be back with his friends from highschool, talking shit about their shitty swings or increasingly high scores, but he’s not. He’s right here, watching closely as you carefully measure the ice and pour a perfect double shot.

“How’re you guys playing today?” You ask, a humiliating attempt at small talk, and you feel sweat bead on your lower back.

“Shit, honestly,” Rafe laughs. “These jack-offs couldn’t get a hole-in-one if it was right in front of their fucking faces. And I’ve been distracted all day.” He looks down at you over the bridge of his nose, liking the way you tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“Heat getting to you?” You squeeze the final lime and turn away from the cart, holding it out with a polite smile. He takes it carefully.

“Something like that,” he says, cocking his head, and takes a sip. Tart. Just how he likes it. “Hey.” He digs a hand into his pocket and the tips of your cheekbones heat again for some reason. “Keep the change.” He hands you a fifty.

You take it between hesitant fingers, peering up at him.

“The drink is $6, Rafe.”

He always does this. Pays cash with big bills and tells you to keep the change. He gave you a twenty for a packet of peanuts one time. “I don’t know if I can legally take this.”

He just shrugs.

“Consider it a personal donation.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Makes me feel better. I think you deserve a little extra for your services—it takes a lot of work to look that good for a bunch of old geezers in sweater vests and loafers. I know I appreciate it.” He turns and starts off towards his group, yanking his sunglasses out of his shirt and jamming them onto his face. “I like your bra, by the way. ‘S my favorite color.”

You glance down the collar of your shirt, heart thumping, and look back up.

That stupid fucking swagger he has. He’s going to throw out his back walking around like a peacock like that.

You tug your shirt up, hiding the red bra you’d chosen for today, and hop back on the cart. Off to another hole where another old man will look down your shirt and ask for his Manhattan with two cherries instead of one.

You think you’ll either quit this job or start wearing a fucking monk robe.

The next time you see him is back at the club. Your boss had you on pool bartender duty, opposed to the drink cart you favored, and you were a little out of your element.

The customer demographic was different, which you enjoyed, but they all seemed to want a lot more and a lot quicker. There was no loitering around to small talk; you had to work quickly and attentively to earn these housewives’ measly two dollar tip on margarita pitchers.

You had spilled raspberry purée on your company-approved golf dress more times than you could count in your six hour shift. Near the end of it, however, Rafe had made his way to the end of the bar and watched as you ducked to put away the umbrella toothpicks and quickly and secretly downed a shot of Tito’s. Drinking on the job. Hm.

(It’s not that you like to be drunk at work; it’s more of a little ‘fuck you’ to your boss, you think.)

“Hi,” you say on an exhale, coming over and wiping the already-spotless counter with a black rag. “What can I get you?” You have dangly earrings on today, and a different shade of lipgloss than he is accustomed to.

“Two grapefruit High Noon’s.” He folds his arms and leans on the counter, so close he could smell your perfume. “I could report you for that, you know,” he says, voice as low as a whisper. You peer up at him, lips pursed, and scan his face. No ill intent. Just an easy smile and dirty eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” You reach for the fridge underneath the mixing mats and pull two cold cans from the shelf. You sit them on the counter and stare up at him. “You’re a real upstanding customer, huh?”

“Mhm.” He twists his pointer-finger ring mindlessly. “You owe me.” The corners of his lips quirk up.

“Oh, do I?” You ask, giving him your best ’I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. You know he likes that.

The fact is that you and Rafe had countless conversations exactly like this one. Whether it be at the drink cart, on the way out of the building, or back inside in the restaurant bar. He always somehow leaned over you, smiling like the flirtatious bastard that he was, and making you feel like he’d like nothing more than to take you to his car and show you how much he actually enjoyed being served by you. That’s how you imagined him in bed, at least. Proving a point.

He takes the two cans in one hand and straightens up, fixing you with a dangerous look.

“Your shift ends in ten minutes, yeah?” He asks.

“Yes.” You square your shoulders and stare back.

“Good. I’ll take you home. Well, mine.” He backs up closer to where his friends are sitting at a covered patio table, mischievous smile flashing white in the sun.

“I have a car, you know,” you say, leaning on the counter with folded arms. You ignore the hot rush of blood in your veins from his words. “And I have to shower.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a shower?” He purses his lips, faking the wildly confused look, and turns back around to his friends.

You just sigh, exasperated with him, and work on cleaning up your station. God, it has to be him? The boy you had a crush on in elementary school? You’ve had plenty of hookups in your adult life, but none as close to home as this one. (Literally. You live down the street.) You feel his eyes on you as you scrub a particularly defiant streak of Grenadine from the counter, and feel his gaze on your back when you turn around to get a fresh rag. It makes your face burn hot.

You know he’s not talking about just hanging out at his place. He probably has a huge shower, for God’s sake, and probably a humongous bed. California king if you can guess.

You bet he tastes like summer.

After your replacement comes to the bar, you take your lanyard to get into the staff locker room from a hook under the bar and make your way slowly through the gaggles of people to your designated locker. It takes a brief conversation with your boss Angela about if you left the tip jar or took the contents to finally shoulder past the last group of people.

You tug your bag from the hook, a change of clothes and your shower stuff already packed (as you had been planning to go to the gym after work). You now know you have other forms of exercise coordinated. You give yourself a final look in the little mirror on your locker. Here goes nothing.

Rafe is waiting outside the swinging door when you push past it, button up shirt and shoes haphazardly thrown on. He immediately takes your bag from you and slings it over one massive shoulder, starting for the exit.

“I can carry my own things, Rafe,” you say, slightly out of breath with the effort it takes to catch up to him.

“Yeah, well, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He casts a look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised seriously. You roll your eyes.

His bedroom door pushes open and you stumble back, hand tight on his bicep as he walks you further. His hand circles your waist as he ducks to kiss you again, mouth hot and commanding over yours.

He tastes exactly how you imagined.

His room is bright with sunlight and slightly messy when you glance behind him, but you’re pretty fucking sure you won’t be focused on how his room is decorated when he keeps grabbing at you like this.

The back of your knees hit the bedspread and you fall into a sitting position, posture curved up into his as he leans and holds you by the side of the neck. You make a pleased noise into his mouth and tug at his shirt, suddenly irritated that he is wearing so many clothes. You snake a hand up his shirt and claw at his skin with your sharp nails.

“Save that for my back,” he breathes, and your fingers fumble to unbutton his shirt as you finally pull it down and off his body. You rejoice at his newfound lack of clothing and smooth a hand over his chest, eyes trained on his toned and tan stomach.

He’s huge like this, up close, and the warmth radiating from his skin makes your heart jump into your throat. Your fingers splay across the middle of his abdomen, just appreciating the way he breathes under your touch, and you lean back up for his mouth.

He threads his fingers in your hair and pulls your face so hard to his own that your neck smarts. Between your legs throbs. You protest, grabbing at his wrist, but settle when he shuffles closer to the bed and tilts you back into the sheets.

“Spread your legs for me,” he murmurs. Your back meets silk, and he lifts your open legs up and around his hips as he settles between your thighs comfortably. Right where he should be.

The feeling of his heavy weight where you’ve been needing it makes your back arch. He breaks away from you and slides a hand down your chest, laying the route that his mouth will take.

“You smell like cherries,” he says as he presses his mouth to your collarbone and sucks.

“I know.” You shudder through a laugh and bring your hand up to the back of his head as encouragement. “Spilled Grenadine.”

He hums noncommittally and shoves the hem of your dress up past your hips and to your midriff in one fluid motion. You wriggle for a second, so exposed so fast, but sigh contentedly when his lips meet your stomach. His mouth is so unexplainably hot, and as his tongue meets you your whole body erupts in goosebumps. It sends a shiver down your spine. It’s even better than you imagined.

“Knew you’d taste so good,” Rafe practically moans, eyes darting to yours, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of your underwear as you watch. Your cheeks flush at his word. You’re honored to be the recipient of words like his— it’s not often Rafe finds himself giving someone a compliment. He lays a final kiss on your stomach and surges back up towards your chest. He mutters gibberish to himself, probably something like “I hate this fucking dress” and yanks your dress up past your tits.

His fingers find your left nipple and squeeze as his tongue finds the other. You arch again, unused to the sensation, and let loose a groan. His fingers are so soft and light, but his teeth nip.

You make a noise of surprise, eyebrows furrowing, and tug at the short, blunt locks of his hair.

“Impatient,” he reprimands, tongue rolling as he glances up at your pink face. You’re strung so tight you might snap. “Needy.” He releases your nipple with a pop. Your lips are so pink and shiny, he just has to kiss you again. You whine into his mouth when he comes back, fingernails scratching at his scalp, and your legs wind around his waist.

But he lets go of your hip with his left hand and creeps closer to the crotch of your underwear, fingertips dancing. Your grip on his hair tightens. Between your legs pulses with heat and need, hot on his clothed crotch, and he knows he could calculate your BPM just by laying with you like this.

“Rafe,” you breathe, staring up at him as your chest heaves.

“Relax,” he shushes, ducking down to press a kiss to your neck, and you gradually relax the muscles that lock your legs to his abdomen. “There you go.” You think you hear a “good girl” fall from his soft lips but it’s in that moment that he pushes past the cotton and digs his hand into your underwear.

You immediately spur into motion, back arching and mouth dropping into an ‘O’, and he just bites his lip and watches. You’re so responsive, and it makes his dick fucking ache.

“Thought about this? Hm?” He pants, releasing his bottom lip from between his teeth, and grins. “So wet, this pussy’s been begging for me for weeks.”

You struggle to nod, movement interrupted by the slew of noises and ramblings of “please” and “yes” and “Rafe” falling from your lips. His middle and ring fingers push past the slick resistance your pussy gives him, and you go silent and slack-jawed as he pushes all the way to the hilt.

And he’s got big fingers. You wonder if they’re the same size as his dick. If so, you might be in trouble.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you nearly cry, head falling back into the sheets, and you’re slammed back into reality and consciousness of your surroundings. The coolness of the AC makes your nipples peak again, and the sweat on your lower back cools almost as soon as it’s created. But Rafe makes you hot. Your chest and cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and your lips are swollen into a bigger size and slick with his saliva and your own. We don’t even have to discuss how flushed the other parts of your body are—he already knows.

His fingers curl slightly up and to the right, and your abdomen jerks at the unfamiliar feeling. You curl up slightly, eyebrows furrowed, and try to catch a glimpse of his large hand in your underwear. God, you wish you could take a picture. You lock gazes with him momentarily but fall back down at the look in his face. It’s nearly animalistic.

“Rafe, please,” you beg, grabbing onto his wrist with both hands. You meet his eyes. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling his fingers out, and clambers off of you for a second. You sit up, quickly ridding yourself of the dress bunched up to your shoulders, and watch as he rips his shorts off and nears the bed. You don’t even have enough time to gape at the size of him before he’s grabbing your bicep and jerking you onto your stomach.

You have half a mind to protest his man-handling of you but stay silent as you look up at the angle he positions you.

There’s a full length mirror opposite this side of his bed, and you just stare at the pair of you as you catch your breath.

“Like it, huh?” He asks quietly, dipping down and pressing a kiss to your hair. His hand finds your neck and he moves you to face the mirror head on, watching your face closely. You really like the feeling of his fingers around your throat. He can tell, now; your shoulders relax and your lips move into the shape of a smile when he squeezes.

“You always keep this here?” You ask, head falling onto your folded arms when he releases you to just admire your body. His fingers trace your spine and the curve of your ass, never losing focus.

“I moved it this morning,” he murmurs, gaze never straying from you.

“Oh, so you knew you’d be fucking me tonight.” Your face splits into an easy grin, head tilting mischievously. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and he bends again to press his mouth to your lower back.

“Always teasing me.” His voice is muffled by your smooth skin. He can’t get enough. “Knew it’d happen sometime soon. You can’t stay away forever, you know.” He straightens up but doesn’t find your eyes in the mirror. His large, warm hand maneuvers your hips into a tilted position, and you move up onto your feet. He has you flat on your stomach on the bed, but your ass and legs hang off and the soles of your feet just barely press flat into the floor. “Knew this pussy would get me at some point.” He smacks at an asscheek lightning fast; and your whole body jiggles with the force of his hand. You squeak involuntarily.

A large hand grabs at your shoulder as the other one jerks himself steadily. Once, twice, three times, and then he’s spreading you open and pushing into you.

Your spine stretches and relaxes when he gets halfway in, and your thighs start to shake when you’re filled all the way to the hilt.

“Shit, Rafe, you’re fucking big,” you complain, but the tail end of your protest bleeds into a desperate whine. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly, eyes squeezed shut, and your head falls onto your folded arms. “Please,” you say, reaching back to frantically find his hips. “Go slow.”

“Stretching you out, hm,” Rafe comments, breathing hard already, and relieves the pressure by sliding almost all the way out. His tip almost breaches the seam of your slit but he pushes back in, pulling your asscheek away with a thumb to watch. “Fucking sexy.”

You squeeze around him like a vice, but the intrusion is welcome. You will yourself to relax and accept his huge fucking dick, and the thought of yourself getting fucked by him sends a gush of slick between you two.

“There you go,” Rafe sighs, and pulls out only to fuck back in to you quickly. You cry out, fingers squeezing extra tight on the sheets, but you will yourself to look up.

His chest is flushed in the mirror as his chain swings in the open air, and the pure concentration and pleasure on his face prompts a pleased noise from your throat. You tentatively jerk back into him and his head whips up in the mirror, blue eyes meeting your own.

“Oh, yeah?” He mutters, teeth catching his lip, and his hips snap into yours. Your mouth drops open only momentarily before you close it and tilt your head to the size coyly, biting your own lip and pushing back into his hips. He watches you carefully in the mirror with squinted eyes, half-impressed and half-challenging. “You think you can take it?” His fingers squeeze at your shoulder tight.

You just silently nod. Cocky.

His emotionless gaze locks with yours and his blood pumps hot in his veins. He’s going to make you eat your words.

His hips surge forward in a suddenly-steady rhythm, skin slapping skin ringing out in the room. You just stare at him, defiant, and push back with every thrust he gives.

Rafe grunts and lets go of your shoulder, replacing his touch with an arm slung around your neck and the other hand between your legs. His warm fingers nudge your clit, finding it immediately, and his hips snap punishingly quickly into yours.

It’s brutal, having him like this. You hope you bruise. But you challenged him, and somebody has to lose. Except it’s not really a loss when Rafe fucking Cameron is genuinely fucking you into next week.

“Shit,” you exhale, choking on the inhale that accompanies it, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers rub you in circles. “Fuck, Rafe, that’s so good.” Something hot coils tight in your stomach and your thighs suddenly warm almost in preparation for the wave of sensation.

“Yeah?” He pants, hot in your ear. “You like that?” His chest sticks to your sweaty back, gluing you together as his strong hips and legs pound you into the mattress. You stay strong, along for the ride, and provide all the verbal encouragement he needs. Your stomach feels hotter and hotter and your throat runs dry.

“I love it,” you whine, head tilting up as if you’re praying he won’t stop. “Fuck me like this forever.”

“Mhm,” is all he says, too lost in the squeeze of your pussy around him and the warmth your body grants him. You pulse even more, so close.

You gather some strength and struggle to push up into an elbow, head tilting further and further until you can feel his forehead brush the crown of your head. Your muscles strain.

“Just like that. Just like—God, shit, right there.”

You squeak when the hot coil in your abdomen snaps and you fall twitchingly onto your stomach. His fingers rub quickly at your clit and you feel suddenly a hundred pounds lighter, eyes rolling back into your head. It’s so fucking good you wonder how you’ll ever masturbate happily again. Your fingers don’t compare in the slightest to this fucking dick. Your chest heaves with the effort it takes to fill your lungs with clean air, and your legs start to shake miserably underneath him. Your thighs feel like jelly and you barely did anything.

“Please, Rafe,” you beg, turning your head to the side to look innocently up at him. “Give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He pants and leans down to kiss you messily. You groan into his mouth and push back once more into his hips. Your pussy is still buzzing with feeling, and it fades slowly into a pleasant ache the more he fucks into you. “You want it on your back or in your mouth?”

You blink wildly and push onto your palms, signaling that you want to turn over. He pulls out but jerks himself steadily until you scramble onto your knees in front of him, face level with his pelvis and tongue out. You look up at him with the most earnest and well-meaning eyes, and he just has to close his eyes when the tip of his dick finally meets your tongue and he fills your mouth. His chest loosens with the most pathetic noise he’s ever made, a mix between a raw groan and a whimper. Your soft mouth accepts him and cleans his dick, humming contentedly, and when he catches his breath and manages to open his eyes you’re staring up at him, an immensely pleased look on your face.

You crawl closer and lift onto your knees, arms coming around his neck and pulling him to you. You press a kiss to his mouth. He can almost taste himself on your tongue, and he smoothes a hand down your side to grab onto your asscheek as you just kiss him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, pulling away slightly to give your face a once-over. “You haven’t even showered yet.”

“And whose fault is that?” You sigh, exasperated. “Someone couldn’t make it up the stairs without shoving his hands up my dress—we barely even made it to the bed.” You smooth a hand down the back side of his head, liking the way his hair feels.

Rafe just purses his lips.

“Sounds like a really cool guy to me.”

“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes, and sit back on your heels.

This room is a mess.

The corner of the well-made bed’s sheets and bedspread is yanked from the far corner and lies bunched up in the middle, dark with sweat. It smells like sex in here, the ceiling fan doing nothing to mitigate it, and your work dress is hung haphazardly on the closet door handle. With a dark Grenadine stain down the middle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rafe says, interrupting your inner monologue. His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh.

“What?” You ask, eyebrows drawn.

“Don’t even think about putting on clothes.”

You scoff.

“Like those would do me any good right now.” You wind your arms around his neck and smirk up at him. “I still haven’t even shown you what’s in my bag.”

His smile grows.

“What’s in your bag, baby?”

#obx #obx 3 #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x afab!reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff

2K notes · View notes

macfrog · 8 months

Text

call me

idea came to me in a dream. enjoy also! i made a notifs blog! taglist life is NOT for me, babies. feel free to head on over, follow and turn notifs on to be updated anytime i post! 👉 @macfroglets 👈 you’re gonna wanna do it before this sunday…😉🤠

inspired by @bageldaddy who is the author of the dreamiest series on this site, my biggest crush, and also told me not to tag her but i respect my elders so.

pairing: joel miller x call girl!reader

summary: you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) this fic is pro-sex work. reader is a phone sex operator, mentions of anal and oral, dirty talk, couple mentions of daddy, praise kink, mutual masturbation, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 3k

main masterlist

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb. “You’re gonna touch yourself.” “That what you want?” “’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

It started out as a joke, if you’re being honest.

A wine-drunk night with Liv, sat at opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined somewhere in the middle of the cushions. Her blouse was stained pink – your fault, apparently, for making her laugh too hard. Her glass tilted a fraction too far and before you knew it, you owed her a new shirt.

“Say it again, say it how he said it,” she snorted, patting her chest down with the damp towel you’d handed her.

“…quite frankly, disappointed with your performance,” your head tilted back and forth, mocking the nasally voice of your fifty-one-year-old, receding-hairline-equipped boss. Ex-boss. Asshole.

“Oh, fuck,” she heaved, still catching her breath. “That’s so fucking funny.”

You sighed in agreement.

“So…what are you actually gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Sell my body.”

“Dare you.”

“I would.”

“I know you would. And you’d be good at it, too. ‘s why I’m telling you to do it.”

You kicked her ankle. “I got bills to pay, dude.”

“What about one of those call girls?”

And, well. That was that.

You’d googled it after seeing her off to her own apartment, watching her wobbly form stagger across the hall and stab her key a few times into the wood before it landed in the lock. The door closed with an accidental slam which echoed up the stone stairwell, and you crept back to your own place.

Palms either side of your laptop on the counter, face lit in a blue glow, dripdripdrip of your busted tap echoing around your dark kitchen. They asked for an email address – you used the one you’d made up before you realized email addresses were permanent – and a phone number. Said someone would call you to discuss it. You shrugged, hit Sign up and went to bed.

Within hours, you’d spoken to some sharp-accented woman who asked quick, snappy questions and uhuhed her way through your answers. Her name was Erica. She told you she’d look after you, told you to call her with any questions or concerns you had.

All she wanted from you were the basics: you liked sex, you masturbated, you knew how to dirty talk. You sorta knew your way around things like anal, and could manage a convincing pitch for things of a more…exploratory nature.

And then she asked when you wanted to start. You told her that night.

Your first caller – like, ever – was some guy with a midwestern accent who asked you to narrate fucking him. Like, spanking him with a paddle, calling him a bad, bad boy. You threw your nerves to the wind and went along with it, and honestly, had a pretty rad time. He was cool.

But one was enough for your first night. You logged out and went to bed. You told Liv the next morning, and she punched your arm a little too hard and yelled, That’s my fuckin’ girl! Was it hot? Did you…y’know?

No. You never get that lucky. Some calls you can lie idly on your couch and let your limp hand surf beneath the hem of your underwear, push lazy circles against your clit as the dude moans in your ear or gasps when you whine.

Sometimes their mics can pick up the faint sound of them jacking off, and your brain slips you an image that makes your stomach flutter. Sometimes you’ll hang up and take yourself the whole nine yards with your laptop sitting on your mattress, porn on the screen, and your vibrator between your open legs.

It’s pretty intense work. Sometimes.

But all in all: no. You never…y’know.

One week in, you were cooking dinner whilst telling Trevor – thirty-nine, Buffalo, New York – how you’d take his huge, throbbing dick in your throat and let him fuck it. He asked to hear how turned on you were, just talking about it. You lowered your phone down to the pot of macaroni and gave it a stir.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned down the line, “you’re so fuckin’ wet right now, huh?”

Huh.

Tonight, you had pizza rolls. Less sexy.

You just got off another call. Thirty minutes of describing how good you’d take him up your ass. You’re bored, turned off by this point, and tired. It’s almost 3AM.

You pace around your apartment, flicking switches off and tossing cushions back into place. Spilling small sips of wine from your glass onto your tongue as you’re plunged into darkness, one click at a time.

You don’t get much while the sun’s up. Most days, nothing at all. That works for you, though. You can run errands, grab groceries, do sweet-fucking-nothing whilst waiting for the influx of calls that will inevitably come your way by nightfall. When the streetlights come on, the rush hour traffic dies out front, the shuffling of tired feet up the concrete staircase outside your front door slows down – you just log in, and your cell will eventually start to ring.

Your cell, which now lies wedged between the couch cushions. You notice the sound of it vibrating as you’re pulling your curtains closed. Half-way shut, you desert them and wander over. Intrigued.

No Caller ID. The usual. You swipe right. The robotic voice tells you there’s a request on your account for a ten-minute call. Tells you to dial 1 to accept, or hang up.

Ten minutes? At three in the morning?

Usually, at this time of night, they’re longer. They’re drunk, or their partner finally fell asleep, or they just want your attention for a bit. See them through the uncomfortably quiet night.

But ten fucking minutes?

Ten minutes would make you somewhere around thirty-five dollars. They had the option as the timer ran out to extend the call, if they wanted. Most of them did. And that worked fine for you.

You’re unemployed. Who knows what money you’ll have in a week’s time? An extra thirty bucks – probably more – right before bed? A little nightcap?

You dial in and answer the call.

He doesn’t say anything when it connects. You hear the ruffling of clothes.

Your voice naturally dips a couple octaves, coats in something smooth and husky. Glistening, gleaming, sex-driven. “Hello?”

He clears his throat. His voice is deep, rich. More vibration than speech. He speaks with a Southern drawl, like bare skin running over silken sheets. It’s smooth, and sensual, and sexy. “Evenin’.”

You knock the last light switch off with your hip and doddle through to your bedroom. Mornin’, actually. “Hi. What’re you after, baby?”

He takes a beat to reply. More ruffling. He chuckles a little before he says it. “Baby? That what you wanna call me?”

Your glass scrapes softly across your nightstand. You bounce down on your mattress, springs moaning as you roll onto your stomach. Knees bent, your ankles link in the air. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Guess we can figure that one out together.”

“Alright. I like a challenge. You wanna start with your name?”

Another pause. He sucks in a deep breath. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat, thumb picking at your nailbeds. “That’s a sexy name.”

He doesn’t respond. Just gives a non-committal grunt, and a smile pulls across your lips.

“What are you into, Joel?”

He sniffs. “Thought we could figure that out, too.”

Something in the way he says it, the curve in the words, maybe, tells you he knows damn well what he’s into. What he means is: you can figure that out by yourself.

Like you said: you like a fucking challenge.

“You like nicknames? Daddy? That kinda thing?”

A low growl passes his lips. “Not this early on, I don’t.”

You know from the hitch in his voice that he likes it. That little catch at the bottom of his throat, the way the words stumble on their way up. Know you’ve plucked a string deep inside.

“Well, you know you only got ten minutes, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“’kay,” you sing, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You exhale, drawing shapes on the pattern of your bedsheets. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, then? What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Cowboy. It’s the accent. He sounds Texan, or something. His words float through the receiver all wound, coiled up and tight.

Joel doesn’t seem to care. He answers your question truthfully.

“Thinkin’ about what you’re doin’ right now.”

You smirk. Sometimes you like the attention, too. You turn your head, check the clock by your bed. Two minutes have passed.

“I’m…lying in bed, in the dark. Had a couple wines, feelin’ pretty good. But this is all about you, so.”

He chuckles softly. “’m lyin’ in bed, too. In the dark.”

“You feelin’ lonely?”

He takes another deep breath. You figure he does this before he gives most answers. He sounds the contemplative type. Always double, triple checking his sentences before he lets them go.

“Just need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“Okay,” you breathe, “let me. What do you need?”

There’s a long break between the end of your question and the sound he makes before he answers. You pull the phone from your ear and glance at the screen to make sure it’s still connected. Time says another two minutes have passed.

Joel grumbles. It echoes around your ear like thunder in the distance. “You touchin’ yourself?” he eventually asks.

“Uhuh,” you reply, nails picking at a loose thread on your comforter.

“Yeah? How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you mewl, tugging at the seam. Your teeth grit as you yank at it. “So – fucking – good.”

There’s another growl from the other end. It vibrates through your speaker, purrs in your ear.

“You ain’t fuckin’ touchin’ yourself.”

Your hand stops. Your eyes stick on the thread. “I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how.”

You roll your eyes, turning onto your back. Your fingers play with the buttons of your shirt. Fuckin’ – tell me how. “I’m…” you sigh, “…I’m laying in bed, on my back. My hands are –”

“What you wearin’?”

“Isn’t that the sorta stuff you oughta ask when I first pick up?”

He speaks calmer. Clearer. You can hear the smile on his lips. “’m askin’ you now. What you wearin’, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. So he’s that type. Whatever. He’s kind of pissing you off.

“A shirt. And socks. And panties. No bra.”

“’n where you touchin’ yourself?”

You huff. “Between my –”

“Watch the attitude.”

You almost fucking laugh. Your breath escapes your chest in a silent burst. “Between my legs,” you tell him, flat and annoyed.

“Mhm. Above or beneath the panties?”

“Beneath, daddy.”

A tiny groan passes his lips. He doesn’t mean for it to, and a second, angry grumble follows, like he’s pissed at himself for letting it slip.

You take a lock of hair and twirl it around your finger, pulling tight until the tip whitens. “You touching yourself?” you ask, voice sickly sweet.

Joel ignores you. “Take it off. The shirt,” he clarifies, when you don’t answer.

You shuffle around a little, making sure he can hear the movement. You unbutton the shirt until it’s lying loose over your breasts, then tug it down over one shoulder.

“Alright,” you tell him with a heavy breath, laying back on the mattress, “it’s off.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Mhm.”

Joel chuckles under his breath. “Know when you’re lyin’, angel. Take – it – off. Don’t be a brat about it.”

This is half the game for him, you realize. This is his thing. He gives commands, you disobey them, and he kicks you into line. Tells you to behave.

You figure you like it almost as much, going by the heat pooling between your legs.

Your shoulders lift and you tug the shirt over them, tossing it to the floor. You lie back, bare against the sheets, and your hand instantly cups over your breast.

“Better,” Joel breathes.

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb.

“You’re gonna touch yourself.”

“That what you want?”

“’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

You don’t take much more convincing. Your hand slips down your front, cups over your mound. You gasp when your fingertips brush against your clit.

Joel hears. “Yeah,” he hums, “’s a good girl. Take those panties off ‘n rub that pretty little clit for me.”

Your fingertips give one last kiss to the fabric of your panties. Your mouth tips open a fraction. You suck in a quiet breath, and push your hips up off the bed. The lace slips down your thighs in one motion.

Joel’s grunting steadily now, small noises slipping past his lips and into your ear. You spread your legs and push against your bud again, massaging the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, and he groans in response.

“I know, I know,” he’s saying, and you hear the metal tinkle of his belt buckle. The fraying sound of denim being shifted. One slow, relief-filled groan.

His hands are on his cock.

You’d put more effort into caring that he’s been fully clothed this entire time, if you could think straight. You’re applying more pressure to your clit, rubbing faster, harder, then letting your fingers drift downward, move between your gleaming folds.

“Wish I was there with you so bad,” Joel purrs, and your eyes flutter open.

“Yeah?” you choke.

“Yeah.”

“What would you – do to me?”

He shudders. “Would fuck you real good, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, fingers circling faster.

There’s a gentle tugging; a rhythmic breathing. The odd break in his voice when his hand tightens, or you make a sweet little sound, or he catches himself giving too much away.

“Fuckin’ – be all over you. Nice ‘n hard. You want that?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, panting. “Want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you do,” Joel says. You can hear the sticky sound of his precum, leaking from his tip and running between his fingers, being pumped down his shaft by his fist. “Feels good, angel, don’t it? When you do what you’re told?”

“Y-eah,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you picture a tight fist choking a thick cock. Picture that same fist unwinding, curving around your mound, fingers pushing deep inside you.

“Joel,” you whimper, and your fingers move down again, dipping nearer your tight, wet hole.

He grunts in response. “Don’t – not yet,” he tells you.

You whine.

“You got somethin’ else to use?” he asks, then interrupts before you can answer. “Yeah, you do. Go get it, sweetheart. Tell me what you got.”

“V-vibrator,” you mumble, hoisting yourself up and lunging across the bed to your nightstand. You haul the drawer open and sift between balled-up socks until you’re clutching the long, thick shape, fingers tight around the dips and curves.

“Let me hear it, angel.”

You click the button and the toy whirrs to life, vibrating strongly in your hand.

Joel hisses. “Alright, sweetheart, lie back. Gonna put it on that pretty little pussy, alright? Gonna make yourself cum for me.”

“Uhuh,” you murmur, one hand lowering the vibrator between your legs, the other holding the phone to your ear in a vice grip.

You push the round tip down to your clit and your head falls back with a loud moan. Joel sends one straight back at the sound of yours. It fades into a whimper, a desperate cry as you massage yourself with your toy.

Your legs clench as you dip it lower, letting the head nudge against your entrance, sending flutters of pleasure across your dripping cunt.

“Don’t fuck yourself,” Joel instructs, and your hand quickly pulls back. “Save it.”

This mystery man, who you’ve known for – if your clock is right – eight minutes, now; whose name is the most information you’ve gotten out of him; and whose face you couldn’t pick in a lineup…has such a hold on you, that your body instinctively reacts to his every word. An automatic reaction to do exactly as he says, when, five minutes ago, you couldn’t wait to get him off the phone.

You fucking listen to him. Save it for what? your head asks, and you ignore it. You don’t push the toy any closer to your center.

It drives hard against your clit, fast vibrations rippling down on the hot, swollen skin. It sends floods of warmth between your legs, drawing your arousal slick and wet from between your folds.

Your chest is damp, gleaming with sweat. Your breath cuts short in your throat, guttural noises replacing it as they reverberate through your mouth, across your tongue and into your dark bedroom.

Your walls start to clamp around nothing. You angle the vibrator so that it sends deep pulses across your pussy, shutting your eyes to picture Joel’s thick cock burying deep inside you as you climax with a loud, broken cry.

“Yeah, good girl. That’s it. Sound so pretty, angel. ‘s a good girl.”

You’re whimpering his name as you come down, holding the toy to your clit and letting your high wash over you. Your chest jumps, breaths heavy and staggered, gasping for air and then letting it rush out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“You know how good you are at that?” he asks, when your breath steadies again.

You giggle softly. “’s why I do it, baby.”

“Worth every fuckin’ penny.”

You sit in the post-orgasm haze for a few seconds, waiting for the room to stop spinning and your body to feel like yours again. You pull the phone from your sweat-stuck cheek and glance at the time. You have less than thirty seconds left. Joel seems to do the same, for his voice returns to your ear in a gentle, low whisper.

“Alright. Speak soon, angel. Be good.”

The call cuts.

----------

taglist: @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller x callgirl!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller

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ioniansunsets · 7 months

Note

pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease i want to braid kayn’a HAAAAIR!!!!!!! I WANT TO USE CUTE HAIR TIES AND SANRIO HAIR CLIPS TO MAKE HIM FEEL SO PRETTY 🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍🧍

✖ Braiding Kayn's Hair ✖

✖ Word Count: 715

✖ Tags: Established R/S, Reader is In the Shadow Order w/ Kayn

✖ A/N: YES I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND YOU. All I dream of is to play with his hair, is it soft? Tangled and coarse? Surprisingly smooth? WHO KNOWS I LOVE IT!

----

- The first time you braided his hair it was because it came horrendously undone mid mission and it was a mess. With frustrated grumbles and complaints coming from your partner as he quarrels with Rhaast you were at your limit. You sat him down, ripped some cloth from the corner of your outfit and delicately braided his hair for him. Almost intimate as your fingers run through his hair, bits of dried blood flaking off, the tangled mess somehow calmed in your hands. Working magic you turned his messy long hair into a neat and tight braid. Both him and Rhaast quiet. Kayn only giving you a soft " Thanks..." before continuing on his way. The cocky, prideful man didn't know how to respond to affections or soft moments like that.

- The second time was much different. Coming out of the bath, his hair was wet and tangled. Excitedly he turns to you sitting in your shared room, towel still wrapped around his waist. " Can you braid it again for me!" It seemed like he was thinking about it the whole time he was washing the blood off his skin. Maybe he just realized how nice your hands felt playing with his hair and fought against his pride. Who knows. You accept of course. It was nice. Being innocently close to him this way. The few soft moments in your life in the Order.

- Ever since then, you being the one in charge of braiding his hair was the norm. Every opportunity, every fight that left his hair free, he runs up to you, smiling excitedly, expectantly. A boyish laugh. " Y/N~" He coos, expecting you to come to his aid. To entertain yourself more, you soon started collecting bits and bops to tie into his dark locks. A red ribbon braided in for when you two were out in combat. Small flowers placed in when in the safety of the order. (Kayn was scary honestly so no other member ever dares says anything about it to his face.) Colorful clips and shiny bits in the privacy of your shared room. Braiding his hair became a special shared moment between the two of you. Something you only did for him, and something he only allowed you to do. His hair was also so delightfully thick it was fun to braid, there was so much you could stick in it without it falling out. It amused the both of you.

- Rhaast complains. A lot. Making fun of him. " The only thing in your hair should be blood of innocents Kayn." You shoot the Darkin a dirty look but all Kayn does is laugh taunting the weapon. " Rhaast is just jealous. Should we tie a ribbon around his handle?" The two of your laugh harder as Rhaast grumbles angrily. The two of you did do it by the way, wrapping the scythe in a ribbon as Rhaast screams threatening to take over Kayn right there and then

- Over time you've learn other ways to braid your partner's hair. The simple braid was his default, but in the privacy of your room, sometimes you let yourself get creative. A fishtail braid for when you two sleep together. A lace braid from his blue hair across the back of his head when you feel like seeing him a little pretty. He never protests, sometimes even humming happily as your fingers brush against his scalp. Letting you do what you want with his hair was special privilege reserved for his lover and you enjoyed that precious intimacy. Sometimes you'd even give his forehead a little kiss when you were done. He protests, but honestly, he secretly loves it. How soft you were with him in private like this.

- Zed commented on it once, when he popped by your room to give Kayn a briefing. Kayn's hair was done to the side, a delicate braid with flowers and ribbons. He didn't like being seen like this but it was Zed, hearing his mentor making a passing amused " Well that's different." remark made his face flush. Kayn was embarrassed but at the same time proud that his partner's abilities amused Zed. You had to stifle back your laughter at his reaction and what was effectively your boss giving you a shrug before leaving.

#I DONT KNOW HOW TO END IT #so it will stop here #i love bullying rhaast hes like a screaming angry cat #Shieda Kayn #KaynLeague #Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn x Reader #Kayn LoL #Anon Answer #Im shy i want to braid his hair #also we mourn heartsteel kayn having short hair rn #League of Legends Scenarios #SCENARIOS

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towriteloveontheirarms · 5 months

Text

Maths genius (Michael Gavey x Reader)

synopsis: You ask your class mate for a tutor session under the guise of desperately needing it. To his surprise he gets something much better than having to try to teach a girl maths.

warnings: flirting, smut, a bit of dry humping, p in v sex, afab reader

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @fan-goddess @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

A/N: Writers block still has me tight in it´s clutches, but I´ve watched Saltburn for the first time today and I didn´t want to write on this for another week so here you have my first Michael Gavey fic.

As you walk into the otherwise quiet library the clicking of your heels fills the room. Prompting a few students to turn their heads and look. You don't think much about them as you take a book from the large shelves and spot a person from your lectures. Michael Gavey. So you decide to sit down close to him. You had always thought him to be rather cute. Even if nerdy and slightly off putting, still.

You focus back on the book in front of you. However, in a matter of minutes however your confident posture crumbles to a confused expression.

It takes another while for you to look up from the book in frustration. So you miss the way he avoids eye contact at all costs. Yet you search it out nevertheless.

"Hey, you are Michael Gavey, right?" You speak quietly as to not disturb the other students.

“Uh yeah” His tone is nothing short of standoff-ish and at the same time surprised. It is clear that he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to.

It takes you back slightly, but you continue nonetheless. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you, but we are in the same class."

“Oh, we are. I don’t remember your name though.”

You offer him your name with a small smile. You understand that he hadn't had the easiest time connecting with your classmates, so you made a point to be different from them.

"Say, you are like a certified maths genius. Do you do tutoring?" You switch seats to sit right across the table from him.

A not entirely recognizable spark lights up behind the glasses as you do so.

“Uh… I don’t tutor or anything. Are you having trouble?” His tone softens ever so slightly.

"Yes. I have been falling behind ever since we started the new topic. I just don't get it. At all." You play with a strand of your hair and lean forward a bit in the hopes to make him say yes.

As soon as he identifies your flirting you can see he draws a blank. It's honestly kinda cute.

“Well, m-maybe you want to come over to my place later..." When he realizes that that could sound weird taken out of context, he quickly adds "So I can teach you.”

"That would be just great, but I thought maybe we could meet up at my dorm?”

You take one of your fingers to trace small patterns into the back of his hand. You know you are laying it on thick, it´s visible in the uncertain spark behind the nerdy glasses, lighting up his piercing blue eyes.

“Yeah, of course! Let’s do your room. What building are you in?” The way Michael nods so fast you are scared that his glasses fall off, makes you hide a giggle behind your hand.

"Gimme your hand." You grab a pen and pull his hand towards you.

When you write your room number onto the inside of his wrist, Michael´s eyes lock with yours like a deer in headlights.

“Got it. I’ll be over at 7:00. Will that work?”

"That works perfectly actually. I'll see you then." You give him a wink and strut away with what Michael believes to be a bit of a spring in your step.

“Um... yeah... see you then.”

His eyes follow your retreating form until you are out of sight, before he looks down at your note again, while you smile to yourself. There is only one more lecture separating you from your little `date´.

One lecture and one clothing change later, you are just about to freshen up your lipgloss when a faint knock can be heard from the door. Right on the time that you agreed upon. Michael looks down to his shuffling feet on the ground when you open the door to him, which gives you the advantage of seeing his full reaction to seeing your clothes. Bit by bit his blue eyes wander up over the thigh high stockings, pausing at the pleated skirt and over the oversized sweater until they come to a halt on your face. Instantly any sound of your name dies on his tongue.

“I um… I’m here for the… the math lesson.” He mumbles. It's almost comical how his face reddens as he pushes the glasses up his nose.

The reaction elicits a giggle from you. It is obvious that there will be a lot done tonight, but studying wouldn't take up the biggest part of it.

"Come on in." You take a step back to make way for his tall figure to enter your room.

He nods once as he does so. His gaze getting drawn back to you as he tries to maintain eye contact.

“You look… uh…”

"I look...?" It's kind of fun to see him struggle like this.

“H-hot. You look really hot and it’s distracting.” He quickly looks down so as to avoid your gaze again to hide the worsening of the blush. "So, where do we start?”

"At the beginning, maybe?" You smirk.

“Yeah… good point.” He sits down at the desk while you lean over him.

As he opens your book and begins to explain to you the foundations of the topic you let your breasts graze Michael's back and arm deliberately every now and again to put him off. It's not a hard task, with every brush of your sweater against his shirt, he stumbles over his words. It is palpable that no matter how hard he is trying to concentrate on the work in front of him, your body pulls his eyes away from the book again and again. At one point you even think you can see his length twitch underneath the cargo shorts. Letting this go on for as long as you can, you eventually put on a seemingly concerned and innocent face and lay a hand on his forehead as if to feel his temperature.

"My... You are so warm. Are you feeling well?"

Behind his eyes the wheels are turning in a desperate attempt to think of a clever response, but at this point it is just impossible. As soon as you placed your hand on Michael's forehead, all that comes out is “I-I… uh… I… “

"Come, sit on the bed. I think we should take a break from studying." You gently take his hands in yours to lead him over to the edge of your bed.

A lead without even thinking about it. The urge to just give himself up to you is building rapidly by the second.

“S-sorry. Uh… I mean I… “

"Shhh." You lay your finger under his chin to keep his gaze locked with yours. "Is this your first time?"

"Yes." Michael breathes out.

"Stop me if I go too far..." You murmur against his lips, closing your eyes just before you lean down more for your lips to meet in a feather light brush.

A shiver went through his previously relaxed body and his hot breath hit your lips harder as he kissed back. Your hand that currently holds him by the chin wanders upwards to cup one of Michael's cheeks. His hands begin to slide down the outside of your thigh, suddenly pulling you onto his lap. As he does so, the fabric of the skirt bunches at your waist. The action provokes your breath to falter and to press your body as close to his as possible. Instinctively your lips open further, to allow for a more intense kiss. One of Michael´s hands wanders behind your back to support you on his lap and then, finally, he moves his lips to your neck, giving it a soft bite.

"Oh, Michael." You whimper as his teeth graze your skin. Grinding your core against his lap as a reaction.

His hands wander further up under the fabric of your sweater, cold skin caressing warm skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Don't stop kissing me, please." Your words are barely a shuddering whisper.

His mouth leaves your neck and moves down your body to kiss your chest through the thick sweater. Sucking on your nipples until there are two wet spots staining it. The bundled nerves standing hard at attention, but your sweater is in the way of what you are doing, so his hands wander from just under your ribs further up. With a tingle running down your spine you lift your arms up in aiding him to throw the piece of fabric to the side. Not caring where it lands. You are all too glad to lose it. He too doesn't waste a single second and litters your breasts with kisses and nibbles. This time though, you feel a tug at the hem of your skirt.

The sensation makes your desire for him grow incredibly high. The zipper on the side gets opened fast and in a swift motion you lift your body off his lap just long enough to kick it aside. There is no time or need for words.

"Your body is incredible." The words hit your skin between heavy breaths as his hands run over your stomach, rubbing tight circles into the soft skin before continuing to wander down to massage your thighs. Michael's lips wander further down your body as well to follow suit. His warm tongue traces down your middle from the valley between your breasts down to just about your belly button. Your reaction to his teasing came instantly in the form of a quiet moan. Which got followed by a knock at your door. Assuming it was just your friend that forgot something the other day, you don't make an effort to stop what you are currently doing. She needed to learn eventually after all, a notion which gets you an uncertain look from Michael beneath you.

But you only place a finger on your lips in a sign to be quiet.

"Shhh" You whisper to him and then thread your hands into his short hair to guide his face right in front of your exposed chest. Something he willingly allows, attaching his lips to nibble at your bosom. Littering it with bite marks and hickeys, tracing every little curve of it. The ministrations get you to completely forget about the knock on the door just a second ago and also the one rule you set after it. Yet at his needy nibbles and licks you can't help being unable to hold back the squeal of enjoyment that sounds through the room.

In a hurry Michael moves his mouth away from your chest and covers your mouth with one of his hands.

“Shhhhh... Your friend will hear us.” His palm lays snug against your face, so as not to let any sounds through. Something that you allow until you get a better idea. Unbothered if the two of you can be heard any longer, you warp your lips around Michael´s long, slender fingers to swirl your tongue around them teasingly.

A shock of warmth goes through his body, making itself noticeable by the way his face burned. When you feel like he had been teased enough, you let his hand free with a wet `pop´

Immediately they get replaced by his lips once more as they catch yours in a searing kiss, at which you let out a most sinful sounding moan.

“Fuck…” Both of you curse under your breaths simultaneously.

By now he has done a great job at making you desperate for more and so your trembling fingers move down to work at the buttons of his shirt. It takes a while, but eventually and with a bit of teamwork, you are able to throw it to the ground as well. Just then Michael leans all the way back until his back lays flat against the mattress. The new position makes it easier for you to grind against him, a chance you use immediately by running your barely covered cunt over the tent in the blond's pants.

"I need more..." A tiny whimper passes Michael's lips. "Need to be inside of you."

At his words your hands stop caressing his body and come down to fumble open the button of his pants. Though you don't entirely grant him his wish yet. The moment is too good to not stretch out. His pants and underwear get pulled down barely as far as they need to, before you grind on his dick again. As you do so, his member twitches up to tease your covered clit, which makes your head fall back and mouth open to make way for steadily heavier growing breaths.

When you lean forward to lock your swollen lips with his again however you move your hips a bit too far. So as you move them backwards again you only have a short moment to process the fact that his cock had slipped past the lace panties and entered your fluttering, wet heat.

“You´re so tight.” Michael can´t fight off or quieten the loud moan any longer, but the complete lack of stimulation after what you had done previously began to get to you.

“Shit. Michael I really need you to move or else I´m going crazy.” Though it wasn´t an ask from your side it also wasn´t a command, yet the blond followed it instantly. His hands gripped your hips tightly and set a slow rhythm by guiding your movements to meet his thrusts.

Both of your moans, groans, whines and whimpers fill the room along with the wet slapping of skin against skin.

”Feels so good, Michael. Feel so good inside of me.” You lean back and prop yourself up on his thighs, allowing you to fasten the movements of your hips.

“I´m not going to last much longer. You´re so wet and perfect.” He mumbles as the flush on his cheeks darkened and spreading over his face until it reached the tips of his ears.

His cock twitches inside of you as if to underline that statement. So you lead one of his hands away from your hips to your throbbing clit. Picking up on your actions Michael's thumb rubs small, tight circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Reveling in the way your walls flutter even further around his length, bringing him closer to the edge as your noises become even more urgent and high pitched.

“Come for me.” You say when you feel yourself get close as well. It is a whisper at first, but with a little concentration from that hazy brain of yours, you are able to repeat it a little louder. “Come for me, now.”

The blond´s eyes roll back into his head, one last whimper leaves his lips and then the feeling of warm ropes of cum filling your core floods your body. His hips stutter in their movements, but yours are from done. Continuously and relentlessly they drive you up and down on his cock. Soon after Michael you get overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure, forcing you to sit back in his lap as your legs and hips shake from the climax. Swaying back and forth on top of him for a while, before you are able to catch your breath and think straight again.

“Shit…” You hear Michael whisper beneath you.

Looking down at him, you can´t conceal a giggle at how entirely fucked out he looks. His hair is mussed and his glasses sit slightly crooked on that sharp nose. It´s almost comical.

The two of you take some more time to come back to reality and get dressed again.

“I better be going now.” Michael croaks, lingering close to you for a second. Uncertain if he should say what he was thinking. “But um… If you would like to have another study session some time… I wouldn´t be opposed to that.”

“I wouldn´t be opposed to it at all either.” Followed your flirty response.

It surprises him visibly, though he manages to sort himself out rather quickly.

“Do you mean that?” He inquires.

“I surely do. Give me your number and I´ll call you.” It is more of a suggestion, but he gives you his number so fast you almost have trouble catching it the first time. Snapping your phone shut after saving it, you turn to look back at Michael.

“I can´t wait to see you again.” You wink and give a small, alluring wave.

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #michael gavey fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fic #saltburn fanfiction

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4ttack-ur-heart · 1 year

Text

Cherry Chapstick

Pairing: Armin x reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: Armin refuses to let you use his chapstick. No worries, you have other ideas on how to keep your lips from getting chapped.

(also just pretend chapstick is canon in the aot universe for the sake of the fic 😭)

Another long and grueling day of training was finishing up. The sun was setting through the huge forest of trees.

“Alright, trainings over! Rest up and be ready to head back in 15 minutes.” The squad leader said with his barking voice.

Your squad leader liked doing various training sessions with just your squad, something about strengthening the bond and making it easier to tag team during expeditions.

Landing on one of the branches to catch your breath, you sat against the bark let your body slouch for the first time that day.

“Tired?”

Looking up at the voice, Armin was standing in front of you. His new shorter blond locks shifting gently in the breeze as his pretty blue eyes locked on your figure. He was one of your closest friends. The friendship was honestly ideal with him giving you the guidance that you needed while you encouraged him when he was feeling insecure.

You nodded at him through half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile. “I’m so glad we have a day off tomorrow, I’ll probably spend it sleeping.”

Armin returned a smile at your words. “You’re almost there, (y/n). I’m sure your bed misses you too.” While you laughed at him, Armin squatted down next to you.

“What do you got planned tomorrow?” You asked and leaned your head against the tree. He pulled his green cloak tighter around his shoulders when the breeze kicked in.

“Probably go out into the valley and find a nice place to read.”

“By yourself? What about Eren and Mikasa?” You raised an eyebrow. The trio was pretty much inseparable.

Armin waved off your question with his hand. “They wanted to go into the city and I’m tired of third-wheeling. It wasn’t much fun as kids and still isn’t now.”

Nodding your head, you gazed once more at the sun just about to set. The orange hues casting over the green plains.

Armin finally sat down on the branch, his leg brushing up against yours. “God, I can’t stand this weather.” He muttered and started to fish for something out of his pocket.

With curious eyes, you saw him pull out a small tube. Chapstick? He uncapped it and gently spread it on his lips.

Armin chuckled when he caught you staring at him. “What? My lips are chapped.”

“I can see that.” You could also see his plump pink lips all shiny from the substance. “What flavor is it?”

“Cherry.” He pocketed the chapstick.

You inched over to him. Cherry was your favorite flavor, a timeless classic that forever held your heart. You were about to ask him for some when he seemed to have read your thoughts and immediately shut you down.

“No, you can’t have any.”

Instantly shocked at his words, your mouth was agape and you crossed your arms with a pout. “What, why?”

Honestly, you couldn’t care less… well maybe you cared a little bit. But being petty and dramatic was more fun however, especially in front of Armin.

“(Y/n), don’t take this the wrong way, but anything you touch immediately disappears.”

Ok, now you cared a lot a bit. “No it doesn’t!”

“Oh, you defended yourself real quick there, huh? Alright, tell me where Sasha’s hairbrush is.” Armin had a smile on his face as he rested his arm on his propped up knee. Sasha lent you her brush one day and it was never seen again. She made you buy her a new one the next day.

Your silence was the answer he needed.

“Maybe you know where Mikasa’s training gloves are?”

Again, more silence. She’d let you borrow them for training and you stupidly set them down when it was windy.

“Oh, wait! My blue sweater? Haven’t seen that in a while and you were the only person I lent it to.”

It was a rather chilly morning one day, so Armin lent you his infamous blue sweater.

Manipulative little bastard.

A slight blush dusted your cheeks. You glared at the blonde and scoffed. “I feel like this isn’t just about chapstick.”

Arming gave out a chuckle. “It is, (y/n). Don’t worry.” With that, Armin rose to his feet and patted your head as he walked along the branch.

Your eyes fluttered in satisfaction when his fingertips rubbed your scalp.

“I can’t even have a little?”

“No.”

Ugh, be like that then.

———

Your squad eventually had to make the journey back home. Riding next to Armin, your horses ran in sync as you both gave each other little glances every few minutes.

“Can I have some of that chapstick now?” Your voice rang over thundering steps of the horses.

“No.” Armin replied.

“But my lips are chapped!”

“Figure it out.” He shouted back.

Oh I will.

———

“Finally home.” You moaned and jumped off your horse and led her to the stables. Your body ached and sleep was all you were craving. It was dark by the time you guys got back and your squad leader gave his appreciation by quickly dismissing everyone.

Maybe I’ll skip dinner. I’m so tired.

Thoughts flowing through your head as you undressed your horse of her gear. Hanging the saddle on a peg, you brushed her mane and fed her some carrots.

“Eat up, Star. My pretty girl.” You cooed, gently running your hand over her nose. Another set of steps disrupted your intimate moment with Star.

Turning around, your eyes softened at Armin, who led his horse over by the reins.

“Hey, stranger.” He teased and began working on his horse. You smiled back at him and it was silent for a few moments, just the sound of the equipment clinking with movement.

You turned to look at him only to give a dry chuckle when you saw him pulling out his stupid cherry chapstick again. The stupid smile never left his face as he applied it.

“Ar-”

“No chapstick, (y/n).”

Damn.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say!”

Armin turned to meet your gaze with raised eyebrows. “What was it then?”

Shit. Think (y/n).

Armin chuckled as the silence answered his question. His hands gently brushed through his horse’s mane. “You’re a bad liar.”

A scoff left your lips. “I don’t like this new attitude of yours.”

Over time, Armin slowly broke out of his shell, no longer the dorky and nervous kid he once was- even though you loved that about him. Now, he was comfortable enough to speak his mind without a second thought, even to you.

“Get used to it, (y/n). Looks like you’ll have to find another way to keep your lips moisturized.”

You didn’t like the snarky look he had on his face. A sudden idea popped into your head. As Armin finished settling his horse for the night, you caught his wrist as he walked by.

A confused look adorning his features when he turned to look at you.

Without thinking twice, you pulled him towards you and stood on your toes. Lifting your head, your lips quickly planted themselves onto his.

You could tell he was caught of guard. His blue eyes widened at the sudden action and a startled whimper escaped him. It was kinda hot honestly. Pulling away, you rubbed your lips together and popped them. “Mmm, gotta love cherry.”

His lips were partly opened and a red rouge covered his face. He still couldn’t believe it.

“U-uh, I-”

“Night, Armin. See ya tomorrow.” You smiled innocently at him before brushing past him to leave.

His hand latched onto your elbow and pulled you back. Raising an eyebrow at him, Armin gripped both your shoulders before pulling you back in, lips meeting yours once more. His back was crouched down a little to meet your height. Now it was your turn to be surprised.

Oh. Oooh

He moaned slightly against your lips when you started kissing back.

The kiss lasted a few seconds before Armin slowly pulled away from you. You both were slightly panting from the adrenaline and the eye contact between you both never broke.

“There.” His hands still gripped your shoulders. “That should last you a bit.” With that, his hand moved just below your ear, his thumb brushing over your jawline.

Armin finally snapped himself of whatever trance you had on him and gave a small smile. “Meet me here tomorrow at noon, that’ll give you plenty of time to sleep in and you can join me in the valley.”

“O-okay.”

Without another word, Armin left the stables. Your mind ran crazy with thoughts. Yes, you kissed him first, but you didn’t expect him to actually want to kiss you again.

How in the world did he play the game better than you? It was your idea-

—————

The sun shines brightly through the curtains of your room. You let out a groan as the stiffness in your muscles were more prominent from yesterdays training.

Looking at the clock on the wall- 8:25 am.

You can still catch breakfast before it ends and relax a bit before meeting up with Armin.

Oh yeah…

What a peculiar night. You honestly thought Armin would either be confused or disgusted when you kissed him. Not flustered. Him kissing you on his own also surprised you. The little manipulators all grown up now.

You got up and threw on some random clothes, heading to the dining hall.

You quietly ate your food, only a few soldiers remained in the dining hall since breakfast was ending soon.

Time slowly passed by, and you decided to take a nap in your bed for another hour or two before leaving. The nap only left you more tired. After changing into a more presentable outfit, a simple button up and a long skirt, you threw your favorite sweater over. The material was soft and the fading but familiar scent was comforting to you.

Your footsteps were slow as you walked to the stables. The soreness in your body along with the tiredness still swirled in your system.

“(Y/n), over here.” Armin called out to you as he led his horse outside his stall. “Perfect timing, I was just getting ready to- is that my sweater?”

Oops. Yes, yes it was.

“Maybe.”

“I thought you said you lost it!”

“I never said I lost it.” You yawned. “Just never wanted to give it back to you.”

Armin chuckled and was a bit surprised at your words, he climbed on his horse and turned down to you, hand extended. “You ready?”

Nodding, you grabbed his hand and he pulled you up. Your legs straddled the horse and your hand hesitantly grazed his waist. It wasn’t until Armin flicked the reigns and the horse quickly trotted forward that you decided to wrap your arms tightly around his waist as he navigated through the towns.

“You good there?” He joked and placed his hand on top of your clasped ones that pressed against his abdomen.

—————

“You look nice in my sweater.” Armin commented, trekking his fingers gently through your scalp.

The warm breeze swayed the grass and wildflowers surrounding you. The meadow Armin took you to was beautiful this time of year.

Your head currently rested on his thigh. Armin was sat against a willow tree, a book in his other hand. Every so often, his hand would leave your head to turn the page and gently return.

“It’s mine now.” You mumbled through closed eyes. Armin insisted you try to nap again while he read. However, no one brought up the situation from last night. At the moment it almost seemed like it never happens. No one acknowledged it.

“Of course it is.” He said with a smile before taking his hand away from your head. He shifted and buried his hand in the pocket of his trousers. His leg raised your head slightly as he moved. “Sorry, I just can’t- dammit where is it?”

You craned your neck to see his agitated face. “What happened?”

“I can’t find my chapstick.” He muttered with a frown.

A giggle erupted from your mouth, making him look at you. “And you say I lose stuff?”

“Shut up.” He muttered.

You both returned to your original positions with you head still resting on his lap. The breeze continued to blow and you glanced at Armin to see the tips of his blonde hair blow across his face. The shorter hair really suited him.

You let out a small sigh and pulled the sweater tighter around your frame. Reaching into the small pocket, you pulled something out.

Uncapping it, you gently applied it to your lips and didn’t miss the way Armin was staring at you dumbfounded. The label was clearly a different color than his. No, this one was yours. All yours.

“It’s strawberry and before you ask- no you can’t have any. I wouldn’t want you to lose this one too.” A devilish smirk crossed your face. Payback was a bitch. If he could be petty, so could you.

Armin sat back and mumbled something incoherent. His book was now discarded to the side and his arms were crossed with a pout. Memories of last night flooded his thoughts.

The way he held you. The way he looked at you. How you tasted.

You looked up at him with innocent eyes and rubbed the substance coating your lips together. He was staring at you.

You let out a small laugh as he pulled your body up and lowered himself down closer to you. You didn’t miss the way his eyes stared into yours before darting to your lips, then back to your eyes. He was so close. Then as if he decided it was right, Armin’s lips were encasing yours once more.

You gave a small sigh into the kiss and your fingers raked through his blonde hair.

Armin’s tongue gently swiped against your bottom lip and before you could open your mouth for more, he pulled away.

“You’re right.” He said and rubbed his own lips together. “Cherry does taste better.”

You were a little disappointed at the sudden break in contact. Sitting your body up, you faced him. “We can get you more when we head back into town.” You offered and avoided your gaze.

Maybe he was just getting payback for last night?

Armin rolled his eyes and pulled you back towards him. “Yeah that sounds good, but I like this option better.”

And he kissed you again. More passionately this time.

He suddenly pulled your body against his so you were fully sat in his lap, emitting a small squeal from you. Your legs curled into his side and his hands were placed at your waist, thumb brushing your hip.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Just take me out and we’ll call it even.” You replied, your arm wrapping around his neck.

“Okay.”

——

Taglist: @cullenswife

(Lmk if you wanna be added <3)

#armin x you #armin arlert #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fluff #aot imagines #aot drabbles #armin x reader #armin arlet fluff #armin arlet x you #armin arlet x reader #aot headcanons #armin fluff #armin arlet imagines #armin arlet headcanons

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hertzwritings · 1 year

Text

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

A/N: Am I alive? Physically, yes. Am I okay? Probably not. Did I miss all of you guys and writing? YES. Honestly, it’s been weird not writing and keeping in contact with all of you, but I’m trying to get back to it – and that brings us to here. Also, I’ve been listening to Sleep Token on repeat, so I’m feeling things.

I don’t have a set schedule right now, mostly because I have no idea if I’ll be posting regularly or just on a whim, but for now, I’m just getting back in the groove of things!

Your comments, likes, reblogs mean the world to me and would definitely help me stay on it, so if you’ve got anything to say, say it, my loves.

Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s errors in grammar or language, try to overlook it. Love you all!

Also, please be gentle wit me on my first day back – it’s like being nervous to start a new school, really.

MASTERLIST

Ask me anything/requests/tag list requests

Pairing: NotFamous!Henry Cavill x female reader

Warnings: Language, dorks being dorks, meet cute, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, smut (18+, minors DNI), dirty talk, slightly dom/sub, spanking, p in v, tongue on v, blowjobs, slight Msub to Mdom, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, petnames

Wordcount: 4633 (whoops)

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

Laundry day. Probably the worst of days, especially considering the hefty trek from your 5th floor apartment to the basement, which would be bad enough in and of itself, but carrying the massive load of laundry down without a functioning elevator without spilling half of your delicates did seem like an almost impossible task.

At any rate, you were going to do it, and you were going to be a strong, independent woman, who could definitely carry it down and back up again without dropping a thong or three (like last time, where Pete from 5D was lurking).

You heaved the blue IKEA-bag higher on your shoulder, silently cursing yourself for not actually doing the damned laundry more than you did, and began the descent into the musty basement, your trusty laundry-tokens jangling in your pocket of the loose shorts, you were wearing.

It took longer than you’d like to admit, and you almost did drop the entire bag down a flight of stairs, but you made it and with a loud grunt, you pushed the door to the basement and laundry-room open, almost stumbling inside.

“Oh.” You locked eyes with a very handsome stranger, who looked up from the only dryer, hands still buried pretty deeply in there. “Oh, you need this one?” He asked politely, and that voice – smooth velvet, mixed with a deep rumble that settled nicely in your chest and between your legs. The accent didn’t help at all with how attractive you found him, either, and you shifted your weight slightly. Fuck. “I-I… I’m… Not right…” You squeaked, silently cursing yourself for wearing your gray, tattered t-shirt with a faded logo on it, that definitely did not do anything nicely for your shape. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m sorry, no. I’m still in the early laundry-stages.” You said with a smile, and immediately wanted to die. Laundry stages?? He grinned, a fanged tooth catching his lower lip. “Alright. New to the building?” He asked, casually loading a basket with his clothes.

“Sort of. More of a recluse, that have been living here for a month, and just never do laundry at normal people-times.” He chuckled and stood up to his full height. He was an impressive man, easily towering a head and a half above you, and he looked enormous. Muscles rolled under his perfect skin on his arms, and you couldn’t help your brain going in all other directions than polite talk with a neighbor. “Well, nice to meet you, recluse. I’m Henry.” He balanced the basket on his hip (a beautiful move, if you were honest) and extended his hand, which you cautiously shook. “I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile. His hand was warm and the grasp was firmer than you had expected, small callouses on the tips of his fingers that graced the inside of your wrist deliciously. Fuckedy fuck. “Y/N. Good name.” He winked at you. “Oh, don’t use the second washing machine…” He pointed to the washer with a bright red 2 painted on it. “Stinky Pete from 5D used it, and I don’t want to imagine what on earth he washed, but it still smells vaguely like rot.” He winked at you. “Bye, Recluse Y/N!” And with that he left, leaving you slightly shellshocked and a scent trail of hazel and wood behind.

It went on like that for a few weeks; you showed up, he was already there in various states of undress (once you even came face to face with him in just boxers, because he had spilled what appeared to be red wine everywhere) and you exchanged pleasantries before leaving the basement and going back to your apartment, sighing deeply over the fact, that you never actually talked to the handsome stranger.

----------

A while later, a little past midnight, you were back at it (still no working elevator) and found yourself face to face with the very handsome British man, who this time was wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a tank top, that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You could see every single muscle underneath the shirt as he loaded the laundry.

“Ah, look who’s back!” he grinned at you. “I saved the best washer for you, but don’t tell Mrs. Selton on the fourth. She can’t know I play favorites, or I’ll never get cookies again.” You laughed. “Alright, your secret’s safe with me, sir.” You said and stood next to him, before starting to load the washer. He tried to say something, but almost bit his tongue and groaned at the sensation. “Are you always this smooth?” You asked, laughing slightly, as he began coughing. “Inhaled… Spit…” He coughed again. When he was finally breathing normally, he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know, this is in no way an indication of how I handle normal interactions with people. It’s late, and I’m slightly flustered.” He said with a small smirk.

“Mhm.” You nodded, while mindlessly stuffing your washer. “Sure, I’ll believe you.” “Hey, you don’t know me.” He said, leaning against the dryer and crossed his arms. “Maybe you know my name, and probably the color and general state of my underwear, but you don’t know me.” “I never said anything.” You grinned and closed the lid on the washer. “Wait, that’s not even close to full.” He tsked at you and opened it again. “You have to really stuff it in there, or you’ll be down here until morning.” “Excuse you, can you get your hands off of my laundry, you weirdo.” You slapped his hand away. “Maybe I don’t want my clothes overly wrinkled, have you considered that?” You asked. “Pfft. That’s the charm of communal laundry. It’ll always smell a little like other people and it will be wrinkled.” You guffawed. “Sure thing, Henry. Any plans for tonight?” you asked, mindlessly pouring detergent into the container. He looked at you with his head tilted slightly, a few stray curls bouncing onto his forehead. Goddamnit, it should be illegal to look like that when doing laundry. “Eh, not really. It’s Sunday, Sundays are for me and my boy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Your boy, huh?” “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am indeed a parent. I have a child.” He said proudly, leaning over you to press the on-button for you. You jumped onto the counter behind you and sat down on it, insistingly ignoring the creaking of the wood beneath your butt. That’s an insecurity for another day. “Really?” He nodded. “Would your boy happen to be a giant dog?” he frowned. “How the hell did you know that?” You pointed to the unwashed load of laundry, where a suspicious amount of hair had settled on pretty much everything. “Why are you pointing at my... Yeah, well, that is a lot of hair…” He looked back at you with a furrowed brow. “Why are you even looking down there? My laundry should be sacred!” He said teasingly, covering the basket with his arm. “Well… That’s… Uhm… Anyway.” You laughed. “Are you just down here for fun, or did you wait for me?” You asked with a grin. He shrugged. “Oooor… Did you wait for me down here, because we’re the only people in this building that are somewhat close in age, and you are trying to befriend me, which is why you’ve hidden a bottle of wine in your laundry?” “Stop making assumptions that are astutely accurate, it’ll turn weird soon.” He groaned, and – as you thought – pulled a bottle of rosé out of his laundry. “I’m not astutely accurate, I didn’t know it was rosé.” You grinned. He laughed lightly and cocked an eyebrow. “To be fair, it’s mostly because I have nothing to do, and I have a feeling you never celebrated moving here. So…” He opened the bottle with a swift move and pulled two red solo cups out of the basket. “Drink?” You laughed.

“Love to.”

“Okay, come on, why on earth are you keeping these?” He asked, holding a very old thong between his fingers. “Shut up, and stop fondling my underwear, you freak!” you quickly grabbed it from him with a laugh. The bottle had been emptied, and a new one had been brought down and for some reason, in your tipsy mind, it was a great idea helping each other folding each other’s clothes while you were waiting on the load that was currently spinning in the dryer. “I’ll have you know, some clothes are sentimental!” You said, throwing the thong into your blue IKEA-bag. He snickered. “How on earth is tattered and holed thongs sentimental? Besides, to be quite frank, at this point it’s just… Like… A string.” He laughed. “You’re the one to talk! You threw a pair of his socks at him. “I have never seen so many pairs of boxers with holes in them!” He shrugged. “I call it the surprise.” You frowned. “The surprise?” “The surprise.” He moved closer to you, and every single hair on your body stood up, while your breath hitched. He whispered into your ear, closely enough for you to feel his lips touch your earlobe. “If I’m feeling very saucy, I’ll simply rip them off and yell surprise!.” He said and laughed, sending vibrations through your entire body. “Ah, why of course. That’s a totally normal thing to do.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes a little darker than usual. “As opposed to being sentimentally attached to a thong?” he asked, his arms caging you in – it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it did make your thighs shake a little. His scent enveloped you completely and made it almost impossible to think. “Many tings are sentimental. Underwear, stuff…” You answered lamely. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. When did his face get so close? “Ah, of course. Stuff and thongs. Nothing better than relieving the good, old days of… Black thongs?” He said softly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Right. Besides, you have no right to judge me when your underwear looks like it could’ve been made during World War two.” You retorted, shifting slightly in place. He chuckled. “Well… Maybe I have to get new ones, then.”

His lips were so, so close to yours, all it would take was just a little nudge and you would be connected. He was intoxicating as he had you caged, muscles rolling in his arms, his scent of wood and something inherently Henry fully filled your brain, and you almost moved your head, but the sound of the dryer going off pulled both of you out of whatever that was.

“Second load done, one more to go!” He said a little breathlessly and pushed himself away from you – you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding and jumped down from the counter. “Great.” You whispered, bending down to grab whatever was in there – you would’ve just kept going, if it wasn’t for the small groan that sounded behind you. You turned your head around and caught Henry looking at your ass. “Excuse you.” You smirked. He cleared his throat. “Were you just looking at my ass, Henry from 4C?” “Uhm… No, I… I-” He groaned. “Fine, I was, but you can’t blame me! You’re bending down like that, and you’re wearing those fucking shorts… I can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous, darling.” You shivered. “Oh.” A thick silence fell between you, and you slowly stood up, laundry be damned. “Yeah, well… It’s an unfair advantage, I really tried to be proper and all that, but... Jesus Christ, Y/N.” he groaned again and closed his eyes – the small twitch in his gray sweatpants did not go unseen by you. “Respectfully, are you wearing anything underneath those sweatpants?” You asked, slightly out of breath while heat and wetness were pooling in your panties by the mere idea. “Maybe, maybe not. Are you wearing anything under that?” He asked, opening his eyes slightly. “No, my sentimental thongs are in the laundry.” Wherever the confidence came from, you had no idea, but his reaction to you was more than enough for you to keep going. You were slightly shaky as you moved a step closer to him. “Y/N…” He whispered. “Henry…” You were chest to chest to him now, his lower back against the counter. It was slightly exhilarating to have the control, especially over such a big man as Henry. “Henry…” You whispered his name again, and a fucking whimper fell from his lips. Yeah, fuck this.

You pounced – as best as you could, height difference and all – and the moment, he realized what you were doing, his arms wrapped around you and lifted you slightly, so your lips could connect. It was electric. No, not electric, it was like a symphony of colors, feelings and it was like plunging into cool water, when his lips touched yours. You moaned against his lips, and he gasped, letting your tongue glide against his. Deepening the kiss, he straightened up slightly, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life. Your lips and tongues slid against each other fervently, a slight groan reverberating from his throat send you over the edge. You bit his lower lip, pulling a soft moan from him, and wrapped your hand in is hair, tugging it slightly. The reaction was better than you could’ve ever imagined. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard, while a mix of moans and your name tumbled from his lips to yours – you could feel his hard length pressing against the sweatpants and your shorts, and you were sure you were leaving wet spots on his pants. “Fuck, Henry…” You mumbled his name, and he turned around to place you on the counter, before going to your throat, kissing and biting. You moaned at the feeling and threw your head back. “Harder.” You moaned, and felt him smile against your skin, before his teeth sunk deeper into your skin, his large hands tightening their grip on your thighs, causing you to roll your hips. “Fucking hell, darling, I can almost taste you from here…” He whispered against you, his hands moving upwards. “Hmm, really?” You moaned, rolling your hips again. “Nobody’s stopping you.” You tugged his hair again for good measure. “No, you’re right about that.” He mumbled, his hands dancing up, up, up, until they reached the waistband of your shorts and gently pulled them down, letting the fabric slide down your legs – you lifted your ass from the counter, allowing them to fully fall off of you, and he groaned at the sight in front of him. “Fuuuck, darling… I can see how fucking wet you are… Can I taste you?” He asked, his darkened eyes finding yours, chest heaving. You cocked an eyebrow. “Ask nicely.” He chuckled, a thick finger gliding along your hip, slowly inching towards your mound. “Please, Y/N, please… Fuck, I need to taste you, please, let me taste you… let me eat you out until you cum on my tongue.” For a seemingly proper British man, he was filthy. “Yes.” He didn’t wait a second before moving down your body, teeth catching both fabric and nipple on his way down, before he stopped, licking his lips, while looking at your exposed, dripping pussy. “Y/N…” He mumbled your name like a prayer, and before you even had the time to breathe, he licked a thick line along your lips, parting them with it. He moaned at the taste and dove in like a man starved. You mewled at the feeling, his tongue moving around your clit, fingers still on your inner thigh, and you could barely hold your upper body up as his tongue dipped inside of you. “Fuck, yes… I want to feel you cum on me, darling…” He mumbled against you, his hips rutting slightly into nothing. “Fingers. Please, fingers.” You managed to moan as his tongue went back to your clit, hardening against it as he began to eat you out with an intensity you’d never experienced before. He obeyed silently, adding two thick fingers into your dripping pussy, curling them upwards. You bit back a scream as they filled you, slowly sliding in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over, while his tongue did magic on your clit; you’d forever be ruined by this man, and he hadn’t even been inside of you yet. “Fuck!” You bit back a scream as he sped up, tongue and fingers working in perfect unison to pull you closer to the edge; he chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit. “Be quiet, little bird, or someone will hear.” He said slowly, taking a small break from your clit. “Fuck off, it’s like three in the mo-or…” You didn’t finish your sentence, as he dove back in, this time with a speed and intensity, that could’ve killed you on a different day. “Shit, I’m gonna…” He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, and he slurped your juices from you, keeping the pace as best he could. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby… I want to feel you cum, can you cum for me, please…” He whimpered as your pussy pulled his fingers deeper inside of you, and you shook slightly.

You couldn’t stop it, even if you wanted to. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, white spots appearing in your vision, and you felt, more than heard, his moaning as you rode your orgasm out on his face and fingers.

“Fuck, baby, look at you… You squirted for me, didn’t you, darling?” he looked up at you with a devilish smirk on his face, that was shimmering with your cum under the low fluorescent lights. You moaned – his fingers were still going in and out of you. “Now…” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. “You get on your knees, darling.” E stood up and wiped his face gracefully, putting a single finger in his mouth. “You taste fucking amazing.” He grinned at you and stood to his full height, a sense of authority filling the room. “Knees.” He commanded, and who were you to deny that? You slid down from the counter on shaky legs and landed on your knees, looking up at him. “Fuck, darling, you can’t look at me like that, I’ll fucking cum here and now.” He groaned. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” You said while your fingers grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free. You almost salivated at the look of it. Thick, throbbing slightly, a thick vein running down the length of it and a drop of precum sparkling under the lights. He was huge. “Well, what are you waiting for, little bird?” he chuckled, before he cut it off with a moan, as your lips wrapped around the tip, and you slid down as far as your jaw and throat allowed you to. He moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and you choked slightly on it – you were dripping wet, as you began to move back and fort on his length, swallowing as much as you could, reveling in the taste of is precum. He twitched slightly and a choked moan spilled from his lips, as he thrusted forwards. “Fuck, baby… Shit, you’re really... Fuck… Good at this…” He moaned. You smiled around his length and moved faster, hearing the choked moans above, spurring you on. “Fuck, baby, stop, stop, stop… Stop, I’ll cum if you keep going…” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting you, and you looked up at him with big eyes. He groaned and held your chin with a large hand. “Good girl. I want to feel you before I cum, darling.” He whispered, gently guiding you up to your feet again by your chin. He kissed you deeply before turning you around, bending you over the counter. “Fuck, this ass… You’re a fucking wonder, baby…” He reveled, a hand falling on your ass. You moaned at the sensation and your hips bucked, exposing yourself more to him. “Oh, look at you, doing so fucking good for me already, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned again. “Henry, please…” You whimpered his name and tried to push back to get him inside of you, but he chuckled and held you tightly in place. “No, baby girl, you’re going to stay right there.” He ran a hand down your spine and slapped your ass again, forcing a whimper from you. “Now, you ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.” He said darkly, his hand gently running circles over your ass, sometimes dipping between your legs. You coked on a moan, and barely had the wherewithal to create a coherent sentence. “Please, please, p-please, fuck, Henry, please… Please f-fuck me, I’m begging you-u…” His finger dipped inside of you. “You want to feel my cock slowly slide inside of you, baby?” He asked, dragging his finger in and out painfully slow. You whimpered a broken yes. “Want to feel me dragging against your walls, huh? Want me to fill you, let my cum drip out of you?” You were a shaking mess as another finger was added. “Y-yes…” You felt like crying. It was so good, but so torturous to feel his fingers glide so fucking slowly. “Ah, you can do better than that, darling.” He said, bending over you – you could feel the tip of his cock against your ass, as his mouth found your neck again. “P-please, Henry, please… I want to feel your cock in me, please…” “Mhm… I want to fill you up, darling… I want to watch my thick cock slide in and out of your tight pussy, seeing you take me…” He rambled, fingers moving faster now, and you groaned at his words. “Fuck, y-yes, Henry, I’m b-begging you, please…” you mewled. He withdrew his fingers too quickly for your liking, and he spat on your already soaked pussy, before lining himself up. “You think you can take all of me right now, baby? Let my thick cock go as deep as it can, huh?” He asked, rubbing the tip against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. You nodded, desperate for anything at this point. “No, no, that won’t do, little bird.” He tsked at you and his free hand wrapped around your hair and tugged slightly, arcing your back as your head got pulled back. You moaned loudly. “Mhm, keep the sound down, we’re in a public area, sweetheart.” He said with a small chuckle. “Ask me and mean it.” He ordered, the tip of his throbbing cock so fucking close to glide inside of you. “Fucking fill me, or I swear to god…” you begged, and whatever you wanted to say got lost in your throat, as he slid inside of you swiftly and in one, single thrust, bottomed out.

You shrieked in both pain and pleasure, your legs shaking and if he hadn’t kept a tight grip on your hair and waist, you’d probably collapse. “Oh, good girl, look at you taking all of me… Sit, it looks to fucking good to see my cock in you, baby…” He mumbled. He didn’t move yet, simply allowing you to adjust. After a few seconds, you rolled your hips to let him know you were good, and he chuckled darkly. “There’s a good, little slut, darling.” His words combined with his voice sent wetness down your thighs as he began moving, slowly at first, before picking up speed. You felt every single twitch inside of you, and he filled you to the brim. You had never been so fucking full before, and you’d never want to stop, if you were honest. He angled himself a little better and pistoned in and out of you; you saw stars and a red-hot burning started in your abdomen seconds before your orgasm hit you; it was blinding and your legs were barely functioning as you came around him, your pussy pulling him deeper, as your thighs got soaked and he moaned. “Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N… Fuck, I’m not going to last long…” He moaned as you twitched around him and met his thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the otherwise quiet room. “Fucking fill me, please… I want to feel you cum, I’m b-begging you…” you moaned, almost delirious at this point. He roared and bit down on your shoulder, before he picked up speed and began fucking you fiercely, his tick and long cock hitting your cervix slightly. You mewled and another rush of wetness went down your legs, as you neared another orgasm while he whispered praise and encouragements in your ear.

“Look at that fucking… Oh, fuck…” He groaned and thrusted harder than ever, his rhythm becoming irregular. “Look at you taking me so well, darling… You’re doing so good for me, can you cum again?” He licked the spot, he had just bitten. “Can you cum for me again, baby girl? Let me… Fuck… Feel you cum again?”

As if you could deny him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as you came wit a scream, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his length as he fucked you into oblivion. He roared with pleasure and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, grabbing it harshly before picking up speed and chased his own high. You were shaking, barely coherent as he fucked you relentlessly. “Henry… Fuck, please… Let me feel you cum… Fuck, p-please, I want to feel you fill me, please…” You moaned his name like a prayer, and he growled before his speed stuttered. “Fuck, baby… I’m going to fill you up, you’ll be dripping for days… I’m so fucking deep in your tight pussy…” he mumbled, his hand bruising your ass, wile he pistoned back and forth; he fell silent for half a second, before you felt him swell and twitch slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.” He growled. “Mine.” His cock pounded you relentlessly. “H-henry… Shit, y-yes, yes, I’m yours!” You mewled as he twitched again.

Ropes of his cum painted your insides, and you came with him as you felt the heat of his spend inside of you. Henry growled as you tightened around him again, and he jerked his hips so he was a deep as e could be, whispering praise to you, as you rode out your own orgasm.

You stayed bent over the creaky counter, sweat dripping form the both of you, his cock still inside of you, for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath.

“Shit, that was…” he whispered, kissing the bitemark on your shoulder gently. You shivered. “Mhmm…” Words did kind of fail you at the moment. He seemed to understand whatever you meant, at any rate, and chuckled gently, before slowly pulling out with a hiss. “Jesus Christ… You’re a fucking wonder, you know that, Y/N?” He asked, the sweetest smile painting his features. You grinned with slightly bruised lips, and pulled your shorts back up. No reason to try and clean up. “Says you.” He bent down and grabbed the black thong, that was more string than fabric at this point, at stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Sentimental value, you know?” You laughed. “Does this mean I get to see your surprise-move?” You asked jokingly. He cocked his eyebrow and a smile spread across his face – he was a goddamn Adonis.

“Well, I do have more wine in my apartment… And a bed…”

“Lead the way.”

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @buckyshattergirl @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @doubletriplepowerbomb @est1887@enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @jeepgirls-stuff @Keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg @sleutherclaw @sofiebstar @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4@thatonechickhere @themanfromu @thelastpyle @tragicphoenix13 @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea @severewobblerlightdragon @leigh70 @phildunphyisadilf

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavil #henry cavill superman #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x #henry cavill x you #enry cavill x y/n #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill au #henry cavill x you smut #henry cavill x you fanfiction #henry cavill x yn #henry cavill x y/n smut #henry cavill strangers to lovers

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maochira · 1 year

Note

can we get more itoshi bros???? ❤️

Writing for the Itoshi bros is fun but honestly I'm running out of ideas for them if not given a specific scenario,, but here's what my brain has to offer right now

So, earlier today I made this post about the Itoshi brothers having a toddler sibling who was born shortly before or after Sae left. So I'll do some more headcanons for that!

Check out my Blue Lock writing event!

Tags: fluff, gn!Itoshi!reader who was born shortly before Sae left to go to Spain, wow I write about the Itoshi bros and it's not angst? What a miracle

-Sae only got to spend a handful of months with you before he went to Spain, and while you do have a special place in his heart, there's just no bond between the two of you

-whenever Sae visited home, he barely knew what to do with you. He wasn't particularly fond of young children anyways, so bonding with you didn't really happen. Sae also didn't care that much for you anyways

-and honestly, Sae forgot about you most of the time while in Spain. Sure, he knew of your existence, but it's not like you played an important role in his life. There just wasn't enough time for him to develop a special connection towards you

-but hey, it was the same for you. Your parents always showed you pictures of Sae and you would watch his matches on TV whenever he played, but without him actually being there, there was no way to form a proper bond

-and whenever he visited, he actually seemed rather intimidating in your point of view

-but your relationship with Rin? Omg. Literally the cutest ever

-after Sae left, Rin started feeling like he was the big brother now. And he really wanted to be the best big brother he could be, because, in his thoughts, he would have to take the place of Sae's role as well, since you rarely got to meet your oldest brother

-even after Rin started getting bitter about Sae and he became cold towards literally everyone, you remained as his one and only softspot

-when you can walk properly, Rin would start teaching you soccer

-whenever Sae visited, Rin would be extra affectionate towards you, in attempt to make Sae jealous. It never worked, though, because Sae really didn't care

-the way Rin misses you when he's in Blue Lock. He wouldn't tell anyone about it, but yeah he misses you very very much. He misses playing soccer with you a lot and just having you around in general

#itoshi bros #itoshi brothers #bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #rin itoshi x you #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons

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fangsp1der-2099 · 8 months

Note

SANJI X FEM!READER PLS BESTIE I BEG U

basically with a reader that’s kinda like zoro, like really good with a sword and doesn’t show emotions that much pls🤓☝🏻

I LOVE THIS IDEA GIRL OML 😍

The Meaning of The Sea

Sanji x f!reader

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| Navigation| warnings: brief description of torture but it really is brief 😭.| a/n: honestly I love writing stuff like this like cold x flirty is such a good trope to me 😍. Hope you enjoy! 💞| tags 🏷️: @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

The sea had always been mysterious to you. It had a strange but alluring aura to it. You had always felt like you belonged to the sea. The salty breeze on your face and the gentle rocking of a ship on the waves had always comforted you.

However when you were recruited to Arlong’s crew, you didn’t feel that way. Was the sea punishing you? But what for? You didn’t know but whatever the reason you felt as if you didn’t deserve it.

Arlong was a dreadful example of a fish man. He treated you like a slave. He says you deserved it as you were human and humans were inferior to fish men. He would beat you until you bled and degrade you until you wailed for him to stop, but he never did. Because of this you became cold, you hated everyone around you, the only comfort you found was with Nami. She was another victim to Arlong’s empire however, even she got more freedom than you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day Nami had came back from her mission to recover the Grand Line map to Arlong. She looked almost happy? But why? Did something happen to her during her mission? You decided not to question it. Arlong would beat you if he found out you talked about his plans without his consent.

Later in the day, you became uneasy, a sense of dread but also hope washed over you. Arlong also seemed on edge, you heard him growling and he looked agitated after Nami had left him with the map. You were sat with a few fish men as they gambled away all of their berry when suddenly a loud bang came from the front gates, revealing five figures which included Nami. Pirates? Nami is with another crew?! You mind raced. Had she really betrayed Arlong? Betrayed you?

You looked at the other figures, a boy with a scar on his cheek was to Nami’s left and two others were to her right. There was another, just behind her. His sea blue eyes quickly locked with yours. You felt angry. How dare he look at you like that!? He flashed a smile at you, a tongue piercing peeked through his teeth. It was attractive but that attractiveness angered you. So as the rest of the fish men started the attack on the intruding pirates, you grabbed your sword and you headed to attack the blue eyed stranger.

You ran towards him and unsheathed your sword, ready to attack but as you swung, the blade connected with his foot. “Come on sweetheart you don’t have to fight with me, let’s go get a drink, maybe I could cook you something.” He winked at you. Was he trying to flirt with you during a fight? And why was he wearing a suit? “What sort of pirate where’s a suit?” His kick pushed you back a little but you recover and head towards him again. “The hot type sugar. You know you remind me of my friend over there.” He nodded to the green haired man. As you looked over, you lost focus and he kicked you again, this time his foot connected with your jaw. “For a guy in a suit your form isn’t bad.” You wiped away any debris he left on your jaw.

The back and forth attacks continued for a few minutes. He also continued to flirt with you. “Fuck off, this is a fight not some place to pick up girls.” You say breathlessly, he had worn you out. “Come on sugar, don’t be like that. I can help you. I’m sure Luffy would let you join the crew.” He walked over to you and he put out his hand for you to take it. “Come on love what do you say?” You slapped his hand away. “Why would I want to work with you? You come here and destroy my home and expect me to join you?” You took out your sword again but tears clouded your vision. “Are you sure you can call this your home?” His voice changed from a flirty to a soft tone. “Because to me, this looks like a prison to you. Nami has told us about you and how Arlong treats you love.” He moved closer. “You know nothing!” Your voice cracked through your tears and you fell to your knees.

He kneeled down to your level and places a hand onto your chin. “Join us, join me.” His voice turned into a plead. “I can’t, I don’t want to.” You wiped your eyes and you pushed away his hand away from your chin. “Fine love but you did this to yourself.” He stood up and swore to himself before he kicked you one last time, your head connects with the concrete beneath you and you lose consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up, your head hurt, a lot. Looking around all you saw was rubble and none of Arlong’s men could be seen. “What?” You said to yourself. A hand landed on your shoulder and you jolted at the touch. “Hey it’s ok. You’re safe now.” You looked over to see the blue eyed, blonde haired pirate next to you. “What do you want from me?” Your brows furrowed. “I’ll never join you, Arlong needs me!” You growled in his face. “Well love he’s gone so I don’t think he does.” He clicked his tongue and crosses his arms. His tongue piercing was in view again. God it’s hot! But then you took in his words. “Gone! He left! Without me!?” You worried that he had left you behind. “No he’s gone. Dead, at least he should be dead.” He interrupts your thoughts. Your mind stopped working. Dead? Gone? Forever? Your eyes watered. Why were you crying over him? After hurting you so badly? Maybe it was because you were finally free? A small “thank you” erupted from you. “You’re welcome sweetheart glad you’re ok.” He leaned down to you again and pats your head.

You took a deep breath before you reached up to him and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Wow!” He exclaimed as he straightened his tie. You saw a soft blush creep onto his cheeks. “So pirate, what’s your name?” You asked. He choked out “Sanji. What about you?” You told him your name and he put a finger to his lips. “Y/N?” Your names rolls of his tongue like a ships rolls along the sea. “Well Y/N, welcome to the Straw Hats.” He puts out his hand he lifted you up. You clumsily fell into him and he smirks at you. “No need to be hasty, we have all the time in the world.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this. I might make a pt.2 and put in some cheeky smut 🤭. Hope you enjoyed! 💞

#sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x you #one piece live action #one piece #one piece x y/n

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hydrobunny · 9 months

Text

waiting for you to be waiting below

tags: fluff, established relationship

a/n: hi guys long time no see hahaha turns out I only write well once school is in session !! for my two requests that have been waiting for like six months I'm so sorry

“you’re being stupid,” you say for the millionth time that evening. . “i’ve shown you how to do it like, thirteen times.”

shidou ryusei frowns at you, four strands of colored thread hanging limply from his fingers. “maybe you’re just not a very good teacher.”

and you can feel your eye start to twitch. honestly, it was your own fault at this point. why did you ever think that your loud, very easily distracted, and impulsive boyfriend could ever sit still long enough to make a bracelet?

“fine,” you snap out, reaching over the pile of discarded scraps of string and beads to take the thread away from shidou. “you don’t have to do it, then.”

his grip instantly tightens, and the two of you are caught in an awkward and silent tug of war. you’re well aware that he could win at any point, what with his athlete strength and experience in fighting.

it doesn’t stop you from pulling harder. and shidou has the audacity and not enough shame that he starts grinning, revealing white teeth.

and then he lets go. you jolt backwards at the sudden lack of resistance, ass landing onto your carpeted floor. shidou cackles, head bobbing like a maniac.

you feel your cheeks heat with embarrassment, and then you’re jumping up to your feet. “fine. fuck you too!”

he doesn’t stop laughing, hot pink irises following your every movement anyway. once your hand reaches the doorknob, his laughter immediately ceases.

“come on, y/n,” he lengthens out the last syllable of your name, amusement apparent in every inch of his face. “don’t leave now! i was just about to get better.”

on another day, you likely would have listened. but today, you’re not feeling it. “go out the front door when you feel like it. or jump out the window again, i don’t really care.”

the door closes fast, but not fast enough for you to miss shidou’s lips shifting into a frown.

you take the stairs down to your living room two at a time, hand gripping onto the banister with just a little too much strength at times.

you’re in front of the tv within five minutes, some shitty reality show acting as a slightly worthwhile distraction for the time being. you can hear your boyfriend thumping around above your head, and a slight pang of worry reaches your stomach.

but hey, you did tell him to leave. shidou’s not your issue for the rest of today. maybe you’ll apologize tomorrow, once that twitch in your eye goes away for good. maybe you won’t.

the show flashes to an all too familiar advertisement. blue lock tv is popular enough without the need for a constant stream of ads, but it hasn’t stopped their network from flooding every channel possible with them.

you can vaguely recognize a few faces from their occasional match with shidou, but you don’t think you could put a name to their face if your life was reliant on it. maybe you should be more interested in the show at this point.

and then your boyfriend’s on the screen, bright yellow and hot pink meshing together in a constant flux of motion as the ball dances to his feet.

it never gets old, watching him play.

there’s something captivating about it, the way everyone else on the field seems to pale in comparison to shidou ryusei. he commands the attention of the field, forces people to look at him until the crowds cheer his name.

despite yourself, you feel yourself smile.

“man, i looked good here!”

it’s impressive how you don’t flinch at shidou’s sudden presence. maybe you’ve gotten used to him.

“i thought you left,” you mutter.

“and leave you to mope alone?” he leaps over the back of the couch in one easy motion, landing right besides you. “here.”

you turn your head and immediately do a double take. there, nestled in shidou’s large and calloused hand, lays a slightly pitiful bracelet, threads of bright color twined around each other.

“oh.” you say stupidly. you pick it up carefully.

“it was not easy to tie those knots, you know that?” shidou grins, canines flashing. “stupid little things kept coming undone-”

you tackle him in a hug, arms wrapping around his neck. he jolts in surprise, his own arms reaching around you immediately.

“thank you,” you murmur into the back of his head. “i’m sorry for earlier.”

he laughs, warm breath ghosting by the side of your head. “not the first time i deserved to get yelled at.”

“i’ll wear it forever.”

shidou goes uncharacteristically quiet, if only for a moment.

“your show’s back on.”

#hydrobunny #blue lock #blue lock fluff #shidou x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou fluff

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vodika-vibes · 8 months

Text

Hooky

Summary: Rex tries to encourage you to skip a work event, and you try to encourage him to join you.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Word Count: 1091

Warnings: Fluff

Songs: None

Prompt: N/A

Divider by Saradika

“Cyare. Babe. Darling. Love of my life.” You muffle your laughter as Rex, who’s laid out on the couch, stares up at you through the saddest Tooka eyes you’ve ever seen on a grown man, “I’ll love you forever, if you let me skip this.”

You press your hand over your mouth, to hide your grin, “Oh? Are you saying you won’t love me if I say you have to go?”

“Cyare, you could run off and join the Separatists tomorrow and I’d still love you more than my own life.” Rex admits honestly, “But I still, really, don’t want to go to this…event.”

“That’s both sweet, and deeply concerning, babe.” You reply as you lean over the couch to lightly cup his cheek, “And I’m not going to make you come to the event. I know how you feel about politicians.”

“They’re crooks.” Rex says promptly, “So, that means we can stay in and watch a movie? Maybe order some food and you can show off that new set of lingerie…that I definitely do not know about.” He tempts as he sits up and hooks his strong arms around your waist.

You press your hands against his shoulders, “You’ve been snooping!” You accuse with a grin.

“Well,” His grin is broad, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours. So really, it’s our lingerie.”

You laugh and slide your hands from his shoulders to his face, “You know, I don’t think that’s how it works, Rex.”

“No, no. I think I’m right.” His eyes are alight with mischief, “And I really do think you should try it on and let me see. For quality control purposes.”

“Uh-huh, is that what you think?”

“You know me, I’m all about quality control,” He tugs you onto his lap and catches your lips with his, “What do you say, pretty girl?” He murmurs against your lips, “You can play hooky just once-”

You hum as you catch his lips in a deep kiss, taking the time to lightly nip his lower lip and then soothe the spot with a languid slide of your tongue, and you greatly enjoy the noise that slips from his throat when you do so. But then you break the kiss and grin at him, “No.”

He groans, and buries his face in your neck, raining light kisses against the tender skin there, “You’re such a tease, cyare.”

“Rex,” You smooth your hands through his buzzed hair, “This is a massive event. They’re introducing the new Chancellor, and I have to be there for that.”

He pulls back and looks you in the eyes, “I know. My girl, the galaxy’s best investigative journalist.” His smile is fond and so loving, “But you’re still not getting me in my dress uniform to go with you.”

“But you look so good in your dress uniform, and your armor. And your work out clothes.” You sigh with a dreamy smile, “And wearing nothing but your dog tags.” You lightly brush your fingers against the metal hanging around his neck, a pale blush crossing your face.

His grin becomes slightly smug, “Go get dressed, pretty girl.”

You pout, but kiss him quickly, and slide off his lap to start getting ready for the event.

An hour later, you step out of the bedroom, “Alright, I think I’m ready.” You announce as you fasten your pearl necklace around your neck.

Rex turns and looks at you, and his breath catches. “Cyare,” He murmurs, “That’s…new.” His gaze is locked on the deep cobalt blue dress you’re clad in. It’s tight, and strappy, and the hem barely brushes the top of your knees.

“Oh, yeah. I needed something new for this. Do you like it?”

Rex is silent for a long moment, his gaze locked on your hips. “You’re wearing that?”

“Yeah? And the matching heels.” You reply, sounding amused.

Rex’s gaze drifts over to the shoe rack, where the strappy cobalt blue heels that have been taunting him for weeks are innocently sitting, and he groans and his head flops back against the couch, “I’m going to hazard a wild guess and say that you’re also wearing the new lingerie set, aren’t you?”

You smile innocently, “Well, it is why I bought it-”

He groans again, muttering something under his breath about diabolical women.

You lean over him, and press a light kiss to his forehead, “You don’t have to come, Rex. But, if you wanted to, I did buy you a very nice dress shirt in the same color as the dress. You don’t even have to wear a tie.”

He opens his eyes and stares at you, “You planned this.” He accuses good naturedly.

“Well, I do only have to stay long enough to take pictures of the new Chancellor and her second,” You say lightly as you stroke his cheeks, “Which shouldn’t be longer than maybe an hour and a half.”

“And then?”

“Well, I might have made reservations for us at that restaurant you like.” You admit, “The one with the dancing-”

Rex hums, and he carefully pulls away and gets to his feet. He walks around the couch and lightly grips your hips, a painfully fond smile on his lips, “I love you, you know that?”

“I do know that,” You confirm with a small smile, “I love you too.” You answer as you stand on your toes and give him a gentle, lingering, kiss. “And, so you know, the plan for tonight was always for it to be a date night. I had to scramble to make it work when the event was announced.”

Rex’s smile softens slightly, and he cups your face, “Is there a special occasion you wanted to celebrate, cyare?”

You lean into his touch, “You do so much for me, I just wanted to spoil you for one night. That’s all.”

He pauses, “So…the dress, the heels, the lingerie-”

“All picked with the intention to drive you wild.” You admit with a lazy smile.

He stares at you, lips slightly parted, “Holy shit, babe.”

“Too much?”

“Not at all.” He kisses you quickly and then pulls away, “I need to get dressed and shave.”

“Rex?”

“The sooner we start this political function, the sooner I can get to my present,” He says from the bedroom door, nearly vibrating from heavily restrained excitement. “I’ll be ready in 15!”

You watch him vanish into the bedroom, and then you giggle. You love him so much, and that reaction was exactly the one you were hoping for.

#star wars #tcw #Captain Rex x Reader #Rex x Reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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southern-fried-simpin · 2 years

Text

A Little Unwell | Jerome Valeska x SA survivor!Fem!Reader

A/N: Another request from @hhh—www, I hope I actually did okay and that you like it! Also I’m sorry for some reason tumblr won’t let me tag you 😭 I, myself, have never been a victim of SA, so I apologize if this is campy or just not great. 😓

Warnings: Mention of past abuse, mention of strongly implied past s*xual assault (not by Jerome), trauma, angst, fluff

Enough time has passed, or at least you feel it’s enough, for you to not have these moments. These little episodes. You’re still not sure what to call them, you’d probably know if you were still in therapy. When you told your parents what happened, they were quick to ask all the backwards questions you had heard only on television: “What were you wearing?” “Did you fight back?” “Were you drinking?” The police asked the very same questions and you just…couldn’t wrap your head around why this was happening. They were asking the wrong. Fucking. Questions. After the ninth… no, tenth time they asked you to repeat your story, some kind of switch flipped. You suddenly just started sobbing and screaming. You tried to leave the interrogation room and when they tried to calm you down you fought them. You fought them so hard, almost as if they were your assailants.

After that, it was off to Arkham, your parents certainly couldn’t keep you, you were obviously a danger to yourself and others! What if you tried to kill your father in his sleep in some fit of psychotic rage or attacked your mother like you did those poor policemen who were just doing their jobs?! You’re honestly still not sure why they did it, if anything you thought they would keep you around since you’re their maid and personal punching bag, but you supposed they had their own bullshit reasons. Either way, you were just happy to be away from them.

Yet…sometimes you almost missed the familiarity of what was your home, late at night when it was lights out and everyone was asleep. Or supposed to be. A week or two after your arrival, the voice of a boy would speak to you from the rusty vent in the corner of the room; Always after midnight, after the halls were silent, and the footsteps of guards patrolling the floors were long gone. At first you were angry. Why did it have to be a boy?! It scared you and annoyed you at the same time. Like those stupid dreams where all you saw were hands, desperately grasping at you. However as you eventually started to talk back to it, to him, you became more comfortable. He even made you laugh a few times, it was almost enough to make you actually want to go to the recreation room during the day. And so one day, you actually did.

You had told your therapist and they were very proud of the progress you had made, but they would be making sure a guard kept an eye on you just in case. Upon walking in, there was a moment where you felt like you couldn’t do it, you were sure everyone could smell your fear as soon as you stepped through the gate and warm tears began to prick at your eyes. Then, who should you lock eyes with but a boy with coppery red hair and piercing hazel eyes. Somehow you immediately knew that was the voice that kept you company all those nights. That was Jerome. He smiled at you and you did the same as you walked to where he was sitting, seemingly on cue. The exchange vaguely reminded you of the scene in Cinderella where Prince Charming saw the titular princess across the ballroom and was suddenly unaware of all the other women at the ball. Just as he stood to properly introduce himself to you, another voice, not nearly as nice as his, bellowed from across the room.

“GREETINGS, I AM ZAARDON, THE SOUL REAPER!”

A man, short and a bit overweight, announced himself before continuing on a rant that you have trouble recalling now, not that it mattered; He dropped dead mere moments into his rant and, as if the situation couldn’t get any more bizarre, a blue fog emitted from his mouth.

Next thing you know, you’re in a mansion and apparently apart of a gang. Which has lead you to this predicament.

Taking a shower at Arkham was easy: a female guard was always there to watch you while you bathed and occasionally made small talk with you to ease the awkwardness of the situation. Some would have thought it creepy but you found it comforting. Now, however, there are no female guards. Sure, there’s Tabitha and Barbara who have been nothing but kind to you but you weren’t about to ask them to monitor you while you bathed as if you were a child in a pool.

You briefly wondered if you could just go one more night without a shower or just take one in the morning. However, as you ran your hands through your (unfortunately oily) hair, it became very clear that you couldn’t wait another night.

You turned on the water faucet and gathered your toiletries from the counter when you noticed that you forgot the body wash you had previously purchased with Theo’s money in your room. With an internal groan, you begin to trudge back to your room, and there’s Jerome walking down the hall in his pajamas. Gosh, he must’ve thought you looked terrible.

“Hey, Gorgeous, whatcha doin’ up so late?” You blushed just slightly as he stopped to talk to you.

“Would you believe I’ve been trying to get a shower?” A tired chuckle escaped your lips.

Jerome furrowed his brows.

“What do you mean trying, is the faucet broken or something?”

“No”, you swallowed a lump in your throat,” I’m just nervous to use it…is all.” You felt embarrassed all of the sudden, he knew everything about the reason you had come to Arkham, but you hadn’t really told him about how badly the ordeal had affected you.

“Oh c’mon there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll sit on the floor and talk to you if it’ll make ya feel better!”

You were about to tell him that wasn’t funny when you saw that he had pulled a small sleep mask from his pocket. Hm. Okay…you could maybe work with that.

“Swear on my life I won’t peek!” He held up his hand as if swearing in court. You smiled.

“Okay…but ”, you said wearily,”…your…”

Jerome waited a few seconds before piping up.

“What is it?”

“Well what if you’re pajamas get wet?” Jerome laughed before wrapping an arm around you.

“I’ll go grab a raincoat, in the meantime, why don’t you go ahead and get in so that you don’t have to feel weird about getting undressed with me in the room.”

And so, you did. Just as you finished conditioning your hair, you reached for your body wash and realized you had somehow managed to again forget the very thing you left the bathroom for.

A knock at the door made you jump, which led to you almost slipping and falling on your ass.

“J-Jerome?”

“Is it okay if I come in?”

You paused for a moment before replying.

“Yeah…go ahead.”

The click of the door opening and closing told you Jerome was now in the bathroom with you. You looked down at your hands absentmindedly. They were trembling, you were trembling. You took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

“Oh, hey!”

You gasped, and then mentally chastised yourself.

“What..?”

You turned and saw that your body wash was being held out to you by Jerome, who was in fact wearing a rain coat judging by the yellow vinyl surrounding his wrist.

“This was on the floor in the hallway, I had a hunch it might be yours,” said Jerome in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

You smiled softly.

“Yeah, it is, thanks…”

You went back to the task at hand while Jerome chatted with you about whatever came to mind. At one point it was what colors the two of you liked best. Then it was favorite foods and animals. Then finally you were done. Jerome was kind enough to hand you your towels and was holding your pajamas when you stepped out.

True to his word, he was wearing the sleep mask and a yellow raincoat. It made you laugh as you got dressed.

“Okay, you can take the mask off!”

Jerome eagerly did so, rubbing his eyes as he stood.

“See, told ya it would be fine!” He said with a grin.

“Okay, yes, you did…” you said grinning back and laughing a bit, “thank you, by the way.”

“Hey, don’t mention it! Now come on let’s get you to bed.”

As Jerome walked you down the hall to your room, you smiled.

You both stopped at the door to your room. He shuffled almost nervously before clearing his throat.

“Well, Sweetdreams!” Jerome said hastily. Before he could get too far away though, you hugged him.

For a second, you thought you had made him uncomfortable but then he gently wrapped his arms around you. It was the first time you had hugged someone since it happened. And the fact that you had said hug with Jerome couldn’t have made you any happier.

That night, there were no desperate hands grasping and lunging at you in your dreams. There was no flashback to the event that made you feel so broken and damaged. There was just the feeling of the hug, keeping you safe, and reminding you that your going to be okay.

#gotham x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska x reader #tw: mention of abuse #tw:mention of sa

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aglassoforangejuiceee · 1 year

Text

Old Skool #2

Summary: steve introduces bucky to a girl he’s sure they’ll both like

Warnings: dark themes, non-con/dub-con elements, mentions of drug use, reader deals/struggles with mental health, dealings with trauma, single parenthood, single mother reader (has a genius 4 year old), slow burn (kinda), blackmail, stockholm syndrome, angst, more tags to be added…

(2) Tell Me Something I Don’t Know

“Bucky?” the concern could be heard for miles, the sharp clap of a car door meeting its seal. You look to your left, surprised to see Steve looking around the damaged vehicle.

“In here,” you shudder at the feel of eyes on you. You force yourself to brush it off as you walk away from the sergeant. “Uh, hi Steve.” you naw on your bottom lip, anxiously teetering on your toes as you meet him just past the garage opening.

His blue eyes soften as he looks at you, pale cheeks reddening in embarrassment. The earlier anger you saw when he walked up shocked you, reminding you of the last class. His going to say something, but the other man speaks. “Thanks for answering my text, glad to know you’d still pick me up.”

The ire in James tone has you turning. You look between the two super soldiers. The tension palpable between the two. “We’re not doing this here,” The whisper spoken so personally, it felt like you were intruding.

“Mommy?” You face is pinched as you turn to your daughter. She’s eyeing you skeptically, and you honestly return a look of confusion. You’re by her side within a moment, shaken that there were witnesses to your swiftness.

“Hey baby, I need you to go to your room, go get your blueberry. wait for me.” The secret was conveyed perfectly. You watch her, you pay close attention to her eyes.

You kiss her on the top of her head. The tiny hairs on your back raise sharply. It’s too quiet as you watch her disappear down the hall, but you know they’re there, watching.

When you turn to face them your muscles are taught. You vision sharpens as you pay close attention to them both. “I’m not going to pretend like this was some accident,” You roll your shoulders, “So what do you want?”

“Y/n,” Steve starts, eyes startled, alarmed in a way that makes you watch him closer. His hands are held up placatingly, your eyes dart to James. He’s taught himself. “Please calm down, we just want to talk-“

“Get to the point Steve,” your tone is harsher than you wanted it to be, evident at his stricken expression. The silence is tense, you’re hearing sharp, listening out for your kid.

“It’s really not what you think doll,” The stoic soldier speaks up, his voice raspy from its momentary absence. You narrow your leer at him taking in his entirety. He looms in front of your tool shelf. The blue of his eyes are conflicting, dark and yet dangerously inviting. There was a hunger in his stance, like a predator stalking its prey… further unnerving you.

“Bucky, stand down.” Steve pleads softly. “I don’t want you to scare her, she’s-“ He cuts himself off. A grimace on his face as he looks back at you, ashamed, bashful. “Just stand down-“

“You gonna stop me Stevie?” Bucky’s tone was further unsettling now. Joyful and murderous. A creak in the floorboards throws you into over drive.

You’re behind the door connecting your house and garage in a moment, locking the door and shifting alarmingly fast to your daughter. As the door kicks in your already in your room, slinging your duffle along your body as you cling tightly to Nineve.

“Mom-“ she whimpers but you shake your head hard, silencing her fears. She’s burying her face in your shoulder as you silently slip through the window, closing it behind you with delicate diligence.

Your senses feel like live wire, your body electrified as you speed around the back of the house as you hear the two super soldiers argue and cause a rampage through your small quaint home.

“Buck stop!” Steve sharply reprimands. “She’s not supposed to be like the others, she’s different.”

A dark chuckle shakes the frames of the house as you sneaky into your car. “Then why’d you wait so long to introduce us, mhm punk?” There’s a pregnant pause. “You know I don’t like you holding out on me. Otherwise, I’ll start looking for myself,”

“They’ll kill you if you did. If they found out-“

“You’re gonna tell them?” Another pregnant pause, “Because if you do, you have to tell them what you did too.” Two heavy steps forward.

You clutch Nineve and quickly cover her mouth before she begins to cry. Just a moment baby, Please, you beg with your eyes as you listen to the bickering men.

“You know I wouldn’t do that, but Buck,” There’s further commotion, more rampage. “Buck-“

“Where the fuck is she?” James angrily snarls, “Come out doll.” He taunts.

“Bucky,” Steve hisses sharply. A few powerful thuds and bangs makes Nineve shake violently. Your hand is drenched in tears. Your heart begins to race but you stifle your breathing, calming your self. You’re sympathetic to her senses, but you can’t chance them catching you too soon.

The air becomes densely silent. You turn the key and shift gears, pulling out the garage in seconds. As you’re in the street, shifting gears and pulling off you see the both of them charge after you. Scrambling over themselves to get in their car.

But the head start was all you need. You’re whipping through traffic unnaturally fast as you make your way to the interstate.

Nineve clambers out of your hold, crying and screaming. “What was that?! Momma what was that! Why were they here?”

“Nonny please, stop screaming-“

“Mommy!” She squeals.

“Nineve stop yelling at me.” You reprimand sharply. Her cries quiet immediately. She hiccups and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m sorry.” you immediately apologize.

She’s quieter than normal. “I know that was scary. And I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry you had to hear that.” You let out a shaky breath. “And… and I’m sorry for snapping at you. I shouldn’t have, but I needed you to stop screaming.”

Nineve hiccups, but scoots into your side, clicking the seatbelt over her small lap. She snuggles closer as she wipes her tears. “I’m scared too. And the last thing I need are the bad men coming after us and the superhero’s getting involved.”

“B-but mommy,” She asks, voice shaky with tears. “I was scared of the superhero’s.” her small hands squeeze your side as she tries to hide beside you.

You rest a trembling hand on top of her head, doing your best to sooth her as you turn sharply off the interstate into the forest line. Honking horns and screeching tires the least of your worries. “I know baby, me too.”

—

When Nineve wakes up, you stop for gas in some fairway station, in the middle of somewhere Minnesota. She rubs her puffy eyes, taking in her surroundings. The area ear achingly silent as you turn off the vehicle. “Where are we mommy?”

“Minnesota, somewhere.” You tell her unsure. You reach to the glove box and grab the envelope. You thumb out enough money to fill the tank. You get out with the key, locking the door as you walk around your car to the pump.

You tense as you pump the gas, looking over your shoulder repeatedly, alert and ready to make a mad dash.

How has life managed to catch up with you so suddenly? You know you can’t keep running forever, but super soldiers? How did they even find out?

Your heart drops to your stomach. It was right in front of you. Steve was in your class, and despite your disregard of titles and accolades, you should’ve been more aware of the circumstances. But still, you felt blindsided. Why? Why target you? And why come after you now? And why was he so unsuspecting at first?

Your thoughts are interrupted but the shift in the silence. It’s impossible for them to have found you, or even caught up to you. Quickly you shake the nozzle and put it away. You close the gas tank opening and hurry to climb into your car. Nineve is dozing again, she’s tightly clutching her stuffed charmander. No doubt her mind is replaying the recent events. Softly your reach out to her as you pull off sharply. “Nonny,” you murmur, you shake her lightly to wake her.

“Yes mommy?” she whispers and rubs her eyes. “Your dreams, they’re scary aren’t they?” you ask carefully.

“Yes.” She says with a weep. You slow the car down to a crawl before turning off into the woods again. You stop when you’re far away enough from the road. You turn to Nineve in the dark of the early morning.

“Listen closely Nineve.” You tell her softly, “I won’t ever let the bad men get to you ever again.” She weeps more and you pull her close, holding her in your arms and cradling her. “I promise, I’ll keep you safe. We’ll never go back to the bad place ever again. Never, ever again.”

“But mommy-“

“No one is ever taking us again. I’ll keep you safe.”

—

“We should be close.”

“She could be anywhere,” The voices alert you, they’re dangerously close. You look down at Nineve, carefully laying her on the floor of the car. You cover her with the blanket you keep in the back, hiding her and keeping her warm from the chill outside.

You make a rash decision. Locking the car manually so not to alert them of your location. You listen to their feet crunching on the twigs and fallen leaves. Easily sneaking up behind them, watching them and listening from afar.

“You shouldn’t have gone to her house.” Steve grumbles. James scoffs. “I wanted to see her for myself. You got to see her, it was my turn.”

“You were going to grab her. The fuck is wrong with you Buck?”

James stood and turns to look at Steve. He gets in his face, “You know as good as me what it’s like now. How far removed we are from the world around us. And how the horrors we face have gotten to us,” James is sneering now, “Don’t you go cursing at me, you think you’re better than me? Huh? You think because they all trusted you and your heroism that that makes you better than me Steve?”

“I didn’t mean it like that Bucky.” Steve acquiesces. James takes a pause, “I’m the only one who actually knows you Steve Rogers.”

You shudder at the intensity in which they stand. James words eerie as he speaks them with a chill. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

You step back, unaware of your steps. The crunch of leaves and twigs makes them sharply turn. James cheshire grin makes your cheeks got hot, Steve’s blue eyes fill with relief.

James is the first to move, but Steve is close on your heels. “Don’t come any closer.” you step back two feet for the several steps they took.

“I’m sorry we scared you doll, that was my mistake-“

“Save it.” You defensively snap. “Who sent you?” You ask them sharply, gaze shifting between them rapidly. They pause. Confusion as clear as day on their faces.

You’re stunned. Their reactions weren’t at all what you were expecting. “We came here on our own,” Steve speaks up. “I’m sorry, I should’ve went about this a completely different way.” Steve begins to plead, James rolls his eyes.

“Just spit it out Steve.” James agonizingly encourages. “Spare her the bullshit, clearly she can handle it. Right sweet face?”

You give him a pinched look, but nod anyway. His grins darkens. Steve stalls, eyes remorseful. “I- I don’t even know where to be-“

“We’ve been watching you doll.” James says proudly. “Stalking you is the right word. Stevie here has a stuffy for you,” He dramatically stops and leers suggestively, eyeing you up and down, up and down, patiently slow. “And I have to say, I have one for you too. You look great after the kid.” He winks.

You feel raw, unprepared for this kind of confession, you’re completely at a loss of words. Suddenly exposed in a completely light. This couldn’t really be happening.

“No fucking way.” You utter and drop your defensive stance. “You show up to my home, unannounced, ready to what?-“ You look at them incredulously, “Kidnap me?! Terrify the fuck out of my child, because you want to get your dicks wet?”

James chuckles, Steve at least has the decency to look ashamed. James clears his throat, “You’re a smart girl. You’re right Steve,” he hums, “I like her.”

“You’re not serious.” Your blood boils beneath your skin. You feel the heat rise off you rapidly. “No no, you can’t be serious” You repeat sinisterly.

“Y/n,” Steve says your name softly. You level him with a dark glare, your vision tunnels, a red ring firing behind your irises. “Y/n,” He says your name softly again, “Where’s your daughter?”

The questions puts out your flame of fury immediately. Again displaying your hidden strengths your to her within the blink of an eye. She’s waiting patiently as you walk up to the door. You unlock the door and smile at her. She smiles back. “I knew you would come back.”

“Of course I would.” You reassure her. You run your finger over her cheek, catching a stray tear. “Mommy, you were really angry just now?” She asks slowly.

You look over your shoulder, “Yes, I was.” You look back to her, “I need you to get back down okay, stay there until I come back to get you.”

“Are we safe mommy?” She asks worriedly. You nod quickly. “We are, we’re just being followed by idiots” You admonish the two genetically manipulated men. “I’ll be back.”

And surely within the moment, you stop them mid trek in your direction. “Shit doll, don’t scare us like that.” James laughs lightheartedly.

“Is she okay?” Steve asks gently, blue eyes searching your dark ones. He’s intent in trying to gauge your reaction. “She’s fine, she’s safe.” You assure him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you both.” He apologizes. “I- I’m just sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” You tell him softly. You look between him and James. The later standing against the trunk of a tree, amusement in his eyes.

“Who are you running from if you don’t mind me asking sweet face.” James asks with a dark grin. He stands straight and walks carefully to you. You allow him to get close, and he towers over you. “Why? Don’t you know?”

“Humor me.” He challenges playfully, the mirth in his eyes contrasting the danger rolling off his shoulders. “Buck.”

“Cmon Stevie, she’s a big strong girl.” James is captivating as he speaks, but you don’t miss the way Steve comes around you, the both of them sandwiching you. You shudder, becoming overwhelmed with them so close. “Right doll?” James eyes become so soft, melting you on the spot.

You nod slowly, finally finding your words when he repeats his question. Completely hypnotized by his gaze, you don’t shy away when Steve presses himself to your back, hands firm on your arms. “Tell us babydoll.” Steve murmurs against you, lips at the top of your head.

“Ethos.”

#dark!stucky #dark!stucky x black!reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #grey! steve #dark!stucky x reader #black! reader #mcu au #mutant!reader

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suiana · 1 year

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… I heard.. I could share thirsts on here.. Welp, that’s what I’m going to do :DD I have always had an Ongoing obsession with Yan! Stalker.. So woooo here we go

You found yourself in a library looking for a specific book, your hands rummaging through the spines of many books, thick and thin books, there were all types of topics but you still couldn’t find the right one.. “Maybe I should go ask a worker..” you muttered distressed, you really didn’t want to go ask anyone you had really bad social anxiety but you acknowledge that you actually Needed help, You kept walking with your eyes glued to the bookshelves hoping that you could maybe spot the cover, you turned a corner and hit somebody you squeaked in surprise slightly stumbling back, you looked up at an attractive man and started analyzing what he was wearing to identify if he worked here, he had a blue apron with a patch that had the Libraries logo and his name on a name tag but weirdly enough it was Blacked out, you thought he worked here because of the uniform, I started fidgeting with the edge of my shirt/skirt, “uhm.. do you work here?” You said nervously, He just nodded, “I need help finding *Title of book* here.. could you help me please?” the “worker” looked down at you clenching his thighs hoping you wouldn’t notice the small action, “follow me please..” He answered, You analyzed him, His hair was very nice and silky you really wanted to touch it.., He had a baggy shirt and some baggy pants too, you did notice that the apron was wrapping around his waist tightly and honestly you were jealous of how thin his waist was, you moved on to look at his hands, they had a few rings in them and if you squinted you could see some veins going up his arms, he wasn’t really tall but he was average height, you did notice he had some glasses on probably were just for the job, there was an awkward silence in the big library, so you decided to make some small talk, “your glasses are very nice..” you said uncomfortably, all this time he had butterfly’s in his stomach, he really wanted to just take you, he had been watching you for a long time, he took the job here not because of money but to just see you, “..thanks, your shirt is very cute too..” he said with a blush on his face, you were so cute.. the apron did a horrible job covering up the hard on, he tried not to move in irregular ways to not cause more friction in his pants, it was already hard enough to control himself.. His hands rummaged through the bin of books..”is this it?” He asked, your eyes widened in happiness “mhmm!” You were really happy he had found it you had been looking for it for a few days, “thank you!” You said happily “could you give me your name?” the man asked, “Oh, it’s Y/N” y/n, y/n y/n.. he already knew it but he couldn’t get enough of hearing it, “thank you!” You started walking away, you had no idea that you just met your stalker and that he was going to be your downfall, he started sprinting to the bathroom to relive himself luckily it didn’t seem that you noticed “it”, he locked the door so nobody would get in, he unbuttoned his pants and grabbed his shirt with his mouth, his erection sprung out his pants red and leaking, he softly moaned, he wrapped his hand around his warm genital, sweat was trickling down his neck a trail of drool coming from his mouth, everything he thought of was you.. you YOU!, he imagined you torturing him, humiliating him, degrading him!.. his glasses were on the tip of his nose, a bright blush on his cheeks, he started fucking into his hand, the veins on his hands being more prominent, his once pink tip now red, he was getting more desperate, he started thrusting rapidly, “Mh-ah!~ Y-y/n!~ Pl-please..” he moaned pathetically, feeling close to his release, he game a firm slap to the tip and that’s when the knot in his stomach released, the sticky white fluid pooling on his stomach..

And.. That’s it! I’m really busy so that’s all I could do!

I’m sorry if it’s bad I’m new to writing so please have mercy 😘😘

bro that's so good like?? we should collab or smth...

#suiana's sinners #anon this is amazinf #ily

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holdmytesseract · 2 years

Text

A Shoulder to Lean On

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Request:

"You are one of my favorite writers and I saw you reopened your requests.

I was wondering if you could write a hiddles romance one were he falls for a tall lady about his height but is kinda shy and is extra fluffy (aka overweight) with mental health issues?

No worries if not!" - Requested by a nonny! 😄

Summary: You are a make-up artist, hired to work on the set of 'The Night Manager', where you meet Tom. You clicked immediately. One day, he decides to ask you out, what triggers something dark inside you...

Warnings: angst, fluff, mental health issues, mentions of abuse, swear words

Word Count: 1,5k

a/n: Thank you for requesting and especially for your kind words! It means the world to me! 😊❤ This turned out quite a bit darker than I intended to do, but yeah... I hope you don't mind! 😊🙈 I was struggling with that request a bit, honestly, but I hope I did you proud! 😊

Tagging: @lokisgoodgirl @lovingchoices14 @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @acefeather2002 @lulubelle814 @vbecker10 @fictive-sl0th @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbs @kimanne723

If you want to be added to my Tom taglist, please let me know! 😄

MASTERLIST

It started off as normal co-workers. Colleagues. Nothing more. Hence, actually not even direct colleagues... More like... acquaintances through work. You never thought that it was possible to turn into something more...

You were a make-up artist and finally landed a big job. You got hired for a series called 'The Night Manager'. It was a big project with a lot of big names. Hugh Laurie, Olivia Colman, Tom Hollander and Elizabeth Debicki. Just to name a few. But the biggest star on set was for you (and probably for a lot of other people as well) - without a doubt, Tom Hiddleston. You were looking forward to this, since you got that job. You secretly admired him and maybe, just maybe, he was your celebrity crush. You had never met him in person before, but you heard from other make-up artist colleagues that he was a dream to work with. Not that you didn't kind of know that already. Tom was a perfect example of a gentleman. You noticed that immediately on the day you finally met him. He was being utterly polite and kind. You liked working with him and being his make-up artist.

After a month on set you literally became his personal make-up artist. So, you got to spend with him several hours each day. You enjoyed it, just as Tom did. It seemed like you guys clicked from the beginning. The chemistry was amazing.

In the third month of filming, Tom decided to make a move. If he trusted the feeling inside his heart and the butterflies in his stomach, he had - without a doubt, positively fallen in love with you. You were an incredible woman in his eyes. So beautiful and kind. A ray of sunshine. His ray of sunshine.

What you didn't anticipate was that Tom could look after you... "Y/N?" His quiet, utterly gentle voice urged suddenly to your ears, causing you to flinch and hug yourself even more. You felt the movement beside you, as he sat down on the little stair as well. You flinched again, when you felt the weight of his big hand on your shoulder blade. "Are you okay? I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to scare you. D-Did I do something wrong?" Those words caused you to lift your head slightly; just enough to peek into his worried baby blues. Never... Never ever before asked you a man that question or was concerned about you. He had never been concerned about you. You quickly squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get those horrific memories locked behind that door again. Tom noticed immediately that something was indeed wrong, when he saw how troubled you became; how your breath quickened and how you started to shake like a leaf in the wind. In that moment, all Tom wanted was to somehow comfort you, make whatever was bothering you so much go away. So, he slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulders. When you didn't flinch this time and neither pulled away, he pulled you gently closer. That was all you needed in that moment. A shoulder to lean on; to cry on. Hesitatingly, you rested your head on the man's shoulder and cuddled closer against his warm body. Tom wrapped his other arm around you as well and just held you close. "It's okay, darling." He whispered in that deep, soothing voice, as you cried against his shoulder. "I'm here."

It was already dark outside, when Tom was on the verge of leaving your make-up trailer. The day had been a long one for all parties... "Thank you, Y/N." The man said and stood up from the chair. You just helped him remove his make-up - the fake blood, bruises and bandages. You smiled shyly at his words. He always did that. "It's my job, Tom." You'd always answer, whereupon he would reply every day: "Which doesn't mean I can't say thank you." You'd just give him another small smile and then you'd always say goodbye to each other and Tom would leave. Well... Not today...

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, as Tom looked down at his hands, fumbling with the hem of his green sweatshirt. Usually, he would wish you a good night now, but it didn't come. Instead, he said something completely different. Something that threw you completely off track. "I, uh, I know it's late and we have a long day behind us, but..." Tom looked up at you again, his beautiful oceanic orbs meeting yours. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me? If you want? We could go to the Chinese restaurant down the street, or grab a pizza. Whatever you like." A soft smile graced his lips, while you just stared at him. Had he just asked you out? On a date? Tom freaking Hiddleston had just asked you to have dinner with him. No. No, this couldn't be true. He couldn't mean this. He couldn't. A man like him and a woman like you? No, no, absolutely not. You felt those dark thoughts creeping up inside you. They consumed you, feasted upon your fears and doubts. And suddenly you felt like you couldn't breathe. You needed to get away from here. From him. "S-Sorry." You managed to stutter out, before you literally fled out of the trailer. "Y/N?" You heard Tom calling after you; audibly worried. "Are you okay?" But you didn't answer him and just continued to run. As soon as you reached your trailer, you broke down on the steps, crying. Silent tears were rolling down your cheeks and disappearing in the soft fabric of your blouse. You just hoped nobody saw you like this.

Tom held you, until you calmed down; your breathing returning to normal. Slowly, you pulled away from the comforting hug and wiped away the last stray tears. "T-Thank you." "Of course." He gave you a compassionate smile. "Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to, of course." You thought for a moment about his words. Usually, you were very reserved about this topic; about this part of your life, but then again... You felt like you could trust him - with your life. You felt so safe with Tom. A feeling you didn't have in a long time with a man. So, you took a deep breath and nodded softly. "I-It's... I..." Another deep breath. "My ex-boyfriend... He... He was abusive towards me. Physically and psychologically." Tom's eyes widened at your words. "H-He used me, beat me... Fucked with my mind..." You fumbled nervously with your hands. "It took me over a year to get away from him, a-and two years to get over the trauma. Although, I never got entirely over it. My mental health is damaged. Sometimes something triggers all the memories and well... I end up like this." You gestured towards your red and puffy eyes. Tom was shocked, of course and utterly disgusted by that man. How could someone do this to another human being? He asked himself. The man didn't want to dig deeper in your past, because he didn't want to put you through this. You've been through enough. He didn't need to trigger your memories again. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N. If I had known, I wouldn't have-" You quickly shook your head, interrupting him. "No, no, this isn't your fault. It's actually mine. Ever since that, I lost trust in men. Whoever tried to get closer to me, I pushed him away. You couldn't know. It's okay, Tom, really." You gave him a small smile, which he returned. He understood now. Why you acted that way. There was just one question in his mind. One thing that he wanted to know. "Why, Y/N? Why was he doing this to you?" You shrugged your shoulder with a sniffle. "Because I'm kind. He... used my kindness. My heart of gold - like my mum used to say. I was – am, easy prey." You snorted out a laugh, shaking your head. "He never loved me. To him, I was the epitome of unattractiveness. A tall, fat bitch - that was the last thing he said to me, before I managed to break free from his grasp." Tom shook his head, couldn't believe what his ears just heard. "No." He shook his head and reached for your hand, gently taking it in his. "You're not, Y/N. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon." Your eyes met his once again, frowning. "R-Really? Y-You don't care that I'm..." You looked insecurely down your body. "Not in the slightest. To me, you are beautiful - from the inside and the outside." You felt how your cheeks reddened; a few butterflies swirling through your belly. You didn't manage to answer something, except for the nervous giggle which left your lips. Tom found it utterly cute and smiled once again at you, before he gave your hand a soft squeeze. "My offer to take you out for dinner still stands. Whenever you feel ready, tell me. I'll be waiting right here for you. I'm not going anywhere." After those words, you were pretty sure, that Tom must be the kindest and sweetest man on earth. "Thank you."

#tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston angst

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